#than it is for you to turn on your console

[aurorasgate]

homecoming tears caleb x reader

my little take on calebs return because i'm too much of a baby to not have cried a lot more over it. hurt/comfort, mentions of grief, no pronouns used for reader

there’s a ringing in your ears, loud and as unsteady as the heart beating inside your chest like a drum. both of which are somewhere between too uncomfortable to be a dream and the start of a nightmare in the making. if you could think straight, calm down only a little bit, you’d have the thought to pinch yourself to wake you or tell you how real this all is. that it isn’t just your mind playing tricks on you and caleb really is right in front of you, alive and well and not going to disappear when - if - you wake up.

it continues as you go through the motions of gathering your things from the fleets barracks and follow him to his car where he helps you inside with a kind and familiar smile, one you know is meant to help calm you, until the sound makes your head ache and you reach out for calebs hand on the center console that separates you, hoping that feeling him will help ground you. it does and doesn’t. because yes, you know the warmth seeping into your palm from his soft skin, it’s your caleb who looks back at you with violet eyes that were engraved into your very soul many years ago, but for so long you’ve known you would never seen them again, never feel him again, and find it hard to quell the mix of shock that those things aren’t true any longer and the grief of losing him that has held you tightly in it’s claws since the explosion. 

his mouth moves but you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. it’s not until you feel his hand envelop yours and at the sound of your name from his lips that the ringing finally starts to lessen and his voice breaks through. “just hold on a little longer okay? we’re almost home.”

home. you haven’t had a home you two shared together in so long. no place to return to where there would be reminders he had been there too, that he would be coming back. you’d thought you never would again.

your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth and makes it hard to reply so you don’t say a word and instead take the sliver of reprieve he had given you from your head and heart ache to try to make sense of any of this, to tell yourself this isn’t a dream or a mirage and that from now on, each day you wake up, he’ll still be here with you. 

caleb survived. this whole time he’s been alive while you mourned at his grave to a point where you thought the pain of it might swallow you whole and that regret had become a permanent part of you knowing you would never get the chance to tell him how you really feel for him, to do all the things you hadn’t let yourself before. there’s so many questions sitting at the back of your throat and the bottom of your heart, so many things you don’t know how to begin to process; a clash of undeniable happiness, the healing of wounds and the way they start to bleed again until the point of pain and confusion.

your motions are little more than robotic as you get out of the car and walk behind him into the place he had called home but couldn’t be more unfamiliar to you. when you see how dark it is, barren of things you’d have thought he’d still own, you wonder how unfamiliar it might be to him too. 

standing only a few feet from the door that had closed automatically behind you, you hold your bag of things close to your chest while caleb turns on the lights. like they are the only things grounding you and keeping you from crumbling into a million tiny pieces but you don’t know how long they’ll be able to keep you together.

“go ahead and pick a room pipsqueak,” he says, setting his keys down on the kitchen counter that looks like maybe it’s never been used before but when he notices you haven’t moved from the front entryway, his tone quickly changes. “hey,” soft and comforting but it does nothing to help you right now. “what's wrong?”

clutching your bag tighter till the lumps and straps of it could imprint themselves on your skin through your clothes, you meet his worried gaze and swallow the heaviness weighing down your words. “caleb.. i..” your voice is shaky at best, a perfect symbol for the feelings swirling inside you like a tempest. “i just can’t believe you're here.. alive.”

he closes the distance between you in a few long strides and reaches out for you, cupping your cheek in his palm. he’s warm, so warm, his hand calloused and large like you had remembered it. like you worried you might forget one day when so much time had passed without him. “i’m here,” a promise said with so much certainty. “and i’m not going anywhere ever again.”

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a start of the release of the tremendous storm from within you finally manifesting into something tangible, something that you would have even less control over now that it’s pouring out of you in unruly waves and a downpour that first looks like a like drizzle. a few tears quickly turn into dozens more that caleb wouldn’t be able to catch or stop. not now. it’s consuming you, helping you to speak but with no chance to think or process your words before they’re tumbling out of your mouth and your body quickly follows suit.

“why caleb - why didn’t you come find me sooner?” dropping your bag, it lands on the tips of your toes the same moment your balled up fist meets calebs chest. you’re a sobbing mess in the matter of moments, looking at him through teary vision and speaking with so much pain behind your words you feel the ache of them reverberate back into your chest, ready to take you under and drown you in them. “would i have ever known if i haven’t snuck into the fleet? or would you have just left me to mourn over you forever while you got to play colonel?!”

he looks as afflicted as you feel but still in control of his emotions, more than you could possibly try to muster right now. “it’s more complicated than that. i had to join the fleet and i couldn’t contact you - couldn’t bear to put you through that pain again.”

“you don’t know anything about my pain caleb!” you spit the words like venom and you can see in his expression, in the way his hand on your face twitches, how much they affect him. “you have no idea how many times i wished for this all to be a bad dream.. to wake up and have you still be with me but instead woke up to the agony of you very much being dead. you have no idea how many times i went to your grave and could barely stand to leave because it’s as close to you as i thought i was ever going to be!” you try to push away from him, using your hand on his chest to shove him away and your other to remove his touch from your face. he doesn’t budge so easily, instead wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you closer and continuing to wipe your tears. “let me go!”

“no,” he replies, so full of understanding and care and you don’t know if it’s making it better or worse. he couldn’t possibly let you go, doesn’t think it’s within his strength to do so. it never has been before. his chest has always hurt when you’d cry and being the one to bring you to tears is what he loathes the most but it would never stop him from trying to comfort you or wiping away your tears. “not right now. not when you need me.”

“ha!” it's a pitiful and angry sound, a perfect mirror to how you feel about yourself right now. “where were you all these months i needed you then?! when i was crying just like this because i thought i’d never get to see you again?” you try again to get away from him, you can’t breathe or think straight, can’t do anything but crumble in the face of this storm but caleb doesn’t let you go far. doesn’t let you drown. “how can you so easily come back and act like i haven’t spent every moment in pain over the fact i thought you were gone forever?!” both of your hands are on his chest now. he doesn’t flinch at the force of them or try to remove them and before you know it, through your sobbing and weakening body, they’re clinging to him like a lifeline. you bury your face into his chest, his shirt quickly becoming soaked in your tears and snot, wrinkling under your tight hold.

caleb says your name softly, his hand cradling the back of your skull and keeping you pressed against him. “it was painful for me to be away from you too.” more than he could handle, worse than what he’d experienced before in any physical sense. 

“it’s not the same..” you hide behind the pillar of strength he’s offering you, let the storm rage and crash against him while tucked into the safe place of his arms as exhaustion starts to replace every other thing you had been feeling up until this point with the help of his embrace around you and the familiar scent of him invading your senses. this is real. he’s really here and he promised he wouldn’t leave you again.. “at least you knew i was alive - knew you could see me again if you really wanted..”

he holds you tighter then, his lips pressing in the crown of your head. he knows it's not the same but he also thought he was sparring you more pain by staying away, no matter how difficult that was for him. “you have no idea how badly i wanted to see you.” his hold is almost too tight now but you welcome it, want more of it. “it was agony to be away from you and hide this from you.”

“caleb..” you bury yourself further into him. everything hurts; your body, your heart, your head and somehow he is the soothing balm that makes it all better and the very source of it to begin with. you want to press him more, want to know everything that has happened to him while you’ve been apart but as you weep like a child in his arms, the words are lost and all you can do is hold on to him like your life depends on it. like he might disappear again if you were to let go.

you don’t know how much time passes before you’re being swept up off your feet, cradled against his chest and safely in his arms with your own so quickly and tightly wrapping around his neck to keep him as close to you as possible. he doesn’t tease or complain about the mess you’ve made of his outfit or your tears that soak into the skin of his neck. caleb doesn’t say anything as he walks to the couch and settles down onto it, removing his arm from under your legs to reach for a blanket that he drapes over you before adjusting you on his lap and holding you within his complete embrace again.

your sobbing slowly turns to small hiccups and scattered tears rather than a downfall of them but you don’t let him go. you can’t let him go and wonder if perhaps he is feeling the same when his hold on you doesn’t waver for a moment and he doesn’t try to move from underneath you.

“what if..” your voice is so weak, quiet enough you wonder if he’ll hear you at all and not knowing if you ever want him to. “what if tomorrow comes and you’re not here? what if i’m just dreaming.. what if you die again..” how will i survive losing you twice..

his arms around you tighten, as if he’s trying to make you one with him, bury you in the safety and truth of his very chest, where his heart beats for you and could never leave you again. not before he’d bring down the whole planet and whisk you away to a new one where it could only be the two of you. “i’m not going anywhere ever again. nothing will keep me from you or tear us apart,” caleb answers quietly, as if not anything or anyone else in this world was meant to hear his words but you. “i will be here tomorrow and everyday after. i promise.”

“c-can we stay like this for now? please..”

a soothing hand smooths over your hair and like it was even possible, presses you closer to him. “we can stay here, like this, for as long as you need and when tomorrow comes, i’ll make you breakfast and hold you again. until you know it’s not a dream and can believe that i’m not going to leave you ever again.”

[yeokii]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ઇ  NO ❨ ONE ❩ NOTICED

‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎. ‎‎hold me, console me and then i'll leave without a trace

【 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 】 : ex hee&fmr ! ᐢ..ᐢ containing + angst ❨ ��𝒊𝒕𝒉 ❩ crying, reader and hee are 18 ✷ 6OO ways to hurt me ──── JOURNALZ ﹑ liek&reblog!

a thing you would constantly think about during nights like these were how heeseung's eyes would glimmer under the moon. how silky his skin looked and you would be terrified to touch him, scared he would break at the lightest touch.

he was the prettiest boy you had seen in your eighteen years of living. you loved every part of him, a thing you hated to admit. you would blush at the thought of him.

he was your prettiest boy.

"hey angel." a soft voice lingered in the air below your balcony. a voice that belonged to no other than heeseung.

"seung?" your legs ran to the voice, as you looked down your balcony; you could almost fall down into his arms.

you don't know how, but he was already hanging onto your balcony, finding his way inside which you had no protest to.

"aren't you cold?" you instantly cupped your warm hands against his face, one that looked like it was blessed by aphrodite.

you remembered what you were first thinking of before he got here, his eyes. how they shined under the face of the moon. but it felt different now, his eyes felt unsure─like he was holding back something.

"angel..." a nickname you adored, suddenly felt uneasy.

"is everything okay?" you reached out to him when he pulled back from your touch. you desperately searched for some comfort that was hiding in his eyes.

he shook his head as leaned his body against the railing. a rough knot settled in your throat, your heart is inches away from falling into your stomach.

"are we okay?" you asked the question that ran miles in your head.

he shook his head again.

heeseung had only spoken two words since he met you and he already caused your heart to shatter into a million pieces in mere seconds.

"i'm sorry angel. i can't do this anymore."

"no, no. heeseung we can fix this." you said, finding more words to spew at him to fix this growing gap between you two.

"please tell me, seung. you know we could get over this together. please seung." you said, your hands enveloped his own and squeezed it enough to show your desperation.

"you can't fix this, angel. somethings you just can't fix." he said, looking at the sky, knowing if he looked at your eyes he would simply break.

"why not? why not, seung? couldn't we fix anything together?" you sniffed through your pain.

"angel, you can't fix someone falling...out of love." his silky voice cracked. your angel cracked.

what were you supposed to say?

you didn't say anything, only words that weren't legible. tears and sniffs turned into moans and sobs. his hands that were enveloped by yours now took its turn to engulf your figure against his.

"you promised seung. you promised we would be with each other till the end of time." and he had promised in this very balcony.

he held you so dear, much like how he did when he first confessed. he consoled you gently like how he did when you didn't pass your math exam.

now he'd leave you without a trace.

no matter how much you'd argue with him, you knew he'd be gone in your life tomorrow when you wake up in a cold bed, without your angel.

tags . @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @voikiraz @miumura @haechansbbg @taejaysreads @shinunoga-iie-wa @teddywonss @naespas @isoobie @dimplewonie @jennaissantes @aishigrey @firstclassjaylee @rikislove @hynjinnnnnnnn

[onceinamillionposter]

Yandere!L&D band headcannons

a/n : i literally just felt silly so I mean why not

Lead Vocalists : Rafayel

Drums: Sylus

Guitarist : Zayne

Guitarist : Xavier

Lead rapper : Caleb

With you as the manager !

Right off the bat, it was hell. You got fired from your last gig because your last managing job didn’t quite work out with a whole money laundering scheme being run behind the scenes and you having no idea, you were broke to say the least.

That was before you got that DM, the old manager of the L&D boys is retiring , and apparently you would be a good fit- although your face was all over the news. You practically jumped to the opportunity, signing your life away as you knew it.

You got situated slowly, being introduced to the members - Caleb and you hit it right off the bat , as well as Xavier and Rafayel but Zayne and Sylus were quite distant.

You learnt about them, Caleb would often pick on the others , Rafayel would be trouble just for the fun of it , Zayne was busy reading books and sketching new designs for the band and Sylus was often talking to two twins? You never pried and he never told. Xavier would always be asleep on the common room couch but would wake up when you were desperate for things done.

You had gotten used to the routine, managing accounts would have Rafayel sitting scrolling on his phone in your office often asking ,”Do your eyes not get tired looking at the screen? Why don’t we just go out!” Often you were able to get him to stop bothering you but sometimes he would drag you out regardless making it a bit too intimate.

When it was spring cleaning day , you and Zayne often bonded in silence, sometimes you asked the him about his interests, learning he’s a fan of medicine and drawing anatomy which garnered your attention so you would discuss about what you knew.

Sylus and you would work out at the gym, turning into a competition sometimes. He would help you box and you would show him pilates which he never (openly) struggled with. Sometimes you guys would go on morning runs - very early runs just so people don’t get the wrong idea.

Caleb, and you would bond over board games - monopoly, uno, hell even chess! Anything to keep the day moving. Also investing in the newest consoles (he has the bank of a billionaire he just wanted to tease) , and surprising you with them became normal. Just dance was an interesting time!

And finally Xavier, you and him watched movies and shows together and it was so fun - for you - often enough Xavier just fell asleep but when he woke up, you would cook together or at least try. He burnt more than cooked but that way okay, cause in the end the cupcakes were edible- sure they weren’t the best but they were consumable (when you look past the dark crust)!

