#one of my many stalled things driving me crazy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohburgee · 16 days ago

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𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

Serial Killer!1x1x1x1 x Detective!Reader (Modern AU)

tw: violence, yandere behavior, death, psychological manipulation, mild gore an: Happy April's fool darlings. I've been planning to write a modern au forsaken, and I was thinking of making 1x into serial killer hehe, also this is for my dear @brain4stew :> summary: You are a detective who has been investigating and searching for answers about the identity of a serial killer, but you didn’t know that the killer was actually closer to you.

You’ve been scrolling through old case files, revisiting the victims of a murderer who struck every week. As a detective, solving these cases was your duty, even the ones that seemed impossible. At the very least, you had to keep trying.

Sipping hot chocolate inside a quiet diner in the middle of snowy Montreal, you sighed, exhaustion settling in. Your laptop screen glowed with case notes, but your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. Checking the caller ID, you saw the name, 1x1x1x1, your best friend.

Answering the call, you put the phone on speaker and set it beside your laptop.

"Hey, Snowflakes! How are you doing?" His voice was bright, carrying an unmistakable excitement.

"Still here in the diner, searching for answers," you replied, your tone weary.

"That case is driving you crazy," he teased.

You chuckled, taking another sip of your hot chocolate. "Tell me about it."

"Guess what? I have a surprise for you."

You frowned slightly. "What su—"

Before you could finish, you heard your nickname again, this time not from the phone but in person.

"Snowflakes!"

Looking up, you saw 1x1x1x1 walking towards you. He was tall, his white hair blending seamlessly with the falling snow outside. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, and though he wasn’t one for the gym, he had a strong, well-built frame, probably from carrying heavy things all the time.

He sat across from you with a grin. "Surprise."

"This is your big surprise?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope," he said, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a small box, wrapped in white-themed packaging, and slid it across the table to you.

You picked it up, curiosity flickering in your eyes. "What is this?"

He leaned back in his seat, watching you. "A gift, for my lovely best friend. I wanted to give you something special."

"Aww, thank you!" You smiled warmly.

Opening the box, your breath hitched as you saw a silver bracelet adorned with delicate snowflake charms. You glanced up at him, eyes wide with admiration. "For real?"

He nodded, looking pleased with himself.

Overcome with gratitude, you got up and hugged him. "Thank you, thank you!"

1x hugged you back, his embrace firm yet comforting. After a moment, you pulled away and sat back down, lifting the bracelet from the box.

"Let me put it on for you," he offered.

Nodding, you extended your wrist. His cold, soft fingers brushed against your skin as he carefully clasped the bracelet around you. His touch lingered slightly as he admired his work.

"It looks beautiful on you," he murmured.

You felt a blush creeping onto your cheeks and quickly lowered your head to hide it. Truth was, you had feelings for him, feelings that had grown over the many times you’d spent together. He was always kind, always looking out for you. You still remembered the time you’d asked him if he ever wanted a girlfriend. His answer had been simple, Not yet. That response had given you hope.

"It’s not just the bracelet," he continued. "I have another surprise."

You looked up, puzzled. "Another one?"

"There’s a night festival later, with food stalls everywhere. I want to take you there as my second gift."

Your lips curled into a smile. "I’d love to go with you."

Later, after finishing your meal at the diner, you walked through the city streets together, chatting about everything and nothing. Stopping by his house, you left your files there, you didn’t want to carry anything important to the festival. His house wasn’t far, but it was in a quieter area, with fewer neighbors around.

At the festival, the streets were alive with the scent of sizzling food and the calls of vendors. You both strolled through the booths, buying things that caught your eye. 1x insisted on paying for you every time, grinning as he did.

Stopping by a keychain stand, you picked out a snowman keychain and paid it and handed it to him. "Because you’re my most precious best friend."

His smile widened as he accepted it. "Thank you."

As you both enjoyed some grilled skewers, an angry voice suddenly cut through the crowd.

"You! You’re the reason my friend is dead!"

You turned, recognizing the man instantly. He was a friend of one of your past suspects, a man who had murdered a girl last week. When the police had moved to arrest him, he’d fought back and been shot. He bled out before they could save him.

"It’s all your fault!" the man shouted, eyes burning with rage. "He should’ve had the chance to kill you first!"

He lunged forward, but before he could reach you, security guards intervened, holding him back. 1x immediately stepped in front of you, his body tense, shielding you from harm.

"You should die!" the man spat venomously.

Your expression hardened. "Your friend was a murderer. If he hadn’t fought back, he’d still be alive."

The guards hauled the furious man away as 1x turned to you, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?"

You exhaled, steadying yourself. "Yeah, I’m fine."

Without warning, he pulled you into a hug. His warmth, despite his usual cold hands, made you feel safe.

After the festival, he walked you home. "Be careful," he warned. "That guy might come after you again."

You reassured him with a soft smile. "I’ll be fine."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Goodnight, Snowflakes."

Later that night, your phone rang. It was your chief.

"We found the killer from yesterday’s case," he said.

"Who?"

"We caught him on CCTV. He has a tattoo on his arm, it looks like some kind of cybersigilism. I’ll send you the image."

Your phone pinged. Opening the image, your breath caught. The man in the hood had the same tattoo in the picture you had

And you notice that, the tattoo had same with 1x tattoo on his arm but you can't clearly know if it's same but you have this feeling that it might be same tattoo of 1x.

Frantically, you searched your files, wanting to know the truth but you had left them at his house. Dialing his number, you waited. No answer.

Again. No answer.

Grabbing your coat and keys, you rushed out, driving straight to his house.

Snow fell softly as you stepped out of your car, staring at his eerily quiet home. Something felt wrong.

Unlocking the door with the spare key he had given you, you stepped inside. A dim orange glow from the fireplace cast long shadows across the floor. Then, you saw it, a fresh, dark stain on the wooden planks.

Blood.

Heart pounding, you drew your gun and crept forward. In the living room, two figures turned towards you.

1x was holding a knife. The man from earlier was on the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

"He tried to hurt you, Snowflakes," 1x murmured.

Before you could react, he slit the man’s throat.

The blood gushed onto the floor.

Your hands trembled. "What are you doing?"

He chuckled, stepping toward you. "Protecting you."

And then, you saw it, the tattoo. The same one from the CCTV.

Realization dawned too late.

1x moved fast, pinning you against him.

"Shh," he whispered, injecting something into your neck. "Sleep, my Snowflakes. I’ll take care of everything."

As darkness consumed you, his lips brushed your forehead.

"Goodnight, my love."

#1x1x1x1 x reader #1x1x1x1 forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken #forsaken au

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theonottsbxtch · 6 months ago

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WHATS LEFT BEHIND PT.5 | MV1

an: FINAL PART LETS GO! i actually now need myself a bull rider boyfriend. call me a buckle bunny but im booking my flights to texas NEOW

summary: when max verstappen left his childhood girlfriend behind to face her career ending injury alone to chase his dreams of being the best bull rider the country has ever seen, he thought it would be easy. except it wasn't, he was back in town and they hated him, for one reason. they hurt their star barrel racer.

wc: 5.3k

part one | part two | part three |

A week had passed since Max had started working at the barn, and, as much as he’d hoped things would smooth over quickly, she hadn’t exactly made life easy. She didn’t make his life hell, but she sure as hell made him work for every bit of her attention—and he was determined not to back down.

Every morning started the same. He’d roll up before dawn, grabbing her usual coffee order along with his own, and leave it on her desk in the barn’s office before heading out to do whatever Leslie had lined up for him. She never said thank you, but he noticed the empty coffee cups in the trash each afternoon. That was a win, even if she refused to acknowledge it.

But the rest of the day? She kept him on his toes. Whether it was piling on extra chores—cleaning the muck out of the hardest-to-reach stalls, fixing a fence she’d “forgotten” to mention was half-broken, or rearranging hay bales just after he’d finished stacking them—she found ways to keep him busy.

She didn’t nag or yell, though. No, that would have been too easy. Instead, she went about her work like he wasn’t even there, leaving him with that cool, indifferent attitude that drove him half-crazy. And yet, in those quiet moments, when he’d catch her out of the corner of his eye, he’d sometimes see her watching him, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she turned away.

It was enough to keep him going.

That Friday, Max found himself knee-deep in the back stalls, mucking out the worst of the mess while she worked in the far corner, brushing down one of the horses. The barn was quiet, except for the occasional whinny or shuffle of hooves. He glanced up every now and then, hoping for a chance to talk to her, but she kept her distance, focused on her task.

When lunchtime rolled around, he wiped the sweat from his brow and tossed the shovel to the side. His arms ached, and he could feel the strain in his back from the week’s work, but he wasn’t about to complain. He’d do anything to stay in her orbit, no matter how many stalls he had to clean or fences he had to fix.

He stepped outside, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air. The sun hung high, casting a warm glow over the fields. She walked out a few minutes later, heading toward her truck. He figured she’d drive off like she had been doing all week, probably to meet Heidi for lunch or to run errands.

But then she paused at her door, glancing back at him.

"You missed a spot in stall five," she said, her tone deadpan, though he swore he saw the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

Max wiped his hands on his jeans and shot her a grin. "I’ll get right on that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Better."

She didn’t wait for his response, just climbed into her truck and drove off, leaving a trail of dust in her wake.

And an hour later, when Max had finished the stalls, double-checking the one she’d pointed out. It was spotless, of course, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of calling her out on it. He was learning her rhythm—the small ways she tested him, the subtle pushes to see if he’d break. But he wasn’t about to.

As he stepped out of the barn, wiping the dirt off his boots, Leslie walked up, arms crossed, watching him with an amused look.

"She’s making you work for it, huh?" Leslie said, her voice laced with amusement.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Is it that obvious?"

Leslie smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, it’s clear as day, cowboy. She might not say much, but she sees everything. And trust me, she’s watching you closer than you think."

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I figured as much."

"You holding up okay?" Leslie asked, more serious now. "She’s not making it easy, but if anyone can handle it, it’s you."

Max glanced back toward the direction her truck had disappeared. "I’ll take whatever she throws at me. I owe her that much."

Leslie nodded, her expression softening. "Just don’t push too hard, alright? She’ll come around. Maybe slower than you’d like, but she will."

Max let out a breath, his determination still strong. "I’m not going anywhere."

"Good," Leslie said, giving him a pat on the arm before walking off.

As the afternoon wore on, Max stayed busy with his tasks, but he couldn’t help thinking about her, about how she kept her walls so high, how she tested him day after day. But he wasn’t here for an easy win. He was here to make things right.

And if that meant mucking out stalls and rebuilding fences until she finally let him in? So be it.

Later that evening, she was sat in Heidi's kitchen, her hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea. Heidi was perched on the counter, scrolling through her phone before glancing up at her, who had been unusually quiet for most of their hangout.

"You alright?" Heidi asked, narrowing her eyes with a knowing look. "You seem... distracted."

She sighed, leaning back against her chair. "Just tired, I guess. It's been a long week."

Heidi gave her a pointed look. "Or maybe it's not the work that's tiring you out, but who you're working with."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "Please, Heidi. Don't start."

Heidi grinned, hopping off the counter and leaning in closer. "Come on, angel. I’ve seen the way he’s been busting his ass at the barn. Everyone has. He’s practically on call for any chore you throw at him. You’ve got to admit, he's putting in the effort."

She sipped her tea, her expression softening despite herself. "Yeah, maybe. But it doesn’t change anything, Heidi. What he did... I can’t just forget all of that."

Heidi raised an eyebrow, setting her phone down. "Look, I'm not saying you should forget it. But forgiveness isn’t about erasing the past, it’s about letting go of it. You see the way he’s trying. People don’t do that unless they really care."

She stared into her mug, her mind flicking through the past week. The coffee left on her desk each morning, the small fixes around the barn that Max did without a word, the way he smiled when he thought she wasn’t looking. She couldn’t deny it—he was making an effort, a real one.

