#and not live in radio silence for the rest of our lives

[doliacuddles]

SHADOWS OF A MARRIAGE.

𝖲𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝖫𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌.

𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

❝In our gazes lie the secrets of a love that never had its chance, trapped in a silence that screams the tragedy of what could have been and never was.❞

The radio had been a resounding success, and Alastor had become a prominent figure in the community. To celebrate, he decided to organize a grand party at the house. The night was in full swing, with music and laughter filling every corner of the house. Radio station colleagues and other acquaintances enjoyed the evening, unaware of the emotional storm raging within you.

You wore a smile on your face, playing the role of the perfect wife as you greeted guests and tended to their needs. However, the weight of the facade was becoming increasingly unbearable. Pretending to be in a happy marriage when the reality was so different was wearing you down. You decided to take a break, stepping away from the bustle to find a moment of solitude.

You headed to the backyard, seeking refuge in the shadows of the night. The lights from the party shone in the distance, but there, in the darkness, you could let your mask fall. Tears began to run down your cheeks as you clung to the porch railing, allowing yourself a moment of vulnerability.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you. You turned around, and there was Alastor, watching you with those intense eyes that both frightened and fascinated you. There was no need for words; he knew. He had always known.

"Why are you here alone?" he asked, his voice soft but authoritative.

You tried to wipe away the tears quickly, but he approached before you could finish. His hand rested on your face, gripping your chin to force you to look at him. You felt a mix of anger and despair bubbling inside you, and with a sudden movement, you pushed his hand away.

"Don't touch me!" you exclaimed, your voice breaking with emotion.

Alastor remained unfazed. Instead, he brought his face closer to yours, invading your personal space with an intensity that made you hold your breath. With a finger, he lifted your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact. With his other hand, he wiped the tears from your cheeks with a tenderness that contrasted with the firmness of his gesture.

"You're ruining the party," he said, an ironic smile forming on his lips.

"Party? What party?" you replied bitterly. "This is nothing but another performance, another lie to maintain appearances."

He looked at you intently, his smile fading slowly as seriousness took its place. "And what do you suggest we do then? Abandon everything? Let the truth destroy what we've built?"

"I prefer the truth to living in this lie," you said, your voice firm though your heart was pounding.

There was a moment of silence. Alastor loosened his grip on your hair, but he didn't step away. His eyes examined you, as if trying to decipher every corner of your soul. Finally, he nodded slowly, a shadow of understanding crossing his face.

"Perhaps you're right," he admitted softly. "Perhaps it's time to stop pretending."

However, instead of staying, Alastor turned and returned to the party. He left you alone in the darkness of the garden, the echo of his words resonating in your mind.

As Alastor walked away, his true smile reflected a disturbing satisfaction, as if he enjoyed the control he exerted over you. Later, you would discover that this smile concealed an even more sinister secret: Alastor was beginning to unleash his dark impulses. And you, trapped in his web, would bear witness to the true monster hiding behind that charming facade.

And so, the night continued, with the party and laughter in the background, while you remained trapped in an endless nightmare, a role you could no longer abandon.

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

[adastri]

How do you mourn the loss of someone who never died? They’re not gone forever, but you’re separated from them just the same.

It’s like, I hope I never see you again, but I can’t bear the thought of living the rest of my life away from you. Even if we do meet in the future, things will never be how they used to and it’ll hurt all over again when we go our separate ways. If I had known, if I had acted differently, if I had been better… maybe we wouldn’t have parted. But then it’s your fault for leaving when you promised you wouldn’t. I understand, though, and I could never hate you for it.

I still think of you when I hear someone talk about your interests, and I think of you when I see something on the internet that would’ve made you laugh. I think of you when I meet someone who shares your name. I think of you on Christmas and New Year’s and your birthday, and I think of you on days that have no significance at all. I often wonder how your day is going. I hope that one day, I’ll be able to ask you. I know I probably never will, but frankly, that sliver of hope—no matter how slim—makes my chest swell and ache more than it would if I knew for certain our paths would never cross again.

Anyway.

[hookhausenschips]

Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight

Summary: Y/N is one of the driver's of the 2026 season for Audi. A very respectable driver and cherished. But life has other plans.

Word Count: 4,365

Warnings: major character death, funeral, sad, grief, anger, accidents, mourning, race crash, angst this is very detailed

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With a promising car and a supportive team, Y/N entered the season with high hopes and determination.

The first few races of the season saw Y/N performing exceptionally well. She consistently scored points and even secured a podium finish, earning the respect and admiration of fans and competitors alike.

The sun hung low over the F1 circuit as the drivers prepared for the race of their lives. Among them was Y/N, a talented young driver, who had been making waves in the sport with her exceptional skill behind the wheel, with dreams of championship glory. The atmosphere in the Formula 1 paddock was charged with excitement as teams prepared for the highly anticipated race.

The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as engines roared to life, signaling the start of the race. 

As the lights went out, the cars surged forward, hurtling into the first corner. Y/N and Max jostled for position, their cars inches apart as they navigated the tight bends.

During a critical phase of the race, Y/N  was engaged in a heated battle for p3 with Oscar on a challenging circuit known for its tight corners and rapid elevation changes. "Aaron, this is Y/N. I'm... I'm losing control. Something's wrong with the car. I can't... I can't steer properly. It's... it's getting worse.” Y/N radioed to her team. As she approached a particularly challenging turn, Y/N's car experienced a sudden and catastrophic mechanical failure, causing her to lose control at high speed. 

“I'm trying to regain control, but it's... it's not working. The car's... it's spinning out. I can't stop it. I need... I need assistance. Aaron, I'm scared. I don't know what's happening. Please, talk to me. Keep me focused. I can see the barrier approaching. I'm... I'm bracing for impact. Oh, God. It's... it's too late. Brace for impact.”

Despite Y/N's skill and reflexes, she was unable to regain control of the car as it veered off course and collided with the barrier with significant force. The impact caused the car to spin violently before coming to a rest on the edge of the track, surrounded by debris.

"Y/N, can you hear me? Y/N, please respond. We're with you, we're here to help. Stay calm, help is on the way. You're going to be okay, Y/N. Just hold on, help is coming.” Aaron, her engineer radioed as the paddock stood still with the red flag waving. 

“Aaron, it hurts. I can't... I can't feel my legs. I need help. Please, hurry.” The girl began to panic as she tried to lift herself out of the mangled car but her body had no energy left.

“Y/N, it's Aaron. I need you to stay focused, and stay with us. You're doing great, Y/N. We're going to get you out of there. Just hang in there, help is on the way.” He replied, his heart in his throat hearing the pain and desperation in his driver’s voice. Silence followed. 

“Aaron, I'm sorry. I tried. I tried my best. Please... please tell my family... I love them. I'm... I'm trapped. I can't move. It's... it's dark. I'm scared. I don't want to die. Please, help me.” She struggled to breathe, her chest feeling like it was caving in. 

“Y/N, you're a fighter. You've faced challenges on the track before, and you've always come out stronger. You can do this. Stay strong, Y/N. We're right here beside you. Y/N, listen to my voice. Focus on your breathing. Stay conscious, Y/N. We're going to get you out of there, I promise.”

“I know it's hard, Y/N. I know it's painful. But you're not alone. We're here with you every step of the way. You're not just a driver, Y/N. You're a member of our racing family. And we take care of our own.”

“Y/N, I need you to keep fighting. You're going to make it through this. I believe in you, Y/N. You've got the heart of a champion” Aaron continued talking to the girl to keep her awake. 

“Aaron, can you hear me? Please respond. I need to know... I need to know I'm not alone. I'm losing consciousness. I can't... I can't hold on much longer. Aaron, please... don't leave me." Y/N tried to stay awake but her body finally started to shut down, the shock nearly wearing off.

“Y/N, you're not alone. We're right here with you. Stay strong, Y/N. Stay strong. We're here for you, Y/N. We're not giving up on you. Hold on, help is almost here. You're going to make it, Y/N. I believe in you." Finally, Aaron received an update that the medical team had reached Y/N.

Emergency response teams quickly arrived on the scene, extracting Y/N from the wreckage and providing immediate medical attention. 

As the scene unfolded David Croft spoke, “Ladies and gentlemen, as we witness the unfolding events on the track, our hearts are heavy with concern for Y/N, who has been involved in a serious accident. Emergency response teams are on the scene, working swiftly and diligently to extract Y/N from the wreckage and provide the urgent medical attention she requires.”

“In moments like these, the racing community comes together as one, united in our concern for the well-being of our fellow competitor and friend. We extend our deepest gratitude to the dedicated medical professionals and safety personnel who are working tirelessly to ensure Y/N receives the care she needs.” Martin Brundle added.

David Croft nodded, “As we await updates on Y/N's condition, let us take a moment to reflect on the inherent risks and challenges of competitive motorsport. Each time our drivers take to the track, they do so with courage, skill, and an unwavering commitment to pushing the limits of what is possible. But with that pursuit of excellence comes the understanding that accidents can happen, and it is in these moments that we must come together to support one another and ensure the safety and well-being of all involved.”

“Our thoughts and prayers are with Y/N and her loved ones during this difficult time. We stand united in our hope for a full and speedy recovery, knowing that the strength of the racing community and the indomitable spirit of our drivers will carry us through even the darkest of moments.” Laura Winter spoke.

“As we await further updates, let us draw strength from the bonds of camaraderie and solidarity that unite us, knowing that together, we can overcome any challenge that lies ahead. Our hearts are with you, Y/N. Stay strong, and know that you are not alone." Laura added as the camera cut back to mangled remains of Y/N’s car.

Y/N was rushed to the nearest hospital in critical condition. The entire racing community held its breath as updates on her condition trickled in. Fans around the world prayed for Y/N's recovery, hoping against hope for a miracle. Y/N was not only a talented driver but also a beloved figure among fans and colleagues alike.

Outside the hospital, a vigil was held as fans, friends, and fellow drivers gathered to show their support for Y/N and her family. Candles were lit, prayers were said, and messages of hope were written on banners and signs.

Days turned into weeks as Y/N remained unconscious in the hospital. Doctors worked tirelessly to stabilize her condition, but the prognosis remained uncertain. The racing world held its collective breath, waiting for any sign of improvement.

As Y/N fought for her life in the hospital, the racing world held its breath. The grid  often visits and sits with her, in silence or talks to her about anything and everything. Fans continued to show their solidarity and love for the young driver. The atmosphere was heavy with worry and sadness.

Y/N’s family called her colleagues and fellow drivers to the hospital. It was a week after Singapore, one of Y/N’s favorite circuits. They were hopeful that she had finally woken up. But once they had walked into the ICU and seen Y/N’s father consoling his wife they knew. They each got to say their goodbyes before the beeping sounds in her hospital room turned into silence. Like a bright star eaten by a dark hole in space, Y/N was no longer alive. The light that she had was no longer.

Tributes flooded in from all corners of the globe. Fellow drivers, team members, and fans shared memories of Y/N's remarkable career and the impact she had on the sport. The outpouring of grief was overwhelming.

As the racing community grappled with the loss, plans for Y/N's funeral began to take shape. It was to be a grand affair, fitting for a driver of Y/N's stature. The Audi team worked tirelessly to ensure every detail was perfect. The family had requested everyone wear white in memory of the light Y/N was.

In the days leading up to the funeral, a memorial was held at COTA where Y/N had achieved so much success. Drivers and fans gathered to pay their respects, sharing stories and memories of Y/N's incredible talent and spirit. 

On the day of the funeral, the streets were lined with mourners as the funeral procession made its way through the city. Flags flew at half-mast, and the atmosphere was somber as Y/N's casket was carried to the church by her pallbearers; Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Fernando Alonso, and her teammate at Audi; Carlos Sainz.

Fans created a makeshift memorial outside the venue, adorned with flags, banners, and memorabilia celebrating Y/N's career. Inside, a dedicated area was set up for fans to leave handwritten notes, flowers, and tokens of appreciation. A large screen displayed messages and photos shared by fans on social media, providing a digital space for the global racing community to come together and pay their respects to Y/N's enduring legacy.

Audi arranged for Y/N's race car to be positioned at the front of the venue, surrounded by floral arrangements in Audi's signature colors. The car's engine cover bore a custom decal with Y/N's racing number, 21, and a heartfelt message from the team expressing gratitude for her contributions and dedication. Teammates and crew members had placed personalized tokens of remembrance, such as race gloves or miniature trophies, around the car as a tribute to Y/N's impact on the team.

Major sports networks and broadcasters dedicated a portion of their programming to live coverage of Y/N's funeral. Special segments and live reports provide viewers with updates on the funeral proceedings, including interviews with attendees, insights from racing experts, and retrospectives on Y/N's career highlights.

Online streaming platforms and social media channels also offered live coverage of the funeral, allowing fans and supporters from around the world to participate in the commemoration of Y/N's life and legacy.

Inside the church, friends, family, and members of the racing community gathered to say their final goodbyes to Y/N. Her favorite song, ‘Forever Mine’ by The O’Jays played as everyone took their seats.

“Please rise for the family.” The preacher spoke as the doors opened revealing Y/N’s parents, her siblings, and some aunts and uncles.

The preacher stood at the front of the church. Below him lay Y/N’s customized casket. The casket is crafted from high-quality, polished wood, with a sleek and elegant design that exudes sophistication and reverence. The exterior of the casket is adorned with a custom vinyl wrap, featuring a striking racing-themed design that pays homage to Y/N's career as an F1 driver.

At the head of the casket, a large image of Y/N's race car in action is prominently displayed, surrounded by images of checkered flags, racing stripes, and other iconic symbols of motorsport. Y/N's racing number is emblazoned across the front of the casket in bold, stylized lettering, serving as a visual reminder of her identity and accomplishments on the track.

Along the sides of the casket, intricate decals and graphics depict scenes from Y/N's racing career, capturing moments of triumph, camaraderie, and determination. Images of Y/N celebrating victories on the podium, engaging with fans, and competing in thrilling races are showcased in vibrant detail, creating a dynamic and visually captivating tribute to her legacy.

The interior lining of the casket is adorned with luxurious fabric in Y/N's favorite colors, providing a comfortable and dignified resting place. Soft cushions and pillows are arranged to cradle Y/N's body with care and reverence, ensuring a peaceful and serene final rest.