You usually had to help them get things set up, stages, events and outfits. Everytime the tailor came in you figured that you would be sitting in a different room but for some reason or the other, everyone - minus Zayne - found a reason for you to be taking their measurements. Shirtless , might I add.

Rafayel claimed the tailor was incompetent - as if a novice like yourself would be any better , Caleb said that the tailor kept scratching at him - you took a peak at the nails and they were the dullest acrylic’s you had ever seen , Xavier said they made him uncomfortable but they had a squeaky clean record last time you checked and Sylus - ever honest - simply said “I hate them.” (you had to make them sign a non disclosure agreement after all of this)

One way or another you slowly were apart of their daily routines. But then the stranger things came, the weird lack of dating claims, back before you became manager there was tons of women that were accused of being with them but suddenly it was quiet. Too quiet, and then the first leak of you came with you and Sylus in an uncomfortably ,weirdly, intimate position. Slowly the media turned heads, it was strange it had been awhile since they had been in. any romantic spectacles and the media love drama.

Another time was Rafayel holding your hand and you holding his plushies he won at the arcade, him dragging you to the next stand. At the time it was anything but romantic but now it looked like a common date? To say the media blew up was a surprise, you had to practically beg Rafayel to make a video clarifying it was just getting him new stuff for his room.

Again a stupid photo really, Caleb holding your clip board so high you had to get on your tippy toes, it was backstage so you had to guess it was the people backstage who were working that took that awfully blurry photo- a pain it was really.

You and Zayne- to your surprise- also got a photo! Hooray! You took him out to satisfy his sweet tooth, he insisted he couldn’t work without it - (he just wanted you to himself) - maybe it was the setting? It being a kitty cafe but you know what - you still don’t know but it garnered attention , another tweet to the main profile for the boys.

But the worst, Xavier resting his head on your shoulder after a long day at the studio. He was so close, too close for you to even make an excuse at the time. But either way the criticism rolled in,

“L&D boys pass around,” “Manager managing all 5 boys”, “Common whore?” It frustrated you so deeply you wished to quit the job as much as you were payed , deciding it wasn’t worth it. But you didn’t know , they weren’t giving you up like that. Not when they slowly loved you, not yet.

[marlowetudor]

The Maze & the Minotaur

Male Minotaur x female reader

Spice Level:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️- Picante

Word Count: 1740

“This is what you signed up for,” you reminded yourself as you darted around another corner. The travel brochure had promised an “authentic Greek myth experience” when you booked the day trip to see the newly discovered labyrinth beneath the palace at Knossos. Your friends had begged off, claiming the “high adventure package,” which boasted a run through the maze while chased by an actual, live minotaur, was a bit too adventurous for them.

At first, the idea was thrilling. Ever since you'd read the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur in grade school, you’d been fascinated with the idea of being chased by one. Even after meeting the minotaur chasing you, a tall, handsome male named Andreas with soft, wet brown eyes, a warm smile, and acres of well-defined muscles, you were still excited for the chase. He chuckled when he told you that a surprisingly high number of human women opted for the high adventure package.

But, with your heart pounding louder in your ears than your feet on the stone floor of the maze, you were starting to think your friends may have been right. Every so often, a roar would come floating over the maze's walls, sending you into a fresh sprint. You knew one loose stone, one wrong turn, one pause in the wrong spot could mean being caught. And then, if he caught you, well, anything could happen.

It happened before you realized it. You had been running full bore down a straight-away that ended in a T-junction. You hadn’t realized how much speed you’d built up until you went around the corner and couldn’t slow down enough to make the turn safely. You slammed into the rock wall of the maze, bruising your shoulder and forearm hard enough to make you stop running. In the second it took for you to cradle your arm to your side, big arms closed around your torso from behind and lifted you off your feet. A rough palm closed over your mouth, cutting off the scream just as it was bubbling up from your throat.

“Gotcha!” came the deep, breathless voice at your ear. “You gave me quite the chase, sweet girl,” he murmured. You could feel the heat of his breath, cooling the sweat on your neck and brow.

“Damn,” you muttered. “I thought I was going to make it.” You wriggled in his arms, making him laugh.

“You almost did,” he said, tightening his grip. “But I think you deserve a consolation prize for that run.”  He set you down on your feet and spun you around to face him. “Would you like that, sweet girl?” You fought hard to keep your face neutral, even as the low embers of desire burning in your core since the start of your run leaped up to spread a delicious heat through you.

“What’s the prize?” you asked, looking him up and down. His long tongue ran out to lick his lips as he mimicked your lingering gaze.

“I think you know,” His eyes lingered on the valley between your breasts that led down into your sports bra. “Girls like you don’t sign up to be chased by a minotaur for our sparkling conversation,” he said.  

As if he needed help proving his point, his arms wrapped around you again, hoisting you off your feet. Your legs wrapped easily around his trim waist to settle your hips against his. “Besides,” he grunted, one large hand cupped your ass, supporting you, while the other slid up your ribs, roughly grabbing your breast. “I could smell how wet you were from almost ten meters away.”  It made you shift your hips, pressing your sex against him. There was no sense in hiding any longer. He could feel the squirming movements of your hips, seeking the length of his cock stiffening through the thin fabric of your running shorts. He ground up against you, making you whimper with need.

He kissed and licked along your neck until he reached your ear. “You want this cock, sweet girl?” he asked. “You want me to give you your prize?” You nodded, practically writhing against him.

“Say it,” he hissed against your ear. “Tell me how much you want it.” His big hand wrapped around your hips, pushing your wet cunt against his cock through the thin fabric that separated you.

“Please,” you moaned, barely above a whisper. He slid one hand down to explore the damp gusset between your thighs. His thick fingers prodded up and down along the seam of your pussy through the fabric.

“Louder, sweet girl. I want to hear you beg for what you want,” he groaned. You held on tightly to his neck with one arm while you pushed the fingers of your other hand into the curls at the nape of his neck. You kissed eagerly along his long jaw to his mouth, his tongue meeting and twining with yours.

“Please,” you whined between kisses. “Please fuck me.”

He chuckled, tasting your mouth with his tongue. He dug his thick fingers into the fabric of your shorts, pressing hard on your throbbing clit before releasing his hold. You slithered down his body with a frustrated whine as he guided you to your knees with gentle pressure.

“First, you’re going to taste my cock,” he said. His hand undid the clasp holding his loincloth up and let it flutter to the floor. Though the light in the maze was dim, you could still clearly see the girthy length of his erection as it bounced free. Without having to be told, you nuzzled against the base of it, licking over his heavy balls as you made your way up toward the tip. Taking all of him in your mouth was out of the question. He was too thick. Too long. But you could certainly squeeze and lick and suck as much as you could manage. You could run your tongue along his weeping slit, lapping up the sticky beads of precum. You loved hearing him groan, feeling his fingers wrap around your ponytail to guide your head where he wanted it as you tried to fit him into your mouth.

He pulled your head back, pulling your mouth off the head of his cock with a lewd pop. In seconds, he pushed you down onto your back, yanking your sports bra over your head, nearly tearing your shorts as he ripped them down off your hips. His long, thick finger ran between the sopping wet lips of your cunt to gather some of your slick and rub it over your clit. Your hips bucked upward, following his hand as he teased you open for him.

“I think you’re ready for my cock, sweet little human,” he said, pulling you up into his lap. You could only nod as you looped your arms around his neck again. He guided your shaky legs around his hips with one hand while he dragged the thick head of his cock over your sensitive little bud. You thrust against him, trying to coax him to your entrance.

The stretch of him as his cock pushed into you was incredible. You’d heard people talk about being split in half but had never really appreciated what it meant. He tried to hold you up, to let you sink slowly down onto him and adjust to his girth, but the feeling of him filling you was too much to resist. You pushed down with a guttural moan until he was fully rooted deep within you.  

He let you rest for a few moments, holding you still with both hands on your hips. You felt so satisfyingly full that you could hardly feel yourself twitching and clenching around him, but he definitely could, if his breathy little moans were any indication. Slowly, he lifted you up by your hips, savoring the desperate moan you made before he let gravity drag you back down. He tilted you back as you rode him to watch himself disappear into your tight folds, to watch the outline of his glans push against your abdomen each time he reached the end of your channel.

The rough pounding almost overwhelmed the tightening sensation that built in your gut with each velvet drag of him over every tender spot within you. But soon enough, as both of your moans grew louder, as he worked your body up and down on his long shaft, it became impossible to ignore the feeling of getting closer to the precipice. He must have been close, too. He roared again, pulling you down hard and bucking up into you at the same time. Your hand scrabbled across his taught, straining stomach, looking for any kind of purchase to hold onto as you tumbled over the edge into orgasm with him. His hands caught and cradled you, rocking with you as your clenching pussy milked load after heavy load from his cock.

At last, your tired muscles couldn’t hold you upright any longer, and he chuffed out a soft laugh as he bundled you down against his chest. “I take it back,” he muttered as he nuzzled against your sweaty brow. “I think you won, after all, sweet girl.”

You giggled, gently twisting your fingers in the longer fur that ran down between his clavicles like a downy cravat. “I think we both won,” you teased.

After a few moments, he helped you stand and handed you a towel, cleverly concealed within his discarded loincloth. “I’m not really supposed to do this,” he said, suddenly shy as he looked away to give you some privacy while you cleaned up. “I’m not supposed to do any of what we just did. A lot of the guys do, but...” He trailed off, shaking his large head.

“No, I would think railing the clients is probably frowned upon. Great customer service, though. Five stars,” you said, laughing with him as the two of you made your way toward the maze exit.

“Nooo,” he said, still chuckling. “Definitely not supposed to do that.” He ran one of his big hands through the curls that spilled down between his horns, over his brow. “I’m not supposed to do this either, but, uh,” he continued. If he hadn’t just screwed you within an inch of your life, you’d have sworn he was nervous.  “I’d like to see you again. Can I get your number?”

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

Thanks for reading! Let me know in the comments if you like longer fics like this, or if you prefer shorter ones!

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 16 - Self Sacrifice

Summary: poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic. CW: angst, injuries, hurt/comfort.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

“Ghost! We need that door open now!” Price shouts as he turns. Gaz comes over to the window in the door. 

“On the console, there should be a green switch. Try flipping it.” He says. You nod heaving as the fresh oxygen in the room slowly gets replaced with whatever gas is being pumped in. Finding the green switch is harder than you think. The gas is stinging your eyes now, they fill with water and you have to keep brushing tears out of the way with your free hand. 

It feels like you’re looking forever, your fingers running over every button and switch. You finally find it blinking a few times to get the tears out your eyes before flipping it. The switch clicks and the hissing stops. You regain your composure, you cough breathing in big gulps of air. 

Your hand squeezes your vest then you hear coughing. You look over at the window. You see Price cough, you can hear the others start too. You look back at the console. 

It’s you or them. Fuck.  

Your eyes lock onto Price as you wipe the tears from your face. Fuck . This was going to suck. You can’t let them die though. You move back over to the green switch. 

“Dont, you dare!” Price shouts between coughs. You look over at him. You can’t listen to them suffer. You can’t let them die. 

You flick the switch. There’s a few seconds of silence then the hissing starts up again. The smell of chemicals fill the room making your eyes sting, slowly their coughing stops as yours starts up again. 

“NO!” Price shouts, you look over at him, your hand comes up to your nose and mouth. It doesn’t matter though. You move away from the console and towards the window. 

“Can’t let you die.” You wheeze, your eyes are stinging, you can barely see him now. You think back to the kiss, the sex. You wipe your eyes, looking past Price but you can’t see anything. 

“Ghost. That door needs to be opened!” You hear Price shout. “Gaz, is there anything you can do?” 

“I’m trying!” You hear Gaz shout. Your lungs are burning now, there’s not much clean air  in the room, your head is starting to spin. You can’t tell if it’s the poison or the lack of oxygen. It doesn’t matter. They’re safe. 

Your hand drops from your face and you smile at him. For a second your eyes clear, you can see his face, his hand pressed up against the glass. You reach up and press your hand against his. You swear you can feel the heat from his hand on the other side of the door. 

“Price.” You cough, pressing your body against the door to hold yourself upright. You don’t know how much time you have. You don’t expect them to save you, but if they don’t get out you’ll haunt them from the beyond. The thought makes you chuckle which throws you into a coughing fit. 

“GAZ!” You hear Price shout. You slam your hand against the glass and he turns back to look at you. It’s not Gaz’s fault, it’s no one’s fault. You hear banging, pounding against metal.

“Price. Thank you.” 

“John, and you can thank me later.” He says, you smile, coughing. There’s not going to be a later. You can’t hold yourself up for much longer black spots flash in your vision. 

“Got it!” You hear Ghost shout. You try to take a breath in but you can’t panic rises in you and your legs give way. You fall to the floor looking up to see the gas coming in through the vents. 

You die and they live. It was how it’s supposed to end. Ever since the beginning when they were going to put a bullet in your head. Maybe it’s fate or something. It feels like a fitting end. You let out one last long breath before everything goes black.

…

Price is holding his breath as your body slides down to the floor. He watches you go limp against the door. He wants to tear the door off, they need to get you out of there. Suddenly there’s a wiring sound and the gas in the room starts to get sucked back up the vents. 

A few seconds later the door clicks and slides open. Price moves to the side, Soap and Ghost push past him and grip your vest pulling you out the room and into the hallway. 

“Is she breathing?” Price asks, he doesn’t get a response straight away. “Soap!”

“She’s breathing, barely.” He replies, his ear pressed up against your face.

“What the fuck happened?” Price asks following Gaz into the main room.

“Makarov left a trap for us. He knew we were getting close.” Gaz says. “There'll be more Konni on the way we need to leave.” 

“Shit.” Price curses under his breath pulling the sat-phone off his vest. “Ghost, go get us a car. Gaz get what data you can.” He holds the phone up to his ear listening to it ring out. 

“Price.” Lawell’s voice comes through the phone.

“Laswell. We need exfil, medevac.” 

“Not possible.” 

“Why?”

“Captain, you did this without our approval, we cannot send unit’s into Russia right now.” Shepherd says. Price pulls the phone away from his ear and curses. 

“Makarov is dead.”

