#sitting. here trying to figure out why I feel like shit. I go driving. I get ice tea and hash browns.

[dilfcherricola]

it is getting so bad again i can barely eat when I'm at home

[that-house]

Potion Vendor FAQs:

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.

Do you sell love potions? No.

Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.

Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.

Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.

Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.

So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.

Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.

Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.

Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.

Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.

Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.

Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.

So can you make poison potions? No.

Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.

Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.

How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.

You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.

Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.

Road trip? He lives in Seattle.

Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.

For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.

And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.

Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

[adverbally]

This Must Be the Place

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “‘I didn’t know where else to go’” | wc: 2,262 | rated: T | cw: minor injuries, abuse | tags: steve’s shitbag dad, found family, wayne as a surrogate parental figure, steve is a munson now dammit, previous breakup, getting back together | title from “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)” by Talking Heads

———

Steve sits in his car in front of the Munson house. He had helped them move in, just last year. He remembers dropping a box of Eddie’s books on his foot in the front yard and thinking he had broken a toe or two. Bringing the couch inside, with him and Wayne holding the ends and Eddie shouting unhelpful instructions from the doorway. Unpacking pots and pans in the kitchen while Eddie dozed on the sofa, still not fully recovered from his injuries. Kissing Eddie awake so they could sleep together in an actual bed.

It makes Steve’s eyes burn all over again. He scrubs at his face without thinking, then winces at the pressure on his bruised cheekbone and the sting of saltwater meeting the broken skin.

This was stupid. Why didn’t he just go to Robin’s? Her parents are nice enough. They would probably let him stay over for a few days, at least until his parents leave town again. But then Steve thinks about having to explain why he’s so beat up and why his dad was so mad, and it’s just too much for him to handle tonight.

Here, he won’t have to explain. It might be awkward, but he and Eddie have remained friendly even if they’ve been broken up for close to three months. Hopefully they’re friendly enough that Eddie will let Steve crash on his couch.

Steve gets out of the car before he can lose his nerve and forces himself to walk up the drive. It’s a pretty nice house, actually, not far from Dustin’s. Lush green lawn, solid red brick, shrubs beneath the ground floor windows. More importantly, the porch light is on.

He knocks on the door. There’s no answer. Great.

He wraps his arms around himself, trying to warm up. There hadn’t been enough time to grab a jacket, barely enough time to grab his keys and stuff his feet into the half-unlaced sneakers by the door, so he’s wearing ratty sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt from his basketball days in below-freezing temperatures. He doesn’t even have socks on.

“Shit,” he sighs to himself. Maybe he’ll try Dustin next, since he’s in the neighborhood. He feels a little sick at the thought of Claudia Henderson fussing over him with the full power of her maternal concern, but it’s still better than trying to sleep in his car. Resigned to his fate, Steve is just turning to leave when the door opens.

It’s Wayne.

Somehow that’s worse than having to see Eddie like this. One year ago, Steve and Wayne were watching football and changing the oil in Eddie’s van and cooking together. Steve spent more time here than he did at his own house, and Wayne became more of a father to him than his dad had ever been. Then Steve had screwed that up, just like he screws everything up.

“Eddie isn’t home yet,” Wayne says, not unkindly. The rumble of his voice twists something in Steve’s chest. “Band practice.”

“I’m not really here for him, I guess, I just… I didn’t know where else to go.” He hopes Wayne will attribute the tremble in his voice to the way he’s shivering rather than the lump in his throat.

Wayne’s face softens and he pushes the door open wider, gesturing for Steve to come in. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

That’s it. The immediate relief and crashing adrenaline are more than Steve can handle, and he starts bawling right there on the Munsons’ doorstep. His jaw works, trying to form the words to say ‘sorry’ or ‘thank you’ or anything at all, but he’s sobbing too hard to speak, hunched over with the force of it.

“C’mere, son, before you freeze to death.” Wayne shepherds him inside with an arm around his trembling shoulders, shutting the door behind them before pulling Steve into a hug.

Steve doesn’t know how long they stand there, but it feels like forever. He knows Wayne isn’t a very tactile person, which makes him cry even more when Wayne doesn’t push him away, just lets him cry into his faded flannel shirt and talks to him softly.

“You’re safe here. It’s okay. You stay here as long as you need to, we’ll take care of you.”

When Steve manages to calm his sobs into hiccuping breaths, Wayne pats him on the back and lets him make the first move to pull away. He does, sniffling and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to counter the pressure in his sinuses. Crying always gives him a headache, and he expects it to be worse considering how hard his dad hit him.

“Sorry,” he rasps as Wayne hands him a tissue. “I didn’t–”

“Nope, none of that,” Wayne cuts him off, leading him through the living room, down the hall, and into the bathroom. “Nothin’ wrong with a good cry every once in a while, and you look like you earned that one.” He gestures at the closed toilet seat. “Here, let me patch you up.”

Steve tries to protest, but Wayne silences him with a sideways glance as he rummages in the medicine cabinet. “Thank you,” he says instead. The bright light in here makes him feel like a bug under a microscope, potential migraine trigger aside, so he looks down at the floor to reduce the glare.

Wayne starts with a warm washcloth, gently wiping the tear tracks and blood from his face. He stands between Steve and the light so it doesn’t shine in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what happened,” Wayne tells him, never looking away from his work, “but I’m worried about you, Steve.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Steve shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Wayne’s expression. “I’ve had worse.”

“Does it have anything to do with why you broke my kid’s heart?” He sits the washcloth aside and unwraps an alcohol wipe. “Not to mention your own.”

Of course it does. Steve can handle his dad’s temper, but Eddie shouldn’t have to. Ending their relationship was a small price to pay to keep Eddie safe. If their breakup just so happened to coincide with the last time Steve’s parents were in town…

“Ow, shit,” Steve hisses as Wayne swipes over the cut.

With a gentle grip on his chin, Wayne tilts Steve’s head side to side for a better look at the wound. “Don’t think it needs stitches.”

“That’s something, I guess,” Steve says dully, trying not to flinch when Wayne sticks a Band-Aid over it, putting pressure on the surrounding bruise.

“Sorry.” Wayne looks him over with a careful eye. “Anythin’ else hurt? Your head?”

There’s a difference between what hurts and what Wayne will be able to do something about. “Not really. Just sore. Cold.”

Wayne nods slowly, staring at him like he’s trying to gauge his honesty. “Well then, why don’t I get you set up on the couch with some blankets so you can warm up?”

It’s a little pathetic how much better Steve feels, curled up on the Munsons’ old couch, cocooned in a thick blanket wearing a pair of Wayne’s old pajama pants and a worn Anthrax tee borrowed from Eddie’s closet. It smells like home, like Eddie and Wayne, cigarette smoke and stale beer and Irish Spring. Steve feels himself relaxing for the first time in days, no longer having to worry about his dad’s reactions to every little thing he does.

“You need anythin’ else, just ask, alright?” Wayne tells him softly on his way to bed.

“Thanks, Wayne,” Steve murmurs back.

He floats between wakefulness and sleep for a long time, thinking too hard to fully drift off. He doesn’t know what time it is when he hears Eddie’s key in the door.

“Hey, why is Steve’s car here?” he calls without looking, too busy juggling his guitar case and an amplifier while trying not to trip over the cables draped over his shoulders.

“Steve is here, too,” Steve answers, hoping he’s not loud enough to disturb Wayne.

Eddie turns toward him and his face falls. “Jesus, Steve,” he exclaims, sitting down his gear as fast as he can without dropping it. It ends up in a heap near the front door while Eddie focuses on getting to Steve. He kneels next to the couch to get a better look at Steve’s face in the dim light. “What happened?”

Eddie reaches out to trace the very edge of the bruise across his cheek. He barely makes any contact but the gesture is so tender and loving that tears spring to Steve’s eyes.

“Shit, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Eddie frets.

“No, I…” He huffs out a pained laugh. “I’m so sick of crying. And I’m sick of missing you. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let you go like that—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie hushes him and tucks his greasy, limp hair behind his ear. “We don’t have to hash it out right now.”

Steve shakes his head. “Let me tell you I’m sorry, at least. Please?” His voice cracks. “‘Cause I am, I’m so, so sorry. I was scared and I wanted you to be safe.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, I forgive you. I forgave you ages ago.” Eddie looks down and fiddles with one of his rings. “Like, when it happened. Dustin told me your parents were in town and I just knew that was why you ended things.”

“You see why I was worried?” Steve gestures at his own face for emphasis. “Not that it matters anymore. I guess Dad finally had enough. He said not to come back, that he was embarrassed to have me as a son.” He scoffs. “Like he even knows what it’s like to be a dad that’s more than just a sperm donor.”

Eddie’s face is dark with anger. “That’s his loss. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“Is he, though?” Steve looks away as more tears overflow. “Missing out?”

“Yes,” Eddie says immediately, lowering his voice but leaning closer. “Anyone who has the chance to know Steve Harrington and throws it away– they can’t even imagine how much better their life could be with you in it. They don’t know how much protectiveness and compassion and worry and, and love they could have!”

Steve chuckles a little ruefully. “I guess that leaves more for you.”

“You’re damn right it does. Their loss is my gain.” His smile is fond, and he looks so beautiful in the lamplight with those deep, dark eyes and his nose still a little pink from the cold.

“I–” Steve clears his throat and tries again. “I love you. Still. Never stopped.”

Eddie laughs. It makes Steve’s heart sink, which Eddie must notice because he rushes to clarify, “No, I mean, I was trying to resist the urge to Han you. Um, like in Empire, how he’s like, ‘I know.’”

“It would be my honor to be Hanned by you.” Steve feels the smile bloom on his face, wide and genuine. It’s nice, even if it pulls at the edge of his bruise. “I would even infiltrate Jabba’s palace disguised as a bounty hunter to free you from your carbonite prison.”

“You’re hot when you’re nerdy.”

“I think you’re biased.”

“Come to bed with me.”

That stops Steve short. “Ed, I–”

“Just to sleep!” he clarifies. “Just, I don’t know, I hate the idea of you out here alone on the couch when you could be more comfortable in my room. The benefits of a government-funded mattress.” Eddie’s attempt at a joke falls flat when everything he says is so earnest. “I think we would both sleep better.”

He wants to, really wants to, and Eddie’s logic is surprisingly sound, but something within Steve is holding him back. It’s gotta be fear, it always is. Fear had forced Steve away from people he loves, kept him under his father’s thumb, made him give up when he should have tried harder. He doesn’t want to live like that anymore, not when Eddie is here on his knees, looking at Steve like he’s some awe-inspiring work of art, begging to take care of him.

“Okay.” Steve’s nod is small but his voice is steady. “Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

Eddie helps unwrap him from his blanket cocoon, steadying him when his foot catches in the hem of his borrowed pajama pants, and holds his hand to guide Steve down the hall to his bedroom. Steve watches him from under the covers as he throws his jacket over the back of his desk chair and strips down to his boxers. Eddie is beautiful, almost luminous in the dark, and familiar in a way that makes Steve ache. He missed him, so damn much, and he hopes he never has to miss him again.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you creeping on me,” Eddie teases as he slips into bed, immediately scooting close to Steve and pulling him into his arms.

Steve grumbles, “I was admiring, not creeping.” And he’s admiring again, letting his hand trace across Eddie’s chest, down his lean torso. His scars are more faded than Steve remembers them being.

“I love you,” Eddie whispers.

“‘I know,’” Steve replies in his best Harrison Ford voice, which just sounds ridiculous.

They both start laughing, even as Eddie says, “You asshole!” and squeezes him as punishment.

With Eddie warm and solid next to him, giggling in his ear, Steve thinks he might actually be okay.

[steddiealltheway]

Steve can see it in Max. That same loneliness and ache that he finds in himself. For him, it’s result of his parents leaving with no intent to return to him unless absolutely necessary.

He knows he was an accident. Or rather a mistake as his father used to call him when he was particularly angry. But it made sense to him. Steve's the reason his father had to marry his mother. He left him "trapped." And maybe no one says it out loud, but he can tell his mother feels the same way too.

But they must keep up appearances, right?

Which is what Max has been trying to do since Billy died, El moved away, and it's been just her and her mom. But she's been going about it through a different route - pushing people away all while pretending things are fine. But Steve sees the way she picks up the broken pieces of her mom and tries to put them back together - Steve's had to do the same thing before.

So, he starts sticking around a little longer. Offering her more rides to the arcade and around town to pick up groceries when she needs to. Sometimes he'll tell her about a new recipe he's been trying for a casserole and pick up the ingredients, pretending like the milk and butter he bought will spoil by the time he drives home from her trailer.

Of course, they both know it's a lie, but Max humors him and plays along. She'll let him cook dinner while she picks up the bottles her mom left on the floor, dumps out the overflowing ashtray, and feeds the dog. Usually, Steve will ask her what she's learning in school and linger a little longer than usual in hopes that she'll say more than the usual, "I don't know. A bunch of boring stuff."

But lingering has gotten a lot of things out of Max such as her love for Kate Bush, a story about El and how much she misses her, and short quips about Lucas before she gets a sad smile on her face. Steve doesn't really know what to say most of the time, but he hopes that just being there will help.

Unfortunately, lingering and just being there has led him to his current predicament of none other than Eddie "The Freak" Munson sitting on the hood of his car glaring at him as he walks out of Max's place. Steve jumps a little, startled by the figure on his car and becoming more hostile as he sees the expression on his face. He shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his pace. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie snorts humorlessly. "Christ. You're really going to pretend like there's nothing wrong with what's happening?"

Steve's brows furrow, entirely missing whatever point he's trying to make.

Eddie stands up and stalks toward him. "I see you, you know. Always lurking around when her mom isn't home. Coming out of her trailer late at night."

Steve laughs, finally understanding the absurd conclusion he's come to. "Jesus, man. You're delusional."

Steve doesn't expect it, but Eddie sharply shoves his chest and grits, "I don't fucking lie to me, Harrington."

Steve holds his hands up. "I'm not," he firmly states. "Nothing like that is happening here. I'm glad you're looking out for her, but it isn't like that."

"Do you expect me to believe that? Maybe this is why you're always hanging around Henderson and the other kids."

Steve crosses his arms and his jaw tenses. "I'm not a fucking pervert or a pedophile if that's what you're trying to say. I'm just looking after them."

"Why?" Eddie asks, dramatically opening his arms, "Why would King Steve adopt a group of misfits to take under his wing? See, the math isn't adding up."

Usually, Steve would just brush it off and tell the person to fuck off and mind their own business. But his parents have just left town again without leaving a note and Max had snapped when Steve tried to help her clean the place because it looked worse than usual, and he was just generally feeling like shit and angry at his parents and Max's parents for not being there. So he broke, "Because I don't want Max to end up like me! I don't want any of those kids to grow up without a role model. And god forbid if any of those other kids' parents fuck up, and they’re left with only me. I need them to know that I'm there for them! Because sometimes it feels like whenever the world goes to shit, I'm the only one who is there, and I plan to stay there, okay?!"

He finishes his rant breathing a little heavier than usual and noticing that a few of the lights in the trailers have turned on around them. He looks around and awkwardly nods to the people glaring out their windows. God, he needs to get a grip.

When he turns back to Eddie, he notices the conflicted expression, jaw dropped, eyebrows knitted together, eyes searching him as if he's still wondering if he's lying.

A door creaks open behind them and Steve curses under his breath as he hears Max say, "Eddie, leave him alone. Do you really think I would hook up with my damn babysitter? Jeez."

"Language," Steve quietly lectures as the door swings shut. He runs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath. It's been a long fucking day.

A hand lands on his arm and tugs him away from Max's trailer. Steve glances up at Eddie, leading him across the way. "Where are we going?"

"My place," Eddie says.

"Why?"

"So we can talk."

God, the last thing he wants to do is talk to Eddie of all people, the guy he's been actively avoiding since Dustin started worshipping the ground - or rather tables - he walks on. But he lets himself be pulled away in the trailer and practically deposited on the couch in the living room.

He glances up and comments, "That's a lot of mugs."

"My uncle's, but that's not what I wanted to... Christ," Eddie says, pacing in front of Steve and tugging his hair in front of his face. The anxious display makes Steve feel even more tired, but he lets him pace. God, what is he even doing here?

"I'm sorry," Eddie blurts out. "I'm just..." he trails off and rushes over to grab a stool a few feet away before dragging it in front of the couch. He sits on it but his leg still holds that nervous energy as it rapidly bounces up and down. "I jumped to conclusions, and it was really shitty of me, man. I just... didn't believe what Henderson was saying about you and thought 'Oh, this makes way more sense than Steve Harrington being a good dude.' And I'm sorry to accuse you of that. And I... I didn't know about your... parents and stuff. Like I knew they were away a lot because of your parties but... I just never connected the dots. And I'm sorry. No one deserves that shit, man."