But was it enough?

That night, she headed over to her mother's, her conversation with Heidi replaying in her mind. It was getting late, and the evening sun had dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the yard as she pulled into her driveway. As she got out of her truck, something unusual caught her eye.

The ramp leading up to her mother’s front porch—usually creaky and worn—looked... different. Fixed. The wood was fresh, the railing sturdy. She frowned, puzzled. She had been meaning to repair it herself but hadn't found the time yet.

Curious, she headed inside, finding her mother sitting comfortably at the kitchen table reading a cookbook.

"Hey, Mum," she said, dropping her keys on the counter. "I noticed the ramp out front. Did you hire someone to fix it?"

Her mother looked up from her book with a soft smile, shaking her head. "Oh no, honey, I didn’t hire anyone."

She blinked, confused. "Then how did it get fixed?"

Her mother’s smile widened, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Max stopped by earlier this week. He saw the ramp and said it wasn’t in any state for ‘a woman like me’ to be using, so he fixed it. Didn’t ask for anything, just said it was his pleasure."

Her chest tightened, warmth flooding her in a way she hadn’t expected. She stared at her mother, trying to process the thought of Max—without any prodding, without any expectation of acknowledgment—quietly fixing the ramp.

"He did that?" she asked softly, more to herself than to her mother.

"Sure did," her mom replied. "And you should’ve seen the look on his face when I thanked him. Almost like he didn’t expect anyone to notice."

She bit her lip, fighting the tug at her heart. He was making an effort, far beyond what she had expected. And it wasn’t just for show—it was genuine, thoughtful, and quietly persistent. She couldn’t ignore that anymore, no matter how hard she tried to keep her walls up.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, she couldn’t shake the image of Max fixing her mother’s ramp. He hadn’t told her. He hadn’t even tried to get credit for it. He was just... there. Trying. For her.

And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to admit that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to care again.

The following morning, she went about her usual routine, but with one small difference. As she packed her lunch, she threw in an extra sandwich, a bag of chips, and some fruit. Her hands moved on autopilot, but her mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the past few days. She still wasn’t sure what to make of everything, but a small part of her—one she hadn’t listened to in years—was softening.

Arriving at the barn, she found Max already working. His back was turned to her as he fixed one of the fences, the morning sun casting long shadows across the yard. His worn-out flannel shirt clung to his frame, muscles flexing with every hammer strike. She lingered for a second longer than she intended, watching him in quiet thought.

“Morning,” she called out, snapping herself out of it.

Max turned, wiping the sweat from his brow, and smiled at her. “Morning.”

She didn’t return the smile, but something in her expression was a little lighter today. She walked past him to start her own tasks, her heart beating a bit faster than usual.

As lunchtime approached, she gathered the packed lunches from her bag and headed to where Max was working. He was kneeling by a row of tools, setting them down with precision. He hadn’t noticed her approach yet.

She stood there for a moment, unsure of how to go about it. This wasn’t a peace offering—at least, she wasn’t ready to call it that—but it was... something.

“Hey,” she called out again, a little softer this time.

Max stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he turned toward her. “What’s up?”

“I packed extra,” she said, holding up the food, her voice steady but neutral. “Figured you might want to eat with me.”

Max’s surprise was unmistakable. His eyes flickered from the lunch she held to her face, as if trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. “You—uh—yeah, sure. That’d be great.”

She led them over to a shaded area near the barn, where they sat side by side on a patch of grass. The air was filled with the scent of hay and the sound of distant horses. She handed him the sandwich without saying anything more, and they ate in silence.

The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was loaded with unspoken thoughts. Max didn’t dare speak, afraid that saying the wrong thing might ruin this fragile truce between them. So he savoured the moment instead—the fact that she’d thought of him at all, that she’d packed lunch for him. It wasn’t much, but to him, it was everything.

Every now and then, she would glance at him from the corner of her eye, noticing how he ate slowly, as if he was trying to make the moment last. He didn’t try to force conversation, didn’t push her for more than she was willing to give. And oddly enough, she appreciated that.

When they finished, Max balled up the wrapper from his sandwich and looked at her with a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. For this. It means a lot.”

She didn’t say anything at first, just nodded as she folded her legs under herself. But inside, she could feel the cracks widening, her walls slowly crumbling under the weight of his quiet persistence.

“Don’t read into it,” she finally said, though her tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Max chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’m just happy you thought of me.”

And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t snap back or pull away. Instead, she sat there in silence, the remnants of lunch between them, and let herself enjoy the stillness.

As she watched him from the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

That night, she found herself back at the rodeo grounds. The arena was empty, illuminated by the soft glow of the arena lights overhead. The cool night air swept through the open space, carrying with it the familiar scent of dust and hay. She had her horse, Luna, with her, and despite the late hour, she wanted to try a new technique with the barrels. Something had been nagging at her all day—a feeling that she needed to push herself harder, to regain what she felt she'd lost over the years.

After saddling Luna and setting up the barrels, she took a deep breath. Her heart raced, but she was determined. She mounted Luna and gave a gentle nudge with her heels, signalling the start. They took off at a steady gallop, rounding the barrels, leaning in and guiding Luna with precision. But something went wrong as they approached the last turn.

Luna slipped on the soft dirt, throwing off their balance. She felt herself lurch forward, unable to regain control. Before she knew it, her body hit the ground with a hard thud, her leg twisting beneath her.

A sharp pain shot through her shin, and the air was knocked from her lungs. She lay there for a moment, disoriented, trying to gather her breath. But as the pain intensified, a sinking realisation hit her—something was wrong.

She clenched her teeth, willing herself to move. Her hands dug into the dirt as she tried to stand, but the pain in her leg made her gasp. She collapsed back onto the ground, her chest heaving as the tears welled in her eyes. She knew she couldn’t walk on it, and the frustration burned deep inside her.

“Damn it,” she hissed under her breath, the reality of her situation settling in. Her eyes darted to the bench by the fence, where her phone lay. If she could just reach it, she could call for help.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself up into a sitting position. The pain in her leg was unbearable, but she forced herself to move, dragging her body toward the bench. Every inch felt like a mile, and by the time she reached it, her hands were trembling from the effort and pain.

She grabbed her phone, swiping it open with shaking fingers. For a moment, she hesitated. There was only one person who came to mind in her state, but calling him would mean admitting she needed him. Swallowing her pride, she scrolled through her contacts and hit Max’s number.

The phone rang twice before she heard his voice, laced with sleep and confusion. “Darlin’? What’s going on?”

Her voice cracked as she spoke, trying to keep it steady. “Max... I need your help.”

There was silence on the other end for a split second, and then, his tone shifted, becoming sharper, more alert. “Where are you? What happened?”

“I’m at the rodeo grounds,” she said, her breath shallow. “I fell... I think I fractured my shin. I can’t— I can’t stand.”

“I’m on my way,” Max said, no hesitation in his voice. “Stay where you are. I’ll be there in five.”

The call ended, and she rested her head back against the bench, her tears finally spilling over. She hated feeling this vulnerable, this helpless. But in that moment, all she could do was wait and hope Max could get to her before the pain became too much.

Max rolled out of bed the moment her call ended, barely taking a second to throw on a shirt. His mind raced as he grabbed the first aid kit he always kept in his truck, along with two pillows he stuffed under his arm. He cursed under his breath, already imagining the worst, knowing that she wouldn’t have called him unless she had no other choice.

He drove through the quiet streets toward the rodeo grounds way above the speed limit, his heart pounding in time with the thrum of his engine. The sky was still dark, the early morning stars fading into the approaching dawn. When he finally arrived at the arena, his headlights washed over her, slumped against the bench, her face pale and streaked with dirt and pain.

He was out of the truck and by her side in seconds.

“Sweetheart, hey,” he said, his voice soft but urgent as he knelt beside her. His hair was a mess, and she could tell he’d come straight from bed. She could even make out the faint marks on his face from where his pillow had pressed into his skin. Despite everything, she felt a strange warmth in her chest at the sight of him so unguarded, so rushed.

“You really didn’t have to come this fast,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice light through the pain, but Max was already assessing her leg.

“You said you couldn’t stand,” he said, his tone firm as he gently touched the area around her shin, making her wince. “Yeah, you weren’t kidding. Looks pretty swollen. You did a number on it.”

Without wasting another moment, he positioned the pillows beneath her leg, carefully lifting her injured shin with as much tenderness as he could muster. “We need to keep this elevated.”

She leaned back, biting her lip against the surge of pain as he made her comfortable. “I’m fine, Max. Just... get me to the hospital, okay?”

“Yeah, we’re going,” he nodded. “Okay, let’s get you into the truck.”

He slipped his arms under her without warning, lifting her off the ground with an ease that made her breath catch. For a moment, she wanted to protest, tell him she could manage, but the truth was, she couldn’t. And something about the way he carried her, like she was fragile and precious, made her fall silent.

Max gently settled her into the passenger seat, making sure her leg was resting on the pillows he had brought. Once she was situated, he leaned in for a second, his eyes locking on hers.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, her voice a little softer than before. “Thanks.”

He gave her a quick nod before stepping away, his boots crunching in the dirt as he turned back toward Luna, who had been waiting anxiously nearby. She watched as Max took the reins, speaking softly to the horse to calm her down. He led Luna toward the stable, his movements steady and practised, like he’d done it a thousand times.

After securing Luna safely in a stall, Max pulled out his phone and dialled Daniel, explaining the situation. “Hey, man, can you come get her horse from the Rodeo Grounds off Milton? Yeah, she’s here, she had a fall and I’m taking her to the hospital now.”

Daniel must’ve agreed because Max gave a quick thanks and hung up, heading back to the truck. He climbed into the driver’s seat, glancing over at her as he started the engine.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice a little softer now.

She nodded, her head leaning back against the seat, her face tense with pain but somehow calmer now that he was with her. She shifted slightly, her hand resting over her shin. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Max didn’t waste any more time. He pulled out of the rodeo grounds, the truck rumbling down the road toward the hospital. Every now and then, he’d glance over at her, making sure she was okay, but she kept her eyes forward, trying to focus on anything other than the throbbing in her leg.

When they pulled up to the hospital, Max jumped out of the truck and went straight for help. Within minutes, a nurse brought a wheelchair over, and she was gently transferred from the truck into the chair. She gritted her teeth as pain radiated through her shin with every small movement, but Max was there, his hand on her shoulder, steady and reassuring.

Once they got her inside and into a room, the doctors took over, examining her leg and running x-rays. Max never left her side. Even when the doctors moved her to a bed and propped her leg up with more pillows, he sat in a chair nearby, his eyes fixed on her like he was afraid she might disappear if he looked away for even a second.

The cast came next, wrapping her shin from ankle to knee, and while the doctors spoke to her about recovery time and physical therapy, she could only focus on Max sitting quietly by the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together, but his body still tense with worry.

Once the doctors left the room, silence settled between them. It was just the two of them now, and she was suddenly very aware of the soft hum of the hospital, the sound of her own breathing, and the way Max’s presence seemed to fill every inch of the small room.

She shifted slightly on the bed, wincing at the tug of pain. Max noticed and immediately stood, closing the distance between them. Without a word, he leaned down, gently brushing the hair from her face, and then he pressed his lips softly against her forehead.

The simple, tender gesture sent a warmth through her that had nothing to do with the hospital blankets. Her breath caught in her throat as her heart began to race. She could feel the weight of years between them, the unresolved emotions swirling in the air, and then, as if he could sense it too, Max spoke.

“I ain’t leaving this time,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, full of quiet resolve. His thumb traced gently along her temple, his touch soft but firm, grounding her in the moment.

She blinked up at him, her chest tightening as the words sank in. There was a vulnerability in his voice, something she hadn’t heard before, and it disarmed her.

"You said that when we were kids," she whispered back, her voice laced with a mix of old hurt and hesitation.

“I know,” he said, straightening up but never taking his eyes off her. “But this time, I mean it.”

