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bartxnhood · 8 months

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you belong with me | l.r.h

luke hemmings x fem!songwriter!reader

summary: after luke finds out just what your song was about, his life was flipped upside down.

warnings: unrequited love, break up, lots of crying, happy ending (who cheered)

wc: 6k

a/n: this is a part two to this so be sure to read that before !

requests open

not proofread

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you sigh as you put your earbuds in to tune out the sound of the man in the front seat belting the lyrics of ‘we belong together’ by mariah carey with the brunette in the passenger seat.

you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger on the man. his blond, curly hair, just long enough to rest above his eyes, the stubble on his face that hadn’t been shaven in at least two weeks, that pointy nose that was sculpted by the gods, and those ocean blue eyes.

you loved looking into those eyes.

he was your best friend, he was the one constant in your life and now he feels like a stranger.

you’re taken out of your trance when calum nudges your shoulder. “you okay?” he mouths. you nod quickly offering him a smile, looking back down to the book you were reading.

calum sighs, he reaches for his phone and types up a quick message.

-“you sure? you were staring again, y/n..”

-“i’m fine, cal. swear.”

calum huffs but leaves it at that. the two in the front continue belting out the lyrics and calum keeps an eye on you for the rest of the drive.

you should’ve said no, you wanted to say no and stay home where at least you’d be free of the torture. but, with calum being calum he begged you until you agreed. just like he did when he convinced you to open up for them on tour in the early days.

if you had said no then, maybe none of this would’ve happened.

”luke..i..” you wiped your eyes, it was so hard for you to hear that when you had spent all your life with him only to lose him in the end. “i’m sorry.”

luke shook his head, “no, i’m sorry.”

he stands there, looking at you with sorrowful eyes. he can feel himself tearing up but the moment is interrupted by sierra busting through the door. “there you are!” she says, walking over to your side, her hand finding your arm. “are you okay, hon?” her eyes soften, noticing your tears.

you don’t say anything but you nod, looking away while the girl side hugs you. “did luke bother you? i told him specifically to not take away your spotlight tonight” she says in a teasing matter and you laugh softly. but luke doesn’t seem too amused.

“okay, well the guys are ready so whenever you’re ready, luke” sierra says, removing herself from your side then going back inside the club.

“so, what should we do?” luke ask, watching as you wipe your eyes once more. you shrug, “nothing, you’re with sierra. my feelings mean nothing anymore.”

your eyes flutter open as you feel someone shaking you gently, “y/n, wake up we made it” you look at calum then begin stretching out as you look around. you see the tall palm trees as you can smell the breeze of saltwater wafting in from the open doors.

you step out of the vehicle and begin stretching while the others, ashton, michael, and crystal arrive in the other car as you gather your items from the backseat and pack them into your carry on, luke has already begun unpacking the car. “here’s your bags, y/n” he says, you don’t skip a beat to bend down to take your bags and head for the entrance of the beach house and not bat an eye at him.

calum and ashton shared a room, the two couples had their own room, so you were left alone. not that you minded at all, it gave you time to think and have you time. if it ever got too overwhelming, you had your own space.

after spending some time unpacking, you decided to head out of your room and put your toiletries in the bathroom. as you stepped out, you saw everyone gathered around the island in the kitchen, sierra jutting down whatever the other guys were saying. “oh! y/n!” ashton announces which then causes the others to look your way. “we’re making a grocery list. is there anything specific you need?” he adds.

you walk over to the island, standing across from them. “well, what do you have down so far?”

“we have breakfast foods…um some stuff for dinner for the nights we don’t eat out…snacks…” sierra begins listing off everything she had written down with a point of the pen.

“sounds like you got everything then” you hum, with a nod. “one more thing” she adds, “do you care to go with me?”

you look at the sierra across from you and smile softly, “sure. is crystal going too?” the brunette shakes her head, “her and mike went to the beach already. just us two” she smiles awkwardly. “oh, that’s fine. let me get changed and we can head out” you force a smile as you walk out of the kitchen to your bedroom.

the drive to the supermarket was quiet, your eyes glued to the road while sierra did whatever she was doing. given the circumstances, there was a little tension between the two of you and it was very hard for you to deal with.

you really liked sierra, she was a kind soul who saw the good in a lot of things. she had always been there to cheer you up, and you had considered her your best friend. but after that night at the open mic, everything changed.

the drive felt like it lasted forever, but eventually, you arrived at the supermarket.

pushing the shopping cart through the isles while sierra was looking at the list, you occasionally would drop some items in the basket that you wanted for yourself or, you and sierra both agreed on it.

“i really miss hanging out with you..” sierra says, standing at the end of the shopping cart in the drink aisle with you.

you look at her, smiling sadly. “i know, i miss it too. just..work has been..work” you try laughing it off. “i can help, you know. i write songs too” she says. you nod, dropping a case of wine in the cart. “i know, i just don’t want to bother you” you shrug, and begin pushing the cart until the next isle.

you hear sierra sigh, giving you the‘you sound ridiculous’. look. “y/n, it won't bother me! you’re my friend and i’d love to help out” you chuckle softly, “okay fine. after this trip we’ll work together.” you cave, and sierra claps her hands quietly with a big smile on her lips.

as the two of you stroll down the isle of chips and other snacks, your eyes catch the package of a certain snack you hadn’t seen in years. “oh my god!” you announce, letting go of the cart to pickup the bag. “what is it?” the other girl asks. “look” you say, showing the bag to her. “i haven’t seen these in years!”

memories wash over you like a wave as you stare at the packaging. “what are they?” she questions. “these are luke’s favorite! back on tour, we used to keep stashes of these in the bus” you laugh, grabbing an extra bag to also put it in the cart. “we could eat up to two or three bags in a day, the other guys would always get onto us..” you laugh, reminiscing.

“oh really?” sierra didn’t know this. she didn’t know his favorite snacks or drinks. she didn’t know how he would bounce his leg when he had a lyric on his mind and needed to write it down, she didn’t know that when he picked at his face subconsciously it meant he was worried. she didn’t know luke’s favorite movie, she didn’t know that he only wears certain rings, rings you got him. she didn’t know that when luke got quiet it meant he was thinking hard about something. she doesn’t know that luke keeps a song journal with some of his deepest feelings.

but you do.

you know all of this.

by the time you and sierra had arrived at the beach house, the sky was already turning dark. you had taken a couple of bags out of the back and began heading inside. “guys, we need help” you announce, dropping the bags on the kitchen counter.

you turn around see the other five standing up from their seats and going outside, and you follow suit.

it took you, sierra, and the other five to haul the rest of the groceries back inside and to unpack. but thankfully, it was only one trip.

while sierra was handing you boxes of cereal, luke hollered, “oh my god!” everyone whips their heads around, startled by his abrupt yell. “what is it?” ashton asks, and luke grinned holding up the bag of snacks before ripping into them letting the smell waft into his nostrils, letting the memories flood back. “it’s the snacks we used to eat!”

you smile, seeing his reaction as he reaches in for a handful, stuffing it in his mouth. “where did you find these? i thought they discontinued them!” he says with a mouth full.

you laugh, walking over and take a couple for yourself. “dont talk with your mouth full, and don’t eat em all because once that bag is gone, you’re donezo. the other one is mine” you taunt earning a frown the from curly-haired man.

sierra watches, she sees how his eye has lit up. she sees and you were suddenly beaming with happiness upon seeing lukes smile.

the next evening, everyone had wanted to go out to dinner to celebrate your second album as a release party. you, however, wanted to stay back as you weren't feeling it but ashton practically demanded and dragged you out of bed and told you to get ready. “okay, okay!! i’ll get ready..” you groan as ashton pushes you into the bathroom, you can hear a victory laugh from him as the door shuts.

you look up, seeing yourself in the mirror knowing you should be excited to go out and celebrate the release of your second album. you had a good following and people who were anticipating your release. but you just weren’t feeling it, probably because all of the songs were about your best friend.

but, you just weren’t looking forward to dinner or the release party.

you step out of your bedroom smoothing out your dress, which is a dark navy blue. you see everyone else standing in the kitchen or sitting on the sofa in their outfits. the guys in their suits, and crystal and sierra in a dress similar to yours, but crystals was red, and sierra was black.

“ready? oh? you’re matching with luke!” ashton laughs, as he stands up from the sofa, pointing to luke’s tie.

you look at luke’s tie, feeling extra awkward now, “oh..” you say. “you okay?” calum asks, “yup, everyone ready?” you change the subject, and they all nod and head out for the night.

all seven of you sat together at a large table at a nice restaurant, ashton and calum had planned it nicely and were sure that the table was in a private area.

you had already finished appetizers when michael spoke up. “do you remember when we first toured?” he asks.

“yeah..” calum and ashton say, you nod. “what was your favorite part of tour?” he asks. everyone falls silent while they think, “definitely all the drinking” calum answers, you laugh and shake your head, “you were a nightmare.”

“definitely” luke agrees with you.

“oh, soundchecks were fun. messing with managers” michael answers.

“i liked songwriting, i wrote some of my favorite songs on tour with you guys.” you smile, remembering all the good times. “performing was kinda cool too” you laugh.

everyone smiles, you hear calums ‘aw’ and you just roll your eyes.

“what about you, luke?” ashton asks.

luke thinks for a moment, but he isn’t too sure how to answer it. “i think i enjoyed performing the most, it was good experience.” michael nods, “true” he agrees.

then the table falls silent again when entrees arrive. everyone seems to be enjoying their food, until, crystal asks you, “y/n, who did you write your songs about?”

you look up from your plate, you feel your ears turning hot. you always hated this question because how could you tell them it was about the man who was sitting just a few feet from you?

“well..” you begin, finishing your bite. “it’s not really about anyone. it’s just a feeling you have” you try your best to come up with something believable. “that way, anyone can relate to what i release.” you smile, but you feel luke’s eyes lingering on your figure.

you look out of the corner of your eye and confirm your suspicions. he was looking at you.

“ah, that makes sense!” crystal smiles, “your work is incredible.”

“thank you, crys”

it was nearing midnight now, closer to your release time. instead of the restaurant you had moved to a club just a few streets over which was also set up for your release party.

ashton was by your side as you enter, letting the couples go in first, then you, ashton, and calum. you look around and see some old faces and friends.

“do you want anything?” calum asks as the two of you stand at the bar. you shake your head, “nah, i’ll pass” you smile while taking a seat at the bar. calum nods, respecting your wishes as he orders himself a drink. you sit there playing on your phone to pass the time until it hits midnight. throughout the night you have people coming up to you and congratulating you on your album, and you just smile and nod. soon enough, midnight rolls around and you hear cheers and ashton appears from what seems like thin air with a cake while congratulating you. you smile, standing up from the bar stool.

“congratulations on your album, y/n/n! we are so proud of you and we can’t wait to see where life takes you!” ashton says, you feel yourself getting emotional seeing all of your friends around you. “we love you!” you hear michael cheer which causes you to giggle before blowing out the candles.

as you leaned in to blow out the candles everything felt like it happened so quickly. a very, very drunk man showed up out of nowhere yelling profanities at your before pushing the cake on you. “and fuck you, you whore-“ he continued until a someone interfered. you see luke out of the corner of your eye, yelling at him to shut up and throwing a few punches in.

you didn’t move, feeling so embarrassed. you look down seeing all the cake on your skin and dress.

sierra and crystal rush to your side and take you away to the bathroom to get you cleaned up.

you were perched up on the counter, both sierra and crystal were trying their best to clean your dress and fix your makeup but you had already started crying.

“why would someone do that?” you ask, feeling so small.

“i don’t know, hon..” sierra sighs, as she wipes off the icing on your face. “people are just jerks..” crystals adds.

thankfully the cake didn’t get on your dress as much as it was on your face. the two other girls let you borrow their makeup once all of the cake was gone so you could try to enjoy the rest of your day.

“thank you guys, i don’t know what i would do you without you” you smile, hugging the two girls before heading back to the club floor.

you spot luke at the bar with michael and walk up, standing beside michael. you order yourself a shot of whatever came to mind first. “you’re drinking? i thought you hated it” michael asks, eyeing as you downed the shot.

“yeah, well, after the fiasco that just happened, i need to let loose for the night”

luke should’ve stopped you after your fifth shot, but he didn’t. he let you drink and he was now paying the price for doing so.

luke knew you better than anyone else, he knew you hated drinking because of the way it made you act and how you felt afterward.

he stares as you dance with an old friend and when he starts touching you a little too much, luke saw red.

he didn’t even realize what he was doing until you were yelling his name. he lets go of the guy and turns to you, “are you okay?” he asks. “luke?! what the fuck?!” you yell, stumbling back a little, and luke catches you. “you’re drunk” luke says, “obviously” you slur followed by a sigh as you finish the rest of your drink.

“okay, i think you’re done. we should head home” he suggested while taking your hand and leading you through the crowd of people to gather up the rest of your group.

you don’t protest, in fact, you are excited to head back home and sleep away the night and hopefully forget everything that happened.

the night has come to an end, and you all had finally returned to the beach house. the seven of you all sat around a bonfire talking about life and what they want in the future. you were seated a few feet from the group, admiring the stars, and how clearly you could see them.

the sudden hit of a soccer ball caught your attention and you followed the direction where the ball had rolled from and your eyes landed on calum and ashton. “cmon” calum says, extending his hand you want to say no because you can feel a headache forming, but calum beats you. “you can’t say no. get up”

you groan, letting him take your hand and drag you in the sand to kick the soccer ball around before all of you head in for the night.

luke didn’t know how long he was watching you. but what he did know, is just how bad he wished he was the one you making laugh like calum does. luke wants to be the one helping you from the sand like ashton does.

his body longs for your touch as his heart yearns for your love.

sierra watched as he was eyeing you, he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. he was starstruck when it came to you, his y/n. everyone saw it except maybe you, and himself.

he’d never admit it though, for the sake of sierra.

but what he didn’t know is that she knew she would never replace you in his heart. luke didn’t know she had already made up her mind about their relationship.