Steve doesn't know what to do this whole interaction, especially with it coming from Eddie Munson who he doesn't think he's ever talked to before this moment, but... he needs to hear it. God, he needs to hear it.

Of course, he can't let him know this, so he does what he's best at and brushes it off. "It's fine. You were just looking out for the kids. And really just ignore what I said back there, it isn't that big of a deal."

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he blurts out, "I know what it's like." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I mean, I know what it's like to have... absent parents. But in my case, eventually, my uncle Wayne took me in, and I can only imagine if he didn't." He gives him a pointed look and lowers his voice, "Do you have someone like that?"

A big part of Steve wants to leave right now, and he knows there's nothing stopping him. But a bigger part of him needs to stay. Needs to talk about the emptiness in his house that he can never truly escape at the end of the day that he can’t talk to anyone about. Because he's not supposed to be weak. He's supposed to take care of the others. So he admits, "No, I don't have... anyone like that. Except Robin but..."

"That's different," Eddie finishes the thought for him.

Steve nods. He loves Robin, but he loves her as a platonic soulmate and not as a parent figure in his life. "You know, I once had this basketball coach in middle school - Mr. Weston. And I remember looking up to him so much. I wanted to be just like him, and I would go to his office during lunch and ask him for advice or talk about dumb shit that my father would never talk about. But he never shamed me for my questions. And sometimes he even packed an extra dessert for me." Steve smiles at the memories and runs a hand through his hair, remembering the day he got the news. "But one time, when I went to his office, he had this look on his face. And I just knew it was bad news. And really, it wasn't bad news to him because his wife was pregnant. But she wanted to move a few states away to raise the kid closer to her family. And it wasn't his fault, you know? It wasn't like he purposely chose to move away from me, but I felt like I was abandoned again."

Steve wipes a tear from his eye and puts his head in his hands. "God, I don't know why I'm even telling you this story. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Eddie says quickly. He pauses and shifts on the stool, his gaze being far away. "I remember him. He was one of the only gym teachers that defended me against all the shitty middle school bullies. He was a good person.”

Steve nods. God, he was a good person.

Eddie continues, “I'm sorry that he left. And I bet he still regrets leaving you behind."

Steve leans back against the couch and looks away, shaking his head. "I bet he forgot about me."

"You're kind of hard to forget."

Steve looks at Eddie and sees a slight blush on his cheeks as he shakes his head and waves his hands as if trying to make the comment go away. "What I mean is that there's no way he's forgotten about you. Someone who you used to have lunch with all the time to the point of giving you free food... Nah, man. He remembers you. I think you may have been as important to him as he was to you."

The thought breaks away at a wall Steve had built up long ago. "Thanks," he practically whispers.

Eddie just smiles at him, small dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"You didn't deserve it either, you know," Steve says. "The absent parent stuff. Even with Wayne, they should've been here too."

Eddie's smile falters a bit as he swallows and looks at the ground. "Thanks," he mumbles. He looks up at Steve and comments, "Getting sappy with Steve Harrington. Who knew."

"Yeah, getting sappy with Eddie Munson," Steve echoes back at him.

Eddie laughs, "I'm surprised you even know my name."

"You're kind of hard to forget," Steve says easily.

That same blush comes back to Eddie who shifts in his chair a bit as if he needs to process the information with his whole body.

They sit in the moment for a bit before Eddie gets a somewhat serious look on his face and offers, "You know, I'm definitely not a parent figure or anything, but I'm always here and around to talk about that whole thing if you need to."

Steve's heart beats a little faster at the sheer genuineness. "Same here," he can't help but offer in return. He glances down at his watch and sighs, "It's getting late, so I better..."

"Right," Eddie says, standing up and leading him to the door. "Do you need water for the road or anything?"

Steve smiles and pats him on the back without thinking too hard about it. "I'm good, man. But thank you. For everything really."

"Sorry for being an asshole," Eddie apologizes again.

"Usually that's my line," Steve accidentally voices before cringing a bit, wondering further why Eddie's been so kind to him.

But as he opens the door, Eddie comments, "I don't know. It seems like Dustin was right about the whole reformed jock thing. Maybe your crown really has fallen - which is a good thing by the way."

Steve slightly smiles at him before he turns to leave. But he can't help but say, "I wonder what the neighbors will think about me leaving your trailer so late."

Eddie groans then laughs. "Sorry to ruin your image."

"I wouldn't mind," Steve replies, honestly unsure what he means by that. "Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Steve," Eddie says, that same blush on his cheeks, only this time Steve isn't sure if it's something he said or a result of the cold night air.

In bed that night, Steve feels a slight weight lifted from him and can't help but feel like he’s a little less alone.

[arjudy224]

Chemical Valley

(The Intern x Red Hood)

After the unsettling reminder of her past, Y/N has been avoiding vigilantes for the last few months. However, Dr. Harris has requested backup in the form of Gotham's newest crime lord. What could go wrong?

The Intern Collection:

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

I'm getting real sick of risking my life for a minimum-wage job. Driving around with Dr. Harris is one thing, but since when did the job description list teaming up with crime lords? I mean it's the Red Hood for Christ's sake. Dr. Harris gives me a protective smile from the driver's seat.

"Don't worry about Red Hood. He knows what he's doing." He starts sensing my apprehension. "Besides, he owes me a favor."

I nod with a nervous smile. Red Hood is the only vigilante that I've never interacted with. He only recently appeared in Gotham. From what I've heard on the streets, he isn't exactly on great terms with Batman.

"All due respect... hasn't he killed people? " I question glancing around the lonely alleyway.

Growing silent, Harris contemplates his response.

"Not recently." He says with what is supposed to be a comforting pat on the shoulder.

Trying to ignore the anxiety creating knots across my gut, I reply with more enthusiasm than I feel.

"Oh well... that's progress."

Harris laughs.

"It's Gotham dear. It's hard to find someone who hasn't committed murder. I wouldn't worry too much about the Hood though. If you can befriend Waylon, a little boy in a helmet is the least of your worries. "

I raise an eyebrow.

"You wanna elaborate?"

He smiles sweetly. I narrow my eyes.

"Don't ask questions that you don't want to know the answers to."

That shuts me up. We sit in silence for a few minutes while I contemplate what he just said. Dr. Harris isn't exactly wrong... Glancing at the time clock on the dashboard, I frown. I guess vigilantes aren't known for being punctual, but at least Nightwing was on time. Considering our history, maybe we were both eager to see each other again. I try to focus on the cool air dusting across my face.

A swift knock causes me to jump. The infamous Red Hood almost cartoonishly waves at me from the outside the window. My nervous heart patters like a hummingbird. Eyeing his bike, I sigh. It was silent... Of course, it was silent. What kind of muffler does he have on that thing?

Harris rolls down the window.

"Good morning. Thank you for meeting us."

Leaning on the car door, Red Hood asks in a deep voice

"What do you have for me Dr.?"

"Routine inspection of Ace chemicals. Normally, I wouldn't worry about having a backup, but with an uptick in Joker sightings... I figured it would be better to be safe than sorry."

Hood nods, then glances in my direction.

"I'll keep an eye out."

"Y/N L/N," I say introducing myself, "But most people call me L/N."

"Weren't you the one who convinced the Riddler to let you go in exchange for inspecting his lair for asbestos?" Hood asks with a tone of pride.

I smile while shaking his hand. Word must get around quick.

"Yeah, that's me. He didn't even ask me any riddles. The poor man was terrified."

Dr. Harris whips his head around.

"Why haven't I heard about this?" He demands.

I flash him a shit-eating grin.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to Dr. Maybe Metropolis hasn't made me so soft after all."

Before he can start lecturing me, I step out of the car to face my new bodyguard. Keeping my eyes trained on the ground. I sidestep the hulking mammoth of a man.

"Thank you for dropping me off Dr., but I'm sure "Little" Red and I can take it from here."

From the Driver's seat, Harris watches me with a hint of pride.

"This is not the last time we will be discussing this."

"I look forward to the debrief," I remark as he pulls away.

The ACE chemicals manufacturing plant towers over the surrounding buildings. The smoke stacks excrete a dark sticky aerosol that trickles down from above. Its gothic structure makes it look like something out of a Tim Burton film. Taking a step near the external shutter, I drag my index finger across. My glove smears a damp power off revealing the old white paint. An uncomfortable sensation settles in my chest.

There is no way this amount of air pollution is legal.

After my second round of coughing, Red Hood offers me a disposable face mask. I gratefully take it. The neon green sign serves as a haunting reminder that somehow this has passed inspection. My eyebrows narrow. We passed several kids on the way here. What does that do to someone? No wonder Dr. Harris mentioned childhood asthma. I'm more concerned about the long-term exposure to industrial solvents.

Glancing at Red Hood, I state

"There is no way this is legal."

Red Hood stays quiet for a moment. Adjusting his helmet, he replies

"The law can be anything you want as long as you kill the inspectors who challenge you."

My mouth falls open. A thousand questions flood my mind.

"Somebody must have tried."

Hood tilts his head while glancing between us and the doors.

"Somebody did try."

Tossing me a key card over his shoulder, he continues, "You can visit them in Arkham if you want."

I flounder to catch the key card. It takes a few moments to register his words. Them as in more than one? Or is he concealing their identity? By the time my brain focuses, I stand in the alley alone staring up at a sign for a trading card company.

Isn't that where the Joker.... Oh hell no...

Stumbling through the stained doors, a bubbly man contrasts the bleak external welcome. As he rambles, I analyze the faded posters nailed to the wall. Dr. Harris briefly mentioned the factory's history of producing bioweapons during the Second World War. Hazardous feels like an understatement. I nodd along with the pleasant man, yet something in my gut tells me to keep my eyes and ears open.

Walking past a dust cloud, my lungs contract. Unable to steady myself, I sneak down a back hall to take my inhaler. The rambling man continues down the other hallway completely oblivious to my absence. I tear the disposable mask off my face. Searching my pockets for the familiar medication, my heart drops. Of course, I left it in the car.

I sink into a seated position once the dizziness sets in. Do. Not. Panic. We cannot do that again. No more emergency room trips. A pair of boots emerges from the shadows.

"Are you alright?"

I nodd while focusing on each labored breath.

"Sometimes, I really hate this city." I wheeze clutching my chest.

Red Hood lets out a dry laugh before taking a seat next to me.

"I have something that might help, but you have to trust me."

A small inhaler makes its way into my left hand. Squinting, a small Bat engraving stares up at me. I give him an incredulous glance. There is no fucking way that Batman has a pharmacy.

"It works. I promise."

Reluctantly, I take two puffs. We sit in silence for a few minutes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. I relish the first full breath of air in days. My lungs expand completely. It is glorious.

"How is your friendship with Killer Croc?"

The immense pain that weighs on my chest lessens slightly.

"I'm sure Waylon wouldn't use the word friend. "

I open my eyes to look at him. Spots litter my vision. The sticky residue has left grime all over his mask. I hesitate.

"Waylon has lost everything... Everyone really. All he really needed was a friend."

Hood stays silent weighing out my words.

"What factory did they make you in?" He questions.

I can almost hear a smile in his voice.

"The same one that kicked you out for defects." I retort staring at the white paint peeling on the far left wall.

Considering the age of this building, I really hope that's not lead paint.

"Touché, Ms. Friendship. Touché"

I give him a friendly shove.

"You know, you aren't as bad as your reputation suggests."

He laughs climbing to his feet.

"I wouldn't go that far. Usually, I'm a dick."

"Better a dick than a sociopath," I say dusting off the black power on my pants.

"Damn Metropolis. Who have you been talking to?"

I shrug.

"It's Gotham. "

After a few moments of friendly silence, he asks

"You ready to find Mr. Optimistic?"

I nodd allowing him to pull me to my feet. Enjoying the comfortable silence, I open the door for him once we make it down the hall. To my surprise, Red Hood slams me against a wall before covering my mouth. Paralyzed in shock, I don't fight him. The Red Bat insignia stares at me. The soft aroma of his cologne catches me off guard. It's nice. Very musky. There's something so... familiar about it. I suddenly feel my face go red. There is no way I am evaluating how good a CRIMINAL smells. Get a grip girl.

Ignoring my mental crisis, Red Hood leads the two of us out the back door. Stumbling out the door behind him, I bend over holding my knees for stability. This is a lot of cardio for a regular inspection.

"What the hell was that about dude?" I hiss in between breaths.

Red Hood doesn't say anything.

"I know you are trying for the strong and silent type, but I think this partnership would benefit from open communication."

Standing up tall, a gunman aims a pistol directly at my temple.

Oh.. That's why.

Tag list: @nosyrobin, @jjsmeowthie, @epicy0n,@gaychaosgremlin, @rory-cakes, @luna-zendra-star

[nervoussagittarius]

what could possibly go wrong?

matt sturniolo x influencer!reader

summary: matt tries to teach his girlfriend how to play fortnite on a twitch stream, request

warnings: lots of fluff, swearing, fortnite?, some suggestive jokes, yapper! reader

“babe, come sit with me. i just started the stream. people are joining, only for you i think” matt laughed

“of course they are they love me. i keep it real and i’m hilarious” you replied pulling out the extra chair by matt’s desk and sitting down.

“okay, so here’s your controller, and i’m gonna put the headset on you so people can hear you talk.” matt gently placed the headset on you and brushed a piece of hair out of your eyes.

matt got up for a second telling you that he was going to the kitchen to get a drink. you jokingly slapped his ass on his way out. you quickly looked between the camera and the chat trying to read what everyone was saying.

“guys, you want to know what i was thinking about today?” you waited to see their responces even though you were most likely going to tell them anyway.

“so i was driving around la today, and it’s getting hot out again, so everyone’s driving their convertibles. and i drove past like four of them. all i could think about was how easy it would be to steal the car, not that im going to, but how do people feel comfortable leaving their shit open like that”

matt walked back in as you continued to rant about convertibles, “i don’t know about you but half of my life is in my car. if i had a convertible people could easily just take all of my stuff”

matt looked at you dumbfounded, “what are you on about kid?” you looked up at him with admiration on your face.

“im telling them how i feel about convertibles. look they’re mad that you interrupted me.” you pointed at the chat. they were all waiting for you to finish your thought. “this is why we don’t like men guys, they just like to interrupt and be the center of attention”

matt cut you off before you could go on another tangent. “okay, we all know they love when you come on here, but let’s play fortnite.”

you looked at matt trying to hold yourself back. you looked at the camera and gave them a wink.

“what”

“… that’s what she said”

you stood up when you noticed something on the shelf about matt’s desk.

“dude you ass is in my face, and your…boobs… are in the camera” he said awkwardly as he pulled your arm for you to sit back down. he waited to see what you grabbed.

“don’t act like it’s the first time my ass has been in your face,” you sat down holding up your space camp lipbalm to the camera. “shameless plug. go buy it right now. immediately. instantly.”

you applied the chapstick as matt looked at you with puckered lips. he was expecting you to apply the lipbalm on him but instead you gave matt a kiss with a giggle.

“okay so fortnite” matt said trying to get you back on track, blushing.

“yes yes let’s do it” you replied.

“do you know how to use the controller?”

“yes sir, i think i do”

matt looked at you with a raised eyebrow in question. you didn’t let up though, you were sure you could figure out how to use the controller in secret.

“so you have to start by picking a character.”

“i’m indecisive. can you pick for me?” you said with a smile.

“no babe, you got it just pick one.” matt said with a chuckle. he set his chin in your shoulder to get a better look.

“i’m gonna go bonkers if i have to make decisions this whole time, matt”

“no there’s just one i promise. everything else is preloaded from me so you don’t have to worry,” he leaned forward to kiss your neck lovingly.

“i love when you make things easy for me. thanks baby.” you said taking your hand off the controller for a second to lace your arm through matt’s.

matt and you had been together for a while now, and with you both having lives on the internet a lot of your relationship was public.

the fans went crazy for anything related to the two of you. they loved you guys together. you had very different personalities, but it seemed to click flawlessly. they always said that opposites attract.

while matt was more reserved, you tended to speak your mind and talk about anything and everything. you were a certified yapper and proud of it, baby. your yapping kept the fans fed on the insides of yours and matt’s relationship. consensually of course.

