#based on the fact that he's frowning in the picture

[whatthefuxkkk]

I need the 2012 fandom to talk about Donnie's contact in April's Shellphone (i forgot what they're called sue me)

[carolmunson]

i'm the best thing at this party | e.m.

up and coming rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader (is that a picture of slash? sure, but we can pretend it isn't.) aka the first time carol ever wrote a fic based off a taylor song. but in my defense, it was a chase petra cover of 'you're losing me' that inspired it. this is not connected to my rockstar!eddie x actress!reader storyline, this is it's own oneshot in a separate story.

in the early 90s, when your boyfriend's band starts to make it in the big leagues, you start to come to terms with the fact that he might not want or need a small town player anymore. eighteen plus. established relationship. angst. hurt/no comfort-ish. open ending.

"and i'm fading, thinkin': 'do something, babe. say somethin'. lose somethin' babe, risk something. choose somethin' babe. i got nothin' to believe, unless you're choosing me.'"

The Hideout was hot with all the bodies packed in like sardines; stark contrast to the icy chill of winter outside. Glowing on the screen was The Tonight Show, everyone’s eyes glued to it while Corroded Coffin made their first national televised debut. 

No one’s totally sure how their manager Richie was able to finesse this slot – but they went to New York to film earlier in the week and didn’t ask any questions. With Richie, it's better to not ask questions and just let it happen. Eddie came home with an adrenaline rush so intense that he barely slept for three days. No matter how much you tried to keep him in bed and tire him out. 

And sure, it was hard to have him be gone while you drove out to Indy and took a friend to see the new graffiti art exhibit that came in from LA when it was supposed to be with him. It was hard to have him miss a lot of things. His return from the city only started another big talk about it, one you've been having every few months the last two years. Even so, you couldn’t help but be proud of him, proud of all of them. Remembering that just four years ago they were barely getting fifteen people in here to see them play when you first started dating. 

The crowd erupts when the camera comes off of the band on the stage and back to Leno at his desk, the boys in real life all standing on the bar. You look up at Ed and smile, he finally did it, he’s doing it. The contracts are signed, the people saw him, he’s gonna make it. He’s making it. 

You duck out of the way when they start to spray champagne over everyone by the bar, “Not my hair, babe!” 

The two  bartenders pour shots of Jameson and flutes of Prosecco while the show cuts to commercial and it’s not long before you feel the sticky chest of your boyfriend up against your shoulder, “It was good? I did good?” 

“Ed you’re…you’re fuckin’ famous,” you grin, “You’re fuckin’ famous!”

You follow while he leads you through the crowd, settled in near the back where the stage doors lead to the dressing room and out into the parking lot. He looks over his shoulder twice before he sneaks you both behind the amps; heart pounding when he leans you up against the painted cinder block walls, noses mashing when he takes your lips in his. It’s feverish, desperate when he pulls at your hips, one arm wrapped around your mid back to keep you steady up against him.

“Lemme – mmm – lemme take you to the green room,” he breathes between kisses, moving your hand toward the bulge in his jeans, “C’mon I wan–” 

“The interview’s up!” Jeff calls from on top of the bar. 

“Where’s Ed? ED? Come on! The interview’s up!” Gareth calls, the crowd erupting in a cheer of ‘Edd-ie, Edd-ie, Edd-ie!’

“Come on, come on!” you squeal, pulling away to pull him toward the front of the bar again, “You said they were gonna cut it!”  

“It’s stupid, babe,” he assures, “It’s so dumb.” 

“Ed, you’re being interviewed by Leno, this isn’t stupid,” you urge, “This is like – this is it.” 

“It’s literally like two minutes, it’s not special,” he doesn’t move when you pull him along with you, a frown pulling on your lips. 

“Eddie,” your voice raises an octave, tugging on his hand – he lets go. 

“I’m gonna take a leak,” he shrugs, heading toward the green room while you watch him disappear behind the door. Your brows furrow slightly, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way back to the edge of the bar where everyone’s eyes are glued to the medium sized screen in the corner. 

The crowd cheers again while the band is re-introduced, Eddie and Jeff sitting on the chairs with Gareth and Grant standing behind them. You admire the way your boyfriend looks post performance, nearly glittering with sweat but glowing with pride – with accomplishment. You look over your shoulder to see if he’s back from the bathroom yet, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“So we got a group of some – what looks like – nice, respectable hard core guys,” Jay smiles. 

“I don’t know about respectable,” Eddie scrunches his nose back at the host. 

“I don’t know about nice, either,” Jeff jokes. You marvel at how relaxed and natural they all look on camera, cracking wise and getting laughs from the audience. They talk about the album briefly, and the front cover which has all four boys in caskets with a red kiss print on their cheeks. 

“So, the debut is self titled, Corroded Coffin – but it looks like you all got a coffin kiss here,” he points out, “These from anyone special? You got the girls going crazy.” The audience erupts in cheers and screams, a bra finding its way flung into the sound stage. You giggle when Gareth and Grant  hold it up, making them both blush pink on the screen. 

“Well I got a girl at home, so, I don’t hear any screamin’ if it’s not her cheering for me,” Jeff’s smile is bright when the camera focuses on him and he winks into the lens. Sasha, Jeff’s girlfriend, screeches in the crowd of The Hideout. 

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that!” she beams, and your heart thunders while you watch them kiss on the bar. The promise ring that he gave her back in ‘88 shines on her ring finger, awaiting something much more flashy when that first big rockstar payday hits.

“It’s definitely a change of pace,” Grant nods on the screen, “Definitely wasn’t getting a lot of girls in high school.” 

“It’s wild,” Gare laughs. 

“And what about you, Munson,” Jay asks, “Frontman like you’s gotta be beating them off with a stick.” 

The camera focuses on him, his pink lips and smart grin, a flash of teeth before he starts talking. He’s so handsome, you feel your fingers and toes start to tingle when he opens his mouth.You weren’t expecting to hear your name on national television, or be alluded to. You’d never really prepared yourself for something like this. To be declared to thousands, maybe millions, as a rockstar girlfriend.

You swallow the nervous spit pooling in your mouth, heart pattering while you run through all of the scenarios of the outcome of being ‘announced’ in your head.  

“I don’t kiss and tell, Jay,” he smirks.

Oh.

Your hearing clouds and your vision blurs – unsure of what you just heard. If maybe you imagined it, but that proves to be untrue when you feel a few sets of eyes on you. A moment of silent confusion lulls on the crowd at the bar.

You swallow the lump in your throat, fingers and toes cold now while the blood rushes to your heart and head, to your lungs which suddenly forgot how to work. Through teary eyes you look around, drowned out by the cheers of the bar when Jay announces when the album will release. You sniffle, trying to hold it back – but there he is in the back of the crowd now, eyes rounded; pleading, looking straight at you. 

The tears spill over and you try to catch your breath as you make your way through the bodies on your way to the front door. You hear Gareth call after you, hearing him stumble over the barstools while he hops off the counter. Another ragged intake of breath shakes through you while you get closer to the sticker covered door, pushing through the first set and then the other into the dark blue night. Your breath puffs white in front of you, coat abandoned somewhere back inside The Hideout while you walk across the street to your car. 

You fumble with the keys, blubbering while you get the engine started and the radio blares Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together part way through the song. In the rear view you see him hustle out of the bar to search for you, catching the start of your car and getting to the passenger window before you can pull away. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he strains, his fingers hanging on the edge of the half open glass, “I promise it’s not what you think. Richie asked me to answer like that, it wasn’t on purpose.” 

You press slightly on the gas, making the car lurch forward and inch.

“Wait! Please don’t – don’t just go,” he begs, voice breaking with desperation, “We can talk about it.” 

You look at him through wet eyes, the street lights haloing behind his head to feign his innocence. He can talk himself out of anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you rasp out quietly, “We’ve done enough talking.” 

“I can…please don’t go,” he says again, “Not with you crying like this, c’mon. Don’t leave.” 

“I’m gonna go home, Ed,” you sniffle, “J-just go h-have fun inside. S’too cold to be out here.” 

“You don’t have your coat,” he states, “Come back in and get it. We can talk in the back, please.” 

“I don’t need my coat,” you garble out, “I’m going h-home.” 

“Well I’ll – I’ll bring it to you tomorrow morning,” he nods needily, “Okay? Is that okay?” 

You let out a shaky breath, fogging again against your windshield, “F-fine.” 

Eddie cracks a weak but winning smile, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

“I love you,” he adds. It tastes like ash in your mouth. You pull away before you feel compelled to say it back. 

Eddie show’s up in the morning with coffee and your coat, a small carton of donut holes for you both to share. He’s all smiles, seeing you in the kitchenette cleaning out the coffee pot that you now no longer have to fill. 

“Morning, baby,” he grins, “I brought your coat.” 

“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the droplets of water that race down the side of the glass pout, “You can just hang it on the hook.” 

“Are you…are you still upset with me?” his voice is airy, surprised while he makes his way behind you. Calloused hands reach around to pull your back in his chest, nose nuzzling against your cheek. Your stomach rolls, bile inching up the base of your throat. 

“Enough, Ed,” you sigh, pulling out of his hold. 

“Sweetheart, c’mon,” he huffs, “I told you already. I didn’t want to say that. But you know how Richie is! He just wants what’s best for the band and so do I! Don’t you? I thought you’d understand.” 

“Jeff had no problem talking about Sasha,” you do your best to measure your tone, too early to start yelling. 

“Jeff has the wholesome thing going for him; plus – you know his family isn’t for him being considered like, a rogue or whatever. He’s already in a metal band,” Eddie explains, like this is a totally normal conversation, “Richie even said this morning that he was getting a lot of calls.” “Okay,” you nod, sitting down at the small table in your kitchen where your coffee sits. 

“And like, a lot of people wanna do interviews with us and get hype up for the release,” he half smiles, sitting down across from you, “I told you, it was…it was a good thing. They were saying y’know like, mysterious bad boy front man is a good angle.” 

“Great.” 

“It doesn’t…babe, it doesn’t mean we can’t be together,” he leans forward, hand reaching out to touch yours. His shoulders sulk when you put them both under the table. 

“Ed I –” you let out a breath, eyes tracing a pattern on the waxed canvas tablecloth, “I can’t even look at you right now. And you wanna tell me we can still be together?” 

“What like it’s…some consolation prize?” you choke out, “You made a fool out of me. The looks I got?”   

“I know, I know, but it was for the band. You know how I feel abo—“ 

“How you feel about me?” you hold back a bitter laugh. 

“Ed, the last year or so we have kept having the same conversation over and over again. You are so, so caught up in Corroded and making it and getting there and trust me I am so proud of you. If there is anyone on the planet who is more proud than me maybe it’s Wayne, but – this is just like, this is kind of it. We have nowhere to go from here.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, his brown eyes rounding and brows tilting slightly when he realizes what you’re really saying, “What do you mean no where to go? Are you not listening? I said we can still be together, just like befo–” 

“Before? Before when?” you get up and pace back to the kitchen where he can still see you, “Before when you would cancel dates to go practice? When you missed my awards night for work  because you wanted to fill in guitar for a gig in Ohio? When you didn’t come to my poetry reading with the guys like you said you would and instead got plastered at The Hideout after rehearsal?” 

“Well I apologized for all that, that was all in the past couple years and I – look, I said I was sorry and you accepted that,” his voice raises slightly, he stands up to full height with defense evident in his stance, “You can’t just throw it back in my face.” 

“When you were gone weeks at a time for mini tours, for opening for bands on the East Coast – god, all the work I took off to make sure I was there for you? When you canceled our three year anniversary dinner, without my knowledge, because you got a call for discounted studio time on the same night,” you manage to get out, the tears inching toward the edge of your lash line, “And I sat there at the table in my new dress and everyone looked at me the same way they looked at me last night. Poor girl. Must’ve got stood up. What an idiot.” 

“Yeah well that studio time is why we were on fuckin’ LENO, babe!” he pleads, “Don’t you get that? It’s for us!” 

“It’s for you!” you break, the shrill frustration coming out with your voice, “It’s always just been for you. It’s always about Eddie and the guys. I have done nothing but make sacrifice after sacrifice, excuse after excuse to play the part of perfect, understanding, cool, laidback girlfriend but like fuck Ed, when is it gonna be about me, huh?” He stands there, unsure, cheeks sucking in between his teeth.

“And what’s on the docket for you on Friday? Have any plans?” you ask, your voice softening while you cross your arms over your chest. You lean the small of your back against the counter while you watch him. He clears his throat, hands finding their way into the back pockets of his jeans. 

“Um, we have some meetings in the morning in Indy. And then um, we’re gonna take a late flight out to LA. The label’s excited – they’re really excited,” he breathes out, eyes finding the floor and your sock covered feet.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” you nod, voice still measured, “Since we’ve had the tickets for my niece’s winter school concert on the fridge for over a month. I guess I’ll have to tell her that her favorite bonus teacher couldn’t make it.” 

“Fuck,” Eddie’s eyes shut, pulling his lips in to run his tongue across them while he thinks of what to say next. Your heart thrums in your chest, throat getting tighter and tighter while you hold back a cry – this was just another thing to add to the list.

“I can make it up to her, I promise,” his raspy nicotine voice becoming garbled with desperation, “I can make this all up to you, too. I swear. I wish you had just told me about all of this.” 

“I have, Ed. We are always having the same conversation. I’m tired of having it. I’m so tired of this. Make it up to me? How do you make up for it?” 

“I…” he chokes on his words, ringed fingers running over his face and reaching to pull his hair back off his neck. 

“Go ahead,” you encourage angrily, “What’re you gonna do? Say something. Fucking, do something, Ed!” 

“Baby, I don’t know what to…” he swallows, tears pooling in shiny wells over his eyes, “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.” 

You take a breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth, taking the three steps it takes to get to him. Your hands fall from being crossed, reaching up to cup each of his cheeks. Your thumbs run over the apples and drag softly over the stubble left over from the night before. 

His eyes shut while he keens into your touch, his rough hands covering yours. Calloused fingertips coasting delicately over your knuckles. You know what you have to do, even if his touch makes you want to do the opposite. 

“Go be famous,” you shrug, smiling weakly, “Go be the big rockstar I know you are. Like how you wanted. Go play The Garden and live in LA.” 

Your hands slide down his face, tears falling after them, “Go do all that, and just, um – just leave me alone. Please.” 

“But I don’t–” he starts, pulling in a sharp breath while a cry leaks out of him, “I don’t wanna lose you.” 

“Oh, Ed,” you shake your head while the ache spills over into your own leveled sob, “I’m already lost.” 

“No, please,” he begs, trying to catch your hands as they make it back to your sides, “Please, baby, I’ll fix it. I pro-promise.” 

“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whisper in finality, “You should go.” 

“I don’t want to,” Eddie’s soft pink lips quiver while he speaks, “Please. Please. I can fix it, the next interview, anything, it’ll be all you. I swear I can…I can…” 

When your face doesn’t change he knows there’s no way to pull you from your stance, voice trailing off in defeat. You watch as he rips open your storm door and goes to his van, his chest and back shaking with sobs that make the hardware on his jacket cry with him.

A year passes and you are not surprised when you find out that Corroded Coffin has made the cover of Rolling Stone. Wayne bought every copy from the gas station at the end of the road and put them in every mailbox early that morning. You don’t think there’s been a day in the last year that Wayne wasn’t seen beaming ear to ear; his boy finally getting everything he wanted. 

Life had gotten easier now that you weren’t regularly expecting disappointment. You went on few dates here and there, just trying to navigate your life after spending four years sharing it with someone else. Some nights were colder than others, but it was better than the frigidness you felt that night at the bar.

You did your best to avoid the tabloids – Eddie was certainly doing just fine navigating his life as a bachelor; some new model or actress on his arm every other month it seemed. Hardrock’s Resident Playboy. It stung the first time you saw it, and a little less each time after – heart breaker to the core; you would know, you were the blueprint.

In the same cold that matched the night at The Hideout a year prior; you sat on your steps wrapped in a robe – morning cigarette between your fingers. 

“Morning,” Wayne’s voice is gravelly when it sounds over you, still soaked with left over sleep. 

“Mornin’ Wayne,” you smile, taking a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in your other hand. 

“Wanted to uh, to let you know that the guys are playin’ a show in the city tonight. I could uh – I could get you a ticket if y–” 

“That’s sweet of you Wayne,” you smile tightly, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“He might like to see you,” he shrugs. He hadn’t quite gotten over the break up the way you and Eddie had, convinced that this was the real deal – that he was watching young love flourish into something bigger. 

“He’s seeing someone, Wayne,” you take a drag of your cigarette, “Why would he want to see his ex-girlfriend who still lives in Hawkins? He’s got some actress girl now, right?” 

Wayne shrugs again, scratching at the back of his neck, “I never know what that boy’s got goin’ on in California outside of shows and gettin’ into trouble. Maybe he is seeing some girl but, y’know, seein’ an old friend could be good for him.” 

“He’s still got plenty of friends here he can see,” you let the smoke out to drift off in the gentle wind rustling through the line of trailers and mobile homes, “I don’t think I need to be one of them.” 

“Well, they’re gonna have a small after party at The Hideout tomorrow,” he offers, “Even if you just wanna do somethin’ fun. I never see you goin’ out anymore.” 

You laugh, “You work at night, what do you mean you don’t see me goin’ out anymore? I go out plenty.” 

His eyes linger on you, enough to encourage a thoughtful sigh – you might as well humor him. 

“I’ll think about it, okay?” you toss your half finished cigarette onto the browned grass before looking back up at him.

“Okay,” he smiles, eyes sparkling as he makes his way back inside. 

You spend the next day deliberating between making it to the bar or not, putting in the effort to get ready and showing up. Why bother? Just to sit awkwardly in the corner while everyone flocks to the boys and tells them how great they are? They already know they’re great, they’re crawling higher and higher up the ladder. 

You haven’t even talked to Eddie since the morning he left your trailer, and Wayne knows that. He knows how bad you hurt his nephew because he came over to talk to you a week after Eddie went to California and stayed for good. ‘So why should I show my face there? So I can relive the moment he made a fool of me over again?’ You think while the hot water of the shower glides over your shoulders and down your chest. 

‘Maybe it’ll be good to make amends or something, I at least owe it to the guys,’ you figure silently while you slather on some moisturizer at the bathroom sink. And you did – not seeing Eddie meant not seeing the rest of the band. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were your friends too, and you sort of broke up with them in the same instance. Sasha moved out to California with them soon after – it would be nice to catch up at least. You hadn’t seen her since that night. 