“luke..” she speaks up while leaning in, in hopes of getting his attention. luke is pulled out of whatever trance he was in and finally looks at the girl. “yeah?” he asks, looking as if he had just come off cloud nine after hearing your laugh. “we need to talk.”

luke nods, “is everything okay?” he asks, turning his body to fully face his girlfriend. as sierra is about to begin speaking she is interrupted by ashton, who had his arm around your shoulder. “you all coming?” luke’s eyes land on you, naturally. he sees that you didn’t even bother to look at him, he looked disappointed. “we’ll catch up later.”

luke watches as you disappear over the sand dunes and his eyes finally land on sierra. “what’s up?” he asks, noticing sierras blank expression.

she takes in a long breath, trying to find the right words without hurting his feelings. “i don’t think this is gonna work out.. between us” she confesses, feeling the tears threatening to spill in her eyes. “what..? why..?” asks luke.

“because you don’t love me.”

“what? sierra, i do-“

“no, luke” she cuts him off, smiling softly. “you don’t, and it’s okay.” she takes his hand and holds it softly. “i should’ve known i couldn’t take her place in your heart.” “what..?”

“y/n.” sierra answers, fighting back the tears. “i see the way you look at her, you have that look in your eyes every time they land on her. you love her and you need to admit that to yourself.” and it was true, but luke had tried and thought that he had hid his feelings for you, but he was unsuccessful.

“i can’t be her, i can’t force you to love me, luke.”

“sierra..” he sighs, feeling ashamed.

“luke..look at me” she takes her hands, cupping his chin so he would look at her. “last night, when you came to her rescue i knew in that moment..”

“it’s okay, luke. we just aren’t meant to be. you deserve someone who can make you happy, and she does.”

her thumb caresses his cheek, admiring all of his beauty as a tear slips from her eyes. “i’m sorry that i can’t be the one in your heart.” she presses a kiss on his nose before standing up from her seat, leaving luke alone on the beach that night.

the next morning, your eyes are met with the excruciating pain in your temples as your eyes flutter open, meeting with the sunlight peaking in from the curtains. groaning, you throw your arm over your eyes to try to help with the light and you are reminded why you hated drinking so much.

you heard a few soft knocks at your door, “come in” you announce groggily. calum peeks his head in, “hey, we’re all heading out. you gonna join?” he asks. you remove your arm from your eyes and barely open them. you ask,“what time is it?” and calum laughs quietly . “it’s after five. you’ve slept most of the day.”

you sigh, “i’ll just stay back.” you answer and hear a quiet “okay” from calum as he exits your bedroom, closing the door behind him.

you lie there for a while before eventually getting up to shower, in hopes it would make you feel a little better.

meanwhile, the others had all gone out bowling per the request of michael and ashton even though it was pretty late in the day.

calum wanted to stay back, he hated the idea of going out without you because he knew how bad your hangovers could be but he went, not wanting ashton to third wheel alone.

when they arrived at the bowling alley, it was pretty busy, they found a lane and started a few games. but everyone seemed to be off, calum couldn’t put his finger on it, maybe it was the fact that you weren’t here, or the fact they were all still a tad hungover. so, with only a few games in, they all decided to leave and head back to the rental house to watch a movie and make dinner instead.

when they all arrive back, they do their own thing. crystal and michael head to the patio for a couple of drinks, ashton goes to the living room, calum makes a b-line to the kitchen, sierra goes to her bedroom, and luke attempts to look for you. hoping to clear the air between the two of you.

“wheres y/n?” luke asks, noticing the door to your bedroom was wide open and you were nowhere else to be found. ashton looks around, shrugging as he plops down on the sofa. “maybe she’s at the beach” the drummer suggests. “she didn’t text me.” calum announces from the kitchen, looking for some snacks. luke checks his phone, sending you a message but when you don’t reply he decides to look for you himself.

you sat on the beach, your feet in the cool sand while you were scribbling away in your journal, this whole trip you felt so trapped and so empty. feeling as if you had lost your best friend over something so stupid you tried to push away those feelings, but in doing so you were jeopardizing your friendship with luke and sierra. pushing them out of your life pretty much.

you were so engrossed with your writing, you didn’t even notice the tall blond heading your way.

“there you are!” he announces, jogging to your side. “i was looking everywhere for you!” you look up from your book, seeing luke and immediately shutting it. “well, you found me” you answer, a bit harsher. you hear a sigh from luke, “y/n, are we ever going to talk this out?” he asks, you stand up from the shore and dust the sand off of you. “there’s nothing to talk about, luke.”

actually, there was. you wanted to scream at him, you wanted to pour your heart out and tell him how much you loved him. how your heart aches for him, how your body yearns for his touch.

but you don’t, you simply begin walking off but he stops you. “y/n.” he reaches out and grabs your wrist gently.

“why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, and once you turn around he drops his arms to his side but his look is fierce. he was staring through you. “you left me in the dark, y/n..how was i supposed to know?”

you groan, letting your head fall back. “luke, i’m sorry. okay?” you raise your head and look at him. “and this isn’t all on me, either. you didn’t tell me your feelings either.”

“well who did you think all of those songs we wrote together were about?!” luke asks, raising his voice slightly.

“i don’t know luke! i was too worried that if i said something wrong or if i slipped up i would lose my best friend!” you tell, the pain filled your chest and you felt yourself explode like a shaken soda bottle.

“i was worried that if i made the impression that i even had the slightest crush on you, you’d leave me, luke. you were the one thing in my life that kept me grounded. you were my everything, you were the air in my lungs, my heart was beating for you. so, i’m sorry, luke that i maybe didn’t catch the hint. i was scared.”

luke blinks, his heart racing as you begin spilling out all your thoughts.

“why?” was all he asked.

“because i thought i wasn’t good enough for you, luke. i was never the pretty one, i wasn’t like the other girls. i was always the one who people settled for. and when sierra came into the picture, it was worse. when you started seeing her, i would see the way you looked at her. and it hurt me so bad, lu. because i wanted you to look at me like that, i want you to want me like you want her.” you didn’t even notice the tears flowing down your cheeks.

“what?” in an effort to understand what he had just heard, his blue eyes were filled with devastation . did you really mean what you said? “y/n…did you really feel like that? i made you feel like that?” he feels his heart breaking into small pieces. luke stares at you intently as you speak, he wants to reach out and wrap you in his arms. he wants to take away all your pain, he thinks it’s unfair you have been suffering all this time.

“you’re a rockstar, luke. of course i felt that way, i couldn’t compete with all the girls who threw themselves at you when we were on tour, and then when sierra came into the picture everything just shattered..” you wipe away the tears using the sleeves of your shirt. you had told yourself you didn’t want to break down in front of him like this, but it was inevitable.

you sigh, trying to compose yourself as luke takes a few steps closer, and when his hand touches yours, you feel the wave of sadness hit you again.

“i see the way she looks at you luke, she’s so in love with you and it kills me.” you feel the lump in your throat, and your lip quivers, but you continue. “i can’t stand to be around you two, but i can’t stand to be away from you, because i still love you so much, luke.”

his hand touches your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears staining your cheek. for a moment, when you look at him you could only wish he was yours. you felt at home when touched you so gingerly, and how his ocean eyes looked over you like you were the only girl in the world.

your hand reaches up, takes his, and removes it from your face. “you two deserve to be together. she loves you luke, i can push my feelings down. i can’t do that to her.” you say, ready to act like this never happened and you would go back to how things were.

abruptly, luke speaks. “she broke up with me.”

your heart sinks, and you feel dizzy. were you hearing things? “what..?” you say, just above a whisper. “last night” he continues, sighing as he did.

“during the bonfire, i guess i..i was staring at you and she went on this rant about how she knows that i love you.” now, you see luke’s eyes brimming with tears. his voice wavers, he sniffles once trying to suppress the tears. “and she’s right, i do love you.” he admits. “luke..i..”

“no. please, just listen to me.” the blond cuts you off, his eyes closing as he takes a deep breath. “i can’t do this anymore, i can’t pretend to love someone else when im still so in love with you.”

luke continues, his hands balled by his side. “i feel so complete with you around, and i can’t take it when you act like we aren’t close. i can’t keep pretending.”

“you are my everything, and it hurts me that i can’t be with you.” his hand is over his heart, feeling the aching feeling he has been living with since that night. “i dream of you, all i do is dream of you. i can’t get you out of my head. so, please don’t push me away. let me love you.”

your mind was racing as you stared at him wide-eyed. unable to process the words he had uttered, “i can’t do this right now..” you take a few steps back, “just..” you shake your head leaving luke stranded on the beach.

luke watches your figure disappear. his chest tightens, thinking he had just lost you for good now. he thinks you blame yourself for his breakup. when you walk away he can’t help but think you hate him more than you already did.

luke sits down in the sand, facing the ocean now. he wants to scream at the horizon, he wants the world, the gods, the universe to know just how much he loves you.

he can’t bare the thought of losing you again.

luke has so much love for you, he knows everything about you. he wants to know the things that maybe you have kept hidden from him. he wants you to want him back. luke wants to make up for all of his mistakes, fix things, and give you the love you deserve.

but, if you don’t feel like that…he would have to respect your decision.

you enter the house, seeing ashton on the sofa with calum with a few beers in their hands. “oh, hey, there you are. luke went looking for you” calum says once you enter the door. “yeah, he found me” you say, setting your book on the table and scanning the room. “wheres sierra?” you ask, ashton looks up from his phone and says, “her bedroom, but she was acting kinda weird today..” you nod, “okay, thanks”

you stand in front of the door and mentally prepare yourself for possibly the worst fight you’d ever have. you knock a few times, “sierra?” you announce letting her know it was you. you heard a soft, “come in” and you twisted the door non letting yourself in.

you see her figure sitting on the twin bed closest to the window, you walk over to sit on the edge and that’s when you notice the tears staining her cheeks.

“sierra..” you say, as you look at her. but she smiles sadly, “i’m not mad at you, if that’s the reason your here” her voice was cracking and it was very obvious she had been crying for some time. “i..” you start, handing your head. “i’m so sorry.” you mutter, feeling your lip quiver.

you had been crying most of this trip. you wish you could just get a grip and stop acting so childish.

“stop..” she says reaching for your hand. “it’s okay, i knew. i’ve known it since the beginning. i knew what i was getting myself into. but…it still hurts.” you nod, wrapping your arms around her. “i never wanted this to happen.” you sigh, feeling her arms pat your back. “i know, i don’t blame you…” she says quietly. sierra knows she couldn’t take away what the two of you had. she had to be smart and realize if she continued the relationship she would only hurt herself in the future. she couldn’t lie to herself when the truth was right in front of her.

“y/n, what you two have is real. it’s more than what we had, i can’t pretend to be you and i can’t make him love me like he loves you. i want the both of you happy, and if me cutting things off with him i’ll do it.” she says, and pulls back to look at you. “you’re my best friend, i don’t want this to ruin us, okay?” she adds, and you nod. “did he tell you how he felt?” you nod again, a laugh escaping your lips. “andddd?” she drawls, smiling. “i left him on the beach”

“y/n!” she playfully hits your arm, “please, go get that man before you lose him again” she demands, pushing you off the bed. “go!” you laugh and exit the bedroom.

luke sits on the beach, watching the waves crash onto the sand. he wonders if he just lost everything in less than twenty-four hours. he wonders where he went wrong, how he let you slip away, why he wasn’t honest with you…or himself. luke is pissed at himself because maybe, just maybe, if he had been more open with his feelings and emotions maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

he is racking his brain for the right words to say to fix what he had messed up so badly.

“luke” you say, pulling him out of his deep thought. he looks up, his eyes landing on your figure. he feels a warmth in his chest, but he doesn’t get his hopes up. “you came back?”

you nod, as you sit down next to him. “of course, i did.” you say, looking out at the ocean.

“y/n, im sorry. i didn’t mean for all of that to just spill out, i-“ you turn to him, stopping him as he tried explaining himself. “dont” you shake your head.

“just hold me, please.”

time passed quicker than you wanted it to. you sit between luke’s legs, his arms wrapped around your waist and his head resting against your shoulders. you both wanted to watch the sunset since it was your last full night there. neither you nor luke said anything since you came back. you were simply just enjoying each other's company.

“lu?”

“hmm?”

“when did you realize you love me?”

luke thinks for a moment, he recalls the last show of their first headlining tour. he remembers the outfit you wore for your set and he remembers that in that moment is when he first realized his feelings for you.

“do you remember our first headlining tour?” you nod, your eyes still on the ocean. “i do..” luke smiles, “that’s when. i remember seeing your face on that stage and everything shifted..” he answered.

you smile to yourself, recalling that night. you were on cloud nine, you remember the hug and how much you loved being in luke’s arms, just like you were now. “you there?” he whispers. you nod, “i am. just..reminiscing.”

luke pulls you closer, and he squeezes you, afraid to lose you again. he traces soft circles on your arms as he gets lost in thought.

“you there?” you chuckle, and you feel him nod against your shoulder.

“i just… i don’t want to lose you again. i don’t want to mess up this again. please let me make this right between us..” he says.

“lu, i love you. and that’s why i came back. i want us to work out…i want…us..” you speak quietly, the ocean crashing on the shore is in the background.

luke presses a kiss on your neck then, your cheek and finally, your lips. “i promise, y/n. i’ll give you the life you deserve and we will have the best years, together.”

#5sos fan fiction #5sos smut #bartxnhood writes #5sos imagine #5sos #5sos fanfic #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings angst #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x you #luke hemming imagines #calum hood angst #calum hood 5sos #5sos fan fic

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averageanonymous · 3 months

Text

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale go stargazing, and Aziraphale wonders just how much Crowley remembers from before his fall.

A fluffy little bit of post-series happiness.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

“Shame you can't see more stars from London,” Crowley laments with a sigh, easing back onto the fluffy quilt beneath them. He folds his hands under his head, crosses his legs at the ankles, and gazes up at the darkening sky. A red glow lines the horizon, and the stars are just beginning to peer down from the heavens.

“Mmm,” Aziraphale agrees from his right, still sitting up, legs folded beneath him. “It would certainly be more convenient. Although, surely there's somewhere closer we could've gone.”

“If you're going to stargaze, you have to do it properly,” Crowley counters, “No light pollution.”

“But Nevada?” Aziraphale insists.

“Sierra Nevada mountains,” Crowley agrees with a nod, “Stunning views. One of the darkest places on the planet. And we've never been.”