For the first time in years, she saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since they were teenagers—pure, unguarded sincerity. And for a moment, it scared her. She had built so many walls to protect herself from this exact moment, from feeling anything for him again. But here he was, and somehow, without even trying, he was breaking through those walls.

She swallowed hard, looking away as she fought the urge to let her guard down completely. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me to believe you.”

“I know,” Max said quietly, his voice steady but soft. “But I’ll prove it to you, darlin’. I promise.” He took a step back, giving her space. "I’ll be here. Every day. For as long as it takes."

She felt something stir deep in her chest, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. But she wasn’t ready to acknowledge it yet. So instead, she looked away, blinking back the sudden sting in her eyes, and said nothing.

Max didn’t push. He just pulled the chair back up beside her bed and sat down again, settling in like he was prepared to stay as long as she needed him to.

And in that moment, she realised that maybe—just maybe—this time, he really meant it.

The following morning she stirred slowly, the soft beeping of machines and the faint smell of antiseptic greeting her as she opened her eyes. For a moment, she was disoriented, the hospital room unfamiliar, the bright light overhead too harsh. But as she shifted slightly, the discomfort in her leg reminded her where she was.

And then she saw him.

Max was slumped in the chair beside her bed, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open, and the light from the window fell across his face. He looked worn out, the stubble on his jaw accentuating the dark circles under his eyes. It was clear he had fallen asleep waiting for her to wake up, and her heart swelled at the sight. He looked so peaceful, but she couldn’t help but wonder how uncomfortable that chair must be after a long night.

Just as she was about to call out to him, the door creaked open, and her mother walked in, followed closely by Heidi. They both froze for a second, taking in the scene: her awake in bed and Max asleep in the chair, clearly the protector she needed.

“Oh, honey!” her mother exclaimed, rushing to her side. “You’re awake!” She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, concern etched on her features. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” she replied, her voice hoarse but light. She glanced at Max again, a soft smile breaking across her face. “Is he okay?”

Heidi exchanged a knowing look with her mother, both of them trying to suppress their amusement. “Looks like he’s been here all night,” Heidi said quietly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “I think he’s more tired than you are.”

Her heart fluttered at that, a mixture of gratitude and guilt washing over her. She hadn’t wanted him to feel like he had to stay, but the sight of him right there, ready to care for her, warmed her in a way she hadn’t expected.

As if on cue, Max stirred, blinking awake and immediately focusing on her. His eyes brightened, and he pushed himself upright, shaking off the remnants of sleep. “Hey,” he murmured, voice gravelly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I ran a marathon,” she replied, attempting to joke. “But it’s nice to see you.”

He smiled, a small, genuine smile that made her heart skip a beat. Just then, her mother cleared her throat, and the atmosphere shifted slightly.

“Sweetpea, we’ll let you have some time with Max,” her mother said, glancing knowingly at the two of them. “He clearly has something to say.” She motioned for Heidi to follow her out.

“Mum, wait—” she started, but her mother was already closing the door behind her, leaving her alone with Max.

The moment stretched, the air thick with unspoken words. She was both grateful for the space and hesitant about what to say.

Max leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression earnest. “Darlin’, about last night—”

Before he could finish, the door swung open again, this time revealing her mother and Heidi, who walked back in.

“Sorry to interrupt!” her mother chirped, but the way her eyes sparkled indicated they weren’t sorry at all. “We just wanted to let you know that we’re going to grab some coffee and food. We’ll be back shortly.”

As they turned to leave, Heidi shot her a quick wink, whispering loud enough for Max to hear, “Looks like someone’s going to stay this time.”

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and Max’s gaze flickered between the two women before he smirked, clearly amused by their implication. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, the confidence in his voice sending warmth spreading through her.

As her mother and Heidi exited the room, Max settled back into the chair, the teasing atmosphere dissipating into something deeper. “I meant what I said last night,” he added, his tone serious. “I’m not leaving this time, darlin’. You can count on me.”

She swallowed, her heart racing at the promise in his words. She wanted to believe him, to trust him again, but she knew it would take time. Still, there was a flicker of hope, a spark that hadn’t been there before.

“Okay,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “I hope you mean that.”

He nodded, a small smile breaking across his face, and in that moment, the air between them was charged with the possibility of healing, of building something new together.

She watched as Max's eyes darkened with a mix of emotions—relief, longing, and something else she couldn’t quite place. She felt the air between them thicken, charged with the weight of everything they had been through, all the words unsaid, and the feelings that had lingered for far too long.

Before she could think, she reached out, gripping the edge of the hospital bed. “Max—”

He leaned in closer, his eyes locked onto hers, as if he could see right into her soul. “Sweetheart, I know things are complicated, and I know I hurt you—”

“I just—”

But the moment hung between them, fragile yet electric. She could feel the pull, a magnetic force drawing them closer, igniting a fire she thought had dimmed years ago.

And then it happened. Max surged forward, capturing her lips with his in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. It was a kiss filled with the weight of their history, the longing that had been buried beneath years of pain, and the passion that had never truly faded. She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with an intensity she hadn’t realised she was capable of.

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a moment that felt both like a homecoming and a revelation. She could feel his warmth enveloping her, wrapping her in safety and comfort. The soft beeping of the machines and the sterile scent of the hospital evaporated, replaced by the sweetness of his breath mingling with hers.

As they pulled apart, breathless, Her heart raced. She could see the depth of his feelings reflected in his eyes, but the weight of everything that had happened loomed over them like a dark cloud.

“Max…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped loving you. I know you can’t just forget everything that happened, but I’m here to stay. I’m here to be yours, and I’m—”

But she didn’t let him finish. Instead, she pulled him forward, capturing his lips again, desperate to erase the doubt and fear that threatened to invade this fragile moment. The kiss deepened, their lips moving in a passionate dance, a combination of urgency and need. It felt like they were reclaiming something that had always belonged to them, something that had been buried but never forgotten.

Their breaths mingled, and she felt herself surrendering completely. She could feel the warmth of his body radiating against her, and it ignited something deep within her, a fire that had been dormant for far too long. She pulled him closer, as if she could merge their bodies, their souls, into one.

Finally, they broke apart, both gasping for air, foreheads resting against each other, hearts racing in unison. She looked into his eyes, searching for certainty, and saw the sincerity etched in every line of his face.

“Okay,” she murmured, a smile breaking through the tension. “You can stay.”

Max grinned, his relief palpable. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, her heart fluttering with hope. “But you better be prepared to work for it.”

He laughed softly, a sound that made her heart soar. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

the end.

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ticifics · 2 months ago

Text

Bittersweet Smoke

Tangerine x f!reader

Summary: You had known each other for a few years. You were always the intermediary between them and the clients, the bridge between the service and the payment. You looked like a doll—too perfect, too unattainable. And Tangerine had never wanted so badly to put his hands on something he knew he shouldn't touch.

Warnings: suggestive, language, smoke (don't smoke, it's bad), no use of y/n

A/N: request from my GREAT love @gingerteafairy and the first time I dare to write something with Tangerine, so I'm a little nervous

The park was always the meeting place. Public, busy, safe enough that no one would suspect anything. You insisted on scheduling meetings there, surrounded by the distant sound of children's laughter and the coming and going of strangers, as if the open environment could keep things under control.

But today, things would be different.

Today, Lemon wouldn't be here to serve as a buffer.

Tangerine had received the message minutes earlier, short and direct: You'll have to go alone. Behave.

He scoffed, running his tongue over his teeth in an irritated tic. Not because he couldn't handle a simple conversation, but because handling you, alone, was another story.

So, he did the only logical thing. He lit a cigarette.

The smoke spread through the crisp morning air as he waited, leaning against the iron railing of a flower bed. The dark velvet of his coat was immaculate, just like the brown curls that fell with calculated carelessness over his forehead. Tangerine was a man of presence, he always had been, but when it came to you…

Something in him became unhinged.

You had known each other for a few years. You were always the intermediary between them and the clients, the bridge between the service and the payment. Rational, precise, immaculately professional. But with him? Oh, with him, it had never been simple. From the first meeting, the barbs were constant, sharp as a blade. He thought you were bossy. You thought he was unbearable. He said you were too spoiled for this job. You replied that he was a rabid dog in an expensive suit.

And yet, you kept on like this—circling each other, orbiting, exchanging glances that lasted too long, provoking and irritating, as if waiting to see who would lose control first.

That was why he took a deep drag before seeing you. And that was why, despite expecting you, when you finally arrived, something in him stalled.

Your walk was always the same—confident, precise. Of course, you were beautiful. Mary Jane shoes touching the stone softly, pretty socks climbing up legs he tried not to stare at and failed miserably. You looked like a doll—too perfect, too unattainable. And Tangerine had never wanted so badly to put his hands on something he knew he shouldn't touch.

And it was driving him crazy.

"That's going to kill you."

Your voice cut through the silence, sweet and sharp, and Tangerine exhaled the smoke slowly, one corner of his mouth lifting.

"Hm? What's going to kill me?"

"That," you gestured toward the cigarette with your chin. "Smoking."

He chuckled low. "You talk like you care, doll."

The pet name made your expression harden for a second. But there was something else today, something different. He noticed it in the gleam in your eyes, in the way your fingers absentmindedly smoothed the seam of your skirt, in how your breathing adjusted as he watched you. Something was wrong—not that he dared to ask what.

"Maybe you should take a drag."

The words came out lower, slower, laced with something you pretended not to notice.

But you did.

Tangerine knew because he saw your throat move in a dry swallow, saw you hesitate a second longer than you should have.

"I don't smoke," you shot back. But you didn’t turn away, didn’t change the subject.

He brought the cigarette to his lips again, taking a slow drag, letting the smoke spread into the space between you. "There's a first time for everything."

You hesitated. Tangerine saw it. A blink too many, a swallow too hard. But instead of refusing, your fingers moved—delicate, hesitant—until they reached for him.

Oh.

A slow smile formed on his lips. Taking his time, he turned his hand, holding the cigarette between his fingers for you to take.

The touch was brief, but enough. Your skin met his for an instant—warm, soft. Tangerine watched, fascinated, as you brought the cigarette to your lips.

Ah, hell.

The same mouth that had said so many sharp things to him was now touching the same cigarette he had just smoked.

Then, you inhaled.

And choked.

The cough came hard, unexpected, and you quickly pulled the cigarette away, bringing your hand to your mouth as you leaned slightly to the side, trying to catch your breath.

Tangerine blinked, first surprised—then, chuckled lowly.

"Fuck," he muttered, genuine amusement in his voice. "Slow down, doll. That’s not how you do it."

You shot him a sharp glare, your eyes gleaming with irritation. "Don’t laugh."

He raised his hands, theatrically innocent, but the smile was still there, tugging at one corner of his mouth. "I’m not laughing."

You cleared your throat, regaining composure, your fingers still holding the cigarette, hesitant. Tangerine tilted his head slightly, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your lips, then to the curve of your neck—where a faint hint of color was rising, subtle.

"Hold it like this," he said, his voice lower now, reaching out to adjust the way you held the cigarette. His fingers brushed against yours again—a brief, warm touch—before he pulled away. "And when you inhale, do it slowly. Let the smoke in, then release it. No need to swallow it like you're desperate."

You narrowed your eyes at him, clearly suspicious. But instead of answering, you brought the cigarette back to your lips. This time, slowly.

And Tangerine had to hold his breath.

He felt it. He felt the exact moment his mouth went dry, the moment the tension in the air thickened. Because now that you knew how to do it, you did it right. Your lips parted slightly, your lashes lowered just a bit, and the smoke came out slow, smooth.

And hell, he shouldn't have been staring so much.

But he was.

"Good girl," he murmured, almost without thinking.

Your gaze met his for an instant, sharp, as if the words had poked at something deep inside you. But instead of responding, you simply extended your hand, returning the cigarette.

Tangerine blinked, surprised for a second, before accepting it. His fingers brushed against yours again, lingering just a little longer than they should before he brought the cigarette back to his lips.