“Good. But you still have a job to do, Captain. Secure the weapons in Russia and the nukes in Urzikstan then we can call it even for this little revenge mission you’ve been on.” Shepherd says, Price looks over at Gaz typing on the laptop. 

“Hard to do when you’re one man down.” Price spits. 

“Who is injured? Or is it that smuggler you’ve insisted on dragging around?” Shepherd asks, he sounds mad. Price doesn’t say anything, he hears a sigh down the line.

“Acceptable losses I'm afraid. For the best really, the amount of paperwork she’s generated is unbelievable.” Shepherd says. Price turns to look at you, Johnny is holding you in his arms, all the colour looks like it has drained from your face. Acceptable loss . It makes him mad, so mad he wants to throw the phone across the room. You’re not a loss, because they’re not going to lose you. 

“You have a job to do Captain and I would suggest you do it quickly. If we have to send someone else in to clean up your mess it won’t end well for you.” There’s the warning, the threat. It almost makes Price laugh, he holds it together turning to look at Gaz who nods at him. 

“We’re sending the data from Russia.” Price says keeping his voice level. 

“Good. Now get back to Urzikstan. Preferably without picking up any more strays.” The call ends. 

Acceptable loss . How dare he.

“When’s evac coming?” Soap asks. Price swallows, building his confidence back up. 

“There is no evac. We need to get to Urzikstan ourselves.” Price says.

“What!” Soap shouts gripping you tighter. He can hear the anger in his voice. “Cap, she needs medical attention.” 

“If it’s anything like the gas I inhaled in Verdansk she’ll be fine.”

“It’s nothing like the gas from Verdansk.” Soap snaps back before looking down at you. 

“Price, vehicle secured.” Ghost’s voice comes through the radio. 

“Okay, let's move.” Price says. 

…

Ghost insisted on driving. Price wanted to drive, he wanted to have something else to focus his mind on other than the sound of your laboured breathing from the back seats. He should be happy, you’re breathing which means you’re alive. As long as you’re alive he’s not going to panic. 

He looks back in the rear view mirror. Soap is still fussing over you, he hasn’t let you go since they dragged you out that room. His fingers brushing your hair and face, his other arm keeping you steady while Ghost barrels down the road. 

He looks over at Gaz, their eyes meet for a second and he looks down to his hand rubbing your thigh. He smiles, swallowing some of the dread away and looking back out to the road. Kyle was the most sceptical about you, said he didn’t want to waste time getting close to you if you were going to betray them.

Johnny tried to convince him it wasn't going to be like that. Even Price had his doubts, all the way up until the kiss, he couldn’t wait any longer not after hearing what Simon and Johnny got up to. There was something in your eyes, something about the way you kissed him back he knew you weren't going to betray them. 

He can almost feel the guilt radiating off of Kyle. He never got to give you a chance, now he might never get to. Price lets out a breath pushing the thought away. They’re not going to lose you, they’re taking you to Farah, they have doctors, you’ll be fine. 

“What the hell?” Ghost says. Price snaps over to look at him as the car rolls to a stop.

“What is it?” He asks. 

“I don’t know, something’s broken.” He says getting out of the car. Price follows him, they walk over and Ghost opens the hood, steam and smoke fills the air. It’s so hot they both have to take a step back. When it dissipates, Ghost reaches down to touch something but pulls his hand back straight away. 

“Fuck. Cooling system must be broken or something. Engine overheated.” Ghost says. 

“Shit.” Price responds looking around. This is not a good place to be stuck. They’re by the border but there’s nothing around for miles, scattered farms and some houses. No cars around for them to take, it’s starting to get dark too. 

“How far can we push this before it breaks totally?” Price asks.

“I don’t know, a kilometre, maybe 2 I wouldn’t want to risk it and be left with no transport whatsoever. If we could leave it for a few hours to cool we might be able to make it over the border.” Ghost says, Price sighs looking around again. 

“Price!” Soap calls. He hears the urgency in his voice, the fear. He walks round the car leaving Ghost. 

“What?” He asks, his eyes scanning over you. You’re shaking, beads of sweat have formed over your body. 

“Feel.” Soap says pulling Price’s hand to touch you. 

“She’s freezing.” He says pressing on your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“What’s wrong with the car?” Gaz asks. 

“Overheating, Ghost thinks the cooling is broken or something.” Price says as the hood of the car is slammed close. 

“There’s a house back down the road at the end of the field. Looks empty, maybe we could see if they have anything to help?” Ghost asks. Price looks over to where he’s pointing.

“That or we can sit for a few hours, let the car cool.” He looks back over at you. “Get her inside somewhere warm, try and get her temperature back up.” He doesn’t like the thought of stopping here, but they’re running out of options. 

Everyone seems to silently agree, Price and Ghost get back in the car. The drive back to the house felt like it was taking hours, not minutes, the drive down the mud offroad was the worst. Ghost had to slow down to stop the car from skidding and Price was worried they could get stuck. When they make it to the house it really is starting to get dark. There are no lights turning on, that's a good sign. There are plants in the window that look like their wilting, maybe this place was abandoned when Konni increased their presence in the area. 

“Me and Ghost will clear the place. You two stay here.” Price says as Ghost gets out of the car. There’s looks of concern on Gaz, and Soap’s face, your lips almost look like they're turning blue. They need to be quick, before this gets any worse. 

The house is clear, they know that before they make it to the second floor. Opening the door to furniture covered in sheets, boxes strewn all over the place. Upstairs the building is an empty bar one bedroom with a double bed and a bathroom. 

Gaz and Soap are already carrying you into the house before they get the all clear. They place you down on the sofa running around and finding anything to cover you in. Even with a pile of blankets on you covering everything but your face your lip is still quivering. 

“Body heat.” Gaz says. “She needs body heat, like if someone has hypothermia you warm them up with your heat so they don’t warm up too fast.” 

“She doesn’t have hypothermia.” Soap says. 

“No but she’s freezing and her lips are turning purple.”

“It’s worth a try.” Price says, you look like you’re getting worse, not better. “There’s a bed upstairs.” Soap sighs but starts pulling the blankets off you before scooping you back up in his arms. Everyone follows him to the second floor. Ghost pulls the sheets off the bed and Soap lays you down. 

“Take her clothes off, it needs to be skin to skin contact.” Gaz says pulling the bottom of your shirt up. Soap raises an eyebrow but listens, helping him strip you down to your underwear. Then they do the same stripping down to their boxers before climbing into bed. 

Gaz rolls you on your side pressing his chest against your back. “Christ, she’s freezing.” He says reaching down for the duvet and pulling it over you all. 

“You sure this will work?” Soap asks reaching over to wrap his arms around Gaz pulling them close. 

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Gaz says. Ghost lets out a sigh slumping down on the armchair in the room, he pinches the bridge of his nose closing his eyes. Price walks over to him and rests his hand on his shoulder. 

“She’ll be okay.” He says, he’s not sure if he believes it himself but it has to be real. There’s no way after everything that this is the end. 

“And if she’s not?” He asks looking up at Price.

“Then at least we know who to blame.” Price says.

…

Everything hurts. Your chest hurts the most, and your eyes. You’re freezing but there’s someone laid next to you. You move, hands instantly find you, voices filling the air as you open your eyes to look around. 

“Eazy, you’re okay.” Johnny says. You open your mouth to speak but it’s dry, you slap your lips together trying to swallow what little moisture there is. It throws you into a coughing fit. You shoot up in the bed, your hand pressed on your chest. 

Hands land on your shoulders and back as you try to suck in gulps of air between the coughs. Someone presses a bottle of water in your hand and you bring it to your lips gulping it down. The coughing stops and you sit there panting. It’s like you can’t get a full breath of air in. 

You can hear the wheezing in your breaths, each breath stings your chest. It feels like you can still smell the sickly sweet odour of the gas. Someone reaches over and takes the bottle out of your hand. You look up to see Price stood by the side of the bed. 

“John.” You say smiling at him. Your voice is hoarse, it doesn’t sound like your own, it sounds weird. Your free hand comes up to rub your neck. He smiles back at you and you look round at Johnny and Gaz holding you up. 

“Where’s your shirts?” You ask, turning to Gaz. Before any of them can respond he leans in and kisses you. His kiss is soft, his hands come up to cup your face. You want to keep kissing him, you want his lips and hands to never let you go. You can’t kiss him for long though, you’re holding your breath, you have to break from him to breathe. 

“Kyle,” he says. You smile at him.

“You gave us a proper scare lass. Thought we’d lost you.” Johnny says pulling you against him and kissing the top of your head. 

“Don't do anything like that again. I don’t think my heart can take it.” Johnny says chuckling. You smile in his chest, yawning and closing your eyes. They made it out, made it out safe and managed to get you out too. They didn’t have to do that but they did. 

You feel Kyle’s hands rubbing your back and John sits down on the bed. You open your eyes looking up at him. He reaches over to stroke your cheek. 

“Thank you.” He says, you smile at him. “But seriously, don’t ever do that again.”

“Only if your life depends on it.” You reply. He tuts, shaking his head. 

“Get some rest.” He says leaning forward to kiss your forehead before standing up off the bed. You look over at the light coming in from the doorway. You see Ghost’s silhouette blocking most of it. 

“Good to have you back.” He says. You nod yawning again, your head still feels stuffy. 

“C’mon, a few hours kip will do you the world of good.” Johnny says encouraging you to lie back. As soon as your head hits the pillows you feel exhausted. 

“Will you stay?” You ask as you close your eyes.

“Yeah, we’ll stay.” Kyle says as you feel him lay back down next to you.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Johnny says pulling the duvet over you. 

“Good.” You whisper feeling their arms wrap around you, pressing their bodies against yours. You never would have imagined the very people you thought would end your life in a heartbeat would be the people you risk your life for. A few days ago you were all strangers, now you’re lovers? Partners? It doesn’t matter, all you know is you wouldn’t want to change it for the world.

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[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter thirty-two: A Line in the Sand

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

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Series Masterlist

The tension in the room lingered long after In-ho had left, settling into the very air you breathed. You stood there, staring at the empty space where he had just been, frustration burning beneath your skin.

We’ll see.

Those two words gnawed at you, an infuriating mix of dismissal and challenge. You weren’t sure what he expected—to scare you away? To make you question everything that had happened between you? If that was his goal, he was failing spectacularly.

Because the more he pulled away, the more determined you became.

With a sharp breath, you turned on your heel and left the lounge, your mind already racing. You needed answers—needed to understand what was happening beneath the surface of In-ho’s carefully constructed exterior.

And there was only one place you might find them.

The control center was quieter than usual, but the guards stationed near the entrance barely acknowledged your presence as you walked through the doors. By now, they had grown accustomed to seeing you move freely through the compound—something that, at first, had been met with stiff resistance but now had become an unspoken allowance.

You spotted the surveillance screens first, a wall of flickering monitors displaying every inch of the facility. Your gaze skimmed over them until you found what you were looking for—In-ho, standing at the main observation deck, arms crossed as he overlooked the arena below.

Typical.

He buried himself in his work when things got too complicated, retreating into the one thing he could control.

“Looking for something?”

The voice startled you. You turned sharply, finding a familiar figure leaning casually against the console. The Square Guard. The same one who had led the charge against the Panther Mask.

His uniform was the same as the others, but there was something different about him—an air of authority that set him apart.

You hesitated before answering. “Just looking.”

His head tilted slightly, studying you. “You won’t find what you’re looking for on those screens.”

Your brows furrowed. “And what exactly am I looking for?”

The Square Guard didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pushed off the console, stepping closer, lowering his voice just enough to make you uneasy. “You want to understand him. But you won’t—not by watching.”

Your stomach tightened. “And you think you understand him?”

A low chuckle. “I understand the way he works. He keeps people at a distance for a reason.”

You crossed your arms. “And what reason is that?”

The guard studied you for a long moment before finally answering. “Because getting close to him is dangerous. For both of you.”

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“No,” the guard agreed. “But you should be afraid of what being close to him will cost you.”

A beat of silence passed between you before he nodded toward the screens. “If you really want to know him, stop looking for him here.” Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the hallway.

You stood there for a long moment, his words weighing heavy in your mind.

Stop looking for him here.

You exhaled sharply, your decision made.

If In-ho thought shutting you out would keep you away, he was wrong.

And if there was a cost to getting close to him…

Then you were willing to pay it.

———————

32!!!! Lemme know what you guys think!!! Thank you!

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[sugarphoric]

jjk suguru, satoru, choso, toji (but can be read w anyone)

gn!reader, slight angst?, established relationship, fluff?, sfw :D

when you pull the "ignoring your boyfriend" prank on them, you dont expect much, knowing how respectful and understanding he could be.

even before you guys have been together, the two of you were always stuck to each other's hips, only getting worse as your relationship developed into something more. knowing how much of a clingy, needy boyfriend you have, youve got cameras planted everywhere, making sure to get as many angles as possible XD

when he come home, youre not even acknowledging their presence, already breaking your normal routine determined to make this work. and, of course, hes like a dog, immediately seeking you out to give you a bear hug, keeping their arms wrapped around you for at least a minute, peppering your face with kisses and "i missed you's"

noticing your lack of welcome, they think its due to tour headphones placed around your ears. maybe you didnt hear the door they assume, before making their way over to you- until you swiftly move right underneath their grasp, walking over to the kitchen where tonights dinner was softly simmering on the stove.

... oookay. maybe youre just really tired and out of it! they follow your steps, endless praises falling out of their mouths about how pretty you look, how great dinner smells (and how grateful they are for you to do this), expressing how much theyve missed you, et cetera et cetera. youre already breaking a sweat from forcing yourself to keep a poker face, pushing that stupid smile down before your plans are foiled. but with each step you take forward, its inevitable, youre slowly trapping yourself between him and the counter, unable to move away from his (much awaited, much needed) hug.

so? you do the next best thing. when you feel his arms come close to your side, you slightly shake, groaning out fake annoyance.

what? its a two-second rebooting, their brain racking through everything that happened within the last month on anything he couldve done to upset you. coming with nothing, he thinks he was just making things up, going in again to finally have you safe in his arms.

and now its not funny anymore when you pull that stunt on him again. his hands immediately falling to his sides, hurt flashing on his face mixed with embarrassment. his eyes, frantic as he searching your back, racking his brain on anything, anything- but everythings been good. was it his work schedule- his work? or maybe the way he sleeps, or maybe his morning routine? fuck, did he forget to kiss you goodbye before he left- no he definitely gave more than one kiss goodbye.

