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sprout-fics · 9 months

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Breaking and Entering

(John Price x F! Reader)

(Call of Duty Masterlist)

Rating: M Wordcount: 4.2k Tags: Girl Dad Price, Wife Reader, Angst, Fluff, Feral John Price, Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, TF141, (Unrealistic interpretations of UK gun laws) Warnings: Home invasions, Deadly use of firearms A/N: AKA the home invasion fic nobody asked for

When your number lights up his phone, Price knows it by heart.

There’s just one problem.

You aren’t supposed to call this one.

He’s in the middle of a briefing when it happens, discussing relevant intel ahead of a mission happening in the imminent future. Arms folded, beside the projector screen, voice taking on his gruff, clipped tone used only to convey orders, information, commands. It’s a late workday, but the intelligence that has just come in is valuable, extremely relevant to the team’s next hunt. As much as Price would like to be home, he can’t be. Duty comes first, and you’ve learned to accept that in him.

His phone rings in his pocket, and he catches Gaz’s face just in time to see the expression of ‘Really, Cap?’ Before he excuses himself, looks at the screen.

It’s you.

Normally he’d have his phone on silent for briefings, but now he’s glad he’s forgotten. He’s told you explicitly that this number is for emergencies, and emergencies only. Short of life or death scenarios, this number is exclusively off limits.

Which means when he sees the number, his heart sinks below his stomach.

He’s answering and moving before your voice even comes through, wordlessly striding from the briefing room and ignoring the questioning calls from his team after him. There’s no preamble to your conversation, and he tries to remove the anger, the fear from his voice when he speaks.

“Where are you?”

“In the bedroom.” You whisper back urgently, and he can hear the tremble in your voice, can practically feel you shaking through the phone. There’s a pause on the other end of the line as he shoves open the doors to the command center towards the direction of the parking lot.

“John.” You whisper again, voice very small, hushed and quiet. “John, there’s someone in the house.”

Price doesn’t freeze despite the cold wash of dread in his veins. There’s only motion under his feet, heart pumping full of adrenaline in his chest, where something fearful, furious, brutal coils in a low growl.

Before he can respond, however, there’s the sudden crash of something on the other line and you whimper.

“Where are the girls?” He demands as he waves off an officer who salutes him as he walks by, swinging his hand so hard the other man flinches.

“In the bathroom. I locked them in, they’re being quiet like their mummy told them.” You reply, and he can hear the growing sob in your throat. You’re terrified, beside yourself, but you don’t say it, don’t tell him how worried you are, how you want him to come home. You know he’s already on his way, you know to be brave, and for a moment Price’s heart swells with the tender affection of pride before it quells when there’s another clatter in the background.

“Hang up and call the police.” He tells you on no uncertain terms, pulling his keys from his jacket and all but racing towards his car.

“I already did. Told them where we are but-”

You pause then, release a low, shuddering exhale that crackles through the phone.

“John, I just wanted to say I love you.”

“Don’t.” He snaps before he can stop himself, gripping the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip. “You are going to be fine, you understand me? You and the girls. I’m on my way, the police will get there before I do.”

And if they don’t, there will be hell to pay. He adds silently.

He can hear you suck in a breath to say something next, only to pause.

The stairs creak in the background.

Price floors the gas.

“Get the gun.” Price tells you gravely, flashing his credentials at the gate operator without looking at him. “Can you get to the safe?”

It had become necessary due to the nature of his work to ensure you had a certain level of self-defense for your safety when he wasn’t home. Price had more enemies than he could count, and while he had made every precaution to ensure nobody, not even his team, knew of your existence, he had placed a certain level of insurance with you just in case. The paperwork had been a nightmare to get through, but with the mention of his specific job description, the powers that be had allowed an exception to the laws on weapons, leaving you with a short revolver hidden in a safe in the bedroom.

You don’t answer his query, but Price can hear a rustle, the sound of you moving across the room to the top of the dresser.

Moments tick by, and Price doesn’t speak in the silence, not wanting to offer a single sound that may alert the intruder to where you are. You remain just as quiet, but Price can hear the low, slow click of the safe’s lock as you twist the code into place.

April 22nd. Your eldest’s birthday.

“I’ve got it.” You whisper, barely audible through the phone.

Price sighs in relief, the smoky breath of him curling across the dashboard as he weaves through traffic, speeding tickets be damned.

“Good girl.” He rumbles, trying to keep his voice low, even, reassuring. “Is the door locked?”

“...Yes. Yes.” You reply back, and he swears he can hear the sound of the gun shaking in your hand as you hold it.

“Loaded?” He asks again. There’s a click that is too loud when you open the chamber to check.

“Six bullets.” You murmur, voice a little more even, more level now in a way that makes his heart ease, makes the commanding, logical instinct of his military training activate.

“I want you by the door.” He orders you as if you’re one of his own. “Both hands on the gun, just as I showed you. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” You answer, and that alone, the wry humor you give him nearly has him smile, chuff with affectionate laughter. Yet whatever humor he possesses is terrifyingly absent in this scenario, the one that could very well end with both you and his daughters dead by the time he gets home.

Bloody fucking hell. Where are the bloody cops?

“John…” You whisper then, just a touch louder so he hears you better over the thrum of the engine. “I can’t hear him. I think he’s gone.”

Price allows his eyes to flutter shut for all of a moment, clamping down on the premature relief that rises in his chest.

“Are you sure?” He asks, softer, trying to ease your frayed, tender nerves.

He can hear you swallow over the line, trying to wet your dry throat. “I…I think so.” You tell him at last. “I don’t-”

BANG-!

The sound of the bedroom door being kicked in.

He can hear you scream from the other end of the line, voice rising sharply in panic and terror as another, deeper voice echoes in the background, rising even louder with words he can’t hear. The sound is garbled, unintelligible as your phone drops to the floor. Price can barely hear the sound of his own voice when he shouts for you, words cracking in his throat. The road around him blurs, and he looks to the display on the dashboard to gauge the time until his arrival.

Two minutes.

Two minutes for you to die, for his two beautiful daughters to be killed as they scream for you, two minutes for the undeserved happiness of his life to be stolen from him.

Price yells again, voice desperate, calling your name. There’s the sound of struggle in the background, and you curse at your attacker- feral, untamed, terrified. Like a wild, injured mother animal defending her young from a predator.

Yet before Price can call out for you again, there’s a crunch, another, and the line goes dead.

The world drops out from under him.

The tires of Price’s car screech as he takes the turn into the neighborhood far too quickly, leaning with the inertia of the vehicle as he races down the street towards the house where his whole life is falling apart.

The car lurches to a stop in the middle of the street, Price not bothering to park properly as he tumbles out of the driver’s side door and towards the front step of the townhouse.

BANG-!!

A gunshot.

Price sees the image of your smiling face in a beautiful white dress flash behind his eyes.

The house goes silent.

Price used to be a religious man. His father would drag him to church on Sundays, would insist on his boys dressing proper and maintaining the appearance of good, devout, obedient children. He tried very hard to make himself believe through his adulthood, but in the years spent toiling in the dusty, blood-soaked underbelly of the world, Price has long since convinced himself there is no God left for ruined men like him.

Even so, in this moment, he prays.

The front door is locked, latched tight. The burglar must have come through the back door into the garden. Price calls for you, and it’s a stupid move on his part, alerting the enemy to his position, perhaps startling them enough to give them an opportunity to escape. Yet the silence that greets him has his blood thrumming, deafening in his ears and he kicks, once, twice at the center of the door before the latch buckles and the thing swings open on its hinges.

There’s crying from the bedroom.

There’s no gun on him, too frantic to grab a side-arm before he sped off base. So instead Price reaches for a knife hidden in his pocket, holding it ready in front of him as he slowly ascends the stairs. The crying is louder now, and he can tell it’s younger voices. Whimpers, tearful whispers from his two beautiful girls still locked in the bathroom. Yet the bedroom where you are remains silent, and as Price reaches the top of the stairs he tries to remember whatever saint offers the blessing of protection, safety.

He rounds the corner, and instantly his toes bump against a limp, dead body sprawled on the floor of the bedroom. Price doesn’t look down immediately, trying to steady himself, preparing himself for the sight of his beautiful wife dead at his feet.

A dark hoodie. A surgical mask. A pool of red soaking into the carpet.

It isn’t you.

“John.”

Price looks up, and in the darkness of the bedroom he finds you with your back against the dresser, several drawers half open and spilling their contents onto the floor. You sit, holding the revolver, legs askew on the floor, hands trembling fiercely, shoulders shaking-

Alive.

Price collapses to his knees in front of you, and you whimper into him as he hauls you into his arms. You nearly push at him, still caught the shock of being ambushed, attacked, touched by a man that wasn’t him. When you squirm, Price merely holds you fast against his chest, murmuring low, raspy reassurances until you still.

“Shh, it’s me. It’s me, love. You’re safe. It’s over.”

With one hand, he tucks his blade into his jacket, with the other he slowly removes the weapon from your grip, clicks the safety on, and tucks it to the side, well out of the way. No doubt the presence of the weapon will be a nightmare to deal with when the police arrive, but that’s not his concern right now.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, turning you face up to him in his palms, and he can feel the wetness on your cheeks, can see the liquid stare of you in the darkness of the bedroom. You shake your head, lip trembling but trying not to cry, and it aches at him like nothing else. The hurt is only soothed by the taste of your lips, a desperate kiss, wet with the taste of your tears as you instinctively part for him, allowing a shuddering little gasp to break through. You whimper again, something that sounds like ‘John’, grasp at him a little harder until he tucks you back into his chest.

“T-the girls-” You try, voice cracking, and Price hushes you, rocking just a touch as you try to calm down.

“They’re in the bathroom.” He tells you quietly. “They’re safe.”

You hiccup at that, finally allowing a sob to break free as you cling to him, bury your face into his chest so his shirt stains with tears.

“I-I was so afraid.” You confess, and Price merely tucks you closer to him, hauls you into his arms with the promise of safety.

“I know, love. I know.” He tells you. “You’re safe. You’re alright. You did well, my brave girl.”

You cry a little harder at that, and at last Price hears the sound of sirens at the edge of the neighborhood, racing far too late to where the two of you sit in the darkened bedroom.

He hauls you up into his arms when they arrive, helps you down the stairs and presses you into the arms of a kindly police woman before returning into the house. An officer in a yellow jacket urges him to stay put, but Price snarls in his face, startles him so badly the man takes a step back and pales.

It’s easy to climb the stairs now, to come to the locked bathroom door that shelters his children from the horror they did not witness. As soon as he opens the door they spill into his arms, his two beautiful daughters, weeping against him in wordless blubbers of terror and relief. Yet the first question they ask isn’t about where he was, what has happened, why the police are there. Instead his eldest, at the age of six, her gorgeous eyes the same color as her mother's, stares tearfully up at him and asks: “Where’s mummy?”

“Outside.” He tells her with a gentleness he had forgotten he possessed, hauling her younger sister up into his embrace as she sniffles into his shoulder. “Let’s go see her.”

Yet before he steps back into the bedroom, he kneels down and stares at his brave, eldest girl and tells her: “We’re going downstairs. Don’t open your eyes until you’re outside, understand?”

She does, of course she does. He’s never given her a reason to doubt him, so the both of them squeeze their eyes shut, don’t open them even as Price lifts them over the dead man still laying oozing on the floor.

