my one piece oc lore....
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You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !
Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.
Moths Hit the Window
PAIRING: König x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.
WORD COUNT: 5.9k
WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.
A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment.
Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.
If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze.
König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others.
“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!”
“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect.
“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up.
Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.
No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.
“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.
König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child.
This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru.
“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”
The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes.
“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”
Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest.
“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!”
“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”
“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away.
“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!” König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”
You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture.
He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.
Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you, König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”
It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you.
But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt.
You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.
König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”
You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.
Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”
“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”
“Great!”
“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny.
“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone.
Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge.
“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”
“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.”
“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”
Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.
“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”
“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”
“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction.
König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”
“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl.
In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.
Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.
But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.
The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.
“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.
König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance.
Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.
“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”
“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”
König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.
“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.”
Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.
Too far.
Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.
You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.
“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.
Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.
Shame that it’s already too late.
Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”
His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.
“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!”
By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience.
—
Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.
Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done.
The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling.
Evolve, or die.
“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”
Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later.
“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.
“Three minutes.”
“...get to it then. We move in five.”
So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants.
“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA.
The Lieutenant is one of them.
Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead.
“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t.
But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact.
Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.
The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself.
The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins.
Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.
You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was.
Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding.
Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed.
Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes.
Closer now.
Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide.
Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady.
The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire.
Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock.
Your finger slams into the trigger.
—
You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.
Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself.
Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König.
You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary.
In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt.
“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.
Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch.
It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later.
You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure.
There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.
“You are late.” König.
He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone.
Anyone but you, that is.
König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter.
You watch and say nothing—dead-faced.
Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.
“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down.
Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm.
“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?”
Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment.
The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour.
“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”
“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you.
Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”
In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence.
Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up.
It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh.
He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest.
“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.”
The needle pauses and a swift nod is given.
“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.
“Pissed off?” You offer quietly.
“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”
Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.
“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”
“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.”
“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?”
“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”
König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.
“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?”
He freezes, muscles going taunt.
“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?”
Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away.
König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate.
“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”
“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”
“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit.
“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over.
There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side.
And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air.
König kneeled to you and bared himself.
Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this.
There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood.
Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.
The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug.
König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning.
But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.
You were reckless.
Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he.
A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame.
“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears.
König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him.
“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat.
Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English.
Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril.
You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust.
You find none.
“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”
A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening.
He speaks with a whispered confession.
“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words.
Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize.
He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized.
For you to come back to him. His partner.
You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.
König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.
The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths.
This time, you’re the one to gasp.
“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”
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In case you've never seen it, Tremors (the first, original one!) is currently free to view on YouTube!
It's one of my favorite movies, and it spawned a bunch of very ridiculous, cheesy sequels that I also love. But the first one had a good heart, a solid Creature movie from back in the day.
If you're unfamiliar with what Tremors is, the basic plot is that there's a small "town" (of like 12 people) in the middle of a desert area surrounded by mountains on all sides. The pass out of the sand bowl gets blocked and everyone is trapped inside when large, underground Creatures start eating people and they have to figure out how to survive long enough to get out or be rescued. There's more to it but I don't want to ruin the surprise of what they find out about the creatures!
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x : THE JOKER AND THE QUEEN :*+゚
in which: you are the best thing to ever to childe, but what will happen when you find out the truth about his profession?
warnings: 4k wc, fluff to angst, ambiguous ending huehue, childe is a whipped loser in love, set in canon, reader has undescribed trauma with fatui (ooo), reader is not referred to with pronouns or a gender but there is a mention of 'queen' (it's up to you how you see it), mentions of violence, childe being referred to as 'ajax', argument, both reader and childe cry, aether and paimon appearance!
a/n: this one might hurt. apologies. (girl u know i want ur love...)
The sun is radiant gold when Childe walks down his peaceful, routine path, away from the bustling commerce centre and towards a peculiar place that he’s called home in Liyue. There are still a million tasks yet to be completed, but for now, his feet take him to the solitude that waits for him at the end of day.
When Childe arrives at the manor that is his residence in this foreign city, there’s a lifeless kind of calm, the rustling of leaves and flowing stream are the only things to welcome him, but he knows better. Doesn’t need to confirm it when his feet naturally take him upstairs, winding through corridors and towards the balcony that overlooks the horizon.
The view is very picturesque, overlooking the grandiose Liyue mountains that are decorated with incomparable flora and fauna, but you are there, and he can’t bring himself to look anywhere else.
You are the best reprieve for his tiring days, and although he will be returning to the Northland Bank to try and solve some of his troubles, the majority of them can be quelled by your presence alone.
“My darling,” the words slip past his lips without any trouble, and the relief he feels when you turn around and smile at him is insurmountable. Suddenly his hardships dissipate, his lungs are cleared, and his limbs don’t feel as heavy anymore (he can’t think of many people who grin up at him like you do. He hopes you never stop smiling at him like that).
Still, he walks to stand in front of you, and collapses to the floor, resting on his knees by your feet like a faithful jester to his queen. His armour drops and Childe becomes nothing but a man in love before you because there is nothing more human than loving someone more than yourself.
“Why so exhausted, Ajax?” You ask.
“The days are bothersome, my love,” he murmurs quietly, slightly muffled, but he then turns his head to look up at you, arms now hugging your calves. “But coming home to you make them infinitely better.”
“Any good home will bring you comfort,” you deflect, but your words reminds him of a distant, golden memory back in Snezhnaya. The unforgiving, snowy plains had always been his home, the frost that clung to dead tree branches, and the footsteps that he and his siblings left behind in the blankets would were memories of easier times, but here, sitting by you with a chin on your knees, is a memoir of his favourite home.
The sensation of your hand running through his orange locks take him out of his daydreams, and he melts right into your touch, blood-stained hands completely and wholly attached to you. He commits you to memory, savours the feeling of your warmth against his so he can feel it even whilst he’s away from you.
Can a home be a person?
He dares to close his eyes. Here, he is safe. Here, he can rest peacefully.
“How was your day?” Asks Childe, stimulating pointless conversation so that he could talk to you and hear your voice that will power him through the tedious night to come.
You begin to talk about the things you had to do today, about the customers you had to deal with, about the errands you still need to run, and all the pressing orders you needed to attend to- hearing it all places an aching weight on his chest. If Childe could have things his way, you wouldn’t need to work at all. You would live life peacefully by his side, without a day of stress as you roam around Liyue Harbour or anywhere else you would want to go, with him holding your arm (would you return to Snezhnaya with him?).
Alas, life is not so easy nor carefree, but you make it significantly better.
“How pretty is the sunset,” you comment. “Look.”
He almost doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to put any space between the two of you because looking at the sunset means turning around to face the rays that warm his back, but it’s you who asked him, so Childe turns around and observes the gorgeous blend of colours. He then decides that it’s nothing compared to your beauty.
“Yes, yes, splendid,” the orange-haired agrees, promptly turning back around to look up at you, with a sickening amount of love evident in his eyes.
“You didn’t even look properly.”
“I’m looking at something much more important right now.”
You shy away at your lover’s blatancy, pushing his face to the side to break his gaze. “Such unabashed flattery, do you have no shame?”
“None! None at all!”
You sigh, a smile creeping at the corners of your lips, timidity teasing Childe as he aches to see more. Reaching for your hands, he intertwines his around them, feeling light as he basks in the softness of your touch that starkly contrast the roughness of his hardened palms.
His gentle action causes your bracelets to jingle, pure gold and the finest gems of Liyue tinkering quietly against each other. They are gifts from him, he knows because he only buys the best for you.
“Will you be staying tonight?” You ask.
His gaze sadly falls to the ground as a regretful, ‘no, I won’t be’ slips past his lips. Tonight, instead of being in your company and resting beside you under the gentle beams of the moonlight, his dedicated Fatui subordinates will be with him instead. The blood on his hands will accumulate and pool by his feet as outstanding debts and scores will be settled, signed with fear and horror as the silence of Liyue sees an unspeakable monster.
Then, the monster will come crawling to you, fatigued and dirtied with an unrestrained desire to be by your side for as long as time will allow.
“That’s a shame,” you mutter and Childe winces at the disappointment in your tone. “You work too hard, you know?”
“It’s just what I need to do,” murmurs the orange-haired, “wish I could spend more time with you, though.”
“It’s alright, as long as I get to see you, I’m happy.”
He rests his cheek on your knee once more, eyes drooping close. Frighteningly quick, the fatigue he feels from all of his laborious duties catch up to him, latching onto him like a parasite. A nap wouldn’t hurt,
Nothing can take you away from him, not without a fight. He will bear his teeth, slash his swords until the blades dull, until his bow snaps in half, and until all that’s left of him is a pulp that lies helplessly on the floor, the love pouring from his wounds. Childe only hopes that his last moments are spent in your embrace.
But what will become of this warrior when you’re his opponent? What if you are the one he fights against- what then?
When you wake up one, unassuming morning, you wake up alone. No Ajax to accompany you, the only indication that he was here being the breakfast he had prepared for you that sat atop the counter top. The warmth of the meal lingers, meaning that he must not have left that long ago, and you have to wonder how he knows you so well to guarantee that breakfast is still warm by the time you come down.
Retrieving a book from the main entrance’s bookshelf, you catch a glimpse of a large box sitting on the entrance table. There is a note beside it, addressed to ‘Traveller’ and signed with ‘Childe’- the name Ajax has supposedly taken up whilst here in Liyue; a merchant name of sorts, he claims.
You mentally note to listen extra carefully for any knocks at the door, but for now, the promise of a day of relaxation and no work relieves you. Being swamped up in all of your duties meant that you kept forgetting to tell Ajax that you were free for the day, but perhaps you’ll surprise him with a filling and hearty dinner. Work didn’t seem to be all that easy for him either, so you’re sure he’d appreciate the gesture.
What you weren’t prepared for, however, was discovering a secret that your lover had been hiding from you all this time- in the form of two travellers.
The anticipated knock on the door came near noon, and two voices from the other side are muffled by the heavy material of the entrance. “Childe said no one would be home, why would you knock?” A high-pitched voice berates.
“Because manners, Paimon!” A male voice retaliates, “even if no one was home, it’s nice to make sure. We shouldn’t barge in without warning.”
“Can you unlock the door yet? Paimon’s dying to know what inside looks like! This property looks so expensive, can you even how much Mora this place is worth! I bet the inside is even-”
The conversation is cut short when you open the door with a soft click, pulling it open slightly. What you’re greeted by, however, is a blond boy with a floating companion, who both wear similar expressions of shock.
“Uh, hello!” You greet with a small smile, feeling slightly awkward.
“Hello, is this Childe’s residence?” The floating one- who you assume is Paimon, asks.
“You’re at the right place.”
“But he told us no one would be home today!”
“He would be right normally, but I have the day off work. Are you two travellers?”
“Yeah, we are! And who are you?”
“My name’s Y/n, I’m Childe’s significant other.”
“Childe has a lover?” Paimon’s eyes widen even more if that was even possible. To be honest, this whole scenario was incredibly entertaining. “Since when!”
“We’ve been together for a while. Has he never mentioned me?”
“No! I didn’t even think he could have one with his line of work-”
“-Uhm, we’re kind of in a hurry, I apologise for cutting the conversation,” the blond boy apologises, giving his companion a look before glancing back at you, friendly smile and shining eyes to match his innocent demeanour. “We’re here to pick up something.”
“Ah yes, I did see it. It is rather big, though, could I trouble the two of you to help me bring it out?” You ask, feeling rather embarrassed to bother your guests, but you don’t feel confident to carry the package alone.
“No trouble at all,” he reassures.
“We can come in, right?” Paimon asks, voice lilting up an octave as mirth shines in her eyes.
“Yes, yes, no need to take off your shoes.” You open the door wider for the two, the floating one flying in first, immediately marvelling at the interior, admiration tangible whilst the blond is a little more reserved, thanking you first before coming in.
What an intriguing pair.
“My name is Aether, and that’s Paimon. I just realised we hadn’t introduced ourselves.”
“It’s lovely to meet the two of you. Do you do business with Childe often?” Your tongue almost strains at the mention of his business name, but if your boyfriend had appearances to keep, then you needed to try to uphold it too.
Paimon flies over to Aether, joining the conversation. “You could say that. Sometimes he causes more trouble than it’s worth!”
“That sounds like him,” you huff, an affectionate smile appearing on your face. “The package is right here, but like I said, it seems quite heavy.”
“Allow me,” Aether volunteers, stepping forward to carry the box by himself. He stumbles a little due to the weight, and you hold your hands out just in case.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
The blond merely huffs before shifting the box to one arm. “No need, we’re troubling you enough already.”
“I see. I apologise, if I had known what time you were coming I would have brewed some tea for you two, Liyue has a very fine selection,” you say, fiddling with your thumbs.
“Aww! Paimon would have loved to try some!”
“Thank you for the offer, I would have liked to try some too, but we are short for time,” Aether explains.
“Then just wait here, I’ll fetch a bag for you to keep on your travels.”
You leave the entrance room before either of them have the chance to reject your offer, and you’re back almost immediately. A new batch you ordered just came in yesterday, so it did not take long for you to try and figure out which one you would like to gift Childe’s… ‘client’.
“Here,” you hand it to Paimon, who hugs the bag closely to her body. “Travellers need to be at their top shape, right? Hopefully this is something that will rejuvenate you on your journey.”
“This is too kind,” Aether begins, “thank you. We’ll make sure to great care of it.”
“It’s fine! Anyone that is associated with Childe are welcomed here, so long as they’re a nice person that is,” you laugh.
“You can bet we’re the nicest of the bunch!” Paimon exclaims. “I doubt he meets many nice people being a Fatui Harbinger and all!”
A… what?
Sensing the sudden shift in your mood, Aether’s eyes widen and he tugs at the leg of his companion. “Uh, it was nice meeting you Y/n! Paimon and I will be off now, thank you for the package and tea!” The last statement is nothing but a blend of words toppled over each other as the two practically hurry out of the estate, door slamming behind them in their rush.
Their abrupt leave didn’t impact you much though, because what did Paimon mean when she said ‘Fatui Harbinger’? Was… Ajax hiding something from you? Or is he Childe? What is the use for a merchant name, anyways? Businessmen don’t usually have identities to keep, but how dire could it be in his industry? After all, second names are only used when wanting to protect yourself from harm, to keep people from knowing who they truly were… a code name for… an organisation like the Fatui to identify them by.
You feel sick, and your hand weakly snakes up to cover your mouth, the other gripping the edge of the table for some sense of stability in your crumbling world.
Memories come flooding back like a tidal wave, drowning you in the heaviness of the thoughts that clasp around your ankle like anchors. It’s hard to push them away, to ease your mind from the nauseating images that still haunt you to this day: the desperation of your family, the cries, the helpless feeling of being a mere pawn in the game of the Fatui.
(It hurts to think that you never escaped. After finally surviving through years of hardship, you’ve returned right into the hands of those who caused it, and the thought reminds you of how defeatable you always will be.
Ajax- Childe, has likely caused devastation similar to the one that wrecked your village years ago. He has blood on his hands, the same ones that have held you tightly against him and stroked your hair. You have kissed his lips- ones that command horrendous acts for others to see through. You love his heart, the same one that probably froze over in Snezhnaya years ago.
You are with someone who has inflicted pain and suffering onto others, and will continue to do so for years to come. But worst of all, you are with a liar, who now makes you question what is and isn’t true.)
Childe returns home at sunset, the rattling of his keys against wood causing fear to crawl down your spine.
“I’m home!” His cheery voice calls from the front door, and to his surprise, you are sitting on one of the more uncomfortable couches that is merely for decor rather than functionality. “My love, why are you sitting there? There are far more comfortable seats for you-”
“Welcome home, Childe.”
He pauses in his steps and feels the world stop momentarily. “Darling? What’s with the name?” The Harbinger tries to laugh, but really, you’re scaring him. Very much so. “Come on, you know you don’t need to call me that. Here, I brought back some food that I thought you would enjoy from-”
“When were you going to tell me?” You’re standing now, slowly stepping towards him as your clothes flow with your every movement. Childe has no time to admire though, not when you and this swirling premonition in his gut is frightening him.
“Tell you what?” The pit in his stomach already knows.
“Must you act a fool?”
“To what?” He continues because it’s his first instinct to lie. “Darling, please tell me what is troubling you.”
“Please don’t play dumb, I just need the truth, especially now out of all times, are you really a…” you plead, voice trailing off as you hold yourself back from shattering. “You’re not who I think you are, are you?”
