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cursingtoji · 5 months

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ᥫ᭡ 𝐬𝐨... 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰?

— where satoru comforts you after breaking up with toji

gojo being lowkey yandere, fem reader, toji is the ex, mentions of baby trapping, reader is older, gojo calls her senpai (almost as a mock), classroom smut, fingering, gojo has to wear a condom and he hates it, he’s also a bit pathetic and in love, reader is a bit of bitch. 4k (this was supposed to be drabble idk what happened)

“i know what you’re thinking” gojo’s voice breaks the silence in the classroom where you were supposed to be grading papers but instead has been looking through the window for god knows how long now.

the sudden appearing happens after gojo catches your lost gaze on the field some of his students were training at. he saw your profile looking down at your desk, then after a few minutes you looked through the window until your eyes set on gojo’s protégée and the son of the man that broke your heart.

“but if you keep doing that megumi will get creeped out by you” gojo simply manifested in your classroom as soon as he realized you would stay in trance not even noticing your fellow teacher staring back at you from below.

“whatever, he never liked me anyways” you brush off, then remember what he said before, “and what the hell makes you think you know what i’m thinking?”

“ah, you forgot? i have an eye or six for this sorta thing” he points to his blindfold.

“you saying you can read minds now, you freak?” your relationship with satoru always had that dynamic. toji usually got very annoyed whenever he was in the same room as the two of you, he tried to pull you away or make an excuse for you two to go back to his place. deep down you knew he felt some type of way whenever you and satoru banter like that.

“please you’re so transparent i wonder how megumi haven’t seen it yet, i'm concerned that he might need glasses…”

“just say what you wanna say, satoru.”

gojo, on the other hand, didn’t need an instinct to see how jealous and possessive toji could be when he was around. all that gojo needed to say was one word to trigger the old man.

“every time you see megumi you think about him, don’t you?” he takes a step in your direction while you sink in your chair looking away, “senpai.”

gojo never showed respect for anyone, he was scolded several times by yaga because of it, utahime tried to hit him whenever she could, demanding formal treatment since she was his upperclassmen. but you, for whatever reason he decided, was the only one he used that honorific with.

“he’s his kid, of course i’ll—“

“ever since i heard about your breakup you’ve been acting like everything is fine, except for when you see megumi, then you frown,” gojo extends his index and taps the space between your eyebrows “and your cursed energy increases” he then sits on your desk looking down at you, “don’t tell me megumi had anything to do with why toji—“

“of course not” you stop him, although megumi was never fond of you, you know he’s a good kid and wouldn’t try to get in the way of your relationship with his father. as far as you know, he’s not particularly close to his old man either. actually, anything related to toji — bets, races, you — is automatically disregarded by him.

“then you gotta stop looking at him like he did something, or before you realize your energy towards him will become hostile and i can’t let that happen” gojo’s tone became more severe, it’s one of those rare times where he drops the playful persona in order to get serious. truthfully, megumi did nothing, but you can't unsee toji when you look at him, especially after seeing what your ex-boyfriend used to look like in the old days when he showed you some photos. it never occurred to you before, since you barely saw megumi anyways, you're not his sensei and in your free time you were with toji so there wasn't much time to get to know megumi since they don’t live together since the boy was five. you suppose gojo is right, pushing your hurt feelings away only makes them come out stronger when you see anything that reminds you of toji.

“that’s not gonna happen, i have my energy under control” you cross your arms, feeling exposed under gojo’s gaze even through the mask.

he stays quiet for a second, then his annoying tone is back.

“what did you even see in him anyways? he’s definitely not a good guy.”

“that’s rude, toji is—“

“did you think you could change him or something?”

“i— no, why—“

“from what megumi said he was cheap as fuck so it was definitely not the money” he rubs his chin.

“gojo, i swear—“

“was it the sex?”

you widen your eyes and close your mouth, not having a simple answer for that.

“jackpot” satoru whispers.

“fuck off, satoru” you raise from your seat but he raises too, blocking your way and trapping you against the black board and his body.

“you stayed with that guy for years just for the sex?” he has a mocking tone that makes your blood boil.

“no! and that’s none of your goddamn business.”

“and you’ve broken up, what? two months ago? you’ve been all this time without sex?” you raise your hand ready to slap his face or punch his nose but he sees your movements faster and catches your wrist, “don’t be like that senpai, your energy is getting hostile again” he takes all the time in the world lowering his blindfold and letting his hair fall down while staring at you with those freaking blue eyes, “although, on second thought i think that might be mmm… sexual frustration? it’s a color i never seen in you before” he grabs your wrist firmly.

“you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“oh but i do, senpai. i’m just wondering how you haven’t downloaded a dating app or tried to rub one off yet” gojo knows exactly which buttons to press to make you wanna stab him, or worst, make you wanna fuck him.

gojo gets closer to your face, so close you can smell his aftershave, and just the realization that it’s a different scent from the one you were so used to makes your heart ache and your clit throb.

“or did you?” he’s fast, gojo catches your phone on top of the table putting it right in front of your face to unlock then moving away from you to check it, “definitely no dating apps” you yell his name and try to snatch your phone back but he puts infinity on and you can’t reach him, “browser history?”

“satoru, you have no right, gimme that” your face is hot with shame.

“nothing either, well i suppose your camera roll…”

“no!”

“aha” he deactivates the invisible shield and right when you think you can retrieve your phone he turns you around, holding your arms behind your back and pressing your back against his chest, “is that what you use to get off?” he puts the phone in front of you, it’s opened in the gallery, more specifically in a part filled with lewd videos and photos.

“not bad, you could make some cash outta this” gojo puts his chin on your shoulder, playing a video which clearly was filmed by toji, his dick is getting in and out of you from behind, he gets a close look with the phone, his glistening dick shining under the flashlight while your pussy stretches to accommodate him. you press your legs together remembering the feeling, you’re not even struggling to get out of gojo’s hold by the time the video ends.

“you don’t need to get off by yourself, you know?” he smells your hair and kisses your ear, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“that was forever ago” you reply, at the time you thought satoru was going to use that against you, just wait for an opportunity to drop that bomb on toji’s lap and proudly say he fucked his girlfriend before, but whatever image you had of him back then was proved wrong since no one knows about your little escape with gojo till this very day.

“and wasn’t it good? huh?” he presses, sucking the spot on your neck that has you throwing your head back.

“yeah, it was” you confess, too sensible from the light touches to rethink your answers.

“see? i can make you feel good so you don’t become a little monster” he trails his hand on your thigh, pushing your skirt up until he finds your underwear, playing with the hem to tease you then pressing a finger on your clit.

“so charitable of you” you mumble sarcastically.

“i would gladly do this favor to you” he replies in the same tone, “even though you still own me.”

“for what?!” you close your legs around his hand turning your head around to look him in the face, not even considering a world where satoru did you any favors.

“for raising your boyfriend’s son? you really think you would’ve had a sex life with an eight year old summoning pets around the house?” he raises an eyebrow.

“don’t pretend like you did that out of the goodness in your heart, if megumi didn’t have the ten shadows you wouldn’t have bat an eye if toji sold him to the zenin’s or whomever.”

“you sound just like him” gojo’s eyes get darker, now he has your clit slowly rolling between his thumb and index over your underwear.

“besides— hng i came in the picture years after you took megumi… so don’t blame me” you wiggle your ass on his crotch.

“a ‘thank you my favourite kohai’ wouldn’t hurt” you sincerely laugh at that, never thinking of satoru as your underclassmen since that fucking minx is everyone’s exception on their cursed technique due to how powerful he is, so him being below you somehow was never a posibility, at least not strength wide.

satoru pushes your underwear to the side, rubbing the wetness all over your pussy and teasing your entrance.

“five years” you murmur as he inserts a finger then pulls it back to join his middle one too and go back in.

“hm?” satoru gets quieter, after talking so much and having so many things to say you’re surprised he stayed silent for a whole minute.

“last time you fucked me, it was five years ago” you get comfortable on his hold, his leg is between yours, serving as support for you to lean on while he scissors you.

“that long huh…” he sounds… sad? no, maybe nostalgic.

“crazy, right? so much has—“ you sigh when he curls his fingers, “changed.”

satoru take a long sniff of your hair, keeping a pleasing rhythm with his hand, it feels like giving someone a massage. he could go crazy and have you stripped out of your uniform a while ago, fucked you on your desk and left after marking your body and giving your ass a mean slap.

he could still do that, but whatever feeling bloomed in his chest has him enjoying this moment with you in his hold, stroking your insides and smelling your shampoo while discreetly rocking his hips on your behind for some relief.

he almost feels sleepy, the relaxed state has his mind going other places. he thinks of a world where he can tease you under your uniform every other day, you would tell him the school is no such a place for that then the day ends and you go home with him, holding hands, and finally when you arrive home he gets to finish what he started. then, he cooks whatever quick meal he can find the ingredients for since he knows you don't like to cook, afterwards you fall asleep on his lap on the couch as he strokes your hair, your belly is full, your heart is warm, you feel loved and he feels—

“toru~” he comes out of the trance he fell at when you call for him, he thinks for a second you were calling his name cause you felt he was off, but in reality you were calling him cause you are getting close, “right there” your breathy moans makes gojo smile and kiss your temple.

“where? here?” he pretends to not know, when the truth is he never actually forgot after your first time together, “right here, senpai?”

“y-yeah” you throw your head back, shutting your eyes to give in to the orgasm. gojo looks down at your pretty face, he feels the urge to kiss you right now, but he wants you to ask for it first. your walls clench around his fingers, he strokes that spot sweetly, like he's caressing a pet.

which is an ironic comparison since he’s the one that would gladly accept being your pet.

when you open your eyes gojo is staring at you silently through half lid eyes, it is truly a shame that he keeps those hidden for so long.

“desk, now” you demand needly.

“yes ma'am” gojo picks you up easily, moving the papers on top of the table to the floor.

you immediately go for his belt, choosing not to comment on the wet spot on his pants.

you feel a pressure on your chin as he guides your head up to look at him.

“ask me” he pleads.

“for what?”

“for a kiss” you smile, looking at his lips and how inviting they look. you ponder if you should tease him for it, since he's been teasing you with words a lot today, but then you chose to comply, despite going through your phone without our permission and claiming your frustration comes from lack of dick, he's actually being good to you.

“gimme a kiss” you raise your chin higher, he gazes at your lips and eyes, looking for something other than lust, yet he gives in, sealing your lips with his trying to keep his mind away from thinking of the man that had your lips previous to him. and how dumb that motherfucker is to let you go.

gojo's lips are soft, he starts gently which feels foreign to you, but it doesn't take long before his hand presses your lower back, pulling you closer until his cock hits your clothed cunt. the warmth he feels is enough to relish the passion in him, he kisses you harder, tongue intruding your mouth like he's trying to devour you.

the wet kiss also awakens your urge for him, you pull his cock from his underwear in the tiny space between his and your crotch, the second it's out it's already against your folds, the leaking tip hot against your skin.

“nuh-uh you better have a rubber” you push your knee onto gojo’s pelvis when he starts to rub himself on you to spread your wetness on his shaft.

“did you make toji wear one too?” he raises a questionable eyebrow at you, willing to bet all his heritage on the answer.

“he had to earn that privilege” you reach for gojo’s wallet, not failing to notice the black cards and considerable amount of cash, “i don’t know what you do after 6 so…” you take the packs, ripping it open yourself and rolling on him. with a face and body like his you doubt gojo spends most nights by himself.

“unbelievable…”

“satoru” you warn stroking him slowly, “can i get another kiss?” you bat your lashes. gojo comes closer, his nose even touches yours, then you feel his hands on your waist, turning you around till your elbows and chest are against the table and your skirt is being flipped over, underwear pushed down.

“you have to earn it, senpai” he spits the words against your ear as he pushes his dick into you. until a few moments ago, satoru was composed, happy to accept whatever crumbles you chose to give him. you managed to trigger him by saying toji still had something he couldn't have.

he's still gonna go through this — that's how whipped he is for you — though now he’ll be less gentle.

his cockhead hits your spot, nothing accidental of course, satoru knows your spots like the back of his hand. you whine and arch your back, satoru pouts realizing he won't get to suck some hickeys on the skin of your back and shoulder, not now at least, but the night is young.

“c'mon satoru, don't be like that” you look over your shoulder, licking your lips at the sight of him sweaty, flushed and frowny.

the sound of his name in your voice makes him want to cum on the spot, he dips his head on your neck sighing, not stopping thrusting your behind. he wanted to feel you so badly, why the fuck did you make him wear a condom? he's clean, of course he is, he's gojo satoru for heaven's sake! even viruses are afraid of him.

or was it something else you feared?

“hey… you on the pill?” he lifts his head slightly, his voice still muffled by the material of your dress.

“you’re not fucking me raw, satoru.”

“just wondering… you said you didnt wear a condom with him, so what kept you from getting knocked up?” he wiggles his hand between you and the surface of your table till hes palming your belly.

“you keep bringing toji up a lot, obsessed much?” you tease him, avoiding the answer, gojo pinches your clit.

“please, he wishes. now tell me. iud? implant? injections?” you push him away turning around then pulling him back.

“okay, you clearly had sex ed classes, now shut up and fuck me right” gojo takes your leg and places on his shoulder, you bite your fist to contain your moan, the new position makes easier for him to nudge your clit with his pelvis.

“i could be fucking you better, you know how?” he bites the skin of your leg, not harshly but enough to make you yelp, he smiles, giving a particular hard thrust that makes your eyes roll.

“condom stay on, satoru, i can’t risk getting preg—“ you slap your mouth. satoru stops.

“you’re not… on anything?”

“listen you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” you cover your face, “i had a pregnancy scare a few years ago so… gosh why am i even telling you this…”

“go on” gojo massages your thigh.

“toji got a vasectomy. birth control wasn’t working for me anymore and it was only a matter of time before— well it doesn't matter. you can see why you have to use it right?” you place your elbows on the table, sitting up enough to see the look on his face, it’s not what your expected to see.

satoru looks like a child that just found out where his parents keep all the sweets. he’s grinning, dick throbbing.

“yeah, i see now” he bends, holding your neck and kissing you, he makes the kiss feel like a ‘thank you for trusting me’ but if this was a cartoon his shadow would have horns and a pointy tail.

all he can think now is exactly how to make you his, he can sweet talk you into allowing him to hit it raw, promising to pull it out, then… whoopsie.

the new discovery gives him a different kind of stamina.

“don’t worry, your secret is safe with me” he kisses your cheek after leaving you breathless.

he plunges in and out, a rhythm that has you seeing stars. gojo craves you so much, he’s quite bothered by all the clothes and the need to keep it down, otherwise he would have torn your dress apart and have you screaming by now.

“fuck— keep doing that” you run your nails on his undercut, gojo mewls and take your other leg, pushing it further to go deeper. he sees the white ring around his cock, getting high on the sigh of it combined with your pussy illuminated by the natural light coming from the window behind him.

he wonders if toji ever fucked you in a classroom like this, then he shakes his head, not allowing the image to form in his mind, instead he focus on you, and how your pretty face contorts as your orgasm approaches once again.

“so fucking pretty” he whispers quietly.

you attempt to lower your legs. feeling it’s gonna be too much.

“nuh-uh keep them here” he pushes back, “so tight” he closes his eyes.

you’re a moaning mess at this point, almost forgetting where you are.

“that’s right, let it go baby” your legs shake as your orgasm hits you, satoru can see the shape of your cursed energy peaking then getting softer.

he fucks you a little more, trying not to think about the condom trapping his dream of knocking you up.

god, you would look so fucking gorgeous carrying his baby, all round up for him to showcase around. he would do anything for you, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

if only…

“fuck“ he fucks his load — into the condom unfortunately.

after the initial high goes away he starts to hear his students asking where he went and why he’s taking so long, “wait here, i’ll take you home.”

“you don’t have to” you smile, poking his cheek.

“oh i do, i’m not done with you” he takes your hand from his nape and gives it a kiss before pulling out and throwing that despicable rubber into the bin, making a mental note to empty that bin outside where the evidence of what happened between two teachers is not so easily discoverable.

you sit up adjusting your dress and looking around, “did you see my…”

“nope” gojo leaves the classroom pushing the material of your panties further into his pocket.

gojo had the weekend of his dreams, he convinced you to stay in his place that night and the next one too, he rubbed your sore legs after you came so much you were spasming then made you breakfast, it almost made him believe of a happy ending for the two of you.

a dream that was shattered when, a few days later you returned from a mission and stood by the entrance of the school kissing… toji.

gojo watches the scene from above, a frown on his face.

“yeah i was surprised too” he almost forgot that megumi was with him, “thought she finally created some sense” he confesses.

gojo doesn’t say anything, he watches silently as you tiptoe to kiss toji, the fucker doesn’t even hold you right, he keeps his hand in his pockets and lets you with all the effort.

“meet you in the classroom in five” gojo disappears from megumi’s sight.

on your way to report your mission to yaga you see satoru leaning against a tree. you say his name in a surprised manner, not having prepared what to tell him beforehand.

“listen, i— hm… i thought you should know that toji and i are back, so—”

“did you tell him?” his arms are crossed.

“about… us? of course not.”

“why? don’t you think he should know?” you hear the challenge in his tone.

“no, and you’re not gonna say a word to him either” you step closer to him, trying to look intimidating which can be difficult due to the height difference, “may i remind you that between the three of us there’s a teen boy who would not appreciate the drama.”

“look at you, using fushiguro as an scapegoat” he smiles at the look of anger forming on your features, “it’s fine, i’m just a bit surprised at how quick you were to go back to him, that’s all.”

“let’s be real, satoru. it’s not like you were going to take me on a date or anything” gojo pulls you by your wrist, your body hits his, the sudden proximity has your eyes widening, anyone could see you and take the wrong conclusion. i mean, it wouldn’t be wrong but you didn’t want any conclusions to be taken for that matter.

“this is not going to be the last time and i don’t give a damn if you’re dating him or married or widowed.”

“satoru!” you shout his name in a whisper, immediately rejecting the idea of becoming a widow.

“you can tell toji or not, i don’t mind fighting him” he pushes himself out of the tree and past you. megumi is grown now, of course he still needs a lot of coaching regarding his skills, but emotionally speaking, he’s been a grown up since he was six.

before going to his classroom as promised, he teleports himself to yours, picking up the bouquet he left at your desk then teleporting to the fountain across the campus where he rips the paper that holds the flowers together and lets it all fall into the water.

satoru watches it for a moment, hurt but still decided to go through with his plan.

he wonders what would you tell toji if you got pregnant, maybe you could convince him the child is his, a miracle. then when the kid comes out with white hair and blue eyes you’ll have no choice other than be with him, the father of your child, the man who truly loves you. gojo satoru.

#there’s no part 2 leave me alone #divider by @cafekitsune #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji x reader

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 2 months

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Author's Note: I had a comment left on my post HERE. The person who commented brought up this scenario of Simon being dared to kiss you and you think that he won't, but he actually does and sparks end up flying. So, of course, I had to write it because... I mean... Come on... (lol). And here it is.

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.

Word Count: 4k

Part 2: READ HERE

The night has started innocently enough: you and your fellow officers sit around together in the rec, blowing off a little steam after another successful mission. Some nice, simple fun of playing cards and shooting the shit like you usually do when leaving the base to go down to the bar isn’t an option. Everyone happens to be here tonight, including that brooding, mask-faced lieutenant that you can’t seem to keep your mind from drifting to as he stands against the wall behind you.

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you’ve noticed that the lieutenant’s presence has become more and more common lately, especially when you’re around. He keeps mostly to himself, staying on the edge of the fun by just watching, yet you swear that if you are stealthy enough from out of the corner of your eye you can catch his gaze lingering in your direction.

Whether it’s just a trick of your mind or the truth, either way it makes your pulse race. And tonight is no exception.

All has been pretty calm so far, nothing too rowdy or out of hand. At least, it was until now as the night has waned on and inhibitions have fallen. What was once an innocent bit of fun has turned a bit more risque as Soap decides that cards aren’t enough to keep everyone entertained. What game is it he always seems to pick when everyone is more loose? One where the consequences always end up interesting: Truth or Dare.

Several rounds have passed already where the truths have consistently gotten more honest and the dares even more spicy. No one is ready to call it quits just yet, but there is one person that hasn’t had a turn after all this time and that just won’t do, not if the Scottish sergeant has anything to say about it. Taking matters into his own hands, Soap turns his attention to the big man standing with his arms crossed, watching quietly.

“Oy, Lt. Come on, you’re already ‘ere. Ya gotta join us,” Johnny says through the raucous laughter to drag the silent lieutenant into the merriment. “Or are ya chicken, hmm?”

As much as you want Lt. Riley to join in, you would rather him stick around and something like this could get him to walk out; you don’t want that to happen. “Fucking can it, Johnny,” you say as you strike him in the bicep with your fist. “You’re talking out of your ass, alright? Knock it off.”

To everyone’s surprise and yours, after a momentary pause, Lt. Riley steps up closer to the table with his arms still crossed. “ ‘s fine,” he dismisses your concern. “But, one round is all you’re gonna fuckin’ get from me, sergeant, so better make it count.”

Johnny nods his head in agreement, actually caught off guard that he is even able to get this far with the ever stoic and cold-shouldered officer. It all seems a bit too easy, but Soap isn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this to get the lieutenant involved. He’s gotta make this good whatever it is that gets chosen and so he pauses a minute to think of an idea for either scenario before speaking up. “Alright Lt, ye know how it goes. Truth or dare?”

Truth is never going to be an option for Lt. Riley, not with the level of secrecy he keeps to at all times when it concerns his life; he knows if he gives Johnny an inch he will take a goddamn mile. So, there is only one other option and though he tries to hide the fidgeting in his hands, he picks it.

Maybe it’ll be something that’ll help him strike up a conversation with you later. “Dare,” he says.

The grin that lights up Soap’s face instantly lets the entire table know that he is up to no good and the words that follow are a testament to that fact. You thought you knew Johnny well enough by now, but not even you could have been prepared for what came out of his mouth then. “Alright, I dare ye ta kiss our sassy little sergeant right here,” he says as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze.

You meet his blue eyes and hold them in stunned silence. Is he fucking serious? As if Lt. Riley would ever go for something so fucking dumb as this. Johnny has to be out of his goddamn mind to put you in this position; it’s like he knows something he shouldn’t. Again your immediate reaction is to sock him in the arm, this time a bit harder to drive home the point that you are done with his bullshit.

And yet… shockingly… you hear the lieutenant speak up.

“Fine,” Lt. Riley agrees to everyone’s amazement.

You turn your attention to face him. “Are you sure? Johnny’s just being a dick, you don’t have to listen to him, sir,” you reassure as you shoot a glare that has the Soap nervously shifting in his seat, worrying about what is going to happen to him later for pulling such a ridiculous stunt.

“Said it’s fine,” he repeats, his gruff tone metered. “But I ain’t doin’ it ‘ere though; you’re not gettin’ a free fuckin’ show if that’s what you’re after Mactavish.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give ya that,” Johnny concedes. Those blue eyes scan the room for a solution. “How about ‘round tha corner there.”

He points to the bend in the wall a few feet away; far enough from the group that they won’t be able to tell what’s happening behind it. Since there are now stipulations that the lieutenant has set, Johnny is going to add his own as well for good measure. “However,” he pipes up, “since it ain’t in front a us here, ya gotta stay in place for 10 minutes. I doubt ye’ll actually do anything, but might as well make ye both have ta awkwardly stand there for a bit. And don’t think yer gonna pull a fast one; I’m gonna be countin’.”

You look back at the lieutenant and he gives a nod. “Fine,” you agree as well. How you are able to keep your voice so steady when you feel that jolt deep in the pit of your stomach is a mystery, but you pull it off just fine.

With the rules set Lt. Riley stares at you as if waiting for you to get up from your seat first before he moves. You do and he immediately follows close behind as you make your way over to the wall just past the corner amidst the sounds of whistles and whoops. With a quick flip of the bird back over your shoulder to the group, you both vanish around the side and come to a stop a few feet from the edge.

You lean your back up against the wall as he comes to stand in front of you, watching you intensely through the opening in his thin balaclava. As you wait to see who will speak first, you notice a tension in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been there before. This is the first time you both have ever been this close to one another and you can’t overlook the fact that he seems even bigger now that you are standing so near; you can’t help but admire how small you feel next to him.

The longer he stares at you with those golden eyes, studying your face as if he is deciding something, the more rapid your heartbeat thumps heavy in your chest. He takes a step closer and then another before coming to a stop again. Now there is less than a foot’s distance between your bodies and suddenly there is a shift in the atmosphere around you both, a thick tension that is growing harder to ignore.

The sounds of laughter filters over to the both of you, breaking you out of the haze of your thoughts. “You know, we don’t have to do anything. If you want me to lie, it’s fine, sir,” you speak before he has a chance to. “Fuck Johnny for putting us in this situation. We can just stand here in silence until we get called back.”

He clears his throat. “Who said anythin’ ‘bout lyin’?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow that you can make out through the mask. “Just don’t wanna, is that it?”

Something in the way he says the statement catches you off guard. Why does he sound slightly disappointed? Did he want to actually do this? You couldn’t really believe that; no, you must be reading this all wrong. “No, that’s not…” you stumble over your words; why is it getting harder to speak? “I just… didn’t think you’d want to… but… if you do then…”

“Yes or no?” he cuts off your string of stammering.

“Yes,” you confirm.

Nothing else needs to be said other than that. His hand moves to his face, his fingers finding the bottom edge of his mask, and now you can’t breathe as you wait to see what’s under there. This is the first time you’ll be able to see more than just his eyes and that leaves your mind reeling.

Okay, you prepare yourself, it’s just a kiss, right? Nothing to it; you’ve been kissed before. This will be no different. Just breathe and we’ll get through it.

The mask is wrenched up above his nose so that his mouth is revealed and spread across waiting for you is a subtle, cocky smirk. Your cheeks flush as your eyes are drawn to the facial hair covering his jaw and outlining his lips; short, light brown outgrowth from not having shaved today. It accentuates his strong jaw perfectly and though you try, you can’t look away.

Still focused on his face you miss the warning as a strong hand suddenly finds its way onto your waist as he moves against you. His broad chest is pressed up to yours, you can feel it through the thinner fabric of his shirt, and you can’t tell whether it’s your own pounding heartbeat or his that you feel. That tension is suffocating now that he is this close, the air so thick it feels like you can cut it with a knife. You wait impatiently for the moment to finally break.

It feels like you are holding your breath when after a few more seconds he finally speaks. “Good,” he says with a bit of breathiness to his voice, “cause I’m no liar.”

Leaning his head down slowly to reach you his lips inch ever closer until you can feel their warm, ghostly presence brush over your mouth causing your eyes to flutter shut as the ecstasy from the anticipation of them making contact overwhelms you. They are there, right there, and you plead with the universe to finally let them touch. You feel him inhale sharply and with that they are crashing against yours. It is with such an automatic, visceral intensity that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Simon had been certain until the second your lips made contact that he could keep himself under control, that this was nothing more than sinless fun, but as he breathes in the hot, moist air from your mouth while he captures it again, he already knows that this is not going to end how he has intended. There is an immediate magnetism that you both cannot pull from and what is supposed to be something quick, turns mind-numbing in an instant.