When they get outside they rush towards you, fresh bouts of tears in their eyes, asking about the blood splattered on your nightgown, staining it crimson. He can see you panic, nearly explaining the truth, before you shakily smile, hold them both in your arms and tell them: “It’s strawberry jam, my loves. Mummy is very silly and spilled jam all over herself.”

It takes the better part of an hour to explain to the police what has happened, to have you checked over by a paramedic, one who offers peppermints to your two girls as they balance at the back of the ambulance. Price entrusts you to them, discussing the situation in low, grave tones with the officers over why they were not as quick to respond as he had hoped. The officer from earlier is defensive at first, tries to puff his chest and explain to Price the logistics of the response, and Price levels him with a mere look of stony, violent anger that instead has the man fumbling for an apology.

It’s that alone that has the man dismiss any possible charges for you, takes one glance at the weapons permit and tips his hat at the captain with a small ‘Sir.’

At long last, after the crime scene tape has been rolled out and the house cordoned off, does Price return to you and the girls, who have calmed down considerably and now doze drowsily on either side of you, still dressed in their pajamas. You lean up into the tender kiss he bestows upon your forehead, murmurs another reassurance there before tilting you into his palms.

“We can’t stay here tonight.” He tells you gently, and you sag in relief.

“A hotel?” You ask, and Price only shakes his head at you, watching your brow wrinkle in confusion.

“I’m taking you to base.” He replies softly, firmly. “No place safer in the world than with me.”

You know it’s true, he can see it in your smile as you gaze up at him, adoring, with a trust he still struggles to tell himself he’s earned.

So you’re bundled into his car alongside your two young girls, the three of you in the backseat as he retraces his path back in the direction of the base. It’s only once you also begin to doze off in the back seat that he hazards a glance at his phone.

Five missed calls, three from Gaz alone, one from Soap, and one from Laswell that’s followed with a text saying “Call me. ASAP.”

He has a lot of explaining to do.

Somehow he manages to talk his way past the gate guard, who looks puzzled at the woman and two girls sleeping in his backseat. Yet he waves Price through, and eventually the four of you arrive at the officer’s quarters. Price manages to hold both of his daughters, one in each arm, with you clinging to his side, hiding your face in his sleeve as you pass the soldiers who pause with long, drawn out stares at the sight before them. It’s an unusual circumstance to say at best, and Price knows he’ll have to corner more than one man tomorrow to ensure their silence on the whole affair. All that matters right now is getting you and the girls to safety, to somewhere the three of you can bunk down and sleep this dreaded evening off.

What Price doesn’t expect to find, however, is three younger SAS agents awaiting him in front of his bunk, leaning against the wall and talking quietly amongst themselves. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost startle at the sight of their captain holding two young girls in their nighties, and a woman at his side with blood not entirely scrubbed from her nightgown.

“...Sir?” Gaz manages tightly after Price silently brushes him aside with little regard, unlocking his door. Yet when Gaz tries to assist the captain shoots him a look. The expression that flits across his sergeant’s face has him regretting it almost instantly, but apologies will have to wait as he ushers you inside. It takes a moment for Price to carefully deposit his sleeping daughters into the neatly made military cot, and when he does he catches your eyes just as you nod to the three men still hovering in the doorway.

It’s with a sigh that Price rubs the back of his neck and turns towards his concerned and puzzled team, clicking the door shut behind him so the conversation does not disturb his family.

“Introductions will have to wait until the morning.” He announces quietly, hearing the fatigue in his own voice. “They’ve had quite the night.”

“You never said you were married.” Soaps blurts out before he can stop himself, and at the look Price gives him in regards to his volume he mildly tacks on a little “...Sir.”

Price allows himself a moment to knead the bridge of his nose, huffing a suffering sigh as he decides what to say next.

“There’s a reason I haven’t told you boys.” He explains at last, looking up. “You know our work. You know the enemies we’ve made, myself more than the rest of you. You know they will exploit every opportunity of ours that they can.”

He levels his team with a severe, grim stare. “I will never allow my family to become one of those opportunities. Understood?”

The silent, unspoken words there ring loudly in the silence that follows.

This is a secret. For the four of us. Do not ever speak of it to anyone else.

He can see them trade glances, still confused, apprehensive, but at least agreeable to Price’s explanation.

“Copy.” Gaz offers quietly at last, and both Ghost and Soap nod as well. Price manages to catch his lieutenant’s stare for a moment, and Simon darts his gaze to the door behind his captain, and then to Price meaningfully, nodding.

Of course Simon would understand the gravity of secrecy that comes with this, Price thinks, and for a moment he regrets not telling his second in command sooner.

“Good.” Price announces summarily after a beat, and the clipped tone of him has the team straighten on instinct. “We can talk more in the morning. Dismissed.”

Ghost nods, about to stride away when he catches Soap about to make further comments, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and tugging him away. Price can hear the Scot grumble in irritation, but obediently follows behind his LT. Gaz stays a little longer, shifting uneasily on his feet.

“Sargeant?” Price asks, and the tone isn’t unkind, still regretting the venom he shot the man earlier.

“Sir.” Gaz begins, eyes cast down to his feet. “...Are they alright?”

It’s that question, the soft, uncertain concern of his sergeant that makes Price’s shoulder go lax, has his breath exit him in a soft, steady sigh. His broad, calloused palm settles on Gaz’s shoulder, making the man look up with a worried, grimaced expression.

“They’ll be fine.” Price tells him, voice dipping low as it does for his own daughters. “They’ve had a bit of a shock, lad. They need to sleep it off, know that they’re safe now. You can help me with that come morning. Understand?”

Gaz brightens at that, always wanting to be useful, to prove himself to the man who has taken him under his wing.

“Of course, Sir.” He offers, reassured, and Price nods.

“Good. Get some sleep. The girls will be a handful tomorrow, I have a feeling I’ll be needing assistance.”

Gaz nods, makes finally to leave, when Price calls him once more.

“Gaz?” He asks, making the man pause. “Call Laswell. Tell her I’ve got three VIPs I’m dealing with. She’ll understand.”

Gaz’s gaze brightens, and Price inwardly cringes, recognizing the error he’s committed. No doubt Gaz and Laswell will be having an extended conversation in his absence about the things he’s failed to mention. Yet Gaz chirps an affirmative and vanishes down the hall before Price can stop him.

When Price returns to his room, the door clicking behind him softly, he admires the sight before him. His two daughters splay across the bed, clinging to your form tucked between them as you hush a lullaby to ease their dreams. Thankfully, they both have managed to fall asleep quickly, likely exhausted by earlier events. The sight of his girls soft, sleepy, blessedly safe in his quarters is nearly enough to bring him to his knees.

You look up at him as he leans on the door, beckoning him into bed. It takes a moment to divest himself of all but his shirt and pants, but eventually Price manages to scoot his way into the narrow cot, hauling his youngest atop his chest to make room. She curls there with a whining, sleepy murmur before falling still once more. A hand settles in her hair, idly stroking as Price coaxes her further into dreams.

Against his side, you scoot so your head lays against his bicep, your eldest daughter now tucked safely between you. It’s a bit awkward, the four of you trying to scrunch together on such a narrow cot, and Price doesn’t doubt that by morning he’ll be sleeping in his desk chair. Yet now, in the soft lull of evening, in the absence of gunshots and dead phone lines, he allows himself to be at peace.

“I nearly lost you.” He finds himself rasping quietly, as if he can still barely understand the thought. You make a sound of dissatisfaction at that, nudging him in disapproval.

“None of that.” You scold quietly, and Price holds his tongue about the fears he wants to say, the pleas for forgiveness he wants to ask of you for not being there when you needed him the most.

“I love you.” He says instead, and despite not being an emotional man, he finds the hollow of his heart aching, empty with regret.

You’re silent for a moment, and there’s a part of him that wonders if you’ll return it, if you’ll suddenly realize how selfish he’s been in allowing himself to love you despite his duty.

Instead you turn, grasp at his hand, bring it to your lips in a firm, tender kiss.

“I love you too, Captain Johnathan Price.” You whisper, and Price’s eyes close, chest aching, the world quiet around him, and yet full. When he breathes, it releases as a sighed prayer to the heavens, a plea for mercy for your safety, for his own forgiveness, for the promise of another day, another hour with his family in his arms.

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@guyfieriii @zwiiicnziiix @writeforfandoms

#John price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #price x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader #oneshots #call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #mw2

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months

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When at work - Lando Norris x UniStudent! Reader Part 2

Plot: Lando has known you since you were born, literally childhood friends. You went to every karting weekend with him until he started to travel more. As childhood lovers who have been dating for 8 years what happens when the general public find out about you?

Credit to landooscurls for the GIF

You'd been taken home by an officer in his car. He'd attempted to calm you down offering to stop at a petrol forecourt and get you a snack to help you blood sugars come back up.

Apparently you looked ghostly pale.

After a Wispa chocolate bar and a Lucozade was brought for you, and you sat in the car just chatting they pulled out and went back onto driving you home.

Once you'd been dropped at the door of your place that you shared with Lando the officers asked you a final few questions. Just if you had good security systems, or someone to stay with you tonight so you weren't alone.

They also explained that you would no longer be safe working there, and even a transfer wouldn't be safe. They asked about your income and whether you'd be able to afford the loss.

Obviously you and Lando would have to talk to each other once he came back to the UK to see what you'd both do and if there was anyway Red Bull or McLaren would take you early as a work from home sort of offer until you graduated and could commit to the seasonal travel.

You shut the door after the officers left, making sure to lock it with the bolt. You sloppily chucked your keys into the dish that was on the cabinet in the entry way before hanging your coat up in the cupboard and kicking your shoes off.

You run straight up into the bedroom, the ensuite door was open and you trudged through staring at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. Your mascara and eyeliner had run, and you resembled a Panda right now.

You jump into the shower, wanting to wash the days grot and smell of coffee beans and marzipan away. You make sure to wash of the makeup from your face before getting out the shower and wrapping a towel around your hair and body.

You start to go through your skincare routine, making sure to add your little yellow star pimple patch on at the end. You walk back down to the main room where you and Lando spent most of you time in the house.

You grabbed a large blanket from the hamper wrapping it around yourself before curling up on the sofa into yourself.

You sat there silently for a little while before the hot tears started to roll down your face.

You couldn't tell why you were getting so emotional over it. It was scary yes, but it was over now and the police had been very quick getting to the scene.

After 20 minutes of your own mind and a large nap, you woke around 2am. You felt awful knowing that you'd slept on the sofa and had missed dinner. You decided to make yourself a 'breakfast dinner' as you and Lando would sometimes call it depending on his sleep schedule.

You did some chores around the house, like the laundry from before Lando had gone to Australia and washed up the dishes you'd just used and changed the bed sheets. And finished off with some studying for some upcoming exams you had.

As the clock hit 5.30am you started to prepare yourself. You knew seeing Lando race would make you feel much better. You caught yourself up on positions using the F1 app to find out where Lando and Oscar would be starting. You made yourself a tea and got some of you favorite snacks before seating yourself up all comfy on the sofa.

Once you hear the 'It's lights out and away we go' all your worries seem to just melt. You keep your eyes on both the Papaya coloured cars. Only breaking away to message Lily, you had actually met her somehow before you met Oscar which was very strange but you hit it off immediately and would no stop text each other throughout races if you weren't together.

Lando ended up coming 6th, Oscar only a car between them in 8th. The Mclaren didn't have pace this year and you could really tell but both the boys were pushing it as hard as they could without breaking it and messing up their races.