“okay, so you’re just going to drop in and see what happens”

“what do you mean drop in? im just letting myself fall?” you were very confused on the workings of video games.

“yep, now just make sure you aware of your surroundings”

“making sure i’m aware of my surroundings, got it. i’m just gonna run over here and see what i can find.” you drowned on.

things went smoothly for a couple minutes. you managed to stay alive and not show that you really didn’t know what you were doing with the gaming controller.

all of a sudden you heard distant shots being fired from behind you. not thinking anything of it you kept of running about.

“y/n they’re shooting at you.”

“oh! wait what? where?” you had no clue what was happening. things were going by so fast.

“turn around and shoot at them.”

“matt what?” he was trying to point to where they were on your screen. “dude i don’t even know how to shoot”

“what! i thought you said you knew how to use the controller”

“yeah well i lied” you said panicked.

“these teenage boys are probably laughing at me and that’s a scary thought. teenage boys are scary.” you whined.

you kept pressing random buttons trying to figure out how to fire back, but it was no use. you rushed and threw the controller in matt’s hands so he could take over.

he some how managed to get the kill and your player only ended up injured.

by this point you had given up on the attempts to play fortnite.

you let matt fully take over now. as he played a few more rounds you began to converse with the chat. answering questions and just rambling about some interesting topics.

“y/n what’s going on in your head right in this moment?” you read from the chat. “um, i was thinking about how i was vlogging earlier and there was a spider in my room. i simply couldn’t believe it. i trapped it, but i made matt come get it out of my house”

“that’s very true. i had to drive over there for moral support.”

“my knight in shining armor.” you smiled, looking up at him. “my handsome prince”

matt blushed from your comment as he finished the game he was in while you continued taking to the viewers. you guys decided to wrap things up 5 minutes later.

“how are you feeling now that you know kinda how to play?” matt questioned.

“i feel like i’d rather sit next to you and talk to the chat while you play then actually play myself. i think i’m more content watching you play, but it was a good experience. thank you for teaching me, baby” you kissed matt on the cheek as he began to end the stream.

“i’m gonna be honest, i was stressed for you.” matt stated.

“i was to anxious. i didn’t like having to be in high alert 24/7”

“alrighty, bye guys thanks for hanging out with us”

you blew a kiss to the camera as the filming came to an end.

“can we go to bed now,” you questioned matt as you stretched and got out of your chair.

“yeah of course we can” matt replied pulling you over to his mattress with him.

an: i hope you enjoy this. tbh i know nothing about fortnite so i hope this made sense and met your expectations 🤍🤍

[erenjaegerwifee]

Summers In Pandora 🌸 Day 1 - Age Gap

Paring: Jake x Fem!Na’vi!Reader

Summary: You help Jake relief some stress after a long day

Warnings: MDNI 18+, orals (m receiving), p in v, cheating, established relationship, Jake loving on you, explicit language.

Word Count: 1.5k

Disclamer: all my characters are aged-up! Please if you are uncomfortable reading DO NOT interact with any of my post.

main m.list | event m.list

“Hey- woah you look like shit” you say as Jake strolls in your hut. “Thanks so much for your useless input” he rolls his eyes and gives you with his sarcastic words as he sits on your hammock. “Damn, don’t bite my head off, why are you here shouldn’t you be at home?” you tease him. 

“Haha very funny, come here baby” he stretches his arm out and gestures ‘come here’ with two of his fingers. Your tail sways when you walk up to him in between his legs, you run your hand though his dreads and pulls his head up to look up you. Jake’s chin rets on your stomach as he looks up at you smiling down at him, “What happen?” you mused. 

“I can’t just wanna see my girl” 

“Nice try, you have more than one of those” Jake groans at your words falling back on your hammock still looking up at you, “Don’t remind me, they just won’t give me a break these kids are driving me crazy, how did I ground Lo’ak and he still managed to piss off someone I have to apologize too, and your sister, I just do everything wrong.” he rubs his hands over his eyes and sighs into your hammock. 

“Why don’t you just stay here tonight? Tell her you got caught you when you go home tomorrow” you pout slight. You sit your body on his lap and lean down to rest your hands on his chest. You dip your head into his neck to kiss him, “Been so long since you stayed over, I miss you tìyawn(love)”   

Jake mumbles some incoherent words and wraps his big arms around your body and your melt into his warm skin. His hand comes down to squeeze your ass toying with the flesh making you hum into his skin. “Yea? And if I stay, what are you gonna do for me?”  

Jake sits his body up bringing you with him, now your head is slightly higher than his and he looks up at you flirtatiously bringing his lips closer to yours. You lean in kissing his slowly feeling the way his tongue licks your bottom lip as if asking for permission to enter your mouth. You tilt your head bringing your hands up to his face deepening the kiss as he rocks back and forth slightly. 

“Well, I wanna help you out tìyawn, wanna make you feel better...” you trail off opening your lips a bit for him to slide his tongue in. Jake explores every corner of the inside of your mouth like he’s never done it before as his hands roam your body feeling your soft tight skin.  

Ever since you met, Jake has always been attracted to your small figure and young age, when he met your sister and mated her you were sixteen so he never made any moves, you being underage at the time. But the suddenly you turned twenty-three and you were beautiful. You always had an eye on Jake, he was always attractive in your opinion. You just never considered he might have felt the same way about you. Jake ruined so much men for you in the pass, you always found yourself comparing any other man to him and they always lose even though Jake wasn’t even yours.  

He is now even if it’s a secret, you love him dearly, he should have been your mate, you could have made him so happy, you do. You never complain when he asks you to do something, you cook and clean like a good little house wife. If you could, you would have his babies too...you wondered if he would want that. 

“Oh yea? And how were you planning on doing that?” he squeezes the flesh of your hips as you break and kiss and slide off his lap, “I want you to cum in my mouth.” you say as you situate yourself in between his thick thighs. Jake looks down at you with so much love, he looks at you like you are the most beautiful girl in the clan. He runs his hands into your braids pushing it back to get a better view of your face, “You’re so pretty babygirl so fucking gorgeous.” his big palm comes down to caress your cheeks squeezing your cheeks together opening your mouth.  

Jake watches you untie his loincloth tossing it over your shoulder on the floor. You take his length in your hands and stroke him softly; he throws his head back feeling you squeeze his cock tip. His hands are place behind him holding up his body and he looks back down at you, watching you lick a stride up his length. 

Jake groans at the feeling when you take his head into your warm mouth. Your tongue runs circles around the tip as he whimpers above you. Jake’s head has always been sensitive, he always loved the way you just knew how to please him, that’s why he loves you so much. 

You bob your head up and down on him going deeper each stroke of your mouth. You gag when his tip touched the back of your throat when he’s only half way in. Jake was a moaner, his little whimpers were always so cute to hear, especially when you were the reason it was happening. “Feels good tìyawn?” you say in a sweet voice when you pull his tip out of your mouth with a pop. 

Jake mumbles some incoherent words and wraps his big arms around your body and your melt into his warm skin. His hand comes down to squeeze your ass toying with the flesh making you hum into his skin. “Yea? And if I stay, what are you gonna do for me?”

You roll your tongue around his cock bringing your hand up to stroke what can’t fit in your mouth. Jake grips your hair pressing your face further onto his cock as his cum shoots into your mouth. Your greedily swallow every bit of it as it comes feeling his cock twitch in your mouth and listening to his moans. When you pull your head up and wipe the corner of your mouth, you look up at his sweating, panting figure admiring his strong chest and arms. Jake really is such a dilf, especially with that little punch he has. Your think it’s so sexy the way he looks all the time, no matter what this man does he looks hot. 

Jake looks down at you to see your gaze already on him, your eyes are hungry like they always are when you finish sucking his cock. He knows you want him to fuck you, to make you cum on his cock the way you love, that no other man can do for you. “Come on baby get up” he demanded. 

You stumble as you stood up now looking down at him. Jake’s hands move up to your chest cover made of beads and rip it off your chest exposing your tits. The action catches your off guard making you gasp but you don’t really miss the top when his fingers come to flick your nipples. Jake seamlessly pulls you into his lap, your legs wrap around the back of his waist. He brings his head down to lap at your nipples making you squirm in his grasp. While he does so, he unties your loincloth slipping it off your body and raising you up to line up with is cock. 

Jake doesn’t stop his attack on your tits when he lowers you down slowly, stretching you out on his cock. Your both moan in unison as he bottoms out inside you. Jake doesn’t wait before he’s lifting your body up and down on him making you whimper. He bounces you on his cock faster and faster until you’re mewling loudly with every thrust. He bucks his hips up into you meeting you half way and increases his pace.  

Jake has your mind running circles from the pleasure, you can only think about his cock moving in and out of you so perfectly, like you were made for this. “Jake! Gonna cum! Gonna cumm!” you scream on him; your words stutter out getting continuous cut by his thrust. 

“Yea babygirl cum for me, cum on my cock” his voice was deep, panting into your chest. Jake admires the why your face screws up and your tits bounce in his face. His words send you hurling towards your orgasm gushing in his cock and thighs. Jake follows right after you pulling you down harshly cuming in your sweet cunt.  

When you look down at him again, you pull him in for a sweet kiss letting his tongue slip into your mouth before you pull yourself off his lap. You walk backwards away from him, “I hope you aren’t too tired tìyawn…” you smile at him cheekily as you turn around, getting on the floor on all fours.

Your tail sways in the air as you show off your gaping, wet pussy to him. Your hips move from side to side enticing him to come for you while you look back at him with seductive eyes. “Come get me baby I want you” you words make him growl as he stands up walking towards you.

Jake gets down on his knees behind you, rubbing his hands up and down your ass. He spanks and squeezes the flesh that slowly turns purple, he knows you love it when he spanks you. Jake raises his eyes to look towards your face sporting a sweet blush and biting your bottom lip at the feeling of his hands roaming your body.

You feel Jake move his hands down to your pussy holding both sides with his thumbs and spreading you open, “Such a good girl for me. You love taking my cock don’t you?” You nod your head vigorously answering, “yes sir..” your voice sounds desperate you want him to stick it back in so bad.

Jake loves watching you get desperate for him, he loves seeing you squirm and push back on him like you’re doing now, “use me baby please, want you to use me and feel better” you eyes tear up from the desperation you feeling wanting his cock back inside you. Your words make Jake groan as he strokes his harden cock pushing back into your slowly.

He knows you’re already stretched and he doesn’t need to do it but he just loves relishing in the feeling of you tight pussy over and over again. He doesn’t waste anymore time pounding into your little cunt listening to you moan loudly as his cock hits your g-spot perfectly.

Your head drops down to the floor and one of your hands comes back to hold his. Jake doesn’t hold your hand though, he instead grabs it and hankers it over your ass on your back. Your tail twitches as he uses your own forearm to pull your body back into his thrust making you scream.

Jake covers your body with his, kissing and sucking on your neck leaving sweet marks. It always turned him on watching you walk around with his bruises knowing he is the one who put them there and no one else knows.

You head spins when you cum on his cock again, you didn’t even ask this time, you didn’t even let him know you were close but Jake knew. He always knew when u were gonna cum when your cunt clenches up in his cock making him groan then you gush on him making his cock even wetter.

He swears he’s never had better sex than with you, in his entire life you are the only person that can make his get boners in the middle of the night from his wet dreams. He’s only person in the world he knows always makes sure he’s satisfied when you fuck. His thoughts send him over the edge and he cums deep inside you once again.

When you both come down from your respective highs Jake makes no move to pull out. Instead, he picks you up and lays on your hammock pulling you down with him and cover both your bodies as you drift off to sleep. Jake stays awake though, running his hand over your braids thinking about how lucky his is to have gotten you on his cock before anyone else could, he loves you so much. 

🌸 I hope everyone enjoyed reading! I had a lot of fun writing this one and I can’t wait to continue writing in this event!

Taglist:

@rivatar @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @inlovewithpandora @delusionalwh6re @neteyamsoare @nilahsstuff @m1tsu-ki @kylimarz

[bloodibambiidoll]

I need need NEEEDD to know how rafe n weirdgirl! Reader met !!

I could imagine weird girl reader being a bit scared of rafe at first (bc let's me honest, I totally would be too. . .)

Or !! She's just like enamored by him and watches him from afar, but then he catches her spying on him n that's where their relationship starts !?

Ty bb !! 🪽🫶🏽

Yesss omg!! I keep meaning to write this so I’m so glad you asked!! No warnings but still 18+MDNI!

Rafe hasn’t been here in years, not since Ward’s funeral. But Cameron industries just cut a deal that his dad could’ve only pulled off in his wildest dreams and who could blame him if he wanted to boast a little? He stood in front of his father’s grave, rambling on about all his achievements since his death because honestly? He spent all that time trying to get Ward’s approval and the older he gets he realizes he never needed it to be successful. He did this shit all on his own. He was getting ready to leave when he heard the faintest sound of someone talking. He looked around the row of stones and didn’t see anyone so he started to walk off when he heard it again.

“Well, hello! What’re you doing here?” It had to be the sweetest voice he’s ever heard but as he whipped his head around his eyes still came up short. Was she talking to him? Is there some kind of ghost or some shit?

“Fuuuckk this.” Rafe turns on his heel only to nearly jump out of his skin when he sees a girl sitting in front of a grave on the opposite side of him. “Shit! What the fuck!”

You must not have heard him because you don’t turn around at the sound of his voice and it gives him a second to examine you. You’re sitting in front of a grave with a little orange cat at your side that you’re mumbling to while you stroke its fur. Rafe has seen you, of course, you went to school together and you live on figure 8 so of course he’s seen you but he’s never really noticed you until right now. You’re wearing this pretty little white dress and big giant chunky boots. Your voice sounds like honey as your doting on the cat travels to Rafe’s ears. He can’t see your face but for some reason he’s thinking about what your smile looks like.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Rafe jumps when you turn around to face him, breaking him out of his trance. “Nobody probably ever taught you that it’s rude to stare, but it is.”

“I wasn’t staring, just observing is all.” Rafe chuckles, trying to play it off like he wasn’t actually just gawking at you.

“Well, can you go observe someone else? And if you have something rude to say, keep it to yourself. I don’t have the energy to be fucked with today.” You scoff and roll your eyes before turning back to your furry friend.

“You visiting someone?” Rafe strolls closer to you, changing the subject because for some reason he really didn’t want to stop talking to you. He was intrigued by you.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You don’t even turn to look at him and it kind of drives him insane so he crouches down in front of you, tilting his head to try and catch your eyes.

“What’re you being so rude for? I’m just trying to make conversation.” He smiles at you in a way that he hopes is reassuring and he’s not even sure why he cares if you feel reassured or not, but there’s just something about you.

“Guys like you don’t just ‘make conversation’ with me, Rafe. If you have something rude to say just get it over with and leave me alone.” You look over at him with daggers in your eyes but there’s a flash of hurt there and now Rafe really wants to reassure you. He doesn’t know you, but he knows of you, he knows how people talk about you and treat you so of course you’d think he would do the same. A few years ago he probably would’ve. But right now all he can think about is how sweet your voice sounds saying his name.

“Yeah? Well maybe I just want to talk to you. And who’s this?” He looks toward the cat that has now taken purchase in your lap and reaches his hand out for it to sniff.

“Mmm, I don’t know his name. But he’s always here when I come. I just started calling him pumpkin.” You smile down at the cat sweetly as it starts to rub its face against Rafe’s hand. “Seems like he likes you, cats are good judges of character.”

“You never answered my question, by the way.” Rafe smirks down at you and something about the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. It’s not a taunting smirk like you’d expect, it’s almost endearing.

“Oh, yeah, my mom is here. But I just like to come here. It’s serene, quiet and beautiful. Not a lot of people spend time here since cremation is the big thing now.” You shrug as you look off to the side with an almost dreamy look in your eyes and Rafe feels like he’d give anything to have you look at him like that.

“Beautiful, huh?”

“Yeah, there’s beauty in everything, if you really look. Sometimes the things that seem the most ‘odd’ or ‘dark’ are the most beautiful.” You still don’t look at him but that gives him a chance to study you up close. You truly are gorgeous. That pretty little dress you’re wearing contradicting with your chunky accessories. The cute way your hair is styled and your shiny glossed lips. Those tiny little tattoos you have littering your body compliment you perfectly. You’re definitely an anomaly.

“Yeah, I think I get what you mean.” And in this moment, he really does. Because you’re definitely odd but you’re probably the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. “Can I take you on a date?”

“What!” Your head whips towards him and a loud laugh spills from your lips. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Nah. I’m dead serious. Let me take you out.”