And then he saw it.

The soft stain of lipstick on the filter.

A mark of yours, right there.

He took a deep drag, more than he needed, the familiar taste now mixed with something new—something he wanted to taste more of. Smoke filled his lungs, dense, warm, as his mind drifted for a moment.

And it was inevitable.

The thought.

The absurd, uncontrollable desire to see your perfect composure unravel.

To see you reduced to sighs in his bed, your pretty clothes disheveled, your sweet voice turned into something more urgent. To have your stockings pulled down, your lips parted, saying his name in a way he hadn’t heard yet.

The cigarette burned down to the filter. Tangerine flicked it away, crushing it against the ground with the tip of his shoe, a muscle in his jaw tightening for a second.

Oh, he was going to ruin you.

Not today. Not here. But someday.

You reached into your bag, pulling out a slim envelope before placing it in his hand. “New contract,” you muttered, back to business. “Straightforward. Should be easy enough.”

Tangerine tucked it into his coat. “Sure. You know me, sweetheart. Always smooth, always professional.”

You rolled your eyes, already turning to leave. But before he could step away, your voice reached him again—softer this time.

“Be careful.”

The phrase was small, tossed into the air as if it meant nothing. But Tangerine felt it.

He felt it in the way your voice came out softer. In how you avoided looking directly at him this time. In the meaning you tried to hide beneath the simplicity of the words.

And that was exactly why he smiled.

Slow. Teasing. Something drawn-out and amused.

"Aww," he murmured, tilting his head, "you care, love?"

Your expression soured instantly. “I don’t.”

“‘Course not,” he drawled, utterly entertained.

You huffed in irritation, spinning on your heel and walking away, muttering something under your breath. Tangerine watched you go, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

Oh, he loved pissing you off.

And when he got back from this job?

He was going to ask you out.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #bullet train #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #romance #ao3 writer #aaron taylor johnson #atj #atj x reader #writing #suggestive #reader insert #no use of y/n

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sitkowski · 3 months ago

Text

time waits for me in bloom - nicholas ruffilo x cam (oc)

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x cam (OC) cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ gentle femdom, subby nicky, orgasm denial, chastity device (cock cage), praise kink, dirty talk, sexting (explicit pictures), oral sex (f receiving), handjobs, vaginal sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, they just love each other a lot word count: 4k author's note: here is the sequel to get me low (like a basement), aka this is nicky gets the cage. many thanks to illy for looking over this to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be, i owe you my life boo 💓 title comes from "blue reverie" by erra. divider by @saradika-graphics 🔐

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups || read on ao3

Cam gets in late from the bar the second night Nicholas is gone on tour. It’s just her and the cats, and she’s glad for their company while he’s away. She showers the smell of spilled beer and smoke off of herself, and then puts on a pair of sweats and one of Nicholas’ shirts before crawling into bed. She grabs her phone to text him, just to let him know that she made it in from work safe and sound. They had talked before the show and Cam had been a little amused at the little edge in his voice. He’d said he was fine, he was handling everything okay.

It’s only been two days.

When her phone pings with a notification, she’s expecting a goodnight or something. They’re still in the same time zone right now and she knows he’s probably going to be either sleeping soon or bored while they travel. But when Cam opens the message thread, she sees that it’s a photo. And it’s not that she has any doubt whatsoever that he’s going to be wearing the cage like he told her would, but to see it like this is another thing entirely. It’s obvious that he’s locked himself in some gas station bathroom, where the lighting is terrible and there’s graffiti all over the stall door. All she can really see is his lower stomach, the little padlock that sits atop the cock cage, and a hint of the glittery silicone encasing him. Her mouth goes dry at the sight, and she has to think of what to say, what to do. Does she send him words of encouragement? Does she send him back a picture that will no doubt drive him a little crazy because he can’t do anything about it?

She makes a decision, shimmying out of her sweatpants so that she’s only in her underwear and Nicholas’ Labyrinth t-shirt. It takes her a minute to get comfortable and take the picture at the right angle. It’s not even that risque, not compared to what he just sent her, but she knows it’ll do the trick. Cam sends a second one right behind it, without the t-shirt, so that he can see the tiny gold key that goes to the lock on his cage where it hangs around her neck, sitting just above her breasts. This one, she attaches a message to.

Be good.

She doesn’t wait for a response, setting aside her phone and putting back on her clothes before picking up her book. And when nothing comes through her phone, she isn’t surprised either. Even with the silence, she knows that he’ll be good for her. She’s confident he’ll be able to handle the cage okay, and it’s not as if there’s any punishment if he can’t. Cam thinks he just wanted this challenge for himself, to see how deep into denial he could get with it. Of course there’s a part of her that likes the power having the key for the cage gives her.

It takes him four more days to crack, just a little. Cam wakes up in the middle of the night to her phone ringing. Her immediate thought is that something’s wrong, and she scrambles to answer. All she hears at first when she says his name is his choppy breathing, and panic swirls in her stomach.

“Nicky?”

“You gotta tell me, Camille,” he says, his voice strained. “You gotta tell me I can’t take it off.”

A little bit of relief settles in her, “Oh baby, are you hurting?”

She’s not sure where he is but he has to be alone if he’s calling her like this. She hears a thud, which is probably him knocking his head against a door. She pictures him locking himself away in the hotel room bathroom, trying to be quiet so as not to be overheard while he struggles to get control.

“You’re doing so well Nicky, I’m so proud of you,” she says because she knows that’s what he needs to hear and it’s the truth. “You’re going to wear that cage. Eight more days and then you’re going to come home and I’m going to take such good care of you.”

“I’m losing my mind a little, fuck. All I want to do is—”

“No, Nicholas, listen to me.” Cam makes her voice a little more stern and she hears his sharp intake of breath. “You tell me right now if you want to safeword out, and then you’ll go and wake Noah up and tell him you want your key. Is that what you want?”

The sound of the call changes and she can tell he’s put her on speaker. She hears the sound of water running and splashing, and then after a minute, he finally speaks again. “You know you’re the smart one in this relationship, right?”

She makes a face that he can’t see, filing that away to deal with once he’s home. “You said you could do this for me. But maybe I want you to do this for you, Nicky.”

“Eight more days,” he says. He still sounds shaky, but it’s kind of unavoidable. “I can do eight more days.”

“You can. And if you can’t, that’s okay too. But I think you’re gonna be just fine.”

He laughs, a little hysterical. “Ask me again in eight days.”

Cam chooses then to distract him and ask him about the tour, and it seems to work for a little while. It doesn’t really matter to her that it’s the middle of the night, she’s happy to talk to him as long as he needs her to. Eventually, neither of them can stop yawning and they say goodnight to one another.

The next few days seem to fly by and as far as she can tell, he’s handling it okay. There aren’t any more middle of the night phone calls where he’s begging to be let out, at least. She even asks Noah, without really asking him, how Nicholas is holding up. And while Noah’s got the second key, he’d only taken it under the explicit instructions that he was given no absolute details. He has to know what it’s for, but he’s perfectly capable of pretending to be deaf, dumb and blind about the situation unless Nicholas tells him his safeword. There’s doing a favor for a friend, like holding the spare key to his chastity cage, and then there’s talking about it.

Cam decides to meet up with the tour on the last day to surprise Nicholas. She books a hotel room for them for after the show because she’s got a feeling they’re not going to make it out of the state before Nicholas gets the cage off. It’s surprisingly easy for her to convince him she’s still at home, even when she all but sneaks off to the venue to pick up the pass that Bryan left for her. Everyone knows that she’s there, and she manages to avoid being spotted by Nicholas at all. He doesn’t even realize that she’s side stage.

It’s obvious how the cage is affecting him, she can see that much just from watching him out there. Nicholas’ playing might be fully controlled but the rest of his movements are frenzied and Cam stays out of his line of sight so as not to distract him. She watches as he paces between songs, and maybe she feels more than a tiny amount of joy at how worked up this has made him. Now, all she can think about is what’s going to happen when he realizes that she’s here. What’s going to happen when she gets him back to that hotel room? She can’t even imagine making him wait until they get home.

She moves even further out of the way as the show comes to an end. As the band comes off stage, they each see her as they go by and make their way back to the dressing room. Nicholas is last, and he doesn’t even realize she’s standing there at first, not until she calls out his name. Once he sees her, he passes his bass off to the first tech with free hands, and pulls Cam into his arms.

“You’re here!” he says, as if it’s not obvious. “I thought you were at home.”

He’s burning up like a furnace, but she still clings to him anyways, “I thought I’d come and surprise you. It’s day fourteen after all.”

His eyes go a little fuzzy and she sees the desperation in them. He’s got things that he has to do before she can fully steal him away for the rest of the night, and she gives him a guiding push towards the dressing room. She can feel how tense he is beneath her hands, but chooses to ignore it for now. The post show chaos is enough of a distraction for him, even though Cam can tell now that they’re closer together how twitchy he really is.

“It’s gonna be a long drive home,” Nicholas says at one point.

“We’re not leaving just yet. I got a room for us for the night, I figured we’d just leave in the morning.”

It seems to click in his head that as soon as they leave the venue, he’s finally going to be getting out of his cage. He gives her a grateful look and rushes off to wrap things up, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. Cam watches him go in amusement, mindful of the key that’s still around her neck, tucked beneath her hoodie.

By the time that the stage has been broken down and the equipment has been loaded, Nicholas looks as if he’s going to have some sort of breakdown if he doesn’t get to leave soon. If anyone else has noticed how off he is, they’re being very polite about it. For all Cam knows, they either already know or they’re scared that Nicholas will tell them exactly what’s going on and traumatize them all. She can never be too sure in this group.

He all but drags her out of the venue as they leave, and he’s practically squirming in his seat on the cab ride to the hotel. She was lucky he even thought to grab his bags from the bus before they left. But all it takes is one hand firmly placed on his knee and Nicholas seems to settle right away, blowing out a breath and leaning his head back against the seat.

“Not much longer,” Cam promises, and he gives her a jerky nod. “Hey, look at me. Are you absolutely okay?”

He turns his head and meets her gaze. His eyes are still a little unfocused, but he gives her another nod. “I’m okay. It’s just been a long two weeks. You’ll take it off once we’re in the room?”

“I promise, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He’s a little more subdued once they get to the hotel, and once they get into the room, he sits his bags down with hers and turns around to look at her expectantly. Cam takes her time in pulling off her hoodie and taking off her shoes. His eyes immediately go to the key where it’s standing out against the front of her shirt, and she sees his hands twitch at his sides.

“Go ahead and take off your clothes for me?” she asks softly.

Nicholas hadn’t bothered to change out of his stage clothes before they left the venue, and he leaves everything in a messy pile on the floor. Cam knows the flush on his face and chest is still lingering post show endorphins, but she also knows he has one goal right now. Stepping closer to him, she undoes the clasp on the chain and takes the key off of it. She watches the way he shifts around almost nervously, and she presses up to kiss him on the forehead before turning her attention to the cage.

His breath hitches and he stifles a whine in the back of his throat as she unlocks the tiny padlock and eases the cage off of him. She doesn’t touch him any more than she needs to and when she raises her gaze to him, she can see tears of relief gathering in his eyes.

“Why don’t you go take a shower, it’ll make you feel better,” Cam catches his jaw in her hand, squeezing just a little. “But no touching.”

He looks as if he wants to argue, already half hard and moments away from full on pouting. It’s cute. But finally he grabs his shower stuff from one of his bags and disappears into the bathroom. Cam waits until she hears the water start before she finally moves from where she’s standing. Taking a deep breath, she goes through the normal motions that she does every night at home; makes sure both of their phones are plugged in, changes out of her clothes into one of Nicholas t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts that she probably won’t even be in that long. The check out time tomorrow isn’t until eleven in the morning, and she plans to use as much of that time as she can to their full advantage.