At the foot of the casket, a small display area is set aside for the placement of Y/N's racing memorabilia, including her helmet, gloves, and racing suit. These cherished items serve as a tangible reminder of Y/N's passion for motorsport and her enduring legacy as a beloved figure in the racing community.

Engraved plaques and plates adorn the casket, featuring meaningful quotes, messages of remembrance, and significant dates from Y/N's life and career.

He began to read Y/N’s eulogy, “As we gather here today to honor the life and legacy of Y/N, it is with heavy hearts that we bid farewell to a beloved figure whose presence illuminated the world of motorsport and touched the lives of all who had the privilege of knowing her. Though her time with us was tragically cut short, Y/N leaves behind a legacy of excellence, passion, and sportsmanship that will forever be remembered and cherished by all who had the honor of witnessing her remarkable journey.”

Silent cries and sniffles could be heard. “Y/N was born on May 3rd, 2001 in Shreveport, where she quickly developed a passion for racing that would shape the course of her life and career. From an early age, Y/N exhibited a natural talent and determination behind the wheel, honing her skills in karting competitions before making her mark on the world stage as a rising star in the world of Formula 1.”

Fans outside and around the world hugged one another as they watched. “Throughout her illustrious career, Y/N achieved numerous milestones and accolades, earning the admiration and respect of fans, teammates, and competitors alike. Her skill, agility, and unwavering commitment to excellence set her apart as one of the most formidable drivers of her generation, with each race serving as a testament to her indomitable spirit and unwavering passion for the sport she loved.”

“Off the track, Y/N was known for her humility, kindness, and generosity, touching the lives of countless individuals through her charitable work, mentorship of aspiring young racers, and dedication to giving back to the racing community. Whether signing autographs for adoring fans, visiting children's hospitals, or supporting worthy causes, Y/N's impact extended far beyond the confines of the racetrack, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts and minds of all who had the privilege of knowing her.” The air felt heavy inside the walls of the church.

“Tragically, Y/N's journey was cut short, leaving behind a legacy that will forever be remembered and cherished by all who had the honor of knowing her. Though she may no longer be with us in body, her spirit lives on in the memories we hold dear, in the lessons we have learned, and in the enduring legacy of sportsmanship, camaraderie, and dedication to excellence that she leaves behind.”

“In the words of the poet Alfred Lord Tennyson, 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.' Y/N's life was a testament to the power of love, passion, and perseverance, and though we mourn her loss, let us also celebrate the joy and inspiration she brought into our lives. May Y/N rest in peace, knowing that she will be forever cherished, forever remembered, and forever loved. Amen."

Amen’s were murmured amongst the crowd. “I was speaking to the family to gain some insight on what kind of person Y/N was. One story that stood out to me was when she placed a snake in the cracked open window in their bathroom while her brother was in the shower. He ran out of the house with no towel and suds still in his hair.” The preacher spoke as he stepped down and around Y/N’s casket. Tear-filled laughter rose in the air.

“Does anyone have any stories or anything they would like to share about Y/N? You can remain where you are or you can come up to the mic as well.” He concluded. Many people from family members to childhood friends and colleagues spoke up about the young woman they loved. 

“The track feels emptier without Y/N's presence. Her laughter, her passion, her drive – all silenced too soon, leaving us to navigate a world dimmed by her absence." Daniel spoke up. 

Her parents walked up to the mic together, “As parents, we watched Y/N grow into a fearless competitor, always striving for excellence on and off the track. Her determination and courage were truly remarkable. Y/N's presence illuminated every corner of our lives. Her smile, her spirit, and her love for racing will remain etched in our hearts forever.” Her father’s voice shook.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, not really grasping that his daughter was gone. “Though Y/N's time with us was cut short, her impact on the racing world was immense. She lived her life with purpose and left behind a legacy that will endure for generations. We are grateful for the outpouring of love and support from the racing community. Your unwavering kindness during this difficult time has been a source of comfort for our family.”

“Y/N's journey may have ended, but her spirit will continue to race on in the hearts of those who knew and loved her. We will cherish the memories we shared and honor her legacy with each lap we take.Today, we say goodbye to Y/N, a true champion in every sense of the word. May her passion for racing and her indomitable spirit inspire us to live each day to the fullest, just as she did." Her mother finished as she wiped away her tears while placing a hand a on her baby girl’s casket.

“Y/N's love for racing was infectious. She shared her victories and setbacks with humility and grace, teaching me the true meaning of sportsmanship and resilience. Her memory will forever inspire me to strive for greatness." Lando spoke before sending a watery smile to her family and then passing the mic to Yuki, “Y/N was not just a competitor on the track; she was a true friend and a remarkable talent. Her spirit and dedication will forever inspire us all."

A montage featuring a collection of photographs spanning Y/N's life and career, capturing moments of joy, determination, and triumph both on and off the track. It included images of Y/N as a child, competing in karting competitions, celebrating victories on the podium, and forging friendships with fellow drivers and teammates. Candid shots of Y/N interacting with fans, signing autographs, and participating in charity events are also included, showcasing her warmth, generosity, and humanity.

Interspersed with the photographs are video clips of Y/N in action on the racetrack, showcasing her skill, agility, and competitive spirit. Footage from memorable races, thrilling overtakes, and championship-winning moments, is set against the backdrop of roaring engines and cheering crowds. Slow-motion shots of Y/N navigating hairpin turns, battling adverse weather conditions, and crossing the finish line in victory  capture the essence of her prowess as a racing driver.

In addition to her achievements on the track, intimate glimpses into Y/N's personal life, highlighting moments of joy, love, and connection with family and friends. Images of Y/N celebrating holidays, milestones, and special occasions with loved ones, as well as candid snapshots of quiet moments of reflection and contemplation.

The montage concluded with a reflection on Y/N's legacy and impact on the world of motorsport, accompanied by a final video clip that encapsulates her enduring spirit and the indelible mark she left on the racing community. 

Soon music began to play, some sang along and some cried hearing the lyrics. “Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight", "The Thrill Is Gone", "Wind Beneath My Wings", and “You Raise Me Up". 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole began to play and everyone stood as Y/N’s casket was wheeled to the back of the church. Soon people were escorted to the back to say their goodbyes before lining up outside of the church. There Y/N lay in an eternal slumber. She looked beautiful, her hair done to perfection as well as her makeup. She wore a dark navy blue dress, the same one she wore to the F1 award ceremony the year prior. Many people kissed her hand or forehead while whispering tear-filled goodbyes.

Her casket shined in the sun as the boys carried their fellow driver and friend out of the church and placed her in the back of the hearse. The car is a sleek Audi sedan, the Audi A8, chosen for its elegance and association with the Audi racing team. It was meticulously cleaned and polished for the occasion, with the Audi logo prominently displayed on the hood and doors. Black and silver ceremonial flags bearing the Audi emblem are affixed to the front fenders, fluttering gently in the breeze as the car leads the procession. 

Y/N’s parents and siblings, Audi team members, fellow F1 drivers, and racing personnel travel in a convoy of vehicles provided by Audi, each meticulously maintained and adorned with custom decals and black ribbons. Additional vehicles, including Audi sedans and SUVs, follow closely behind, carrying team members, drivers, and their families, all wearing formal attire and displaying visible signs of mourning, black armbands, or lapel pins. Local law enforcement agencies coordinated with event organizers to ensure the safety and security of participants and spectators, maintaining order and facilitating the smooth passage of the procession through city streets and intersections.

Fans and supporters of Y/N gathered along the designated funeral route, lining the streets with flags, banners, and homemade signs bearing messages of love and remembrance. Some fans brought their vehicles to join the procession, decorating them with decals, flags, and tributes to Y/N, creating a moving tableau of solidarity and support. 

Law enforcement officers from the local police department provide a formal escort for the funeral procession, comprising motorcycle officers, patrol cars, and even mounted police units. The lead motorcycle officers clear the way ahead of the procession, stopping traffic at intersections and directing pedestrians to maintain a respectful distance, while patrol cars follow alongside and behind the procession, ensuring that the route remains secure and orderly throughout its duration. The presence of law enforcement lends an air of solemnity and reverence to the proceedings, underscoring the significance of Y/N's passing and the importance of honoring her memory with dignity and respect. 

A designated area within the cemetery, near Y/N's final resting place, is prepared for the graveside service. A simple altar is set up, adorned with floral arrangements and a photograph of Y/N during her first win as an F1 driver in Spa. Attendees gathered around in a semi-circle, with seating provided for elderly or disabled mourners.

Racing honors included the display of Y/N's racing helmet, gloves, or other memorabilia, as well as the revving of engines by fellow drivers in attendance, symbolizing a final salute to their colleague and friend.

Lewis, Charles, Lando, Max, Fernando, and Carlos carefully lower Y/N's casket onto the apparatus before the casket is lowered into the ground while mourners gather around to offer their final farewells. Roses were being tossed in the air towards her lowering casket as the hymn, Take Me To The King flowed through the air. The gravesite is adorned with flowers, wreaths, and racing-themed decorations, reflecting Y/N's passion for motorsports and the love and respect she had inspired in others.

Following the funeral, leading motorsport publications and broadcasters dedicated special segments and articles to Y/N's career, featuring highlights from her most memorable races and interviews with colleagues, competitors, and mentors who knew her well. A commemorative video montage showcasing Y/N's greatest achievements and defining moments played, accompanied by stirring music and narration honoring her legacy and lasting impact on the sport.

In the weeks following the funeral, the racing world slowly began to adjust to life without Y/N. Tributes continued to pour in, and the impact of Y/N's passing was felt deeply by all who knew her.

For Y/N's friends and family, finding closure was a difficult journey. They leaned on each other for support, cherishing the memories they shared with Y/N and finding solace in the knowledge that her legacy would live on.

As the F1 season continued, the absence of Y/N was keenly felt on the track. Competitors raced with heavy hearts, their minds filled with thoughts of their fallen comrade. But they knew that Y/N would want them to continue doing what they loved.

Throughout the season, tributes to Y/N were a common sight at racetracks around the world. From moments of silence to specially designed liveries, the racing community came together to honor the memory of the legendary driver.

As the season drew to a close, the battle for the championship intensified. Drivers pushed themselves to the limit, determined to claim victory in honor of Y/N's memory. It was a fitting tribute to a driver who had given so much to the sport.

As the dust settled on the season, the racing world took a moment to reflect on Y/N's legacy. Her impact on the sport was undeniable, and her memory would live on in the hearts of fans and drivers alike for years to come.

As the racing community mourned the loss of Y/N, they also looked to the future with hope and optimism. They knew that Y/N would want them to continue pushing the boundaries of the sport, always striving for greatness.

In the end, Y/N's legacy was not just about winning races or championships. It was about the passion, dedication, and sportsmanship she brought to the sport every day. Her spirit would forever be a guiding light for future generations of drivers.

“Though Y/N may no longer be with us, her spirit lives on in the hearts of all who knew her. She may have crossed the finish line for the final time, but her legacy will endure, inspiring generations of racers to come.” Charles spoke as he held his championship placing a hand over his heart having felt Y/N’s presence there one last time, the entire paddock felt her spirit. Warm and comforting as a final montage of her F1 career played on the screen in front of the world for the final time.

‘Goodnight, sweetheart

Well, it's time to go

Goodnight, sweetheart

Well, it's time to go

I hate to leave you, but I really must say

Oh, goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight’

[babyleostuff]

hello!! can I request a fall scenario with wonwoo where you are listening to the radio lying together on the floor, it's raining and then you two realize you've never kissed before? I hope your day goes well and thank you!

lay by me | jeon wonwoo

it didn’t seem like the rain was going to stop, the grey clouds hanging over the sky since this morning, ruining your and wonwoo’s plans in the process. you were supposed to have a picnic in the park where you first met, taking advantage of his few days off from work, but it seemed that nature had other plans.

at first, you were bummed - days of planning went to waste, and you were sure that wonwoo would end up gaming for the rest of the day, leaving you bored out of your mind once again. but, to your surprise, as the raindrops continued to slid down your window, your boyfriend dragged you to the living room, and there, in the middle of the floor, layed a big red picnic blanket with food and snacks on it.

“what is this?” you gasped, covering your mouth with your hand in shock. “our picnic,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “as long as we’re together it doesn’t matter where it is.”

the way he said it so casually, made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help the blush that settled over your warm cheeks. wonwoo took your hand, and helped you sit down, making sure you were comfortable.

“do you want me to play some music?” he asked, reaching for the radio standing on the TV shelf. you nodded, as he turned it on, letting a random station play something neither of you knew of.

it was a slow song that contrasted with the mess happening outside the window, covering you and wonwoo like a warm blanket. you ate in a comfortable silence, feeding each other from time to time, laughing as you dropped parts of the food on the blanket, making a mess that neither of you cared about.

“i can’t believe how great of a cook you are. i’m so lucky to have you, baby,” wonwoo smiled, and leaned in to place a peck on your forehead. “oh come one, it’s not that big of a deal,” your words trailed off at the end, as wonwoo's soft lips remained on your forehead.

a silent realisation settled upon you, reminding you that despite all of the times that your boyfriend had kissed you on your forehead or on your cheeks - he had never kissed you on the lips before. wonwoo slowly leaned away from you, his hands gripping the sides of your face to make sure you wouldn’t run away.

“i don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he gulped, stroking your cheek to make sure you knew how gentle he was going to be with you. “but i really want to kiss you right now.” 

there was nothing but love behind his boba eyes, and so you knew that in every lifetime you’d say yes to be with him - to every hug, to every kiss, to every night spent together, and that this kiss would be the beginning of your forever. 

“kiss me then, jeon wonwoo.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @uniq-tastic @wonvsmile @wonuwoo12 @marisblogg @whatsgyud

[therenlover]

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic

"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

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

“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”

The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin? 

Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,” 

“Apologies,” 

He didn’t mean it. 

“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”

His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.

For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that. 

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat. 

Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though. 

Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.

I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed. 

“Bad?” I asked.

He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”

A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,” 

“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,” 

As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated. 

Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit. 

Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,” 

“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges. 

“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,” 

I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,” 

Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with. 

I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap. 

There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then. 

The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.

“I saw your concert,” 

I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“ 

“James mentioned it,” 

“You still talk to Bucky?” 

“Here and there,” 

The conversation lapsed into silence. 

He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand. 

The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…

“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?” 

Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.” 

I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down. 

“Cain misses you,” He continued. 

I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought. 