‘But why would I want to bother? So I can see that engagement ring on her finger and hear her talk about her wedding plans?’ you swallow sourly while you use a touch of your lipstick as blush on the apples of your cheeks. ‘Remember all the times you thought you and Ed were gonna get married? Hilarious.’ 

Before you know it, it’s 11:30 and you’re standing outside of the sticky and stickered covered door of The Hideout. Even from where you’re standing the bar is a buzz like a hive, energy inside like a livewire when you get into the entryway, showing your ID to the bouncer at the inside door. 

‘Small after party my ass, Wayne,’ you think to yourself when you get in, shrugging off your coat. There was barely room to move and most of the lights were off or dimmed aside from the small stage in the back. By the looks of it, they must’ve played a small set – an intimate ‘home base’ concert for the real hometown fans. You push through some of the crowd, acrid smoke haze hovering over the room. A single bar stool sits empty at the end of the counter close to the wall and before you can think about it, you beeline straight there before someone else can grab it. Not that anyone would be able to see it through the six couples making out to Slayer blasting through the speakers. 

The bar tender notices you soon after, coming over to get your order while his two cohorts speedily pour shots and mix drinks. You almost don’t want to get anything just to make the night easier, but opt for a beer instead. 

“How much?” you ask over the music. 

“WHAT?” the bartender shouts, holding a hand to his ear. 

“HOW MUCH?” you yell back. 

“ON THE HOUSE. BAND IS COVERING DRINKS,” he shouts back. You take a few dollars out while he pours your beer anyway, sliding it across the bar with a smile. He smiles back, pocketing the ones with a wink before helping another person leaning over the bar. 

The TV takes your attention, a tape of their recent interviews and music videos playing on a loop with no sound. The beer is almost comforting as it passes over your tongue, it’s been some time since you just sat in a busy bar – and for the most part, no one here even knows you. For the most part. 

A call of your name snaps you back to reality, looking around to see exactly who you thought you would. Sasha. And low and behold a ring sparkles bright on her finger, a breathtakingly big diamond glittering in the neon lights behind the bar. 

“Hey!” you call back with a smile, sick crawling up your throat. You watch as she fights the crowd to get over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug while you stay seated on the stool. 

“How have you been? You look gorgeous,” Sasha’s tan skin glows back orange in green while the lights change, tight dark curls bouncing prettily around her face. 

“I’ve been good!” you nod, your voice hardly sounds like your own, “Y’know just – hanging around Hawkins. How’s LA? How’ that ring?!” 

She holds her hand out so you can really see it, her skin is warm in yours while you take her fingers. It’s more beautiful up close, the marquise diamond flanked by two smaller triangles in perfect harmony. 

“He did so good, Sash,” you giggle. 

“I slapped his arm so hard when I saw it,” she laughs, “I said, ‘Jeff we could’ve bought a freakin’ house!’ but you know how he is.” 

“I do, I do,” you nod, “Did you set a date?” 

“Probably not for another year or so if we do a big wedding,” she shrugs, “Maybe a little longer? We think it’s smart to actually buy a house first – with this kind of money coming in. And y’know, the industry is, uh, well, it can be wishy washy. What’s in today could be out tomorrow. We wanna be smart.” 

“Well thank god he’s marrying someone like you then,” you tease. 

“That’s true,” she beams, “Do the guys know you’re here? I can go grab J–”

“No, no, they don’t,” you interrupt, taking her arm gently while she turns to leave, “You don’t have to tell them I’m here. I’ll go find them, I promise.” 

Sasha gives you a half hearted smile, “Okay. Well – We’re sitting over by the stage if you wanna come say hi to the guys. Gareth would lose his mind, and Grant brought his new girl with him, she’s so cool. They met in LA and she’s like, got the sickest punky-goth type of thing about her.” 

“I love that he’s in love,” you gush. 

“Me too,” she nods, “The girls are obsessed with him out there.” 

There’s a silence, but it’s knowing – still one person yet to have been mentioned but you both seem to understand it’s not worth bringing it up. Sasha reminds you that they’re by the stage, giving her a wave while she disappears in the throngs of people in the crowd. 

Half way through your second beer and a couple of random conversations with people later, you see him in glimpses while people pass by. You can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s flirting, and when more people move and re-disperse, settling, you see glimpses of her, too. Some cute young looking thing, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was her twenty-first birthday. All doe eyed and giggly while he leans over her against the wall near the booths. I guess whoever he’s seeing in California isn’t too important.

He looks good, healthy, you can tell his clothes are tailored now – sort of comical that a tailor would fit and adjust ripped jeans and an old leather jacket. Not that he has to know you think it’s funny. 

Eddie leans forward and lets his finger tap her on the nose, a tell-tale sign of his that they’ll kiss later. He’s used that move on you more times than you can count. He did it the night you met, tipsy at a party at Gareth’s – tapped you on the nose, making you scrunch it. 

‘Aw, if I knew you’d make a face like that I would’ve booped you way earlier.’ 

‘What do you mean? What face?’ You scrunch again. 

‘That face,’ he bites his lower lip, blush on his cheeks, ‘It’s a cute face.’

You expected it to hurt more, to watch him active in his element; but it doesn’t. You know the motions, you know his tells, he next move. You can see it in the way he leans into her and then leans away – almost kissing her, but leaving her wanting more. You smirk into your next sip, counting down the moments until he puts their conversation on pause to do their rounds and finding her again later. Gotta keep her yearning, you guess. He certainly was always good at things like that. 

You don’t see their reunion, you assume it was somewhere near the stage where the band and Sasha were. At the end of the night, the boys play a goodnight mini-set, just three songs. You’d never seen Ed so in his zone in your life, fully basking in the glow of upcoming stardom. Every chord and every lyric punching out of him like the sweat pouring from his hairline and chest. This was what you wanted, what you told him to do. 

Go be famous. And here he was. Famous. Just like you said he would be. 

Water takes the place of your beer while they play; and you know better than to get up and join the crowd. Much happier sitting at the end of the now more empty bar just listening instead of getting potentially punched or tussled with amongst the bodies. 

People take their time leaving when the set is over, shrugging on their coats to brave the cold weather. 

‘Thanks for comin’ out to celebrate with us – now get the fuck out so our buddies at the bar can go home before four!’ 

You savor the conversations and music settling down to a much quieter murmur while you sketch on a napkin. A few people you shared niceties with tap your shoulder to say goodbye, new friends you’ll never see again. On the other end of the bar you hear Grant and his girl order a round of shots. Your head almost pops up at the sound of his voice, but that might bring attention to you that you don’t think you really want. Now that the night is over, you’re glad you came. If anything, just to see that they were making it just fine – and they would have with or without you. 

With less people in the bar you can hear Sasha’s laugh in the back where the stage is, and you laugh into your napkin turned sketchpad. Her laugh was always infectious, enough to make the crowd follow suit. You grab a fresh napkin from the pile next to you and start to doodle again while you figure out how to best leave without anyone catching wise that you’re here. Out of the last twenty people left at the bar, a little more than half knew who you were.

The tap of the pen on the bar top while you think blends in with the tinkling of hardware that gets a little louder the closer it gets to you. A squish of leather and drag of a barstool later makes you privy that someone’s next to you. Spiced cologne and sweat sheened skin. 

“You come here often?” 

Slowly, you turn your head – level with brown eyes you haven’t looked in for a year, just in the glossy pages of magazines you’d leave behind at the grocery store or Melvald’s. 

“I used to,” you offer a quiet tired smile, leaning your chin on your hand on the bar, “It’s been a while.” 

Eddie smiles back, soft, cautious, “Yeah, same for me.” 

You both don’t speak for a moment, adjusting yourselves on the barstools while a few more people head out to leave. The jingle of the door fades out, crunches of the parting patrons’ sneakers and boots in the snow sound outside.

He clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him – the curls of his hair, the slight stubble on his jaw and cheeks. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment before he turns his chest toward you. 

“Can I uh, can I get you a drink?” 

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Your Friendly Neighbor

Pairing: John “Soap” Mactavish x introvert!reader

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, horrible Scottish (I tried), Soap mainly goes by John

Words: 3k

Synopsis: Soap comes home from leave and realizes he has a new neighbor…

Based off this post by @fortunatelyuniquepeach check it out. basically just Soap with an introverted/shy/maybe social anxiety reader

You are currently reading part one

Soap didn’t particularly like going back home when he was on leave. 

Nothing was wrong with the neighborhood he lived in, in fact, it was picture perfect compared to the shit he’s seen in the countries he’s been deployed to. The neighbors were nice to him whenever he was home, especially since it was a very small neighborhood with only a handful of people living in it, rent was affordable and the place wasn’t falling apart, and the neighborhood was quite beautiful as well as quiet. 

For most people, this was their dream place of living. A good neighborhood to bring up a family and perhaps get away from the everyday stress that was life; being surrounded by kind people and the ability to walk to a few local pubs without issue, sounded like it was straight out of a fairytale. A lot of people would kill to live in a place like this.

Soap hated it.

He didn’t hate the people who lived around him, don’t mistake him, but the lack of movement and noise cut through him more than any bullet could. He was used to the chaos of a battlefield, used to the violence of war that killed men without mercy and the constant bloodshed that surrounded him. 

The apple pie life just wasn’t who he was anymore.

He always told himself that he didn’t belong in the calm and quiet life of normalcy and believed that it wasn’t for him either, not after what he’s seen. He belonged on the battlefield, covered in someone else’s blood.

“John, you’ve been working out here all morning!” Ms. Brown, one of Soap’s elderly neighbors who watched his flat for him when he was gone, scolded him as she stepped out on her porch. “You just got back.”

“I’m almost done.” Soap smiled up at her as he wiped the sweat from his brow. 

He was dirty from the sweat and grass covering him from having mowed her entire lawn the moment he had put his things down in his flat. He had been too worked up and wired from work still but her lawn needed to be done, so instead of taking the rest he needed, he went to work.

“I’ll get your money.” Ms. Brown said and he quickly shook his head.

“S’alright-”

Ms. Brown was gone before he could even finish his sentence and he couldn’t help but frown as he realized that he was going to be forced to accept money he didn’t want. He could never try to justify “stealing” money from an old woman even after he decided to become an impromptu landscaper.

He sighed, wiping the sweat off his face with his shirt before he pulled the lawnmower into the garage. He tried his hardest to clean himself up while sweeping the grass off the pathway, but the cut blades stuck to him like glue no matter how many times he tried to shake off his clothes or smack it off his hands.

Soap would’ve used the hose to wash himself, and nearly did, if he hadn’t been distracted by a car driving by. Normally he wouldn’t have thought anything of it but the car turned into the driveway of the flat that was right next to his, the one that hadn’t had anyone living in it the entire time he's lived in his flat.

He had a new neighbor.

He was expecting someone much older than you, since almost the entire neighborhood was made up of the elderly, but when you stepped out of the car he couldn’t help but stare at you with wide eyes.

You were young, probably the same age as him, and quite good looking, though he was just more focused on the fact that someone had moved in beside him and he didn’t even know. 

You were oblivious to him as you walked to the back of your car and opened the trunk. You began to pull out groceries, stacking as many of them on your arms as you can, and dropped them on your doorstep. You were trying to make it one trip, but there were just too many and before Soap had even realized it, he was crossing the street. Before he knew it he was standing behind you.

“When’d ye move in?” He greeted you a little loudly.

You nearly dropped the groceries in your hands as you stared at him with wide eyes. You took him in, looking at the sweat and grease stains covering his clothes along with the mass amounts of grass stuck to him, including in the shaggy mohawk that sat on top of his head.

You looked uncertain and caught off guard especially as he leaned closer to you.

He couldn’t help it. He was too curious for his own good and up this close he could see how beautiful you really were. He tried not to stare, he could see you glancing away from him awkwardly as if you were trying to find a way out of the sudden conversation you were put in, but he was strangely enamored by you.

You opened your mouth a few times trying to find the right words to say as he waited patiently for you to say something.

“...Last week?” You answered in a soft tone as you stared at him.

“Oh, well I’m yer neighbor right next to ya.” He gestured to the other flat. “We share a wall, I just got back this mornin’, must’ve been after you left.”

You nodded as he continued to explain how he could’ve missed you this morning, though you weren’t catching most of it. In fact, you were having a hard time understanding what exactly he was saying and you could only catch a few words here and there, making it so you had to piece together what he was saying.

You stood there and shifted on your feet as you glanced at your flat a few times.

The more he spoke, the more confused you looked but Soap was too caught up in talking to you that he didn’t notice. What he did notice however, was that you were starting to struggle to hold the groceries in your hands so he immediately turned his attention to it.

“Need help?” He offered, gesturing to the groceries in your hands. “Here.”

Before you could really even protest, he took the groceries in your hands, and the rest in your car, and walked towards your front door without struggle. He picked up the ones that you had placed down by the door as well, not at all bothered by the weight of the straps against his skin as he waited for you to let him.

“Do ya like the neighborhood?” He wondered as you came up and unlocked the front door to your flat. 

“It’s nice.” You stepped inside your apartment. “Everyone’s friendly.”

You went to take the groceries back from him but Soap instead stepped inside with a flash of a smile, leaving you staring at him completely dumbfounded. You weren’t particularly looking for a chat, especially when you were still in the moving process.

Soap glanced at all of the boxes still stacked in your flat and the disarray of items strewn across every surface. He didn’t really pay much attention to it as he wandered into the kitchen and set the groceries down on the counters, waiting for you as he took in your flat.

Standing inside your kitchen gave him a strange feeling, a better strange feeling, than his entire flat ever could. Maybe it was because he hadn’t really stepped inside his flat or maybe it was because yours looked far more lived in than his. There was personality, your personality, everywhere and he could just imagine you piddling around making a lot more noise than he ever could by himself.

You’d make lunch and maybe sit in the living room, maybe even put something on the telly while you do it, filling up the empty space with life. How often would you do laundry and does your washer squeak the same way his does when he puts a load in it?

He wasn’t sure why the thought of you doing normal things in your own flat made him feel warm on the inside but he quickly pushed it away when you stepped into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry about the mess…” You trailed off as you gestured to the many boxes stacked in the kitchen. 

“Movin’s a hassle.” He dismissed you, completely unbothered and in fact feeling more happy about it than anything else.

Soap expected you to say something but you didn’t. He watched as you stood in front of him while you fidgeted with your keys between your fingers while you awkwardly avoided eye contact with him. The silence dragged on and expected you to do something about it, to start unloading your groceries to where they needed to be but you shifted on your feet as if you were debating on doing it.

He watched you for a moment, not really understanding why you were being so quiet when he finally came to his senses.

The fact that Ms. Brown had failed to mention to him this morning that you had moved in, said enough about how much you spoke to the neighbors so of course you were going to be a little awkward when he had basically barged inside you home to help you, in good faith, when you most likely had just wanted to be alone.

He couldn’t help the slight burning feeling he felt across the back of his neck before he ran a hand through his shaggy mohawk.

“I’m John, by the way.” He outstretched his hand for you to take with a warm smile. “Forgot to introduce myself when I was helping ya.”

You introduced yourself and very hesitantly took his hand to shake. He didn’t squeeze or shake very hard despite the fact that having your softer hand against his making him involuntarily smile as a shiver nearly ran up his spine. 

He definitely didn’t want to scare you off now or make things worse between the two of you when you were going to be neighbors for the foreseeable future. He wasn’t too worried however, if he could make Ghost forgive him for the many times he did the same thing, then he could make it up to you.

“I got excited, ya know? Seeing that I had a new neighbor and forgot that not everyone’s as chatty as me.”

“It’s okay…thank you for helping with the groceries.”

Soap nodded and stopped himself from saying anything else so he could give you the peace you wanted. He went to make his way out of the kitchen, about to give you a goodbye, when his boot connected with a bucket full of water that sat in front of the sink.

His eyebrows knitted together when he looked down to see that there were a bunch of damp towels also sitting on the floor by the sink as well. He crouched down to see that the pipe was in fact broken with a large crack in it.

“I’ve been meaning to call somebody.” You said but Soap tutted and shook his head.

“Ah, no, let me. I’ll pop over, get my tools and fix ya up.” He turned to look at you with a grin without even thinking about it. “Free of charge.”

You chewed on your lip and looked as if you wanted to protest but you didn’t, which made him smile even more.

He rushed over to his flat in no time, unsure of why he was really this eager to help you out, and grabbed his tools. Before you knew it, he was underneath your sink fixing the pipe as if this was his job rather than the heinous shit he has done over the years. 

There was a smile stuck on his face as you put your groceries away while he worked. He wasn’t sure why, even as he chatted your ear off about the neighborhood, not expecting you to reply but not wanting to end the conversation with you. 

The little hums of interest and short replies from you were enough for him to keep him going. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Ghost but you were much different, a lot warmer and less rough around the edges which was more inviting than his lieutenant but not any less interesting to speak to. There was so much he wanted to know about you, so much he wanted to ask but he stopped himself because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Got any friends here yet?” He wondered and peered at you from under the sink.

“I haven’t really had the time.” You looked a little unsure, maybe even embarrassed as you avoided looking at him.

“Well I’ll be around for a little while, so we’ve got plenty of time.”

You stared at him with knitted eyebrows and opened your mouth to say something as he checked to make sure the patch job held up even though he was confident it would. He ran the water in the sink and frowned when it was ice cold against his fingers, sending you a quick disapproving glance as if you had neglected to tell him about it.

“Gonna freeze yourself to death with that.” He shook his head and made his way to the water heater.

“You really don’t have to-”

“You’re off your head for thinking I’ll leave you without hot water.”

Soap was quick with fixing up your water heater and made sure to make it as hot as possible without racking up your bills. Seeing the grateful and relieved look in your eyes when tested the water made his chest warm with pride.

He would’ve stayed to chat your ear off more, he didn’t want this to be the only time he saw you or got to speak with you. He hoped that you wouldn’t close yourself off in your flat or only give him short polite answers if he ever caught you outside, he didn’t want that.

He wanted much more from you, a lot more than just being neighbors who occasionally waved at each other and that was it.

“My work here’s done.” He hid his disappointment behind a wink that made you swallow hard. “For now.”

“Thank you so much.” You gave him a small, but genuine smile that had him staring at your lips for a little longer than he should. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothin’.”

“I can’t not pay you.”

Soap chuckled and shook his head. There was no way in hell he would ever think to take your money, no matter how pretty you looked when you gave him a pleading look as if you wanted to burn your hard earned cash on something like this. He could tell that you weren’t going to take no as an answer but he was prepared for something like that.

He hummed and asked for a piece of paper and a pen. When you gave him something, he quickly scribbled his number down on it and gave it to you, stifling a laugh when you looked up at him surprised.

