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atoltia · 3 months ago

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Their Little Nest

In which MC reorganizes their house over time and Sylus, because of an offhand comment from the twins, thinks she's nesting.

Sylus x fem!MC fluff

Pregnancy thoughts and talk.

-0-

It started with the little things.

Tiny potted plants sat prettily on his shelves, the many side and coffee tables in the manor, their little pops of green and brightly colored petals brightening what once was a corner of shadow.

It wasn't like Sylus didn't keep plants in the house, no. It was just he didn't pay them any mind besides making sure the staff was taking care of them.

So it really came as a surprise when he suddenly found himself watching you and the twins hauling boxes into the house, chattering about plant growth and such as you took out several lamps.

"Kitten," he said from his position by the doorway, strong arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the frame. "With that much light, you're going to start to photosynthesize."

You turned, smiled at him as you tilted your head up to nuzzle into his chin when he strode towards you. You held up two different types of lamps for him to see. "They're lamps."

"I can see that."

You chuckled, leaned against him when he reached over to fiddle with the lamp in your hand. "I didn't know if I needed sun lamps or grow lamps for the plants so I got a lot of both."

"Mm." Sound logic enough, he thought. He patted her head. "Let's set them up, then."

And so they did.

(Even though both of you did bicker about adding a grow lamp - not the sun lamp - in his office for that tiny desk succulents you graciously added to his massive workspace.)

(He conceded, of course.)

But it didn't stop there. Not that he expected it to stop, knowing you.

It was a rough day. A negotiation that Sylus needed to get done didn't pull through as the moron representing the offending faction decided to get flustered and pulled out a gun at him, voiding the deal and thus resulting in a gun fight.

The situation was dealt with easily enough, but the cleanup needed his attention particularly because they had several protocores that he was aiming to acquire and wasn't going to leave without them. Alas, as they refused to make it easier for everyone involved, they had to waste not just his time but his ammo as well as his perfectly cut suit.

Sylus landed on the couch with a groan, relief finally flooding his bones as the tension in his body started to dissipate. He wasn't bleeding any longer, but the aches remained, a dull thrum consistently buzzing so much that it prevented him to experience the relief of sleep.

While the fog enveloped the N109 Zone to obscure it from the wrath of the sun, the instinctual yearn for daylight annoyed him. The mere ghostly memory of the sun on his skin made him purse his lips, the mere thought of it sapping his already drifting energy.

He turned his head, buried it into the pillow-

He blinked, propped himself on his good arm as he stared at the pillows. Gone were the hard blocks of stone that posed for a pillow that he just never bothered to replace, seeing as he was in pain often enough that the uncomfortableness of them barely registered to him anymore. What sat under and beside his head were soft, the slight fur on the covers lightly tickling his cheek as it cradled his head, rapidly easing his throbbing headache.

Long fingers flexed, his brows furrowing when softness once again surrounded his senses.

There was a thick blanket beneath him, separating his battered body from the worn and cold leather of the couch.

Now, Sylus is a perceptive man. Being observant of his surroundings and having the ability to react accordingly is part of his job description, his lifestyle. One misstep, a single moment of carelessness, and he could end up dead.

He was sure these pillows and blanket were not here before he left the house no less than eleven hours earlier.

"Sylus."

He turned, alert eyes softening at the sight of you, drinking up the image of you in one of his long-sleeved button-ups that hung over your significantly smaller frame, your hair mussed in multiple directions.

A lazy, crooked smile adorned your face as you hummed his name, your eyes still drooped with sleep. The adorable crow plushie was cradled lovingly in your arms.

You took your time to cross the room, loved the way he settled back onto the couch as he watched you, those wonderful scarlet eyes not once leaving you. You accepted his outstretched hand, your laugh softly lilting in the air when he pulled you into his embrace.

"Hi," you purred, your body molding perfectly into his.

"Good morning." There was a tenderness in the room, blanketing the both of you as you cuddled on the couch. You cherished moments like this. It's not so often that Sylus would get home when you wake, and while you know that your beloved wasn't all too fond of the mornings, you also know that the man made sure to make time for little moments like this despite his busy schedule.

"You changed the pillows," he muttered, his deep voice rumbling as he nuzzled into your hair.

"Did I?" You kissed his exposed clavicle, trying to hide your smile.

"You did."

"Maybe the twins did it."

He snorted, his fingers digging into your hips before massaging it as his other hand fiddled with the leather that held your knife strapped to your thigh. "They would've have bought a vibrating couch before they get to the pillows."

You laughed. "That's true."

A beat of silence. Just two lovers laying on a couch, sharing whispers and secret laughter as the sun rose far beyond the N109 Zone.

It was peace.

Oh, if only that peace lasted.

It's been a few weeks since that little moment on the couch, and Sylus couldn't fathom how they went from there to where you were at this moment.

He sat on a stool on the kitchen, watching you clean what seemed like the eighth room in the manor and you didn't have any indication of stopping soon.

None of them knew why you were in such a frenzy to clean, but you knew it was important do it Right Now. He offered to help you, of course, after having a quick round with him arguing that you should just leave all the cleaning to the staff, seeing as that's one of the primary reasons why he hired them in the first place.

"Sweetie," he said, exasperation leaking into his usual smooth voice. "If you keep at it any longer, I'm gonna have to clean you up from the floor."

You scoffed, hissed when he tried to grab the mop from you. "You better sit your ass down before I dismantle all of your guns again."

"Oh?" His voice, sickly sweet, as he trailed the tip of his fingers up your neck, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Will you, now?"

Your eyes glinted, lips curling into a menacing smile as you passed the mop to your other hand, completely dodging his attempt to take it from you as you pressed your body sensually to his. Deft fingers from your now free hand lightly tapping playfully against his chest. You crooned. "You know I will."

A stare down. Something not too uncommon between the two of you. A pair of strong, stubborn people unwilling to yield.

Most of the time.

"Alright," he conceded. Sylus knew, even without peering into your desires, that you will not budge on this matter. So he sat, admitting full well that this isn't an issue that's worth having an argument over.

It only took one look from him to shut the twins' guffaw from the other side of the door. He could ignore the snickering, however.

"This is like the third time she cleaned this room," Kieran whispered to his brother.

"Fourth," supplied Luke as he enjoyed the way their boss was sulking at the counter. He didn't look like he was sulking, Luke knew that full well, but he just had that feeling. "You were too busy buying detergent when she cleaned this last Monday."

"Ah."

"Hm."

"Maybe she's nesting or whatever."

Luke hummed, shrugged. "Maybe."

Sylus was a man of composure. Not even the most lethal of situations are able to get a rise out of him, and even if it did, no one would be able to tell from his perfected poker face.

That was the only reason why he didn't fall out of his stool.

Could you be pregnant? But you two have been so careful, so sure that the both of you have done the necessary things to have safe sex. But it wasn't impossible, he knew. It was also possible for non-pregnant women to exhibit nesting behavior. Surely, you'd tell him immediately if something was amiss or... if you were experiencing some symptoms.

Children, huh? He didn't think he'd be a great father. If anything, he'd be a horrible one considering the simple fact that he brought danger with him anywhere he went.

He was hard lines and violence, bloodshed and death. The sins that he's committed - and will commit - was unfit for a father. A good father.

But... he supposed it would be nice to have children running across the house. His and your kids. A physical manifestation of your love.

It's not that he needed to have a mini version of himself. As far as he knew, he never had any inclination of even desiring to have them. That avenue of conversation hasn't opened up between you too, either. He didn't know if you even wanted to have children.

Children with him.

And he wouldn't mind it if you didn't want them. They were a commitment, not just some playthings to be discarded once the novelty wore off. It would take a lifetime.

Yet... It's a nice thought.

"Darling?" It was well into the night. You and Sylus were already snuggled up in bed but you knew something was off. Ever since your little event in the kitchen, Sylus has been drifting, sometimes zoning out into space. It was very uncharacteristic of him.

So you waited. He'd tell you eventually.

Yet you have to admit to yourself that you can be impatient.

Those eyes of his, momentarily dazed, focused on you. The room was dark, the steady thrum of the air conditioner droning in the background. And still you felt his eyes on you, focusing, focusing, his arms pulling you in closer to his body.

"Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

Of course you'd see it. Not that Sylus even attempted to hide it, seeing as you'd peer through him eventually. You waited for him to speak, frowned when you felt the spiking of his evol. "Sy?"

"Are you pregnant?"

You sputtered, pushed up from your position on the bed. Your hand quickly tapping the button for the lights.

Warmth illuminated the room as you stared into his eyes. You thought he was joking, thought he was pulling your leg, but the emotion that stormed his eyes moved you, surprised you.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Sy." There was distress in his voice, something that you thought you'd never hear. "My period finished a few days ago."

He closed his eyes as he let that information sink in, nodded. Released a breath. "Okay."

"Sylus." You nudged him, urged him to open his eyes. "Sweetheart, what brought this on?"

Sylus sighed, feeling as though the energy was tapped from him. Well, there was no reason to beat around the bush on this. "Kieran mentioned you might be nesting."

For all the time you've spent with Sylus, you knew that man rarely blushed. But the pink that dusted his cheeks and ears endeared you, the heartbeat that you loved listening to spiking.

"I'm sure, Sy."

"Right."

He didn't know if it was relief he felt as he held you, fingers kneading into the dip between your hips. He sighed. Gave you the smile that was only reserved for you.

"Why did you change the pillows?"

You tilted your head, smiled back, leaned down to kiss his nose. So it came back to the pillows.

"I wanted you to be comfortable whenever you collapse on the couch."

"The plants?"

"This place is stuffy without them."

"And the cleaning?"

"I don't like the way the staff cleaned our house."

He stared at you, those gorgeous garnet eyes of his looking at you with a mix of adoration and complete and utter confusion. He blew a breath.

"I was overthinking, then."

"You think so much all the time, I'm surprised it's taken you this long to short circuit."

"I didn't short circuit."

"You don't have access to seeing your expressions, darling."

You laughed when he pinched your sides before your hands slip up and cupped his face. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know." His voice dropped down an octave as he trailed open mouthed kisses from your shoulder to your neck. "I guess that's why you're making me insane."

You snorted. "You never needed my help with that, dumbass."

He nipped your neck, nuzzled. "I love you, too."

"Mm." But you took his hand, pressed it to your stomach, stared deep into his eyes. "Do you want to have children with me, Sy?"

Your eyes were impossibly deep that he couldn't look away. Couldn't even think of attempting it.

"Yes."

Straightforward as ever, Sylus is. You blew a breath.

Swung your legs over him and straddled him in one swift move.

"Maybe we can start trying now, then?"

-0-

this has been running in my brain for days and i just had to write it asfsdg

check out my other sylus fluff fic!

and another sylus fic but with a cat :>

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus x reader #love & deepspace #love & deepspace sylus #love and deepspace sylus fluff #pregnancy talk #pregnancy #sylus x reader #sylus x you #not proofread lmao goodluck #atoltia writes in deepspace #my writing

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vieja-histerica · 2 years ago

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If you just saw me make a post about something cringe, only to then promptly delete it, no you didn’t. If you see another blog dedicated to that same cringe something making that exact same post with the exact same tags later on, no you didn’t, and no, it isn’t my side-blog.

#politicians outing themselves over their tiktok recommendations be like #outing themselves as predators or republican homosexuals #both of them have happened #and i’m talking about something VIEWED as cringe #but I don’t need said interesed to be used in an argument against me #or as a gotcha against me #i won’t allow it #bc yeah we fans of it don’t have the greatest track record #at being people worthy of respect #nor at respecting other people’s humanity or integrity or anything else #respect in general runs extremely rare for fans of this cringe interest #i would never apologize over liking something #i just don’t need people knowing i post about it or have a dedicated blog to it #even if it’s obvious and a lot of people share this very interest #why give tumblr users ammo against me #a person that loves arguments and confrontation #even if I don’t have them a lot here #you know?#(i hope these don’t go over the tag limit #i’m on mobile)#(is there even a tag limit anymore?)

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empresskylo · 1 year ago

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➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

ZOMBIE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X AFAB!READER

SUMMARY | Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

WARNINGS | dead dove do not eat! this is literally smut about zombie!ghost... so... beware i suppose. gore. dub-con?? afab!reader. wc 3k

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ lock me up! send me to jail!!! i can't believe I wrote this yes i can. This is how down bad i am for Ghost, I literally wrote smut about fucking him as a zombie... someone send the authorities, i need my internet taken away. (happy oct 1st btw)

𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬��

It had been less than two days since you lost Simon.

The image of him dying in the infirmary wing, bleeding out on the bed, was plastered behind your eyes. You saw it every waking moment and even dreamt of it during the night. You could still feel Soap’s hands squeezing your arms far too aggressively as he dragged you out of the infirmary while you cried out for Simon. You tried to claw your way to him but Soap was stronger than you by a long shot. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted at you over the cacophony of voices, people running around frantically. You let him drag you away to safety, your body limp in his hold, thinking of Simon’s dying breath.

The infirmary had promptly been boarded up, the doors all sealed tight. The breakout had begun a few weeks ago and it only just infiltrated the base. When Ghost had come back, bleeding out after a mission gone wrong, you furiously checked him for bite marks. The relief you felt when you didn’t find any was short-lived. Simon had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. You could still see it covering your hands the days following like a wraith. You felt like his blood was still wedged under your fingernails even after scrubbing your hands violently in a bucket of water.

With the infirmary infected and the outside world gone, you had little options but to hunker down in the barracks. There were small hunting groups that would leave base and dare to edge into the city, trying to help people, and gathering resources. Ghost had been in one of those first groups to leave the safe confines of base. You wished you had begged him to stay. Pleaded with him not to go.

The lights above you flickered, the generator not the most reliable of equipment. You looked across the table to your teammates, trying to keep yourself pulled together. It was only at night that you let yourself feel the pain, crying yourself to sleep.

“We’re never gonna survive here if we don’t get that medical supplies,” Soap explained.

“It’s too dangerous, Soap. We have no idea how bad it got in there. We have no way of knowing if all the bodies left behind turned,” Price retorted, pulling off his beanie and running his hand through his hair in nerves.

“So, what then? We’re gonna send more men off to die, tryin’ to get shit from the city?”

Price closed his eyes momentarily. The bags forming under them showed just how little sleep he was getting. “We can’t risk more men. We’d be sendin’ them to their death, Soap. We don’t have the ammo to spare.”

“We don’t know that. We’re still not even sure if it's a guarantee the dead will change, or if they have to be bit.”

“It’s too–”

You cut the men off. “I can go.” Both their heads snapped in your direction. “I’m just a technician. With everything gone to shit, I haven’t been as much help as you guys have been. I can’t fight. I can’t–”

“No. We’re not riskin’ you,” Soap said sternly.

“Soap,” you breathed. “I’m the only one here that isn’t crucial to the team. And don’t argue with me. It’s just a fact. Let me go. I can sneak in and grab what we need. I’m far quieter than any of you boisterous men anyways.”

Soap breathed your name. He was worried about you. He could see the pain in your eyes after losing Simon. He was worried this was a suicide mission. And that you wanted that.