“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,” 

“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,” 

“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,” 

“And what of Brutus?”

“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”

“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”

I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?” 

“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words. 

I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?” 

It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place. 

I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to. 

How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me? 

And that was why I had to leave. 

Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms. 

No. I couldn’t let it happen. 

Not again. 

“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,” 

Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,” 

“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached. 

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again. 

Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.

Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed? 

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…

I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance. 

Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork. 

With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten. 

“Lost your appetite?” 

He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb. 

Finally, it came. 

“I’m sorry,” 

I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction. 

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”  

There it was. 

I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would. 

“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,” 

He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”

“I know,” The words were a whisper. 

So this was closure? 

The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end. 

“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,” 

I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“

“I want to,”

His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.

“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,” 

“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar. 

“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”

I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”

“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?” 

We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.” 

“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,” 

“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it. 

“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,” 

We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me. 

By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street. 

“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet. 

Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” 

“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm. 

I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off. 

The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps. 

We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met. 

It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…

He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.

I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line. 

My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”

His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?” 

“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,” 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building. 

It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late. 

We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air. 

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us. 

Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,” 

“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,” 

“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered. 

“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.  

He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,” 

My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out. 

“Goodbye, Helmut,” 

“Sleep well, schatz,” 

I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look. 

My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by. 

I had done the right thing. 

I had to have done the right thing. 

Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he? 

All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right. 

Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked. 

We didn’t need words then. 

No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified. 

He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed. 

At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart. 

It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did. 

This time I didn’t want to. 

Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?” 

I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,” 

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss. 

“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home  I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses. 

The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.

Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip. 

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,” 

Ah. So that’s what this is. 

“Helmut, of course I do-“ 

“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,” 

The rest went unsaid. 

(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)

I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,” 

Like a shot, we were off to the races again. 

It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately. 

His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise. 

I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become. 

Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch. 

He shuddered at my attentions. 

“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely? 

I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” 

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees. 

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip. 

I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move. 

How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly. 

I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,” 

There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt. 

It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good. 

Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound. 

He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.

By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess. 

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,” 

I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,” 

Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,” 

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 

He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,” 

It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”

His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly. 

“Again,” 

“Helmut,” 

“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,” 

I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,” 

“Where are your condoms?” 

“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,” 

He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case. 

It felt odd to have him be the one using them. 

There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew. 

I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…

He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?” 

“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.

Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared. 

So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat. 

It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete. 

Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it. 

There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion. 

As always, Helmut followed me down. 

His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me. 

The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck. 

I broke the peace between us. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,” 

He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,” 

“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”

“Schatz, please,” 

“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“ 

Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder. 

“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,” 

“Sorry,” 

“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,” 

A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear. 

“Thank you,” 

“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,” 

“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.” 

“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,” 

For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.

---------

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!

[your-local-simp-writers]

Can you write a sfw of Rook where he has been admiring us from a distance and somehow is always there when we conveniently need something

Apologies for the radio silence; we’ve been swamped with academic commitments and personal matters, leaving us little time to update you all. But we’re back now! If you haven't gotten to know who we are don't be shy here is our "༺☆༻ Introduction ༺☆༻"

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Secret Admirer

Word Count: 946

Warnings: None

Rook Hunt x Fem! Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

I always sensed him before I saw him—Rook Hunt, the enigmatic archer whose presence was like a whisper in the wind. He had a way of appearing just when I needed him, as if he could read my thoughts from afar. It was both unsettling and comforting, this silent dance we shared within the halls of Night Raven College.

I remember the first time I truly noticed him. It was during a downpour, the kind that seemed to drench the world in shades of gray. I was caught without an umbrella, cursing my luck, when he materialized beside me, his own umbrella suddenly sheltering us both.

“Why do you always show up like this?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the rain.

Rook simply smiled, his eyes gleaming with a mischief that belied his gentlemanly demeanor. “Perhaps it is fate, or perhaps it is simply my desire to be near you,” he replied, his French accent wrapping around each word like a caress.

From that day on, Rook became a constant figure in my life. He was there when I dropped my books, his hands quick to catch them before they hit the ground. He was there when I struggled with a particularly tricky spell, his guidance subtle but invaluable. And he was there when I felt alone, his presence a silent promise of companionship.

It was strange, this new intimacy that bloomed between us. I had always been fiercely independent, never one to seek out touch or comfort. But with Rook, it was different. His touch didn’t feel like an intrusion; it felt like coming home.

“Being touch-starved and needy was really starting to mess with my reputation as a tough guy,” I joked one evening as we sat in the gardens, the stars above us twinkling like diamonds.

Rook chuckled, his hand finding mine in the darkness. “You are strong, mon amour, but even the strongest warriors need rest,” he said, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.

Our relationship was a series of stolen moments and lingering glances. We were like two pieces of a puzzle, fitting together in a world that often felt too chaotic to comprehend. His touch was a balm to the coldness that had settled in my bones, a warmth that seeped into my very soul.

“They wanted to be touched, to be missed, to be loved. Was that too much to ask for?” I whispered one night as we lay on the grass, the earth solid beneath us.

Rook turned to me, his face serious for once. “You are touched, you are missed, and you are loved—by me,” he said, and I knew he meant every word.

In Rook Hunt, I found an unexpected ally, a confidant, and a source of strength. Our connection was a delicate thread woven through the tapestry of our daily lives, growing stronger with each shared smile and every gentle touch.

—----

As the semester at Night Raven College progressed, Rook’s subtle presence became a constant in my life. His appearances were no longer surprising; they were expected, anticipated even. He was always there, a step behind me, ready to catch me if I stumbled, both literally and metaphorically.

One afternoon, as I was poring over ancient texts in the library, I felt the familiar gaze on my back. Without looking up, I knew it was Rook, his silent watch a comforting pressure. “You don’t have to hide, Rook,” I called out softly, “I know you’re there.”

There was a rustle of fabric, and then he was beside me, his hand brushing mine as he placed a forgotten quill back on the table. “Mademoiselle, I do not hide,” he said, his voice a gentle chide, “I merely ensure that you are not in want of anything.”

His concern was touching, and I found myself smiling at his words. “And what if what I want is your company?” I asked, challenging him with a playful tilt of my head.

Rook’s eyes sparkled with delight, and he pulled up a chair, sitting close enough that our arms touched. “Then you shall have it, for as long as you desire,” he replied, and we spent the rest of the afternoon lost in conversation, the texts forgotten.

It wasn’t just his timely interventions that drew me to him; it was the way he listened, truly listened. When I spoke, he gave me his undivided attention, his eyes never straying, his responses always thoughtful. He had a way of making me feel seen, understood, and valued.

Our relationship was a slow burn, a gradual build-up of trust and affection. We shared secrets and dreams, our hopes for the future intertwining like the vines that climbed the walls of the college. With Rook, I could be myself, unguarded and true.

The touch-starved feeling that had once plagued me began to fade, replaced by the warmth of Rook’s nearness. His touch was a balm to my soul, a gentle reminder that I was not alone in this vast, twisted world.

One evening, as we walked through the moonlit gardens, Rook stopped suddenly, turning to face me. “You have become my most cherished companion,” he confessed, his voice earnest, “In your presence, I find a peace I have known nowhere else.”

I reached out, my hand finding his, our fingers intertwining naturally. “And you have become mine,” I admitted, the truth of my words ringing clear in the night air.

We stood there, under the silver glow of the moon, our hands clasped, our hearts beating in unison. It was a moment of perfect harmony, a silent vow that whatever the future held, we would face it together.

[mattitties]

can u plz do a fluff fanfic about the reader being scared of thunder and there's a rlly loud thunder storm so matt has to comfort her? thanks :)

thunder - matt sturniolo

“Really? I love when it storms. I think it’s so peaceful and I can just curl up and watch a movie or something,” Matt tells me. It’s our second date and we’re in the “biggest fears” category, and I told him about my extremely irrational, but very severe, fear of storms. 

“I get that,” I reply. “It’s really not that I’m just scared of storms, my best friend’s house was struck by lightning and caught on fire when we were in high school, so it kind of just set something off in my head. I know it sounds stupid because it didn’t happen to me, but it just started this crazy fear.”

“Oh wow, that’s terrifying. No, I totally get it, it’s not stupid.”

As I sit with my knees tucked to my chest on my bathroom floor, I think back to that conversation from three months ago. It’s the first storm I’ve experienced since I moved to LA, and I’m a mess. My windows are rattling with each clap of thunder, and all I can think about is my roommate at work right now. She enjoys storms, but my anxiety is getting the best of me thinking about everything that could go wrong. 

What if she can’t make it to her car? What if she gets in an accident on the way home? What if I’m stuck here for the rest of the night by myself?

She’s the only person I’ve got here in LA. I had Matt, but then I fucked it all up right on our two month anniversary.

I was so ridiculously busy with work and what felt like 800 pounds of shit piling up in my life that I completely forgot about our anniversary. I stood him up at the dinner that he made reservations for, and subsequently didn’t go to the hockey game that he was going to surprise me with; the hockey game which he got $300 tickets for. 

I apologized profusely and told him I would do anything to make it up to him, and he told me he was just really disappointed and needed some space before we talked again.

He called me a couple days later and I didn’t answer because I was so ashamed and embarrassed I couldn’t even face him. 

He texted me, I never replied. After three days of missed calls and texts, I guess he got the message because he stopped trying.

A week after that, I texted him apologizing for everything and explained my intentions behind my actions.

He didn’t answer. I don’t blame him.

That was three weeks ago, and it’s been radio silence on both ends. I guess we’re really done, but I really, really need him right now.

I turn on the shower to try to drown out some of the noise of the thunder, but nothing is working. I look at the weather app. It shows the same pattern until tomorrow morning.

I’m so fucked. I can barely breathe, my heart is beating out of my chest, and I just want to die. I’ve been texting my roommate to see when she’s returning but she’s busy at work and I’m trying not to annoy her any more than I know I have been, so now I’m just sitting in front of the shower, praying that everything would just stop.

Ten or so minutes pass, and I hear the front door open. Nobody ever comes to our apartment and my roommate always forgets her key, so I just leave it deadbolted when I’m home. I turn off the shower and call out her name to let her know I’m home, but she must not hear me. I pull myself together as much as possible and go out to the living room, but I don’t see the face I expect when I get there.

“Matt?” I whisper. I’m in such shock that nothing else comes out.

He’s absolutely drenched as he stands by the front door with a bottle of lemonade. I love lemonade.

“Hi,” he smiles shyly as he raises the hand holding the bottle. “I, uh, brought you something.”

I have no idea what to say. I opt for, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, I know how much you hate storms, so I thought you could use some company. Also… I just really miss you. And I would like to talk about us. We don’t have to do it tonight, obviously, but–”

“Yes. Yes, we can talk. Tomorrow? We can get breakfast? My treat,” I say, sounding pathetically desperate, but this is all I’ve wanted for the past three weeks.

“Okay,” he says as he takes off his shoes. “Do you happen to still have some of my sweatshirts and sweatpants? I’m kinda…” he says, motioning to the water dripping off of him.

“Yes! In my room, come.” He follows me to my room and I give him his clothes that I’ve worn an embarrassing amount of times since we broke up. “You didn’t have to come tonight,” I tell him. “This is really, just… I don’t deserve this after what I did.”

He waves a hand at me as if to say forget about it. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. And I did have to come. Because I care about you, and I know you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight.”

I’m about to cry. I really don’t deserve this guy. 

“Let me go change, then we can crack open that lemonade and cuddle and watch something. Sound good?” he asks.

All I can do is nod in response as I watch him smile before he goes to the bathroom. I pour the lemonade into two glasses and set them on the bedside tables. 

When he comes back out and lays on my bed, I just stand there, wondering if he wants me to join him.

“Hello, what are you waiting for? Don’t leave me hangin!”

I smile and lay next to him, feeling more at home than ever when he pulls me into him.

[porcelainseashore]

The Lost Tapes (2)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

General Note: One-shots for my series Where We’ve Left Our Love. Encapsulated moments within the past and future lives of Leon x Reader in no particular order. Follows the Resident Evil Remake timeline.

Chapter Summary: Leon traded in his life for Sherry’s. Now, he has to deal with his past trauma and the harshness of military training under Krauser. He finds strength in his memories of you, but will that last for long?

Content Warnings: Hurt no comfort, angst, swearing, psychological trauma, suicidal thoughts, blood and violence, minor Jack Krauser.

Shoutout to RainyKennedy for suggesting the topic of Leon going radio silent for this one-shot!

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Things We Lost in the Fire

Splosh.

He fell head-first into the mud for the umpteenth time to the roars of laughter of his platoon mates. They despised him, and they made sure he knew that.

What the hell was a baby-faced rookie, with his cherubic blonde hair and blue eyes, doing in special forces training? No prior military experience, not even basic training, but fast-tracked into the program because he had survived Raccoon City.

He just got lucky, they all said.

A brawny, well-built man hulked over Leon imposingly. He wore a red beret and sported a striking scar on his face. His thick soled boots squelched in the soggy earth, leaving behind a defined imprint, as he tutted mockingly, “What a disappointment.”

“Get up,” he ordered, without a hint of sympathy for the boy who lay exhausted in the puddle of dirt, mingled with his own blood and sweat.

Leon gritted his teeth, attempting to push himself up to his knees but his arms gave way, as they collapsed from fatigue, causing him to fall back with another splash.

“Looks like he’s just not cut out for it, Major Krauser,” one of the soldiers jeered.

Krauser ignored the comment, but his right eye twitched in impatience. With lightning speed, he hurled the knife Leon had lost in the previous sparring match. It landed with a schnk, embedding itself upright in the ground directly in front of the boy.

Leon flinched, dread sinking in as he understood what was coming next.

“Listen up, rookie,” Krauser called out, pacing back and forth like a predator marking its prey. “I’m gonna count to three. If you aren’t on your feet by then…” He trailed off with a veiled threat.

Get up. He tried to command his limbs to move, but they weren’t listening.

“1…”

Get up! It resounded in his eardrums. Every single time those two words were used to direct him to do something against his will. 

Derisive. 

Contemptuous. 

Scathing.

He heard it now, as if it were a tarnished stain that could not be rubbed away from his mind. Get up! But his body remained motionless, like a broken doll on its side.

“2…”

What was the point? He was fucked either way. 