The shower cuts off and a few moments later Nicholas appears in the bathroom doorway, haphazardly drying off. She still thinks about that day in the hotel room in Wyoming when they got back together every time she sees him like this. She can’t help but walk over to him, taking the towel and scrubbing it through his hair for him. He’s still tense and she knows exactly what he needs.

“Come over here to the bed,” she says, pulling him along.

She crawls to the middle, leaning back against the pillows and Nicholas moves to follow her. She stops him before he can get close enough, gesturing for him to turn around so that his back is to her chest. He does it without complaint, though she’s sure he might be a little confused. Before he can ask, she leans in and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, before reaching over and picking up a bottle of lube off of the nightstand. She can feel it when his breath hitches in his chest.

“Camille—”

“Shhh,” she pours some lube into her hand and reaches down, wrapping her fingers around Nicholas’ cock. “Just let me take care of you first, okay? We’ve got all night.”

His only response to that is to arch up into her touch, a quiet moan falling from his mouth as she moves her fist in a slow stroke up. She pauses at the tip, giving him a gentle squeeze only to make him louder. Not wanting to rush this, she repeats the motion, enjoying every noise she drags out of him with each twist of her wrist. His hips rock up into her touch greedily, and Cam peppers kisses along his bare shoulder to urge him on.

“My needy boy, keep making those sounds for me,” she murmurs. Nicholas whines and squirms, one of his hands clamping down on her thigh. “You’re so hard for me, aren’t you? It doesn’t seem like you’re going to last that long. It’s been two weeks”

Cam doesn’t tell him he’s not allowed to come. It seems so cruel after he’s done so well while he was away. And she tells him so as she cards the fingers of her free hand through his hair, tugging just a little on the damp strands. She can tell that he’s trying not to come yet though, that he’s trying to drag this out even though she promised him she’d take care of him, and she speeds up her strokes. Each desperate sound he makes sinks into her skin and turns her on even more. But this isn’t about her right now, and she gives him all of the attention he deserves.

“Don’t hold back on my account, Nicky, just let go.” she urges.

He curses and knocks his head back against her shoulder, body going taught as he spills over her fingers and his stomach. She’d be surprised how messy it was if it hadn’t been so long for him. Eventually he’s got to wrap his hand around her wrist and pull her hand away, gasping for air. He grabs for the towel to clean them both off before flopping back against the bed.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, and Cam grins, leaning over to kiss him.

“Did you miss me, or did you miss orgasms?”

She’s fucking with him, because she can. He lets out an exasperated noise and gives her a playful shove, crawling over her. “Shut up, I’ll show you orgasms.”

“Oh, you're gonna get bossy on me now, Nicholas?” she asks. She loves the way he blushes at that.

“I don’t know,” he says with mock indifference. “You gonna lie back and let me take care of you now?”

She loves him like this too, and the answering kiss he gives her knocks her head back into the pillows and makes her stomach twist pleasantly. One of his hands comes up to cradle her jaw and she melts into the mattress when his other hand starts pulling at the waistband of her sleep shorts. Cam opens her mouth for him, lets him lick his way inside, and she reaches down to help get her shorts off. They get tangled around her ankles, but she manages to get them off and toss them aside. Nicholas’ hands move to get her out of her shirt, and then they’re skin to skin, finally.

“You didn’t answer my question, Cam,” he says as he drags his nose up her cheek. “Can I take care of you now?”

How the hell can she deny him when he asks her like that? “Of course you can, baby.”

He ducks his head down, kissing her neck tenderly, before he starts to move down her body. Cam would tease him about his oral fixation but honestly she wants his mouth on her as badly as he wants to put it there. Anywhere he wants. Rising up on her elbows, she watches as he drags that mouth over her stomach, across her hips. He grips the undersides of her legs, pushing them up until she hooks them over his shoulders like he wants.

Cam sighs and sinks her fingers into his hair as he presses his mouth to her, a soft parody of a kiss that starts out slow but becoming more firm presses of his tongue as he tastes her, teasing over her clit. While she had no problem not teasing him tonight, he doesn't seem to have the same sentiment as he moves slowly in a deliberate way that says she hasn't been restricted from coming in fourteen days. A ridiculous sound escapes her lips and she scratches her nails over his scalp when he dips his tongue into her briefly before pulling back and licking upward again. When he lets go of one of her thighs long enough to slip one of his fingers inside of her, Cam shudders and her hips buck up.

She can feel his laughter against her, even when he never takes his tongue off her clit, but then he's adding in a second finger and causing her to squirm more. Her hips shift back and forth and he moves easily with her, letting her ride his face and yank his hair. She doesn't have to worry about hurting him, she knows he likes it. She was already on the edge to begin with, just from seeing him fall apart for her so easily earlier, but when he crooks his fingers up into that spot inside of her at the same time his lips close around her clit, she can't do anything but let herself fall back against the bed and let her orgasm wash over her.

Reaching down, she pulls him back up to her by the jaw and seals their lips together. She can feel him getting hard against her again and she reaches down to dig her nails into the flesh of his ass, just for him to twitch and grind into her. It doesn't matter to her that her entire body is still buzzing from her climax, she still needs him inside of her now.

Nicholas pulls back a little, “Turn over for me.”

He gives her the room she needs to roll over onto her stomach and she tries to stay still as he trails his lips up her back and shoulder. His hands are everywhere and she gasps as she feels him dragging his cock between her folds. When she tries to rock back and get him inside of her, he pulls back, laughing again.

“You’re gonna spend the drive home in that cage again Nicholas, I swear to god.”

“Promises promises,” he says with no small amount of glee at the idea that he has the upper hand here. “You’ve gotta have some patience, Camille. You said I could take care of you.”

She can’t exactly argue with his logic, Looking over her shoulder, she realizes that’s what he wanted. He wanted her eyes on him as he finally sinks fully inside of her. Her breath leaves her in a gasping rush, both of them freezing and reveling in the moment of being together like this again. Finally she gives in and she arches back into him. This time he lets her, his hands sliding up over the swell of her ass, tracing up her spine and sliding back down to grasp her hips. He pulls her back into each thrust and her mind starts to go fuzzy with overstimulation and the drag of his cock inside of her. Cam doesn’t think she needs to be touched to be able to come again, she thinks this is more than enough.

His forehead presses into the curve of her neck and she feels his teeth set into her skin. Her stomach clenches and she inhales sharply, mouth dropping open. It's just another sensation shooting through her body. One of her hands comes up to tangle in his hair, trying to keep him as close as possible. It’s in the back of her mind that every single hotel in the world has the most shitty insulation and they’re probably giving some poor soul an earful. Each lungful of air leaves her in a choking moan and every time Nicholas pulls back and starts mouthing at another section of skin she feels dizzy.

It's too much and she comes with a sob of his name. His hips piston into hers relentlessly, fucking her through her second orgasm as he chased his own. Cam can hear him whispering in her ear but his words are intelligible over the thudding of her heart in her chest. He finally comes, his fingers slotting between hers as he buries his face into her hair and goes still against her.

“Stay still for me,” he murmurs and Cam nods slowly. She doesn’t think she could move if he actually asked her to.

She hisses out a breath when he pulls out, long past embarrassed when she realizes she can feel his come dripping out of her. His touch skates over the back of her legs, and he nearly falls off of the bed to get another towel to clean her up with. She thinks about a shower, or taking advantage of the very big jacuzzi bathtub that this hotel room has, but it all requires moving. Sweat cools on her skin and eventually Nicholas lies back down beside her, pulling her over onto his chest.

“Thank you,” he says.

Cam’s eyebrows raise, “Are you thanking me for the sex, Nicky?”

He huffs out a breath, cheeks going a little pink. “I’m thanking you for believing that I could do what I did.”

“Oh, baby,” she reaches up to card her hands into his hair again, managing to lift herself up to press a kiss against his forehead. “I never doubted you for a second.”

⇉ taglist

@ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @deathblacksmoke @dominuslunae@rumoured-whispers @cookiesupplier @kinseysucks @collapsedglasshouses

@thatchickwiththecamera @th4t-em0-k1d @blackveilomens @illmakeyousaywow

@malice-ov-mercy @itsjustforce @darksigns-exe @baddestomens@collidewiththesavannah @sorrowsofsilence @fadingangelwisp@kait16xo @wonh0z

if you ’d like to be added to the taglist, you can find the form at the top of this fic! thanks for reading/reblogging 🩷

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #nicholas ruffilo x oc #nicholas ruffilo fic #bad omens smut #.ficbysitkowski

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gyunglitter · 2 years ago

Text

➷ 01 ➷

-“oh, the way he makes me feel that love isn’t real -– cupid is so dumb”

unlike you, your brother’s best friend just doesn’t know when to quit

word count: 1,766

warnings: probably just the reader making you cringe lol, give her a break--she's 11 lmao

tags: brother’s-best-friend!beomgyu x reader, ??? to ???, angst, fluff(??), beomgyu is the cool boy-next-door, reader is an independent girlboss (or trying to be, at least), beomgyu’s gonna be GROVELING, simp!gyu, pathetic pining from both sides lol, maybe some cringe from reader (she was a teenage girl in love, have some empathy plz😭)

notes: LMAO SORRY TO POST KINDA LATE, I FORGOT I PROMISED TODAY HAHAHAHA

another short chapter, but i promise the next couple of chapters are a lot longer! enjoy mini reader, beomgyu, and soobin tho :)

–> masterlist <–

Ten Years Ago

If there was one thing your family agreed on, it was that Soobin was the shyest person around.

You and Soobin were very close, having a lot of the same interests and mannerisms. You didn’t disagree on many things (yet), but there were only a handful of differences between you two. You were eleven years old, making your older brother thirteen, and about to go into his final year of middle school. But the main thing that had set you both apart was that while you had many friends, Soobin had absolutely no one. He was a very sweet and funny kid, but he was too shy for his own good, unintentionally pushing the majority of the people his age away.

You had hoped your brother would make some friends during his seventh year, but had little to no luck; apparently, the Bunny Girl Senpai Fanclub wasn’t taking many applicants and the Pokemon Card Collectors Club was a bunch of gatekeepers. Middle school boys.

“What if I just faked being sick?”

Soobin held his head in his hands as he was waiting for his pop tarts in the toaster. You sat on the counter across from him, shoving down a bowl of Frosted Flakes. You didn’t have to leave for another hour when your mom would drive you to the primary school a few blocks away. Soobin, on the other hand, was supposed to set off for his first day of eighth grade soon, but was stalling as much as he could before he had to start walking over.

You snorted, “For the whole year? Fat chance of that happening, you’re the worst liar.”

Your brother lifted his head and glared at you, before sighing loudly and crying, “I hate school, it’s filled with people who are scary and take your rare Charizard card!”

You opened your mouth to reply, but were interrupted by your house’s doorbell ringing. You looked towards the front door and turned back to Soobin expectantly. But your brother wasn’t paying any attention. To your (un)amusement, he was still sulking about, well, just about everything. Like you said, middle school boys.

Shaking your head, you hopped off of the counter (carefully, as your dad had shown you) and walked over to the front door.You figured it was one of your neighbors or the mailman. You usually weren’t allowed to open the door yourself, but that completely escaped your mind when you opened the door and were faced with an unfamiliar boy.

A cute, unfamiliar boy.

You mentally thanked your mom for braiding your hair in two with your favorite butterfly clips now.

“Hi,” you said, a small grin taking over your face. “I’m Y/n!”

The boy looked at you and smiled back. “Hey, Y/n, your mom or dad home?”

You nodded your head. “They are, but they’re running around getting ready. I can definitely help you though!” What can you say, you were a confident kid.

“I don’t know, you might be a bit too little,” he teased you, making you scoff.

“Little? I’ll have you know, I can deal with anything, even crazy!”

He laughed a little at that and then said, “Of course! I’m sure you’re super responsible at the age of..?”

“Eleven,” you bragged, tucking a stray hair back into one of your butterfly clips.