When Aziraphale still doesn't seem convinced, Crowley sighs, “Come on, angel, it's an adventure.”

Finally, Aziraphale smiles, “It is that. I do hope Muriel manages the shop alright, though.”

“They'll be just fine,” Crowley reassures him.

Comfortable silence falls between them. Not true silence, but the silence that exists where humanity is absent. A silence punctuated by cricket song and the rustle of rodents through the grass, the flap of bat wings and the murmur of a gentle breeze through trees that tower all around.

They listen and they watch and Crowley decides he would rather prefer it if the angel were down on the blanket with him. He brings one hand from under his head to tug on Aziraphale’s sleeve. Aziraphale glances down at him in question, then gives him a humoring smile when Crowley jerks his head towards the spot on the blanket beside him. With a sigh of his own, Aziraphale stretches out, his head settling easily on Crowley's arm.

“That's better,” Crowley says, nipping Aziraphale’s ear playfully.

“Oh, stop that,” Aziraphale scolds him, making no move whatsoever to actually stop the demon as he presses teasing kisses to his neck. After a moment, though, Crowley settles back, his focus returning to the sky. Well, most of his focus. There's definitely a portion still very much aware of the angel tucked into his side, a nudging mental voice telling him to forget the silly stars and pay all his attention to the wondrous work of art lying right beside him. But he does his best to ignore that part. They did come a long way, after all.

More and more stars appear above them, as though layers upon layers of gauzy curtains are being drawn back one by one, each unveiling a new spread of glittering gems scattered across the black velvet sky. The dusty band of the milky way stretches from horizon to horizon.

“Look at that…” Crowley marvels, breathless.

Aziraphale looks at the glittering sky, then turns his gaze to Crowley. Crowley's bright eyes are lost in the beauty of the canvas above them, his expression almost reverent. Aziraphale’s brow knits slightly as he looks at the demon, an expression caught between reminiscence and profound sadness. Crowley notices it out of the corner of his eye.

“What's on your mind,” Crowley asks easily. Aziraphale starts slightly at being caught staring.

“Just…remembering,” Aziraphale tells him honestly, but there's more caution in his voice than Crowley would expect.

Remembering what, he wants to ask. But he doesn't. Crowley waits. He can tell there's more Aziraphale wants to say. If he's quiet, it'll come out sooner rather than later.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale finally turns towards him. He rests his arm over the demon's narrow frame and gently asks, “how much do you remember… From before…?” The exquisite tenderness in Aziraphale's voice softens the question. Crowley still stiffens, though. He can't help it. Whatever he was expecting, this wasn't it. Aziraphale feels his tension and immediately walks the question back, “You don't have to answer that, love, it was, well, I know it's not fair to ask.”

“No, nah, s'alright angel,” Crowley says softly after a moment, his arm tightening around Aziraphale, “We've never talked about it. Hard to believe after six thousand years…”

He's quiet for a long moment, then shifts himself until the two of them are lying face to face on the blanket. Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand in his, threading their fingers together, then props his head up on his other arm, looking down at Aziraphale, but his gaze is lost somewhere in the past. Aziraphale waits patiently. Finally he says, “It's impressions, mostly, more than any sort of actual memories. The Fall…sort of burns away most of the specifics.”

Another long stretch of heavy silence.

Crowley's voice is hushed when it comes, “I remember God,” he pauses, then continues, “and bits and pieces of creation. Faces, conversations, most all that's a blur. I remember… early on, feeling…bliss, I guess. Peace, at any rate. Knowing I was a part of something. Of course that was before-”

Crowley breaks off a bit abruptly, looking back up at the stars.

“Before what?” Aziraphale prompts, squeezing Crowley's hand.

Crowley groans, “Ahhh well, before you.”

Aziraphale raises an eyebrow, and Crowley grins, lifting their linked hands to brush his lips over the angel's knuckles. “Bet you thought I forgot, eh?” Crowley teases, “The Pillars of Creation, I think it was… First time I met you. I remember you helping me, got me asking questions. I've not got a lot of memories, but…guess you made an impression on me.”

To Crowley's surprise, Aziraphale’s face crumples in dismay, his blue eyes pained. He looks away as though he could hide it. “Crowley,” he says quietly, his voice nothing less than devastated, “I'm so sorry. I never meant to… I only wanted to-to help, and you were so joyful, so exuberant and- and you didn't know about-”

“Shhh no, no, no, stop all that,” Crowley interrupts him quickly, gathering him into his arms. He chuckles quietly, brushing his nose playfully against Aziraphale’s to encourage him to lift his face, to meet his eyes. When he does, Crowley insists, “Angel, I didn't fall because of you. You know I wasn't ever going to last as one of you lot. It's not your fault. You…opened my eyes a bit, maybe, but I made my choices.

“And you know I wouldn't trade a thing,” Crowley continues quietly, adamantly, pulling Aziraphale even closer, his breath warm on Aziraphale’s skin as he speculates, “because being a demon is the only reason I got to be on Earth with you all these years. If I were still an angel, I'd probably be stuck in some corner of the universe running routine maintenance on dark matter and black holes and-”

Aziraphale kisses him then, and Crowley is more than happy to let the remaining threads of the conversation spin away like leaves caught in a whirlwind. The angel, for all his public decorum and proper manners, always kisses him like he's starving for it. It makes Crowley feel like a star on the brink of a supernova, the rush of emotions like a celestial tide pulling him out into a starry sea. He smiles against Aziraphale’s lips.

Aziraphale's hands trace up his chest, dance over his collarbones, trail the column of his throat before threading into his hair. Each touch of fingers to skin races down his spine. His breath sounds haggard in his own ears as Aziraphale trails kisses along his jaw, fingers in his hair pulling his head back gently.

And then, after not nearly enough, and with one last gentle kiss to Crowley's lips and another to his brow, Aziraphale settles back.

Crowley is about to growl his dissatisfaction with this change of direction, but Aziraphale shushes his complaints before he can even voice them. He tips his face up to the sky and then looks back at Crowley with eyes as bright as any star. “We did come a damn long way to look at these stars,” he chides warmly.

“Hnnnn,” Crowley grumbles, but he too settles back into the blanket, arms around his angel, legs tangled together, and turns his face to the sky.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Thanks for reading!

Have you ever gone legit stargazing in a place where you can see the Milky Way and shooting stars? It's literally one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. It makes you feel so small.

#good omens #crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale #fanfic #aziraphale x crowley #gomens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fluff #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale

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simonsdoll · 1 year

Note

can u make sum hc about what the codmw guys would smell like.... thank uuu 🤭

MW2 men and what would

they smell like

Includes: Price,Ghost,Soap,Gaz,Konig,Los Vaqueros and Graves

PRICE

- Price smells of tobacco and manly musk when he doesn’t put on cologne

- When he does he smells like pine, cedar wood or a very herbal scent

- I feel like he uses Old Spice or Dr.Squatch religiously

GHOST

- Ghost smells of gunpowder or very strong masculine and smoky cologne

- If he puts on cologne he smells of oceans and fresh rainfall. Almost as Earth and soil collided and made a scent for him. Woodsy and earthy

- I see him as a Dior Sauvage type of man or Tom Ford ombré leather

SOAP

- If in battle he smells very musky yet has a lingering scent of a sweet aroma

- Soap smells of rich vanilla or a blue and sunny Mediterranean Sea

- I have a feeling he loves any manly perfume at Bath and Body Works

- He uses Dolce&Gabbana light blue or Acqua by Giorgio Armani

GAZ

- Gaz smells of citrus or the breeze from the top of a mountain

- He enjoys very clean and subtle fragrances that bring out his manly musk

- Lingering smells of fresh laundry or breezy meadows

- He might use musky green tea or musky oak moss by Dossier

KONIG

-Konig smells of fresh forest rain or winter sierra mountains

- Would smell of very ambery mint or a very woody sage

- Showered in a herby and earthy aroma like eucalyptus or lavender

- Could use some Versace Eros or Burberry for men

ALEJANDRO

- He smells of strong notes of sandalwood or fresh ocean breeze

- Has a lingering smell of smoke that doesn’t overbear his manly musk

- Prefers aquatic or very sweet tropical scents

- Uses Náutica Voyage or Bvlgari Aqua for men

RUDY

- Rodolfo smells of roasted coffee and sweet musky vanilla suede

- Has a lingering smell of citrus that smells tangy yet sweet

- Loves perfumes that smell of roasted dark almonds or musky chestnut

- Might use Intenso or The One for men by Dolce&Gabbana

GRAVES

- Graves smells of sandalwood and cardamom which compliments the musky woody notes

- Enjoys the smell of warm cedar wood and intense sweet smell of vanilla

- Smells of smokey and autumn dropped dead leaves falling onto the warmth soil of Earth

- Uses Bleu de Chanel or Tom Ford’s Noir

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Check Masterlist for more

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drivinmeinsane · 7 months

Text

Crimson Headache

※ Sierra Six x Afab!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: You wonder something about Six. Will he allow himself to surrender to what he really wants?

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content

※ Content/Tags: Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Smut, Protected Sex, Male breast worship (mild), Wound care, Pet Names, No use of Y/N, Fluff. No use of pronouns for the reader, Not beta read (we just die)

※ Word count: 3,337

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: Got too overcome at the sight of Ryan Gosling's tits when he was in the Gray Man. Will it happen again? Probably. This was been sitting in my docs for ages while I poked at it occasionally. So uh... enjoy.

A dog barks in the distance, the sound blending in with the occasional passing car as the noises of the night creep through the open window. The curtains rustle as they get stirred by the crisp, autumn breeze. It’s the perfect kind of night to be tucked into bed under the covers and reading a book by the comforting glow of the bedside lamp. The only way it could be better was if there was a warm body laying beside yours. You were so painfully, desperately lonely in the absence of your companion.

You flip another page of the book you’re holding in your hands. Six had given it to you the evening he was called away on another job. The mission he was recruited for is the kind where he couldn’t disclose any of the details or even take the risk of a phone call while away, secure line or not. As soon as he walked out the door, you would be left in the void of not knowing if he is safe or if he would even be coming back… hence the book. It carries the promise that he will return, that he has to come back so you can talk about what you read in his absence. That was four days ago. You’ve been slowly dragging your way through the chapters. You’ve read sections of the text over and over to savor the meaning of it like a piece of candy melting in your mouth.

You’re so engrossed in the paragraph you’re reading, so captivated in horror along with the characters at the sight of unexplainable creatures moving amongst the branches of willow trees that you don’t see the man in the doorway. Unbeknownst to you, he stands there for a long while, watching the way your lips part and gasp at a newfound twist, the way your face scrunches at a particularly unsettling moment. He savors the sight of you and waits for you to realize that he’s here. Several pages go by, held gently between the pads of your fingers as you turn them, before you pause to reach for the water bottle on your nightstand. You catch a glimpse of a shadowy figure in the corner of your eye. You startle and miss the water bottle, it falls to the floor with a heavy thud and rolls to a stop against the dresser. You’re scrambling, prepared to scream when you realize you recognize the silhouette. It’s Six.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you gasp, falling back on the bedspread.

There’s a quiet chuckle followed by a decidedly insincere sounding apology. “Sorry, beautiful.”

He doesn’t move any closer, choosing to observe as you mark your place amongst the pages of the book. You set it aside with slightly shaky hands and observe him. You can’t make out any details beyond the circumference of the soft light radiating from the lamp, so you beckon for him to come closer. He hesitates for a long moment before obeying. He moves stiffly but steps right up to the foot of the bed, letting his shins hover mere inches away from the mattress.

You can’t stifle the gasp that bursts from your mouth at the sight of him. He recoils slightly at the sound but keeps his eyes unwaveringly focused on you. He is a complete and utter mess. His shirt is marred with an impressionist's interpretation of a crime scene. It’s dried to a deep, almost brown, burgundy in the areas where the blood soaked into the fabric. His face isn’t any better. It’s a disaster of wet and dried blood, bruises just beginning to purple underneath the gore. You are on your knees all but immediately, fighting to be at the edge of the bed. Your hands uselessly flutter around him. You’re not sure what parts of him are safe to touch. It’s impossible to be certain what amount of the viscous liquid has come from his own body.

“I missed you, Six. I missed you so much.” You’re half sobbing in relief that he’s come home to you. Even if he is bloody and bruised. You’ve barely settled your hands on his broad shoulders before he’s on you.

He bypasses your attempts to soothe him, choosing instead to tangle his hand in your hair. He gives it a firm tug to bare your neck to him before mouthing roughly along the column of your throat. You gasp at the sensation. His facial hair feels like fire lapping against your sensitive skin. The hot heat of his mouth only strengthens the comparison. You yield to him willingly as he manhandles you. A whine escapes you when his teeth nip a little too hard on your delicate flesh. He’s so gentle and tender with you outside of the handful of sexual encounters you’ve shared that it always shocks you how aggressive he is in bed. He seems at his most relaxed when he’s simply spending time with you or letting you roughhouse him, but when it comes to sex… he’s as strangely stilted and tense as he is now, almost as if he’s working his way through a script. It hasn’t seemed that he finds much pleasure for himself outside of the moments when he’s working his mouth between your legs. He never quite manages to look you in the face either while he permissibly degrades you. You wonder…

“Hold on.” He is busy biting a mark into your collarbone and muttering something about you being a good girl for him. The hand not intertwined with your hair has made its home around the base of your throat. The hold is threatening to become a hard press into your esophagus. “Six, wait a second.”

The agent instantly withdraws and the look he gives you is wary. He looks like a scolded dog. You cup his face and rub a gentle thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. He relaxes into your hold, pressing his face into the warmth of your palm. The desperation of being needed, of being touched, is rolling off of him in suffocating waves. It only furthers your growing suspicions about him.

“Do…” you bite your lip, bringing your other hand up in the vain attempt to brush his hair off his forehead. It had tumbled loose and gotten caught up in the blood on his face. You’re sure that there will be streaks of it along your own skin. “Do you even like this kind of sex?”

He goes rigid against you, wrongfooted. “I like pleasing you.”

“Baby, that’s not what I'm asking. Do you like being rough?” You question, hesitation slowing your words.