“Let me be of use,” you begged. Soap wanted to argue. So did Price. But you were right. You would be the fastest. And as much as they valued you, the remaining men couldn’t survive here without Soap or Price.

“Lass, are you sure?” Soap said finally. He wanted you to feel useful, but he didn’t want you running off and risking your life because of the pain you felt from losing Simon.

“Let me do it, Soap. Please. I need this.”

He couldn’t argue with you. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you more than you were already hurting.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

You stood in your gear, an empty backpack plastered to your back waiting to be filled with medical supplies. Price had gone over the layout of the wing with you, showing you exactly where you needed to go to get the right supplies on a map of the building.

You stood before the infirmary doors, the ones that would lead to a long, winding hall that would bring you to the center of the infirmary. Off of that were several rooms and more halls, and a surgical floor. It was a large span of space to cover, but you believed you could do this.

“Be quick about it, lass. We’ll be right here when you get back,” Soap said to you, his hand resting on your shoulder.

You took in a breath and walked up to the doors that had been unlocked, a large piece of plywood that had previously been nailed against it, removed so you could go in. Before you reached out to the door handle, you turned around and rushed into Soap’s arms. He held you tightly, your head tucked right under his chin. “Don’t you fuckin’ die on me,” he mumbled into your hair.

You pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Then you nodded at Price and faced the daunting doors again. Once you stepped through the threshold and the doors shut behind you, you could hear the plywood being put back up, a hammer nailing it in place. When you got back, you were to knock and Soap would be there waiting to let you back in.

The hall was flickering with a few overhead lights, the generator still powering a few of the rooms in this wing.

Ghost had a glazed-over expression when he rolled off his medical bed. The room around him was silent apart from the ticking of a clock in the corner. There was blood pooled all around him and dripping onto the tiled floor as he stood. He had some semblance of who he was, of what happened, but most of his thoughts were hazed over like he was stuck in a daydream.

He had walked the length of the room, a sudden craving for food hitting the pit of his stomach. Any sound made him snap in that direction, rushing towards it as if on cue. He heard banging coming from one of the med rooms, the door locked and nailed over with whatever scrap of wood they could find. More people like him were trapped behind those doors, their groaning echoing down the hall.

Ghost limped as he walked, remembering how he had been shot in his leg. He looked down at his crimson-stained pants, almost like he should be feeling pain, but he felt nothing.

Days had passed and he roamed the halls aimlessly, not even getting bored. His mind had drifted off, somewhere that wasn’t in his body, allowing him to walk around like a zombie, completely void of any logical thought.

He grumbled as he made his rounds, stuck in a time loop, walking down the flickering hall again and again, passing by bodies that had been left behind.

He hesitated when he heard something. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, intrigued. It sounded like someone had just walked blindly into a metal medical tray, knocking instruments onto the floor. His movements were fast and nimble as he approached the sound.

He froze in place when he saw you–though he didn’t know who you were at that moment. You cursed yourself for being loud but didn’t hear anything in retaliation so you figured you were safe. Your hand rested on the knife strapped to your hip anyway.

You were edging towards the main infirmary double doors, your hand touching the metal of the handle. You should go in there and get supplies, but that’s where you had last seen Simon. You didn’t have it in you to see what had become of him, his body rotting alone.

Instead, you walked down the hall and into a storage closet, oblivious to the shell of Ghost who trailed behind you.

You left the door to the storage room open to let in a few strips of light so you could see better. You hunched over and began to dig through the supplies that had been thrown all over the floor in panic.

Ghost rolled his neck as he saw you in the room, your back to him. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth deep into your skin, to tear you to shreds. In fact, he wanted nothing more; the instinct was overpowering.

But when he got close, he could hear your voice as you mumbled to yourself, going over the list of the items you needed. You held up a pack of linens, trying to see if they were clean. “These will have to do,” you said softly, shoving them into your backpack.

A wave of familiarity surfaced inside Ghost, a strange feeling of being alive pumping through his veins. When he got to the doorframe, he could smell you. His senses heightened, the waft of your natural scent sent Ghost into a daze. He remembered—though he wasn’t sure what he was remembering. All he knew was that he recognized that smell.

His body had felt like it was in hibernation, his motors set on autopilot as he mindlessly walked down the halls. But suddenly, Ghost’s true mind was brought to the forefront. And his body craved you, though not in the way he had just moments earlier. He didn’t want to sink his teeth into your neck, he wanted to feel your warmth against him.

Ghost moved with such dexterity and silence, it was clear he was no longer human. When you stood, his arms immediately wrapped around you, eliciting a scream from your throat.

Ghost still wasn’t fully comprehending what was happening; all he knew was that his body wanted you. His hand slid up around your neck, leaving a trail of blood on your clothes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't fathom what he wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled groan.

You sputtered, trying to catch your breath as your heart raced in your chest. Ghost felt for your pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing in the way your blood pumped through your body.

You turned your head slightly, spying the man who had you trapped against the many shelves in the closet.

It was Simon.

Terror flooded your system. He didn’t look like himself. His eyes were glossed over, his pupils and iris almost unidentifiable, the entirety of his eyes were white, appearing like he was blind. The blood that had soaked his face had congealed, the rusted color running down his clothes where he was shot in the chest and leg. He looked just how you left him, and it sent a sense of terror through you.

“S-Simon?” You whispered, unsure if you were caught in a nightmare.

A groan escaped his cracked lips. You gulped. He had become one of them .

You were certain he was about to tear you apart, just as you had seen other fallen men do to your teammates. You closed your eyes, tears rushing down your cheeks as you prepared for the worst. His hands felt cold around your neck, like ice. You shivered against him. You accepted your fate—a small part of you actually wanted it. You wanted him to end you. To take you down with him. You didn't want to be alone anymore.

He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for him to bite you. But it never came.

Instead, he just moved his nose against you, smelling your hair and skin. His hands were still locked tightly against you, but they began to travel across your body. You opened your eyes in shock. Ghost’s hands trailed your chest, groping you with one hand, the other sprawling over the front of your thigh and stomach. You gasped in surprise.

You felt him harden against you, something you had experienced many times before now, and the familiarity of it made your heart pound with mixed emotions. Your mind was too caught up trying to decipher what was happening to truly take the moment in.

Ghost’s cold hands slid under your black shirt, snaking their way up to your breasts, cupping each one in his hands. Your nipples immediately hardened from the iciness of his touch. He ground himself against your backside, making you close your eyes in a moment of reprieve. You got lost in the past, imagining this was how it used to be. How he had touched you so many times before.

You breathed his name and he seemed to like that, for he rolled his hips against you harder, his chest rumbling in satisfaction.

The cold of his hands left you, making you oddly yearn to have them back on your skin. His fingers traced the hem of your pants before aggressively pulling them down. He got them past the curve of your ass and turned your bodies so your hips hit the edge of a shelving unit that acted as a table. You knocked all the supplies off as Ghost pushed you down against it, using your hands to catch yourself.

Ghost shuffled with his own pants, wasting no time at all to slip himself inside you. You called out in a brief shock of pain. He held himself deep within you, his hands squeezing as he held you, his body bent over slightly, his chest flat against your back. Your own hands reached out to grab the edge of the table to help steady yourself. The searing heat of you against his frozen skin spread through him like wildfire.

Your cries ignited a flame in Ghost’s chest—the feel of your body, the sound of your gasps, the smell of your hair—felt natural, like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. That he was made to take you like this. That your body against him was something so ingrained in his system, that he had no choice to to let his limbs move on muscle memory.

He began to thrust inside you, your hips hitting the table with each snap of his hips. His hand snaked around your neck, the smear of blood now coating your skin. One of your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, resting it there in support.

You groaned as he rocked into you harder. The pain from his sudden intrusion had subsided, and now you were filled with a haze of rapture. A tear slid down your cheek. You were unable to process what was happening, but what you did know was that you had missed Simon more than anything and that this wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last longer than this moment in time.

Ghost’s chest rumbled in pleasure as he thrusted into you. Your walls squeezed around him and he let out a loud groan. His arm not clutching your neck wrapped around your midsection, pulling you away from the table so you were flesh against him. He held you tight, almost like he couldn’t get you close enough. That if he had his way, he’d let you make a home beneath his skin.

His hips snapped vehemently against you, his pace quickening. You moaned, your sounds coming out strangled as his cold hand held your neck. Your walls tightened around him, your climax rapidly approaching. You couldn’t quite believe that you were not only fucking your dead boyfriend, but you were going to come in record time.

You were absolutely intoxicating to him as your warmth clenched down on him, your heat something recognizable to him, and yet, the intimacy was foreign at the same time. Now that he was devoid of his usual body temperature, the warm feeling of you around him was almost painful.

When you mewled and cried under him, your walls spasaming, he drew himself to the edge right behind you. Ghost came inside you with a great urge, growling in your ear as he tried to support the two of you. You felt him fill you, the white fluid seeping out around where his cock continued to pump in and out of you. His movements became sloppy, your legs shaking, your hand clutching onto his wrist for dear life.

You couldn’t hold back the cascade of tears, finally letting them flow as Ghost slowed his pace before stopping altogether. He edged out of you, his arms hesitantly letting you go, and you immediately turned around to face him, burying your face in his chest. You sobbed as he stood there. His arms didn’t reach out and hold you like he once would. He didn’t try to comfort you like he always did so well.

But still, he just let you huddle against him, taking what you needed from him. He didn’t attack you. He didn’t try to kill you. He wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t fully gone either. You turned to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked down and you stifled a cry. His white eyes were going to be permanently burned into your mind, haunting you for eternity. His face was sullen and blanched, blood smearing all across him; fresh blood dripping slightly from his mouth.

You tentatively reached a hand up and rested it on his frozen cheek. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Ghost made no indication he could even hear you.

You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to do this, and stepped back. You adjusted yourself before slowly reaching down for your bag. Ghost stood and watched you, the only thing moving was the tilt of his head as he traced your movements.

You shuffled to the door, anticipating him to reach out and end this daydream, ripping you apart. But he just watched you go, his mind riddled with foggy thoughts. He wanted to tear into you, but another part of him prevented him from doing so. He wanted to grab you and hold you against him for some reason. He liked the warmth your body provided. But another part of him felt nothing at all.

He watched you leave in a stupor, his mind just barely grasping onto the image and memory of you. It’s true, he wasn’t completely gone, but he was fading fast.

You cried violently as you stumbled back to the exit. When you banged on the doors, you heard the plywood being ripped off and the doors swinging open. Soap pulled you back into the base and held you at arm's length. “What happened?” he asked desperately. You were sobbing and covered in blood.

Should you tell him? Would Soap let you return to Simon knowing he wasn’t gone? Or would they make you stay here, letting Simon slip away forever?

You suddenly regretted leaving him. You should have stayed with Simon, even if he was a shell of who he used to be. You should have waited the time out together until he fully lost himself, and you would let him take you down with him.

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cameronsprincess · 9 days ago

Note

okok hot cocoa and a movie w rafe and his gf on a late night drive maybe after a fight?????? 🤗🤗🤗 u can make it smutty or angsty or fluffy

i’m honestly thinking all three, angsty smutty fluff😏🩷

CW: smut! 18+ only! bf!rafe, gf!reader, strong language, slight angst, piv sex, car sex, semi public sex, fluffy ending w soft!rafe<3

join the 5k celly here!

you lean your head against the window of your boyfriends truck, nothing but the low hum of the radio filling the tense silence that surrounds the two of you.

the night was going well, until it wasn’t. you and rafe argued a lot, but it had never reached the point it did tonight. the thoughts of all the harsh things you both spewed at one other makes your chest tighten.

you slowly lift your head from the window, chancing a glance at rafe. his body is tense, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. you don’t miss the slight tick in his jaw, watching as he clenches and unclenches it, nostrils flaring as his eyes remain on the road, not bothering to even look your way for a second.

“rafe…” you whisper, shifting in your seat so you’re facing him completely.

his hard blue eyes glance at you for a second, quickly placing them back on the road before he speaks.

“what, y/n… i’m really not in the fucking mood to talk to you right now.”

you breathe out a sigh, rolling your eyes. “then why the fuck did we go on a drive, huh? if you can’t even fucking talk to me, what was the fucking point in this?”

his hands tighten around the steering wheel once more, a heavy sigh pushing from his chest.

“i needed to fucking clear my head, after you…” he pauses, trying to calm himself before continuing, “fuck, after you said some of the shit you did, throwing low blows about my relationship with my dad my way, telling me that i’m a fuck up, i needed to fucking get out of that house… you are the one who asked to come with me, i would’ve much preferred you stayed home.”

his words hit you hard, slapping you in the face and twisting tightly around your stomach. your face drops, a slight frown on your lips as tears begin to fill your eyes. you know you shouldn’t have thrown his strained relationship with his father in his face, using it as ammo in your ploy to hurt him, and you definitely shouldn’t have called him a fuck up, knowing full well he hears that enough from his father and a few others.

rafe wasn’t a fuck up— far from it actually— you were just so angry, the words spilled from your lips before you could even give them a second thought.

“rafe, i-” you begin, but his loud, booming voice rings through the air, cutting you off.

“just stop fucking talking! can you fucking do that, for once? just stop. fucking. talking,” he pauses, letting out a rough laugh, “i’m just gonna take you home, i can’t stand the sight of you right now, can’t stand your irritating fucking voice.”

you gasp, his words slicing right through your heart.

“fuck you, rafe! god, i’m trying to make things better, but you’re being a fucking dick! and you wonder why i said the shit i said earlier, it’s because you act like this! you’re a fucking child! learn to grow up and communicate.”

rafe slams on the breaks so hard you jolt forward, your palms slapping against the dash of the truck. you push back, eyes narrowed on him. “what the fuck, rafe! are you fucking crazy? fucking drive the truck, now!” you shout, hands shaking and breathing choppy.

he ignores you, simply pressing his foot on the gas and speeding down the road, his tires slightly screeching as he does. you press your back firmly against the seat, arms crossed over your chest as you watch dim street lights and dark outlines of the trees fly by.

rafe makes a sharp right turn, pulling his truck into an empty, dark parking lot. he places the truck in park, quickly killing the engine and tossing the keys to the floorboard. you run a hand down your face, a scoff leaving your lips.

“why the fuck are we here? take me the fuck home.”

he doesn’t answer, his silence slowly grating on your nerves.

“rafe! are you gonna say anythin-”

he cuts off your words, his hand reaching out and wrapping tightly around your throat. you wrap a hand around his wrist, trying to pry him off, but it’s no use. his fingers tighten around the expanse of your neck, pressing firmly into your pulse point. he gives a low hum, leaning his face in close to yours, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“god you’re fucking infuriating, such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he stops, his eyes flitting down to your lips, reveling in the way they’re slightly parted, loving the way your pulse beats rapidly against his fingers. his lips slightly brush against yours and you squeeze your thighs together. you need him, and you need him now. “what am i gonna do about that little fucking attitude of yours, hmm?”

your eyes find his, the normally bright and shining blue now dark. you inch your face closer to his the best you can, and it’s just enough to press your lips against his. rafe groans, releasing your throat, his hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you further into him. his tongue shoves its way past the seam of your lips, tangling with yours perfectly.

you moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping at the soft fabric of his shirt and pushing him back. both of your heavy breathing fills the cramped space of his truck, your eyes darting across his face, “rafe…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you say another word.

he fumbles with his belt, pulling it free from his jeans before popping the button and slowly guiding the zipper down. he removes the rough denim from his lower body, his boxers going with them. your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock, his tip swollen and already dripping with his arousal. he reaches over the center console, hands gripping your hips tightly and yanking you into his lap.

a low groan escapes him when your covered core rubs across his length, making him twitch beneath you. his hands pull at the waistband of your cotton shorts and you lift your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs. he tosses them into the passenger seat, one hand firmly gripping at your hip while the other fists his cock, jerking himself as he keeps eye contact with you.