Time stands still as your lips twine together in that familiar back and forth and what can only be a few short seconds extend out into an eternity. It’s like flicking on a switch how easily you melt into his embrace, like acquainted lovers, like your lips have always meant to be pressed tightly together.

How can this be the first time you have ever kissed?

The stubble covering the exposed half of his face pricks along your cheeks the more he advances; the skin around your lips and your jaw growing more raw each time he moves, but the way it makes your face burn is far from painful. His breathing has become more strained, muscles tensing as he risks nipping carefully at the skin on your lower lip.

You inhale a sharp breath through your teeth and then it happens: an unconscious reaction to the pleasure surging through your veins like liquid fire. You can’t stop yourself as a sneaky moan creeps up your throat and before you can swallow it back down you hum it into his mouth.

That low, alluring sound leaves that hulking military officer hungry to hear more. Those large hands of his desperately want to paw at your body, to caress all those silky curves against the coarse skin of his palms, to let his fingertips linger at all that delicately soft flesh for as long as he can. A deep, gnawing ache settles itself in his chest as he takes your lips with more feral aggression; Simon has never craved something more in that moment than to keep you like this entangled with him.

The longer he goes, the more there is nothing tentative about his movements; he kisses you like he owns you. Lt. Riley steals from you as if your lips are air and he will suffocate without them, his desperation is the kind that feels like this is life or death and he needs you to survive. You are unprepared for the fucking bliss of it all, the raw, unbridled passion that his lips create as the friction abrades the tender skin of your mouth.

And your thoughts scream for him to keep going.

You match his intensity with your own, kissing him back with everything that you have in you. He opens his mouth slightly and without thinking your tongue moves in and presses against his, trying to shove its way into his mouth. Fuck, he is not prepared for you to be so keen and it throws him off for only a moment before he leans into that passion and comes back with his response.

The lieutenant braces one of his large hands near your hip, pinning you to the wall while his mouth engulfs your own as he slides his tongue in between your teeth to fill the cavity full. It slithers over the surface of your tongue towards the back of your mouth, the taste of you intoxicating so that he cannot get enough. The pleasure is so intense that it severs his connection with reality and everything outside of your joined mouths fades away into background noise. His other hand moves from your waist and is suddenly wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb holding steadily against your jaw to keep your head securely in his grip so that he can pull you as tight against his face as he can stand.

Your head is reeling from the potency of those hot, feverish lips that are suck yours into their desperate embrace. Then his knee forcefully pries its way between your thighs and you are sure that you will not come back from this. It’s too much to handle and you’ve lost all control… no, that’s not right. You’ve yielded everything completely to him without even having to think about it and he has taken every single ounce of what he has been given as if it has always been his.

Leaning up into him, you stand up on the balls of your feet as he guides the movement of your head by tilting it from one side to the other in that natural dance that happens when lips play. You are both insatiable as that carnal need to devour the other makes it impossible to not relinquish yourselves to the ecstasy that overwhelms in that moment.

Never in your life have you wanted a man to possess you more than you want your superior to right now. Images of him picking you up and slamming your back into the wall, making you encircle his waist with your legs, his cock straining and throbbing between your clothed sex as you plead with him to take you, fill your mind until they make you light-headed.

Lt. Riley is not faring any better and he has to focus his entire will into keeping his hands engaged so that he can resist the tingling in his fingertips to find the button on your pants and undo them. If you were alone without the threat of interruption, you might already be half undressed by now, but just as that urge reaches its peak and his fingers are moving in, you both hear the words that make your hearts sink.

“Eh, you two,” you hear Soap calling out from a distance, “times up.”

It is torture to pull away from you; Simon is on the verge of combusting from being forced to stop before he is ready. But he has to or else he might be found out and there is still hesitation to admit that he might actually want more of this. Even after the ecstasy you both had just shared he isn’t sure how far he should let this go and so with a sigh of defeat he releases your lips from his own.

By the time he lets you go and moves out from between your legs, your stance is unsteady and your mind fuzzy. The sudden lack of pressure against your mouth leaves you feeling empty and you have to stop yourself from whining aloud. As your eyes slowly flutter open you look up into his face and are met with that chocolate brown gaze lingering on you. There is something swimming in the depths of his eyes: a question, a statement, you’re not sure, but he doesn’t say it aloud. The need to say something yourself eats at you, but you close your mouth tight and bite your tongue to keep silent.

You can’t bring yourself to risk admitting that you don’t want him to stop; what if he doesn’t feel the same? The pressures of putting it all out there at this moment is too much to handle. Instead, you let the moment die away quietly as you breathe deeply through your nose.

“Times up,” Lt. Riley repeats the phrase softly as he situates his balaclava back down under his chin to hide himself from you once again. The others are cheering for your return, giving you no time to collect yourself, so you simply sigh and stride back to the group together.

Heads turn your direction as you reappear back into the main room. “Well?” the heavily accented voice of the bastard that has orchestrated this whole thing questions you both.

Trying not to stumble back to your seat, you play it off as if you hadn’t just had your soul sucked out through your lips. “Well what?” you return as the lieutenant passes you up and takes his place back behind the group.

Soap’s brow furrows. “Don’t play dumb with us, lass,” he chides. “Was he any good?”

You cautiously take your seat back where you had been as everyone waits for your answer, trying to give yourself more time to calm your pulse that is still racing like wildfire through your tingling limbs. “It was fine,” you say, hoping you are collected enough to pull off such a bold-faced lie.

“Oh really?” Johnny asks skeptically as he eyes you up and down to read your body language. Your heart leaps in your chest as you think you’ve been found out, that the bloom in your cheeks is still too noticeable, but he continues like nothing. “I think yer full a shit. Probably didn’t even get a peck, knowin’ LT. I bet ye did nothin’ back there, but stand in silence.”

You snicker at him, carefully adjusting yourself in your seat so you can squeeze your legs together to relieve the throbbing in such a way that it doesn’t draw attention. “Aww... Guess that’s only for us to know and for you to spend all your time worrying about, bitch. It’s gonna eat at you, isn’t it? Gonna lose sleep thinking about me and the lieutenant, hmm?” you pick back, which seems to get him off your case.

“Ye wanna add anythin’ here?” Soap asks as he turns to the mask officer.

You risk a glance over your shoulder back at your superior, knowing that this could undo all your progress at regaining your composure, and you catch him completely lost in thought, not having heard a word that Soap just said. Quickly he recovers, clearing his throat. “What’re ya on about, Mactavish?” he questions back.

“I asked if ye had anythin’ to add to her account of events,” Johnny chuckles. “Or are ye too stunned ta speak?”

The lieutenant shoots him a glare before pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Don’t push yer fuckin’ luck, yeah?” he answers it like a threat as he flips open the pack and places a cig in between his fingers.

Soap holds up his hands innocently with palms facing out in agreement not to start any trouble. “Ye must a been terrible, lass,” Soap picks as he turns his attention back to you to keep the jovial atmosphere up.

You slug him hard enough to make his chair squeak from the force before joining in the others laughter to disguise the heat still burning through your cheeks. Simon takes the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, though you let your eyes follow him one last time. It is a monumental task that he has to perform to actively put one foot in front of the other, to calculatedly focus his breathing to stay calm, and make it out of the door without anyone noticing that his composure is clearly broken.

Once out of sight he hurriedly steps out into the cool night air and immediately rips up his mask as he lights his cigarette, taking a long, heavy drag off it as he leans up against the brick of the building. The nicotine tingles his throat and he hopes it’ll be enough of a distraction to stop the intense pounding in his chest. Breathing the smoke out in a weighty sigh he adjusts the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly become too tight for his comfort.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, desperately trying to focus on anything in a vain attempt to calm himself, but he already knows its no use.

The second his eyes are shut all he can think about is that kiss: he can still feel his arm around you, detect the ghost of your lips against his, sense the warmth of your breath in his mouth. He tries to push the delectable sensations from his mind, but they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon and he knows it.

Opening his eyes he stands back up off the wall with a need that compels him, making him move strategically so that he can peek through the door without being seen. Sneakily he stares back into the building, those brown eyes catching the sight of you smiling and laughing, those full lips making his blood pressure rise as he watches them move about as you speak, still red and swollen from being claimed.

This is a problem, a big fucking problem. Now the only thing that that hardened military man can think about, instead of keeping his distance, is how he can recreate that exact scene with you again.

And maybe, just maybe, take it even further.

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peachesofteal · 3 months

Text

Simple Math / Part Six

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings - tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Nurse reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Reference to past domestic violence. Angst. Alcohol. Crying, anxiety, panic. Johnny in distress. Johnny is still a menace. Soft dads. POV switches. Note: Safe sleep for infants always. I do not endorse sleeping with your baby in your bed. This is a fic not real life. Simon does some digging.

“Shhh now, ye’re alright.”

Johnny coos, Penny cradled up to his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt, eyes still half sealed shut with sleep, and she squalls in his arms, screaming as loud as her little lungs will allow. “What is it, mah wee lamb? Are ye hungry? Do ye need a change?” He checks her nappy, efficiently looking for a mess or something to clean up and is nearly disappointed when he finds her still dry. If it’s not her nappy, then maybe her stomach? Could she be hungry again? He thumbs through the notes on his phone to find Simon’s last entry: 23:20 – 50 ML.

That was only an hour ago.

He frowns, walking in a circle, bouncing her gently, trying to settle her back to sleep. She’s so tiny, and still has grown so much in just the short time since they brought her home. It amazes him. It terrifies him.

“What is it, sweet bairn? What’s got ye all upset?” He touches his lips to softest skin he’s ever felt, his thumb trying to swipe away the tracks of tears on her cheeks. “Please dinnae cry. I-“

“You okay?” Simon clears his throat behind him, and Johnny tenses.

“We’re fine. Ye’re supposed to be sleepin’.”

“Heard the two of you in here fussing. Thought I could help.” Simon’s trying to be supportive, trying to be a good partner, Johnny knows, but all he can feel is irritation, a defensive reaction making his hackles rise.

It’s not fair. He’s so good at it. He’s a natural. And Johnny… Johnny feels like he’s failing his own kid, when she’s not even a month old yet.

“I dinnae need-“

“Hey.” Simon touches his elbow, and then his chin, tilting his face upwards. “I know you don’t, love. You’re doing a great job. It’s not your fault she’s having a rough go.” He soothes him, fingers kneading into the top of his spine, squeezing the nape of his neck and pulling him into his arms. Penny is still crying, but softer now, a low-pitched tone of misery that makes his heart ache, and he feels so overwhelmed, so helpless, staring down at her as she tries desperately to tell him what's wrong, the only way she knows how. He rests his cheek against Simon’s chest, melting into his hold, letting him wrap his arms all way around his waist.

“She hates me.” Johnny grumbles, and Simon presses his mouth to Johnny’s temple in short, succinct kisses.

“She doesn’t. She’s brand new. She can’t hate anything, yet, and certainly not her Da.” He strokes her cheek. “Let’s bring her to bed, see if we can get her down and then one of us can put her back in the crib, alright?” Johnny sighs.

“Alright.”

“What’re you doing after this?”

“Going to bed?” What else would you be doing?

“I’m thinking about going to Jackie’s for a drink… wanna come?” Nia untucks her scrubs, pulling the top up over her head.

“Jackie’s, huh?” You chew on your lip. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But… Jackie’s is a dive. It’s dark, and dingy, with black walls, black floors, no window in sight. And... it’s a hospital haunt.

“It’s my birthday.” She whispers, casting a glance around the rest of the room. “I’m not… it’s not a thing, I just want to go, have a few to celebrate.” You take a deep breath. “Please?” She tacks on at the end, and your shoulders dip down in defeat.

“Okay. One. And then I gotta go.”

“Yes!” She cheers, excitement smashing her palms together.

Nothing like a seven am beer.

Jackie’s is a distinct place. It’s one of the only twenty-four-hour liquor licenses left in the city, or so you’ve been told, and has been frequented by hospital staff for decades. It’s dart boards and dark wood floors, cheap beer and rail vodka, a worn to hell pool table, and an old, disabled juke box that someone broke intentionally, years ago. It’s an institution, and reminds you of some old places you used to frequent, when you weren’t… who you are now. Years ago, before, you used to love a good dive bar. Didn’t mind the way the floor stuck to your feet, and you considered yourself nearly tactical at darts. It was a source of pride, the accuracy, the rate at which you could make a bullseye, even when you were a few sheets to the wind.

“Coulda been a surgeon.” You’d tease, a smirk growing across your boyfriend’s face.

“If you were a surgeon, sugar, who’d be at home waitin’ for me after work?” He’d push back, coating the warning in an adoration, giving whoever was undoubtedly watching a slick smile before snaking an arm around your waist and tugging you close. “You don’t need to be surgeon. You don’t even need to work. You have me.”

You thought you knew, then. Knew how to handle it, how to navigate the ever-present, ever-growing threat… but you were wrong.

You were so, so wrong.

“So, heard there’s a spot opening up on days.” Nia chucks her purse at the bar top, climbing onto the stool next to you. “You’ve got the seniority… you givin’ it any thought?” The bartender walks by with a hello, and you nod at him.

“Old Speck please. And no, I like nights.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know Americans liked Old Speck.”

“We have it in the states. I didn’t live under a rock.” You quip, and she laughs before ordering her own poison, a choice that makes your own eyebrows shoot up in question. “Vodka on the rocks?”

“I’m a straight to the point kind of girl.” She explains. “So, no days?”

“No days. You?”

“I might. Night shift is kicking my ass.” She complains. “Don’t even know what day it is half the time. My rhythm is off.”

“You need like, at least six months to fully adjust.” You put a note down in exchange for your beer, and then the bartender scuttles away, distracted by some insistent woman at the other end of the bar.

“Six months?!” You’re about to launch into your spiel about how it’s not that bad when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

>Make it home from work alright?

>It’s Johnny, by the way :)

The two texts are the start of a new group chat with your number, Johnny’s number and the number you put in your contacts just yesterday… Simon’s. Your head jerks back on instinct, confused.

“You okay?” Nia asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, fine just…uh-“ She peeks over your arm, and giggles.

“Is that your patient? Two sixty-eight?”

“What?”

“Your patient. The military hottie. The one that’s always lookin’ at your bum.” Your face burns, and she tsks. “Ah, don’t be embarrassed. He’s smokin’. Wish he looked at me the way he looks at you.” You’re surprised at the flare of irritation that starts up in your stomach at her, a hot streak of jealously simmering there, burning away indignantly. “Aren’t they… I mean… isn’t the scary mask guy his partner?” He’s not scary, you scowl inwardly. He’s just… protective. The butterflies in your stomach startle, and you drift back to last night, in the stairwell, in the car.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

“If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.”

Nia says your name, dragging you back to earth, and you shrug. “Yes… they… they’re together. It’s just been hard on them, so I think there’s a bit of an attachment growing there. You know, it’s not unusual.” She bites her lip, mouth pushing up into a smile.

“They’re quite fit. Wouldn’t mind if they formed an attachment to me.” She pauses, delicately sucking her gasoline on ice up through a straw. “Gonna text him back?”

“Nia.” You hiss, and she barks out a laugh.

“Oh, come on, just a bit of fun. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s not appropriate.” You remind her, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a stick in the mud sometimes. Remember when Marshall was fucking his brain cancer girl? Now that, was not appropriate.” You do remember- Marshall’s sudden absence, the whispering, the HR investigation that spanned weeks, interviews with everyone on the floor.

Your beer goes sour in your stomach.

“I gotta get home.” You wrap an arm around her shoulder with a squeeze and a whisper. “Happy Birthday.” You feel bad for abandoning her, and maybe in another life you might even consider her a friend, but you’re already too exposed here as it is, and staying any longer would be too indulgent- not to mention, incredibly stupid.

You pass another nurse on the way out and him know that Nia’s at the bar, alleviating your guilt just a tad before you hike up your hood and make a beeline for the train.

By the time you get back to your hotel room, get showered, and collapse on top of the far too big bed, it’s nearly been an hour. You plug your phone in, unlocking the screen to flick on do not disturb, and realize the group message is still open, cursor blinking, waiting for your response.

It’s fine. You can tell you got home okay, that’s not crossing any lines.

>Yeah, just got settled for bed. See you later!

A text from Simon chimes back within a minute, and you squint at it, one eye open.

>Get some rest.

The floor is dead silent at the beginning of your shift.

Nothing beeps or whines or cries, no noise echoes around the corner to where you’re scrolling through Johnny’s chart, getting caught up on his day, triple checking that his levels and vitals are all within normal range. He passed his follow up for the liver procedure with flying colors, and the relief you feel is not unexpected, the weight of worry lifting free from your shoulders without another thought.

He’s fine, he’s better than fine, he’s… too healthy for the ICU.

Reality hits you like a truck, and you stop short, sneakers squeaking along the floor.

He won’t be your patient anymore.

He won’t… be your patient anymore.

The thought twists you into a mess of complicated emotions. A snarled, tangled viper's nest of unknowns, uncertainties, things you're desperately trying to tuck back behind your heart, hide them away so no one, not even yourself, can see them.

This is a good thing. This is what you want. Stable patients, on their way to recovery.

So, you’ll miss them, that’s okay. There’s a little bit attachment, that’s alright.

This is the best case scenario. You’re making a mess of things. You’re getting too involved with your patient and his family. You let Simon drive you home, for fucks sake.

They’re getting confused, because you’re the caretaker. It happens all the time. As soon as Johnny steps down, they’ll forget all about you.

You’re risking too much. You’re risking their safety, their child’s safety, your own.

It’s for the best.

You put your best work smile on when you approach his room, pulling as much air into your lungs as you can manage.

Focus on your job. Your patient. You’re a professional.

Johnny is alone. No Simon, no visitors, nobody keeping him company. It’s a strange sight, and he looks almost uncomfortable, creased brow lowered down over his eyes. That’s… odd. Worse, there’s a heaviness in his gaze, sadness pulling his mouth downwards, usual playful demeanor nowhere in sight. Even sad, he’s a marvel, and every day, he gets stronger, he gets healthier, he gets closer to leaving this room, amazing you with his tenacity, his will.

“Hey, you on your own tonight?” You casually knock on the door frame, and then pull it shut behind you, cocking your head.

“Aye.” He’s sullen, his despair tugging you closer to the bed, an urge to try to comfort him too strong to deny.

“How are you feeling?” You try the subtle question, hoping he'll be forthcoming, and you keep yourself composed as you wait for his answer.

“’m alright.” You tab through his chart, glancing it over once more, if only to assuage your own anxieties, and then tap into his vitals. Everything looks good, last labs look great… so what’s going on?

“Just alright?” His fingers flex in the blanket, tanned skin against white linen, picking at fibers and threads, unable to hold himself still. He looks like he’s going to burst open at the seams, explode inside this room, a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the end of the countdown.

A tear tracks down his cheek. “Johnny?” You step closer, close enough so your fingers graze his, trying to delicately let him know, you’re here. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s going on?” The monitor beeps steadily in the silence, his chest depresses with a gust of air.

“It’s… it’s nothin’ bun. I’m jus’… I’m havin’ a bad day.”

“Want to talk about it? I hear I’m a pretty good listener.” You encourage, and his face twists.

“No, I- Ach. Aye, alright.” He shifts in the bed, and you hover in case he needs help, but he waves you away. “It’s… bein’ in here. I want to be wi’ my family. Penny turned one, before I left for this assignment. Was only supposed to be two weeks tops, but then it turned into a month, then two. And now, I’m home… but ’m not really home, and I-“ His voice cracks, raw thread of agonized emotion separating his words, and he swallows it, forcing it back. “I’m blown to bits and cannae even see my own daughter. I’m missin’ out on everything.” Oh, Johnny. Your heart is heavy, and it hurts for him, bleeds as he wipes his face.

“You’re not blown to bits, just a little banged up.” You give him a soft smile, and when he shakes his head, your fingers find his on instinct. You don’t even stop to second guess yourself, fully sinking into the contact with a gentle squeeze. “Hey, look at me.” His lashes are wet, sticky with tears, and he sniffles. “You’re making great progress, Johnny, going to be out of here in no time. You won’t even be in the ICU much longer, and then once you’re downstairs, Penny will be able to come visit all the time. After that, it won’t be too much longer until you’re back home with them.” He nods, and you stroke your thumb across his knuckles.

“Ye think so?”

“You’re the toughest patient I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a fair amount, you know. Traumatic injury recovery takes time, it takes patience, but you’re doing a great job of it so far. You just have to take it one day at a time. Before you know it, you’ll be at home on your own couch, bossin’ Simon around all day instead of me.” He laughs at that, a throaty chuckle capable of spreading heady warmth through your veins, and then gives you one of those stupidly stunning smiles.

“Shouldnae be cryin’ in front of ye.”

“You can cry in front of me any time you want. That’s what I’m here for. Besides, it’s not the first time.” You tease and he rolls his eyes.

“Doesnae count. I was high.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” The untouched dinner tray on his side table catches your eye, and chilling worry reappears in the back of your mind. “You didn’t eat?”

“Didnae have an appetite until ye showed up, pretty girl.” Okay. You can remedy this easily, if he's interested in eating. Lack of appetite is alarming, but if you can get him to eat now...

“You hungry? I haven’t eaten yet. Want me to grab you something?” He brightens, indulging in a spectacular smile, and you take it as a yes with a small laugh. “Alright. Let me run down to the café, yeah?”

“What’s that saying, about how I hate to see ye go, but love to watch ye leav-“

“Okay!” you practically shout, cutting him off, fire racing across your skin, and he snickers, palm pressing against his heart like he’s wounded. “I’ll be right back.” You give him a serious look, and and he rubs his palm through his hair, mirth sparkling in his eyes. Holy hell. How is he so attractive? And how is it still so blinding, every time?

You get two of the only option left this late in the evening, chicken soup and some sourdough, balancing the bowls carefully on their trays until you’re placing them down in the room, swinging the little table over Johnny’s lap and settling in beside him, perched on Simon’s recliner. The soup is warm, spiced with herbs and thick with noodles, and you're pleased that it's better than you were expecting, happy that Johnny seems to like it as well.

"Wanted to take ye out properly for our first date, but this will have ta’ do. Simon’s gon’ be so bloody jealous.” He masterfully hums between your bites, and your eyes go wide, trying and failing to swallow your soup instead of choking on it.

“Johnny, we… this… I- this isn’t a date!” you squeak.

“Why not?” He asks, inflection innocent, and your brain rattles around inside your skull, splitting down the middle, falling apart in bewilderment. Why not? What does he mean?

“You… you have a partner. Simon? You know, your family that we were literally just talking about?” He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with this look on his face, one you can’t interpret. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What did Simon tell ye, the other night. When he took ye home?”

“What? He… I don’t remember.” Does he know that Simon gave you his phone number?

Of course, he knows, he started that group text.

Does Simon know what Johnny said, about you coming into their lives? About-

“Didnae he tell ye, we’re here for ye?”

“Y-yeah.”

“We, bunny? We.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He sighs. What is he trying to say? What is going on?

“We like ye. Like I said, we think ye’re really special. Simon, and I. Together, bun.”

“Wh-what?” Puzzle pieces snap together and then break apart, like a landscape jigsaw that you spent days completing once before it was promptly ruined. Does he... does he mean... Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. You have to squash this. Now. Just explain it, he’ll get it. He’s smart. “No… no, Johnny it’s just… it’s this thing, that happens. Patients get attached to their nurses or doctors sometimes, it’s normal. You d-don’t like me, I promise. There’s nothing even to like.” He blinks, jaw grinding under stubble. If Simon’s stare feels like he’s reading your mind, then Johnny’s is like being pinned down in one place, unable to move. You’re paralyzed, and powerless, lost in the icy blue sea of his eyes, drowning with a hand sticking out above the crest of the surf, reaching for him.

“Why would ye say that? That there’s nothin’ about ye to like? Nothin’ could be farther from the truth.”

“I don’t… there’s not. It’s… I’m your nurse, Johnny. That’s all.” Sweat glosses the small of your back, slicking upwards to cover your spine, and your heart hammers, it beats, beats, beats- so loudly you’re sure the pulse point in your wrist is visible. “Johnny.” His name shakes from your lips, and he relaxes, gentle concern replacing the relentless intensity in his gaze.

“Shhh, hey. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didnae mean to upset ye.” You're still frozen, a statue, and he reaches for you, trying to grab onto your hand. The heat of his skin breaks you from the spell, and you force a robotic, bedside smile onto your face, scooping up your half empty bowl.

"It's okay." You need to get out of this room. Now. The walls feel too close, Johnny feels too close, everything is compounding on top of you, threatening to derail your entire life, ruin your plan. They cannot like you. They cannot care about you. They cannot show interest in you. You can’t let this happen. “I’ve gotta check on some other patients, okay? I’ll swing back your way in a bit.” You promise him, guilt eating you alive about running away, and when he gives you a sad smile, you almost lose your resolve.

“Alright, pretty girl. I’ll see ye later, then.” He murmurs, and you try not to trip over feet during your hasty exit.

Fuck. You’re so fucked.

Simon and Johnny’s house is finally silent.

Penny is down, safely tucked into dream world, her grainy grey-scale image flickering on the video monitor at Simon as he pours two fingers worth of bourbon into a glass.

Poor baby girl. His stomach twists. She put up such a fight tonight, hollering at the top of her lungs, standing up in her crib, working herself into an absolute state. He hates leaving her alone to cry, and on nights like this one, the only way she’ll close her eyes is if she’s being held, snuggled in Johnny's arms, or against Simon's chest.

He’s a sucker, he knows. Doomed from the day she was born, but he can’t help it. Neither of them can. She’s their baby.

So, he doesn’t blame her for being so out of sorts. She always sleeps better when her Da is home. They both do.

His phone vibrates with a text, a short message from Johnny, and he scrolls through it, settling on the couch with his laptop, unopened email from Laswell blinking impatiently.

>She’s jumpy. Tired. Looks like she hasn’t gotten any sleep. Simon frowns.

> She manage to find a pair of panties for work today?

>Unfortunately. He can practically see the pout on Johnny’s lips, can hear the way he probably huffed and puffed when you first came into the room this evening, your hips swishing side to side, pretty smile on your face for him.

>I think I made her upset. Simon pinches the bridge of his nose. Johnny, love. Why can’t you listen? He takes a deep breath, trying to relax the worry that’s creeping up the back of his neck.

Disagreements aren’t for text messages. They’ve learned that the hard way.

>Take it easy for the rest of the night, then. She’s skittish. He shoots off the recommendation, and then pulls his laptop across his knee, clicking open the email from Kate.

Simon, Your girl is a ghost. This kind of wipe work is professional level… are you sure she’s a nurse? I’ve attached everything I could find, but it’s pretty scarce. The name you provided pulled a copy of her NHS nursing license, her taxes, an award she won at work last year, and a COVID vaccination record. No birth certificate, state identification, or public records of any kind, even after a global hand search. Nothing that even proves she exists or is an American except a sealed record from two years ago in the states. It’s not accessible, even for me, which means it could be WITSEC, or a court ordered name change in relation to a domestic violence case. There are 18 states that seal those records to protect the victim, so she could be from anywhere. My gut says it’s probably the latter, which is why she doesn’t exist prior to. You’ll notice on the vaccine record, she marked ‘unhoused’, and I couldn’t find any lease/rental agreements, sale records, or mortgages in her name. I wish I had more for you, but she really is a bit of a puzzle. I’ll keep digging. -K.L.