“If ya really want to pay me, call me when ya need help or when ya want to chat.” He offered and you stared intensely at the piece of paper. “No sense in keeping yourself lonely ‘specially here, Ms. Brown won’t let ya.”

“Thank you, John.” You smiled again.

Soap wasn’t sure why hearing his name come out of your mouth made him feel…different. He didn’t throw his call sign around in this neighborhood, that’s what everyone here knew him as, and yet the moment the name slipped off your tongue it was like he had been pulled back into reality.

Suddenly he was all too aware of the fact that he hadn’t given himself a break since he got back. Exhaustion pulled on his muscles and on his mind, there was nothing buzzing inside of his mind that told him he had to keep working.

It made him tense up. He didn’t like that, he didn’t want to stop moving, he had to do something or else he was sure he would fall apart at the seams.

“I’ll see you around, hen.” He kept a smile on his face, hiding the knots in his stomach.

Before long he was standing in the middle of his living room, unsure of what to do. 

There was too much quiet in his flat that the noise inside of his head completely took over his senses. It was consuming him every second he stared at the floor while he fidgeted with his fingers as if the stimulation would provide some sort of comfort. 

It choked him, making it harder to breathe as he found himself stuck frozen in his own flat as if something had locked him there to torture him until he would eventually find himself too exhausted to even think anymore. He couldn’t even go into his room to get his journal to write down the endless thoughts running through his mind, the dark and disgusting thoughts that made him feel like a wolf among sheep.

He needed something, anything to keep him from spiraling and yet-

A crash from the other side of the wall and the sound of you cursing to yourself abruptly brought him out of his head.

He blinked a few times, the tension leaving his body as he left out a few deep breaths which filled his lungs with air that seemed to go into his veins and cleanse him of whatever dirtiness that had filled them. 

You made another noise and he looked at your shared wall, imagining that you were most likely unpacking again. You must’ve dropped something and he hoped that it was nothing valuable but he couldn’t have been more grateful for the fact that you had made some kind of noise. 

In fact, the more you moved around in your flat, your footsteps muffled as you walked around, the more at ease he felt because it filled up that dreaded quiet he had come to hate so much. 

He’s not sure how long he stayed there just listening to you, but he was sure he looked like an idiot with the soft smile he had on his face.

Being home didn’t seem too bad anymore.

Link to part 2

A/N: Not my best work but that's okay. This might turn into a mini series? Might make it a three parter who knows. First time really writing for Soap so I'm sorry if he seems a little off character, hopefully I'll get better at him <3

Tags: @cathnoneofyourbusiness @lillianastuff @sofasoap

[neoarchipelago]

So I got to reading some facts about red pandas cuz y'all got me back on the redpanda!reader AU!

They sleep like 2/3 of the day and they sleep with their tails snuggled around their bodies like a blanket.

So like. Hybrid reader gets a lot sleepy during the day. Don't get me wrong, she's extremely efficient when she's awake but she'll often nap, anytime anywhere. On the plane back on the evac. While finishing a report, on the couch after a training and sometimes in the gym behind some training mats.

Random places anytime. When the boys don't know where you are they know you're probably sleeping. But the awful stress they got the first few times as they didn't know where you had decided to fall asleep this time was too much to bear.

"what's this..?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"it's a chipped tag." Price said. The man standing around, arms crossed.

"what?" You frowned.

"it'll track you at all times. In case we need to find you." Ghost said.

"you're gps tracking me??" You let out, now feeling slightly annoyed.

"don't get on the table... Calm down" Gaz reassured.

You felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

"listen bonnie. We spent 2 hours looking for you last time. You fell asleep in a tank!" Soap argued.

You opened your mouth but Price was faster.

"no. No discussion. Either that or your start sleeping in the dorms. Everytime."

"but... I don't control it... I get sleepy... And then I just nap."

"then I don't want to hear it."

Now you just keep it on you all the time. If it isn't a member of the base notifying Price of your new sleeping spot, they knew where you were.

Now the thing about all these little sleeping episodes. Is that what they started to understand. You needed those power naps. Being in the military didn't let you sleep as much as your hybrid body wanted to. So they often indulge you. You get cranky but mostly overworked. Tiredness eating at you if you go a full day without at least two power naps.

Compared to your kind, it's almost as if you didn't sleep at all!

Now they let you sleep in their arms, against their shoulders. You had been incredibly touched one day, as you were trying to focus through the blurriness of your tired eyes on an incident report, seeing the boys walk in with a blanket.

"You took a nap this afternoon?" Gaz questioned.

"on the couch lass! Nap nap!" Soap chimed.

Another thing is the way you sleep. You had first hid yourself away when you met the boys. Sleeping spots into dark corners or only your dorm. But the first time Gaz found you sleeping on an old office couch, he couldn't stop smiling. How you found this abandoned office was a mystery. But the way you were curled on the cushion, tail in between your legs as you held it like a pillow against you, face on the tip.

He bit his tongue, trying not to let a sound out at how cute he found you. He had left, only texting the team to let them know where you were.

Then it was on a particularly hard mission. The first time you had actually slept near the boys, nothing separating you. The small one room safehouse not giving anyone any privacy.

The boys had noticed your sleepy eyes closing themselves as they tried to chat about what they'd do once they'd be home, evac fishing them up the next morning.

You were eventually lulled to sleep by their deep voice, talking in a low tone. Wrapping yourself up again, tail around your curled body, ear twitching at the lack of their voices as they noticed it. The boys were in awe. Gaz admitted he had already witnessed it before. Soap immediately took a picture, Ghost smacking the back of his head before grunting.

"Send it to me..."

You were standing on a humvee three days later, having found out their phone wallpapers was a picture of you sleeping. Your red face as you scolded them from your high ground, the four men standing arms crossed looking up at you, too amused for your own taste.

[backwzzds]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ RORONOA ZORO AS A FATHER…

zoro would be one those fathers that most people assume would be terrible, but unsurprisingly, he’s very good with kids, as told canonically.

he’ll only have one daughter. he can’t handle anymore brats.

when your daughter was born, he’d bought up possibly naming her after his late childhood best friend. you knew how much she meant to him, so it was no problem making sure your daughter carried on her name, and hopefully her future dream. roronoa kuina.

lots of people assume zoro’s a strict dad, but most days, he’s pretty chilled back.

he came off as not having any interest in learning how to do kuina’s type 3-4 hair, but when you secretly caught him watching a youtube video as he practiced on one of your wig mannequins you knew he wanted to learn from the start

when kuina’s a toddler, you teach him how to do simple styles on her hair. to detangle from the bottom, always make sure her hair was moisturized, and just learn the small things about her. like how she was tenderheaded—something she inevitably inherited from you.

he’ll take her to get braids from the african aunties whenever you’re busy or stuck at work. kuina, already knowing the routine would sit on the chair and zoro’s big body would be squeezed between two parents talking on the phone for nearly nine hours straight, occasionally heading out to grab some food for himself and kuina. the things he would do for that girl.

kuina would be in the big chair swinging her little feet as she watched youtube video’s on her daddy’s phone. she’d always smile at the fact that you were his lock screen and she was his home screen—a picture of him coddling with her to sleep when she was just a baby. lord knows how much them two love they sleep!

he’d be so overprotective, he would teach kuina her parents’ full name, address, emergency phone numbers, and everything in between by the time she’s 6. no stranger would ever had a chance to mess with the daughter of roronoa zoro.

despite his off putting (and quite rude) personality, he’d be the best one to give advice. only to you and his little kuina though. most wouldnt even consider it advice, but baby kuina always loved it when her daddy told her what he thinks she should do in a troubling situation.

“papa what do you think i should do?” the little girl frowns. “i really think i hurt the girl’s feelings. but i didn’t mean to!”

zoro pops his one good eye open from its closed resting position as he sat on the couch with his arms folded. “are you sorry?”

kuina gives him solemn eyes and nods her head. “really sorry.”

with a quick whit, zoro answers straight, “apologize. don’t make the situation about you. she’s the one you hurt, make sure she realizes that you know that.”

kuina allows her father’s words to sink in her brain in order to fully process everything he’d said. when a bright idea comes to her head, she wraps her arms around her father and places a wet kiss on his cheek, yelling, “thank you papa!” before skipping off to make amends with her friend.

would sueprise teachers and parents when he shows up to some PTA’s alone. you were caught up at work, so zoro took up parental volunteering opportunities on his own. of course, he only did these things for you and kuina, so he didn’t care that the single parents were eye goggling him with lust. not when kuina bragged to all her friends about how cool her dad was.

zoro tries to create an emotion-based home. he doesn’t want kuina growing up in a cold home like you and him did, so he always made it his best to publicly express his emotions or whatever he was feeling at home. he made sure kuina saw him love on you in order to see and know that her parents always loved each other—not just for show—and made sure that she knew it was okay to express her own emotions because she was a lot like him, more than he’d have liked.

when he catches kuina stiffile in her cry about him having to miss a chunk of her school play due to a very heinous and reaosnable excuse (traffic was a bitch), he pulls her off to the side and allows her space to express how she feels.

“you can cry. it’s okay to cry, marimo.” zoro kneels down to kuina’s height as she hangs her head low, too embarrassed to look up and reveal her tears. the one bond they had, was him calling her marimo because if you looked at the both of them—they were damn near identical twins. you were convinced your genes didn’t even fucking try to make it to the egg on time. only he could call her that though. that was their thing.

zoro gives her a genuine apology. he hated seeing his pretty princess cry, but he knew she had to do it. “i’m sorry. i got here as quick as i could, hm? i’d never miss anything about you on purpose.”

at the sound of her father’s soft voice, kuina looks up and wipes away some of her tears. “you promise papa?” her voice is sultry as you wipe at your back, heart warming at the beautiful wholesome interaction between the two.

behind zoro’s back were a mini bouquet of flowers and candy. “course i do kid. c’mere, i’m gonna make it up to you.”

lord knows zoro wasn’t the best father. he didn’t even think he was a good father—this was all new to him. but sometimes, he’d liked to believe that what he was doing in the present was enough to give kuina the future he never got to have.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 5

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

-🐺-

You fought back a sneeze, eyes going teary as your body pathetically fought the sand that had risen and invaded the wind. Suddenly you were finding yourself wishing for the ridiculous glasses that Ghost and the rest of the boys had been wearing earlier. Though you recognised that even if you had some of those monstrosities, it’d do you no good by that point. There was barely enough light to see by, the little half moon above was winking down and barely casting much of a glow over the night sky. 

Price had dragged you all into a briefing room earlier that day and gave you all the run down on a new target, Razin, a man suspected of manufacturing bombs for the militia you were after. From there you were shown pictures of him, raising your brows at his scrawny features, and given a little intel about the town you were now stalking through. Even at the time you’d quietly groaned at the mention of the little desert town, you hated having to put up with the sand getting caught in your fur and eyes, not to mention how it made it so much more difficult to scent things as well. 

The only benefit of the place was that the houses were small and usually that meant that there wouldn't be very much to sweep. That is if it weren’t built over a tunnel or extensive secret basement, which Price was heavily theorising could be a possibility. 

From what you’d been shown it was only supposed to be two floors tall, with a roof that allowed for people to be positioned on top of it, set against the backdrop of the rocky hills beyond. It was close to the outskirts of town but still enclosed by other houses, positioned on the side that crept nearest to the small river that snaked nearby before disappearing into the rocky outcrops beyond. It would’ve been a sweet little place if it weren’t owned by the chef boyardee of bombs. 

“Y’good, Pup?” Ghost murmured through the comms.

You looked over at the spot you knew he was positioned at, secreted away on the balcony to the right of you with his rifle, and huffed out a breath. Define ‘good’, you thought. It’d been a while since you’d been so far away from him. Now that you’d been hiding out by the open window for a few hours at least, you’d been blasted with sand and bored to death enough to make you want to cling desperately onto your handler’s leg and beg him to go home. 

“Affirmative,” you whispered back instead.

“Good. We’ve got movement on the road outside of town - you two might be set to move soon, so get ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you answered. 

You rolled your tired shoulders and looked over at Soap, noting that his dark eyes were still flitting from the target location and to you, watching carefully like a fretful horse. He still looked barely more comfortable left alone with you than when you first arrived. The man had been none too pleased when Ghost explained his plan on arrival, frowning when he was told about your little team up. Couldn’t be helped when Soap was the best equipped to deal with explosives and someone had to play sniper and keep watch.

Of course Soap had continued to train with you in the week leading up to then, slowly getting better at not flinching whenever you got close to him. However he’d never had to be around you without Ghost as a buffer yet. Now that it was just you both in the small room across from the house, he was the most tense that you’d ever seen him. Not that he was trying to be obvious about it, he clearly felt he was being sly with his darting looks and slow sighs. For that you gave him some slack. 

“I’m thinking the window on the right side is the best entry point for me,” you said, looking meaningfully across at him. “I can sweep the first floor while you go around to the side door and I can make sure it's unlocked for you.”

“You wanna go in alone?” Soap questioned, narrowing his eyes at the house.

“It’s what war dogs are for,” you shrugged. “No point waiting for you to come in with me, I can get in and check the place out quietly before you come clomping in.”

“I don’t clomp,” Soap snorted, giving you a withering look. 

“Sure, tell that to all your heavy gear and your big boots. Trust me, if I go in and get a feel for the place then I can tell who or what we need to watch out for before we go sniffing out the target.”

“And you say ‘What’ meaning?” he questioned.

“Other hybrids, bombs, guns…etcetera,” you listed, shifting your sights to the window you’d pointed out.  

“You can tell all that just from going in and getting a whiff of the front room?” he asked dryly. 

“Well I can’t give exact information, but I can give a good guess. It’s just like when we’ve been training, if you let me get ahead of you then I can check the place out first and let you know what you’re up against. That’s how I keep myself useful.” 

“Ghost, you good with that?” Soap asked doubtfully, frowning over at the balcony from the corners of your vision. 

“The house has been quiet enough,” Ghost noted. “If Pup wants to go in first, I trust their judgement.”

“Pup’s way it is then,” Soap grunted, almost absolving himself of anything that might happen. “I’ll wait for you to open the door, furball.”

You nodded your head, forcing down your instinct to growl, keeping your focus on the window instead. You’d show him who was a fucking furball. 

This was it. It wasn’t lost on you that this job would prove to the team that you could be an asset - not just a stupid wolf that ploughed through training exercises. Someone that could be used as an effective tool if given the chance.

This was your chance. You anxiously ran your hands down your vest, breathing in measured lungfuls of air while you took stock of your inventory and grounded yourself. There were three knives held securely in the right side, new ones that Ghost had gotten for you ahead of the mission, and a small first aid kit and canteen stashed in the main pockets on your left. You were wearing your gloves, and your ear protection was on and looped round your ears, the rubber circlets had thankfully stopped feeling as aggravating against your fur now that they’d been on for a few hours. They always pressed up so uncomfortably against your helmet, though it was always better to face a little discomfort than being killed by a shot you might’ve avoided. 

“The car’s approaching the building, this is it.”

The old guard troupe would be coming out and a new one would be entering, however as the intelligence operatives had noted in their previous findings, the 2am group would never get to their posts on time. They'd opt instead to routinely drink and talk shit on the roof, presumably thinking that Eugene wouldn’t know about it, and would stick around for roughly a half hour before sluggishly making their way to where they should be - giving you and Soap time to get in, search for your target and hopefully get out before anyone was any the wiser. 

You heard the engine grumbling through the winding streets long before it reached the other side of the house, but as soon as the headlights illuminated the street over, they cut almost instantly with the noise. Doors slammed and snide voices carried out into the night, mingling together in two distinct groups, one set growly and tired and the others playful and light. It was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying, but you were sure that the group leaving were probably being very obvious about how happy they were to be getting the fuck out. 

“G’on, Pup,” Ghost murmured. “Make me proud.”

You shook your head and paid no more mind to the group on the other side, you were going to move forward out of view of them anyway. With Ghost’s encouragement strengthening your confidence, you were eager to press on. You nodded your head toward Soap as a ‘see you in there’ gesture and jumped out the window, stealing your way through the street and into the next window ahead. It was easy for you to spring up, tilting your tail a little to the left so that it wouldn’t smack against the frame.

As soon as you were inside you spotted the dancing shadows of the men toward the front of the building and found a decent hiding spot behind a side wall to wait in so that the new group of guards could pass by you. Your tail swished idly as you waited for them to come in and your ears twitched, listening out and rotating like little satellites as you took in your surroundings. The livingroom and kitchen were all one room, but there was a hallway to the bottom left that would allow entry into the house and up to the stairs beyond. 

The guard opened the door before long, letting the cool air breathe a sigh into the house, and luckily they trudged up the stairs in short order. Their steps were muffled and soft, attempting to be light so that their boss wouldn’t be alerted. You heard them all the same. Your ears could pick up so much more than any of theirs could, which means you knew the exact moment you were safe to launch yourself to the other side of the room and get the door for Soap. He raised his brows at you when you made a sweeping motion with your hand to welcome him in. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he whispered. “How many guests we got?”

“We got about six men tonight I think. No hybrids - you’ll be glad to know,” you said just as quietly, grinning when you caught his guilty wince. “Can smell the explosives, think Price was right on his basement theory, they don’t seem like they’re upstairs.”

“Y’hear that Ghost?” Soap said, purposefully looking away from you. 

“Copy. I’ll keep an eye on the guards, you two track down that sly bastard,” Ghost answered, growly voice tickling your ears.

“Lead the way the way then, Pup.”

You nodded and lifted your head in the air, getting a good feel for the scent trail then turned toward the hall. The plastics clung at your nose and tugged you toward the stairs, but you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you needed to get below. Every instinct was telling you that you needed to go there, that someone’s steps had passed over them, but they hadn’t ascended. 

A soft growl tore itself from you. You needed to get closer to the source. You knelt down and took a tentative sniff of the floor, the steps creaked lowly like a clearing throat as you shifted your weight onto them. Bingo.

“The fuck are you doin’?” Soap hissed. 

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sweetly. 

“The nose knows,” you shrugged. 

“What’re you on about?”

Soap’s eyes were so wide you thought he might explode. You would’ve giggled if you weren’t conscious of how much noise you’d made already. No, it was important to try to be as quiet as possible in those next few seconds. 

You hooked your fingers onto the first step and pulled up, huffing out a breath as they turned out to be heavier than expected. Though in seconds the first three steps came away and rose up, revealing a concealed stairway below - leading down to the dingy basement. The smell continued through the shadows, air thick with that heavy plastic smell. 