“Why do you sound so sad? What happened?” He whispers, beginning to feel the back of his eyes burn as tears invade his eyes.
“A-are you really with the Fatui? A Harbinger, too?” The words fall from your mouth like anvils and suddenly the title that brought him pride and honour through the years dulls. His eyes widen, and the gulp of his throat is all you need to know.
“I love you,” large, blistered hands desperately reach for you, aching to hold you still because he’s terrified. What if you slip through his fingers and run? What if you go somewhere he can’t follow? “I love you-”
“Just give me the truth, Ajax. I practically know, I just need to hear it from you,” you choke. The call of his name causes him to cave, a hesitant ‘yes’ slipping past his lips, crushing you with the weight of the truth. You cry first and like dominoes, his tears follow.
“Don’t cry,” he hiccups through his own sobs, hands locking around your wrists like bracelets. “I hate it when you cry.”
“Childe-”
“It’s Ajax to you,” the Harbinger pleads, grip tightening in desperation.
“I don’t know what you are to me anymore!” You retaliate, “this whole time, you’ve been lying to me when you know about what happened. I’ve told you everything, and you still decide to keep this from me!” You stumble away from him with more force than necessary, bumping into a table nearby and causing the vase that adorns it to drop. A shrill crack echoes through the room, and instantaneously, he rushes to your aid, asking if you’re hurt as pieces of fina china lay on the floor, water pooling around his feet.
Mixed in the puddle, are the anxieties and worries that come fumbling out of his mouth. He then pretends like it doesn’t break his heart when you scramble away from him.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” You ask, voice strained and quiet.
“If I had told you, would you have stayed, or would you have ran away?”
Your silence chokes him, filling up his airways with lead as he nervously awaits your answer. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t have stayed.”
Childe’s expression glistens with sadness, so crystal clear that it makes his eyes gleam like diamonds deep from the Chasm. “I see.”
“-But I would have appreciated it hearing from you than someone else.”
“Then how did you found out?” He demands, forcing his tone to be soft.
“If I tell you you’ll go and hurt them,” you murmur. “I don’t want that to happen.”
With one look at you, it’s clear that you think Childe will hurt you too with the way you cower from him, as if he could ever lay a finger on you or even point a blade in your direction, but the vision hanging on his hip feels heavier than ever. It’s a haunting reminder of who he is, and what he is capable of.
You feel miles away, how on Teyvat is he going to pull you back?
“Who are you really?”
“I’m yours-”
“-I’m not in the mood for your flirtatious quips,” you snap, hugging yourself.
“But it’s true, I love you, Y/n, don’t you know?”
“No, no I don’t. I don’t know what else you’re lying about.”
“Oh come on,” he exasperatedly exclaims, “we’ve been together for so long, the day we met you met the real me, as Ajax, not Childe of the 11th Fatui Harbingers. What’s the big deal? Just because I follow the Tsaritsa doesn’t mean I’m not the same Ajax you know, Y/n, please.”
“It’s not only that you’re apart of the Fatui, Ajax- the world is grey, there are things I will never understand. I’m upset because you lied. Like you said, we’ve been together for so long, yet I’m only finding out about this now, so what else don’t I know?” Your voice breaks.
He takes a step forward, but you only take one back, maintaining the distance even though the Snezhnaya native wants nothing more than to just hold you, to secure his place by your side because what can he do without you?
“What else are you keeping from me? What can I trust about you anymore? You say your real name is Ajax, but how can I know that?”
Seeing you so upset, so glum, so devoid of the light that makes you you causes his heart to cease, his throat to dry, and sheer terror to flood through him.
Childe’s seen the face of death, multiple times before, yet he’s never been this scared in his whole life. He’s losing you, he can feel it, but what can he do about it? What can he say that could possibly bring you back? (What good is a jester without the throne he was sworn to entertain? You can’t desert him, he will perform a thousand tricks if it enamours you into staying, will sacrifice more of himself to you if it means you will remain here, safe and sound in his arms.)
You are the reason he returns home everyday, to make sure that you are healthy, happy, and most importantly, that you haven’t left him without a word. If he had to, he would have killed for you, fought anyone and everyone until all that remained of him was the warrior heart that beat for you. But he could have never preempted this, nothing could have ever prepared for him to be the reason that you were leaving.
“I need some space,” you murmur, “to think this all through. Give me some time.”
“What? No,” murmurs the orange-haired. “No, no, no, we can talk about this, right?”
“Talking won’t do anything, I need time alone.”
The idea of being away from you causes Childe to almost sink to his knees and succumb to the bones in his body that ache to beg at your feet to stay. The cry of your name is weak, but so very desperate as he looks at you through a blurry vision.
You’re walking towards the front door, each step you take is another one away from him, away from the paradise that he’s been gifted. There are many ways he can stop you right now, his options are far from limited and although they are physical, they are all very effective, but he surrenders instead. Drops his weapons as he lets you go.
“How long?” Is all that Childe asks.
“I don’t know,” you murmur, hand reaching for the door knob.
“No more than two weeks, please.” Childe doesn’t know if he can handle being away from you for even a day, let alone fourteen.
“I’ll try.”
“I’ll search all of Teyvat if that’s what it takes to bring you home,” he affirms, clearing through sobs just to get the words out. He doesn’t back down without a fight, that’s just who he is, so his next words are etched with certainty and clarity, hoping to pierce your defences with arrows of undying devotion. “That’s a promise.”
“I know.”
You shut the door behind you.
© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
apologies if there is incorrect lore + if anyone is mischaracterised LOL i have only been playing genshin for like a month.
@fallenssun for u :>
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| MATCHING PAJAMA PANTS AND LATE NIGHTS ( lando norris. ) |
ꕥ pairing: lando x reader
ꕥ summary: how lando spends the holiday season with his girlfriend.
ꕥ authors note: didn't know what type of christmas imagine to write tor lando so I just decided to do this <3 also I'm impatiently waiting for the mini vegas helmet of his I ordered (I'm just a teenage girl <3)
ꕥ warnings: suggestive words
THE HOLIDAYS WITH LANDO NORRIS consisted of a few must-do things. ever since he started dating her, there were things he had to do with every celebration, christmas being no exception.
MATCHING PAJAMAS AND LATE NIGHTS ON SNOWY ROADS
a good portion of the season was spent in the warmth of his mclaren, driving through snowstorms with the heat blasting and whatever music their hearts desired. they'd yell the lyrics at the top of their lungs, breaking into laughter with every voice crack and anytime they'd forget a word. lying on the hood of his car to stargaze on the outskirts of the city where light pollution hadn't yet touched the sky. all in their matching pajama pants.
if he didn't have as much money as he did, he'd surely have spent it all on matching sets for the two of them to wear all throughout the holiday season.
he adored the matching sets they wore together, smiles gracing his face as he stared at her lovingly as she wore the patterned pajamas he'd picked out. there was something so heart-warming to see her wearing the same thing he did.
he loved laying around the house in each other's presence, words unspoken would be exchanged through actions such as simply lifting the sherpa blanket one was under to invite the other into the comfort of their warmth, wrapping themselves in each other's arms or slipping into the same hoodie as she laid on his chest. they'd lay on their couch by the apartment window, watching the snow fall through the spot on the window they wiped with their hands.
decorating the christmas tree with ornaments passed down from generations, telling fond stories with each trinket and heirloom in their possession. it inevitably brought them closer to share such a peace of life and tradition with each other that they'd honor closely. he'd tell her stories of his childhood where he'd place various decorations on the tree, watching her inspect them in her hands. they'd been passed down from his parents to him to share with his love, though they'd visit his parents for a portion of the holidays.
ynusername
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ynusername I love the winter weather because I've got my love to keep me warm
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oscarpiastri made me third wheel, but didn't even tag me.
ynusername we kind of forgot you were there
oscarpiastri yeah. I know.
user not them forgetting about poor oscar in the backseat 😭
landonorris he's fine
SKIING AND SNOWBALL FIGHTS
trips to various snowy countries and vast mountains were inevitable, despite lando traveling quite often for his career. he'd love ski trips before and even more so with her involved. he'd help her gear up, teaching her the way to do it without falling on her face so she'd be able to keep up with him. starting out, he'd rush to her every fall, cooing at even the slightest bruise forming, kissing it with his cold lips. but as she improved, she could find him bent over laughing, hand on his stomach before he'd trek his way to give her a helping hand.
late nights after skiing turned to snowball fights in the dark between the group that shared the cabin. lando often brushed off his girlfriend's attempts to give him a jacket, claiming he'd be fine. he'd end up getting sick and she'd be the one to take care of him.
landonorris
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landonorris ouch ☹️
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ynusername I won the snowball fight
landonorris you only won because you nearly gave me a concussion
oscarpiastri she nearly did us a favour there
user why does lando never wear a coat 😭
ynusername I've been asking the same thing
user bro is just built different
lilymhe why is yn on the ground ?
landonorris I tackled her 😊
user BBYE NOR PQNDO ADMITTINT HE TAKXLED HIS GITRIENR 💀
ynusername the spelling goes crazy
BAKING AND BOARD GAMES
double dates were a frequent go-to thing between the couple and their friends, alex and lily. it was a good time for the couples to hang out and catch up from the chaos from the season. mostly organized by their girlfriends who simply wanted to spend more time together, and the boys being dragged along, mostly alex. lando was the one who had clung to his girlfriends arm, begging him to let her go, and it was only fair to make alex go with too.
they'd frequent christmas markets, with lando spending an unnecessary amount of money on anything his girlfriend pleased because he loved to spoil her, despite the comments of others saying she was using him for it. he'd gladly let her though.
they'd walk with mugs of hot chocolate steaming out of the cup with whipped cream and peppermint sticks. she'd laugh at her boyfriend for the whipped cream on his upper lip, lily joining in when alex had gotten the same style of white mustache. she'd withhold the napkins from his grasp, enjoying the sight before her as lando tried to reach around her back where she'd hide them in her palm. he'd gotten so close to her face, he'd smudge the cream across her lips too.
"that's what you get!" he'd exclaim to her before laughing it off and wiping away the remnants that smeared across her face with the swipe of his thumb. he'd suck off the sweet, watching how her eyes dilated and her throat move as she gulped.
he leaned in close to her ear, whispering to her so the other couple wouldn't hear, "I bet you'd taste sweeter." he'd pull away to watch her face malfunction, as she'd open her mouth but words failed to form as her face became red and flush. she'd end up just shoving him by the shoulder, pushing the napkins into his hands.
landonorris
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landonorris she does NOT mess around when it comes to monopoly
tagged—ynusername, alexalbon, and lilymhe
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user STOP THE DOUBLE DATE
user I know right 😭😭😭 I'm so painfully single
alexalbon yn is on board game ban
ynusername ☹️
alexalbon you bit me
ynusername I'm just a teenage girl
alexalbon you're 22
ynusername don't remind me
user not alex and yn bickering like siblings 😭😭😭
user right?! like the duo we never knew we needed
ynusername he's too ugly to be my brother
alexalbon you'd be adopted.
ynusername 😧
user no one asking what they even made like I wanna know
oscarpiastri something burnt probably
landonorris you weren't even there though
ynusername it was definitely burnt though and all lan's fault.
user yn calling him lan 🥺
ICE SKATING AND CANDLE-LIT READS
rinks set up around london would be occupied by the group of couples who'd find themselves falling over laughing as they tripped over the ice. they'd fail to keep their balance as they skated around the ice. he'd be bent over tying her skates as she watched from over his shoulder, carmen and george and alex and lily as the couples gripped each other for dear life. she'd break out into a toothy smile, exciting looking back at her boyfriend as he'd finish lacing her skates, watching her breath exhale from her nose, the pink across her face from the chilling cold.
she'd stumble on her feet at the unfamiliar feeling of walking across the ground to the gate that'd lead then onto the ice, taking the intial step with her boyfriend not far behind. his gloves hands firmly placed on her hips, making her stomach flutter even though she'd felt his hands on her numerous times before.
they'd fall countless times, racking up the number of bruises on their body that lando would later kiss it better as she laid in bed. candles lit as the only light in the room as she read. she knew it was bad for the eyes, but it was a one time thing—not.
he'd lift the cloth that covered her body, kissing every mark that ruined her even skin, which proved to be majorly distracting to her reading—his plan all along as she'd engross herself between the pages of whatever novel she'd held. moving his warm breath across her skin, from her arms to her waist and hips to the sides of her thighs where her breathing got particularly shallow. he'd groan when she tried to push him away, though he knew not in disinterest.
ynusername
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ynusername
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user THE SNOOPY SHEETS
user id like to think lando sleeps peacefully in her girly bed.
ynusername he does
landonorris I can't believe you just told them that
ynusername I'd post the proof
landonorris YOU HAVE PROOF?
lilymhe post it
ynusername for my queen, yes
landonorris NO
user YN BLACKMAILING LANDO IS CRAZY
user I aspire to be like them
they'd end up at his family's house for the rest of the christmas holidays, spending times in front of the fireplace with boards games at their feet—shed play over lando's shoulder despite being on ban.
eventually she'd shove him from his place and take over—he just couldn't do it like her.
"what the hell?"
"lan, you suck, just let me play!"
"you're banned from playing!"
"ok and?"
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It's my birthday today can you write how LDS boys would celebrate their s/o birthday?!?
Birthday Celebration for his S/O
Pairing: Zayne, Xavier & Rafayel x gn!reader (separately)
Warnings: none!
A/N: happy birthday! hope you like these scenarios🫶🏻
Zayne
As you wake up on your birthday, you find a note by your bedside table. It's written in Zayne's elegant handwriting, inviting your to meet him at your favorite café for breakfast. When you arrive, you're greeted by a table adorned with your favorite flowers and a small gift wrapped in delicate paper.
After a cozy breakfast together, Zayne surprises you with tickets to a live performance of your favorite artist in the evening. Throughout the day, he showers you with subtle gestures of affection, like a gentle touch or a reassuring smile, always mindful of your surroundings.
In the evening, Zayne takes you to a secluded spot overlooking the city where he's set up a picnic under the stars. He prepared all your favorite foods and even brought a portable heater to keep you warm. As you both enjoy your meal, Zayne presents you with a handcrafted piece of jewelry, a symbol of his love and commitment, whispered softly rather than declared loudly.
You spend the rest of the night cuddled up together, watching the stars and sharing stories until the early hours of the morning. Zayne's birthday celebration for you is filled with understated affection, intimacy, and thoughtful gestures that reflect his deep love for you.
Xavier
Xavier starts the day by surprising you with breakfast in bed. He's prepared a delicious spread of your favorite foods, complete with freshly brewed coffee and a single red rose placed beside the tray.
After breakfast, Xavier takes you on a spontaneous road trip to a secluded cabin in the mountains. Along the way, you stop at picturesque spots to admire the scenery and take photos together. Xavier even packs a picnic lunch, complete with gourmet sandwiches and champagne to toast to your special day.
Upon reaching the cabin, Xavier reveals that he's planned a romantic evening under the stars. He lights a fire in the fireplace, sets up a cozy blanket outside, and prepares a candlelit dinner for two. You spend the night talking, laughing, and reminiscing about your favorite memories together.
Before you go to bed, Xavier presents you with a handcrafted journal filled with notes, poems, and sketches he's made over the years. It's a thoughtful gift that captures the essence of your relationship and the depth of his love for you.
Rafayel
Rafayel wakes you up with a burst of energy, showering you with kisses and playful tickles. He's already planned a full day of adventures, starting with brunch at a trendy café followed by a visit to an art gallery showcasing his latest paintings.
Throughout the day, Rafayel surprises you with spontaneous activities like a pottery class, a scenic hike, and a sunset picnic by the beach. He's arranged for a local band to serenade you as you enjoy your meal, adding to the romantic ambiance of the evening.
As the night falls, Rafayel takes you to a rooftop bar with stunning views of the city skyline. He's organized a surprise party with all your friends, complete with music, dancing, and plenty of laughter. You spend the rest of the night celebrating, surrounded by the people you love most.
Before the clock strikes midnight, Rafayel presents you with a canvas painting he's been working on for weeks. It's a portrait of the both of you together, capturing the joy and love you share in vibrant colors and bold strokes. It's a fitting end to a day filled with excitement, adventure, and the unmistakable warmth of Rafayel's love.
.
.
.
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Bing-ge and Victim's Entitlement as Portrayed by MXTX
I was thinking about Bing-ge’s journey as an abuse victim into an abuser and how much the creation of Bing-mei is a critique on both the writing trope that creates Bing-ge as well as the societal expectations that drive it.