And just like that, 2 days later, Lando was on his flight home. You'd prepared everything for him. Got food that you knew his trainer would approve of, but he would as well. You made sure that everything was perfect.

You drove to the airport in his car, you wanted to see him as soon as possible so picking him up seemed like the best option.

You got through security easily, Lando had phone ahead telling them to let you into the private part of the airport, not wanting to risk crowds around you again.

You waited for him, as he came through the door you couldn't help but run up to him, flinging your arms around him. He knew you well enough that he braced himself for your launching hug, being able to catch you and hold you up as you wrapped around him like a koala does to a tree.

"Baby i missed you so much" you sob, pushing your face into his hoodie covered neck as you cry into him. You hold him so tightly and he squeezes you back, whispering little things to you to get you to calm down.

You hear people walking around, you know its his team, taking his bags away so you didn't knock them over and just to help him in general.

"Okay baby, lets go home" he smiles and he keeps a hold of you sighing as you look at him with a pouty frown and a shake of you head.

"You don't want to go home? Then we cant cuddle on the sofa and have food" he smiles down at you. You let out a small huff before untangling your legs from around his waist before placing a dainty peck on his lips.

"Do you need help?" you politely ask the Mclaren worker, offering to take some of Lando's bags to which she thanks you shaking her head explaining that you didn't have to help.

"I parked the car not far. report security were very helpful!" you smiled taking his hand while dragging his suitcase in the other.

"Yeah I asked for them to come meet you. I didn't want a repeat of the other day" he frowns, and looks at you in the eyes. You knew what this meant, he'd want to talk about it the minute you got home.

The drive home was quiet but comfortable. He left a hand on your thigh as you concentrated on the driver back home.

"So, we should talk about why you felt in necessary to get a job" he says squeezing you leg lightly as he looks over at you.

"I- I didn't want to give the fans another reason to assume I'm leeching off of you. And i feel bad asking my mum and dad, like I'm supposed to be an independent adult ... I'm 22" you say sadly and you hear him sigh.

"Baby, 22 is still so so young and you shouldn't have all that pressure on yourself ... please" he begs.

"I've been talking to Zac and Christian about opportunity i could do from home with them. Even Suzie reached out to me about F1 Academy" you explain, knowing you had options that didn't involve Lando and his finances.

"Baby, I know you don't want to be seen using me for my money, but holy shit you've got so much pressure on yourself right now. You don't need to add to it. I dont know how you did it for as long as you have been... how long did you work there?" he asks, having no clue how long you'd not told him you had a job for.

"About 3 months" you say, checking the wing mirrors before turning left down your road.

"3 MONTHS?" he asks in shock, you were nearly finished with university, surely you could have held out until graduation.

"Baby, you've only got like a month until you've finished all your exams and you'll join me!" he frowns, you pull up into the driveway with a sigh and a nod of acknowledgement.

"I know, i know! And I'm sorry i didn't ask for help and I'm sorry I didn't tell you I'd got a job" you say tears brimming your eyes before he pulls you into a hug over the gear stick.

"Oh, my sweet sweet girl. It's okay, I understand but please never ever feel like you cant ask for me to help you. That comes in the job description of boyfriend" he smiles at you, kissing your forehead making you melt at his touch.

This is what it felt like to be loved and cared for by Lando Norris.

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unknownarmageddon · 2 months

Text

Christ Alive

a kross oneshot. in which they go to a party cackles

based on the song skeletone by bones uk rental suits au belongs to me and @psycho-chair

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for two, maybe three, cars. It was dark, the only thing visible in the black murk past the washed out lights of the gas station’s overhang was the passing specks of car headlights.

Cross leaned on the elbow he held propped on the counter, tried to tune out the mediocre mainstream music playing distantly over the store’s speakers, and watched the only customer inside idle about the shelves.

The lights buzzed. two of the fridges against the back wall flickered every so often.

The door chimed as it was opened, and another stranger entered. They wanted 50 dollars’ worth on pump three. And a pack of cigarettes. The door chimed again, then they were gone.

The lights buzzed. The fridges flickered. Everything was delved in a cool colored haze.

The last remaining person in the store bought two drinks. With the dinging of the door as they left, a father and two kids entered. They piled their spoils, a mound of snacks, onto the counter.

There were several minutes of vacancy. Nobody in the store but him. It felt like an eternity, always did. Cross fiddled with the shelves behind him to waste time.

Buzzing lights. Uneven churring from the slushy machine in the back.

The door chimed. Footsteps, sneakers scuffing on tile.

Cross turned, and could practically feel the grin boring into him.

Him again.

He was leaning forward over the counter with his arms crossed in front of him. His jacket had obtained a few new stains, both red and black. The faint, electric sound of music played from the chunky maroon headphones around his neck.

Cross felt himself grin for a moment. He couldn’t help it.

“Hey pretty boy.” He looked at Cross with deep dark sockets.

“Killer.”

“Fancy seeing you here.” Killer quipped.

He pulled himself up to sit on the back edge of the counter, still facing Cross. Cross furrowed his brows.

“I told you to stop sitting on the counter.”

Killer hardly considered moving. His soul hummed like even it was laughing. “You’re gonna have to make me, sweetheart.”

Cross knew that wouldn’t have worked. And he didn’t really care, not enough to force him.

“You miss me?” Killer quipped.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Cross replied.

Killer laughed. “I’m wounded.”

Cross turned back to the shelf, and Killer slid off the counter to stand next to him.

“Ya got any plans tonight? Other than the blast you’re clearly havin’ already.” Killer murmured, hands shoved the pockets of his jacket. The fabric of he and Cross’s clothes brushed as they just almost touched, they were that close.

When did Cross ever have plans? He shook his head.

Killer’s grin got wider. Cross narrowed his eyes at him. What was he planning.

Killer hopped back over the counter and headed for one of the fridges in the back. Cross leaned over the counter on his elbows to watch him.

“Y’know, there’s gonna be a party tonight. At ten.” Killer jerked open the door and crouched, now partially obscured by the shelf behind him. His voice came to Cross echoed by the distance.

“Where?”

“Some guy’s place in town, I dunno, all I’ve got is the address. He was really talkin’ a big talk, I wanna see if he’s full of shit or not.” Cross could tell he was grinning. He had that kinda voice.

“And you want me to go with you.” Cross responded after a pause.

From the fridge Killer retrieved two energy drinks. He stood and the door was closed with a shove from his foot.

“Exactly.”

He hesitated, apparently for dramatic effect knowing him, and waited for an answer.

“…I’m not going.”

“C’monnn, you gotta get outta this boring ass gas station sometime. Have an actual good time.” Killer pressed.

“I don’t do parties.”

“How bad could it possibly be?”

“I doubt I would miss out on much.” Cross responded.

“You’d never know. Unless you go.” Killer persisted.

Cross didn’t respond after that. He stared at the tile in front of Killer’s feet, turning the notion over in his mind. He knew damn well that if Killer wanted something he’d find a way to get it, so he doubted how much good resisting would do.

Killer weaved through the aisles to the middle of the store, then went for the far back. He cracked one of the energy drinks.

“When are you gonna start paying for those?” Cross called to him.

“You think about that party, ‘kay, pretty boy? Think about it.” Killer called back instead and pulled the headphones on. He vanished among the shelves. Cross saw the top of the storage room door as it opened, then closed.

�� Cross was left alone in the store again. The trickle of costumers came and went, and he worked on autopilot. His mind was occupied by the party and the loiterer in the storage room.

His first reaction was to not go. And he trusted that reaction. All he knew about it was that it would be loud and crammed with people he likely didn’t want to be around. And that he wouldn’t know anyone but Killer. He didn’t think— no he knew it wouldn’t be worth it.

But who knew how well Killer would take that news. And he kind of had a point about getting out of the gas station.

Cross worked for three more hours. Occasionally he would watch Killer slink from the back to steal another energy drink or two, or a bag of chips. Cross pretended not to notice. Every time Killer passed the counter he would toss a smug grin at Cross. Meant only for Cross. The kind that loosely hid all the kinds of things he would say out loud if they were alone. Cross pretended not to notice those, too.

He would’ve stopped him, confronted him again for never paying for what he took. But Cross didn’t exactly want to be on the receiving end of that knife he flashed the night they met. And when Killer was around he had company, and the extra shitty customers never came back. It was a fair trade. So what if a few cans went missing here and there.

When Cross’s shift came to an end he left the counter in favor of the storage room. The smell of smoke flooded his nose the minute he pushed open the door. It wasn’t invasive, but it was noticeable enough whenever you walked in. It’d always smelled like smoke in here, after Killer showed up.

The culprit sat on the floor in the corner beside the door. He had fully tucked himself into that corner, in the gap between boxes and freezers that lined a few of the walls. He had one leg propped on the other, and the magazine he held obscured his face. Cross could still hear Killer’s music blasting through his headphones even from where he stood.

“My shift’s over. You gotta leave.” Cross greeted him.

Killer pulled the headphones down and looked up over the edge of the magazine. He hadn’t heard him.

“Shift’s over.” Cross repeated.

The music cut off; the magazine was shoved under a shelf. “You got it, boss.”

He pulled himself to his feet and left his corner to push past Cross, who tailed him in return.

The gas station’s front door chimed for the last time as they exited out onto the pavement in front of it. It was cold, Cross zipped up his jacket. His breath clouded in front of him as he watched insects buzz around the precious glow of the station’s lights.

After a moment of standing he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around at the vacant parking lot, awkwardly awaiting for whatever Killer was going to do. He didn’t trust him enough to leave first.

His eyes landed on him.

“What time’s it?” Killer asked.

Cross checked his phone. “Nine forty.”

Killer hopped off the slight incline of the pavement and moved through the darkness. To Cross he became a raccoon you’d see outside your garage. So blanketed in darkness it doesn’t look much like anything at all. Except, his soul provided a red halo around his silhouette.

“You comin’?” Killer called over his shoulder and stopped. It was more of a request than a question.

Hesitation. Cross glanced to his left, then back at Killer. “No?”

“You scared, sweetheart?” Killer replied. He could barely see him, but again Cross could tell he was grinning.

“No.”

“C’mon, just this once. It’s just a party. One time’s not gonna hurt anything.” He said. More firmly, sharply.

Killer gestured with his head, nodding, beckoning Cross to come with him.

“You always say that.”

“Am I wrong? Let’s live a little. Nothin’s gonna happen.” He spread out his arms, turning on his heel to look back at Cross.

Cross scowled doubtfully. He’s known Killer for long enough to at least know going anywhere with him didn’t have any guarantees of anything.

Killer slunk back toward Cross and grabbed him firmly by the zipper of his jacket, pulling him down so their faces were level. His face was warmed by Killer’s breath. Killer looked him over, then dead on.

Killer huffed a laugh. “You’re scared.”

Cross paused for a long time. A car alarm started from somewhere distant in the dark. Then it was quiet again.

“We’ll take the truck.” He decided eventually, flatly.

Killer’s eyes widened. He released Cross and ran for said truck, which was parked back in front of the gas station. It was small, old, and white; one of those trucks that didn’t have back seats, and the front was one long singular bench with seatbelts that just went across the lap.

Killer was grinning, exclaiming to himself, in his triumph. He had gotten Cross to cave, andthey were taking the truck.

Killer rapped on the truck’s side with his palm as he stepped along it toward the door. He tried the door prematurely, eagerly. It was still locked. Then there was a click as Cross pressed a button on the interior of the driver side door and the rest of the doors unlocked. Killer jerked his open to slide into the passenger side; Cross got in after him, with less enthusiasm.