“Fuck me,” Soap breathed. “You can smell secret entrances as well?”

“Oh yeah, they always smell fishy,” you smirked. 

“Jesus. Ghost’s humour is rubbin’ off on you,'' he groaned.

He had a point. Normally you weren’t one for pointless chatter, but you were in your element that day and after training so much with your new team you felt more relaxed than usual. Of course you weren’t operating under the assumption that Soap would be diving in front of bullets for you, but at the very least he had your back. 

“We’re heading underground, Ghost. See ya on the other side,” Soap noted, patting you on the shoulder just like Ghost normally would. 

You felt your tail give a slight swish against the backs of your legs. 

“Copy that, Sergeant,” Ghost confirmed.

Ghost was quiet compared to usual, focused on his targets you figured. It spurred you on to focus too. You quietly slipped forward down the stairway, nose raised in the air as you proceeded. Soap followed at your rear, quietly closing the stairway and bathing you both in almost pitch darkness. There was only a little light to see by, its source hidden round the corner. Things smelled and sounded clear, but nonetheless you braced, ready to duck and dive if you needed to. 

When you turned the corner however, there was no need for any quick exits. There was just another hallway with some candles stuck in hastily hammered in holders, the flames lazily flickering as the stale air kept them standing bolt upright. You frowned and pressed ahead, boots softly pressing into the runner carpets until you almost hit a chain, only just avoiding it as you’d caught the shine of it in the corner of your eye. 

You stuck a hand out to your left and kept Soap behind you, narrowing your eyes so that he’d know to be quiet. He caught on fast, not saying a word as you took another careful sniff around the air. Among the scent of burning wicks and aged dust there was something else, something earthy. There was a low droning sound as well now that you focused, a bassy groan that drifted through the walls.   

Hybrid, you mouthed. Attack dog. 

Soap’s eyes narrowed and he raised the pistol he’d unholstered from his side, the silencer reaching out into the hallway and past your body. You stepped off to the right and allowed him to push forward and round the corner, watching with dull interest as he shot the wolf man that had been resting by the next candle. After a soft pop sounded the man slumped off to the side and left a smear of crimson as he went, eventually thudding to the ground and rattling the chain once he reached the floor. 

“That’ll be the alarm system then,” you whispered. 

“Just him? There’s not anymore?” Soap asked, looking round warily for other signs of life. 

“Not that I can detect,” you said carefully, taking another cautious breath of air. “He’s in pretty bad shape though, probably been kept chained down here a while. Can’t imagine Razin would want the hassle of having to get by more than one hungry mouth on the way in.”

“Aye…probably not,” Soap said, lingering doubt heavy on his voice.

You turned and smiled to yourself, again wondering why the Sergeant was so afraid of your kind. He had a gun, two guns in fact - one strapped to his back. You and yours only had teeth and claws to defend yourself with. Every fight you went into was one that tipped your scales ever closer to death, yet he walked around sometimes like he was standing with the grim reaper himself when he found himself with you. 

There was no point getting caught up over it though. You advanced forward again and rounded another corner, this time greeted by muffled voices and sounds of implements working away. You getting closer. You were overwhelmed by the scent of a new person, baring your teeth at the thick coal like scent. It flooded your system and set your vision alight, peripherals shrinking as your wolf instincts came rushing forward. You were ready to attack, ears pinned back and tail sinking low. 

“Pick somethin’ up?” Soap murmured, voice sounding so loud in your sensitive ears you wanted to snarl at him. 

However, knowing your target was so close by, you silently turned instead and let Soap get a good look at your face. He seemed to visibly pale when his eyes met yours, but quickly remembered himself, raising his gun and holding his position behind you. Had you been more lucid, you’d have congratulated him for not flying off like a scared bird. 

However, you walked forward instead, sticking close to the walls and keeping yourself on high alert. It wasn’t long until you were greeted with the sight of a new entryway and the drowning scent of explosive materials. Your entire head was on fire, every little instinct screamed danger, but you followed your training and ignored the rising need to get away.You peered around instead, widening your eyes as you saw Razin right in front of you. He was working away with his back turned, too distracted by whoever he was speaking to on his tablet to be able to pay any attention to either of you. 

Soap slunk next to you and looked around, mouth set in a grim line as he sized up the target. All around him, littering his workshop were multiple prototypes, tons of different kinds of bombs that Soap would know far more about than you. The only thing you knew for sure was that you’d have to be quiet, take down the target as fast as possible - that was the only way to know none of them would go off. 

Soap gently patted your head to get your attention. Wait, he mouthed. 

You wanted to snap at him, mouth watering in anticipation of a bite, eyes narrowing as his hand drew close to your throat. However you wrenched yourself away from him and breathed out as quietly as you could, anxiously glancing between Soap and Razin as you waited for your ok.

It took every ounce of self control just to stand there. Soap didn’t look like he was in any rush to let you move. He listened to the conversation instead, jaw set and head tilted while he kept you suspended in the shadows, right on the precipice of an attack. You just wanted to go, needed to fly through the room and tear at something. 

The conversation between Razin and the deep voiced stranger on the ipad drew to a close before you lost it, ending with Razin cursing before swatting at the tablet and sending it flying. You followed the movement with your eyes and turned to Soap, almost barking with glee when he tightly nodded and gave you the go ahead to go capture your target. 

You had no clue what curses Razin was shouting when you landed on top of him, but you could hazard a guess that they were some of the worst profanities he could muster. His face scrunched in fury and his whole body flailed as he fought to get you off of him, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake you off. 

Your main priority was ensuring his hands couldn’t reach for anything and set something off, so as you secured yourself over him, you bit harshly into one of his arms and growled when he swatted at you with his other hand. Before he could do any real damage Soap came to your aid and wrenched Razin’s free hand behind his back, securing it in a cuff before taking the other arm from you and settling the other cuff round that one. 

“Release,” Soap commanded, voice wavering as he caught your eyes.

Your vision was almost completely darkened, indicating to the last sane shred of you that you’d gone nearly completely feral. Every limb in your body shook and your back felt like a lightning rod as the familiar instinctual tremble worked its way through you. Maddox’s voice rattled in your ear, the ghost of him ever present when you found yourself losing to the wolf. You are an attack dog, you will bite, you will kill, this is the only way to survive. Bite mutt, kill! Do what you’re meant for, dog!

“Pup,” Soap said carefully, trying to maintain eye contact. “You good?”

You growled in response, watching with displeasure as Razin continued to struggle beneath Soap. You wanted to put a stop to it. Not part of the mission, you reminded yourself, internally struggling with the angry beast inside your head. Need this one alive. 

“Pup,” Soap said again, voice a firm roar. 

“Yes,” you snarled, shaking your head and backing off. “M’fine. Lets go.”

Kill, mutt! 

You shook your head again, walking forward and dispersing any last traces of Maddox, fighting to regain control of yourself. Normally you weren’t so prone to falling back so badly on the wolf instincts, as much as you often did use them to get in the right headspace you were usually still in control of yourself.

Now you felt untethered. It felt as though any threat to you and the team had to be treated with the utmost hostility. And Razin was a threat. It had you frowning back at Soap, watching as he struggled to force Razin forward while his feet tried to plant against the floor. You growled when Soap was knocked back by him. 

Protect. Mine. Kill threat. 

You almost stopped in your tracks when the thought hit you. For once it wasn’t Maddox’s voice spurring you and forcing you to do terrible things, this wasn’t any outside voice at all. The low growl that rushed through your head like a chemical injection was your own. Normally your instincts kicked in for self preservation,your body doing whatever it needed to in order to get through a job alive. Now they were directed at Soap, more specifically, towards ending the struggling and kicking from the man he was holding. 

“I’m going on ahead,” you said, voice pitching up as you rushed forward. 

If you spent anymore time looking over at Razin and his flailing feet you were going to kill him. It wasn’t a speculation, it was a certainty. One that had you wide eyed and running terrified down the hall. 

You reached the top of the stairs in record time, pausing at the closed exit to listen out for anyone that might be coming down on the steps above. 

“Ghost, we’ve secured the target. Are we good to exfil?” you rasped, hearing Soap cursing as he manoeuvred the hallways a lot slower than you did.

“The men are finishing the last of their drinks, one of them went down already. You’ll need to take him out and get out of there as fast and quiet as you can,” Ghost supplied, voice level as usual.

“I can manage that. Soap, I’ll go find Razin’s buddy. You good to get him out?” you asked, looking back into the darkness for your answer. 

“I’m almost through the hall, fashioned a little gag for the bastard so I reckon we’ll be good on the staying ‘quiet’ part. Go ahead, Pup, clear to move,” Soap answered, voice echoing through the halls and on your comms. 

“Alright then.”

-🐺-

You were shaking terribly by the time you made it back to transport. Razin was properly secured now, hooded and gagged before being taken away to another section of the hold with an armed guard. He was safely out of view from your stabbing glare. Meanwhile Ghost and Soap ushered you toward the opposite corner, serious looks in both their eyes as they exchanged low whispers. 

Your head was filled with cloying fog. All you wanted to do, for whatever reason, was to get close to Soap, but you feared him retaliating too much to be able to do it. You wanted to make sure he was alright, but even you weren’t sure why you were so obsessed about it. It was Soap afterall, he was a highly trained SAS soldier, he was fine. 

Not to mention, when he’d seen your blood covered face come into view behind him in the safehouse, he’d almost screamed bloody murder. The last thing he needed was you to go barreling up to him. You swore you could hear his heart thumping even when you stood just across from him, it beat so loudly. It hadn’t eased much since then and getting to the plane either.

Mine. Safe? Hurt. 

Your chest held a small flame, body keeping it roaring as you anxiously wanted to check Soap over. You could smell his blood, could smell the copper tang that was corrupting the soft sage of his usual scent. It burned at your nose and caused you to whine when you got close. Ghost’s hand prevented you from getting nearer. 

“Pup,” Ghost said softly. “Pup, can you look at me?”

You tore your eyes away from Soap and dutifully looked up at Ghost. His face was still covered by his balaclava and his eyes were darkened from the black paint. You huffed as you focused on his pupils, taking in the spiced citrus and the sound of his infectiously steady pulse. 

Your panting breaths eased. 

“You did good, Pup. Kept Soap safe and took down Razin and got that guard. You did a very good job,” Ghost rumbled, petting between your ears as he normally did. “Can you come sit down for me?”

You nodded, feeling almost in a trance as you complied with his request. You sat on the solid bench next to your Lieutenant, stopping to anxiously look back at Soap, until Ghost firmly gripped your jaw and tilted your head back to him. You whined. 

“Shh, Pup. Shhh. Just give me your attention for a sec, ok?”

You gave him a little growl, but as soon as the look in his eyes hardened, you hushed up immediately. Have to be good for him, you thought to yourself. You closed your eyes for a second, and continued to work on your breathing, calming down with each evening heartbeat. Ghost watched you the entire time, never letting his gaze wander even for a second. 

“Good, Pup,” Ghost praised after a moment, making sure to pet your back and over your ears. “That’s my good Pup, listening so well. Now…Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You froze at his question. Biting your lip when you knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with a lie. 

“Soap’s bleeding,” you said simply, finally letting your eyes drop down to the floor. “Want to know he’s ok.”

Ghost tipped your chin back up with his hands. You could see his eyebrows were raised under the mask. You desperately wanted to look away again, but Ghost wouldn’t allow it. Soap snorted from behind your shoulder, he was still standing away from you both. His nervous steps across the metal were like their own heartbeat in your ears.  

“I’m fine. The fucker bashed my nose in while he was strugglin’,” Soap explained. “A wee bit blood is nothing to get so upset over.”

You whined. You already knew logically that he was fine. It wasn’t your logical mind that was worked up though. Otherwise you’d be able to actually explain the problem to Ghost. However, as it was, you had no idea what the problem really was. All you knew was that Soap had been bleeding and you were absolutely beside yourself with worry over it. 

Ghost seemed to have an idea though. He nodded to himself and petted your head for good measure, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before he went to his pack. You watched his movements, cataloguing every step he took, trying to work out what he was doing. Sometimes when you got too worked up you’d get sent for a sleep, injected with a cocktail of drugs to force some calm into you.

Was Ghost going to knock you out?

You watched carefully as he pulled what looked like a bottle of water and a cloth from his bag instead. He untwisted the cap and carefully wetted the cloth, not letting too much liquid flood the material before he turned back to you. 

“Stay still for me, darlin’. Keep your mouth closed,” he ordered.

You frowned, not sure what he was about to do until he began wiping at your face, smoothing the cloth over your skin until it turned red with the other men’s blood. He was cleaning you. The realisation had you untensing yourself and for a few moments longer you sat still and let Ghost work his magic until your face felt clean and light. All the grime was gone, your skin felt a little raw, but still it was better than before. 

“Soap, you trust me don’t you?” Ghost said, putting the bottle down and looking over your shoulder.

The pacing behind you stopped. 

“Not when you bring it up like that,” Soap retorted. 

Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Come sit down.”

“Why?” Soap asked suspiciously. 

“Just come.”

It took a second, but soon Soap complied, coming to rest beside Ghost. Ghost wasn’t someone to argue with, even to other humans. You saw Soap now, pupils dilating so quickly that you could feel your eyes actively adjusting to shut out light. Oh no, not again, you thought. You were losing yourself to instinct, wanting to surge forward and get closer - wrap yourself around him like a scarf. You looked away, trying to lessen his horror (and yours) as he shifted back a bit to get some distance. 

“Soap, you’re not gonna like this…but please trust me,” Ghost said, bringing you close to his armoured chest. “I need to ask you to do something.”

You gratefully wrapped yourself round him, only barely able to get your arms fully round his vest so that you could hug into the man like he was your only source of warmth. It helped. Fully shutting your eyes against Ghost’s black tac gear and trying to distract yourself from the man next to him was the next best thing to whatever your instincts were screaming at you to do. 

“Spit it out,” Soap said through gritted teeth. 

“I need you to take Pup and let them…well essentially give you a hug,” he said awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to ask.

Soap snorted out a dark laugh and you were sure if you looked up you’d see a disgusted expression. 

“I don’t think nows the time for having a fucking laugh, LT.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you were in any danger,” Ghost said, voice taking on an edge as his body stiffened under you. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important either, I don’t want to hurt you. You know that.”

“Ghost, look at their fuckin’ eyes, I don’t see why-”

Soap stopped before he could finish, huffing through his sentence like he’d been asked to diffuse a bomb with five seconds on the clock. Your ears flicked as you picked up a new sound filling the space, something soft and forlorn that rattled through you.

Your own sobs, you eventually realised.

You were losing yourself again, you hadn’t even realised you'd started crying. It became more than evident as the hot tears drifted down your cheeks.

“Pup, it’s ok,” Ghost said gently, stroking your ears. “Shh, you’re ok. Why’re you cryin’?”

You shook your head, head feeling dizzier than if you’d spun in an endless circle. Words were too much. They were too human.

“Ey?” Ghost continued, smoothing his hand over your back. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head again. Your body lurching with a growing dread. 

“If I-” Soap began, freeing on his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “If I take Pup…will it help…this?”

Ghost took a pause, trying to coax you from where you were squishing your face under his chin. 

“I reckon so,” Ghost said. 

Soap sighed, pushing you to cry harder. The only rational part left of you couldn’t be sure of why his reticence was so upsetting to you, but then again you weren’t even sure what had caused any of the upset in the first place. So many men had been hurt while you were with them, and most of the time you couldn't give a shit - the rest of the time you were happy even to watch them bleed or sometimes cry through some of the worst injuries. Now Soap had a bit of a nosebleed and you were practically choking as if you couldn’t take on air anymore. 

You couldn’t make sense of it. 

You especially couldn’t make sense of it when Soap switched places with Ghost and sat at your back, ending your little crying fit when he took you from your handler and held you to his front. Your sobs quietly retreated into your throat and your tears turned off like a tap had been yanked. Instead of breaking down, you focused on burrowing into his chest. Your body completely calming when you picked out the sound of his heartbeat and got closer to the fresh scent of sage, nuzzling your nose just shy of his collarbones. 

“What the hell…?” Soap breathed, body tensing as you finished getting comfortable. 

It took a little moment until he was able to slowly relax his muscles. His arms came first, settling around you, and then his thighs slowly dipped down. His pulse was the last to die down, beating insistently against your ears like a timpani drum before it gently became more of a wing beat.

You sighed contentedly and felt yourself getting very tired, closing your eyes just before your vision fully faded back into focus again. 

“You have no idea how much you’ve just helped,” Ghost said gratefully, voice sounding distant as you continued to float into what felt like a different plane of existence. 

“Are you gonna tell me how I helped?” Soap asked, voice sounding insistent as his heartbeat picked up again. “You tellin’ me that whenever one of us gets hurt that pup’s gonna need a bloody emotional support buddy to get through it?”

Ghost laughed throatily.

“Not likely,” he assured, leaning forward and stroking your back. “Learnt about this way back in training, but I’ve never seen it so strong so quickly - Pup’s pack bonded to us, but its not a secure bond right now. I’m guessing they got upset because they thought you being hurt and keeping your distance was like a rejection. Basically like you saying that they don’t need to be concerned about you getting hurt because you’re not part of the pack.”

“Well how was I supposed to kn-”

“You weren’t,” Ghost soothed, calming Soap down before you could properly stir again.

You hummed against Soap’s chest and frowned at his quickening heartbeat, attempting to slow it with a gentle nuzzle. Though it didn’t do much to calm him, so you soon stopped and found that worked better instead.

It was only when you went still that they resumed talking again.

“So what does pack bonding mean?” Soap asked, sounding unsure as he shifted around you. “Pup doesn’t even know that much about me and now we’re in this- a pack.”

Ghost chuckled at that, the material of his clothing loudly buzzing at your ears as he shook. 

“It’s not like a forced marriage Johnny, you don’t have to sound so frightened, it mostly just means their instincts’ll tell em’ to keep us safe. It’s probably down to all the protection work Price has had them doing while we’ve been in the beginning stages. Pup’s had a rough life, no ones ever cared for em’ like we have, even in the short time that’s been. Even when you’ve been handling Pup like a feinting nun, you’ve probably been nicer than most people they’ve met.” 

“Fuck you, feintin’ nun,” Soap spat, laughing despite himself. “You told me the other day I was doin’ well!”

“You have been doing well. Better than I thought you would,” Ghost said softly, a smile weaving its way through his voice. 

“Well enough to be in a pack apparently,” Soap huffed, absentmindedly running his hand over your back. 

You practically purred in pleasure at that, letting out a low happy sound in your throat. Soap startled, but still held onto you, hand freezing in place however. He clearly didn’t understand that the noise you were making was supposed to be something nice. 