There’s an unsettling rattle going off in the front of Simon’s skull. It’s a siren, a smattering of warning bells, and he swallows the rest of the bourbon in one go, embracing the burn that slides down the back of his throat.

Who are you, little bunny? And who are you running from?

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #soap x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader x ghost

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kedsandtubesocks · 4 months

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give you something to dream about

joel miller x f!reader

summary: It’s game night at the bar and you stumble upon the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak AU, Joel has both of his daughters, ‘strangers at a bar and maybe something more’ scenario with eventual husband!Joel, mentions of drinking, spicy making out session, Joel gets a bit handsy, gendered language / reader is addressed as “baby” & “darlin” light football discussions and terminology, lovesick and possessive!Joel

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my love letter to Joel, his love for football and maybe my own love for Texas football as well lol. To have this as my first fic of the new year and for it being for Joel means so much. To come back and write for the Pedro fandom is special and means so much. Big thank you to my babe @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream my sports girl head off about this, and for @lowlights for giving me guidance when I needed it. And lastly - thank you for reading, you are what truly makes this so incredibly special and wonderful

A mixture of bright neon and low soft white lights bathe the bar in a cozy ambient glow. The music is barely audible, a sort of after thought. Instead commotion and the ramble of sports announcers fills the room.

You manage to squeeze through the sea of onlookers dressed in burnt orange. Maria thankfully stays close to you. Now at the bar counter relief floods you as you lean against it.

“Order me a beer, I’m gonna find our table.” Maria yells over the liveliness swirling around.

You give her a thumbs up and thankfully don’t have to wait for the bartender long.

“Like your shirt!”

The bartender’s voice catches you instantly. Bright and direct you blink towards him. He’s cute, young, maybe a grad student from UT Austin who works here.

You can’t help but glance down at what you’re wearing.

Even under your jacket the shirt is comfortably a bit larger on you. The main focus is the old cartoon type logo of Bevo, the Texas Longhorn's mascot. The burnt orange coloring is faded adding to its weathered look.

A warmth flutters through you from just seeing it.

“It’s vintage, cool as hell.” The bartender continues admiring.

“Thanks. Uh, a friend of mine gave it to me.” Thankfully the bartender nods understandingly and doesn’t press the topic more. Instead he soon asks what you’ll be having.

You order Maria’s beer and a drink for yourself.

“So, you a big Texas fan? Well okay, I mean…you gotta be if you’re here.” The bartender, grabbing a drink glass, starts up another conversation with you as his tone becomes playful.

“A lot of people I know and love are. So by default I am too.” You admit with a sleepy grin.

“Aw,” his face melts. “Now that’s sweet. Well glad to have you here cheering for Texas.”

The bartender now even winks at you. You politely laugh but then, the bar erupts silencing the conversation.

Excited yells come so loud you jump out of your skin. Quickly you turn around to view the many tvs and projectors showing the game.

From what you can tell the Texas defense managed to take down the quarterback. You even watch the replay to see what the fuss is about. It was a good tackle and the play kept the other team’s quarterback from even advancing.

The game has you memorized now. You watch as the burnt orange and white uniforms of the players scramble like chaotic ants now trying to rush after the ball was kicked, no, punted to them.

Your lips twitch. You never would’ve thought you knew this much football terminology or could at least follow the game. Yet here you are.

The bartender clears his throat and embarrassingly fast you turn back around.

Not two but three drinks sit before you on the bar counter.

One happens to be a surprise shot that makes your eyes go wide.

“Uh, so the guy at the end of the bar sent it your way.” The bartender explains lowly, trying to be discreet about it.

Your eyes instead whip up to search for the mystery man. Then your heart sprouts wings when you discover him.

Leaning against the bar rail at the very opposed end of where you are, the man seems like something out of a romance novel’s dream.

Ruggedly handsome, his distinguished aged face and striking nose glow against the mixture of neon and dim lighting. It highlights the grays in his beard and gorgeous dark hair. His chocolate eyes bore into you as if you’re the only one in this bar.

His attention on you alone has your knees weak and you wonder maybe you suddenly turned into jello.

Your mystery man lifts his beer up to you, a silent ‘cheers’ and then takes a sip.

Just watching him take a swig of his beer has you dizzy. So you readily snatch up the shot, toast it back to him and down it.

The alcohol burns, but you’re surprised it’s your favorite liquor of choice. You can’t help but cough up wildly and the bartender snickers at your reaction. It’s been too long since you’ve had a shot and you’re thankful to chase the stinging sensation down with your mixed drink.

“Hey!” Maria’s voice calls out and her bright smile greets you as she slides through the packed crowd.

“Hope you didn’t think I forgot about you.” She laughs warmly. She grabs her beer and slides a tip to the bartender.

But then her eyes notice the empty glass.

“Oh? You took a shot without me?” She teases.

You tell her someone bought it for you and her eyebrows fly up fast in eager surprise.

“Oh?” Even her tone is warmly excited. “You get a good look at who your mystery shot buyer is?”

You turn your attention towards the end of the bar, right where he should be. Except your mystery man has vanished.

A bit of disappointment trickles in.

“I did, but guess he took off.” You tell Maria a bit low.

“Well, his loss then. Come on! Let’s head back to our table-”

“S’cuse me…”

A smooth deep and accented drawl, direct and firm enough cuts through the commotion politely cutting in on Maria.

Just as fast, there’s suddenly a deep warmth behind your back. The presence is broad, warm, and smells of the beautiful hint of a sandalwood cologne.

“If you don’t mind, I think I might steal this pretty gem for myself.” The accent seems thicker now and melts off his voice like sin.

He’s talking about you.

Maria smiles wildly entertained while her eyes flicker between you and your mystery man.

Silently you stare back and with pleading eyes you mentally communicate that yes you want to stay, yes it’s okay for her to head back.

“Alrighty then, see you two later.” She says grabbing her beer and gives you one last amused look before heading back to the table.

Your heart races so loud in your ears you don’t even notice the upset yells at a bad call given by the refs.

“…Howdy…”

The voice purrs, absolutely dances against the noise of the bar and beckons to you, your personal siren’s song.

Turning around the shadow of the mystery man falls over you. He stares down with those obsidian pool eyes as his lips turn into a boyish grin.

“I’m Joel. S’nice to meet you.”

You think about all the songs that sing about Texas beauty and how they all must have actually been speaking of this man.

Joel extends his hand out to you and the simple pure southern gentleman introduction has excitement bubbling in you like you’re a champagne bottle about to pop.

Your lips fight back a disbelieved smile as you introduce yourself and shake his hand.

It’s larger than yours, warm and beautifully callous that speaks of hard work. Joel leans closer to you and you can’t help but slide more towards him as well.

“I like your shirt.” His fingers playfully tugs at the bottom edge of your shirt.

“Thanks,” you take a sip of your drink to gain more courage. “A friend of mine let me wear it.”

Joel laughs. It’s warm, touches his face and sounds like it settles in his chest.

“A friend huh?” His voice grows even more amused.

You simply hum a nod as you take another sip of your drink. Your body hums with so many wonderful emotions like a jenga tower trying to hold onto its form on a moving table.

“That friend of yours a boyfriend?” Joel asks, a dark drawl sticky as molasses and trapping you to him.

You can’t help but shake your head no. The taste of your drink momentarily settles you.

“Pretty thing like you single? Ain’t that a shame.” Joel comments with a low rumble and all the ease you had gathered floats away.

Your eyes flicker back to Joel. But your focus goes between his stunning eyes and his lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over, become hooded with a hazy desire. How much it intensifies his gorgeous features makes your stomach flutter.

The game must have quieted down or maybe you’re just this focused on this man.

He moves to whisper in your ear.

“So…Wanna find a nice quiet spot to chat? Get to know each other better?” His lips softly graze your ear and an electric current runs up your spine.

“Yeah.” You mutter back now tipsy off Joel’s presence.

The moment you agree, Joel’s hand slips towards your waist and draws you to his side. He quickly slams down plenty of bills on the counter to cover for the drinks and tip. Your poor drink and his are forgotten.

Now Joel shifts into a man focused.

Squaring up his shoulders, he stands taller as he takes the lead. His broad shoulders become a guiding force, keeping you close to him. His hand intertwines with yours while he navigates you among the crowds.

His larger hand suddenly squeezes yours, a reassuring pressure that draws you closer to him. Moving through the tables against the crowds, you arrive at the outdoor patio where the early night air clears your mind.

Joel continues guiding you to a smaller area where the bathrooms are outside by the patio. You stand before the family restroom that holds the sweet title of “cowpokes” on it. Opening the door, Joel leads you inside. You take in the slightly larger yet still small rustic bathroom that glows under the murky amber light.

The door locks behind you and you turn around to find Joel staring you down with hunger brewing in his smokey eyes.

That’s all you can focus on before you get caught up in a dizzying whirlwind.

Hastily Joel rushes forward to pin you against the wall. His body firm and large presses so deliciously against you. Before your eyes can even soak in the close sight of him, he sweeps in and kiss you with a ravenous fierceness that steals your breath.

He quickly consumes you.

Joel faintly tastes of beer and something intoxicatingly uniquely him. While his hand moves to hold your face, his tongue licks into your mouth, diving in, almost trying to get drunk off you. You can’t help but draw him closer to you as much as you can. You want your nails to dig into him the same way he’s burning under your skin and seeping into your core

His hips begin to grind against you with an eased pace and you moan into his mouth. You want more, need more.

“Oh baby.” Joel groans out and sounds like sticky delicious sin.

Suddenly the loudest cheers leak into the bathroom.

So fierce in their excitement it echos into the room and freezes you and Joel immediately.

He sighs against your lips.

“We must‘ve scored.” Joel mutters.

“Are you upset you didn’t see it?” You ask gently and kiss his lips soft as the heat begins to settle.

“Nah. I’m aimin’ to score here myself.” He grins and the line has you laughing. Your face goes to rest against his as you continue to snicker. The prickle of his beard gently scratching against your skin feels wonderful.

“Darlin’ you’re killin’ me. I wanted to sound slick.” Joel sighs again, sounding deflated now.

“You did...sort of.” You smile.

“Forgive me,” He smirks and turns to press another soft kiss against your lips. “Been outta practice for a while.”

“You aren’t too bad, cowboy. You managed to get me in here.” You hum amused while your fingers run against his jaw, through his scruffy wonderful beard.

Joel chuckles and it dances within his chest, resonating through him.

“You’re the only one I want in here.” He mutters.

You and him share a few more soft slow eased kisses that are rushed, almost shy now.

With one last kiss, a deeply melting one that now makes you ache to keep him here, Joel pulls away. You hold yourself back from pouting.

But, you’re now rewarded with the sight of Joel fully before you. The dim amber light paints him like something pulled from a sunset dream, an aged handsome man so sweet with his furrowed concentrated eyes.

You watch Joel pat around his jean pockets and suddenly your eyes go wide.

“Joel Miller if you lost them-”

“Calm down!” He huffs cutting you off while he rapidly digs into his deep jeans pocket. He yanks something out in his grasp.

He smoothly slides closer back to you and holds out his palm where two wedding rings sit waiting.

His and yours.

Your heart melts out of your chest seeing them and your ring finger itches for its missing piece. You grab Joel’s ring, leaving him yours and move to slide his back onto his hand.

In the same manner, Joel slides your wedding band back onto its rightful place. The memory of when you did this at your actual wedding faintly flutters in and settles warm in your heart’s chamber.

Joel draws your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles.

This man, your husband - you yank him towards you again to kiss him.

It’s a kiss that’s like coming home, of sweetness and cultivated bliss reuniting together again.

“Wanna see that bartender try flirtin’ with ya now with that ring on your finger.” Your grumpy husband grumbles adorably.

You bark a laugh. “Oh please, he was being nice for the tip and you know it.”

“Uh huh.” Joel dryly huffs as he stares at you unamused.

“Hey he was nice. He even liked my shirt.” You reply back.

“My shirt.” Joel clarifies strongly. “That’s my shirt.”

You roll your eyes playful.

He is right though. The shirt is his. Your husband is a superstitious football fan. And ever since you wore his shirt and Texas won, Joel used his beautiful brown eyes as weapons to get you to wear his shirt every game since then.

“Come on, curious to see what the score is.” With one last sweet kiss, Joel leads you back out into the evening air.

Hand in hand with him, you find your way to Tommy and Maria. Both of them brighten up at the sight of you and Joel.

“Hey! Look at that! You’re a married man again!” Tommy cries happily and you laugh. Joel, after sliding your chair in for you, rolls his eyes now while you and Maria snicker to each other.

“Bet it was fun while it lasted.” Maria grins.

“Eh.” You shrug but the truth tugs at your lips amused.

A few nights ago, when you and Joel had come up with this idea of going to the bar without the rings, pretending to not know each other, you worried for a split moment that you’d enjoy the freedom.

You worried you would realize how much you missed and enjoyed the playful banter, the flirting and pull that comes with being single. But instead you simply found your way back to Joel.

The excitement of seeing him, of having that same sensation rush through you like it did when you first met him, was nostalgically addictive for a moment.

However, you instead soak in the comfort of sitting beside Joel because it feels like coming home. While being single for another moment again was fun, you want to find Joel in every lifetime, find him as your husband in every universe.

The bar suddenly breaks into wild excitement. Joel as well cheers so loud. You turn to the game and find Texas intercepted a pass.

Now you go to check your phone and find both your daughters thankfully are doing fine. Sarah even sent you a photo text of her and Ellie at the classmate’s birthday party they’re both at. There’s a lightness that settles into your bones seeing them and having their father, your husband, beside you.

Joel and Tommy, as if they’re ESPN announcers in deep analysis, dive back into how Texas needs to sharpen up their offensive line. It’s adorable. It makes you fall in love even more with him.

Maria goes to ask Tommy something about the game and Joel leans towards you.

“You happy to be married again?” His voice drops soft and low. You catch the hint of true curiosity and almost hesitation residing under his tone.

“Of course. It’s my luckiest day all over again.” You truthfully tell him with a warm grin.

“Yeah?” He mutters tenderly as his eyes flicker to your lips again. “Make sure you share some of that luck with the team alright?”

You playfully nudge his arm and Joel smirks. You love him like this, light and teasing.

Joel drops a kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t worry baby, this is my lucky day too. Goin’ home with the most gorgeous person here and I’m married to her.”

You could say the same thing. You’re leaving with the most handsome man and knowing you’re married to him? You feel honored, proud, and grateful.

Even when he starts yelling at the quarterback as if the poor guy can hear him.

“I could throw a better pass than that!” He argues upset.

You’re not as big of a fan as Joel, but Texas holds a place in your heart forever. It intertwined you and him in its own unique way.

Back when you were dating Joel patiently explained the game, so gently spoke to you without any judgment when you asked questions you were sure would make any other seasoned fan mock you or get annoyed. But not your Joel.

The first big moment you met Ellie and Sarah it was over at his place during a Texas game.

You experienced how wildly invested Ellie got, just like Joel, and how amused Sarah got seeing her dad and sister scream at the tv. From that point - all the days, the games, laughs and moments cultivated into a path that has led you to this moment, to this bar.

And now, here you are.

You love Joel’s love for the game, for the sport. You love how it’s connected you to him.

“Honey, you okay?” The voice of your husband pulls you from your thoughts, like a call home.

You turn to find Joel intently looking at you, your sweetheart provider. You can’t help but grin and nod.

“Yup, just thinking about the handsome stranger I met earlier. Hope he asks for my number.” You tell him.

Joel breaks into a chuckle that touches his earth eyes.

“Between you and me, he’d be a fool if he didn’t.” His hand now slides to yours, his thumb even begins to twist and fiddle with your wedding ring, a sweet habit of his.

You snort amused at how effortlessly he can play along with you.

Before you can tease him again or even wander back into your thoughts, the crowd roars to life with shouts. All eyes including yours snap to the game.

Texas just intercepted the ball and the play breathes life into the bar, into your husband who claps loud and proud.

It’s a great energy to see the end of the second quarter and the start of the halftime.

Suddenly, Joel’s hand begins softly trailing against your thigh. Warm and almost eased, the slow movement ignites a blooming desire in your chest.

Joel easily laughs with Tommy about the game. His eyes stay on his brother. Yet Joel’s hand slides now confidently deeper into the inside of your thigh. Your throat tightens and heat now begins to soak between your thighs, almost daring him to touch you.

Then a collection of happy cheers burst in the bar and steals all the attention.

All the tables nearby including yours turn to find a group of ladies. One of them currently grabs the cowboy hat off a taller man who grins so warmly down at her. She laughs loudly after doing what had to have been a wild shot.

The guy orders her, and her friends, another round causing them to squeal loud and excited again. Maria leans back to talk to Tommy and so you too lean closer to your own husband.

“Maybe I should pretend to be single again.” You tell Joel. “To see if I’ll get free shots and attention like that.”

Not that you’d want any of that. You just enjoy teasing your sweet grumpy husband from time to time.

“Nope.” Joel says with an unwavering sharpness. “You ain’t going anywhere without that ring Mrs. Miller.”

His words are rather light, almost playful, but you catch the underlying possessive simmering. It ignites an even stronger warmth beneath your skin.

“And who says you don’t get free shots? I’ll buy you as many as ya want.” Joel adds and his clipped almost ruffled voice has you laughing.

But as you settle, your thoughts wander. The smell of Joel so close, the mixture of his faint cologne and the detergent you use to wash his clothes, brings back the sensation of having that smell surround you when you were in the restroom with him.

It makes you ache.

Your hand now softly wanders to rub his warm broad chest. A low rumble comes from him, an awareness of your presence as you drape against him now. Maria and Tommy thankfully have begun to make fast friends with the couple sitting beside your table.

Your face leans to rest against Joel’s and the slick honey like desire you felt earlier creeps over you once more. It urges you to be bold.

“Wanna go mess around before halftime is over?” You offer soft and low, only for his ears.

Joel peers over to you, his eyes now smoldering coals.

“You wanna?” He mutters back.

Your answer comes as a soft kiss you place against his cheek. However, your hand now begins to slide up his thigh just like he did to you earlier.

Joel loudly clears his throat and sits up fast which untangles you from him. Immediately he yanks out his wallet to slam his card on the table.

Tommy and Maria now blink back at the sudden action.

“Order anything y'all want. We gotta grab somethin’ from the truck.” Joel lies effortlessly.

But Maria knows as she grins knowingly while embarrassment instead rises in you.

And apparently her husband isn’t as easily fooled either.

“Yeah yeah! Get outta here ya horn dogs!”

Joel barks a sharp ‘hey!’ at his younger brother’s crudeness while you can only laugh against him. Tommy simply makes obnoxious kissy faces while Maria snickers besides him. Unable to endure anymore teasing Joel playfully calls Tommy a piece of shit and with that you wave a quick and thankful to Tommy and Maria.

Joel once again leads the way to the entrance.

The two of you now stay stuck together closer than earlier. An almost giddy frenzy now keeps you both hyper aware of the other. His hands keep you so firmly close to him.

The giddiness you had earlier while pretending to be single with Joel is nothing compared to this. This feeling swirling in you comes from knowing you get to sneak away with your husband. It has you floating, only tied to this world by Joel keeping you steady and protected.

Around you, small chatter about the game hangs in the air.

Texas might not win. But as you slide closer to Joel, a unique shade of triumph washes over you.

Your good man, your wonderful husband.

He is your victory and champion.

Your victory lap and your welcome home party all at once.

And when he kisses you wildly against the side of his truck…you think he might also be your sneaky devilish opponent as his hand already starts to slip under your, no his shirt.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#I blame my heartbreak over Texas and Pedro losing but it’s okay cause I got inspired LOL #thank you to anyone who reads this I love you #Joel 🤎#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader

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soap-ify · 2 months

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mdni.

YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader

05 — i'll meet the judgement by the hounds.

chapter summary — a fool and a coward, that's the realisation you had come to.

tags / cw — no smut, fluff, a bit domestic honestly, basically reader's drunk and simon takes care of you, bittersweet, simon opens up... a bit, angst, suicidal thoughts, very subtle religious references if they even count as one, simon's in denial and reader is on the verge of losing it all. [4k words]

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Simon had come to the conclusion that you were a snake, and your love was your poison. Maybe he really was a coward for being afraid to let your venom drown into his veins.

“Remind me to never take you out for drinking again.”

If it weren’t for Simon holding you carefully against him and walking through the street, you’d surely have collapsed on the ground all drunk and worse, thrown up by now.

It was a little mistake. One drink became two, and then three. You had forgotten about your tolerance, and here you were now. It’s all because of Simon. That’s what your excuse was, blaming it all on him. Which was true in all honesty, you had gotten too excited about this little hangout.

“You’ll never go out with me again?” Completely mishearing his words, you looked up at him with wide eyes, tears already approaching. Yeah, you were completely drunk. Simon froze, his heart tearing at the sight of your incoming tears, even if they were just due to your emotions being all over the place now. Emotions that had always been there, hidden deep within.

His first instinct was to ignore your words and just keep walking, his heart begging for him to comfort you. But again, how does a killer comfort an angel? How would the moon comfort the ocean, while being so far away?

“I didn’t say that.” He gruffly replied and continued to look ahead, not daring to meet your eyes anymore.

O Angel, let me fall on my knees, kiss your fingers, and weep for forgiveness. So you may hold my absolution, and make me man again.

“C’mon, we gotta take you home.” Simon internally cursed himself for not taking you both to the bar in a car. He hadn’t considered the possibility of you being a drunk mess. Do I ever consider anything?

“No!” Your loud whine echoed in the empty pavement, and he could barely hold in a chuckle, deciding to bite his bottom lip beneath his mask. “Can’t we spend more time together, Si?”

I’d spend a lifetime with you. But god forbid he ever said those words. Not to you, not to anyone. “S’not like m’gonna die or somethin’, or that you’ll never see me again.” Simon grumbled and tightened his hand around your waist, accommodating your wobbly body, guiding you.

Simon wished he could take your hands and sway around with you, let both of you move into a sweet dance, with the stars praising you. A performance for the cosmos. He wished he could hold you when you throw yourself over him, to let you never escape his embrace. Lovers forever tangled.

He wished.

He wondered what something like that even would look like. His dad never danced with his mother. He remembers his mother looking at him, holding in her tears and forcing a smile. “I promise your dad loves me, just as much as I love him. He's just… exhausted nowadays.” He wished his mother didn’t consider him a naive — a child.

Simon doesn’t think he was ever a child. A child is innocent, his very first cry was a sin.

“Simon?” Your voice snapped him out of the reminiscence he was trapped in. He let out a soft grunt, urging you to continue.

“Have you… Have you ever seen a ghost?” You burst into laughter at your own poor attempt at the joke, a rapid change of emotion, though in your defence, it’s definitely very funny. Your free hand tried to wipe the tears as you continued laughing, and Simon swore that this was truly the angels’ hymn eliciting from your mouth.

“Do I count?” He grinned behind his mask, the side of his eyes crinkling a bit. You quickly shook your head and stared at him with determined eyes, fully set on your question. “In that case, no. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one, love. But if I do, I’ll make sure to tell ‘em you said hello.”

If it was someone else like Kyle or Johnny who would be laughing about this joke, Simon was sure that he would have said something snarky or just straight up ignored them. But not with you, never with you.

“You’re the best.” You beamed, his heart squeezed painfully.

“We’re almost there.”

Upon arriving at your apartment complex, he dropped you off outside your apartment’s front door, the only thing in mind being to flee quickly so your sweet smile doesn’t taunt him anymore. Though he simply couldn’t, your fingers not letting go off his forearm at all. Too exhausted to figure out if it was intentional or not, he sighed under his breath and turned over to face you, brown eyes having a slight shine in them due to the hallway’s light.

“C’mon, you gotta go in and rest.” He couldn’t figure out why his breathing was falling short. Was it the alcohol? He barely drank anything.

You, on the other hand, tried your best to not look up at him and meet his eyes, knowing that it would shut you up. Like the intimidating gaze of a god, a warrior. You had to speak your mind, had to know about something, to ease the storm in your head.

“Are you getting bored of me?” These words slipped out of your lips as a meek whisper, forbidden.

It was a sickening feeling that ensued within Simon after that, as if something was grabbing his heart and trying to rip it out of his chest. Inhale, exhale. He didn’t know what exactly horrified him. Probably the fact that he knew what had caused you to think like that. The perfume.

O Angel, let me carve my heart out with a knife and hand it to you as an offering — apology. So may your hands embrace it and take me home, with thee. So may your fingers caress my cheek once again, and let my blood paint my skin.

“No.” He was embarrassingly quick to reply, fingers curling up into fists by his sides as he inhaled sharply. How could he put such thoughts into your head? How could I? Only a devil, the most evil being, could commit such atrocity.

You paused at his words, not knowing what else to say. No? Then why was that perfume there? You didn’t want him to think you were dumb enough to not notice that. “You’re lying…” Your voice cracked, and it was no longer the alcohol playing you like a puppet. It was you now. You felt like your own marionette. Stop speaking, fucking stop. “I am not dumb, Si. I saw that p-perfume on your couch the other day. Is that why you got mad at me?” God, stop talking please. “You could have just… said that you prefer other girls. Am I… Am I making a fucking fool out of myself here?” It terrified you, your own emotions terrified you. Your voice was rising just a bit, and all your feelings had their hands wrapped around your throat. Controlling you. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to say it out loud. You weren’t used to being so open about your mind, and now you felt like nothing but a cat shivering under the rain — alone and abandoned. Vulnerable, naked.

Maybe you and Simon weren’t so different after all. Vulnerability — just why did it terrify humans? Were the angels and the gods just as opposed to vulnerability?

“Oh, l-” Love. It almost slipped off his tongue, and he didn’t know if you even wanted him to call you that right now. The thought alone made him shudder uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to do — stuck in between two roads. Should he lie? Or tell you the truth? — That it was just one time, a drunken act that is nothing but lamentable to him.

Why were you both even acting like an actual couple right now?

He swallowed the lump that threatened to torture his throat, exhaling softly. “I was drunk, and it happened. She probably left her perfume accidentally.” He spilled the truth out. Just the way a mature person would. Don’t be fucking daft, Riley. His eyes assessed the subtle twitch of your brows at that, your lips quivering. He wished he could just lean in and kiss all the tears away, despite them not having landed on your cheeks. Hopefully they won’t.

“Oh…” Your response was too short, unsure and reluctant. It made Simon feel as if he had sinned once again, chains threatening to drag him into the darkest depths of Hell. Home — the one he was familiar with.

You swallowed nervously and looked down at your feet, your hand long having stopped holding his arm. Instead, your fingers were fiddling with one another anxiously. Why did you feel as if you were betrayed? A desperate cry for love, you wished you could say it to him. To his face, sob and scream about what you felt. He was the only one who understood, who was willing to understand. He was the only one who ever was, and who ever will be.