Fucked the minute he had turned his back on you and headed to Raccoon City. Fucked the moment he had set eyes on Ada. Fucked when he had convinced Claire to leave Sherry with him.

Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the worst. Except, there was silence and then, your voice - tiny, unassuming, but so distinctly you. Leon. 

Tender.

Caring.

Sweet. 

Just as he remembered it. Leon.

He imagined your warm, radiant smile illuminating the shithole he was in. You were reaching out with the palm of your hand, coaxing him gently, Get up.

Slipping his hand in yours, he found renewed strength to pull himself to a standing position, just as Krauser counted, “3…”

The vision Leon had of you disappeared, just as quickly as it came. And once again, he was left alone, surrounded by the people who were charged with toughening him up, through means of brutality and humiliation.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” Krauser remarked. Without hesitation, he barked out another order, “Again!”

One of the soldiers from the squad stepped forward, licking his lips and leering at him while he brandished his sharpened weapon menacingly. The rest of the team nodded and grinned at each other in approval. In modern warfare, there was no such thing as a fair match.

Leon peered at his reflection in the cool, metallic blade of the knife he had grasped to support his weight on the way up. Staring back at him was a boy resigned to his fate.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Soft.

Careless.

Sloppy.

Leon was used to the criticisms doled out to him on a regular basis. That, along with the taunts about his pretty boy appearance and how he was too naive for own good. They spared no effort to stamp out his idealism, which was treated as a weakness, unlike back in the days with you, where you saw it as his greatest strength.

Naive. He couldn’t argue with that one. He was naive to a fault. Naive to the point where it cost him his life.

As he lay on the scratchy bunk bed, with a cut lip and his ribs swollen and bruised, the recent events that had come to pass replayed incessantly in his head. 

How could he have fallen for her, that lady in red, who was a total stranger? Why did he still feel something for her, even though she had betrayed him?

The guilt and shame festered within him, eating away at his conscience. Did his relationship with you mean nothing at all? 

No, that wasn’t it. Like you, Ada was there for him when he needed her. Like you, she had a rebelliousness about her that was thrilling and kept him on his toes. It was almost as if he was trying to find you again in every woman he met, from the day he had left you. But he shouldn’t have left. He should’ve stayed there beside you.

When he’d been trapped in the city rubble, he wasn’t sure if he’d make it out alive. So, he clung on to any source of comfort he could get. Someone who would understand what he had been through. A fellow survivor. Except, she had played him like a fiddle.

Maybe all of these reasons he had come up with for going after Ada were just pitiful excuses to make himself feel better. He was a fucking asshole and deserved the treatment he got now. Every insult and every blow. He deserved all of it.

As his thoughts swam around endlessly, he beat himself up internally again and again, before silently crying himself to sleep. However, it never lasted long. He dreamed of buildings engulfed in flames, frenzied creatures ripping and tearing at flesh still fresh and steaming from the bones, putting bullets through the heads of innocents, and yet failing to save each and every one of them, time and time again.

Waking up in cold sweat from the night terrors, he trembled uncontrollably and nothing would help, save for the small photo he had of you hidden in his wallet. He fished for it, holding the edges delicately between his fingers as he traced your face, your jaw and your lips, hoping to feel your presence next to him. You were the only sense of normalcy he had left to go on these days.

You reminded him of the sultry Indian summers and bitter piercing winters of the Midwest. Eating cotton candy on dates to the town fair. Competing in sporting events and basking in the crowd’s jubilant cheering, where you’d winked at him flirtatiously in your cute little outfit, and he wanted to take you right there and then. Trawling through old record shops and frequenting the local drive-in cinema. All these things he cherished and lost. But you reminded him of home.

His breathing calmed and he stopped shaking. Sometimes, he prayed to you like a mythical being when it got too much, where he was tempted to splatter his brains out and end it all.

You’re a good person. Remember that, he’d hear you say. And he knew he had to keep going, for his sake, and the sake of others.

It made him think of Sherry. Poor Sherry. A little girl caught between a conflict of arrogance, filthy profits and coverups. She had no one, except him and Claire. He needed to be a good person for her. It was his fault he had trusted the government too much. 

One couldn’t fathom the embarrassment and devastation he felt in that instance, when he had surrendered their lives over to them. Especially after he had promised Sherry that they would take care of her, only for them to turn the tables around and say, Checkmate.

They always took what they wanted. If they had to raze the ground, trample on and exploit the vulnerable, so be it. He had been utterly blind to their indiscretions all this while.

Despite that, there was no question about it, when they’d asked him to work for them. It was a done deal from the start. He would sign away his life for hers willingly like a goddamned martyr. His performance would ensure her safety, or rather, how well they treated her.

Would you have been proud of him now? Seeing him in this state? He often wondered about that, as he was no longer the bright-eyed rookie cop you had made him out to be.

Did you still think of him? Or had you left his corpse behind, moving on happily to a new start in a foreign country?

He didn’t know anymore and frankly, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he missed you, to the point where it was driving him crazy. It had been months since he last saw you. Even though his last memory of you was when your eyes were red and puffy from the tears streaming down your face, you still looked beautiful as ever. If he could, he would take it all back and hold you in his arms.

God, what he would give just to hear your voice again. Even if it was a simple “Hello.”

However, his wish couldn’t have been granted sooner. As an incentive, the higher-ups had offered him a phone call to anyone he wanted if he showed improvements. Up until then, he hadn’t been allowed any form of contact for valid reasons. For now, it was a choice between you or his parents, though ultimately, he decided on you. You’d understand him, you always did. You’d know what to do and relay this on to them. He trusted you fully.

In the most excruciating month of his training, he endured an infinite amount of grueling drills under the scorching heat of the sun. Sweat dripped from his brow and his lips were parched and chapped. It was punishing, and the thirst and hunger nearly got to him, but he continued on. He had to, for you.

It wasn’t long before the changes started to show. In what could be considered an astonishing turn of events to his military peers, he rose up and fought back. Instead of “Weak!”, “Poor!”, “That's all you got?”, like he had been so accustomed to hearing, Krauser rewarded him one day with a “Not bad.”

He didn’t know he had it in him, but then again it wasn’t exactly a surprise. When he put his mind to it, he caught on quickly. After all, he was a survivor through and through.

Swish. This time, it wasn’t his neck that was pressed against the other end of the blade.

His opponent dropped his knife in defeat and Leon let go, stumbling backwards as he heaved a heavy sigh of relief. He couldn’t believe it at first, that he’d finally emerged victorious in a match.

Air escaped his lungs as Krauser gave him a firm pat on the back. “Guess you really wanted that call, huh?” He huffed. “Well, you earned it, rookie.”

As he stalked off, he turned around briefly to face Leon with a smirk. “Wonder who’s the lucky gal?”

Before Leon could raise any questions, the older man had already disengaged, retreating into the background like a shadow.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon’s hands were quivering again. He’d received a token for the payphone in the building for that special call. Anxiety and nervousness gnawed at his insides. If he wasn’t careful, the token might slip from his hands, which were wet with perspiration. Every step he took was tense and jittery, but finally, he had made his way to the plain, black phone installed against a blank wall.

As he inserted the token into the coin slot, he exhaled deeply, recalling your home phone number from the recesses of his mind. Punching them in, he waited for the tone to ring. It felt as if time had slowed down and he was experiencing tunnel vision as he listened to the familiar Brrring.

What if you weren’t in? What if you didn’t pick up? Would he get a second chance? He pushed away those thoughts and swallowed thickly. 

And then he heard something odd. There was a constant buzzing sound during the call, reminiscent of static feedback from an amplifier, or as though a fly had been trapped in the machine. It irritated him and gave him a slight headache.

But as he ruminated on it, an icy fear paralyzed him and his blood ran cold. The call was being tapped. Those bastards! He should’ve known. He had fallen for it again and led them straight to you. Life was playing a cruel joke on him and he was constantly being handed the role of the fool.

“Hello?”

Your voice snapped him out of his reverie. It was everything he had dreamed of. He’d almost given in then, opening his mouth to speak to you, but he caught himself before anything could spill out.

I love you.

No, he couldn’t implicate you in this. He had to protect you. 

“Who’s this?”

You sounded both sad and hopeful at the same time, and he knew you had waited for him. He just didn’t expect that this was how his first call to you would pan out. Tightening his grip on the phone, he closed his eyes, wishing it were just another nightmare, and that he’d wake up and find you in his embrace again. 

I love you.

He clenched his jaw, his mouth contorting in agony as he eventually hung up without saying a word. It felt like his heart had been wrenched out and all that lingered was a crushing weight against his chest.

“How did it go?” Krauser asked him, as he trudged back to the barracks dejectedly.

“Wrong number,” Leon mumbled out a reply without looking at him.

“Shame.”

It had only just begun to sink in that he’d never see you nor his parents again. Not if he wanted to keep all of you safe. He would have to pretend he didn’t know you, and that you had no shared history together. Nothing had prepared him for this moment, just like nothing had prepared him for what had happened over the course of the past few months. 

It’s just how life works out sometimes. He snorted cynically, suddenly struck by how true that statement he had made to you during the break up rang in his ears.

Whipping out a lighter, he burned the only picture he had left of you, just in case they searched his stuff at some point. Tears clouded his vision as he watched the yellowish flames lick at your face, and your image curled up and blackened into nothing but ash and soot.

I love you.

From a different wing in the building, a gravelly, baritone voice instructed, “Gather all information on the number he had called. I want details of everyone linked to him.”

[heeseungwifey]

Our Honeymoon...

Pairing: Jake x yn

Warning: contains smut!

The wedding was beautiful. Everyone cried and cheered for us as we walked out of the church, getting on our ride to the wedding reception. Jake and I hadn’t enjoyed some time alone until now, enjoying the sudden silence inside the car. 

“You look beautiful. I just told you at the altar but I can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am that you’re my wife now” Jake says as he grabs my hand with both hands and kisses it, looking at me in the eyes.  

“Thank you, it has taken me since this morning at 7 a.m. to look this good, I almost didn’t get ready in time” I growl as I try to accommodate the wedding dress inside the car, getting overwhelmed by the amount of fabric around me.

“I think you have looked gorgeous every single day since I met you 3 years ago. Today you look different though, I guess is the wife glow my friends told me about” Jake grabs my legs and puts them on his lap, getting my shoes off and massaging my feet. I am truly so happy that the best man I know also happens to be my husband.

“By the way I have a little surprise since our flight is tomorrow evening, I booked a Hanok to stay the night. It’s quite big and far away from other houses, so we have more intimacy” I make eye contact with Jake in response to his not-so-subtle comment, his hands grabbing my foot and getting it closer to his lips as he places a kiss on the instep. I’m in for a wild night.

The party lasted for hours, and our families and friends got along playing games with each other, singing karaoke and playing pool. Every time Jake and I made eye contact got more excited to leave, feeling sorry for everyone at the party but also extremely needy for each other.

“I’m sorry everyone but we’re leaving, you can still enjoy all of this for two more hours if the party hasn’t ended for you. My wife and I have plans tomorrow and we need to rest. Thank you to everyone for coming to our wedding, we’re very happy to have such people in our lives. That being said, we’re leaving”

Jake had rented a McLaren 570GT, a sports car, to take us to the Hanok. He looks so hot with his white shirt unbuttoned and rolled-up sleeves, the hairstyle that he had this morning is now messy, a strand of hair falling onto his face. The radio plays jazz music as we’re driving down the road to our stay for the night.

“Thank you so much for everything. We’re a really good team” I put my hand on his nape as he parks the car right in front of the house. Jake opens the car door for me as I come out, walking to the entrance of the house and waiting for him as he picks up our luggage. When we went inside it was a beautiful traditional Korean house with only one floor and a tree that grows in the middle of the yard. 

Jake opens the door and as we walk in, a subtle smell of incense fills my nostrils. The lighting is warm and cosy, making me relax instantly. I drop my bag on a table and do a little tour around the house while Jake is picking a bottle of white wine from a wine cooler. A bathroom with a jacuzzi, a spacious kitchen and a huge king bed in the middle of the bedroom. One of the walls has a big round window with views to the inner yard, the moonlight coming right in. Jake pours a glass of wine for me as he sips from his.

“Do you want to get into the jacuzzi? I can turn it on now so it’s ready when we get changed” Jake is taking his tie off, followed by his shirt. It’s not the first time I see him shirtless, but every time I see him so bare something primal clicks on me. He’s changing into his bathing suit, so I leave the room to get ready too.

Taking my makeup off and putting on a bikini my bridesmaids packed for me since this little escapade was a surprise for me, I walk into the bathroom, Jake already inside it. He looks so handsome, the lighting of the candles he just placed cast light upon his chest and shows all his well-defined muscles. He’s biting his lips immersed in his thoughts, suddenly aware I’m standing at the door.

“C’mere” He extends his hand to help me get in, sitting me right in between his legs. His veiny arms wrap around me and his nose caresses my ear. there’s just silence, the bubbling of the jacuzzi and subtle sighs from Jake. I rest my head on his shoulder and give small pecks to his bicep. We’re both drunk already so everything is a bit clumsy.

“Are you happy to be here with me? Because I think I am the luckiest woman alive right now.” I kiss his cheek as I turn to face him, our mouths so close I can feel his warm breath. He looks at me in the eyes and puts his hand on my cheek, caressing it. 

“I feel like the king of Korea with you by my side. I don’t think anyone has ever been this blessed” he kisses me with hunger, his mouth absorbing mine like I have no power over it, splashing water and my hands holding tight to his shoulders. Every time we kiss it feels like he’s gonna devour me, french kissing that always leads to a night of no sleep.

I get on his lap and take the lead, untying my bikini top right in front of his eyes as I grab his head and push it in between my tits. He looks up and the lewd sound that scapes off my mouth makes him suck on one of my nipples in response.

“Jake… Jake… I need you right now. I’m tired of pretending I haven’t been thinking about your cock this whole day” I whisper in his ear, licking the tip of his nose as I grind on him, feeling his body starting to tense up. 

“I didn’t know I married such a whore, I guess I'll have to wash your mouth tonight” Jake gets on the edge of the jacuzzi and pulls his trunks down and his dick springs out, rosy tip and enticing to my tipsy self. I grab it with one hand as I take it into my mouth, my eyes fly directly to his face, enjoying how his eyebrows furrow and how he bites his lip. I used to hate giving head until my girlfriends told me that it made them feel powerful seeing how men reacted to it, so fragile and sensitive to it you could almost make them do anything for you afterwards.