.. was it him?

you dont know how much longer you can last, already aching from being "so mean" to him. taking off your headphones and placing them on the countertop, giggles were about to leave your lips before you hear endless amounts of apologies, "what did i do wrong's", and "sugar, please talk to me's". deciding to hold on a bit longer, you hear a shaky, almost incoherent "please?". you stiffen- youve never heard him have this tone before. and he caught that slight movement, giving him just a sliver of confidence (knowing that youre listening to him) to ask "are you mad at me?"

if you werent on the edge before, now youre really on the edge now, gifting him with a slight shake of your head. just as you were about to toss in your white flag, he beats you to it-

"then why wont you let me touch you?"

the hoarse drift, the hitch in his voice, the oh-so-quiet, insecure tone dropping so low due to fear, desperation, need.

you immediately turn around, meeting glossy eyes, a tight pinch in his eyebrows, lips red from his harsh bites.

"oh, baby..." you manage to console. as the words tumble out of your mouth, youre lifting your arms ever so slightly, and thats enough for him to throw himself at you, keeping you in a hug so tight it could break ribs. your feet are completely off the ground, his head deep into the side of your neck, inhaling deep breaths of your hair, your perfume, your scent.

youre hugging him equally (or at least trying to) as strong, and hearing his soft whimpers and an even softer "why?"- having a death like julius caesar would hurt less than the immense guilt striking your heart.

you can barely bring yourself to tell him it was all for a prank, a trend that was blowing up on social media. he gruffs out his discontent, pulling you closer to him (if that even was possible). now its your turn spilling endless praises to him, expressively sharing how horrible (and loved) you felt when he was being so kind when all you could do was ignore him. youre already promising him to never pull this on him again (to that hes nodding vehemently), pairing it with sweet kisses to his neck, his ears, whispering your own sets of apologies, "i love you's" and "i miss you's".

after ten whole minutes of being in the air, he finally sets you down, visibly more happy and almost back to his regular self, if not for the tiniest bit of wistfulness laced in his face. (turns out it was because he had to let you go ᐢ. ֑ .ᐢ).

and if he demands you to sit on his lap as you eat dinner together, if he has you piggy back him as he does the dishes (you begged him to do it tonight as punishment, but then that would be another slot of time where he doesnt have your attention), if he makes you shower together, get ready for bed together (like you usually do (but you usually dont brush each others teeth, wash each others face, etc etc)) and practically lays on top of you as you both start to drift off to sleep... i mean,

who can really blame him? :D

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Parent-Teacher Tension

Marshall was already in a mood when you both walked into the school. He didn’t love these things—sitting through a meeting with some overly enthusiastic teacher talking about your kid’s progress. But he’d promised to come, so here he was, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, his jaw clenched as he followed you inside.

You, on the other hand, were all smiles, greeting the teacher warmly as you both sat down across from his desk.

“Mr. (Teacher’s Last Name), thanks for meeting with us,” you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

The guy smiled—too much for Marshall’s liking. “Of course, Mrs. Mathers. Always a pleasure.” His eyes lingered a little too long on you before he cleared his throat and turned to Marshall. “And Mr. Mathers, it’s great to finally meet you.”

Marshall just nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line.

The meeting went on, the teacher going over test scores and participation, but Marshall wasn’t really listening. No, he was too busy watching the way this guy leaned in every time he spoke to you, the way his hand casually brushed the desk near yours, the way his eyes flickered to your lips when you laughed at something he said.

Was he serious? Right in front of him?

Marshall’s hand flexed on his thigh, his nails digging into the denim of his jeans.

You, completely oblivious, kept chatting, asking questions, smiling that damn sunshine smile of yours. Marshall loved that smile—but not when it was directed at some dude who clearly wanted more than just a parent-teacher conversation.

When the teacher lightly touched your forearm while emphasizing a point, Marshall was done. His hand shot out, wrapping possessively around your thigh. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. His grip tightened slightly, his thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles against your jeans.

You glanced at him in confusion, but he just stared at the teacher, who had suddenly lost some of his confidence. Good.

The rest of the meeting was short, Marshall barely speaking, only nodding stiffly when necessary. When it was finally over, you stood to shake the teacher’s hand, still unaware of the silent tension buzzing in the air.

“Thanks again,” you said warmly.

Marshall didn’t bother with a handshake. Instead, he stood behind you, his hand sliding to the small of your back, fingers pressing just enough to make sure the teacher saw. “Yeah, thanks,” he said, voice low and flat.

The teacher swallowed. “Of course.”

Marshall didn’t say anything else as he led you out of the classroom, his hand never leaving your back.

The car ride home was quiet, but you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on the road.

“What’s wrong with you?” you finally asked, brows furrowing as you turned to face him.

Marshall scoffed, shaking his head. “You serious?”

“Uh, yeah?”

His knuckles turned white against the wheel. “That teacher was all over you, and you just sat there gigglin’ like it was nothin’.”

Your eyes widened. “What? No, he wasn’t!”

Marshall shot you a look. “He touched you, babe.”

You frowned. “He touched my arm, like, once.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “And stared at you like he was tryna figure out what you taste like.”

Your jaw dropped. “Marshall!”

“What?” He pulled into the driveway, throwing the car into park before turning to you. “You really didn’t notice?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “No, because I wasn’t looking for it. And even if he was, so what? You know I’m yours.”

His blue eyes darkened, and in one swift motion, he reached across the console, gripping your chin between his fingers. “Damn right, you are,” he muttered before crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was rough, possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer. When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his eyes still locked onto yours.

“Inside. Now.”

Your stomach flipped at the command in his voice.

You smirked. “Jealous much?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You have no idea.”

And with that, he was out of the car, heading inside without another word.

You bit your lip, heat pooling in your stomach as you followed after him.

Yeah, this was gonna be a long night.

[zyoumeval]

“Caleb is for the girls who are reluctant to show their true selves because they are afraid of losing their loved one after they show it.”

Caleb has known you for years to date, going through thick and thin, Caleb sees you as someone strong and unbreakable. He believes, whatever life throws you, you will still persevere fiercely on the path you choose. You will achieve greater things, you are going to reach the stars like what you’ve always told him.

Until one day, he couldn’t reach you through any form of communication. It’s like… you just vanished into a thin air after a certain situation that he knew it put you in a distress. He already consoled you, gave you company, and be by your side for days. But why were you not answering all of his messages and calls?

He knocks once, “Open the door, pip-squeak. It’s me.”

He knocks twice with more alert, “Pip-squeak, open the goddamn door. I need to see you right now.”

He groans in worry and knocks again, “Open the door or I’ll find a way to break this.”

After a while, he finally hears footsteps approaching the door of your apartment and a click echoed in his ears. With no time wasted, he turns the knob and enters your apartment hurriedly, closing the door behind him.

What Caleb doesn’t expecting to see is your disheveled state; bloodshot and swollen eyes, messy hair, and nose colored in red.

“Wha-” He shuts his mouth and pulls you gently by the wrist to your couch. He sits you down and kneels in front of you, his hands cradling yours carefully as if he’s afraid you’ll break the second he touches you.

Your eyes meet his, “Why are you here? Aren’t you already in Skyhaven?”

“You didn’t answer my calls or reply to my messages for the whole day. You expected me to not worry about a single thing?” He states. “Tell me. What happened?”

You shake your head and lean your head back to the headrest. You stare into the ceiling emptily, “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“You want me to believe that?” He says in a quiet voice. “Do better than that, I’m not taking any bullshit you say at this moment.”

You sigh softly and lift your head to look at him. Emotions still swirling hard inside you, honestly, you are unable to meet his sharp and demanding eyes. But this is Caleb that we are talking about, he will never stop and leave until he gets the answer he wanted.

“I think…” You pause, “What they said is true, me being irresponsible for my actions. If from the start I knew I couldn’t do it, I should’ve avoid taking the position. I should’ve just… chosen the usual position that I’m familiar with, not taking the risk like this. It supposed to go well, I supposed to be a person they always see, not like this.”

He scoffs softly and shakes his head, “Are you trying to impress them or what? Do they deserve your immense attention like this?” He replies firmly, “C’mon, college is a time to explore things that you haven’t done before and it’s a good thing. People made mistakes and you can’t always please them.”

He squeezes your hands and leans closer, “You’ve tried your best, you did your part well. There’s no expectation you need to fulfill at that part, so don’t lose yourself to matters like this.”

“How can I?! They talked about me and even spreading it to uninvolved people in this project! I was afraid, Caleb. I was afraid coming to college because of it!” You snap and tears run down freely over your cheeks.

“It’s them who can’t appreciate you, pip-squeak,” He refutes lowly. “You’ve reflected enough these past few days and you already knew the answer. They weren’t worth of your attention and care. There are many people who deserve it, find them. Don’t focus on them only, this world… doesn’t revolve around them. Take a step out of the bubble and you’ll see people who are worth it.”

Caleb lifts his body up and embraces you in his warmth, his hand rubs your back soothingly. Caleb shuts his eyes as he nuzzles the skin of your neck, you’re too good for this world, too naïve sometimes — and he wants to be the one who holds your hands to protect you from this cruel world.

“Don’t worry about a thing now, pip-squeak. I’m always here for you.”

[00valentina-writes00]

Gamer Ellie Headcanons?

♡♥︎ Gamer Ellie Headcanons ♥︎♡

SFW

♥︎ Ellie is a sore loser. If you beat her in a game, she’ll groan, throw her controller down, and pout. “You fucking cheated.”

♥︎ Trash talks constantly. Even if she’s losing, she’ll still be running her mouth. “Bro, you suck. No way you just missed that shot—oh, fuck, wait.”

♥︎ Prefers co-op games over competitive ones because she likes teaming up with you rather than getting her ass kicked.

♥︎ Rages, but not too hard. She’s not throwing her controller, but she’s definitely yelling. “Fucking bullshit! There’s no way that guy killed me—BABE, DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

♥︎ Loves horror games but gets scared in the dumbest ways. A door creaks open? “Shit, nope. Fuck that.”

♥︎ Loves watching you play. If you’re into a game, she’ll lay her head in your lap, watching the screen with half-lidded eyes, mumbling, “Kick their ass, baby.”

♥︎ Big on gaming snacks. She’ll load up on chips, candy, and soda, then complain when she gets crumbs on her controller.

♥︎ Sits like a gremlin. Controller in one hand, knee up to her chest, chewing on her thumb while concentrating.

♥︎ If you get stuck in a game, she’ll grab the controller and be like, “Move over, I got this.” If she dies immediately? “Shut up. That didn’t count.”

♥︎ Buys matching headsets for you two. They’ve got little stickers on them—she won’t admit it was her idea.

♥︎ Loves late-night gaming sessions. Hoodie on, lights dimmed, half-asleep in her chair while trying to beat a boss.

♥︎ Loves RPGs where she can make dumb choices. Will 100% pick the most chaotic dialogue options just to see what happens.

♥︎ Sucks at racing games. Will swerve off the track instantly and try to play it off like it was on purpose.

♥︎ Loves modding games to make them funnier. Thinks it’s hilarious to make characters look stupid.

♥︎ Will absolutely stream for fun but only for like, two people—one of them being you.

♥︎ Sleeps with her console on sometimes. She’s too lazy to turn it off after a long session.

♥︎ Will game shirtless in just boxers. Says it helps her focus. It absolutely does not.

♥︎ Will pause a game just to pull you into her lap. “Game can wait, babe. Need a break.”

♥︎ Loves playing games together but will absolutely mess with you in co-op. “Oops, my bad. Did I shoot you? Damn. Tragic.”

NSFW

♥︎ Gaming makes her horny. If you’re sitting in her lap, controller in hand, whispering about how good you’re doing? She’s getting turned on.

♥︎ Gets wrecked if you dirty talk while she’s playing. Whisper something filthy in her ear? She’s dying in-game immediately.

♥︎ Loves fucking you while a game is paused. You’ll be mid-session, and she’ll smirk, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Game ain’t going nowhere, babe.”

♥︎ Struggles to focus if you start grinding on her lap while she’s playing. Controller slipping, breath hitching, fingers gripping your hips.

♥︎ Will make you sit on her face as a ‘punishment’ for distracting her.

♥︎ Gets whiny if you tease her too much while she’s playing. If you run your hands down her chest, whispering about how needy she looks? Yeah. She’s a goner.

♥︎ Sometimes plays with a vibrator in. Just to see if she can focus. Spoiler: She cannot.

♥︎ Moans loud if you make her cum while she’s wearing her headset. Forgetting the mic is on? Yeah, she just embarrassed herself in front of her friends.

♥︎ Loves bending you over her gaming chair. Fingers tangled in your hair, pressing you down, tribbing with you hard.

♥︎ If you ride her while she’s gaming, she’s completely wrecked. Moaning in your ear, controller slipping from her hands.

♥︎ Loves being fucked/fucking you against her desk. Controller shoved aside, desk creaking under you both.

♥︎ Uses your body as a stress reliever. Lose a game? Yeah, she’s flipping you onto your back, making you take it.

♥︎ Loves when you sit between her legs while she plays. If you start trailing kisses down her stomach? Yeah. She’s putting the controller down real quick.

♥︎ Can’t sit still if you’re giving her head while she games. Her legs are shaking, hands gripping the chair, struggling to focus on the screen.

♥︎ Loves playing with a vibrator tucked inside you. Will randomly turn it up mid-game just to watch you whimper.

♥︎ If she’s losing, she’ll blame it on you. “Babe, you’re distracting me.” You: “Not my fault you can’t handle me.”

♥︎ If you pull her headset off and kiss her neck? Instantly weak. Thigs clenched and rubbing together

♥︎ Loves when you suck on her fingers while she’s Waiting for a new match to load. The way your tongue swirls around them? Yeah. She’s fully turned on.

♥︎ Sometimes games half-naked just to see if you’ll get distracted. If you get worked up? She’s smirking, spreading her legs, patting her lap.

♥︎ At the end of the night? She’s fully spent, controller forgotten, body tangled with yours, breathless and satisfied.

[soul-meister]

BASOPHOBIA : poly!lost boys x fem!emerson!reader : the lost boys : one-shot

not beta read

cw: basophobia/fear of falling, the boys pressuring reader, sexual harassment(comments/the boys→reader), reader has a decided first name but goes by her middle name--(your name)

summary: your brother brings you along on his hunt to find this mysterious girl from a few nights ago.