In the world of PIDW, one of Shen Yuan’s main critiques was about how terribly the young Luo Binghe is treated by the narrative, so much so that he views it as torture porn. From being abandoned as a baby, to being abused as a servant and watching his adoptive mother wither from sickness and die, to finding his way to Cang Qiong Mountain and suffering under a cruel shizun who then pushes him into hell, Shen Yuan finds all this unnecessarily cruel. However, Shang Qinghua knows that the trauma Luo Binghe suffers directly correlates to the enjoyment readers are meant to get out of the second half of the protagonist’s life when he becomes overpowered and primed for vengeance. Shen Yuan knows this, too, as this is the trope he girds himself with as Shen Qingqiu to work up the nerve to push his disciple into the Endless Abyss, to “earn” his happiness. However, is this a true happiness? Does the trauma justify any and all of Luo Binghe’s actions?
On the surface, Bing-ge seems happy! He is able to enact revenge on Shen Jiu—and demolish Cang Qiong Mountain Sect who acted as accomplices to his abuse—and was given narrative access to any and every woman of marriageable age who crossed his path. He is even able to destroy his world by merging the three realms with no consequences to himself. Bing-ge has seemingly reaped the twisted “reward” that having survived unconscionable abuse and abandonment from the time of his birth had sown for him, and PIDW readers were able to enjoy and defend Bing-ge’s later megalomaniacal actions directly because they had read through hundreds of pages of his ill-treatment beforehand. The worse Luo Binghe’s childhood was, the more they were willing to accept of his actions in adulthood. We see a similar thing take place in the SVSSS fandom: the reveal of Shen Jiu’s past as a child slave is used to justify his later abuse of his child disciples—children who had no hand in his trauma but who he has decided to bear the brunt of it, anyways. But Shen Jiu lived a very unfulfilling adulthood due to his unwarranted actions until his untimely death. Is Luo Binghe any different?
Enter Bing-mei: the revised protagonist who abandons revenge in pursuit of experiencing genuine affection from the only person who gave it unconditionally. No, Bing-mei doesn’t get all the girls or all the power. He does not become the emperor of all three realms and he is not an uncontested leader that all conscious beings bow to. In fact, he is very tame and controlled in comparison to his PIDW counterpart despite not having complete control of his sword that amplifies his negative emotions. But when Bing-ge slips into the world of SVSSS and discovers that, despite all of this, Bing-mei has an intact world, platonic relationships, and a shizun who loves him, he’s willing to throw it all away to experience that same life. Bing-ge is revealed to be the unhappy, unfulfilled one, because the one thing he wanted—genuine unconditional love—was the one thing that he cannot earn or forcibly take. No amount of audience hype can change the fact that Bing-ge must leave behind the happy Bingqiu couple to return to his destroyed world in his unsatisfying reality.
This isn’t just a theme in SVSSS, either; it’s present in all of MXTX’s works in how people—both characters and the irl fandom—react to antagonists and asshole characters who have experienced trauma. In mdzs: a female cultivator tries to say that Jin Ling endangering other cultivators should be forgiven “since he’s an orphan.” Jiang Cheng throws his parents’ and sister’s death around to justify being an unrepentant serial killer. Jin Guangyao cries about how much his father hates him compared to the legitimate Jin heirs that he murdered. In tgcf: Qi Rong escapes discipline at every turn because his mother had to escape with him from his abusive father, and Mu Qing’s transgressions against the marginalized are ignored because “he was poor, once.” All of these characters have their actions whitewashed both in their stories and by their fandoms at large because their defenders believe that their trauma excuses any of their subsequent behavior.
Yet, MXTX does not prescribe to this idea. Notice the pattern of how the above characters end their stories. Jiang Cheng tanks his reputation and loses the respect of his only living relative. Jin Guangyao and Qi Rong die. But Jin Ling experiences setback after setback until he adjusts his behavior, and Mu Qing had to earnestly apologize under harrowing circumstances to be forgiven. It is not characters who seek justice for being harmed who are punished in these novels but those who persevere in their entitlement to do whatever they want because they were once harmed, thereby eventually destroy any goodwill others, particularly their loved ones, had towards them. The characters who are able to contain their actions to aim only at those who wronged them or else honestly reflect on their sense of entitlement in order to change for the better become well-liked by their peers. And as for Bing-ge: his inability to change within the narrative of PIDW may have “earned” him all the material things his world could offer and the affections of an unseen audience, besides, but he misses out on true human connection and love. These are the things he can never forcibly take, because in real life, no amount of trauma would entitle him—or anyone—to those things.
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ৎ⸝⸝⠀FAVORITE DATES . —
#pairing : lucifer, angel dust, alastor x gn reader
#cw : fluff honestly, idk what else to tell you. a bit of crack perhaps? reader specializes in photography for lucifer and alastor's part.
#summary : their favorite kind of date with you + drabble for each of them.
#note : extremely in need of fluff and comfort from lucifer specifically atm, so here i am writing for him + a few others :3 hope this will cheer you up as how it did to me.
ʚ LUCIFER .
lucifer loves bringing you to the prettiest places he can find. he'd wrap you tightly in his arms, unfurling his wings and allowing them to warm up with gentle flaps. he reassures you every time before take-off, his legs gently pushing the both of you from the handrail of your balcony as his feathered blades softly fanned the still air, flying at a steady and comfortable pace. if you request for him to stop mid air for a picture, he'll gladly do so until you get the perfect shot of the scenery in hell.
the sin filled air gently brushes past your face, your hands holding dearly onto lucifer as well as your camera. you take note of every detail you can get from the places where lucifer flies by, the sparkle in your eyes never fading ever since he suggested another one of your favorite dates. his heart melts every time he sees your excitement, a soft smile unknowingly creeping up onto his lips.
"darling, could you do me a favor and close your eyes for a moment? we're about to arrive at the special place i mentioned." with a nod, you close your eyelids gently; all you can see now is the weak light that shines through your eyelids. lucifer mutters a quick thank you, pressing a sweet kiss onto your forehead and increasing his speed through the air. you can hear the sounds of his wings flapping louder than before.
it wasn't long until everything came to a halt, lucifer slowly lowering the both of you from the air until the ground came in contact with your feet. you can practically hear the excitement in lucifer's voice. he cups your eyes from behind, fingers blocking the light that was previously visible through your eyelids as he guides you to walk around the unfamiliar surroundings step by step. "almost there, i just know you'll love it."
"getting impatient here, luci." you state playfully with a light chuckle, following his guide with your hands clutching onto the camera hanging from your neck. "alright. on three, i'll be removing my hands from your eyes. don't get too sucked up by the beautiful view by then,"
a sense of exuberance bubbles inside of you as you listen to his countdown, an uncontrollable smile stretching your lips. "and.. three." lucifer removes his hands from your face, the brightness stinging your eyes which took you a short moment to adjust to the lightning. you blink, the breathtaking scenery displayed in front of you sucked your breath away immediately. the sky is a beautiful shade of red and purple that perfectly med together, and the sunbeams illumined the immediate surroundings, partly obscuring the sky-high mountains a great distance ahead.
the scenery stole your ability to speak for minutes before you snapped back to reality, throwing yourself into lucifer's arms. you wrap your arms around his lean figure, feeling him returning your tight hug as well. "thank you for bringing me here! oh satan, this will be perfect for my collection."
you claim with a sing-song tone, abruptly pulling away from the hug to start taking perfect shots of the scenery before losing the chance to. you need the pictures in your camera, and you're not going home until you're satisfied. you take your time to perfect every angle and lightning, fully absorbed by photography at the moment.
lucifer watches you from the side, his gaze fixated on your every movement and the excitement that displays on your face, leaning his weight further onto his cane. it's always moments like this that remind him how deeply in love he is with you, always causing him to fall in love all over again.
ʚ ANGEL DUST .
there is no designated spot, but angel loves going on shopping sprees with you. he calls it the ideal date; going for spa, clothing, accessories, you name it. he loves the idea of spoiling each other, where the both of you would take turn to pay for anything the both of you got. the both of you will talk and laugh about anything while walking, hips practically linked together as you walk. at the end of everything, the two of you will sit together at the place where you both first met, silently appreciating each other's comforting presence while talking about memories you shared together.
"oh baby, look at these gems they're sellin'!" angel pulls you by the arm, pressing himself against the wide glass window with multiple sunglasses on display. one particular design caught his eye; it's displayed in the middle among the others. with his toothy grin widening, he glances at you with a click on the tongue. "i say we hit the jackpot t'day, dont'cha agree?"
"jackpot indeed, these babies are definitely worth it. shall we head in and get ourselves a matching pair of them?" you link your arm with his as he presses a quick kiss onto your forehead, mumbling a small 'ya know me so well' before walking into the store with you. the welcome bell rings the moment you push the door open, the store owner's head shooting up from the cashier almost immediately. a wide smile appears on their face, excited to welcome the both of you while jogging towards your direction.
"welcome, welcome! what an honor to have the famous couple visiting my little store. has anything caught your eyes, my dear? or would you like me to pair you up with some that matches you?" the owner clasped their hands together beside their face, their gaze constantly shifting between you and angel, feeling absolutely thrilled.
angel points his thumb towards the same glasses he told you about outside the store, shifting his weight to one leg. "are those still available? we'll take two of 'em please." giving a quick glance at the direction angel is pointing at, the owner nods with their eyes lighting up.
"fabulous choice, they're the customer's all-time favorite! you're in luck today, there are only two stocks left. i'll go grab them for you."
the owner turns their back and walks towards the big shelves storing nicely packaged sunglasses. with a brief scan, they reach out to grab the two boxes on one of the shelves. the boxes are rose gold while the others are white, making them easy to look for. they jog towards you and angel, holding out the two boxes in their hands. "all nice and packed, the glasses you asked for! go ahead and try them on, I'll be waiting behind the counter."
you accept the boxes with a mutter of 'thank you', passing one of the boxes to angel. he whistles, practically ripping the glasses out from the box. "these babies are prettier up close! feelin' sexier with them on, what 'bout you?" you chuckle at angel's claim, playfully rolling your eyes at him before trying the sunglasses on. the light around your eyes instantly grows soft and comfortable, allowing your eyes to relax while looking around.
"how do i look? they feel perfect on me."
"absolutely perfect!" angel exclaims while throwing his arms up in the air, unable to contain the excitement in his voice. his smile is wide enough to flash the golden tooth he has as his arm embrace your waist, his upper pair of his arm pinching your cheek playfully. "if it looks perfect on me, it'll definitely look perfect on ya."
you laugh, pressing a kiss onto his hand that pinched your cheek. "whatever you say, dear. now let me go pay for these then we'll be done with shopping." he tags along as you pay for the sunglasses, thanking the store owner before exiting. you walk down the street with your arm linked with angel's, your sunglasses sitting neatly on the top of your head.
"headin' to the garden t'day?" angel questions while walking down the familiar street with you. you nod, keeping your gaze up ahead. "nonsense, 'course we are. it's something we do after every date, my favourite part actually."
ʚ ALASTOR .
alastor values quality time together, which results in long walks being his favorite dates with you. he always has the best places to take you on walks, sometimes even preparing a gift for you if he manages to get his hands on one. the walk would most likely be filled with comfortable silence unless you're a chatty one, to which alastor would be more than happy to listen. he's a great listener, after all, listening to you talk makes him feel content as well. physical affection will be reduced in public, but if you're in a secluded area and he's comfortable enough, you may receive some small affectionate kisses; on your hands especially.
your surroundings are almost dead silent; these sinners either do their best to avoid alastor - the radio demon, or whisper about the both of you. not that you mind, you prefer things staying as it is since neither of you would have to worry about anyone disrupting your peaceful little date. with a hum, you adjust your sleeves, parting your lips to spark up yet another topic that so happened to cross your mind.
"have i told you about the new pictures i've taken recently?" you flash him a smile, excited to share your new works for photography. with an acknowledged hum, alastor gently shakes his head as he keeps his hands neatly folded behind him. "i suppose you have not. do enlighten me, my dear." you're delighted that he's willing to listen as always; something about it just draws you more towards his charm.
"gladly! you see, i hung out with rosie a few days ago since she wouldn't stop asking me about it." you pause for a quick moment before speaking again. "i'd say the cannibal town fascinates me all the time. i took pictures of the scenery there, and of course, lots of rosie because she's so photogenetic. speaking of which," something clicked in your head. you shuffle through your pockets and pull out a polaroid, placing it in front of alastor. "have a look at one of them, i happened to bring one with me."
he takes the polaroid from your hand, flipping it over to see the picture you've taken. it's a picture of rosie in a field of black roses, even embracing some in her arms. she's smiling at the camera - alastor assumes that it was rosie who suggested that you take a few snaps with your photography skills. angle, lightning, poses, you've perfected everything in this picture alone.
as always, your skills never fail to amaze alastor no matter how many times he sees your work. "such ravishing work of art! i am absolutely floored." the grin on his face softens ever so slightly, a sign that shows that he's being genuine. he passes the little piece of picture back into your hands, his gaze now fixated on you. you keep the polaroid back in your pocket nicely, giving it a light pat.
"my, im honored. is this an attempt of yours to flirt?" you chuckle playfully despite knowing full well that your comment was fully incorrect. you just like messing around, is all. alastor shakes his head at your miserable attempt to poke fun at him, laughing lightly. he stops in his tracks, scanning his surroundings briefly. not many sinners around, it should be alright.
"ha-ha! of course not, my dear. though, this should count as one." small steps, alastor now stands before you. your eyes search his in confusion, tilting your head slightly as you try to figure out what could he possibly be planning. his hand moves to hold yours with a good amount of delicacy, his face leaning down closer to your hand with each passing second until his lips press against your knuckles. he lets them linger on your warm skin before pulling away, his lips leaving a cold sensation along with an odd warmth spreading across your skin.
you stare at him, breathing almost coming to a halt as you watch the smugness on his face grow. a light blush tints your face and ears, your gaze growing avoidance to his soul-piercing one. it's clear that he's enjoying the reaction you hold. "not going to comment on it? is it because my 'attempt at flirting' worked well this time?" his words made you roll your eyes, playfully sighing in annoyance. of course he'd pull this trick, how did you not see it coming?
"no comment." is all you said to answer his question before motioning for him to lean in closer. he did as you asked without question, figuring that there might be something you'd like to tell him. a kiss on his cheek from you caught him by surprise as it was not what he expected to happen. "guess you're not the only one able to pull this trick. we're equal now, yes?"
© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.
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seeing the world | DR3
daniel ricciardo x female!reader / smau fic
pov: you and daniel spend your holidays travelling all over and keep everyone updated by documenting everything on your socials 🔆
warnings: just fluff on fluff !!
oh wow i've been away for sometime...sorry about that! but i come baring gifts aka a daniel ricciardo smau fic which i hope you all enjoy!
masterlist | taglist
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yourusername posted on their story
caption: lets go explore the world 🗺️ @danielricciardo
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danielricciardo posted on their story
caption: we're going on an adventure 💛 @yourusername
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yourusername posted on instagram
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somewhere in the mountains ⛰️
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fan1: my favourite couple
fan23: one day i want what danny and y/n have
yourbestfriend: whose idea was it for zip lining ?
╰ yourusername: who do you think 🙃
fan55: i cant wait to see where else they go
danielricciardo: i love you
╰ yourusername: i love you more
╰ fan22: ^ is this too much to ask for
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danielricciardo posted on instagram
yourusername, maxverstappen1, redbullracing, charles_leclerc and others liked
first travel destination was a success ✅
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yourusername: youre the cutest
╰ danielricciardo: 😘
landonorris: im sure the .jpg account is gonna be filled by the end of these travels
fan22: wonder where they’re off to next
fan15: ive never seen danny look so happy before ☺️
fan3: y/n brought our happy go lucky daniel back to us and for that we love her
╰ liked by yourusername
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yourusername posted on their story
caption: he will find any reason he can to get behind the wheel 😝
╰ danielricciardo: not true..
╰ yourusername: babe, dont lie..
╰ danielricciardo: okay maybe partially true..
more replies…
╰ fan23: danny and his two loves: y/n and driving
╰ fan21: sorry but his thigh tattoo >>
╰ fan12: that smile 🥹
yourusername posted on instagram
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from mountains to beaches 🏝️
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danielricciardo: my gorgeous girl
╰ yourusername: my beautiful boy
fan24: y/n truly is the prettiest girl ive ever seen
fan22: they’re living their best lives
fan12: i HOPE Y/N IS VLOGGING THIS I NEED THIS IN VIDEO FORM
╰ liked by yourusername
fan12: SHE LIKED OMG HOPEFULLY ITS TRUE
landonorris: you got some sand on your knees..