“Honestly? No.” The blunt confession is given as though dragged out of him, kicking and screaming. There’s a vaguely ashamed expression lingering in his eyes.

“Why do it?”

He’s silent for so long, you almost think he’s never going to respond. “I thought it’s what you wanted. Anyone else has wanted me to be… a certain way. Told me it’s how I should be. Do you not like it that way?”

“I like you in any way you want to give yourself. I just want you to be comfortable and feel good too,” you say sincerely.

He looks stunned by your admission. Six’s life has been nothing but molding himself into the ideal aggressor. There’s no room for softness or vulnerability, not when he is supposed to remain impartial, unattached . His hands are meant for causing harm. As he has said in the past; he was taught how to hurt people, not how to care for them. He shifts uncertainly in place, processing your words.

“I see.” It’s said without conviction.

You let out a soft sigh and stroke the crease that’s formed between his eyebrows. His marginally relaxes under your soothing touch. The injured man allows you to give him a chaste kiss.

“Let me take care of you for once, baby. Please,” you plead.

There’s a moment where you can see him warring with himself but he relents. Six surrenders to the deeply buried desire to be looked after, to be treated as something more than a tool. He allows you to take his much larger hand in yours and lead him into the bathroom.

He looks worse under the bright lights. The shock of red liberally coating him is stark against the white walls and fixtures. You ignore the bile fighting to rise in your throat at the sight and focus on gently extracting him from his shirt. His stomach warms the backs of your fingers while you slowly peel the soiled material away from his skin. He twitches slightly when you graze his side. You suck in a sympathetic breath when you realize why. His flesh is a mottled crime scene of bruising from his armpit to his lowest rib. You help him ease the destroyed shirt over his head. Despite himself, he lets out a pained grunt at raising his arms. It gets tossed to the side the moment he’s free of it.. His trousers are a much simpler affair, one that you’re able to leave him to handle while you turn on the shower.

His touch against your lower back is a welcome surprise. He pulls you against his chest, hands coming to rest on your stomach. He’s fully naked and blazingly warm against your back even though the cotton of the shirt you’re wearing.

“Raided my closet?” He questions softly against your ear. The sensation of his breath sends an involuntary shiver through your body.

“I missed you,” you remind him.

“I missed you too,” he confesses.

He works his bloodied hands, with their split knuckles, under the fabric of the borrowed shirt covering your body. Soon, you’re stepping out of your underwear and pulling him under the warm spay with you. He groans appreciatively at the feeling of the water hitting his back. You spend your time with him, taking the utmost care when rubbing the shampoo into his scalp. The frothy water is tainted red on its journey to the shower drain. There will be a red ring around the edge of the tub that will need to be scrubbed away tomorrow, but for right now, your main concern is the man melting underneath your hands. By the time you’re rinsing him off underneath the showerhead, he’s stooped over in order to press his face into the crook of your neck. His arms are looped tightly around you, one hand resting on your shoulder and the other gripping the softness of your hip.

“You don’t have to pretend to be anything you aren’t, you know… Not with me,” you murmur. He nods.

You turn off the water, careful not to jostle him in the process. He peels himself off of you, avoiding making eye contact. There’s insecurity written across his face and it only grows when you encourage him to sit on the edge of the tub. You gently towel dry him, letting him guide you into standing between his spread knees with his hands on your sides. He rubs circles into your skin while you tend to his injuries. You’re thankful that it’s nothing too terrible. Most of the blood hadn’t been his, but there is a sizable, abit shallow, gash in his hairline that requires the careful application of liquid bandage. There’s little you can do about the bruising. You hold Six’s face in your hands while you wait for the adhesive to dry, brushing your thumbs over the coarse hair of his goatee.

“All done?” He asks. The look in his blue eyes is tender, but there is a glint of something else swimming in the depths..

“Mmhm,” you affirm.

He kisses you, brushes his tongue against the seam of your lips. You open for him eagerly. This is a different kind of possession than the kind he had shown you earlier. It’s not domineering, he’s not rigid and wooden underneath your hands. There’s no push and pull. It’s merely two bodies interlinking. You return Six’s interest. You weave your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck. A low groan rolls through him. It’s enough for you to encourage the man fully up onto his feet, to walk him blindly into the bedroom and to the bed. Your bodies jostle together, naked and damp. He lays down on the bed at your behest. He allows his body to unwind against the yielding surface. He’s a vision in the warm light. Drops of water are beaded on the miles of his skin and it’s taking every scrap of your self-control not to consume him. To lick and bite at him until there’s nothing remaining but the memory of him on your taste buds.

“Do you trust me, baby?” You ask, moving to kneel beside him on the mattress. A shudder runs through him at your proximity. He nods, eyes lidded. He’s fully allowing you to take control of this situation.

You press your mouth against his, once, twice. Priming him for your next movements. He responds to your attention with a hitch of his breath. You cradle his jaw in your hand, grounding him as you make your way down his neck to his ample chest. He’s never let you touch him like this before during sex. He’s always captured your attention with his own actions. Never mind how his own orgasms seemed forced while he was blowing your mind.

His hands shoot to your shoulders when you swirl your tongue around his nipple, gripping hard enough to leave the imprints of his fingers branded into your skin. You pause, letting it pebble between your lips. His grip loosens marginally and you suck gently. The noise he makes is loud enough to wake the dead. It’s an unconstrained growl and his body twists and bucks. Encouraged, you lap at the sensitive skin. It grows swollen and hard at your attention. You drag the hand from his face down to his unoccupied pec. You knead the tissue for a moment before rolling that nipple between your fingers. His chest is heaving under your exploratory teasing. You pull back to observe the effect you’ve had on him. His eyes are focused on you, and his mouth is open slightly, panting. His facial hair does little to conceal his flushed state. You cast a glance downward and he’s starting to get hard.

You skate your hand down his stomach, savoring the way his muscles flex under your fingers. You take his cock in hand, earning another low moan. He’s huge in your grasp. You can’t quite encircle him within the ring of your index finger and thumb. You leisurely stroke him. He throbs in your hold, a warm trail of precum drips from his tip, pooling against the side of your hand. You give him a light squeeze before taking your hand away.

You slide it between your own legs, quickly gathering up the slick at your entrance before you ease a finger inside yourself. Six rolls over to watch you. He audibly swallows at the sight of your pillowy thighs wrapped around your wrist as you open yourself up to take him. You bite back a moan of your own as you sink three fingers home, spreading them increasingly wider. Six is a big man, he’s going to stretch you deeper and wider than you can reach, but at least you can prepare the way for him. You pull out of yourself, the sound is obscenely wet. He reaches for you, intent on taking over. The desire to fuck into you with his much larger digits is written all over his face, but you stop him.

“I want to cum on your cock.” The admission strikes him dead in his tracks.

He lets you rummage in the nightstand drawer for protection. You can feel his gaze on you like a physical weight. You find what you were looking for and turn back to him. You press a hand against his shoulder and push Six down onto his back again. He holds himself still, muscles trembling with the effort of not rutting up into your hand while you unroll a condom over his erection.

You swing a leg over him and pause, hovering over him. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is thick, low with arousal.

You line the tip of him up with your opening and brace your hands on his chest. He watches you raptly while you ease down on him. The stretch burns as your body accommodates his girth. You gasp as you fully seat yourself on him. He’s fully sheathed inside of you. You sit for a moment, letting your body get used to the way he fills you. You use the hands on his chest to push off, settling into a steady rhythm. Both of you are letting out noisy gasps. He clamps his hands over your thighs, drags his eager touch to the backs of them. He’s using his grip as a support for your movements. Any tension that he’s had in him during previous encounters with you is gone. He’s wholly enthralled, clearly engaged. There’s nothing being forced here.

“Touch yourself, please,” he pants out.

You can’t refuse him when he asks so nicely. You reflexively clench down around him when your fingers find your clit, He groans at the increase of pressure. It’s wet, sloppy. Your fingertips occasionally make contact with his dick as you ride him. You’re soaking him. You can only begin to imagine the mess that would be pooling at the base of his erection if he weren’t safely encased in a condom.

You collapse forward on top of him. Letting him hold you up and drive his hips against you while you circle your clit with frantic fingers. You’re close, so close. Your mouth finds its way to his chest. You suck a mark into the yielding tissue, a hint of your teeth has him letting out a strangled grunt. You speak between the presses of your mouth to his pec.

“I’m yours.” He makes a sound, low, broken. “I’m yours, Six.”

His grip on your thighs turns bruising. His handprints are going to linger on your skin for days. You’ll feel the phantom of his touch with every step. He’s marked you muscle deep.

“Stay with me,” he begs. There’s a wild desperation on his face and you realize that he means permanently, that he wants you with him indelibly. You’re not just some temporary outlet for him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. You’re his for as long as he wants you. You’d let him be your forever.

At your words, he moves his hands from your plush thighs and digs his fingers into your hips. The man underneath you grinds you down against his pelvis as he cums. His cock spasms inside you, sudden heat making itself known. It’s enough to push you over the edge. You seize up around him, milking him dry. You sit up and withdraw your cramping hand from between your legs. You rest, thighs relaxing from their chokehold against his flanks. Six is watching you, trying to catch his breath. The expression on his face is slightly awed, vulnerable. He looks hopelessly, helplessly in love with you.

He softens and you ease yourself off of him, letting him slip free. With shaky legs and clumsy hands, the two of you clean up in the bathroom. You steady the agent as needed and he uses the excuse to press close to you. Necessities out of the way, you help Six back into bed. You pull the blankets up over him and he flips over to pillow himself against you. You spread your hands over his back, tracing aimless circles over his warm skin. You massage a thick ridge of scar tissue that disrupts the smooth topography of his shoulder blades, he sighs in contentment.

“How was the book?” His voice is sleepy, relaxed.

#The Gray Man (2022)#Sierra Six #Sierra Six x Reader #The Gray Man Fanfiction #Sierra Six Fanfiction #Courtland Gentry #Courtland Gentry x Reader #My posts #My work

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delopsia · 8 months

Text

Thinking about autumn in Wabang.

When the sweltering heat subsides into chilly afternoons and crisp breezes that nip at your skin. The crickets chirp a little louder, and the tree in the front yard transitions from vivid green to warm yellows and reds. Delicate leaves falling from sturdy branches and landing in the driveway, crunching beneath the tires of an old blue GMC Sierra.

It's that time of year when Rhett comes home with furrowed brows and frigid hands, grumbling about how "it's 'bout time we get them damn shirts outta the attic again." And gradually, his wardrobe begins to shift to thick flannels, cozy hoodies, and hefty jackets that insulate heat a little too well.

Those rodeo nights grow colder, and the adrenaline-laced kisses that follow get a little warmer. Festivals pop up in the fields around town, pumpkins mark the corners of Wabang streets, and corn fields are converted into twisting mazes. Fragments of broken leaves cling to the wild curls that rest on the back of Rhett's neck, picked up from wrestling with farm dogs and napping beneath trees.

Saturdays are consumed by venturing to neighboring towns to visit festivals, buying decor that you don't need, and sharing treats that you've never heard of before. The house perpetually carries the warm scent of the season. Rhett's lips taste like caramel apples and cider.

"Rhett," your palms roam across those thick, broad shoulders as you sneak up behind him, "is that apple cider or beer?"

His head tilts backward, messy hair bumping into your cheek, peering up at you through thick lashes, "You'll have to kiss me to find out."

You already know that it's cider.

It's always cider.

But you kiss him anyway.

Cowboys are the first to notice the change in the seasons. Can detect the first golden leaf of the season simply by the scent of the air. Overly familiar with the sight of extravagantly colored leaves and the musky, sweet scent that they bring. Seeing it so often that such a sight should be boring.

Yet, Rhett insists on those cheesy nature walks anyway. Content to hold your chilly hand in his as your shoes crunch through a leaf-littered path, marveling at the beauty of the season.

Sometimes those walks are filled with endless conversation, laughter loud enough to rattle leaves off trees, so wrapped up in your stories that you hardly recall what you saw. Others are quiet. No need for words as you sit on a frigid bench, unable to shiver because a warm arm has long since wrapped around your shoulders.

Sometimes the days are too cold for just an arm.

Those days end in a heavy jacket resting over your shoulders instead. Your hands tucked into pockets filled with hard candies and an oddly shaped rock that he found. And it's like the first days of your relationship all over again, giggling, bickering about who needs the jacket more, and rubbing cold noses together.

There are things that never change.

Just as the forests change color every year, Rhett brings you his jacket during every frosty rodeo. Always seems to come wandering over when the temperature drops and your skin has begun to go numb from the sharp bite of the wind.

"Y'look awful cold, darlin'," he hums, his breath like smoke, puffing past his lips in thin, wispy clouds.

"Aren't you supposed to be getting ready to ride?" The crowd erupts into a roar of cheers as you speak, nearly erasing your voice entirely.

That big arm slides around your waist, drawing you up to his burning chest, frozen lips stealing a kiss, "I got a couple minutes to spare."

He leaves you with a heavy coat draped over your shoulders, a lazily scrawn note hidden in the left pocket.

'Everything s'more fun with you :)

Archie's having a bonefire tonight. Wanna go?'

And, of course, your answer is yes, because Archie's bonfires are nothing short of spectacular. His speakers always softly hum the tune of indie artists you've never heard of, and though there's alcohol, it's never the center of the event. His wife ventures out in her pajamas, sleepily making conversation with you as Rhett and Archie argue over their idea of a perfect roasted marshmallow.

"Y'aint got a fuckin' lick of sense 'n you know it, Rhett!" If Archie's hands weren't preoccupied with crafting his wife's obligatory s'more, they'd be waving in the air. "What kinda fool chooses to char the shit outta their marshmallow?"

Rhett's head shakes, fumbling with a graham cracker, "I do!"

And that's all it takes before Archie's attention turns to you, defiantly ignoring Rhett. "Yer boyfriend's got more teeth than he does sense."

Despite the warm, crackling fire, these nights always end the same. Tumbling through the front door, all cold noses and frozen hands as you both make a mad dash for the shower, each vying to be the first to hop beneath the hot water. Limbs awkwardly tangling and bodies bumping into one another because this shower wasn't meant for two.