With my tongue flat I spread saliva from the base to the top, making it easier for me to bob my head repeatedly, massaging his balls with my other hand, his moans so loud and his legs twitching I can tell he´s about to come. 

“No wait… I don’t want… to cum yet, I want to do it inside you” Jake grabs my head and gets me up to kiss my lips, hugging me in the process. Our bodies are outside the jacuzzi, Jake stepping out and carrying me out bridal style.

He lays me on the bed, wet and naked, as he walks to his suitcase searching for something he packed. While I’m laying there I appreciate the decoration, very traditional and elegant, as if we were in some kind of regal chamber. Everything around us just feeds this fantasy that’s turning me on even more than before. 

When Jake comes back he’s holding two things, a blindfold and a ribbon, my imagination taking a wild guess on what Jake has prepared for us tonight. He has put on some boxers and a bathrobe while I’m here in just my bikini bottoms, cold and naked. 

I couldn't care less right now about the cute lingerie set I have in my suitcase or how this night is not going as I planned in my head at all, my man is right on top of me tying my hands with a ribbon as I’m blindfolded, entirely at his mercy.

“you know how you said once we got married we should try to have kids right? there hasn’t been a day I haven’t had the nasty thought of filling you up and breeding you, making you mine and watching how it comes out of that pussy of yours. Damn, even saying it out loud it’s making me so hard” Jake says as he leaves a trail of kisses from my lips to my toes, holding my leg up and kissing my calves. He manhandles me onto opening my legs, my bikini bottoms not covering anything at all.

“Jake, I need to see you, please. Don’t do this to me” I don’t wanna miss a single thing from tonight, his eyes and his movements as if he was my personal gigolo. I want to die with the memory of this engraved in my mind. 

“I’m sorry my wife, tonight you are going to satisfy one of my biggest fantasies” Jake caresses my face as I already feel my bikini bottom sliding down my legs. His hand feels hot and moist from the jacuzzi, making his touch so overwhelming when he traces my pussy with it. I can’t help but moan repeatedly as he draws circles with his middle finger. 

“See, you are actually enjoying this, you know it’s me but you can’t anticipate what I’m going to do. I find pleasure in having you uncertain of the situation” Jake puts his finger in and stretches me out, purring as he coats my entrance with my wetness. He always takes his time pleasuring me, as he finds it entertaining having me lying there moaning and shaking while he does his ministrations. 

With only his fingers I get to come, a blood rush that suddenly gets me up and makes me scream in pleasure. If this night goes just like the others now I’ll be time for Jake to eat me out, my system reacting way quicker to his tongue and going for as many rounds as my body allows us to.

“So fucking beautiful, I can’t believe I’m gonna be the only man who ever gets to see this view” I hear a loud pop after Jake takes his finger out of me and eats all my cum from it, going back for some more.

“Jake, I want you already inside of me, I can’t wait anymore to feel you without a condom. Please just grant me that wish” I would be lying if I said I’m a saint, enjoying my now-husband’s dick a little too much, always wishing to feel him all without anything in between. Today’s a special day because we decided after we got married we will try to have a child, fucking raw being our fantasy all of these years.

“Okay y/n, let me take the blindfold off as you have been such a good girl so far tonight” I feel his hands on the back of my head, suddenly seeing the warm light that paints the room. Jake is right on top of me, his lips plumped and glistening from his ministrations a few minutes ago and I can’t resist the urge to kiss him, our tongues meeting instantly. I put my arms around his neck, getting him closer to me and twisting my legs around his hips, pushing his clothed member against my wet core. 

“take that off immediately Jake Sim or you’re gonna get in trouble” He gets off the bed and obediently takes his boxers off slowly, giving a mini striptease as he makes eye contact with me. Damn, will I ever get tired of this? his dick was leaking precum and as I’m taking the view of his naked body he leaps on top of me, caging me under.

“Are you okay with me going in right now? I can’t wait anymore” Jake is looking at my face trying to read my expression, clouded eyes from desire and heavy breathing. I also can’t wait. “Make me yours Jake, that’s all I gonna want for the rest of my life”

Jake kisses me and pushes his dick inside, my walls opening for him and fitting like it was designed just for his size. Once he bottoms out we take a breath, smiling at each other because it just feels so good. Once a minute passes, he starts moving strongly and vigorously, moans don’t wait longer to come out of our mouths. Every time he gets in fully I feel a heat in my belly that threatens to explode, ending the fun too soon. Suddenly Jake flips me over and gets me on all fours, holding my hair as my face hits the pillow. He’s doing an impressive job until I feel his movements more erratic, his moans more like whimpers and I feel his hand reach for my clitoris, not letting himself finish first on our honeymoon. Surprised by the sudden touch, the repressed feeling in my stomach detangles and I let myself go, falling right before he does, holding my hips so all his cum gets inside me.

We’re laying in bed caressing each others’ faces for what feels like hours. Then one of us would lower a hand and everything would start all over again, with little changes. One of us is blindfolded, tied, sitting down, standing up, on the kitchen counter…

The following day when I woke up I was incredibly sore, everything hurt. It was worth it anyway. But it’s gonna be an arduous flight to Jeju. Jake has already put on his clothes, a brown cardigan with nothing underneath and black chinos, looking like a daydream with his wet hair pushed back.

“Are you up sleeping beauty? I was postponing waking you up, you looked super cute” Jake sits right on my side on the bed, petting my head as I’m still trying to keep my eyes open. His cologne smells incredible, his tan skin bathing in the sunrise light. 

“yes, kinda. The real struggle is to move I think, I’m so sore I feel like a pudding” Jake laughs and kisses me on the forehead, hugging me as he gets up.

“Everything is already packed baby, whenever you feel like you’re ready get changed. I left a cute outfit in the bathroom for you to wear. I’m quite excited about what I saw in your luggage, I’ll have to thank your bridesmaids when you get pregnant”

Jake leaves the bedroom with a cheeky smile and I'm left dumbfounded, not even knowing what it is that has him so excited. Guess I’ll have to get used to this pain because I’m not gonna rest at all during our honeymoon. Not that I’m complaining though.

[selarina]

→ Suna Rintaro x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a guy asks for your number, you sternly insist on a condition that leads to unexpected love.

Content Warning: Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Highly Suggestive, Canon-Compliant, Swearing, Social Media AU

Taglist: Open

Series Masterlist

Chapter 12: Aquarium Date

Written Portion

Apart from the bustling traffic outside, it's rather quiet inside the car, the soft tune from the radio barely reaching your ear.

"You look pretty," Suna's voice breaks the silence. You turn and notice that his eyes still remain focused on the slew of cars in front of him

He's wearing something of a pseudo suit, a soft blue shirt donning his figure as he continues to drive. His hair was a bit combed, a stark contrast from his usual mussed self. "Likewise," you reply, your gaze soon drawing back to the road ahead.

"So, how did you know?" You continue to add, "About the aquarium, I mean."

"Oikawa told me," he reveals plainly.

Your eyebrows arch in surprise, "When did you start talking to him?"

"Just recently. Just texted him while I was searching for places," he explained.

A subtle disquiet settles in, prompting a dramatic sigh from you. "This is bad news for me."

The car comes to a halt; your glance shifts upward, catching sight of the red traffic signal. You turn your head to him and find that his eyes are already fixed on you, "And why's that, baby?"

"Well," you pout. "He has a lot of shit on me."

He smiles, leaning down to leave a soft kiss to shoo away the pout.

"Are they together now or something?" He asks.

"Yeah, Iwa asked him out on Twitter like a moron. Oikawa's never going to let him live that down."

"Poor guy," he muses in response.

"So, since it's our first date as a couple and all." You ask, curious. "How are we feeling?"

"How are you feeling?" he deflects. "I did plan this for you, you know."

A smile tugs at your lips, "I feel good so far. So long as the glasses on the aquarium don't break, I think it might be the best first date ever."

"First best date ever? My my, aren't you setting the standards too high?"

"Never with you, baby."

A soft smile etches itself onto his lips as he revs up the engine, the car gliding through the traffic as the traffic signal turns green.

—

“Suna, look! That's Bioluminescent Jellyfish. I've always wanted to see one," you exclaim, your voice filled with wonder.

He joins you, positioning himself behind you to see where you're pointing. “Where exactly?”

With a soft chuckle leaves your lips, you playfully nudge him. "You don't have to stand right behind me, you know."

He tilts his head, his expression genuinely intrigued. "I really can't see it."

With an amused smile, you step back to his side and gently guide his gaze with your hand, directing his attention to the delicate corals at the bottom of the expansive tank. "See those white fish?"

He lets out a contemplative hum, focusing on the area you're indicating. "Yes."

"Right next to them," you say as you turn, watching his feigned squinting turning into a smirk he couldn't fully withhold.

You move back, tilting your head, as he continues to smirk. "Always a game huh, Suna Rintaro?"

He grins, a silent affirmation as his hands come to pull you in front of him. He rests his chin on your shoulders as the two of you watch in silence.

"They're pretty though, aren't they?" You speak up.

"Not as pretty as you," he replies, leaving a soft peck on your cheeks.

The two of you spend the rest of the evening, flitting through from one side of the tank to the other, moving onto different tanks, and soon as the hours dissolve the two of you start heading to the exit.

You gaze upon the tank one last time and turn to find Suna but as you do, you find Suna with his phone up, discreetly attempting to take a photo of you.

"Have you been taking pictures of me, Suna Rintaro?"

"Just the one," he says, showing you the result. "Can I post it?"

Fun Fact:

When they were 14, Y/N told Oikawa that her ideal date would be a trip to the local aquarium. He has been trying to take her on a friendship date ever since, but something has always come up. He's just glad Suna could give her the perfect date he always wanted to give her.

TAGLIST: @wolffmaiden @tenaciouswritersheep @90s-belladonna @alienvarmint @kodzuchim @themoonreflectsthesun @baramii @haruskatana @rukia-uchiha-98 @aimno256 @userwithlotsoftime @the-moonandthehermit @alldaladiesloveleooo @iluv-ace @noideawhothatis @vivian-555 @buggy-cj @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @cloudsvna @zukowantshishonourback @rory-cakes @shookykookie30 @2baddies-1porsche @thechaosoflonging @rntrsuna @ahnneyong @saiewithakatana @sukunasrealgf @reveusecherie @tkooooop @k0z3me @riiceandsoup @weird0o0 @toomanygoldfish @seiamor @thebrownemo @breakmyheartlater @xbl00dy-r0s3x @linmabbe

[blue-jisungs]

RADIO SILENCE ,, chap 13 — "ah shit here we go again"

synopsis. hwang y/n and park sunghoon do not like each other. end of story. god knows why (well actually, niki is the only one who knows why). but when they’re put as co-hosts on a radio show, they’re bound to bond.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎙️ ꒱ main masterlist

you grinned upon seeing ningning and waved at her, despite sunghoon talking to winter. your friend just winked in return, so you blew her a kiss.

sunghoon cleared his throat loudly and looked at you.

"oh right, sorry. i’m just excited to see my friend" you said, drumming your fingers on the table "there is a question i need to ask though"

sunghoon frowned upon noticing you’re going off script.

"are you insane? this comeback literally devoured, you all look gorgeous, the music is amazing… dare i say, no one does it like aespa" you hummed, leaning back on your chair. the girls laughed and your co-host just shook his head in disbelief.

"yes, i do agree. also, today… is a very special audition" sunghoon said with a slight pout, his knee touching yours underneath the table "it’s y/n’s and mine last audition…"

"oh nooo…" giselle mumbled and you pretended to wipe a fake tear

"because we both have schedules. but our ateez sunbaenims will be back! so, i hope you enjoyed our company for the last time" he said and looked into the camera.

"before you leave though, can you make an official ending?" ningning asked with sparks in her eyes

"we don’t… have one…" you chuckled and she made a heart with karina. the leader furrowed her brows and completed the heart

"do this!" she smiled sneakily and you already knew what she was planning — setting you two up so the viewers would swoon over you. letting out a deep, dramatic sigh you leaned forward sunghoon.

"we were y/n…" you started, your head resting on his.

"hoon!" sunghoon finished, competing your heart.

the girls clapped their hands, cooing.

"and now… let’s bring the dramaaaa" you whispered into the mic for the last time. the red sign 'on live' turned grey, the ears of your listeners hearing now aespa’s newest song.

"y/n, you’re filming the challenge with me!" ningning grinned and winter tapped her shoulder. her eyes widened and she nodded "let’s meet outside"

you exchanged your farewells and the girls left, causing you to look at sunghoon confused.

suddenly the door opened and producer choi walked in with some other staff. he had a cake.

"oh what the…" you gasped and sunghoon smacked your arm just in time. the man just laughed, coming up to you.

"y/n, sunghoon. thank you for being our hosts. you really nailed your job and we couldn’t be more thankful… your energy really kept us all awake" producer choi said and you stood up, bowing. sunghoon did the same "it sounds weird but you were the best replacement ever. if you’re willing to do this again, we’ll let you know"

"of course! it was such a fun experience, right sunghoon?" you smiled at him and he nodded "it was our pleasure. please say hi to hongjoong and yunho from us"

"oh we will. thank you again" producer choi bowed and handed you the cake. then, he gave flowers to sunghoon.

"thank you for having us" sunghoon chimed in.

you left the recording room, tears glimmering in your eyes. sunghoon’s eyes widened, concern in his face.

"i’m kinda sad… the show really changed our life, huh?" you smiled and put the cake in a safe place. sunghoon did the same and then hugged you tightly, caressing your back in a reassuring motion. you were taken aback by his sudden gesture, especially in public.

"i’ll be forever grateful we were in this show" he mumbled, leaning away. his hands moved to your arms "do you want to grab a coffee after this?"

"sure. i also need to tell you something–" you started.

"yah, y/nnie come here! the challenge won’t film itself! we also need to do radio silence and… oh" ningning’s voice echoed through the corridor. sunghoon jumped off you, startled and started staring at the plain walls. your friend giggled and walked up to you, then she looked at hoon "sunghoon, don’t worry. i won’t punch you… yet. be good for her and you can sleep peacefully at night"

"what?" he stuttered, blood rushing to his cheeks. ningning smiled innocently and grabbed your hand, dragging you to film the challenge. leaving frozen sunghoon behind.

sunghoon smiled shyly, watching you mesmerized with gaeul laying on your lap.