“fuck me, rafe. please?”

the words barely leave your lips before he’s pushing the head into your drenched hole, bottoming out in seconds. you both groan in unison, the feel of his large cock stretching you and the way your pussy tightly grips his dick making all the anger from moments ago wash away.

rafe presses his lips against yours, his mouth devouring you as he holds onto your hips, keeping you still as he pounds himself inside you from below. the head of his cock repeatedly hits at that sweet spot inside you, your body shaking in his hold and sweet moans of pleasure falling past your lips.

“r-rafe.. oh, god.” you mumble against his lips.

he pulls back, hard blue eyes on yours as he continues to brutally fuck himself into you. your pussy pulsates around him, your clit throbbing. you remove his hands from your hips, running them up your sides and placing them up your shirt. he cups your breasts, squeezing at them harshly. you begin lifting your hips, slamming yourself back down on him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“fuck, baby. ‘m so sorry, ‘m so fuckin’ sorry.”

you press your forehead against his, your lips beginning to slowly trail across his jaw and down to his neck. your teeth lightly nip at his sweat slick skin, loving the reaction it pulls from him.

“‘m sorry, too, rafe. i love you. fuuuck, i love you.”

your body trembles beneath his hold, rafe’s hands slowly and softly roaming your body, drinking in every bit of you with his hands. “i love you, too.”

the band snaps, your pussy clenching tightly around rafe’s cock, your orgasm rushing through you with a call of his name. rafe isn’t too far behind you, his dick twitching inside you. he shoves himself deep inside you, a raspy moan falling from him as he paints your inner walls white with his seed.

his body falls limp beneath you, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lie your head on his chest. his fingers begin to trace lazy shapes on your back, lips kissing softly at the space between your neck and shoulder.

you break the silence first, “i’m really sorry… i- i didn’t mean anything i said, i just-”

he lifts his head, cupping your face in his hands as he forces your eyes on his. “i know. i’m sorry too, i love you, y/n. i really fucking do.”

you smile down at him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. he pulls his hands from your face, allowing you to rest your head on his chest again. you find comfort in the silence this time, the strong beat of his heart against your face making your insides warm.

tagging a few moots: @starkeysprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesangelita @rafeyscurtainbangs @drewsarms @drewsephrry @bloodibambiidoll @babygorewhore @nemesyaaa @httpsdrewstarkey @redhead1180 @rafeinterlude

#kay’s 5k celly💞#₊˚ෆ abi girl #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron brainrot #rafe outer banks #outer banks #obx #obx smut

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viennakarma · 8 months ago

Text

My dearest friend and enemy (2)

PART 2 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.1k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I was wondering doing a bonus part about Fernando POV throughout everything (to show he was ALSO miserable), but I don't know if i have the time and energy for it. Let me know if you guys would be interested in it and I'll do it in headcanons/topics.

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was taking way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

Find me on Twitter!

PART 1 | FERNANDO'S HEADCANONS

You were moping and crying in the living room when the phone started ringing. Looking at the little screen that showed the number that was calling, you knew it was Fernando. You had memorized his number at some point in your lifetime. Your parents weren’t home, so you hesitated. You took so long that his call went to voicemail.

“I know you’re there,” he said, voice sounding tired, low and inpatient, “please pick up the-”

You pulled the phone cable, unplugging the call and silencing him. Wiping your tears, you stared at the unplugged phone on the little side table for what felt like hours, until your parents returned from work, when you got up to plug the phone back and pretend like you didn’t spend the whole day mourning a friendship you always thought would last forever.

After two days ignoring all calls, even Flavio’s, you decided that you’d shield yourself from now on, and you wouldn’t give Fernando any more ammo to hurt you. You met with Flavio at the next race, face heavy with makeup to cover up the sleepless nights you had gone through. You put your bag down and stared at Flavio across the table.

“Good morning. Let’s go back to work,” you said, gently pulling the stack of papers from his grasp. He called your name in that tone, of someone wanting a heart to heart.

“We should talk about the f-” He started but you cut him off.

“No, I don’t want to talk about that,” you said.

“I talked to Fernando and he-”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it. He’s dead to me.” You repeated slowly, finally looking up at him. Flavio must’ve seen something in your eyes because he let the topic go.

You didn’t see Fernando for two more days, and when the weekend officially started, you avoided him like the plague. Even when you two were in the same place with other drivers, you’d ignore his existence for the most part. Whenever you were in a little circle chatting with other drivers and he arrived, you’d leave immediately. Press conference, you convinced Jenson to switch places with you so you could be as far from Fernando as possible. Even with team debriefs, with Flavio trying to make you talk to Fernando, you refused.

The rest of the season was insane, during team meetings and debriefs you were cold and barely talked to him. He didn’t try to talk to you either, and the silent distance only grew.

You were head to head in a race, you were P2 and Fernando P3 right behind you.

“Switch with Fernando,” your engineer said on the radio.

“He won’t fucking pass me,” you said into the radio, holding your position and pace. He was less than a second behind, and you refused to let him pass.

“I repeat, let him pass,” That was Flavio.

“If he manages to overtake me, he can go.”

He didn’t. You knew you had more pace, but still he insisted, and through the mirrors, you could see him closing in behind you. He tried to overtake but you pushed the car fast, and when he couldn’t anymore, he turned into you, touching his front right tyre to your rear left tyre. You were too fast. The mere touch of his tyre bursted yours. You couldn’t even get angry as you lost control of the car in a millisecond, the speed making your car fly into the air as it hit the gravel. With your car overturning a few times in the air, you watched your sight going ground, sky, ground, sky, ground, sky.

Then you blacked out.

When you woke up, you were on a stretcher being placed carefully inside the ambulance, you tried to get up, dizzy and someone handed you a bag where you threw up inside.

You had an insane headache as they took you to the medical center. Apparently, everything else was alright as you checked your own body for any injuries or problems. The doctor checked you but still made you through a round of tests and injected saline solution diluted with pain medicine in an IV drip. They also decided you’d stay overnight to make sure nothing was wrong.

Your dad, who was watching from the garage, was the first to find you in the medical center, visibly worried and crying. He hugged you for a whole minute, before taking a step back and touching your face to make sure you were really alright.

“I’m ok, Papá. Just passed out when the car was spinning in the air,” You smiled softly, wanting to dissipate his worry.

“When you didn’t answer the radio-” He choked back tears.

“It’s ok, I’m ok now.”

“What are you feeling, darling?” He pressed, holding your hands to look for injuries in your arms.

“I’m all in one piece, Papá. Just a little sore, but that’s normal whenever a racing driver crashes,” you let him know, and he nodded.

“Let me just call your mother. She was so worried she wanted to get into the first flight here,” He told you.

“Tell her I’m alright and I love her,” you whispered and he nodded, going outside.

You sighed as you were left alone, trying to find a comfortable position where you didn’t have to move too much, since your whole body felt like it had been run over by a truck. The door opened and you thought it was Flavio, but you were faced with Fernando, still sweaty and in his overalls. He looked disheveled, but he was full of worry, even his eyes looked a little misty as he stood there a few meters from you.

But you couldn’t look past the anger when the memory of him diving into your car came back. He had gambled with your life, out of pettiness, out of envy, he couldn’t pass you, so he decided the next best thing was to take you out, not even caring about the danger he was putting you through.

“Leave.” You said, with gritted teeth.

“Please,” he begged with his voice softer than you had heard for almost a year, “let me just-”

“Leave! You could’ve gotten me killed, Fernando. Get out!” You said, louder. “Do you have any idea that you could have ruined my life in a moment of anger?! That you could have gotten me seriously injured or worse?! I would have never done that to you!” You pressed your index finger to the nurse button repeatedly, and a few seconds later, a nurse came in, “Ma’am can you escort him out please?”

You could see in his eyes that he was hurt by your words, but in that moment, all you felt was blind rage, for what he did the last time you spoke and because he crashed into you on purpose. You didn’t want to hear any excuses now that he realized he put your life in danger just because his ego couldn’t take a hit.

The next day, after you were discharged, you traveled for a meeting with Flavio at Renault’s headquarters. He met you alone in the meeting room, talking to you about the accident, and after making sure you were physically fine, he went off.

“What you did yesterday was reckless and you went against express orders from the team and from me. This is not happening again, or you will be risking your seat at Renault,” He said, his voice never leaving room for debate, you swallowed and nodded, “When the team orders you to do something, you do. No questioning, and no going against it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fernando was really worried about you yes-”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” You cut Flavio off.

“You two are best friends, it’s really sad to see you lose all that because of Formula 1” Flavio said, gently.

“He put my life at risk, Flavio. This is not something a friend would do,” you stood up, walking away but you stopped by the door, “Kinda curious how motorsports, the very thing that brought us together, is the same that tore us apart.”

Then you went to meet the engineers for the next race strategies.

That night as you laid down at home, you thought that you’d never compete with Fernando solely because he was Flavio’s favorite. If it ever came to Flavio to decide whether you would win or Fernando would win, he’d always pick Fernando. You could’ve been fighting for the championship this year, he had promised you, instead you were being used as a step in Fernando’s path of glory, when you could be fairly racing him for the championship. You’d always come second to him there. That was also the moment you stopped seeing Flavio as a friend, and confined him back to a position of Team Principal.

You reread the Sauber proposal that came to you that year to start racing for them the next season, tempted to just go and make your name somewhere else. Somewhere where you’d be put first.

But deep down, a sense of indebtedness had rooted into your heart ever since the day Fernando told you the truth. You had to pay Flavio back for his trust and for his money, and the only way you thought you could do it was by becoming world champion under his team.

There was still a little kid inside you, a little kid who aspired to prove Fernando wrong, to become a champion and prove to yourself you’re more than him. More than who he wanted you to be, more than a loser.

You turned down the offer from Sauber.

The rest of the season you went almost robotically. You still gave your all every race, but your mood would always damper when you had to follow team orders.

“Ask if me and Fernando can switch, I’m faster!” You said on the radio. You kept driving, Fernando a little less than two seconds in front of you, but you were getting closer and would catch up to him in two laps.

“Negative, protect his position.”

��There’s a McLaren right behind me! They’ll pass us both!”

“Negative, team orders.”

You swallowed and held your position, trying to maintain your P2 and Fernando P1. But when the McLaren got close to you, they managed to pass you after a brief battle, going for Fernando a couple of laps later.

Later, you stood on the podium, looking ahead knowing that P3 could’ve been a P1 if they had let you fight for it. You didn’t look at Fernando on the other side of the podium, you just stood there, eyes watery. You pretended to take part throwing champagne for a few seconds, forcing a smile knowing that it would look bad not to.

The post race interviews were torture, and you wanted to go home and vent to your parents.

“How has it been to manage your friendship with Fernando outside the track?” A reporter asked, and your smile disappeared from your face.

“We were never really friends,” you shrugged, annoyed, you added “Are there any questions about racing instead of my personal life?” The reporter was silent, visibly taken aback by your responses, you had rarely been hostile toward a journalist before, you knew he would have a field day with just those replies, especially when your PR manager gave you a hard stare, “No? Thank you, see you around.”

You finished P2 in the race Fernando became champion for the second time. When you got out of the car, you watched as Flavio and Fernando hugged, jumping from the ground and celebrating. The number one and your team principal. After the podium ceremony, you didn’t bother to stay to spray champagne, just leaving and going straight out.

You got a couple more proposals from other teams, and you were tempted, until Flavio told you Fernando was leaving for McLaren the next year and offered you an extension. You took it under the condition to become the number one driver now that Fernando was out of the picture.

A part of you mourned the death of the dream, the one you had at fourteen to become teammates with your best friend. So many things had happened in between everything, now you would miss it. Only the good, not the bad and ugly. You wish you could go back in time, redo everything, and never allow yourself to lose your best friend on the way.

The next year you ended up striking an unexpected friendship with Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg and eventually the two rookies Lewis and Sebastian, who had been very vocal about being fans of yours.

You didn’t go back to talking with Fernando. You didn’t try and he didn’t either. It felt like the bridges were too far burned to recover.

One day as you walked out of the garage, you saw Fernando with a girl on the opposite side. She was clinging to his side, whispering. You knew he had his fair share of fun with grid girls but he never invited them to watch the race from his garage. You wondered if he was dating again, after a couple of years being nothing more than a player. You also wonder why it made a pang of pain flare through your chest.

You don’t linger too much. He had no reason to tell you. You weren’t even friends anymore.

You moved on, as much as you could. And eventually, you met Kaka, or Ricardo, as you preferred calling him. He was a footballer, a big name in the sport, playing for a big team in Italy. You actually met him at a gala party, the both of you being silly introverts, bumping into each other when trying to find a way out. You two ended up talking for hours on the balcony, watching the city lights.

He reminded you of Nano before Formula 1.

And you actually wanted to smash your own head against the handrail as you thought that.

After exchanging numbers and calling a couple of times, you managed to convince Ricardo to come to a Grand Prix. His presence was calm, funny without being mean, and so gentle. It was actually the calm between the storm your life and job was.

You were pacing around outside the motorhomes to try and see if he had arrived yet, since the last you had talked to him was when he was on his way. While waiting, your eyes found Fernando’s on the opposite side in front of McLaren, he was sitting down with his girlfriend telling him something. You stared at him for a whole minute, and for a brief moment, the anger left his eyes for something softer, something like-

“Hi, minha linda!” Ricardo showed up out of nowhere, and he hugged you so tight he actually swiped you off your feet.

Once the surprise passed, you hugged him back, your fingers finding their way through his hair. And he laughed, spinning you before putting you down. You talked for a bit, your face lit up as he told you about his day.

Your eyes unconsciously turned to Fernando, because you could feel that he had been staring at you for as long as Ricardo was there. His face was back to anger.

“You want me to give you the grand tour?” You offered, just so you could escape the weight of Fernando’s glare.

You took Ricardo by the hand and showed him all around, even introducing him to part of your team. After that race when you placed third, Ricardo invited you to a date, the first official one. After a couple of months and a few kisses, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You only hesitated for a second before smiling and squealing a yes.

Being the main driver of your team allowed you to live an entirely different season as a racer. You didn’t want to be arrogant, but you had it in the bag. You had the best car, the best engines, and just the perfect amount of boldness. Add insane strategies, and you were unstoppable.

Despite Fernando being your close rival on track, he was way too busy beefing with Lewis, his surprisingly great rookie teammate.

During summer break that year, you were on a trip to Brazil with Ricardo, but still, the night of July 29th, you got up at two a.m., slowly went to the fridge, where you got an ice cream pint. With a spoon, you sat on the handrail in the balcony, and watched the waves breaking on the beach a few meters away.