The agreement. It was no longer just fucking, it never was. Not since the day you saw him with Kyle, not since the day he talked with you after Kyle gestured at you. Never. Could he also see it all the way you did?

Your silence was a clear indicator of the fact that you were lost in your thoughts now. Simon’s eyes softened up, and before he could think rationally, his body reacted on its own and embraced you tightly against his chest, strong arms wrapping around you protectively.

“Fuck…” He cussed under his breath, despising how his voice was thickening up with emotion. He hugged you like an old dog messily giving affection to its owner. My angel, my angel. I sinned, I have sinned. I am sorry.

He pulled you impossibly close, as if wanting to mold his body into yours, to become one. He could be with you forever in that way, to be your breathing and you his heartbeat.

You didn’t even feel confused at his rapid action at all. Just broken, so broken. He was the hammer that had finally hit the dam, and broke it. “W-Why?” Your voice wavered and mixed into a sob, your hands tightened holding onto him, fingers threatening to dig deeper as you let your head rest against him, tears tickling your skin. “I am so tired… So tired, Si. I hate you…”

“Do you want me to leave?” His hold tightened despite his words.

“No.” Your words came out a bit more forcefully than you had intended, too anxious to let him go. You felt his right hand leaving your back, a soft whimper leaving your lips once you felt his lips, bare and real, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, soon realising that he had taken his mask off. Too shy and messy in tears, you made no effort to look up at him and instead continued to cry, emotions desperate to keep pouring out and leave the imprisonment of your body. His hand continued to rub the back of your head while his other held your lower back, both of you unknowingly taking a few steps back and forth together, unable to stay still. It was as if you both were dancing slowly, like lovers.

“Alright. Hand me the keys, love.” You tentatively grabbed your keys from where you had kept it and handed it to him, your hands quickly latching onto him again. He carefully unlocked the front door of your apartment and led you inside, being extra cautious so he doesn’t accidentally step onto your feet. Closing the door by kicking it gently with one leg, he gently guided you towards the living room, easing you down onto the couch.

“Do you remember that creepy guy that came into the cafe?” Your voice was still shaky from crying, eyes all glossy as you finally looked at him, heart skipping a beat. Despite already having seen his face the last time, you still weren't used to it. Were you blessed?

He silently nodded and took a seat beside you, his arms leaving your sides so his large hands could cradle your face, thumbs tenderly wiping the drying up tears away while you talked, eyes looking everywhere but at him due to the sudden proximity. He didn't mind it at all, simply adored your sudden sheepishness.

“I still get scared at the thought of him… I don't want anyone like that to visit the cafe again. I-I don't think I can handle it.” Your voice gradually got quieter by the end, nibbling on your bottom lip. Oh, dear. Simon hadn’t told you that he had already beat that creep up. Now he somewhat wished that he had killed him instead. Surely Price would back him up if he made up some reason, yeah?

Your shoulders visibly eased up at that, your mind clearing a bit. Probably sobering up? You were sure that you weren't going to pick up a bottle of alcohol after this. Leaning into him, you decided to rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Expecting a soft, calm rhythm — you were instead met with a fast thump, your brows furrowing though you decided not to comment on it.

“He wouldn't. No one will ever treat you like that again, love.” As long as I am here. Possessive yet guilty. He was vaguely promising to be by your side while always avoiding you, protecting you from himself. From the ugliness within him. No angel must spare a glance at a stray, especially not one used to violence.

His hands were playing with the fabric of your shirt now, mindlessly toying with it, feeling the texture under his skin as he gently tugged onto it. It felt oddly comforting, both of you not mentioning what happened outside the apartment a few minutes ago.

You looked up at him again, your eyes falling onto his lips this time. A bit chapped with a small scar adorning the side of his upper lip. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, leaning forward to place a bashful kiss on top of it. Simon let out a soft grumble at that, tilting his head to the side so he could kiss your lips properly, eyes fluttering shut alongside yours. He could taste some hints of your salty tears, his hands holding your waist while your hands held the back of his neck, letting his lips devour yours.

He held onto you gently, not wanting to be tight despite every fiber within him wanting to hold you fully against him once more, like a hound too eager to please.

Once he pulled away from the kiss, his heart skipped at the sight of your lips being all glossy. Ethereal. Your lips twitched into a giddy smile, and he could swear that he felt the heat radiating off you once it crept up onto your face. It felt soft, everything felt too soft and warm. The gentleness threatened to suffocate him once more, a mocking reminder of him being undeserving of such tranquility. He was supposed to be wed to the war, to violence. To the bloodshed that haunted his dreams. Not whatever this was.

But he refused to get up, not wanting to see any more of your tears. “We have to get you to bed. You need sleep.” He spoke quietly, a soft sigh leaving his lips once he felt your forehead pressing against his, letting you lean into him.

“Will you join me?” You normally would have never asked something like that, but the way he was holding you almost made you believe that he was willing to warm up a bit more with you.

Simon frowned at that, pulling his head back slightly. “We can't, you're drunk.”

Realising that he misunderstood you, blood rushed to your cheeks and you looked away in embarrassment, your voice getting timid. “No… I meant sleeping together. Nothing else.”

He paused, eyes softening up as the implication dawned on him. Sleeping together. Innocently domestic — something you both had never touched. He wanted to reject, to say that it’d be better for him to just leave. That could have been the better option anyways. Though he couldn't bring himself to refuse you, too enamoured, as if trapped in some spell by you.

“Fine.” He clicked his tongue in a poor attempt to appear reluctant, masking his inner eagerness. Helping you off the couch, he led you towards the bathroom first, opening the tap. “Let's wash your face first, yeah?”

He did everything — getting you in comfortable pajamas once he finished helping you clean up, even helping you in preparing the bed. Everything. It made you feel as if you were cared for, as if he was the warmth you had ached for throughout your life. The felicity had long spreaded within you once you laid down on bed, watching him lay down beside you.

He was tense, visibly so. You tentatively scooted towards him, a hand reaching out to settle onto his chest, to feel his heartbeat once again. Maybe in this way, you could sync your heart with his, build your own little bubble. Or was that too much to hope for?

“Thank you…” It just slipped out of your mouth like a soft prayer — a hidden whisper to be close to him so more.

“S'nothing.” His eyes looked over at you, taking in the contentment etched onto your face. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you against him, to let you melt in his embrace while you slept. No. That's too much, that's crossing a line. A line made up in his head.

You're building your own grave, Simon. He despised his own mind for mocking him like this, for littering his head with unwanted thoughts. Just one night.

“Sleep now, love.” He whispered quietly, watching you reach over to turn the lamp off. You shuffled besides him again, letting the blanket cover you up.

Simon doesn’t remember the last time he had slept so nicely, your soft breathing his lullaby.

Upon waking up alone on your bed, a heavy feeling of dread settled on you alongside a throbbint headache. Had he left? Wasn't it just getting better?

Holding your heart together from cracking it with every strength you had, you tried to take a few deep breaths. Don’t panic, don't-

The sudden clinking sound from outside your bedroom made you jolt, and only now could you notice the pleasant aroma of something cooking. Sheepishly, you slid off the bed and tiptoed over to the door, poking your head out to look around. Able to make out some of Simon's figure through the open door of the kitchen, relief flooded deep within you. He's here.

“Good morning, Si…” You greeted him once you entered the kitchen, standing besides him, rubbing the weariness off your eyes. He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, focusing on cooking some breakfast.

“Your whole kitchen needs some restocking.” He mumbled, sparing a small glance over at you. You stayed quiet, a bit embarrassed by his observance. You were planning on restocking it soon, anyways.

The morning went by like a pleasant breeze, your mood ever so joyous today. You felt light, as if floating on the clouds and reaching the stars, as if becoming one of them, alongside Simon. He hadn't mentioned much about last night at all, even gave you some pills and an offer for a head massage. You had declined it, mostly because you didn't want to show how greatly affected you were by the subtle signs of care laced in his actions, despite it being already evident all over you.

You didn't know what had driven you to act in the way you did in the afternoon. Maybe you shouldn't have opened your mouth, just kept it shut and complied.

“Si, I um… I want to talk to you about something.” You paused the monotonous movie literally none of you were actually focusing on, turning over the couch to face him, your fingers tightly curled on your lap, digging into your flesh.

Maybe it was just your heart acting out, feeling as if things had changed. Foolishly clinging onto the thin strong of hope, never learning. Never learning that touching stray dogs was bad, they had fleas. Fleas that had already infected you, threatening to devour you.

“I think… Uh- I was wondering- I just-” Fumbling over your words, all you could hear was the loud beating of your own heart, each nerve of yours set on fire. Anxious, too anxious. You wanted to throw up. “I wanted to tell you that I really… like you, and-” Your words drowned into heavy silence once you took note of just how silent Simon was, how he was frowning.

A fool. A fool who dreamt too much, who was too lost amidst the heavenly clouds of tranquility. A fool who did everything to avoid reality — that's what you felt like.

“No.” His reply was rather abrupt, clear. The subtle smile on your lips fell, and Simon wished to do nothing more than drown into a river. “You don't like me.”

“I-I do!” Unbelievable, did he not believe that you like him? Even love him.

“You shouldn't.” That came out more roughly than he had intended to, a little snarl escaping his throat. “We've already discussed it, this is nothing.’

You should have shut up at that, should have somehow sewed your lips together and quieted down. You couldn't, instead growing more agitated, more on edge. “You can't say that, Si! D-Don't you see whatever it is that we're doing?” You whimpered in exasperation, trying to keep your voice from trembling, miserably failing. “I care for you! I do, and you care for me too. I can see it…” Vision progressively growing blurrier with incoming tears, you looked away and tried to ignore the sting in your eyes, your breath shuddering. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Simon was at a loss of words himself, his heart aching to kiss your tears away and plead for forgiveness. He was a cruel, cruel man. Cruel for being so terrified, cruel for being so persistent.

O Angel, forgive me for I can't let you love me, for light should never kiss the shadow.

“You shouldn't…” He repeated his words again, his voice quieter, weaker. A plea, a request. You shook your head, a sob erupting from your throat as you tried to reach out for him.

He pulled away just as quick, your hand never meeting his. An ocean that could never touch the moon, a man that could never touch a star.

“I need to leave.” Hastily he turned around and walked out of your apartment, leaving you speechless, hand still shamefully held out. Frozen and alone, unloved.

Simon Riley was a coward.

Simon had lost count of how many bottles he had drank by now. Feeling horribly, horribly similar to his father. A drunkard, disgusting. He thought the alcohol could wash his emotions away, drown them hopefully — all it did was make him even more vulnerable, his glossy eyes staring off at a distance.

Weak. Ironically enough, this brute was nothing but weak. Everyone should be laughing at him, you should be laughing at him. Laugh at him for not knowing how to love properly, for being so quick to run away.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing, making him click his tongue in irritation that soon melted away once he noticed the caller ID.

Price.

He picked it up and listened to his captain's words, each syllable both a stab and a blessing.

A deployment again, finally.

notes — i apologise for uploading it after A WHOLE MONTH. blaming it on the writerphew, a deployment! this could mean many things. also a heads up that either chapter 6 or chapter 7 will be the last one (made some changes to my plan!)

#the most infuriation relationship known to society #simon PLEASE.#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #call of duty #yaaiad : masterlist #rurufic

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princecharmingwinks · 4 months

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Sterek Fic Rec - June-December 2023.

Can you believe we are almost at the end of 2023? These last six months have been quite busy for me so sadly haven't been able to read as much fic as I would have liked. But I am still here and will continue to create rec lists whenever I get the chance to read more fics. I am also rounding the word counts so please click on the links for the exact word count. :)

it doesn't have to be a snowman by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren) (1/1 | 4K | General)

The Beacon Beans coffee shop is what Stiles would refer to as a lifesaver. They supply his dose of sugar whenever he needs it, they don't ask questions, and their hot chocolate is delicious. And now they're running a snowman building competition where the grand prize would get him an entire year's worth of drinks. Really, all he needs is a partner to team up with. Only everyone else from the pack already seems to have paired up.

Bravery is a Loaded Gun by DefNotForWork (1/1 | 17K | Explicit)

“No, I’m not asexual, Stiles,” Derek said shortly. The teen’s heart sank in his chest, his palms going clammy and his neck prickling with the familiar feeling of rejection. “So then it’s,” Stiles swallowed, throat clogging, unable to give voice to the facts he would much rather ignore. The silence grew between them, growing tense the longer it was left. For the first time in years, Stiles couldn’t speak. The weight of inadequacy held down his typical stream of useless banter. What does one say in this sort of situation? ‘I’m sorry you don’t find me attractive?’ In which the boys speak in half sentences and have two totally different conversations. What they can agree on, eventually, is that they love each other. And that Derek should jerk off more.

Undertow by entanglednow (1/1 | 4K | Mature)

"I don't want you to die because my swirls weren't swirly enough."

Fire and Water by GreyHaven (1/1 | 2K | General)

Derek is full of unspoken words and unexpressed emotions that sear him from the inside out until finally, finally, he allows them to escape into dark ash stains that smear across the harsh white of his notebook. Or, the one in which Derek is compelled to write a story. Turns out, he's writing about Stiles. What will happen when Stiles reads it? Angst and healing and two people finding safety in each other.

eli's parents are so gross (read: in love) by ash_mcj (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

"I would’ve been here earlier, but nobody thought it would be smart to call the one person who’s intimately dealt with the Nogitsune before, so,” Stiles said bitterly as he threw his hands up. "Now I have a list of asses I gotta kick over this very avoidable fiasco. Scott’s first, since he’s the Alpha—I’m pretty sure that’s how that works. His responsibility, or whatever.” The familiar sound of Derek’s car pulling into the driveway caught Eli's attention, and he grinned. “Is Dad on your list?” “Hell yeah, Dad is on my list! Right under Scott.” “Well, he just got home, so—” Stiles didn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence before stomping off in the direction of the living room—and Eli quickly scrambled to follow him, ready to eavesdrop on what was likely going to be a rather impressive and amusing lecture. [or: eli is glad that stiles is home, since derek has nearly died several times in his absence, but he really wishes they were a little less glad to see each other] -- prompt | a reunion kiss

Ashes, Ashes by ShanaStoryteller (1/1 | 2K | Teen)

The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone's tried to burn down his home with his son inside. "I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes," John can't even call that a whimper, it's clearly a whine as Derek's hands tighten against Stile's hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek's hands can hold him into one piece, "and that thought was worse than dying."

Love Runs Wild by DevilDoll (1/1 | 9K | Explicit)

"You've got a hickey on the back of your neck!" A Neckz 'n Throats story.

So When Do I Get To Pledge My Loyalty To The Mob? by RedRidingStiles (1/1 | 10K | Mature)

“Are you my sugar daddy?” Stiles blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth when his brain catches up to his mouth. The man lets out a soft laugh, making his way around the couch till he’s standing just feet away from Stiles. Stiles can smell his cologne from here, it smells heavenly, Stiles kinda wants to bury his face into the guy's chest so he can figure out exactly what it is. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.” The man smiles. Stiles doesn’t think he should be allowed to smile like that. All soft and gorgeous and way too pretty to be legal. He’s still not convinced any of this is real. Stiles loses his wallet, someone returns it along with $5,000. Shit keeps coming, Stiles life doesn't make any sense anymore, he's just going with it. Edited in October 2022

Stiles is My Safe Place by Star_crossed02 (5/5 | 10K | Mature)

Stiles gets bitten by Kali, and after a brief adjustment period, proceeds to co-lead the Hale Pack to defeat the Alpha Pack once and for all. OR What happens when a sassy spark-werefox starts courting an alpha sourwolf?

It feels like a perfect night (for breakfast at midnight) by princecharmingwinks (1/1 | 1K | General)

Stiles is floating on cloud nine. He is absolutely living his best life. It's a Saturday night, he's out with his friends and he's dancing like it's his birthday. Because it is! (Or it will be in 20 minutes, once midnight ticks around). And what better way to celebrate the respectful age of 22 than a night out?

princecharmingwinks special mention (My plane flying companion - I read a new chapter every time I took a new flight)

First Son, Last Chance by orphan_account (12/12 | 60K | Mature)

When First Son Stiles Stilinski, beloved public figure and the bane of his private security team, goes missing without a trace, ex-security officer Derek Hale finds himself tangled up in the world of Argent Security, a world he was forced out of when rumours abounded that he was sleeping with his charges. There's no leads, no time and no way Derek is going to rest until Stiles has been brought home safely. (Inspired by this post.)

That is all folks for 2023! Sorry again for a late addition. See you in the new year. Remember to leave kudos and comments for our wonderful writers.

#sterek #sterek fanfiction #fic rec #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #princecharminglists

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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comfort & chaos (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) chapter two: covid & carbonara

summary: in a time of isolation, you and carmy find unexpected connection in unexpected places: each other. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, mentions of covid-19/the pandemic, eventual smut.

word count: 4k

listen to: hot sugar - glass animals | hard to live in the city - albert hammond jr. | alone together - del water gap | foreign girls - bleachers

read: chapter one

March 2020:

“Carmy, can you hear me now?” you ask, listening carefully for his response.

“Yeah hold on. Wifi’s shit in this room,” he mumbles. You hear a rustle of sounds and the picture on your phone goes blurry for a second. This is just something you’ve come to accept is a part of your life now as you wait.

Suddenly, the picture is clear again and it looks like Carmy’s in his living room now. He wears a white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants as he tries to get comfy on the shitty sofa in his Flatiron apartment.

“Ok there we go. I gotta-, yeah, I can hear you now,” he says, finally settling in.

“How are you?” you ask as you grow more sure that you’re going to be able to talk now. “It’s good to see your face.”

“Yeah, no uh. It’s good to see you too,” he replies. “Shit’s so weird right now, huh?”

“Totally,” you agree. “So… what’ve you been up to? I mean… how are you spending your time?”

He sighs, shaking his head, as if to say that he barely knows how to answer that question. He thinks it over before answering with:

“I don’t know. Workin’ on some recipes. Tryin’ not to lose my fuckin’ head. You?”

“Same,” you commiserate. “Though… I don’t know. I’ve kind of been enjoying some of the down time, you know?”

He couldn’t agree less.

Carmy tells you about the recipes he’s working on. You share with him the plot of the show you’re binge watching right now. He tells you he hasn’t really been in touch with family much and you let him know that you’ve been running errands for your parents where you can. It’s a fairly normal conversation for a very uncertain and strange time, but it brings you comfort – talking to Carmy.

You talk about the state of the restaurant industry. The state of the world. The two of you wonder when the restaurant might open back up – if they’ll consider doing to-go’s. He’s not sure and neither are you.

It’s almost two hours later when you realize your phone is dying, and that somehow, time has flown as the two of you have been talking.

“Shit, uh. My phone’s dying. I may have to go,” you say remorsefully.

“Oh yeah! No problem,” Carmy replies, almost apologetically. “And I uh, if I get in touch with the people at World Central Kitchen, I’ll let you know. I’m sure they can always use more chefs and volunteers.”

“No, that’d be great. Uh… before I go,” you start, knowing that you want to tell him this. “I just wanted to say… I’m glad we did this.”

“Yeah me too,” he agrees, and you can tell he means it.

“Maybe… we do it again? Keep each other company… you know. Virtually?” you propose, hopefully.

“Yeah,” Carmy half smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And as the pandemic drags on, you find yourself FaceTiming with Carmy more and more. Once a week turns into once a week and a consistent exchange of texts. He shares with you the recipes he’s working on. You bounce ideas around with him on dishes he feels stuck on. You send him silly memes and TikToks, even though he refuses to get an account himself. Once a week turns into twice a week, and then phone calls, and soon enough, you don’t go a day without talking to Carmy in some capacity.

You’re not sure how you’ve done it but you think that maybe you and Carmy just might be friends.

May 2020:

“Thanks so much for all the help guys. It means a lot. Especially having two chefs of your caliber,” the volunteer coordinator says, addressing both you and Carmy.

“Listen, we’re just happy to be a part of something right now. With so much going on… it’s hard to know where to begin helping,” you reply with gratitude. You’re genuinely thankful that you’ve been able to be a part of World Central Kitchen’s COVID relief efforts, and you know Carmy feels the same.

“We’ll see you guys next Friday?” the volunteer coordinator asks.

“Heard,” Carmy answers, thanking the coordinator one more time before the two of you leave the building.

Around the corner, there’s a bench that the two of you find. It’s an easy choice to sit down – neither of you are quite ready to go home yet. You sit on opposite sides before removing your masks as Carmy pulls out a pack of marlboros.

“You want one?” he asks you, holding out the pack.

“Yeah,” you agree, taking one from him at a distance. You watch him light up, before handing you the lighter he keeps in his jean jacket pocket.

It’s nice to take a moment to pause. Between the chaos of being in a kitchen again to the chaos of the world around you, it feels good to smoke a fucking cigarette on a street corner with the man that’s so unexpectedly become your friend. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the sounds of the city, each others’ company, and your fuckin’ cancer sticks.

You break the silence between the two of you, letting out the smallest chuckle.

“What?” Carmy asks you, your laugh garnering his attention.

“It’s just… it’s almost funny,” you say, continuing your giggle.

“What?” he asks you again, a look of amusement on his face. He can’t imagine what must be so funny.

“Just… seeing you here… Mr. Fine Dining…makin’ sandwiches,” you tease playfully. “Thought you were too fancy-pants for that.”

“Fuck off,” he rolls his eyes playfully, sucking on his cigarette as he inhales. You laugh again as he shakes his head, shooting you another look.

He takes his time, exhaling the smoke out in the opposite direction, before addressing your playful remarks.

“Nah. It uh-, actually reminds me of my family’s place a little. Back home,” he shares with you.

It catches you off guard. Carmy rarely ever talks about home, let alone his family.

“Yeah?” you ask curiously, hoping he’ll elaborate.

“Yeah,” he answers with a nod, before placing the cigarette back in between his lips.

To your disappointment, you realize that’s all he’s planning to share. You resign yourself, taking another drag of your cigarette as the two of you smoke to the sounds of the city. After a long shift at the volunteer kitchen, your exhaustion begins to catch up with you. It’s been a few months since you’ve had to stand for that long, and as exhilarating as it’s been, you can feel the fatigue in your back and your feet already.

“So… I was thinkin’ about something,” Carmy says, breaking the silence between the two of you.

You angle your body towards him before asking, “What’s that?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s dumb.”

He’s suddenly shy, and your eyes flicker over his cheeks that have turned a darker shade of red than they were before.

“Carmy, what is it?” you ask, leaning towards him, now intrigued.

He avoids your gaze before he replies, “Nah. Nevermind. It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not! What is it?” you continue to press him.

You’re not going to let this go.

“I shouldn't've said anything.”

He sighs, taking one more drag of his cigarette before leaning forward and tossing it on the ground. His left foot hovers over the cigarette butt as he stamps it out, his forearms resting on his legs as he finally turns to you again.

“I don’t know how you feel about it, and you can totally say no because like… shit’s still fucked, you know but-,” he starts, shyly. Was Carmy about to ask you out?

He pauses, his eyes scanning the pavement beneath his feet before saying, “It’s just-, I’m not like, seeing anyone else in person. Except you.”

“Yeah, no me either,” you agree.

Where was this going?

“Would you maybe wanna-?” he asks, before trailing off, his piercing blue eyes so intense it feels like he’s looking right through you. He nods towards the kitchen before continuing with, “... see each other in person. Like outside of here. As long as we’re being safe you know?”

You nod, quick to put the poor man at ease, and only a little intrigued as to why it was so difficult for him to ask you that.

“Yeah no. I’m not seeing anyone else in person either. And at this point if we had COVID, we’d probably already have exposed each other, right?” you reply.

“Yeah,” he answers.

“Yeah, I’d be down. To… you know. Maybe move some of our FaceTimes… in person, if that’s what you mean,” you agree, a smile on your face.

You’re not sure what you expected, but you weren’t expecting for Carmy to ask you to become his quarantine buddy – even if you’d already kind of been doing it anyways.

“Cool,” he says, taking a breath.

You can tell that it was a big deal for him – to ask you that – even if he doesn’t want to show it.

“Can I walk you home?” he asks.

You smile in return, “Yeah. And if you’re feeling wild… we can… pick something up on the way there. You can come up and hang.”

“No, yeah. That uh-, that sounds great,” he replies, something softer in his eyes this time. “If you don’t mind. I mean-, if you want the company-.”

“Oh shut up, Berzatto,” you roll your eyes at him. You shoot him a look, even though you’re kind of loving this softer side of him.

“I wouldn’t have offered, if I didn’t.”

July 2020:

Carmen Berzatto becomes an unexpected yet pleasantly surprising part of your support system, and your COVID-pod. It’s hard to believe that less than a year ago, you thought the man absolutely hated you. He’s still the hot and cold, emotionally turbulent man you met last October, and he’s also become your friend. You’ve learned that he can be soft, that he’s terribly uncomfortable in any and all social situations, and that he’s the most single-minded, driven, obsessed motherfucker you’ve ever met.

By now, the restaurant has pivoted and reopened for to-gos only. It’s nothing like the fine dining establishment it was before. You’re only open Thursday to Sunday and it’s a much more family style, to-go kit sort of operation these days: to-go cocktail kits, to-go curated menus, to-go assemble your own dishes at home.

It’s strange. And it’s a strange time for all of you.

You’re finished with your shift today, ready to head home and spend the next three days off. You’re not sure when you’ll ever get three days off in a row once all of this is over, so you’ve decided that you’re just going to embrace the slower lifestyle right now. You’ve been more creative in this chapter of your life than you can remember.

“So you layin’ it down for Carmy or what?” a voice asks, jolting you from your thoughts.

“Excuse me?” you snap, turning your head to a very smug looking Nate Walker, stripping off his face mask.

“What the fuck, man?” Tim exclaims, as he’s changing back into his street shoes. “Not okay to say.”

“What?” Nate defends himself. “I’m just wondering who I have to thank. This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen the boss man.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Really nice, Nate.”

You shake your head, before slinging your backpack over your right arm, exchanging a look with Tim.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Carmy and I are just friends,” you correct. “Ever think that some time off has been good for all of us and that’s why Carmy’s been chill?”

“‘S not like we’re working at the same capacity we used to be. I think it’s been good for him,” Tim chimes in, trying to offer you a little backup.

“Sure,” Nate replies, unconvinced.

“What’s it to you anyways, Walker?” Tim asks, putting the spotlight on his coworker.

“Nothin’,” Nate replies, defensively. “Just noticed you guys spendin’ a lot of time together lately. Besides, the guy could use a good lay.”

“You’re a child,” you snap with an eye roll. You slide your left arm into the other strap of your backpack, ready to leave. “Now if we’re done with the girl talk, I’m going home.”

As you begin to walk away, you can hear Nate defending himself as Tim points out how inappropriate it was for him to say that to you. You’re grateful for people like Tim, because you’re not sure that Nate would listen to anyone else lower in the French brigade system – let alone a woman.

“We still on for tomorrow?” Carmy asks you, as you're on your way out. He’s still in his chef whites because, as the both of you know, he’s going to be the last person to leave. A smile spreads across your face as soon as you see him.

That’s right. You’re spending your day off tomorrow with him.

