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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year

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Daily Log 9

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Worked on the previously mentioned tapestry style painting thing for like 5-6 hours today (with a few breaks in between), and that's just for the border around the main picture lol.. I think all the little sections and detail always take longer than I think they might. But hopefully the final product will look interesting! :0

I feel like I'm entering another Sick Phase where I just am weird/ill/sleepy/having joint pains much of the day (probably some vitamin deficiencies or hormone imbalances or general bodily inflammation or whatever nonsense seems to randomly pop up from time to time lol), so couldn't focus on anything more intensive like writing or editing videos, unfortunately. It's good to have smaller crafts I can do that don't take much mental effort and are just menial hand tasks (like carving, painting, sculpting, etc.), but I still always feel frustrated falling behind on the things I see as much more broadly significant to my overall life and potential career (making games, writing, finishing videos, socializing, costumes, etc.)

Organized my desk a little. Responded to some doctor emails. Paid bills.

Planned out something I might make with pressed flowers tomorrow.

Edited like 4 costume photos.

Also have a lingering sense of dread due to the weather. The heat often makes me feel terrible, and if I'm already in kind of a Bad Phase at the moment, I'm afraid of it making it even worse... stimky..

Which I know these temperatures are nothing to some people but.. to me... aUGHHHH... I am abnormally heat sensitive + live in a dinky old apartment with no ventilation that gets direct sun the hottest part of the day.. on a 90F day outside, it literally gets about 84F inside.. like.. even people who love the heat I feel like would struggle to sleep at night if their bed is 85F lol... hewwo.. You can spray yourself down with water, drink ice water, put a fan on yourself, etc. etc. but.. sometimes it just feels so oppressive and inescapable..

ANYWAY. Aside from painting, feeling weird, and dreading the upcoming heat/contemplating my entire life and how to get enough money to move to a different climate somehow one day/existential exhaustion/etc., I didn't accomplish very much lol

Spent maybe 30 minutes thinking about a little more worldbuilding stuff, and some things in reference to the game I mentioned resuming work on at some point.

Notable sights: The clouds were really pretty and pastel this afternoon, and some stars are visible in the sky for once since the nights are beginning to be clearer. The 'forget me not' flowers that I thought had died after transplanting actually seemed to be perked up and healthy looking today, and perhaps may actually survive. >:3

Goals moving forward: Do new poll adventure post. focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with the ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Finish and upload videos, edit costume pictures & etc. Do the new costumes I've planned. MAKE SCULPTURES at some point, I miss them.

Notable foods: Not much, kind of a warm day so didn't really want to use the oven. No idea how I'll handle the diet I've been put on by my doctors (involves usually cooking all food fresh, using the stove a lot, nothing is supposed to be canned or processed or premade, so that eliminates a lot of 'quick easy simple warm weather' meals, etc. etc.) during the heatwave. I might just have to break the diet a little and hope it doesn't give me stomach pains while I'm already hot and feeling sick lol..

I did have a boiled egg with some green onions on top, which is very simple but was refreshing somehow lol. Another ice cold ginger ale treat today, and some cold prune juice (which I know most people find gross/it's an old person food/etc., but I like that it's a smooth textured and not very sweet juice? Like it's slightly thicker than apple juice, has a lightly bitter taste, etc. I just find it nice for some reason. More evidence I am secretly an 85 year old wizard)

#why can't it be global cooling instead of global warming.. what if everything was just ice and I was comfortable and happy all year around #heat also sometimes gives me like a.. mild situational claustrophobia (like not a place that you are confined in/can't escape #but more an environmental factor that's all consuming. Like when there's fires and smoke fills the sky for days and it's like no matter #where you are you could never get away from it unless you're locked inside shut off from the entire world. if you need a breath #of fresh air or are feeling too confined you no longer have the option of going outside. it's all toxic. etc.)#Or like part of why I hate long car rides is for that reason. If I'm 3 hours away from home there is no way for me to get home #other than to ride 3 hours back. If I suddenly decided I really would rather be home I could not get home quickly. the 3 hours #to get home is an inescapable barrier. No matter how sick I started feeling or how bad things are and how much I wish I was comfortable #and safe at home - the only way to get there is to get there. you knowwhat I mean lol? I can't just be home in 20 minutes #it's a 3 hour ride or nothing. etc. etc. Like if you're on a ship in the middle of the ocean and suddenly just desperately decided you need #to be back on land. there isn't anything you can do. nothing will get you back on land but to stay on the ship and travel the hours it take #to get there. there's no quick exit. No way out that isn't doing the thing you already really don't want to be doing anymore (being in a ca #r or being in a ocean or etc. No alternative route but to just suffer the situation longer). idk.. if that makes sense??#so with the heat sometimes it's like.. it's hot INSIDE and it's hot OUTSIDE and it's hot everywhere you go theres no escape #from it and nothing you can do but just.. be hot. no matter how desperate you are to just BE COLD even for a few minutes #you simply don't have the option. The only way to get cool again is to just wait out the hot weather. You can yearn for the feeling of a #cool breeze all you want but abdolutely nothing will get you colder than just to be miserable in place and wait for the passage of time.#I always get that feeling in the summer like after five 90+F degree days in a row you're like AAAAAAAAAA #JUST AN ESCAPE JUST A QUICK ESCAPE DEAR LORD ' and then 5 minutes later like 'hee he. no its fine. haha. im actually so okay #with my situation i am coping.' short bursts of heat induced frantic anxiety with some resigned calm in between ghjgj #ANYWAY. yes every year I complain about the same thing. I am a hater and a complainer first and foremost ggh.. I love to be honest and #express my thoughts and opinions. I think way too many people are so reserved and repress everything for the sake of like social etiquitte #or personal insecurity (like owrrying they're being annoying or talking too much or that novody cares what they say etc.)#and then that ends up causing passive agression and communication issues and resentments that boil under the surface for years because they #re never adequately expressed. I don't think complaining is an inherently negative thing and it's weird to me that people react so #like it's some sort of moral thing to be against it. Like of course within reason. don't complain to the point that you appreciate #none of the good things around you or like where you start bullying people or something. but broadly speaking. being able to express your #concerns and thoughts in small bursts easily and openly and release some of that tension is better than just holding onto it all and having #it come out larger later or making you internally miserable or etc.. ANYWAY.. yeaghh.. hate heat.. hopefully done with painting soon.etc.#daily log

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thetriumphantpanda · 5 months

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baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

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fangirl-dot-com · 4 months

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Chapter 16 - Chéri

Aha, so I went a different route this time and the POVs are all over the place! But I enjoyed how this one turned out. Hit me in all the feels. just a bit angsty but nothing too terrible!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter! much love from me

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Arthur hated the rain.

Sure, you seemed happy when you danced with P and splashed in the puddles as you waited for the signal for you to get in your car. The smile on your face should have been enough to damper his bad feelings.

But it was raining. And it was Suzuka.

He felt heavy as he got ready earlier that morning. The sad smile on Charles’s face hadn’t helped either. They both felt it when their feet touched the asphalt. They felt it as they held onto each other for a little longer than usual before Charles got dressed.

He tried to take deep breaths before the cameras turned on as he was supposed to help Jensen and Nico with the interviews today. Both ex-drivers seemed to understand the weight that this track had on the younger Monegasque, so they covered the heavier questions.

Arthur could only be glad that he was technically supporting you today. The navy polo felt itchy on his skin. Sure, he missed the red polo with the yellow symbol, but navy was your color. It helped him feel closer to you, when you were kilometers away in your car.

He could tell people wanted to ask. He knew they were itching to just say, “How does it feel to be back on the circuit that killed your godfather.” But, they’d never ask, they would just send sad smiles that didn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes.

Even you, his smiley best friend, could tell something was off.

Arthur’s hands itched more than the skin under the polo. He would never be able to explain the sensation, but they itched. Maybe he should hold a cold can of Red Bull to cool the burn, but that wouldn’t help.

His eyes were strained as he watched the data computer in front of him. He checked and checked again.

Your tires would be fine. There’d be no stray cranes or tractors. The car was safe.

Well, that’s what everyone told him and Charles 9 years ago.

You scared him when you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Jumpy today?” you questioned. You were already in your thick race suit, a helmet was in your hands. It wasn’t anything special, just your plain navy and gold one. You had already showed him your special one for Miami.

He shrugged, not knowing how to answer. “A bit.”

A sad smile formed on your face. Right now, he didn’t need words. He just needed you and Charles to be safe, and not be in the car this weekend.

He finally sighed and turned to face you as he took your helmet in your hands. For a moment, he thought about smashing the damn thing, since he knew you didn’t have a backup. But what would be the point.

He placed the lid on your head, keeping it above your forehead. “Starting pole today?”

Now your smile was genuine. “Yep! Thur, I have a chance to win this!”

He tried to mirror the smile, but again, it didn’t reach his eyes. Normally, he’d wait to kiss the “forehead” of you helmet, but today he needed a little something extra.

Your eyes closed as he leaned in and placed a kiss on your head, almost between your eyes. You placed your hands on top of his, where they were still holding your helmet as a mushroom hat.

You whispered, “Are you ok?”

Arthur backed up just a bit. “Like you said, a bit jumpy.”

Looking back, you knew you should have listened to the warning bells that were going off in your head. Arthur was rarely jumpy.

And he loved the rain.

You stepped closer and gave him a hug. Tears might have pooled at his lash line, but he’d never admit to it. He squeezed just a bit tighter before letting you go, so you could get into your car.

Another hand was placed on his shoulder. His eyes met the figure of Kelly, who was holding P. Her eyes, he thinks, were trying to tell him that you’d be alright. That Charles would be alright. And that nothing would go wrong.

How wrong she was.

Starting Grid:

Y/n L/n

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Fernando Alonso

Carlos Sainz

Lewis Hamilton

Lando Norris

Lance Stroll

Oscar Piastri

George Russell

Alex Albon

Pierre Gasly

Logan Sargeant

Esteban Ocon

Yuki Tsunoda

Daniel Ricciardo

Nico Hulkenberg

Valtteri Bottas

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the Japanese Grand Prix. Y/n L/n gets a good start down the first straight with her teammate Max Verstappen right behind her. Charles Leclerc goes wide, trying to gain the position around Verstappen, as the Dutchman is still trying to get the jump ahead on his rookie teammate and does he have it on the first turn?

“No he does not! Y/n L/n leads the Japanese Grand Prix!”

Was it normal if his heart was racing just as fast as these cars were? Well, for some fans it would be due to excitement. And, deep down, Arthur was very excited. You were doing everything that you ever dreamed of doing.

You’d make 5-year-old Y/n proud.

“Looks like the rain is drying up a bit. We’ll see who gets called into the pits first, and it looks like our race leader has been called in to switch. Now, she started on the intermediates and looks like she’ll be going to the hards. Weird call, but so far this season she has been on the bad end of tyre degradation. So we’ll see if she’ll be able to keep her lead with the hards.

“Seems as though she has started a train of pit stops and still comes out in P1.”

Your car was cruising. Yes, your heart was racing, maybe going as fast as your RB20. And it was due to excitement. You were leading, with a comfortable gap. Right now, you couldn’t see anything in your mirrors.

You pressed your radio.

“Mitch, what is the gap? And will I be able to take a win or do I need to let Max by?” you questioned. You were hoping that it’d be the first instance. Your maiden race win on your fourth Formula 1 race. What a start that would be.

Mitch finally answered. “Just talked to Christian. If Max is able to catch you, then you’d need to let him by. But, right now your pace is the same if not faster than his. So, kid, I’d suggest you keep making qualifying laps and you might be a race winner today.”

“Copy.”

Your car jerked around a corner as you continued to press.

You were hungry, starving even, for that win. You’d show everyone who doubted you that you were capable of winning.

Yet, around the spoon corner of turn 13 and 14, the RB20 slid a bit more than you intended to.

Your finger flew to the radio button. “Uh, Mitch what was that?”

Her response was immediate. “Your breaks are a bit hot. I know I told you to push, but please slow down on the turns.”

“Got it. And who is the car in front of me? Did someone get around or?”

“That’s Ocon. He dropped down after he pitted and will be a lapped car in about a lap or so.”

Arthur listened from the pits as Mitch gave you some advice. The first time he saw your car jerk a bit too much, he swore he died right there. He was thankfully given a pair of headphones so that he could listen in on whatever you said. They were uncomfortable, but he’d do anything right now to be closer to you.

He watched as you got closer and closer to the Alpine. If you got around it, you’d be home free with almost 10 laps to go.

Your first win. He could almost taste it for you, and he wasn’t even hungry for a victory. And maybe after your win, it’d be a good time for a confession.

But he had hope that things wouldn’t end like that.

You’d get a win and he’d get the one thing he’s wanted ever since you scared him at the first meeting.

“Mitch, he’s braking hard on the turns. Can you please let the stewards know? He’s going to be a lapped car but is defending like he’s in first place.”

One of the Red Bull engineers immediately got on it.

“Mitch?”

Was Arthur hearing things, or did you sound panicked?

“Yeah Kid? We’re on it about the breaking.”

“He’s not letting me by! And my breaks are acting weird again.”

You sounded panicked. Mitch pressed a couple of buttons as Arthur started to nibble on his fingers.

“Mitch! My breaks.”

“Kid, they’re overheating. You need to slow down.”

“Mitch I need to get around him. Seven more laps left.”

“Kid, I know that, but we don’t need you spinning out.”

Arthur’s hands began to burn as the itch got worse.

“He’s going deep. I can go around.”

“Kid, it’s too risky. Just wait until he’s given a penalty.”

“I can do it! I’ll be a race winner!”

“Kid, hold on!”

“I got it!”

Arthur’s heart stopped racing.

“Kid!”

“L/n tries to go around the outside of Ocon and…”

Oh.

The sound was silent and deafening at the same time.

A ringing sound echoed in his ears as he watched your car flip and flip and flip.

Asphalt. Sky. Asphalt. Sky. Asphalt. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Barrier.

Black.

The garage was in chaos, but somehow everything was going in slow motion? Arthur just stood still as everyone raced around.

“That is the Red Bull of Y/n L/n that has gone into the barriers. It seems to be wedged upside down and stuck. Do we have any answer from inside the car?”

Mitch frantically held down the radio button.

“Kid answer me? Kid? Come on. This isn’t funny.”

Arthur just stood still.

Next to Mitch, GP was on the radio with Max.

The Dutchman passed the accident site first.

“Ah, was that Ocon? Serves him right for last week. Gap to Y/n please?”

“Uh. That is a red flag Max,” GP sighed, “please come back to the pits.”

“Fine. Tell the kid that we can drink a juice box or something.”

“Just come in.”

The rest of the drivers got similar radio messages.

“Be careful. Red flag, there’s a Red Bull in the barriers Charles.”

Charles’s heart dropped but he covered it with a chuckle, blissfully unaware. “Max finally made a mistake?”

There was no answer from Xavi.

“Red flag, return to the pits Lando.”

“To the pits please Lewis, there’s a red flag.”

“George, come in. Red flag is out and you need to get to the pits.”

“Ah, Daniel, red flag. Back to the pits please.”

“Oscar, please come to the pits. There’s been an accident and it’s a red flag.”

“Logan? Pits please, the red flag is out.”

“Arthur!”

The yell of his name brought him out of his stupor. His eyes met Mitch’s brown ones, where she was beckoning him over. He took the itchy headphones off and all but sprinted over to the pit wall. Immediately, Mitch put her own headphones on his head.

“Talk to her. Get her talking.”

It was a command that Arthur would take to heart.

“Y/n?” Damn it, voice crack. “Y/n, please let me know you’re ok?”

“It seems as though Arthur Leclerc is trying to get L/n to respond. Is there still nothing? The marshals are over there, and are trying, but she’s not out of the car yet?”

Max looked around for your matching Red Bull. Two juice boxes were in his hands as he looked for your helmet. Had you gone for another lap on accident? He turned to the red-clad Monegasque who was weirdly frozen next to him.

“Hey Charles, where’s Y/n…”

The juice boxes fell to the ground as Max’s attention was now on the big screen that was broadcasting the wreck site.

Next to him, Charles’s eyes were welling up with tears. His head swerved as he tried to find his brother. Curse him for wearing the dark polo.

“Hey, Charlie?”

A voice called for him through the fog, but his brain was hyper-active. Two hands were placed on his shoulders and blue eyes blocked the big screen.

“She has a halo. Right now, they’re trying to get her out, ok?” Max tried to comfort the Ferrari driver, but was having some issues not crying as well.

Charles mindlessly nodded. Pierre had come by a few moments later and brought him into a hug. It was then he let the tears fall along with his knees as he dropped to the asphalt.

Max whispered as tears began to fall. “Come on kid. Just answer please.” His hands were tucked under his face, almost as if he were in prayer.

Lando and Oscar held on to each other, trying to offer some comfort. Daniel stood behind them, hands at his sides.

In his mind, he only thought, “Was he going to lose another friend to this track?”

Charles was still on the ground, being comforted by Pierre as he rocked back and forth. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening again. Pas encore, pas elle. J’ai perdu Jules, je ne peux pas la perdre, Arthur ne peut pas la perdre. S’il te plait, s’il te plait, s’il te plait.” (Not again, no her. I’ve lost Jules, I can’t lose her, Arthur can’t lose her. Please, please, please.”)

Logan sat numbly on the ground a little ways away. He had gone to get his headphones first thing to block everything out. He would laugh if he could at the next song that played through the speakers, but didn’t. Life is a Highway wouldn’t have the same meaning after today.

Alex was on the phone with Lily, trying to update his girlfriend. You weren’t close with Alex yet, but he saw how well you treated his teammate.

Lewis and George were couped up in the Mercedes garage. Lewis had refused to turn around and look at the big screen. Ten years hadn’t even passed since it last took a life and Lewis wasn’t about to see them drag your body from under the wreckage. George was trying to cope. Sunglasses were on to hide his tears and red eyes.

At this moment, they were all prepared for what was to come: your body draped with a white blanket.