╰ yourusername: geez thanks, i had no idea
╰ landonorris: always happy to help 😊
╰ yourusername: 🙄
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danielricciardo posted on instagram
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my happiest place; next to you
tagged: yourusername
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fan12: IM DYING
fan15: the highway is looking real comfortable
yourusername: you’re such a sap ☺️
╰ danielricciardo: for you, always
fan27: CUTENESS OVERLOAD
landonorris: who knew you could be such the romantic
╰ danielricciardo: you should take notes 😎
fan16: lando and danny’s dynamic hasn’t changed and I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THAT
yourusername posted on their story
caption: next destination here we come ✌🏻
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yourusername posted on instagram
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somewhere in the south of france 🇫🇷
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danielricciardo: je taime ❤️
╰ yourusername: 🥰
fan2: FRANCE? PLEASE WE NEED DANNYY/N AT THE EFFIEL TOWER
fan15: FRANCE IS SO ROMANTIC
fan23: go to monaco please and thanks !!
yourbestfriend: so jealous but also so happy for you two 🥹
╰ yourusername: we’re still gonna go on our girls trip across italy don’t worry 🥹
╰ liked by yourbestfriend
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danielricciardo posted on instagram
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got to see all of france and i think it may be my favourite place we've travelled to ❤️
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fan12: THE FRENCH F1 FANS HOW YOU DOING
fan4: FRENCH FAN HERE: THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY
fan9: i ran into y/n and danny while they were on the train and I CAN CONFIRM THE SWEETEST TWO PEOPLE YOU’LL EVER MEET
yourusername: i’d come back here with you any day ❤️
╰ danielricciardo: maybe we’ll move here one day?
╰ yourusername: youre getting a bit ahead of yourself..but maybe…one day down the road !!
fan23: imagine danny living in france? NOPE I CANT..I NEED THIS TO BE REALITY
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yourusername posted on their story
caption: there’s so much love in the air ❤️ @danielricciardo
╰ danielricciardo: ❤️
danielricciardo posted on their story
caption: more adventures await us ✈️ @yourusername
*replies disabled*
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yourusername posted on instagram
danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, yourbestfriend, redbullracing, charles_leclerc & others liked
light shows and sunsets with my favourite boy 🧡
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fan12: AWE DAN LOOKS SO CUTE
fan1: they are serving !!!
fan15: at this point i never want the racing season to start just so they can keep travelling the world
fan16: THE LIGHTS REMIND ME OF RAPUNZEL
╰ fan4: YES OMG
danielricciardo: my very own princess 😘
╰ yourusername: my prince 🥰
danielricciardo posted on their story
caption: and they lived happily ever after ❤️ @yourusername
╰ yourusername: our fairytale 🥹
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╰ fan22: rapunzel and flynn
╰ fan21: a real life prince and his princess
╰ fan20: brb taking a shower with my toaster 🙃
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yourusername posted on their story
caption: home sweet home <3
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yourusername posted on instagram
danielricciardo, landonorris, yourbestfriend, maxverstappen1, pierregasly & others liked
dan and i are back home after a whole lot of travelling but please enjoy these moments that didn’t make our instagrams originally. we’ll see you all when racing starts back up, until then rest easy and thanks for joining us on this adventure. xo ❤️
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danielricciardo: cant wait to do this for the rest of our lives 😘
╰ yourusername: already planning the next round of travels..😘
╰ danielricciardo: i wouldn’t expect anything less !
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thats it! i hope you liked it! i really enjoyed this concept and i loved getting to write something for danny !!
anyways i have a couple drafts started on longer pics that aren't smau style which is why they're taking a bit longer so bare with me, i want to get them right before posting and i want to be sure what i'm posting is something you all will enjoy reading but once i have something i will post as soon as possible!
until then goodbye and hopefully talk soon !! ✌🏻
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ok im an absolute sucker for the “only one bed” trope, so….
could i please request a reader x ethan fic where there has already been a lot of mutual pining (maybe they were childhood best friends that have had feelings for the longest time ✋😩) and the final straw to all that sexual tension is possibly there being an argument or some angst and then having to share that room, being in such close proximity. Ends in smut please (been loving the switch!ethan btw)!
please and thank you 😩🙏
Jesus, this is a long one and I'm SO SORRY if that isn't what you wanted. I've literally tried to rewrite this 3 times but I had to build up the little angsty moments and all that stuff.
The Best Thing - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader
This contains SMUT - Minors DNI
Summary: You and your friends go to a cabin for a week-long summer vacation. When plans change and you overhear that Ethan's upset about sharing a bed with you, it causes some issues in your friendship.
Contains: fluff, mutual-pining, angst, oral - both m and f receiving, p in v, unprotected-ish sex(reader's on birth control and pull out game is strong), kinda-rough sex, dom-ish Ethan. idk where the fuck I was going with this🥴
A/N: I'd like to apologize to those of you that like to read my stuff but don't like them to be super long. This is 7.6k words, so my bad🙃
For summer break, you and your friends decided to take a trip to the mountains, wanting fresh air and a calm environment in comparison to the current busy city you were in. After weeks of looking into cabins, you went with a cute 3-bedroom with a hot tub on the balcony that had a perfect view of the mountain line.
You were surprised that Sam was okay with Tara going without her, but the anxiety was apparent on the older sister’s face as she walked out of her bedroom in her pajamas carrying a taser in one hand and pepper spray in the other.
“I don’t like that you’re going without me, but I’ll feel a little better if you take these,” Sam said, dropping them into Tara’s purse.
“We’re just six teenagers going to the mountains to relax. What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Tara asked, as Mindy and Anika walked in.
“Have you ever watched a horror movie?” Mindy questioned, making Sam roll her eyes at the comment before looking back to Tara.
“You aren’t helping, Mindy,” Tara said, before directing her attention to Sam. “We’ll be safe, I promise.”
“You won’t have cell service up there…Fuck, please just find a way to call me every now and then so I know you’re okay,” Sam said, the stress obvious in her voice. “Please remind her,” she said to you, as she started to head back to her room.
“I will,” you promised, as Sam looked back to you and nodded.
After Sam closed her bedroom door, Tara started to whisper-yell at Mindy.
“What the fuck was that?”
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Mindy sighed, “The guys are outside by the way.” You soon heard the front door open, and listened to Ethan’s groggy voice as he complained about having to get up at six in the morning. “Well, they were outside.”
“Are you guys coming? We need to stop for coffee, or energy drinks. I don’t care, I just need caffeine,” Chad said, before glancing at you and Tara’s bags on the ground. “You know we’re only going for a week, right?”
“Hey, it’s not that much stuff,” she smiled, walking over to kiss him. “We were hoping you two wouldn’t mind helping us carry our bags down.”
“Anything for you, babe,” Chad said, as Mindy made a fake-gag noise.
“Don’t act like you and Anika aren’t going to be acting all sweet and shit with each other,” you laughed, looking towards Ethan, “We are the fifth and sixth wheels on this trip.”
“As long as have you so I won’t be bored, that’s all that matters,” Ethan said, a sleepy smile playing on his lips. “I’ll grab your stuff.”
“Thanks,” you said, as he lifted your bag and walked towards the door.
You grabbed your pillow and blanket off the couch before you followed him, desperate to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep on the drive. Fortunately, Chad’s SUV had third-row seating, so you didn’t have to take two separate cars. You decided the back row was the perfect place for you as Ethan loaded your stuff. He crawled in the back with you, waiting for the rest of your friends to come down.
“Are you sleepy?” he asked, as you laid your pillow against the back window and snuggled up.
“Mhm,” you responded, as he started to laugh.
“Chad made this obnoxious road trip playlist. You’re not going to be getting any sleep.”
“Fuck,” you sighed, “I guess I can nap when we get there.”
“Yeah, like you won’t be wired after the coffee,” Ethan said, his knowing smile making you roll your eyes.
You’d been friends with Ethan since you were toddlers. He knew you better than anyone else, and it could get a little annoying at times. He always seemed to know what your exact reaction would be to everything. He knew all your secrets, and you knew all of his. Well, almost all of them. He’d had feelings for you for years, but the possibility of rejection and damage to the friendship has helped him keep that secret tucked away.
“Hey,” Anika smiled as she crawled in the second row as you and Ethan gave a small wave. Mindy slid in beside her, as Chad struggled to load Tara’s stuff in the back with everyone else’s.
“Seriously, babe. Why do you need all of this?” he huffed, adjusting the bags that were already put away like some complicated game of Tetris.
“You never know when you might need extra clothes,” Tara laughed, leaving him to figure it out.
“Ethan, can I put one of these bags back there with you guys?” Chad asked, after a few minutes of him trying to make everything fit.
“Yeah,” he responded, before looking over to you. “It looks like we’ll be really close on this five-hour drive.”
“I could just sit on your lap,” you suggested, as his eyes went wide. “I’m kidding, Ethan.”
He almost wished you weren’t kidding, wanting to be as close to you as he possibly could. Your random little sweet touches here and there had him constantly craving more, constantly craving you.
Chad passed Mindy the extra suitcase, then she struggled to pass it back to Ethan. He took it from her, the space it was taking up making him scoot even closer to you.
“Sorry,” he said, “I can always move up to Mindy and Anika’s row if you need the space.”
“Then who’s going to show me memes on the way there?” you asked, as he slid his phone out of his pocket.
“I saved so many good ones to show you.”
Once you hit the road, Chad wanted to stop by Starbucks. He planned to go through the drive thru, but after Tara mentioned how complicated and potentially messy it would be to pass coffee back to everyone in his spotless car, he decided to park so everyone could go in.
After you ordered and were about to pay for your stuff, Ethan pulled his card out.
“I got it,” he said, putting his card into the reader.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you smiled, “You don’t want anything?”
“I don’t need to. I’ll just steal sips of whatever the iced or frozen thing you ordered,” he said, as the barista handed you a cake pop. “You’re eating that for breakfast?”
“Uh, yeah,” you said, like it was the most obvious answer.
“I think I’m hungry, too. Maybe I should order something,” he said, glancing at the menu.
You held your cake pop closer to him as he smiled and took a bite. You giggled at the crumbs on his bottom lip as he chewed, reaching up to wipe them off with your thumb. The sweet action made his eyes flutter, but he tried to play it off.
“This is so good,” he said, “I’m sorry for judging your breakfast choice.”
“Just make out already,” Mindy said, smirking at the two of you.
“What, I can’t share with my best friend?” you asked, grabbing your drink off the counter as your name was called.
“Best friend my ass,” she said, as she noticed Ethan’s cheeks start to turn pink. “You just wiped his mouth for him. That isn’t really a friend thing.”
“It is for us,” you smiled, taking a sip of your drink.
Ethan was getting uncomfortable under Mindy’s knowing gaze. It was almost like she had the ability in that moment to read his mind and know how he actually felt. He quickly tried to change the subject.
“So, what are we going to do while we’re up there?” he asked, you and Mindy both responding “Relax” at the same time.
“Is that it? You guys don’t want to explore or anything?”
You started to shake your head, “Between the bears, snakes, and whatever the fuck else is out there…I don’t think so.”
“I’d protect you,” he smiled, playfully wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You know I’ve been going to the gym with Chad, I think I could take on a bear.”
“For someone that’s so smart, your common sense isn’t really there, is it?” Mindy asked, making you laugh.
“You guys are mean. I’m going to the car,” Ethan said, snatching your drink out of your hand before walking away.
“Hey!” you said, chasing after him.
The rest of the friend group walked up to Mindy, watching you try to take your coffee back from Ethan as you walked out.
“I think this vacation is about to be interesting,” Anika said, as Tara started to smile.
“I hope so. You remember the Halloween party where she drank a little too much? She told me she’s had the biggest crush on him for years,” she said, as Chad started to freak out.
“What?! Why didn’t you ever tell me she said that? He thinks he’s in the friend zone.”
“He’s definitely not. They’re practically already together,” Tara shook her head as she laughed, grabbing her drink off the counter. “Don’t say anything, though. Let them figure it out.”
Chad nodded, as the rest of the drinks were called out, “Let’s hit the road.”
After a couple hours of driving, you started to tune out the music, and felt like you could take a short nap. The coffee wasn’t helping as much as you expected it to, probably because Ethan drank half of it. You struggled to get comfortable against the window, until Ethan finally spoke up.
“You could always lay on me, if you want to,” he suggested, as you sleepily turned your body and snuggled up against him. Your head rested against his chest as he slouched in the seat, trying to make you more comfortable. He had a sweet smile on his lips as he looked down at you, studying your peaceful face as you slept.
His smile dropped when he noticed Mindy and Anika had turned around, looking at him questioningly. He held his finger up to his mouth, not wanting them to say anything to wake you up.
It didn’t matter though, because when Chad started to play ‘Life Is a Highway’ for the third time in the drive, you stirred awake and pulled away from Ethan.
“Chad, I swear if you don’t change that song, I’ll throw your phone out the window,” you said, as he started to laugh.
“Someone’s grumpy,” he said, changing the song. “Hey guys, were stopping at the next exit.”
He soon pulled into the gas station, and everyone started to pile out of the car. Before you could walk into the store, a number Tara didn’t recognize popped up on the screen.
“Hello?” she asked, before she started to smile. “Oh, hey. Yeah, we’ll be there soon…wait, what happened?”
You exchanged glances with everyone, unsure of what was going on.
“Does that one still have a good view? And all the things the other cabin had?”
Chad started to shake his head, realizing that the vacation wasn’t going to go as expected. When Tara hung up, all eyes were on her as they waited for her to say what was going on.
“Okay, uh, the cabin we were supposed to stay in got trashed by last night’s guests. The only cabin they had left has three rooms, but they all have one bed.”
Ethan’s heart started to thump in his chest as he listened to her speak. As much as he wanted to share a bed with you, and wanted to be close to you, it was hard for him to hold back, especially when you liked to sleep in the shortest pajama shorts that the bottom of your ass would hang out of. Sometimes he felt like you knew you had the effect on him, the teasing seeming almost intentional at times.
“You okay?” you asked, as he still stood there, deep in thought as the rest of your friends had started to walk away.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he smiled, “Let’s get some snacks.”
Ethan walked towards Chad once you made it inside, and you noticed that he was stressed. You tried to listen but couldn’t really hear anything at first. Then Ethan started to speak a little louder, “I can’t sleep with her. We have to figure something else out. It’d be torture to share a bed with her.” Chad suggested that one of you sleep on the couch, and at that point, you were starting to feel a little hurt. The thoughts of ‘Do I make him uncomfortable?’ and ‘Why can’t he just talk to me about it instead of Chad?’ floating around your head.
You went to Tara, Mindy, and Anika as they grabbed their snacks for the rest of the drive.
“Do you guys mind if I sit with you the rest of the way there?” you asked Mindy, as a confused expression appeared on all of their faces. “I think I’m annoying Ethan.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Anika said, “But I highly doubt you are.”
“Then why was he just talking to Chad about not wanting to sleep in the same bed with me?”
Tara glanced over to the two boys as Mindy shrugged, “That’s a little weird…but once we get there, you should ask him about it.”
You nodded, before heading to the counter to pay for your stuff. You weren’t sure what Ethan’s problem was. He was okay with you snuggling up to him in the car, but the idea of him sharing a king-sized bed with you was something he didn’t want to do.
When you made it back to the car, Ethan got in first. He was confused when you sat in the second row with Mindy and Anika.
“You’re just going to leave me back here by myself?” he joked, but he was a little sad about it.
“Yeah, girl talk.”
He nodded at your short response, relaxing back into the seat and putting his seatbelt on. Chad gave him a look in the rearview mirror once he noticed the new seating arrangement. Ethan just shrugged, not knowing what was going on.
Chad leaned over to Tara and started to whisper, “What’s their deal?”
“She heard Ethan say he didn’t want to share a bed with her,” she whispered back, as Chad pulled away and sighed.
“You sure we can’t just…I don’t know, interfere a little?” he asked, as Tara shook her head.
“They need to figure it out on their own,” she said, glancing back to you.
“Okay, no more stops. We’ll be there in a little over two hours,” Chad announced, as he pulled back out onto the road.
You could feel Ethan’s eyes on the back of your head as you talked with Mindy and Anika. You felt bad for being a little cold to him, but your feelings were hurt. It’s not something he expected you to hear, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how he felt all the time whenever you’d be too close. But if that was the case, why would he suggest that you could sleep on him earlier?