It was weird keeping the ice cream tradition alone, but you supposed it was even weirder not keeping the tradition. Staring at the stars, you wondered if Fernando had any ice cream to celebrate his birthday that day.

“Hi,” you heard Ricardo behind you, his hands sneaking around your middle and he hugged you from behind, laying his head against your shoulder, “everything ok?”

“Yeah, just wanted a little treat,” you mumbled, closing the lid on the ice cream, because a selfish part of you didn’t want to share the tradition with anyone other than Fernando. It was silly and stupid, and still… you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You put the ice cream back in the freezer and smiled at Ricardo as he pulled you into his arms and carried you back to bed.

You came back from summer break with a renewed sense of focus. Deep down you knew that was your season. Your season to become world champion, and nothing was going to get in the way of that. As you won the first two races after summer, you became first in the standings, this sense of purpose being the one thing motivating you every weekend to give your best.

It was Interlagos that year when you needed only a podium to become World Champion, pretty much the same as Fernando two years before. The race was tough, and it felt like Fernando was out to get you, especially in a moment right in the middle of the race, when you were behind him in P3 and he tried to brake test you again, but this time you were quick to react, avoiding his rear and using his own dirty trick against him, turning sharply to overtake him from outer side, moving past him fast enough to gain some precious couple of seconds.

After that, you managed to smoothly overtake the P1 with a carefully planned pit stop that allowed you to come out first. Later on, you saw a crash, nothing too bad, but you found out it was Fernando and Webber.

“Are they ok?” You asked via radio to your engineer.

“Yes, they are already back on the pitlane.”

You sighed and focused back to your race, keeping your P1 safe, and going smoothly to take the checkered flag.

“Congratulations, Y/N! You’re a Formula One World Champion!”

You felt the tears coming down and dampening your balaclava, as you took one last lap to parc ferme, waving at the crowd that went insane.

It was like a huge weight was lifted from your chest. Because you were now world champion. You were there, and you deserved to be there, among the best. You didn’t need to prove yourself anymore, and you had finally paid Flavio back.

You jumped out of the car straight into your team, jumping with them, and Flavio ran up to you, pulling you into a tight hug. Jenson also found you and hugged you firmly, patting your back and Nico also hugged you, both of them were on the podium with you.

As you looked down from the podium, with a watery, emotional smile, you saw your dad crying like a baby and clapping his hands. Unconsciously, your eyes looked for Fernando, silly hoping it mattered something to him, that at least in the name of your former friendship, he would be there, but he was nowhere to be seen, and you felt like that was another nail in the coffin of your friendship.

Deciding to forget it, you drank champagne straight from the bottle, laughing as both Nico and Jenson paired up to drown you in champagne, looking happy for you.

After talking to your mom on the phone, you stood up, taking your bag and going out to look for your dad. You didn’t make it very far, as you came out in the hallway, you found Fernando, leaning against the wall. You paused, looking up to him while your heartbeat went up.

“I’m happy for you,” he whispered. And you wanted to believe it really badly, but thinking about him brake testing you during the race, trying to take you out, made you roll your eyes at him.

“Sure, you are,” you said sarcastically. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, like he was disappointed you didn’t believe him, “my debt is over now.”

“What?” He frowned, confused.

“I just paid Flavio for his investment,” you explained, “I’m not just here because you asked him to support me, I’m a damn great driver. I’m here because I deserve it, not because you took me out of pity.”

Fernando stared at you completely shocked at your words, something painful stabbing at his chest. He never thought you’d think like that over disgusting words he said in a moment of anger. Words that never meant anything to him, that he didn’t even believe in himself. The hurt in your eyes was the same from the day he said the words, when you cried looking into his eyes and telling him he was dead to you.

You walked past him and away. He wanted to shout that he never meant those words, that you were so much more, so much better. But you just left. Fernando followed you outside, trying to catch you and explain himself, maybe fix things between you, making peace.

But as he got outside, he paused, seeing you jumping in your boyfriend’s arms, laughing at something he whispered to you. Fernando swallowed, closing his fist and jealousy burned through his limbs, with such force that it felt like a fever.

Right after the Brazilian Grand Prix, Ferrari got in touch with you, offering a two year contract to become teammates with Kimi Raikkonen and drive for what was one of, if not the most classic team in Formula 1. After negotiations, it was a no brainer. You didn’t owe Renault anything any more. And that’s what propelled you to meet with Flavio that winter break in a cafeteria in Monaco. When you had called, he said he wanted to talk to you about something, which was convenient.

After pleasantries and small talk, you were ready to start, but Flavio cut you off without noticing.

“I have to tell you something,” he started, carefully, “Fernando is coming back to Renault next year.”

You froze for a second, not wanting to think too much about the implications of that. The fact that Flavio was willing to force you and Fernando to be teammates again even after the catastrophic ending you had before. Sighing, you covered your face for a second.

“I know you have reservations, but I’ve talked with Fernando and he’s willing to-”

“I’m going to Ferrari.”

And Flavio understood, after talking for a while. He knew Ferrari was most drivers' ultimate dream, and you weren’t immune to that either. Unfortunately for you, Fernando released the news he was going back to Renault a week before Ferrari announced you, and the media had a field day with that, tabloids and media outlets doing numbers of articles about you avoiding being teammates with Fernando again, since he was coming back and you were conveniently leaving almost at the same time.

Your races with Fernando kept being dangerous, one always trying to one up the other, dangerous moves and overtakes, close calls of crashing into each other, and more and more jabs publicly. The attacks at each other never stopped, and the media seemed to enjoy it, feeding into it ever so often.

One occasion, you were going for a win, and the only thing between you and that damn P1 was Fernando Alonso. So you kept your P2, biding your time as you tried to close the gap, leaving your chance at overtaking for the last few laps. When a fast turn came, you advanced, overtaking him, Fernando tried to defend his position, but you were getting the lead, and both of you were in high speed. Someone had to back out, otherwise you two would crash. But you were feeding off of anger and hurt, and you didn’t back down well into the turn, but suddenly, Fernando slowed down, giving up defending. You took the P1 and after a few laps, the checkered flag. You knew on the podium that Fernando was seething, his face didn’t hide that. Later, at an interview, someone brought up the dirty move.

“So, a very dangerous move at turn 2 during lap 47, no?” The reporter asked, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“I thought it was a pretty common battle, no?” You said, a condescending tone imitating him.

“Well, it could’ve caused you both to crash.”

“I took a risk, either I would pass and win, or we would both crash and DNF. Alonso was wise and went for the safest option.” I gave the reporter a fake smile.

You knew that answer would piss Fernando off, and a part of you knew he deserved it. Sometimes you acted on pure rage and pettiness, feral and way more aggressive against Fernando on track than you really needed to be. But he just pissed you off. Walking around with his model girlfriend, his attacks at your racing abilities, his pretty eyes that always seemed to find yours at the most inconvenient times.

Then, the race weekend would end, and everything that was left was shame. Your burning shame every time your mom’s eyes shone when she asked about Fernando, hoping you two would have made peace. You, looking away from her face every time you told her you knew nothing about Alonso because you didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes.

Later that year, after your two year anniversary with Ricardo, you accidentally found a ring box in his suitcase. A proposal ring, a beautiful big diamond ring, probably worth a small fortune. And you tried to feel happy about it, but you could only find dread in your heart. Despite loving Ricardo, you knew you didn’t love him as much as you could. And certainly not as much as she loved you. You didn’t love him as much as you loved-

Closing your eyes, you also closed your heart, and after that just like the coward you were, you broke up with Ricardo the kindest way you could. He was confused, because your relationship was tranquil, without many problems. It broke your heart to break his heart, but you couldn’t lead him on, you knew Ricardo was husband material, and the earlier you let him go, the earlier he would find his true happiness.

Ultimately, you decided to only pursue love after your Formula One career. Having a bit of fun here and there, and a couple of casual relationships even with other drivers, but nothing serious or public. When you found out Fernando was single again, a flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but when you saw him go back to his playboy ways… It died down.

Sometimes you would dream of a different life, of one you never lost your best friend… or even better, one that you never had to suppress the love you felt for him. And sometimes it felt too much, like all this love was just filling up your hollow heart, filling up until it overflowed, until you felt like you were drowning in it, because there was nowhere for this love to go. And you wondered, what do I do with this love, there's no one to give it to, there's no recipient to put it. So you would just ground your teeth and bear it, holding onto anger because that much love, that much longing did nothing but cause you pain.

Every time someone mentioned him outside race weeks, you felt ashamed.

Despite being in a top team like Ferrari, you’d only get a few wins, and some podiums here and there, so it wasn’t like you didn’t achieve anything. But you were a woman so it was obviously not enough, and the media started questioning your career and your place in Formula One.

After two years of you driving for Ferrari, Domenicalli, your team principal, sat you down to let you know Fernando Alonso would be joining the team the next year, and you bit the inside of your cheek, considering just retiring. The criticism was getting to you, and the perspective of living hell with Fernando as your teammate was a broken heart all over again.

When an opportunity arose to drive for Red Bull Racing, with a two year contract, you didn’t think twice before accepting. It would be your chance to turn the tide in your career.

It sent the motorsport world into a frenzy when your new team announced you and a week later Ferrari announced Fernando as their future driver. The same narrative of you running away from him was passed ahead. And of course, it got to the paddock. Most drivers that were close to you actually congratulated you, but of course, nothing was ever good for Fernando. And despite not fully talking to him, he was always willing to throw a mean comment at you any given day.

“And people said you’re washed” Fernando said right after the news broke, the second to last race of that season, his voice dripping with venom. You knew it was a backhanded compliment, he always did that when he wanted to get a rise out of you. He smirked, waiting for your feral clapback, as you always had one on the tip of your tongue.

But when he looked back at you, your face was stony, and you were looking ahead with your chin raised. You didn’t even look at Fernando, nor answered his taunting. You pretended he wasn’t there but he noticed your eyes were misty.

That had been a low blow, even for him. He didn’t know shit about your feelings regarding your career, but he knew exactly how the world had been treating it, and it made you burn with shame that he could add insult to injury this easily. You wondered why he would say something like that if, just like you, it had been years since the last time he was champion of the world. Two years pushing yourself to the maximum so you could achieve your second championship.

Fernando had been your best friend for so long, he knew exactly what buttons to push when he wanted to hurt you.

When someone else arrived, greeting you, you cleared your throat briefly before answering and plastering a smile that never reached your eyes.

“Are you running away from me?” Fernando cornered you later that same day.

“What?” You paused.

“I went back to Renault and you left, now I’m going to Ferrari and you’re leaving,” he shrugged. You scoffed.

“I’m not sure if you know, but my life doesn’t revolve around you, Fernando.”

“Well, that’s a weird coincidence, don’t you think?”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

Fernando paused for a second, his eyes searching yours, he looked vulnerable, open like he hadn’t been in so long. He looked every bit your best friend from years before.

“I miss you, I-” He started, then cleared his throat.

“I miss the old you,” You swallowed a whole bunch of your pride just to be able to say those words.

“Things are different now…” Fernando started, his eyes full of hoping, of longing, “We could- maybe we could-”

“Fernando, we’re too far gone, what we said- what we did…” You muttered, feeling a lump in your throat, “how do one come back from that?”

“We could restart. Try again-”

“You lost me forever that day, Fernando.” You muttered, the tears holding on to your eyelashes. You didn’t need to specify the day, he knew, he had seen in your eyes the moment he lost you, “I spent so long hearing your voice in my head, telling me I wasn’t good enough, I shouldn’t be here, and I- I hated you that day. And I had to hold onto this hate, because the alternative was overwhelming sadness.”

There was a numbing silence for a couple of minutes, as you stared down at your own feet, trying to stop all the feelings you spent years carefully locking away from breaking free. So much had happened, you believed you and Fernando were too far to recover now.

“I’m a woman here, the first and only woman in so long, and the whole world was against me. You have no idea how it felt that my best friend, the person I trusted the most, was also against me,” You shook your head, feeling the tears drop.

“I’m sorry, Nena… I’ve never- I’ve never meant any of that.” He muttered, and you didn’t look at him to see if he was being genuine. You had formed walls around your heart to protect yourself from heartbreak, and you now had a hard time believing him.

“There are some things… that are not meant to be.” You didn’t look back at Fernando after you said that, choosing to walk away with this broken heart feeling ever present.

It was hard to keep going everyday. You had always faced backlash for being a woman in Formula 1, and you were used to it. But the media took a turn over the next few years. When you didn’t win more championships, when years passed and you were still there, along with other champions and future champions. They started to call you old, washed, telling you to retire and placing bets on when you’d lose your seat. It was baffling because it had been six years since your championship, but it had been seven years since Fernando’s, but still, you were the only one whose spot was questioned all the time. It was unfair, and whenever they came up to you talking about it, you’d ask them if they’d ask the same to older drivers or other champions. They would leave you alone for a week and then come back stronger, ready to throw your whole career under the bus.

Finally, you got another chance at the championship in 2013, after an unbelievable start of the season with five consecutive wins. That had put you first in the standings for the championship, and from there on, your team molded the season around you. Smooth sailing through the season, you became world champion in Suzuka, way too far ahead in the championship to anyone be able to catch up to you.

When you stood on the podium that night, you cried happy tears. You had once again proved wrong years of demerit from the world. As you looked down to search for your family, your eyes found Fernando right beside them, a proud, emotional look on his face as he kept a hand over his heart, listening to your national anthem.

He nodded at you with a small smile, and a part of you healed a little bit.

You enjoyed a couple of days of pure bliss after becoming world champion. Parties, celebrations and trips, they were all you did for the next few weeks.

When the FIA Prize Giving ceremony came, you had another bombshell to drop at the world. You were the most stunning you ever felt that year when you arrived at the ceremony, in a beautiful dark blue dress with little crystals all over the bodice, a beautiful hairstyle and even more beautiful makeup. Never in your entire career in Formula 1, you had felt so fulfilled, so happy.

Hearing your name being called as the winner, the number one, was different this time, and had much more weight, and it made your heart burst with happiness. As you walked up the stairs to the stage, receiving your trophy, you stopped by the mic.

“Thank you so much. I’d like to thank my family for supporting me from the beginning, my team for making the perfect season, and the perfect car for me to be able to achieve this. I’d like to thank all my teammates that, in one way or another, taught me some valuable lessons as a racer. Thanks to Flavio for taking a chance on my career when probably no one else would.” You said, with a smile. You took a good look around, all the people in this sport who made Formula 1 the most important category of motorsport, all your peers, all the teams. “I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1, as of right now.”

There was a wave of shock and loud gasps in the whole room, flashes and flashes bulbing harder than before, journalists scrambling to take notes… But you kept smiling, hand firm around your trophy as you let the news settle down before speaking again.

“In 2007 I wanted to pay Flavio back for giving me the opportunity to be here today. That debt was paid that same year. After that year I wanted to win for myself, to write my name in the history books, and my dream is now realized. I feel like I should move on and make space for new upcoming talents.” Your eyes were wet with unshed tears, but you smiled, the first genuine smile in a few years.