“Yeah,” you smile with a nod.

“Mine or yours?” he asks.

You shoot him a look – a ‘I know you haven’t cleaned up your place’ kind of look.

“Mine,” you reply.

“Sweet. There’s a cool market nearby I wanted to check out. I’ll pick somethin’ up on the way,” he says back.

“Heard.”

You wait a beat before adding, “Try not to work too hard, chef.”

He likes that you’re looking out for him.

He smiles, “Heard.”

As much as you’ve tried not to let Nate Walker get to you, you can’t stop thinking about what he said the day before. Did people think you and Carmy were sleeping together? Did the whole staff think you were trying to sleep your way to the top? Your mind races, and you notice the anxious feelings you have have settled deep in your chest. Carmy moves around your kitchen, intentionally, and while you’d like to enjoy how happy he looks when he cooks for fun, you can’t seem to shut off your brain.

“You sure I can’t help? I went to culinary school too, yknow?” you ask, trying to put on your best lighthearted tone.

“Nah,” he dismisses, pulling together a sauce in one of the glass bowls you keep in your kitchen for prep.

As Carmy steals a glance your way, he’s surprised to find that whatever weight it seems you were carrying when he first walked in, hasn’t gone away. He returns his focus to the stovetop, shaking the stainless clad frying pan that holds his precisely-cut lardons.

“What’s up?” he asks you, keeping his back to you.

“Uh… nothing,” you reply, trying your best to shake it off.

He knows you’re lying, and he turns to look at you again, more intently this time. Your lips are pressed together in a thin line and there’s a new tension knitted between your brows that’s not normally there. As much as you’re trying not to let it get to you, your face betrays you and he knows that something’s been bothering you all day. He shoots you an unconvinced look and you sigh in defeat.

Since when had Carmy learned what that look meant.

“Just-, you’re gonna think it’s dumb,” you start, almost embarrassed that you have to bring this up to him.

“What’s up?” he asks, patiently.

You shrug, “Just something that Nate said yesterday’s been… bothering me, I guess.”

He rolls his eyes, letting out a dry laugh as he asks you, “Well Nate’s a dick. What’d he say?”

“I-, I don’t know if I should tell you,” you admit hesitantly.

“Why?” he asks, a pang of nerves hitting him right in the gut.

You wait a beat, trying to figure out how best to convey what Nate said without freaking Carmy out.

“He uh… he kind of… suggested that everyone thinks we’re sleeping together?” you say cautiously, your voice going up at the end of the sentence, almost as if it were a question.

“Oh,” is all Carmy manages to get out.

“Yeah,” you exhale.

“Well, we’re not,” Carmy replies, simply.

Right.

“Right,” you agree.

You’re surprised by the feeling of disappointment that wells in your chest in response to Carmy’s reply. This had been eating away at you and for him to shut it down so quickly – like it was that simple – doesn’t quite make sense to you.

Maybe it’s because men never bear the burden of an inappropriate workplace relationship, not that you’re having one with Carmy, but you know it’d be a bigger cost to you than it’d ever be for him.

“I just…” you start, beginning to understand why it’s bothering you so much. “Do you think… like is it a problem that we’re hanging out? I mean, you are kind of my boss and… I don’t know. I guess we never really talked about the ethical implications of… you know. Us. Being friends. And also working together.”

Friends.

Right.

Maybe because it’s because he’s never really had friends, let alone a girlfriend, that catches Carmy off guard.

You’re just friends, motherfucker, Carmy thinks to himself.

It’s like he’d almost forgotten.

Perhaps it’s the isolation – the way of the world right now – but he’s never thought about what you were to him. Ever since the two of you had decided to start spending time together, it had been you and him against a very scary and uncertain world. Carmy’s surprised to find that, hearing it said aloud, friends, leaves him with a feeling of dissatisfaction – like the word friend didn’t quite describe the way he felt about you.

But he’s terrified to think about what that could mean. That anything else would probably scare you away – push you out of his life – and there’s no way in hell he’s going to let that happen right now.

Because he likes this too much.

Because he likes who he is when he’s with you.

Because you’re all he has.

He pushes the thoughts out of his mind for another time, because right now, you’re sitting right in front of him, and he’s got a problem to solve for you.

“As long as we’re professional in the kitchen… I don’t see why it should be a problem,” he says.

You’re not sure how it seems so simple for him, because it doesn’t feel this simple for you.

“Yeah, no. I-, I agree,” you lie.

Carmy returns to what he’s doing, and you accept that that’s probably the full conversation that you’re going to have with him. At least right now. You watch as he continues to cook, pulling together the sauce as he tosses the pasta and cheese in your frying pan. You open up your phone, scrolling through a few social media posts to try your best to get your mind off of your worries as Carmy finishes up in your kitchen.

It’s not long before he’s returned to your small dining table. You set your phone down, watching as he approaches you.

“I remember you mentioning that it’s hard to find a good carbonara so uh… thought I’d make you one,” he says confidently. Carmy hands you bowl containing a perfectly twirled nest of spaghetti, along with a fork he’d gotten from your kitchen.

“How do I know it’s gonna be up to my standards?” you challenge him playfully.

He shoots you a ‘don’t play with me’ kind of look and you giggle in response. You exchange glances with Carmy before messing up the perfectly plated nest by digging your fork into it.

“Make sure you get a little bit of everything,” he reminds you. He watches as you twirl the spaghetti around your fork, making sure to scoop up a bit of crispy guanciale. You lift the fork to your mouth before taking a bite, your eyes closing as the salty, cheesy, bite hits your tongue.

It’s perfect.

“Holy fuck,” you practically moan in response to your first bite. You open your eyes and he smiles back at you, proud of the response he’s earned from you. Your face twists into a look that falls somewhere between ‘this is so good I’m angry and hello, I’ve reached nirvana.’

“This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude,” you say, as you continuing processing the most perfect carbonara you’ve ever had in your life.

“No offense taken,” he says.

You shake your head at him, “Best carbonara ever.”

September 2020:

“So we go upstate, and we’re searching for outdoor activities we can do, you know, safely, at a distance, with masks on. And we end up at this goat farm,” Maya says, describing her and her fiance’s last few months spent in upstate New York.

“...Was the goat named Milo?” Carmy asks, a humorous tone to his question.

“Carmy!” you exclaim with a laugh, shooting him a look.

“What?” he asks back.

Both Liz, Maya, and her fiance Patrick send you questioning looks.

“I-, it’s an inside joke,” you explain, shaking your head once again in response to Carmy’s very silly interjection.

“Anyways, it’s so nice to be back in the city. Seriously, Liz, thanks for organizing this,” Maya continues.

“Oh, I’m kind of getting really into this whole cute picnic thing actually,” she replies, in reference to the picnic she’s organized for the five of you. “Plus, the to-go picnic kit has been killing at the restaurant. Thanks for letting me run with that, chef.”

“No, yeah. You’re killin’ it. It was a great idea,” Carmy compliments.

The five of you spend time in the park, catching up and enjoying time spent in person for the first time in a long time. You, Liz, and Carmy have been back at work, pushing through, what will hopefully be, the last month or so in the to-go only business at the restaurant. As the sun begins to come down, you all agree that it’s time to pack it up and go home. You’ve begun to collect all of the trash in a brown paper bag as Carmy offers to take it.

“You sure?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers.

As he takes a walk, in search of the nearest trash can, your friends are immediately on you about whatever the hell it is that you and Carmy are doing.

“So what I’m hearing is… you talk every day, you have inside jokes together, and you’re basically quarantining together. How are you trying to tell us that this man is not your boyfriend?!” Maya exclaims. Her partner shrugs in agreement.

“I know that what Nate said was hella inappropriate, but he’s not wrong… that this is the most I’ve seen him relaxed in… maybe since we met him,” Liz adds in as your friends make their case.

“He seems into you,” Patrick offers.

“I-,” you start, knowing you don’t have much time before Carmy returns. “I don’t know. All I know is… I like what we have. And right now, we’re friends so.”

“God, you’re so good at it,” Maya sighs.

“What?” you ask, looking from her to Liz as they exchange glances.

The both turn to you, before saying in unison, “Compartmentalizing!”

Patrick holds his hands up as he says, “I’m gonna stay out of this one.”

“You ready to go?” Carmy asks, rejoining you and your friends.

You can practically feel Liz and Maya staring at you.

“Yeah,” you reply to Carmy.

You say your goodbyes before going your separate ways, and Maya swears when Carmy isn’t listening that you’re not done talking about this. It’s just been you and Carmy for so long that you hadn’t thought about what it might look like to other people. Now that things were slowly reopening… you were beginning to get more questions, and maybe, you were beginning to have more questions too.

But the last time you’d tried to bring up any conversation about your relationship with Carmy, he’d shut it down and distracted you with the best carbonara you’ve ever had in your life. Not that you were complaining, definitely not, but you were hesitant to bring it up any time soon. As Carmy looks at you, there’s something about the way you look against the backdrop of the city, the setting sun, and the sparkling lights, that catches him off guard. He’s not ready to part ways with you yet.

“Can I walk you home?” Carmy offers, hopefully.

“Sure,” you nod.

read chapter three

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos

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alien-magnolia · 1 year

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Lost: Part 2

Lost: pt 2

Fic description: After spending a night with Jake, the two of you get to know each other better over the course of a few months. One special night, he takes you out flying, and you and Jake become a mated pair.

Tw: nsfw minors dni. shy + subby omaticaya fem! reader, (mentions of human!reader at first) dom! Jake sully, exhibitionism, breeding kink, choking, overstimulation, mating, size kink! Rough sex, etc. Don’t like, don’t read.

A/n: this is a long one. Around 4K words. Bit of romance/fluff combined with heavy sexual undertones. Heavy smut towards the end. I am going to make this into a series. If you like this post, pls help a writer out and reblog💙

You woke up to the shining sun through the trailer. Jake was still there, still asleep. It took you lots of effort to lift his arms off you, you were surprised he kept you in his arms the whole night. He wakes up with a moan. “Hey, you sleep okay?,” he asks, as he stands up to cup your face into his hand. He picks you up without warning (you did not mind), so you’re right in his arms. He places you on the counter top, so you are at eye level with him. You giggle, sheepishly. “Yes. Never better.”

“Okay. See you tonight.” He cups your face again, Hines you a wink, and jumps out the window, sprinting away. How could he like you? You were complete opposites, he was just so strong, tall, so big. His size drove you insane most of the time. Maybe you could be his sweeter, smaller half. You went out with him that night, and for many nights, it was you and him, together. He showed you many sights of the Pandoran forest, he taught you a bit of hunting, and he taught you most Omaticayan customs. After a few months, you began to fall for him, and you felt that this night might be more special than most.

One month later, the forest, around midnight:

You wait for him inside. Your human body was tucked away, fast asleep, you were here as an avatar now. You were only seven feet tall, compared to the common Na’vi, who reached a height of eight to ten feet tall. You put some flowers in your hair, and fumbled with the rings on your fingers.

You hear a knock. Jake is standing there, he is wearing some beaded bands around his arm, a beaded necklace too, perfectly fitted around his veiny neck. His serious face lights up for just a bit when he sees you. He comes closer to you, you crane your neck up to look at him.

“Hi,” he says, in a hushed tone. “Hi,” you reply to him. His eyes rake you up and down, he steps towards you. Even your Na’vi body felt so small under him. “Come here,” he motions to you. His big hands bring you into him, close to his warm body, as he gives you a long kiss, cupping your face. The man looked at you as if you were a goddess, he was in awe. After a few kisses, he takes your hand and leads you out the door. He had a few weapons with him too. “Just in case, pretty dangerous out here for you,” he teases with a cocky smile. You blush and give him a little slap on the wrist. Although he has taught you how to navigate the forest, he still would protect you, given any chance he would get.

His hand in yours, he leads you out into the forest, you scramble to keep up with his big steps, but he does slow down for your sake. There were some monkey-like creatures swinging over the two of you, but he shooed them off. He found it real cute when you’d cling closer to him, when you heard a loud noise or got scared by something.

You stop for a second because you wanted to collect samples. “Not here. Come on, I got a better place in mind, but you gotta trust me, okay sweetheart?,” he asks you. You nod, smiling. You cling onto him as he helps you cross this big log, and you see the beautiful night sky over the cliff.

He whistled, and suddenly, the great leonopteryx swoops down and lands right near him. Jake pats the creature on the head, chuckling at your awe. “You are Toruk Makto,” you trail off.

“That’s right. What did ya expect?,” he smirks back at you cockily.

You were shocked. Not only did you get the attention of a Na’vi warrior, but the most powerful, and it was Jake. Of course it was. With a body like his, you wouldn’t doubt it a second more. “Don’t be scared, he’s all mine. Come, fly with me. I want to show you something, baby,” he says, as he extends a hand to you. You hesitantly take it, and Jake connects his queue (the nerves at the end of his braid) to the creature to make tsaheylu, the bond. He lifts you up to put you on the creature, and sits in front of you. He screams for the creature to take off. It awakens something primal within you.

You have flown on an ikran before, but certainly not the giant one. You weren’t much of a thrill seeker like he was, but you liked it all the same. You knew the ways of the Na’vi people, how the Omaticaya lived in their village. He has taught you, introduced you to his world. Ikran was a hunter’s animal, powerful, fierce, just like your Jake.

You passed through the beautiful night sky, you saw the forest down below. You stay pressed to his back tightly as he expertly flies and lands the ikran on a cliff, he helps you down with a swift grab of your hips. “Stay,” he firmly tells the large creature. He was so dominant, even if it wasn’t sexual. You loved it.

You sat down to talk with him. He told you about his past as a human too, as a marine. He told you how he came to be an avatar at first, and now a permanent Na’vi. He told you the story of the war, how he became Toruk Makto, the protector of the Omaticaya. You tell him about yourself too, your shy nature and why you worked by yourself, secluded in the woods. You tell him about your human past as well.

You and him were complete opposites, but that drew the both of you to each other even more. You wanted him, he wanted you too. You stayed at the cliff for the rest of the night, until twilight — just before dawn.

“So. Are you mated?,” you ask shyly, hoping that he would say no. You hide your face again, blushing. You expect him to be mated already, there are plenty of Omaticaya women who would throw themselves at the Toruk Makto. He told you that he didn’t have a mate, but he was looking for one, and that apparently, he already found one.

“You found one?,” you asked, with a heavy heart. A tiny part of you longed for him as your mate. “Yeah. Honey. Think it’s you,” he chuckles, and smirks a bit, tilting his head to the side. “Me?,” you ask, in shock. “Yeah, you. So fuckin’ cute you are. I want to show you this special place. C’mon.”

He looked a bit worried that you’d refuse, but you simply smiled and took his hand again, loving the look of relief that brushed across his face. He lifted you onto the giant ikran, and the two of you set off again. He lands the bird in front of the Tree of Souls.

Helping you get off again, he leads you closer to the shimmering, bioluminescent cords and plants. You were in awe…

“Jake. I’ve always wanted to see this place. It’s so beautiful.” He chuckles, and agrees: “Look. You can hear the ancestors from this. All you have to do is put your queue onto the tree,” he explains, as he steps closer to you, pulling you down to sit on his lap. You do as he says, you connect with the tree, with Eywa. It is beautiful.

“Be my mate, baby. Be mine. I’d love nothing more,” he whispers to you, you stare into his adorable yellow eyes. “Eywa will guide us,” he asserts, and you nod excitedly.

You were ecstatic. He brings you in, closer, gently running his hands over your face. He takes his braid, you take yours, the two of you connect, you make tsaheylu. You felt his breath, his heart, his mind. He felt yours.

It felt so good to feel all of him, you were lost in his big, warm, chest. He smiled at you again as you kissed, his hands starting to have an iron-tight grip on your waist. “Was holding back before, baby. Didn’t want to hurt you,” he tells you. You didn’t want him to hold back anymore. “It’s okay, Jake. I trust you,” you gently whisper to him.

This time he pushes you up against him, rougher, your whole body just jolted from the way he was manhandling you. His kisses were addictive, you trail your hands down his toned abdomen. Both your tails were just twitching, he was groping at you with his full strength, it hurt.

You feel him push the cloth on his lap to the side, and without warning, he starts pushing his length into you. You could finally see it better, it was thick, the same color as his skin, with a few stripes and a large vein running down the right side. His tip was dark blue, and so soft as he pushed into you. You wanted to taste him, to feel him. Even in your taller form, it was hard to take him. His throbbing cock put so much pressure onto you. His hands harshly pinch and grope at your hips, your breasts.

He pushes into you roughly, all in one go. You let out a desperate moan, clawing at his large back for more. He chuckles. “Gonna be all fucked out on my cock, baby.” You can only nod. He starts bouncing you on him, going deeper and rougher with each thrust. You feel his groans come from his chest, which was pressed against yours, as both of you just kept looking into each other's eyes. His cock just hits that sweet spot in you, you feel so full with him, you feel his soft balls press up against your throbbing mound. “C’mon baby. Take me deeper, c’mon. Do it for me,” he grunts at you.

He uses the leverage on your hips to shove you down into the ground, now he towers over you, his cock now able to reach into you all the way. You feel one of his giant hands find it’s place on your throat. He has that determined look on his face. “Stay still for me.” You nod. “Good girl,” he grunts, and starts thrusting into you, his large biceps keeping him on top of you. You’re just delirious, cock-drunk, hell bent on having him rearrange your insides. You feel a bulge in your stomach, he puts his hand there, it’s still as big as half your abdomen. Even as a Na’vi, your size couldn’t match his.

“Feel that, sweetie. Feel my cock inside you, going all the way in. Gonna pump you so full of my cum, it’ll be spilling out of you the next day,” he growls, and you can only moan back in response, your glazed over eyes still on his.

You never, in your entire life, thought that you’d be here, under this beautiful tree, getting a fifteen inch alien cock rammed into you. Again, and again…

“You close, baby? You are, can feel that tight cunt just fuckin’ milkin me. Go on, girl. Cum for me,” he grunts, as his thrusts get sloppier. His brow is furrowed, it is dark, but you see the spots on his skin glow, his face stern, focused on pleasing his mate, claiming you as his. “J-Jake,…” you stutter timidly.

You felt so much, you felt everything. That white hot shock of pleasure was running through your veins, you felt high, you felt your heartbeat sync with his, so very fast. You felt his pleasure, you felt his emotions, you felt him inside you. His warm seed spills into you. He starts to slowly pull out. You grab his arm.

“Want you to stay in, Jake. Please,” you beg him. He chuckles, and lays down on you, pressing your body to the ground with his enormous weight. “I’ll stay, baby. Gotta make sure it takes, yeah?” You agree, your heart sings. “You’re mine now,” he whispers, as he nips kisses over your face. You feel his sharp fangs, making you let out a breathy moan. He was your predator, you were his prey. But you were both united now, as one. “I see you,” he whispers to you, with a small smile. “I see you, too.”

He flips you over on your side, you lay your head down on his heaving chest. You feel his muscles wrap around you, holding you tightly, secure. “You’re with me now, baby,” he hums. “Always and forever,” you whisper back.

Your braids stay connected, and the two of you dreamt together, now, as mates, under the Tree of Souls.

Avatar tag list: @23victoria @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @jake-sullys-whore @aerangi @brioffthegrid

#avatar smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully x fem!reader #jake sully smut #jake sully headcanon #jake sully fluff #liz writes 🖤#liz’s masterlist #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x you

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sordidmusings · 6 months

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Tender Love and Care - Hair Care (Buggy x amab!Reader

Art by ijessbest on Twitter (refusing new name still) I believe they also have a tumblr by the same name!

A/N: Sorry I took so long to post this and thank you for your patience! I had thought I put it up earlier but noticed that wasn't true while doing some organizing. The differences are pretty subtle but I hope they are meaningful for your immersion and help you feel seen! If there's something I can do better (I am cis fem so I'm sure there's much my experience has me missing about yours) please let me know! I'd like to help y'all get your escapism too 🤍

From the original a/n - "Ah yes, another 'taking care of Buggy's head' fic to take up space on the internet. Just gotta indulge in giving this man some tlc. Did I write four thousand words of simping for the cringefail pirate clown's hair? Yes. And I'd do it again >:p"

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: masculine leaning amab!reader (no pronouns or gendered titles), Lots of Feelings, yearning, possibly angst?, probably hurt/comfort?, waxing very poetic, Buggy being a prickly bitch who doesn't know how to receive affection, Buggy also being a delusional bitch who immediately latches on to that affection

afab!Version

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Touch the makeup and I’ll bite your fingers off!”

“I’m quaking.”

“...I’ll spit in your face.” His eyes narrowed while you blanched. “I’ve got damn good aim too so you better watch those big ol’ eyes.” Almost a compliment? Progress.

“To save us both from catastrophe, I’ll let you keep your grease-face,” you promised. After a few more seconds of giving you the stink eye (really, you should be taking notes because his form is exemplary), Buggy finally settled back into your hold. His stubble scratched lightly at your palms and you allowed your thumbs a scant few passes from his cheek bones to the back of his jaw. That was easy enough to play off as mindless movements while you examined him for the coming wash. Hopefully. You were at least putting in the effort to keep the affection in your chest from blooming into a wide smile on your face, lest he begin spitting like a wet cat again.

After placing him down on your clothes chest, you began gathering together the things you’d need to clean him up. You had already prepared a large basin of steaming water before you had grabbed Buggy from Zoro for your night shift with him. If he had truly protested against you then you’d just have extra water to spoil yourself with for your nightly routine. What a loss. While you flitted around grabbing a cup, a pile of towels, and care products, Buggy took to commenting about whatever his eyes fell on around your room. Your half-assed replies did nothing to discourage his gentle roast of your safe space. He only shut up when you picked him back up and brought him over to the basin.

You were taken by surprise when you took off his bandana. You had guessed that his hair was thick from the pieces that framed his face, but you hadn’t expected long locks to be wrapped up in there. They slipped and fell down like silk despite being in clear need of a wash, and you started to become a bit excited to see how they would come to shine under your care.

“What’s wrong with you? Never seen hair before?” There was a bit more bite to him all of a sudden and it hit you that he may be self-conscious from your staring.

“Never seen yours before, duh,” you teased. “You should wear your hair out as a power move against all the scrangly ass men in these waters.”

Buggy took a blank-faced moment to process your words. Probably weighing your sincerity against the backlog of insults he’s heard in his life. Unfortunately, one joking compliment never stood a chance.

“Whatever, just do your job.” His bitter tone made you keep your mouth shut and drop the topic. For now.

Seeing how he had a lot more hair than anticipated, you got up again to grab yet another towel so that you could use it as a cushion. Finally settled, you grabbed Buggy in one hand, the cup in the other, and got to work. You had laid a small board across the basin so you could rest Buggy on it instead of having to hold him up the whole time. You may have gotten strong in this life, but you were not masochistic enough to try holding him up throughout this process. You made sure to be extra gentle when you put him to rest on the back of his head, mindful that the hard plank wasn’t the most comfortable.

Wetting his hairline was taking longer than you thought. The soft noises from the pouring water hitting his scalp and trickling through his hair into the basin below felt loud in the stillness of the room. Everything had a languid air like you could breathe freely without thought or time to measure the passing of each exhale. Wanting to check in, you looked down from your task and into Buggy’s face. Despite all his past showboating, Buggy was having difficulty keeping his gaze anywhere near your face. You decided to take pity on him in his discomfort but not too much. “So how’d you get your damn good aim?”

Silence.

You’re beginning to think that him looking at you like you’re stupid is his comfort zone.

“You know, that ‘damn good aim’ that makes my ‘big ol’ eyes’ easy targets?” you supplied. At first, you thought he would roll his eyes and make more digs at you, but he finally caught you off guard.

“It’s a trade secret,” he said with a growing smile and a glint in his eyes. His face grew even more pleased when you smiled mischievously back at him.

“Clown trade?”

He hummed out an affirmative. You saturated the last of his hair at the front and sides and now needed to dunk the rest in the basin. The sheer amount of long blue locks that this pretty, pretty man had may cause it to overflow, but you supposed that’s just a workplace hazard when becoming a glamor clown’s hairdresser. You paused in lowering him to look around quite dramatically (squinty eyes, pursed lips, and all) before leaning slightly closer to stage whisper, “You can tell me; I ain’t no snitch.”

You barely caught the laugh that he choked short in order to keep up his serious facade. He let his eyes wander the room to double check your surveying and pretended to be in thought. He let out a heaving sigh and said, “Okay, okay, but you have to lean in close. Can’t have this getting out.”

Ever obliging, you turned your head and leaned until you felt his warm breath on your skin and the roundness of his nose tickling to top of your ear. You were thankful he couldn’t see the little shiver down your spine or the goosebumps spreading down your neck. He was thankful you couldn’t see him close his eyes to savor the scent of your aftershave. All was still for a few breaths too long.

“The secret?” you prompted, thinking he was waiting for your urging or that he was just trying to make you squirm. You didn’t see his eyes flutter open while he forced thoughts other than your closeness back into that head of his. Okay, he really needed to do something to reel himself back in and get some control of the situation. Easier said than done when he’s only a head.

You felt as much as you heard him take a deliberate inhale… only for a loud raspberry to be blown right next to your ear.

Nearly dropping him in shock, you quickly pulled your head back and held him at arm’s length like a misbehaved puppy. Through his canting cackles, Buggy met your wide eyes with a proud grin. It didn’t even need the help of his makeup to split his face. Damn, you could stare at that forever. He had just the prettiest eyes you think you’d ever seen. The way they shifted color under the low lights and sparkled with his smile had you feeling entranced. It had the same commanding presence and addicting warmth as flames with their own swirling colors and sparking embers. You thought your poetic idioms for him would always center around the sea, especially for his blue-green eyes, but here we are.

The corner of his smile started to twitch downward under your stare until wild and cheerful laughter burst from your lips. They were the kind to shake your shoulders and scrunch your cheeks up into your eyes and he’s now certain that he has fucked right up. Buggy felt alarms blaring in his mind as he took in your joy and was certain he would make an absolute fool of himself in any and all ways possible to keep getting hits of it. Between your settling chuckles, you managed to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll bring that wisdom with me to my grave.”

Readjusting your grip, you moved forward and dunked the back of Buggy’s head fully into the water. He sighed out at the sensation, but he fully melted when one of your hands went to support the back of his skull and the other flowed through his tresses to make sure all of them were wet. You let yourself take your time, both to make sure you were thorough and to indulge yourself in the comfort of the moment. A tenderness spread through you when you saw that this was also indulging Buggy. His breath was slow and steady, and his eyes were resting closed to better focus on the sensations coming to him. You truly were a people pleaser at heart and seeing someone so bedraggled and affection-starved accept your care made your heart and head feel fuzzy.

You slowly leaned him more upright and used your other hand to wipe out some of the excess water. Buggy felt you shuffling around, and his eyes opened to see what you were up to. After you moved him to rest on the flat bottom of his neck on top of the softest towel that he’s felt in ages, he realized that you went through the trouble to try to make even that wooden board comfortable for his sake. He was starting to feel even more uncertain and out of his element.

Careful fingers carded through and spread out his hair behind him while an equally careful gaze watched over their work. After lathering your hands with a shampoo bar scented by vanilla and spices, you set to work giving him the scalp massage of a lifetime.