Once you made it to the cabin and everyone started to get out, you looked around as you stretched. You saw another cabin off in the distance but couldn’t see a whole lot from where you were standing other than the trees. When you walked inside, your jaw dropped at the panoramic view out of the huge windows that lined the side of the cabin.
“This is gorgeous!” you said, walking over to the door that led to the deck. It was huge, stretching along the side of the house. There was a table, some rocking chairs, and a hot tub on the end of it.
“Too bad we have to hunt for our own food,” Chad said, as you looked over at him, “Just kidding. There’s a small grocery store not far from here. After we get all the stuff unloaded, we’re going to get what we need.”
Tara soon walked in, standing beside Chad as he put his arm around her.
“Are you mad at Ethan?” she asked, as you shook your head, not wanting to go into detail in front of Chad. “He seemed a little upset.”
“I guess I better go talk to him,” you groaned. You searched the house, seeing Mindy and Anika, but no Ethan. You finally looked outside to see him leaning against the car. He was deep in thought as you walked up to him.
“You should see the view. It’s beautiful,” you said, pulling him out of his thoughts as he looked at you.
“It’s kind of hard to even care about that when my best friend is mad at me,” he said, looking back down to the ground.
“I’m not mad,” you said, the cheeriness of your voice sounding fake.
“So, you’re mad and you’re lying to me. Cool,” he mumbled, pushing himself off the car and heading towards the back of it.
You followed after him, “I just thought we were getting a little too cozy.”
He scoffed at your words, “You’ve never cared about that before.”
“Okay, I’m going back inside. You can’t be mad at me for giving you the space you seem to want.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he questioned, but you ignored him as you walked back into the cabin.
Chad soon joined him outside to help him carry in the stuff. He noticed Ethan’s mood, and started to feel bad that he knew you had your feelings, and if he’d just say something, the whole issue would be fixed.
“You okay, dude?” Chad asked, as Ethan started to walk towards the door with some of the luggage.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
As the day progressed, you brought up sleeping on the couch before Ethan could say anything. He argued that he should, but you eventually won the argument. The tension seemed to resolve a little. Your feelings were still hurt, but he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to spend the vacation mad at him.
When Chad talked about going to the store to get food again, you decided to stay at the cabin. The sun was starting to set, and the slight chill from the higher altitude made you really want to get in the hot tub. Ethan stayed with you, not feeling comfortable leaving you there by yourself. He sat in one of the rocking chairs as you walked out in your swimsuit with a towel in hand.
“You going to make me get in by myself?” you asked, smiling at him. He was trying so hard to not stare at your body, so he maintained eye contact.
“Fine, give me a minute,” he sighed, walking inside to change.
You eased into the hot water, sitting where you had the perfect view of the sunset over the mountain line. Ethan soon walked out and hung his towel over the side of the deck before climbing in to sit beside you.
“This is so beautiful,” you said, taking in the pink and orange hue in the sky. It was making your skin glow when Ethan looked at you.
“Yeah, beautiful,” he said, as you looked over to him and smiled. You sat in silence for a few minutes, before he spoke up, “What was with you earlier?”
You sighed, not wanting to say that you heard him talking to Chad, “I just, I don’t know. Maybe we’re getting a little too close.”
“Why do you feel that way?”
“I don’t feel like talking about it right now,” you said, before Ethan started to scoot away. “What?” you asked, looking over to him.
“If you think we’re getting too close, I’m giving you your space,” he said, before getting out.
“You’re going to get mad at me if I don’t feel like telling you what’s wrong?” you questioned, as he started to get mad.
“You tell me everything. Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong right now so we can move past it?”
“Because you don’t like to be open about what’s bothering you,” you snapped, climbing out as well. You slipped a little, almost falling on the deck before Ethan caught you. “Thanks, I got it.” You pulled away from him and walked inside to change into dry clothes.
Ethan didn’t know what you meant, because other than his feelings towards you, he was completely open. He knew you hadn’t figured that out, so he decided to pull Tara outside to the deck after your friends got back from the store.
“What’s up with her?” he nervously asked, “What did I do?”
“I’m not getting in the middle of this, so all I’m going to say is that you both just need to open your eyes,” she said, as he looked at her, still just as confused as he was before the conversation even started. “She’s your best friend. You know her better than anyone. You can figure this out.”
“It’d be so much easier if you just told me, though,” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “She thinks we’re too close. What’s that about?”
“Fuck, I’m not telling you anything else other than this, but she overheard you and Chad talking earlier about you not wanting to sleep in the same bed with her. She didn’t say what else was said, but her feelings were hurt. Now, go fix it,” she said, walking away from him.
He started to think back to the things he said, but there was no way he could just come out and apologize for making you feel bad without explaining why he said what he said. He was worried about ruining the friendship, but with the current state of it, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea to finally just tell you. You’ve never been in an argument, and you’ve never even gotten mad at each other, so it was all just so confusing for him as he tried to decide on the right thing to do.
When he walked back inside, he started to look for you. He asked Chad where you were before he pointed to you, asleep on the couch.
“I need advice, because I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing right now,” Ethan whispered to Chad, “She overheard our conversation earlier.”
Chad started to nod, as Ethan’s eyes went wide.
“You knew she heard it? Fuck, dude,” he sighed, “How do I tell her that the problem with us sharing a bed isn’t because I don’t want to be around her, but it’s because I won’t be able to keep my hands off her?”
“Wow, uh, I didn’t know things were that hard for you,” Chad laughed, as Ethan rolled his eyes.
“I just…I’m so fucking attracted to her, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable,” he said, looking over to you to make sure you were still asleep. “I want to be affectionate with her, it’s hard enough when we aren’t trying to sleep in the same bed.”
“Maybe she wants the same thing,” Chad suggested, as Ethan shook his head.
“There’s no way. She would’ve shown me hints by now.”
“Just open your eyes,” Chad said, making Ethan a little irritated.
“That’s what Tara said. What does that even mean?” Ethan asked, as Chad shrugged.
“You’ll figure it out, I’m going to bed.”
Ethan decided to head to bed, hoping a good night’s sleep would help him come up with the answers he needed, but he couldn’t get comfortable. He just kept tossing and turning and couldn’t stop thinking about you.
You started to stir awake, noticing a sound coming from outside the front door. Once you heard the doorknob move the slightest bit, you jumped up and ran to Ethan’s room.
“Hey, something’s outside,” you said, as he slowly sat up and laughed a little.
“We are out in the middle of nowhere right now. I’m sure there is something outside.”
“The doorknob wiggled, Ethan. I can’t sleep out there by myself like that…unless you want to check it out for me,” you sighed, as he stood up.
From the moonlight that was flowing through the window, you noticed that he was shirtless, and that his workouts with Chad seemed to really be paying off. Not that it mattered, because you’d think he was attractive regardless. Then you noticed how low his sweatpants were hanging on his hips, and felt your mouth start to water.
Ethan took in your appearance, the shorts he fully expected you to wear snugly hugging your hips and your hard nipples from the cold air in the cabin showing through the thin material of your shirt. He wanted to just tell you to sleep in the bed with him, but he couldn’t. He’d gotten so used to all the little affectionate things you’d regularly do, things he chalked up to the friendship being so close, but it was still so hard for him to push his thoughts about you to the side.
“You don’t have to go out with me,” he said, walking towards the cabin door with you closely behind him.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” you said, making him laugh.
“Then why did you ask me to see what was out here?”
He slowly opened the door, the both of you jumping when a large raccoon scurried away.
“You’re worried about that cute little guy breaking in and snuggling with you on the couch?” he asked, as you rolled your eyes. “I’m kidding. Let’s make sure there’s nothing else out here.”
He pulled out his phone, turning the flashlight on and looking around to make sure there wasn’t anything else you needed to be concerned about. You noticed something along the tree line, it’s glowing eyes lit up by the light.
“What is that?” you asked, as it started to step a little closer.
“I think we should go inside,” he said, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the door.
That’s when the animal started to run, the fear coursing through your veins making you cling to Ethan.
“It’s a fucking deer,” he laughed, trying to catch his breath. You were still attached to him when he tried to pull away from you. “You’re safe, let’s go back inside.”
Once you made it back to your spot on the couch, he stood in the middle of the living room, starting to feel a little bad that he had that huge bed to himself. He noticed that you still seemed a little nervous from what’d just happened, and he let out a big sigh before he started to speak.
“Do you want to sleep in the room with me?”
“Not if it’s going to be ‘torture’ for you,” you said, as he started to get irritated.
“You don’t get it,” he said, walking back towards the room. You were really starting to get sick of all the conversations you’d had within the last day ending in one of you walking away, so you followed him.
“What don’t I get?” you asked, as he sat down on the side of the bed and looked at the floor. You walked around to stand in front of him, waiting for him to answer you. “I don’t want this entire week to be this way. Just fucking talk to me!”
He sighed, before looking up to you, “What you heard earlier isn’t as bad as you think it is…the torture thing you were talking about, just look at what you’re fucking wearing.”
You looked down at your choice of sleepwear and started to feel a little self-conscious. You tried to pull your shorts down a little, noticing how much they’d ridden up in your sleep. He watched you as you tried to cover your body.
“Hey,” he said softly, as your eyes connected with his, “I didn’t mean that in a bad way…Just…get in the bed, okay?”
“Tell me how you mean it then, Ethan. I can’t read your mind,” you said, walking back around to the other side of the bed.
“I will in the morning. I just need you to stay on your side of the bed,” he sighed, looking over to you.
“Fine,” you said, pulling the blanket over you as you settled into the bed. He lay on his side, his back towards you.
After a few minutes, he rolled over to face you. He couldn’t take it anymore, and he needed to know if you felt the same about him. “You know you mean a lot to me, right?”
“You mean a lot to me, too,” you smiled, as he moved closer towards you. “So I have to stay on my side, but you don’t?”
Your breathing started to get heavy when you noticed how close he was getting, his eyes looking into yours. He didn’t say anything as he leaned in, his lips gently kissing yours. You were so surprised by it that you didn’t kiss him back. You wanted to, but he pulled away before you had the chance for your brain to process everything.
He scooted back to his side, laying on his back as he started to think about how he’d just ruined the friendship.
“Ethan?” you asked, looking over to him.
“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry,” he sighed, as you started to smirk. You knew that this was your opportunity to finally tell him how you felt now that he’d opened the door for it to happen.
“Ethan, are you interested in me?” you asked, as he nodded.
“It doesn’t have to be weird now, does it? You didn’t kiss me back, and that’s fine. It sucks, but I’ll get over it,” he said, as you sat up and inched closer to him.
“What if I don’t want you to get over it?” you asked, leaning down to kiss him.
The kiss was so needy, both of you craving each other as you moved to straddle him. His hands held your hips as yours went to his hair. After a few minutes, you pulled away, the both of you panting as his hands rubbed your hips. The way he was looking at you made you wet, as your hips started to grind against him.
“Shit,” he quietly groaned, not wanting your friends to hear him.
“You okay?” you asked, looking down at him. He nodded, desperate for you to make another move. You reached down to grab the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, his eyes going wide as he stared at your chest. His hands reached up to massage your breasts, the feeling making your eyes flutter, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
You kept grinding against him as whimpers started to slip past your lips from the friction against your clit and the feeling of his fingers pinching at your nipples.
“You have to be quiet,” he whispered, moving his hands back to your hips to make you move faster.
“Wait,” you mumbled, your hips coming to a stop. You started to move off him, noticing the wet spot on his sweatpants from where your wetness had soaked through your panties and the thin shorts. “Can I suck your cock?”
He felt like he could cum from those words alone as he nodded his head. “I need you to tell me, baby. Use your words,” you teased, rubbing your hand over his hard cock.
“Please,” he whimpered, the sound making you cock your eyebrow as you smiled at him. He adjusted his hips so it was easier your you to slide his sweatpants and boxers down, his heart pounding in his chest. He’d tried to imagine what your mouth would feel like before, but as soon as he actually felt it, it was better than he could’ve ever imagined. Your tongue licked up the underside of his cock and swirled around the tip. “Oh fuck,” he groaned, before you took him in your mouth. “Fuck, that feels so good.”
You’d barely done anything to him yet, and he was already being so vocal. Your core was throbbing as you took him as far as you could, the gagging feeling making him gasp. His hand went to the back of your head, gently encouraging you to keep going.
You knew he was getting close when the light grip he had on your hair got tighter, his actions making you moan around him as you started to move faster. His bottom lip was in between his teeth as he watched you, trying so hard not to be loud. It only took your throat tightening around him a few more times before he finally let his whimpers out again.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said, his eyes fluttering and his jaw falling open as he started to release in your mouth. You got him through it, before sitting up and smiling at him. “There’s no way that just happened,” he sighed in disbelief as he caught his breath. “That was amazing.”
“Well, it definitely did happen. I can still taste your cum.”
He groaned at your words before he flipped you over and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth.
“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped out, his tongue swirling against you as he sucked. He moved to the other side, looking up at you as his teeth grazed against your nipple. Your hand reached down to rub yourself over your shorts, the throbbing in your core starting to hurt.
“Let me take care of you, baby,” he said, kissing down your tummy. He stopped at the top of your pajama shorts and looked up at you before sliding them down. “This is okay?”
“Mhm,” you got out, as your fingers started to run through his hair. He leaned his head into it, loving the feeling of your nails against his scalp.
His fingers went under the waistband of your shorts as he started to pull them down. With how tight they were, he was struggling to get them over your ass. You started to giggle, lifting your hips a little so he could get them off of you easier. He leaned back a little to pull them down your legs before he leaned back down to where you needed him.
“Can you put your hands back in my hair?”
You nodded, your fingers tangling in his curls as he licked a stripe up your clit.
“Shit,” you gasped, as he really started to get into it. He kept alternating between swirling his tongue against your clit and dipping it inside of you. You started to whimper a little louder than he wanted you to, so he pulled away. The lack of contact made you whine as a hushed laugh slipped past his lips and he shook his head.
“I want to make you feel good, but you need to be quiet, baby,” he said, his eyes looking into yours. You nodded, knowing how hard it was going to be for you.
His head went back to his place in between your thighs, placing gentle licks to your clit as he started to push one of his fingers into you. You tried to muffle your moans with your bottom lip, but once he added a second finger and started to move it against that spongy spot inside of you, you had to cover your mouth with your hand.
His eyes looked up into yours as you started to tug harder on his hair. He was proud of himself, so happy that he was the one that was making you feel so good that you were struggling to keep your sounds in.
“Keep moving your fingers just like that,” you whined, before covering your mouth again.
He inched you closer and closer to your orgasm, your toes curling against the sheets as the grip on his hair made him groan against you. The feeling of your pussy starting to flutter around his fingers made him groan even louder as he thought about how amazing it would feel around his cock. Your body started to shake as he used his free arm to pin your hips down so he could work you through it. Once your pussy stopped clenching, your grip on his hair relaxed, a goofy smile on your lips as he looked back up at you.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, as you started to make grabby hands at him.
He hovered over you and looked into your eyes as your arms wrapped around him. You felt his hard cock press against you as you started to wiggle your hips a little underneath him.
“I don’t have a condom,” he said, as you rolled your eyes.
“Just pull out,” you said with a smirk, his eyes going wide at the suggestion. “I’m on birth control, it’s fine.”
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, as he reached in between the two of you to line up with your entrance.
He slowly slid inside of you and stilled to give you time to adjust to his size. He started to kiss you as you grew impatient.
“Please,” you mumbled against his lips as he smiled.
“Please what?” he questioned, not moving until he heard what you wanted.
“Please fuck me,” you said, your words dripping with lust as you pleaded.
He started to move as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He watched the faces you were making with each thrust, not wanting to miss a single one.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned, his hips moving a little faster.
He started to drill into your g-spot as your fingernails drug across his back. You were trying to be quiet, but it was getting harder with each deep thrust.
“Quiet, baby,” he warned, his hips slowing a little. “You’re going to wake everybody up.”
“Make me be quiet,” you said sweetly, an almost animalistic look appearing in Ethan’s eyes at your words.
He leaned in to kiss you as he sped back up, his mouth catching all your moans. You reached in between his body and yours to rub quick circles on your clit. When your moans turned into high-pitch whimpers, he pulled his mouth away from yours and replaced it with his hand as he mercilessly pounded into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the faint tapping of the headboard against the wall filling the room.
“That’s it, baby. You can take it,” he whispered, as your eyebrows started to furrow, and your pussy started to clench. “You’re doing such a good job for me.”
He was sure he was going to have scratches all over his back as your nails just kept digging, but he didn’t let up.
“You gonna cum?” he asked, as you quickly nodded your head. “Cum for me, baby.”