Fernando felt his heart drop at your words. Things weren’t supposed to go like this, you two should be best friends, drive together, retire together. Go down in history together.

“I’m grateful for everything this sport provided me, the adventures, traveling around the world, the people I met and the people I lost,” there was a calm pause, and Fernando wondered if you were talking about him too, “Now it’s time to go and achieve new dreams. Thank you very much.”

You turned around and walked away under the applause.

Later, after the ceremony was done, you were getting ready to leave when Fernando came to find you. He was dressed in a beautiful suit, looking like a million dollar man.

“Nena…”

It made you pause. It had been a while since he called you like that with that specific tone.

“What? Came here to gloat?” You couldn’t help but be defensive, worried.

“What?”

“I knew you’d be one of the happiest when I retired.”

“No, I would not-”

“You would, Fernando. You did. Many times you said I was done, that my prime was over, that I should retire…”

“I never thought you’d easily give up!” He shouted at you, “Like you did in 2006, not competing against me.”

“That’s because they didn’t let me compete! Do you think I couldn’t have competed with you back in ‘06? I could, but every time, they would tell me to back off, to let you pass, to not fight you, to not overtake you-” You threw at his face, because you wouldn’t stand there and let him look down on you like that. You refused to back down now that you were finally free. “Pat threatened my seat if disobeyed team orders.”

“What?! Why did you never tell me that?” Fernando looked shocked. His fighting stance was completely gone now.

“You were going to be World Champion again. I would never take that from you,” You whispered, voice failing.

“Nena…” He said, like he wanted to drop everything. “Please, don’t leave. If Red Bull don’t want you, you can find another spot with another team, we can think of something.”

“Fernando, I’m not leaving because the team doesn't want me. In fact, they offered me a 3 year extension.”

“That’s not how it was supposed to go, remember? We planned that-” His voice was kinder than it had been to you in many years, “We would go down in history together. Win together, retire together.”

“When push comes to shove, only one wins… We learned that the hard way.” I say, with a sad smile, “Life doesn’t always go as planned. And I got everything I could ever want from Formula 1. Now it’s time for new stuff.”

“What new stuff?”

“I want to have a family, Fernando. People don’t stick around long for this lifestyle, you know that-” You shook your head.

With one last look at Fernando, your eyes watered, and you walked away.

Sitting on the porch, you looked up at the sky, thinking of what’s next for you. It had been months since you announced your retirement from Formula 1. The new season had already begun. It was your birthday, a refreshing new one.

You heard steps coming closer and your heartbeat sped up as you saw Fernando walking up to you. He sat down by your side, holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. He handed one to you and in silence, you started eating ice cream.

“I’ve been looking for you,�� he said after a few minutes of silence.

“Was it hard to find me?” You asked, with a tentative smile.

“It only took me my whole life to find you again…” He said, wistfully, his eyes shining under moonlight and you didn’t know if those were unshed tears or not, “my best friend, my nena, my girl…”

“I’ve always been here. Right here.” You said, eyes watering. You weren’t sure you could explain what that here meant, but somehow you knew he would understand.

Fernando took your hand, gently placing it on his chest, right above his heart.

“Right here,” he whispered, pressing his hand above yours, over his beating heart, “you were always here.”

Then, he kissed you. For the first time in more than a decade, for what felt like the first time for both of you. As his other hand pulled you closer, the kiss deepened, like a prayer and a promise. Both of you knew there was a lot of resentment to navigate through, and a lot of feelings you’d both have to unravel and understand. But there was one thing that was always there, through hate, anger and hurt… And it was love, unshaken, steadfast love.

As you broke apart, Fernando pulled you into him, hugging you tight for a few minutes, before pulling away to hold your face with both hands, his eyes looking into yours with so much devotion it melted everything away.

“We will be alright.”

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angelicqsa · 5 months ago

Text

༊*˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️ 𝖶𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖦𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 | 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗒 𝖡𝗅𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗑 ��𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖮𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗃𝗈𝖻𝗌, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍, 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 | 𝖨 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾… 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 100, 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗍..

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

────────────˚🦢・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆────────────

You had always been a little snarky to everyone. To Clarke, to Bellamy, to Abby and Kane. Everyone. But no one seemed to mind it, a lot of people found your comments and your attitude amusing. No one had time to worry about your comments since your friends were missing and presumed to be kidnapped by the grounders. But Bellamy always had time. He'd always yell at you saying 'shut up' or if he's a little more annoyed it'd be 'shut the fuck up now.' and you'd always keep going because what would he do? nothing.

You and Bellamy strongly disliked each other. You didn't like the fact he was always so worried about your comments, and he didn't like your attitude or snarky comments, which caused a lot of tension between the two of you.

You two were always caught arguing and everyone attempted to help you two move past the hate for one another but it just couldn't happen, the tension and frustration between you two were just too strong.

You leave your room and start walking towards Raven and Wick's workplace. You walk in greeting both of them and plan to stay the rest of the day there.

"Hello to my favorite mechanic!" You say obnoxiously while making kissy faces in Raven's face.

She lets out a small chuckle and gives you a playful disgusted look. You smile at her and make your way over to Wick and give him a half-five while looking at the new device he was working on.

"Whatcha workin' on Wick?" You way with a smirk knowing Raven was gonna tease him for it or call him dumb. They've had a lot of tension between them, you can tell anytime you walk into the room. Silence, heaviness. That's the only way to describe it, kind of like you and Bellamy after having a small argument.

Wick simply holds it up like you were supposed to know what it was. "What the hell is it? You're holding it up as if I asked if it was a book or something.." You say with a hint of attitude and Wick just rolls his eyes while Raven chuckles.

Raven holds up a walkie-talkie and asks Wick if something is on. you had no idea what they were referring to and just thought it was a nerdy engineer thing.

Raven then turns to you and explains to you the plan to go find Finn and Murphy who were out looking for Clarke, who somehow escaped Mount Weather, and that was where our friends were located. You nod in agreement to the plan and join them.

You and Raven say your goodbyes to Wick and you help Raven get her crutches and hand her the bag of extra ammo that she planned on giving us and start making your way to the secluded part of camp Jaha. It took you two a little while because of Raven's leg and how the crutches slowed her down, but you two made it.

You see Bellamy and Raven set down the bag with the ammo on the boulder and say to Bellamy 'Scored you a couple clips'. Clarke then walks up and says "Hey. Mom's in surgery, and the team going after Kane just left. We should too."

Bellamy then asks us if we found Octavia who's summoned upon hearing her name, she walks up and says, "No. I found you."

She then proceeds to say, "I'm not letting you leave here without me." You all blankly stare at her then Clarke tries to speak up, "Octavia-"

Octavia then cuts Clarke off and does a little rant, "Finn and Murphy are headed for Lincoln's village. I've been there. Have you?" She points to Bellamy and then says "Has she?" She then points to Clarke, Bellamy is just looking down letting her talk, and then he finally picks his head up and says "You done?"

Octavia looks at her brother and does a small shrug, Clarke hands Octavia's pack to you and you throw it at her softly.

She looks at you with curiosity and asks "Whats this?" and Bellamy responds for you with, "Your pack." He then smirks and says "Lead the way."

Octavia attempts to walk towards the barbed wire and Raven holds out her crutch and you say "Woah there Pocahontas, you might get electrocuted." Bellamy rolls his eyes at your remark and Octavia just looks confused.

Raven touches the barbed wire with her crutch and a group of sparks ignite upon the spot Raven touched, we all jump back in surprise. Clarke whispers anxiously to Raven and says "I thought you sa

id it was handled." Raven responds "It is." Then she raises her walkie-talkie and says "Shut her down Wick." After a few radio beeps, Raven touches the fence again and this time sparks don't ignite.

Raven smirks at Clarke and nods "Handled." You all nod. Octavia throws her pack through the fence and crouches through, then Clarke follows, then Bellamy, and finally you. But before you follow, you turn to Raven and smirk at her "While I'm gone, I suggest you han-" You get cut off by Bellamy saying "Hurry up, we don't have all fucking day." You stick your middle finger up at him and continue your statement to Raven, "Back to what I was saying, I suggest you handle that 'frustration' with Wick or try to work it out before I get back." You send her a wink then crouches through the fence.

Raven then yells with a smirk "I suggest the same to you with you know who!" You look at her with slight confusion then it dawns on you. Bellamy. Your face quickly turns sour and you turn towards the rest of the group who was wearing a look of confusion.

You start walking with the Octavia while Clarke and Bellamy are a little behind. She looks at you and says, "I know Raven was talking about my brother." You simply roll your eyes and say "I have no idea what she's talking about." Octavia smirks and says "It's very obvious there's tension between you two, always going back and forth over the smallest things." You shake your head and stay silent. Octavia just shakes her head with a laugh and you all continue your journey finding Finn and Murphy quiet. It turns into night time and you guys decide to camp in an area with many twigs and logs to create a fire.

Octavia and Clarke are asleep and it is only you and Bellamy awake. He stares at Octavia, then his gaze shifts to Clarke's sleeping figure, and then his gaze lands on you, he rolls his eyes feeling annoyed with your presence.

You look at him and how beat up he was with all the bruises and cuts on his face after the battle with the grounders. You couldn't help but feel a little upset that someone did that to him. But why did you care? You two hate each other right?

You scoff at his reaction to just your presence completely forgetting the feeling you just felt regarding his bruises, he glares at you and says "What?" You just shake your head and say "You hate me that much? My presence bothers you?"

He shakes his head and sighs then softly mutters "I don't hate you." His voice and his comment was a complete contrast to how he'd always treat you.

You look at him with wide eyes, completely caught off guard with his answer. "Then why are you always so rude?"

He claps back quickly and says "Why do you always have something snarky to say?"

You roll your eyes and say "Why do you always have to respond? You can be normal and ignore them like everyone fucking else!"

This seems to ignite anger in him and he says "Because someone always needs to put a bitch in their place."

You get upset and mutter a quick "Fuck you asshole! this is why we never get along!"

He says "We never get along because of you!" You roll your eyes and say, "Listen I don't wanna argue okay? I was asking you something I'd always been curious about."

He looks at you with a look you could partly explain, it had some guilt, some softness to it and he just nods at you then does completely unexpected and out of character, he rubs your arm and mutters 'Goodnight'.

You are shocked, but quickly hide it by turning your back to him and nodding, then lays down.

Clarke then stirs awake and they have a conversation you can barely comprehend because you are slowly drifting off to sleep until you feel someone putting their jacket on you. And it had the musky scent of Bellamy.

An hour later you're shaken awake by Octavia telling you that the group was getting ready to keep walking and look for Finn and Murphy. Octavia then says "Is that my brother's jacket?" You look confused at first then remember he gave it to you last night.

You quickly walk away from Octavia and hands Bellamy his jacket back without saying a word, you then walk back to Octavia and continue on your journey.

You guys had been walking for a couple of hours and finally spotted a village. You all hear gunfire and Bellamy grips his gun and starts running towards the village. You stand there a little shocked but then start following after the group.

You felt out of breath once the three suddenly stopped. You walk up closer to see what caused the sudden halt.

You regret even coming to find Finn and Murphy, you slowly approach the village full of blood and dead bodies of the grounders who once resided there. You felt like puking, you felt repugnant as your eyes searched for the corporate of this bloody scene. And your eyes find Finn, holding a gun with blood.

He looks at us in shock, meanwhile, the grounders who hadn't been killed started weeping for their loved ones who weren't as fortunate as them. Your hand is suddenly taken in by another and squeezed. You look up to see it was Bellamys hand. Tears started coming out of your eyes once you heard the grounders weeping and screaming. It tore something out of you.

Clarke hops down and starts slowly making her way to Finn while looking around at the mess he caused. You and Bellamy start following her and move at her pace.

Finn just looks at us with a shocked look not even caring about what he's done. He walks towards Clarke and she backs up one step every time he takes one step. You and Bellamy look at each other and then down at your hands that are still connected, you two quickly detach and move away from one another.

Finn finally whispers after a pregnant silence, "I found you" He says while staring at Clarke, Clarke just shakes her head in shock.

It had been two days since that happened and you hadn't been yourself, seeing those deceased grounders took a toll on you.

You walk to the mess hall where Bellamy and Clarke are gathered to talk about Mount Weather and getting in. You simply sit and look blankly at the map, not saying a word to the pair.

Your attention is finally gathered once you see they both were looking behind Bellamy at something, you then look and see they were looking at Finn who was staring back at us. You quickly turn your head in disgust.

Bellamy says "Guess the inquisition is over." He turns back to Clarke and says "How's Finn doing anyway?"

Clarke looks down and says "I haven't talked to him since we got back." You roll your eyes and say "Who the hell would want to talk to that monster after what he did?"

Clarke nods at your statement then shakes her head, "I don't know what to say" Her voice is heavy with sorrow.

Bellamy attempts to defend Finn and says "We're at war Clarke. We've all done things."

You shake your head at his statement and say "But we haven't done things like that. Not even you." Finn starts to walk up "Here comes the monster.."

Bellamy glares at you and mouthes 'Cut it out' Finn mutters to all of us 'Hey' and Bellamy is the only one to verbally respond. You respond by getting up and walking toward the bar.

Bellamy stands up and follows after feeling the tension between the couple. He comes up next to you in the bar and just looks at you.

You glare at him and say "What the fuck are you looking at?" He scoffs and says "What the fuck is your problem? I hadn't even said anything yet!"

You shake your head and roll your eyes at him. He scoffs and whispers heatedly to keep the conversation between the two of you, "I don't know what the fuck is your problem, but I'm fucking tired of it. The snarky remarks, the rudeness. You are such a bitch."

You glare at his nasty words and slap him. You really slap him. He looks at you with wide eyes while he holds his cheek.

"You are such a bitch! I don't fucking get it!" He says even angrier than he was. You both are silent and glaring at each other, he then thinks for a moment, then grabs you and starts dragging you somewhere.

You try to get out of his grip but his grip is too tight. "Get the fuck off of me Bellamy!" You yell while some people look at you two like you both are crazy.

You see Bellamy's room and he quickly unlocks the door then throws you in the room and promptly turns and locks the door.

He moves quickly to the other side of the room and grabs you again. You yell at him, questioning what the hell you were doing there but your yells fell on deaf ears.

Bellamy pulls you closer to him, so close to the point he didn't have to move to whisper in your ear, "You wanna act like a bitch hm? I guess that means I can treat you like one…"

He turns you over and backs you up against the wall. Words couldn't describe how you were feeling. Horny? Like your skin was being ignited? You didn't have thoughts, you knew you wanted to fuck him. But then it suddenly dawns on you, that the reason you felt so frustrated with him and always argued with him wasn't because of hate. It was because of lust.

You are staring at the wall eyes blown with complete lust. Bellamy turns you around and smirks at your expression. "Now you finally don't have anything to say hm?" You stare at him at a loss for words. He chuckles then starts kissing you roughly but full of passion. You two fight for dominance, tongues swirling together and tasting each other.

He smirks as he finally dominates the kiss, he pulls away and moves onto making love bites on your neck; licking, sucking, and biting. All you could do was throw your head back and let out little whines.

Bellamy slowly massages your breasts and plays with them, agonizingly slow. He completely switches it up and drags you to the bed.