While focusing on doing the best job possible and maybe also the beautiful color of his hair was keeping you from thinking about anything else, Buggy had no such luxury. He had nothing to direct his nervous energy at - didn’t even have fingers to fidget with! - so he closed his eyes and tried to keep his face neutral. Everyone enjoys a good scalp massage or at least some kind of pampering so it wouldn’t have been weird for him to visibly enjoy it, but something watery and vulnerable was pressing at his throat under your tender care. His mind and body (well… head) were at odds. While his train of thought spun every which way only to be tethered back to the word ‘why’, his muscles melted until they were soft and pleasantly limp. Has his brow ever been so smooth? His jaw so loose? His lips so softly set? Oh God, you must have noticed the stubborn stiffness in his neck because your fingers abandoned his hair to firmly rub from the base of his skull to where he met the towel and that was truly his undoing.

With a rumbly hum, Buggy finally gave in to temptation and tied his mind to your movements. He let himself imagine affection there - imagine that this was special and just for him. You’ve never tended to anyone else like this. You offered because you simply had to know what his hair felt like. You just wanted to touch him. You wanted it much more than you ever wanted to touch anyone else. If he opened his eyes and looked up at yours, he would see them pouring with love, just like your hands were, and you would look sweetly down at him with your gorgeous eyes and handsome smile and say lovely things and you’d love him-

You’d love him.

Fuck.

You noticed Buggy suddenly flinch under your hands and you tensed up.

“Are you okay? Did I snag your hair?” You hadn’t felt anything tug but you supposed you could’ve missed it.

Buggy cleared his throat before stiffly responding, “No. Keep going.”

Something thick in his tone caught your attention and you looked to see his expression was tense instead of the blissed out one you had admired not too long ago. That won’t do. You went back to the tried and true pressure points on the scalp that you knew from experience eased anyone up. Checking his face again, you noticed it was more relaxed but still too guarded for your tastes. Deciding he must be getting antsy, you switched to working the shampoo down his hair after getting a touch more product on your hands. The time it took to get it properly sudsed and rinsed was calm, despite the fact that there was some undercurrent to the air that felt charged. Maybe it was just from seeing the talkative and bratty clown be so subdued. As you began spreading conditioner through his hair, you decided that it was time to engage him again.

“This bar is my favorite; nothing makes my hair softer,” you said. Already, his hair was relaxing to glide even more smoothly between your fingers. You weren’t ready to give the feeling up, so you spent the entire time that the conditioner was setting to run your fingers through his hair.

Buggy couldn’t do anything at the moment to judge your claim, but the smell alone made him understand why it was your favorite. It matched that of the shampoo bar, but the richer ingredients in the conditioner highlighted the comforting tones of the vanilla and the sensuality of warm spices and wood. He relished in it on every inhale, hoping to unravel and memorize its every undertone. Was that a touch of amber in there? A little pink peppercorn? Maybe some incense and oud at the base? Buggy suddenly felt ridiculous. He was never one to give much thought to fancy perfumes, yet here he was trying to dissect your scent like a sommelier tasting a new wine.

You made quick work of rinsing his hair this final time and gently pushing and squeezing any excess water out. You set Buggy back on a towel, this time one that was spread on the floor. It was the one that you had just been sitting on. Buggy was embarrassed that he noticed and enjoyed the fact that he could still feel your body heat on it.

“How many of those things do you have?” Buggy scoffed as you pulled yet another towel over to dry his hair. You flicked his forehead in warning against further sass.

“You can never have too many. It’s something that you use daily and they come in handy during emergencies,” you explained.

“Oh yeah like what?”

“Well, I was thinking of situations like having to soak up a spill or blood, but the state of your hair definitely qualifies.”

The outburst was immediate.

“I KNEW YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF ME YOU DAMN LIAR! HOW DA-”

Good thing you were prepared for this and stuffed some of yet another towel into his screaming mouth. He bit down on it harshly and glared at you with all his might. Snarls and grumbles still made their way through the cloth, letting you know just how displeased he was. You were a little shocked to find that despite being gagged and despite just being a head that his glare still actually intimidated you. The time spent with the crew treating him like a harmless little pest had helped you forget that, when push came to shove, he could back up his talk with violence.

The brief glimpse of fear in your eyes gave him a twinge of satisfaction but mostly felt a lot more hollow than he’d expected. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

When you reached back out to continue drying his hair, you were more tentative than he had ever seen you and his mood dropped even further. Even with your caution, the way that you moved the towel over his hair and gently squeezed more water out of it was filled with care. The whole thing felt very foreign to him. Buggy usually rubbed his towel through his hair chaotically like the more forceful he was the sooner he could get done with the bothersome task. You were working over him like any undue force would be an insult. Like he was something precious. That watery feeling started pressing on him again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you started quietly. “I just meant to poke fun, not make you actually feel insulted.” After a few more soft pats with the towel, you slowly removed his makeshift gag. He took a moment to wiggle around his jaw and get the dry feeling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, well good job, dumbass,” he bit. You winced at the hurt in his tone. “Just finish up.”

You took a moment to recenter yourself while you grabbed your comb and brush. This was not how you wanted this to go. One wrong comment had sent this whole interaction spiraling and it made you sad. Sensitivity like that was usually built up from years of feeling the same hurts over and over again, and you didn’t ever want to be someone to aggravate an already festering wound, especially not on someone who you genuinely enjoyed. Not on someone who you were increasingly craving affection from. This needed to be fixed. Steeling yourself for the resistance you were about to meet, you began combing the ends of his hair and spoke, “The blue color is pretty.”

He ignored you. As expected.

“It was one of the first things I noticed about you.” He still wouldn’t even glance up at you. “Also how it brings out the color of your eyes.”

He snorted dismissively in a way that very clearly told you he wasn’t believing a word you said. Also expected. You’re just going to have to soldier on until this eventually worked… maybe worked… hopefully worked?

Just as in the rest of the process, you were slow and thorough when combing his hair. You murmured compliments to him about how soft it is; how thick and how beautiful. By the time that you had switched to using your brush, he was showing signs of being worn down by your flattery. His face was more relaxed and he let himself look around instead of trying to burn a hole through the floor. All you could focus on, though, was how downcast and tired his eyes looked.

“Alright, I’m all finished up,” you told him. “I’m going to put you in the hammock for a minute while I get ready for bed.”

After placing him in the middle of your bedding, you disappeared behind a dressing screen. The routine of bathing yourself with a washcloth and bowl of soapy water eased you. Since you had taken so much time tending to Buggy, the last bowl of fresh water had become lukewarm. Despite this, the final wipe down had you feeling refreshed and ready to jump into bed. It was no soak in the tub, but still left you feeling much better after a long day of helping work around the ship.

You had set about your routine briskly so that you didn’t leave Buggy waiting too long. Little did you know, he didn’t mind the time of having nothing to do besides enjoy the soft blankets you curled up in every night. He was trying to soak it in before you inevitably put him back down on the floor. If the night had taught him anything, you’d at least put him on one of those fluffy towels instead of throwing him back in the bag like the others did.

You came over to him on the hammock and he admired how you looked, now clean and fresh. His eyes poured over your shirtless chest and the thin sleep pants moving around the shape of your legs. When you picked him back up, your face and body language were as placid as he had ever seen them and he was surprised at how content that made him feel. He readied himself to be moved away, left cold and forgotten, but he was astonished when you plopped yourself in your bedding instead with him still in your hands. The shock must have shown on his face because you chuckled at him and gave him a bright smile. Even with the bumpy road that the night had been, your smile made him soft and content. He was realizing with more and more resignation that your smile and laugh would let you get away with anything when it came to him.

“So no floor? Trying to bribe me with favors?” His voice was mostly back to that sarcastic lilt you’ve come to adore.

Content that he was feeling better, you answered, “Nah, just using you so I can have a teddy bear. Haven’t had a good one in ages.”

Making good on that promise, you made sure that he was securely nestled into your neck and shoulder. You used both of your arms to cradle him there and both hands to continue your worship of his hair. It was just barely damp and the coolness felt nice on your hands, especially in contrast to the cozy heat emanating from his head. His long eyelashes tickled at your neck every time he blinked, just like the light scruff on his jaw teased at the skin on your chest. His big nose felt cozy rested on your clavicle, and you had to resist the urge to reach down and trail your fingers on it. A giddy and victorious feeling flushed through you when you felt him close his eyes a final time and sink into your embrace.

Buggy should have known that he was doomed from the start. He was having a hell of a time trying not to moan at your fingers scratching and massaging his scalp, both during the hair care and now, when he was held in your arms. The feeling of being rested on your bare chest sent his heart racing. He couldn’t stop his little movements to nestle into you and get just that much more of your warmth and touch. If he thought that he loved the smell of you before, he was absolutely intoxicated now that he knew what it was like when it floated over the two of you while wrapped in body-warmed sheets.

He wanted to ask you why you were doing all of this, but he didn’t want to know the answer. Not right now. Right now he was going to let himself go back into that place in his head where you lo- cared about him. A place where each night he would crawl into bed with you and, no matter how the day went, you would be there to empty his mind of anything but the two of you. You’d greet him with a kiss or a laugh or an embrace and you would shine with so much joy because he’s next to you again. He’d know what your love felt like, how it felt to be under your hands, how your skin felt under his lips. All these daydreams swirling in his head started to make him sick with want, and he needed to know at least one of them. He couldn’t handle all of them staying forever in his mind.

The tiniest increase of pressure from his lips brought your attention to where they rested below your collarbone. The almost kiss was so heartbreakingly shaky and hesitant that you felt your eyes burn with the threat of tears. To reassure him, you dragged your cheek across his temple before turning to leave a deliberate kiss there. Buggy relished the contact, the satisfied sigh you let out afterward, and the gentle weight of your cheek as you snuggled back into him. Your reward came in the form of a grinning cheek pushing into you.

All his humor and posturing certainly caught your attention in the best way and even his explosive temper was something you couldn’t say turned you away. This gentleness, though, this uncertain and wounded place, had you bursting with affection and you were hoping to keep experiencing it. You’d meet it each time with steady affection until it turned into something he embodied with the same surety that he had in his beloved spotlight.

Both of you slipped more sweetly into dreams, curled up together as you were, and with more peace and ease than the years before had allowed. Neither of you would let the years to come be absent of this sweet treasure, either.

#buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #opla buggy x reader #buggy the clown #opla buggy #one piece #amab reader #male reader #opla #one piece live action #x reader

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desperatecheesecubes · 2 years

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It would be so funny if, instead of recording a heartfelt message, Jason just called Bruce a bitch one last time

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epicbuddieficrecs · 5 days

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Weekly Recap | April 15th-21st 2024

Warning you now that there won't be a recap next week because I'm gonna be on a birthday trip! (hello don't mind me I'm turning 30 this week 🙈). ((now that I think about it I could always post the recap on saturday. oh well. we'll see 😆))

Enjoy!

Complete

i'll fit you inside my future by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (S7E5, BuckTommy | <1K | General): "Why'd you choose that abomination of a coffee for me?" And Buck groans just to hear Tommy laugh. "Really? What even was that?" "Black coffee four sugars," Buck mumbles, kicking a stone across the sidewalk sheepishly. "Jesus, Evan." Tommy's laugh is something special, loud and unrestrained and the sound of sunshine maybe. "Why?"

wild again, beguiled again by Maira/ @mairaiscarrierofthepaperclips (Post-S7E4, BuckTommy | 1K | General): The kiss had taken him out at the knees, a rush of lips and heat and just the barest hint of teeth, the graze of stubble not his own thrilling him in a way like nothing had before. Which was ridiculous, because the kiss hadn’t even been that long. He’d had longer kisses, hotter kisses. Kisses where Buck had very nearly forgotten his own name by the time they’d ended. And yet, this one kiss still had him smiling like a fool. ... or, the one after the kiss.

I gotta get that feeling by elless (Post-S7E5 | 1K | General): Buck watches his mouth as he speaks and the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, and reminds himself to pay attention, because all of this is important. He wants to know everything. OR: what happens at the cafe after Buck's an eager beaver and asks Tommy to be his date at the madney wedding.

The New Normal by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Buck/Tommy/Eddie | 1,7K | General): While he had had a few drinks at the bar, Eddie hadn’t even been tipsy when Buck had blurted out those words: I think I’ve been dating both of you. That statement had settled in the middle of Eddie’s chest and burrowed into its new home, feeling so incredibly right in a way he’d never experienced before. (Part 3 of Buck's Boyfriends)

a good ally by thewolvesof1998/ @thewolvesof1998 (BuckTommy, PWP | 2K | Explicit): Tommy figures out Buck's humiliation kink by accident during sex and they explore it a bit.

everything’s growing in our garden by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S7E5, Pre-Buddie | 2K | Teen): eddie’s growing a garden. buck might be the most firmly planted thing in it.

every part of you (simple as that) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (BuckTommy, Madney Wedding | 2,8K | General): OR: buck comes out to chris, talks to tommy about the future, has realisations about the past and finds a little peace at the wedding

Lactose Intolerance by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Drunken Confessions | 4K | Teen): After last night's tequila shots at the karaoke bar, Buck had just gone home and rolled into his too-big, too-comfortable, too-empty bed in his too-quiet loft, and he’d— Texted Eddie. He thinks. The memory is kind of vague.

Tell Me Anything by AnnaNSmith/ @annansmith (Near Death Experience, Love Confession | 5K | Teen): Or, how Buck shattered Eddie's entire world one night by confessing his love to him.

we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide) by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (Post-S7E5, Tommy POV | 5K | General): Tommy cuts their first date short, but to his surprise he gets a call from Evan just a few days later.

Despite it all, I'm Happy by InsaneJuliann/ @marvelingjules (Established Buddie, Post-S4, Secret Relationship | 6K | Teen): Something's up with Buck, but he's not telling. No one else even seems to notice all the faked smiles and laughter, not like Eddie does. But he's afraid of pushing too hard. He's happier, lately. Chris, his family, the team - and especially Buck - make him happier than he's been in a long time. Eddie doesn't want to put that all at risk. Not now, while it still feels so new. (Part 12 of The Evolution of Buddie)

Be Yours if You'd be Mine by InsaneJuliann/ @marvelingjules (Established Buddie, Post-S4 | 5K | Mature): Things with Buck are good. Sure, Eddie's pretty sure that some days Buck is still hiding something from him, and sure, their relationship is still a secret to their friends. But there are moments where Eddie can only feel how right it is, Buck in his life, with his family and with Chris. And Eddie may not be able to put a word to the feeling he's been having lately, but he knows that his relationship with Buck isn't going anywhere. At least, Eddie was sure of that until he potentially fucked things up. Now, he's not sure where they stand, precisely. He's not sure if he's what Buck really wants, or if Buck's second guessing. They need to talk. The thing is, talking and vulnerability has never been Eddie's strong suit. (Part 13 of The Evolution of Buddie)

somebody i can kiss by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Christmas, Getting Together, Post-S5 | 7K | Explicit): Buck might be a little touch-starved. And he knew that, but he was not prepared to deal with how the knowledge would interact with his newfound awareness of his crush on—no, realistically, his undying love for Eddie. Because now, whenever he sees Eddie, Buck just wants to shuffle close, bury his face in Eddie’s neck, and hold him. Every second he spends with his best friend, he’s either picturing that, or he’s imagining Eddie’s mouth on his dick, Eddie’s hands on his skin, Eddie’s fingers in his mouth— Anyway. The point is, he should not spend Christmas on a fucking sleepover with Eddie. But he’s gonna.

A Brief Interruption by Leslie_Knope (S7E5 Spec, BuckTommy but Buddie Endgame | 8K | Teen): The restaurant door squeaks again, which Buck ignores, but it’s accompanied by a little noise, just a hitch paired with a small intake of breath, which would be completely unremarkable if not for the fact that Buck has heard that sound a thousand times and would recognize it anywhere. He turns his head, abruptly enough that Tommy’s mouth briefly mashes against his cheek. “Eddie,” Buck says, his voice squeaky and weird. His brain is just pure static, partly from the kiss and partly because Eddie is standing six feet away, eyes wide, staring like he’s never seen him before.

Take These Little Pebbles One by One by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7E5, Endgame Buddie | 9K | Teen): Eddie tells Buck nothing will change between the two of them, except it does. He feels Buck quickly slipping away so he starts to steal pieces of him back. Literally. Or, the one where Eddie has a couple of come to Jesus moments courtesy of Christopher and Tommy, a bit of an emotional breakdown, and a lot of feelings about Evan Buckley’s dentist appointments and where his socks belong.

all I want (your eyes on mine) by bigfootsmom/ @bigfootsmom (Buck/Tommy/Eddie, PWP | 10K | Explicit): Buck is lying there, Eddie instantly recognizes the head of honey blond curls resting on the arm of the couch. But the head of short brown curls between Buck’s shaking thighs takes a second longer to place. But then they look up, blue eyes going comically wide as they lock onto Eddie. Tommy Kinard is on Buck’s couch. He’s on Buck’s couch between Buck’s thighs with his lips wrapped around Buck’s cock. The one where Eddie yearns, Buck pines, and Tommy just wants to have a good time.

🔥 give your heart and soul to charity by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S7E5, Sexuality Crisis | 12K | Teen): “It’s been a while since you asked for an emergency session,” Frank says, voice even as always. “Can I ask what brought this on?” “I think I just dumped god,” Eddie says and then he bursts out laughing. He can’t control it, he knows he sounds manic, like he’s somewhere between laughter and a breakdown, edging closer to the breakdown. “Holy shit I did dump god.” “I’m going to need just a little more than that,” Frank says and his face looks torn between concern and amusement. OR Eddie dumps God, gets some more therapy, accepts parts of himself he was taught to hate, loves his best friend, and loves himself.

Buck up, Buttercup by etlagiapet/ @etlagiapet (Canon Divergent, ~S5 | 14K | Mature): “God, you’d probably make a good writer for an advice column. You’re so earnest and optimistic, and you want to help people literally all the time.” Buck blinks at her, frozen with his beer halfway to his lips. His stomach does this thing, an excited little lurch that happens when he gets ahead of himself, but he can’t help it. He clears his throat and manages to ask, “Uh, really?”

Breaking news: LA firefighters in love by AnnaNSmith/ @annansmith (Taylor POV, ~S5, Getting Together | 19K | General): “In an incredible turn of events firefighter Buckley is alive and mostly unharmed. What could have ended in a devastating tragedy finds its happy ending after all. What an absolute relief that firefighter Buckley made it out alive and that we now see-” Taylor turns around, only to come to a stuttering stop at witnessing the spectacle in front of her “-my boyfriend kissing his best friend.” Or, Taylor gets a second shot at accompanying the 118 for another segment and notices that her boyfriend is a lot closer to his best friend than she remembers.

🔥 drink the river dry by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Post Shooting, Getting Together | 32K | Explicit): It wasn’t until they were discussing his discharge paperwork and painkiller schedules that it really sunk in for Eddie that Buck would be staying with him and Christopher. That he would be around 24/7 except for his shifts at work. That he’ll sleep on the couch, where he’s been sleeping for days now to look after Christopher. The worst part is that it’s necessary—Eddie isn’t going to be able to do a damn thing for himself for the next couple of weeks. He’s lucky if he can put a shirt on by himself a month from now. Yeah, that’s going to be a problem. Or: Eddie gets shot, breaks up with his girlfriend, and pines like there’s no tomorrow.

🔥 The Heart Opening Sequence by Leslie_Knope (Post-S3, Getting Together | 34K | Mature): Eddie’s handsome, that’s obvious, Buck clocked that the second he met him. Part of him still can’t really believe that the guy he was so threatened by at first ended up as his closest friend, which is why these weird twinges are so unsettling. Buck isn’t sure if they’re real, for one, these odd flashes of what it would be like to lean over and kiss Eddie while they’re watching a movie or brush a hand over his back while they’re in the kitchen. And for two, it’s so far out of the realm of possibility that it’s barely worth thinking about.

🔥 everything (nothing) has changed by bizarrestars (Post-S4, Love Confessions | 48K | Explicit): After Eddie gets shot, Buck confesses his love. From there, things get a little out of hand.

🔥 let it pour out of your soul series by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Magical Realism AU, Witch Eddie | 3 works | 71K | Complete):

collectively unconsciously composed (S4E6: Jinx | 46K | Explicit): Or: in which the author re-watched Buck Begins and Jinx and thought: what if this was gayer and had actual magic?

that systematic drug (PWP | 5K | Explicit): Eddie’s mouth goes dry when he opens the door and sees Buck. He’s clean-shaven and with his hair carefully styled back, smiling at Eddie sweetly and a little teasingly. Buck is wearing his dark jeans and his light blue v-neck polo shirt, the one that’s tight enough that it shows off the bulge of his biceps and the definition of his pecs and abs. Eddie knows this shirt. Buck's favourite, because he knows he looks good in it.

something binding us together (Established Buddie | 20K | Teen): Or: Eddie plans a long-avoided visit to his parents, discovers some things about his magic, and begins to build his family a home in LA's witching community.

Podfic

🔥 [podfic] tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by Matriaya // fic by @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Time Loop | 5-6h | Mature): "Think I can get a hug from my best man on my wedding day?" he asks, quietly hopeful in a way that makes Eddie want to tear off his skin. "Sure," Chris replies with a shrug, turning to throw Eddie a cheeky grin. "Dad, Buck needs a hug." (OR: eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

🔥 my certainty is wild, weaving [Podfic] by blackglass/ @blackestglitter for tuckergreeen/ @henwilsonmd (Post-S5A, Hurt Buck | 45-60min | Teen): “Eddie,” Carla says softly. “You could have called. We would’ve met you at the hospital.” He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t—uh. I didn’t go to the hospital.” He feels the way Carla’s hand goes still. “Eddie.” It’s not nearly as soft-spoken this time. “You didn’t go see him? Or Chim? Your team?” “They’re not my team,” Eddie says, almost without thinking. He winces as soon as the words are out. Or: Buck is hurt, Eddie is worried, and everything is broken.

[podfic] i was supposed to sweat you out (i think there's been a glitch) by half_bakedboy/@half-bakedboy // fic by @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Fire Academy | 45-60min | Explicit): "What's your problem, man?" "You. You're my fucking problem, Diaz." There were a lot of problems with Eddie Diaz, if you ask Buck. The guy is obnoxiously good at everything without even trying, he's too perfect, too confident. And the biggest problem of them all: Eddie's an attractive asshole that features more often than not in Buck's filthiest dreams. or; The Buck and Eddie meet at the fire academy, rivals to lovers fic.

🔥 Like Any Unloved Thing [Podfic] by ReformedTsunderePodfics/ @film-in-my-soul // fic by @hmslusitania (Urban Fantasy/Noir AU, PI Eddie, Ghost Buck | 1.5-2h | Mature): After the war, Eddie Diaz opened his own private investigation business here in LA and usually he does alright for himself. But this case, the one with the Buckley siblings, is going to crawl under his skin and stay there. It's going to change his life. He has no idea how.

[Podfic] If I Risk It All (Could You Break My Fall?) by liketherestofla, MistMarauder/@gracieryder for Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (James Bond AU | 4.5-5h | Explicit): “This is Buck,” Bobby said when Buck’s tongue refused to unstick from the top of his mouth. “Your new quartermaster.” Eddie’s eyes— brown with just a glint of green if you caught them in the right light— widened before he scanned Buck with another sweeping assessment. “You’re—” Buck had heard it all before. “Not all of us nerds are the skinny kids that used to get picked on in high school.”

🔥 Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 // fic by @ebjameston (Canon Divergent, S2, Ghost Buck, Witch Eddie | 5-6h | Teen): Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

WIP

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @dangerpronebuddie (Prompt collection | 30/? | 19K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

30. 70. what if i told you none of it was accidental: An accidental kiss that confuses you both, but only a moment passes before you crash your lips back against each other's

What’s Your Order? by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S7E5, BuckTommy | 3/6 | 6K | Teen): 5 Times Buck Guessed Tommy’s Coffee Order + 1 Time He Didn’t Have To

🔥 Cowboy With a One Track Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergence, Not A Firefighter Buck | 2/4 | 11K | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 7 (Land): Grieving and tortured, Evan Buckley has been living alone in Montana in a remote cabin for nearly a decade. After an incident that leaves him missing six months of his life, and suddenly in connection with a group of strangers from Los Angeles, Evan must decide whether to remain in his self-imposed exile, or take a chance at life again.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 9/18 | 49K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic rec #buddie fic #buddie fanfiction

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atinylittlepain · 8 months

Text

Independence Day

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

warnings | 18+ this one is pure angst, sorry about it

wordcount | 4K

a/n | she is short, because she is pain. just remember, a happy ending I promised, and a happy ending I shall deliver. but this isn't it. as always, tell me what you think, and thank you for reading.

gif by @pascalisthepunkest

................................................

She’s humming along to the radio in her car, and she can’t help it. Something giddy and bright beating beneath her ribs. She could barely hold back her laugh when her mother waved her out of the driveway, some admonition about bringing a boyfriend home for Christmas. But she can laugh about it now, driving out of her neighborhood and toward Thatcher’s.

Everything she wanted to bring is packed in the trunk. Not much if she’s being honest, mostly books and the clothes she came home with. She muses to herself that after a few years, her mother will probably put a treadmill in her old bedroom. A much better use of the space, she thinks, than to let it sit vacant forever.

Her smile splits and stretches when she sees him as she pulls into the auto shop’s parking lot, though it tempers and turns sideways when she gets a better look at him. Confusion that he’s in his coveralls, she certainly didn’t think those would be making the trip. Confusion too that there’s no sign of a suitcase, not even a backpack. But he probably just has to get it from the apartment, that’s all. That’s all, she tells herself, as she gets out of her car to walk over to him on knees that are quickly weakening because whatever that look is on his face, no amount of rationalizing can convince her that it’s anything good.

“Joel? What– are you– are you ready?” She feels stupid and small asking it, especially when Joel’s eyes stay glued to his shoes. He’s holding something, down by his side, half pressed into his pant leg. A bouquet, she realizes, and her stomach turns into a tight fist.

“Cherry–” Long and low like a sigh, like a sorry, and she’s not going to allow the rest to come out, stepping forward and taking his face in her hands, finally focusing his gaze on hers.

“No, no, no– Joel, baby, don’t– let’s just– we’ll go get your things, okay? We don’t even have to pack them, we can just shove them in the backseat and–” She clasps his wrist, trying to tug him toward the office, toward the stairs up to his apartment, but he’s not moving.

“Cher, just–”

“Baby, c’mon, we need to get on the road soon if we wanna make it to–”

“Cherry, stop.” She can already feel the tears thickening up her throat, going limp as Joel tugs her back to stand in front of her. A sharp gasp breaking in her chest, when he swipes his thumb along her cheek, collecting the salt already starting to pool.

“Don’t do this, Joel. Please, please. Just tell me what happened and I— I can fix it, we can fix it.” His face crumples, a broken sound in the back of his throat that only makes her cry harder, pressing her forehead against his and letting everything swim in the periphery.

“I can’t. I just can’t. This is– this is gonna be better for you, easier. You gotta go, you understand? You don’t need me getting in the way of all your plans, your future.”