"so?" he asked, fidgeting with his fingers. you hummed, caressing the dog’s soft fur. a gentle smile danced on your lips.

"i’ve been thinking…" you start, ready to hear 'no shit sherlock' or something like that. but no, sunghoon remained quiet "i agree"

"to what?" he frowned, clearly confused.

"we can try again" you hummed. gaeul suddenly jumped off your lap, walking happily to drink some water.

"wh… are… are you for real?" he blinked, mouth falling agape

"for real, brother. the realest, no cap–" you started and sunghoon jolted forward, putting a hand over your lips.

"don’t call me brother after saying you wanna date, please" sunghoon snickered and whined when you licked his hand "should’ve predicted that–"

"shut up. let’s try again, a fresh start. i thought about this. we weren’t able to contact, i couldn’t hear your side of the story. i was mad at you, yes. but also i didn’t completely fall out with you… you were in my mind all time time and… i really miss you. i’m ready to forgive you, hoon. but no dramas, park. and if there are any, you stand with me and i stand with you" you threatened him, swinging your pointing finger.

"standing next to you, hah…" he giggled and started humming jungkook’s solo song. you just rolled your eyes and wanted to turn your head around when suddenly he cupped your face and captured your lips in a kiss.

the kiss was refreshing and sweet, like a caramel frappe on a hot summer day. sunghoon poured all of his emotions into the first kiss until reunion – love, longing, care. and being able to kiss him again made you feel at ease.

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[keysorsomething]

Gun Run

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

I'm so sorry this is late !! I couldn't write it when I was intending to because I felt super bad. I hope you enjoy lol

Cross-posted on Ao3

It had been radio silence between the two of you, since the incident. There were brief, longing glances, but not much else.

He didn’t look awful, thankfully. His eyes looked tired, you could tell. After seeing him truly well-rested it was easy to see the difference, but they weren’t red and puffy. The biggest difference, however, was the beast that stayed behind him, just at his heels.

Velikan had explained it to you - a fluffy animal he had gotten after a mission with his last PMC. Sputnik, he had named it. The hyena was making quite the splash with KorTac at the moment.

You stood, far enough away to make sure König noted you weren’t standing next to Nikto, watching as Graves was absolutely mesmerized by the creature. The blondish American man had meat laid out in a stretched open palm, watching with wide eyes as the hyena licked it up.

“Man, Nikki!” Graves chirps, “You should have mentioned you had one o’ these before,” He stands, elbowing the Russian man in the kevlar-covered ribs. Nikto grunts, stepping back.

“I did not have him with me,” Nikto explains. “There was an issue with the paperwork, and he was living with a friend of ours.”

Graves opens his mouth, but he's interrupted by the loud rumbling of Velikan… rumbling. You can't be too sure of what noises he was making this far away. Graves makes a face of acknowledgment as he nods.

“So, he’s trained for the field?” Graves asks, prodding more even though he's been told not to. You're sure he's aware of what happens to people who push Nikto.

“Да, he is,” Nikto responds. “With any luck, he’ll be with us this next mission, but we are yet to be granted approval,” He continues, throwing a glare to the corner that houses the Colonel.

The Austrian man stands with his arms crossed, a glare in his eyes too. But, as Graves away from him - after hardly even looking - with a scoff, they soften briefly. Velikan pats his commander’s back, gently gripping at his shoulder with a low mumble. Graves sighs.

“Do I gotta?” He asks, and Velikan nods. “Fine.. but I am expecting to see that savanna puppy in action soldier!” He orders as he's pulled away. The rest of the Shadow Company follows as well.

“Don't call it a savanna puppy,” Mace grumbles as they pass you.

A call comes from down the hall in response, “That's what they are!” Before more muffled grunting lets you know Velikan is scolding him. Or maybe laughing. He's too far away to tell. The room is silent, still without Graves. You feel more than one pair of eyes on you, and you shuffle awkwardly.

You throw your hand up in a half-wave, slipping out of the room behind them. You’re unsure where exactly to go, trying to decide between the shooting range or the barracks. You had some paperwork to do, didn’t you? You sigh, trying to calm yourself down. It had been a long few weeks, and it was only going to feel longer.

The setup for the mission is the same as always, a messy rush of people trying to get all of their gear in order. You pull your gun off of its brace on the wall, checking it over briefly. You pull the magazine out, double-checking that it’s empty even though you know it's empty - you haven’t forgotten any details about the last time you touched it. The first time you touched him.

Your eyes flick over to the side, watching Nikto get himself and Sputnik ready. The beast shakes as he tries to put the special kevlar over its neck, and you can imagine that he’s huffing soft swears in Russian to it. Graves watches intently, seemingly wanting to help. Or at least talk to Nikto about it. Velikan seems to have a sharp watch over the both of them. It almost makes you feel bad, since he has so much on his plate without you asking him to babysit Nikto too. You can only imagine what his therapy sessions are like having to take care of Graves all of the time.

You don’t have the time to dwell, though, O’Connor’s voice cutting through as he calls for everyone to hurry the fuck up and get in line. The sound is familiar and oddly comforting, and you can't help but feel the excitement start to fill in the cracks between the stress, anxiety, and fear you’ve been feeling. Those feelings aren't abnormal before you go out, but it's been significantly worse. You usually don't have to be so cautious of how you act and who you hang out with. But König's watchful eyes and judgment of your relationships have been keeping you on edge. Even with your other coworkers, you've been more distant. You take your gun, making sure to check it out as you move to stand in your place.

"C'mon, come on!" He yells, clapping his hand as he chants to get the whole squad ready. It takes a few more minutes, but you end with the group you're going with.

König, Nikto, Izzy, Graves, Velikan, Valeria, and you. A second team was going as well: O'Connor, Hutch, Horangi, Stilletto, Oz, and Mace, but they were to be moved separately. Orders are barked to both groups, everyone piling in their respective cars. You sit in the very back, next to Izzy. In front of you is Nikto, Sputnik at his feet, and Graves, with Velikan in between them.

The whole ride is uncomfortably silent, with soft music playing over the radio occasional instructions from Valeria on where to go, and the crackle of conversation from the other car. O'Connor is hard to hear back here, and you’re unable to make out what he’s saying, only his accent. Sometimes Graves leans over to try to get Sputnik’s attention, kissing at him, only to be swatted away by Velikan.

The ride is long, but the mission should be easy and simple - in and out. It was a rescue mission, as far as you were aware. It doesn’t matter, really. Your job was to go in, secure the area, secure the thing or person, and get out. And you were damn good at your job, you’d like that on record.

You have to drive through a very populated area to get to the building holding it, compared to most of your missions, but it isn’t something that bothers you much. And it makes sense with most of whom you were placed with, like König and Graves.

König pulls through an intersection, the chatter of O’Connor coming through the hand radio attached to a pop-socket on one of the vents. It all happens at once, very fast, the car behind you is hit. You hear the pain through the radio, and the whole of your car lights up.

“Pull over, goddamn it, pull over,” Valeria snaps, swatting at the shoulders of your Colonel. Graves mutters curses, trying to squint past you and Izzy to see the other van. Velikan’s door swings open, a gun shoved out of it. Nikto’s eyes meet yours, wide and panicked. You nod at him, assuring him you’re okay.

This wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

Gunfire is loud - something someone who had never fired a gun before would never understand is that it transcends sound; even with the proper ear protection, big guns shake your bones and change the beat of your heart. You’ve been around it many, many times, but even now you feel how the shots from your coworkers shake up your rhythm and push the air out of your lungs. It’s the only thing that tells you someone on your side is still firing because you can’t see anyone.

You curse, falling back under the flimsy cover of a tipped-over newspaper dispenser - something you were incredibly surprised to see - and release your magazine, shoving a new one into place. With that, you’re out of preloaded mags, and any extra ones are in the long abandoned car fire of the extra car.

You’d seen Hutch get out, pulling Horangi along with him, and you were sure you had seen glimmers of Mace’s gear somewhere around, but that left three members in that car unaccounted for. You shake, taking a deep breath. This was your job. You could die, your friends could die, you had signed up for it. You cast a glance at your own abandoned car, all the doors wide open and all of its contents gone, having been ransacked.

You sniffle, taking a deep breath. You were going to die today, you take a deep breath. You have to accept it. It was hard, but you had to accept it was going to be your last day. Your last mission. You close your eyes, taking a moment to think over everything that’s happened for the past weeks. You should forgive König, even if you can’t do it to his face. You shouldn’t harbor any resentment in your last moments.

Or maybe you should, fuck that guy. You swear again, letting your head fall back against the metal. Your eyes open, looking over the gun in your hands. You start to move, shifting so you can flip back over and start firing again. Just before your head can poke back out into the line of fire, you hear a gentle whimper from behind you. You flip back, eyes wide as you see it. The fluffy, tan beast is next to you, sniffing at your legs.

“Oh, hey,” You speak, sliding back down to offer your hand. “What’s up, buddy?” You ask, looking around. “Where’s Nikto, huh?” It sniffs at your hand before brown eyes meet yours. “Take me to Nikto, okay?” You ask it, and it stands there for a moment before it sets off. You throw your gun up, over your shoulder, and rush off after it. You hear and feel as bullets wizz past you, but they mean less than the thoughts swirling in your head. Was Nikto okay? What about your other coworkers? Was it only you and Sputnik now? Fear rises in your chest at the thought that the beast you're chasing is leading you to the dead body of your.... whatever Nikto is to you.

You feel tears start to form in your eyes, but you try to force them away. Remember your training, all the years you spent trying to turn this off. You have to be solid and strong. You can't cry in the face of who you're hired to kill. There is no time to mourn the losses you feel, because by the time they sink in, you’re off to your next job. There's been so many times that stuff like this has happened.

You can't have it happen again. You're going to stop it, you have to. Your feet hurt by the time you hear it.

"There ya are, puppy!" Graves' voice calls out, and you stop for a moment. Did Graves just call you puppy? What? You stand still, barely registering how Sputnik rushes to the American man, his tail wagging quickly. Graves beams, rubbing the hyena's sides roughly. "Good puppy! Goodboy! You did very well!" He baby-talks it, which helps everything click into place. You sigh, walking forward.

It seems you’ve found some of your comrades, but several of them are still missing. Horangi seems passed out, propped up against a wall. Hutch has wrapped himself up, watching a screen intently. You see Mace on the other side of the alley, gun pointed up. Velikan is with Graves, trying to coach him in something through his muffling mask.

You pant, wiping your face as you look around, “Where’s Nikto?” You ask, And Valeria, and Izzy, and König, and O’Connor? But you don’t voice the rest of the questions, not yet at least.

“Looking for you,” Hutch responds, turning to you with a grin. Sputnik breaks past Graves to jump at the other man, sniffing at his face. Hutch puts a bandaged arm around him, hand on the hyena’s back.

“What?” You swear, looking around. Your hand goes to your mouth, biting your lips. “Do we… wait? Can we wait? I mean, they’ll come looking for us, won’t they? Whoever we’re fighting?”

“That’s where Izzy is,” Graves replies, turning to you. “On the inside, takin’ ‘em out,” He mimics aiming his gun. “Think Valeria’s there too, maybe König,” He lists off, tapping at his face.

“So, what do we do?” You ask, looking at him. He was the one who knew what to do - he had been in charge more than once, and that had to account for something.

“Wait,” Graves responds. “Regroup, until we can form a full assault,” He turns away. “Just wish everyone will stop runnin’ off.”

The sentence alone keeps you pinned to the ground where your feet are. You want to run off, you want to try and find Nikto, but instead, you fall back, sitting on the ground. You sniffle, finally letting your tears meet your eyes. It sucks, crying in front of so many people, and in the middle of the battlefield.

You don’t want to, but you can’t help it. You hide your face in your hands, letting yourself sob as everything hits you at once. Sputnik noses at you, small chuckles coming from the creature. You sob, unable to reach out to it or push him away, just sitting there as the beast sniffs your hair and hands.

“Hey, Boss,” Mace’s voice cuts through your tears. “We have company,” He backs away from his post, and everyone launches into movement. You don't see much of it, but Velikan is pulling at you by your armpits, trying to get you on your feet to get you moving.

“Sorry,” You sniffle, standing. “I’m sorry,” You let him pull you along, grabbing at your gun to keep yourself armed. You wipe your face, trying to get your head back in the game.

Keep a hold on it, keep a hold on it, you tell yourself. You walk as best as you can, leaning on Velikan for support as he moves you forward, everyone falling into formation. Graves shouts out orders from behind you and you start to stabilize yourself.

You don’t feel dizzy, tears don’t fall freely from your eyes anymore and you stand on your own feet. You set off a blaze at an enemy heading your way, turning back to Velikan before you can watch them fall.

“I have it,” You tell him, and he nods, backing off. You can tell he’s still looking at you for a moment longer, but you all push on. It seems like you're in some kind of action film, with enemies flooding you and your team over and over again.

You manage to fight your way into a house, the building providing much better cover than the alley. Everyone rushes around, Velikan and Mace rushing to clear it out, Hutch placing Horangi down, and you rush to a window, assessing the area. Sputnik trails in behind everyone, a wailing man in his jaws. He drags the man in by the back of the neck of his shirt, clearly having mauled him a little before bringing him in.

You rush to close the door behind him when something stops you in your tracks.

“Нет, Спутник,” Nikto's voice cuts through the air from somewhere behind you. Sputnik's tail wags as he shows off the prize he brought. “Нет, put him down. Лежать!” You turn, finding Nikto standing in the doorway. He seems okay, blood splattered over his gear. You drop everything instantly. The door is already shut, and you just leave your gun on the floor by it, rushing over to Nikto.

“Nikto!” You yell, grabbing him into a hug. It's a harsh one, leaving your cheek pressed against him. He goes to speak your name, but you cut him off. “Shush! I just… Long mission,” You snap, and you feel as he relaxes into your hug, wrapping his arms around you. His hand rubs your back, trying to calm you down. You sigh, thinking back over it, all of it - your relationship with him, these past few days, the mission - it was all so much, so overwhelming.

You pull yourself away from him and press your mouth into where his is under the mask, finally able to return the kiss.