The boy nodded in deep understanding and said, “Well, little Y/n, I’m Beomgyu. I just moved here and my mom told me you guys had someone my age here too! I figured we could walk to school together,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

Your eyes widened at that, a warm feeling taking over your stomach.

The boy was cute, duh. But his easy offer of friendship, something your brother had struggled to find, made you know that this Beomgyu had a kindness to him that not many his age did–according to Soobin.

Your grin widened at the boy in front of you, nodding your head eagerly. “Just give me a sec,” you squealed, excited for your brother. “OPPA! YOU’RE FINALLY GONNA MAKE A FRIEND!”

Years later, you look back and remember the loud laugh Beomgyu had let out at your call, his excitement outweighing the awkwardness Soobin exhibited when he appeared at your doorway with a pop tart hanging from his mouth.

You look back and remember Beomgyu easily befriending Soobin with his wide smiles, animated hand gestures, and cool stories about his new pet bird. The way he eased your brother’s nerves and got him laughing, already offering to share the other pop tart in his pack.

You look back and cringe sometimes at the confidence those lame butterfly clips gave you. But you take it back when you would remember Beomgyu, with an arm around Soobin’s shoulder, had turned around while the two boys were about to take off for school, saying in a singsong tone, “Nice to meet you, little Y/n, love the butterfly clips, by the way!”

But most of all, you remember the way your cheeks flushed. The way he made you feel like you were cute too. Like you were special. You remember how that was the first of many times he would fluster you with his compliments.

You were only eleven, but at that moment you would look back and remember how this is where you became a fool–a fool for love.

“You look really good,” he whispered to you.

It took everything in you to not show how much he affected you. Unlike the many instances before though, you actually succeeded this time around. Your focused gaze on your brother and father’s random discussion about his anime watching habits kept your eyes from widening, and your well placed makeup did a good job of hiding the flush that desperately wanted to highlight your neck and cheeks. It bothered you very much how Choi Beomgyu could still get under your skin.

“Thanks,” you replied shortly, not letting your eyes leave their spot on Soobin.

–Your brother was whining about how there was no harm in watching anime when he already got his work done for the day–

Despite your subtle avoidance of him, you knew it wasn’t reciprocated by the way his breaths brushed against your ear. The way his eyes were on you, you could feel them as if they were burning you. It felt like he was truly drinking you in after so many years of not getting a single glimpse of you. But that was all you would allow him.

“I, uh, it’s nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” he continued, trying to catch your attention.

You hummed disinterestedly.

–Your father had taken to pointing out Soobin’s body pillows, to which he groaned loudly, claiming that was actually Beomgyu’s gag gift to make him look sus–

But Beomgyu was not deterred.

“Congrats on, well, everything from the past four years! I know college can be pretty crazy!”

You winced a little at that, remembering how your mom told you Beomgyu had actually dropped out of college about three months after you left for school. Despite Beomgyu doing amazing in school when you were still around–there was talk of him possibly graduating at the top of your class–he practically tanked his classes the following fall semester.

“But of course, if there was anyone who could deal with crazy, it would be our little Y/n, huh,” he laughed a little–that same damn laugh he had when you first met. “I mean, you are pretty amazing—”

You weren’t sure what he had gotten up to after you left, but you weren’t interested in hearing anything. Not about him, his future, and definitely not about how amazing he thought you were.

“Wow dad, this shrimp tastes great!” You shouted your false gratitude, successfully interrupting Beomgyu and the argument between your brother and father.

All the chatter stopped for a second, before your dad grinned at you. “Thanks, bean, make sure to grab some more then! You’re looking too skinny, anyways, are you sure you ate enough out there,” he asked, wiping his hands on the front of his apron.

You laughed and nodded, both at your dad’s question and Soobin's grateful stare for changing the topic. Eventually, your mother started another conversation about how Soobin’s friends from school were doing.

“I thought you didn’t like seafood,” Beomgyu muttered to you when he got the chance.

For the first time that evening, you looked back at him.

You realized, with a painful squeeze in your chest, that Beomgyu had grown past the stage of cuteness that you had adored when you were younger, and in your absence, became beautiful. Sure, his puppy dog eyes stayed the same, holding that familiar kindness and curiosity as before. But now, his face lost its round edges and became chiseled, looking as if his features were carved by Aphrodite, herself. His hair was dyed brown and had grown out a little into what was beginning to look like a mullet, giving off a boyish look that his typically mischievous expressions matched easily. Not only that, but he looked like he’d really grown into himself, physically and mentally. Granted, he wasn’t in the best place when you had left four years ago, but the way he carried himself was refreshing. Attractive. Him.

“I didn’t, but I do now.” You took another bite of the shrimp on your plate. “I mean, it’s been a long four years. The things I liked before changed quite a bit while I was gone. ”

You watched Beomgyu’s face fall a bit at that, his puppy dog eyes becoming downcast as he looked towards his own plate of chicken. There wasn’t much on his plate to begin with, but it seemed he wasn’t going to be eating any more after that.

“Yeah, I guess they would after so long,” Beomgyu whispered, pushing his food around with his chopsticks.

You turned back to your own food to try and get your mind off of him, but he stopped you with his next words.

“If it changes anything, so have mine.”

This time, you couldn’t stop your eyes from widening. You turned towards Beomgyu, to see him looking at you with what you could only assume was guilt.

“I just wish they had done so earlier.”

–> next <–

#tomorrow x tomorrow #txt #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu angst #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #hueningkai #kang taehyun #stupid cupid

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barlowstreet · 3 months ago

Note

For the prompt: Kisses 1 (goodnight kisses)

Anon, you get almost 2000 words because uh. I dunno I guess I'm working through some stuff XD

(Reminder, I'm not currently taking more prompts at the moment, but here is the list if you would like to do some yourself.)

“Hey, Joel. What do you call the ghost of a chicken? ” Ellie asks.

Joel sighs.

“A poultry-geist!”

“Alright,” he says and turns off the room lights, leaving just the small light over her head. “I think that’s enough puns for the night.”

“No such thing,” Ellie says, but she hands him the pun book to put away.

He’s careful with it as he tucks it into her backpack. It’s worn already, the cover bent, but it’s one of the very few things she owned before he met her and he knows it’s precious to her. He’s only recently been trusted to touch it.

“Time to settle down for the night,” he says. “C’mon.”

Ellie shifts carefully on the mattress. “Will you braid my hair?”

“Of course.”

He braided it the first time after Silver Lake, after he had to wash blood and bone and brain matter out of it, when she was still practically catatonic. He was half on auto-pilot, just desperate for anything to make her feel even slightly better, and he knew the hair being on her neck would be driving her crazy, but her head hurt too much for a ponytail.

She doesn’t ask for it very often, and he’s not sure how often to offer, but he’s trying to offer more, now that she’s spending more time in bed and the ponytail gets uncomfortable.

It takes a bit to get her situated comfortably so he can braid her hair, but they manage. She showered right before dinner, so her hair is still a little damp. He’s always surprised by how long it takes to dry, probably because of how thick it is. She doesn’t really like sleeping on wet hair, so he’s not surprised she asked.

When it’s done, he helps her get settled again. “Sweater on or off?”

“On,” Ellie says.

He gives her a look. He always asks, but she rarely sleeps in one of the big sweatshirts she wears over her pajamas during the day. She doesn’t like sleeping in a lot of layers unless it’s in a sleeping bag.

She picks up her cup and looks in it. “I’m out of water.”

Joel has given her his own water when she ran out before him. He’s made her birch bark tea and pine needle tea and found an old Thermos so she could have warm drinks while they walked. He has held cups of water to her mouth when her hands shook too much to hold them herself.

Why the child acts like he’s liable to let her dehydrate all night, he’ll never know.

He gets her a fresh cup with plenty of ice — a novelty for her that she’s quickly come to enjoy — and sets it on the table next to her bed where she can reach it.

“If you could eat anything in the world right now, what would it be?” Ellie asks.

“Why don’t you ask me that tomorrow.”

“I would have tacos,” she says, ignoring him. “I’ve never had them but I’ve seen pictures and I think I’d like them.”

He bets she would, too. But he also recognizes a stalling tactic for what it is. “Ellie. It’s late. You need to sleep.”

She looks away. “I don’t… I don’t think I can.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“My hip hurts too much.”

He holds back a sigh. She’s so damned stubborn. It’s been three days since a bone marrow extract and he knew she was still hurting, but she wouldn’t admit it.

“I’ll go grab a nurse and get you some painkillers.”

Ellie grabs his arm. “No, don’t.”

“Ellie…”

“They make me feel weird.”

“I know.” He runs a palm over her head and leaves it to rest on her back for a moment. She leans into the touch, seemingly without noticing. “How about we make a deal, you and me?”

She perks up slightly. “What?”

“You tell me every single thing that is bothering you besides the hip and I’ll see what I can do about it. And if after all that, you’re still too uncomfortable to sleep, then we do some pain meds.”

She thinks about it for a moment, and he gives her time. She has so little control in all this shit. He tries to give her as many choices as he can, while making sure the Fireflies are very aware she’s an almost-fifteen-year-old and they should remember to treat her as one.

“Okay,” she agrees.

Apparently there’s a lot she’s been sitting on. First, something he didn’t expect, is that she’s hungry. Her appetite has been horrible from the meds and the stress. Every meal for weeks has been frustrating for them both. He immediately makes a mental note to see about offering her a snack at this time every day.

Her sheets are bothering her, so he helps her move over to the recliner and gets her half a sandwich to eat while he changes them. That also means she gets to make fun of his sad attempt at military corners, something she knows how to do with an ease that he pretends doesn’t disturb him.

Then it’s back to the bathroom to brush her teeth because she says she absolutely won’t be able to sleep with tuna breath. Fair enough, he supposes. Personally, if he never ate another can of FEDRA processed tuna at all, he’d be happy, but fish is easier for her than other meats.

And apparently she doesn’t actually like the pajama top she’s wearing — there’s a seam on the side that bothers her, she says. The ones she likes best are dirty, so he lets her steal one of his long-sleeved t-shirts to change into instead. There’s a couple she really likes, ones he’s had for months that have been worn into softness. They’re more hers than his these days.

Eventually, she’s back in bed in clean sheets. He gets the extra pillows out of the closet and tucks them around her to keep her from rolling onto her sore hip in her sleep.

“What else now?” he asks as he pulls the covers over her.

She hugs an extra pillow to her chest. “Mm. It’s loud and quiet.”

That shouldn’t make sense, but it does. Ellie doesn’t talk much about FEDRA school, but he knows she’s grown up in dorms, with roommates. He could tell it was an adjustment being out of Boston away from the constant noise. Now, she’s gotten more used to the quiet of the woods, especially over the last couple months of winter. The hospital is supposed to be quiet after a certain time, seeing as Ellie’s their only damn patient, but there’s still activity. Shift changes, people walking around and talking, preparations for the next day.

“I know,” he says. He folds an extra blanket over her feet. “Remember when you had that MRI?”

Ellie nods. “Fucking boring.”

He can’t hold back a smile at that. He worried she would be claustrophobic, but she wasn’t bothered, not even by the noise. It took over an hour, though, so he left her with the only nurse he trusts and went to explore some of the other rooms looking for things Ellie might want. He found some old magazines, a few books, and a puzzle they’ve been working on when she has enough energy to sit at the table by the window.

He also found something else, something he thinks she’ll like, that he’s been keeping for a surprise.

“Check this out,” he says, setting the case on the bed next to her.

Ellie opens it, frowning slightly. “Is it… a computer?”

“Better for us.” He shows her how to open it. “It’s a DVD player. Movies.”

“Holy shit. Are there movies?”

He hands her the binder of discs.

“Holy fuck!” She unzips it and flips slowly through the sleeves as he gets the DVD player set up on her bedside table. “There’s so many.”

“There are. You can pick out any of them you want.”

Her flipping slows. “You’re really gonna do this all night, aren’t you?”

“Do what?”