The key met ignition and the vehicle grumbled to life like an aged animal.

Its beige leather seats were long worn, its paint was chipped in spots, it was overdo for a wash, and its windows were dusty and still functioned on a crank, but it served its purpose.

They left the parking lot. Cross heard Killer fighting with the window beside him, but he eventually got it open. Cold air streamed into the cab. Killer leaned against the door with his shoulder out the window. His feet were kicked up onto the dash.

In front of the windshield, dangling from the rear view mirror, hung a silver pendant on a chain and a long-expired air freshener.

With each imperfection in the pavement they hit the cab bumped.

“What’s the address?” Cross asked.

A slip of paper was dug out of Killer’s pocket and examined. He put his legs down.

“Left, up here.” He pointed, the turn signal clicked in time.

“Go for a bit,” He said now. “Here,”

“Right, past here and down that road,”

They drove for a while, mostly in silence save for Killer’s directions and occasional quips or broken humming. Sometimes the headlights of a passing car or a lone streetlight would illuminate the cab; otherwise it was dark.

Killer pointed at the windshield again.

They were here.

What Cross saw was the front of an apartment building, one a few notches nicer than his own. That building immediately set the tone for the whole party in stone in Cross’s mind. It was fucking intimidating. He shouldn’t be here.

He glanced over at Killer, who was already slipping out of the truck. Cross inhaled and followed.

———

Upbeat music he’s heard everywhere a million times blasted through the apartment. Talking, laughing, shouting, all joined it. Lights everywhere, sounds everywhere. So many people were crammed in this single space.

Cross was made hyper-aware of the presence of the other guests. The way they were dressed, the way they held themselves. They belonged here, he didn’t.

He became Killer’s shadow. He kept his arms tight to his side, his eyes trained on his feet and Killer’s stride. He followed directly behind him as his companion sauntered through the apartment.

They collected a few stares. What a sight they must be, two stupid boys wading through somewhere they shouldn’t be, one with stains on his clothes and one in a plain black jacket he’s had since high school. One with oil flowing from his eye sockets, one with an old rusted pickup.

Cross liked to imagine the things they whispered to themselves as the skeletons passed. Exclamations of surprise, of judgement. Eyes glued.

But, in reality, no one said anything. No one heckled them. He even doubted that many people were paying attention to them. Even still he was all too aware.

Finally, he and Killer breached the thick of the waves. Killer was saying something to another guest as he handed Cross a plastic cup of red liquid, which he accepted without much thought.

“Whad’ya think?” Killer asked Cross and leaned against the table. He gestured with his free hand at everything around them like he was showing it all off. He held his own beverage in the other hand, Cross clutched his with both.

Cross didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to think. It was loud. There were way too many people. He’d decide eventually, he thought.

Killer lifted his cup to his mouth, then paused and lowered it. He deadpanned at it.

“This tastes like shit.”

Cross half-laughed, Killer grinned.

They stayed at that table for the duration of three, maybe four, songs. Killer did most of the talking. Cross only listened, offering the occasional hum in agreement or comment. Killer would point out people in the crowd he found notable for whatever reason to him. Made jokes, teased, rambled about menial things. He complained about the music, but he still tapped his finger against his cup in time.

Cross kept searching Killer, trying to figure him out. He wondered if he noticed how out of place they were. Or if he cared. But then he thought about it more, and he doubted he did.

The song changed; Cross didn’t recognize this one. It was slower, but not melancholy. Carried by a steady rhythm and smooth electric guitar. Like the pounding of rain on concrete at night.

Killer glanced up. “Fuckin’ finally, something good.”

He set his cup down and pulled away from the table. “Alright I’m tired of standin’.”

He stood with his back turned a moment, surveying the crowd, thumbs jammed in his shorts pockets, before he swiveled to offer his hand to Cross. “C’mon, you gonna do me the honor?”

Cross retracted, set his cup down and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket like he was hiding them.

“I don’t dance.”

Maybe he would, in any other circumstance. When there weren’t so many people.

“Fuck babe, what do you do?” Killer replied. The corner of his mouth ticked up.

He pulled back toward Cross to nudge him with his elbow like he was trying to push him forward.

“Dude,” Cross laughed.

“We’re at a party, you gotta dance at least once.” He argued. “It’ll just be me, don’t worry about them.”

Cross conceded. “Just for this song, alright?”

Cross quickly learned that Killer didn’t know how to dance either. They devolved into a mess of movements, a tangle of limbs. Killer held a hand to Cross’s hip, Cross held one to Killer’s shoulder. Occasionally their hands would intertwine.

They exchanged steps off-rhythm. Killer was quick, Cross took strides to catch him.

Cross continued to be aware of the other dancers, even here. He couldn’t shake them from his mind. He wasn’t nearly as coordinated, and he had a habit of staying too stiff and rigid. But Killer had enough confidence for both of them.

All Cross saw was the carpet, his eyes glued to their feet. Making his best effort not to trip. Or get stepped on. He risked a glance up at Killer’s face. He was grinning with the most actual enthusiasm Cross had seen from him tonight, and it became infectious.

“You keepin’ up, pretty boy?” Killer asked, catching Cross and keeping him from looking back down.

“You’re horrible at this.” Cross replied.

“And you dance like you’ve taken ballet since kindergarten.” Killer scowled, but his eyes were still grinning.

In the last remaining minute of the song they slowed, swayed, leaning into each other. They let the wave of other dancers surge around them. Killer hooked an arm around Cross’s neck, Cross laid his over his shoulders. Cross watched him, awaiting his next move silently.

Killer took Cross’s left hand and pressed a slow kiss to his knuckles.

Cross decided this party wasn’t that bad, at least.

Killer’s song ended. They untangled. Cross followed Killer as he slunk over to the apartment’s kitchen, where refreshments were strewn over the counters. The nearby balcony’s door was propped open, and Cross lingered there in the opening. Cool outside air hit his back.

Now Killer was chatting up another guy at the table. Like he always did when they went out anywhere. As if out of habit. Cross disregarded them; all he heard was Killer say “is that a challenge?”. He would’ve dwelled on it more, been more bothered, but he put his attention on everyone else. He scanned the crowd like he expected to be jumped.

Beside him Killer returned and he felt him press up against him. He knew he was grinning. His hand wandered Cross’s arm, then his back. He smelled like smoke. What was he after.

Cross’s face grew warm. His shoulders tensed. But he averted his eyes, kept his focus on the crowd.

His gaze landed on one woman in particular, not far from the table. She was surrounded by her own group of people, but for some reason she was staring directly at him, both of them. With this look in her eye.

Her lips, which were covered in a red smothering of lipstick, ticked down in a grimace.

What a sight they must be.

A wildfire of anger burst up through Cross. His bones grew hot, like he was being burned by it. She made him so fucking mad. He couldn’t process why.

She hadn’t even said anything. Not yet. But he knew she would. It was a matter of time, with the way she was looking at them.

Cross searched her, trying to gauge her. He knew these kinds of people all too well.

He returned her look in a blank stare. In it, he silently poured out every bit of desire he had to wipe that look off on the wall behind her. He doubted he’d actually do something, though. It wasn’t worth whatever hell would come of it.

Still, it leaked into his voice.

“Someone’s staring.” He said, quietly, and Killer retracted slightly.

He followed Cross’s gaze. His grin fell. The soul in front of his chest flickered, becoming an unstable ever-shifting shape far from a circle. To Cross it resembled a star nearing on a supernova.

He wasn’t being nearly as discrete as Cross; he glared back at her with just as much anger. If not more. Like a dog with teeth bared.

His voice dripped venom. “I’ll deal with ‘er.”

Cross’s companion pulled away from the table and over to the woman. Each step carried a buried intention, buried fury, with it.

Cross felt like someone’s gonna die.

Cross blinked and Killer was already in front of her. She said something to him, and he heard Killer shout back at her. He blinked again and Killer’s fist was flying. The woman’s head skewed to the side unnaturally, awkwardly. Then she fell to a heap on the carpet; A painted lady sprawled across the floor like a body bag.

She struggled to her elbows, coughed blood onto the carpet. The tease of a grimace became a full-fledged snarl. Her pretty prim lipstick was smeared.

Cross didn’t hear anything. Hardly even saw anything but Killer and the woman. Only the pounding of blood in his ears and flashing lights in the corner of his vision.

A needle of sudden anxiety, anticipation, stabbed Cross. Nothing good was gonna come from this.

If they hadn’t been before, everyone was certainly staring now.

The few nearest were on Killer like a pack of wolves to a carcass.

Someone was gonna die.

The surge consumed Killer. Shouting roared over the music. Cross barely saw him as he clawed, fought, screamed. Grinned. The suddenness of it all startled Cross out of his anger.

Two attackers were thrown back, blood streaming from their noses. Two more took their place.

At some point Killer’s jacket slipped, leaving shoulders exposed. And one of his sleeves was torn now. Bits of bleach-white bone were visible like Cross was peaking through a break in the blinds.

For a moment, he just stood and watched. Watched Killer fight like an animal. Admired the fluidity of his movements. Stared into the flames.

God,

He couldn’t help it.

Maybe this is what he came to this dumb party for.

Killer got tackled by two guys much larger than him and Cross, simultaneously, was thrown into the mess by someone behind him he didn’t see. It was like he was in a hornet’s nest. It was confusing, loud, violent. He didn’t know what to do, how to do it.

Somehow, he gathered himself and he and Killer managed to push back the swarm. Everything broke like oil and water, if only for a moment.

Killer now stood on Cross’s right, clutching his wrist tight in his hand. On the other, his left, was a smear of red lipstick. He held it curled in a fist.

Cross’s magic pounded in his ears.

There was a single heartbeat of still, then they were on them again, just as quick. They tore at them, stampeded over them. Except now Cross was in the middle of it. And at that moment he wanted to be anywhere else. But he didn’t really, either. This was where Killer was.

It became war.

Like with dancing, Cross wasn’t as confident a fighter as Killer. And he doubted his skills. But he wasn’t harmless, he hoped.

He tried to stay close to Killer, to not lose him to it all. That became his only goal. To not lose Killer, and to survive.

Cross grabbed another guy by the shirt and pulled him off of Killer, then had to spin to push someone different back with a strike from the elbow. It was overwhelming, smothering. Everyone on every side at all times.

Occasionally he got glances of Killer as he would stumble backward, only to run back in, laughing. He never stayed in range of who he fought, always jumping in and back out. Circling, a wolf nipping at the ankles of an elk. But he hit hard, knew what he was doing.

Warm blood ran into Cross’s eye, obscuring his vision. He must’ve busted an eyebrow.

Even before that, his vision became blurred. All he saw were movements. He focused everything on not drowning. Where was Killer? He had lost sight of him at some point. But the thought was ripped from his mind as he sustained a kick to the back and staggered. He gritted his teeth and returned the hit, pushed someone he didn’t see long enough to identify away. He rammed someone else with his shoulder.

Then he took another, harder, blow. This time to the side of the head. He felt like his whole skull was jarred and he staggered again, almost falling this time.

Someone grabbed his wrist.

It was Killer.

He ripped Cross from it all, fingers dug into his arm. Then they were running. He knew they were being followed. Killer shouted something. At some point they were in a stairwell, descending. Pounding in his skull was all he heard.

Suddenly, cold night air.

They were outside. There was Cross’s truck.

They ran to it and pulled the door’s open so hard he was surprised they weren’t thrown off their hinges. They were slammed closed just as hard.