“Of course I need you. Baby, it’s– it’s you and me, remember? Just get in the car, please– just get in the car–” He shakes his head, slow and stilted, a fresh wave of tears that breaks first in his chest, his shoulders shaking with it.

“I can’t do that, Cher.” It’s like a real, yawning ache in her chest, something splitting open and bleeding out, and all she can do is ball her fists into the front of his coveralls and tamp down her shuddering tears enough that she can look him in the eye.

“I love you, Joel. I love you so fucking much it’s stupid. And I know you love me too. A-and that’s all that matters, okay? So please don’t do this.” He doesn’t say anything, his damp lashes dropping down to the tops of his cheeks as he steps back out of her grasp. It’s almost robotic, the way he holds out the bouquet to her, still not looking at her.

“You’re gonna do something amazing, Cherry.” She finds herself taking the bouquet from him, feeling like a fool even as she does it. Chrysanthemums, the fleeting thought, who the hell buys a bouquet of chrysanthemums? And then that perfect pang of despair turns into something else, something more bearable, something she can let get big and bright until it feels righteous, like anger.

“Oh, fuck you.” It seems to startle him, his eyes hiccuping up onto her face, and all she wants to do is chase after that shock, to dig her fingers into the wound and make it hurt as bad as it’s hurting her right now.

“You got what you wanted, Joel. That’s it, right? Someone to keep your bed warm all summer, so easy to keep them coming back. Just gotta tell them what they want to hear, huh?”

“It wasn’t like that, Cherry.” He says it so small, so broken that for a moment her anger falters, though she stokes it back to life with a bitter laugh.

“You promised me, you asshole. You fucking promised me.” She does it before she can really think about it, shoving her hands into his chest, only making him take a single staggered step back, but it feels good. Good like she should do it again.

“This was all just some fucking game to you, wasn’t it? I bet you didn’t mean a single thing you said to me.” Another shove, and then another, the bouquet in her hand going limp, petals falling all around them, only stopping when Joel barks out a sharp enough.

“I meant all of it, Cher. And now I’m trying to do right by you. You need to go, and I’m not coming with you because it’s the right thing for you.” It’s silent for a moment, both of them breathing hard, watery eyes wide and unblinking.

“Fuck you, Joel Miller.” Maybe it’s a bit childish, but it certainly feels good to throw the bouquet down and smash what’s left of the blooms with the sole of her sneaker, a smear of sorry on the curb before she gets back in her car with a hard slam of the door.

She holds it in like a breath until she crosses state lines. But when she does, it’s all she can do to pull over onto the shoulder of the road and let this reality sink in with a sob.

…

“You’re being good, brother. Finally learned not to harass the ump, huh?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Tommy is right. For once, Joel is staying on the bleachers, staying silent except to clap with the other parents when a run is scored or a play is made. But it has nothing to do with the ump, and everything to do with Cherry sitting on the other set of bleachers, their daughter’s teams playing each other again in the final tournament of the summer. He only steals sparing glances her way, trying to keep his focus straight ahead on the field between quick sweeps of his eyes. Her sunglasses are down, and much like him, she’s staying seated and uncharacteristically silent.

It’s been two weeks since she swept out of his house, and not a word passed between them since. He asked Tommy to take over the work on her porch, figuring that as much distance as he could manage between them would be best. It is a herculean labor on his part to not ask his brother how she’s doing, if she’s still taking damn phone calls every ten minutes, if she’s mentioned anything about him. But he doesn’t. Keeps his mouth shut and stays busy with that new build on Cypress. And no, he definitely doesn’t look at his phone at night, willing something, anything to come pinging through from her. Definitely not.

“You gonna talk to Cher today? Or are you gonna keep making those weird eyes at her for the whole game and then go home and pout?” He doesn’t reward Tommy’s quip with a response, settling for a cursory glance before trying to refocus on the game.

“Joel.”

“Tommy, enough.”

“What the fuck happened, man? You two seemed good one minute, and then the next she’s stomping out of your house without another look your way.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Well excuse me for trying to look out for you, brother. The girl you had a crush on since we were fucking kids comes back and somehow you’ve already managed to screw things up. A second time, I might add.”

“Are you done talking now?” Tommy’s face pinches up at Joel’s gruff question, an indignant sound in the back of his throat as he shakes his head.

“Fuck’s sake, Joel, I’m trying to help you out here. It was nice, you know? Seeing you two together again. I just don’t get why you’re both being so goddamn weird now.”

“It’s a complicated thing. And before you ask, no, I ain’t gonna try to explain it to you.”

“Well how fucking complicated can it be? What? Is there some estranged husband in the picture?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend then?”

“No.”

“Is she in a cult or something?”

“Jesus Christ, no, stop asking stupid questions.”

“Then what the hell is it?”

“None of your business is what it is. A lot has changed in seventeen years, alright? We’re different people. It just– it’s complicated.” Tommy seems perfectly unsatisfied with that answer, taking off his cap to run a hand through his hair as he lets out a frustrated grumble. Though mercifully, he drops it, focusing back on the field.

“You better fix it, brother.”

“Tommy, you have no clue what you’re talking about. It’s not–”

“Here’s what I know. You two were a good thing, and then you fucked it up, and now you’re fucking it up all over again.”

“Thanks for that, I really needed to be reminded again of how I fucked up.”

“Damn it, I’m not kidding around here.” Something in Tommy’s voice changes, something serious, something with a sharp edge that makes Joel quiet, his brother looking at him with a hard and narrow squint.

“You’re not gonna get another chance, brother, you know that? This is it. And I just– I don’t like watching you make the same mistake twice.” Joel isn’t sure what to say to that, and Tommy doesn’t look interested in his response anyways, shaking his head with a sigh before setting his sights back on the game, clapping and whooping for the next kid up to bat, a rather firm conclusion to their conversation.

He lets himself take another look over at Cherry, still seated, still hiding behind her sunglasses, and still not looking anywhere near him. He wants to, more than anything. To say something, to walk over there and try to make all of this wrong right. And he knows where he would start, but he’s not sure how to, almost twenty years worth of not sure how to. But he doesn’t have much time to feel too pitiful about that because in that way that summer in Austin tends to do, an errant groan of thunder cracks and shakes in the sky, everything darkening and dampening all of a sudden. The ump is already calling the game with the first few fat drops of rain, a perfect slice of lightning punctuating his words.

…

She has only tried this one other time. A moment of weakness, really. She had just moved into her dorm. A single, how fitting. And the phone at the end of the hall taunted her everytime she left for class. When her car broke down back in June, she had torn the number for Thatcher’s auto out of the phonebook in a fit of absent-minded frustration, the slip of paper ending up tucked into her cupholders where it still was when she got back to Chicago. Before she knew what she was doing, she was dialing the number on that slip of paper, a small prayer that he would, and a small prayer that he wouldn’t.

It wasn’t Joel that picked up that time, one of the other guys that worked at the shop answering the phone. She hung up the instant that she heard the voice, not the one she wanted to hear, relieved that it wasn’t the one she wanted to hear.

This time, she isn’t even sure what spurs her on. Coming home from her evening class, something about how dark it gets, how close and quiet makes that want impossible to ignore. She doesn’t even need the slip of paper to dial the shop this time, the numbers running a deranged and endless path in her mind.

“Thatcher’s auto, how can I help you?”

“Joel?” She doesn’t have to ask that, not really. She knows it’s him, and judging by the way the phone line goes silent, he knows it’s her too. Though there is no click of the line hanging up, just both of them holding their breath, waiting and willing for the other one to break.

“It’s me, um, I don’t know why I called, I just– are you there?” Still nothing. She tries not to let anger creep in, remembering what it was she’s been wanting to say. Almost the instant she crossed state lines, a sick slosh of guilt settled in her stomach. The anger was still there too, but something sheepish started to sting around the edges for the way she had railed against him. And she’s not sure what she hates more, the fact of what he did, or the fact that she didn’t mean a single word she screamed at him that day, that she never could, even if she tried.

“You probably don’t want to speak to me, and that’s fine. I just– if you could just listen to what I have to say I won’t try bothering you again.” Perfect silence, but still no dial tone. Part of her wishes he would just hang up. It’d be easier than what she’s about to say.

“I wanted to apologize for the things I said to you. I don’t know why you did what you did, and, um–” The words start to crack and slant with the hot weight of tears rising up her throat, stopping herself for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose to try to stave off the flood.

“You really hurt me, Joel, and, um, I think it was easier for me to be angry than to be hurt. But the things I said to you– I didn’t mean any of it, you know?” No use in trying to bite back the tears, her words become punctuated and jagged with small sobs, everything she’s been holding in coming out all at once.

“And the funniest part is– well, not the funniest, it’s more like the worst– the worst part is, I think I still love you. Hell, I’ll probably still love you twenty years from now.” Her tears tangle up into a weak laugh, sniffling back snot as she catches a bloodshot glance of herself in the metal of the phone receiver.

“So I guess I just wanted to say I’m sorry. And, um, I hope you take care of yourself out there.” There’s more, words getting caught somewhere between her ribs, turning into fluttery panic that makes her slam the phone back into the receiver before any more can get out.

She doesn’t call again.

…

“Jesus Christ, this rain is fucking insane.”

“Language.” Though he scolds his brother in the passenger seat, Joel is inclined to agree. Before they had the car packed back up, what had been a few large drops of rain had turned into a steady downpour and a low rumble of thunder, leaving the field flooded and thick with mud. And now, as four softball teams worth of minivans and SUVs try to maneuver out of the parking lot, also flooded out and gummed up with mud, they’ve come to a complete standstill in the deluge.

“Hey, is that–” Tommy’s sentence trails off, his brow furrowed as he looks out the passenger side window. When he sees what his brother is squinting at, Joel can’t help the low curse that settles in the back of his throat. It’s Cherry, standing at the bumper of her car, soaked to the bone as she gesticulates up to Ellie, who he can now see sticking her head out of the driver side window. He can also see that their back tires look sunken into a few inches of mud, cars honking and creeping around them as Cherry tries to guide Ellie through rocking their car back into motion.

“You oughta go help them, brother.”

“Uh–”

“Uncle Tommy is right, dad. This is like, your chance at an apology.” Joel whips around to look at a very smug Sarah in the backseat, her arms crossed over her chest with a satisfied huff.

“What are you– what’s Tommy been telling you?”

“Nothing, I’m just not blind and know that you messed something up.” He looks between Sarah and Tommy, both of them so self-satisfied that it’s all he can do to get out of their car with a grumble. It’s not like they were moving anyways.

“Cher– Cherry! You want some help?” He hates the way she looks at him, all exasperation in the way her squint slackens in the rain.

“Nope, not from you I don’t. We’ve got this under control.” They both have to shout to be heard over the hard drive of the rain and the endless thunder, though Cherry’s words are undermined when Ellie suddenly gives the car some gas, mud spluttering up behind the wheels and all along Cherry’s bare legs.

“Just– just let me help you. We can rock it, get it–”

“I don’t want your help, Joel. I don’t need your help. Just get back in your car and leave us alone.”

“Mom, I don’t think we have this under control!” A very worried Ellie shouts out of the driver side window, her eyes darting between her mom and Joel, though he’s having a hard time seeing much of anything with the way the rain is streaming down his face. For a moment, Cherry looks lost, glancing between her kid and the back tires, a few choice curses leaving her mouth before she focuses back on Joel.

“Look, Cherry, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Goddamnit, for everything. I’m sorry for everything. For what I did to you. But you gotta know that I’d do it again.”

“Well that’s really nice, Joel, thanks for that backhanded apology.” Her words get stuck and stopped by a shiver, both of them completely soaked as cars continue to weave around hers, and the rain just keeps on coming down.

“I mean it, it was the right thing to do for you. I would have held you back, and you know it. Look at everything you’ve done since then.” At that, Cherry lets out a sharp bark of laughter, her palm coming up to swipe away the water dripping down her face, stepping closer to him so she doesn’t have to yell so loud.

“Everything I’ve done? Everything I’ve done? Do I look happy to you, Joel? Do I seem happy to you? Jesus Christ, why do you think I moved back here in the first place?” He has no answer for that, Cherry letting out another incredulous laugh as she shakes her head at him.

“You know what would have made me happy? If we stayed in that fucking shoebox apartment above Thatcher’s for the rest of our miserable lives. I would have said yes to that in a fucking heartbeat, Joel. If it meant that I got to keep you with me, I would have done it and I would have been the happiest fucking person in the world.” Too much, his chest tightening up with all the words threatening up his throat. He speaks before he can think.

“Well I didn’t want that for you! I wanted you to have something better. You deserved something better. Fuck, Cherry, I have loved you since the first time I saw you in church, fucking eight years old and completely gone for you. And I couldn’t let you throw everything away for me, for nothing.”

“You were everything, Joel, don’t you understand that? All I fucking wanted was you with me.” Nothing to say to that, at least nothing that he thinks would make any of this right. And not any time for it either, cars honking all around them, reminding them of their situation, Ellie sticking her head out the driver side window to shout back at them. This, at least, something he can fix.

“Kid, we’re gonna rock it, okay? And when I say, you’re gonna give it a little gas, just a little, light touch, you got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, old man, I got it.”

He and Cherry both brace at the bumper, Joel shouting up to Ellie to hit the gas at just the right time to get the car moving with a slick spray of mud. And yes, the car can drive now and no, that doesn’t really fix anything.

“Thank you, Joel, and goodbye.” Said with all the warmth of a business associate concluding a deal, she doesn’t spare him another glance as her sneakers squelch and stick through the mud toward the drivers side door of her car, Ellie quick to switch places with her, shooting Joel a death glare that’s enough to keep his mouth shut and his feet planted. And then it’s Cherry pulling away in her car before he can say what he really wants to, a sight he is all too familiar with.

“Wait, what– that’s it? Did y’all make up?” Joel takes a long, shuddering breath when he gets into his car again, swiping his palm down his face to slough off the rain before he answers Tommy’s question.

“No, Tommy, we didn’t. And I’m only gonna ask you one more time to drop it. It’s– we’re done. What’s done is done.”

…

It’s Thanksgiving break, and while everyone else is getting ready to go home, she is hunkering down in her dorm room and willing the week to pass by mercifully fast.

Her parents tried to call a few times, messages left at the front desk that she blankly received with no intention of returning. Part of her is surprised by how quickly their efforts have relented, like they were just waiting for her to give them a reason to shutter her out. Fine by her. On scholarship anyways, so even the economics of it all are clean and simple.

And when the residence halls get quiet and still, that want, that itch returns. But she knows she can’t sate it, can’t call him. She doesn’t think he’d give her his voice even if she tried, he certainly hadn’t the last time she called. So instead, she spends all day and most of the night in the basement of the library, away from the possibility of any phone calls. She’s working on something. Something big. Something that maybe, possibly, one day could be bought and published.

It’s tedious. She writes by hand, and then she pecks at the keys of one of the three behemoth computers the school keeps in the library, printing each new day’s worth of work, a satisfying stack building on her desk. It keeps her busy, it keeps her focused, a rhythm and routine of work. Whenever that want returns, whenever her mind starts to trail toward him, she opens her notebook and gets back to work, or goes to the library to transcribe what she has gotten down. Whenever Joel Miller threatens at the edges of her mind, she writes, and it keeps her from thinking about him any more than she already has.

..............................................

taglist: @spookyxsam @libbylou223 @angel-in-beskar @starstruckunknown-princess @casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose @lost-inhawkins @youcancallmeelle @hollywoodcaligirl @harryleatherfit @fifia-writes @brighttears @lokanda @hardlystrictlystarwars

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller smut #hungry hearts #joel miller au

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cait-with-luv · 1 year

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Little Leopard [5]

"If it weren't for seven men that fateful night you wouldn't be here now. They showed you good people did exist. That life can be great, that you can be loved and cared for. These seven men were the men you loved and cherished. These men were your mates. Your safety blanket. And to them. You were their Little Leopard."

Header Credit: Me

Pairing: OT7 X Hybrid!Reader

Genre: Hybrid! AU, Strangers to Lovers! AU, Rich!BTS, Fluff, Angst, eventual smut, Polyamorous!BTS

Warnings: Angst, Hospitals, discussions of weight, discussions of eating disorders, dissociation, mentions of past mental abuse, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, discussions of trauma, anxiety, depression, explicit language, OC gets a little possessive, self-doubt, NOT SAFE FOR RAMADAN.

Word Count: 4K

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Like Seokjin had said the next day after breakfast, he was taking you to the clinic, and to be honest, you were nervous. You hadn’t been to a hybrid clinic and you didn’t know what to expect. You knew that Seokjin wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable and that he’d never hurt you. You had to keep reminding yourself that this was for your own good, he just wanted to know if you were fit and healthy.

Whilst eating breakfast, Yoongi and Hoseok had told you they were going to tag along so you wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable in a new and nerve-wracking environment and so you could have a hand to hold if need be. It made you feel warm inside knowing that they really did care about you. Your thoughts, feelings, your physical being. Everything. It all mattered to them and they always made sure you knew that.

You knew that Jungkook had told them about your talk last night, they didn’t have to tell you that they knew, you could tell by the way their scents had changed when they saw you come down the stairs this morning. Their usual soft, comforting scents changed to a dull burning bitter smell, the gentle looks of care and worry. But what you appreciated the most was how they didn’t bring it up, they didn’t make you talk about it. They were really allowing you to do things on your own terms. You will never be able to tell them how grateful you are. They were always there to abolish all your negative thoughts and feelings. They’re like umbrellas, when you’re toxic thoughts rain upon you, they shelter you from them and wait with you for the sun to break through the rain clouds not ever leaving you for a second.

“You ready to go, Sweetpea? Yoongi and Jin are waiting for us.” Hoseok says softly peering into your room after he knocked, chuckling seeing you sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, your pastel yellow dress sprawled around you like you had come out of a Disney movie, a little pout on your lips as you look up at Hoseok with a look of defeat and hold out your brush and a scrunchie.

“I can’t do my hair, w-will you help me Hobi? I keep catching my ears and it hurts.” You whine out in exasperation. It was clear to him you had been trying to do it for a while but was clearly being defeated. He couldn’t say no to you. You had him and the rest of the boys wrapped around your finger and you had absolutely no idea.

“Of course, Sweetpea, you gotta be careful of these cute little ears.” Hoseok coos, taking the brush and scrunchie from you and sitting behind you, beginning to brush your hair, frowning at how tense and anxious you were not just from how you sat but from how your tail nervously flicked, poking his leg occasionally. Something was playing on your mind and Hoseok wanted to help you. Out of all the boys, he had spent the least time with you having to constantly be at work all the time.

“Penny for your thoughts, Sunshine?” He asks tenderly beginning to fishtail braid your hair, pausing as you sigh and grab your tail to play with it, something all hybrids did for comfort and it was nice for the boys to see you beginning to lean more into your natural instincts. They had noticed in the first two weeks you lived with them you barely did anything…Leopard like? Feline like?

It was like you had buried any instinct you had as a leopard. They had begun to think you had been forced to not act on them or perhaps you just didn’t have any but as you began to relax around them the more you showed your feline side and in all honesty, it was the most wholesome thing they had seen. They were curious to see if you would eventually be comfortable in front of them to shift into your full Leopard form. If that was something you could do.

“I just…I’ve never been to a hybrid clinic before…let alone had a health check, no one cared about it. I’m scared. What if something is wrong with me? I w-won’t be left there right o-or you won’t be disgusted with me at my results?” You fret, biting your lip anxiously as Hoseok ties the hair tie into your hair a little sigh leaves his lips before turning you to face him and shaking his head.

“Sweetpea, we will never ever leave you there, or anywhere for that matter. You’re stuck with us, how terrible right?” He jokes making your lips quirk up a little and playfully roll your eyes before relaxing into his touch as he massages at the base of your ear, a rumble coming from your chest.

“None of us will be disgusted at all okay? Whatever the results will be for your health, we’re all gonna be here to do what we can to help it improve if needs be and be here for you through everything alright? I know it sounds scary. A hybrid clinic and tests but you are in completely safe hands. Seokjin won’t make you do anything you don’t want to alright? I hate the doctors too. Needles are pretty terrifying. I used to pass out every time I needed a flu vaccination. Ironic isn’t it? I see all sorts of things being a detective yet the one thing that scares me isn’t weapons, blood, or bodies but a damn needle but in the end, I know it’s to help me. This is to help you.” He smiles, his heart fluttering hearing the laugh you let out hearing his fear of needles. You appreciated his efforts to calm your nerves.

“Okay, thank you, Hoseokie. You guys won’t leave my side?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sunshine.”

—

Despite Hoseok’s reassurance, you couldn’t help but let your fear grow the closer you got to the clinic. You were terrified at what could be revealed. You knew that none of the outcomes of the appointment will be good. You dread to hear the results because you knew what they were going to say. ‘You’re broken’.

Time was moving too quickly. You blinked you were in the car, you blinked and you were on the highway, you blinked and you were in the city. Before you knew it you stood right in front of the clinic, staring blankly at the sign. Your hands had gotten clammy. Your heart was palpitating. Your mouth going dry. You absolutely did not want to be here. You were petrified. But you just didn’t know how to say no. It was a foreign word to you. A word that was not allowed in your dictionary. A word that if you used would result in punishment. It was another habit you couldn’t break. You couldn’t say no to them. You couldn’t tell them you weren’t ready for this. That this was just too invasive right now.

Yoongi had picked up on your anxiety almost immediately. Noticing how tense and rigid you had gotten. How you froze in your spot like you had your feet glued to the floor. The distant look in your eyes. He knew right there you weren’t really there. You had disconnected from yourself and the world around you. Your defense mechanism. Your fight or flight.

“Y/N? Little Cub you still with us?” Yoongi questions delicately, slipping his hand into yours and squeezing to try and bring you back to reality. Nothing. You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You hadn’t heard him. He began to grow concerned looking at Jin and Hobi for help. He didn’t know what to do but he did know he wasn’t going to pull you into the clinic in this state. He wasn’t going to make this worse for you.

“She’s dissociated Yoongi. We have to ground her, and take her attention off the cause. Give her your keys. They’re cold and something she can fidget with. Cold things bring them out of this state.” Seokjin states, gently stroking your hair as Hobi tries to blow air onto the back of your neck to break your dissociation. Yoongi roots through his pocket before pulling his keys out and placing them in your hand, watching as the distant look begins to slowly disappear.

Seokjin felt guilty. He should have asked you first, he should have made sure you were comfortable with coming to the clinic. He felt like an idiot. He knew you had trauma yet completely forgot to ensure this wasn’t crossing the line for you.

“Sunshine? Are you back with us? We’re right here. It’s okay, take your time. We’re right here.” Hoseok murmurs watching as you blink and look around, breath slightly heavy, a pink hue appearing on your cheeks as you realize what had happened.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I haven’t done that in a while.” You whisper shyly, fiddling with the keys in your hand. You felt so embarrassed and humiliated. You were waiting to hear a laugh, a snicker, anything but nothing. Yoongi just tilts his head and frowns.

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault. It happens. This must be overwhelming for you. If this is too much for you, you do not have to go in there. We can take you home and you can try again another day when you feel ready.” He sighs, the two men next to you nodding in agreement but you huff and shake your head, straightening yourself back up.

“No. I-I’ll be okay. I have to do this. We’re here now right? If not now when?” You say before looking at Hoseok and giving him a small smile.

“This is to help me. As long as you don’t leave my side.” You utter. Hoseok smiles and nods, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Like I said, Sweetpea. We wouldn’t dream of it.”

And with that, you forced your body to enter the clinic, a vice grip on Yoongi’s hand, his grip just as tight. A reassurance. He was going nowhere.

The smells that hit your nose the moment you stepped into the clinic were terrible. They were so pungent. Rancid, you almost felt nauseous. Illnesses. Chemicals. Sadness. And the worst of all. Death.

It was so distinctive you couldn’t ignore it even if you tried. It was such a strong horrific scent, it could stick to a person for weeks if it weren’t for scent blockers. Something you’re glad Seokjin had you all take before you left the house.

It was so putrid. It was a mix of rotting fruits and meat but at the same time, it was chemical-like. Like nail polish remover or ammonia. You had to hold back a gag. If Seokjin was a hybrid you would have asked him how he could put up with it all the time, hours on end.

“You okay Cub?” Yoongi asks as you both follow Seokjin to an examination room, almost chuckling at the scrunched-up look of disgust on your face. He would have laughed but he knew what you were smelling. He had been told about it by a Hybrid friend of his. He felt bad that your heightened sense of smell could be a curse sometimes.

“It smells bad. I really don’t want to sound rude I know people here are sick or you know but it’s so horrid. I could really do with no sense of smell right now. It’s a little nauseating.” You grimace. Hoseok chuckles and nods in agreement,

“I know what you’re on about. I can’t smell it like you can right now but I’ve been around enough bodies to know what kind of smell you’re getting. It’s grim.”

Your conversation is cut off as you enter a room and you tense up seeing a new person. You hadn’t expected to have to interact with anyone else. You thought it would just be Jin doing your tests. It did not help this doctor was not human. She was a hybrid too. Another cat species. Putting two big cats in one room, a lioness, and leopardess at that. It was a bold move.

“Seokjin! Good to see you! I was surprised when you contacted me to health check when you can do it yourself and probably better than me at that! Yoongi, Hoseok it’s been a while.” She grins giving Seokjin a hug then Yoongi and Hoseok. You stare at her almost in annoyance, holding back a growl but an instinct you couldn’t prevent was your hackles going up. Your tail began to bush up and your ears pinned back. You felt irritated by her presence. By her touching them.

But as quick as it happened it was quick to disappear when you realize how you reacted. You were surprised. Why did you react like that? It wasn’t like they belonged to you. They weren’t your mates. You stop an audible gasp. They couldn’t be, right? But the longer you thought about it the more you realize some of the behaviors you had around them. All seven of them. The way you had to fight the urge to scent them, to nip at where their scent glands would be if they were hybrids. The way you wanted to build a big nest and drag every single one of them into it. At first, you just thought it was because they looked after you. Cared about you, but now it felt like a jigsaw puzzle was being completed. It all made sense now. They were your mates.

Your racing thoughts were broken when Jin chuckles and gives her a sheepish smile. “I would do the tests but for legal reasons, I cannot. She lives with us. It’d be workplace misconduct. This is Y/N, she’s been living with us for a few weeks now.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N I’m Dr.Yoon. I’m going to be doing your examination okay? Don’t worry it won’t take long.” She says, grabbing her clipboard as you nod hesitantly, your voice felt stuck in your throat. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak. You just followed her instructions with much hesitance. She took your weight, your height, and asked your age and other questions but her next requests made your heart drop.

“Okay, we have to take a blood sample and have a look at your cervix etcetera.”

You turn to look at the boys in fear and Yoongi immediately grabs your hand again and shakes his head. He can’t imagine how much trauma this was bringing back.

“Look at me, look at us. We’re right here Y/N. Right here. It’s okay. It’ll be all over before you know it I promise and then we can go home. You’re safe.” He says sternly as she begins to take your blood sample, keeping you facing him to stop you from looking. Even looking straight in your eyes as she examined your cervix and pelvis, his eyes not straying once, rubbing soothing circles on your hand as Hoseok murmured reassurances and Jin keeps back not wanting to crowd you, and the guilt he felt stopped him from coming near.