"Are you sure you'll find her again? It's been a couple days... Plus, it sounded like she had a boyfriend," you spoke from beside your brother, making your way from the clothing shop where he had bought a leather jacket with the money he gained from his job as a lifeguard. Or was he a beach janitor?

"I just know I'll see her again... And that doesn't matter cause she seemed interested in me," he replied, his head swiveling in various directions as he kept an eye out for a brunette with bouncy curls. An eyebrow raised at your brother's nonchalant attitude at becoming a possible homewrecker.

"Right... So, if you think she's interested in you, why am i here?"

"Just in case she's too nervous to approach me because...well..."

"Because you're a stalker?" You finished for your brother, referencing what you had heard from Sam about Michael following some mystery girl around the board walk a few nights ago.

"Exactly...wait. What?! No!" His head snapped to you, an an incredulous look on his face before he scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning his attention to a piercing stand where a girl was being consoled by the piercer and her friend.

"It's a rip-off," a voice whispered from behind you, causing both you and michael to turn and see a beautiful woman.

Michael nodded his head in her direction, mumbling the words, "that's her," before taking off after the woman with you not far behind. "Hi."

"If you want your ear pierced, I'll do it."

Michael ignored the offer for now, "what's your name?"

"Star."

"Oh, your folks too, huh?" A small smile surfaced on your face, knowing what he was referencing to.

A nervous chuckle then broke through your lips at the quick turn of star's head and her words, "what do you mean?" She seemed anxious at the littlest mention of her parents.

"Ex-hippies," he replied, and you could see her body loosen up once again. "I came this close to being named moonbeam or moon-child. Someone here wasn't as lucky, though," he elbowed you lightly.

the girl's eyebrows scrunched up near the end, "are you two...siblings?"

The corners of you lips dropped slightly at the allusion of you and Michael--Sam, as well--not being similar in appearance as you looked more like your father, something that made you insecure. From what you remembered your mom telling you, she had met your father on the road and ended up pregnant. They only lasted a few months before she met your brothers' father while in the later stage of pregnancy.

You quickly fixed your expression, now coming off as happier than before, "we are. He's my younger brother," your ruffled said person's curls, ruining all the work he had put into styling his hair at home for the possibility he met some concert girl, now known as Star.

"Just call me (Your Name); it's my middle name. Cloud just sounds so stupid to me." A few seconds went by before you realized you basically just insulted Star's name. "Yours is so cute, though. It really suits you, " the words rushed out of your mouth in hopes to lessen the damage.

Glancing at your brother, you noticed the small smirk he sent your way, probably trying to hold in a laugh at your nerves. His attention turned back to the beauty, "Star's great. I like Star."

"Me too," you nodded your head in agreement, worried you had already fucked up and would be seen in a bad light by Star. More like a light that flickered constantly. The thought of her knowing, even if she didn't, that you and Michael didn't share a father carried along in the back of your head as a fault.

There was awkward silence between the three of you and your brother decided to end it by introducing himself, "I'm Michael."

"Michael? Michael's great. I like Michael," Star's gaze fixated on you and there was a playful gleam, "yours is so cute, too. It really suits you." You relaxed at Star's mimicry of you and your brother, seeing that she knew you had no ill-will in your remark.

Seeing that the three of you reached his bike, your brother leaned into your ear, "I'm thinking of getting some dinner with Star, want me to bring you home anything?"

You thought over the prospect before shaking your head, "Sam probably hasn't eaten anything either so I'm gonna try and find him so we can eat together.'

"You sure?" You nodded your head in confirmation. "Alright, see ya later, Cloud."

"Bye, Mikey," you turned your attention to Star who stood off to the side, waiting for you and your brother to finish conversing, "Bye Star. I hope to see you again sometime."

Before you were able to take a step away from your brother the rumbling of engines raced towards your trio. The front wheel of a somewhat familiar blonde with curls--where had you seen him again--got a little to close to your feet for your liking, forcing you to back away and hide behind Michael.

"Where you going, Star?"

She glanced at your brother, not entirely sure what the two were going to do, only having heard snippets of your conversation only a few minutes ago. Noticing her questioning gaze, Michael answered for her, "gonna go for a ride and get some dinner."

"Right," Star nodded before introducing the two of you to who you assumed were her friends, "this is Michael and his sister, (Your Name)." At the mention of your name, you could feel various sets of eyes land on your figure but you ignored them by staring at the familiar head of brown hair.

"Star," the unnamed man spoke again and silence followed as she didn't respond outwardly, though it seemed as if she were inwardly fighting herself. And those inner thoughts that had gone against her wants had won as she made her way over to the bleached blonde and sat herself on the back of his bike.

A blonde with hair that resembled a lion's mane chuckled.

"You know where Hudson's bluff is overlooking the point?" The leader of this oddly dressed biker gang questioned.

"I can't beat your bike."

"You don't have to beat me, Michael. You just have to try and keep up." The faux blonde's head tilted, allowing him to get a better look at you, a smirk adorning his features, "and why don't you bring your sister along with you." It wasn't a question, he was telling both you and Michael that you were coming along for the ride whether you liked it or not. And you most certainly weren't going to enjoy it.

Not waiting for michael to reply, you spoke for yourself in a polite manner, "I'm sorry, but I have plans already. Plus, my mom said she was gonna drive me home."

"We can take you home, babe, if that's what you're worried about. Though, I'm not too sure you'll want to be going home by the end of the night." It was the chuckler"**Not even having to take a glance over, you just knew his eyes were traveling up and down your body. You felt it. And it felt...weird.

"Yeah, hang with us, sweetcheeks," the curly flaxen with the face of a cherub spoke, his upper body leaning forward with a forearm resting on one the handles.

"Unless, you're scared," that was the leader, once again, making another statement. He could probably smell the anxiousness oozing out of you at the thought of riding a bike. And just like he did with your brother, he was egging you on but you needed a little more push to go through with something like this.

"Oh, you are scared. Aren't you, sweetheart? You can ride with me. Promise I won't go easy," the cherub gave you a wink as he began to nibble at the nail of his thumb.

"Why don't you go with me instead? The drive can be bumpy and I'll make sure you don't fall off. Might even make you feel good." You felt how your cheeks burned at the innuendo coming from the messy blonde.

You also noticed how your smile began to slip as the two blondes "charmed" you into going, but you willed yourself to keep the corners of your mouth turned up, even if it oozed nervousness. "I'll- I'll go with Mikey."

Said person's gaze switched to you, his eyes widened slightly as you've never wanted to go on a ride with him, or even simply sit on the contraption--you preferred to keep yourself rooted to the ground. Pushing away the shock, Michael slid onto his bike before helping you on behind him with you wrapping your arms around his torso not long after m

"We're going for a ride," there was a new voice, though barely audible through the engines of the bikes. It could only belong to the last man, a brunette with no shirt underneath, and a young child sat behind him. It was the young boy from the other night.

One by one, the bikes rode off down the boardwalk, forcing pedestrians out of their way unless they wanted to be part of a hit and run.

note: this was meant to be longer but I wanted to get it out of my drafts. Will I finish it one day? Maybe...probably not.

[ilovegyokeres]

One where Kenans really pouty and clingy after loosing a game so the reader cuddles/ kisses him cause he’s her big baby.

𝒮𝒪𝐹𝒯 𝒮𝒫𝒪𝒯 ✧˖°

───────────✦✧✦──────────

𓆩♡𓆪 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐘ı𝐥𝐝ı𝐳 | 𝐉𝐮𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐬 | 𝟐𝟒/𝟐𝟓 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𓆩♡𓆪

✧ 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧.

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞.

───────────✦✧✦──────────

The locker room was eerily quiet.

Juventus had lost a tough match, and Kenan Yıldız was taking it harder than anyone. It wasn’t an unusual sight—Kenan was the kind of player who carried everything on his shoulders, win or lose. He held himself to an impossible standard, and when things didn’t go his way, it ate him up inside.

You stood outside, waiting for him. You knew this routine well by now. After a game like this, Kenan would come out looking frustrated, lips pressed into a deep pout, barely saying a word. He’d probably shake off his teammates’ attempts to console him, avoid reporters, and head straight for you—his safe place.

And, just as you expected, when he finally emerged from the locker room, his eyes immediately found yours.

His brows were furrowed, his lips set in a firm line, and his shoulders were tense. He looked exhausted, frustrated, and—above all—heartbroken.

Without hesitation, he walked straight toward you.

You didn’t say anything as he dropped his duffle bag onto the floor and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning against your skin.

"Hey, baby," you murmured, your hands immediately sliding into his slightly damp hair, nails scratching his scalp in the way you knew he loved.

Kenan exhaled heavily, his arms tightening around your waist. "I don’t wanna talk about it," he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"I know," you whispered. You kissed the side of his head gently. "Let’s go home."

He nodded, but he didn’t let go.

Instead, he just held onto you for a few more moments, pressing himself against you like he needed to soak in your warmth.

Eventually, you coaxed him toward the car, though he stayed glued to your side, his fingers brushing against yours as you walked. When you slid into the driver’s seat, he hesitated before getting into the passenger side, clearly debating whether he could just sit in your lap instead.

The drive home was quiet. Kenan sat with his arms crossed, staring out the window, his jaw clenched. Every few minutes, he let out a dramatic sigh, shifting in his seat as if he had something to say but kept deciding against it.

You reached over, squeezing his thigh reassuringly. "You okay?"

Kenan pouted deeper. "No."

Your lips twitched at how adorable he looked, sulking like a little kid. "Wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head immediately.

"Okay." You squeezed his thigh again. "Do you wanna cuddle when we get home?"

Kenan finally turned toward you, his brows lifting slightly, his pout still in place. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Then cuddles it is."

That seemed to satisfy him, though he still looked like he wanted to crawl into your lap right then and there.

When you pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine, Kenan wasted no time getting out of the car and coming straight to your side, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the house. He was still moody, but it was clear he just wanted to be close to you—to feel something other than the weight of the loss pressing down on him.

As soon as you stepped inside, he let go of your hand only to wrap himself around you again, this time pulling you onto the couch with him.

He settled between your legs, resting his head on your stomach, arms wrapped around your waist. His body was still tense, his muscles tight with frustration, but as you began running your fingers through his hair, you felt him start to relax.

"Tough night, huh?" you murmured.

Kenan sighed, nuzzling further into your stomach. "Hated every second of it."

"You were amazing, Kenan," you whispered, dragging your fingers lightly over his scalp. "You always are."

His grip around your waist tightened. "Still doesn’t feel good."

"I know," you said softly, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. "But I also know that cuddles help."

That finally got a small smile out of him. "They do."

"You wanna take a shower? Or just stay here?"

Kenan let out a deep sigh, as if the thought of moving was too much effort. "Later," he mumbled. "Just wanna be here right now."

You smiled, your fingers still combing through his hair. "Okay."

After a while, you felt his breathing even out, the exhaustion from the match catching up to him. His body was warm and heavy against yours, completely relaxed as you held him.

But you knew he wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping on the couch all night.

"Come on," you whispered, gently nudging him. "Let’s go to bed."

Kenan let out a small, sleepy whine but didn’t argue, reluctantly pushing himself up. He grabbed your hand, leading you toward the bedroom, and the second you both slipped under the covers, he pulled you into his arms again.

This time, he was the one holding you.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other tangled in your fingers, holding your hand against his chest. His legs intertwined with yours, his body completely pressed against you like he needed to feel every part of you close.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Better?"

Kenan hummed, his grip tightening. "Yeah."

You ran your fingers through his hair again, feeling him melt under your touch.

"I love you," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You kissed his forehead, letting your lips linger against his skin. "I love you more."

Kenan made a small, content noise in the back of his throat. "Not possible."

You chuckled, kissing his temple. "It is."

He let out a deep breath, his entire body going slack against yours. The loss, the frustration, the self-doubt—it all faded away in the warmth of your embrace.

And within minutes, he was fast asleep, safe and comforted in your arms.

[saoirsezz]

ᯓ HOLD ME, CONSOLE ME | 리키

PAIRINGS. roommate!riki x roommate!reader

GENRE. fluff, angst

WARNINGS. mentions of sh

SYNOPSIS. in which reader comes home sobbing and just wants to be held, and riki does that

EVERYTHING WAS BLURRY, tears pooled my eyes as I frantically tried to open the door, the keys dangling beneath my shaky hands.

I slammed the door shut, walking upstairs to my room, my knees giving out as I slowly slid to the floor, letting my figure rest as I cried.

riki, through his headphones filled with his friends screaming, heard the doors slam. he knew you were out with friends. he knew you two weren't close as ever, but you both have lived under the same roof for long to know you both cared for one another. maybe as simple acquaintances or maybe friends.

he excused himself from the game they were playing, he knew you weren't one to come home that mad, even if you were, you weren't the type to slam doors or disturb anyone else's peace.

he slowly went upstairs, as he got closer, he heard sniffles and soft cries. he sighed, wrapping his hand around the knob to turn it gently, it was locked. he knocked softly,

“___? it's me,”

he waited, your cries stopped for a few seconds.

“let me in, please?”

you debated for a few moments before opening the door, revealing your fragile, helpless self to him. your puffy eyes and dry tears all exposed to him, made his heart ache.

he walked slowly, cupping your cheek and caressing the tears away with his thumb.

“who hurt you, hm?” his voice was gentle, like a lullaby. you never really had a thought of him as a close friend, neither did he, but at times like these, you know that he knows better than anyone how to treat you when you're feeling fragile.

he sat on the edge of the bed, with you beside him with your head lowered in his chest as you continued to cry. turns out your boyfriend cheated on you, with your 'best friend'. riki used all of his restraint to stop himself from punching the dude when he sees him at school the next day. he wouldn't do it, only because you don't want him to.

“'m tired, riki.”

those three words struck through him like a knife, he knew what you were capable of doing, he feared it most. he grabbed your cheek and faced you to him.

“hey, I know you are, okay? but I'm here with you.”

he caressed the healed wounds on your arm, tracing little hearts on each one.

“you're never alone, because I'm here. and I'll do everything to make your problems dissappear, okay? promise me you won't give up,”

your eyes formed little tears, not from sadness, but from the warmth of his words that were full of sincerity.