Cross stuck the keys in the ignition and turned as fast as he could manage.

Six remaining pursuers flooded from the apartment. They tried to follow, yelled curses and profanities.

“Go, go, go!” Killer shouted.

“I’m trying!”

They pulled out and ended back on the road.

Finally, things started to slow back down. But Cross still felt like he wasn’t there. He felt like he was still at that party, busting his knuckles on strangers out for his blood. He didn’t even feel relief yet, that they were in the safety of Cross’s truck now. He didn’t feel much of anything.

The first thing Cross fully registered was Killer slamming his arm on the side of the door four times. “Holy shit!”

He put his hand to his head. “Holy shit.”

He was making an expression Cross couldn’t read, or place. Was it excitement? Surprise? Detest? Fear? Maybe just adrenaline. He was grinning. But he always was. His eyes were wide. Like he had just gotten off a rollercoaster.

Cross glanced at him again after checking the road. “You’re bleeding.”

He was, from the nose.

“So’re you.”

Cross put a finger to his eyebrow and felt warm liquid. The wound stung, he just now noticed. He wouldn’t notice the rest of his pain until much later, when the adrenaline was out of his system.

“Dude that was fucking insane.” Killer breathed. He almost laughed as he said it.

“It was worth it, though.” He added. “God, getting to wipe that look off her face,”

“Mm,” Cross hummed absently. Was it worth it? Part of him agreed silently.

“Showed her. Fucking showed her.” Killer continued, mostly to himself.

“You’re alright?” Cross asked, eyes pinned to the road. He still felt jittery. He hated having to sit here this long.

“Oh, what, me? Yeah I’m fine, I’m fine. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” Killer replied. He wiped at his nose, then cleaned the remaining lipstick from his hand on his jacket.

He was so… unaffected. Like this was an everyday occurrence for him. Maybe it was.

Cross rubbed the blood from his brow again. It hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. He wondered how bad it was. But he didn’t check the rearview mirror for his reflection.

He felt Killer’s eyes on him.

“It’s a look, y’know.” Killer quipped.

Cross laughed quietly. “What, having dried blood on my face?”

They drove in silence for a while. Cross’s soul was still pounding. At some point he collected himself enough to remember to put on his seatbelt. He listened to the occasional clicking of the turn signal and Killer’s mindless tapping. It grounded him, pulled him away from the party.

“I didn’t know you could fight like that.” Killer said eventually. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“I was just trying not to get killed.” Cross responded dryly, like it was a fact. He hadn’t thought it was that impressive.

Killer laughed. Even though it was the truth.

“Wasn’t too bad, either. I could teach ya a thing or two, though. If you wanted.”

Killer offered with a grin.

Cross considered it just for a moment. “I think I’m fine.”

“Your loss. You think about it, ‘kay?” Killer replied. “I’d love t’see what you could do if you knew what you were doin’”

Cross just hoped he wouldn’t find himself in a situation where he needed to know what he was doing.

Killer leaned forward to start messing with the truck’s radio. He flicked through stations and static.

“I didn’t expect that many people to come after us.” Cross said.

“Yeah, god, it was like everyone at that party was pissed.”

“What’d she say? I saw her say something to you.” Cross asked.

“What d’you think? Some stupid shit about us. I dunno, I don’t remember.” Killer said, scowling at the radio. Cross knew he remembered, but he didn’t press.

Killer eventually found a station he was satisfied with and leaned back. Now a loud, quick, shouty rock song Cross hadn’t heard quietly filled the background of the cab.

Killer stretched out his arms. “Well, I’d consider tonight a success.”

Cross stared at him.

Killer laughed. “Eyes on the road, sweetheart,”

———

After what felt like an eternity they ended up at Cross’s apartment. Cross fumbled with keys to unlock the door and they stumbled inside. Everything was dark, lit only by the lights of the street and a standing lamp near the door Cross bothered to flick on as they entered.

The first thing Cross did was go for the fridge in the conjoined kitchen. It was mostly empty, but he found a cold canned drink and tossed it to Killer. He pressed it to limbs, to his face, soothing the bruises he had acquired.

He had a faint, dark ring around one of his eye sockets in the start of a black eye. Cross took his wrist and slowly, firmly, guided his hand to the socket.

“You caused a lot of trouble.” Cross murmured, sighing, as he held his hand there.

“You saw the way she was looking at us.” Killer replied sharply.

Cross retracted his hand, stood there to look at him. “Still,”

“She was basically just askin’ for it, anyway. No one else was gonna do it.” Killer argued.

“I think I’m gonna have a headache for a week. Thanks to you.” Cross said, though he was just barely smiling.

“You’re welcome.” Killer grinned.

“Mm.”

After, the can was handed back to Cross. It was just barely warmer, just barely flecked with blood. He pressed it to his own bruises, and to his eyebrow. The start of a headache stabbed at him.

Cross watched Killer as he fixed his jacket from where it had fallen off his shoulders. Just as closely as when he had watched him fight.

He felt both of them linger there, unsure. Awkward. Mutually asking “what now?”

“Well, it’s been a hell of a night, but I better be gettin’ outta here. I’m a busy man, y’know.” Killer said finally, flicking up his hood over his head.

“Already?” Cross asked.

Of course.

“Don’t worry, you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy. I’ll be back.” Killer said, brushed up against Cross as he headed for the door, grinning up at him. He caught Cross’s hand and held it in his for just a moment.

‘I’ll be back’ could’ve meant a myriad of things. Cross could see him tomorrow. Maybe in a few hours, even. Or he could see him next in however many days.

Cross’s mouth teased a smile and he shook his head. He followed him to the doorway, where Killer lingered, holding the door open with one hand.

It sounded like it was raining outside.

For some reason, in that moment Cross remembered what Killer had said at the gas station, before they left.

His eyes widened, then narrowed at him. “You’re such a liar. You said nothing would happen.”

“Your favorite liar.” Killer grinned.

He leaned farther through the doorway toward him and pressed a kiss to Cross’s teeth, as if it was some kind of weird apology. It tasted like smoke. And blood. Cross let it happen, didn’t want it to end as quick as it did.

“We should do this again sometime.”

Then it was over, Killer was gone, and all Cross saw was the door as it clicked closed.

#wowowowow kross oneshot moment #read my writing boy /silly /nf #this one im like feeling mixed things about but that always happens so y’know how it is #armageddon’s fanfics #rental suits au #cross sans #killer sans #cross x killer #killer x cross #kross ship #criller #utmv #mostly i just hit the point where if i kept editing i was gonna go insane so im posting it Now #also trying out posting fics directly onto tumblr just to see how that goes #and also cause i do not want to deal with ao3’s tagging weeping

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lnfours · 4 months

Text

inclinations (august) | l.n

summary: a story told in two parts: summer and autumn. summer held the whirlwind romance that came crashing down too soon. autumn brought the repercussions of young love and learning how to fall in love all over again.

au: childhood friends to lovers, uni!au

warnings: sadness, fluff, a little bit of angst, and social media being a toxic hellhole

masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the sun rose the next morning and you rolled over, checking the time on your phone. 7:45am. lando was probably getting ready to head to the airport soon. getting ready to head back to the uk, to go just as fast as he came.

almost like it was routine for him now. he was used to not staying in one place for long, and honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you saw him for more than a couple days at a time. it was rare that he was able to settle down for a weeks time. he was lucky if he was able to be home for 5 days, yet alone weeks or a month, even.

your phone lit up, letting a soft ping ring through your otherwise quiet room. you groggily grasped it in your hands, squinting at the bright light and turning your brightness back down before reading the text on your screen.

lando

can i see you before i leave?

you weren’t sure if you were excited or if you weren’t looking forward to it at all. it would be your final goodbye until the next time he was able to have some downtime. sure, you should’ve been used to it by now, but things were different back then. things are different now. the same old goodbyes you used to share now sting a little more.

coffee downtown?

knew you were gonna say that, i’m outside already

you furrowed your eyebrows and got up from your bed, making your way over to your window before spotting the mclaren idling outside your house. you grabbed your phone quickly, sending a quick text to him that said you’d be down in a few before tugging on a hoodie and some shoes, grabbing your wallet on your way out your bedroom door.

you made it downstairs in record timing, opening the front door and smiling as he leaned up against the passenger side of his car. he smiled back at you, opening his arms and pulling you in for a hug as you approached him.

you took in his scent, for what was going to be the last time for a while, before pulling away and looking up at him, “hey,”

“hi,” he smiled back down at you, brushing a piece of hair away from your face before planting a kiss on the crown of your head, “ready for some coffee and pancakes?”

you nodded and he moved, opening the door for you before you climbed in and let him close it behind you. you sat in the car, the radio playing a familiar song you had recognized as one of the songs you had sent him a couple months ago, the link from spotify with the caption reading ‘i think you’d like this, definitely your vibe :)’. you smiled at the filled heart symbol on his radio screen, a signal that he had added your recommendation to his liked songs.

it was the little things.

he climbed in and shut the door, heading in the direction towards the cafe you and him frequented almost every other summer. the summers he was able to make it here, that is.

he opened the doors for you, the two of you sitting down at a table by the window. you watched the sky turn from a light shade of orange and pinks from the sunrise into the bright blue summer sky you loved. he watched you watch everything, smiling softly over his cup.

“you okay?”

your attention snapped back to the boy in front of you, his eyes resembling the sky you had your eyes fixated on previously, a hint of sadness in them as he met your gaze.

you nodded, grabbing the warm mug into your hands, “mhm,”

“you don’t have to lie to me.”

you shook your head, swallowing the warm sip of coffee, “‘m not, i just… i don’t know how i feel to be honest. guess ‘m just…”

“disappointed?” he finished for you and you nodded, a wave of guilt washing over you.

“and i know i shouldn’t feel this way, i mean it’s not like you can help it, it’s your career,” you sighed, “but i was just hoping for some more time.”

he nodded, understandingly, “me too.”

your eyes went back to look out the window, your lips moving and asking the question you had been dreading for the past week, “how’re we supposed to do long distance from two different countries?”

“i’ll call you every chance i get,” he said, placing his hands on yours that tapped against the table absentmindedly, making you look back at him, “plus, i’m going to new york for some promo with tumi, i’ll just fly in a few days early.”

you nodded, letting out a shaky breath, “‘m just scared.”

“of?”

“losing you,” you mumbled, “what if you find someone else and they’re so much better and they’re able to fly all around the world with you-“

“y/n,” he cut your rambling off. he wasn’t mad, he knew where you were coming from. if he was being honest, he was scared, too, “you’re it for me, no one else. you’re the only one i want.”

the waitress came with your foot, the two of you separating your hands and letting her put your plates down in front of each of you. you both thanked the older woman with smiles, which she returned before going back to the counter to chat with the older gentleman having a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper.