Arthur was still trying. In this moment, it was just you and him. You were alive, you had to be.

“Y/n? Please answer me? I-I can’t lose you. Ok? Can’t lose you like Jules. S’il te plait, tu dois aller bien. Nous avons encore tellement de choses a faire. Tu as besoin d’une victoire, et je te dire ce je ressens. Chéri…” (Please, you have to be ok. We still have so much to do. You need a race win, and I need to tell you how I feel.”)

A crackling noise came over the radio, right as he was about to give up. His breath hitched.

“Y/n?”

“Heeyyyyy,” you voice sounded. A sob escaped from Arthur’s lips.

His hands didn’t itch anymore.

“You are an idiot.”

A groan left your mouth. “I know. Shit, I’m stuck.”

Mitch, who now had another headphone set on her head, started to talk. “Ok kid. The RB20 was designed for this. You just have to keep kicking the side.”

You sighed. “Ok.”

You managed to scrunch yourself in the cockpit and began to kick. That was the moment that Arthur ran back to the garage.

“She’s awake and answering!”

Cheers filled the air while Christian crouched down.

“Thank God,” he whispered, before standing back up and walking out to the pit lane.

Kelly was the one to grab Arthur’s shoulder. “Come, I can drive you to the hospital. She’ll need us.”

With a nod of his head, Arthur grabbed your bag and off he, P, and Kelly went. Vito quickly followed after them, hands full of your documentations and everything you'd need.

On the pit lane, Max watched as the wall of your RB20 suddenly flew away from the car.

“Charles,” he barely whispered, but the Monegasque heard him somehow and stood up swiftly. A hand grasped his shoulder, and he whipped around to find Christian.

“She’s ok.”

By now, everyone’s eyes were trained on the car. Marshals swarmed around it, ready for anything. What they didn’t expect though, was for one leg to swing out and then another. By the time they got over their shock, you were already halfway out. They quickly kneeled to help you further.

“She is out of the car and looks completely fine! She will have to be taken to the hospital. Our calculations are showing that when she stopped, she experienced 54 g-forces. We don’t know if the race will be continued for the remaining 7 laps, but we will keep you updated.”

Your feet squished the grass as you limped toward the on-site ambulance. You looked around and saw multiple cameras, watching your every move. You were thankful for some of the marshals who tried to push them away. But, in the back of your mind, you knew you needed to let everyone know you were fine.

So, with a probably sprained ankle, you started to lightly bounce and raise your hands and wave. A few laughs were let out by the people around you. You pressed a finger toward you heart and then lifted it to the sky.

Charles knew exactly what you were doing. He finally lifted himself off the ground, with Pierre’s help, and did the same motion.

Thank you Jules.

Max was back in the garage, now getting ready for the last few laps. He was angry. Honestly, they should just let everyone go, but a race is a race and it’s not completed.

Mitch and GP came over.

“Kelly went with Arthur and P to the hospital. She says that she’ll keep us updated,” GP told him.

Mitch sucked in a breath. “We’ll let you know how she is after the race. And Max?”

He turned to your engineer.

“Win for her. Ok?” Tears lined her eyes.

Max nodded, wanting to win for you.

He put his helmet on and stalked toward his car.

“And Max?” This time it was Christian, who had jogged up next to him. Max turned his head, full attention on his team principal.

“Give Ocon hell for us.”

Max turned back toward his car, eyes quickly darting to the alpine vehicle.

Oh, he would.

Race Results:

Max Verstappen +25

Charles Leclerc +18

Lando Norris +15

Oscar Piastri +12

Carlos Sainz +11

Lewis Hamilton +8

George Russell +6

Daniel Ricciardo +4

Alex Albon +2

Fernando Alonso +1

Logan Sargeant +0

Yuki Tsunoda +0

Pierre Gasly +0

Valtteri Bottas +0

Lance Stroll +0

Kevin Magnussen +0

Nico Hulkenberg +0

Zhou Guanyu +0

Esteban Ocon +0

Y/n L/n – DNF

Standings after Suzuka

Max Verstappen – 100 points

Charles Leclerc – 66 points

Lando Norris – 42 points

Y/n L/n – 41 points

Lewis Hamilton – 32 points

Oscar Piastri – 31 points

Carlos Sainz – 28 points

Fernando Alonso – 23 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 21 points

George Russell – 20 points

Alex Albon – 4 points

Logan Sargeant – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Esteban Ocon - 0 points

Constructors Standings after Suzuka

Red Bull – 214 points

Ferrari – 139 points

McLaren – 105 points

Mercedes – 87 points

Racing Bulls – 36 points

Aston Martin – 26 points

Williams – 4 points

Alpha Romeo – 0 points

Haas – 0 points

Alpine – 0 points

f1 has posted *pretend there are no cars in the back of the second photo*

f1 Y/n L/n is out of the Japanese Grand Prix following a nasty impact! Mechanics who looked at her car found a faulty brake pad that caused an intense lock up on turn 15. The Red Bull rookie would have experienced around 54 G's when her car finally stopped at the barrier. L/n was escorted to the local hospital and was later released today.

liked by y/n_nation, maxiel_lover, iamred_iamyellow, and 94,873 others

y/n_updates I am so thankful that she's ok now, my heart stopped for a few minutes until she got out

y/nxarthur Arthur's and Charles's faces as they were waiting for her to get out, I was sobbing

leclerc4ever well, considering they lost their godfather at this exact circuit almost ten years ago, I felt their pain through the screen thur_thur exactly, Arthur's cries over the radio will haunt me for the rest of my life

box_box_express does anyone know who went with her? obviously the drivers had to finish the race

y/n_nation some sources say that Arthur and Kelly went with her as well as her manager Vito box_box_official thank you!

rb_rookie Red Bull finally released a statement that they will be looking into the faulty part, because apparently Max was also having the same issue

y/n_lover glad our girl is ok, but did anyone see how mad Max was? she locked up because she was breaking too hard behind Ocon. He needs to be stopped because this is Y/n's second impact and its all because of him

f1_fanatic ikr, and he was about to be a lapped car too!

b0x_b0x_nightmare she flipped almost 10 times, she could have died - Jules was definitely keeping her safe (thank you halo)

y/n_marry_me AND THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HER FIRST WIN TOO GRRRRRRRR

f1_gossip has posted

f1_gossip looks like Mad Max is BACK. The dutch driver was seen yelling at Alpine driver Esteban Ocon after the race. Some sources say he was needed to be held back and Ocon had to be escorted back to his own garage. Max also barely responded to any of the post-race media interviews and immediately left after he was done.

tagged: maxverstappen1

liked by max_max_super, f1_fanatic, y/n_on_TOP, and 24,028 others

f1-fan BAHAHAHA I was laughing my ass off when Max was yelling at Ocon because he deserved it

max_max the return of Mad Max (although I wish it was under different circumstances, I feel so bad for Y/n)

lestappenlove I also saw Charles join in on the yelling as well

max&kid well deserved for Ocon. Seriously though, he needs to have like a penalty or something

y/n_fanclub is it bad that I wished Max would have punched him?

max_is_da_best nope, because I think we all wanted that to happen

leclercxverstappen I know for sure that if Arthur was there, he would have gone off too, you don't mess with Y/n and expect to walk away unhurt

max33 he was FUMING

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 everything hurts but pookie made it better with Macas, Cars 2, and the Porsche 911 Lego set - I'll be back, that top step is MINE

tagged: arthur_leclerc

liked by ollibearman, lewishamilton, danielricciardo, y/n_updates and 73,911 others

y/n_nation so happy for the update! we're all so glad that you're ok!

oscarpiastri mad that he got a picture and not me, I was literally also there

logansargeant and I brought your blanket?? y/n.89 but did you bring me macas, my favorite movie, AND legos?

olliebearman that's it mom - I'm coming to visit before you actually die

y/n.89 SON! olliebearman MOM! arthur_leclerc son? olliebearman DAD? maxverstappen1 son?! charles_leclerc dad?! olliebearman grandfathers? landonorris hold-up

y/n_updates POOKIE?? HELLO?

y/nxarthur me rn, having the urge to say something about the word "pookie": STAY IN THE BOX, NO! STAY IN THE BOX, NO!

that_1_y/n_fan I wonder what the doctor said

y/n.89 basically I have bruises in the shape of my seatbelt and a sprained ankle from kicking the side of the RB20 to get out. just some r&r needed before Shanghai! y/n.fan703 oh my gosh feel better!

danielricciardo hope you feel better darl! Heidi and I will be over with some actual food

lewishamilton Roscoe says that you need some snuggles, we'll come over when you tell us to francisca.gomez coming over with pear and some other get better goodies :D y/n.89 I love you all!

maxverstappen1 was the Lego set really necessary?

arthur_leclerc YES y/n.89 YES landonorris YES oscarpiastri YES logansargeant YES maxverstappen1 ok sheesh, sorry

y/n-y/n-fan is no one going to address the middle picture??

author shhhhhhhh (its for the plot)

f1_fanatic Ocon better watch out cause it's on SIGHT

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

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cloudcountry · 1 year

Text

1.5K FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

SUMMARY: The Octatrio takes you to the ocean, where you explore a shipwreck with them!!

WARNINGS: Jade & Floyd being slightly threatening? They imply that they'll drown you lol sillies.

COMMENTS: i had this in the works for like a week and i really like how it turned out!! (i'm especially fond of the floyd parts hehe) THERES ALSO SOME DEUCE CONTENT BC I COULDNT HELP MYSELF but thats only in the beginning wahhwawah ANYWAYS i hope ygys like this one!!!!!!!! im excited to hear what you all think!!!!!!!!

You slowly unfasten your arms from around Deuce’s waist as the blastcycle skids to a stop. Vehicles in Twisted Wonderland are still incredibly hard to get used to, even though you’ve been here for longer than you want to think about.

“Thanks for the ride.” you lean back, swinging your legs over the side with a smile, “I appreciate it.”

“Ah…no problem.” Deuce replies, eyes darting from the seemingly empty shoreline to you, “Just…if anything happens, call me. Okay?”

You sigh, touched by his concern. Lifting your hand, you extend your pinkie to him. He wraps his pinkie around yours, and when you whisper that you promise, he nods and lets you go.

“Thank you,” Deuce whispers.

It’s nice having people who want to protect you.

He drives off and you wave, even though his back is turned to you and it wouldn’t be safe for him to wave back. Once the roaring engine has faded completely, you turn your attention to the beach. There’s a set of wooden stairs leading down to the bay, and you take them down. The sand feels warm and inviting, and you kick your shoes off without a second thought. It’s odd, your three companions should be here by now, but you don’t question it too much. Those three do what they want when they want to, and there’s no telling what they decided to do today.

You spend a few minutes swiping at the sand, collecting a small pile of pretty shells. It’s a modest collection, nothing to write home about, but the childish act alone fills you with a glee you haven’t felt in quite a long time.

Perhaps Azul was right. A trip to the sea really might be all you need.

“Hello, angelfish.” a familiar voice croons from behind you.

You turn and barely manage to contain your surprise when you see Azul in casual shorts and a shirt. Although it’s plenty warm outside, the mental image you have of him always wears a suit. It’s a nice change.

“Hello, Azul.” you smile, and take the hand he extends to you.

A kiss that burns hotter than the sun is pressed to the back of your hand. Your arms fall back to your side far too soon.

“I do hope you’ll enjoy this little trip I’ve planned.” he muses, turning his attention to the water, “There’s a shipwreck a little ways from here that Floyd and Jade wanted to explore, you see. Bad things happen when I don’t indulge those two.”

Something tells you that you are also part of that indulgence.

“Where are they?” you ask, scanning the wide expanse of golden sand, “I didn’t see them when I arrived.”

“Ah…” Azul winces and shakes his head, pointing a single finger toward the water.

You turn just in time to see two pairs of glowing eyes peeking up from the water. They’re gone in an instant, and if it wasn’t for Azul’s uneasiness you would have thought you imagined it.

“They’re very sneaky, aren’t they?” you murmur.

Azul nods.

You shake your head, mimicking Azul’s earlier actions. Except you decide to take the route the three of them probably wouldn’t expect.

And so you start walking towards the water.

Azul sucks in air through his teeth and grabs your arm as if warning you not to go.

“It’ll be fine.” you turn back to him and pat his hand, offering him the most reassuring smile you can manage, “If Floyd gets a little too rambunctious and forgets that I can’t breathe underwater, I’ll have you to stop them.”

Azul hesitates but lets you go. He does follow you though, which is rather endearing.

It’s nice having people who want to protect you.

Once you reach the water, you start to sink into the sand. You keep walking until it’s reached your knees. There isn’t any sign of them, but you’re sure Floyd will ambush you sooner or later. You start moving again, eventually wading into the deeper part of the shoreline. Azul watches you apprehensively.

Something brushes your foot.

You can’t help but jerk, but the ticklish sensation makes you laugh.

Someone pinches your thigh, and you swat at them.

There’s a swarm of bubbles that surrounds you, and for a second you swear you can see a tail flick out of the water before a giant merman jumps out of the water and body slams you into the waves.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd cheers, squashing your faces together and splashing salt water everywhere.

“Hi, Floyd.” you giggle as he digs his webbed fingers into your sides.

“My my. No greeting for me?” Jade pouts, resting his chin on your other shoulder, “You’re so heartless, Pearl.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance!” you laugh, running your fingers through their hair, “Hello, Jade. I’m very happy to see the two of you.”

“Will you two be more gentle with them!?” Azul hollers, a sour look on his face, “They haven’t taken the potion yet, so you should be cautious!”

Floyd sinks into the water and blows annoyed bubbles. Jade just smiles serenely, making no move to leave your side. Azul groans loudly, exasperated.

“Azul, it’s okay.” you call, slowly making your way towards the shoreline with two mermen in tow, “If I didn’t want them here, I wouldn’t have come into the water.”

“Well, there you have it.” Jade smiles triumphantly, wrapping his tail around your leg, “The Little Pearl doesn’t mind one bit, do they Floyd?”

“Yeah, Jade. They don’t mind at all.” Floyd grins menacingly, wrapping his tail around your other leg.

“Guys, I need those.” you remind them gently, and they begrudgingly let you go.

It’s funny how they listen to you and not the man they call boss (who is still fuming on the shoreline.)

You clamber out of the water with the grace of a crab as Jade and Floyd continue to pinch at your legs. You’re only safe when Azul catches you in his arms, lips pursed and hair tousled from the wind.

“What’s this potion I’m supposed to take?” you ask, paying no mind to the splash of water that hits you in the shins.

“Ah. It’s a water breathing potion.” Azul hums, clearly proud of himself, “I brewed it myself, so rest assured, it will work. The potion allows you to breathe and see underwater with minimal difficulty. Your payment for the potion will be assisting us in collecting artifacts and such from the shipwreck I mentioned previously.”

You have a feeling that all that meant was your payment is spending time with us.

You suppose they are rather lonely, with their reputations and all. Azul especially, with that sensitive heart of his.

“Okay,” you say softly, following him as he leads you to a neat row of duffel bags. He leans down and unzips the one with a cute little octopus charm and produces a purple glass bottle. The cork is shaped like a clam shell, and you marvel at how pretty of a bottle it is for only a few seconds before you look at Azul.

The sea is dangerous, you remind yourself. But these three will protect you.

“Now, I will not be joining you.” Azul declares, taking out a book from the same duffel bag, “So you may go with Jade and Floyd.”

He plops down in the sand, opens the book, and ends the conversation.

What?

You must have stood there for far too long because Azul looks up at you over the rim of his glasses as if you’re the one doing something weird.

“Come on Azul!” Floyd yells from the sea, “Shrimpy doesn’t care!”

“Indeed. And you were so excited about this trip, too. I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to come.” Jade sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, “There’s nothing to be done about it, I suppose. It looks like we’ll be getting the pretty little pearl all to ourselves, won’t we, Floyd?”

“Oooh, yeah!” Floyd beams, tongue flicking out between his sharp teeth, “All to ourselves, Jade.”

You see Azul’s eyebrow twitch.

Floyd groans, seemingly annoyed at Azul’s lack of reaction, and shifts his targeted jeers to you.

“Shrimpy! I can tell you why Azul doesn’t want to go!” Floyd yells, flailing his arms around, “He doesn’t want you to see his merform! He’s super squishy and slow!”

“Now, now. That’s rude, Floyd.” Jade chastises his brother, but his smile lets you know that he’s getting a kick out of this too.

“Well, that’s a good thing, right?” you turn back to look at Azul and kneel next to him, “I won’t be a fast swimmer either, Azul. Not as fast as Jade or Floyd. It’d be nice to hang back with someone.”

Azul says nothing.

You block out Floyd’s jeering and focus on him.

“Hey.” you whisper, “If you want to come along, you can. Don’t let me stop you. I promise I won’t judge how you look, hell I won’t even look at you if you don’t want me to. But I’d really like it if you came—”

“That is out of the question.” Azul says curtly, pushing his glasses up his nose.

You hesitate, debating if leaving him here would make him more comfortable.

Except you know Azul. And you know if he doesn’t join you three on this trip, he’ll regret it.

“Listen, Azul.” you murmur, keeping your tone gentle and firm, “I want to go with you. It won’t be the same without you. So if you want to come, you should. I don’t want to leave without you.”

Azul hesitates, and you know you’re getting through to him.

“So come on!” you place a hand on his shoulder and smile reassuringly, “It wouldn’t be fun without you. Who else is going to teach me about all the different coins you can find?”

“Gahh, fine!” Azul snaps his book shut and tucks it back into his duffel bag, hands shaking, “You run a hard bargain, my dear.”

You laugh, and your heart feels light. You lead Azul to the water and turn away as he prepares to transform. You hear a soft splash and you pop the cork off the pretty glass bottle. Tipping it back, the contents spill past your lips and down your throat. Not wanting to be messy, You place the cork back on and put the bottle on a nearby rock. A slimy hand reaches for you, and you turn to see Jade smiling up at you. Floyd is a little ways away, bouncing around in the water like he can’t wait for you to enter.