He rips off your shirt and unclamps your bra with one hand while leaving more love bites. He then stops and looks at the sight of you, messy hair, puffy face, pretty tits. He looks at you in awe then he says "You are so fucking beautiful for being a whore.." You smirk at him and say breathlessly "Like what you see Bellamy?" He looks high off of lust, he responds "Of fucking course I do slut." He starts devouring your breasts, sucking, licking, biting. And you were enjoying every single bit. Moaning and whimpering when he bit your nipples.

"Fuck Bellamy. Please just touch me." You say whining at the lack of attention your clit was getting. You desperately tried grinding on his leg or the bed. Something. He slaps your ass hard for attempting to grind on something.

"See now.. sluts don't get to cum. You are gonna please me. Do you understand" He says as he grips your hair roughly to look him in the face. You stay silent, feeling disappointed. He slaps you and says "I know you fucking hear me. Now do you understand?" You nod feeling your right cheek turn red.

He smirks at your obedience and starts taking his pants off and sits on the edge of the mattress he had. He spreads his legs slightly and orders you to sit in between his legs as if you were a dog. You were really in for it now.

He was left only in his boxers, he stared down at you and then he says, "Take them off and suck." He says pointing to his man area.

You quickly obey feeling your panties start to dampen at his commands. You pull his boxers down and free his member, he lets out a subtle groan since you finally freed his hardness.

You scoot closer and look up at him, making eye contact while you start slowly licking his tip tasting his precum. You then spit on his tip and start jerking his member and letting the spit and precum mix and it goes down to his shaft. Bellamy throws his head back in pleasure and groans.

He then grabs you by your hair and says "Open your fucking mouth." You quickly obey and open your mouth, and he quickly fills it with his penis. He starts bobbing your head up and down slowly at first, he then starts groaning at the pleasure, then increases the pace. Now you're completely deepthroating his dick while he's just enjoying the pleasure and enjoying how you make him feel.

You take his dick out of your mouth and catch your breath for a few seconds, you then continue the assault and start to circle his tip with your tongue again while making eye contact. He looks down at you and pushes your head down once again, but this time he says "I'm close baby.." He throws his head back and starts thrusting into your throat. A few thrusts later you feel a hot creamy substance go down your throat. Bellamy groans loudly as he cums and rambles 'What a good girl', 'Fuck.. you did so well.' You smirk at his praise and he reaches down and grabs your jaw and says "Swallow." And you swallow the rest of the cum that had not reached your throat.

He looks at you in satisfaction and you sit there on your knees waiting for him to reward you with the same pleasure you rewarded him. But there hadn't been any reward. No nothing. Bellamy rises and pulls his boxers and his pants back up and says, "I know you're waiting to be touched…" He chuckles and bends down and looks you in your face, "But you aren't getting that satisfaction." You look at him angrily, feeling upset that you aren't receiving that same satisfaction. You thought he'd change his mind, but you thought wrong.

"You are the biggest asshole, Bellamy!" You whine, and he just smirks and taps your chin. "Get dressed." You follow his command and collect your disregarded bra and ripped-up shirt.

Bellamy throws you one of his shirts, remembering he had ripped the one you originally came with.

You start to walk out but he pulls you towards him and says "I hope you learned your lesson, gorgeous girl." You look up at him with a newly found feeling that was foreign when it came to Bellamy, despite not getting touched you felt content. "I might need another sometime soon.." You say with a smirk and Bellamy laughs and says "Maybe I'll give you one sometime soon.." He leans down and kisses you slowly and passionately.

You break the kiss say your goodbyes and walk off to your room. You open the door and gets welcomed by Raven sitting on the bed fiddling with your books, she looks up at you and smirks.

"Look who's finally back.." She looks at your appearance and says "Had a rough day huh?" She looks you up and down. You quickly walk to the mirror and see all the marks Bellamy left and your disheveled appearance.

"I see you took your advice. I can only assume it was with Bellamy." Raven laughs.

"Shut it, Raven! I-i have no idea how it even happened.." You say while reminiscing the events that happened only moments ago.

"You're also wearing his shirt. How good was it." You gasp at the end part and slap Raven's arm with wide eyes. Raven just laughs at you and you can't help but also start to laugh.

You start to think about Bellamy again and how you really wouldn't mind if something like what just happened with you two happened again.

𝘞𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘎𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 💓

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐яєqυєѕт!

─────⋆˚࿔𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐪𝐬𝐚𝜗𝜚˚⋆─────

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barcaatthemoon · 1 month ago

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something new || mariona caldentey x reader ||

You and Mariona try something new together.

18+

A trail of red and white led into the master bedroom of your apartment. You had no idea where your roommate was, most likely having joined the other girls on a night out to celebrate the team's win. Everybody had known that once Mariona scored, the two of you were unlikely to tear yourselves away from each other for the night. They didn't mind though, especially since it gave quite a few of your teammates ammo to tease the two of you for later.

You would happily take a lifetime of their teasing for a night with Mariona. She was a perfect partner for you, not caring about your lack of experience with women. Your relationship with her was only the second that you had been in with another woman. Before that, you had been pretty deep in denial about your feelings towards women. Mariona understood that it was part of the way you were raised, and so, she was patient with you.

"Mari, I want to try something." You weren't sure why you were so nervous. The worst that Mariona could ever do was say no to you, but it was still a little embarrasing to you. Communicating your wants and needs had never been something that you were overly good at, but you were getting a little bit better at that every single day.

"Que?" Mariona asked. You could see her facial expression change a little as she caught herself. "I'm sorry, um, what is it?"

"You're fine baby," you reassured her.

"What did you want to try?" Mariona asked you. You sat up a little, pulling a blanket with you. You had a tendency to cover up a lot more than she did. Both Mariona and Laia were very comfortable, which you thought was great, even if it had led to a lot of embarrassing interactions whenever the three of you all moved in together.

"Well, um, Leah and Katie were going on about using a strap-on, and I just thought that maybe if you had one, we could try it too. We don't have to, and I'm really enjoying the things you do normally, but I was curious…" You tried to turn away from her as you trailed off. Mariona was quick to reach for you, gently turning your face towards her again.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. Wait here while I go get it," Mariona told you. She gave you a couple of quick kisses before she ran off towards her own bedroom. You sighed, glad that Laia wasn't home so that there was absolutely no chance of her catching Mariona running naked through the hallway.

Mariona couldn't have been gone for very long, but each second that ticked by began to crumble your resolve. You began to wonder if you'd like it. It was new, and you had always sort of been a "set in your ways" type of person. Mariona had been a good partner, especially with her efforts in expanding your horizons.

"Is everything alright, mi amor?" Mariona asked as she slid back into the bed behind you. She leaned forward slightly, kissing your shoulder as she pulled you back to rest against her.

"It's fine, I was just a bit nervous," you told her. Mariona smiled as she leaned over to keep peppering kisses against your skin. "This won't hurt, will it?"

"No, and if it does, I'll stop. We don't have to do this though," Mariona said. You let out a small sigh as you turned around. You did want this, but you just had to get over yourself.

"Let's do this. I trust you, and I love you." Mariona sat up and turned you onto your back. You spread your legs a little, leaving her a bit of room to settle into. Mariona glanced down for a moment, biting back a smile as she saw how wet you were. You could tell that she didn't want to be cocky about having made you so wet before from what had been little more than a heavy makeout session.

"I'm going to start with my fingers, okay?" Mariona was very clear with you about what was happening. She checked in on you constantly, even throughout things that you had done together before. You weren't completely new to penetrative sex, but Mariona didn't want to risk overwhelming you with anything.

Sex with Mariona was always fairly romantic and intimate, but this felt like it was a whole other level. In the bit of time that you had been seeing Mariona, she had taken the time to learn everything about your body that she could. She knew exactly how to make you ridiculously wet without you feeling like you were being edged or teased too badly.

"Do you think that you're ready?" Mariona asked as she slowly pumped three fingers in and out of you.

"Yes, please. I want to feel you." Your own voice surprised you. You had never heard yourself sound so needy before, but Mariona didn't act surprised at all. Instead, she pulled her fingers out and used the wetness on them to coat the tip with your wetness.

"Sit up a little," Mariona told you. You sat up on your elbows, watching carefully as she squirted a little bit of lube into her hands. She spread it along the length of the dildo until it was practically glistening in the light of your bedroom. "Keep looking at me, and remember to let me know if it's too much."

"I will," you mumbled. Mariona gave you one last deep kiss, one that was broken just as the tip of her strap pressed into you. You let out a gasp as you grabbed at Mariona's arms, squeezing her at her biceps as she eased into you.

"Breathe, just breathe baby," Mariona gently instructed. You were no stranger to a bit of talking during sex, but it had never been like this. Mariona had never talked you through it, and you found yourself growing even wetter as she did so in the moment. You willed yourself to relax at her guidance, which allowed you to better enjoy the experience.

"Mari, I think I'm getting close," you warned her. Mariona nodded as she could feel the subtle clench of your cunt around the toy. It wasn't enough to completely stop her thrusts, but she began to just rock her hips, dragging over one of the more sensitive spots inside of you.

You had never felt anything like it before. Penetration wasn't normally what did it for you, but Mariona had barely touched you in any other way. You felt your orgasm burn through your body, not necessarily explosive, but definitely making itself known. Mariona felt your body begin to go limp beneath her, and she waited until you were completely motionless to slip out of you.

"Don't go," you whined, blindly reaching for Mariona. She slipped away from the bed, and you could hear her sprinting around the apartment to get back to you. You were about to protest when she placed one of your thighs over her shoulder before you felt her begin to wipe away the excess wetness. "Does it feel like that every single time?"

"Not really, no. We can try other things with the toys later if you'd like, but not right now. Now we rest. I told Laia that we'd meet them tonight at the bar." You hummed as Mariona laid down next to you. She was messing around with her phone, most likely putting on an alarm so that you would wake up in time to meet the team for a night out. You didn't have long to rest, but the nap was greatly appreciated after the thrill of the game and subsequent activities.

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso smut #minors do not interact #minors dni #mariona caldentey smut #mariona caldentey x reader #mariona caldentey imagine

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bamfaholic · 3 months ago

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From Eden to Sit at Your Door

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Kurt x Reader | 2.8k words

Summary: Kurt visits home, Munich, and decides to sit across from you. With your limited vision, it takes time for you to catch on to who this man really is. Not that you're given much time at all before your life is in danger.

Summary:

You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”

He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”

You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

Alternate summary: Kurt is on a mission, accidentally causes hijinks, and catches feelings for the reader. Even more hijinks ensue.

A/N: this originally was going to be a bullet hc of a blind!reader x Kurt and now it's a multi-part fic lol. The reader will probably turn into an oc but the cringe cop has me in cuffs

This fic has been posted to my AO3 as well! Support me and find my other works there!

On an Autmn morning, you lounged at your local café, just mere blocks from your flat. The wind nipped at the tips of your ears, rustling stray hairs free. You remained warm, though, with your wool coat and cup of peppermint tea in your palms. The harsh difference of the chilling wind and familiar warmth was a part of this routine you cherished. Slowly raising the cup to your lips, a sip warmed you from the inside out.

The workers knew you, knew your name, your story. Practically blind from birth, you couldn’t recall a time when you didn’t have a thick dark vignette frame your vision. Your eyes were often compared to translucent glass marbles, commonly in distaste. Every now and then you were even accused of being a mutant. You always replied with a scoff, wondering if simple biology had been thrown out the window ever since the Mutant Panic in the 70’s.

Though, it piqued your interest in university. You began to dig to see if mutants were similar, or even no different, than those disabled. Unfortunately, the hoops to jump through to acquire a degree with accommodations surmounted and you had to drop out. Your classmate and friend, however, still often visited to read to you scientific papers, and assisted you in writing a thesis in their free time. For now, you resorted to being an author, as you needed to express your ideas with the world.

Which is why you people watched. Each morning you had your cup of tea and watched the quick blurs and bursts of color, sometimes squinting to really focus on a detail. You listened to their words, their stories. It was all ample ammo for your works. You had fallen so lost in concentration, you failed to notice the man sit down at your table. You took a few more sips, savoring the flavors melting over your tongue. There was a flick of a distinct blue, such an unnatural color, that caught your eye.

“Ah, excuse me.” His German was natural, native, and yet there were inklings of an American influence. “I hope you don’t mind me sitting here.”

You turned your body to face him, setting your cup down on the coaster. “No, not at all.” You softly smiled. “It’s not often I have company.”

While odd in nature to encroach a stranger’s space, it didn’t bother you. You figured all the other seats were taken; it was a busy morning after all. If he was not to disturb your peace, then you would pay it no mind.

You scanned him up and down. From what you could tell, he was wearing a coat with a hood, and something a deep rich blue beneath. Lots of blue. He must really enjoy the color. Gears began to turn in your head, perhaps he could be a fountain of inspiration.

“Your eyes,” He began softly, appearing to nibble on a pastry, “I don’t think I’ve seen a color like that before.” His voice was bursting with excitement and curiosity.

You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek. Here we go... You were prepared to recite the speech you’ve given your entire life but decide to keep it short and sweet. “It’s glaucoma, my eyes shouldn’t look like this.”

“Ah, I see.” Another bite. “I apologize, I have never heard of such a condition before.”

You glance down, tracing the lip of your teacup with your fingertip. “Are you American? I hear it in your voice, but your German is perfect.” You decide to change the subject.

He chuckles, “Have I really been gone that long?” He softly mumbles to himself. “No, no I am not. I’m native to here, Munich, but I have been living in the states for some time. New York.”

“New York?” You raise a brow. “That must be so exciting.” A smile pulls at your lips. “I’ve always wanted to see the city, is it as nice as they say?”

Another chuckle, heartier and from his chest this time. “It is far too glamorized. Very dirty, stinky.” He waves a hand. “But the people there… They are truly one of a kind.”

You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”

He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”

You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

You hear his heart beat a little harder, faster. “Ah, thank you!” His cheeriness returns, and you surmise this is this natural state of being.

Now this man really has your attention. You curse yourself for not bringing your notebook. You just simply must engage him in more conversation. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’d love to hear about your time in America, where you plan to go and do while you’re here, back home. I hope it’s not too invasive.”

His tone tells on himself, making it clear he’s excited for someone to be interested in him. “Ah, well, in America I have found family.”

There’s a quick arch of blue that blurs behind his head. You blink. Did you just hallucinate?

“They truly are a gift from God.” He shakes his head. “You asked about my time in America, no? Not my family. Ahem.” He clears his throat and straightens himself in his seat. “I was rescued, in truth, I did not have the best life here in Munich. I used to be in the circus.” A smile slips across his lips as he reminisces. “They called me ‘The Great Nightcrawler.’” He spreads his hands out and open in front of him for added effect. “I was a trapeze artist, a great one.”

You hang onto every word, but bust out a giggle, “I assumed as much, with ‘Great’ being included in ‘The Great Nightcrawler’ and all.”

Kurt stumbles over himself, “Ah, yes- I suppose you are right.” He laughs in turn. “But I flew through the air with ease, to deafening applause.”

“Did you enjoy it? It sounds like you were beloved.” You muse.