“Why’re they growling at me?” Soap squawked. “What’d I do?”

“Relax! That’s not growling, not per se,” Ghost laughed, “It’s a good growl. Mean’s they’re happy. Untwist your knickers, you don’t wanna work Pup up again.”

“Fuckin hell…pack bonding…happy growls. What’s next? My poor heart could’ve done with a warning before having to hunt a terrorist and deal with all this,” Soap huffed. “And you say all this is because we’re nice? How bad has a life gotta be for a hybrid to wanna hug me? How’s this even helping?”

“It’s not about the hug itself. Being close like that is just letting them hear your heartbeat and get your scent. Pup knows you’re ok because you feel and smell healthy - that’s all they needed. It doesn’t help that the Branhaven arseholes condition them to surrender to their instincts on the field. It’s good when it comes to hunting people down, doesn’t help so much when they get all panicky because one of their own’s been bleeding.” 

“And they don’t train that out?”

“Wouldn’t have had to before. Like I said - we’re the only ones that’ve been nice to em’,” Ghost said, voice quietening when he said the next part. “We’re the only team that’s ever applied for guardianship in the entire time they’ve been working. They got stuck in the military when they were ten and got signed away under a DNN contract. Even though it’s only been a week, we’re all Pup has. It’s only natural for them to feel like this.” 

“What’s a DNN contract?” Soap asked.

“Do not notify,” Ghost said, the words making you whine softly  as you thought back to when it was first explained to you. “Means Pup’s parents didn’t want contact after they dropped them off. No phone calls or letters from them, no contact, no notice if they ever get killed or captured.”

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Soap growled.

“Mhmm,” Ghost hummed, stroking his hand over your back again. “Such a sweet Pup too. Got us to be good to you now. Our good Pup, huh?”

You whined in agreement and settled into Soap fully, happily letting yourself drift off to thoughts of citrus and sage. Theirs, the raspy inner voice whispered - just before you could fully lose the battle to sleep. Mine. Theirs. Mine!

-🐺-

The next day, after the debrief had reached its conclusion, Soap asked Ghost if he could have five minutes with you. You’d bitten your lip, anticipating that he might want to chew you out for you’d acted with him, and sadly nodded when Ghost said he’d be waiting across the corridor in Price’s office for you. 

As soon as the door had clicked closed, you waited for the shouting to begin and wrapped your arms tightly round yourself, as if to keep your heart in your chest. Soap didn’t roar or hit the desk, or make any moves you’d been waiting for, not right away at least you’d figured. No, he gently tugged the seat in front of you out from the table and sat down across from you.

You peered over at him and felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, still not completely past the fact you’d insisted on curling round him like a little lap dog. Things were a bit foggy from that day still. Ghost had had to explain on the way back to his that you’d succumbed to your instincts and Soap has helped you calm down, but sure enough once he had, you remembered what you’d done and felt deathly self-conscious. No matter how much Ghost had tried to insist that it was ok, you’d gone to bed that night without speaking another word.  

“Look, um…I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Soap said nervously, arching his body down so that he could speak on your level. 

“You’re sorry?” you repeated, not sure you’d heard right. 

Did he mean to ask for an apology from you instead? You had no idea what he could possibly need to apologise for. As far as you were concerned his behaviour had been completely justified, you had acted like a crazy person. It wasn’t normal to need to sit and sniff people and hug them after they’d suffered a very common injury in the line of work you were in. Yet he still wanted to apologise to you? 

“Yeah,” Soap breathed, pursing his lips before he could explain himself. “I’ve been treating you like a threat when you haven’t deserved it. It’s not acceptable, I’m a grown man and I’ve been acting like a scared kid around you. So I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Uh…” you trailed, not really sure how to respond. “Thanks?”

It wasn’t often that anyone apologised to you, especially not when they hadn’t even done anything that you deemed bad. For that reason, you were left scrabbling for something to say and unfortunately left wanting, letting the sentiment of gratitude hang in the air instead. Things were even more awkward now. 

“You don’t need to worry about yesterday as well…Ghost said you were feelin’ awkward and I-”

“It won’t happen again,” you assured, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. “I’ll get better control of myself.”

“Well, you weren’t really yourself, so…It’s fine. You had your reasons.”

It wasn’t fine. However you didn’t really want to disagree with him, so instead you nodded tightly and looked away from Soap instead. 

“I know you have your reasons for how you are with me,” you said softly. “Something to do with your scar, right?”

“How’d you…?” Soap trailed off, rubbing his thumb along the cracked keloid on his chin. 

He almost seemed to realise the answer to his own question as he did it. You nodded when his eyes widened. It was almost comical really, he seemed like he was caught doing something awful when it wasn’t even a big deal. You were used to people being distrustful of you, had had your own parents accuse you of being ready to turn into a rogue beast at any moment. Being feared wasn’t anything new.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. 

“No, look…You should know - I don’t think you’re gonna do anything like this to me and even then that’s not really why I- It’s not- ugh fuck it,” he sighed, body growing heavy as he sat back in his chair. “My little brother was jumped by a hybrid when we were young. He was playin’ football in the street and ended up kicking the ball too far down the road. I was supposed to be watching him and I was too busy chattin’ to my friends and- well all I heard was him screamin’ bloody murder and when I got there he was knocked out and his arm had nearly been chewed clean off. I managed to get the wolf- i mean him off my brother, but then he turned and scratched me- tried to bite- I… well anyway - I got him away and my brother ended up in hospital for a long time and it was a really fuckin’ dark time for my family.”

You watched his impassioned expressions as he told his story and nodded along, wincing as he tried to use the right words to try and explain to you what had happened. He didn’t need to explain it to you, not really. He looked down right pained as he remembered back to what must have been an awful day for him. 

Now you both sat in the heavy silence of the now cavernous room. 

“I’m sorry that happened,” you said awkwardly.

“I didn’t tell you that because I wanted you to feel sorry for me,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I just wanted you to know I have some shit to work on, and I that I am trying to work on it. I don’t want you to feel any less a part of the team because of how I act. You’re just as much a part of the 141 as I am, don’t doubt it for a second.”

Your ears pinned flat to your head and your chest swelled with emotion. The drum inside your chest beat quickly out of time and you struggled for a moment, feeling a light tingling at the back of your neck. Part of you tried to convince yourself that it was all a mean trick, but just one look into his soft blue eyes told you that he was genuine. He really didn’t want you to feel bad.

“Thanks, Soap,” you murmured, fighting the lump in your throat just to speak. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Just the truth,” he grunted, trying to inconspicuously clear the emotion from his voice. “You should probably go get Ghost now, yeah? You’ve probably got some runnin’ around to do.”

You broke at that, nodding and letting your eyes clear of the growing wetness. Soap had only in the past few days started referring to your training as ‘running around’, and it was a fair way to sum it up, but no less insulting. Playfully insulting at least, the kind of thing  teammates would say. 

It made you smile then. 

“Yeah…” you laughed, slowly rising from your chair. “Best get to it.”

[moviestarmartini]

carseat backseat. — jude bellingham x reader x brahim díaz.

pairing: jude bellingham x latina!reader x brahim díaz.

summary: your girls' night out soon turned into a party of one. good news though, the two men over at the private booth were looking for the perfect opportunity to approach you. and they're looking to get out of that club fast.

wc: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw (+18 mdni), mentions and consumption of alcohol, basic sentences in spanish (as per usual on this blog tbh), PERREO !!!! , car sex (i'm romanticizing it tbh), soft doms!jude & brahim, marking, praise, light degrading, oral sex (f & m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (twice rip), needy mfs, use of petnames, light manhandling, strangers hooking up tbh. if i missed anything lmk.

A/N: this was wild to write which is why i think it took me so long to finish !!! i mentioned it previously but i lowk picture them in a tuned chevy tahoe and not a limo but that might be irrelevant. reblogs & feedback are always appreciated babes xx enjoy

now playing . . . chulo pt.2 by bad gyal, tokischa & young miko / partition by beyoncé

Betrayed. 

You were currently feeling betrayed. Your girlfriends all abandoned you, with cheap excuses or promising hookups that surged throughout the night. You could’ve been on your way to get down and busy too, but you had standards. You sat at the bar, thinking what you should order before a margarita came your way. You curled up a brow at the bartender, who just replied: “The young men by that booth noticed you like tequila.” 

You frowned at the plural, taking a short sip of the peculiar-shaped glass before looking around. At a private booth full of couples making out and grinding on each other, you could easily recognize two pairs of eyes looking right back at you. With a confident smile, you raise your glass towards them before taking another sip, thinking that would be the end of it. 

You hummed in approval at both the taste of the tequila-based drink and the music the DJ was playing, before feeling a presence standing next to you. It was the shortest of the men who had bought you a drink, with light stubble that covered up his jaw and upper lip area. “¿Qué tal, bonita? ¿Te gustó el trago?” He was dangerously close, but you didn’t find the closeness uncomfortable. 

“How did you know I liked tequila?” You laughed, throwing your hair back. Brahim joined in, and he couldn’t ignore the way your face lightened up. His lips parted in amusement, watching your every move. The way you crossed your thighs, and how badly he wanted to pry them open. 

“How wouldn’t someone like you have my attention all night?” Brahim’s voice came as something similar to a coo, reaching forward to tuck a strand behind your ear. Suddenly, you felt your whole face heating up. “I’m Brahim, a pleasure.” You introduced yourself in the same fashion, not long after perking up at the song that started playing, its opening letters sparking interest. “Lovely to meet you, ¿Vamos?” He pointed to the packed dance floor with his head, offering you his hand. 

Taking down the rest or the drink you hopped off the bar stool, taking his hand gladly and into the dance floor. From your experience with Europeans, they were not the most dexterous dancers, standing still and looking up at the ceiling with their hands on your hips. The man only saved himself by the fact you loved the song and he bought you a drink, the least you owed him was a dance. 

But oh you were so wrong. 

Brahim gripped his hands on the soft skin of your hips, every once in a while controlling the circular motions you produced, while also grinding back against your ass. It only motivated you further, hearing him curse under his breath. “Joder… qué perreo el tuyo, princesa.” You chuckled a little at his reaction, biting on your bottom lip. The tension only grew when he spun you around, dancing face to face, your nose brushing against his. 

Before you could take the dip and cut the distance— his cologne had been clouding your senses, mind fuzzy with the growing sexual tension— he twirled you around yet again, your eyes landing directly on a chest. You tilted your head up to meet the eyes of the man she identified sitting next to Brahim earlier. 

“Fancy sharing her, bro?” He addressed Brahim, but his eyes didn’t tear away from yours. “All ours, Jude.” You heard the other reply as he inched closer. The words echoed in your mind, goosebumps forming up your arms. The man you now knew as Jude took both your hands, pulling them upwards and to rest around his neck as he joined the two of you dancing. 

The tension between the three of you was something you’ve never felt before, Brahim’s nose brushing against your neck and the way Jude stared you down made your knees weak. But the song came to an end, the DJ transitioning to a whole different genre. But that didn’t stop Jude from closing the distance and kissing you, your eyes falling shut instantly. A gasp left your lips the minute you felt another pair on your neck, leaving slow pecks.  

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Jude proposed, his lips still grazing yours. You nodded, and Brahim scooped your hand in his as he practically dragged you away from the dancing bodies, and Jude followed suit with your hands linked together. 

The flashing lights drowned the ambiance, and as you thought of the situation and what could be ahead, you smiled to yourself. If patience was the road to wisdom, you sure felt ninety years older. Maybe your friends jumping off the boat was a blessing in disguise— you deduced as you exited the club through the back. You squinted a little, your eyes already used to the strobe lighting of the club. 

Click. 

Jude stepped in front of you, covering his mouth to speak as a black large car rolled up. “Cover your face for me, baby.” He advised as Brahim opened the door for you, hopping in behind you, Jude looking at the source of the camera with a straight face before sliding inside the car. He gave instructions to the driver, giving him a large bill to… mind his own business apparently, as a partition was rolled up.

“You owe me a kiss,” Brahim complained after not even two seconds of silence, brushing his nose against your cheek. You couldn’t help but giggle as he roughly drew you into his lap, taking your lips hostage in his. While Jude’s affections earlier were soft and careful, Brahim seemed eager; but it still wasn’t his hand grazing the skin of your inner thigh, making your legs part open. Your mini skirt rode up, and you noticed how Brahim pulled it even further to rest at your lower waist. A hum of approval rang through the moving vehicle, and as Jude’s hand inched closer to your core, you shivered.

Brahim groaned at the sudden movement, parting ways with your lips to settle down your neck, Jude taking the same initiative. You moaned softly, jerking your hips. Him, in response, bit into your neck, his fingers delving into the soft skin of your hips. Getting that much attention was overwhelming, and you fell drunk on it. They really worshiped you, lips slowly making their way down, the moans rewarding the men for their good work. 

Jude parted first, his finger grazing the soft fabric of your underwear. “We’ve got you so wet,” He cooed, taking your cheeks and turning your head to look at him. He dissected your reaction as his hand just shoved the panties to a side and he took a dip to test your wetness. A light smirk tugged on his face as he watched your lips part in a tiny gasp. 

“Turn her a bit towards me, mate.” Jude instructed Brahim, who was busy painting hematomas on your neck. He nodded with the same devilish shine on his eyes, shifting a little so you would both face him. “What do you want, babe? You look a bit bothered,” He freighted innocence, a chuckle rung from behind you. 

You became even more embarrassed; how easy your body queues were to them. “Touch me,” You replied with a certain fortitude in your voice, when your eyes were dripping with need. Brahim watched you, lips slightly parted, and just smiled. He gave Jude a nod, who didn’t waste any time in sinking a finger into your wetness. You couldn’t help but throw your head back with a groan, finding rest in Brahim’s shoulder. 

Jude didn’t find any pleasure in easing it into you, fixing a steady pace that would have you writhing in no time. You noticed Brahim getting harder under your ass, the movements clearly getting him off. He still didn’t budge, instead hooking a finger on the strap of your blouse and tugging it off the way slowly before kissing the area. 

Your moans were breathy, as if you were a fish out of water, your hand reaching back to brush Brahim’s hair out of the way, his light beard tickling the back of your shoulder. You could also feel his hand sliding down your torso, his ring and middle finger soon finding a home at your throbbing clit. You noticed through almost closed eyes that Jude licked his lips and slid another digit in, picking up the pace. 

“You like that, princesa? Wanna cum?” Brahim brushed your hair back. You did your best to affirm between babbles, but the built up was rapid and dangerous. “You can do it, you’re so good for us.” Jude confirmed with praise, and you couldn’t have stopped the orgasm even if you wanted to. Your moans filled up the space, legs trembling as they both slowed down and worked you through it. 

Jude took his fingers out and started licking them, never breaking eye contact. Instead, he reached out to pull you into a kiss. His hand cupped your jaw with ease, as you sloppily made out. You could taste yourself in his tongue, “What a pretty mess we have here.” He stroked your cheekbone as the car came to a halt. The driver simply left the vehicle and both men checked through the tinted foggy windows their surroundings. They were at the hotel they requested, at the underground parking level that looked as though no one had been there in years. 

Perfect. 

You came to the same conclusion they did, now pulling Jude back into a kiss, your hands unbuttoning his shirt. But at the same time you reached back and pulled Brahim closer to do the same, with a bit of his help. Jude watched as you cupped his boner through the dress pants, letting a small surprised groan. He’d been so busy pleasuring you he didn’t realize how needy he was himself. 

“I want to taste you.” Brahim whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. Trying to think of an arrangement, an idea quickly rose to your head before it was occupied with the toned bodies of the shirtless men on either side of you. “You will, I promise,” You gave him a peck before giving your attention back to Jude, kissing down his torso as you got on your knees still on the car seat. 

You heard Brahim sigh as you unbuttoned the other’s pants, Jude himself helping you lower his underwear to give his hard cock some space to breathe. You didn’t waste any time, licking the pre-cum that rolled down the tip before wrapping your hand around the girth and stroking it shortly. It didn’t take long for you to slowly slide it inside your mouth, Jude’s hand reaching to rest on the crown of your head with a groan leaving his lips. 

Brahim didn’t seem to want to interrupt your work, but as you got into it, you felt the familiar hook of his fingers; this time around the waistband of your panties. He slid them down before a thumb stroked down your wet slit. But the slow-paced affections didn’t last long as he pressed his flat tongue to pick up all the slick and go straight to town on you. You started to struggle keeping your mouth and hand at a good pace, moans muffled with the thick cock stuffed in your mouth. 

“Don’t stop,” Jude warned between groans, the grip in your hair tightening. The oral fixation seemed to be pushing him over the edge, in the same situation you found yourself in. 

That was, until Brahim stopped. 

You couldn’t even find the time to complain, to ask him for more; some shuffling filling the suffocating air before a leaking tip grazed your sloppy slit, all soaked with your arousal. You arched your back, pushing back against the friction. Both men snickered between themselves, Brahim still teasing you with the tip of his hard dick. 

“You really want it, don’t you?” He cooed, his teasing actions still going further by pushing himself onto your entrance, but never making it fully inside. Instead of responding, you concentrated on giving your best affections, catching him off guard. 

“Bro— fuck, do it.” Jude gave him the approval, clearly taking your enthusiasm into his pleasure as encouragement for the other man to satisfy you. Brahim sighed, lining himself properly with your entrance before burying his length inside you. 

The groans that came out of your throat were gutural, full of lust. “You feel so good…” He exclaimed, throwing his head back, still getting used to the feel. He wasn’t the lengthiest, but the sheer girth made up for it. His hands gripped hard on the dough of your hips, tightening as he bounced your body against his in the same fashion you were doing earlier at the club. 

You couldn’t help but arch your back even lower, doing your best to continue with your hard labor as Brahim set a relentless pace. You’d come to notice he was the most anxious one, yearning to take you as yours. But it seemed to be rubbing off on the other man, his long fingers gripping your hair with certain force. He thrusted hard enough to rock the car at the movement of his hips, enough to have Jude controlling your mouth, choking on his length. 

The scene was straight out of the craziest adult film, but you knew that if you weren’t the one experiencing it, it wouldn’t be as hot. “Cum, baby. Come on.” Brahim encouraged, smacking your ass loudly; you were so fixated on pleasing the other man you didn’t even realize how close you were to your second release of the night. It knocked the air out of your lungs, saliva stuck with a guttural groan as the sensitive tip hit the back of your throat. 

“Squeeze my cock like that— mierda, así, yes!” You could make out from riding down the tidal wave your orgasm brought, still stroking Jude’s cock while you took a breather to let out all the scandalous moans, letting the small tears run and ruin your mascara a little. 