Azul is nowhere to be seen, but that’s okay. You can only hope he’ll feel more comfortable as the trip goes on.

”Come on, Shrimpy!” Floyd yells, and that's all the encouragement you need to take Jade's hands and let him drag you into the water.

And he coaxes you into the smooth waves, just like a siren. His eyes certainly glow like he’s hypnotizing you, but you’re certain his beauty is enough to have the same effect.

Once your head is submerged, you open your eyes. Instead of the sharp pain you expect to feel from opening your eyes in the salty water, you’re able to see clearly. Jade’s still holding your hand as he drags you deeper, tail swishing as he darts around coral. You try your best to follow him as you cut through the water, and you know if it wasn’t for the care he puts into making sure you’re not getting scraped on the rough outcrops of coral, you surely would have been injured already.

Floyd swims down from up above and snatches you from his brother in the blink of an eye. You’re pressed into a slick, pale chest as Floyd bears his teeth playfully, swimming farther up.

“No fair, hogging Shrimpy all to yourself.” Floyd grumbles, clutching you against him like a prized catch.

“Now, now. No need to get aggressive.” Jade hums, swimming up to meet Floyd, “They were very much enjoying themselves with me, weren’t you?”

You’re saved from the growing conflict between the brothers by Azul, who pokes his head out from a small cavern in the coral.

“Our goal is to get to the shipwreck, not mess around.” Azul chastises him, and you marvel at the parts of him you can see (which just so happens to be his face and the upper part of his chest.)

He really is beautiful.

“Yes, boss.” Floyd smiles lazily, flicking his tail at him before swimming off with you in tow.

Jade smiles but says nothing as he follows after his brother, who decides to take a small detour. He spins you around a coral spire as if he’s dancing, holding your hands as you spin. His grin is toothy and wide, and his laughter rings clear even in the water, eyes shimmering as if reflecting the sun. He twirls you around like a dancer, and the water fans around you like a costume. It makes you feel like a performer, gorgeous and renowned, and you find yourself grateful for Floyd’s adventurous spirit.

“You see that, Shrimpy?” Floyd giggles, halting mid-dance to swim closer to the coral reef, “It’s you!”

You swim a bit closer, using Floyd’s hand as an anchor to keep yourself close to him. There’s a small shrimpy fluttering through the crevices, skittering across the coral-like an underwater insect.

“Do I really look like that to you?” you tease, shooting Floyd a doubtful look.

“Sure ya do! You’re tiny and you scitter around and you’d probably taste really yummy.” he teases.

He bites just beside your ear and you swat at him. Floyd laughs and swims circles around you, jabbing you with his hands and poking you with his tail. He’s more touchy than usual, you think, and it makes you want to hold him too.

The next time he circles you, you latch onto his tail. Floyd shrieks and flings his you through the water, shooting you towards the coral reef with his pure strength.

“Only shrimps this tall get to ride for free!” He holds his hand up just a few centimeters taller than you and sticks his tongue out.

“Only eels this tall get to receive hugs from shrimpies.” you say, holding your hand just a bit higher than him.

Floyd swims upward and bonks into your hand, looking very proud of himself. You hug him as he takes you the rest of the way to the shipwreck.

It’s a towering thing, made almost entirely of wood. There’s a gaping hole in one of the sides, and you assume that’s how it sank. Floyd giggles and you realize your mouth is gaping in shock. You slam it shut, embarrassed.

Jade and Azul are already examining items they found in the sand, Jade swishing around in the open water while Azul hides most of his body in another crevice. There’s a small treasure chest by Jade’s tail, full of coins and what looks like paper—?

You’ll have to ask them about that.

“It certainly took you long enough.” Jade chuckles.

Azul acknowledges you two with a curt nod as he sorts through coins that look older than Trein. He’s far too deep in his element to engage in pleasantries, you think.

“Floyd, I found some well preserved musical records.” Azul says mildly, handing Floyd a book that seems completely dry without sparing him a glance.

Floyd positively lights up and tears the book out of Azul’s hands, flipping through the pages that are indeed dry.

“Old merfolk spells.” Jade explains, smiling at your surprised expression, “We find paper books fascinating, you see. If the pages are protected by leather and metals they last underwater for quite a bit of time. We had to preserve them somehow.”

“That is fascinating.” you breathe, and Jade chuckles.

He grabs your hand and you turn to him questioningly. He gestures towards the large ship, towering over your little group. You gape at the structure again, and Jade laughs at your facial expression. The hole in the side of the ship looks just big enough for someone to enter it, and you find yourself wondering how it got there again.

Now that you think about it, the hole could have been made after the ship sank.

“Shall we?’ Jade murmurs, pressing a guiding hand to your lower back.

You let him lead you into the shipwreck, but he doesn’t allow you to enter until he’s checked the floor you’re on thoroughly.

“It’s all clear, my pearl.” he offers you his hand again, and you take it.

The second you’re inside, you break free from Jade’s grasp and swim around the room. There’s a collection of silverware in a rickety old cabinet. There’s an old chest that’s cracked open, and you can see scraps of paper peeking out from their age-old prison, suspended in the water. There’s an armchair with an intricately woven cushion, one of its armrests broken off.

Jade watches as you dart around the room, silently following you as you glance from item to item. You know he must think it’s amusing that you can be so enraptured by your own kind. He can’t blame you, though. Humans have always fascinated him, and you’re well aware he’s aware of you indulging him on many occasions.

Many people would be frightened if Jade Leech examined them so closely. You are not one of those people.

“Jade.” you whisper, swimming over to him with curiosity in your eyes, “Is this an old terrarium?”

Oh, you can tell that piques his interest. You point to a dark corner of the ship to a small table and a tiny, house-like structure. It’s made of some type of fibrous material, and two glass panes extend diagonally from the rectangular base. Jade swims over, gently taking the structure in his hands and peeking inside. His sharpened teeth glint in the slivers of sunlight as he beams, cradling the discovery as though it was worth more than all the gold Azul was sorting outside.

“Yes, it is.” he murmurs, voice soft as he coaxes you forward, “Humans didn’t care so much about how pretty terrariums were as long as they were functional. I’ve heard many merpeople talk about how boring these terrariums in particular are as a result of their lack of stained glass, but I can’t help but find this style charming.”

“Sometimes being functional is better.” you agree.

Jade gazes upon you with a softness he does not normally display. It makes your heart take a little tumble in your chest.

Jade opts to take the terrarium with him, and the two of you bounce ideas of what to put in the container back and forth. At one point you bring up taking some coral and sea floor rocks for decor, and Jade perks up like you’ve just reinvented the world of terrariums.

“I’ve been so fascinated by your world that I forgot about the beauties of mine.” he murmurs, lifting a silver knife to examine it, “Say, what do you think about using this knife as a plant marker?”

“You could carve the name of the plant in the handle.” you muse, and Jade nods with a wide smile.

“You have a fascinating mind.” he places a hand on your head, scratching gently at your scalp, “It makes me want to explore you, too.”

You feel your face grow warm in the chilly water.

With your suggestion in mind, Jade begins collecting the various plates and silverware he can find, debating how he can use each bit of his treasures. You watch him for a while as he darts around, storing the items you used every day in his terrarium as though it was a precious treasure chest.

“Isn’t there a story about how the mermaid princess believed that a fork was a comb?” you ask as he picks up a golden fork, “I think Floyd told me that one.”

“So he does pay attention.” Jade chuckles, turning his gaze to you, “Yes, indeed. She was so excited upon seeing one at the prince’s dinner table that she snatched it right up and began vigorously brushing her hair. As you can imagine, the prince was very confused.”

“That would have hurt her scalp pretty bad.” you murmur, furrowing your brow, “But she had the right idea, I suppose.”

Jade laughs, and you feel proud that you were the cause.

“Jaaaade!” Floyd pokes his head in and beams when he sees you, “Have you gone down to the bottom floor yet? Azul says there's a lot of fun stuff down there.”

“I haven’t.” Jade says mildly, “We’ve been having a grand time up here, you see. I daresay I got a bit distracted.”

Floyd sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry, but with the unparalleled length of his tongue, it looks incredibly odd. You barely manage to stifle a laugh, and Floyd beams as though he’s just won a prize.

“C’mon, Shrimpy!” Floyd cackles, darting forward and snatching you up into his arms, “Let’s go explore!”

You’re surprised when Jade follows the two of you down to the deeper levels of the shipwreck. You expected him to continue perusing the selection of silverware, but instead he clutches his terrarium in his arms and swims after you and his brothers. Floyd’s chattering away about how you aren’t going to believe what’s on the lower deck and how it’d shock your poor shrimpy heart to death if you were alone. He giggles and wraps himself around you, covering your eyes as he leads you into an open space.

“Look, Shrimpy.” Floyd murmurs right next to your ear, peeling his hands away from your face, “Look at all those weapons.”

Floyd’s not wrong, this would be a rather creepy sight if you were alone. There are two long rows of cannons, each one covered in seaweed and coated in a strange green film. The seaweed reaches out for you in the water, almost as if they’re composed of dead souls that yearn for vengeance. Jade swims out into the room and swats away the seaweed as it clings to his tail. Floyd leads you after his brother and giggles when you shy away from the plant, hating the way it feels against your skin.

“Shying away from a little seaweed, Shrimpy?” Floyd hisses, playfully swatting at the tendrils that reach out to you, “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine.”

You’re relieved when you reach the end of the hallway.

Jade carefully examines a wad of mud that bulges from the opening of a nearby cannon, sediments peeking out from the sludge. Floyd busies himself with darting up and down the aisle, laughing and flipping around in the water. You let him drag him with you, and slowly get used to the texture of the rough seaweed clinging to your legs. Floyd twirls you dramatically and dips you, proclaiming loudly that dancers always do this in those silly little human movies, taking the opportunity to snap at your ear again.

He seems amused when you still don’t flinch.

“Floyd, don’t tease them.” Jade calls, a devious grin on his face, “We wouldn’t want them getting cold feet now.”

“I dunno, Jade. I think their feet are already pretty cold.” Floyd giggles, poking the bottom of your foot with the edge of his tail, “Cold as ice.”

Your toes flex at the ticklish sensations. They certainly do like finding all your weak spots, don’t they?

“We should warm them up, don’t you think?” Jade quips, tilting his head innocently.

“Maybe we shouuuuuld.” Floyd hisses, running his claws down the length of your arm.

They must see how your face twitches because they laugh and close in on you. What teases they are, whispering things to you like that. Just when it seems like they’re going to give you one of their famous squeezes, they stop.

“C’mon, Shrimpy. Let’s get you back up to the surface.” Floyd snatches up your wrist and yanks you so hard you’re certain he almost popped your arm from its socket.

Jade grabs your other hand, much more gently, and curls his fingers through the gaps in yours. You let them pull you upwards, powerful tails cutting through the water and they propel you up and out of the structure. Azul is nowhere to be found, and you must look confused at his absence because Jade squeezes your hand. You turn to him and he offers you a calm smile.

“Don’t worry, Azul is back on land. He’s had his fill of being seen for today.”

He doesn’t want you to see him in that form more than you already have.

“That’s okay.” you murmur, “He’s done more than enough already. I’m proud of him.”

“I’m certain he’ll appreciate the understanding.” Jade smiles his closed-eyed smile and nods.

The trip back is full of the same coral reefs, the same tails twining between your legs and curling around your waist, the same laughter from Floyd and quips from Jade. There’s a bittersweet feeling that wells up in your chest as you reach the shoreline again, knowing you likely won’t be back here for quite a while. Despite the rumors that the students of NRC spun about the Leech brothers, they weren’t nearly as dastardly as they usually were. You wonder if it has something to do with the joy of exploring a ship, of being in their element, of being able to talk about things they like.

“If you two want to talk about the things you like, I’d be happy to listen.” you say.

The Leech brothers share a look, one that seems as though they’re communicating without words. They turn back to you and smile, Jade’s grin is far less toothy than Floyd’s but just as happy.

“Keep talking like that and we’ll have to drag you down into the depths and keep you to ourselves.” Jade murmurs, eyes flashing, “Won’t we, Floyd?”

“Ohhh, yeah.” Floyd giggles, “Jade’s right. Who knows what’ll happen, hmm?”

Nevermind.

You laugh and shake your head, to which Jade chuckles.

Your head bursts from the water and you stumble onto the warm sand, where you see Azul sitting in front of three treasure chests. His brow is furrowed as he hunches over the coins, sorting them by year. You decide to sit beside him as the Leech brothers continue to swim. At some point, you hear Floyd slam his entire body into the water, and shriek as Jade slams into the water and pushes an even bigger wave back at him.

“Did you have fun today?” you whisper to Azul.

“I did, yes. I haven’t gotten the chance to explore a shipwreck since enrolling in NRC.” he pushes his glasses up his nose, and they make a soft clicking noise, “I found many more coins for my collection. I’m pleased.”

“I’m glad.” you say, and you don’t say anything else because there’s no need.

You do, however, find yourself splashing back into the water when Floyd calls your name a little while later.

You’re glad you came.

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wheeboo · 4 months

Text

shirt(less) | lee jihoon

SYNOPSIS. in which jihoon should really learn to wear a shirt whenever someone is at his place... unless you don't want him to. PAIRING. lee jihoon x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. shirtless jihoon (yes, this is the MAIN warning), just reader (you guys 🫵 checking him out), a lil lil suggestive, kissing, terms of endearment, mild cursing WORD COUNT. 1.3k

notes: just a silly thought i had thanks to nana tour blessing us with shirtless clips 😚

Jihoon really isn't used to people sleeping over at his place.

It's not like he doesn't want for people to sleep over (some of his members have involuntarily slept over many, many times at some point), he's fine with people sleeping over as long as he has his own little space to decompress. His place is his safe haven, his personal castle, his own little pocket of Jihoon-ness where he could exist without the need to put on a show. Here, he could simply be Lee Jihoon.

That is, until his life started to intertwine with you.

It was a simple invitation𑁋you decided to stop by with dinner and ended up staying longer than usual, and Jihoon had offered for you to stay the night. He remembers seeing the hesitant look to your face at first, but then you agreed with a warm smile. And despite some of the nerves and shaking off the anxious thoughts realising he had just offered you to stay at his place for the first time in your early relationship, Jihoon found comfort in the fact that it was you. And that's okay.

However, he probably should've been more mindful with you staying here. When he's alone and doesn't have anyone staying over (which again, he isn't exactly used to), he's used to settling down for the night at his own pace, with his own routine, so he probably should've told you beforehand that he... doesn't sleep with a shirt on most of the time.

And no, he didn't forget that you were sleeping over; it's just that the thought simply slipped his mind and hit him the moment he had opened the door to his bedroom.

"Hoonie, do you think tomorrow we can𑁋oh my god!"

The loud shriek makes Jihoon shoot his eyes to where you stood next to his bed, noticing the blush that had quickly spread across your face as your eyes widen in surprise. He lifts a brow, before looking down at himself, and he feels the embarrassment heat up at the tips of his ears.

Oh, he's shirtless.

You find yourself standing frozen like a deer caught in headlights, mind going blank, unable to tear your eyes away from your boyfriend's chest in full display in front of you. Your cheeks are definitely burning hotter than the kimchi stew you shared for dinner earlier.

Jihoon's heart stutters in his chest. He feels a blush of his own creeping up his neck, mirroring the one painting your cheeks like a delicate rose. Shit, he wants to melt into the floorboards, disappear into the fabric of his nonexistent shirt. But instead, he stands there, frozen in the awkward form of his bedroom doorway.

"I, uh..." he stammers, voice barely above a whisper. "I usually don't sleep with a shirt on."

He knows it sounds lame, like something a teenager caught in his underwear might say. But it's the truth, the only defense he has against the heat rising in his cheeks and the sudden, unwelcome flutter in his stomach.

Your eyes might as well bulge out of your skull at this point, darting between his bare torso𑁋taking in the clean lines of his abs and the gentle curve of his shoulder blades𑁋and the open door behind him, contemplating a quick escape route that wouldn't involve jumping out of the window. A nervous laugh escapes your lips, before you snap your gaze away.

You have seen Jihoon on stage, in music videos, in photoshoots𑁋you know he has a good build, sure. But seeing him shirtless in his own private space, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, it all felt impossibly intimate. And you can't help but ogle.

"I... I didn't know," You finally let out nervously, eyes flitting back to his chest for a fleeting moment before darting away again.

His eyes meet yours, and you see a flicker of vulnerability in them. He's nervous too, You realise.

"Sorry," he mumbles in slight embarrassment. "I should've warned you."

Warned you? You almost want to laugh at that. How could anyone warn you for the sight of your boyfriend, shirtless and disheveled, standing in his bedroom doorway?

"It's okay," You assure, gathering your wits. "It's just... unexpected."

Then Jihoon lets out a chuckle. "You're acting as if you haven't seen me shirtless before. I send you gym pictu𑁋"

"Okay, b-but this is in person, so it's different!" You exclaim quickly, cutting his words off.

"So do... you want me to put on a shirt? If it makes you uncomfortable𑁋"

"No! It-it's fine, really. I mean, it's your place, and you're comfortable, right?" You interject, your words a bit too rushed. "I'll just... get used to it. It's okay. Besides, you... look really good."

Jihoon's cheeks flush even deeper. He sees the way your eyes keep flicking back to his torso, then quickly looking away, and it makes his heart race in a different way this time. It's not the nervous thump of embarrassment anymore, but something else. He steps closer to you, and you nearly stub your toe on the footboard of his bed.

“You think so?" he questions, a pinch of tease to his words.

You nod, heart still throbbing in your chest. "Yeah, I-I mean I know you work hard at the gym and that you're always practicing so I𑁋"

Jihoon cuts you off with his lips melting onto yours. It's a kiss that tastes like surprise, like nervous laughter held back, like the sweet, lingering warmth of the kimchi stew from earlier. Your hands find their way to his arms, tentatively tracing the line of his biceps, before wrapping around him and pulling him closer, your palms meeting the smooth contours of his back. The warmth of his skin against yours sends shivers down your spine, and you feel yourself melt into him, the awkwardness of the situation forgotten.