“Aye, I did.” A beat passes, and his tone suddenly shifts somber. “Doing a performance, anyway. Any other time… It was not so great, the living conditions.”

Your lips form a tight frown. You won’t push himself to share what could be hurtful. The man links his hands together in front of him on the table. “A cage,” He begins. “I was kept in a cage, like an animal. Fed scraps, if anything. Force-fed beer after shows.” A broken, awkward laugh escapes his chest, “I would suddenly be a drunkard, not even knowing where in God’s Earth I was, then thrown into that harsh cold steel.”

You knit your eyebrows together, chewing the inside of your cheek more. A nervous, unhealthy habit you developed when the gears began to turn in your head. “How?” You squeak out. “How is that possible? How could they do that, isn’t it illegal?”

There’s a great, long pause. The shuffle of the pedestrians that wade by fill your ears. “I am a man of God, friend. I entrust in Him my life, my future. If He wished for me to… Endure that trial, then who am I to question Him.”

His answer left a sour taste in your mouth. He was dodging the issue at hand, you both knew that. You take a sharp inhale through your teeth, fidgeting with the hem of your one sleeve. It wasn’t uncommon to find someone faithful, and you had no gripes against Kurt for being so devout, but you just couldn't accept it being used as an excuse for flat-out abuse.

You open your mouth to press him without much thought, but luckily something else ensnares your attention. About twenty feet down the sidewalk, across the street, you hear the chatter of two policemen.

“There he is.” The one on the left gruffs.

“I see ‘im.” The other spits, “Bloody mutant.”

A mutant? Your heart leaps. Despite your infatuation with them, hungry to know more, you nearly never got to interact with one. You whip your head around, hoping that maybe despite your impaired vision, you could spot them in the crowd. Alas, the only strange figure is… The very man seated across from you.

Your heart now pounds in your ears, adrenaline searing through your veins. “Kurt,” You lower your voice, reaching out to grab his hand. “Please, just, trust me.”

“What?” He laughs, “Is there a joke coming? What is with the sudden seriousness, friend?” But as he sees your expression, his body tenses.

“Just walk with me. Do not look behind us.”

You rise from your seat, pushing it in beneath the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Still gripping his hand firmly, you begin to drag him down the street, blending in with the foot traffic.

“He’s starting to get away!” Your ears burn, hearing the police notice your failure to slip away.

It is only now your heart drops as you realize you have no idea what you are doing. Your guess about Kurt being the mutant is confirmed by the police’s reaction, but you didn’t think this far ahead. Where were you even going? What was the end goal? Walk to the end of the earth, hoping the police never catch up?

“Friend-“ Kurt begins, “What is the matter? What is going on?” His words slam into each other a tad, his breath hitching and increasing. He whips his head around, trying to see whatever had spooked you.

“The police,” You begin in a hiss, “They seem to be after you. I heard it.”

“Heard it?” He’s stunned. “Heard it where?”

You quickly yank him into a tight alleyway, a mere inch separates your chests as you face him. “Shh, watch. Across the street, they’re coming towards us. I’m sure they saw us dip in here.” You’re out of breath as your heart pounds against your ribcage. “I heard them talk about a mutant.”

It’s only now, being so up close and personal, do you truly see Kurt. It’s not that he likes the color blue, he is blue. His eyes are a dazzling gold. Two tiny points threaten to peek out from his lips, little fangs. Your eyes drift down, seeing a tail that ends in a pointed spade. You surmise that must have been the blur of blue from before.

“Y-You’re the mutant.” Your voice trembles, the adrenaline putting strain on your body. The realization of the pleasant fellow you spent your morning with being so… Different. You kick yourself for thinking that way, but it’s only result of the propaganda lining the streets. Your eyes are burning holes into him. You hear the blood rush to his face and ears, heart pounding.

You clutch your cane tighter, leaning into it. It’s not the best for you, as not only do you have Glaucoma, you happen to be blessed with the co-morbidity of Sickle Cell Anemia. Your joints are weaker than a healthy individual, and intense exercise, like running from the cops, is ill-advised. Your head swims as the tachycardia hits you like a tidal wave.

“Ah-“ Kurt raises his hands, hoping it eases your panic. “Aye, I am, but I am a friend. I won’t hurt you-“

Something whizzes by, grazing the bridge of your nose. Screams ring out in the street, pedestrians scrambling in every which way.

“Halt!” One of the officers bark, pointing some form of gun at the two of you. “You are being detained, mutant!”

The other steadily approaches, reaching for something hooked to his belt. Kurt’s eyes glance from the officers to you, and he closes the gap, wrapping his arms around you. “Take a breath, this may be disorienting.”

“Kurt, what-!“ You don’t get to finish, gasping as you feel yourself being hurled at a racing speed. It takes you by such surprise, you lose grip of your cane.

A plume of smoke clouds your vision as the smell of brimstone burns your nostrils. You cough, wobbling on your feet. You were dizzy before, but this was tilt-a-whirl level of topsy-turvy. You try to use your cane to steady yourself, but find that your weight is being supported by nothing at all.

You begin to head face first to what’s beneath you, but you’re caught by Kurt, his arm wrapping around your torso. “Careful there, friend.” He softly says, lifting you up. He refuses to release you until he’s certain you won’t go tumbling.

You blink. You were just in the alleyway, but now you’re peering down the city of Munich. The cops are just below you, and you see one officer ready his gun, aiming right for Kurt.

“Kurt!” You lunge toward him, the shingles of the roof unkind to being stepped on. It begins to slip away, sending you back down with gravity.

Another shot rings out. Kurt snatches you again, by your scruff, but he didn’t foresee the hit landing on you.

A curdling scream is ripped from your lungs, you feel the pierce of a needle in your side. In an instant, it feels cold, like liquid nitrogen being pumped in your veins. You look down, seeing a vial attached to the needle. Without much thought, you reach to grab it. Whatever it is, you want it out.

“No, don’t do that-“ Kurt firmly grasps your wrist. “I’m sorry, friend, but not until I know what they just dosed you with.”

“Dosed?” Your body not only feels frigid, as if you were tossed into a snow storm naked, it’s quickly increasing in mass. Your legs are growing limp.

“Aye.” His jaw locks, his gaze scanning down at the chaos below the two of you. “We must go.” He tosses you over his shoulder and whispers, “I am sorry.”

Another brief burst of frightening motion, another plume of smoke. It feels like being pitched like a baseball at record speeds. Your tea threatens to come back up from your stomach. You groan, rolling your head to the side. It’s strange seeing such familiar buildings from a birds-eye view, but you recognize you’ve moved a few blocks away in an instant.

You suffer a few more rounds of the sickening movement, before it finally ends. You’re in a cold, quiet bell tower. You’ve lost all sense of direction. You could be halfway across the globe for all you knew.

Kurt rests you against the wall, watching as your body slumps. “I am sorry, friend.” You try to move your head up, to hold his gaze, but you can’t. Your arms lay solid on the harsh stone.

Kurt crouches down, moving your coat away to inspect the projectile lodged in your side. “I am so sorry if this hurts. Please let me know.” His voice is so soft, as if he was speaking to a new born. It comforts you. He gently cups the tube in his hand, reading the inscription on the side. “Tch, American.” He spits.

He sighs, forcing a little smile for you. “Good news and bad news, friend.” He gently frees the needle out from you, ripping a pained gasp out of you. “It is just a tranquilizer, you will not die. It also happened to hit your liver, so it will flush out of your system quicker than usual. Bad news, you will be… Like this, for quite some time.”

You can’t even respond. You’re putting all your willpower into focusing on him, keeping your eyes open.

“But fret not, I will keep you safe!” He grins, slipping the tranquilizer into his pocket. “They do not call me the Great Nightcrawler for nothing.” He chuckles, but the worry lines on his face are crisp, even with your vision.

He glances over his shoulder. The chilly air only burns as wind whips across your features. You begin to shiver. When he looks back to you, he scrambles to slip off his coat, draping it on top of you. Underneath, he wears a tight black, red, and white uniform.

Silly, you think, your rational slipping, his circus outfit, here?

“Ah, I am so sorry.” He gently wipes a tear that you hadn’t registered. “You are safe, shh. Rest.” He pats your head.

You gain your senses for a moment, frustration boiling in you. You don’t, can’t, let yourself go. Not here, not now. You blink, again and again, fighting those heavy eyelids.

In astonishment, you watch as Kurt opens your satchel, rummaging around. He pulls out your wallet. Is he… Robbing you? How could he? You grumble in protest, but it falls on deaf ears. He places your wallet back in your bag, laying it gently in your lap.

“Rest easy, friend. I will return, I promise you.”

Smoke swirls in front of you, that now familiar burning smell hits you. The last thing you can recall is noticing a rosary, of all things, resting in your palm. The face of The Messiah watches you as you helplessly black out.

- - - -

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Find the fic here on AO3

Banners by @/cafekitsune

#my works #⚔️#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #x men evolution #xmen #x-men #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #angst #x reader #xmen x #reader #x-men x reader #xmen fanfic #x-men fanfic

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millersfinest · 25 days ago

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the thing in your chest that beats ² | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 4.5k

mini-series: california | oregon (you’re here) | idaho | wyoming

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: angry!r, slow-burn romance, eventual smut, proximity trope, both reader and ellie on a path of redemption, afab body parts mentioned, vulgar language, reader being complicated, mentions of attraction, inner guilt, use of ‘y/n’ and ‘woman’.

note: honestly i just can’t wait for them to kiss (spoiler: not this chapter). but they’re learning to trust each other. just know in the idaho ch we’re gonna be UP! please, enjoy this for now!! (also: i hope the lot of you voted for the presidential election. these are very very important times #harriswaltz2024)

Oregon

Several days and nights were spent on a boat, cruising up the coast of California. It was one of those livable boats, where you could hide from the sun in a room with stable furniture to eat on, and a bed to sleep on. You spent a lot of your time inside the hatch, analyzing a map that Ellie had labeled with a marker. Hoping that you’d maintain your luck enough to actually see Wyoming for yourself.

Ellie had confessed that she came from Jackson, but she still hadn’t told you the why. Instead of asking about it, you refrained, in turn, asking about the settlement. Were the people kind? Did they have horses? Because you heard they had horses.

Those were the questions she could answer easily, with little to no hesitation. Until your questioning began to irritate her—which, in turn, irritated you.

The two of you bickered over the smallest of things in those days on the water. It could’ve been the heat, or the rationed food, or even your similar personalities. You couldn’t help but clash every chance you got. By the time the two of you drifted onto the coastline of Oregon, the conversations had diminished—because of your stubborn attitudes.

Leaving behind the boat was a drag, but there’s wasn’t much of a choice. The rest of the journey toward Wyoming was going to be on foot. Over cracked pavements and between dewey trees. If only the trip could be simplified by the use of a boat—it would be less extraneous.

The weather had gotten significantly cooler the more north you traveled. The mornings were the coolest, and the days were chilled with a gentle breeze. It would rain eighty percent of the time, which made it harder for you and Ellie to continue the trek. But both of you were resilient.

Somewhere between Salem and Portland, you found yourselves looking for a place to stay for the night. You had run across some nefarious people when you first arrived at the coast; and you’ve been recovering ever since. Trying to collect as many things as possible on the road to make up for the lost ammo and supplies. Which is what led to you looking for a place to crash in, basically, pitch black darkness. Navigating the dewey wood with nothing but the lights attached to your bags.

Droplets of water slipped off the waxy green leaves of the trees above. Splashing onto you—and it was shocking every time. The climate sent a gentle chill up your spine, so the water was even colder. Ellie walked ahead of you, mumbling under her breath from the lack of shelter. Her agitation was ruminating off her skin like a furnace. “We should’ve never gone this way— there’s nothing out here!”

Her agitation was obviously laced with panic. Ellie was exhausted from all the traveling and worries about conflict. “We entered a campsite a few miles back. At the very least there should be a cabin out here.” You surmised, squinting your eyes trying to defy the darkness. The auburn-haired woman scoffed under her breath, adjusting the hood of her raincoat. “If you wanna take a break, just say that.” You reached for her wrist, pulling gently. “It’s been a long day…”

“Absolutely not. We need a place to sleep tonight— with a roof.” Ellie pulled her arm away, placing her hands onto her hips. Her head hung low, clearly fatigued.

“How about this: you park it by this tree for a little bit, while I walk around to see if I can find somethin’ for us.” You offer, shrugging your shoulders, casually. The both of you were exhausted, but it seemed that Ellie was suffering a bit more than you were. Was that not that point of a team? To tap in someone else when you need it. Plus, you really felt that there was a cabin nearby. There had to be one. Most campsites had cabins that hikers and campers would go to before they began their adventures. For supplies or even important notices about wild animals.

Or, maybe, you watched too much tv at the firefly base.

She shook her head. “No chance. Separating in the dark doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. What? So, you can get lost and give us another problem to deal with?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you press your lips into an irritated line. “Are you seriously insulting my intelligence, right now?” You raised an eyebrow, glaring at the woman in front of you. “I was a firefly for six years of my life—“

“Oh, my God! The whole world knows that you were a fucking firefly, y/n. No need for the reminder.”

Ellie began to walk in another direction, sternly. You scoffed, following after her like confused duckling—which was an embarrassing thought. “You’re so insufferable. All I was trying to do was help you out— because to be honest, you’re not handling this well.” You quip, walking by her side with your hands shoved into your pockets.

She scoffed. “How could I handle this well? Please, tell me.” Stopping in her tracks, she glares at you. Olive irises blown out from the darkness around her, boring into your aggressive frame.

Taking a step closer to her, the corners of your lips curled, mischievously. “You could start by taking a fucking break and letting me take the lead.” There was something that differed between you and Ellie’s versions of frustration and anger. She took it up a level, while you brought it down. It could fool an idiot into thinking you weren’t mad at all, when really you were fuming. The pace of your voice was slow, almost menacing. True fire remained behind your eyes, in your posture—the way your lip twitched as you spoke.

“I’m not some damsel in distress you pull everywhere then blame when shit goes wrong.” You added, taking in her battered features. The scar in her eyebrow and her top lip. The freckles under her peeling skin from the days aboard. “I have a great sense of direction; I’ll have you know.” As you spoke, she examined your features the same way you did. “Stop arguing with me, sit your ass down, drink some water— and i’ll be back in twenty minutes tops!”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth, averting her eyes from you. She was too stubborn to admit her own exhaustion to you—she’d rather be in control of the situation than someone she barely knew. Someone, who at the start of this trip, was, in fact, a damsel in distress. Your body had healed in the days since departing Santa Barbara. Not completely, but in progress. You were walking better, even though you still had a bit of a limp.

Her focus on you made it easy to forget her own ailments. The missing fingers on her left hand, the wound on her abdomen. They were healing, surprisingly. However, her attention still remained on your well-being.

She sighed, itching her nose with her index finger. “Fine. Whatever.” Ellie shrugged her backpack off, leaning against the tree. “Just come back in one piece, yeah?” Somehow, she managed to sound insulting with her hidden words of weariness.

You snickered, narrowing your eyes. “Is that worry I’m sensing or…?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

With that, you backed toward the path, chuckling under your breath. Adjusting the hood over your head, you focused to begin looking for the cabin that you just knew was close by. Feet crunching over dead leaves and sticks that were imbedded in the mud.