“Why?” You look at him wide eyed, like a pretty little dear caught in the headlights, he can tell you genuinely can’t tell if he’s fucking with you or not.

“Because. I think you’re beautiful. And interesting. And I’d like to get to know you.” He smiles at you sweetly as he reaches out to gently push your hair off your shoulder. “Please? Promise I’ll make it worth it.”

“Fuck it. Okay.” You sigh and smile at him and he swears he could melt into the ground at how beautiful you are. “Better make it worth it, Cameron.”

All things Rafe and his weird girl here

Taglist: @babygorewhore @nemesyaaa @sturnioloshacker @strawberrydolly333 @loserboysandlithium @gri959 @starkeysprincess @rafeinterlude

[twola]

ahehehm.

i get scared when making requests but like .. soft makeup sex w arthur 🧎‍♀️

“i’m sorry baby. i know, i didn’t mean it.” UGHH this man makes me crazy

If there is one talent that Arthur Morgan has - its accuracy. With a gun, a throwing knife, any kind of weapon really.

And his words - He knows what to say to make it hurt, to stab at your chest as if he was physically driving the knife into your heart.

Your eyes cloud over with tears as you quickly turn away from him and walk in the opposite direction, nearly dashing into the woodline away from your shared tent.

Arthur remains where he stood, scowling, fists still clenched. Fine - if that’s the way you’re going to be, go run off for all he cares. He turns on his heel and goes back into the tent, yanking the canvas shut before angrily pulling the hat from his head and throwing it to the ground. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to assuage his aggravation.

Grumbling, he kicks his boots off and throws himself down in the cot, pulling his hat over his head in an exaggerated manner to try and get some rest.

He awakens much later, in the small, quiet hours of the night, and the small space in his cot next to him is still empty. His stomach drops.

Shit, were you still out there? He figured you would have crawled back into bed after calming down. He shoots up, tossing the blanket to the end of the cot and swinging his legs over the side, groping for his boots in the darkness. He shoves them back on before venturing outside, teeth clenching against the cold.

It doesn't take him long to find you, curled up against a tree a little ways away from camp. Your head is in your knees as you wrap your arms around them.

“Sweetheart.”

You raise your gaze upward, and Arthur frowns as he can at least see the glistening of tears in your eyes.

“Why would you say that to me?”

Guilt washes over him like the tide coming in. The heat of the argument earlier has subsided and he drowns in the shame of hurting you.

“Darl-” he sighs, trailing off before stripping his jacket off, stepping closer to you and draping it over your shoulders as you shiver. He stoops down next to you to sit, pressing his side against yours, and after a moment, looping his arm around you to draw you closer.

You shiver in the chill of the night, but after a moment, you lean into him, resting your head against his collarbone.

His hand rubs up and down your back gently, “ ‘m sorry - I didn’t mean it.”

Your hand slowly emerges from under his jacket and spreads out over his chest, above his heart.

“You say things like that and it makes me think you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“Shit- I ain’t…” Arthur sighs, pulling you even closer against him, “You know I’m just a miserable ol’ bastard. I shoot my mouth off…”

You remain silent, but your fingers tighten at his shirt.

God, he’s such a fool.

“C’mon, let’s get back inside. You’ll catch your death out here.”

You let him lead you back from the woodline toward his tent, his hand tight around your waist the entire time back to his tent strung up against his wagon.

He pulls the canvas of the tent shut tightly against the chill of the night. You stand awkwardly within the confines of his tent, rubbing at your arm as you sniffle. He turns to you, reaching toward you as if he were trying to calm a skittish horse.

“I ain’t- I ain’t good at this.” Arthur whispers, his thumbs gently sweeping the tracks of moisture collecting on your cheeks.

“Me either.” You hiccup, leaning into his touch.

“Suppose that makes us both fools.”

You hum in agreement as you press forward to lean into his embrace fully, your arms moving from his chest around his back as his encircle you as well. You feel him place his chin lightly on the top of your head.

“Lemme show you then.” He rasps, pulling away from you slightly, his hands pressing against your back to pull you up to him into a kiss.

His tongue presses into your mouth as his grip around your waist tightens. You moan softly, and he returns the noise, one hand moving to squeeze your rear.

Laces and buttons are gently undone, cotton rustling as he rids you of your dress. He slowly pulls the straps of your chemise off your shoulders, and the fabric flutters to the ground, pooling at your feet as his fingers trace down the curve of your spine. He reaches the waistband of your bloomers and pushes it down over the swell of your ass, leaving you completely nude in the soft lantern light of the tent.

You reach for the buttons of his union suit and thread them through their eyelets as you feel his eyes upon you. It is not until you have unbuttoned him past his navel that you look up, catching his gaze and holding it as you lift your hands to his shoulders, sliding the cotton down his arms.

That too pools at his feet.

It is only a moment before he pulls you flush to him, his skin touching yours, all of you pressed against all of him. He recaptures your lips as he maneuvers the two of you toward his cot. Far more gently than an outlaw like him should be, he lays you down.

Arthur leans over you, one knee on the edge of the cot, and as you gaze down his body, you see the evidence of his need, his cock hard, jutting forth proudly from his pelvis. Leaking from the tip, swollen and glistening for you.

You can feel the moisture gathering between your legs, he’s yet to trail his hand there, but when he does, he finds you wet and wanting. A low rumble emanates from his chest as he parts your folds with a gentle press of his fingers.

You suck in a breath as he does so, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs at you. Moving downward, he slides a thick finger into your cunt, and you gasp his name in feverish desire as he climbs atop you, pressing your legs apart with his own, settling his hips closer to yours. When Arthur removes his finger, he brushes the wetness off on his leg before his hand smoothes up your body, searching for yours. When he finds it, he interlaces your fingers as he wraps his other hand around himself as he moves toward you.

The blunt, girthy head of his cock presses through the rim of your cunt and you gasp, a high and flighty noise, as he begins to push himself inside you, sheathing the column of him within your warm channel.

When his pelvis blessedly is flush against yours, he lets out a long, sated breath as you squeeze your eyes shut against the feeling of being parted, getting used to the shape of him within you.

Arthur remains still, his free hand rubbing gently at your hip as he waits for you. When your eyes flutter open, he is peering down at you with adoration in his eye. You squeeze the hand you have interlaced before unwinding your fingers from his.

Words remaining unspoken, you reach up to him to wind your arms around his neck, and he immediately gets down on his elbows, surging forward to lock his lips to yours.

And then he moves. A long, slow, gentle stroke in which his pelvis leaves yours for a moment before returning. You moan as he does it again, and he takes a moment to hear that flighty sound before pressing his lips over yours.

Your fingers card through his shorn hair as he slowly, gently pumps into you. You receive him headily, your core getting wetter by the moment.

The emotion of it all spills over - he seems incapable of words as he gives himself to you. The cot squeaks in the night: the gentle slap of skin on skin, the wet sound of bodies coming together fill the tent.

He reaches between you to rub at that bundle of nerves right above where he stretches you, and you clench your teeth against the pleasure as you come.

He is able to stay inside you for a moment more to enjoy the constriction of your body around his, but not much longer as he quickly extricates himself. He only needs to wrap his hand around his length and pump himself twice before his spend splatters upon your heaving belly.

Arthur pants, giving his cock a final squeeze as it drips more of his release upon you. Within a moment, he reaches down to the pile of clothes at the side of the cot, pulling his bandana from the pile and wiping your skin clean.

Your eyes start to close as you feel him slide into the space next to you on the cot, gathering you against him.

He presses his lips to your forehead as you drift off, but before you do, you hear his whispered voice in the night.

“I love you.”

[satoruhour]

the racer toji smut won’t leave me alone so here is my additional brainrot bc my sister in christ we must suffer together <3

what about fem!reader who’s bf is a total ass bc he dragged her to the races but ignores her for the whole night bc he’s too busy showing off to the other guys and makes fun of her for not knowing shit about cars. she went to support him but he’s being so shitty and she goes to sulk alone near some quiet part.

a little boy comes to join her and he introduces himself as megumi, he hates crowds and loud noises so he sits with reader for a while, until his daddy comes along and his daddy is hot. toji introduces himself, asking what a pretty girl is doing alone in these parts and offers to show her his car but out from nowhere comes slimy bf who just embarrases himself trying to kiss toji’s ass and reader is like i need to break up with him

but ofc toji puts him in his place and tells him his gf is way out his league, and a real man would never leave his girl alone the entire night. it shuts him up fr and toji, megumi and reader leave to go check out some cars bc it’s nice to actually have someone tell you all about the cars instead of being made fun of for not knowing

the rest is obvs history bc megumi loves hanging out with reader and toji can’t keep his eyes off her. and vice versa hehe

a/n: jelly ur mind >>>>> also how did i write a whole FIC about this omfg im sick. i claim i dont like toji then write like this 💀💀 + can u tell how much i love making fun of incompetent men by the way i talk about reader’s shitty boyfriend cause youd be right. i hate men. ✶ / 2.2k

the stuffy parking lot had been a routine place for you at this point, taking the familiar route past shibuya 109 and into miyamasu-zaka avenue. you’re not entirely pumped to be in the car beside your boyfriend right now, who’s talking loudly and obnoxiously into his phone, but that isn’t what is irking you right now. you’re more worried when you reach there, sure to come face to face with his equally obnoxious friends who just can’t shut up about their cars.

it would be fine if they were being cocky and could back up their modifications and NOS with proper results from racing, but they were all losers, both figuratively and literally. you sigh for the umpteenth time when daisuke asks if you cancelled the dinner with your friends because he was going to celebrate his ‘sure’ win and you stifle the urge to laugh. sometimes you wonder why you’re still here.

“we’re here babe, c’mon, get out. i’ll go park the car and come back to get you,” as daisuke tells you this, he’s patting your thigh like you’re a dog, smiling his stupid smile and your brows knit together.

“can’t you just drive to wherever you’re parking?”

“ahh… no can do, baby — my parking’s somehow better when you’re not stressin’ me out in the passenger seat.” what were you doing dating a man who couldn’t even park? you groan into your hands, picking up your bag and exiting the vehicle, making sure to slam the door extra hard even if you’ll be getting a lecture later about harming his ‘baby’.

he’s perfectly fine watching your tantrum and doesn’t say anything except for continuing to smile, driving off without a care as he looks for a parking spot. thankfully you could save your face a little, since you were still early to the meet, a minimal amount of people lingering around the abandoned parking lot in their miniskirts and tights and tramp stamps — a look you definitely would’ve loved to try out if not for your boyfriend telling you you can’t show off your legs.

it’s like he has some personal vendetta against you, but really you think it’s just because he saved you from an unfavourable situation before and while at the time you expressed mutual feelings for him, he just might be holding you hostage with that favour he did for you, unconsciously feeling terrible if you were to leave him.

a few minutes pass, and then ten, and you’re waiting for a full fifteen minutes against a wall, all the while the classic crowd of tokyo is trickling into the car park, cars driving in slowly and you’re dreading every time someone enters, sure that you’re being judged for being daisuke’s significant other. and when the waiting time finally hits twenty, you’re taking matters into your own hands and turning the corner where he drove.

just to see him conversing with his loser friends who were already somehow there, showing off their own cars which they spent money on for nothing and laughing up a storm. you lug your body over, because while you were still somehow okay with daisuke, you couldn’t stand his friends.

“babe! ah, my bad, should’ve texted you that the boys were already here and that i was with ’em,” his affection was limited to just a hand on your waist, not wanting to look like a softie in front of them, “we were just talking about our updated NOS, or ‘nitrous oxide system’ for my cute baby who couldn’t remember it the first time.”

all you can do is burn in embarrassment as they laughed, ridiculing you for the mistake you made ages ago about the terminology of street racing that sometimes you couldn’t exactly grasp. you did your best each time, sometimes googling things about racing that you wouldn’t know otherwise, but because it was still pretty illegal in japan, it was difficult to find the specific terms they used. but with how much your boyfriend teaches you (as condescending as it was), you probably could’ve written an essay.

and it wasn’t a one-time thing either, from smacking your hand off the stick shift to pestering you about closing the car door more gently, you’re soon to reach your limit.

“yeah, i know what a NOS is, bitch.” you mumble under your breath, turning away from him as he continued joking with his boys before one of them shouted out someone else’s name, hiroshi, you heard and they all pile over each other like excited dogs, seeing his new and improved Mitsubishi Eclipse, a bright, striking green and your boyfriend follows them easily.

throughout the different races of the evening and the excitement, you’re left chasing after your boyfriend who can’t help but sidle up to different racers and their cars, and the dreaded situation you hoped wouldn’t arise, did. daisuke loved asking you questions with confusing numbers and letters, and then laughed in your face when you picked the wrong option.

so when he asked you whether a L72 or a 327 small-block was better for his sorry excuse of a Camaro from 1981, you answered that you knew they had used 327s for Yenko Camaros, but without the knowledge they had discontinued it since it wasn’t optimal performance for the car. “yeah, no, darlin’, they already stopped it and switched to big-blocks after ’69… i thought i taught you this!”

with lips pressed tightly together, you find that you hardly want to be here any longer, body turning hot with shame and tears prickling at your eyes. you don’t chase after daisuke when he walks off and nudges hiroshi about your limited knowledge about cars, hands clenching and unclenching into fists before you’re tugged gently on your jacket sleeve.

in front of you is a young boy, playing with his fingers shyly with a head full of messy black hair and strong features that scrunch up into an anxious expression and you’re squatting and wondering what business a young boy like him had in scenes like this before he’s explaining how he hates the loud music and noises of metal against metal and the sound of tires.

you frown, understanding him immediately as you ask if you can hold his hand to which he nods, “what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“fushiguro… megumi,” he mumbles, flinching when there’s an erupt of cheers from the concluding race.

“oh, honey, let’s go,” you squeeze his hand in solidarity, “let’s sit far away from the action, okay? you like music?”

megumi sniffles a little and nods again, calming down the further he is from all the cars, sitting down on the curb in an area where there’s fewer racers, it being a deadend for the route. soon, you’re fishing out your earphones to insert into his ears, playing a few favourites of yours at a softer volume to drown out the noise of the cars. you’re content to find someone as clueless as you in this whole thing, even if the other was a child, and you almost want to chastise his parents for leaving him so vulnerable in a place like this when said parent is looking left and right, jogging while looking for his son.

“that’s my dad…” megumi mumbles with hope in his voice as the man starts to call out for him, expression morphed into worry from the moment he looked down from his car to find megumi gone. the boy’s hands you back your earphones with a slight smile and a ‘thank you’ before running off, and you’re lunging forward just to make sure he’s safe, running a little behind him while he navigates his father’s voice. it seems like he doesn’t have much care for the loud noises when his dad is finally in view because he speeds immediately into his arms before a tall man comes into view, and you’re blessed with seeing this hot-ass dad in a baggy long-sleeved top.

“hey… thank you for lookin’ out for the kid. i’m fushiguro toji,” toji nods towards you in acknowledgement, looking past your face after appreciating it before glancing down to your figure. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

megumi who was propped up against his shoulder opts to cling to his father’s neck, hiding from the rest of the world while you walk slowly alongside the man, fingers thumbing the strap of your bag to keep your grounded. you were quick to explain that you were here because of your boyfriend, and you swear a glint of disappointment flashed in his eyes, but you don’t give it much thought because soon the man himself is running up to you with a renewed sense of confidence.

it was probably because toji was here; and sure, you knew about fushiguro toji and how much your boyfriend loved him, but you didn’t know how popular he could get, drawing countless pairs of eyes to your interaction. 

“hi! hi, fushiguro toji right?” and you’re already ready for the clownery to start when he opens his mouth, “i’m wakashita daisuke, big fan! any chance you’ll get back into racing?” daisuke is spouting so much shit you can’t even bear to look up but there’s one sentence that has got toji riled up, using just one hand to threaten your boyfriend who looks scared out of his mind. “you’d look so good with a Ford Mustang too, why don’t you sell off that old Corvette you’ve got—”

and soon toji is clutching onto the collar of his shirt, easily pulling him off the ground as the people surrounding you laugh and whoop. seems like you weren’t the only one who hated him.

“that Corvette means something to me, not like that piece of junk you call your Camaro. and at least i treat my car better than how you treat your girlfriend,” he spits the word like it’s venom, “who you can’t even respect as a person.”

daisuke is plopped onto the floor, but toji easily backs him up with a finger to his chest, “laughing like an idiot when she doesn’t know about engines and then saying you taught her — that would reflect your efforts as a teacher, wouldn’t it?” the man smirks when your boyfriend stutters out his answer, the crowd oooh-ing like it’s a free show.