“Trying to… make me feel better.” Ellie sighs. “Okay. Go get the painkillers.”

“Alright,” he says and tries not to make a thing out of it. He spends a few minutes talking to the nurse, talking through Ellie’s options for painkillers. She’s allergic to a lot of them, something that was absolutely terrifying to discover, and sensitive to others. They’ve had a few times where the compromise was Ellie feeling crappy in some other way to take away the pain.

The nurse brings good news when she comes into Ellie’s room — the Fireflies have gotten their hands on more of two of the painkillers Ellie actually tolerates well.

“So, you’ve got three choices,” she says to Ellie. It’s the nurse Joel somewhat trusts, the one Ellie likes because she talks to Ellie like she’s actually a person. “Lowest level, ibuprofen, acetaminophen, ice pack. Medium level, the one we had a couple weeks ago that made you a little queasy and anti-nausea medicine. Highest level, that one that knocks you the fuck out. What are we thinking tonight?”

“Medium. And also the ice pack.” When he nudges her, Ellie adds, “Please.”

By the time the nurse comes back with the meds and ice pack, Ellie’s picked out a movie and they’re a couple minutes into it.

“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised.

Ellie pauses the movie. “What’s wrong?”

The nurse shakes herself. “Nothing. No, nothing. Just… that was my daughter’s favourite movie. I haven’t seen it in years.” She clears her throat. “Now, Miss Ellie, when you take these, I want you to drink a good long drink of water, too.”

When she leaves, Joel turns off the light, leaving just the bathroom light on and the door mostly closed. She doesn’t like sleeping in the dark here. He settles onto the recliner and Ellie gets the movie going.

“Have you seen this one?” she asks.

“I think I saw the first ten minutes before falling asleep,” he admits.

“Well, don’t fall asleep this time,” Ellie instructs.

“You don’t fall asleep.”

The little yellow things are fucking annoying, and he can see why he fell asleep ten minutes in back then — sheer self-defense — but they take Ellie’s mind off the pain until the painkillers kick in. As for him… well, he’s trying not to think too much about the story. An undeniably bad man taking in three little girls for his own personal gain and then growing to love them as his own… well, that might hit a little too close to home for him right now.

It’s too damn late for an existential crisis.

The meds make her sleepy, and as the pain eases, he can see her fighting more and more to stay awake as the movie stretches past the halfway mark.

“Do people really do that?” she asks towards the end. Half her face is buried in the pillow, so all he sees is one big green eye looking at him.

“Do what?”

“Goodnight kisses.” She frowns at him. “That’s just a movie thing, right?”

And, well… that’s no way for a kid to live, thinking that.

As a reformed supervillain gives forehead kisses to a dozen little yellow packing peanuts, Joel leans over and presses a kiss to the top of Ellie’s head.

“Goodnight, baby girl,” he murmurs.

#asks #answered #Anonymous #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #my fic #it's a hospital au #gonna give you feels about despicable me #who expected that

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spinningintheshadows · 10 months ago

Text

Lyric Prompts Volume 7!

A fresh round of prompts! Bringing my total number of lyric prompts to well over 300. Hope you enjoy!

“I have questions for the pharmacies and questions for the church”

“One phone call from you and my entire world was changed”

“Sailed shore to shore, learned a little bit more and found your way back home”

“I have crossed some broken bridges in my time”

“You and me got a whole lot of history”

“Are we just a stepping stone for taking back the throne?

“Planned it all out for the middle of June”

“She kept the hotel key, slipped it in her purse. I guess it makes her think of me”

“I’ve had one too many “come take me home”s”

“Standin in the screen door watching her whole world head towards an old ford”

“Son, there’s things I haven’t told you. Your mom and me couldn’t get along”

“I’m only one drink away from the devil”

“How you gonna say that? Take it all back, fuckin with my head will make my heart attack.”

“And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have but I did not lose”

“I kind of wouldn’t mind if she ruined my life”

“I’ve waited all my life to find a love that feels this right”

“If only you loved me like you love getting high”

“You’re never gonna get, I’m a hazard to myself”

“So love me right now before you leave me.”

“Thought she’s fragile like a flower but she’s fragile like a bomb”

“They said he hit that guard rail at half-past three”

“Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much”

“You keep his shirt, he keeps his word, and for once you let go”

“It got slammed last night and now it don’t close right”

“Still looking for a feeling half of us haven’t found”

“You’re crazy but I like the way you fuck me”

“You’re a memory I don’t mess with”

“I forgot I had dreams, I forgot I had wings, I forgot who I was before I ever kissed you”

“And if we’re meant to, I’ll meet you there”

“Lord, I’m still not sure what I stand for”

“We’re stopping and stalling, we’re running in circles again”

“Know you’re trying to do you but I heard you fell off, just a couple bad nights

“She rolled her eyes, and then she said “I know your dying wish is to be baptized in my spit” and then walked away, I didn’t get her name”

“People treat me like I’m an asshole, but I don’t text when I drive though”

“Making mistakes that were made for us, we brushed them off like paper cuts”

“You’re a power bottom at rock bottom”

“And the nights you don’t remember are the nights that you’ll never forget”

“Some settle down, some got out, either way we were raised by this town”

“I’m tired of second chances, and these sad ass circumstances, he’s your problem, good luck”

“They’ll make you cuss and wear your patience thin, but next thing you know they’re all grown up”

“Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey, they know me and Jack Daniel’s got a history”

“When sun goes down and his hazel eyes go blue, that’s when I understand cowboys cry too”

“But when my fairytale went up in smoke, I packed up the only life I know and I told her I’m afraid to be alone, she stayed”

“Can’t believe I haven’t figured out by now. Every time I call you up, all you do is let me down”

“Baby, don’t waste your time on me. I’m so damaged beyond repair.”

“So pack up your car, put a hand on your heart, say whatever you feel, be wherever you are”

“Back when I was gasoline, and this old tattoo had brand new ink.”

“I know that nobody’s listening to a prophet who still can’t turn a profit”

“Even though my dizzy head is numb, I swear my heart is never giving up”

“I know I could do better but better’s just whatever.”

#writing prompts #writing prompt #lyric prompts #song prompt #lyric prompt #song prompts #prompt list #prompts #all time low #noah kahan #forever the sickest kids #taylor swift #country #pop punk

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colorguardsweetheartblurrsgirl · 1 year ago

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Hey...Been a while (My Bad)

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Happy Holidays everyone!!! I know I'm late to the party, life's been kinda CRAZY BUSY Drama and stuff happened. Didn't have time to breath. I did want to post art for the Holidays, art I originally planned for last year. Didn't work out, Wil make eventually, as I love the plan still I set out to make last year and want to still create it. But some new stuff in life that effects schedule was new to me and the exhaustion it brought I wasn't used to. Things seem a bit better so I'm hoping to get back in the swing of it. Starting classes for a month soon so I will have a little less chaos and more time to work on art and stuff hopefully when that happens. (We'll see, prayers all the same)