That’s all it took for you to start shaking underneath him. The way your pussy spasmed around him felt so good that his own orgasm was quickly approaching.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned, pulling out and shooting his hot cum all over your stomach.
He sat on his knees as he caught his breath. Your sleepy smile made him smirk as he started to get up.
“Do you want to take a shower with me? At least to get this off you?”
You nodded, as he slid off the side of the bed. He tried to help you up, your legs wobbling as soon as your feet touched the floor.
“You okay?” he asked with a small laugh as you walked in front of him.
“Yeah, that was…wow,” you said, your brain still clouded with the post-orgasm haze.
“Shh, we need to be quick. I don’t want anyone to see us naked,” he whispered, leading you down the dark hall to the bathroom.
You grabbed some of the complimentary body wash off the counter as Ethan cut the shower on. He stepped inside as you followed, the water flow washing his cum off you. You stayed silent for the most part, other than the occasional small laughs slipping out as you’d thought about what you’d just done with your best friend.
Once you stepped out and grabbed a towel to dry off, Ethan’s hands wrapped around your waist as he kissed your wet shoulder.
“If I would’ve known that was going to happen, I would’ve kissed you sooner,” he said, pulling away to dry himself off. When he turned around, you noticed the bright red marks that ran front his shoulder blades to the middle of his back.
“Uhm, it looks like you’re going to be wearing a shirt for the rest of this trip,” you said, as he turned around to look at it in the mirror.
“Damn, I look like I was mauled,” he laughed, as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him.
“Let’s go to bed,” you mumbled, as the two of you walked out on your towels.
When you made it back to the room, you started to grab clothes to put on when Ethan stopped you.
“Can we just sleep naked?” he asked, smiling as you nodded.
You crawled back into the bed scooting to the middle as he laid down beside you. Your head went to his chest as his fingers traced patterns on your back, the soothing motion soon putting you to sleep.
When you woke up the next morning, Ethan was starting to stir awake, too, hearing the voices of your friends as they talked in the kitchen.
“I guess we should get up,” you said, as you started to pull away. He grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him.
“How do you feel about lazy morning sex?” he asked, as you smirked at him.
“Last night wasn’t enough for you?” you questioned. He shook his head in response.
You glanced down and noticed that the blanket was halfway down his thighs, his hard cock on display.
“Can you be quiet though?” he asked, as you shrugged.
“Probably not, but let’s try it,” you said, “How do you want to do this?”
“Roll over onto your side.”
You did as he said, his hands immediately starting to roam from your thigh, up your side and to your breast.
“Do you need me to eat you out first?” he asked, sitting up a little to look at you. “Because I really don’t mind doing that again.”
You giggled at his eagerness before shaking your head. “I’m already wet, and we don’t have a lot of time.”
“Fine,” he sighed, adjusting your hips to slide into you.
His thrusts were slow as his hand held onto your hip. Sweet kisses were placed along your shoulder as you started to move your hips back to meet his.
“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered, “and your skin is just so soft, and your just so beautiful.”
You smiled as he kept saying sweet things to you, his thrusts starting to speed up.
“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered out, as the tip of his cock kept hitting that special spot inside you. “That feels so good.”
“Shhh,” he whispered, as his hips moved faster. You were struggling to meet his thrusts, the tiredness from only a few hours of sleep catching up to you. “It’s okay, babe. I’ll do all the work.”
He kept hitting that spot as you felt your orgasm approaching.
“I don’t think I can be quiet,” you said, the nervousness evident in your voice. You were tensing up, not wanting to cum because you didn’t know what would come out of your mouth.
“You’re almost there, baby. Just relax,” he cooed, as his hand went from your thigh to cover your mouth again.
You were whimpering into his hand as the euphoric feeling started to wash over you, your pussy tightening around him as he tried to fuck you through it. It got harder for him the tighter you squeezed.
“I’m gonna cum, baby,” he said, pulling out and painting your lower back with his release.
In that moment, you heard a light knock on the door.
“Fuck,” Ethan whispered, pulling the blanket back up to cover the both of you.
You both closed your eyes as the door eased open, trying to make it seem like you were still asleep. Chad peaked in, before quickly backing away and closing the door.
You started to giggle as Ethan pulled away, “I need to get this off of you before it gets all over me and the bed.”
He grabbed a few tissues out of the box on the nightstand and cleaned your back for you. You rolled over as he leaned down to kiss you.
“Let’s get dressed. I’m starving,” you said, as he pulled away.
He nodded as you slid off the bed, watching you as you walked to the other side of the room to grab your clothes. He hated to watch you put them back on, wishing the two of you could just stay naked in bed together all day.
“I guess this friendship isn’t so innocent anymore,” he said, sliding his shirt on over his head.
“Friendship? After last night and this morning this is still just a friendship?” you questioned, as he walked over to wrap his arms around your waist.
“You’re right, it’s way more than that,” he smiled, leaning in to kiss you.
“You better not say we’re just fuck buddies, either. I’ll drown you in the hot tub,” you said with a smirk, as you got ready to walk out to join your friends.
“You’re way more than that, babe.”
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Based on this ask & this ask
Dark!Coryo, Dark!Peacekeeper Coryo, Innocent!Reader, obsession
Series Masterlist
Chapter 1:
Coriolanus, now Private Snow, hated District 12. It was so depressing. Between the coal dust, mud, and poverty, he’s surprised that half of the district's population hasn't killed themselves yet. The atmosphere is horrible.
He hates it.
Would've never made it to adulthood if he was raised in the back hills of the Appalachian mountains. Seriously, he would've offed himself. Between the mud, the muggy heat, the never ending coal dust, the bugs (locals call them skeeters), and the overall atmosphere of despair, he hates District 12.
Oh, how he missed the view of the Rockies that surround his beloved Capitol. He had such a lovely view of the superior mountain range from his former penthouse. Even though it was falling apart, moldy, and rat infested, the penthouse was still on the Corso. Was still in the wealthiest part of town. Yes, he was struggling to stay afloat; was impoverished, but at least he lived in the prized and most sought after part of the Capitol.
Keyword: lived. As in past tense, as in he used to live there. Now he lives on Peacekeeper Base-12, District 12.
From a 12th floor Corso penthouse to a peacekeeper’s base in 12. Oh, how Coriolanus Snow has fallen.
High-as-a-kite-bottom must be shitting rainbows at Coriolanus being a peacekeeper in a backwater district.
And to think he was originally assigned to the peacekeeper base in 8. Oh, how he's glad he spent every last cent to his name to bribe his way into service in 12. He doubts that he could survive District 8 considering it's full of nothing but smog, tenant buildings, and textile factories.
At least in 12 he has some fresh air to breathe.
But, he hasn't been able to find his reason for being in 12.
Lucy Gray.
He's been in 12 for a few weeks now and can't locate her. Even Sejanus can't get anyone to tell him where she's at. That's bad considering how everyone seems to trust Sejanus; open up to the naive revolutionary due to his warm and friendly personality.
So, Coriolanus is stuck patrolling the streets of District 12 while rethinking his life choices. God, how he wants to be back in the Capitol so bad. He'll do anything to get back.
Anything at all.
One day, while on patrol in the Merchant Sector, he spotted you, a pretty Seam girl, making her way to the apothecary shop.
You had on a pretty floral dress.
No, not just a floral dress, but a dress with tiny red roses on it.
It suited you.
You had a book tucked under your arm as you walked down the cobbled streets of the nicer part of the district. And when you noticed him, you gave him a small smile.
That was the biggest goddamn mistake you've ever made in your entire life!
That one small smile sent Coriolanus’ mind into overdrive. You were so kind to him with that one tiny gesture. So kind when everyone else in the district looked at him with disgust because of the uniform he wore on a daily basis. Everyone else in this back asswards district looked at him like a bug to be squashed, but you didn't. You looked at him like he was a genuine person.
Your small smile was full of warmth and sunshine. It reminded him of his mother, who he lost such a long time ago.
Oh, how he secretly craved the warm gentleness of a woman. The warm gentleness that he's only known while in the embrace of his mother.
He wonders if you would sing to him late at night when sleep seemed to evade him. When he was deep in thought, too focused on a problem that needed solving to sleep. Would you wrap your arms around him, hold him when he needed solace? Would you be that gentle woman's touch he's craved his entire life?
Yes.
Yes, you will be.
Coriolanus vowed that he'd find a way back to the Capitol, but now that's changed. Now, he needs to find a way to bring both of you back to the Capitol.
As delusional as it might seem Coriolanus was instantly obsessed with you all because you gave him a kind, small smile while on your way to intern at the apothecary shop.
But he didn't view it as obsession, instead he viewed it as love. And he loves you with his entire being all because you smiled sweetly at him.
Your older brother Rein and his girlfriend Ashlie raised you to be leery and fearful of peacekeepers. They told you not to trust them; to stay away from them. And most of all, they told you to never ever look them in the eye or talk to them.
Not unless you wanted trouble to rain down on you like hellfire, that is.
But you made the mistake of flashing one a smile while on your way to the apothecary. The peacekeeper was young, you reckon around your age, and very tall. He had to be one of the tallest men you've ever seen in your entire life. But it wasn't his height that made you notice him. No, it was his eyes. Eyes such a pure blue, that they reminded you of the beautiful crystal clear water of the lake.
He seemed unlike any man you've ever seen before. Yes, he was a peacekeeper on watch duty, but he looked miserable. As if he didn't want to be here.
So, before you could think twice, you gave him a small, warm and friendly smile. Hoping that maybe you could cheer him up. Make his day a bit brighter in the desolate, depressing coal mining district you were cursed to be living in.
To your surprise, he smiled back. It was a closed lip smile, but it took over his entire face and just made his eyes sparkle. Made him look youthful underneath his peacekeeper's persona.
You barely made it a yard away from him when suddenly, a large shadow loomed over you. Looking up, you saw that the very same peacekeeper you just shared a smile with was right next to you. Walking by your side, like your personal golden retriever.
Except you didn't know that Private Snow isn't a golden retriever. He's more like a demon possessed Chihuahua from the deepest pits of hell. Shit, scratch that, he's legit the hellhound Cerberus that's guards the gate to the underworld for Hades.
Mhm…
But you didn't know that. How could you? You've just seen the man. Up until now he's been nothing, but a stranger to you.
Just another random peacekeeper.
“Um, hi.” You greeted your new companion, your voice a near stutter, as you passed by townspeople and shopkeepers while walking down the cobblestone street of the Merchant Sector.
Everyone looked a bit wide-eyed since you were side by side with a peacekeeper. Surely your name would be in the gossip mill tonight; it wouldn't be anything good either. Your older brother was going to flip his shit when he found out.
“Hello, Miss-” The peacekeeper at your side greeted, leaving an opening hanging for you to supply him your name.
“Y/N Halvir.” You simply supplied.
“Well, Miss Y/N, I'm Private Coriolanus Snow; I thought perhaps I could escort you to wherever you're going since, after all, it's my duty to patrol these streets and keep the good law-abiding citizens of 12 safe from harm.” Coriolanus told you, laying the charm on real thick since he wanted you to believe that he just wanted to do something nice and dutiful for you. He didn't want you to know that he wanted to take you to your destination in order to show you off to the entire Merchant Sector. To make sure that everyone (and he means everyone) in that part of 12 knows that you're with him.
Commissioned Officers are the only ones allowed in the Peacekeepers to have serious relationships (usually they would have an arranged match in the Capitol) but he didn't care. Coriolanus Snow did what he wanted; the hell with anybody else. He wanted something, he took it. Right now, he wanted you.
So…
He was taking you.
Or at least he would be taking you back to the Capitol with him once he figures out a way back there. But as for right now, Private Snow was letting everyone see you together; letting everyone know that you were his girl.
His girl and off limits to anyone else.
And if someone even did so much as look at you sideways, well, he'd kill them.
“Oh, you don't have to. The apothecary’s right up the bend and I'd hate to be a bother; make you take time out just to walk me there.”
“It's not a bother at all, darling. In fact, I insist on walking with you, to keep you safe.” Private Snow smiled, seeming to be a friendly and helpful gentleman underneath his grey uniform. “Never know who out there might try to harm such a pretty girl, like you.” He added in to drive home his reason for walking with you.
Hearing him call you pretty made your cheeks grow hot. Oh my… Nobody's called you pretty before, not even your own brother and his girlfriend (and they raised you). No, Rein and Ashlie always said that you looked nice.
Coriolanus calling you pretty did something to you.
The peacekeeper smirked to himself, knowing that his words had ensnared you to him. He honestly did think you were pretty, so having you react to the compliment by getting all flustered made his heart soar. It gave his obsessive nature a large ego boost, because to him your reaction meant that you loved him back, just like he loved you.
That the two of you shared the unbreakable bond of love at first sight.
But the truth of the matter was that Coriolanus was obsessed with you in an unhealthy way after seeing you and sharing a few words while you were just a kind person that wasn't used to being called pretty
You're from the Seam; girls from the seem don't get called pretty.
Well, not unless they're one Lucy Gray Baird.
But that reality would never be Private Snow's reality. No, his reality’s one where you're both crazy in love with each other after sharing smiles, a few words, and a walk.
Coming to a stop right in front of the apothecary, you looked at the peacekeeper and politely told him, “Thank you for walking me here, Coriolanus.”
Coriolanus leaned forward, closing the space between you, only to request, “Please, call me Coryo. All my friends and family do.”
His words took you aback. Blinking, you asked in disbelief, “You want to be friends?”
“Yes.” Coryo nodded, a too wide smile showcasing his pearly whites on his face.
Lie!
That was a big fat fucking lie!
He didn't want to be your friend, he wanted to be your boyfriend. No, no. That's not true either. Scratch that, Peacekeeper Snow wanted to be your husband.
Yes, that's right. He just met you and barely knows you, but he wants to be your husband. All because he's obsessed with you; thinks that you share some kind of special undying love all because of a kind smile and a blush.
Boy oh boy, seems like he forgot about Lucy Gray real quick.
Lucy Gray. Lucy Gray who?
She didn't matter to him anymore. Coriolanus realizes now that the songbird was just a means to an end; that it would've never worked out between them.
That you're his true prize. The girl that's meant for him. The girl that's kind and pretty, just like his mother used to be before she was taken away from him by dying in the birthing bed with his baby sister.
You're his perfect girl.
“Okay. We can be friends.” You naively responded.
If only you knew what he truly meant by ‘being friends’. It'd save your family a whole lot of trouble and heartbreak. That's for sure.
“I'll wait around; escort you back when your done.” Coriolanus offered as the young dirty blonde man inside of the apothecary shop looked at the window, stunned to see you talking so easily with a peacekeeper.
A peacekeeper that had no need for herbs, remedies, and healers since he had access to all the modern medical marvels Panem’s Capitol had to offer at the PKB-12 Military Hospital. The young shopkeeper was concerned for your safety, seeing you exchanging words effortlessly with the uniformed grunt.
“I’m interning here til 5:30, sometimes 6.” You told Coriolanus because you didn't want your new friend waiting around for you when he had work to do.
Before Coriolanus could tell you that he'd be back around then to escort you home, the door to the apothecary flung open and out walked Juris Ashberry.
Juris was a dirty blonde of average height that you had gone to school with. His father was a clerk at the Justice Building; worked closely with the mayor. His mother was good friends with the old hag that owned the apothecary.
So, Juris arranged for you to get an internship at the shop after his family had arranged for him to be in a courtship with Belladonna, the daughter of the old hag that ran the apothecary.
Belladonna hated you because her intended, Juris, had a sweet spot for you. A sweet spot he was too chicken to openly declare.
And it was the worried look in his eyes that tipped Coriolanus off that the man who just walked out of the apothecary felt something for you. He wanted to stab that dirty merchant boy's eyes out for looking at you.
Coriolanus is the only one allowed to look at you with such sweet worry and care.
“Y/N, you're needed inside.” Juris told you as a way to separate you and Coryo. His eyes sized up the Capitol born and bred peacekeeper, concluding that if he had to then he could take the tall and athletically built peacekeeper on in a fight.
“Bye, Coryo.” You waved at your new friend before turning towards the apothecary.
You were almost to the door whenever it opened and out strolled Belladonna, your boss's daughter. She gave you a glare before skipping over to Juris and snatching his hand in hers. “Now that she's finally here, we can go have midmorning tea with Mayfair and Billy.”
Juris just nodded before silently walking off with Belladonna in the direction that the Mayor's large lavish house was in.