“and then you leave her stranded for the whole night to hang with your boys, in a place where she’s uncomfortable and vulnerable. but you couldn’t give a shit, can’t you? you’re too busy sucking your friends’ cocks to notice.” there’s howls of laughter now (you can’t help but let out a giggle too) with how ruthless toji is being, all the while having a kid on his shoulder, but you imagine megumi is used to these types of altercations by now.

toji leans down to spit in his face, “you disrespect a woman in my eyes, you’re a joke to me.”

he just rolls your eyes, heading off from your stupid boyfriend and toji fully expects you to follow, beckoning you to go with him when you stay rooted. “c’mon, don’t mind him. he didn’t deserve you.” toji mutters, pressing a kiss to megumi’s temple as he leads you away from the scene silently, and you leap at the opportunity to thank him immediately.

“to be fair… i did all the research for my boyfriend,” toji interrupts with ex-, and you laugh, “yeah, ex-. but i’m not entirely opposed to learning about cars. they seem kinda cool.”

“is this your way of telling me you want me to teach you?” what’s a little flirting with a guy, anyway? even the other said it himself, daisuke didn’t deserve you. you nod with a sheepish smile, petting megumi’s head when he rouses from his dad’s shoulder, heart warming at how the young boy shoots you a gleaming smile.

toji shrugs with a little chuckle, “sure.” he’s keen on showing you his Chevrolet Corvette at the other end of the parking lot first, telling you about the specifications and the modifications he made for it to be suitable for drifting. he explains how his Corvette had to be converted to a rear-wheel-drive car, or a RWD to support the heavy stress on the back wheels to make a successful drift turn.

toji tells you the differences between a clutch kick and a shift lock and how to sustain a drift on a sharp turn, excited at finally finding someone who didn’t have a clue about racing. he even offers to show you, but you’re a little too intimidated by being in the passenger seat with him, especially when it’s going at high speeds.

“maybe another day,” you offer and toji picks up on your insinuation, trying to stifle at grin that maybe this attraction wasn’t one-sided. he liked the way you talked to megumi, he liked the way you intently listened about his love for cars, and he couldn’t wait to get you in his car with a hand to your thigh.

“i’ll hold you to your offer, darlin’.” the name sounded so much better coming from his mouth, an attractive smile lining his face before he offered his free arm for you to hang on, gasping silently when you felt how toned his arm was. oh, the late night thoughts you already knew you were gonna have…

“i’ll tell you about the other cars here, let’s go.”

thirsts and drabble requests are open!

[lilyswritings]

late.

synopsis: your boyfriend’s superhero antics give you a fright, and it’s up to him to reassure you of his well-being when he returns home from the fight. 

author’s note: i’ll admit, this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time... likely since no way home came out! but i’ve been trying to get back into the swing of writing, and i figured it was a good idea to start with finishing up some works in progress before diving into anything new. so here’s some peter angst and fluff, just like the good ol’ days. enjoy!! 

wordcount: 1,613 

18. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 25. “What the hell were you thinking?!” 48. “Why are you crying?”

Peter Parker x Reader

      The window to the bedroom slides open, a figure in blue and red quietly stepping through the frame and carefully sliding the window shut behind him, all the while listening intently for any signs of life in the apartment beyond. Satisfied that he hasn’t woken his aunt, Peter turns around only to be startled by a figure sat in the darkness of the room, criss-cross on his bed. 

      “Shit.” He curses, huffing out a laugh when he realizes it’s only you. “It’s late,” Peter starts, tugging his mask off and tossing it onto his desk as he turns towards his closet to grab a t-shirt and sweatpants. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

      He doesn’t notice how silent you are until you don’t respond, when he turns around mid-unzipping his outfit to find you staring at him — like you’ve seen a ghost. Later, he’ll blame the shadows in the darkened room as why he didn’t immediately notice the shine of dried tears on your cheeks, or the way you’d bitten your nails down to the skin like you always did when you were panicking. 

      For now, though, he’s too focused on getting out of his suit and into comfortable clothes, the events of the evening still making his brain run haywire as he runs everything that he did that went wrong through his mind, planning for next time. 

      “Look, I’m sorry for returning so late,” He begins, tugging the suit off. “I lost track of time, I meant to text you but I think my phone got smashed in the fight and I’m probably going to have to at least replace the screen if not the whole thing.” He rambles, until finally, he’s changed entirely into casual clothes, and he lets out a sigh. When he turns around, finally, your expression has morphed from one of shock into anger, and he frowns at the sudden shift in emotion. 

      “What?” He asks, immediately wracking his brain for what he could have done to piss you off in the last few minutes. In response, you push yourself up and off the bed, coming to stand face-to-face with him as you take in his injuries, brow furrowed and arms crossed.

      “What was that?” You ask, gesturing vaguely to the window in reference to his escapades of the night.

      “Oh, it was just that Rhino guy again, turns out he escaped from prison and was trying the same ol’ shtick of—”

      “Rhino?” You cut him off, hands moving to your hips, and Peter winces, realizing his error. 

      “Yeah, uh, I know I said I wouldn’t take him on again by myself, but he was actively driving away with some radioactive materials and the police weren’t even close to him at that point so if I hadn’t stepped in chances are he would have gotten away and—”

      “So you went alone? What the hell were you thinking?” You demand, not letting him finish, watching his eyebrows tug together as he becomes defensive. 

      “Hey, come on, I can handle myself. I’m Spider-Man.” Peter retorts with a cocky smile, although still evidently confused, and you shove at his chest. “What the hell—” He begins to argue, smile dropping.

      “It’s not funny. You could have been killed!” You hiss, barely containing an angry shouting match as you try to keep your voice down to not wake Aunt May up. 

      “Are you— Why are you crying?” Peter asks, finally, and you freeze, only now noticing the feeling of tears running down your cheeks. He steps forwards delicately, hands up, and you step back, watching his expression morph into one of hurt.

      “What’s going on with you?” He asks, obviously confused, and you fling a hand out towards your open laptop as your other hand comes up to hastily scrub at your cheeks, as if to erase the tears altogether. 

     Peter, still looking at you with concern in his eyes, hesitantly sits down on the bed and turns the laptop on. The blue glow of the screen lights up his face as he reads the open article, mouth opening slightly as he pieces together your reaction. 

      The headline ‘Spider-Man: Gone For Good?’ stares back at him, along with an attached video of himself in his costume being smashed into the side of a building and remaining there, unmoving, until the video cuts out. ‘Spider-Man severely injured... Worried crowd of onlookers... Has the city’s hero been defeated?... No sign of hero since the incident...’ Peter’s eyes skim the article, before he turns to face you with a softened expression, noticing that you haven’t stopped crying, though you’re frustratedly scrubbing at your face in hopes of wiping away the evidence.

      He stands up from the bed and approaches you, and this time, you let him place his hands on your shoulders as you wipe at your face. “I’m so sorry,” He starts, voice quiet, moving to tilt your chin up with his hand. “That must have been really scary for you.”

      You swallow thickly, taking in a shaky breath as you lock eyes with him. “It said you were dead.” You whisper, voice breaking slightly on the last word. “The video—” You stop yourself, tears beginning to well up anew in your eyes, and Peter winces.

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a news station, I was just— I needed to rest for a minute, that was it. I had no idea...” He curses himself internally — he should have been on the lookout for cameras, what if he’d taken his mask off? He never wanted you to see him in a fight, let alone see him get hurt that badly. 

      You nod, hand coming up to rest on his cheek, eyes skimming over the bruise on his cheekbone that seems to be disappearing with each passing second. Yay healing powers, you think sarcastically. “Okay. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” You take in another breath, this time less shaky. “I was just so scared.” You admit, and there you go again, fresh tears falling as you curse and look down at the floor.

      Peter takes that as his cue to envelop you in a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and tugging you closer, arms locked around you protectively. “I’m here. I’m okay.” He utters the affirmations into your neck, pressing a feather-light kiss there as if to prove it. 

      “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.” He huffs into your hair. Though his words are obviously meant to lighten the mood, the cocky attitude reminds you one again of your initial frustration, and you impulsively pull away and launch your first forward to punch Peter in the shoulder. 

      Of course it only ends up startling him, and the impact feels like you just punched a wall — curse you, superhero muscles — and you pull your hand back with a muttered curse. His dark eyebrows tug together as he holds a hand over the spot you hit. 

      “What was that?” He asks, eyes darting from your fist to your face, tone concerned although you detect a hint of amusement in his soft brown eyes at the instant repercussions for your outburst. 

      “It’s not funny. You fucking scared me.” You grumble, cradling your now-throbbing fist against your chest, and he huffs out a short laugh. “Don’t laugh at me.” You scold, though your anger is dissolving by the second just due to his reassuring presence. 

     “I already said I’m sorry—” You frown at his casual attitude. “—don’t punch me again—” He interjects hurriedly. “—but I am sorry. Really sorry. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

    “You’d better.” You frown, still trying to eradicate the image of his prone form lying among the rubble, no sign of movement or life. “Or at least fucking text me, or, or call me, or— send a Spider-signal or something! Next time your phone breaks, I want you to use a payphone.” You decide, nodding, and he laughs under his breath. 

      “Okay,” He concedes, stepping closer to you and kissing you on the forehead. “I’ll build a little pocket into the suit to hold some quarters.”

      You roll your eyes at the sass, but your smile betrays you as you lean into his touch, his arms coming up to encircle you. “Don’t be a smartass.” You mutter into his shoulder, and he laughs. 

      “Can we go to bed now?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your temple, and you nod. “I’m wiped, and I think you might be too.” You nod again, sighing and going to pull away from him, but he holds you tighter and your brow furrows in confusion. 

       “I thought you wanted to go to bed—” Your words are cut off by a squeal of surprise and he holds you fast to his chest and shoots a web at the wall above his bed, tugging the both of you onto the bed in one swooping motion. 

      You land sideways, eyes wide, and erupt into a stifled laugh at his antics. “You’re insane, it would have taken us all of ten seconds to walk over and get in bed!” You scold, and he finally lets you go and shrugs, pulling the blanket up and over the both of you.

      “And this way, it took us one second.” He smirks, and you smack him on the chest. 

      “Okay, Spider-Man.” You retort, voice mocking, but he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you once more. The room goes quiet, your breaths slowing and deepening as you lie in Peter’s arms, and just as you are about to fall into a deep sleep, you smile as you hear him utter three lovely little words.

      “I love you.”

[harley-sunday]

Vagabond

Summary: There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for Daniel. Even if it means flying out to Singapore on race day. 

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1.9k

AN: How could I not? ♥

Part of the Pieces of Us universe (collection of one-shots). 

Pieces of Us masterlist 

The sound of your phone ringing pulls you out of your early morning slumber and you blindly reach for where it’s laying on your nightstand, swiping right to accept the call without really looking at the screen, “Hello?”

“Hey,”

You pull the phone away from your ear and look at it in disbelief, thinking maybe this is all a bad dream, but the caller ID confirms it's not, “Blake?”

“Yeah.”

Shit. 

“Taff-” there’s an urgency to his voice that makes your heart beat faster and sends your mind racing because there’s no reason to call this early unless- Oh God- Daniel- What if-

“Taff,” Blake says again, his voice kinder now. “I need you here.” 

You let out a whimper in pain because no- Not like this- God, not like-

“Oh. No that’s not why- Shit. He’s ok,” Blake quickly tells you, “but I need you to listen, ok?”

You nod, then realise he can’t see you and so you whisper, “Ok.” 

“There’s a flight from Perth at twelve ten,” Blake tells you, using what you and Daniel dubbed his ‘manager-Blake-voice’. The one that doesn’t take no for an answer. The one who you trust blindly. And so you listen. Even if you don’t know what the hell is going on. “You’re flying Qantas, so you can use priority. I’ve already checked you in, I’ll send you the boarding pass in a couple of minutes. I’ll text you the rest of the information for when you land in Singapore, but there’ll be someone to pick you up, drive you to the track so you can see him before the race starts, ok?”

Twelve ten. Ok. That’s means you’ll have to be at the airport at ten at the latest, even if you only bring a carry-on, so you’ll have to leave here at nine-thirty, which is an hour from now, so technically there’s enough time, unless-

“Taff?” Blake’s voice interrupts your thoughts. “I need you to make this flight, ok? It’s important.”

It’s important. 

The words echo through your mind as you try to connect the dots, try to figure out what it is you’re missing, try to understand why Blake would call you at eight AM on a Sunday morning during the Singapore Grand Prix weekend, asking you to fly out not even four hours later. You try to come up with a million other reasons why he needs you there but it’s no good- You know there can be only one.

People say that whenever something mentally or physically terrifying happens, a person will either fight, or flight. You like to think there’s a third option; save what you can and make sure no one gets left behind. And so you ask, “Do you want me to pick up Joe and Grace?”

“No.”

You push yourself up from where you’ve been sitting on the edge of the bed and walk over to the window, peeking through the curtains to find the sun already high in the sky, “No, they’re driving to the airport themselves, or-”

“No, they can’t make it in time.” 

“Blake,” you whisper, something heavy settling deep in your chest because this is not how it’s supposed to go. “If this is- If he’s-” You take a shaky breath, “They should be there.” 

“I know, babe, but-” he sounds absolutely defeated. “I looked at all the options but with them at Karroun Hill they’re too far from an airport to make it work on such short notice.” 

You feel your throat go dry, because his parents should be there. “Michelle then?”

“She’s got the kids-”

“I can take the kids,” you offer immediately. “If I go over there and watch the kids, Michelle can go. They might still let you change the name on the ticket if you-”

“Taff,”

You start to feel yourself get desperate, “He needs his family there, Blake.” 

“Taff,” Blake tries again, his voice filled with sympathy. “You’re his family too.”

***

It takes you forty minutes to shower, pack a small overnight bag, and leave the house. Of course you need to stop for gas, which costs you another ten minutes, but ninety minutes after Blake called you’re at the airport and waiting for your flight to board. Which isn’t for another two hours. 

You kill the time by having breakfast, or try to anyway, because you’re way too nervous to eat more than a couple of bites and so instead you find a quiet corner and send a text to Grace and Joe to let them know you’re flying out to Singapore. Michelle gets a text too- by now you know better than to call anyone in a public place, especially with this kind of sensitive information- and she replies within minutes, telling you to give her brother a big hug when you see him. 

You decide against texting Daniel, don’t want him to be distracted, and instead you spend your time people-watching and remembering the last time you were in Singapore, two years ago, when Daniel finished fifth in that piece of shit McLaren. It was his best result in that god awful final year with the team and so you ignored Zak Brown’s pleas to celebrate with the team and instead opted for a quiet celebration with just the two of you. 

You’re so lost in thoughts you almost miss the final boarding call but there’s a kind gentleman next to you that nudges your elbow and says, “Isn’t that your flight, sweetheart?”

***

In the end, there’s a delay leaving Perth, a delay arriving at Singapore, and a never-ending queue at customs. To say you’re on edge when you finally get into the car Blake sent to pick you up would be an understatement. It’s already past eight in the evening and there’s no way you’ll make it to the track in time to see Daniel before the race. Your already broken heart breaks into a million more pieces at the thought of that and it takes everything you have not to break down right then and there. 

The driver seems to feel there’s an urgency, weaving in and out of traffic effortlessly, dropping you off at the paddock entrance a mere twenty minutes later with a hesitant smile. You make sure to thank him by tipping generously before you get out of the car and step into the hot Singapore air.

With only a few minutes left until the race starts there’s an almost eerie quiet in the paddock, most people getting ready in their respective garages, pit walls, or starting boxes, and so you make it through the gates and into the alley behind the garages with relative ease. No one seems to pay you any mind as you walk to the VCARB garage, which suits you just fine. 

The formation lap starts just as you enter the back of the garage, the roar of the engines sending a shiver down your spine. You find your way through the maze of corridors, offices, and driver rooms with relative ease, grabbing your pair of headphones as you pass the comms wall, and then all of a sudden you’re in the actual garage and there’s no going back. 

You look around and find Blake in his usual spot, near the back, standing a little to the side so he can keep an eye both on the monitors and the pit wall. The pit crew is too busy watching the cars line up on the starting grid and so you’re able to sneak past them to stand next to Blake. You look at him once you’ve put your headphones on and connected them to the comms unit and your heart, oh your heart. He looks so defeated, the sad smile he wears so unlike him, and you hate it. 