“promise me,”

“I promise.”

he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, usually you would've pulled away or wondered why, but right now all that matters is you cradled up in his embrace, his warmth melting away the coldness of your heart.

© work of saoirsezz | sho

SHO'S NOTE. i hope everyone who is feeling like this has someone they can lean on or talk to, if none, then you guys can message and vent to me through my mailbox : D

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 4)

The final two weeks before Agatha moves to Albany

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of sex, fluff

The following Sunday, Agatha drives you to Albany so you can look at apartments with her. She found three online that she really likes and is hoping that she can sign a lease today. 

Since her new job starts next week. 

You’ve never exactly known what she does for a living — you never really cared to ask when she was married to your dad and once you got together, she just kind of assumed that you already knew — so you have to ask about three times for what this new position entails so you can try to work it out. 

So far you’ve gotten that she advises the company on how to raise capital, financial modeling, legal and compliance issues, and general advice. She did try to explain what she does when you found her looking over a contract one night, but it went so far over your head you didn’t realize she had stopped talking until she kissed you to bring you back to earth. Agatha did say investment banker once, but even with all the job descriptions, you’re still not sure you actually understand. 

“All right, here’s the first one,” she says, squeezing your hand that’s interlocked with hers over the center console, and parallel parking on the street in front of a high-rise building with floor-to-ceiling glass windows. You peer into the lobby to take in the crystal chandelier, dark floors, and mahogany wood panels on the wall by the elevator. “See, it’s not that bad of a drive. As long as you leave pretty early Saturday morning, you should be able to get here in under two hours.” 

You look at her and shoot her a smile. Agatha’s been overly nice to you the past week, telling you how pretty you are and how lucky she is and buying you flowers and cooking you all your favorite foods, so you’re trying to just sit back and appreciate it. 

She took the job. You told her it was okay. All that’s left to do is accept it. 

“It’s really nice,” you tell her, turning back to the building. “It’s in a good area, too.”

Agatha turns the car off and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Only about ten minutes from the office, so even better. And it’s not too far from the interstate for traveling to and from here.”

Another thing she’s been doing is talking about how much you’ll be able to come visit and vice versa. It should be reassuring, but it just feels like she’s overcompensating slightly to make the move sound better than it is. 

It’s not fair to still be upset because Agatha is trying. And you are feeling good about this, you feel secure that what you two have is real and strong, and you’re going to start working on your application to the University at Albany this week. If you get in, you’ll start in January, which really only means four months of long distance, and you know you’ll both make an effort to see each other on the weekends and during breaks. 

When you put it like that, the pit in your stomach lessens. Your tendency to overthink and blow up problems in your head is definitely something you need to work on. 

The moment you step out of the car, the first thing you notice is the smell, almost like rotting plants and sewage. You wrinkle your nose and Agatha walks around to you, the same expression on her face. 

“Think you’ll ever get used to that?” you joke and she solemnly shakes her head. 

“Guess I’ll just need to bury my nose into something else until I forget it,” she says with a wink and you laugh before following her up to the glass door of the apartment complex. 

There’s a man sitting at a desk, maybe about ten years older than you and wearing a flannel shirt, typing something at his computer, and he doesn’t look up at you until Agatha clears her throat and taps her fingers on the counter. 

He raises a bushy eyebrow, unimpressed and annoyed that someone dared interrupt him. “Can I help you?” 

Agatha tosses her hair back over her shoulder and straightens up. “My name is Agatha Harkness and I made an appointment to see a two-bedroom.” 

The man sighs and taps his mouse. “Yo, Dottie,” he calls, swiveling in his chair to face an open door to the right of him, “I’ve got a ‘Harkness’ here to see the two.” Whoever Dottie is, you hope she’s friendlier than this man. Even his mustache seems to be frowning at you. 

A tall, blonde woman steps out of the room, beaming brightly at you two, wearing a brightly colored floral dress. She walks around the desk, shakes both your hands, and introduces herself. 

“Wonderful, wonderful,” she claps her hands together and you wince at the loud sound in the otherwise-silent lobby, “let me get the keys and then I’ll show you and your daughter the model apartment on the seventh floor and then the one that’s open, which could be yours! We also have some specials on leases if you sign one within twenty-four hours of your tour, which I’ll go over after this.” 

Dottie waves you along and you catch Agatha’s eye behind her back, mouthing your daughter? at her with an amused smirk. Agatha playfully rolls her eyes and swats your arm. 

You still remember the first time she took you out in the spring, when the waitress had assumed you were a couple. You had choked and almost died from coughing so hard, flabbergasted at the thought that anyone would look at you two and see anything other than a mother and her daughter, even if she was your step-mom. 

But now, it kind of bugs you that someone does see you that way. You’re almost tempted to see what Dottie would say if you kissed Agatha or if Agatha squeezed your ass. 

Dottie’s rambling about the safety features of the elevator as she presses the button and you stare at the reflection of yourselves in the bronze doors, blurring the sound of her voice out. You watch Agatha nodding attentively and you probably should be paying attention, but you just can’t. 

Something about looking for apartments with Agatha seems so surreal. You had helped her pick out the one in Westview and it felt like you were picking out a place for the two of you, even knowing you were going to live at the dorms. 

But now, you’re picking it out for her and she’s breaking her lease on the apartment you shared. 

It’ll be back to being both of yours in January, you remind yourself. 

The elevator doors slide open and the three of you step into it, the tile a fancy black marble with gold cracks and the walls a dark wood with the top half covered in mirrors. Dottie touches the fob to a pad and then presses the button for seven. 

“It only lets you get to the floor that you live on, and the roof for the pool and the game room. We take our security very seriously,” she explains and Agatha hums before looking at you for your approval and you nod like you’ve been paying attention this whole time. 

She takes you down the hall and pauses in front of a door, fumbling with the key ring and then finally inserting one into the lock. She pushes it open and lets you and Agatha step in first. 

The floor is a cool gray color, all white walls except for the blue accent in the living room, and it’s pretty spacious. The kitchen has an island with quartz countertops that match the other counters against the wall, all stainless steel appliances, a double oven, and a hood over the stove. The backsplash is green and blue and gray tiles. There’s a deep sink and three pendant lights over the island.  You have to admit it looks really good.

“Wow,” Agatha says, tracing her fingers over the countertop and crossing the threshold into the living room, where the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city of Albany. It’s the model, so there’s comfortable-looking couches around a coffee table and a rug, facing a television on an entertainment center. Even with all the furniture, it’s easy to imagine exactly where Agatha’s stuff would go. 

You follow her into the first bedroom, the bigger one. It has the same windows as the living room and your only thought is that Agatha will certainly need to invest in some curtains if she picks this place. It’s a huge room; Dottie tells you that the bed in there is king-sized and there is still plenty of space for the nightstands and lamps and dressers. The walk-in closet is probably half the size of your dorm room right now, and there’s a standalone shower next to a tub across from the double vanity in the bathroom. 

“This is nice,” Agatha whistles and you nod your head in agreement. 

“Let me show you the other bedroom,” Dottie says and leads you to the other half of the apartment. “This door closes off the hallway to the second bed and bath, so plenty of privacy. Will your daughter be living with you?” 

It’s hard not to laugh when you and Agatha glance at each other out of the corner of your eyes. “Um, no, I go to college in New Jersey. But I’ll be visiting a lot,” you answer, and then, just for the fun of it, add: “How thick are the walls, though? Like, apartment to apartment.” 

Agatha stifles a laugh that turns into a cough and Dottie looks back over her shoulder. “We don’t get a lot of noise complaints. If you’re worried about the TV being too loud, it shouldn’t be a problem because the living room is in the middle of the two bedrooms. But if you’re watching something in either bedroom, there’s a chance a neighbor might be able to hear a bit of it.” 

“That’s exactly what I was worried about,” you mumble and Agatha nudges you, even though she’s smirking too. 

The second bedroom is a bit smaller than the other, but still a good size. This one has a window-sill and only one long window and the closet is only about half as big. The bathroom has an alcove tub and matching countertops to the other bathroom and a lot of cabinet space. 

Dottie also shows you the three extra closets for extra storage and then takes you to the empty apartment on the ninth floor. 

Agatha walks around, gesturing wildly with her hands and pointing out where things could go, while you trail after her like a lost puppy, occasionally adding a yeah and I like that and I think that’ll look really good. 

Seeing her plan the space feels like a hammer in your gut going it’s happening it’s happening it’s happening over and over again until it almost overwhelms you, but Agatha is so engaged in it that she doesn’t even notice. You’re being completely irrational. Everything is fine.

“So, what do you guys think?” Dottie asks when Agatha finally stops and comes to stand next to you as you’re leaning on the island and picking at your fingernails. She puts a hand on your lower back and you stiffen, eyes darting up to look at Agatha, who’s looking back at you inquisitively. 

“Could you give us a second, Dottie?” It’s clear from Agatha’s tone that it’s not a question and Dottie gives you both a tight smile before leaving the apartment. 

You rub your forehead, trying to stave off a headache you can feel slowly budding, and walk over to the windows. Her footsteps are soft and then she’s wrapping an arm around you to pull you into her and kiss your head. 

“You know what I’m thinking about?” she asks and you hum inquisitively. “Fucking you against these windows so anyone down below could look up and see how well you take me. See how good of a girl you are for me.” 

A burst of heat flashes through you but you smirk, not being able to pass up the opportunity to make a joke. “That’s quite an inappropriate thing to say to your daughter.” 

Agatha snorts. “Good thing Dottie isn’t here.” And then she softens against you. “Do you like this place?” 

You shrug. “It’s pretty nice. Aren’t we going to go look at the other places though?” It’s a stupid thing, but you feel like it’s not real until she signs a lease. And maybe you just want to keep it not real for a little bit longer. 

She makes an equivocal sound. “This one did look the nicest online. And honestly, I really like it. I can definitely see myself living here. I can see us living here.” 

“Okay,” you say softly, melting on the inside. As long as she’s picturing you here with her, you’d be good with anywhere. “I think this is the place, then. Let’s go tell Dottie, mommy.” You go to move but instead, she turns you by the shoulders and grabs your cheeks, pulling you in for a long kiss and then gives you another one for good measure. 

“You are so perfect,” she says against your lips. “I l—” 

The door opens and you jump back from Agatha and whirl to find Dottie standing there. Your cheeks heat up, but she doesn't look scandalized so you’re guessing she didn’t see anything. “How’s it going in here, ladies?” 

Agatha gives you one last look-over, giving you all the time in the world to object, but you just swallow hard and nod. “Dottie, we’ll take it,” she says and you plaster a smile onto your face when Dottie gasps and exclaims excitedly. 

She ushers you back to the lobby and leaves you sitting at a desk while she runs off to go print out papers. You’re tapping your foot impatiently when your phone buzzes. 

Thinking it’s just one of your parents — you didn’t actually tell either of them that you were going to New York — you pull it out of your pocket. 

Hey, it’s Carol. Want to get dinner tonight? You vaguely remember giving her your number the night of the party last week. You’ve only seen her once or twice since then and the first time, she asked how you were feeling, and the second time, she shot a finger gun at you. 

“Who’s Carol?” Agatha murmurs, having leaned over your shoulder. You fight the instinct to turn your screen and type back, Sorry, out of town tonight. Rain check? before slipping it back into your pocket. 

“Just this girl that lives in the dorms. She was the one who drove me to your place when I was hammered last Sunday.” 

“Ah.” She’s opening her mouth to say something else when Dottie comes back over and plops down a thick packet and starts rattling off the rules of the complex, the extra fees, and where to sign. Dottie says because you’re not living here full-time, you don’t have to fill anything out and you inwardly sigh in relief. 

Agatha barely looks at the papers before signing her name in big cursive letters and you can’t help but long for that kind of financial security and stability, where you don’t even have to worry about the cost of rent. When you do transfer and if you do end up living with her at any point, you know she won’t let you pay for anything, but you make a mental note to start looking at jobs, maybe even just part-time, so you can buy her things with your own money. 

“Perfect, let me just run a quick background check on you, make sure your credit is good, and then I’ll get back with you. And you want to move in…?” 

“Next Saturday would be great,” Agatha says and your foot starts bouncing even more erratically. Dottie leaves to go back into the office and Agatha’s head drops back to look up at the ceiling. “That means I need to set up electricity, water, internet, I need to schedule movers, I need to talk to my complex.” She groans and sits back normally, rubbing her face with her hands. 

You’ve done the whole moving thing a few times and it absolutely sucks so you reach over to pat her leg. It’s the first time you’ve seen her even the slightest bit overwhelmed with all this and it’s honestly refreshing. “I’m here. Anything you need, I want to help.” 

She gratefully smiles and leans across her chair to give you a kiss on the head. “How did I get so lucky?” 

“Um, you married my dad.” Agatha wrinkles her nose but laughs anyway, resting a hand on top of yours that’s still on her thigh. It’s an anchor for both of you and neither of you move until Dottie comes back about five minutes later. 

“All right, you guys are all good! We will see you next week. Any more questions?” 

Agatha stands up and shakes Dottie’s hand. “I think we’re okay. Thank you so much for all your help.” 

The drive back to Westview is filled with mindless chatter and no mention of the move. You make plans for the week — you’ll stay with Agatha every night, she’ll cook dinner, movie night on Tuesday, picnic in the park on Thursday. She knows that school is starting to pick up for you, so it goes unspoken that you’ll be doing homework with her. 

“And of course, plenty of sex,” you add when she asks you if there’s anything else to plan for. 

“Oh, sorry, was that not implied?” Agatha simpers and her hand sneaks its way into your lap, dipping under the seat belt to play with the elastic of your leggings. 

You let her slide inside and let out a small moan when she brushes a finger against your clit through your underwear. “Better keep your eyes on the road, mommy,” you say tightly.

“I can multitask.” 

She rubs your clit and you shift in your seat to give her easier access to you. It’s an odd angle — her wrist is bent in a way that is surely uncomfortable — but Agatha is determined to make it work. She teases you slowly and before long, you can feel how wet you’ve become. Your breathing has deepened, cheeks hot, and you start to roll your hips to get more stimulation. 

“Mommy, please,” you beg, and she looks over at you to say something when the car in front of her stops suddenly. Your stomach lurches. “Watch out!” 