So, been working on 1st Few chapters, cleaning up. Wanted to know for if you guys wanted me to post favorite lines on occasion. I know I've talked about it before... But maybe set a schedule of every other week or something to share. Like maybe share first lines? Let me know! #stry

~~~

In the meantime, while art has been slower, I have still been working on story bits (so much so I've had days I've tired myself out and wanted to work on other things. But I still have the drive for it. I just give myself occasional break cause you know you don't want something to be a chore when creating. It was more working on some chapters technical stuff which was the chore as it sometimes is. Seems more so when you have it pretty set in stone but have to fix little things that are annoying). I've also been dreadfully stretching out writing out the full outline, I have a form of it in my document (and a terribly built early version from the early days of this fix revolving around the first several chapters events).... However, due to having it fully thought out now I'm at the point I'm hammering nearly 24/7 in my head that while I want to work on art or more story writing I need to sit down and do this. As a visual and do it learner I know for me I need to more so get several printed paper laid out and write in order the outline (not timeline, but that to eventually I've got a very old draft from the early days of the timeline as well. But I need to work on that after too)... So yeah... Just something I'm procrastinating on that despite having the Outline fully or "mostly" fully embodied for the 3-6 books (with all that happens in books 3 or what likely is 5 & 6 I realize it could end up becoming 7 books, but I'm trying to not say that just yet)... But yeah, i have the main things figured out and mostly all events of Book 1 & 2 (most likely it will be Books 1-4 figured out) all the major events have long been in stone for all the books it's just the puzzle pieces of where certain things go and the figuring out battles that is the main thing of the later books not fully visualized ubt story beats are already in stone for the later ends I just realize some may be added to help flesh things out in the later books. Yeah, some reason the one piece of this story that's a chore is getting myself to sit down and do the outline, money isn't a issue at the moment. Though i have some house work that is why some things have been stalled. It's just one of those funny bits I can't get myself to do, despite creating continually for it...

So yeah, really part of me stalling has been trying to get myself to sit down and do what I need to do as a writer instead of relying on the road map in my head (cause I don't want to mess up). That said, lately due to a family member who has connections wanting to read the first few chapters. I've been really working on getting the first five chapters and the Overture (I decided due to length and as it fit better for the story the Prologue is more called the Overture) as I make many references to songs and other reasons. Just like the epilogue (which I long have written and last year I reworked and rewrote, I told my mom what the epilogue entails without reading it to her, as she doesn't want to read any of it till it's created my parents and larger family have been heavily supportive including my friends of me finally setting out to write my first original series... But she literally cried when I told her the ending and the epilogue which I call Before Curtain Bows (and something else that is a stage reference, i grew up on the stage so it's kinda fits to call these such for me and how the story is titled literally spelling out story I kinda pay homage to how they used to be told as if on stage).

Anyways, I know I said I wouldn't do any more long updates. BUt I felt since it's been a while I would. I hope to post more art stuff soon. Unrelated to what I was working on for a while (also to my friend waiting for the birthday gift, I decided to hold it till this birthday so you'll see it in a few months which allows me to work on it a bit more along with other things since it became slightly bigger then I expected it to be while working on it on and off).

Also with the "Recent Business" in my life, it kinda recently inspired me to make just a short, non scheduled Henry Stickmin Collection short random comic with the characters of THSC in a similar place and shenanigans inspired by my experiences in said place. I'll give you more info in the Update 0.5 comic I hope to post and get finished soon. Like I said was to busy to work on anything. But hope to get some of this up soon. I also have a update to my last post where I outlined it and added more details so I'll be posting that (I wanted to see if I can use my scanner but that rooms blocked off by boxes right now gotta figure out a way to navigate it to do so).

Anyways, that's all from me on updates....

Here's a sketch from the 0.5 Update to prove I'm doing stuff other then technical stuff on the novel portion.

THIS WILL BE DIGITILIZED LATER... just rough sketch dump from back when I made this little idea.

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staticl0ve · 2 years ago

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WRITER ASK (I might have just seen it🧍🏻‍♀️)

🌈 - is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

🎀 - give yourself a compliment about your own writing

🤍 - what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

💫 - what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

AND ANOTHER EXTRA ONE I MADE UP because I can and you cant stop me 😌:

👀 - ARE THERE any scenes from any fics of yours that didn’t make in the final cut?

LOVE YOU BABE♥️🫂♥️🫂♥️🫂♥️🫂♥️

AHHHHH. Girl, I love you so much 😭. Gonna SOB MY EYES OUT before I can write this. ✨

🌈 - is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

I wanna say, Garden of Eden’s chapter 8 where it’s all about machine!Connor and there’s so much tension before the filth. Getting the tone down, plus making sure he felt reasonably like a machine was extra hard.

In the same vein, of TBND, You Drive Me Crazy’s part two with Cain/Nines was SO DIFFICULT to write. It took weeks of back and forth cutting and moving aspects of that chapter around to get the vibes right.

Something the two examples have in common is trying to find the motivation of a cold, emotionally removed character and making the spark of change happen in them. It’s especially hard because these colder characters don’t talk a ton and can’t wear their emotions on their sleeves and there’s a need to sprinkle in sexual tension so it’s not all stiff and mean interactions.

I love Nines, I wanna write more Nines. He’s just a difficult man to properly portray and be interesting/sexy the whole way.

🎀 - give yourself a compliment about your own writing

Uh. 🧍‍♀️Whutchu mean?

I jk. Put that gun away.

I’m pretty ADHD as hell so I wanna say I think I enjoy the pacing of my scenes. I try to jump around or keep things interesting/getting to the point, cause I personally can’t focus on something too long if I’m writing it. I’ll even cut stuff from scenes when I edit if I feel like it’s too much to read and doesn’t have to be there.

🤍 - what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

Funny enough, I left so many clues in Dollhouse about the plot and even fully explain it in the last chapter and I got comments where people were confused or didn’t understand how it could have happened that way. 🤣 Most people got it, I think I leaned really heavily on the pop culture reference of hoping others read the tags and watched Ex Machina and had a sense of what they’re getting into.

💫 - what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

Any! I love all comments, they make me feel so fuzzy on the inside. 💙✨

In particular, I always love it when people comment about the character dynamics, enjoy a scene or if they’ve found my side jokes in the narrative. I recently had someone laughing over a joke I slid into Dancing with the Devil and it made my day.

👀 - ARE THERE any scenes from any fics of yours that didn’t make in the final cut?

SNEAKY. I love your questions, they make me think.

There was meant to be a family picnic scene planned for Sixty’s TNBD part two. I thought it would be entertaining if Hank gave his son crap and embarrassed him further in front of his reader. I forget why I cut it, and chances are, it was cause I wanted the pacing to not get stalled by a scene that at the time… I still felt too new to dialogue to confidently tackle and keep interesting.

Some scenes don’t get cut, but morphed entirely so it reads really differently but the original vibes are there.

The Pig and the Fox was actually drafted with the interrogation scene first, looooong before I even thought about the plot. The scene was really different, at the time I just wanted a focus on the sexual tension of two characters: one who wants the other and one who’s aware of the other but “hates” them.

So the dialogue was a lot meaner and more spiteful. It took a fair amount of workshopping to adjust the scene to fit the plot since that scene ultimately ended up in chapter 3 where a lot of context has changed how the two characters would interact. I’d like to think I still preserved the spicy tension though. ✨🔥

Ty again, babe. 💋💙✨ These questions are so sweet!

Ask me anything from this writer ask.

#my asks #dbh fanfic

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rebelspykatie · 2 years ago

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The world is gonna melt, get a little wet

Part 2

SPICY RATED E - Minors DNI | Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

She stills Nancy’s hips, who whines and narrows her eyes at Robin. Her big doe eyes are normally enough to get Robin to do whatever she wants, but it’s hotter when Nancy pins her with this specific look, jaw clenched and ready to pounce. She would get on her knees for that Nancy Wheeler. And she has, many, many times.

“Are you trying to make me pay for teasing you?”

“Of course not,” Robin leans forward and kisses the pout off her lips, before spinning Nancy around. “My hands just have better ideas.”

Robin leans more heavily into the door, spreading her legs and pulling Nancy back against her by her hips. She always revels in how small Nancy feels in her arms, a petite little powerhouse that tries to take charge in every situation, even now. Nancy wraps her hands around Robin’s wrists and guides them lower, back to where Robin was running her fingertips just moments before. As soon as Robin’s palms are caressing her thighs again, Nancy’s back is arching, pushing her chest out and stretching her neck to the side, as if she knows exactly how this looks and exactly how crazy she can drive Robin in this moment.

One of Robin’s hands inches slowly around the front of Nancy’s thigh, pushing the edge of the skirt up and down, teasing her just as much as Nancy has all night. She lets out another breathy whine when Robin tilts her head down and kisses along her collar bone. It turns into a whimper when Robin’s fingers finally move towards her core, tracing around the lace that lines the edges of her panties, lightly pressing in to make Nancy spread her legs more.

She takes her time with it, running her fingers up and down both sides, feeling the delicate lace beneath her fingers and the heat from Nancy that feels like a volcano ready to erupt. She alternates that with strokes along the inside of Nancy’s thighs, featherlight touches that have Nancy shaking in her arms.

There’s a rhythmic jolt to her hips now, almost syncing up with the music thumping through the walls, a sort of swaying that tells Robin that Nancy is searching for more. A helpless grind against the air while Robin keeps her hands away from where Nancy is begging her to touch. Nancy’s keening exhales sound desperate and frustrated.

Right as it looks like Nancy is about to snap and tell her to get on with it, Robin pushes Nancy’s panties aside and slips one finger along her folds, swirling her middle finger around Nancy’s clit. The bass from the music drowns out most of Nancy’s whines, keeping them secretly tucked away in this stall while Robin gets Nancy off. But there’s still a bit of danger in the air. Anyone could walk in and figure out the noises emanating from their alcove if they listened closely. Hell, they didn’t even check the other stalls before they crashed full steam ahead into this one.

She bites at Nancy’s ear and whispers, “Stay quiet, love.”

A bitten off fuck you makes Robin laugh.

She pulls at Nancy’s shirt to untuck it and slips her hand under the hem. She runs her fingers up Nancy’s stomach, feeling her shudder at the touch. Nancy’s bra isn’t nearly as fancy as her panties, just a simple white thing, no frills, so Robin doesn’t waste time teasing her. She doesn’t move the fabric around, but pinches and tweaks at her nipples, waiting until they harden under her fingers before moving to the other side. Another carnal whimper leaves Nancy’s lips, she’s pressing into Robin’s hands at both points of contact, as if she’s not sure whether she wants to grind down or push her chest out, aching for more either way.

Moving her hand back down Nancy’s stomach, she digs her hand in at Nancy’s waist and holds her in place when she finally dips a finger into Nancy. It restricts the rhythm Nancy is trying to set. Otherwise, she'll take over and go at it without a care for if someone might hear or see them. Robin wants to keep a little control over the situation. Work Nancy up to her climax, force her to slow down and go at the pace Robin sets. They’ve done this enough times that Robin knows Nancy likes letting go like this, giving up some of that control, even if she’s pushing back the whole time.

She slowly works her finger in and out of Nancy, alternating between that and flicking against Nancy’s clit, rubbing quick circles that make Nancy’s hips jerk. It’s not enough to really get anywhere, but it’s enough to make Nancy whiny and writhe against her, petulant little sounds escaping without her seeming to notice. Sweat glistens on her forehead and neck and Robin wants to lick it off, wants to bury her face in Nancy’s skin and soak up her arousal.

Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

#ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things #cross posted on twitter #also spicy #this will be 3 parts total #then posted to AO3 #katie writes

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learningnewways · 2 years ago

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Down Time

Over the last few days, the Destiny Rescue team have been away in Thailand at a conference, meaning we had a few days to ourselves to explore the city.

Q and I are both high achieving personalities who like to be busy, so when we realised we had a few days without the team and therefore without any work, we were frustrated. We didn’t know when we booked our flights that they were heading away, so of course lines like, “I paid x amount of money to be here to serve and learn, not to be a tourist!” went around in my head. Sure, a holiday is nice, but that’s not why I came here at all. But alas... The team was gone and we had no option, so we tried to enjoy it and learn more about their city and culture.

We spent a lot of time wandering the streets, eating out, finding markets and food stalls, and just generally exploring. As a foreigner, everywhere you go, people are calling out to you, “Lady, you wanna buy something?” “You come see my shop, I give you nice price...” “You want TukTuk?” In the markets, it seems like every shop sells the same things, so it’s hard to know who to buy from. I went into a few stalls and had a look around, ending up buying things I didn’t need... There were two times I was buying things and the ladies selling clothes said they hadn’t had any customers yet, that I’d be their first sale of the day. Of course that makes you want to buy because you feel sorry for them! But it’s hard to know if it’s true or not. It could be genuinely true, or it could be a sale tactic to pull on the foreigners heart strings. The further into the market you go, the more believable it is. On the street front, I think they would get many customers, whereas deep inside the market maze, I wonder how many people actually buy things.

Generally the people here are super kind and friendly, which is nice. I always chat with the hotel staff who know me by name. Q says I’m their favourite and he’s probably not wrong! I can’t imagine many people would take the time to get to know the hotel staff. But then most guests only stay for around three nights and we’re here for three weeks! So much more time to build relationships. I’m sure they’re confused as to why we’re here for so long and what we are doing. I ask them about their lives and make little jokes with them which they love. Whenever I walk past they say, “Hello Kimberly,” but they don’t say hello to Q, which I think is funny. They say hello, they just don’t call him by name, and I doubt they know many other hotel guests names. You get out what you put in I guess!

One day we found a line of street food stalls and got chatting to the lady who runs one. She was so lovely! I asked her about her business, lifestyle and family. She works very hard, working long hours and barely having time for her children, but she works hard to provide for them. She makes more money doing her own business than being employed my someone else, which she likes, as well as the independence and flexibility. Another day we went to a local cooking class which was so much fun. I love doing cooking classes overseas as you get to meet more people, you’re supporting local business, learning about their culture and food, and of course, you get to eat delicious goods! It was a bit of a drive out of the city, so it was nice to see the countryside too.

On Sunday we went to ICF church, which is a campus or church plant from the ICF movement, which started in Switzerland. It’s funded from Swiss donors and you can deeeefinitely tell! Swiss money goes a lot further overseas, particularly in poor places like this. Their facilities are next level crazy impressive. The main structure has a massive steel roof at about 15 metres high, 30 metres wide by 60 metres long, it is crazy big. The building is half open on all sides and half closed off. The closed off part is where they have church and when you walk in you feel like you’re in an American church with lights, cameras, smoke machines...etc. Their evening adults service was in both Cambodian and English, with the pastor being from Switzerland. Then the other more open part of the building is used for eating meals after the service, and even has... Wait for it... Q’s favourite part... A rock climbing wall! It was epic! And that’s just the main building, then they have offices, classrooms, football fields, a ninja warrior course over a man made lake... The list goes on.

Right across the road from the church is the ICF Wake Park, which again is hard to explain. Honestly, just Google or YouTube it. It’s nuts! It is so impressive and crazy and would’ve cost so much money to set up. It has a restaurant and man made beach section, as well as the actual wake park. Jaw dropping, that’s for sure. ICF only planted the church ten years ago and they’ve accomplished so much. It is truely inspiring. Seeing all that ICF did gave me heaps of ideas for The Gambia, and made me realise you can do almost anything if you have heaps of funding. Then I remembered I have no funding... Haha. So back to the drawing board! We got chatting to a staff member after the service and she invited us to come back sometime for a tour of the property and to hear more about what they do, which we are pumped for!

During our downtime, in the evenings we visited the city’s Pub Street, where there are lots of restaurants, loud music, and of course, pubs! It’s where most foreigners go to party the night away, however there is a much sinister side to it. A lot of girls sell themselves or are forced to sell themselves to men in the pubs. It looks different for every pub and every girl, depending on their age and the situation of course. But we saw a lot of “bar girls” as they call them, who wait in the pubs and flirt with the men before taking them out back or the men taking them away. From what we could see they were mainly women, but I know there are underage girls there as well, probably more hidden from view. They also have countless massage places, which also act as brothels essentially. They look just like massage parlours out front, but out back they offer more than just massages, and with younger girls too.

Overall it has been a great few days, but even still, my personality just wants to be out doing something worthwhile. I want to help the bar girls, not just walk past where they work. Of course being here for a few short weeks, I can’t “do” all that much to help, but I can shadow the team and learn a lot from them. It’s frustrating to come all this way and get straight into it, then be stalled for a few days. I just want to make the most of every opportunity, learn, information gather and support wherever I can. Not be a tourist. I wonder what God is trying to teach me... I mean, I’ve still learnt a lot from just chatting with locals, and definitely ICF got me excited. But I am looking forward to being back with the team tomorrow, for whatever they’re doing!

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