There’s so much to say and yet you both keep quiet, knowing now’s not the time. It’ll come- After. 

And so when Blake puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, just as the red lights come on one by one, you have to bite your lip to keep from crying and try to get time to slow down. You don’t want this race to ever start. Or end.

***

It’s when Daniel gets boxed on lap fifty-eight that Blake nudges you and motions for you to take your headphones off. When you do, he leans in and puts his mouth close to your ear, “Pierre’s going to share his channel with you after the finish, ok?”

All of a sudden there’s a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod.

***

“Ok mate, thanks again for the hard work,” you can hear Pierre tell Daniel. “When we stop at the bridge, P1 on full-car switch-off, P0 on everything else.” On the screen you see Pierre looking at the garage from over his shoulder, “There’s someone here with a special message for you, Daniel.” 

“Hi babe,” you start, the tears you’ve been fighting all day finally spilling over. “I just want you to know that I’m so proud of you.”

There’s a lot of static on the line but you think you hear him let out a quiet laugh, “Ah, I can’t believe this.”

“I’ll see you in a bit, ok?” You smile through your tears, “Take it all in, Dan. It’s yours.” 

On the screen that shows you his onboard camera, you can see him nod. It takes a while before he answers, but when he does his voice is full of emotion, “Yep. Understood.”

***

It’s when the screens show Daniel sitting in his car, in Parc Fermé after the race, that you need to step out of the garage and into the corridor that leads to Daniel’s driver room. Because all of a sudden it hits you. He’s never going to have a moment like this ever again. The quiet crying from earlier turns into big, ugly sobs because God, it hurts. There’s too many people around for anyone not to notice you and so you use your access code to unlock Daniel’s room and step inside, a safe haven in the middle of all this madness.

You try some of the breathing techniques Michael taught you when he was still working with Daniel and after a few minutes you’ve calmed down, if only a little. It’s then the door opens and Daniel steps inside and all of a sudden it’s like nothing else exists. He looks the way you feel and so you are wrapping your arms around him before he’s even had the chance to close the door behind him and tell him, over and over and over again, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” 

 You know there’s not much time, know he has interviews and debriefs to get to, and so you pull back a little and cup his face, rubbing your thumbs over the stubble of his beard before you lean in and kiss him. Hard. 

“I should go,” Daniel whispers against your lips.

“I know-”

“Wait for me?”

“Take as long as you need.” You stand on your toes and press another kiss to his lips, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” There’s a hint of that mischievous smile you fell in love with all those years playing on his lips, and so you match his smile and add, “And-” 

Of course he plays along, “And?”

You rest one hand against his chest, over his heart, “You love me for it.”

He lets his hands fall to your hips and rests his forehead against yours, sharing a breath, “That I do.”

“That you do.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead then, “Always.” 

[goldsbitch]

Right?

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

warning: swear words, male x female, angst

part 2

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You're a professional. Right? Always been, proud of your hard work and strong will. If you want something, you go and get it.

It's by no chance that you're standing exactly here - in the McLaren F1 paddock, in the middle of buzzing neatly organized and timed chaos prior to the start of the race. "Read the grid, feel the paddock" was a line burned to your memory by your first boss, now the Media head of Redbull. You've learned what each and every one of the people do, what their job entails, because one day, one day you want to be more than a photographer for the team's social media.

You're a professional. Had a dream and went for it, no matter the sacrifice or long hours. Always on the road, detached from your peers. Because your heart beats for this.

You'd never do anything to compromise your job. Right?

The hardest part to ignore is his scent. You can evert your eyes when he walks to the room like he owns it - and one would say he actually does, he is the team's no. 1 driver for god sake. His voice can almost be blocked out by focusing on a conversation with a different person or headphones if the situation allows. But his scent seems specifically tailored to messing with your ability to focus, so much sothat you've considered wearing a mask and pretending to be a super freak about germs.

Ironically, scents are hard to recall. And you would know, you've tried several times on lonely nights in hotel rooms, with the goal to make you finish just a little bit faster. A moment you'd really love to forget is standing in a perfume shop trying to figure out what is that magical formula. Because it can't be due to the fact that he is wearing it. Right?

However hard it is for you on the inside, one would never know of your tiny little crush from the outside. Always keeping it casual, with every photoshoot staying professional and holding it together.

It was Lando who had the idea to do more of an intimate (his words, not yours) photoshoot than usually, to spice up the feed, as he bluntly said during a casual PR catch up. This was the reason why you were standing here. In the middle of the forest, alone with a big camera and one light for the subject in question, your biggest crush in history. You were sure he was having a great time putting you outside your comfort zone, the cheeky fuck he was. But then again, he probably really did not give a shit.

"I can't focus if you'll keep looking at me like that," Lando stated like a spoiled child.

"Come again?" you asked, geniuenly confused.

He jumped around few times, as if he was about to run a marathon. "Show a little enthusiam, why so bleh today?"

"You're right, my mind went somewhere else."

"Oh, am I boring you? Well, that's bad. We should be promoting my merch here, but even the person paid to be here can't seem to be bothered!" His tone changed. He raised his eyebrows, challenging you to up your game.

You're a professional. No doubt about that.

Focus, get your head back. Your energy boosted up again, here we go! "Ok, Norris, back to work!" You're well aware that a great photo comes from the subjects ability to connect with the photographer. "You're right, this isn't working. Let's get into the car."

You both left the random wood spot and returned to his sports car that brought you here. "Sit on the driver's seat" you instructed.

"Oh, as if there is a different way this would go down."

"Come on, let's drive around. And be fast," not sure if you were incouraging him or yourself.

"Like the sound of that. Buckle up, otherwise you'll have blurry photos."

And with that he reversed back on the main road.

After about 15 minutes of driving back and forth with a casual drift on the turns, getting pictures of him driving in his new jacket and shades, the adrenaline levels were pretty up in both of you.

"Parked it up here" you instructed again, having him stop on a hill with a view on a city lights in the background. "These are amazing!" you said after a brief look on the photos.

Lando was curious as ever. "Show me!"

"No, you'll see them on the right time. Do you trust me?"

He licked his lips. "Surprise me?"

"Lean back."

You really got into the zone, already super excited for the pictures. They had everything, interesting lighting, composition and Lando was doing an exceptional job with his smiles. However, you knew it could give more.

"This is great Lando, truly great job! But let's do more and push it further, you ok?"

"Just tell me what to do." He looked like he was really enjoying the attention, but you tried to block any of these thoughts out.

"One thing photographers recommend is for the model to try and look into the lens as if you want to seduce it, capture those looking at the picture...It's for making models less focused on the camera and being more attractive..."

Lando pulled out his best smirk yet. "Oh, I'm not attractive enough to be your model now?"

"Come on. You know what I mean."

"Nah, I don't," he lied. "Elaborate, I'm just a simple driver."

Now you were getting annoyed. "Just imagine the lens is someone you want to, em, who you would like to"

"-Fuck?"

"Yes."

"As you wish." And as you asked he did.

He probably did it without much of a thought, but you were perfectly aware of how he fixed his posture, opened his lips a bit, moved his and got this look on as if he wanted to eat you - in the best way possible. This got you in the zone, striking one photo after another, moving your camera and getting closer to get the details, completely forgetting you were both there to shoot his new merch.

Battery low. You would have cursed yourself in that moment. Only you hardly had a second to think about this. When you put your camera down, you realized the nonexistent proximity between you and Lando. You were sitting above him on the back seat with him staring up to you.

You froze for a moment, knowing there is no battery left in the bag.

"Well that is us done for today," you focused on the camera. How on Earth can you be so stupid.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You suddenly realized you were way, way to close to Lando. The damn scent, again.

"Damn, I like these kinds of photoshoots."

"Uhm, yeah." You did not want to move, but it was becoming socially unacceptable for you to be sitting on him for this long.

"Have you done this with Oscar?"

It's hard for you not to laugh at that thought. Every photoshoot with Oscar was a nightmare with the atmoshephere being so dry that everyone with an inch of taste had to tell from the photos immediately.

"Not yet," you said trying to preserve the facade. " But if these work out and the team likes them, we might recreate this with him?"

As if that was even remotely possible. You should move now. Why isn't he moving?

"Shame, thought it was our thing," his voice was becoming more raspy with every sentence.

And with that - you lost it.

"You still have the look." How is this sentence coming out of your mouth?

"What look?" he said, moving even closer to you.

"The models look."

"Remind me which one."

"The "Fuck Me Look"...But I'm not taking photos anymore."

"Interesting."

"Why?" You stopped breathing a while ago.

"Because I think you have it too."

part 2

[fangirl-dot-com]

Lewis Hamilton and George Russel - I'm with a Knight and Slenderman, No One Can Touch Me

It’s part 4 time! This was so fun to write and I laughed so hard at some parts. I feel like George is a really underrated driver. He’s funny and a good person (even though he looks like Woody from Toy Story). And the girlfriend effect has hit him hard. His hair is so beautiful and I need to know what he does with his bangs. 

And then Sir Lewis – good Lord, he needs to go back to that one hairstyle from that one interview that made everyone fall for him 

Specially dedicated to @treehouse-mouse <3

[TAG LIST IS CLOSED] 

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all &lt;;3 

“Shit,” you muttered as you looked around the now empty paddock. You knew that taking a nap after your media duties had been done was a bad idea. You had played nap roulette with yourself and were now paying the consequences. You shouldn’t have said “oh, I won’t set an alarm. Someone will come get me. I might nap for ten minutes or it might be 3 hours. Who knows!” 

Well, now you knew. It was three hours. 

You looked around for your backpack that you had come with. But as your eyes danced around the garage, it was nowhere to be found. You sighed as you at least remembered your phone. But alas, the world hated you for being a woman: your phone was dead. 

“Ok, there’s no reason to panic. Let’s head to the parking lot and see if someone is still here,” you whispered to yourself. Walking carefully, you exited the dark paddock. The parking lot was no different. 

Dark, cold, and empty. 

“Great. Just great.” You decided to sit on a curb and wait. Maybe by now, Christian or Max would know that you are missing, and will come back to get you. 

Or maybe they were mad at you. Yes, you were on the podium. As a rookie. At your first race. 

But you made a mistake that costed the team a 1-2 finish. Maybe you didn’t deserve to be looked for. 

Before your thoughts could spiral more, two bright headlights blinded you. You raised a hand to try to cover at least some of your face. The two front doors of the car swung open. Your heart started to race. 

It was just you out here and they might be kidnappers. 

“Please I have no money on me. Don’t beat me up or kidnap me. Trust, you do not want to sell me or anything like that,” you spoke out, trying to hinder their unknown wants for you. Your fear slowly melted away at a familiar grandpa laugh and bean-pole build of the two figures. 

“Lewis! George!” You stood up quickly. 

“What are you doing out here?” George peered down. Your neck was bent to even look up at him. 

“Um. I might have been left behind because I was taking a nap. And my phone is also dead.” You sheepishly grinned at the two. 

Lewis sighed before bringing out his phone. “I don’t have Christian’s number, but Toto does. Let me give him a call.” 

Your head cocked. “Do you not have Max’s number?” George let out a laugh. 

“Kid. Think of Abu Dhabi 2021.” Your eyes widened. 

“Sorry.” 

Lewis waved you off and walked a bit aways to hear Toto. George just kind of stared at you as you stared at him. 

“Are you ok?” 

“Of course I’m ok. I’m with a knight,” you pointed at Lewis, “and Slenderman. No one can touch me.” You crossed your arms before giggling. George just gawked at your boldness. You took this time to look at the nice Mercedes in front of you. “Is this the new model?” 

George nodded. “Yeah, Lewis just got it. He won’t let me drive it though.” A pout formed on his lips. 

“I get what you mean. Max won’t let me drive his Ferrari.” 

“Why would you want to drive that junk?” 

Your head tilted. “I don’t know. I like my Porsches better though.” It was George’s time to raise an eye brow. “I haven’t gotten them yet. But they’ll be ready soon. I had to ship one to London and the other to Monaco.” 

“Ah.” 

You looked at Lewis, who was still on the phone. You had an idea. 

A very bad one, but an idea none-the-less. 

“You wanna go somewhere?” You pointed at the still running car. Lewis should have taken the keys. 

“Where would we go?” George was already grinning like the Cheshire cat. 

“There’s a burger king a couple of miles away.” 

George was already climbing into the driver’s side. “Let’s get going!”

Back with Lewis, he was still on the phone. For some reason, Toto would still not give him Christian’s number. 

“Please Toto, I am with two children,” he pinched his brow, “and I’m tired and I’d like to get back to the hotel. So please send me Max’s or Christian’s number.” He wasn’t aware of his car that was now filled with said two children making their getaway. He hung up once he got Max’s number. 

His phone rang for a few seconds before Max’s voice sounded over the background noise of a party. 

“Who is this?” 

“It’s Lewis. You left your kid here.” He heard Max curse on the other side. 

“I thought Vito was getting her, but Vito is right at the bar. Can you send me your location so I can pick her up?” 

Lewis waved a hand, even though Max couldn’t see it. “No worries, I can just drop her off. I’m with George and we’ll driver her over. I have my-” Lewis stopped.

“Lewis? Are you there?” 

Lewis’ eyes scanned the now empty parking lot. He groaned. “They took my car!” 

Max laughed for a bit before he realized that Lewis wasn’t playing. “Send my your location, I’m already out the door. We’ll find them.” 

By the time Max got to Lewis, you and George were already having the time of your lives. 

You pointed out the window. “Look Georgie. Traffic cones. Have you ever put one on your head?” 

When George denied that he had, you gasped and told him to pull over. You and him climbed out of the low car and walked over to the traffic cones. By now, your phone was a bit charged, courtesy of the charger in the vehicle. And it was blowing up. 

But you didn’t see it or care. 

You picked up one of the cones and put it on your head. Your giggle resonated through it. 

“Y/n, smile!” You heard George say. You smiled, even though it wouldn’t be seen under the orange hat. 

George told you that he was going to set up the camera to take a picture of the two of you. 

“Let’s put our heads together.” The two cones whacked against the other. George had to bend over so that they would be close.

You laughed as your hair was staticky due to the cone. George’s hair was the same, which made you laugh even harder. “Send that to me, I’m going to post in on the gram.” 

The only notification you looked at was the one from George with the picture. Quicky uploading it, you knew you were about to create even more chaos. 

The two of you decided to sit on the curb for a bit. Your thoughts from earlier quickly sprang into your head, due to the silence between you two. 

“George?” you questioned, looking ahead. He was currently scrolling through his phone, but he made a noise to let you know that he was listening. 

“What was it like having a teammate that you know you’ll never amount to? Not saying that you won’t amount to Lewis at some point, but,” you trailed off, not knowing how to continue. 

The click of his phone let you know that George was now focused on the conversation. 

“I get what you mean. It’s very overwhelming. You get put up with world champions, and people are already expecting you to beat records and perform as well as they do.” George sighed as he reflected on his first year with Mercedes. How the people would taunt that he wasn’t good enough to be Lewis’s teammate and that he should just be second fiddle to him. Suddenly, he noticed a hand had been placed on his shoulder. Tears also wetted his face. 

When had he started crying? 

You continued to rub his shoulder until his tears stopped. 

You tried to console him. “Well, we can be second-fiddle buddies together?” you offered, hoping he would laugh. And he did. 

The two of you decided to sit on the curb for a few more minutes. But at this point, you knew that Lewis along with Max were probably on their way to get you. You pulled yourself up, then held out a hand to George, who took it without second thought.  

Before you knew it, the two of you were back in the car, just chilling. 

“Look what Max and Lewis are saying.” You showed him the screen and laughed. It really was fun to mess with old men. 

“Are we still going to burger king?” 

You nodded your head. “If Lewis can be a knight, I need a crown to be the king.” 

“Don’t you mean queen?” he asked as he started the car back up again. 

“Nope.” You popped the P and that was a good enough answer. George pulled away from the side of the street and made his way to the Burger King. The two of you were thankful that it was mostly empty, except for the employees. The two of you ordered more than enough food for two people. You justified it as giving the workers more money. 

Your companion went along with it. 

“Order number 69,” the tired lady called out. George and you shared a look before the two of you collapsing on the ground, dying with laughter and probably exhaustion. You were still giggling as you took the food from the lady. You muttered a thank you before you and George took a table near the back. 

“Did you get your slushie?” you questioned, holding your cup. 

“I didn’t know they had slushies!” 

You took George’s hand and let him over to the machine. The amount of slushies that you slurped down would never be recorded. As you drank one of your last ones, you suddenly remembered an important detail. 