The light attached to the strap of your bag began to flicker as you pushed between the trees. “Come on…” You hit the light to stabilize it. “Now is not the time.”

When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light.

Your past affiliations haunted you like a ghost. Somehow, you always found yourself looking for that light. Perhaps, in this case, it’s Jackson, Wyoming—a place far from what you know. That was more of a long-term goal, though. The light you were currently looking for was a building made of wood, preferably insulated.

Ahead of you, you weren’t sure if you were seeing things, but what you were hoping for was coming into view. The brightness of the moon illuminating the starry sky outlined the top of the cabin, exposing its silhouette. In excitement, you rushed toward the building, peaking through the foggy windows. From what you could see, there was nothing inside but old furniture. Thankfully, no infected. You were beat; the last thing you wanted to do was fight that damn virus.

As you peeked through every window you could find, jiggling door handles to try and find a way in, you realized it was a home. Not some hiking administration building you surmised would be around the trail. Spending enough time circling the cabin, you pick up a rock from the ground to crack a window. You were getting in that house one way or another.

The rectangular shape was rather high for your reach. Huffing, you dug your fingers into the divots of the logs. It wasn’t the best grip, but it was enough to get you into that window. After throwing your body through the hole, you landed on the ground with a thud. A shallow pain throbbed in your thigh—the one that Ellie had stitched for you back in Santa Barbara. Shutting your eyes, you took in a breath from the slight pain. You weren’t one hundred percent just yet.

Exhaling, you stood tall on your feet to get a look at the interior. A long plaid couch was placed in front of what used to be a fireplace. Burned logs was still lying in the pit, but they burned to a crisp. You were certain that if you touched them, they would fall apart under the weight of your hand. The dirt shapes on the walls symbolized that picture use to fill this space—the cabin was drained of life.

It’s only source of existence was the fact that you were standing in it.

Before leaving to retrieve Ellie, you jogged up the steep stairs of the cabin. To check the upstairs rooms for any infected or people. You must’ve been one lucky woman, because there was nothing but dust occupying those rooms. Quickly, you went through the front door to grab your partner.

Crunching on leaves and sticks, you startled her. Ellie was spotted sat in front of the tree, leaning her back with her eyes closed—which was the least smart thing to do, but she was tired. The sound of your boots crushing the elements of the forest jolted her from her light sleep. She gripped her switchblade in a fist, looking at you with determination. “Fuck,” She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. “I thought you were someone else…”

“Nope. Just me.” You breathed, watching her as she stood to her feet. “There’s a cabin about ten minutes from this spot.” Crossing your arms, a slight smile rested on your lips. A smile screaming I-told-you-so.

Ellie slung her bag around her shoulders, dusting off her jeans; doing everything to ignore your antics. “Are we just gonna stand here, or are you gonna show me where it’s at?”

Sucking your teeth, you pivoted, rolling your eyes. She was such a sore loser. It felt good to be right, and for her to be wrong. You didn’t get lost like she thought—instead, you carried out exactly what you planned: finding shelter for the night.

The two of you approached the cabin, Ellie releasing a sigh of relief. Hallow sounds of your shoes walking up the steps of the wooden porch sounded. You opened the door, allowing her to walk through. Staring her down with same smile you had a few minutes ago. “Nice place, huh?” You asked, shutting the door behind you, turning the lock.

She meandered inside, surveying the interior. Her fingers slide along the dusty bannister above the fireplace, pursing her lips. “Not bad…” Ellie lifted an eyebrow, peering over her shoulder at you. Lifting her finger, she eyed the dust that stuck to her skin.

“Told you there was a cabin around here somewhere.”

“I knew you were gonna say that.” Ellie chuckled, dryly. Taking moderate steps toward the kitchen. Every time you stopped, she insisted that inventory was taken of all of your supplies. She achingly tugged her backpack off, sighing. You followed behind her, leaning your arms against the counter—watching her tired movements.

“Why are you looking at me?” She dropped her hands onto the counter, with that familiar irritated glint in her eyes.

You purse your lips. “You know I could do this, right?” Shrugging off your bag, you swing it onto the counter. There was a slight sway to Ellie—the only reason being her exhaustion. “We’ve done this a number of times; you can go rest up. There are three bedrooms upstairs— take your pick.”

Ellie scoffed, continuing the work in front of her. Counting under her breath. You grit your jaw, glaring at her. She was truly insufferable—moments like these really highlighted that. Her stubbornness and pride amounted about the same to yours; causing you to wonder… Were you just as bad? You pity the friends you had in your youth if that was the case. Releasing a meditative breath, you placed a hand over hers. “Seriously, Ellie, I got it. Go get some sleep.”

She looks at you through her eyelashes, allowing your skin to remain on hers. “Aren’t you tired, too?”

“Yeah, but not as much as you… I could stand to be up for a little while longer. You on the other hand…”

She pulled her hand from under yours, pushing off her wet hood. Her auburn strands were damp, sticking to her freckled skin. “All right. Make sure to write down the things we don’t have that we need.”

“I know.”

“And mark the items that we’re running low on.”

“Again, I know.” You motion with her hand to run along with amused eyes. Waiting to begin, you watch as she hesitantly walks toward the steep wooden stairs around the corner.

It was like pulling teeth for Ellie to willingly hand over responsibility to you. In her mind, she was still doing you a favor—she was working for you. But being that she was extremely tired, her inhibitions loosened. The touch of your skin to hers, surprisingly, comforted her concerns; made her sleepier. She heavily stepped up the stairs, leaning on the railing for support.

She walked into the first bedroom she saw. The light from the moon cascaded through the window that the queen-sized bed was pushed against. Shedding her damp clothing, she spread them out onto a dresser before getting into the bed. Before nodding off, she peered out the window with a burdened mind. Remembering the bulk of her actions leading up to Santa Barbara. With the added misfortune of Santa Barbara. Then… You.

The moon reflected over a sparkling pier, that was down a hill behind the cabin. The lake was completely in her view, rippling subtly from the fish beneath the surface. She cracked a smile, peering at the beautiful sight. Rolling up a pillow, she propped it up enough to let that be the final thing she sees before sleeping. Using the elements of the earth as a night cap.

She’d woken up many times throughout the night, but she was used to that habit. When the sun peaked through her window, Ellie had gotten as much sleep as she could have. The smell of cooked fish had wafted into her nostrils, pulling her from the old mattress. With a groan, she swung her legs over, rubbing her eyes.

In a blur, from the corner of her eyes, she saw a figure walking toward the pier. Blinking, she leaned on the pillows against the window, watching as the figure began to remove their clothes—it was you. Ellie watched as you dropped your items, carelessly, before jumping into the water. For the first time in awhile, her mind went blank. Completely empty.

Well… Not that empty.

She checked the clothes she had on from the night before, and for some reason, they still were damp. Enough moisture resided in her jeans that she didn’t feel comfortable putting them back on. Sighing, she began searching through the drawers for anything she could put on in the meantime.

Finding a pair of plaid pajama pants, she slid those on, throwing her holed band t-shirt over her sports bra. “What time is it?” She patted her jeans for the watch she carried with her. Cursing under her breath, she realized it was left in her backpack.

Quickly, Ellie found herself navigating to the first floor. Her eyes widened at the organized sight of all of your supplies. You had grouped similar items together and left a piece of paper with the amounts in each group. At the bottom of the page, you had written a list of the items you needed more of. Ellie’s watch was sitting on the end of the counter, properly placed. “You have outdone yourself…” She muttered, picking up the paper you scribbled on.

When she flipped it over, the subtle grin her lips faded. Seeing the sorrowful words written on the page. Since leaving Santa Barbara, she noticed you pulling out this letter a lot. The one you fetched from under that infected woman. You had never gone into what this letter or note meant to you—probably, because she never asked. That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about it, though. Ellie never would’ve expected that you’d write on it over something as silly as taking inventory.

There were so many things she didn’t understand about you.

The aroma of fish filled her nostrils again, leading her to slab of rock placed on the counter. A coverage of cloth was placed over the fish to ward off flies. She peeked under it, seeing a perfectly scaled and grilled fish. Hunger got the best of her, and she began to eat the fish with her hands. Humming at the satisfaction of filling her stomach.

After, she grabbed the cracked watch to check the time. It was ten in the morning, the both of you should’ve been back on the road.

Pressing her lips into a line, she walked out the back door to alert you. Her fingers fiddling with the plaid cotton on her legs.

The air was fairly cool, but the sun warmed you up. Basking in the lake was like splashing your face with cold water in the morning—it was a wake-up call. Something that you needed after the night you had. In the room across from Ellie’s, the bed was too firm, and the sheets were too prickly. Your mind kept you up with the image of Honey’s infected body. And, whenever you did shut your eyes, you were back on those pillars again.

You had no choice but to get up early and occupy yourself. So, you fished for a little while, then cooked what you caught—for yourself and the sleeping woman upstairs. After that, you thought you could use a bath. And there was nothing more satisfying than cool lake water—nature’s finest.

You allowed the water to engulf you, embracing your body like a chilled hug. Breaking the surface, you swam comfortable laps around the lake. As you lazily backstroked, you noticed Ellie walking down the steps that led to the dock.

Her auburn hair was spiked all across her head—she must’ve slept well. You chuckled, swimming up the edge of the dock. Placing your hands against it, to pull yourself up a little. Bare shoulders glistening from the sunlight reflecting off your wet skin. “You have a bad case of bedhead, my friend.”

“What?” She immediately became self-conscious, running her hands through her hair. Shaking her head, she adjusted her features, trying to uphold her naturally irritated persona; scrunching her eyebrows and clenching her jaw. “You let me sleep too late; it’s ten. We should start packing up.” Her eyes avoided you, instead, focusing on the plants surrounding the lake. Or your pruned fingers holding onto the dock.

Looking up at her with squinted eyes, you dramatically sniffed. “Why don’t you hop in? You smell like shit.” You ignored her small jabs of blame, coating your lips with a smile. Perhaps, you’ve been spending too much time with her, but her little irritations were beginning to amuse you more than bother you. Or, from the angle that you were peering up at her, she looked really… Pretty. Bedhead and all.

“Excuse me?” She questioned, raising her eyebrows, finally meeting your eyes.

“I’m serious. Let’s resume the trip smelling better than a sewer.” You began to paddle backwards, almost forgetting about your own nakedness. “Take off your clothes… I‘ll give you privacy. Unless you’re too… Chicken.”

She hesitated, watching you swim backwards. Catching an accidental glimpse of your breasts as you turned around. It was true that she didn’t smell the greatest. Before she could formulate her thoughts properly, Ellie spoke. “Chicken? Really, y/n?” She sighed, punching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. But not for long— I wanna make it to Idaho within the next two days…”

Ellie shed her clothes, dropping them close to yours. She jumped into the water, keeping her head from going under, loudly reacting to the coldness of the lake. “Shit!” She exclaimed, treading water.

You turned around, chuckling, noticing her hair still disheveled. “You’ll feel better if you dunk yourself under water.”

“Hell, no! It’s too cold.”

“This doesn’t have to be another I-told-you-so moment…”

She rolled her eyes, clenching her nostrils with her fingers, lowering herself under water. Allowing the cold, earthy, lake water to encapsulate her. The first few seconds were chilling, but her body began to adapt. It became rather comforting—easing her sore muscles and healing wounds.

The lake did the same for you, which was why you were still inside of it. Time stopped at the pier; at least it felt like it did. Existing felt normal, for once. There weren’t any violent rogue people, or hungry infected. Just you and Ellie bathing in a lake.

Ellie broke the surface, running her hands over her saturated strands. Her pale skin was flushed, from what you could only assume, was the briskness in the air and the chillness of water. However, that may not have completely been the case. “Feel better?” You ask, waving your arms under the water to keep yourself afloat.

The corners of her lips curled, subtly. You had to squint to really notice her amusement. She rolled her eyes in a way to avert her gaze. “Yeah, a little.” Ellie finally peered at you, pointing a dripping finger. “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?” A grin plastered on your lips. “I told you so?”

“Do you realize how annoying you are, or just me?”

You pursed your lips, feigning thought. “Just you, I think.”

Honestly, you’re proud of yourself. A lot of the relationship blossoming between your traveling partner and yourself had been developing under the pressure of your attitudes and circumstances. The fact that you could get her to crack a smile, even if it was faint, felt good. It was either the dock’s magic, or your own.

A beat passed while the two of you circled each other. Barely looking at the exposed skin above the water, trying to be distracted by the world around you.

Surprisingly, Ellie was the first to speak—or the first to question you. She rarely every asked you anything. “That letter you carry with you…” The woman awkwardly began. “I saw it on the counter— who wrote it?”

Her voice grabbed your attention immediately at the mention of the note. You held onto it like a totem, a piece of memorabilia from your past. Hesitating, you moved your eyes from left to right in thought. “I know that it came from Santa Barbara. From that house…”

“It’s from an old friend.” You started, lips parting slowly as you spoke. Mouth going dry at the question she asked. You’ve yet to physically get the chance to talk about Honey. From the days aboard the boat, you’ve been trying to forget what you saw. Maybe, you could convince yourself that she was off living the life she wanted—instead of spending her last days suffering under the hammer of infection. “Some girl I met at that God-forsaken resort…” You attempted to casually respond.

“She got infected?”

“Yeah…” You nodded with avoidance, shutting your eyes and moving your head with a cadence of I-don’t-wanna-talk-about-it.

Ellie pursed her lips, nodding. “Why’d you write on the letter? I don’t know… It looks like it means a lot to you— I don’t understand why you would write on it?” She spoke, thoughtfully, as if she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. That was certainly the first time.

You shrug, wanting to hide somewhere, even though there was nowhere to do so. “I just want to forget about it… I guess.”

“If you cared about her, why would you wanna forget about it?”

The muscles in your forehead twitched, bunching your eyebrows together. Your face burned, lips scowling. Ellie’s voice evolved from a soft curiosity, to a judgmental version of it. You sensed the difference the moment it fell from her lips. The intention of her words didn’t matter—it was what she said that bothered you. Did she think you were cruel for wanting to forget about seeing her in that state?

“If I cared about her?” You started, evenly, but with warning. “I did care about her— I do care about her! If I choose not to remember her as a fucking corpse, that makes me a bad person?” Your voice raised, for the first time in awhile, rasping.

Ellie sighed, shaking her head with pleading eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

You scoff, swimming toward the dock. “Well, I’m sure that’s what you meant, right?” Pulling yourself out of the water, you don’t think twice about the exposing of your naked body. Cold air pricking at your wet skin. “I’m the asshole for wanting to remember Honey alive rather than dead…” You wrapped the towel you brought with you around your body, balling your clothes into your arms.

Lamely, Ellie called for you from her place in the water as you left her behind. Before you covered up, she eyed the scars and bruises on your body—maps of what your vessel has been through. Perhaps, she should have entered the conversation with more caution.

Watching you stalk back into the cabin, wiping at your eyes felt like a punishment. A worse punishment than the fact that she didn’t have a towel to dry off with.

“Nice work, Ellie.”

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #mini series

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