Then comes the honorary plaid blanket as you snuggle on the couch, not ready to sleep yet, but getting there. Your head against Rhett's chest, heart thumping in your ear, his unshaven chin scratching at your forehead.

You don't recall falling asleep, but the next time you open your eyes, you're in bed. Wrapped up in the arms of a snoring cowboy, flakes of snow pitter-pattering off the windows, listening as he sleepily asks for just five more minutes.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #outer range #delgato's warmups #delgato's thinking #x reader #outer range amazon #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott outer range #fluff #tw food #tw alcohol mention #very very brief #like one sentence brief lmao

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hanmasghost · 1 year

Text

“Smoke Break”

Authors Note:

Thank @nyxrrl for this fic ong bro

Pronouns: None just masc coded

Word Count: 655

Warning(s): not proof read, Smoking(duh it’s Hanma)

The door to the rooftop creaked open, the cold late night breeze brushing past your face as Shuji continued to drag you outside.

Click.

The metal door closed. The loud music from the bar downstairs no longer reaching your ears as you slid down the brick wall, mentally praying no one comes up and hits you with the door even though the roof is strictly off limits.

Shuji immediately pulled out his cigarettes and lighter before offering one to you.

“You know I don’t do that shit.” You grumbled.

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, taking one for himself before shoving the pack back into his pocket. He lit the cigarette for himself before taking a seat right next to you.

It was just the thing to soothe your nerves. The clear view of the stars in the pitch black sky, the city’s cold wind, the smell of cigarettes, and the purple eyed man who you not only grew up with, but also fell in love with, moved to Canada with, and married six months ago.

It’s been somewhat stressful, but you both had a home together now as well as stable sources of income. Shuji, the guy you swore didn’t know how to use his hands other than then to throw hands, was actually a pretty damn good piercer and got a job as soon as you guys moved.

You, on the other hand, had some trouble up until two months or so ago where you found a bar you could work at as a waiter. It paid pretty well and the uniform was nice so why not?

Unfortunately, your second boss, Sierra, had it out for you. At least that’s what it felt like.

She’d always throw others' work at you if she even saw you taking even a second break to catch your breath. She even purposely puts you at tables that attract all the weirdos.

Tonight was probably one of the worst of all of them. You’d been called in to cover for someone on a Friday, and with so many customers and Sierra on your ass you hadn’t had a chance to catch your breath.

You didn’t even have time to greet your husband when he came in.

So when your break at 3:05 came through Shuji immediately pulled you away from your job and up into the stairwell until you got to the roof where you are now.

You looked over to your husband as he smoked. He seemed really tired.

It was reasonable. He had been watching girls flirt with you all night as you ran around, and didn’t even get to talk to you once. It wasn’t really fair to him at all.

Deciding to try and lighten his mood you leaned over in his direction.

“Hey,” he looked to you with his eyes, “give me that.”

Shuji exhaled before chuckling.

“You? The guy who’s never ever smoked in his life? Like ever?”

You scoffed. “I tried it once in middle school, now give it to me.”

You leaned your head over towards his hand, prompting him to do it for you.

It wasn’t even two seconds later until you hacked up smoke from your lungs. “Wrong pipe! Wrong- cough!”

Shuji silently laughed, causing you to stare at him. No matter how many times you’ve seen Shuji be vulnerable over the years you’ve grown up with him you could never not stare. You could’ve sworn you fell in love with him every damn time.

You got to savor that moment for a few seconds before you coughed up even more smoke and your eyes started to water.

“You,” Shuji burst out laughing, “you’re so fucking dumb!” He choked out. “So dumb!”

You tried to retort but all that came out was more coughs, which definitely had Shuji laughing even more at your misery.

Note to self, you thought never smoke impulsively to cheer Shuji up again.

#tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #x male reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x gn!reader #x gn reader #x reader #shuji hanma x reader #hanma shuji #hanma shuji fluff

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rawsmackdownnxtdivas · 2 days

Text

Kaylia Capri 💞

#alexis grey #wwe #sierra breeze #wow #women of wrestling #kaylia capri

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jolenes-doppelganger · 9 months

Text

Twisted Motives (Chpt. 2)

Larissa Weems x Fem!reader

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2: Cat and Mouse

Summary: Following Y's brief encounter with Principal Weems in the forest of Jericho, a new tension bubbles between the two women. All seems lost until both women make a tentative compromise, a sort of olive-branch in their defensive standstill, but when tragedy brings the people of the D'je tribe to their knees, Y is once again faced with the reality that no one is safe, even in the presence of someone who appears to mean well.

Established world-building is critical- Read previous chapter!

Warnings: Angst, fire related tragedy, minor character death, tragedy is the result of a race-fueled hate-crime.

Word Count: 5k words (DAMN)

The deep winter breezes that came down from Canada surged through the reservation. Rain poured down and onto the panels as Y slept. Upon waking up, the rain had disappeared, burned away by the soft golden sunshine that poured through her window panes. She lived in a small two bedroom, one bathroom cottage at the end of Birch Street, a small little road that was obscured from most of the reservation by massive clusters of birch and red maple trees. Y lived alone. Every once in a while Sierra would come spend the night, but the home was virtually empty, devoid of activity. This inactivity led to peaceful, slow-going mornings, mornings that left Y to her thoughts.

This mornings thoughts weren't peaceful, fantasy filled scenes from her most recent book idea, they were anxious, depressed rambles. Her sleep had been a mix of conscious and unconscious stresses. Chief Vera hadn't reacted well to the news of Y's possible sighting, but no one could have blamed Y. The headwinds were strong, coming westward from the coast. It would have taken an exhausting amount of strength to prevent straying that far from the safety of the reservation forests. But that wasn't what troubled Y, it was the look on Larissa's face. Had it been recognition, was it just the light that had tricked Y into misreading her facial expressions? It was complicated, a cumbersome game of memory and personal attachments. By the time Y had replayed that night for the billionth time, the scene had shifted so drastically from true memory that whatever she was chasing would ultimately be untrue, a twisted version of what really happened that night.

Y adjusted her lorid for the billionth time, relieved that she would once again be adding more layers of fabric as the moon waned. Her close call with recognition had left her both exhilarated and deeply troubled. A sighting meant scrutiny, and scrutiny would only lead to outsiders meddling in D'je affairs, poking, prodding, and ensnaring the people in barbed wire accusations and double-edged trick questions. The D'je tribe was united in these fears. It seemed Y wasn't the only close call that night. Asher, a young teenager had flown too close to the city of Jericho and sparked yet another manhunt for the Jersey Devil. The headwinds weren't to blame in his case. But he was young, it was only natural that he would be too curious, too independent, but the tribe had limited patience for such youthful eccentricities. It was reported that a team of paranormal investigators would be traveling into the city within the week, only adding to the hysteria the recent bear attacks had poured upon the sleepy town. The D'je tribe would once again sacrifice their peace, a hyper-vigilance would descend once more, preventing anyone from having the luxury of being a little careless.

But Y wasn't troubled only because of the incident. Larissa herself was a player in this game of fear and blame. It appeared that another body had been spotted upon a hilltop not two miles from the encounter between Weems and Y, a coincidence that bothered Y. True, Larissa Weems was the stunning example of a devoted community member, but the rumors never seemed to cease their badgering of the Nevermore community, no matter how respected. These whispers had reached Y before she had even left town, even in childhood had she known of the rumors of Nevermore, and the strange woman who led the school. Principal Weems was a fellow outcast, a liar, a con-artist, and the most banal and twisted of all the Nevermore freaks, these rumors had declared. Y wasn't one to believe such rumors, to so blindly follow lecherous lies, yet her fears could be described as warranted, even acceptably cautious.

Times were tough. The same sets of eyes that had pushed Y away from her beloved career had once again returned to wreak havoc on her quiet paradise, the home she had the great honor of calling her first. But such thoughts were desolate, conniving. Y wearily shook her head once more, taking a glass in hand and swallowing the various vitamins she'd been prescribed. Taking a moment to collect herself, Y glanced up at the mirror that hung in front of her dresser. The face that looked back was young, well nourished and healthy, yet the eyes were haggard; the eyes of a woman too well accustomed to hardship. Shoving the feeling of despair that threatened to bubble outward, Y slowly gathered her satchel and small backpack that served as a container for both her personal belongings and her lunch.

Making her way out of the door, Y sighed as she was greeted by the brightness of the day. The worst was already behind her.

<^*-------------------*^>

Two short knocks were all the warning Y gave before slowly opening Principal Weem's door. She was expected, and last night's events had done nothing to improve her patience. The sooner this meeting was concluded, the better. Too much time in Larissa's presence could pose to be dangerous.

"Ms. Y, I'm shocked by your assertiveness," Larissa mused, briefly glancing over a document.

Y made no reply. What good was a retort? She stood solemnly against the back of the door, waiting for the cue to come forward.

"Please, be seated," Larissa gestured, and Y became so.

"You've read the documents?"

Y glanced up at Larissa, noting the dark lines that extended below her eyes. She was tense, and distracted, and it worried Y

"At the expense of my prep-period, yes," Y nodded.

Larissa's gaze became fixed upon Y. The document was dropped, and an intense silence filled the room. Y clenched her fist. She was being too defensive.

"I've never known you to be cold, especially to someone who means well," Larissa verbosely murmured.

Y felt a twinge of guilt, like a child being reprimanded for talking back to their mother, but Y wouldn't play that game. For all she knew, Larissa was as aware of what happened the previous night as Y was. Now was not the time to let her guard down.

"I'm sorry Principal Weems, I fear I've let recent events worsen my previously frayed patience,"

Larissa nodded, and Y bit back a sigh. Both women were tense, eyeing each other with caution and a bit of scorn. Gently clasping her hands together, Larissa leveled her head, unclenching her jaw and forcing a smile.

"So, what is your tentative decision?" Larissa asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Y took a measured breath, clearing her throat.

"I have decided to return to New York following the spring semester, a decision I must insist remain permanent," Y calmly stated. "It appears that as rewarding and refreshing as this experience was, I am still inclined to the solitude of personal creation in a city I've come to accept as my home away from home,"

Larissa's smile faltered. Looking down at the document once more she sniffed, raising her eyes upwards, making blisteringly cold eye contact with Y.

"Abandoning your people so soon?"

Y was left speechless. This woman had no right to comment on Y's personal life, her personal relationships!

"I beg your pardon?" Y scoffed. "What sense of community have you mistakenly exalted against me that you would accuse me of turning my back against my own tribe, a tribe you have no claim to!" Y snapped, to the utter astonishment of Larissa.

Clenching her jaw, Larissa cursed under her breath, sniffing in disdain.

"Ms. Y, if you are this defensive to every comment I make, you will find my patience will run dry," Larissa threatened. "I meant that of your Nevermore family, the family you turn your back upon as misfortune takes a brief repose upon the steps of Nevermore!" she continued, voice slowly climbing in both volume and octave.

It was Y's nonplus that brought both women to a standstill. Y slowly mulled over Larissa's words, words sinking in as hot bile crept up her throat.

"Turn my back?" Y hissed. She loved these students, she'd been there for these students! "I have done nothing that would deem me worthy of being accused-"

"-Accuse you of what you rightfully guilty of? Well wouldn't that be an utter shame,"

Y bolted to a standing position, briefly towering over Larissa, watching as an nondescript emotion flickered over her face before she rose to her full height.

"You're running. Running from the rabble, the unceasingly pestering eyes and rumors, and hate-filled lies that have followed you since you were born, and yet you think that yours is too unique a burden to bear. My dear, you are wrong," Larissa heaved, finger situated squarely between Y's collarbones. "You belong here. I refuse to accept your absence, I have come to expect your presence like the ocean expects the pull of the moon,"

For a brief moment, Y was moved to quiet silence. Larissa's words were poetic, touching in a way most intimately caring. But glancing down, Y saw the painted nail that sat just inches away from her chest, and that brief compassion was gone.

"Tell me how you know more about my problems than myself?"

Larissa's gaze became livid, blue eyes filled with such vengeance Y felt she would become scorched if she held it for too long. Curling up her fist, Larissa took a step forward, bending forward until her blue eyes were all Y could see.

"Because I too, am a freak," Larissa croaked.

Tears bubbled up in the rims of Larissa's eyes, and Y couldn't fight the desire to avert her gaze. Slowly taking a step back, Y began to calculate her next response. This conversation should have been an easy yes or no agreement, yet they were clawing at each other's throats like rabid dogs. There would be room for a compromise later, at a future date when the world wasn't so filled with hatred, where both women could calmly come to agreement. So Y would postpone her answer.

"I will make my decision following the end of the spring semester," Y gently stated, turning back towards Larissa.

Larissa's face broke out in a wide smile, teary and relieved in a way that begrudgingly warmed Y's heart. Coming forward, Larissa closed the distance between them. Panic filled Y's mind and she made every effort to stop the embrace of the blessedly tall woman. It was tight, and warm, and messy. But it wasn't relaxing. Every fiber in Y's body screamed to push this woman away before she noticed the bulge on her back, or the unnaturally sturdy build of the lorid. It was over as quickly as it was enacted, and Y breathed a sigh of relief as her lorid remained pinned to her head.

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me," Larissa hastily apologized, "I-I don't usually go to such, erm, affectionate extents to thank fellow educators,"

"It's alright," Y gulped, "Just, never, do that again, especially-" Y trailed off.

Both women stood in awkward silence, avoiding eye-contact and searching for an end to this most unique encounter. Thoughts raced through Y's head, motives and distressed wonderings. She needed an escape, now! The soft ding of the morning school bell broke the tension, and quickly offered an escape plan for both parties. Relief flooded Y's mind and she quickly gathered up her book bag.

"I've got a class to teach, can this wait?" Y hastily asked.

"Yes, we've more to discuss, so I'll meet with you during your prep period?" Larissa nodded.

Y winced a little, headache brewing for the future pesters she would receive about the grade book. Larissa's eyes flickered in understanding.

"Oh, sorry, your papers," Larissa mumbled. "Are you available after hours?"

"Yes," Y called, halfway out the door. "Bye!" she called before making a break for her classroom.

Y left Larissa standing in her classroom, wishing she would have caught a glimpse of her expression before she'd fled.