When he pulls away, his eyes are soft and locked on yours, searching for your reaction. A playful smile dances on his lips, and you can't help but return it with a breathless giggle of your own, before a yawn leaves you. You stifle it with the back of your hand, feeling your eyelids getting heavy despite the surge of electricity that coursed through you just moments ago.

"Tired?" Jihoon asks you.

"Yeah, a bit." You sit down on his bed, toying at his soft sheets with your fingers. "Lay down with me?"

The smile on his face widens just slightly, and that's enough of an answer that you need. You crawl into the bed, slipping under the covers as he climbs in beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. The bed smells like him, a comforting mix of laundry detergent and his natural scent, and you snuggle closer into his pillow, letting your exhaustion melt away.

You feel Jihoon shift right behind you, hearing a yawn of his own leave his mouth. You flip yourself around to face him, your eyes meeting his sleepy ones in the soft moonlight filtering through the window.

"Is it okay if... if we cuddle?" You whisper, a hint of shyness in your voice.

A curve of Jihoon's lips bloom like a flower opening to the morning sun.

"More than okay," he replies softly.

Then he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you close, his bare chest warm against yours. It's more intimate than you ever imagined your first sleepover at his place would be, yet it feels incredibly right. You let out a contented sigh as you adjust yourself in his hold, your head resting on his chest and your legs intertwined together under the sheets.

"Comfortable?" he murmurs, voice a low rumble in the quiet room.

"Mhm," You hum in response, nuzzling closer to him.

Some silence passes, and you take the time to listen to Jihoon's heartbeat against your ears, with a finger lightly tracing the outline of his shoulder, his skin smooth and warm under your fingertips. His breath quietly hitches from your touch.

"Mmh, babe?" You call out to him. "Can I tell you something?"

Jihoon's eyes flutter open. "Hmm?"

A tiny smirk crosses over your face, and you move yourself up in his hold to be able to whisper in his ear, your breath tickling against his skin.

"You're so pretty."

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loveinhawkins · 2 years

Text

Eddie notices it during a quiet night; his pain medication is gradually decreasing, meaning that he can stay awake for longer stretches of time. He’s relishing it, getting back to something semi-normal: up late at night, jotting down ideas in his notebook—maybe for a campaign or a song, maybe just for him; he hasn’t decided yet.

Steve is here, curled up on the couch; he always is whenever Wayne works nights. It’s some sort of unspoken arrangement—but Steve and Wayne must have talked it through, Eddie surmises, when he was out of it in the hospital. Not like he’s complaining.

There’s a movement in the corner of his eye; Eddie stops writing and looks over to see Steve’s head nodding sleepily. He smiles to himself.

But then he realises that Steve isn’t falling asleep, not completely: whenever he catches himself drifting off, he jerks, straightens up, before the cycle repeats again. And, every time, his hand moves to his jeans pocket, as if checking for something.

It’s not a panicked gesture, not exactly. It’s something more… habitual. Ingrained.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie says softly.

Steve yawns. “Yeah?”

His hand moves to his pocket again, and Eddie sees a little flash of silver. Oh. It’s his car keys.

Slowly, Eddie sets his notebook aside. “You okay?” He shifts his tone into something teasing, but still quiet enough that Steve could sleep through it, if he wanted. “Not planning an escape route or anything?”

Steve shakes his head, eyes closed. This time, the keys are jostled, brought a little further into view; and Eddie notices, with a pang, that Steve has reached for the keys so often that there’s a mark on his thumb—from where the metal ridges have pressed against the skin.

“Jus’…” Steve murmurs. “Just in case… anyone needs…”

Help, Eddie finishes internally.

His heart aches. He wonders for just how long Steve has only allowed himself a light doze rather than true sleep. Just in case.

Rising from the couch as silently as he can, Eddie kneels in front of Steve, puts a careful hand on his knee. Steve hardly stirs.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie repeats.

“Mm?”

“You… you trust me, right?”

And Steve’s eyes open—as if, even when completely exhausted, a part of his mind has recognised that the question is important. “Yeah,” he says easily, before yawning again. “’Course I do.”

Eddie smiles. He gently touches Steve’s hand, tilting it so he can reach the keys. “Can I take this? And if… if anyone needs… I’ll wake you up, ‘kay? Promise.”

It’s a bit overwhelming, to see the trust in Steve’s eyes. Eddie can see the moment when it clicks, when something deeply buried within him starts to accept it: that he doesn’t need to rush off into action; that everyone’s okay. That he can rest.

Clumsily, Steve hands the keys over. His eyes are closing again.

“There you go,” Eddie whispers. His throat feels suddenly tight with emotion. “I’ve got them.” I’ve got you.

“I…” A sleepy sigh. “I know.”

It barely takes a couple of minutes before Steve is deeply asleep. Eddie grabs the quilt left on the back of the couch and covers him with it, does so with one hand—with the other, he keeps holding onto the keys.

He runs his thumb over the metal, feeling the scratches, the residual warmth from Steve’s body heat. He thinks about all the times Steve must have reached for the keys, in a jolt of protectiveness—hurried, frantic. How scared he must have been.

I can carry it, now, Eddie thinks. He curls his fingers around the keys, tucked safely away in his palm. I’ll carry it for as long as you need.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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d0youc0py · 1 year

Note

Can I you do the 141+Konig (or whoever you’d like) realizing that reader feels safe with them?

Love your work!!!!

To outside eyes it was something so simple- but to him it was the highest form of a compliment.

The group was sprawled out all over the living room preparing for the weekly movie night and somewhere between Gaz and Soap arguing who’s turn it was to pick the movie- you had fallen asleep.

Not just that- you had fallen asleep on him. His arm had been draped over the back of the couch and when you could no longer fight back sleep, his side was the perfect pillow. He knew you probably didn’t mean too, but just the fact your bodies natural instinct was to fall in his direction was enough to send a warm buzz through his body.

Sleep had always been a touchy subject for Ghost and Simon. He was lucky if he slept more than four hours a night. Being a light sleeper and falling victim of night terrors made nighttime his least favorite time. He disliked the vulnerability of it.

So the fact that you trusted him in your most vulnerable state was rather precious.

And a mission he wouldn’t take lightly.

Your skin had been crawling for the last fifteen minutes. You’d hope that by ignoring his unspoken advancements he would take a hint, but you were wrong. You peaked at him from the corner of your eyes. He wasn’t unattractive. He had nice features- chiseled but still approachable. Yet something about him just twisted your stomach. Maybe it was the way his eyes were glued to your ass.

Could you handle it yourself- absolutely. Did you feel like having to prove yourself in a bar full of people that you could take care of it yourself- not really. Especially not when you had a Big Bad Captain who could handle it with just a glare. You quickly excused yourself from the rest of the 141, heading over to where Captain Price and Laswell were gossiping.

“Sorry if this is confidential, but a guy over there is giving me the creeps.” You explained.

“The one in the blue jacket?” Price smirked. You went wide eyed and nodded your head wondering how he knew. “Been eyeing you since we walked in. I’ve been keeping an eye on him.” He held out his arm for you and you quickly linked arms with him. The simple action was enough to cause the man to sneer and grumble something to himself. You shot Price a smile and he shot you back a wink.

“That’s why I come to you when I’m scared.” You complimented. You didn’t know it but that comment was the ego boost of a lifetime for him.

Your vision was starting to turn foggy. Buildings became less sharp, people became blurry figures and the ground was looking mighty comfortable. You hands gripped your abdomen the other pressed against the wall.

Your eyes scanned the area, hoping to come across a familiar mohawk. You thought the best route would be to follow the sound of explosions, but that was just bringing you closer to the action.

“Y/N?!” Johnny boomed from behind you. You sighed in relief your back hitting the wall. He caught you before you could sink down completely. “Steamin Jesus.” He grumbled. He worked quick, tearing off a piece of his sleeve and holding it tightly against you wound. He called for an evac. “Why didn’t you call for help?” He scolded. You rested your forehead against his.

“I wanted you.” You mumbled. His hardened face softened- a smile almost ghosting his features. You were sure if you weren’t bleeding out he would’ve made some snarky comment, but neither of you had the energy.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, letting you rest against him.

You don’t know why you agreed to this. Well technically you all voted and you lost but you probably could’ve put up a bigger fight. You hated horror movies. You’d think they wouldn’t bother you given your line of work but you were wrong. You had your sweater pulled up to your forehead trying to block out the urge to take a peak at the TV.

You eventually caved and peaked just in time for a jump scare. You heard a stifled chuckle come from the couch across from you. Kyle was biting back a smile, mouthing a ‘you good.’ You nodded feeling determined to not let the movie get the best of you. That plan was sort lived as a scene so brutal even Ghost had to look away, crossed the screen.

“Don’t be babies!” Soap yelled. You had had enough. While the others were engrossed in the movie you quietly crept over to Kyle’s side of the couch.

“Can I sit with you?” You mumbled. He quickly nodded his head expecting you to sit near him- not press yourself against his side. He chuckled softly, removing his arm from the back of the couch resting it around you.

“You know, performing an exorcism has always been on my bucket list. You’d be in good hands.” He’s always so cheeky.

“Not nice.” You grumbled, sending him a glare. He put his feet up on the coffee table and relaxed against the couch. The calmness in his body started to spread to yours, and pretty soon you had fallen asleep. He was absolutely going to tease you about this later- but for now he was enjoying the prideful bubble in his chest. You had chosen him.

Price tried to take a picture of you two but his flash went off causing everyone to scream.

“Colonel.” You hummed, knocking at the door. His eyes shot it away from his IPad trying to adjust to the darkness of the room.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, beginning to stand up. You shook your hands.

“Nothing.” You lied. You had a nightmare. One so bad your body was still trembling.

“It’s three in the morning. What’s wrong?” He pressed. He stood up, cracking his back. His eyes had finally adjusted enough to see your tear stained face and shaking shoulders. Suddenly he realized. He had woken up enough times like that himself. He walked around his desk and grabbed a spare blanket from underneath the couch. “Come here.”

You did as you were told, smiling softly as he wrapped the fluffy blanket around your body. “You can sleep in here. I have to pull an all-nighter anyways.” He grumbled that last part to himself.

“I won’t bother you?”

“No.” He assured, grabbing a pillow from under the couch. “You’re not the only one who could benefit from some company right now.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You snuggled into the couch and he trudged back over to his desk.

“Thanks Konig.” You mumbled before you finally fell back asleep. He took a moment to stare at your sleeping form. There had been many times he wished someone was there for him in moments of weakness. He was honored you had chosen him to be that person for you.

Thank you for your kind words!

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3hks · 2 months

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How to Avoid "Talking to The Reader"

A lot of people will often tell you to avoid talking to the reader, but why? How? And what does it mean? "Talking to the reader" is a technique used by an author when they want to specifically address the reader directly. Depending on your writing level and style, there could be several drawbacks to using this, such as a sense of informality and sudden awkwardness. However, I'm not saying that you shouldn't talk to the reader, because how you write is ultimately up to you!

But if you're genuinely looking for some tips on how to avoid talking to the reader, then I absolutely got you! As both a frequent reader and writer, I have advice based on experience and knowledge! These simple tips can seriously elevate your writing (especially if you're pretty new), or at the very least, make you aware of certain things and offer new ideas!

Replacing the 'you' with...

A VERY common factor in talking to the reader is using the word 'you' to reach out to your reader (dialogue from characters don't count). Although you should avoid this when you're trying not to talk to the reader, there is something behind it. Majority of the time, we include this word in a story when asking a rhetorical question. This creates a certain effect that reaches out to the reader while making them think, which can't be exactly duplicated.

Okay, so how do we fix this? Well, my advice is to simply replace 'you' with the word 'one'! Let's go a bit into depth, shall we? When dealing with a rhetorical question, the first step is to rephrase and reform the inquiry into a statement that answers what you're asking. Remember that this is a rhetorical question, meaning that there IS technically a right answer that you're looking for! Next, remove the 'you' and slap the 'one' on top of it! The replace-you-with-one method also works when you're not including it in a question, but instead a statement! Let's look into some examples, shall we?

Prompt: A lot of people will often tell you to avoid talking to the reader, but why?

Let's examine this example that I took from the top of this post, shall we? While this sentence is indeed in the format of the question, I am not directly asking you to give me an answer and there isn't really just one right answer. So how do we fix this? Replace 'you' with 'one' and boom! Done!

Fixed: A lot of people will often tell one to avoid talking to the reader, but why?

Alright, how about a much more direct question?

Prompt: The king's way of ruling was incredibly biased and unfair, wouldn't you agree?

For this prompt, we can see that 'you' is in "wouldn't you agree?" so it's pretty clear that we are seeking for an answer from the reader. In this type of context, the answer is almost always "yes," so we will have to take the longer route of rewording the sentence.

Fixed: The king's way of ruling was incredibly biased and unfair, one might argue.

As you can see, the phrase "wouldn't you agree" got altered into "one might argue." Why did I choose this? Well for starters, the sentence is now a statement, not a question, and it does indirectly answer our questions of "wouldn't you agree?" because it distinctly demonstrates that they agree with the opinion that the king's rule was unjust. Now, why did I choose "might argue"? Our previous question may have been rhetorical, but not everyone is going to say "yes, the king was unfair," so adding "might" and "argue" helps include the fact that it is indeed, an opinion!

Now that we have gotten the 'you' part out of our system, let's talk about another thing that can really help you improve on your writing (while avoiding talking to the reader)!

Stop Using...

Stop starting the sentences with "he/she is or has" (including past forms) when describing someone. I can safely say with first-hand experience that repetitive use of the sentence starter can feel a bit unnatural and too straightforward. In other words, you can most definitely do better!

When writing one's attributes, instead of starting with "he is" or "she is," try starting out with a possessive form of the pronoun, such as "his" or "her"! After that, it'll work itself out; let's look at an example to clarify!

Prompt: She had long, luscious, brown hair that fell over her shoulders in waves.

Fixed: Her long, luscious, brown hair fell over her shoulder in waves.

Simple, right? There may seem to be hardly any change, but this can seriously improve your writing when used correctly! Of course, continuous use of "his," "her," or "their" will also sound repetitive, but it's a good place to start! As experience follows, you'll get the hang of creating more varied sentence styles! Let's look at an example!

Prompt: He was new to the school. He didn't know how to interact with those his age because he was homeschooled his whole life. He was nervous even when thinking about his classmates and didn't know how he was going to survive.

Does it sound choppy? Too direct? Let's fix that!

Fixed: He was new to the school. Having been homeschooled his whole life, he struggled to interact with those his age, and even thinking about his classmates made him anxious. He had no idea on how he was going to survive.

Look at the second sentence; that's the most major change. As I combined a few different parts of the other sentences and rearranged them, it should seem much smoother now!

Be creative with how to form your sentences--that's all there really is to it! Experience will be your biggest guide and best friend when it comes to this!

Did this help? Keep in mind that my advice won't work with every sentence because a lot of it mainly depends on context! Happy Easter Sunday!

Happy writing~

3hks :)

#writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #creative writing #writing advice #writing inspo #how to not talk to the reader #avoiding talking to the reader #avoid being too direct #talking to the reader #tips on avoiding talking to the reader #tips on not talking to the reader #advice on avoiding talking to the reader #advice on not talking to the reader #thank you

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clu-ven · 1 year

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Kissing the Bad Batch to escape from the Empire (with Rex and Cody!)

(I know the title is kinda confusing but just go with it for a second)

1.9k words ! suggestive (mainly with Crosshair) !

Looking back, when Cid said this was an “easy job”, you should have known better than to believe her. Apparently the simple supply pick-up was in a crowded city where everyone would be too busy with their own problems to even notice the Batch. In fact, the job was supposedly so easy, that there was no need to send the whole squad, just you and him.

What Cid failed to mention was that this particular planet had recently been seized by the Empire, with patrols of TK Troopers constantly on the streets, armed to the teeth and waiting for the likes of you. Thankfully, you’re able to pick up the supplies but just when you think you’re safe, a patrol of troopers comes into view. You need to think fast, knowing if they see you or his very recognisable face then you’re both screwed.

“Trust me?” you ask in a hushed whisper.

He nods his head and before he can question why, you pull him in for a kiss…

HUNTER

It’s like it happens in slow motion for Hunter and yet he’s still surprised when your lips touch his. He sees you getting closer than usual, your feet rising to your toes as you lean up.

At first, he doesn’t quite believe this is happening. He knows why you’re doing this, that this will perfectly cover both of your faces but there’s a small part of Hunter that wonders or well, hopes that maybe there’s another reason.

The instincts he’s been trying to ignore for months finally come to the surface and Hunter leans into the kiss, a small groan coming from his throat as he does.

Afterwards, he stays close to you, his breath ghosting your neck. Hunter doesn’t want to move away from you just yet, wanting to linger in your scent for a little bit longer.

Staying close to you helps ground him too. Since this is a pretty crowded city, you’re like a safe space for Hunter, making him feel secure as he listens out for the heavy boots of the TK Troopers or the crackling of any nearby comms going off.

Hunter doesn’t want to let this moment go but he doesn’t want to make this a big deal or turn it into something it’s not.

Despite any clear indications you give him, Hunter is still doubtful and so you’ll have to bring it up if you want to be anything more than friends.

TECH

It takes Tech a few seconds to analyse the situation but he’s quick to conclude that this is, in fact, a considerably effective method of escaping the TK Troopers.

Resting his hands on your hips, Tech manoeuvres you so you’re completely hidden, his back being the only part visible to anyone walking by.

He doesn’t necessarily relax into the kiss, too busy trying to listen out for any passing soldiers while thinking of another possible escape route if you were to potentially be caught.

But Tech’s a great multitasker, making sure to make the kiss a worthy one while listening out for the enemies and trying to figure out a plan B, C and D. As much as he wants to get lost in this kiss, he knows this isn’t the time nor place.

Tech takes this in his stride, not letting the kiss distract him completely. Once you eventually break the kiss, Tech cautiously looks out to make sure the coast is clear. After all, there’s still a mission to be completed and until you’re both back at the ship, danger could be around any corner.