He should have made you aware that this appointment was your choice. That you didn’t have to come here today. He could see you slipping into depression, how you would slightly dissociate before stopping yourself, how you hadn’t uttered a word since entering the room. He shouldn’t have assumed you were okay with this.

“Okay we’re all done here Y/N, your blood results should be back in the next week or so. You can take a minute before leaving. Dr. Kim, Hoseok. Can we step outside? We should talk.” She says lips pursed, nodding her head towards the door. She noticed how you progressively became more of an empty shell. She didn’t want to make you worse with what she had to say.

“Gentlemen. I don’t even know where to begin. This girl has suffered so much. More than I think you guys thought. Her weight is dangerously low for her age and height. Malnourished. She’s way too small, especially for an Amur Leopard. How is her appetite now she lives with you?” She begins a solemn look on her face as Hoseok and Seokjin look at each other before looking back at her.

“Not great now that you mention it. A few mouthfuls that’s it.” Seokjin sighs, crossing his arms as she nods and shakes her head. It wasn’t a good sign. Not at all.

“She may have developed an eating disorder, you have to keep a close eye on that. It may be from a diet change or from a change in general but if it doesn’t get better then definitely take formal action. She will get sick. There are many signs of physical and mental abuse. The girl is traumatized. Physically and mentally. Seeing a psychiatrist could really benefit her. I watched each of her reactions, she was terrified, especially when I said I need to take a blood sample and do a vaginal examination. I could smell her terror. When checking her cervix I could see evidence of past sexual assault. Scarring, slight irritation you name it but other than that healthy. I saw nothing that will prevent a heat other than her weight but we will have to wait for the bloods to come back to know for certain. She may not get one for a while. I’ll let you know when I have the results for her bloods but help her, get her through this, and most importantly, Hoseok, find the sons of bitches that did this to her.”

“I plan on it.”

—

Once you got home you were quickly swept up by the youngest two boys who had gotten home having been warned by Seokjin that you weren’t very verbal or doing great mentally. They were at the ready to cheer you up and look after you even going as far as reading what could help a distressed hybrid and discovering a nest could provide comfort, watching tutorials, and rushing to find things to put in it. It wasn’t the best-built nest but it was the thought that counts.

When you were placed in the nest you visibly relaxed, you already felt comforted, safe, and cozy but it felt like something was missing and from your realization earlier you knew what it was. The boys. Your leopard was antsy, practically screaming at you ‘Mates, mates, need mates in nest.’ You didn’t feel ready to fully embrace it yet. It was too much to comprehend. That you had mates. Not just one, but seven. It was daunting. But right now, you were willing to indulge your leopard. Just this once. But how wrong you were. Once they were to enter the nest, you may just get into the habit of wanting them in it constantly. Yeah, you were screwed.

“In. Want in.” You murmur beginning to move around and fix the nest, making it bigger to fit more people in, a pout of concentration on your face. Jungkook and Taehyung’s hearts skip a beat. You look so adorable fixing it and demanding them to get in. They felt a feeling of achievement getting to see you make your first nest, watching you cave to your instincts. But their hearts were pounding. They knew how intimate being invited into a nest was. They knew what it meant after all the videos they watched on nests, giving each other a look. They all needed to talk but right now, they couldn’t deny you. You had them wrapped around your finger.

“You’re inviting us in, Sweet Girl?” Jungkook asks softly, cooing as you look up at him with wide innocent eyes and nod. You were going to be the death of him. With slight hesitation they both climb in and sandwich you between them, allowing you to move them to where you wanted them before you finally snuggle into them, Jungkook chest to chest, your head tucked into the crook of his neck as Taehyung spoons you, rubbing soothingly up your waist, a smile playing at his lips as you begin to purr. You really were beginning to live up to your leopard counterpart now.

“We heard you aren’t doing too good huh Kitten?” Taehyung coos. You huff and shake your head, lifting your head to look at him and pout before looking at Jungkook and whispering,

“Scent? Y/N scent you?”

He almost chokes on his saliva but nods slowly, eyes widening when you don’t hesitate to nuzzle back into his neck and begin to rub your nose on his neck and nip occasionally, shallow breaths leaving his mouth, frozen in shock before glaring at the amused look on Taehyung’s face.

‘Stop it. You’d freak out too.’ Jungkook mouths reaching over and flicking Taehyung on the forehead. However, the sudden movement made you whine in protest and he immediately goes back into the position he was in and pouts.

“I’m sorry baby, didn’t mean to upset you, I won’t move again without telling you okay?” He says softly chuckling as you hum in acknowledgment before sighing in contentment, losing your eyes to try and get rid of the thoughts in your head. Despite it only being noon, you were exhausted. The appointment and examination had sucked the life out of you and brought back so many memories and doubts you were trying so hard to bury and forget.

You didn’t feel worthy enough of their affection and care. You felt like you didn’t deserve them. That you weren’t good enough. It felt like you were being selfish and asking for too much to have them in your nest. A whimper leaves your lips, gripping Jungkooks’ t-shirt tight to rid yourself of the thoughts, trying to concentrate on his and Taehyungs’ scents in hopes to ground yourself, squeezing your eyes shut tight as the horrifying voice echoes in your head.

‘You are worthless piece of shit!’

‘You deserve nothing bitch!’

‘What a waste of space and air, why do I even bother keeping you.’

All the abusive words echo through your head on a constant repeat, flashes of the punishments and vile acts you were put through won’t leave, a strangled cry leaving your mouth from frustration and hurt making the boys fuss over you, panicked. You just wanted it to stop. For all the anguish and pain to be erased, to just be happy. Really truthfully happily. There was only so much forcing it you could take.

“Make it stop. TaeTae, Koo, please make it stop. It hurts. Hurts.”

“Shh Kitten, we’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay, we’re gonna get you through this, you’re safe, nothing can hurt you anymore, this will go, I promise, you’re safe, you’re safe here. Sleep, you need some sleep, we’re not going anywhere.” Taehyung says so delicately afraid that your fragile state would break from the slightest change of tone. He felt like a fool.

For not realizing how much you were really struggling. At how much you were really hiding. How much you had internalized it to hide it from them. He was a fool to that you were going to heal quickly. All the care, safety and love they gave you could only do so much. You had suffered for years. You have had more anguish, pain, abuse than anything. He promised to do better. Too do everything in his power to heal you. Supporting you.

Safe. Safe. I’m safe. You repeat in your head trying to convince yourself, relaxing into their caring touches, finally succumbing to the sleep you were so desperately fighting, the appointment, the crying, the thoughts completely exhausting you.

When the boys know you’re asleep they look at each other sadly, wondering what they should do to make this torturous recovery easier for you, wondering what they do knowing what they know now about being invited into a nest but a voice from the door breaks their stares.

“Is she oka- Oh shit.”

Taglist (CLOSED)

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#little leopard #bts #hoseok #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #jimin #jungkook #taehyung #bts polyamory #bts poly #polyamorous bts #polyamory bts #poly bts #bts hybrid au #bts strangers to lovers au #hybrid bts #bts x hybrid reader #ot7 bts x reader

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httpsuniverse · 10 months

Text

LIPS OF AN ANGEL | MM19

PAIRING: mason mount x wolff!reader ; a bit of george russell x wolff!reader

DETAILS & WARNINGS: profanities, mentions cheating/infidelity, mason's anger is totally understandable, y/n's a bit of a bitch(? idk towards the end tho), rushed ending bc i really wanted to end this hahahah, also not proofread and tons of dialogues ahhahah

WC: 4k

A/N: i apologize for uploading this soo late 😭 i had writers block for a long while :< anyway, enjoy reading!

TAGGED: @i83andrew @pleasantducktimetravel

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © newuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

now, four months have passed since you’ve broken up with mason (or at least that was what your letter stated). in those months, mason finds himself longing for you. the man often finds himself up most nights, sleeping so late and waking up so early to head to training and other prior schedules he has every day.

mason would not deny it; that if someone were to ask if he had tried contacting you, your dad and even your stepmum. the couple would always say that they don’t know your whereabouts, but deep inside, he knows they know and knowing you, you were probably the one who asked them not to tell him. the first month was the hardest, he tried calling you every night and every chance he got while on his schedule. he was waiting for your voicemail greeting to play just to hear your voice and after that, he’d record what he wanted to say. a mixture of i love you’s, i miss you’s and please come back.

it wasn’t easy with you as well. you missed mason and you missed the days where it was just the two of you in your own little world. if you could only go back in time, you’d never leave the house during the night of your fight and maybe this never would’ve happened. you missed seeing mason on the other side of the bed; you weren’t a morning person but whenever there’s a chance that you wake up before him, you’d watch him sleep and listen to his gentle snores while you lightly trace his beard with the tip of your finger. you missed snuggling to him during cold mornings, you missed the lazy make-outs because he couldn’t get his hands off of you, you missed him whispering sweet nothings in your ear after you wake up. you missed mornings with mason, too bad you can no longer relive those moments.

though you can’t help that every time you wake up, you have that thought that you could go back to london, you could return his calls, you could return back to mason and restart your relationship. but every time you do think of doing those things, you’re reminded of what you did. all those lies you’ve told him, and those days where you were away and sleeping with another man.

going back to the man you’ve hurt seems such a foolish thing to do, and you know the people around mason wouldn’t allow such a thing. though you may think that mason would have the same thinking as the others, he sometimes does not. he wanted to risk it all again with you, he wanted to try and fix it with you. all he wanted is you and you alone.

going back to mason is something that you want to do but wouldn’t do. and on the fourth month, 5 day mark, mason had revealed his month long relationship with a model, lia mendes.

honey, why you calling me so late?

it’s kinda hard to talk right now.

honey, why you crying, is everything okay?

i gotta whisper cause i can’t be too loud.

you stood in your living room filled with moving boxes, susie and toto were outside while jack was napping inside your bedroom. all you could do was sigh. it felt so weird moving into a new apartment–let alone moving to the southeast corner of france. monaco was a lovely place to live in, knowing that your father lives here (though he travels most of the time), the fact that you live nearby brings you some sort of relief, safety and comfort. though, as many people have said, you disappeared off the face of the earth for a few months, you’ve lived your life quietly with your mum for a while as you wait for the situation with mason to die down.

you were in a rush when you left london the night you told mason you were just going to the store. you left without even taking a second look, not even an ounce of thought. sure, it was a wrong move—a dumb decision as well, but you wanted to run away from all the mistakes you’ve made. you wanted to escape. leave everything you have to the place you once loved—now a place you dread the most. it was not the easiest decision either, but it was the only solution that you could think of.

the night you left mason, you didn’t go to the store. instead, you met george. again, a clandestine meeting. you messaged george when you were a few blocks away from his place, which is why you met a furious brit.

“have you lost your mind, kid?” he says, god you hated that nickname. it was the nickname that toto knew george gave you and became the hint that you and the driver are close. “she could’ve caught me! she could’ve seen your bloody message! why did you want to see me—”

“i told him, george. he–he probably saw the letter by now because i left a few hours ago.”

the driver’s eyes widened, definitely not the sentence he was not expecting to hear from you. suddenly, he didn’t know what to do or say. george tried to pull you in his arms, but you were quick to push him away. “this… george! this is exactly why we need to stop what’s between us!” you said, “i can’t believe i’m saying this but i regret everything that happened between us. i regret taking advantage of mason and carmen. i hate how i know that dad will be so disappointed in me. so please, let’s stop this… we can’t keep hurting and breaking the trusts of the people around us.”

your voice cracks by the end of the last sentence, you could feel george staring at you but you kept your gaze on your feet. no strength to look at his eyes because you know that this man would do anything just to make you stay.

“but baby—”

from calling you kid to baby—you hated it. you felt disgusted. you needed to end it.

“no, george. no buts.” you cut off, “i have to go. i… i wish you all the best.”

you walk back to your car, locking the doors in case george runs after you. again, without looking back, you drive away. leaving the confused brit in the empty street.

and even though you ended things with george that night, he hadn’t stopped calling and texting you—afraid that you might say anything about your relationship to others, even with friends and family. all he ever cared about was his reputation, he was scared. after all, he was doing great with mercedes the past season and a scandal with his boss’ daughter would put him through hell.

now, you were left alone in this apartment overlooking the beauty of monaco. you sat on your balcony with a glass of wine sitting on the table, feeling the breeze of the mediterranean sea. oh you missed mason. you haven’t heard anything from him since you two broke up.

and maybe it was the number of wine in your system that you ended up dialing his number, the one you’ve deleted yet can’t seem to forget as you knew it by heart. no matter how hard you try to forget about it. it kept on ringing and ringing, and you tried to re-dial once it ended due to the exceeding minute.

on the fifth try, you finally heard his voice.

“hello?”

you know that feeling when you’ve spoken to your high school crush for the very first time, your heart drops and your stomach is filled with butterflies to the point where you don’t know what to say? that is exactly what you felt when you heard mason’s voice after months.

“hello?” he repeats, “is this a prank call? ‘cause this is the fifth time you called and i might need to block your number–”

“masey.”

you heard sounds of bed rustling followed by a door closing, you assumed that he was already in bed and was fast asleep. after all, it was already midnight. “y/n?” and that’s when the tears started to roll in, god how you missed that voice. “are you crying? is everything alright?” his voice was quiet.

“y-yeah, just…” you sniffed, “just missing you and i think it has something to do with this stupid wine.”

“sorry, i’ve got to whisper. m-my girlfriend’s asleep,”

“oh.” you wiped your tears, you only found out that mason was dating someone now. “i’m sorry, i should’ve known. god, i’ll hang up–”

“no!”

well, my girl’s in the next room

sometimes i wish she was you

i guess we never really moved on

it’s really good to hear your voice saying my name

it sounds so sweet

“she’s in the other room anyway, we can continue talking.” he continued, “h-how have you been? i’ve seen photos of jack on susie’s instagram, may have had a glimpse of you spending time with them in her stories. have you gone karting with jack recently?”

you chuckle, chugging the remaining wine on your glass before responding. “i-i stayed with them for a month, i stayed with my mum as well, after our… well, you know. i’ve accompanied jack while dad and susie are busy. you know, the season has already started and susie is busy with the f1 academy. i was vacant for a month, but i’ve started working again–i’m talking too much, you should really hang up, mason.”

“you know, it’s really good to hear your voice saying my name, y/n.” mason said, “it-it really sounds so sweet.”

“we should really stop, mason.”

you heard him scoff on the other end of the line, “it’s so funny that you’re the one saying that, i’m not the one who called in the first place, y/n.”

“i know, and i only found out that you were dating someone tonight. y-you should be with her, you shouldn’t be talking to your ex who… who cheated on you tonight. she deserves better.”

“i guess we never really moved on, y/n.” he replied, “i–”

“goodbye, mason. good night.”

coming from the lips of an angel

hearing those words, it makes me weak

and i never wanna say goodbye

but, girl, you make it hard to be faithful

with the lips of an angel

mason couldn’t sleep that night and had trouble waking up, which was the reason why lia, so early in the morning, was mad as her boyfriend was sleeping so deep and no matter how hard she tried to wake him up, she just couldn’t. lia was running late for a schedule that mason had promised to come with her as their break for the season had begun.

“masey, i’m running super late. my manager is about to burst, can’t you please move much faster?” she said, in a mixture of annoyed and calm voice. “didn’t we go to bed at the same time last night? why do you look like you haven’t at all?”

“because i haven’t slept,” he answered directly.

“why?”

“just… nothing. let’s go.”

the couple exited mason’s house, lia practically sprinted to mason’s car and sat on the front seat. masey, that was the nickname most people call him but now, he only wanted to hear your voice call him that and nobody else. when you say his name, it sounded like it came from the lips of an angel. it made him weak most of the time.

lia had arrived a half an hour late, her manager was already glaring at mason and immediately separated the couple. while lia was doing her photoshoot, leaving mason alone, he realised that he never wanted to break up with you, even if you admitted what had happened between you and george, or maybe he was just thinking about it as you’ve spoken last night. maybe he just missed you. he did miss you.

what’s fucked up is that he thought he finally moved on from you, that he was ready to commit to a new relationship. he knew that when he and lia were testing the waters, a month before they officially dated. he has told himself several times that he was over you, yet here he is. reminiscing all the memories you’ve shared the past years you two were together after that phone call. you were making it hard for him to be faithful.

as he was waiting, mason was on his phone when he received a notification of an invite to attend another f1 race with red bull. this time, it was in barcelona. he remembered the last time you and he went to monaco, a weekend to remember indeed.

“we’re going to be separated for almost the whole day, baby” you laugh, putting on your dress as mason shoves his phone into his pocket. “it’s going to be so weird because you’ll be at the red bull garage, and i’ll be at mercedes!”

“hey, i can still go there, you know? plus we’ll see each other around the paddock.” he replied, walking behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “besides, your dad loooves me. i’m sure he’ll understand that this is for work and publicity.”

you smiled, zipping your dress up and turned to face him. mason pursed his lips, signifying that he was asking for a kiss. you giggled, and eventually leaned in to connect your lips together. when you pulled away, you put your hand on his face and ran the pads of your thumb on his beard–the one you loved doing after you two kissed every time.

“you, sir… look so handsome with your outfit.” you compliment, he was wearing his chequered rhude shirt over some white shirt. you leaned in again for another kiss, deepening it–only pulling away when you heard your phone ring. “okay, before things escalate, i have to go. dad’s calling.”

“your dad’s such a cockblocker.” he teased, earning a slap on the arm from you. “i’m just kidding! i’ll see you when i see you at the paddock.”

mason remembered how he stole a kiss every time you crossed paths at the paddock or at the pit lane during his walk. a lot of people saw and took pictures and videos of it, posting it on social media. that video was trending in the world of f1 and football for a few days before dying down. he remembered seeing tweets and posts on instagram, saying they were jealous of your relationship. he remembered the two of you having dinner at toto and susie’s place, how he was teased by you and jack (toto eventually joined) throughout dinner as he went as red bull’s guest and not mercedes. he remembered lying with you on the deck of a rented yacht, under the sun, enjoying the monte-carlo air.

on the other side of europe, you are woken up by the sound of your phone ringing. you were taking your afternoon siesta before returning back to your home office to continue working, and whoever was calling you in the middle of your nap, may they stub their toe on some furniture. tired, you reached out for your phone and answered the call without looking at the screen.

“hello?” you groggily said, “whoever you are, you’ve interrupted my siesta and i may hate you for that.”

“well, hello to you, my daughter.” your father’s voice rang through your ears. “and i’m sorry if i interrupted your nap, but would you be so kind and open your front door please?”

“what?”

“open the door, i’ve been out here for almost fifteen minutes.”

and off you went to your front door, toto was greeted by a grumpy daughter whose eyebrows were furrowed. you looked at your father, “what are you doing here, dad?”

“no ‘hallo, vater’? no ‘how are you doing, dad?’. none?” he joked, entering your place as you made way for him and closed the door. “okay, i will be quick. come with us to barcelona this weekend.”

your eyes widened, “what? i have work, i can’t just leave.”

“your brother told me that you have a flexible work schedule, that you’re allowed to bring your work everywhere you go.” your dad replied.

“theodore wolff, that little bitch.” you cursed under your breath, you couldn’t help but facepalm with what your brother just did. “dad–”

“i know that tone, y/n wolff.” toto stopped you from continuing your sentence, “come on, it’ll be just like the old days! except your brother isn’t here because his finals week aligned with the weekend in barcelona.”

you bit your lip, making a decision as your father can be impatient. if you go to the race, the possibility of running to george is high–no matter how much effort you exert on avoiding the man, you simply can’t as he is, of course, a driver for mercedes. but, it’ll be good for you as well! you haven’t gone to spain for years, a change of environment and working outside of your home office may be good for you as well. you work only on weekdays, and you’ll be free for the rest of the weekend so you wouldn’t think of work that much in case.

“okay fine, i’ll go with you. when’s the flight?”

“tonight.”

“TONIGHT?! dad, a little heads up would’ve been nice!”

“i’m sorry, pack your bags and we’ll pick you up by 8.” toto said, planting a kiss on your head. “i’ll go now, we’ll see you later!”

—

on saturday morning, arriving at the paddock with your father, a lot of people approached you by the entrance. some asked for pictures, some for autographs (which you didn’t quite understand), and some were nice enough to greet you. to say that you’re nervous is an understatement. you were returning to the paddock, you’re about to see george, his fiancée–the people you've been avoiding for months were in barcelona with you. you opted to stay in your hotel since your arrival in spain, finishing all the work you have left before proceeding with your weekend. as you walk to the paddock with toto, you could feel your palm sweat and your stomach turn the more you get closer to mercedes’ garage.

“word is, footballers are in red bull’s garage.” you overheard one of the mechanics upon entering the garage. the word football made you even more nervous than you already were.

“oh come on, mate. i think i’ve seen a few yesterday! that’s old news!”

“i haven’t seen any yesterday but so far, i’ve seen james, felix, chilwell–” please don’t tell me mason is here. “–and mount. just last year they were in monaco, weren’t they?”

the other mechanic nodded his head. mason is here. breathing the same air as you, probably a few metres away from you even. i knew this was a bad idea. you thought to yourself.

“you look like you saw a ghost.” said your father after speaking to the engineers.

you shook your head, “well, i think i’m about to see one today.” you joked, “i-uh, i’ll go out to find something to drink.”

toto raised an eyebrow, a bit unsure of your change of behaviour but you gave him a smile and reassured that you’ll be back. “alright, just…be back before quali, alright?”

you nodded your head and exited the garage. walking around the paddock like you were a normal guest, someone who just wants to enjoy the weekend. but it’s hard when people recognize you as toto wolff’s daughter, and as much as you try to stay away from the crowd, people still approached you. little did you know, someone has spotted you.

“oi, mason!” ben called his teammate, walking towards the man who’re talking with the other players. “guess who i saw walking around the paddock?”

“who?”

ben took a step closer to the younger, whispering your name. mason felt his heart skip a beat, realising the same thing you’ve thought about just a few minutes ago: you were here, breathing the same air as him.

it's funny that you're calling me tonight

and, yes, i've dreamt of you too

and does he know you're talking to me?

will it start a fight?

no, i don't think she has a clue.

needless to say, you were good at hiding. mason had presented the pirelli pole position award to max, he wanted to know if you were there to see him next to the driver. but as he scanned the sea of crowd, you were nowhere to be found. after the qualifying, you returned back to your hotel–reasoning that you were exhausted and had a headache. as soon as you were back, you changed clothes and plopped yourself on the bed. but it wasn’t so soon when your phone started ringing, a number you once called.

“hello?”

“a little birdie told me that you were in the paddock today.”

you sighed, closing your eyes but held the phone close to your earshot. “was it ben?”

“you know it. he’s always liked you–in a platonic way, i mean.”

silence followed right after he had mentioned ben, you were exhausted to even reply.

“y/n–”

“it’s so funny that you’re calling me tonight, mason.” you said, “i assumed the night i called you, you would’ve blocked my number.”

“you know i would never do that. we’ve been together for a long time, y/n.”

“i must be living in your head, mason.”

mason scoffed on the other end of the line, “well, i wasn’t thinking of you until the night you called.” he replied, “and yes, i’ve dreamt of you too.”

you jolted up from the bed when you heard a knock on the door, with the phone on the other hand you made your way to the door. you didn’t even bother looking through the peephole to see who was knocking on your door late in the night, you just assumed it was your dad. promptly, you opened the door–lo and behold, mason mount was standing in front of you. unable to speak, you still held your phone by your ear and stared at him, him and his stupid smile. mason was the one who ended the call and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“hi,” he said, “it’s been a few months, y/n.”

“how did you–what are you–i’m so confused right now.” you expressed, about to shut the door but mason was quick enough to stop you. “what do you want, mason?”

“does he know you’re talking to me? will it start a fight?” he asked, completely ignoring your question and welcomed himself inside your room, shutting the door close. “george. does george know?”

“i called it off with him the night i left a letter for you, mason. i went to his place and i ended things with you both at the same time.”

mason scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “wow,” he exclaimed, “george had the in-person “break-up” and all i got is a stupid fucking letter?”

“mason–”

“that is bullshit, y/n. pure bullshit.” mason barked, “all this time, george got the closure that i should’ve had. me–y/n, i was the one you dated for a long time and all i fucking got is a lousy letter about the truth of your affair with george?”

“i was supposed to, mason!” you yell back, “i was supposed to tell you, but the timing just wasn’t right.”

“and you thought lying straight to my face when i asked you about it, was okay?” you were about to answer, but mason was already rushing to the door. when he was about to exit, he said: “i went here thinking i could finally get the closure i needed, but fuck, was i wrong about this.”

you scoff, “that’s on you, then. you come running to the girl who cheated on you.” you said, “does lia know that you’re still hung up on your past? because i don’t think she has a clue.”

ynwolff

liked by susie_wolff, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and others

ynwolff so many familiar faces here in spain 🇪🇸 here’s a little dump of my weekend here 🤓

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yourbffsig oh i know who those familiar faces were 😉

ynwolff 😂 stop

yourbffsig we’re going to a party tonight after what happened, we need to get wasted!!

ynwolff as long as i make it back home on time and alive, let’s gooo

mercedesamgf1 glad to have you back in the garage, y/n! 🐺

ynwolff glad to see the team secure a double podium, thank you for having me! 🖤

mercedesamgf1 a great weekend indeed!

yourmomsig missing you so much, sweetheart! hope you enjoyed x

ynwolff miss you too mum ❤️

theowolff what about me 😓

ynwolff miss you too dumbass 🙄 you’re the reason why i went so you should’ve been with me, i could’ve avoided an unexpected circumstance hahahah

theowolff if only school let me 💀 but hey, at least you ‘enjoyed’

ynwolff i’m blocking you!!

user1 OMG SHES IN THE PADDOCK WHAT IF SHE SAW OR TALKED TI MASE IM DELULU (ALSO TOTO ON THE LAST SLIDE? LMAO)

user2 stop with these assumptions I BEG YALL

user3 people should learn how to stfu im being fr rn

user4 that’s toto’s reaction when he read your comment

user2 also the cryptic messages HELLO ?? i dont think they saw each other or if they did, it probably didn’t go so well

user3 you’re onto something babes 👀

masonmount

liked by declanrice, benchilwell, redbullracing and others

masonmount thank you redbullracing and jodieporter8 for everything!

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liamendes meu belo homem 😩🫶 i love you!

— ❤️ by masonmount

redbullracing THANK YOU!! 🫶

user5 when i tell yall this man is so FINE 🤌🏻

user6 this man is scrump-DILLY-tious

user7 yall CALM DOWN

user8 mason did something happen between u and y/n bc her posts have some sort of cryptic hints and i kinda wanna know whats going on tnx (jk hahaha love u both)

user9 HELPPP me too 😓 like what does her bff mean when she said “whag happened” and y/n saying “unexpected circumstance” LIKE GIVE ME SOMETHING??? A TEA PERHAPS???

user10 currently dying to know what the fucj happened in barcelona

#mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount angst #football instagram au #football x reader #football imagine #football angst #football x you #football x y/n

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