<^*-----------------*^>

Today's classes were anything but easy-going. Y's students were on edge, jittery and excitedly swapping stories about the Jersey Devil sighting and the human remains found up in the forest. Several theories were drafted, none Y felt were very creative, but it made her prep period sweeter. In truth, the papers were just outlines of a story, the actual "assignment" part of the story piñatas. Following the end of the school day, Y patiently waited for Principal Weems to appear, but no appearance was ever made. The papers were quietly graded, and Y killed the extra time in limbo reorganizing some cabinets that remained unpacked.

Would Y have spent all night waiting? Maybe. But a pressing call from Sierra sent her home at her regular hours. A brief note was scrawled and left on her desk, should Larissa finally attend their meeting, but Y doubted she would read it. The phone call itself that drew Y from work? Another problem.

"Chief Vera has called an emergency gathering. It's bad," Sierra cried from the other end of the phone.

"Sierra, what happened?" Y solemnly asked.

Her sister just cried, and Y could make out the sound of sirens. had someone died?

"Just get here as fast as possible," Sierra pleaded

The entire drive to the reservation was tense. Barely acknowledging stop-signs and speed limits, Y's driving was reckless, hastily flicking turn signals on and off indiscriminately to the frustration of other drivers. Pulling into the reservation, Y was met with flashing lights and the drone of police sirens. An ambulance and firetruck blocked the main entrance to the reservation, so Y was forced to turn around and take the backroads. Pulling onto the gravel roads, into the neighborhood, Y gasped as she saw the giant plume of smoke that trailed up through the trees. Finding a parking spot a good 300 feet from the burning building, Y sprinted towards the mass of people that gathered around the taped off evacuation area.

The gathering hall was up in flames. Tribe members gathered around and wailed in anguish as firefighters attempted to put out the fire. Running up to the crowd, Y began to scream for her sister and her mother, scanning the crowd for their heads. A pair of hands grabbed Y's shoulder, and she turned around in shock to meet the embrace of Sierra.

"Y, oh my god," Sierra sobbed.

She was a mess, clothes hanging off her frame; she'd dressed in a hurry. Her knees and hands were singed with soot. Damn her, she shouldn't have put herself in danger!

"What happened?" Y gasped, tears filling her eyes.

"Someone set fire to the hall while Aunt Cara was taking the kindergartners on a brief tour of the moon pool," Sierra sobbed. "Someone threw in a Molotov cocktail, the place went up in flames immediately!"

Bright amber flames surged as plumes of dark smoke clouded the sky. Barriers kept the group away from their hall, men, women, children and elderly all gathered around in a group of hundreds, crying and intermittently breaking out in sorrowful refrains of song. The tribe could only watch as their most sacred ritual site slowly turned into a mass of burnt wood and soot. The carved wooden statues, the various meeting rooms, the moon pool. It was all charred. This wasn't just an attack on the lives of the people, it was an attack on their tradition, and attack on their connection to their deity, their ancestors, their very souls.

Most of the children had been pulled out by the villagers, frail bodies coughing and choking on smoke. The villagers had acted rapidly, wheeling out nebulizers to those who could barely breathe, and the rest were quickly put under the care of Dr. Mera, one of the few members of the D'je tribe that could administer medical care without facing scrutiny of the general public. Y watched in horror as a firefighter rushed in to pull out the last two boys. Their wings were bound under their clothes, but their lorids hung loose. The firefighters immediately moved to remove the excess fabric, but they were stopped by Naver, a nurse and part-time first responder. She was the only member of the tribe allowed past the yellow tape, a small mercy.

Instead of removing fabric, Naver simply poured cold water over their faces and directed the first responders to wheel the boys into the small hospital that lay on the other side of the big field separating the gathering hall from the houses and other buildings on the reservation. Y could see the confusion in the faces of the first responders, but they didn't argue with the orders of Naver. Under no circumstances were the children to be taken to local hospitals, this she had made clear. Sufficient medical care could be provided on the reservation, and so it would be. The secret of the D'je people would not be uncovered today. Even if they had to forcefully remove their young from the grasp of the local authorities, they would not allow them to be examined. The dead body of Aunt Cara would not be subjected to an autopsy, she'd been wheeled away like the rest before Y's eyes. Once pronounced dead she had been taken away and wheeled to what would be the temporary embalming chamber in an unused wing of the medical center. The thought made Y wince. Rituals were done in the gathering hall, and though the resident holy woman, Avera, would do her best to follow tradition, there was still the chance Cara's soul would wander until the ceremony could be properly completed in the gathering hall.

Chief Vera began to slowly chorale the mass, instructing various members to grab the necessary items. A drum circle was formed in the open field that lay a good seventy feet from the tragedy. The people were led in song, weeping and wailing to the beat of the drums. Y danced and cried with her people Very few watched the fire slowly die away, none missed the sound of the sirens as they faded away. Those able to dance did so, those able to sing raised their voices in song. The people mourned, for the people were attacked, but through the people they would return. This was the way, this was the survival method by which their ancestors had survived, and so this was the way they would survive.

As the last embers died away, Y softly combed away the stray hairs that fell from her youngest sister's face. Maya was seven, just a few years older than the children who were now fighting for their lives in the local hospital. All of the kindergartners had made it out alive. Select few were still hooked up to nebulizers, but most would return to daily activities within the week. By some miracle none had been badly burned. The police had theorized that in the first few moments of the fire, Aunt Cara had gathered the children and pushed them against the south doors before passing out from the smoke. People had opened the doors from there, pulling out children before the smoke became too much. Aunt Cara had passed out too soon, Sierra herself had tried to reach her before she'd been pulled back. Cara never breathed another clean breath before dying. Mother and child were lost, and so mother and child would be mourned.

This was done through hair cutting. As Aunt Cara was Y's maternal aunt, it was custom that hair be cut following her passing. Four inches were cut for the forty decades Cara had lived, two inches were cut for the baby, one to symbolize the life they would live in the great beyond, and the other for the life that would have been. Gathering six inches of Maya's hair, Y began to softly sing, a tune taught by Aunt Cara herself. Maya whimpered as her hair was cut. She had gorgeous brown hair, to the pride of Y's family. Most of it was cut this evening. Y gently held Maya and kissed away her tears. She remembered the hair cutting ceremony that had taken place when her father had died. She'd been only a few months older than Maya. Fresh tears fell down her face as she recalled that ceremony. It was Aunt Cara who'd cut her hair; no one in her immediate family could soothe Y into staying still for the scissors.

Five six-inch bundles of hair would be buried with Aunt Cara. One from Y's mother, two from Sierra and Maya, and the last two from Y and her younger brother Kairo. A few words would be shared, their favorite memory. Y already knew which memory she would tell, which song she would lead her family in singing. Cara would live on in this way until she could be properly let go. Baby and mother would be remembered and called upon until the gathering hall was rebuilt. There was nothing more tragic than being forced to walk the earth without your memory being recalled.

As the sun began to dot the horizon, Y finally picked up her phone. There were ten notifications. Eight missed calls from 'Larissa Weems', one voicemail from 'Larissa Weems', one text from 'Larissa Weems'. Hands shaking with emotion, Y opened up the text message. It simply read "Call me when you get the chance, I will be waiting".

A stronger woman would have waited until true daybreak to return her calls. This would have provided Y with a clearer mind, a mind rested and prepared to mediate her own weaknesses, but Y had lost too much this night to truly regret losing more. Smiling through the tears that threated to spill down her face, Y hit the call button and waited for Larissa to pick up.

<^*-----------------*^>

The students of Nevermore gathered inside the main courtyard. An emergency drive had been arranged by Principal Weems and several other prominent staff members following the first news break of the tragedy at the D'je reservation. Students had been awakened forty minutes before standard time and select staff were arranged to guide the students in preparation for both the drive and the gathering that would take place after lunch. A brief memorial ceremony was enacted, a moment of silence offered by all thirty staff members and 300 students of the Nevermore academy. It was touching, and although it wasn't half as passionate as the D'je memorial enacted the previous night, it touched Y's heart.

Being the only staff member of the D'je tribe, Y was expected to speak, an honor made burdensome by both her sorrow and exhaustion. She was nervous, and unprepared. It was a struggle even reaching the podium, so clogged was the ceremony. Standing upon the podium, Y gulped as panic and intense claustrophobia threatened to send her back down to the ground. Everything she had planned to say left her thoughts, and Y began to search the crowd for any hint, any student that could meet her gaze and offer support. Hot embarrassment shot through Y's core as she cleared her throat anxiously.

A hand gently came to rest atop of hers, and Y turned to meet the gaze of Principal Weems. Kind, exhausted eyes bored into her own, encouraging her, providing a firm cornerstone to lean upon, a brief sense of gratitude fluttered through Y, momentarily overpowering her anxiety.

"Students of Nevermore Academy," Y shakily began. "As the representing member of the D'je tribe, I am both honored and nervous to accept this generous display of support,"

Students began to bristle and talk amongst themselves. Where was this teacher going with this? Most were bored. They couldn't be blamed, they had no connection to the tragedy at the reservation. Most students didn't have a class with this woman on the podium, and those that did attempted to pay attention for the base courtesy of someone in power. Y wasn't bothered by this narrative. She'd been asked to speak, and so she would.

"My time here has been brief, but filled with the must kind, accepting relationships I've had the honor of garnering. As one of the kindest, most nurturing staff members once told me..." Y stated, eyes briefly flickering around the crowd, "...Nevermore is a people, a community built not on the foundation of simple camaraderie, but rather a foundation built of the understanding that we are not alone. We are not alone in our differences, in our quirks, our many eccentricities, and our values. I have been blessed to call Nevermore my home away from home, and I pledge to all students that as long as I have the honor of teaching here, you will not be alone, for during my tribe's darkest moments, you have shown us support and kindness that will never be forgotten. Thank you," Y concluded.

Heart pumping with adrenaline, Y shakily watched the mixed reactions of the students. Some cheered, some were teary-eyed, some seemed bored. It was all to be expected Y mused, it was a cheesy speech, and most of it was bullshit. But it was the kind of bullshit that impressed those who had something to gain from the tragedy.

"That was fantastic, I knew you'd pull through," Larissa winked. "Your prep period is next, yes?"

"Yes," Y nodded.

"See you then," Larissa preened.

Y smiled, watching Larissa gently gather the students for dismissal. She was too peppy, too bubbly. Wasn't this a memorial? Y cracked her knuckles, droning out the sound of her voice. She was pissed at herself for being such a pawn, such a victim, the kind of victim that the local news crew that stood in the back would eat up. "Support and kindness that would never be forgotten?" Y's stomach churned. It was a hate-crime. Someone in this community had taken it upon themselves to burn their gathering hall to the ground, and what were the police doing about it? Fuck all! The police report would be pushed to the back, forgotten about until it was too late to follow the clues and arrest the terrorist that had harmed her people. The police would find a more pressing matter and that would be it. The tragedy would be over and any further attempts of the tribe to find justice would be criticized as a cash grab.

Y barely contained the urge to storm off the stage, or worse, push Larissa off the podium. She'd done nothing but pledge the support of Nevermore to her tribe, a bunch of bullshit that would never happen, once again overshadowed when more pressing matters came up. This was a publicity circus, and Y would have no more of it. Floating from the crowd, Y broke out in a run as soon as she was out of sight, making a beeline to her classroom.

Writing a coarse email to another colleague requesting her class be supervised for the last period of her day, Y pulled out a substitute sheet and detailed the brief instructions for her students and supervising teacher. It was another craft day, and if the students had extra time afterwards they could work on drafting the presentation. Easy. Done.

Briefly CC-ing Larissa, Y scribbled an extra note on her desk, citing fatigue and all around grief as the reason for her absence. Y didn't care if this threw a wrench in Larissa's plans, her life was too fucked for any sort of compassion for those around her to cross her thoughts. Shutting her door, Y hastily walked past the throngs of students that poured through the entry hall. The tall figure of Principal Weems towered over the students, and Y watched as a confused look overshadowed her face. Y didn't give her time to reach out, or worse, call her name, quickly pushing past the double doors of the exit and running to her car.

<^*-----------------*^>

On the drive home all Y did was replay the last two days of her life. The flight, the unfortunate head wind that had driven her over to the clearing, the eye contact she had made with Larissa, the conversation, the phone call, the fire, the terrible memorial service. All of it blurred together, but no matter which way she replayed the events, her mind continued to snag on Larissa, well specifically two moments. The forest and the argument were played in parallel, and Y eventually narrowed down each memory to one moment. It was the look in the forest, and that look in Larissa's eyes when Y had first stood up that appeared too similar. Larissa's eyes had widened, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows raised. In both instances the look had been brief, but the more she compared them, the more it became clear that they were the same emotion. Recognition? No. Anger? Most certainly not. Annoyance? No. Excitement? Nope. Brief nonplus? Maybe? No it couldn't be. She'd been taken aback, worried, maybe even fearful-

Fear.

Oh my god. She'd been afraid.

Thoughts raced through Y's head. Larissa Weems had been afraid of Y, she'd seen something menacing, something other, something that sparked that primal desire in her mind to react, to run, to fight.

Larissa knew. That's why she'd been so insistent on siding with Y, trying to bargain with her, "I too am a freak". She'd said it! She fucking said it! Traditions didn't make someone a freak! It was someone's being, someone's appearance. Calling someone a freak based on their cultural practices would be unheard of to Larissa's vocabulary, but horns? A winged demon flying from the night sky? That was a freak!

"I've been so blind!" Y gasped, slowly beginning to cry.

Pulling off the road, Y hastily pulled out her phone, and called her Mom.

"Y, honey, aren't you at work?" her mother's soft voice asked.

"Mama," Y sobbed. "Larissa knows!"

A brief gasp sounded on the other end of the phone.

"Larissa, who's this Larissa? A student?"

"No Mama, she's Larissa Weems, she's the principal of Nevermore. My employer," Y choked, "She was the one, she, she-"

"Baby breathe," her mother begged.

"She saw me in the woods," Y finally got out.

Her mother hummed. "And you didn't think to say anything?"

"I thought she wouldn't recognize me, I just realized, she gave it away Mama,"

Silence filled the other end of the line.

"Are you at work?"