“That was an excellent idea,” Tech praises, giving you an approving nod “the generalised uncomfortableness of interrupting a kiss is something many nat-born, TK Troopers will feel, often preferring to ignore the couple than interrupt them… yet another reason why they’re inferior to the clone army but that’s a conversation for another day”.

He doesn’t want to dwell on the kiss, preferring to immediately friendzone himself for you in the hopes of avoiding any miscommunications or awkwardness.

WRECKER

Wrecker isn’t really shocked, he’s more confused. With your lips on his, you can basically hear him hum a muffled “huh?!” against you.

Although he has no idea what to do while you’re kissing him, Wrecker is quick to melt into the kiss, pushing his confusion to the side and wanting to simply enjoy the moment.

Honestly, he’s just happy to be here so he lets you take the lead. Wrecker keeps his hands down by his side, letting you make any other moves as well as letting you decide when to break off the kiss.

Wrecker doesn’t want to be the one to pull away, wanting to savour your lips on his while he can. Hell, if you keep kissing him for the next half hour, Wrecker has no problem staying here and doing exactly that.

“What was that for?” he asks when the kiss is finally over, a wide grin on his face.

Expect everyone to know about this when you get back to the ship. Even if Wrecker tries to keep this to himself, he can’t, needing some advice from his brothers on what to do next

(and there’s a part of him that wants to brag about kissing you).

ECHO

A million thoughts race through Echo’s mind. Are you doing this to evade the troopers…or is there a part of you that’s been waiting for a moment like this? While his body freezes for a few seconds, his lips thankfully begin to kiss you back.

He’s very respectful, not trying to deepen the kiss or make any potentially risky moves. The last thing Echo wants to do is overstep a boundary.

Suddenly Echo finds himself paranoid about things that have never crossed his mind prior to this. Are his lips chapped? What does he do with his hand? Would it be weird to hold your waist? He doesn’t get to the answers of those questions, as the kiss comes to an end all too soon.

When you pull away from him and check to see if the troopers have moved on, it takes Echo a few seconds to kick back into gear, his brain foggy with desire.

When you both begin the walk back to the ship, Echo keeps you in the corner of his eye, wanting to say so much to you but with no idea how.

He knows this is a golden opportunity to confess his feelings for you but every time he opens his mouth to say something, the words get stuck in his throat.

In the end, he decides to swallow his feelings, not wanting to ruin your friendship by confessing his desire to be more.

Even rotations after the kiss, Echo can’t stop thinking about the sensation of your lips on his. His mind keeps trailing back to that moment, yearning to relive it… but do you want the same thing?

(I know it doesn’t really work story wise but I just had to include Crosshair, Rex and Cody in these too lol!)

CROSSHAIR

When you kiss him, the first thing that pops into Crosshair’s head is that he needs to one up you. If you think you can surprise him with a kiss, then he’ll take it further, leaning into you until you begin to walk backwards.

When a wall presses against your back, Crosshair uses his arms to cage you in and further obscure your face from anyone passing.

He doesn’t shy away from the kiss, his tongue teasingly running along your lower lip... but that’s all he does; tease.

Crosshair likes to tease you, to see if you’ll rise to the bait and take it one step further. It’s like a game you two play and he can’t get enough of it.

He pulls away first, making you crave for more. Checking to see if the coast is clear, he gives you a firm nod before continuing back to the ship.

Afterwards, Crosshair keeps his cards close to his chest. He doesn’t really acknowledge the kiss, not making a typical sarcastic remark about it but not saying anything pleasant either.

In all honesty, Crosshair doesn’t know how to feel. He hasn’t felt this way about someone before and it’s weirdly intimidating for him. Crosshair isn’t sure what this feeling is but if you don’t mention the kiss, he’ll go back to his usual teasing self in no time.

REX

Rex forgets how to breathe. While you close your eyes, Rex’s eyes go wide open, utterly stunned by your actions. His whole body tenses as he starts to process what you’re doing.

Rex has faced many distractions on the battlefield, kriff, he’s even had siths play mind tricks on him and yet this kiss is by far the most effective distraction.

The only thing he can think about is you and how badly he’s wanted this for so long. His hand twitches, wanting to cup your face but he stops himself, not wanting to overstep.

Instead, he compromises with his doubts and simply takes your hand in his.

Rex could never entertain the idea of you and him being anything more than friends during his service to the Republic but what’s stopping you two now? He’s not sure what to do, too many emotions swiftly coming to the forefront.

Rex has to pull his gaze away from your lips afterwards, completely overthinking each move he makes and being extremely cautious not to make this weird.

He might seem distant when you get back to the ship but it’s not because he didn’t like the kiss. It’s the opposite actually and now he needs to figure out how to approach you about the possibility of you two ever becoming more than friends.

CODY

This isn’t what Cody expected when you asked him to trust you but he admires your bold move. Usually, he isn’t too eager to show affection in public but since you’re already kissing him, he decides to throw caution to the wind and fully embrace the moment.

He’s quick to follow suit, deepening the kiss as he pulls you flush against him. He knows why you’re doing this but there seems to be a lot of passion in a kiss that’s apparently just supposed to be a quick escape plan.

This can very quickly turn into a mini make-out session, both of you getting caught up in each other. This attraction between you and the Commander has been building for quite a while now and neither of you feel like backing down, the kiss overcoming you both.

Out of everyone, Cody is the quickest to realise you didn’t do this purely to evade the troopers and that there’s more to this. While Cody can be modest and he definitely thinks you can do better than him, he can’t ignore the signs that you may like him more than you’re letting on.

Immediately afterwards, he might seem a little cold but he’s not doing that on purpose. After all, you’re still in immense danger and need to get back to the ship ASAP so until then, Cody is still in ‘Commander’ mode.

When you’re both safe and onboard the ship, Cody brings up the kiss. He knows that if he doesn't talk this out with you now that he’ll just put it off out of fear of making things awkward.

Cody is determined to find out if the kiss meant something to you and if you feel the same way about him as he does you.

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guilty-pleasures21 · 4 months

Text

Maybe this will just be my trash one.

I was inspired by this fic by @tarjapearce . I LOVE her writing so much!!! Please go check her out and give her some love!!!

1. Um ... yeah ...

Part 1 - the beginning

Part 2 - the car

Part 3 - the detectives

Part 4 - the contract

Part 5 - the clothes

Warnings: graphic descriptions of sex including blowjob (f receiving), penetration (p in v).

_______________________________________________

She studied herself in the mirror, her critical gaze running over the new lingerie she’d bought earlier. Francesco only ever let her leave the house to go shopping. ‘It’s for your own protection, mia cara’, he’d always tell her, the term of endearment sounding like poison on his lips. And then she’d feel bad all over again - because he was right. He’d given her everything and asked for nothing in return. It was the reason she’d married him, after all: because he’d promised to keep her safe. Because he had kept her safe, when no one else would. She walked over to the cupboard to pull out one of his shirts: a neatly pressed white top that grazed her thighs and slipped off her shoulder when she buttoned it up. It had been a while since she’d dress up for him, so rarely was he ever at home. But he’d said he’d be coming home early tonight, so she’d thought to take the opportunity to bring some of that spark back to their relationship. He’d been sweet in the beginning, taking her to dinner, buying her jewellery, promising her that no one would ever hurt her again, not as long as he had anything to say about it. But the thrill of chasing after her - of being much more in love with her than she was with him - must have worn off at some point, because his work days had become longer, his trips to the city more frequent. Now, she was lucky if she got to see him more than a few hours every weekend. She returned to the mirror to adjust the shirt, but then heard a sudden commotion happening outside, cars screeching and doors banging and guns going off before the sickening sounds of fists meeting bodies flew through the room. She dashed over to the intercom by the bedroom door and turned on the camera. An unfamiliar group of men and women stood outside the entrance, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of the guards Francesco had hired to keep watch over the villa. She shuddered, the fear squeezing around her insides as she tried to come up with a possible escape route. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and took her passport from the safe, stuffing both of them into one of her crossbody bags. Then she went over to the window, taking a moment to survey the area below, making sure she had an unobstructed path to the shed at the other side of the swimming pool. She inhaled a deep breath, then climbed over the ledge and lowered herself as carefully as she could, hanging from the edge to get her feet as close to the ground as possible before she jumped. Then she let herself go.

She was pretty, he thought to himself, his eyes running over the long, curling lashes, dark, almond-shaped eyes and soft, rosy lips of the woman curled up in his arms. But whatever was she doing jumping out the window of Francesco Lombardi’s bedroom? And in his clothes, no less. She scrambled out of his arms, horrified, and pressed herself against the wall, clutching tightly to the strap of her bag. She curled into herself as he continued to study her, doing her best to minimise his view of her bare legs and shoulders. But she couldn’t hide the gleaming golden band that wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand. Francesco Lombardi had a wife? And such a beautiful one too, no less.

He folded his arms across his chest as he looked at her, the expensive material of his back shirt pressing against the rippling muscles of his forearms. She glanced up at his face and her heart skipped a beat at how handsome he was: deep-set copper eyes, sharp cheekbones and jawline, powerful, defined muscles. His full lips twisted into a smirk, noticing the way her eyes roved over him, and she gulped, the sight making her stomach flip over. She lowered her gaze and bit her lip, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

“I don’t have anything,” she told him softly, making her voice vulnerable and helpless. She tugged on the strap of her bag. “This is just my phone. And my passport.”

He walked closer to her, intrigued by how ready Francesco Lombardi’s wife was to leave him at the slightest hint of danger. But was that just common sense? Or did she know more than she was letting on?

He stopped a few centimetres in front of her, close enough for her to smell the woodsy, spicy scent of him and feel the heat radiating off his imposing form. He stayed there for a bit, letting her squirm for a few seconds, her gaze flickering between him and the ground in anticipation of his next move. Then he held out his hand to her silently.

“What?” she asked.

“Passport,” he requested. His voice was deep and thick, but gentle - not like Francesco’s; harsh and demanding, an undercurrent of slyness lacing his every word. And his accent was different too - not the Italian that tinged Francesco’s voice or the hint of British that crept into hers. His was Spanish, if she’d had to guess, but mostly American. He hadn’t grown up here then, not like Francesco.

“W-Why? What would you want my passport for?” She was cute, the way she hunched over her bag protectively, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she looked up at him.

“So I can find out your name.” He shrugged, his lips widening into a full smile. She frowned and straightened, trying to make herself seem bigger. Even though she was so very small to him, especially in that oversized shirt that kept slipping off her tiny form.

“Why don’t you just ask me?” she pointed out to him.

She had to know how adorable she looked when she made that face; had to know that no one would ever take her seriously if she looked at them like that. He took a step even closer to her, tilting his head down so that their lips were just a breath apart. “Would you tell me if I asked?”

Her lips parted, stunned by their sudden proximity. She felt her mouth begin to water at how soft his lips looked, how lush and inviting. And she swallowed hard, pulling her gaze away from his. “Only if you’ll tell me yours.”

“Miguel,” he revealed, holding his hand out to her. “O’Hara.” She eyed his hand carefully, then slid her gaze up to his again. Miguel. It suited him. But his last name … it sounded Irish. Maybe he was mixed? He didn’t really look it though, with his dark features and tanned skin. She took hold of his hand cautiously, her slender fingers curling around his.

“X,” she confessed. He raised an eyebrow.

“No last name?”

“I don’t want you to search me up.” She tried to keep her tone light as she said it, like she meant it as a joke.

“Hmm.” He considered her thoughtfully. Then he jerked on her hand, pulling her forward so she fell against his chest. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, and he slid his hands up her back, holding her close to him. “Tell me, X: do you usually shake the hand of strange men who break into your husband’s house?”

She curled her fingers against his chest, chastising herself for forgetting to take off her wedding ring. But what did he want with her? And how could she get him to let her go? It was no use trying to push herself away from him - any effort she made would be futile, considering how big and strong he was next to her. She hunched over, trying to make herself seem even smaller.

She was so small and soft in his arms, her warm body fitting so perfectly against his as he held her close. He bent over slightly, bringing his mouth closer to her ear so he could murmur in it. “What a shame, princesa.”

She pushed against his chest, hoping to catch him off-guard - and conceal the way her body shivered at the feeling of his warm breath tickling her neck. But he loosened his grip on her anyway, letting her go. She took a step away from him, avoiding his gaze. “Just … Can I at least put on some proper clothes before you … torture me or whatever?”

He brought his hand to his mouth, trying to hide the smile that took over his face at her request. Not just cute, but funny too; in a sarcastic, witty kind of way. He placed his hands on his hips and bit his lip as he looked at her, waiting until she lifted her gaze back up to his. “If I was going to torture you, cariño, you’d be taking off your clothes. Not putting more on.”

How could he say that to her? While looking at her like that? In a way that had her feeling hot enough under the collar that she might have considered removing her clothes anyway? She folded her arms across her chest and frowned at him, trying to look stern. “You … If you’re going to be using lines like that, then I’m definitely going to be putting more clothes on.”

He grinned and moved closer to her, stopping just in front of her once again. He lifted his hand to her chin and tipped her face up to his, their mouths so dangerously close once again. His gaze fell to her lips and stayed there. “Then what should I say, cariño, to get you out of those clothes?”

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, then she wrenched her face out of his hand and side-stepped him. “Can you just … tell me why you’re here?!”

There it was, that adorable frown once again. Dios, he might just fall in love with her if she kept it up. “I’m here because your husband has some information I need.”

If he took Francesco down, she’d go down too. Unless she found a way to escape - to run away to some other countryside where no one would find her. But how would she even be able to afford it? Never mind the meagre savings she’d managed to transfer to her mother’s account before the lawsuit, everything she had belonged to him. She had to interfere - had to throw him off Francesco’s scent. At least until she managed to convince her husband to share with her all the passcodes for his numerous off-shore accounts. She gripped onto her bag strap again, hesitating.

“I … can help you,” she suggested, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. “Maybe?”

She probably had some plan in mind to try to stop him. Then again, she had tried to escape from the house immediately. With her passport, no less. Maybe she did know something useful about Francesco Lombardi’s business dealings. And besides - his eyes trailed over her small figure again - there was no way she could pose any sort of threat to him. Maybe he’d try playing along. He waved a hand at the house, signalling for her to lead the way. She obliged, turning to slide open the balcony door. As soon as they’d stepped in, however, the front door slammed open and Francesco himself burst in. His gaze bounced between the two of them, his brows drawing together in an angry frown. Then he stalked over to them.

“You let her go! Now!” he commanded Miguel, grabbing X’s elbow to pull her to his side. He turned to face her, his light brown eyes widening with concern as he looked at her. “Take the car, mia cara. Go to your mother. I already told Antonio to transfer money to your account. I’ll meet you there.” He pressed the car key into her hand, pushing her towards the door. But she hesitated, glancing back at Miguel thoughtfully. He folded his arms across his chest, waiting to see what she’d do.

“What are you waiting for?!” Francesco yelled at her, his normally immaculately styled sand-coloured hair falling into his eyes as he yelled at her. “Go!”

X stumbled as he shoved her again, making her way over to the door. But then she froze.

“Cariño,” Miguel called out to her lazily. “What happened to you helping me?” Francesco moved to block X from Miguel’s view.

“You leave her alone,” he warned Miguel. “She has no business in any of this!”

Miguel leaned to the side slightly, easily chancing a glimpse at X over Francesco’s smaller form. “That’s not what it seemed like to me.”

Francesco turned to glance at X, trying not to let his confusion show at Miguel’s revelation. “What are you still doing here?! I told you to run!”

X nodded and continued walking to the door. But then she was stopped by two of Miguel’s … bodyguards? A short woman with smooth brown skin and tightly curled hair and a taller, fair-haired man with a long face and bulging muscles.

“Ven aquí, cariño,” Miguel instructed her, that languid tone still drenching his voice. X gulped and returned to him, knowing that her best bet was to just try and play along until he got bored with her.

So, she understood Spanish. He’d have to make note of that for later. He tugged on her shirt when she’d gotten close enough to him, pulling her even closer. She gasped as she fell into his chest again.

“¿Qué pasa, hermosa?” he asked her, injecting a tone of hurt into his voice. “I thought you said you were going to help me?”

Francesco leaped forward, meaning to pull his wife away from the monster, but Miguel pulled out his gun and aimed it at Francesco, stopping him in his tracks. X curled into herself as she tried to avoid meeting Francesco’s gaze, ashamed now by how she’d tried to sell him out so quickly. “I-I … I don’t …”

Miguel wrapped his free arm around her waist and nuzzled her hair with his nose, inhaling the sweet and fruity scent of her shampoo.

“¿Qué pasa, bonita?” He lowered his mouth to the base of her ear, grinning when he felt the shiver run down her spine. “Tell me where he keeps his bank statements, mi angelita. The ones you’re not supposed to know about?”

He brushed his nose against her neck and she let out a choked gasp at the feeling. “M-Mi-Miguel …”

Ay, coño, the way she whimpered his name? It drove him mad. He pressed his lips to the crook of her neck and let out a soft moan, squeezing her soft curves appreciatively. “Mmm. You have such a lovely wife, Francesco. How could you even think of cheating on her.”

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, horrified by the revelation. “W-What?”

She turned to Francesco, looking to him for reassurance. But he looked away, avoiding her gaze guiltily.

“Did you … cheat on me?” she asked him, knowing the answer deep down anyway. It would explain the long nights, the trips to the city, the months he’d gone without touching her. He refused to answer.

“Francesco!” she pressed, the rage beginning to bubble up within her now.

“It was just … It was just one time, mia cara!” he pleaded with her. “I was tired and … She took advantage of me!”

“Oh.” Miguel schooled his features into a fake expression of confusion. “One of them actually managed to take advantage of you? What kind of lawyer are you, Señor Lombardi?”

“‘One of them’?!” X repeated, horrified - the exact reaction Miguel had been hoping to draw out of her. Francesco glared at him, but whether it was because of his declaration or because of the insult, Miguel didn’t care.