You looked over at the tired lady who took your order. “Do you have the crowns?”  

Max was still constantly trying to reach you, with one hand on the steering wheel and his phone in the other. 

“Come on kid. Pick up,” he pleaded and cursed when the call went to voicemail for the umpteenth time that night. 

Lewis was texting all the drivers in the group chat, asking if they’d seen the two of you. They came up short. 

“This is ridiculous,” Max seethed. “How could you have let them do this?” 

Lewis shot him a glare. “How could you leave her at the paddock after dark?” he bit back. 

“Like I said, Vito was supposed to take her back to the hotel. She’s not allowed in the clubs.” 

“Then Christian should find some way for everyone to party. The kid got a podium her first race as a rookie, and she was left behind.” 

Max banged his head on the steering wheel as they stopped at a red light. Lewis was correct. He wondered if you felt forgotten. Knowing you, you probably did. And it was mostly his fault. He’d talk to Christian about alternatives until you turned legal age.

“I’ll talk to Christian about that. What were you and George doing back at the paddock anyway?” 

Lewis grimaced. “I forgot a file back at our garage. George seemed antsy and restless so I invited him. Never doing that again.” 

Max smirked, “Kids. Am I right?”  

“Look!” Lewis pointed at a familiar car in the parking lot of an empty Burger King. Max pulled in on two wheels. As they walked up, their eyes landed on two people, crowns on their heads, hands flailing. 

Max pushed the door open and stopped towards the figures. His hands landed aggressively on the table. “Do you two know how much trouble you’re in.” 

He heard laughing from behind him. 

“Max. That’s not them,” Lewis whispered. 

Max’s head jerked and saw the scared faces of two employees. He heard more laughing and whipped his head around, eyes finally falling on you and George, whose phone was out recording. You looked as if you were about to explode with laughter. 

“I’m sorry about that.” He turned around and stomped towards your table. “Let’s try this again.” 

His palms hit the correct table this time. “Do the two of you know how much trouble you are in?” He looked into your eyes before glancing at George. 

You stared up at the seething Dutchman. You pulled out a french fry.  

“Fry?” 

“Lewis, I got you an impossible whopper.” George held out the wrapped food. 

Max sighed, anger waning by the minute. There was no fighting with the two of you. The two adult-figures sat down and started to eat. Max munched on a fry as Lewis started to eat the burger. 

You and George continued to talk about your so-called adventures. 

“And then George ran a red light.” 

Lewis choked as George winced. Lewis’s head jerked toward George, eyes squinting. 

“You’re paying for that.” George only shrugged, he had enough money anyway. 

Max just stared in silence, mulling over the exhausting night. You could sense that he was still cooling off, and you were scared of what he might say in the car. 

The food was quickly finished and the four of you were headed out the door. It seemed as though yours and George’s energy levels were quickly tanking as the two of you barely said a goodbye. The hug and faux tears though were enough for Lewis and Max to roll their eyes. 

You watched as George and Lewis left in the Mercedes. You gulped as you got into the passenger side of Max’s rental vehicle. You winced at the proximity. 

You mind quickly went back to your dad. How he’d hit the side of your face if you did anything that was “out of line.” Or he’d pinch your thigh until it bruised. Those were the easiest to hide. When your face was a little too red and purple, your helmet stayed on for the entire race day. 

Your eyes welled with tears at the thought of Max turning out to be like him. You didn’t think he would, but you were out of line tonight. 

No fun. No sneaking out. No stealing (borrowing) cars. 

You were sinking into yourself, and Max could sense that. 

He turned to look at you. What he said next was shocking. 

“I’m sorry kid.” 

Your eyes bulged. “Why are you sorry? If anything, I should be on my knees begging for your forgiveness.” 

Max just stared at you before slowly putting his hand near your head. 

This was it. He was going to hit you and you’d have to live through everything again. You couldn’t tell Christian that his golden-child would do such a thing. And no one would ever believe you. 

You jerked back as your eyes closed tight. Your body tensed, waiting for the repercussion to your actions. Your breaths got a little bit faster and shorter.   

But it never came. 

All that was, was a gentle placed hand on the top of your head. 

Comforting. Loving. Cherishing. 

Max wanted to cry as he saw how your body prepared for something horrible. Something nasty. 

“Kleintje,” Max breathed out. 

Your tears began to make their escape down the hills of your cheeks. You could only repeat and whisper I’m sorry, over and over again. Max couldn’t do anything but wait for you to calm down and maybe tell him what was racing through your head. 

Your breathing evened out as you felt there was nothing coming. Soon you were embarrassed for thinking that Max, one of the only people to seem to care about you, would do such a thing. Yet, your mind always went back to your patterns.

People who should care, didn’t. Hands that were made for comforting, didn’t. Encouragements didn’t exist…for you. 

Maybe you were the problem. 

But, maybe you weren’t. You’d allow some comfort, just this once. 

Max cooed as you leaned into his hand. He knew you were tired. A long day of racing and a long night of adventures would really do that to you.  

He didn’t expect you to explain to so quickly. But you knew how to surprise someone. 

“My dad and mom, weren’t the nicest. They wanted a boy, got me instead.” You harshly exhaled. “They put me in karting because if they had had a boy, they would have done the same. I was just a placeholder.”

Max listened, wanting to hear what you said. 

“It started off small. A push here, a hit to the helmet there. I really didn’t think anything of it. Until I was about 7 and I crashed my kart on the last lap. I was going to win too, but I over compensated and hit the wall. All I remember after that race was my dad grabbing my wrist and yanking me to the car. I hit my head on the dash, I think. Or he was the one to push my head in.” You shrugged at the nasty memory, as if it didn’t matter. 

Max on the other hand, was getting angrier. Yes, his dad did similar things, but he was a boy. He could stand up for himself. And he had his mom and sister. 

You had no one. 

“The next morning, I woke up and there was this giant bruise on my face and smaller ones littered my arms. I thought that was the end of it, except it continued. I was able to hide it pretty well. My race suit pretty much covered everything. I also didn’t have many friends, or, I just didn’t have friends. So there, wasn’t a need to worry. They stopped after I made it to the end of F4, because I was winning and there were more cameras. The moment I made it to F3 in 2019, they disowned me.” 

He did the math. You would have been 16 at the time. Still a kid, but smaller. His heart broke for you. 

“Kid, look at me.” 

You turned your head and made eye contact. Your brows furrowed when you saw tears in his eyes. 

He wasn’t supposed to cry. Why was he crying? 

“I’m crying because no one should ever have to go through something like that.” Oh, you must have said that out loud.

You shrugged once again, “I probably deserved it.” 

“No, geitje, no one deserves that. Ever. You didn’t.” You could only nod along. Your eyes were getting tired by the minute. Max could tell so he started the car. He only had one more thing to say. (translation : kid) 

“My dad did similar things. But I had people to help me. And I know your dad isn’t around, but Y/n,” he said your name, trying to emphasize that he was serious. “I am here for you. Christian is here for you. Mitch is here and so is Vito. We love you. I’m not a good teammate, and you can see that I’ve gone through more teammates than anyone else has in the amount of time I’ve been here. I’m the only constant. But I think that we will actually work out. Best duo right?” 

For the first time since Burger King, where you and him were still parked, he saw your eyes light up. 

You nodded, “Best duo.” 

Max finally took that as a sign that you’d be ok for the night. He carefully back the car out and started on the road toward the hotel. 

“Do you think Christian will let me come to the club next race.” 

Max let out a sarcastic laugh. “Definitely not.” 

Your giggles filled the small space. Max’s heart swelled at making you laugh. 

You’d be all right. He’d make sure of it. 

AN: oh my gosh that got REAL depressing – I apologize. But, Max needed to know a bit more about your lore if he’s going to be able to fend off any unwanted visitors (FORESHADOWING). Anyway, I will see you all at the next chapter! Muah! Much love <3 – author :D 

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog

[m3vl0vesu]

𝑨 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 2

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<The rest of your journey home was a blur, all you know is that you will not be going school tomorrow. Even if that means lying to your parents.>

.

.

Sadly you were too much of a pussy to do so…plus you had art today. 

You managed to escape the grasp of your little sister,how could such a little person be such a deep sleeper?

 You picked up the uniform that was scattered on the floor, digging up the obnoxious-coloured tie from under a pile of sweaters. There was no way you were going to make it through the school day, but for some reason you just could not be bothered to try lying. And you lied a lot.

.

.

.

I mean it was Gotham, you were bound to see hear someone get shot. Especially since it was almost dark out.

 The weather was colder than usual, as you passed the same alleyway as last night you noticed the yellow and black tape through the corner of your eye. It surprised you, I mean you half-expected to pass by a dead body. But no, instead it looked like whoever got shot was important…

Why would someone important be in this part of Gotham? Your mind was full of thoughts throughout the drive, why couldn't your mind ever be empty? Once you reached the school halls it began. The weird tightening feeling in your stomach, the way your bag seemed to get a lot heavier, the way your throat felt dry. It happened every time you were alone here. Where the hell were your friends? Friends.

… Did they even like you? Were you being too clingy lately? Were your constant hugs and need for hand-holding too much for them? Were you too much for the-…

“Where ya been girlie?” You hear a familiar voice say as you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. A few other smiling faces not too far behind,what if…they were fake smiles? What if they were just being nice… And what if your mind just shut the fuck up? . . . Everything seems to happen too quickly. Break and lunch seemed too short, and you barely spoke a word. Of course they were worried, you had barely smiled at all this whole week and now you were practically going mute. Everything was so tiring, the intimidating circles underneath your eyes proved it, but even when things got this bad you managed to smile through it. Now?

Now it was already the last period, Art. You loved Art. The beautifully coloured walls, the papers you organised just yesterday…yesterday. And Miss Williams You loved Miss Williams, she was genuinely a funny and caring person. You definitely didn’t see her as a mother figure. Definitely not obsessed with her, no.

Not at all. As soon as your friends hurried over to their lessons you feel a wave of annoyance wash over you. One thing you didn’t like about Art class is that you had to sit next to him. Damian Wayne. It also made you feel a bit guilty as to why, for no reason at all, you did not like that rich boy. Maybe it was jealousy? Yeah that’s probably it. “...why don’t you take a seat.” Miss Williams' voice once again had stopped you from staring. God you have such a bad staring problem don’t you? It was worse since he was also staring at you…well more like glaring. Maybe he doesn’t like you either, what a comforting thought. 

If there was one word you’d use to describe him is unbothered. Or maybe he was just stuck up and arrogant…or maybe that was just your general view of any rich boy. Especially the rich boy.

…

Shit. You were staring again weren’t you? It was obvious since he was looking back with a guarded expression. Your head snapped to your pretty much empty paper, you were supposed to be doing a sketch that represented how you felt. How did you feel? Bored? Sad? Your paper was empty, nothing but eraser shavings and pencil smudges. Empty…

“So like I’ve been saying…” Say? Speaking? Oh. Right, where were you?

Your amazing, lovely, sweet teacher (okay maybe you were a little bit obsessed) was talking about an art project. An art project you already knew about a month prior due to being a part of the art club. So you were very prepared for the words. 

“It has to be with the person you're sitting next to.” Words that would’ve sent you into a spiral if you hadn’t known already. You turn around to a brunette boy in the corner making an exaggerated sad face as he mouthed something you couldn’t make out. His antics made you laugh, usually, but right now even smiling was too hard.

God, you were disappointing weren’t you? A melody of complaints and groans fill up the room, even the boy next to you sighed. Ouch. But fair enough, it was clear you two did not have a liking towards one another. He was also one of the few other student from the Art club that knew of the project, so yeah the reaction kinda hurt. AND he rolled his eyes? Yeah. Definitely against this guy. With a scowl on your face, you turn back to your paper. Still empty. You don’t know how long you stare at it for since the bell had just rang and everyone was hurrying out. UnFortunatley for you, due to not completing the work you needed to stay behind for a bit.

The clothes on your back felt heavier than needed when you heard your name being called out. 

You would like to be one of those students that don’t care what their teachers say but you simply could not be.

 It’s too expensive of an attitude, one that went way past your budget. Lets hope that the tears don’t start to pour,  because being shouted at by her?  Pretty sure your heart would fail. It’d be even worse since Damian was here…well more like he was lingering out the door. 

His footsteps were always so quiet, like a ninja or something.

“You there?” 

…were you? 

You nod. “You know your paper’s empty right sweetheart?” her southern accent obvious in her words. You nod. “I could get you in trouble y’know that?” Your nails dig into your palm before your answer. Nod. A small silence followed before her expression softened and she sighed. “Get some rest, lovely. I’ll see ya next week?” That’s the thing, were you going to make it to next week? Your nails pressed harder into your flesh and you managed to open your mouth and make out one word. “Yeah…” and you hope your voice didn’t crack because all you could do at the moment was turn around and walk out. 

The mask you so desperately needed to stay was cracking by the second. It was so hard to speak -when she was being so nice- at all. To you it was clear that she was frustrated, you didn’t want to disappoint her. Please no. God no.

You were pathetic. Hopefully he couldn’t tell.

.

. Friday  3:09pm (third person)

. Damian stood there, hands in pockets as he looked at the girl. Something was obviously wrong, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. 

But this was also the same girl that would leave the room he was in, stare and give him weird looks. 

So to put it simply, he didn’t really care nor bothered to ask. His presence had always been so daunting to her, ever since he first joined. There was always something that put her off. The awkward tension had washed away any sentimental emotion she was feeling. There was a certain level of resentment she felt when looking at the difference in the uniforms. Even though they both wore the same school uniforms, he just looked more expensive, sleek and clean. His pants were probably tailored and not from fucking target. His shirt was made from a fabric that wasn’t see-through and it looked like he had a proper tie instead of a clip on one. It made her stomach twist and face burn with embarrassment. I mean the reason she wore  pants with the uniform instead of a skirt wasn’t just because of comfortability, it was because you’d have to buy a specific skirt that’d cost money. Money her parents didn’t have. So instead she opted for some simple black pants that she either thrifted or bought at target. She didn’t remember. Anyway, enough about the uniforms. She walked a few steps behind him, waving bye to her friends as she passed them in the hallway. .

. Friday  3:17 pm (second person)

. Your phone stared back at you, your mothers contact displayed. Damian was still just a few steps in front, waiting. A few minutes prior both of you decided to go to his place, there was no way he was stepping anywhere near yours. It was too dangerous of a place for a kid like him. And you were also pretty sure he’d get kidnapped, he was a Wayne afterall. But that meant calling your mother. The phone rang for a few seconds before you heard her tired voice. Tired.“Hi Mom…” you bit back the urge to call her mama as she responded with a low hum. “I have a school thing, do you think you can pick up the others?” You were already tense enough as is but the next few words made you want to throw up. “I’ll have your dad pick ‘em up sweetie. He’s back in Gotham.” … Maybe going to Wayne Manor isn’t such a bad idea. Before your mother could ask about this school thing you cut the call. Your arm fell limp at your side as you walked to where Damian was standing. 

Your heart beat ringed in your ears, she sounded so happy saying that. Snap. “…” Did this motherfucker just snap his fingers to get you attention? You looked towards his direction, only for him to be walking away. You followed him towards a car, a car that made you feel even smaller than you already did. This was going to be a long few weeks .

.

.

At least you were away from home for a while.

.

.

.

This was weird and awkward! So awkward. Neither of you liked each other, neither of you ever spoke to one another and now you were sitting in his dads fancy car. Could a car even be this size?

 As you felt the car stop and you could barely move. Sure you had seen Wayne manors in pictures, videos online and such-but to be this close? It looked surreal, to your. An extensive garden with multiple large animal-shaped bushes. Even from the car you can tell the level of detail and work that was put in building this timeless structure. You wish you could say it awed you but instead it just made you feel more insecure and dirty. It was even worse that Damian just got up and walked towards the entrance, no appreciation for such beautiful architecture. … Oh right. This was his home. A place he saw and lived in everyday..

.

.

Each step you took you could feel the unease start to creep in, you held on to your bag tighter. Like it was going to help in this nerve-wracking situation.

The doors towered over you, the dark oak such a pretty contrast to the light stone. It ade your stomach twist as the inside revealed literal heaven. A large chandelier hung above what looked to be a…ballroom? It was a mix of modern and an old-money style, the bottom floor was very open. It felt empty and full at the same time, you squeezed the shoulder strap of your bag. You were right…you were out of place. It made you feel dirty and small. Damian just looked like he fit in? Now look at you, there was an obvious difference. And you hated it. Why did you have to do this? Why was the universe out to get you? The art project required you to get to know your partner. You were supposed to draw a portrait with the person your paired up with but it has to represent them, so, like, if your partner’s favourite colour was blue maybe you’d draw/paint the portrait using only blue. Get the gist? So obviously you were going to fail. .