Agatha slams on the brakes, sending you both flying forward, the seat belt putting an immense amount of pressure on you, and she yanks her hand out of your pants to put her arm in front of you. 

The car screeches to a halt about two feet from the one in front of you. You’re both panting and Agatha tosses her hair back before assessing you. 

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly. You nod, still gripped by a cold sweat. She takes a deep breath and puts both hands on the steering wheel when the cars begin to move again. “I think we’ll save car sex for another time.”

You huff out a laugh in agreement. “It went pretty well that one time. But we were in a parking lot on the way to get pizza in rural New Jersey, not on an interstate in New York.” 

“Who would’ve thought there’s a big difference,” Agatha quips and the tension from almost getting into a wreck lifts the more she drives. You’re back to giggling and talking in no time, although you both keep your hands to yourself. 

The rest of the day passes quickly, with Agatha busy setting up everything she needs for her new apartment while you finish up some homework for the upcoming week. 

On Tuesday, you’re leaving your dorm after your third class of the day to go to Agatha’s for the night when you run into Carol. She brightens when you see her and you give her a quick smile, determined to keep moving. 

“Hey, where are you off to? You still owe me that dinner,” she says, catching you by the arm. 

“Yeah, sorry, this week is going to be a little tough,” you tell her apologetically. “My…girlfriend is moving on Saturday so I'm just trying to spend as much time with her as I can.” You’ve never really had to define your relationship with Agatha, but it seems natural to call her that. 

A stormy look flits across her face before she’s back to normal. “The same girlfriend who broke up with you?” 

You hadn’t exactly found the time to fill her in on the whole story. “Turns out she wasn’t cheating, it was me jumping to conclusions. She had a job interview in Albany and she got it! So she starts next Monday.” 

“Be careful with long distance,” Carol warns, instead of being happy for you like you thought she would be. You raise an eyebrow. “It always starts out so nice and happy and everything is okay…but then the distance sets in. Texting and calling aren’t the same as just being able to see them and talk to them in person. Traveling becomes exhausting. The traffic makes you mad and then you’re in a bad mood and you can only think about the drive back and—”

“Stop,” you snap, stepping away from her. This is possibly the worst thing you could hear right now and you can’t take it any longer. “That’s not how this is going to go, okay? Agatha and I are different. We’re solid. And besides, it’s probably only going to be like this for a few months. She trusts me and I trust her. We’re going to be fine.” 

Carol scoffs, a cold look in her eyes. “You trust her? Is that why you were so quick to believe she was cheating on you?” 

The blow knocks the wind out of you and you just stare at her blankly. Who the fuck does she think she is? 

She softens, realizing that she cut deeper than she intended to. “Shit, I’m sorry. This is your relationship and I should’ve stayed out of it — I’m sure you’re right, okay? You guys will be fine.” 

But you don’t want to hear anymore from her, so you turn on your heel and walk to your car. The rest of the night, you’re a bit out of it and you can’t stop cursing Carol for putting those thoughts in your head. 

The next few days fly by in a blur with classes and homework and avoiding Carol around campus, but your evenings are absolutely perfect with Agatha.

She keeps the light low in the kitchen while she cooks for you each night while you sit at the table and ramble on about whatever you’re learning. She hums at all the right times, but when you take a break to look up at her, she’s staring at you with a fondness in her eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

Each time it happens, you think it must be what love looks like. 

Growing up with parents that should’ve been divorced, you never had a good model for what love was. You used to think that everyone’s parents were like yours — cold, didn’t actually like each other, and just stayed together for their children. You thought that love meant complacency, or even that maybe there was no such thing as it. 

You weren’t sure if you’d actually be able to fall in love and be loved back. But with Agatha, there’s an intimacy your parents never had. You didn’t know what that was like until her. 

And you know that you love her more than anything in the entire world, and when she gives you that look, you think she might feel the same. 

The three words are constantly on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, you just can’t say them again. You don’t even say it when she makes you cum, which is a lot of times over the week. 

She bends you over the countertop and fingers you. She shoves you against the wall after you get back from your picnic on Thursday, gets on her knees, and eats you out. She makes you sit on her strap while you finish your essay and then pushes you onto all-fours and pounds into your pussy until you’re crying. She fucks you in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the hallway, in the living room — even in her car and your car. Both while you’re safely parked in an abandoned lot, of course. 

It’s like she’s determined to give you as many orgasms as she can before she moves, and she’s doing an excellent job of it. 

Saturday, after everything gets moved into the new apartment and you’re finally done unpacking most of the stuff, Agatha takes you to a fancy Italian steakhouse in Albany. The atmosphere is romantic, with classical music playing softly and candles lit at every table. Agatha looks absolutely stunning in a tight black dress and curly hair, and you’re wearing your best outfit as well. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” she asks and your cheeks heat up as your head ducks down shyly. 

“Once or twice,” you answer coyly, finally meeting her gaze again. 

She holds out her hand across the table and you take it, feeling the normal electricity that her skin on yours always gives you. “We’re going to be okay, you know that, right? I know you’re more worried than you’re letting on. I know how you’re feeling — I know how easy it is to get swept away with doubts. But I really appreciate you telling me to take this job and I promise we’ll be okay. I care about you far too much to let anything happen to this.” 

You nod and squeeze her hand. “I do know. I feel the same.” 

“Oh — that reminds me. I got you something,” she says and digs around in her purse before pulling out a small black box with a red bow neatly wrapped around it and handing it to you. “You might want to open it beneath the table. Might be embarrassing if someone sees it.” 

Brows furrowing in confusion, you dip the box under the white tablecloth and undo the bow quickly before lifting off the lid. Your mouth falls open and your eyes shoot up to meet hers. 

“Agatha,” you hiss, flushing. 

Resting on stretched out cotton in the box is a small, purple vibrator, curved to be able to rest on your clit while also vibrating against your g-spot, with a gold engraving along the side that goes inside you: Mommy’s cunt. Your clit throbs.

She holds up what looks like a small key fob and presses a button and the toy starts vibrating. You drop the box into your lap while gaping at her and she smirks triumphantly. “Works from anywhere in the world,” she says casually and your stomach sears with heat. 

“Oh, fuck,” you rasp. You’re suddenly feeling very excited about this move. Something about the distance, about the anticipation and the teasing and the pining that it will bring, doesn’t seem so bad anymore. 

Suddenly, the food can’t come fast enough and then you’re both in the car, Agatha speeding while you sit on your hands so you don’t distract her, and then she throws the car into park and you both race into her apartment. 

Her mouth finds yours the moment you step through the door, pushing you against the wall as a muffled oomph slips out of you, and she sucks on your tongue and then bites your bottom lip and then kisses her way down your neck. Your brain is going foggy and your underwear is soaked and you quickly tug her into the bedroom. 

Agatha tears off her dress and then pounces on you, knocking you onto your back on the bed, hands coming up to cup your breasts and you keen. 

“God, Agatha,” you groan and she scrapes her teeth against your neck. It’s so good, but it’s also your last night before everything changes. “Wait, fuck, stop.” 

She jumps back like she’s been burned. “What — is everything okay?” 

You nod, panting, and run your hands up and down her hips. “Yeah, everything’s great. I just…can we just cuddle tonight? I just want to be close to you.” 

Agatha runs her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip, her eyes going glassy for a moment before she blinks, and she chokes out, “Of course, honey. Whatever you want.” 

Smiling gratefully, you take off your clothes and slide under the covers next to her so you can feel all of her warm skin against yours before she tucks an arm around you. You nuzzle into her body and your face twitches with restrained emotion. 

“I’m going to miss you,” you say softly and she presses a kiss to your head. “I know it’ll be okay though. I’m almost done with my application to the University at Albany.” 

She hums and kisses you again before breathing in your scent deeply like she’s making sure she doesn’t forget it. “I have no doubt you’ll get in. And then it’ll be us in our own little world.” 

“That’s right.” 

The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, and eventually, Agatha’s breathing starts to even out. A quick glance up at her face confirms that she fell asleep. 

You know you should too, but you’re reluctant to let this moment go. Right now, it feels like you’re frozen in time, just the two of you. 

So you stay up as late as you can, just soaking in the feeling of her. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @vyvvycg @m1vfs

[justwinginglife]

Playing the Player

Short little piece I wrote for our king Gen Narumi because I couldn't stop laughing thinking about him playing a cozy game (as a cozy gamer myself). God, he'd be so much fun to play with.

“I’m not playing your boring farming game.” Gen crossed his arms stubbornly. When he saw your unbudging expression, he shook his console at you, emphasizing the fighting game that was currently on the loading screen. “I play games that are interesting.”

You stared at him, unamused. 

He frowned. “I mean it, I’m not playing your game. You can’t make me.”

You raised a brow at him, still silent. 

He swallowed. “I don’t think I’d like it anyway… I mean, what is there to even do?” 

“I’m glad you asked.” 

–hours later–

“You MISSED the bug! It’s flying away! Don’t just stand there, run after it!”

Gen’s brows furrowed in frustration. “I’m going, I’m GOING! It won’t get away from me again!” He practically broke the joystick, edging it forward as his character chased the animated bug in circles. Finally, he triumphed and captured his prize. He turned to you, presenting the screen proudly, like a little kid waiting for a gold star. 

You smiled at him, ruffling his hair. “Nice job. You got a big one too.”

A grin spilled across his face. “See, I told you that this game was no problem for me!”

You frowned suddenly. “But your crops are dying.”

His eyes shot open. “What do you mean, where??”

You pointed to an area in the background, where the plants he’d sown in game only two days ago were plainly wilting for all to see. “You forgot to water them, didn’t you?”

He glared at you. “I wouldn’t forget something like that!” He bit his lip as he thought about it more. “I…okay…so I might have been busy in the mines, BUT I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE, OKAY??”

“Uh-huh. Maybe you just suck at this game, Gen. Maybe you shouldn’t play anymore.” You said nonchalantly. 

His eyes narrowed and his lips puckered into a slight pout. “I don’t suck! Just you watch, I’m gonna have corn growing AND wheat AND potatoes and it’s going to be AWESOME. It’s gonna be even better than your farm, just you wait!”

You bit back a laugh. Gen Narumi was no match for reverse psychology. 

The moment this new farming game was announced, you knew you were going to make him play it with you, and the moment you saw it release, you set your plans in action. You knew he’d be a stubborn bastard about it in the beginning, but even the “big and strong” Captain of the First Division wasn’t immune to your methods of persuasion. He was your boyfriend first and foremost, and you knew how to get to him better than anyone else.

You smiled to yourself as you logged onto your own console, settling in beside him as you joined your co-op world. 

He’d occasionally nuzzle against your shoulder as he gamed, or massage your feet while he watched cutscenes play out, but what you loved the most was his ongoing dialogue while he played.

“Babe. Babe. BABE. How did I LOSE a heart with Penelope?”

You peered over at his screen. “Wrong dialogue choice, sweetie.”

His brows furrowed. “The fuck you mean, wrong dialogue choice??”

“She doesn’t like what you said, simple as that. Give her a gift and she’ll be fine.”

“Alright, alright.” He raced back to his house, rifling through his chests to find something -literally anything- of worth to give her. When he finally presented her with a shiny rock, he frowned at the screen again. “I lost… ANOTHER HEART???” 

You stifled your laughter. “She doesn’t like rocks, babe. Try a flower.”

Pouting, he made the pathetic journey back to his house to retrieve a flower. He was about to leave, but then hesitated at the door. He gazed over at you. “Um… what kind of flower do you think she’d like?” He asked shyly.

God, he was adorable. “The wiki says she’s into sunflowers.”

He smiled. “Thanks, baby.” He kissed you before unloading the rose in his character’s inventory and opting instead for a sunflower. When he made his merry way back to the NPC and then cursed to heaven and hell because he couldn’t gift her something twice in one day, you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore. He glared at you and mumbled something under his breath about how you could’ve told him that would happen and how he was taking back that kiss he gave you. 

“Just for that, I won’t have your back anymore when we go fight in the forest. You’re on your own, you can say goodbye to getting the legendary sword.” He grumbled. 

You pouted. “Aww, come on, baby. Don’t be like that. You know you love me, you wouldn’t leave me stranded and helpless in a monster ridden forest, would you?” 

He was silent. 

“Baby.”

Still silent.

“I’ll help you catch that rare fish?”

His eyes lit up. “Fine, fine. Let’s get you that damn sword.”

After months of playing together, stealing time in between training sessions, after long days at work, and even on transit to missions farther away, the thing that finally brought your lengthy playthrough to its end was him marrying you in game. As he watched your character walk down the aisle, he suddenly began to think about what it would be like to marry you. To spend the rest of his days like this, snuggled up on the couch beside you, teasing you, letting you tease him, feeding each other snacks as you gamed together. Maybe even teaching your future kids how to game. And then suddenly it was all too clear to him.

He had to marry you.

That was his happy ending.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @ouiouimochi @minasfwoopyponytail @inkytypewriter

[f1cflcfic]

Just Because I Called You (Carlos Sainz) - part iii

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

summary: y/n knows there's a reason for his contact details to be saved under 'do not interact', but one call does not mean you miss him.

genre: written au, brief 18+ content, angst

wordcount: 3.2k

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

previous parts available here.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

This isn’t happening.

It must be a dream, or a nightmare – you’re not entirely sure yet.

Carlos is outside. Has been outside for about two minutes now, if the delivery notification of his message is anything to go by.

Suddenly, that earlier idea of having a fifth martini and shot at the bar seems like a very bad one. In fact, you’re quite certain you wholeheartedly regret them when you stand up and have to immediately grip the back of the chair so as to not fall over. For a brief moment, you consider leaving through the back alley – but then you realise that it really doesn’t make a difference.

Carlos is already here, waiting.

It’s easy to lie to yourself, and pretend that it’s just the alcohol that’s making you feel lightheaded, as you make your way over to the podium once your team is crowned the winner of this month’s pubquiz. It’s easy to pretend that the air feels electric just because you’ve won, and you’re only looking out into the crowd to cheer your victory. It’s easy to pretend that you’re just tired and drunk, and that’s why you’re leaving so soon.

It’s too easy to spot Carlos hiding in the shadows of the pub, and follow him out to his unassuming Golf amidst all the opulence in Monaco, and slip into it like you still belong.