“Tu sporco canaglia!” he shouted. (You dirty scoundrel!) X tightened her grip on Miguel unconsciously, her lips twisting into a frown as she looked back at Francesco.

“You … You filthy piece of shit!” He hadn’t expected that. Miguel grinned, amused by the curse falling from her sweet lips, and wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist, supporting her as she seethed at her pathetic excuse of a husband. Eventually, she gritted her teeth and turned to Miguel, revenge the only thought on her mind. “His safe is in the kitchen. You can check there.”

“Gracias, cariño.” Miguel pressed a delighted kiss to her forehead. He might keep her around, he decided. Pretty, smart, and driven by anger, turning it into something productive. She couldn’t have been better than if he’d conjured her up himself. He gestured for Ben and Jess to bring Francesco into the kitchen, following after them with X. She went over to the oven and pulled it open.

“No! X! Don’t you dare! You f*cking b*tch!” Francesco screamed at her, struggling against Ben and Jess. Miguel scowled at the insult and stepped forward, ready to smack the insolent b*stard across the face. But X yelled back at him.

“Shut the hell up, Francesco!” She pulled out the back of the oven and handed it to Miguel, then disappeared back inside to key in the passcode to the safe. It wasn’t long before she’d gathered up the binders inside and given them to Miguel. He opened one up and sifted through the papers within, then grinned when he saw they contained what he needed.

“Bien hecho, mi angelita (Good job, my little angel),” he praised her before setting the binders atop the kitchen island. He took hold of her shirt again and tugged her back to him. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, then cupped her cheek in his hand, his heart speeding up as he gave her a smirk. “Should I give you your reward now?”

“I didn’t do it for a reward,” she told him, her voice coming out much softer than she’d meant it to. She could tell by his tone how, exactly, he planned to reward her. But in front of other people?! In front of her husband?! Sure, he was a cheater, but she wouldn’t be the same. Although … it wasn’t like they’d ever repair their relationship; cheating was a dealbreaker for her, so he was as good as dead in her book.

Miguel grinned as he watched the emotional conflict play itself out across her face. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, leaning down to press his lips to the crook of her neck.

“¿Qué estás pensando, mi angelita? (What are you thinking, my little angel?)" He slid his hands higher up her back, pulling her tighter against him, and brushed his lips along her neck. Then he began pressing soft kisses along her skin, taking his time to relish the feeling of her against him.

“I-I … I …” she trailed off, her words disrupted by the shiver than ran down her spine at the feeling of his lips on her. He was so gentle, so soft, and he smelled so, so nice. Like nutmeg and wood, warm and spicy, clouding all her senses entirely.

“You … You f*cking leave her alone, you b*stard!” Francesco yelled, his voice cracking with his fury. Miguel groaned loudly against X’s neck, maintaining eye contact with her husband as he did so.

“¿Qué dices, querida? (What do you say, darling?)” he asked her, voice low and husky. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“M-Miguel …” ¡Ay, coño, that p*nche whimper again! He slid his hands down to squeeze her ass, causing her to squeak and tense against him. Maldita sea, she was cute. He wondered what other sounds he could get her to make, if the layers of clothing between them weren’t stopping him. He slipped his hands beneath the hem of her shirt, sliding them up her bare skin. Then he trailed his fingers down to her underwear, tracing the thin fabric and giving a soft chuckle at the feeling of the delicate lace draped across her curves.

“Was this a surprise for him, mi angelita?” Miguel asked her teasingly, face still buried in the crook of her shoulder. “Do you think he deserves it, cariño?” He curled his fingers around one of the thin ribbons, his mind running wild as he tried to put together a mental image of what she might have been wearing underneath the shirt.

“N-No!” She glared at Francesco, still yelling and struggling against his captors, then her head fell back with pleasure as Miguel dipped his hand just into her underwear, his fingers tracing lazy circles along her skin. “I-I … D-Divorce …” She gasped and wrapped herself around Miguel, sliding her fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, clutching at the strands tightly. He groaned into her neck, his fingers moving dangerously low along her skin.

“Mmm, angelita.” He looked up at Ben and Jess and nodded his head at Francesco. “Leave him. I want him to watch.” He turned his gaze to Francesco as he lowered his mouth back to X’s shoulder, bare now where he’d slid the collar down. Franscesco continued his futile protests, kicking and fighting against Ben and Jess as they handcuffed him to the very oven that had been his downfall before they left.

“M-Miguel.” She clutched at the collar of his shirt, pulling back to look up at him desperately. “I don’t even … k-know you.” He grinned and plunged his fingers all the way into her underwear, dragging them through her rapidly dampening folds. She bit her lip, trying to muffle the moan that fought to slip out.

“Angelita,” he whined, feeling himself start to harden at how soft and wet she was, how her little body shuddered against him helplessly, getting more and more aroused by his movements. “Should I take you on a date first, princesa? Hmm? Where would you like to go? Dime dónde quieres que te lleve (Tell me where you want me to take you)." He brought his mouth closer to hers, chuckling when she tilted her head to follow his lips with her own. Then he leaned forward and kissed her as he continued playing with her p*ssy, his fingers stroking and teasing her while his tongue swept across her mouth. She stumbled at the overwhelming feeling of him all around her and he pulled her hips against his, holding her upright as he kissed her.

“Angelita,” he moaned again, pulling his lips away from hers to move them back to her neck. He groaned at how wet she was, at how sweet she tasted on his tongue, and circled her entrance with his fingers. Her legs twitched at the sensation and another whimper fell from her lips. “Me estas matando, cariño (You're killing me, sweetheart)."

God, he was good, torturing her and teasing her with his large, calloused fingers. She gasped, her entire body tightening as he slid his finger into her. He laughed.

“Relájate, mi angelita (Relax, my little angel),” he soothed her, tickling her walls gently. “I’m not going to be able to go any deeper if you don’t relax.”

“F*ck you, you f*cking b*stard!” Francesco yelled at him, the oven banging and rattling as he pulled at his handcuff. X relaxed her body, so lost in her own pleasure that she didn’t even hear the horrified shrieks of her husband - soon-to-be ex-husband, if either she or Miguel had anything to say about it. Of course he’d never let her go back to that monster - not now that he knew what it felt like, having her in his arms. He pushed his finger deeper inside of her, then added another, forcing a gasp from her lips.

“¡Ay, p*ta madre, mi angelita!” Miguel groaned, bringing his mouth to her ear. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before.” She was just so tight, so sensitive and so desperate for him: it was like she’d never been touched before. X gripped onto his shoulders tightly, her body beginning to contract at the feeling of his fingers prodding and poking at her. Miguel chuckled at her gasps and moans, then looked back up at Francesco, his features pulled tight in horror as he watched the sight unfolding before him.

“Or is your husband just too small for you?” Miguel grinned wickedly at Francesco and curled his fingers inside of X, prompting a loud moan to fall from her lips. “Discúlpeme, mi angelita (Excuse me, my little angel). Ex-husband."

“I’ll kill you! I’ll f*cking kill you, you f*cking b*stard!” Francesco threatened him, dishevelled like he’d never been before. Miguel snorted at the threat and returned his attention to X.

“Then I’d better take advantage of this moment, sí, mi preciosa?” Miguel teased, removing his fingers to trail them across X’s clit. “What do you say, mi angelita? Do you want me to show you what a real man feels like? Between those legs?” He ignored Francesco’s curses as he looked at X, waiting for her response.

She couldn’t - she shouldn’t. She didn’t even know him, this stranger who had broken into her home and tied up her husband after stealing his bank statements. She looked up at Miguel, eyes wide, lips quivering as she tried to tell all of this to him. “M-Miguel …”

P*ta madre, she was cute. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking and licking off the glistening liquid she’d left there. He moaned at the taste, then flashed a smirk at Francesco before reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. “Sabes muy deliciosa, cariño (You taste so delicious, sweetheart)."

She whimpered at the declaration, tangling her fingers in the collar of his shirt as she felt another stream of arousal leak out of her. Miguel grinned and lifted her up easily, setting her down on the kitchen island and spreading her legs apart to accommodate himself between them. He held her thighs down and looked her in the eyes, his expression serious. “I’m not going to force you, mi angelita. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

A gang leader? With morals? She would have laughed at the thought if she hadn’t been so painfully aroused then. She glanced over at Francesco, knowing she should say no, knowing she should tell him to stop, then leave and never look back. But she said nothing, just turned back to Miguel with an embarrassed look on her face. He grinned.

“Let’s see this underwear you got, hmm, cariño?” he suggested, starting to unbutton her shirt. “We wouldn’t want it to go to waste, would we now?” He slid her shirt off and tossed it aside, sucking in a breath when he saw her exposed curves beneath the scanty pink lace. F*ck, she looked delicious. So f*cking delicious, all his for the taking. He ran his hands up and down her sides, completely exposed save for the streams of ribbons holding the piece of fabric that clung to her front against her body. She was so, so beautiful, he was getting hard just thinking about all the ways he’d make her squirm and writhe beneath him, her soft curves pressing up against his hard muscles.

“Cariño,” he growled, his lips curling into a snarl as his eyes roved over her hungrily. She glanced over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of Francesco’s reaction - he’d used to look at her in the same way, back at the start. But then he’d found his other toys and hadn’t needed her anymore. He clenched his jaw, his normally handsome features scrunched up in anger and frustration, his eyes boring holes into Miguel’s back. And then Miguel slid his hands up her front, landing on her breasts where he pinched and stroked her already stiff nipples, pulling her attention back to him.

“So … So f*cking beautiful, cariño,” he told her, licking a stripe up her neck to her ear. Her head fell to the side in response and he let out another growl before cupping her face in his hands, straightening her so he could begin kissing her. He groaned into her mouth as he brushed his tongue against hers, the sound sending vibrations running down her chest, then he glided his hands back down to her thighs.

“Can I … Can I …” he mumbled, his lips moving against hers as he tried to get the question out. He pulled back, his thumbs toying with the ribbons around her waist, and fixed his gaze on her chest. “So f*cking beautiful, cariño.” He raised his hands to undo the ribbons around her back, taking his time to expose her full, luscious breasts to him. He licked his lips as she whimpered nervously, then leaned forward to press his lips to her nipples, holding her firmly in place as he sucked and licked on her gently.

Holy shit! He was so gentle, so … appreciative, like he was in such awe of her body, had such a desire to just worship her. He dragged his tongue around her nipple, then closed his lips around it, pulling her breast into his mouth and groaning as he sucked on it thirstily. She gripped onto the table as she let out a choked gasp, her p*ssy throbbing desperately against his stomach. Francesco stilled behind them, his lips curling with horror as he found himself unable to pull his gaze away from the sight. Miguel released her with a wet pop, then licked his way up her collarbone, his teeth grazing her throat as he made his way back up to her mouth. He kissed her again, harder this time, more aggressive, then began moving his hips against hers, driving the bulk of him into her.

“M-Miguel,” she gasped, her body begging for more - for him. “P-Please?”

“Lo sé, mi cariño, lo sé (I know, my sweetheart, I know),” he reassured her, his lips and tongue brushing along her neck and throat. “I just … Just let me taste you, querida. Just … Déjame probarte, mi querida, solo una vez. Solo … (Let me taste you, my darling, just once. Just ...)" He stood back and undid the rest of her ties, his wavy hair cascading into his eyes at the frenzy of his movements. And then she was fully exposed, completely bare before him, her delicious curves entirely on display for him.

“Mmm, f*ck,” he murmured, his pupils dilating as he squeezed her breasts together, bouncing them in between his hands. She let out a desperate whine and he lowered his hands to her thighs, pulling her legs apart and kneeling down on the ground.

“Don’t,” Francesco begged softly, his tone defeated. “Please.” But Miguel ignored him, instead pulling X closer to him, so that he could drag his tongue up her centre. A loud yelp escaped her throat and her body shuddered at the feeling, her hips bucking against his mouth as she silently begged him for more. He closed his mouth around her, his pleased moans sinking into her skin and vibrating along her nerves, adding onto her pleasure. He dribbled his tongue up and down her folds, drinking up the c*m that continued to leak out of her as he kept playing with her. F*ck, she tasted delicious.

“Miguel!” she pleaded with him, her legs twitching as he circled her entrance teasingly. “Miguel, please! Please?” He dipped his tongue into her, swirling it around her insides, brushing up against her walls and stroking her vigorously. She whined and moaned loudly, drowning out any protests Francesco might have had, and Miguel increased the intensity of his movements, spurred on by the sounds of her pleasure. Finally, with one last curl of his tongue, she came, her body shaking and shuddering as she rode out her orgasm on his mouth. He kept his tongue shoved up inside of her when she’d finished, making sure to drink up every last drop of her sweet, sweet c*m, and she felt her brain turn numb at the feeling. How could she sit there, completely exposed, another man’s tongue buried so deeply inside of her while her husband watched? She shifted uncomfortably, ashamed by how thrilled she was by the thought, and Miguel finally slid his tongue out of her, pushing himself up to look at her. She glanced up at him nervously, a squeak escaping her throat at the mix of saliva and c*m dripping from his jaw, and lowered her gaze again.

“P*ta madre,” he breathed, shaking his head in awe. “Sabes muy p*nche deliciosa, mi angelita (You taste so f*cking good, my little angel)." He raised one hand to her face, cupping her chin and tilting her head up to his so he could start kissing her again. He needed … He needed more. He needed to feel her clenching around his d*ck the same way he’d felt her clenching around his tongue, her tight little p*ssy begging him for release. He began undoing the buttons of his shirt, his lips never leaving hers as he pulled off his clothes and tossed them to the ground, climbing on top of her when he was fully naked.

“Querida,” he whined, holding her down against the cold marble of the kitchen island as he tugged on the skin of her neck with his teeth. “Querida, tu … Te necesito, mi angelita. Te necesito … ahora (Darling, you ... I need you, my little angel. I need you ... now)."

“Mi-Miguel,” she breathed, losing control of her thoughts once again. Holy shit, he felt good, his broad shoulders and chest, his smooth skin and hard muscles, pressing into her and shielding her from the rest of the world. She tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping onto the silky strands as she wriggled beneath him, rubbing herself up against him for relief. God, his c*ck! It felt huge! So hard and so warm and so painfully outside of her, not filling her up like she wanted him to. “Migue-el!”

“Mmm, querida,” he chuckled, delighting in how badly she wanted him as well. He moaned against her neck, then sat up, sliding her around so she could lie more comfortably lengthwise on the counter. He took hold of himself then, tracing his tip along her soaking folds, lubricating himself in preparation of entering her. She raised her hips, seeking him, but he pressed her down gently, holding her flat against the island. “Calmate, angelita (Calm down, little angel). I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you everything you want, mi angelita preciosa.”

He grunted as he began easing himself inside of her, stretching her out and filling her up so very nicely. She sighed at the feeling, arching her back and wriggling her hips to better accommodate him, barely hearing the groan he let out at the satisfied look on her face. Then she was sitting up, her head falling onto his shoulder as he held her against him, keeping her upright on his lap. He raised her off of him slightly, then slammed her back down on top of him, thrusting his hips into her at the same. F*ck, she felt … so f*cking good. He continued the movement, pumping himself in and out of her, relishing the feeling of her tight and warm walls squeezing and squelching around him.

“Querida,” he mumbled in her ear, sliding his hands up her back to press her soft curves tightly against his hard body. She wrapped her arms around him, her eyes fluttering shut as her brain went numb, completely consumed by the sheer pleasure of having him so deeply inside of her. She gasped as she came again, writhing helplessly in his arms as he continued to drive himself into her. He bit down on her shoulder and squeezed her ass as she contracted around him, her soft little p*ssy tightening around his d*ck even lovelier than it had around his tongue. And then he came as well, his muscles finally relaxing as he relieved himself inside of her. She leaned over and bit his ear, then lowered her lips to his neck and sucked on his skin, licking up the salty sweat there as his warm seed seeped into her.

“Mmm, Miguel,” she murmured against him, scrunching his hair in her fingers as he continued to hold onto her. His chest heaved up and down as he tried to catch his breath, his fingers stroking her spine as she panted against him as well. Dios, she was cute. He definitely wouldn’t be able to let her go now that he’d had a taste of her.

“Boss?” Jess called out to him from somewhere outside. “Cops are on their way. We’d better get going.” Miguel pressed a final kiss to X’s cheek, then lifted her off his lap, setting her down on the table.

“That’s right,” Francesco told him, suddenly regaining some of his confidence. “You’d better get going you filthy b*stard.” Miguel rolled his eyes and got off the table, holding a hand out to X to help her down. She hopped off of it, stumbling slightly as her legs shook, still weak from having him inside of her. But he held her steady until she regained her footing, then bent over to pick his clothes up. X reached for her underwear, then grabbed Francesco’s shirt as well, starting to put it back on. But Miguel held a hand in front of her, stopping her.

“I don’t want you wearing that, cariño,” he told her, taking the shirt from her and replacing it with his own. “Here. Put this on instead.” She bit her lip, worrying at it as she contemplated his underlying meaning. Her gaze flickered over to Francesco, his brows set into a harsh frown as he glared at her. Then Miguel moved to stand in front of her, blocking her husband from her view. He nodded at his shirt, gesturing for her to put it on, and she did so, setting the underwear aside. He picked it up and shoved it into his pants pocket, flashing her a wicked grin that hinted at whatever he had planned in mind for later. So he wanted there to be a later. Was he really intending on taking her with him then? But how long would he keep her for? What would he have her do? Besides … the obvious, of course. She gulped as her stomach flipped at the thought, lowering her head to avoid meeting his gaze. He slipped his jacket on and placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her out the door and far away from the life she knew she’d never come back to.

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel smut #miguel x oc #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara smut #spiderverse smut #mafia boss miguel

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 3 months

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

I have been openly living as a trans man for some years now. And I'm at a point where it doesn't take up so much mental space anymore.