By the stutter on Brahim’s hips you noticed he was going to finish right then and there, only bouncing your hips back in the same fashion you were doing in no less than half an hour ago at the dance floor.

It took him a moment to recover, heavy breathing overshadowing the sloppy blowjob. He pulled out, looking back to watch the cum dripping out your whole. “Jude,” Brahim looked at him with a heavy breath. “Look at this. Look how perfect our pussy looks pumped of my cum,” 

You whined at the sheer force the Spanish national manhandled you to show you off like a prize, and with this new angle you noticed a hint of pride in his voice. Jude’s seeming examination took a moment, even though you could hear the slick noise your leftover saliva made as he stroked his cock. 

“I think it’s missing something…” Jude pondered, rising to his knees before pushing himself inside you. With a loud moan of surprise your knees couldn’t hold anymore, collapsing onto your stomach. Your head rested on Brahim’s thick thigh, and he soothed you through the first few instances with praise. Now it was his turn to be the doting one, brushing your hair back and talking you through it. “You’re taking it so well.” 

“Suck him off, babe. He’s getting hard for witnessing how much of a good pretty slut you are for us,” Jude ordered, pulling your hips back up to pound into you shamelessly. The command wasn’t a problem, mind so cockdrunk you could do whatever they asked of you. 

Jude still helped you up so you could get to the task at hand, but Brahim dipped lower to link his lips with yours tenderly, contrasting the constant sound of skin coming into contact. As you made out, you took the chance to stroke his cock, still soaked with your fluids. He seemed to be melting onto the seat, still sensitive from the previous orgasm. Breaking away and trying to manage your moans as best as you could, your tongue licked up the prominent vein up the underside, before wrapping your lips around the soft tip. 

You fluttered your lashes up at him, finding him cute with his parted lips. But it was Jude who picked your hair back and motivated you straight into the action, sounds of pleasure now coming from both men. Brahim writhed under you, while Jude had you squirming. 

“Ah, fuck, fuck,” Jude whined, trying to finish on the same pace but being unable to do so. Your walls squeezed him dry deliciously, and he leaned to press his chest against your back to reach around and draw circular motions on your overstimulated clit. “Just one more, okay baby? You can do it,” He encouraged, at the same time you tore yourself away from blowing Brahim to breathe and moan out freely. 

“Perfect girl,” Brahim cooed as Jude slowed down, helping you ride down the wave your release represented. Jude pulled out, now standing back to admire his load leaking straight out of you. But now it was his turn to help you onto his lap, holding you close. 

“You did so well,” Jude hummed, caressing your cheeks, cleaning the dried mascara. Brahim scooted over, brushing your hair back with his hands and pressing the tiniest, most playful kisses over your bare shoulders. With a gentle hand, Jude turned your head in his direction and locked his lips with your own, slightly swollen and adapting a redder tone. It was tender, calm. Brahim followed, matching the same energy. 

It was strange how both men had that duality to them; going from being completely hands on and greedy with your body, to soothing you with the sweetest touches. “We didn’t even make it to the hotel room…” You joked, the two of them joining in the lazy laugh. 

“It’s barely one in the morning.” Brahim brushed his nose against your cheek, in the same way he demanded a kiss earlier. You noticed him and Jude shared a look before looking back at you. 

“Round two?” They proposed in unison. Still, their voices and expressions didn’t give any hint of obligation, just curiosity. You knew you could reject them and they would understand completely. 

And that only captivated you further. 

“Round two.” You confirmed with a nod and a wink, getting yourself together to at least spend a minute or so at the hotel lobby. As you all entered and confirmed the booking, it seemed that their infatuation with you only grew; Brahim couldn’t tear himself away from your side while Jude couldn’t stop looking back at you with a certain glimmer in his eyes. 

You knew this was bound to be a long night. The biggest comfort though? That you knew you were going to wake up the next morning held securely by two pairs of strong arms.

[mack-devereaux]

Hiii i wanna ask if ya can write something with Vince? Maybe him getting into a fight (so hot i love it) and hin hurting his wrist are something? And reader taking care of him afterwards. Plleeaassee

Vince Dunn

Omg this is my first request!! I’m so sorry it took so long! Also check out my other fic about Vince. I think they have a similar vibe. But This has no relation to that one. I had so much fun writing this. Just a reminder this is a work of fiction and my imagination, this is not based on true events. Thank you to the anon who requested!

Picture is from Pinterest, no triggers except for cursing and mentions of blood. I think that’s it! Enjoy!

When Vince first moved to Seattle he was excited. This was a brand new team and he had more opportunities to make a name for himself as one of the more aggressive defensemen in the NHL. He had always had a temper on the ice, even in his early days in high school and in the OHL, and he was good at running his mouth. He was always respectful to the medical training staff and the coaching staff, he never took his anger or frustration out on the people who helped him get back on the ice.

Did he cause the fights on purpose? Maybe.

Was he mad about being hauled into the cute medical trainers office to get patched up? Absolutely not. He enjoyed talking with y/n and getting to know her a bit better.

Did he cause fights just to see her? No, he truly has a passion for the sport, he just sometimes got a little too involved with the banter sometimes. However a perk to all this was those few minutes alone with y/n. Although she never really spoke to him much outside of work and was always very quiet he knew how passionate she was about her job. No matter what she was always so attentive to the injury and informative about what she was doing to help said injured player.

Y/n loved the energy of the home games, she typically didn’t get to travel very much with the team, only to close games, but something about the atmosphere of home games had her just buzzing with energy. Most of the time she got to watch the game from the tunnels, it was the perfect spot to see most of the game and it was easy to drag injured players back to the locker room to tend to the injuries. Tonight’s game was a home game against the Colorado Avalanche again, a team known to get the Kraken a little riled up. Just the week prior Vince had gotten himself into quite the scrum and ended up with a cut on his nose while playing against the Avalanche.

*flashback to a week prior*

Y/n was sitting in the medical room at Ball Arena, going through the medical kits organizing some of the supplies. She had heard the roar of the crowd and immediately knew there was a fight that happened. Shortly after that, the third period had ended. Hearing the players stomping down the tunnel shouting and cheering she already knew who was headed her direction.

“Vince..” y/n sighed pulling all her medical supplies back out.

“Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me” Vince chirped at the girl.

“You’re gonna have some serious damage to your nose if you don’t stop” y/n said as she was washing her hands and throwing her gloves on “I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent scar from how many times I’ve seen it busted”.

“That just means you are doing a great job babe. I’ve got you to thank for keeping me looking good” Vince smiles.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned around trying to hide her blush. Knowing this was the exact reason as to why she fell for him. He was just so charming. He knew exactly what to say and that’s why she could never date him. That and the fact that she technically worked for the same organization as him. Were they coworkers? No, but surely it was still frowned upon. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. As she was cleaning off the blood from his nose she caught herself admiring him. He truly was one of the most beautiful people she’s ever laid eyes on. Once the bleeding stopped she checked for other injuries, and sent him to be with the rest of the team.

“Promise me you’ll keep out of trouble for at least the next week” she called to him as he walked away.

“For you? Never.” He added with a wink.

*present*

Five minutes left in the third period and y/n had gotten to watch maybe 10 minutes total of the game. Partially because she didn’t like seeing Vince fight much, and because the players definitely kept her busy. This was probably the most bloody noses and knuckles she had tended to in her entire career. Normally the crowd goes crazy and encourages fights, and she definitely enjoyed that. But for some reason she couldn’t stomach seeing Vince getting hurt. I guess she had Cupids arrow to thank for that. After a few more minutes gloves went flying, curse words were being yelled and the crowd went wild. Reluctantly she looked over in front of the players bench and Vince had thrown a Colorado player on his back.

“Oh for fucks sake Vince” she muttered under her breath.

“You got him or do you want me to take care of him this time” the head medical trainer asked y/n chuckling and shaking his head.

Y/n looked across the ice as Vince and the Avalanche player got tossed in their respective sin bins, she sees that Vince has his helmet off and is holding his wrist.

“I think he hurt his wrist, do you see him messing with it?” y/n points to Vince.

“I’ll take a look when we get back there but I’m sure he’s fine. I think you can handle it after that” the trainer says as they walk back to the locker room.

After the game y/n was in her office waiting for Vince, it had been nearly 40 minutes since the game ended. What was taking him so long? She knew Coach had told him to stop by after their after game meetings and interviews. While she was waiting she decided to tidy up and clean a bit. As she was cleaning her desk she found the puck that Vince had signed and gave to her earlier that year.

*flashback to late last season*

Y/n was standing behind the players bench. It was the last home game for the season, then they were headed into playoffs. Looking onto the ice she watched the players warm up and interact with fans. Vince was watching y/n as he was skating in circles, getting a boost of confidence he picked up a puck and signed it with a note. Smirking he passed by and shouted “hey y/n! Catch!”

Panicking y/n shot both of her hands in front of her face as the head medical trainer caught the puck before it smacked her in the face.

“Really Dunn?!” Y/n shouted.

Vince grinned and skated off, shaking her head she looked at the puck she noticed it said “hey pretty girl” with his signature. Blushing she shoved it in her pocket before she could get scolded.

“Oh he’s so got it bad for you” the trainer said.

“Leave the chirping to the players would you” y/n muttered “besides it’s not like I can date him anyway.”

“Technically…”

“Don’t tempt me” y/n sighed “my heart can’t handle the heartbreak that comes with that one.” She continued to watch him skate around and talk to his teammates with a huge smile on his face.

*back to present*

Y/n smiled at the memory. Not knowing she wasn’t alone, because of course Vince would walk in at that very moment. Leaning up against the doorframe Vince coughed snapping her back to reality.

“My God Vince, now you choose to be quiet? You scared me” y/n shoved the puck back into the drawer.

“I’ll make sure to knock next time” he softly smiled. He totally saw that she still had the puck and it definitely boosted his ego.

“Let me see your wrist” y/n said.

“It’s fine” he muttered.

“If it’s fine let me double check then” y/n challenged.

Vince walked over and sat down on the bench in her office, while reluctantly holding his wrist out. He watched her face as she examined his wrist.

“I think if we wrap it for tonight and tomorrow you should be fine, but the swelling needs to go down significantly before you play again. I’ll clear you for practice but you have to be easy on your arm for the next few days” y/n said as she was grabbing the necessary supplies.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n, I’m sorry for fighting” Vince whispered.

She smiled at him as she sat down and started wrapping his wrist. Knowing full well that he was watching her face closely the entire time.

“I’ll walk you to your car” Vince said.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you” y/n said as she turned back to him after putting the supplies away. With yet another boost of confidence Vince grabbed her by the waist and pulled her face to his and kissed her, she immediately kissed him back. The kiss was short and sweet. Electricity shot through her body and she felt as if she was on fire. After pulling away y/n whispered “we should go.” Neither of them saying anything as they left the arena. Vince was feeling defeated for the first time in a long time, why hadn’t she said anything? Did he over step? Did he make her uncomfortable? A million more discouraging thoughts ran through his head. Him not knowing she was in shock and on cloud nine all at once. Y/n unlocked her car and opened the door. Before she got in she turned to Vince and pulled his face to hers and slammed her lips onto his. Vince cockily smiled into he kiss and pulled her into him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After a few minutes they both pulled away, breathing heavy and trying to get as close as possible to each other.

“Thank you for walking me to my car Vince.”

“Let me know when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[voidpumpkin]

A Guide For New Users Fleeing From Twitter, From A User Who Needed One When They First Started:

Hi to everyone fleeing from twitter, Elon Musk is shit and he already has had an actively harmful effect on the site, one that will only get worse. So, welcome to Tumblr, it can be kind of intimidating, given its reputation and how many different features there are, I was certainly confused and intimidated when I first logged on and as I'm active on both I sympathise with y’all, so here’s a guide to anyone new:

Put your hashtags in the hashtag section. This is the only way they’ll actually have any sort of effect, or appear when you search for something. Don’t post them on the post itself.

There is a character limit for hashtags and a quite high hashtag limit. Go wild. Writing entire speeches is common. 

Don’t tag lots of unrelated stuff to your posts, that’ll get you reported for Spam and just hated in general

Don’t censor words, users are fine with swearing, doing so especially with triggering content makes it hard for people to limit their exposure to said triggering content.

There’s no such thing as ratioing.

We don’t have quote retweeting, every reblog, comment, etc counts to op’s post. They can see it all, and will be notified depending on their notification settings.

Change your icon, people will think you’re a bot if you use the default.

Give yourself a bio, it’ll make you look like a person.

Follow people and tags, that’s the only way you’re gonna see the content you wanna see. The foryoupage isn’t to be trusted.

Actually reblog stuff, liking has no effect, reblogging is the only important thing here as there is no like based algorithm. Doing so will also make you appear human.

You can hide your likes and who you’re following. Doing so is not frowned upon in the slightest.

You can block tags, similarly to muting words on twitter.

You can have multiple blogs tied to one account. 

You can customise your blog, go wild.

There is no word limit, you can write as you want. But if it gets too long make use of the keep reading feature, (the three dots beside the add gif feature)

There is an image limit of thirty, up from the former ten, though for some they may be stuck at only using ten, tumblr is kinda inconsistent. If you want to add more you’ll have to reblog your own post. 

There is no reblogging limit when it comes to a post, though there is a daily posting limit, go wild, only your followers will be upset.

You can have videos, gifs and pictures in the same post.

You can just post audio.

Adult content is still banned, but actual moderation and enforcement is spotty, especially if it’s written. 

Spam liking and reblogging isn’t a thing. Go wild.

You have an ask box that people can submit stuff to. You can respond or just delete the post. You can remove anon capability from it (which will get rid of most of the hate), or outright bar it.

You can’t private your account but you can restrict commenting and reblogging. Edit: I’ve been informed that you can in fact make your blog password protected, it’s just that it’s a rarely done thing and not widely known.

Block whoever and whenever, it’s not a big deal. Though if someone you’ve blocked has reblogged and added to a post and someone you follow reblogs that, their commentary will still be included in the post you see.

We don’t have muting, only blocking.

Yes, direct messaging is a thing (it’s the little smiley face)

The only way to promote your is through ‘tumblr blaze’, you pay a certain amount of money and your post will be promoted, but not targeted, so no invasions of privacy. You are subject to the employee’s whims on whether or not it gets promoted and unfortunately hate speech has been allowed.

Tumblr has tendency to hide/consume comments, posts and asks, don’t be surprised if they go missing.

Tumblr searching a blog relies on tags, words in the post and the users name, keep that in mind.

Posts will remain after you delete your account or the original post if they have been reblogged.

Years old posts are still circulating and that is considered normal.

You can queue up posts to be released when you’re not using your account. Or you can just post whenever you’re active. Go wild.

Wizards exist and are very popular on this site. Accept it.

There are posts with no notes that will never gain any more than a sing note for your like. Accept it.

There are posts will no op. Accept it.

Trans and autistic people dominate this site.

Don’t get pissy when someone tags a post ‘tw (insert slur)’, or any trigger warning for that matter, most are just being considerate of their followers who may be triggered by such content.

Twitter discourse is regularly mocked, it’s not gonna fly here.

No, we don’t call each other oomfs, or anything like that. We just have mutuals.

Tumblr in general lacks a lot colloquialisms that began on twitter.

We do have ‘blorbo’ ‘poor little meow meow’ etc.

Trying to go viral or trying to corporate is frowned upon.

Tumblr has a tendency to blacklist things tagged like ‘crowdfunding’ so bring that kind of logic you use for twitter posts over to tumblr.

We don’t have twitter circles, co-posting, etc.

Tumblr is surprisingly good at recommending blogs.

There are no verified accounts, and your follower count isn't visible. This is a good thing, trying to change it will get you laughed at.

People are going to just make up stuff, don’t believe everything you see and if it’s a claim about someone, investigate it rather than just believe it.

You can edit your posts after you’ve posted them, but the versions reblogged before said changes will still circulate. This editing of the original has been used as a spruce of comedy

If your worried about people seeing your potentially triggering, or even graphic content and they haven’t blocked the tags you’ve used you can use the keeping reading feature to put the content under the cut and post a warning at the top.

And this is quite important:

Stay anonymous and have fun. There isn’t an expectation to constantly expose inner details of your life, you aren’t expected to use your real face, your real name, age, etc. You’re not even expected to be truthful here. Exist however you wanna exist and have fun, that should be the point of social media. 

Also keep in mind that tumblr has its own distinct culture that is going to take some getting used to. As well as a history any user who’s been here a while will at least somewhat understand.

Also I'll be editing the post with additional info and corrections provided to me.

[buckyhad]

Sweet

Pairing: Dark!teammate!Max Verstappen x reader

Tw: NC, purity ring, smut, reader is 18, Max is 25, idk what else

Based on this request!

Max just couldn't understand how someone as nice, caring and dumb like you got into one of the most dangerous sport. After getting tired of racing in NASCAR, and almost retiring from motosport, Christian Horner saw the opportunity and got you a seat as their reserve driver.

Nobody thought it would go well, racing in such a different category and skipping all the previous steps to F1, it was just failure in plain sight. But when Daniel Ricciardo, their second driver broke one of his bones and you got in the seat, it was amazing. You loved Danny, he was so funny and such and amazing coworker who loved to tease you.

"What's that ring you got there?" He asked wiggling his brows, making the blood rush to your cheeks, you weren't ashamed of anything, it was a part of your identity, but something about him asking that in front of Max, who you knew would make fun of you, made you blush.

"Mmm, it's a purity ring" you stared at the floor.

"Oh, that's cool" he said smiling.

"A purity ring?" Max scoffed "what time are we in? In the 1800?" He laughed leaving you to deal with the shame in the form of prickling tears in your eyes.

"Not cool mate" Daniel shaked his head.

"Not cool how she's so proud of that thing, like everybody else is worse than her" he shrugged.

You rushed out of the garage, the word shame wasn't enough to describe how you felt right now.

Walking to the McLaren's garage, you saw Lando, changing your path towards the brit.

"Hey sweet" he hugged you sideway.

"Hey Lan" you smiled.

"Want to help me take some pictures?".

"Sure, would love to"

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

Making your way back to your garage to finally get ready to race, starting to feel anxious about facing your teammate again.

You never felt ashamed of your ring, but it was itching in your finger, begging to be taken off and be hidden.

Looking to both sides you decided to take it off and save it on your pocket, finally reaching your side of the garage to start getting ready.

"Good luck sweet" Daniel said, bumping his fist with yours, frowning when he saw your naked finger.