[screamingoverfiction]

Warm Welcome

More Ghost since I can't keep this masked man out of my head. 18+ Smut ahead, domestic Ghost, and unmasked for most of it. Use of Y/n, written in third person. (If there are any mistakes I sincerely apologize, I wrote half of this at 3am)

Word Count: 2.6k

She hadn't heard from Simon in weeks, but it felt like months-no, years. He was out on a mission, but he could usually spare a minute for a simple text, but there was nothing.

She sat in their shared apartment, her mind always on him, worrying for his safety, cursing his name, and longing for his touch.

She was retired from the field after sustaining a nasty gunshot to the stomach. Simon had practically begged her to stay home, afraid for her safety.

Luckily, Y/n had decided her time in the military was over. She'd seen enough blood for a thousand lifetimes. Her hands still felt dirty from the many lives she's taken.

Sighing as she leaned against her couch, she bit her nails, nervously thinking of the worse possibilities. What if the enemy held him hostage? What if they pried his eyes from their sockets? Or ripped his teeth out? What if they knew about her? He'd most definitely break if they even mentioned her name.

Suddenly, there were footsteps outside their apartment. Already high on fear and adrenaline, Y/n sprang from the couch, immediately grabbing the knife she always had tucked into her waistband.

She slowly inched toward the door, careful to stay silent, ready to pounce at any moment. She crept to stand beside the door, aiming the knife precisely.

When the knob turned and someone entered. She was quick to attack, swinging her arm sideways to knock her elbow into their neck, pinning them against the wall beside the door, knife to their throat.

"Not a very warm welcome," Ghost said snidely, his eyes flickering with mischief behind his hard-shelled skull mask.

Y/n's gaze quickly softened. She dropped the knife and stepped away from Ghost, breathing heavily, eyes scanning his figure, unbelieving that he was actually there.

"You complete and utter asshole!" She cried, relief and venom both lacing her tone.

"That's more like I expected," He breathed, taking a step forward and wrapping his arms around her, encasing her in his embrace.

Y/n wrapped her arms around his strong body, resting her head against his chest and basking in his familiar scent.

But she soon pulled away, her hands going to his chest and pushing him back with a powerful shove.

"I haven't heard from you in weeks! It's radio silence! Not even a fucking text, Simon! I was so worried. I feared the worst! I thought you were dead! I was half expecting Price to show on our doorstep holding your tags and a folded flag!" She shouted, shoving her fists into his chest again, not doing much because of the tactical gear still covering his body.

Ghost grabbed her wrists, pulling her forward and holding her against him. His hand supported the back of her head while she tightly gripped his clothes.

"I know. I'm sorry. I wanted to contact you, but it was too risky. If they'd found out about you, I'd never forgive myself," He whispered lowly, rubbing his hands comfortingly down her arms.

"I know, Simon. I'm sorry I got mad," She said shakily, guilt pooling in her stomach.

"Don't apologize, love. You were just scared," Simon sighed, finally at peace now that she was here, safe in his arms.

They stayed there in silence for what felt like ages, simply basking in the warm feeling that each other was safe.

"Do you wanna get that gear off now?" Y/n mumbled, hooking her arms around his neck, toying with the fabric at the base of his mask.

"Mhmm, I could use a nice hot shower," Simon hummed, a smile playing on his lips, and even though his mouth was still covered, she could tell it was there.

Y/n smirked, brushing her finger under his chin and placing a soft kiss on his still-masked jaw.

"Come on, big head," She said, leading him down the hall and into their bedroom.

Simon sat on the edge of the bed, watching her walk into the connecting bathroom and start the shower.

He slowly started to remove his gear, untieing his heavy boots and setting them neatly on the floor.

Y/n walked back to him, her hands finding the straps to his tactical vest, helping him pull it off.

"Fucking hell," He groaned as her hands grazed along his shoulders, softly massaging the muscles.

She didn't take off his mask, waiting until he told her to or until he did it himself.

"The water should be hot now," She whispered, brushing her lips against his jaw.

"Join me," He said sternly, snaking his arms under her t-shirt, running his palms over her hips.

Y/n inhaled sharply at the contact, it'd been so long since he touched her, and she burned for him, but this wasn't the time.

"Are you sure? I doubt you'll get much washing done if I'm there," Y/n murmured, smirking softly.

Simon sighed, hating that she was right. He rested his head on her shoulder for a moment, breathing in her comforting scent.

"I'll be right here when you get out," She assured, stroking his neck and kissing him on the temple, even if it was still covered.

Y/n slid off his lap, watching him reluctantly stand up and walk into the bathroom.

He left the door open as he stripped, pulling his shirt over his head along with his mask and leaving it on the counter.

Y/n had to physically will her eyes away from him, knowing that if she kept them on his muscle-toned and tattooed back, she wouldn't be able to resist.

She mindlessly scrolled through her phone while waiting for him to finish. She'd left a set of clothes in there for him to change into, but she silently hoped he'd 'forget' about the shirt.

It only took him about ten minutes to wash. If she had joined him, they'd have stayed under the water until their skin pruned.

Y/n lifted her eyes when she heard him getting dressed, her eyes scanning over his damped figure, desire swarming in her stomach.

Simon did, in fact, 'forget' a shirt, instead choosing to walk out of the bathroom in nothing but black sweats hanging loosely over his hips, revealing his v-line and faint happy trail.

Her eyes locked with his, his face now exposed to her and just as handsome and beautiful as ever. Short blond hair, powerful features, light stubble, and various faded scars. His nose was strong and defined, just like his cheekbones, and a scar ran across his lip.

"I think you've got some drool on your chin, love," Simon said with a smirk, walking over to their dresser to fold his gear.

Y/n just rolled her eyes, mumbling something insulting under her breath.

He stood with his back to her, flexing his rippling muscles and cracking his neck, purposely inviting her to touch him. He started toward the door for no reason, knowing just how to set her off.

Y/n quickly hopped off the bed, walking forward and grabbing his wrist, forcing him to stay. Ghost did the rest. He swiftly turned around, grasped her hips with his large hands, and crashed their lips together, connecting their mouths in a feverishly passionate kiss.

The kiss was powerful and hungry. Both parties yearned for the other. The sweet taste of their tongues almost faded away.

Simon's hands traveled further down, resting on her thighs and effortlessly hoisting her into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands grasping either side of his face, furiously kissing him. He'd gladly let her suck the breath from his lungs even if it killed him.

He carried her to the bed, not breaking their kiss as they collapsed onto the covers. Her fingers ran over his shoulders, back, biceps-wherever they could. She wanted to feel his whole entire body.

His knee went between her thighs, pressing against her heat and making her let out a soft hiss. The aching in her core only amplified.

"God, I've missed you," Simon breathed lowly, lips traveling to kiss her neck, breath fanning over her sensitive skin. Y/n quietly groaned when he kissed her sweet spot, biting down and kissing hard enough to leave a purple mark.

She knocked her head back, giving him his chance to attack her throat, which he eagerly took, lips leaving marks wherever they landed.

His hands roamed over her body, snaking under her shirt and pulling it over her head, then returning his lips to hers. She couldn't help but gasp as he skillfully unclipped her bra.

Simon threw the material elsewhere, his mouth finding purchase on her sensitive breasts, kissing and kneading at the skin. He slowly trailed his lips downward, pausing at her lower stomach and smirking widely.

"You tease me, Riley, and there will be hell to pay," Y/n seethed, eyes darkening with lust, glaring at Simon.

His lips twitched upwards into an even wider smirk, but he obliged nonetheless, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her shorts and yanking them off her legs.

His mouth hovered over her clothed pussy, breath fanning against it, sending jolts of fire through her core. Almost as if he was trying to piss her off, he slowly brushed his nose against her clothed clit, making her hiss.

He carefully removed her panties, discarding them elsewhere and nearly drooling at the sight of her arousal. He pushed her thighs apart with his strong hands, her now cunt splayed out in front of him, dripping wet and aching to be touched.

"Such a pretty little cunt, you're so wet, and I haven't even touched you," He breathed lustfully, breath hitting her sensitive nerves, sending a spark through her. His eyes shot up, meeting hers, which begged him to touch her.

Putting his teasing on hold, he attached his lips to her clit, tongue darting inside her entrance, causing strings of sharp cries to escape her lips.

Her legs wanted to close around him, but he just hoisted them over his shoulders, keeping them apart while he devoted her pussy. His tongue worked magically against her clit, striking every nerve ending to send waves of pleasure through her body.

She couldn't hold back her moans. With each stroke of his tongue, a new sound radiated from her mouth, making the bulge in his pants ache against the fabric.

But Simon was hungry, no- he was starving, so he ate, and ate and ate until her body was convulsing in his arms from multiple orgasms, her lips crying out his name while her cunt clenched against his tongue, nose brushing against her clit, her thighs squeezing against his hands that kept them spread apart, his fingers digging into the flesh so hard it would bruise.

He greedily lapped up her release like a starved dog. Hungry for his meal. God, Simon would die for Y/n. He'd kill for her. He has killed for her.

Her hands were tightly laced in his hair, her hips spasming against him, but he just held her in place while he finished licking.

"Simon," She quietly moaned, gasping at the overstimulating feeling of his tongue lapping away against her clit.

"Yes, baby? Tell me what you want," He purred lowly, running his fingers down her folds, slowly sliding one into her entrance.

"Fuck Simon, I need you. Please, please, fuck me," She begged, tears stinging her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. She was reduced to nothing from his touch, a pathetic shell of a woman, but she didn't care. She needed him to fuck her.

A wicked smirk spanned over his lips, his eyes sparkled with hunger, a deep desire resonating in his core. His cock yearned for release, aching against the fabric of his pants. He slowly raised his body to hover over her, smiling at her disheveled state.

"Atta' girl," He said feverishly, crashing his lips against hers, slipping a second finger inside her tight pussy, making her sharply gasp. He curled his fingers upward, hitting her g-spot perfectly but at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"Please, Simon," She whimpered, hands cupping his face as his lips furiously moved against hers.

Simon let out a grumble of a moan. It was guttural and low, rough and throaty. He removed his fingers from her core, making her groan in disapproval.

Her hands fumbled with his waistband, eagerly pulling his sweats down his legs. Her hands flew to his boxers to yank them free as well, but he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand.

"Good girls keep their hands to themselves," He cooed seductively, his warm breath against her ear, his lips grazing the sweet spot below her earlobe.

Y/n quietly pleaded against his lips, her mouth barely able to mouth the words from his intense kiss.

Simon effortlessly pulled his boxers off, revealing his aching cock, red angry tip, precum dribbling over the head. He slowly aligned his erection with her entrance. The tip just barely pushed inside.

He hoisted one of her legs, wrapping it around his abdomen, lips attaching to hers, hungrily kissing the soft pink flesh. Y/n let out a low hiss when he thrust his full length in, bottoming out, giving her no time to adjust before he started harshly thrusting in her.

She cried out in pain and pleasure, arching herself into him, her mind foggy, drunk on bliss. She couldn't remember her own name, and she didn't care, she wanted Simon to fuck her senseless, and he was doing just that.

His thrusts were powerful and perfectly times, hitting her g-spot with every stroke. The sounds of skin slapping and strangled moans could be heard for miles. Simon wanted to mark her as his, show everyone who she belonged to.

"God, I've missed you," He groaned into her throat, biting and kissing along the skin.

"I missed you so much," Y/n whimpered, tears spilling from her eyes from the intense euphoria that pulsed through her veins. His cock throbbed inside her, her walls clenching around him as her impending orgasm approached like a rouge wave.

"Oh, fuck, Simon," She moaned, head buried in his shoulder. His grip on her wrists loosened, and she immediately clung to his back, her nails slicing through the flesh, sending a soft hiss through Simon.

"Fucking hell, love, I'm gonna fill you up, have this pretty cunt full of my cum," He mumbled, bringing his lips crashing back against hers, swallowing her pretty moans.

"Shit, Simon, I'm so close," She said against his lips, feeling the all too familiar knot bubbling inside her, coiling and tightening, threatening to snap.

"Fuck, Y/n, cum on my cock," He groaned, thrusts becoming sloppier as he chased his own high.

Y/n's core was ablaze, her moans so high pitched it might break glass as she broke apart on his cock, eyes rolling into her skull, body spasming and arching into him. Her liquids soaking his cock, walls clenching tightly around him.

Simon came in one final thrust, pushing himself as deep as he could, tip brushing her cervix as his cum coated her walls. He kept thrusting, riding through their highs.

Y/n's hands tangled in his hair, gripping it tightly and kissing him so passionately they couldn't breathe. When she finally pulled away to take a much-needed breath of air, his forehead rested against hers, his hands soothingly running along her skin.

"I love you," Was a mere whisper that came from his lips. Somewhere along the line, they'd subconsciously decided that I love yous didn't need to be said to be meant.

"I thought we agreed those words were a death trap?" She said back breathlessly, blinking away her tears, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

"I don't care,"

"Then I love you too,"

[lostgirlfandom]

It's a Tuesday

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x GN!Reader

Warnings: Theft, cussing

Words: 727

Summery: Just a regular day in the Gallagher Household

It was a normal day for you... As normal as one could get when you were basically a part of the Gallagher broad since you were friends with Lip since you were kids. You were both known as the Terror Twins when you were in elementary school from the amount of trouble you both got into together. Pouring glue in one of the bullies that picked on the Gallaghers, Gorilla gluing the teacher’s desk, hacking the Principal’s morning announcements... the list goes on.  

So, it wasn’t a surprise when Lip came barreling into the living room from the stairs at the Gallagher’s house to find you playing on the Xbox with Carl.  

“Hey... want to see what kind of trouble we can get into?” He asks as he leans over the back of the couch where were leaning back against as your stare was concentrated on the TV.  

You snorted and without looking away from the screen answered, “Oh gods... we’re gonna die, aren’t we?” You said sarcastically.  

“It’s a Tuesday... I know how to restrain myself.” He jokes back at you.  

You let out a loud scoff and laughed. “You ABSOLUTELY do not!”  

Finally, the game finishes the round and you turn your attention to Lip and pause as you notice something you didn’t before.  

Your brow frowns in confusion as you open your mouth before pressing them together before sighing and asking. “Why are your hands purple?”

Lip smirks, “That’s a very good question.”  

You closed your eyes and pinched the space between your eyes. “I don’t wanna know.”  

Carl had surprisingly stayed quiet and listened to your conversation, looking between you both.