Don't get me wrong: I certainly do not mean "it doesn't matter anymore" here. I am not a "just call me whatever pronouns, I do not care" person and I don't think I ever will be. Nothing wrong with feeling that way, it's just not how I feel. Being adressed with my name and my pronouns is still important for my mental well-being, and it still triggers feelings of dysphoria when people misgender me.

Even apart from misgendering: My identity is still important, and it always will be! Being trans is not some small thing that loses its importance over time. It's who I am. Being a man - and having grown up in a society that told me I wasn't - influences the way I experience everything in my life (from my self-image to my relationships with others to... well, everything).

What I do mean here is: Before coming out to others, and also before coming out to myself and accepting myself as a man, there were naturally a lot of questions running circles in my brain. Why do I feel so sad when adults tells me I'll grow into a woman? Why does it cause me so much stress when mom tells me to put on a dress? Why does it make me so euphoric to use masculine scents? When I try to picture myself kissing a boy, why do I see two boys? Ah, I just learned trans people exist, why does this fascinate me so much that I can't stop thinking about it? Am I creepy for being so fascinated by them? I'm older now, why is that sad feeling not going away? Why is it only getting worse now that I have "grown into a woman"? Why do I keep getting this horrified feeling that I took a wrong route somewhere and was never meant to arrive at "woman"? Wait... could this mean I am trans? Is it too late to realize I am trans at my age? Can I really be trans when the whole thought of even just considering surgery feels overwhelming and scary? Will I ever be ready to actually come out as trans? I really want to get married some day, could I even find love as a trans person? Can I ever be happy in a relationship if I hide who I am? Can I go on living in the closet? Okay, I am trans and want to come out, is it safe to do that? Will my family still love me? Will I ever be brave enough to come out to people outside of my immediate circle? Will people take me seriously? Will people hate me? Will I regret coming out? What if I fuck up my life?

Well, I came out and the world didn't end. All these questions, I either found answers to them or they just dissolved over time - and that frees up a lot of energy and mental space. The space that was occupied by these questions and concerns is now available to me again.

I do not wonder if I am a man anymore. I just am one. It has become something that is just self-evident to me. It goes without saying - or without conciously spending time thinking about it. Of course I am a man, of course I am Oliver. Who else would I be?

We all have a limited amount of things we can focus on, and many trans people share this experience that over time they do not need to focus so much on it anymnore. But this is not unique to the process of figuring out you are trans - in the sense that a cis gay, bi, ace etc. person could also relate to this, but also in entirely non-lgbt-specific ways. Think about a person prepping for an important exam for example. A lot of their energy and mental space will be tied up in exam related questions... which obviously will not be a permanent state. After the exam, they will naturally no longer by preoccupied by wondering how the exam will go!

I'm telling you all this because one of you asked me if I struggled with coming to terms with being a trans man - and this is my very long way of saying: Yes, I did (and it's pretty normal to do! It's a really big realization about yourself!) but struggling isn't a permanent state.

You'll find answers to some questions, some questions will just fade away. You'll figure things out.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt

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astrojulia · 1 year

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Disclaimer: These general free readings are made in good faith for entertainment purpose.

Warnings:There are piles that contain more personal subjects such as trauma.

Hello dear, how are you? The most votes PAC was Your True Passion, I am doing all the themes on the list little by little since all of them received votes. Thank you all for participating and I hope you enjoy your reading!

How to pick a pile

When you have different cards to choose from in pile 1,2,3… look at each of those cards. Wait until someone reminds you of a memory. Perhaps a character’s outfit resembles one of your own. It is this pile that has its message. What if they all remind me of something? Go for the one with the strongest memory, one might look like her earring but another might be the favorite candy you got from your grandma when you vacationed at her house. But what if none reminds me of something? Take a deep breath and wait a little longer, without charging yourself or creating worries. Relax, some will awaken some memory in you, I promise! .

Credits: Piles images: here. Template: here

Pile 1

Your true passion involves helping humanity in its most catastrophic moments. There is helping someone who needs a meal and there is helping someone who has lost everything and sees no reason to live, you're in the second case. This includes social assistance, medicine, fortune telling, firefighter, police officer... Jobs that often require you to see a person in their most vulnerable moment, jobs where you can save a life in various ways, witness various stories and change several lives.

To get closer to this today, you need energy, to have your own will to live and face life, today you no longer have that sparkle in your eyes, that fire in your soul... It may be due to physical, mental and psychological reasons. If it's physical, seek your nutritionist and doctor to give you the necessary vitamins. If it's mental, improve all your self-knowledge and look for books and courses that can improve your essence. If it's psychological, look for the most accessible therapy for you, don't give up, you're not lazy, you're unhealthy.

You can also do the spell from "Book of Spells" by Paulina Cassidy page 75:

Booster Walk You’ll need: - A music device and airphones; - A relaxing and safe route for walking; Make sure you’re wearing comfortable walking shoes. Put your phones on, and start walking quickly! As you breathe in and out, using long, deep breaths, imagine white light flowing through you, invigorating your body, mind and spirit. With every step, feel your energy boosting. Walk as long you feel this energy.

After you have reconnected with your essence, there are several ways to exercise your true passion in your life as a whole. Here I present three.

One of them is to help sick or vulnerable people such as children and the elderly. You will need a lot of spiritual strength, to live a life where you know that when you leave your house, your pains and problems are left behind and the only thing that matters is helping someone else. You will need to be a person who has the courage to do whatever it takes and assume all your responsibilities, because here you will have to embody all the stereotypes of what a responsible adult really is.

The second involves more writing, but not exactly creative writing, but rather a more didactic one, such as being a teacher of any type of subject. If you happen to be the type who hates studying out of responsibility, there is also the other side of living for dance,so the effort of living with your face in books and huge texts is all going to learn about your own body, in these two options they both involve a lot of teaching for future generations, you learn to accumulate knowledge and help the next person not to make the mistakes you made.

The third and last one talks about building communities that support people in their doubts and difficulties, creating a safe space where people can be their best version and this doesn't need to be anything grand, it can be a place where they can gather to have an afternoon coffee and talk about dreams and nightmares.

In all three options, there is a lot of hope for a better future and a confrontation against the cruelty of the world, you need to learn from your own tragedies, live them and leave them behind to help others.

Pile 2

Your true passion is to succeed in life, to be better than your parents ever were, to rub in the faces of people who bullied you in school that you are much better than them. For this, you will need to align two very difficult things... which are ego and humility. You will need to have a healthy self-esteem and ego to know that you are capable and humility to not think you are better than everyone else and step on others. What is lacking for you to do this today is motivation, it’s like you want to do something but can’t see any path to achieve that goal. I will give you a spell from my book, but know that to get what you want you will have to follow a different path from your friends and ancestors, you will have to chase your dreams alone and fight for them until they become a reality.

But to give you a little push now, I give you the spell from "Book of Spells" by Paulina Cassidy page 125-126:

The Garden of Motivation Take a section of the yard, if not possible pick a vase, you will consecrate as your motivation garden. Each day you will tend to it taking any amount of time needed. Weed, water, feed and care for this garden, picturing what you want it to be in the future. Add anything to your garden that makes you happy, such as wind chimes, garden sculptures, gemstones, outdoor candle holders and pretty stones. This is your garden, so make it and keep it a reflection of yourself, and your motivation. When weeding your garden, you’re in turn weeding away the negativity from you. As you nurture and cultivate this garden over time you’re nurturing and cultivating your own ambitions. As an extra tip, you can plant something and give it your dream name or even your own name. If you truly want results, you will enjoy the work to achieve them. Happy gardening!!!

There are always more than one way to achieve your dreams, I talk about three.

The first one talks much more about enjoying your own life than anything else, you know, there comes a point where we have everything we wanted years ago and still aren't happy because we want more things, that is, we didn't even enjoy all the effort we had. You will need to take a break from the rush of life from time to time to pamper yourself, to see how much you have achieved and be proud of what you already have.

The second way is to leave the city or country where you were born, maybe you already have the dream of living somewhere else, a connection with another culture that you don't even understand what it is, but for you to be happy with your life you you will need to face the fear of abandoning all the comfort and security of living in a place you already know to go somewhere you don't know.

The third is to do almost the same thing as the second, leave where you live (do you hate your home? just kidding), but now it's for work and study. Where is the best college you can go? Can you go there? You should.

All options speak of physically leaving the place where you are and not stressing yourself thinking about all the things you still need to do, but being aware that you are responsible for achieving your dreams without being tied to the future, enjoying the present and being proud from past.

Pile 3

Your true passion is independence. Not owing anything to anyone, not having to wait for someone else's decision to do what you want. You want to be rich and enjoy everything you have sown. You are afraid of having to ask for something from someone, since you want to be your own provider and what is lacking today is a more abundant look. There are times when you are very pessimistic, more afraid of running out of something than acquiring something, it's like you chase after things not because you want them, but because you're afraid of running out. It's like you go to work not because you want to spend the money to buy McDonald's or enter that course, but to not run out of money when you need it.

Something that can help you get rid of this fear of scarcity is the spell from "Book of Spells" by Paulina Cassidy page 147:

Prosperity Bath You’ll need: - Fresh ginger root; - A handful of cinnamon sticks; - A bunch of fresh basil; - A piece of cheesecloth and rubber band Put all ingredients into the cheesecloth and tie with the rubber band. Allow the pouch to soak in the water as you run your bath. When you step into your bath, relax and envision prosperity streaming to you. Know that you will receive all that you need. (Julia notes: normally we do our baths making a “tea” with the ingredients and at the end of your normal bath you pour the “tea” into your body, avoiding your head, and then you let your body dry naturally).

There are several ways to achieve your true passion, but I always mention three:

The first is going back to doing that childhood dream that you left behind a long time ago because you thought it didn't make money. What was? Sing, draw, write, paint? You can go back to doing what you like, but now as an adult you have the opportunity to study, take a course and improve your skills.

The second thing you can do is much more perverse... You hold a lot of grudges from people who hurted you. You carry a lot of trauma and anger and that's it, either you take revenge the way you want or leave all that behind and move on with your life, go to a therapist or solve your problems, the way you are now, no no matter what you do, it's going to be out of fear and not for passion.

The third talks about opening yourself up more to life's possibilities, you've been so locked up, so focused on survival and forgot that you can just live, the world is full of opportunities and you have the competence to put effort into something and make it your own work or hobby, you don't have to beat yourself up, you don't have to suffer to be worthy of happiness.

All options speak of fear and trauma, of how you are still chained to the past and it is not letting you be happy, know that time heals all wounds and that life does not give greater challenges than our own strength.

Pile 4

Your true passion is to answer "What is the meaning of life?", because you want to live it. There is a lot of curiosity here, wanting to know more, having answers to all questions and a tiredness of seeing that everything is always the same,like the world will never change. What you have control over and can change is yourself, the world will change... in very, very slow steps, until then, revitalize yourself every day.

Something that can help you have energy is the spell from "Book of Spells" by Paulina Cassidy page 184:

Vitality Broom Dance You’ll need: - A broom; - Citrus-scented incense, or citrus essential oil and an oil diffuser; - Upbeat music; Light the incense or oil diffuser. Begin playing the music. With your broom, begin sweeping the room in unison to the beat of the music. Sweep in a counterclockwise direction to purify the room and remove negative energies. Then, sweep clockwise direction to build harmony, balance and vitality. This spell will get your cells pulsating as you awaken the healing flow of vitality within and around you.

There are several ways to make your dreams come true, but I always indicate three:

The first is to pursue knowledge and get involved with younger people or those whom you have seen as ignorant until now. Everyone has their truths, and uneducated people often learn too much from life. Maybe you have that simple grandmother who knows how to do many things... Be aware that you will be an eternal apprentice, carrying your own truth without needing to harm others.

The second way is to get involved with people in a joyful way, to celebrate life and have fun with all the material world. Life is abundant and has a lot to offer you, you can learn not only in studies, but also at parties and conversations.

The last one is already the most complicated, as it talks about being able to maintain a balance between social life and solitary life. You are very prone to work which the law (judges, lawyers), professions that require a lot of studying to achieve, that suffer their own dangers and pleasures. You can follow this path, but you can't get lost in it and become dogmatic.

All options talk about people, you you can learn from people, how you can you protect them when necessary. Don't be afraid of society, you will see that there are many more good people than bad ones, it's just that the bad ones are louder.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pac #tarot reading #oracle reading #astroblr #witchblr #intuitive reading #tarot community #divination #astrojulia

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lyriclvr · 4 months

Text

MILES MORALES X READER

Masterlist: here ➼

Pairing: Miles Morales x sweet girlfriend ᥫ᭡

Synopsis: Part two of the headcanons I made of miles (1610) x his sweet girlfriend, but this includes snippets of before you two started dating!

Genre: fluff

Word count: 801

MILES MORALES HEADCANONS P2

crushing stage:

➳ you and miles would barely have any classes together. maybe one or two throughout the day, but those classes sleays felt too short for him. so, miles would change his route to class just to see you. the few seconds he would see your pretty face in the hallway was enough for him to get through the day. was enough for him to get that warm fluffy feeling in his stomach.

"oh, i dunno. i just dont wanna be in class right now" he'd shrug whenever you asked him why he took the long way to his classes.

but really, it was just an excuse to see you. just to feel your soft hands whenever he'd dab you up in the hallway.

➳ miles isn't the shy type when it comes to flirting. he hugs you longer than the others, holds your hand a bit longer than necessary when shaking it, and purposefully reaches for the same items you are just so he can feel your skin brush against his.

it's safe to say that this boy is touch starved.

➳ miles and you would probably be friends before he develops a crush on you. so he'd always deny any rumors of him liking you, saying you guys were 'just friends' even though he wanted to be everything but that.

"n-no. she's just a friend, nothing else" he'd stammer, even though he's clearly nervous about it.

➳ miles looks for your eyes during any group conversation. yes, there are about 5 other people in your friend group, but your voice is the only one he cares about hearing. your eyes the only ones he wants to look into.

he can't help but try to fight back a smile when you glance at him during these conversations, and even more so when you talk to him specifically.

➳ miles draws you in his sketchbook. but not only pictures of you where he thought you looked actually beautiful, but just quotes of funny things you said that might've stuck with him, or random notes of things you mentioned liking.

he'll never let you find it though, keeping it locked up in the top shelf of his closet. he'd die of embarrassment if you ever saw what was in it, afraid you'll think he's a weirdo of some sort.

talking stage:

➳ miles stays on the phone with you late at night. he loves hearing your pretty voice telling him what you did that day, and all the things you laughed about in third period.

➳ miles makes more of an effort to spend time with you. yes, you guys did frequently hang with eachother whenever the opportunity presented itself, but even then those hangouts were short because of whatever spidey-business he had going on that day or some general day to day distractions.

but once he realizes that whatever you guys having going on between you could be something serious, he starts making more plans with you. sometimes ditching spending time with ganke just to see you.

➳ your weekdays aren't what they used to be anymore once you and miles start talking. at first, you used to just get ready and then leave with your parental guardian as they drove you to school.

but after you guys start talking, you had to get ready for school an extra fifteen minutes early because miles wanted to walk with you to school. sometimes taking you to the local bodega to get your favorite snacks, or ordering your favorite coffee for you at the small coffee shop in the city.

➳ miles makes an effort to get to know your parents/family. your family absolutely adores him though, so he has no trouble getting in close with them. but he still gets nervous and worries about making a good impression.

"you think they'll like me?" he'll whisper to you, not trying to seem obvious about how nervous he's feeling.

you assure him that they will, which doesn't fully convince him until he starts to get to knos them. they laugh and smile with him, making jokes and jus generally treating him as if hes just part of the family.

➳ miles picks up the phone every. single. time. you call him. without fail, this boy is always looking to be there for you no matter how big or small your needs are. whether it be at seven in the morning, at eleven o'clock at night, he's going to pick up that phone.

"yes ma'am?" he'll answer, his voice laced with the tiniest hint of worry.

➳ miles morales passes the orange peel theory. no more needs to be said.

➳ miles is obsessed with the idea of asking you out. making you his girlfriend. he works everyday to give you the proposal he thinks you deserve. asking some of his female friends to help him learn to make bouquets of flowers that of course include your favorite color, asking some of your family some of the things you're interested in and adding them to the basket of things that he's made for you.

he's increasingly nervous when he asks you, he does it somewhere private so he isn't faced with public humiliation if you were to reject him.

but to his own amazement, you smile and tell him that yes you will infact be his girlfriend.

"really? i mean, you aren't just saying that?" he'll say slowly, wanting to make sure that this is real. that you were actually just as into him as he was into you.

dating stage:

➳ he calls you a variety of pet names. i personally think he'll stick with the basic ones, stuff like 'babe' or 'bae', or just shortened variations of your name.

but once you guys get more comfortable with eachother, he'll call you stuff like 'princess'. he finds stuff like 'mi amor' or anything starting with 'my/mi' corny, so he'll stray away from those.

➳ miles isnt afraid to let the world knows that he's your boyfriend. infact, he's extremely cocky with the fact that he managed to pull someone as goregous as you. he constantly brags to anyone who'll stand to listen about how he has the honor of being your boyfriend and how he's never met anyone like you before.

"my girlfriend is so pretty. i miss her so much man" he'll mutter, to which everyone around him will groan in annoyance because you're all he talks about.

➳ miles writes your name everywhere. your name is plastered over every homework assignment, every cover of every notebook, on the back of some abandoned building where he graffitied your initials together. it's written in sharpie on his wrist.

he wants to be reminded of you every second of the day, as youre his entire world.

➳ he'll take pictures of things that remind him of you. flowers that are your favorite color? *snap*, he's taken a picture of it. a rock thats shaped in the same shape of your birthmark? *snap*. a leaf that's the same color as your eyes? *snap*.

➳ miles has a harder time being away from you than whats considered normal. of course, its natural and completely okay to miss your partner when you are apart, but miles is so dramatic with it.

he'll groan in bed and look at pictures of you two together, wondering when he'll get to see you again. he'll replay voice messages that you sent him just so he can hear that voice he loves so much.

"oh my god i fucking miss her" he'll say to himself while throwing his phone aside so he can bury his face in his pillow, trying to forget about you.