"No, I left,"

"Good. Get home. Now."

A/N: This chapter was HEAVY. First and foremost, my biggest concern was portraying the D'je tribe's tragedy with both respect and sensitivity, but also with as little plot holes as possible. Although this tribe is fictional, hate-crimes are not, and therefore even fictional they MUST be portrayed as wrong, and deeply hurtful to a community both on a small, intimate scale, and as a larger, wounding event. Secondly, Larissa isn't a dumbass. There was no way of brushing off the sighting or the later conflict as two separate occurrences, so I needed them to connect, which is why there was sooooo much description in between dialogues. And the angst? You guessed it, necessary. Yes this is a ship, yes it is slow burn, yes it is gonna be enemies to lovers! Ugh my absolutely favorite. I digress. Expect more angst and some steam next chapter- I've done all of the larger world-building necessary to make this story feel both believable and be truly rewarding when we do finally get the steam. Stay tuned! All future and past chapters will be posted on my masterlist which is linked to the pinned "Navigation" post on my dashboard.

#Larissa weems x reader #Larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems #wednesday #Larissa weems angst #enemies to lovers #worldbuilding #principal weems angst

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 7 months

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Star-crossed in the Crosshairs (John Price x Reader)

Chapter 6: Hint of the Century

Fic Summary: This mission is the pinnacle of your efforts for the past three years. Your whole team and yourself have worked countless hours, slaughtered hundreds, risked life and limb for scraps of intel, and now it all boiled down to pairing up with another taskforce to get this job done and dusted. An unexpected spanner in the works comes in the shape of your former best friend, now also a Captain and somehow resurrected from his KIA status, John Price.

You can’t afford to let feelings - old and new - get in the way of your purpose. No matter how much you’ve missed, wished for, loved him, and no matter how much he might feel the same.

Content warnings: Usual COD content (violence, torture, death, guns), mutual pining, back from the dead, friends to allies to lovers, Reader is GN, some use of Rory.

Chapter 5 // Masterlist // AO3 Version // Chapter 7

There were two main reasons behind “Nerve” becoming your nickname around base twenty years ago: you had a lot of it, and you could get on anyone’s. As you rose through to the rank of Captain, you attempted to sever your nerves and burn them so you couldn’t feel anything anymore. But you’d just exposed their ends. Sometimes you were grateful, because your humanity made you a better soldier, reminded you of why you did this fucking horrendous job. However, today, it meant you were exposed to more pain from anyone who noticed and exploited it. You didn’t think Price would be one of those, using his history with you to call you by your name, expose you on the battlefield and in front of the Sergeant you’d reprimanded for feelings you also had. For the love of God, did he have no pity?

Your heart was hammering, sending your breath out of sync with the rest of you for a few seconds before you regained command of your senses.

“Anyone got eyes on Čiernik?” You asked down the comms as you shot down yet another of your opposition. These guys were coming out of the walls, you could’ve sworn.

“Negative, Cap. Taking the top level now,” was your reply, from Chance still leading your charge.

Meeting the barrel of Bravo team’s leader’s gun, you let Ghost lower his weapon instead of pushing it away whilst you replied, “Block the stairways, and get me eyes outside. He’s not getting out of this building unless it’s with us.”

Four more spots were cleared before you made it up onto the roof-terrace. A vacant table and chairs sat beneath an obsolete umbrella. A gentle breeze blew as you surveyed Nemšiná, still as soulless as it was when passing through. It inspired a dull pride that your work was finally paying off. All those yearsČiernik spent building his arsenal and you were ploughing through it like toy soldiers beneath your boots.

You heard Bronze over the wind picking up and blustering around your gear, “Sierra-7, this is Sierra-10. Building is cleared but no sign of Čiernik.”

“Copy that, Sierra-10. Begin reconnaissance.”

There wasn’t any sign of Shepherd either, you noted. Despite the obvious collaboration and the fact that this was Shepherd’s property, you’d yet to find something here that indicated he had ever been to it.

“Bravo team, Sierra team. We are all clear, but Čiernik’s location is still unknown. Search the place for intel and any signs as to where he might’ve gone.”

Maybe he was hiding in the walls.

Bravo team dispersed beneath your feet, back down the levels to the rest of the rooms, leaving just you with Ghost to sift through the room that connected to the stairwell to the roof. There was nothing besides the cabinet that covered one of the walls entirely but the contents of the cabinet were plenty. Ghost handed you a file labelled “Expenses 2022” and you began to sift through the most recent of entries – Excel spreadsheets mostly with precious little annotated after they were released from a printer.

A flare of ache arced through your side and you pressed against it as tenderly as you could.

“You alright?”

Your head swung round to face Price with all the calmness you could manage, “Fine. How’s the head?”

“Still a bit stiff.”

You snorted at his Hot Fuzz reference, spying behind him a laptop bag tucked at the back of an open cupboard. Ghost met your gaze then grabbed it down. You offered your black box from your pack, but instead he passed the laptop over.

“Ghost, a word?” Price nodded behind him. The two men trailed off, leaving you to get started on loading up the laptop. It would at least be a bit faster seeing if it had anything useful than the paper copies. Tapping in your key, the loading screen popped up, ready to transfer all its contents to your server.

Only one pair of steps returned to the room, and you could tell who by the gait and weight.

“Where’s Ghost?” You asked without turning.

“Coordinating on the second floor.”

“We don’t need two Captains in one tiny room.”

“Not even when I’ve got you a present?” You were hoping it was intel, but you were still receptive of the ice pack he crushed and tossing over, which you caught one-handed, “Chance said you ran into a sledgehammer?”

“If anything, it ran into me,” You snipped back. A sigh crawled out your mouth as the instant coolness spread through your shirt and onto your sore torso. Allowing yourself the luxury of slumping, you leant your free hand on the desk beside the laptop, staring at the loading bar filling up at a snail’s pace. “Ta.”

“Don’t mention it,” Price moved beside you.

“You find anything else?”

“Nothing interesting.”

As you plugged your black box into the laptop and began unlocking it, you noticed Price’s hands as he pressed both nearby to lean in at the laptop screen. His watch was off and so were his gloves, revealing on his wrist what – to any other onlooker – appeared to be a shit tattoo of a shit firework. The faded fuzzy diagram of a nerve cell, ripped straight out of a biology textbook and inked onto his skin forever, made your gut twist.

“You alright?”

A shiver passed across from your right shoulder to your left. You pretended it was caused by the icepack.

“Peachy keen,” You tore your stare from his tattoo and focused on not clocking yours, Sick with hypocrisy, imagined Crash downstairs still torturing herself over what you’d said to her.

“I want you on the first floor and update me on the status of the teams. And don’t call me Nerve again.”

Price’s hands pulled his gloves back on, settling onto his gun, “Of course. Sorry. You know what they say about old habits.”

Fuck’s sake, you couldn’t help but love him, whether he called you by Nerve or by name, whether he was here, abandoning you, or ordering you to leave him for dead. Blinking rapidly, you checked the progress on your black box whilst flicking back another tab in the “Expenses” folder over the sound of his boots hitting the stairs.

A pattern under “Properties” caught your gaze: Nemšinian postcodes and house numbers, one after the other, listed with their worth in the following column and a serial number in the next. Your black box was almost complete; you’d be able to sort those codes in a few minutes.

“Sir, we’ve got incoming on all sides from Nemšiná. Five group, and they brought their night vision this time.”

Folding up the laptop and slotting into your pack, you replied, “Bravo team, head to the east; Sierra team, go to the south exit. That’s the closest to the outskirts and we can take whatever heat they bring.”

As you scaled down the stairs, a shot fired through the wall in front of you. You ducked out of the way of the second and third shot, then saw the empty handgun slide through the open door. You burst in to take out your hostile and was greeted by a sight: one of Sierra team on the ground, a trap door beside a wardrobe and scuff marks on the floorboards, and two open French windows – to the balcony you’d seen Čiernik lounging on just an hours before.After finding no heartbeat in your comrade’s neck and ripping off their tags, you glanced out of the door.

Čiernik was shimmying down the damn drainpipe and already halfway to the ground. Ahead, you saw his reinforcements coming through the front gate.

Over the ledge, you followed swiftly after, using the brickwork to aid your descent. A quick assessment of the drop failed you and you cursed at your knees’ response to dropping down onto the patio.

Shots fired from your twelve and one tore through your left bicep, shredding apart the muscles and blood vessels. Ducking behind a giant cement plant pot (that housed a palm tree of all things), you clung to the wound, shuffling until your back hit the vehicle before you ripped off your belt and wrung it around, pulling it taut. Another shot caught your ear but what got your attention was the hiss of air and the collision of gear and a gun with the concrete.

In the open back door, Chance was face down. She wasn’t moving for cover or to retrieve her weapon. Rolling onto your front, you dragged yourself along the grass, smearing the jade blades with scarlet as you crawled to the nearby planter. Your hand waited until the gunfire was aimed at the upper floors to clamp down on the toe of her boot and haul her across the patio. Her neck was narrowly missed by another bullet just as you got her completely in cover, where you flipped her onto her back and revealed the blood pooling fast on her abdominal, soaking her uniform. As you pressed down to slow the gush of blood, staining your hands red in the patio light, you felt the air stirring then whipping around you, the telltale breeze from a helicopter flying overhead.

“Chance? You hear me?” You spoke loudly, bent over to reach her ear, then you addressed your team, “This is Sierra-7, by the front entrance with Sierra-4 -gunshot wound to the stomach, require urgent assistance.”

A shadow darkened over the wound. You looked up just in time to see an armed masked unfamiliar a few feet away, his automatic weapon aimed directly at you.

“Found them.”

The butt of his gun smacked against your cheekbones, sending you sprawling onto the dusty ground. Disorientated, you were yanked up by the scruff of your neck and dragged away from your teammate. Arms trying to reach back for Chance, your legs Bambi’ed beneath you, unable to push you into standing. At the gate, you were held still only for the amount of time it took them to threw a sack and yank the drawstring tightly around your neck. Then you were tossed the back of a vehicle and, as it swerved off to the right, you wheezed out a breath and lost total track of your consciousness.

-------------------------

AN: OOOOooo! We've reached the halfway point of this fic. Can't wait for MW3 to come out and ruin my life (as if it didn't do enough of that the first time). Thank you to the folks sending me their thoughts and theories; you've really helped keep me writing. Especially those about the callsigns, the parallels of Price + Nerve versus Gaz + Crash. I've given you some more theory fodder this chapter plus this hint: Captain Price's Access Code.

Taglist: @mockerycrow and @entertain-my-lvst

#captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price fanfic #cod fanfic #captain price fanfic #captain john price fanfic #cod x reader #mw2 #mw2 x reader #my writing #r: gn #wc: >2k

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chrismcleanswife · 1 year

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𝐒𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦!! 𝙸𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚛 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 <𝟹

♥💜 -> You never talked anymore.

♥💜 -> And all your friends knew that.

♥💜 -> Since the seventh episode of the first season of Total Drama no words ever left your mouth, you got highly traumatised in the phobia factor episode and since you couldn’t get help in time, now you were selectively mute, only talking when strictly necessary and probably only to Cody, who was your best friend since the start of the show.

♥💜 -> He first tried to flirt with you but you finally stayed up as friends and then best friends.

♥💜 -> Sierra, being the crazy fanatic she is, knew that.

♥💜 -> Well, she knew way much more than that but she had to keep it down or else she would scare you away, ruining her chance to be friends with Cody’s best friend.

♥💜 -> When you got off the bus that led you to the airport you gave Chris a shy smile and a wave, which he gladly returned with a grin, before you practically ran into Cody’s arms, practically squealing.

♥💜 -> He let you do that as he knew he was the one you barely trusted out of all the people there, maybe you trusted Gwen or Courtney too but Cody was like your safe space so he let you be.

♥💜 -> Then, you heard the typical fangirl squealing behind you and you turned your head to watch a purple haired girl looking at all of you with excitement visible in her eyes.

♥💜 -> “she is surely a fan” was what you thought, and you were right.

♥💜 -> You let go of Cody as the girl walked to you both and started fangirly rambling to the boy with such an elevated volume tone that you almost got scared.

♥💜 -> After practically showing into Cody’s face all the facts that she (creepily) knew about him in screams she turned to you.

♥💜 -> You felt your body starting to tremble, “why was she looking at you??” “Was she going to hurt you???” “omg was she also a creepy fan for you?????” were some of the questions that plagued your head.

♥💜 -> But then, she completely changed when she started talking to you.

♥💜 -> She was moving her hands slowly and calmly, always keeping them in your visual camp as a way not to scare you, and she sweetly talked to you, in a low tone, not wanting you to think of her as a posible danger.

♥💜 -> Your trembling body slowly started to stop doing so, and you let a shaky smile plaster itself on your lips.

♥💜 -> Since that moment, you liked being near Sierra, sure she was an excited hurricane when talking to Cody or the others, but with you she was like a sweet summer breeze, making you feel safe and warm.

♥💜 -> The best of all is that she was being sincere, and you knew it because someday you were researching through the confessional videos in search of Alejandro’s because you didn’t trust him, and you came across one of Sierra’s, out of curiosity you put it on play, letting the record speak.

♥💜 -> ❝This is soooo great!!❞ squealed the Sierra in the recording, making you want to hear more ❝Y/N’s finally trusting me! That is so awesome!! I’m so happy I got to know her, and Cody ofc, but now this is about her❞ she continued, making your eyebrows raise with surprise.

♥💜 -> ❝um... we all know that Y/N is traumatised since the first season of Total Drama Island, specifically since the seventh episode, and I truly feel sorry for her! Chris made her fear so traumatising that she went mute!! Can you believe that??!??❞ She said, practically tearing her hair apart while a sad look appeared in her eyes ❝I... I feel truly lucky to be her friend, and I hope she doesn’t think I’m trying to use her or smth because of my change of personality near her, It’s just that If I am that loud and energetic near her I fear I might scare her! So I just let my sweet and smooth persona rise when I’m with her, because I love her- A-AS A FRIEND O-OFC!! But She deserves peace and I’m willing to give her that!❞

♥💜 -> As the record finished you felt your chest warm and your eyes watering, you sniffled with a smile on your face as you tried to wipe the few tears picking at the corners of your eyes... She truly wanted to be friends with you and not just because of Cody!