Coriolanus didn't like Juris. Even though Juris has himself a pretty flaxen blonde on his arm, the way he looked at you was dangerous. And the fact that the man seemed comfortable at your place of employment (internship, but practically the same thing) didn't go over well with him either.
Coriolanus decided that he needed to get you away from that dirty blonde man; he needed to make you dependent on him. And he needed to do those things because it was the only way to ensure that you'll join him back in the Capitol.
So, while you went about your midmorning in the apothecary, Coriolanus patrolled the streets while scheming up a way to get you fired. Hmm, maybe he could threaten the shopkeeper’s family? People seemed to do anything to keep their family safe.
Whatever he’s got to do to get you out of that shop, he’s going to do it. He was going to stop at nothing to have you on his arm as he stepped out of the train and onto the platform during his return to the best city in all of Panem.
The Capitol.
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HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.
love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.
( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )
━━ part five.
You’ve never actually been to Monaco. It was one of the few Grand Prix you’d had to miss. Logan’s retelling of how it was had been slightly skewed by disappointment and frustration at his less-than-stellar results that weekend, but his descriptions of everything had still painted a picture of lavishness and excitement in your mind, and you’d been dreaming ever since for the chance to experience it yourself.
You’re here now, and even just the view from the plane had lived up to the hype. On the ground, it’s enough to leave you breathless. The deep blue water of the Riviera glitters with the golden glow of the afternoon sun, the mountains stand tall off in the distance, and the grand opulence of the city makes you feel like you’ve stepped foot into a whole new world.
You’re not unfamiliar with the lifestyle of riches and luxury, but Monaco is on another level entirely.
Lando, the reason you’re here in the first place, appears beside you. On the ride back to his place from the airport, he’d caught you marveling at the marina and had pulled off onto the side of the road to let you get out and take a longer look. The boats look like miniature cruise ships, sleek and elegant where they rest in the water, swaying gently with waves. It reminds you, vaguely, of back home.
“Ready to go?” He asks, fiddling with his keys.
You spare the marina one last glance, then nod and turn on your foot with the knowledge that you’ll be here for a week longer still and will have plenty of time later to take in the view as much as you want.
Lando’s house, when you arrive, is just as expensive looking as the rest of Monte Carlo.
The exterior is expertly landscaped and maintained, with hedges perfectly trimmed and flowers flawlessly pruned. It’s slightly lacking in regards to the personality you imagined Lando having. His car is personalized and his wardrobe is a look into who he is, but the outside of his house looks… normal, for lack of a better term. It’s beautiful, nonetheless, but it’s simple all the same.
When he opens the door, you take it all back. The interior screams Lando Norris. It’s extravagant in a way that mirrors what you know of his personality, but it’s comfortable. You’ve been to homes that look more like show houses, where the furniture seemingly exists to be viewed but not used, and all the decorations are vague and impersonal enough to fill blank space and do little else. This is the opposite.
There’s a blanket folded haphazardly over the arm of the couch, and mismatched pillows. On the coffee table is a half-empty bottle of water, a book with a scrap piece of paper hanging out from the middle, and an opened pack of batteries. There are pictures on the walls in mismatched frames— friends and family and achievements from throughout Lando’s career that tell a story of his successes and proudest moments.
It looks like a real home. When you tell him, he laughs.
“With how little time I actually get to spend here, you’d think it’d be the opposite,” he comments.
He helps you bring your bags up to a guest room and then gives you a tour of the rest of the house. Letting you ask questions and answering them sincerely.
When you’re back in your room, unpacking your clothes, it occurs to you just how crazy all of this is. You know Lando, but you haven’t known him for very long. Your friendship has only developed over comments on social media, texts, and the occasional phone call over a few weeks. But you’re here, across the ocean in a country you’ve never been to before, spending a week in his house just because he asked you here and offered to help you with your love life dilemma.
Your life is beginning to feel more and more like a movie, and all you can do is hope it has a happy ending.
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yourusername a pretty girl with a pretty car in a pretty city
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logansargeant think you might need to get your eyes checked bc all i see is a pretty car sooo
↳ yourusername you have six days. run. hide. i don’t care. but enjoy your time while it lasts
↳ logansargeant i’m telling mom
↳ yourusername she can’t save you now.
user STUNNING STUNNING AND STUNNING 😍😍😍
user all three things i don’t have
user WE NEVER GOT Y/N IN MONACO DURING THE SEASON BUT I AM LIVING FOR IT NOW
landonorris *prettiest
↳ yourusername you’re only saying that cuz it’s your car
↳ user yea we definitely missed smth cuz wTF IS THIS 👀
user lando up in here stealing oscar’s girl
user OSCAR COME GET YOUR GIRL
user is she in monaco??? with lando??? 👀👀
user mclaren boys fighting over the same chick was not on my bingo card
user i need these men to make up their damn minds like bffr first oscar and now lando??? bros get it together pls 😮💨😮💨
user i think we should stop speculating about the relationships between real ppl bc they’re adults and can do what they want, plus they could just be friends and ppl saying they’re together could make things awkward for them
↳ user nah they’re totally together
“The comments are going crazy,” you tell Lando, staring down at your phone and scrolling the long chain of comments beneath your most recent post.
Some are supportive— people who knew you before your brother got involved with Formula 1 and don’t care about the drama, or they’re other models you’ve become tentative acquaintances with after years of working in the industry. Some are speculative, wanting to know if you’re with Lando, what happened between you and Oscar, theorizing about fights, messy breakups, and revenge rebounds. Some, however, are just mean, calling you a slut for leading on two guys at the same time, or a bitch for ruining their imaginary chances with their favorite driver.
You wouldn’t claim that you’re used to this type of negative attention, but you’re not unused to it either. So much of your job requires a social media presence and with your life in the limelight as a byproduct of both Logan and Dalton’s own very successful careers, you’re no stranger to internet trolls and people who are vicious just because they can be.
That doesn’t make some of the comments hurt any less.
“None of them matter,” Lando answers from beside you, his eyes focused on the road. “It’s just people who don’t know what they’re talking about.” He recites it like it’s something he’s had to say hundreds of times before, and it occurs to you that he probably has, to himself if not anyone else in his line of work.
You’re sat once again in the passenger seat of his car as he drives you back to his place. The streets of Monte Carlo at night are dazzling and even more beautiful than in the day with twinkling lights and a raging nightlife scene, but you’re distracted still by your phone, checking and rechecking to see if there’s any hint of Oscar in your notifications.
There isn’t.
It feels like a dismal ending to what had truly been such a lovely night.
You’re in a gorgeous dress, in a gorgeous car, in a gorgeous city, with a man who’s fun and relaxing to be around, who doesn’t make you feel like a side piece or arm candy, and who is genuinely a friend to you. You went to an amazing restaurant and ate some of the best food in your life with some of the best company, got slightly tipsy off of wine you didn’t have to pretend to enjoy for once, and it’s only the beginning of your time here in Monaco.
But rather than enjoy what you have here in the present, all you can think about is the one thing that would make it that much better— Oscar.
“Maybe I should just give up,” you mutter, finally turning your eyes away from the screen. “He probably kissed me, realized he wasn’t interested, and the reason he hasn’t brought it up is because it was all just a big mistake that he wants to forget.”
Lando makes a sound that you’re not quite sober enough to place. “I think the only way you could know that is if you talked to him.”
“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “that’s not likely to happen any time soon.”
He makes another sound, but you’re too disappointed to really pay it much mind, and by the time he’s pulling into the garage you’ve forgotten all about it.
He helps you out, ever the gentleman as you’ve learned tonight, and then you’re following him to the door, trying not to let your bad mood ruin things too much. You’re still incredibly grateful and appreciative to him for helping you so much despite not having known you very well when it all began.
“Seriously, though, Lando.” You speak up suddenly, just as he’s about to open the door. “Thank you for doing all this for me. Even if nothing comes of it, I’ve already had a lot of fun and you’re a good friend.”
All he does is offer you a smile over his shoulder, before pushing the door open.
When you step in through the doorway after him, you’re momentarily confused by the luggage waiting in the entryway. For a split second, you think you must have left some of yours down here, but then you look a bit closer and realize that it definitely isn’t yours.
There's movement from your peripherals as someone in the living room stands from the couch and crosses the distance to the entryway's threshold.
“You’re back earlier than I thought, Lando—” you snap your head up in surprise just as the voice cuts off.
You stare at him in shock. “Oscar…”
━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal
━━ a/n: tada! i have the rest of this fic entirely planned out from here and i am so excited to get to the juicy parts finally! hope you all enjoy!
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Your Insta If You Were Dating Spencer Reid Pt. 5!
MASTERLIST
Liked by chocthunder, jenniferj, and 192 others
y/n heading up to the mountains this weekend!
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drreid I'm so excited to spend the weekend with you! Also, I'm very grateful that you agreed to drive 😊
-> y/n anything for you :)
davidrossi Have fun kids!
ssahotchner Enjoy the time off, I'm glad he's finally using some of his days.
-> y/n me too haha
babygirlpg I'M SO JEALOUS!! take lots of pics for me!!!
-> y/n sure thing penny
Liked by ssahotchner, emprentiss, and 149 others
y/n dragged him up here early this morning to see the sunrise. as you can see, he is not happy
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drreid I'm always happy when I'm with you, just extra tired this morning.
-> y/n ik baby it's okay
-> y/n also ur so sweet 😘
chocthunder I just know he HATED that
-> emprentiss I KNOW
-> drreid As I have previously stated, I did not hate it, I was just tired.
Liked by davidrossi, babygirlpg, and 194 others
y/n found him outside like this when I woke up
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drreid Why must you always post the most embarrassing photos you can find of me?
-> y/n it brings me joy :)
jenniferj he's just... standing there??
-> drreid I was admiring the mountains (not pictured).
chocthunder THE BOOTS
emprentiss I need one of those emergency eyewash things after seeing this
-> y/n he looks good and you know it
-> drreid Thank you!
Liked by ssahotchner, babygirlpg, and 198 others
y/n Is he proposing or did he just bring me up here to watch the sunset?
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drreid I am not proposing right now, I swear.
-> y/n I don't know if I believe you...
chocthunder Is pretty boy about to close the deal???
-> jenniferj I hope so!!!!!
-> babygirlpg me too! I love weddings and I LOVE love!!!
davidrossi @/drreid I think we should talk before you make any big decisions
-> drreid Guys! There is nothing to talk about!
-> emprentiss sure bud
Liked by drreid, chocthunder, and 176 others
y/n update: he did not pop the question :(
drreid Maybe next time...
-> y/n don't even get me excitedddd
babygirlpg aww man I was excited
-> jenniferj me too :(
-> emprentiss me too tbh
-> chocthunder honestly yeah same
in my evil era lol hope you enjoyed this one!! requests are open so send me something to write!!
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hot tub - matt sturniolo
in which you and matt enjoy some time in the hot tub
matt x fem reader !
-
As you looked out at the mountains of Vermont, you hear the balcony door open behind you. You slightly turn your head, the sight of Matt filling your vision. You slightly smile as you turn back to look at the view.
Vermont was one of your favorite places to be. You loved how peaceful it was. How simple the place seemed. Instead of skyscrapers and corporate offices, you were surrounded by forests and mountains.
A pair of arms around your waist takes you out of your thoughts. "What ya doing, beautiful?" Matt whispers in your ear.
You ease into his touch, letting out a soft sigh. "Just admiring the view. It’s beautiful out here." He rests his head on your shoulder. You can feel his lips turn into a smile. "I was thinking of getting in the hot tub. Wanna join me?" you ask turning to look at him. He nods his head yes.
He pulls away from you, "Can you turn it on while I go change?" Youu give him a nod, watching him go back into the cabin.
You walk over to the hot tub. You grab the cover, carefully pulling it off. Once you set it on the floor, you turn the knob on the edge of the tub to the left, increasing the temperature. You set the timer to 45 minutes, as you know you will be in there for a while.
Matt comes back after a few minutes, shirtless and in his swim trunks. "You gonna take yours off?" he asks as he leans against the side of the tub. You quickly pull your shirt over your head, throwing it on a chair. You notice Matt’s eyes scanning your body, which makes you a little nervous. Your fingers find the sides of your shorts, and you shimmy them down your legs. You put them with your shirt. "Absolutely gorgeous."
Matt climbs over the edge, taking a seat on the side. You follow after him, sitting across from him. You sigh as the hot water touches your skin. You lean your head back. "It feels so good in here." Matt lets out a chuckle. You bring your head back down, looking at him. "What?"
"Why are you sitting so far away?" he teases. You push yourself off of your seat and make your way over to him. You sit beside him, resting your arm on the side of the tub. His hand finds its way to your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. Your head rests on his shoulder, which he gives a kiss.
After a few minutes, you take your head off of his shoulder. "Why’d you move your head?" You shrugged your shoulders. You felt his hand leave your thigh and make its way to your waist. He scooped you up with one hand, resting you on his lap. Your hands met his chest, steadying yourself. His arms wrapped around your waist, his hands resting on the small of your back. "There we go."
You smile as you look into his eyes. He was so pretty to you. The way his eyes twinkled as he looked at you made you melt. "I’m glad we came up here."
"Me too." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. He pulled away for a moment, admiring you. "I love you."
“I love you so much more, Matt," you said with a smile. You leaned in once more, connecting your lips with his. His hands gripped your back, as yours wrapped around his neck.
Your guys' lips moved in perfect sync like they were meant for each other. As the kiss deepened, your hands made their way up to his hair. You lightly tugged on the strands, causing his grip to tighten. His tongue found its way into your mouth, exploring every inch.
After a few minutes, you pulled away from him. You let out little pants as you tried to catch your breath, however, he wasn't done kissing you. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you even closer. He attached his lips to your neck, leaving kisses everywhere. As he kissed you, your head tilted back. He made his way down, stopping at your collarbone. He took your skin between his teeth, gently nibbling on it.
After he was satisfied with the marks he left, he pulled away. He looked up at you, with eyes full of love and lips slightly swollen. "You look so cute like that." You smirked. He playfully rolled his eyes at you.
You wrapped your arms around his neck once more and leaned into him. You laid your head in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes. You spent the rest of your time in the hot tub cuddled up with him, your heartbeats syncing with one another. There was nothing that could be more perfect than this to you.
-
a/n: just a little something until my stripper fic lol 😭
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Wanna Be Yours | Rhysand x Reader
Rhysand x Reader | When the Night Court and Dawn Court strike a deal, healers in exchange for Illyrian training, you rush at the opportunity to leave your home. You plan to keep a low profile but upon meeting the High Lord of night, your efforts are futile. He takes an instant liking to you and is set on being yours.
warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injury
a/n: This can be read as a stand alone imagine :) but there will be a part two. once again, we have another mini series inspired by a song: I wanna be yours by the Arctic Monkeys. I love when the guy falls in love with the girl first and I feel like it suits Rhys. This takes place before the events of ACOTAR.
The world awakens to a gentle warmth–a tender kiss from dawn. The stars are like a fading dream, bidding their silent farewell and the first tendrils of sunlight emerge, painting the sky in hues of soft pinks and purples. The world seems to hold its breath and so do you.
It’s so beautiful. The way night surrenders to day. The way that no matter how dark it gets, the sun will rise again. It makes you miss home but you don’t miss what waits for you there.
“You don’t belong here.”
You startle and the world tilts beneath your feet. The edge of the terrace offers a daunting view of the Court of Nightmares–a harsh landscape of rocky mountains that seems to promise a swift but unforgiving descent. A hand grasps your arm, pulling you back from the brink, the force spinning you around until you find sanctuary in a pair of strong arms.
As you lift your head, the world regains its focus, but your breath hitches at the sight before you.
A man, heartbreakingly handsome, captures your gaze. He has sun-kissed skin and short dark hair, reminiscent of a raven’s feather, that frames features that seem almost too perfect to be real. Yet, it’s his eyes that draw you in–a shade of blue so deep it borders on violet. Flecks of silver dance within those celestial irises, mirroring the stars that had bid their farewell earlier. His gaze is intense, sparkling with an allure that feels both familiar and bewitching.
“Breathe, darling.”
His voice, a velvet symphony, wraps around you like the answer to a question you hadn’t even fathomed to think of yet–a revelation that ignites a feeling you can’t quite discern but it stirs the deepest recesses of your heart.
Suddenly, you’re pushing away from the male with a deep exhale as a delicate pink that reflects the sky above you flushes your cheeks.
“y/n!”
Your eyes widen at the sound of your name being called.
“y/n.” The male in front of you repeats to himself and you never thought your name would sound so beautiful as it does in this very moment. His lips curl into a knowing smirk.