➳ miles will gush about you to tia rio, blabbing about how pretty you are and all the things you said that made him smile. she'll just smile, grateful that her little boy has found someone that can make him as happy as she always wished he could be.

+ credits to @across-the-art-verse for the borders ☁︎!!

#tags #milesmorales #milesmoralesupremacy #milesmoralesfluff #acrossthespiderverse !!

#atsv #miles morales 1610 #miles morales headcanons #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales headcannons #writeblr #writers on tumblr #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miles morales spiderverse

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nicksbestie · 2 months

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hi as of like yesterday yr requests are still open so i hope this isn’t a bother ! but anyway i was hoping to see some caregiver!reader + agere!johnnie ? preferably gnc reader but fem would also be okay ( whatever prior relationship you want :] ) don’t have many ideas for plot aside from maybe johnnie has had a bad day/is really stressed out so he kinda starts isolating himself, which reader respects but is also really worried about him :( so after a while reader uses maybe like a spare key to go into johnnie’s room and at first it just seems like he’s just upset but as reader starts trying to get johnnie to open up and trying to comfort him, he regresses which makes him more upset/panicky. whether reader has prior knowledge of regression is up to you but in general they’re just really sweet and supportive trying to calm johnnie down <3 maybe they eat dinner/reader feeds johnnie, and watch a movie/cartoon while cuddling ? ( little spoon johnnie ofc ) anyways feel free to add or take away anything i just want johnnie to be taken care of and as an agere i am totally projecting lol

Secrets - Johnnie Guilbert

Summary : Johnnie's biggest secret is exposed without him being ready, but it goes better than he thinks it will.

Pairing : Johnnie Guilbert/Reader (romantic)

Warnings : descriptions of mental health issues, depression, and isolation

Word Count : 1541

A/N : This is an age regression fic, which is purely safe for work and innocent. Any hate/disrespect towards me, my work, or readers, will not be tolerated.

Everyone has secrets. Some of them are terrible ones, skeletons in your closet, ones that would ruin many people’s lives should they escape out into the public. Others are small and simple, things they just like to keep to themselves, and wouldn’t hurt anyone if other people knew, they just don’t want them to be everyone’s business. Some people keep secrets to protect themselves because they would be embarrassed about it if anyone found out. Everyone keeps secrets, and sometimes they’re revealed at the wrong time. Johnnie had secrets, and he was in no way prepared for his biggest one to be exposed to anyone, especially not you, but sometimes life goes in ways that we just can’t predict.

Johnnie had been struggling a lot lately. That wasn’t a secret, and although you knew about it, you didn’t pressure him very much. He wasn’t the type to open up when he was overly pushed about whatever was wrong, and you wanted him to feel safe and comfortable coming to you when he was ready, and not before that. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t concerned, because you most definitely were. This bad spell for him was bordering on being one of his worst ones ever, and you were about to step in, because you couldn’t stand to see him hurting on his own any longer, even if that was what he told you he wanted.

Johnnie had begun to isolate himself for almost every hour of the day, only exiting his room to eat and use the bathroom. He didn’t talk much to you out loud, texting instead, as it took much less energy out of him to take that route. He didn’t like to talk about it, despite knowing that he most definitely needed to. You hated how he could be so self destructive, but you knew that you did the exact same thing when you felt the way that he did. So, you respected his space and always let him have it when he asked for it. However, it normally didn’t last this long, thus feeling the massive worry that encased your mind.

After a couple more hours, you continued to let your worry grow, but you decided to do something about it. You hated the fact that you were about to ignore the boundaries that Johnnie had put into place, but you were seriously concerned, and you hoped that he would be able to understand and forgive you should he be upset with your decision. You grabbed the spare key that unlocked all the doors in the house, kept in the kitchen just in case of emergencies, and gently knocked on his bedroom door. You weren’t going to just barge in, you wanted to give him the chance to open it himself. When he didn’t reply, you softly called out to him, telling him that you were going to open the door. He didn’t argue, so you did just that.

Walking into his room, you noticed that the blinds were closed, the lights were off, and he was quietly laying in his bed, staring at the wall. You immediately laid down next to him, letting him curl up next to you. You noticed the stained tear tracks on his cheeks, your heart breaking for him as he simply laid there. You let the both of you cuddle in silence, not wanting this to be a heartbreaking moment for the both of you, so you didn’t break the silence for a while. You knew that you should probably talk about what was going on, but the moment was so peaceful that you didn’t want to say anything. You both laid there quietly for about half an hour, taking in the comfort of the other’s presence, before you said anything.

“We should talk about this, baby. It’s getting worse this time.”

You could feel him shake his head against your chest.

“No. I don’t want to talk.”

“Honey, it’s important-”

“No!”

Woah. He very rarely snapped at you. He had almost never snapped at you, especially not when he was feeling like this. But, in all fairness, you had pushed him a little bit. You could feel the tears from his eyes soaking your shirt, and you decided to not speak any more for a little bit. You gently pulled his face up, wiping his tears away with the soft pads of your thumbs, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, brushing his hair out a bit with your fingers. You noticed that his eyes were widened more, much more glassy, and you definitely were concerned about it, but you brushed it off to the tears causing it.

You were more surprised when he pulled away from you, as he had never done that. You gently reached out to try and cuddle him again, but you noticed that he wouldn’t even look at you. He seemed to be panicking about something, and you couldn’t figure out what it was. You weren’t upset with him, but from the anxiety radiating off of his body, you could tell that he probably felt like you were. So, you immediately spoke up to try and help him recognize the fact that he was always safe and loved with you.

“Love, what’s wrong? It’s all going to be okay.”

You were now completely confused, as the second that you spoke, your boyfriend burst into tears. He seemed to be absolutely inconsolable, crying nearly at the top of his lungs and clutching the squishmallow on his bed tightly between his arms. You didn’t know what else to do besides just hug him, whispering comforting words as you told him that everything was going to work out, and that you were here for him. It wasn’t until he looked up at you with the same glassy-eyed look as earlier and spoke a few words when you realized what was going on.

When a choked out “I sorry” left his lips, you put together the look in his eyes, and unexpected crying, and the clutched stuffie, and immediately realized what was happening. Your boyfriend had slipped right into his littlespace, a littlespace that you were completely unaware of, and was absolutely distraught. You had been a caregiver in a previous relationship, and you quickly controlled your shocked face, bringing him as close to you as possible and gently stroking through his hair.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. You’re safe, angel, nothing to be sorry for. I’ve got you, you’re going to be alright.”

It took a lot of repetitive words and soft praises for Johnnie to relax, his crying eventually slowing when he realized that you weren’t upset with him, and that you were still there and still loving him despite his newfound headspace. He wrapped himself back around you, seeming to become a very quiet little. You were more than excited to get to know him in his headspace, so excited to get to love and spoil a little one, as it had been a long time. Less than an hour later, the two of you were still curled up next to each other, you simply hugging your little boy and whispering sweet nothings to him as he relaxed. You both enjoyed the quality time, and as it turns out, Johnnie is a very silent little, despite when he’s not upset. It wasn’t for another half an hour or so that you moved, and you probably wouldn’t have moved at all had it not been for Johnnie’s stomach growling.

You held his hand as you walked to the kitchen, calling him the most adorable as he rubbed his eyes with a fist. You put some chicken nuggets in the oven for him, before you went to the bathroom and you helped him remove the makeup that he’d put on that morning. He hadn’t gone anywhere, but he put it on to cover the dark circles under his eyes. You were gentle but bubbly, and you noticed that your little loved to laugh, and giggled at every funny face you made at him. Dinner went quite smoothly, him eating all of it, which absolutely warmed your heart, as he hadn’t been eating much lately due to his depressive slump.

Little Johnnie seemed to love food, and you were grateful for that, because you didn’t want dinner time to cause him to be upset again. After he had finished eating, you got him a popsicle from the freezer, wrapped it in a paper towel so his hands didn’t get cold, and tucked him in on the couch while you cleaned up the plate and put it into the dishwasher. He was wrapped up in a blanket, cuddled with his stuffie, and you sat down next to him as soon as you were done. You gently tapped through channels and shows as you waited for your little one to pick a cartoon he’d like to watch, finally settling on “Spongebob”, and he immediately wrapped himself back up in your arms.

He’d been in a dark episode for a while, but now, it seemed like he was able to see the light at the end of it, and you couldn’t wait to be here to help him through it all.

~ taglist : @jake-and-johnnies-slut @elliem505 @gvf23 @ilydeaky @maryx2xx @oobleoob @aemrsy @jasperthefriendlyghostt @707xn

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!

#johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fanfic #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert fic #johnnie guilbert fanfiction #johnnie and jake #fanfic #jake webber fluff #jake webber fanfic #jake webber fanfiction #jake webber #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert age regression #sfw fic #johnnie guilbert sfw #caregiver johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert agere

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mountsverse · 6 months

Text

you can hear it in the silence

summary: you and mason are best friends, but he finds you heartbroken and can't contain his true feelings for you any longer.

word count: 2k

notes: this is unedited i'm so sorry, hope it's not too bad... masterlist here

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋆ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

pushing open the door to your apartment, you uncaringly dropped your handbag on the floor. audibly groaning, you stepped out of your heals and shut your door behind you. after a long night of arguing, and evident tears, you wiped an eye with the back of your hand. you had been seeing a guy, much to the dismay of your best friend mason, and tonight had been the tipping point. he had shown up to your date in a sour mood, creating tension so thick you had just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. deciding to take the high route, not wanting to perpetuate his already bad mood, and completely ruin your own, you remained silent. you sat through dinner, hours of mumbled conversation and poking at your food. the night was mostly tame until he had decided he'd had enough, asking you why you, had been in a bad mood. confusion filled your features as you explained that it had been him who had put a damper on the night. all he'd down was dismiss you, his mind set on the fact that he had done nothing wrong. when he mentioned your best friend, you were shocked.

"is this because of mason?" he demanded, "i know he doesn't like me, but he could mind his business every now and again?... he likes to stick his nose in it, doesn't he?"

you swallowed, completely in disbelief that mason's name had made it into your argument. "this has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with you!" you felt a sudden need to defend him, "and leave him out of it, don't talk about him like that," you spoke back, hands balled into small fists at your sides.

your boyfriend scoffed, "oh please! everyone with eyes see's the way he looks at you! anyone would be plain stupid to think he doesn't want a taste!"

jaw dropped, you stood up, pushing your seat away from the table as you gathered your bag, "fuck you! that's a real nice way of talking about your girlfriend," your eyes tickled with tears before you added, "forget it, we're done," you spat before tearing a couple of notes out of your purse and placing them on the table. turning from him, you angrily walked out of the restaurant.

once the cold manchester breeze hit you, you regretted coming outside. you hated living in the uk during the colder months, you could hardly handle it.

"fucks sake," you muttered, the warmth of your breath visible in the cold air, creating a faint fog as you spoke. fumbling around in your bag until you finally secured your car keys, a couple of tears spilled from your eyes as your finally unlocked your car and jumped into the drivers seat, so desperate to get home.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋆ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

the whole way home, your phone buzzed, receiving texts from numerous friends, and mason. you had told him you were going out tonight, and thus, he was checking in to make sure you had gotten home safe and sound.

you ignored all the texts, and the couple of calls mason had tried to make. scrubbing off your face of makeup, and putting your hair in a horrible attempt of a messy bun, you stumbled over to bed, ready to forget the events of the day and move on tomorrow. you knew as soon as you allowed yourself a minute to think, you'd be a puddle of tears. it's not like you and your boyfriend were anything serious, but you weren't a girl that was nonchalant with her feelings. you wouldn't lie and say you weren't devastated about the events of the night and the sudden and extremely unexpected breakup. it hurt, and you wouldn't deny that. especially not to mason, who you knew would poke and prod at you before you spilled every single detail about your night from hell.

just as you were about to get into your inviting sheets, you heard a knock on your door. you flinched, partly afraid your boyfriend had shown up in an attempt to hash things out.

you froze, not moving from your room, hoping whoever was knocking would get the hint and go away.

"come on, i know you're in there..." you could barely hear his words, but they hit you like a slap in the face. "open up," he added, his voice sounded gruff and tired.

you let out a deep breath, walking over to your apartment door with heavy feet. reluctantly, you placed a hand over the handle and twisted it open.

when the door swung inward, mason was in the middle of knocking, his fist just about to tap on the door once more. only then, did you register his features. he looked exhausted, which worried you because today was one of his only days off in a week. he hadn't had training, but maybe he'd had a long day too?

"mason, what are you-" you continued taking him in, looking over him for anything peculiar. "what are you doing here? are you alright?" you asked, concerned. as your stepped out of the doorway, you welcomed him into your apartment.

mason stepped in, following your direction. you quietly closed the door behind, cautious of the fact that it was getting late.

"thought i was gonna have to stand out there forever," he groaned, his shoulders sagging in relief, however that was short lived when he refocused his attention on you. "what are you doing?" his english accent coming through strong, "not answering my texts?" he raked a hand through his hair, something it looked like he was doing all night based on the state of his brown locks, "and my calls!" he added.

"i-" you choked, "i'm sorry, mase," you said quietly, "i was just really tired, okay? i just wanted to get home and get to sleep," you explained, gesturing at your pyjamas, in comparison to mason who was fully dressed.

"too tired to type? come on! you know that sounds so stupid," he said, a sarcastic chuckle escaping his lips. "i was worried, y/n" mason added, his voice more tender as his eyes scanned you, checking for any signs that you were lying about just being tired.

you groaned, annoyed, "well you don't need to be! no one needs to worry about me, okay?" your fists once again balled at the sides of your body.

mason matched your annoyance, clearly not happy that you had been ignoring him all night. "how can i not worry when i knew you were supposed to be going out with that moron?" he scoffed, "you know none of us trust him," he referenced the opinions of your shared friends, "so god forbid i got worried when you didn't reply for hours when you're supposed to be with him..." he trailed off, angry.

your hands remained balled into fists, you looked up at mason who was easily a good few inches taller than you. "well thank fuck that it's over then, huh?" you shrugged, feigning indifference. "no one will need to worry about him again, because it's over, we're over... you lot can throw a party if you'd like," you flailed your hands in the air dismissively.

the corners of your eyes stung with tears, and a sense of embarrassment swirled in your chest. "are you happy now, mason?" you shrugged helplessly.

"what?" he asked, dumbfounded, confusion written all over his face.

"i said, are you happy, mason?" you repeated.

"no, before that... what did you say?" he clarified.

"i broke up with him," you said quietly, eyes refusing to settle on him, wandering around the room.

mason was silent. he didn't know what to say to you, in all honesty he wanted to pick you up and twirl you around the room in happiness. but he knew he couldn't do that, it was insensitive for one, and also inappropriate. he struggled to find a response, the words drying in his throat.

"really?" he asked, his voice raw.

"yes. okay?" a couple of tears fell from your eyes, "so you can go now, alright?... there's nothing to worry about," you spat, wanting him to leave, so he wouldn't witness the way you were about to fall apart in a heap of tears and embarrassment.

"i'm-" he gulped, "i'm not going anywhere, y/n," he said sternly, "stop telling me to go," he demanded.

"why not? you all got what you wanted, the show's over," you spoke softly, the tears flowing freely now as you tried to swat them away with your palms.

mason closed the gap between the two of you, his hands froze between you as he reached out to touch you. he chewed the inside of his cheek, nervously. "i'm so sorry," he began, a hand darting out to tuck a tuff of your hair behind your ear. "i had no idea... believe me, or-" he choked, clearing his throat before continuing, "i wouldn't have come here, all worked up," he clarified, continuing to tidy up your hair, pushing it away from your face.

you closed the remaining space between the two of you, your arms reaching out to wrap around his torso, as the tears spilled from your eyes.

"we don't have to talk about it..." he said quietly, a string of swear words escaping his lips. "he's such an arsehole, you know that?" he said, his tone firm.

you held onto mason tightly, resting your cheek against his chest. you gently nodded your head in agreement. "i was stupid for thinking he was anything but an arsehole," you hiccuped, one of your hands trying desperately to rid your cheeks of the tears you'd cried.

mason shook his head, dismissing your comment, "no more crying," mason glanced down at you, and he could've sworn he felt his heart crack at the sight, "i don't wanna see your tears," he said softly into your hair, before muttering something you failed to catch.

"what?" you asked him, as you couldn't hear what he had said.

"if it was me, i'd make sure you'd never shed a single tear... unless it was a happy one," he spoke, unsure if you would be able to hear it this time.

"mason..." his name caught in your throat, as the severity of his words hit you.

"shhhh" he hushed you, a hand stroking your hair as he continued "you know i worship the ground you walk on," he whispered.

your tears had stopped and the only sound breaking the silence between the two of you was your soft breathing.

"what are you talking about?" you finally asked him.

"you know what i'm saying, y/n. if you were mine... i could- i would," he confirmed, "treat you so much better," he spoke.

"where is this coming from?" you asked quietly, looking up at him, searching his eyes for the truth.

"it's not coming from anywhere, it's always been here..." he replied, looking down at you. "i waited for you..." he said softly, "i've let you do your own thing, and i admit i've been a coward," he explained.

one of mason's hands moved to take one of yours, holding your hand within his own. "i never-" he paused, trying to find the words to explain how he'd been feeling, "i've always been here, right here... and i guess you've never noticed it, but y/n... you're my best friend," he blinked, taking your silence as permission for him to continue.

the look on his face was almost unrecognisable, one you had never seen him give you before. but one you had seen him give to others... other girls. but this time, it was different. there was something different in his eyes, a sense of need.

"i love you," he finally got out, his words almost too quiet for you to hear.

he was in love.

you let out a ragged breath, unsure of what to say before the words came spilling out, "mason i-" a hundred thoughts were rushing through your mind before your hands reached out to cup his face, pulling him down to your level.

you pressed your lips against his in a haste kiss, desperate to show him that you felt the same way, but had no idea how to put it into words. pulling away from him, your hands remained on either side of his face as you spoke, "i love you too, mase."

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