.Friday 3:22 pm

.

You sat at the stretched out table, something you thought only existed in movies and haunted mansions. And you were pretty sure a building that looked like how the Wayne manor did, it was going to be haunted. His sharp green eyes not moving from yours. Was this a staring contest? Cause you were pretty sure you were going to win if it was. “So…” You clear your throat, god you were going to throw up. “Do you like cookies?” Damian asked, his question throwing you off. “Uh…uhm…” Did you have to stutter in a moment like this? “Yeah?” “Okay.” He then called out for a man named ‘Pennyworth’, no way that was someone's name. As you looked up again an old lanky man appeared behind Damian, the same one that had driven the car. This was a very weird situation, asking someone to get cookies for you? An old person? Wasn’t that rude? Even if he was a servant…or do they call him a butler? .

.

.

The cookies were awesome though, delicious, amazing-they were just really good. Now back to the nightmare of socialising. “Are…cookies your favourite?” You asked, spinning the pencil in your hand. He just shrugged. This was getting nowhere obviously but you might as well get your sketchbook out. The zipper was stuck for a second, adding to your embarrassment, before you opened your bag. .

.

.

So far all you had was that he liked animals, and the colour black. This sucked. No more cookies you thought to yourself as you looked at the plate, a few beige crumbs left. It would be rude not to put it away right? Or would he just have ‘Pennyworth’ come collect it. “I can…I can put it away for you?” For some reason this caught him off guard. He narrowed his eyes and just shook his head “I will.” … Did you do something wrong? What was with his tone? Did he think you’d infect the plate or something? 

…

You close your eyes, deep breaths. Just like yesterday…you could still remember the way your heart dropped and ear rang. The way the sound echoed through your ears, the sound of the body. Thump. Thump. It was so clear you could practically hear it in front of you- …you opened your eyes. It was a cat. .

.(guys this sucks so bad, I’m sorry i’m so lazy)

.

Damian stood there, in the kitchen holding the plate with a blank but proud expression. “I think I did well.” “Yes Master Damian. Your hospitality skills are improving” Alfred answered, not any true emotion behind the words. .

.

.

“His name is Alfred.” You nodded, the cat now sitting by your legs. You added animal lover to the list. But other than that this was going nowhere. All he knew about you was that you liked the colour green. . .(I’m sorry if you don’t like the colour green :( ) . Now this was the most embarrassing thing ever. Why would they try to drive you home? Were they trying to embarrass you? Trying to get their cars damaged?

 “No-it’s alright! Really, I can just take the bus” “Nonsense-” “No! It’s fine…I don’t wanna be a problem.” You didn’t like cutting the old man off but honestly? There was no way, these people wouldn’t survive anywhere near such an area… If only you knew.

.

.

.

A/N: So fucking sorry this sucks. It’s kind of rushed and ugh. Schools sucked any whimsy out of me and I’m so de-motivated, I promise it will get better. Lore WILL be revealed I pinky promise. Just give me time I always try to keep Reader as ambiguous as possible, this is a F!reader fic but you can read no matter what gender! :D

taglist

@pix-stuff @kitsuneton @hoforfictionalmen-andwomen @itwaszzmoon

[bobafetts-princess]

Surprise: The Sequel

Pairings: Ghost x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2800

Warnings: PiV, we wrap shit up in this one, a little butt stuff, spit kink, biting, cursing, choking. Reader is a little subby here. This is a fic centered on the reader ovulating and being really horny. Heed warnings accordingly.

Author notes: Yes, this was written when I personally was ovulating and I needed an outlet. Please enjoy 😊

Companion piece to Surprise

“My back fucking hurts,” you grumble to yourself, not really meaning for anyone to hear. But Soap, with his fucking bat ears, does.

“Wan’ me to massage it for yah?” He drawls in his thick Scottish accent. He’s been eying you all day and you can’t figure out why. You’re not dressed any different, you didn’t do your hair any different. You didn’t flirt with him, at least anymore than normal. Soap is the type of guy you can flirt with without realizing it. He’s soft and easy-going with a big personality and the ability to make anyone feel special.

“Mind your business, Soap,” snaps Simon-Ghost-Lieutenant (you’re not really sure what to call him anymore) as he comes in the door. You’re sitting at a desk, writing reports on your latest mission and Soap is at his desk on the left of yours, writing his own.

“Aye L.T. But I do feel like her business is my business,” he chuckles and Ghost flicks him a look as he gets up.

“Why’s your back hurt, Blue?” Ghost asks, hand gripping the back of your chair.

“Not sure, L.T.,” you say but then a cramp hits your lower belly. It’s not your period, definitely not your period, that was two weeks ago. So this means- “Damnit,” you curse under your breath.

“What’s wrong?” Both men ask at the same time, Soap moving to stand by Ghost. Another cramp hits your stomach and you have to stifle a groan.

“Nothing important,” you tell them both but they don’t believe you. But Price walks in, looking for an update on the reports and the subject is dropped. He’s standing over your shoulder and you don’t miss the way he keeps looking down at you, the easy way he smiles at you.

“Looking good today, Blue. Did you do something different with your hair?” Price mentions and you know he doesn’t mean it to be creepy. He’s genuinely trying to be nice and give you a compliment, you don’t get many when your literal job is to commit crimes for the sake of queen and country. But you know the real reason he’s looking at you different.

Your ovulation cycle hits harder than your menstruation cycle, the older you get. Your cramps are worse and men tend to notice you more. They flirt with you easier, they check you out with more purpose. Your skin clears and has this tone to that makes you look perpetually flustered. It’s all very flattering but also, quite annoying. Biology is doing its work, but you don’t want it to. The thing that drives you most insane is that you preen under the attention. You like being noticed when you’re ovulating. You like the way Ghosts eyes are dragging across your hips. You like the easy smile Johnny gives you when he’s flirting. You like the way Price’s eyes struggle to stay in their rightful place.

“Nah, just brushed it this morning, that’s all Captain,” there’s a flash of something in his eyes when you call him by his rank but you can’t unpack it right now. You stand, surprising Price and mumble “I’ll be back,” before you bolt.

Ghost waits an appropriate amount of time before he follows, shoving back his chair with some lame excuse so he can follow you.

He finds you in seconds, heading down the hallway in the general direction of his quarters. As a lieutenant, he gets his own space and as he watches your hips sway he’s thankful for it.

“Blue,” he calls out and you still.

“Not now, Ghost,” you say but you don’t move. His long strides catch up to you in no time and his hand presses into your back.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, and you sigh.

“I’m ovulating,” you tell him, pressing into his hand and relishing the feel of his warmth.

“What’s that mean?” He knows that’s your fertile period and you can get pregnant but he’s not sure on the specifics.

“I’m so horny,” you whine, twisting your neck to look up at him and he wants to dip down and run his nose alone the soft skin there. It takes your words a second to click but when they do, he’s shoving you down the hallway and into his room, locking the door behind him.

———————————

Ghost has you on your knees and you’re taking him. Your pussy is slick with your orgasms and your back is slick with sweat. You’re dropped down to your chest on the bed, fingers gripping the sheets as you cry out. It’s not helping though, because every one of Simon’s powerful thrusts pushes you up the bed.

“This fuckin’ pussy,” he snarls from under his mask. Since that day in the shower you’ve had this tryst going on regularly and it’s been satisfying for the both of you. “Fuck, you take me so well,” he grunts as his hand presses into your shoulders to hold you down. “Love when you submit to me,” he says but you think you can take it a step further. You move your hands from the sheets to behind your back, gripping your forearms as your face presses into the bed. Simon groans deeply as he slides his hand down your back to press down on your forearms. “Look so pretty takin’ my cock like this, Blue,” he snarls and you know he’s getting close. You’ve already cum several times, so you’re not concerned about finishing when he does, but Simon is. His hips ratchet up a notch and you hear the distinctive sound of something in Simon’s mouth. You’re about to peek over your shoulder to see what he’s doing when his thick thumb presses up against your asshole. You gasp and still underneath him as he presses circles into the tight ring.

“I’d love to watch you take me here,” he grunts before he pushes his thumb in. Your whole body tenses but you’re pinned. His hands are still pressing your own into your lower back and his finger in your ass is up to the first knuckle. You’re going to lose your mind, you can’t even scream because your face is pressed into the mattress. He continues pressing until he’s got his whole thumb in your ass and you’re gone. You’re so full, so thoroughly worked over that you when Ghost-Simon-whatever you’re calling each other these days, picks up his thrusts you’re blind with pleasure.

He’s putting you through the mattress, his hulking body pressing yours down. You break first, your body clamping down as you cum. He’s so heavy, so thick, and you’re so overwhelmed but Ghost isn’t done yet. He’s growling deep in his throat, snarling something about what a good little slut you are for him and you know he’s right at the edge of breaking. You feel something sharp against your shoulder and it takes you a few seconds to realize he sank his teeth into the soft flesh. He’d apparently never pulled his mask down after he’d wet his thumb and you feel his tongue soothe the sharp sting his bite left. You lay like that for a second, Ghost’s body laying across yours as you both pant with the exertion. Simon’s tongue licks a hot trail across your shoulder and up your neck, stopping at your ear.

“You’re a good fuck, Blue. Y’know that?” You laugh aloud because any kind of compliment coming from Simon Riley is noteworthy.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” you flash a grin at him as he peels off of you, moving to dispose the condom. He comes back and his mask is still pushed up to his nose and his grin would’ve knocked you over if you weren’t already laying down.

“Not so bad, eh? Do I need to split you apart on my cock again so you know how good I can be?” He chuckles, dark and dangerous as he crawls on the bed and stares down at you. His huge hand finds your throat, squeezing and reminding you just how dangerous he can be. But the only thing you feel right now is another how streak of lust through your nerve endings. Your nipples are tight and when he flicks them, a sharp gasp escapes your mouth. Ghost takes the opportunity at hand and pulls you up to him by the throat, shoving his tongue in your mouth. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed but it’s one of the only. You can feel him hardening against your thigh and you can feel how slick you are. His fingers squeeze as he trails his lips down your neck, over where his thumb is digging into the soft flesh.

You’re aching, ready to be filled again, when Ghost speaks in your ear.

“I want to taste you, Blue,” he grunts but you shake your head as best you can with his hand wrapped around your throat.

“Later. Want your cock,” you tell him and he nods, releasing you to get another condom. You desperately want to tell him not to use one, but you are smack in the middle of ovulating and the risk of pregnancy is much higher than if you weren’t. You’re not in a place where you can have a baby and you don’t think Simon is ready to be a father, he may not ever be. But god, the idea of dripping with his cum all day? It’s got you clenching between your legs.

Simon has the condom on, cock swinging between his thick thighs. He’d only managed to get his pants down to his knees the first time and the second time won’t be any different. He’s got a long sleeve shirt on bearing the British Army flag on it and even without all his tac gear he’s huge. Tall and bulky, with a menacing edge to him, you can see why people are terrified. But right now, all you are is horny. He slides between your thighs, lifting your hips and placing a pillow underneath them.

“Gonna take me?” He asks, circling a finger over your clit. You nod but he’s not content with that. “I asked you if you were going to take me, I expect an answer,” he growls from under his mask, pulled back down now.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” you breathe as he presses the head of his cock into you.

“Yes, Lieutenant, what?” He snaps, one hand on your tit, the other on the base of his cock.

“Yes, Lieutenant,-“ you gasp as he pushes into you.

“Go on,” he prompts, almost all the way in now. “Or I won’t fuck you. You can lay here and be my pretty little cock sleeve,” you clench around him, wishing he’d wrap one of those big hands around your throat again.

“Yes, Lieutenant, I’m gonna take all of your cock. Please, I want to take all of your cock.”

“Good girl,” he growls, low in your ear as his hand wraps back around your throat. His thrusts start slow but it doesn’t take long before he’s hitching one thigh up his back, the other pressing you down and pushing you to your limits. He’s more vocal this time, grunts and growls as he sits back on his heels to give himself more leverage. He’s got to be sensitive, it’s the second time in less than 30 minutes, and it shows. His fingers tighten every couple thrusts until you nearly can’t breathe but you know he wouldn’t hurt you. The other hand finds your tits, groping them and pulling at your nipples. He presses the thumb of the hand around your neck into your jaw until your mouth pops open. He pulls the mask above his mouth, leaning down, his eyes wide with question and you nod at him, sticking your tongue out in invitation. He gathers in his mouth before he leans down, spitting directly into your mouth before he closes your jaw and speaks.

“Swallow it.” You do as he asks, opening your mouth again and sticking out your tongue to show him. He groans deeply, gathering his spit again and spitting on your tongue. This time though, he keeps his thumb pressed into the hinge of your jaw so you don’t close it. “That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he snarls, his accent thicker as he pounds into you, “take everythin’ I fuckin’ give ya, don’t ya?” You nod desperately at him, mouth still open, tongue still covered in his spit. “Fuck yeah, ya do. I’m goin’ to cum, I know you’re close.” You nod at him again, pussy tightening as he spits into your mouth again, closing your jaw and telling you to swallow.

“Next time you’re gonna swallow my cum jus’ like that,” he tells you before he leans back, pressing a thumb against your clit. It only takes one, two, three swipes of his thumb before you’re over the edge, crying out his name and clinging to the hand still wrapped around your throat. He follows right along with you, slumping his heavy body against yours. “This will never get old,” he says as he rolls to the side slightly, still laying on you but not quite with his full weight.

“Yeah,” you agree, out of breath and worn down. Finally sated.

“Is it always like this when you ovulate?” He asks, picking himself up and disposing of the condom, for the second time. You nod as he comes back and picks up your underwear off the floor.

“It gets worse as I get older, like evolution is telling me to get a move on.” You stand as Simon holds your hand and helps you into your panties. “My cramps get worse and I get almost unbearably horny,” you tell him as he hunts down your tac pants and helps you into those too. He chuckles as he finds your sports bra, slipping it over your head.

“Maybe you should pop out a kid or two,” and your jaw drops.

“Yeah, sure! I’ll drop my whole life and have babies! Ruin my career, my tits, everything I’ve worked for just to give evolution the middle finger!” You exclaim, annoyed he’d even suggest it. But he’s fully laughing, searching for your shirt under the bed.

“I’s a joke, love. You don’t take those as well as you take my cock,” he husks, finding the army green tank and slipping it over your head. “Besides, it would be a shame to ruin these perfect tits,” he tells you, standing behind you and cupping said perfect tits. Fuck, you didn’t think you could go again but the way his thumbs are brushing over your nipples right now is making you question that. “Well, we better get back to writin’ our reports. Price’ll wonder why we’ve been gone so long,” he says, slapping you on the ass and striding out the door. You’re left panting and annoyed, but you follow after a reasonable amount of time and when you make it back to your desk, Soap is standing next to it looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“Aye, lass. Y’look good today. Exceptional even,” he drawls, and if you weren’t rolling your eyes you’d have noticed his own flick over to Ghost to gauge his reaction.

“Get off my desk, Johnny.”

“Will do, but would ya like t’have a drink with me tonight?” He’s leaned down, in your space, his bright eyes full of mischief.

“No.” You tell him, you’re not really annoyed with him but you are frustrated because Ghost left you horny and every bit as distracted as you were before he fucked you stupid. Your hand flashes out and connects with the inside of Soaps elbow, knocking him off his balance. Ghost chuckles from behind you at his own desk.

“Might wanna leave the girl alone, Johnny. I think she could kick your ass,”

“Ooh I might like that,” Johnny says, not fazed at all that you hit him. Ghost has to suppress a groan at the idea of watching you and Johnny wrestling for dominance. He’s pretty sure you would win and the idea of you fucking Johnny stupid the way he fucks you stupid has him hardening in his pants.

“Johnny,” you start, your voice all sugar sweet and sticky. “Can you do something for me?” Your tone is full of promise and Johnny’s eyes droop as he mutters a gentle ‘of course, lass’

“Go get me some Tylenol and coffee, Johnny,” you say, smacking him upside the head. Simon barks a laugh from behind you, and Johnny looks graciously indignant.

“Aye, lass. Whatever you want,” he’s no actually offended, but he played the part well. Off he slinks, to retrieve the items you’ve asked for and Ghost feels a rush of relief that he’s not the only person in this compound that cares for you.