The alcohol has left you a little uncoordinated, and struggling with the seatbelt. On your fourth attempt, Carlos’ large hand reaches out and stills your movements. The ache in you grows a little bigger as you quietly watch him buckle you in, and you try not to focus on the heat his fingers leave behind on your skin.

Desperate not to somehow ruin the precarious peace – or the calm before the storm, your eyes flit across his car. There’s the chilli charm and your housekey, still dangling against the dash. And there’s the stuffy in the back, resembling Carlos’ family dog.

Everything looks the same as it always did.

It’s comforting and awful all at once.

“Smartinis. I like that one,” he murmurs with a soft smile, but you refuse to look at him. Won’t acknowledge that the way it rolls off his tongue is exactly the way in which you’ve been waiting to hear the team name spoken all night.

The problem is that you really do not trust your tongue around him, especially not when it’s already been loosened by alcohol. This cannot end up like that night ten days ago. No matter how much some part of you might want it to.

“What’d you win?”

When he doesn’t start the car immediately, clearly waiting for a response of sorts,  you sigh, fogging up a tiny part of the window your head is resting on. “Restaurant voucher.”

“Oh,” he nods to himself, and you can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you meticulously draw a martini glass. “That’s nice.”

It feels awkward and uncomfortable, as the stifling silence descends on you once more. Someone walks past his car, and you wonder what it is exactly that he’s waiting for. Thanks? Acknowledgment? Forgiveness? Answers?

The thought alone has you shaking your head. There’s quite some answers that you’d like from him, instead.

Curiosity wins in the end. “How’d you know where I was?”

“Your location – you never turned it off,” he answers, guilt creeping into his voice as if he hadn’t wanted to admit that particular secret. You can’t help yourself as you turn over in surprise, knowing full well that you’ll find his brown eyes already staring back at you. There’s a whirlpool of emotions in them, and it hurts more than it should, knowing that you’ve inadvertently caused it.

His hand is resting on the console between your seats, and you fight the urge to grab onto it. To seek comfort in his touch, and provide some in return. Instead, you purse your lips and nod to yourself.

“And my sister,” he adds all of a sudden, as if he can’t stand the idea of not spilling his guts to you fully, completely.

You wish he’d done so earlier.

“She – she texted you were drunk, said you were upset. That someone had tried to come on to you.”

His hand leaves the console, and you follow the movement with your eyes as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I know it’s not my place, but I just wanted to make sure you were safe. And then when you didn’t reply, I just – I’m sorry. Joder.”  

It shouldn’t make you feel warm inside. Of course he cares. Carlos, for all his faults, is a good man. One who cares about his sisters. If his sister had implied you needed him, of course he’d come running.

It doesn’t mean anything else, you tell yourself. He hadn’t called, just because. Hadn’t reached out because he’d been missing you. He wouldn’t call for something so silly. He’d called, because his sister had made him feel like he needed to assuage her concerns. That’s all.

When you still don’t respond, he sighs and starts the ignition. But what is it that you even want to say? How can you possibly make sense of your alcohol-infused thoughts?

“He shouldn’t have texted you back,” you settle on. You’re still afraid of looking at him directly, of just how easily your carefully constructed walls would all but implode. Instead, you fixate on the way in which he holds the steering wheel, and how he clenches it just so when you speak. You’ve always known Carlos to be a relaxed driver, and his tight grip is so unlike him, that your eyes shoot up to gage his expression before you’ve even realised. Where he’d been looking at you earlier, he’s focusing on the road now.

“It’s okay ne- I mean. We’re not,” he struggles, as if for a loss of words. “We’re not together anymore.”

You nod, biting your lip. The shoot of pain blooming from your lips distracts from how much it hurts to hear it put so bluntly. To watch Carlos’ tight expression as he says it. It doesn’t feel as liberating as you’d hoped, instead an ugly sense of disappointment coming to the surface.

“Still. You’re not his to text,” you insist. Neither is he yours – not anymore, your brain helpfully provides. It’s Carlos’ turn to remain quiet, the silence feeling all but suffocating.

“Besides, I’m not dating Dean. Or anyone. But especially not him. He’s my colleague – the one your sister mentioned,” you blurt, as if compelled. Maybe it’s a sick need to break the silence, break the tension, a pathetic attempt to reach out. Or maybe it’s the liquid courage, you reason.

When Carlos doesn’t say anything, just briefly looks over with soft eyes and a stubble you’d really love to feel scratch against your skin again, you can’t help but continue.

“Would she have texted you, if she’d known?”

He tenses again, fingers flexing on the wheel. When he doesn’t respond, you try again – asking the question you’ve been dancing around.

“Carlos. Why didn’t you tell your sister about us?”

“Why didn’t you?” He parries, and you frown. It’s the coward’s way out. It’s exactly what had caused you to end up like this, sitting in the same car but feeling miles away apart from each other.

“Don’t do that,” you whisper. “Don’t fucking turn it around on me. It’s your family.”

“I wanted them to be yours, too.”

It’s said so quietly, you almost miss it. Panic unfurls in your chest at the insinuation. Hadn’t this been exactly what you’d been so afraid of?

“It’s not easy, you know? Trying to figure out what happened, and coming to terms with that, and then telling them,” he starts again. “I wanted – I didn’t want this either.”

“So then why you’d come at all,” you snap, tears welling up in your eyes. Whether out of frustration, heartbreak, or alcohol, you can’t even tell. Clarity. You’d kill for some fucking clarity. The question is if Carlos Sainz Junior is the person who can even grant it.

“Because I lo-care, Y/N. And I know you do, too. You could’ve told me to go. Could’ve chosen to stay and ignore me. But you didn’t. And that means something. At least it does to me,” he sounds upset, accent getting thicker as he speaks.

As the car winds down the Monaco roads, creeping closer and closer to your apartment building, it hits you. What if he runs out of road? If there’s nowhere else to go? What happens when time runs out on you to have this conversation? It terrifies you – imagining a future with, or without Carlos. It’s equally frightening, and therein lies the problem, doesn’t it?

“So then why’d you leave? You could’ve stayed. The other day when we – well,” your voice cracks, and you hate it. Hate how vulnerable he makes you feel, even now. Even when you’ve done everything you could to protect and arm yourself. It’s still led you back to this.

One of his hands slips from the steering wheel, reaches out as if driven by instinct, before retreating to a neutral spot on the console instead. He mutters something under his breath, then sighs in resignation.

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t really want to hear the answer to.”

The biting remark almost makes you flinch, but it’s a sudden yet violent wave of nausea that actually does you in. With one hand pressed to your mouth, you desperately reach out to find purchase on Carlos’ arm.

You try to breathe in and out through your nose, suppressing the urge to gag. He pulls over to the side of the road, and within seconds he’s at your side. “It’s okay nena, take a deep breath, there you go.”

It’s probably one of the most embarrassing moments in your life – dry-heaving on the highway, in the middle of the night, with your ex there to witness it all. Consoling you, offering you a bottle of water when inevitably you do throw up the contents of that evening.

“I’m so- fuck, so sorry,” you take another gulp of water, and dab at your mouth with the tissue Carlos hands you next. Refusing eye contact, you slide down to sit on the gravel, leaning against the car.

He sits down next to you, just close enough for your shoulders to brush, but doesn’t say anything.

“I almost threw up in your Golf.”

“It could’ve been my Ferrari,” he tries to lighten the mood, but instead you let out a strangled laugh that turns into a hiccup as the first tear rolls down your cheek.

“Weirdly, I think I wouldn’t feel as bad. Your parents bought you this car – I know you love it the most.” Another tear follows, dropping onto your shirt. “And I almost ruined it. As usual.”

Carlos stiffens next to you. “And now I’m crying. Shit. I’m sorry Carlos, I think I just – I need to go home. Sleep it off.”

You push the palms of your hands into your eyes, hoping to rub away the tears and keep new ones from falling. It doesn’t work, because tan fingers encircle your wrists to pull them away from your face.

He cradles your hands in his lap, then gently dips his head down so there’s nowhere to hide from him. It leaves you feeling incredibly bare.

“You didn’t ruin it. And I don’t love it the most,” there’s nothing but conviction in his eyes when he catches your gaze. Except, when you get sidetracked by the way his eyelashes fan across his cheeks, you see a flicker of something else. Hesitation.

The air feels charged, as if you’re both waiting on the precipice of something. You’re acutely aware of the way his hands tighten briefly around your own, how his shoulder nudges yours, and how his chest rises and falls just slightly quicker than usual.

Desperate to break the tension, and feeling entirely too close to losing it completely, you try and claw back what little control you have over the situation.  

“I don’t think I’ll puke anymore,” you whisper. It should make him recoil, should make him want to back away. But instead, Carlos tries to hide a smile before pressing a brief kiss on your forehead. As he pulls back, his eyes flicker to your lips, and almost on instinct, you tilt your head upward.

He swallows, voice dragging as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “I – let me get you home.”

You nod, but make no move to get up or disentangle yourself from him. Carlos does it for you, slowly severing the connection as he stands up and pulls away.

The drive home isn’t far anymore, and within fifteen minutes, the car comes to a standstill again. You’ve spent it in silence, taking small sips of water every once in a while as you tried to gather your thoughts. Not that you’ve made much progress on that front. You’re still as confused, wondering exactly why it is that you keep rubbing at your ribs – as if there’s some physical pain you can just magic away.

“We’re here,” Carlos breaks first. He looks over at you, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

You know it’s dumb, that it’s you falling in exactly the same trap as you did ten days ago. But just like that, he’s quietly following you out the car and into the building.

The elevator ride sees you ignore his presence, but you feel the heat emanate from his body as he hovers behind you and presses the button to your floor.

When you unlock the door, Carlos steps inside before you do. “Let me help you,” he offers as explanation. Before you can even realise what he means, he’s bending down, unlacing your shoes and motioning for you to use him for balance as you step out of them.

“You want to shower?” He asks next, and you find yourself nodding dumbfounded.

He toes off his own shoes quickly, hangs your coat in the coatrack and disappears down the hallway. When he returns, holding a towel and your favorite showergel, you follow him into the bathroom. Carlos helps you undress, and it’s soft in a way you can’t quite understand. Can’t fully grasp what’s happening between the two of you now. Why he’s here, why he’s being so kind, why he’s taking care of you – when you’ve done nothing but push him away.

He motions for you to step under the shower, and you’ve never felt more confused when he makes to turn away. So you find yourself asking if he’ll join you.

“Just – could you wash my hair? It’s all knotted.” It’s a flimsy excuse, and you both know it. But he relents, anyways. Gives in, like he always does – like you’d hoped he’d do. His eyes lock on yours as he strips off his clothes, before joining you.

It’s not sexual, but it feels intimate and right for all the wrong reasons, you tell yourself. Carlos’ hands move through your hair, scratching just so at your scalp that you can’t help but moan.

His breath hitches, and when you return the favour, letting your fingers linger at the nape of his neck, it’s as if there’s a coil spring between the two of you, ready to snap.

Once the water’s shut off, and Carlos steps away to grab your towel, you step up right behind him. Even though he turns around in surprise, he doesn’t say anything. Waits for your cue, as he slowly drags the towel down your shoulders and back. A small collection of water drops runs in rivulets down his chest, getting tangled in the chest hair he’s yet to shave off. You flick your gaze up at Carlos’ eyes, molten chocolate staring back at you. The coil snaps. Without breaking eye-contact, you step even closer and can feel his arousal as you move to kiss the water away.

It all goes downhill quick after that.

Thirty minutes later, you’re staring up at the ceiling from where you’re lying side by side on your bed. Your hair’s still damp, sticking to your neck.

Silence descends, uncomfortably stifling the room.

“We shouldn’t have done that. I can’t – this is no good.” His words are like a punch to the gut. Because he sounds broken, and regretful, and yearning all at the same time. And you can’t handle it. Because you know he’s right. This isn’t healthy.

“How did we end up like this?” You ask quietly instead, carefully keeping your gaze fixed on the LEGO flowers that adorn your dresser. You probably should’ve gotten rid of those, too. Thank God your friends don’t know that it was Carlos who got them for you, and who you spent an entire afternoon with arranging LEGO bouquets.

“You ended things,” Carlos unhelpfully reminds you. His tone is unusually sharp, even though you can tell he’s trying not to show it. It hurts to know you brought that out of him, but it’s also exactly why you did it in the first place – end things.

Love shouldn’t hurt, not like this.

So it isn’t love, is what you’ve been telling yourself. It can’t be. Because you won’t allow it. But that doesn’t keep your treacherous heart from wanting it all the same.

“Would you have called, if your sister hadn’t texted?”  Do you miss me?

“You don’t want to hear that, Y/N.”

“Humor me,” you plead.

“Of course. I miss you. I miss you all the time.” It sounds anguished, and strangled as the words leave his mouth. You close your eyes, and take another breath.

Maybe there’s still a sliver of liquid courage swimming through your veins, or maybe it’s the post-orgasmic haze that lets the words slip by your usual defences. But you find yourself unable to stop them from coming out your mouth this time. “Then how is it that you are so competitive on track, but you wouldn’t fight for us? For me?”

You hate how small and vulnerable you sound, or how your throat feels thick all of a sudden. Stupid, stupid girl. Hasn’t he told you? Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.

If Carlos is surprised by your sudden mood change, he doesn’t say. Instead, his fingers curl around your own, squeezing them briefly.

“I don’t want my relationship to be defined by competition. Love should be freely given, no?”

You’re quiet, trying to compute what he’s saying. You’ve never thought of it that way. Before you can object, he continues on. “And I’m here. I’m always here. Even when you don’t want me to. You can push me away, but it won’t change – I cannot change it.”

“Except for when you have to leave,” you whisper unhelpfully. He rolls onto his side and stares at you. It’s hard to make out his expression in the dark when you inevitably cave and turn around as well, focusing on where you know his face to be.

“Just because I have to, doesn’t mean I want to. But I won’t ask you for something you’re not willing to give.”

When you don't answer, he sighs. The bed dips, and while part of you would love nothing more than to latch onto him and keep him close - there's the part of you that's so afraid of what it might mean to do so, that lets him go.

Five minutes later, he's out the door.

It's not until the next morning that you realise his hoodie's gone too.

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Let me know what you think <3 Likes, comments, reblogs, asks are all appreciated. Next chapter will be out next week.

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