♥💜 -> You wasted no time in running out of the pilot cabin and go search for Sierra, she was talking with Cody as always.

♥💜 -> You practically jumped at her hugging her from behind, leaving the rest of team and Cody spechless.

♥💜 -> Sierra was surprised as well, but not wanting to break the magical moment of her favourite Total Drama actress hugging her she slowly and steadily turned until your chest were touching and she sweetly wrapped her arms around your waist, giving you a slight squeeze and holding her need of screaming until her vocal chords were damaged to no repair.

♥💜 -> ❝I- um... If you don’t mind me asking, Y/N... what is this for...?❞ she asked in a low tone of voice, still hugging you from the waist, she then felt her top getting a bit wet and the fact of you crying almost sent her to highly panic.

♥💜 -> ❝Oh my- Oh my! Are you crying?? Ugh- Ofc you are crying, dumb me!! Why are you crying?? Did I say something wrong? Di-Did I scared you??❞ She started to panic in a still (somehow) low and sweet tone of voice, but when you shake your head no and hug her even tighter the confusion takes control of her brain. ❝Wha-What is it then...?❞ she asked, slowly lifting one of her hands to cup your cheek and lift your head slightly to lock her eyes with you.

♥💜 -> You opened and closed your mouth, the fear of speaking trying to stop you from speaking, but you inhaled deeply while closing your eyes, preparing yourself to do something you haven’t done in two years.

♥💜 -> ❝Sie-rra, th-thank you f-for being m-my fr-fr-friend❞ you managed to choke out from your non used in two years throath, smiling sweetly as the pruple-haired girl’s eyes opened widely at the fact of you talking and to her.

♥💜 -> If the team was before spechless then I don’t know how to call how they were now.

♥💜 -> Sierra squealed in happiness as she hugged you a little more thight, not wanting to hurt you at all, but still wanting to show you how happy you made her.

♥💜 -> Cody looked at you with confusion and surprise, but he still smiled at how safe you looked between Sierra’s arms, because maybe Sierra wasn’t made to love him, but maybe she was made to love you <3

#Total Drama #Total Drama x reader #Total Drama World Tour x reader #Total Drama World Tour #tdwt x reader #Sierra #Sierra tdwt #Sierra Total Drama #Sierra x reader #tdwt Sierra x reader #Cody #Cody tdwt #Cody x reader #Heather x reader #Gwen x reader #Courtney x reader

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istariray23 · 3 months

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Laur, Nueva Ecija A Haven of Natural Beauty

Nestled in the heart of Nueva Ecija, the municipality of Laur is a hidden gem waiting to be discovered by nature enthusiasts and adventure seekers. Boasting awe-inspiring mountain ranges, lush landscapes, and a rich natural environment, Laur beckons travelers seeking respite from the hustle and bustle of urban life.

Laur's Enchanting Mountain Ranges: One of the defining features of Laur is its majestic mountain ranges that stand as guardians of the municipality's natural splendor.

The undulating peaks and verdant slopes of the Sierra Madre Mountains provide a mesmerizing backdrop, offering breathtaking panoramic views that leave visitors in awe.

Whether you're an avid hiker or simply a nature lover, exploring Laur's mountainous terrain presents an opportunity to witness the beauty of untouched wilderness and immerse yourself in the serenity of the natural world.

The Serenity of Rural Landscapes: Beyond its magnificent mountains, Laur is adorned with picturesque rural landscapes that exude a sense of tranquility and harmony. Vast expanses of verdant farmlands, meandering rivers, and clusters of trees paint a serene picture of rural life, inviting visitors to unwind and savor the simple pleasures of nature.

Strolling through Laur's countryside, one can revel in the calming symphony of chirping birds, the gentle rustle of leaves, and the refreshing breeze that carries the scent of blooming flora—elements that rejuvenate the soul and inspire a deep appreciation for the natural world.

Laur, Nueva Ecija, takes great pride in its efforts to preserve its ecological diversity and natural resources. The municipality's commitment to sustainable eco-tourism and environmental conservation is evident in its lush forests, protected wildlife habitats, and clean, unpolluted air.

From trekking along scenic trails to birdwatching, camping under starlit skies, or embarking on exploratory nature walks, there's no shortage of ways to connect with the natural wonders of Laur.

The majestic scenery of Laur, Nueva Ecija, stands as a testament to the enduring allure of unspoiled landscapes and the restorative power of nature.

#Laur #Laur Nueva Ecija #Nueva Ecija #istariray23 #istariray23laboy #istariray23travel #istariray23moments

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saphirered · 1 year

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Hey there, I was hoping to request number 10 from the autumn prompts for Percy please?

Some typical light Percy angst, and a whole bunch of fluff. Enjoy! 😘

Percy wanders the halls of Whitestone Castle. He is restless. Sleep would not grace him this night for his demons haunt him behind closed eyes. Not even the sounds of his workshop or the mind of a tinkerer could keep him satisfied so he wanders alone, wanders until his body decides enough is enough, or the sun rises and the next day is upon him. He’s lived through many of these days and nights, to no end. He knows it’ll pass be that today, tomorrow or the day after. Perhaps he shall be tired for a bit but that’s easily fixed and no horrible consequences from lack of a night’s rest will be upon him. No external dangers lay waiting in the wings for the opportunity to strike. He’s not worried about monsters or assassins coming in the night to destroy all he holds dear. Only the images in his nightmares do and thus he stays awake. Can’t dream if you don’t sleep and can’t sleep if you’re busy. Percy will keep roaming letting his mind wander to trivial things from his to-do list back in his workshop, the never ending responsibilities of being lord of Whitestone, damage control after something inevitably goes horribly wrong, and many more things on the agenda that are outright exhausting yet he cannot set his mind to do them now. He’ll keep wandering these empty halls, coming across the odd night patrol or straggler as he continues up the stairs to the higher peaks of the castle.

Dreams would not greet you when you lay in bed, staring at the painted ceiling. You can’t recall how many times you’ve counted the petals of each painted flower of this scene; twelve-hundred-and-forty-eight. The number won’t change and you’re still wide awake yet exhausted. No amount of tossing and turning, adjusting your pillows, adding blankets, taking away blankets, no midnight tea or whatever other practices you’ve resorted seem to be successful. Nothing works and you’re sick of being between the same walls so you find your wandering way up through the castle, to the towers overlooking the Alabaster Sierras. You’ve gone there before, whenever you needed peace and quiet, or simply to be alone for a moment. The sight is beautiful regardless of the time of day, when you can see the mountains, or simply the stars and moons above shining down upon the city, its lights illuminating the ground mimicking the skies above in amber. That’s where you find yourself now, leaning on one of the balconies of a drawing-room with a beautiful sight. You breathe in the cold night’s air and watch the sleeping city.

The draft of air is what calls Percy to be alert. The open door and lack of light, more so. He reaches his hand into his coat as he approaches, but quickly when he sees through the door, he relaxes. No dangers coming to haunt him. An old force of habit dies hard, but he has no intention of letting it die. It’s proven useful far too often to justify letting that guard down, and not suspecting the worst around every corner. His worries fall away when he sees beyond that door, as he stands in the entrance of the drawing room. The glass balcony doors are open, the decorative curtains blowing in the autumn breeze. Night clothes covered by a cloak wrapped tightly but still the bottoms sway in the breeze up high. A tinge of red dusts your cheeks and nose as you stare out over the city. You’re leaning on your elbows, fingers laced together. You look at ease, unaware of his presence and completely within your own world. Percy could stay where he is watching you for eternity. Though he’s never actually told you that, now has he? So much for the courage to tell you you mean so much more to him than the dalliances you’ve had, that now he knows a semblance of life beyond vengeance, he’s learned to appreciate what beautiful things he’s surrounded by, what kindness and compassion. He knows these things to be true yet he struggles to speak the words to you.

He takes a tentative step forward, and another. He doesn’t quiet his footfalls as he approaches and knows you to be keen enough of hearing to know it’s him. You don’t respond but don’t ignore him either as he stands beside you, overlooking the same beautiful sight. A faint smile graces your lips when you see him from the corner of your eye and it sparks a warmth within his heart not even the autumn breeze can dispel. You unlace your fingers and when Percy leans on his palms, your place one of your hands over his; an acknowledgement you’re here for him, and his presence is very much welcomed. He sighs, forcing himself to relax; something significantly easier in your presence and you can tell as you trace along the lines of his hand, along every scar, scratch and callous, gently and lovingly. It’d taken him a long time to accept your care, especially when he did not think himself worthy of such kindness.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask even though you already know the answer. Percy knew he had to face it somehow so he simply nods, and captures your hand between his, holding on like it’s a lifeline that prevents him from floating up into the sky where his demons dance freely, trying to lure him in.

“And you?” He asks leaning his hip against the balcony. You mimic the pose to better look at him, but your eyes remain trained on his hands. Percy takes your other hand too, fiddles with the jewellery you always wear. A ring of protection he got you, insisting it is for your own good despite your initial refusal to take such a gift. It had served you well in the past and since you’d never parted with it, worn it always. In his mind it was a material affection to represent his own shortcomings, that should he fall to darkness, or be unable to defend when you needed him, you’d at least carry that piece of him as an assurance he at least was able to provide something, instead of only take what you offer. Even still he considers himself forever in your debt, despite you telling him differently.

“Too awake to sleep.” You sigh. Exhaustion surfaces as your shoulders sink. He squeezes your hands in his grasp. He understands.

“Yet too tired to do anything productive.” Percy adds. While your reasonings may differ, the effects you suffer are the same. It doesn’t take an extensive heart to heart to know that, nor to understand. You’ve gone through far worse, and learned from what you stumbled upon along the path you have shared. You’ve lasted this long. Though, there’s always been a separation of true feelings. Attraction was undeniable. Chemistry too. Of course you indulged each other when you needed that kind of comfort most and it’s given you a ‘more than friends’ kind of relationship but neither of you had ever chosen to define it, or go into further details because, to be honest, neither of you were ready to commit to such a thing; commit to commitment, or figure out what it means to be open to be loved and give love in return in a way no other receives from you. You simply hadn’t been ready but now, things are changing. What is next? Is it something to address on a sleepless night?

Percy does not seek physical comfort often. Many many years without has left him somewhat detached and foreign to the feeling of anything that is not to satisfy a physical need for closeness to another being. Physical touch can be acquired through flirtations or even payment but it gives but a semblance of what love and affection provides. Physical comfort is not transactional or so you’ve taught him. It is about what you can offer to another, what both are comfortable with and not at the expense of oneself or another. He could never grasp the meaning of this desire for physical comfort because he had not known the warmth of an embrace since his family still breathed. He had not know a touch different than a one-night stand or reoccurring hookup devoid of feeling other than to sate a desire but you had showed him differently. You’d redefined those meanings and showed him what he so desperately needed in his life because after meeting you, he realised what he had been missing. Every smile and frown, every laugh and cry, brush of the hand and squeeze, every touch, embrace and caress, every kiss became more precious than the one before because now he felt that meaning. Now he could not go without it, without you.

He had thought himself addicted to something he could never have, wasn’t worthy of but you were quite clear this isn’t a matter of worth. This is a matter of something he has pushed aside in self preservation and now he is in a safe space, to explore and uncover what he needs, and not just wants, he has been given the freedom to ask for it. So when you let go of his grasp, and brush your hands up his lower arms he knows what it means. Tentatively he wraps his arms around you, allows you to wrap yours around his middle and hold on, your head buried against the fabric of his shirt as you take in a deep breath. He places his chin atop your head. There you stand in this embrace for several minutes. Percy had taken to rubbing circles into your back and shoulders, gently and lightly. He’d felt your own hands under his coat, one tracing along the spine and shoulder blades, alleviating tension where you knew it collected in the muscle. It’s something so trivial yet meaningful through a single lasting embrace. But then it comes to an end. You pull away, let your palms rest against his chest as his settle on your waist.

“Should we at least try to sleep?” You say it half joking knowing you’ll likely not get much rest, given the insomniacs you are.

“To be quite honest, I don’t think I’ll be able to set foot in my own chambers for the rest of the night. I think perhaps I’ll wander some more. Or return to my workshop.” You sigh at his response and place a hand on his cheek shaking your head.

“Will it do you any good?” You ask and he gets the meaning of your question.

“No. But it’s better than the alternative.” Your thumb brushes along his cheekbone affectionately and Percy finds himself leaning into your touch.

“Would it help you to come to my room instead?” There’s no implication of something more than a simple offer of company; whatever kind of company he thinks he needs. Normally he might have chosen distraction, to take his mind elsewhere and wallow in that illusion but not now. What he needs are no illusions or distractions. He needs something real.

“If I did not know any better I’d claim you’re an angel from the heavens.” He chuckles and you raise an eyebrow.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You know exactly what it means but that doesn’t mean you can’t jest a little. You make no move to cover your insincerity and Percy simply takes your hand from his face and kisses your palm.

“Nothing in particular. You’ve provided plenty of evidence proving differently.” He simply elaborates.

“Well then, as a man of science, would you mind sharing your findings and enlightening me?” Percy laughs at your comment.

“I’m happy to do more than that.” He counters and you laugh and pat his cheek playfully. Whatever demons haunted him before, have been buried by your affection. His focus is on you and you alone. You could be anywhere in the world right now yet all that matters is that you’re right here with him instead.

“Shall we head back then?” He considers for a second. Places a kiss atop your forehead; a thanks, for indulging him but when you look at him through your lashes, inviting him to offer something a little more intimate he would not refuse it. His lips meet yours in a sweet and soft kiss. This is not some gesture of desire, not sating a physical need. This is the comfort and affection only you can offer him because he offers it in return, freely because he wants to. There is no obligation or expectation in this kiss and he is thankful for it. You’d never ask for such things, nor would you feel forced to engage. When your lips move against his he feels your affection and relishes in it. This castle be damned. He could be in the clouds for all he cares. He could be anywhere in the world but he’s here with you, in your embrace. He may not have spoken the words but he knows them to be true; he loves you and though this kiss, through this moment he finally comes to terms with what his brain picks upon; you love him.

To have your love, that’ll be enough.

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