"Thanks Danny, I wish you could be racing in my place" you said hugging him, needing the comfort of your friend.

"Well, I dont, you're going to do great".

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

In fact, it went amazing, taking your first win on the Monza track? A dream come true, except for the part when you had to face Max again, breaking his almost record wasn't in your plans.

Showering and hiding away in your driver's room was the best idea on your mind. Not having to face your furious teammate.

Well it was a good idea, till he opened the door that you didn't lock well.

"Fucking hiding from me? Not even going to apologize for what you did?" Max was towering over you, looking down at you from your place on the sofa.

Starting to tremble a little, not liking how mean he was being "I'm sorry Max, I really didn't mean to" you hugged yourself "But I'm happy I won, it's my first win" you whispered the last part.

"And why should I care? You fucking ruined my record!" You flinched at his raising voice, not being used to be yelled at "You pretend to be so nice and sweet, but then you go and ruin everything for me, and I don't even get a real sorry? You are a bitch" he spat.

"I'm not!" You said standing in front of him "I've been nothing but nice to you, I don't know what you want from me" you saw his face change, frowning and a twisted smile appearing.

"Apologize" he said "You're not a dumb kid that doesn't know how to say sorry, you're fucking 19"

"No, I wasn't wrong, you don't deserve it" you shaked.

"Seat" he demanded.

"Wh-"

"Stop playing dumb, you heard me" he pushed you down "Going to teach you how to say I'm fucking sorry"

You watched in horror how he started to undo his jeans, trying to stand again, failing when he bloked you.

"Be nice" he growled "Open your mouth"

"No, go away Max" you cried.

"Open" he said squeezing your cheeks with his hand, hurting you till you gave in, his fingers pressing down on your tongue, letting you taste your own tears "If you bite me, it would be worse, be nice, like you always are, okay?" When you didn't respond he got his face closer to yours "Okay?" Shaking your head 'yes' to reply his demand.

Finally taking his aching cock out of his tight jeans, proding at your lips "Open" he said once more, smiling when you did as he said "That's it, sweet, so good" you flinched hearing your nickname coming from his mouth.

He started to fuck your mouth at a slow pace, moaning quietly "Fuck, relax, breath through your nose and you would stop choking sweet" he told you with a sigh, keeping his moves going "That's it, much better" he caressed your hair, making you cry even more pushing at his thighs, he pulled out.

"You got what you wanted Max, please go away now" you cried.

"Oh sweet, I just started" he chuckled "Take your pants off" he kissed you cheek "And put the ring back on" watching you fish the ring from your pocket, putting it on and freezing, he sighs "come here" he said pulling you by the loop on your jeans, taking it off himself.

"Max, please, stop" you whispered, trying to cover yourself.

He didn't listen to you, putting his hands on the back of your thighs pulling you on top of him.

"Please, I'm not going to said anything, I swear" you cried.

"Put your hands on my shoulder" he ignored you again, kissing you while moving your panties to the side, thrusting inside you little by little, not letting go of your lips.

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

The next day, arriving to film some content for the team, you went to say hi to Daniel.

"Hey" you hugged him.

"Why the fuck does Max have your ring on a fucking chain?".

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

A/N: Hellooo, more dark content bc is never enough, hope you enjoy it, love yall🤍

[aurorawhisperz]

that’s the thing (e.l)

I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE DRAFT AND LOST THE ASK 😭😭😭 (but here u go anon if u find this 🙏)

contains: swearing, fluff, smut 18+ (oral, fingering, slight overstimulation)

spiderman!ethan landry x fem!reader

based off you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee 🙏

•

Ethan definitely screwed up.

He swings across the city in tight spandex. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Ethan exclaimed, speedily typing on his phone, but you wouldn’t respond.

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, he always had priorities—but that didn’t stop him from spending time with you. Knowing this, you forgave him every time he’d miss something.

Well, that jinxed it. On the lookout, he had completely forgotten about your date, Ethan—being the dork with the heart of gold, thought this would be the last straw for you.

Ethan often thought about this every time he’d be swinging around New York just to make it up to you. One reason why he’d always make it up to you is because he felt like he should, or must.

The second reason why is because it always ends in something wonderful—whether it’s him sleeping over, or the other way around, or something else that would have the boy completely whipped.

Then he spotted you, wearing his jacket you ‘forgot’ to return. His whole world seemed to stop—that was until he remembered the fact that he left you waiting.

A bunch of people backed away when Ethan took you with him. “It’s the spider dude!” Someone near you exclaimed.

“What? Oh my god!” You exclaim, swiftly sliding your hands around his neck. “I am so SO sorry that I left you waiting, okay? I was on the lookout, I completely forgot about our date, I’m really sorry, I REALLY AM!” He exclaimed, talking fast, then you pointed at a pole that was about to hit his head.

Once Ethan was about to dodge it, it hits the top of his head instead. His grip tightened till he swinged back to your dorm—though weakly.

He yanks his mask off and leans back on your bed.

“Less talking, more swinging.” You sigh, grabbing the sides of his face—then you kissed him, your lips moving in sync. He could taste the fruity lipgloss you had put on. Ethan's eyes widened in surprise as you pulled away. He blinked a few times, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

Then a smile was on his face, pulling you back. Deepening the kiss.

“Being a superhero’s girlfriend isn’t that hard,” You frown, then he kisses more again before you continue, “But seriously, you have to change out of this shit.” Ethan kept a hand on your waist, “Actions speak louder than words, right?”

You jump as Ethan quickly jumps under your bed, your roommate bursting in. “Hey, I’ll be leaving you alone here for a while since I’ve got somewhere to go.” You nod, then they wave, “See ya.” And leave.

Quickly falling on your bed as Ethan uses his webs to lock the door, “This is really cute,” He holds up your diary, the drawing of Spider-Man you made on a sticky note during a lecture. “Can I keep it?”

“Change first.” He rolled his eyes at your command.

He quickly changed into his normal clothes after slipping off the spandex. “Dammit,” He exclaimed as he checked his backpack for flowers he was gonna give you—there were flowers, but only a few, the petals flying away instantly.

Walking into the living room, Ethan uses his webs to snatch the remote from your hands, “We’re watching a movie, because I have to make it up to you,” Then handing you the somewhat ruined bouquet of flowers. “Eth, you shouldn’t have.” You teased then grabbed his camera from the table.

“Try and take a picture of me holding these, that’s how you can make it up to me.” Ethan takes the camera from you then more words come from your mouth, “Although you’re already here, that’s how you can make it up to me.”

The camera flashes in your face as you cover the lower half of your face with the flowers—then laying down on the couch with Ethan as the movie starts playing.

“You know,” says Ethan, “I’m really glad I forgot about our date today,” You frown, then he chuckles, “It led to this and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You both chuckle at his words then you shower his face with kisses. Ethan quickly pulled you down to kiss his lips. The movie was long forgotten soon after that.

His lips crashed into yours once again, then his nails dig in your thighs as you straddle him.

“Maybe because you knew it would lead to this,” You mumble against his lips, his other hand running down your spine like an instrument. Ethan broke the kiss to move down to your jawline—then your neck.

His hands tapping on your lower back as you pulled away. “You’re a sneaky one.” You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, then Ethan let out a breathy laugh, “I’m Spiderman, of course I’m sneaky.”

“But I love Ethan Landry more.” Right after Ethan takes quite a few minutes to process your words, he pulls you in by your waist to kiss you once again.

You wrap your arms around his neck as his fingers dig into your hips.

He mumbles against your lips, “I want you,” He starts to smoothly put a little tongue in the kiss, then when your lips part even more for permission, it slips in. You hum against his lips as Ethan slowly grinds into you.

You pull away and smile, he drags his thumb over your bottom lip, you try to kiss him again, but he keeps a hand on your chest to stop you. “Can I go down on you?” The question makes your eyes widen as you turn beet red. Ethan’s stupid puppy eyes made you nod, and the smirk felt good to kiss off.

His arms placed you back on the couch, the needy boy got on his knees. Ethan gives you a deep kiss, then he moves down your jaw, he leaves a mark on your collarbone.

It goes from your chest, to your belly, and he reaches your clothed core. Ethan looks up at you and you lick your lips.

The boy pulls down your panties and starts with kissing your inner thighs. The sneaky little thing was always a tease, it pained you slightly but you know you love him.

Ethan presses a wet kiss to your left thigh, sucking on it. His breath fans over your core and you shudder.

He presses a kiss to your clit, then makes his way down to your entrance—licking up then burying his face in between your thighs. Your back arched at the pleasure.

In the early stages of your relationship, you had always told him what felt good, and he made it feel even better.

Your legs threaten to lock around his head, but his big hands hold your hips down. You were basically squirming, and he was only trying to drive himself away from the spot you wanted him to stay on.

Ethan harshly sucks on your clit, circling it with his tongue. You feel like you’re close, VERY close. Without warning, his middle finger enters you and that makes you lift your head up and whine in pleasure, you could feel him smile against your core.

“God, don’t stop.” You say breathlessly, and while muffled, you could still hear him, “I won’t,” He pulls away with a pop, “Trust me.” He dives right back in as soon as he finishes.

When his ring finger enters, your body felt limp and like everything slowed down for a minute.

The hot feeling down your stomach was heating up.

When his nose bumped into your clit, along with his ring finger entering the chaos, that feeling hit it’s peak.

Though Ethan didn’t stop, he kept lapping up your juices—it felt so overwhelming. Your hips were basically jolting up out of instinct.

You shuddered under his touch, he reaches up for your hand and laces his fingers with yours.

When Ethan finally pulled away, he crawled back on top of you and pushed away a stray strand of hair. He didn’t say anything, he just smiled. You know you’d forgive him for missing a date either way, the only way he could make it up to you is just being there.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, then he mumbles in between kisses, “I’m not done yet,” Your eyes blink open as he pulls away, the taste of yourself lingering on your tongue. “I wonder how people would feel if they find out their friendly neighborhood Spiderman was a pro at not only superhero-ing, but this.” says Ethan.

You chuckle and pull him back in for another, when he breaks the contact he takes the square foil out of his pocket and smirks at you, then places it on the table next to you both. He tries to kiss you again

You grab it from the table, “I’m not on the pill, babe,” You assure him, he shrugs then takes it from your hand. He sticks the tip of his tongue out when he struggles to open it. You laugh at Ethan, and open it yourself. “I’ll be your walking stick tomorrow,” he whispers to your ear.

You were in for a long night.

[formulapai]

HOSPITAL TRIP

part of the BROTHER IN LAW series

scenario: she wasn’t hurt that bad, they were just over-exaggerating..

warning: hospital, vomit, falling down the stairs, minor concussion

pai’s words: it sounds really bad but it’s NOT I promise. also, my brothers call me “ma puce” quite often, which is a REALLY known nickname in France, and it literally translates to “my flea” and it’s ?? weird ?? so I translated it as “sweetie” to match the vibe ! ALSO I had a concussion once when I was younger because one of them pushed me into a wall while riding a bike, fun times 👍🏻

based on a true story (I broke my pinky and my brothers acted like I was on deathbed, calling my UNCLES to tell them all about it 💀💀💀)

“Bon Océ, tu fais quoi là?” (Océ, what are you doing?)

She hears her twin brother’s exasperated grumble as she finishes getting ready, fastening her new heels’ strap around her ankle.

“Roh ca va Thuthur, je suis prête!” (Cmon it’s fine Thuthur, I’m ready)

She excitedly runs out of her room and down the stairs, ready to go to the restaurant with her brother. They’re joining their mum and older brothers there for their weekly dinner. Or well, they should have been, but the night’s plan are forgotten as Arthur sees her sister tripping in the stairs and miserably falling down. She’s at the bottom of them when he finally unfreezes and rushes to her, screaming her name. The woman stays unmoving but awake for a few seconds, too stunned to comprehend what has happened.

“Oh putain, ça va ma puce ?” (Oh fuck, you alright sweetie?)

Océane snorts and holds a thumbs up, trying to get up but quickly realizing her mistakes. She groans as pain shoots up her spine and bangs around her head. Damn, maybe her fall was a little worse than she thought. Her brother holds her as she sits up and grits her teeth as the banging in her head grows stronger. He sees right through her game and shakes his head.

“Va sur le canapé, je les préviens qu’on va être en retard.” (Go sit on the couch, I’m telling them we’re going to be late)

She tries to do as he said but isn’t able to get far as her vision goes black and she slumps back on the ground in a frankly humiliating position that she KNOWS her brother would have made fun of her for if it was any other situation. Once her vision is back, she finally manages to get up towards the couch and lets herself fall on it with a sigh. She slowly looks over at whatever she can see of her body, noticing that nothing seems broken or even bruised and she thanks her lucky star for it. In the back of her mind, she pictures Pierre nagging at her for choosing the very own shoes he told her to be careful with. Of course she didn’t listen, and of course she should have. It’s a known fact she’s the clumsiest person ever.

“Bon, j’ai prévenu Maman, tu te sens comment?” (Alright, I’ve told mom, how are you feeling?)

He sits next to her and does a quick visual checkup, coming to the same conclusion as hers.

“Ca va, ca va, juste un peu mal à la tête.” (I’m fine, I’m fine, just a headache)

Arthur frowns at that, concern written on his face.

“T’es sûre que ca ira ? ‘Fin tu sais, ils nous disent toujours de faire gaffe à ca justement, les cervicales, tout ca..” (You sure it’s going to be fine ? I mean, they always tell us to be careful about this, cervical impact and all)

Océane snorts, of course he’s going to compare her fall to the extreme risks of his job. As if she’s that hurt. She shakes her head but quickly regrets it when buzzing fills her ears and she’s hit with a wave of nausea. Quickly getting up despite her state, the sister rushes to the bathroom and kneels in front of the toilet. Her head is so loud, her vision doesn’t seem to be working as she’d like, and in the midst of it all, she can still hear her twin’s voice as he rushes after her. He stops at the door and waits for her to finish, ready to help her if needed. He knows something is definitely wrong, she probable hit her head during the fall.

“Bon, je previens Maman que je t’emmene aux urgences” (Well, I’m telling mom I’m taking you to the ER)

The other twin spits the water she was gurgling and turns around, eyes wide and arms crossed.

“Non mais tu vas pas m’emmener aux urgences pour une chute ?” (You are so not taking me to the ER because I fell?)

Arthur stands his ground and levels her with a glare, his mind already made up. She scoffs as she goes back to the living room, taking her phone and seeing messages from her brothers and his boyfriend. She’s about to answer to some of them when her phone lights up with a call from Lorenzo that she’s quick to accept.

“Va à l’hopital ma puce” (Go to the hospital, sweetie)

“Tu vas pas t’y mettre aussi Enzo, c’est n’importe quoi” (Not you too Enzo, it’s bullshit)

“Non mais il a raison, ca peut etre grave ! Vaut mieux prévenir que guérir.” (But he’s right, it can be serious. Better be safe than sorry)

In the corner of her eyes, she sees Arthur smiling triumphantly as he listens to the conversation and already has her bag in his hands, ready to go.

“Mais Enzo, je suis juste tombée, je suis meme pas blessée !” (Cmon Enzo, I just fell, I’m not even hurt)

Océane hears shuffling on the other side of the phone and rolls her eyes as Charles comes to the phone.

“Océ ! Va au moins voir si tout va bien, je t’emmène à ton café préféré demain si t’y vas !” (Océ, at least go there to check if everything’s fine, I’m taking you to your favorite cafe if you do)

“Bon ok, mais si je me fais disputer par les infirmieres parce que je gache leur temps, je dis que c’est de votre faute !” (Fine, but if the nurses tell me off for wasting their time I’m telling them it’s because of you guys)

She faintly hears her mother laughing as she hangs up and turns to her brother, vision becoming blurry once again. She doesn’t pay any mind to it and gets up, walking towards the front door and towards his brother’s Ferrari. Dumb boys and their dumb obsession with the Italian cars. As soon as they’re on their way, her phone’s connected to the radio, yet another person calls her. She shakes her head and answers, the car radio coming alive.

“Mon ange, j’ai eu Charlo au telephone, c’est quoi cette histoire encore ? Tu vas bien ?” (My angel, Charlo called me, what’s this all about ? Are you okay ?)

Arthur snorts and decides to expose her and her damn shoes, how she fell and pretty much every details there is to know about it. She’s very tempted to take the steering wheel and crash the car.

“Bref, on va pas en faire tout un plat, je suis tombée et ils exagerent, comme d’habitude.” (Anyway, no need to blabber about it, I fell and they’re overreacting, as usual)

Pierre chuckles and stays on the phone with them until they arrive at the ER’s parking lot, making his girlfriend promise to keep him updated. Arthur leads them towards the desk, her dizziness returning once she’s out of the car, and explains the story to the nurse there, turning towards his twin to see if she needs to add something. Océane tells her symptoms, how she feels as if her head is going to explode, how she felt sparks shoot up her spine when she fell and the pin just stayed in her head after that. They wait for a few moments, the waiting room surprisingly empty. Her brother distracts her and launches into a monologue about whatever game he discovered with his friends the night before during a livestream. It’s not long before she’s called over, having a nurse do a simple checkup on her, shining a light in her eyes, taking her temperature, the basics. Only later, when a doctor enters the room to tell her the diagnostic, she softly laughs. The professional assures her that it was a good thing they insisted on having her come to the hospital and sends her off with a few instructions.

“Un trauma cranien, TRES leger!” (A concussion, a very minor one)

Arthur shoots up his seat and joins you towards the exit, blabbering about how they were so right, how she absolutely needs to rest and drink and acting as if she’s a one year old. The nail in the coffin is when he insists on calling her boyfriend to tell her he needs to come ASAP to take care of her because “it’s his job as your boyfriend !”. They argue all the way back to the apartment and even after they arrive, the twin brother insisting on having her laying in bed for the rest of the evening.

“Arthur, t’es saoulant là, sincerement” (Arthur, you’re annoying, sincerely)

But he’s gone before she can finish the sentence, so she grumpily settles on the bed and waits. Of course he took her phone, claiming that the screen was going to worsen the situation. Again, for a minor concussion. A simple minor concussion. She’s soon lost in her thoughts, not hearing when voices are suddenly coming from the entryway, not even noticing the soft knock on her door. She does notice her boyfriend’s very amused face as he looks down on her.

“Non mais je reve, dis moi qu’il t’a pas dit de venir ?” (I hope I’m dreaming and he didn’t tell you to come)

Pierre’s facade breaks and he cackles loudly, slapping his thigh. He proceeds to tell her everyone is downstairs, her brothers absolutely serious in their worry, her mother enjoying the chaos and laughing silently. Océane decides the best to do is ignore it all and lets her lover climbs into the bed with her, enjoying the butterfly kisses he leaves on her head.