“okay, new topic,” you said, watching him take a bite from his stack of pancakes, “tell me all about the plans for the rest of the season.”

he smiled at you before happily ranting about the plans for the rest of the calendar. he was thrilled to be going back to racing, and you could feel the excitement radiating off of him. you couldn’t help but smile and listen as he talked about oscar and how well him and his new younger teammate were getting along.

and after you both finished your coffee and food, and fighting over who was going to pay the bill and leave the tip (which he won, as always), you made your way back to the car.

he placed his hand on your thigh, leaving it there the whole ride back to your house. but when he pulled up outside, you wanted nothing more than for him to stay. you wanted to pull him by the strings of his hoodie and force him to stay here with you.

but you couldn’t, and you knew that.

you looked over at him with watery eyes, “i really don’t want you to go, but i know you have to.”

your glossy eyes hit him right where it hurt. and as if he wasn’t having a hard time already, he definitely was now, “baby,”

you sniffled, shaking your head, “‘m sorry-“

“don’t apologize,” he said, tilting your head to look back at him, “don’t apologize for having feelings.”

you leaned into his touch, letting the pad of his thumb wipe away the fallen tear that dripped from your eyelashes, “you better go get a podium.”

he laughed softly, “i’ll get ‘em all, just for you.”

this wasn’t how your summer was supposed to go. you two were supposed to go to the beach, hang out with your friends, throw parties every weekend. you weren’t supposed to fall in love just to feel like your heart was getting ripped out the next week.

“call me when you land?” you asked, and he nodded.

“i will,” he smiled softly, trying his hardest not to cry himself, “i promise.”

you sniffled, “lando, i-“

“i know,” he smiled, “i love you, too.”

you leaned over the center console, letting your lips meet his. he kissed you back, putting as much passion and love into the kiss as he could.

he pulled away, even though with every fiber of his being he didn’t want to, “‘ve got to go,”

you nodded, “i know,”

one more kiss and he was opening his door, walking around the car to open yours. just like he always did. he walked with you up to the front door of your house, pulling you into another bone crushing hug, “c’mere,”

you hugged him back, faze nuzzled into his neck as you tried your hardest not to let a sob rake through you. he pressed another kiss to the top of your head, “i love you.”

“i love you, too.” you sniffled, the both of you pulling away and biding a goodbye after he planted one last kiss on your lips.

you waved to him from your front steps, watching him smile softly and wave to you from the drivers side. you pushed open the door, climbing up the stairs to your room and letting your body hit the mattress.

you don’t remember falling back to sleep, but you woke up to someone sitting down on the mattress next to you and putting their hand on your back. you groaned, turning and opening one eye to see flo smiling gently down at you.

“morning,” she smiled, “how’re you feeling?”

“like shit,” you mumbled, “next time i see zak brown, it’s on sight.”

she snorted softly, “would a shopping trip cheer you up?”

you shook your head and she frowned softly, her thoughts interrupted by her ringtone playing through the room. she answered the phone, the connecting sound playing through letting you know she answered a facetime call.

“hey, ‘re you with y/n?” max’s voice caught your attention.

she looked over at you, “yeah, why?”

“okay, good,” he said, “tell her to stay off her socials.”

your head picked up as she spoke, “why?”

she turned the phone to you, letting you see max’s face as he sighed softly, “did you go get breakfast with lando this morning?”

“yeah..?”

“i guess some paparazzi got some pictures of the two of you,” he said and you immediately reached for your phone, seeing the millions of notifications flood your lock screen, “and some people are saying some real sick things.”

you opened instagram, your notifications blowing up with each passing second. you clicked on the first thing, the pictures of you and lando from this morning popping up on your screen.

you read the comments, drowning out what max was going on about as flo watched and read with you.

what is he doing with her?

that is so not his type.

he could do so much better

you locked your phone, your best friends eyes meeting yours. she frowned looking at you as you turned your phone off, ignoring the texts from lando that had popped up right before.

lando

i’m so sorry.

are you okay??

y/n???

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its-avalon-08 · 4 days

Text

hearts intertwined (hamilton x sister! driver!rosberg) p7

chapter 7: we crashed and burned

warnings - none at all

series masterlist

The Silverstone crowd roared as the grid lights went out. Y/N, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs, launched off the line with a blistering start. Having lived in the UK for most of her life, it was her home. This was it. Her home race, her first real shot at a win.

However, qualifying hadn't been kind. A gearbox glitch had left her in P4, frustration gnawing at her. Up ahead, Lewis, the ever-dominant force, sat comfortably in P1. The radio crackled in her ear, Liam's voice calm and collected. "Keep your head down, Y/N. We'll get our chance."

Y/N gritted her teeth, focusing on the race ahead. From the very first corner, she displayed her aggressive driving style, surgically carving her way through the pack. A risky overtake on Bottas here, a daring move on Ricciardo there – Y/N was on a mission.

By lap 15, she had clawed her way up to P2, breathing down Lewis's neck. The tension in the air crackled, the crowd sensing a brewing battle. Y/N pushed her car to the limit, matching Lewis turn for turn.

Lewis, frustrated by her relentless pursuit, made a critical error in judgment. He pitted early, a gamble that backfired spectacularly. Y/N, seizing this golden opportunity, stretched her lead. The Red Bull garage erupted in cheers as she crossed the finish line, checkered flag waving, a first-place victory secured.

The champagne shower was bittersweet. Yes, she had won, but the joy was tinged with a sense of unease. A clip of Lewis's furious radio message, broadcasted after his failed pit strategy, had gone viral. "What a stupid fucking move! She's a cheat, just like her brother!"

Y/N's smile faded. Her phone buzzed incessantly. Twitter was a storm of angry comments, fueled by Lewis's outburst. Tears pricked at her eyes. This wasn't how she'd envisioned her first win. The Lewis she'd known, the playful boy she'd shared video game afternoons with, was a distant memory.

The other drivers, sensing her distress, gathered around her, offering congratulations and words of encouragement. Max, ever the blunt one, scoffed. "Don't listen to that loser, Y/N. You earned that win fair and square."

Lando chimed in, his voice gentle. "Lewis will get over it. He just hates seeing someone else on the podium."

Y/N forced a smile, her voice choked with emotion. "Thanks, guys." But the victory felt hollow. The playful rivalry she'd secretly harbored a spark for had morphed into something toxic and consuming. As she walked away, a single tear rolled down her cheek, a silent testament to a shattered dream.

Fury simmered in Nico's eyes as he stormed into Y/N's garage. The radio message, the hateful words Lewis had spewed – they were a declaration of war, not just on Y/N, but on their entire family. He found Y/N huddled with Max and Lando, a brave smile plastered on her face.

"Y/N," Nico's voice was a low growl. "That message…"

Y/N waved him off, her smile faltering. "Don't worry about it, Nico. Lewis is just… Lewis."

Max scoffed. "Just Lewis? That was disgusting! You drove brilliantly, Y/N. You deserved that win."

Y/N offered a weak smile. "Thanks, Max. I appreciate it."

Across the paddock, Lewis watched the interaction unfold. A pang of guilt twisted in his gut as he saw Nico comfort Y/N, wiping away a stray tear that escaped her determined facade. The playful banter, the shared laughter of their childhood – it seemed a lifetime ago. He had let the rivalry consume him, turning a sweet memory into a bitter enemy.

Later that evening, Y/N exited the restroom, her face drawn. Lewis, who had been washing his hands, froze. He knew he owed her an apology, a genuine one. He opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N brushed past him, ignoring his presence altogether.

"Y/N, wait," he pleaded. "I need to apologize for what I said. It was…"

Y/N stopped, her back stiff. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. The dam broke when Lewis spoke again.

"It was unprofessional and disrespectful," he continued, his voice low. "You are a phenomenal driver, Y/N, and you deserve every bit of your success."

She spun around, her voice trembling with unshed tears. "Don't you dare," she choked out. "Don't you dare act like you fucking care now. You and Nico… you fell out, you started hating each other so deeply that... you stopped being in each others lives. And I had to watch him lose a best friend, and in the process, I lost you. I cried for days when you stopped talking to him, Lewis. And you know what? You didn't even call or text me one time. Not when everyone on Twitter called me a nepo baby, not when I got into that crash in F2. Not when the entire racing community said that I didn't deserve a place because i was a woman. You were part my whole world. My. Whole. Fucking. Universe. And it was so easy for you to leave and cut me out. So no Lewis. I'm not giving in this time because as much as you claim to be Mister. Nice Guy I know your reality and it is the fact that you didn't care one bit."

Lewis felt the floor drop out from under him. He had no right to be surprised. He had pushed Y/N away, collateral damage in his war with Nico. The pain etched on her face mirrored the forgotten ache in his own heart.

"Y/N…" he stammered, his voice heavy with regret. But the words died in his throat. He had hurt her, pushed her away, and apologizing now felt hollow in the face of his past actions.

Y/N wiped away a tear, her voice laced with a steely resolve. "Save it, Lewis. The damage is done." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Lewis alone with the weight of his remorse.

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @xoscar03 , @torossosebs , @jajouska , @lindsayjoy444 , @barcelonaloverf1life

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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ur-mag · 8 months

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Drivers are just realizing there’s a secret button in their car that means it will wash itself | In Trend Today

Drivers are just realizing there’s a secret button in their car that means it will wash itself Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

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#Celebrities #Drivers are just realizing there’s a secret button in their car that means it will wash itself #Money #Motors #Politics #ShowBiz #Sport #Tech #UK #US #World

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mountttmase · 7 months

Text

A Mountain To Climb: The Sequel

Chapter Nine

Note - this chapter might not make total sense unless you’re from the UK so if there’s any parts or things people are confused with please just let me know I’ll be more than happy to explain 🩷 but I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 4.7k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut and angst

Masterlist

Running errands day had to be one of your favourite days. Walking round your favourite shops, smelling all the different fabric conditioners and checking out what new snacks they had got you so excited so you made sure you were up and dressed to leave as soon as you possibly could.

You were just putting your shoes on at the bottom of the stairs when the front door swung open, a smiley Mason walking back in through the door and your face changed to one of confusion and soon as your eyes met his.

‘Mase? Why aren’t you at training?’ You asked, standing up so you could slip your hoodie on and he dumped his bag before making his way over to you.

‘Power cut’ he shrugged, pulling you in by your waist so he could place a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. ‘The pitch has frozen over outside and it’s fucking freezing inside so they’ve given us the day off’

‘Oh thats annoying’

‘A little bit, but at least we can spend the day together now. I’m thinking we order breakfast and cuddle for a bit’ he winked before kissing your cheek.

‘No can do. I’ve got errands to run’ you told him, watching the way he dropped his bottom lip but you kissed it away. ‘Why don’t you come with me?’

‘Where are you going?’

‘B&M first, need to stock up in some cleaning supplies and i want to get a new shelf for the shower so that I can’t put my shower gel and bits on. If they don’t have it there I think there’s a home bargains near by. Then I need to pop to dunelm for some pillow cases and paint and then I think there’s a halfords next door so I can grab some more of that screen wash and then sainsburys to top up the food shop’

‘Bloody hell, sounds exhilarating’ he laughed sarcastically and you tapped him on the chest in jest.

‘Fine, you can stay here on your own then’ you winked, moving out of his hold but he pulled you back to him with a huff.

‘Buy me lunch and I’ll come’

‘Deal’

‘And I’m driving’

‘Don’t want much do you?’ you laughed and he shook his head shyly. ‘Go get changed, I don’t need you sticking out anymore than you already do’ you told him and with a quick kiss to your cheek he was running upstairs, changing out of his training gear and into a sweatshirt and some comfy shorts before you both jumped into the car.

‘So what do they sell in B&M? You talk about it all the time but I don’t actually know what it is’ he asked as you eventually pulled into the car park.

‘I mean it’s more like what don’t they sell. Food, home stuff, furniture, toys. It’s like Disneyland for adults’

‘How big is this place?’

‘Massive’ you smiled and he rolled his eyes before covering his face with his hands.

‘Can I stay in here?’

‘No way, come on you’ll love it. I’ll let you push the trolly too’ you told him, batting your eyelashes at him before he silently agreed, getting out the car and following you over to where the trolleys were.