Alette, your guide, comes into your view. She bends over slightly as her chest heaves and she catches up with her breath. She turns to the male, bowing her head in acknowledgment. “My High Lord.”
All blood drains from your face and your heart skips a beat. High Lord. You just met the High Lord of the Night Court and embarrassingly so. You contemplate whether it’s too late to bow your head or not but the thought of Alette scolding you for not doing it sooner stops you.
“I see you’ve met one of our new healers.” Alette inclines her head toward your sorry state. “I do apologize for her entering your palace without prior clearance.”
Cauldron boil you. You caught a glimpse of him pressing his lips together, as if suppressing something. Perhaps a scowl, frown or smile–you don’t know– because you're swiftly averting your gaze. You’re too scared to move, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself than you already have.
“Forgive me,” you’re saying as you drop to your knees and bow your head. “I didn't mean to trespass. I felt a little suffocated down there and I had no idea this was your home.”
“Where are you from?”
Panic steals your voice and it’s Alette who answers for you.
“She’s one of the few healers that came from Dawn, my High Lord.”
You sense the weight of his gaze upon you, an intensity that envelops you with an almost overwhelming power. Your throat tightens.
“And what of her skill?”
“The best of this year’s cohort.” Alette replies with no hesitation. There’s a subtle fondness in her voice that makes your heart swell with pride. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.
“You may rise.” It takes a while for you to register that the High Lord is addressing you until Alette is awkwardly clearing her throat. You blink and rise to your feet but keep your gaze low.
“You’re coming with me.”
You lift your gaze, gaping at his back. Does he—No, there’s no way he can know. The High Lord pauses.
He turns his head over his shoulder and looks at you in an expectant manner. You look at Alette, who nods her head at you, so hesitantly, you follow after him. Your heart races as you hear him tell Alette to pack your things because you won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares anymore.
**
Velaris, the city of Starlight, is a breathtaking haven nestled within the Night Court. It’s often referred to as the Court of Dreams. It’s a place of ethereal beauty and enchantment. The stark contrast it presents in comparison to the haunting Court of Nightmares leaves you in awe.
But what strikes you the most is the High Lord of the Night Court–the master of duality. In Hewn City, where the air is always thick with tension, he wears a cold, stoic mask and every calculated step he takes echoes the weight of his stern authority and great power. This is the High Lord you’ve heard of. So when he told you, you’d be joining him in the city of his private residence, you were terrified.
It was a short lived fear because the High Lord you’ve heard of is not the High Lord you’ve come to know over the past couple of weeks. In Velaris, he sheds the shroud of shadows and reveals a different side to him. A softer side. A leader built from genuine warmth and kindness.
You’ve come to understand he has a complex role as High Lord of the Night Court. He is a blend that is both harsh and dangerous, yet undeniably beautiful and remarkable, constantly navigating through the delicate balance of power and compassion.
There is one unchanging thread that weaves through both cities. A thread of charismatic arrogance. He carries it effortlessly, employing it in a charming grace. One that he directs skillfully, particularly, when he turns the full force of his charm on you. You’d be lying if you said you were immune to it.
Upon your arrival, the High Lord–or Rhysand as he prefers you to call him– introduced you to the city’s healer. Madja. Though you’ve undergone extensive training in your home court, it felt little compared to the years of experience Madja carried with her, leading her to take you under her wing as her apprentice. You were a fast learner and given the nature of Azriel’s–Rhysand’s spymaster– and Cassian’s –Rhysand’s general commander– jobs, you had a lot of practice and challenges to hone your skills.
A tired yawn escapes from you as you navigate the halls of the infirmary to Madja’s study with the intention of wishing her a goodnight before retiring to your room. Your stops falter when your ears pick up on the distinct voices of Cassian and Azriel and suddenly you’re wide awake.
“–was ambushed by dark forces–”
“–never seen so much blood–”
“–I should make haste then–”
“–he only wants y/n–”
Shadows slink out from the corners, momentarily dimming the faelight in your hand in a silent greeting. The voices, once animated, hush and then cease altogether. Madja is the first to emerge from the study, with Azriel and Cassian trailing behind.
"The High Lord requests your presence.”
**
Not much can unsettle you, given your role as a healer. You’ve tended to a variety of injuries, seen tremendous amounts of spilled blood and have had to navigate through the sorrow of heartbreaking losses. But this. This feels different. This isn’t just anyone. It’s Rhysand. The male, who despite his shameless flirting, has consistently shown nothing but kindness to you. Though the nature of your relationship is uncertain, the mere thought of him being harmed sends a sharp pang through your chest, an ache that transcends the usual clinical detachment you maintain in your profession.
There’s an urgency in your steps as you approach Rhysand’s weak form on the infirmary bed. His body is extremely pale and shivering. A thick layer of sweat clings to his skin. There’s blood everywhere. On the floor, on the bed. It continues to seep out of the wound at his abdomen.
His lids are heavy, laden with exhaustion but he still manages a weary smile when he spots you. “You’re here,” he breathes in surprise, his words carrying a blend of relief and vulnerability.
“I’m here,” you confirm with a reassuring smile as you brush back the dark tendrils of his hair from his face. Though your touch is gentle, the lines on his face seem to deepen.
The air around you begins to shimmer with a soft, golden light. You cast a keen eye over his abdomen, the golden light dancing around you as you assess the full extent of his injury. The wound is deep and not healing as it should and your nose crinkles as the pungent smell of poison drifts up at you.
Rhysand winces as your healing touch meets his wound. Despite his blood staining your hands, you move with practiced grace, drawing upon the healing energies within you. Each movement is deliberate, an intricate crossing between magic and skill as you strive to counteract the effects of the poison.
Rhysand sucks in a sharp breath. He feels like he is dying but he won’t admit that to you. He doesn’t want to scare you. “It hurts.”
“I know,” you respond, your brows furrowing in concentration. The quicker you work, the less pain he’ll have to endure altogether. “It’s the poison.”
His eyes squeeze shut and his face contorts with agony as you press further into the wound. A strangled whimper escapes from his lips.
“I’m sorry,” you frown, halting your movements. You turn your head toward the double doors, where you know Madja waited in her study despite the late hour, in case you required assistance. “Should I go get Madja instead?”
“No,” his hands weakly grasps yours to keep them from leaving him. “I–I’m okay. I only need you.”
You nod and take a deep breath, urging your powers to continue surging through your bones and veins. Charged with vitality, they embody a tender current, eager to breathe life into every fiber of the recipient’s being. You sense the poison recoiling at your touch, prompting another cry from Rhysand. Though you know the poison will put up a painful fight, there’s a sense of relief as you realize it is one you can win.
“It’s going to feel worse before it gets better,” you say, your eyes darting to your makeshift table. “I don’t have anything for you to bite down onto. I’m sorry.”
“Tell me a story,” he pleads, his voice desperate and raspy. “Anything. Please.”
“Anything?” You say in contemplation, falling into a thoughtful pause as you search your mind for a story to tell.
“When I was a little girl and my parents were separating, my uncle would take me to the countryside,” you begin to share, your voice softening with the weight of the fond memory and in the intimate space between you and Rhysand, a subtle shift occurs.
“It was my favorite place in all of Dawn. The flowers were always in bloom and the grass was tall and green. We would wake up early to watch the sunrise together. Those were the moments where the world felt so still yet so gentle.”
“One night, as the moon gracefully surrendered its space to the emerging sun, I cried. The realization of the sun and moon being eternal strangers gripped my little heart. The sun, in its golden glory, would never know the tender glow of the moon, and the moon, adorned in silver brilliance, would remain untouched by the sun's warm embrace. It made me sad.”
“My uncle, at first, laughed. He teased me, which made me cry harder. He realized the genuine depth of my sorrow and that’s when he shared something with me,” you continue, a nostalgic smile plays on your lips as you recall the moment.
Unbeknownst to you, Rhysand’s gaze warms in the gentle embrace of the shared memory. He’s momentarily distracted from the stabbing pain.
"He told me that the moon's glow is but a reflection of the sun's radiance," you explain, the magic of your tale intertwining with the magic of your healing touch. "How beautiful, he said. That the love of the sun for the moon is so pure that he sets down so that people can admire the beauty of her.”
"I was still sad, holding onto that stubborn desire to witness the sun and moon together. That's when my uncle introduced me to the magic of an eclipse—a rare celestial dance where the sun and moon finally come face to face. When the next one arrived, my uncle whisked me back to the countryside to witness it, and for the first time, I felt such overwhelming joy. Tears welled in my eyes but they were tears of happiness. I didn’t know one could cry tears of joy until that moment.”
Still aglow, your hands continue their delicate work. You observe a subtle relaxation manifesting in the features of Rhysand but there’s a weariness that settles over you. You know all traces of the poison are gone because its toxic essence was absorbed by you in your haste to protect him. It takes its toll on you, wearing you down and leaving you feeling slightly unsteady, but all you care about is him.
The gaping wound on his abdomen gradually yields to your skillful touch, and a peaceful serenity settles over his face. His eyes flutter shut, and in the hushed atmosphere, Rhysand's words pierce through, lingering like a delicate whisper in the air.
"I think I might be in love with you."
The confession tugs at the strings of your heart, urging it to soar, but you swiftly quell the rising emotions. You attribute Rhysand's words to the delirium induced by his pain, knowing he’d forget all about it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot your story as well. You swiftly clean him up and use your magic to replace the bloody sheets with clean ones before taking your leave. Exhaustion tears at your bones and you can only muster a meek smile to Azriel and Cassian, who waited anxiously outside the infirmary doors for an update. You head straight to your room after and collapse onto your bed.
The following night, as you retire to your room from another day of endless work and studying, you find a carefully wrapped gift at your door. There’s no name on it but as you read the note attached, you have an intuitive inkling as to who the thoughtful gifter was.
To the Sun, in your golden glory, may you always feel such overwhelming joy.
A beautiful embellished trinket box lays beneath the wrapping engraved with two cosmic entities–the sun and the moon. As you open the small keepsake, you're greeted by a soft, ethereal glow that radiates from within. It casts a warm and gentle light and you watch as a projection of the moon and sun dance around you before finally converging into a mesmerizing eclipse.
**
Rhysand's POV
Like clockwork, Rhysand wakes at the break of dawn with the tendrils of a persistent dream lingering in his mind. A dream that has possessed his nights for weeks. As sleep releases its grasp on his eyes, he reluctantly rises from the bed and decides to get ready for the day, knowing that if he tried, he would not be able to fall back asleep.
He navigates through the familiar halls of the Moonstone palace, mindlessly making his way toward one of the terraces. His steps falter.
There, amidst the soft hues of the awakening city below, stands a feminine silhouette–a vision bathed in the tender light of dawn. You. A sense of cautious curiosity courses through him, eclipsing the remnants of his restless dreams. His gaze lingers on you. There's a nuance in your presence, a fine radiance that hints that you are not from here and though he should be concerned over an unannounced visitor in his home, he can’t bring himself to do so.
A subtle flutter dances in his chest. He’s speaking before he could even properly think.
“You don’t belong here.”
You startle and lose your footing. You’re about to fall but before gravity claims its toll, he moves with swift determination. He reaches forward and grasps your arm, pulling you from the dangers of the edge of the terrace and into the safety of his arms instead. You lift your head and a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes widen as they look up into his.
“Breathe, darling.”
His mind is searching yours with a quiet desperation but all you are thinking about is how devastatingly handsome he is. He doesn’t perceive you as a threat. Yet, there’s something hauntingly familiar about you.
He hears a name being called. Yours. And then it hits him like a sudden gust of wind. You’re the girl from his dreams. The one he’s dreamt of nearly every day this week and as he repeats the name, his lips curve up into a smirk.
He found you and realization dawns upon him like the morning sun. You don’t belong here but not because you’re from a different court. It’s because you belong with him.
a/n: this part came out a lot softer than I thought it would. The quote I used about the sun loving the moon so much came from something I saw on pinterest. I am a sucker for the sun and moon and stars lol
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I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …
IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹
Just an idea 💡❤️😫
Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)
Word count: 7.8 k
Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic
A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience.
You don't know what caught your attention first.
The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.
Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.
No, not too old…
Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.
He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.
He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream.
He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.
He looks like someone who makes love to women.
You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel.
You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–
"The bug's still there."
You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…
"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside.
The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.
Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement.
Because he's here too.
Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either.
Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.
He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.
And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day.
Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.
It's because of Price.
John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…
"How long have you been here?"
His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.
"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear.
You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.
"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.
He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.
"Ages."
He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.
"Have you ever tried a cigar?"
There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.
"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.
"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"
He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.
Fu–ck…
Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–
Jesus–get your shit together…
You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.
Fuck. How can you be so stu–
"Gently then, kid."
You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.
It's time to make him flustered.
So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.
He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.
"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.
"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."
You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.
"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.
"Beats those little sticks."
His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.
His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.
You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.
….....
It doesn't end there.
You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke.
He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes.
No… making love to you.
And it drives you crazy.
You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...
God. When did it come to this?
You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.
You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.
And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.
He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things.
You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?
He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.
One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.
The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.
"Hey, you ok?"
Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…
You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.
"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."
The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to.
He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.
He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.
"Want me to give you a ride?"
Would love a ride.
Would fucking love to ride you.
"Sure. That's kind of you."
Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.
"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.
"Did you have fun?"
He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.
"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."
He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."
You smile and turn to look at him.
"Mm… This one kinda did."
You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.
"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.
The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not.
It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.
You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…
The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed.
"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"
Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.
"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."
Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.
He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….
….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.
His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.
"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."
His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.
Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.
"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"
You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.
"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"
Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.
You're too young.
You're forbidden.
"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."
You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.
You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...
"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."
The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant.
Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.
…But it does the trick.
You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…
A nightcap it is, then.
He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car.
You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh.
"You know what… Fuck this."
Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for.
You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.
"You sure about this?" He asks softly.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.
"You've had one too many, love."
Love…
Shit.
The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.
"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."
Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.
"You really want an old man?"
He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.
"You're not that old."
Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.
And now he's finally here. In your apartment.
You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.
He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had.
Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.
"Fucking hell, kid…"
He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–
"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."
You finally manage to push some buttons.
The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.
"Is that how you wanna play it?"
His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.
"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"
The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.
"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."
Fuck…
You almost moan.
The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his.
"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.
The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.
"This what you want? Hmm?"
The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.
"Yes. I want it. John."
His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.
"Let's get the brat tamed, then."
"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"
The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.
You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.
Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.
Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away.
You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.
And then…
Jesusfuck–
He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.
The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in.
"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.
"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"
"Ah–John…"
I'll be good…
Just for you, I'll be so, so good.
He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point.
You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.
"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"
His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest.
He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.
"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"
He's all smoke. All fire.
"Yes…"
"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"
"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"
"Ahh shit..."
You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects.
A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.
"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.
"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"
"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."
He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.
You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.
"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"
The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.
Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.
"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."
He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.
"Alright."
He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.
"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"
His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.
"Fuck, woman…"
It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.
"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"
It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple.
"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want…
"Right? No more teasing."
He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.
"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"
"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."
You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.
"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.
"Yeah? That's what you want?"
"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"
You sniff. Whimper.
You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?
And you're not crying.
It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?
And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.
"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already.
"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."
It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–
"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"
He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.
His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.
John. John.
"Fuh-…"
He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.
"Just like that, just like… hah…"
"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."
He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…
"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."
He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.
Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.
The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.
And you thought Price might, just might be intense…
Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.
"Ah–hah, God–"
"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."
"John–h…"
The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.
"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."
You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.
"Slow–slowly, Cap…"
"Ahh fuck–"
He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.
"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull.
"Fuck… fuck–!"
You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.
The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.
Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth.
And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.
He feels so good. Too good…
When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.
"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."
"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.
"Gotta admit it was a good idea."
"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.
"We'll get there eventually."
"I have no doubt about that."
You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.
"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."
He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.
"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago.
"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."
"Down the…hallway."
A delicate little whisper, again.
It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed.
This is not how it was supposed to go...
He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap.
"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.
He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…
"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.
"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"
"No."
You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.
The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too.
He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…
"Have you ever been to Alaska?"
The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.
"No."
"Would you like to go?"
"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"
"I was just thinking."
"What were you thinkin', kid..?"
"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.
His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say.
"Kid. Why Alaska?"
He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes.
"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."
"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart.
Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.
It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.
"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."
It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.
"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."
"Is that so…?"
You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco.
He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not...
But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong.
"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.
And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in.
Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.
But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.
And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.
Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.
And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream.
"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?"
It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.
"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise.
You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel…
And Alaska.
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