You give a sarcastic sigh and force yourself to stand up. “Alright, let’s go.”

-

Next thing you know, you were running from security at a science building that Lip got into. You were hiding in a random lab room and were taking deep breaths as you leaned against the wall next to the door with Lip next to you, a backpack over his shoulder.  

After a moment of silence, you could hear the security in the hallway going through the rooms. Their radios going off every now and then.  

“I have a solution.” Lip whispers to you.  

You look at him and lock his with him and he as that look in his eye when he has a stupidly genius idea. “Okay?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“It involves fire.”  

You sigh and lean your head back against the wall, shaking your head. “Absolutely not, Phillip.” You pause and then hiss out to him, “If we die, I’m going to spend the rest of our afterlife reminding you that this was all your fault.”

He shrugs and purses his lips together. “That’s cool. I don’t mind having company while being a ghost.”

You make a disgruntled face at him and he chuckles.  

The next thing you know, you found your way over to the window and look out. There was a covered walkway right under the walkway so you both rushed to open the window.  

“This way is more efficient.” He laughs out as he looks at you.  

You shook your head and for dramatic effect added, “This way is going to get us killed.”

You both jumped over to the metal covering the walk way and it makes a dull thud as you rush to then climb down to the ground. Both of you then rush to exit the campus.  

-

Thankfully, you made it back to the house and you both crashed in Lip’s room. After the adrenaline came down, he started to work on the machine as you read a book. You were exhausted from the running.  

Yawning, you turn the page. The sound of him tinkering with the machine stopped for a brief moment.  

“Yeah, being pretty must be tiring.” He spoke up without looking at you.  

You paused and looked at him with raised eyebrows. Tilting your head, you smirk. “Then you must be exhausted.”  

He freezes and looks up you to lock eyes with you. You notice his cheeks had tints of red on them. You continue to smirk as you turn back to your book.  

The next thing you know, the sound of tools hitting the floor sounds out and Lip jumping on top of you makes you laugh as he attacks you.  

[brooooswriting]

ma am I saw your post and I when I was about to request.

SITUATIOND PART 6 HELL YEAH

take your time and have a good day <3

Situations 6

Situations 1, situations 2, situations 3, situations 4, situations 5, situations 7

Jenna Ortega x reader

That night Kara came to your apartment around 11:30 pm. After you shot another text to her mom the girl settled into the guest room, you’ve always liked their mother and their mother has always been a big fan of your. To be honest you probably liked her the most from the whole family, sure Mia and Kara were nice and their father was too, but Miriam, their mother, has always given you the space and time to talk and be yourself.

Anyway, after the younger girl settled into your guest room down the hall you decided to wake Jenna as she peacefully slept on the couch with her head against the arm rest. She looked cute as your bigger clothes engulfed her petite frame while the blanket was half on top of her and the rest was on the ground.

“Jenna” you mumbled as you crouched down next to her, your hand lightly stroking her arm. The only response you really got was a grumble causing you to chuckle before trying again. “Come on, it’s 11:30. Do you wanna sleep over or should I drive you home?” You whispered again, not really getting an answer until her arms wrapped around your arm and pulled you close. “Wanna stay over?” You asked again, she grumbled again and then nodded.

After 10 more minutes of trying to get her to walk to the bedroom you just decided to pick her up and carry her there. “Is it okay if we sleep in the same bed?” You were aware of the fact that the two of you had already slept in the same bed once and that not even four hours ago you were kissing on the street, but you still wanted to make sure that the girl is comfortable. “If you aren’t then I might just go home” she answered.

After you were done laughing you laid next to her, giving her the opportunity to cuddle up to you. She backed up into you causing you to spoon her, your head on top of hers and her hands holding yours over her stomach. You haven’t fallen asleep that quickly in weeks.

The next morning you were awoken at around 4 am by someone knocking on your door, or rather trying to knock thru it. You carefully parted from the sleeping actress in your arms to open the door before the loud sound woke her or Kara up. In front of the door stood Mia, her face red and angry, her hand in the air to knock again. “Mia, it’s 4 am. What the hell do you want?” You asked kinda pissed, you normally didn’t have a problem with waking up early but a) this was the first night since Jenna had went Radio silence on you that you weren’t drunk and b) you had the most perfect girl sleeping in your bed.

“How dare you leave Kara alone at a party full of people she doesn’t know?!” She screamed as she pushed past you into the room. “First of all, lower your voice, there are people sleeping in this apartment. And second of all, I asked her and your mom, they were fine with it. She didn’t wanna leave so why should she?” You were really confused, Mia always left her younger sister somewhere alone, so why was this suddenly a problem? “You left her for that girl, that bitch that ghosted you remember?” She did in fact barely lower her voice, giving you a headache. “I left because I got into a fight” you were telling the truth, you didn’t leave for Jenna or anything, you just couldn’t stand that guy anymore. “A fight you got into because of that… that girl” you sighed, trying to calm yourself, “I got into a fight because the guy was homophobic and tried to tell her what to do. As a woman I would have said something about it no matter who” you tried to explain calmly while the blonde paced through the living room.

“You shouldn’t even talk to her anymore. After our night together, we could be something. Let her be so we can continue dating, two nights ago was a great start” she told you, confusing you. You tried to remember what had happened two nights ago but the only thing you could remember was her coming over when you were black out drunk. The next thing you knew was you waking up in underwear in your bed. “What are you talking about?” You asked causing her to gasp, “we made love honey” now was your time to gasp. “Mia, when you came over I was completely drunk, black out drunk. I barely remember you coming over. We 100% did not make love” you tried to stay calm but the whole situation gave you a migraine and scared you. “We did, sure you were drunk but you looked at me like you wanted me and then I” she couldn’t finish her sentence as Jenna suddenly exited your bed room.

“I think you should go” she told the girl as she stood tall. “I think you can’t tell me what to do” the blonde answered and just as you were about to say something, the small actress pushed the girl out and closed the apartment door after whispering something. “Jenna” you started but she disappeared into the bed room, slamming the door.

You fell on to the couch, searching for any memories of that night, but none came up. She never even felt the slightest bit attracted to Mia, never did so why would do make a move all of the sudden? You didn’t get to think too long as your bed room door opened and the brunette stepped out. Slowly sitting down beside you, her shoulder pumping against yours.

“Do you really not remember anything? I want the whole story or I’m leaving” Her voice was small and shaky. You could see tear stains on her face, some new, some older. “No, I don’t. After you went radio silent on me, I was a bit of a wreck and the first three nights I went to parties and got shitfaced, just like three nights ago. I called Mike but he was out of state so I guess he send Mia. Anyway, the last thing I really remember from that night was opening her the door and her brining a bottle of tequila. I believe I was crying, complaining about how I could be so stupid to let my feelings ruin you and me. The next morning is also a bit of a blur but I do remember waking up in underwear and finding one of Mia’s shirts. But I guessed that we were too drunk to change… the only thing I’m rather sure about is not making a move on her” you had tears welling up in your eyes, hiding your face in your hands as your elbows were placed on your knees.

A soft sigh came from your right before two arms wrapped around your shoulder to pull you into her. She placed soft kissed against your temple. “I’m so sorry” she mumbled as she rubbed your back. “For what?” You lifted your face from your hands to look at her brown eyes, “Darling, it’s not your fault. I was being irresponsible, I should have guessed that this would happen.” The actress shook her head, her hands finding your face, “none of this is your fault. You shouldn’t be scared of friends taking advantage of you when you’re drunk! It’s not your fault”

You nodded before she lightly kissed your lips, making sure that you were okay with the physical contact. “How about we go back to bed huh? It’s 4:30, we can sleep a bit and then make breakfast” you nodded before standing up and pulling her along with your intervened hands. It didn’t take you long to fall asleep as you were exhausted from what just happened.

You were woken up again at 8 but this time by Jenna stroking your hair to wake you up. “Good morning” she mumbled as she kissed your cheek, “morning love” you rasped out as kissed her hand.

After both of you showered, on your own, and you lend her some of your clothes you made breakfast for yourselves and Kara. “You really aren’t helpful hun” you giggled as she sat on the counter and ate the fruit you just cut, “I give you company so I am in fact helpful” you both laughed as you flipped the pancake.

When the whole table was set and the food was done you went to take the fruit from Jenna who tried to keep it out of your reach, after a small wrestling break you went to wake Kara up.

“Kara, breakfast is ready” you told her after you knocked on the door. The okay that followed was your sign to go back to the kitchen, “she’s coming” you told the brunette as you sat down next to her. “Is this gonna be weird?” She asked as you sat down, “I mean, she’s her sister, isn’t she gonna be on her side?” She continued looking into her cup as she swirled the liquid inside. “Kara has always been pretty easy, she makes up her own mind but tolerates nearly everything, so as long as you don’t start hating on her sister and answer her questions truthfully she’ll be fine”

And that was exactly how it was, after Kara asked some questions about Jenna in general, she started asking about the incident. “What’s gonna happen between you and Mia now?” She asked as she cut her pancake, “well, you know that her and I will never be a thing right? Your sister and I are/were great friends but I never felt a romantic connection and that won’t change. Plus, I do have Jenna. Right now; i will take some distance from her and then we can decide.”

After breakfast you decided to drive Kara home as you didn’t want her to take the bus. “You’re coming along right? I don’t wanna go there alone” Jenna never saw you so unsure and it broke her heart. “Of course I am” so all three of you got in the truck as you started the drive toward Kara’s household.

Turns out, Jenna and Kara do have a lot in common, especially their music taste as they were giving throughout the whole ride. “Sorry to interrupt this small concert but we arrived at your destination” you told them as you lowered the music. While you were saying your goodbyes, Miriam came to your car. “Y/n, it’s so nice to see you!! Thank you again for taking Kara” she said happily, causing you to smile. “Why don’t you come over for family dinner tomorrow?” You dreaded this question, gripping the steering wheel tighter, “I’d love to, but Mia and I need some time from each other. I’m sorry” Jenna’s thumb rubbed over your hand while Miriam smiled at you comfortingly. “It’s okay. I get it” after a moment of silence she continued, “is this pretty girl your girlfriend?” She was looking at Jenna who was smiling back at her. You leaned closer to the older woman, “well I do hope that this pretty girl will be my girl soon” you whispered so the actress couldn’t hear you. Miriam cooed before her husband called her inside causing all of you to say your goodbyes.

“So how does a first date sound?” You asked as you drove away from the house.

—————————————————-

I’m sorry this is very short but I’m in a bit of a stress as I’m having my graduation exams soon and I barely studied until now and it’s really fucking me up. So I’m sorry if this is full of mistakes or shitty :/

[ghostaholics]

I had a dream about your enemies with benefits ghost x reader where the reader had a cryptic pregnancy. She kinda just doubled over in pain randomly and BOOM. Baby.

HE'S A LETHAL PERFECTIONIST TO THE CORE: rigid expectations impressed upon everyone; it's what makes him a first-rate soldier – grit factor and an appetite for excellence in everything he does.

(The thing is, Ghost doesn't make mistakes.

Of course, there's a first time for everything.)

It's chaos walking in Bangladesh, guerrilla warfare against an AQ cell weaseled away in Dhaka because the shiteheads have business with the organized crime bosses here. It's a city jam-packed with civilians, innocent lives. No open-fire allowed. A place like this means guerrilla warfare. Hit-and-run tactics. God knows he's not trying to start an international incident by blowing up half the bloody capital.

Cloak-and-dagger: they're picked off one-by-one. It takes a full day. A mess to be cleaned up, and he does it exceptionally well.

Ghost doesn't get any reports outside of the mission until he relays his total kill count.

"Good work," Laswell radios in. "We need you on the first flight to Oslo."

He lets out a slow exhale while jumping into the driver's seat of the vehicle he commandeered a couple blocks over. Time to make his way to the airport, then. They need his back-up. He knows what that means. But he's not going to think about the fact that the rest of the One-Four-One are there for a completely different ops and whether things have gone south if they're calling him in. He was supposed to be their fallback plan. "Everything solid?"

"It's Mav."

His grip around the steering wheel tightens. If he starts speeding through the streets, then he doesn't notice, too tuned in to the conversation at hand. "Fill me in."

"Landed herself in the hospital."

Again? Christ. It's the second visit in six months. He was there for the first one. Damn near had to stop the bloody doctors from calling out her time of death. Fuckin' tossers.

"What's the damage?"

"Well—"

"Alive?"

"Yes," she says quickly.

"Then quit beating around the bush. The hell's wrong with her?"

"All in one piece. Just get here when you can."

Right, so no helpful answers from the Station Chief. And Ghost tries to contact the others, but gets the same fucking silence. Not Price, not Gaz, not even Soap who always answers just to take every opportunity over the comms to blather about anything and everything in real time. He's not sure why he's being kept in the dark like this, but it's definitely putting him on edge.

The only other message he receives from Laswell: Oslo University Hospital. He'd combed the website for information in between stoplights. It'll do, he supposes. Their services don't seem subpar, which at any rate sounds far better than fucking Moscow; he still gets sick thinking about it.

So he checks in, gets his visitor badge. It's a whole ordeal that takes a lot longer than he likes. They tell him what floor, what room. That's the Gyneacology and Obstetrics Wing. He triple-checks, making sure nothing gets lots in translation; doesn't sound right to him, but he'll tear up the place later if they gave him the wrong directions. He memorized the hospital layout already; it'll take him approximately three minutes utilizing the right staircase, or seven minutes if he wants to take his sweet-fucking-time with the elevators.

"Our gift shop is around the corner," they tell him in a thick Norwegian accent before he makes his exit.

Odd.

She doesn't like flowers or cards or sentimental things anyways. Calls them impractical. Would rather hoard his jackets or other belongings of his that she finds useful, so the gift shop would be a waste.

When Ghost finally gets to where he needs to be, 2 minutes and 45 seconds later (skipped every other step just to shave off time), he finds everyone sans Mav waiting outside the room. It's not a happy reunion, despite Soap's grin. Everyone's intact, nobody's dead or anything that would excuse their silence during his trip from Bangladesh. Ghost is extremely unimpressed with their lack of communication and promises that he'll deal with their sorry arses later before shoving his way through the door.

—only to be met with the sight of her sitting up in bed, a tiny newborn bundled in her arms.

... whose fucking baby is that?

And when his eyes snap up to hers, she's glaring at him with a positively seething look that could kill.