He pushed it around but you kept yourself sandwiched between him and the handle as you first walked in, his body pressed up against yours and you giggled every time he kissed your cheek. It wasn’t long before you got to the confectionery aisle, his eyes lighting up at all the different sweets they had and you chuckled at him as he showed you all the ones he’d never seen with an excited smile.

‘I didn’t even know these existed’ he told you, starting to add them to the trolley already and you wondered if you’d have to step in soon to restrict him. ‘They must import them or something’

‘I didn’t come here for chocolate, Mason’

‘I know, sorry. You go get what you need and I’ll come find you’ he told you, not even looking at you as he looked for what other treats they had to offer but you realised you were going to have to stop him now before it got out of hand.

‘Mason, sweetheart. You know you’re not allowed all of this stuff’ you told him, picking up everything up out of the trolley and you watched as he pouted and held what he had in his hands close to his chest. ‘You can pick three’

‘But baby-‘

‘Mason’ you told him sternly, trying to stay strong as you knew you could quite easily fold at the sight of his pouty face. ‘I’m looking out for you. Your nutritionist will murder you if they find out you’re eating all this stuff’

He knew you were right, but he was still going to sulk about it. Grabbing everything into his arms so he could pick his three favourite before putting the rest back and turning to you with a pout so you pulled him into a hug.

‘Good boy’ you whispered, kissing his lips as he blushed and squeezed your bum gently.

‘Stop it you’ he laughed ‘wait till we get home, then I’ll be your good boy’

‘I look forward to it’ you winked, dragging him and the trolley through the shop and into the cleaning aisle. ‘I’m thinking of changing up the fabric conditioner scent, what do you think?’ You asked, eyes scanning the shelf before opening one up to sniff and passing it to him.

‘I don’t think i have any thoughts about that particular subject’ he told you, taking a sniff before pulling a face like he didn’t like it. He made a point of smelling each one after that before picking his favourite and you popped it in the trolley along with some washing tablets. ‘I didn’t have you down as an ocean escape kind of man’ you teased but he just rolled his eyes at you before helping grab everything else such as dishwasher tablets and washing up sponges.

Mason stayed pretty well behaved until you got to kitchen appliances aisle, trying to convince you that he needed a three in one sandwich toaster and a special machine just for eggs but you knew he’d use them once before they collected dust in the kitchen so you told him no and he scrunched his face up adorably.

‘You wait, I’m gonna come in here on my own and get everything I want so you can’t tell me no’

‘Pretty strong words coming from a man who didn’t even want to come in at first’

‘Well I was young and naive back then’ he laughed, kissing your nose as you smiled up at him, pulling him around the rest of the shop so you could pick up some things for the bathroom and you let him get lost in the toy section, picking out a few things for Summer and Mila for the next time they came around.

You popped into Dunelm next, Mason helping you pick out some paint for your room, paint brushes and some matching cushions before you dashed into Halfords for your screen wash. It was at this time he started complaining he was hungry so you sent him back to the car with the bags, promising to get him his lunch like you said and the giant Greggs sign caught your attention so you ran in to pick him up a few bits.

‘So I wasn’t allowed the chocolate I want but you’re quite happy for me to stuff my face with whatever this is’ he laughed.

‘Greggs is a delicacy’ you told him seriously, passing him a bottle of Pepsi and you watched as he rolled his eyes at the sight of his face on the side of the bottle. ‘Now would you like to see what I got you?’

‘If you must’ he laughed, watching you root around in the bag to find him his things. ‘When I said you can buy me lunch I was hoping I got to pick’

‘Well my tastes are superior to yours quite clearly’ you winked, handing him the pizza first and then a sausage roll and he looked at you like you’d gone insane.

‘This is all beige’

‘Yes, my favourite food colour. But I think you’ll find the pepperoni is red’ you winked and he gave up trying to argue with you, digging in and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was enjoying it. ‘You ready for cake?’ You asked when you noticed he was all done and he nodded whilst gulping down half of his Pepsi. ‘I got you two to choose from, I’ll have the other’ you told him, pulling out the little bags and peeking inside. ‘So there’s a yumyum in here or Tottenham cake in here’

‘I’m sorry, a what now?’

‘A yumyum or Tottenham cake’

‘You expect me to eat something that has the word Tottenham in it, are you insane?’

‘Hey, it’s nice’ you pouted, passing him the yumyum as you opened your cake up and you saw him peek over to take a look at the pink icing.

‘Maybe you can save me a bit and I’ll try it’ he teased it you made it your mission to eat the whole thing so he couldn’t but you were too full up to finish and he smiled when you offered him a bite. ‘Not bad, we’ll have to call it something else though’

‘Well my dad always used to call it shit cake’ you told him, watching his face turn to a look of surprise as you never mentioned your parents but he smiled warmly at you. Letting you know it was okay to talk about them if you wanted to as he gently took your hand so he could kiss your knuckles.

‘Oh yeah, why’s that?’

‘Cause Tottenham are shit’ you laughed and he nodded enthusiastically at you.

‘Then we must carry on the tradition’ he winked before starting the car up again. ‘So Sainsbury’s then home?’ He asked and you nodded as you got yourself plugged in. ‘I think I’ll get painting straight away when we get in, it’s only the one wall isn’t it? I can try and burn some of this lunch off’ he laughed and you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before you set off.

You were only in Sainsbury’s for 15 minutes or so and you offered to put all of the shopping away so he could get started on painting. By the time you were done he was just under halfway through with painting and you watched from the open doorway with a smile on your face as carried on, blissfully unaware of your presence.

He’d stripped down to just his shorts, his bare back facing you and you let your eyes flicker over him. Your mouth almost watering at the way his muscles danced under his skin with every move of the brush and you hand to hold yourself back from going over to place kisses all over him.

He must of caught you looking out the corner of his eye, doing a double take and looking back at you with a shy smile before laughing and motioning for you to come over.

‘You gonna stand there looking at me all day or are you gonna help?’ He teased but you stayed rooted to the spot.

‘I think I might stay here, I’ve got a pretty good view’ you told him, a sense of triumph washing over you at the way he blushed from your words. ‘I’ll just get changed and I’ll come help’ you told him, changing into an old pair of shorts and a sports bra that you didn’t mind getting messy. His eyes were all over you when you got back, you ignored him though and picked up the small brush so could could start neatening the edges up and with a kiss to your cheek he carried on himself.

The pair of you chatted over the low music in the background, him giving you his opinion on your thoughts for the room and making plans to pick up the last of your stuff before you had to give your keys back. It didn’t take that much longer for you to finish and you didn’t know what came over you but with your last drop of paint you’d dragged the brush across his chest and down his abs casing him to look at you with his mouth agape.

‘What the fuck’ he laughed, looking down at the mess on his body before dipping his hands into the paint tray and covering them fully. ‘Come here’ he laughed and even though you tried to run away, he backed you into a corner with a devilish smile on his face. You couldn’t do a thing but stand and squeeze your eyes shut and when you felt his wet hands grip your face you gasped in surprise.

He was kissing you right away though, silencing any protests as he trailed his paint covered hands down your neck and the pair of you laughed into each others mouths before pulling back.

‘Don’t mess with me’ he laughed ‘I’ll get you back ten times worse’

‘Noted’ he winked before dropping another light kiss on your lips.

‘We best go get cleaned up, I’ll get the shower going and then we can make some dinner’ he told you, leaving you to quickly tidy up the paintbrushes before joining him.

‘Bloody hell, Mase. I’m covered’ you laughed as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. Paint all down your cheeks and neck and you picked your phone up to take a quick mirror selfie so you could remember the moment, Masons bare torso in the back as he threw up a peace sign making you laugh.

‘Come on, it’s ready now. I’ll help you get it off’ he offered, both undressing and heading in so you could clean each other off. Once all the paint was washed off of your body he turned you around, grabbing some shampoo and squeezing it onto your hair before starting to massage it in. His fingers were like magic, your knees almost buckling under you as he massaged your head and you hummed appreciatively. ‘How’s that?’

‘Really nice’ you told him, feeling his fingers move to the back of your head and slightly down your neck before heading back round to the top. You didn’t want him to stop but he eventually did, lightly pushing you under the stream of water so he could rinse it out for you. He then picked up your conditioner and brush so he could detangle your hair and you could feel yourself blushing as he looked after you. Eventually turning you around so he could place a quick kiss on your lips. ‘Thank you, Mase’

‘Love you’ he whispered against your lips and you repeated his words back to him before he kissed you deeper, holding your face so you couldn’t move as he walked you back under the running water to help rinse out your hair. You both laughed as the water trickled all over you but you didn’t stop kissing him, his hands sliding all over you back and bum and you tugged on his hair slightly, pulling a low moan from him. ‘Come on trouble, let’s get dry’ he smiled, your heart thudding as you looked up at him. Tiny droplets if water trailing down his face as his warm soft eyes looked right into yours and you couldn’t help but reach up and give him one last kiss.

Once out, he handed you a towel for you hair before reaching to the towel warmer to grab one he’d put on there for you just before you’d come into the bathroom and you smiled as he wrapped the warm fabric around you as he grabbed his own. The mirror was foggy but you attempted to wipe it so you could check all the paint had gone and you smiled when you noticed you were now paint free.

As soon as you were back in the safety of your bedroom, you could see Mason pulling you out some clothes for you to change into and you smiled as he pull out of your favourite comfy tops of his to put on.

‘Baby?’ Mason quietly said once you were fully dressed and you turned to find your boyfriend looking at you shyly, the bridge of his nose a deep red and you raised your brows at him to get him to carry on. ‘Could i dry your hair for you?’

Your heart fluttered at his proposal and you felt all the blood in your body rush to your face as you nodded at him, taking his extended hand so you could sit on the end of the bed whilst he got everything he needed before settling behind you and took your hair out of the towel. He was so gentle, brushing through your hair as carefully as he could before grabbing the dryer.

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as he dried your hair, being as careful as he could while running his fingers through it to stop it tangling and you couldn’t help but reach out to touch his calf that was next to you so you could trace gentle shapes into his skin. Needing to feel him in some way as everything felt so intimate but you felt your heart race when he turned the dryer off and began section your hair out so he could plait it.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ He asked but you knew your voice would falter if you tried to speak so you shook your head to let him know it was fine to carry on, blushing even harder as he kissed the back of your head. ‘I’ve been practicing on Summer so I can get it right’ he laughed, carefully weaving your hair into two neat braids before securing it with a hair bobble.

You wanted to look at him so badly so as soon as he was done you shuffled round and his face softened at the sight of you.

‘You’re so pretty’

‘Oh shush’ you laughed but he grabbed your face so he could keep looking at you.

‘No way. Have you looked in a mirror recently? Absolute perfection’ he smiled before he face got more serious. ‘You make me feel so lucky’ his whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek and the tone of of his voice made your eyes sting.

‘Where’s all this coming from?’

‘I’ve just had a really nice day with you. I know we don’t get to do things like this often but every time we do it just reminds me that it’s all worth it, you know? And I love you so much and I love spending time with you. I’m just really happy’

‘I am too’ you gulped, pouting up at him so he would lean down to kiss you, and he placed the most gentle and loving kiss on your lips that made your whole body tingle.

You wanted more of him though, reaching up to hold his neck so he couldn’t pull away as you laid down and pulled him with you. He positioned himself in between your legs but kept his weight off of you so he could pull back ever so slightly.

‘I thought we were going to make dinner’ he laughed against your lips up you shook your head before kissing him softly again.

‘I want you first’ you murmured and your confession made him moan into your mouth as his pressed his hips against yours. ‘You promised to be my good boy when we got back remember’

‘I did’ he laughed, his cheeks flushing almost instantly as he knew what was coming.

Mason loved having his way with you, but you knew secretly he loved you having your way with him even more. The way it always got him riled up when you praised him and all the pretty noises he would make for you told you as much but you always made sure to only bring out his subby side for special occasions so you didn’t overdo it. With how you were feeling about him after your day today though there was nothing more you wanted than you appreciate your man the way he deserved.

‘Go sit up there for me’ you whispered, nodding towards the headboard and with one final kiss he was crawling up the bed to sit where you’d told him to.

Once you were undressed you were making you my way over to him, his wide eyes following you like you’d hung the moon until your fingers landed on the waistband of his boxers and they darkened instantly. You didn’t need to ask him, he lifted his hips for you instantly before helping you straddle his thighs.

All you could think about was his lips on yours and making him feel as good as possible so as he hands come to rest on your thighs you placed yours on his chest before dipping to kiss him instantly.

He was starting to get hard underneath you in no time, moaning into your mouth as you began to rock over him before pulling back and shuffling down his legs so you could see all of him.

‘I want you to touch yourself for me, Masey. Make yourself ready for me’

‘W-what? You mean…?’

You could tell he was nervous and slightly unsure so you took his hand in yours before wrapping it around his length so you could pump him a few times. His eyes flickered shut for a second before you pulled away, leaving him on his own to carry on but he stopped until you leant forward so your face was on line with his.

‘Touch yourself. Show me how good you can make yourself feel before it’s my turn’ you told him lowly and the tiny whimper he let slip soaked you immediately. You knew there was no way you’d be able to watch him get himself off without giving yourself some relief so you bought one leg in, hovering over just the one thigh now before sinking down so you could ride it.

‘Jesus Christ’ he breathed, one hand slowly pumping himself whilst the other griped your hip in an attempt to help you grind you hips down onto his thigh and the intimacy of it all made you tingle. You and Mason weren’t exactly saints in the bedroom but you’d never done anything like this before and the deep blush on his cheeks was telling you just how much he was enjoying himself.

‘Does that feel good, Mase? You look so pretty like that for me’ you murmured, the sounds now pouring from his mouth we’re unholy and it took everything in your power not to grind down on him even harder. But it was true, he was beautiful. His hair a mess, the bridge of his nose a deep red to match his cheeks and the adorable whimpers that were coming from him were driving you insane. You could tell he was hard enough now and you couldn’t wait anymore so you lifted your hips and positioned yourself back in his lap so you could line him up with you.

If there was a moment in time you wish you could freeze it would be this one. The anticipation, the look of lust on his face and the way his eyes were wide as he squeezed your hips as you lowered yourself onto him. He felt delicious as he stretched you out and you knew you wanted to torture him a little bit so when he was fully in you moved your hips as slow as possible.

‘B-baby please. Please go faster’ he mumbled, the bruising grip on your hips only adding to your pleasure and even though you wanted to give into him you also wanted to draw this out for as you could so you tutted at him whilst shaking your head playfully.

‘Nuh uh’ you breathed, your lips littering small kisses all over his cheeks but you ignored his pouty lips. You could tell he wanted to kiss you but you laid no attention to him. ‘Come on Mase, be my good boy and take it’ you breathed, revelling in the way he groaned at your words before his hands traveled down to hold your bum in a tight grip. ‘You feel so good, Mase. You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you’

‘Y-yes. Fuck yes’ he stuttered, his chest now heaving as he was loosing control. ‘Please kiss me’ he begged and you couldn’t deny you were itching to press your lips to his again.

‘Do you think you’ve earned it?’ You asked, lips by his ear as you trailed them down his neck. The sounds of his shallow breathing really getting you going and you picked up the pace of your hips ever so slightly.

‘Yeah, just please kiss me. I can’t-‘

You cut him off with you lips, moaning into his mouth as soon as you tasted him before his arms wrapped around you even tighter. You were as close as too bodies could be and you could tell by now Mason was close and had been for a while so you pulled back and placed your hands on his shoulders for leverage before moving your hips as fast as you could.

You knew you needed help, knowing Mason was dying to buck up into you so you dropped your eyes, staring right into his dark ones as you smiled at him cheekily.

‘Fuck me, Mase. Come on, finish me off I know you can’ you demanded and that seemed to be all it took. His hands were back on your waist as he manoeuvred you up and down, practically using you at this point but it felt like heaven. Your high hitting you like a truck out of nowhere and the distant feeling of Mason shuddering under your fingertips let you know he was done to.

He pulled you into his arms instantly, his head hidden away in your neck as you both tried to calm down and once you knew he probably was you tried to pull back however he didn’t seem to want to let you, pulling you tighter into him if possible.

‘Mase?’ You laughed, being a bit more forceful this time and whilst you were able to free yourself he was still hiding his face. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’ he laughed, finally looking at you but the deep blush on his cheeks and shy eyes told you everything. He was embarrassed, not because of anything that had happened but more because he’d enjoyed it so much.

‘You good?’ You smiled, watching him kiss your arm before nodding up at you.

‘Perfect’ he smiled before you leant down to kiss him again. ‘You’re absolute insane, do you know that?’

‘In the best way possible though right?’

‘Most definitely’

Tagged: @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @mm-vii @footiehoemcfc @masonmount07 @aundercover

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gojos-fr-bae · 2 months

Text

Liar pt. 6

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: A bit of angst, a bit of fluff, just the perfect concoction. Cussing, just the usual.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Again, I said I would release it two days ago but here we are. oopsies also, omd I haaate this, idk its just not giving me what I wanted it to have gave, uk? but I still hope you guys like it and it is what you have been waiting for.

(Requests open)

Satoru

Gojo was running around his house frantically trying to get himself together. You and he had agreed on going out with Kaito in order to introduce the boy to his father, finally. He had changed outfits about seen times and while trying to style his hair, he put way to much gel which he had to wash out which got his clothes wet meaning he had to switch his fit again and OH MY GOSH HE WAS LOOSING HIS FUCKING MIND.

To say he was nervous would be an understatement and he had kept himself sober since the previous night in order to be his best self for his son but it was just making him freak out even more. The amount of times he reached for a bottle of alcohol before realising what he was doing scared him.

He was in his bathroom standing in front of his mirror nit-picking every little detail about himself from his outfit to his hair and the dark circles that were no longer visible due to the foundation he had caked over them.

Everything was fine until he looked down at his watch and realised that he was running late. He ran out of the house as fast as he could before jumping into his car and sped out of his compound towards Jujutsu tech, failing to notice the cigarettes on his dashboard. Once he had arrived, he ran through the campus to your dorm room. Once he had reached, he froze with his hand about to make contact with the door, the seriousness of the situation finally dawning on him. He was going to meet his son for the first time ever. Oh no, he was shaking. He was trying his best to calm himself. He was finally going to meet his son. With a wide smile on his face, he gently knocked on the door.

His breath hitched when he finally laid his eyes on you. You looked absolutely breath-taking. You were wearing (Outfit of choice) and you looked stunning.

“Hi, Satoru,”

“H-Hi, y/n. You look…gorgeous.”

“Why thank you, you don’t look too shabby yourself,” You smiled at him as you watched a blush spread across his face.

“Th-Thank you.” he said, the most adorable smile spreading across his face.

“Kaito, someone’s here to see you!”

You watched as your son ran as fast as his stubby little feet could carry him. You had told him that his dad was coming to see him and although it took him a good minute to understand what you were saying, once he did, he was ecstatic. He was jumping up and down on your bed for almost the entire night before you told him Satoru wouldn’t come if he didn’t go to sleep. Knocked him right out. But what you were seeing right now was the complete opposite of his behaviour last night.

He was standing behind you, hiding behind your leg and glaring daggers at the man before him.

“‘Come on sweetie, say hi,” The boy just looked up at you, back at Satoru, and then hid further behind your legs.

“Sorry, he’s shy,”

“No, no, it’s okay, I totally understand. Shall we get going then?”

“Sure, let me just get Kaito’s bag.” you said, rushing into the house and leaving your son at the door.

Kaito stared Satoru down, squinted his eyes, and then did that thing where you point two fingers at your eyes, and then at the person you’re looking at. Satoru was… taken aback to say the least. Little did he know, Shoko had been training the child to attack the man since you arrived at Jujutsu Tech. Well, as much attacking as a two-year-old who just learned how to walk and can barely speak can do.

***

“Kaito, you see that man over there?” she said to the boy she was cradling in her arms while standing behind a tree. He squinted, trying to spot Gojo, and looked back at Shoko, nodding his head.

“Do you know who he is?” He shook his head no.

“Well you know how you love your mommy?”

“Uh-huh”

“Yeah, well that guy over there loves her too. Actually that’s your dad”

“Weally?! He squealed, eyes sparkling.

“Yes, but you know, he made your mama very, very, sad.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, but know that you're a big man, you have to protect mama yeah?”

“Mhm,” responded, understanding the task that had been bestowed upon him.

***

“Okay, I'm ready to go!” You said, picking up Kaito and closing the dorm door behind you.

“Let me help you with that, he said, taking the bag from you before leading you towards the car.

“Oh, do you have a car seat for Kaito?”

Gojo stopped in his tracks. Shit! How could he forget?! Oh no, he’s already a horrible father and now you hate him and Kaito hates him and he’s a failure and-

“If you don’t then it's alright, he can sit on my lap. It’s no problem.” you said, interrupting his train of thought, and thank God for that because he was spiralling.

“Alright then.” Thank heavens.

He opened the passenger door for you, placed Kaito’s bag in the back and ran to his side of the car.

He was about to say something when he looked at you and saw your eyes fixed on his dashboard. Holy Fuck, he didn't- clean the car. Holy fuck.

“Oh -my I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so so so sorry,” he kept on repeating, doing his best to clean it all up as fast as possible.

“It’s umm… it’s okay.”

He was in for one hell of a day.

***

Y/N Once you reached the amusement park, he ran to open your door for you again as you stepped out.

OK so I'm going through writer’s block and I'm so emotionally tired from stuff I have going on so I'm just gonna give highlights of the day, sorry 😘

Your day was…eventful to say the least. Although the tension was extremely high at the beginning of the day, as things progressed, things got more and more relaxed, and dare you say, you even enjoyed the outing. The same can’t be said for your precious little bundle of joy. You still remember when Satoru won a giant stuffed monkey hoping that he would like it since he noticed the one he was clutching between his stubby little fingies. Words cannot explain the amount of distress that rushed through him when the boy looked down at the toy in disgust and turned away. For fucks sake he couldn’t even win his own son a toy properly. He was such a failure.

You looked up in his eyes and could already tell that he was beating himself up for it. But he just looked at you and gave you a small smile before going on with your day.

All wasn’t lost though. While you were walking through the park, Satoru noticed that Kaito’s shoes were untied, so he knelt down and tied them for him. While getting up, he gently patted the boys head, and he swears to all that is good and just that while he was turning back to continue walking, Kaito had a teeny weeny smile on his face, and that alone sent him to bed smiling.

For the first time in two years, Satoru had a good dream that night. No nightmares, night terrors, no flashback. Nothing but a peaceful dream of his adorable son and lovely wife.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Finally, took me long enough

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here

#gojo satoru #gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo imagine #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo angst #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru

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