[millie-multifics]

Proverbial Dark Clouds • Part 3

Major John Egan x Reader

A woman finally snuck her way into the heart of eligible bachelor Major John Egan, he is all too soon reminded of why he fended off love for so long.

Warnings: Angst. Themes of war, death and violence. Heart break. Spoilers to episodes 1-4. A little bit of steam but nothing graphic.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Final part of Proverbial Dark Clouds. Thank you so much for reading!

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2

x x x

Every moment they were stuck in the Algerian sand, Bucky kept his eyes on the sky, hoping that maybe a straggling plane would come along. The sun and sand were hot, most of the men had stripped to their underclothes hoping for some relief, many thinking about their lost comrades and the prospect of an ice-cold beer.

The only thing on Bucky’s mind was you. He could picture you sitting along with the boys in the sand, hounding them about sunburns and heat sickness but you would be as undressed as your modesty would allow with sweat dripping down your brow- so in love with the fact that you both had made it through alive.

It had all been a blur, the past two weeks or so for John. Being a leader amongst his men meant he couldn’t allow himself to be effected by the disappearance of you and his friends, he couldn’t lay his pain on the shoulders of his men. It had become a morning routine to visit the infirmary. The visits had started as a daily occurrence until Buck had caught on to his pre-breakfast disappearances, but he still stopped by when he could sneak away from Gale’s watchful eye. He’d stand near the doorway, expecting you to walk by, beautiful as ever even with blood spattered on your uniform. You never did.

You quickly learned that the base was always abuzz before and following a mission. While the pilots rested as much as their minds would let them the night before, all the other personnel were preparing to bring the men home as successful and safe as possible. For you it meant one more checkup for any soldiers who were cleared to leave the infirmary, preparing a general medical kit for each plane and hundreds of smaller medical kits for each soldier, a precaution should they need to bail out of the plane.

“Is there a man you fancy on this mission?” Doctor Williams asked, earning a confused frown as you shook your head. “If you keep pacing you will wear a hole in the middle of my floor.”

To put it lightly, you were bored. All of the patients had been tended to, every other task that the doctor had requested you complete was finished and you were full of trapped energy as your body overcompensated for your lack of sleep.

“They should be arriving anytime now, put on a jumpsuit and meet them in the field.” The doctor suggested, glancing up from his paperwork as you continued to pace.

“Am I permitted to do that?”

The man shrugged, just as tired as you. “Well, I’m permitting it. It would be more of a hassle to replace this floor if you wear a divet in it.”

You watched as the planes landed one by one. Most of the men had small treatable wounds until one particular plane caught your eye. The crew worked together to lower a bloodied man from inside, the rest of the medical team quickly rushed toward them with a stretcher. You followed, working to roll up the sleeves on your jumpsuit, ready to get your hands bloodied if need be.

“What’s his name?” You asked, your feet following along with the stretcher as you moved the injured soldiers jacket away from his wound.

“Duval.”

The familiar voice had you glancing over your shoulder as the men loaded the stretcher into the truck. Those gray eyes had been ingrained in your thoughts for the past week. Recognition dawned on his features, and what you could only decipher to be distaste flashed across his face. You had been someone he was not expecting to see again, after all, England had an array of American bases and neither of you had specified your destination during your previous encounter.

“Alright Duval, let’s get you fixed up.”

After helping Doctor Williams assess and treat Duval, you had been placed in charge of treating the men with smaller, more superficial wounds. Since most of the men had smaller wounds requiring only proper cleaning, bandaging and maybe a few stitches the lineup at your station was quite lengthy. Needless to say, your lack of sleep had you on edge and when the final man sat in the chair across from you, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Don’t sound so sad to see me, sweetheart.”

“I heard you’re the one who treated Duval on the plane?” Your fingers gently gripped his chin to turn his head to the perfect angle for proper light.

“Impressed?”

“Confused.” You dipped the clean cloth into the bowl of water, “You could treat a wound like that but not take a shower to wash this blood off your face?”

“And miss my chance to be patched up by you?” He teased, but you could see it in his eyes, the nervousness he tried to hide. With your time in the medical field you had learned to read people through their eyes and body language, an important part of your job was to detect when people were in discomfort or pain.

“Earlier, you looked at me like I was a ghost or something.”

“I was just surprised is all.” He winced from the sting as you dabbed the dried blood from his hairline, “You this heavy-handed with every soldier?”

You scoffed, “The man before you did not flinch when I put 6 stitches in his brow.”

“Are you calling me weak?” John playfully leaned away from your touch “Maybe I am weak, weak in the knees for you.”

“Do these lines usually work for you?” Your fingers paused their work, your eyes jumping from inspecting his wound to the mischievous glint in his gray eyes.

“That depends. Will you agree to have a drink with me?”

“You are infuriatingly charming, Major.”

“Please, call me John.”

He had been tense lately, slipping closer and closer to the edge. It had become clear to Buck at Dye’s 25th Mission celebration that his friend was in dire need of a break. He sent John to London for the weekend, hoping that it would ease some of the tension in his shoulders and cast away the dark cloud that hung over his head. John felt the hotel was too quiet, escaping to a local pub for some noise and a beer and when a beautiful woman had approached him to share a drink he had tried to entertain her, maybe that would help him forget about you, but when she had gone to powder her nose he had slipped out undetected.

Sometimes John had trouble sleeping before missions, he would still be tossing and turning when a runner was sent to wake them up for their briefing. Now, he had trouble sleeping every night. Nearly two months had passed since you had disappeared, still nobody had any answers of what exactly had happened, either you had died a gruesome death or become a prisoner of war. The dark truth was John wasn’t sure which one he would prefer, resting at peace like the angel you were or trapped, possibly facing cruel acts of violence every day.

When exhaustion took over and sleep was impossible to avoid, he dreamt of you. Always so beautiful, always so you- those nights caused a deep ache to spread through his chest. He almost felt silly for the whole thing, you two had not been together long but he had been so captivated by your whole being. For so long he had sworn off love, not because he did not want it, but because he was certain that he would never experience it.

You smoothed down the soft skirt of your dress, no longer accustomed to wearing such a luxury item. The dress had been gifted to you by another nurse upon hearing through the grapevine that you had a date with the handsome Major. Unbeknownst to you, that Major was the “grapevine”.

A fast moving jeep suddenly stopped in front of your billet, the sound of it skidding along the gravel road pulled your attention away from the small crease along the dresses hem. The handsome Major stepped out of the jeep, his smile grew as he took in your form. There was a glint in his eye as he approached, gently brining your the back of your hand to his lips to lay a gentle greeting kiss.

“Your carriage awaits.”

You inspected the jeep and the patiently waiting solider in the drivers seat. “Have you ordered that man to chauffeur us around this evening? Or is he doing this with his own free will?”

“Half and half,” John shrugged, leading you toward the vehicle, “But that is because I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

The Major hummed as he opened the passenger door of the Jeep, “Do you happen to know how to ride a bicycle?”

Your chauffeur dropped you off at your destination and quickly drove off into the sunset, presumably back to Thorpe Abbott before anyone realized he was gone. John led you into a quaint pub, his familiarity with the other patrons and bartender told you that he had visited it often since arriving in England. He led you to a table in the corner, leaving you by yourself momentarily while he went to get drinks.

“It feels like you are sitting a whole world away,” He gripped the edge of your chair, pulling it closer to the corner of the square table, “Much better.”

“So, what are the components of this master plan?”

“My crew is set to arrive tomorrow, if all is according to plan. Bicycles are hard to come by at Thorpe Abbott right now and I sure as hell could use one, trying to get one for a friend of mine too.” His breath brushed your face as he leaned closer, keen on hiding the next phase of his plan from any nosy patrons. “He always said that drinking leads to gambling, and where would a better place be than here?”

You gasped, feigning shock. “Major, I hope you are not planning to swindle some poor locals for their bicycles?”

“If all goes according to plan.” His charming smile returned, “But of course that is simply only a singular component of my plan, enjoying a beer and the company of a compelling lady are my highlights.”

You spent your evening tucked away in the corner, John coaxing stories from you about your past, eager to learn more about you. You were both so enthralled that neither of you had noticed your bodies slowly gravitating closer as the night went on. You were sitting on the same side of the table now, shoulder to shoulder, feet tangled together and hands lingering merely an inch apart on the table top.

“It’s getting late.” John glanced at his watch, turning his wrist to show you the face of the timepiece.

You sighed, not wanting the evening to end. “Time flies when you are having fun.”

“That it does.” He finally stopped playing coy, boldly taking your soft hand into his rough one. You felt a chill run through you as his thumb swiped over the back of your hand. “I should put in a little work on acquiring those bicycles, then get you back to base.”

You waited patiently, unsure of what his gambling entailed. What you had not expected was for John to bet another man could hit a bullseye, the target though being an apple resting on top of Johns very own head.

“John, as a medical professional I must advise you against this.” You spoke over the rowdy patrons in the pub “There has to be another way for you to acquire a bicycle, you’ll lose an eye.”

“No I won’t, I trust Tommy.” He assured, the additional beer and adrenaline now running through his blood stream providing him with extra confidence. “Now he wins this, I get both those bikes.”

“Yeah, you’re on yank.”

“And I get a kiss.” John sent you a wink as he stepped in front of the dart board. “Alright, Tommy, not my eyes. Not my eyes, Tommy. All right?”

He placed the apple on top of his head and covered his eyes with his hand, letting a big breath out. “Alright Tommy, whenever you’re ready.”

You held your breath, pulling at the skin on your fingers to keep yourself from covering your eyes as well. The possible outcomes filtered through your mind, puncture wound of the face or hand, loss of an eye; both would not have great outcomes for any pilot. You had to close your eyes as Tommy took aim.

Gasps echoed through the pub as the dart pierced skin, luckily for sake of most peoples it was the skin of the apple.

“Tommy!”

John brushed past you to hug Tommy for their victory, before circling back to pull your body into his arms. You were too shocked with the contact to return it before he retreated for one more celebrity cheer with the other patrons who had witnessed the unbelievable sight.

You gripped your dress in your hand while trying to maintain grip on the bicycles handlebar, not wanting your dress to get caught in the wheel. Only a minute after you had departed the pub, the clouds opened up and the down pour started. You had laughed in disbelief at first, just your luck to be caught in the rain on a night like this.

“Nothing but blue skies do I see,

Not in England though,

Got shitty weather and blue skies, smiling at me.”

John sung at the top of his lungs as he weaved along the road in front of you, making the most of the poor weather with his clever lyrics and self-identified singing ability.

The bikes were abandoned in the rain on the walkway to your small cabin. Against all the rules, you had invited the Major to step inside to escape the rain to say goodnight. He stood in the threshold, his confident demeanor dwindling as a near awkwardness hung by the threshold.

You were grateful that the other ladies in your cabin had been granted weekend passes, you couldn’t imagine this moment if you had five other women watching this moment like it was the next best movie.

“I enjoyed tonight.” You found a shirt abandoned on your bunk, using it to quickly dry the water droplets running down your scalp. “Despite you nearly blinding yourself for a bet.”

“Actually, I do recall the bet including a kiss.”

His words hung in the space between you. You dropped the shirt onto your bunk as he took slow steps forward, almost unsure if you were open to fulfilling the wager.

“You’re right, I think it did.” The words sounded like a whisper coming from your lips, nearly being drowned out by the sound of the heavy rain beating against the tin roof above your heads. You slowly stepped forward, closing the space between your bodies until your finger tips brushed.

“This alright, sweetheart?” His warm breath fanned your face as he asked. Your nod causing your nose to briefly rub along his before your lips connected in a slow kiss. Your hands found his hips as his snaked around to the back of your head, slowly increasing the pressure of the kiss as your body relaxed against his. The kiss had unleashed an array of feelings that continued to smolder throughout the night.

His short trip to London had done nothing to help ease the spreading darkness of his mind- 30 bombers lost.

The headline in the newspaper and his phone call to Thorpe Abbott was all he needed to solidify the fantasy he had of what he must do moving forward in this war. The only way he would make it through without losing the rest of his sanity was to find you, and now Gale with the other missing men.

The heart breaking truth was you had never made it out of your reverie, the last words gracing your thoughts was your Majors sweet whisper.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.”

x x x

@canyousmelltheflowers @mads-weasley @groovin2beats @major-john-bucky-egan @finelinetimothee @surazim @orphancains @danny-boy27 @eugenedream

[vanishingcherry]

GOT A SENSE I'D BEEN BETRAYED

pairings: lando norris x reader

warnings: swearing, mclaren being shitty, lando being shitty for agreeing with mclarens plans, break ups, general angst

authors note: based on this request hii! thanks for requesting! the start is just a bit of a backstory, so its not that great. prompt 9 is "'you promised' 'i know'", prompt 10 is "none of it was real... was it?" and prompt 11 is "don't touch me". check out my prompt list

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

When introduced to the world of F1, you immediately became a fan.

After a couple years of watching the sport on TV, you managed to get tickets to a Grand Prix not too far from your city. You were overjoyed as you walked through the entrance on Friday, having managed to snag tickets for all three days of the race weekend as well as a paddock pass for free practice.

Decked out in all the merch you owned, you were a sight to see. Lucky for you, the clashing shades of red, orange, black, green and blue were an all too common sight at a race, allowing you to comfortably blend in wherever you were.

Your day at the paddock was amazing, to say the least. Watching pitstop practices, meeting other fans and even taking pictures of and with a few of the drivers. It was, arguably, one of the best days of your life.

You were just about to leave the paddock when a McLaren employee walked towards you, blocking your path.

"Hello! I'm Julie, what's your name?"

After replying with slight confusion, she explained why she was talking to you.

"Lando saw you earlier in the day when you were outside his garage and wanted to talk to you! I'm glad I caught you, he wanted me to give you these paddock passes for tomorrow on behalf of McLaren."

She went on about everything the passes included, but you were still stuck on the fact that Lando was the one who had invited you.

"Wait- I uh- Lando? As in Norris? The driver?"

"Yeah." she laughed at your reaction. "Just come and show these passes to anyone at the McLaren hospitality tomorrow and they'll tell you where to go."

When you showed up the following day, weirdly enough, they directed you straight to Lando. You got to talking, and before you knew it you had spent hours with him. The two of you were interrupted a while before qualifying was meant to begin, and shockingly, he asked to take you on a date the next week.

You were slightly skeptical, it seemed like something straight out of a movie and you knew that going on a date with Lando could have repercussions on your entire life. Nonetheless, even you knew that turning down this invitation would be stupid. Even if it didn't lead to anything, it would be an experience for sure.

To your surprise, it was one of the best dates you had ever been on. A year later, the two of you were still together. Despite the unordinary circumstances that had brought you together, you were glad to have caught his eye that day.

Since then, you had accompanied him to many races, and today was no different. Heading towards his driver room, you lift your hand to knock, before stopping centimeters from the door. Someone else was in the room, you could hear hushed voices. You turn around, taking a few steps away, giving them their privacy.

"Y/N deserves to know!"

It was the voice of one of his friends, and the sound of your name had caught your attention.

"I can't tell her right now, okay? I- I'll tell her soon." That was Lando. You frowned at his statement, now wondering what he was keeping from you.

"Lando the longer you keep this from her, the worse it's going to get. In fact, you're probably lucky if she finds out now and doesn't leave."

"Don't you think I know that? Why do you think I'm not telling her?" Lando's sudden outburst was too much. He was hiding something that potentially changed the entire course of your relationship, you deserved to know what.

You slowly open the door, walking in just in time to hear what Lando's friend says.

"If you're not going to tell her, I am. She deserves to know that this started as a publicity stunt, even if that may have changed now."

"What?" you say in disbelief. Even though you barely heard the word yourself, both Lando and his friend turned to you at the sound. It would have been comical, how fast their eyes widened and expressions changed. But in the moment, all you could focus on was the fact that Lando didn't deny it.

Started as a publicity stunt.

Why do you think I'm not telling her!

You're probably lucky if she finds out now and doesn't leave.

Lando's friend murmurs an excuse, brushing shoulders with you as he walks out and softly closes the door behind him. Leaving you and Lando alone. If it was any other day, you would have been overjoyed to be alone with Lando, with his schedules and races you were rarely left alone. But right now, all you wanted to do was leave. Still, you ask.

"None of it was real... was it?"

Lando didn't answer. At a loss for words, his mouth opened and closed. He was wracking his brain, trying to think of something to say that would make you believe him, trust him. He had fucked up, he knew it. He just had to figure out how to fix it, make things right so that you wouldn't leave him.

You didn't notice the look of anguish on his face, instead you continued speaking, trying to make sense of the situation.

"You just thought that it would be okay to lead me on. That when I found out I was just for publicity, I would be okay with it. Or actually, you probably weren't going to tell me at all, based on your conversation" you all but shouted, referring to what you had overheard.

"I can't believe you!" The room, although large, seemed to be closing in on you. You felt like you were suffocating. "Say something Lando."

He stayed silent.

"God!" you turned around, resting your forehead in your hands, going through every moment of your relationship. The bright and happy memories were now darkened with the knowledge of Lando's initial intentions.

Waking up from whatever trance he had been placed in at the sight of you, Lando silently walks over. He carefully wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"I'm so sorry, my love. I wanted to tell you I swear, I just chickened out every time. I love you, okay? I love you so much and I swear I'm not lying." He starts off, trying to explain before you cut him off.

"You promised." you whisper.

"I know." he mutters, knowing exactly what you meant.

"You promised, Lando. You promised you would never hurt me." Your voice cracked as you shrugged off his arms. He takes a few steps back and instead picks up your hands and plants a small kiss to your knuckles.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry. Darling, please just-"

"Don't touch me!"

He flinches at your tone, moving his hands from your own and taking a step back. Taking a couple deep breathes, he tries again.

"My love, I am so sorry." He bends down slightly, trying to make eye contact. "It started as a publicity stunt, yes, but I fell in love- I am in love with you."

He pauses for a moment, but remains undeterred when you don't respond. "I swear, all of it was real. My feelings are real, I never lied about those."

"Yeah, just lied about everything else" you scoff.

He almost reaches out to you before remembering that you didn't want to be touched by him. He flexes his hand before balling it into a fist near his thighs.

"I'm so sorry. Please just let me explain and I swear I'll fix this, okay? I- i'll figure something out and I'll fix this and we're going to be okay." At this point, he was convincing himself more than he was you.

Before he could say anything else, there was a knock on his door, signalling that he had to get in the car.

"Lando, its time."

"I know, I- just give me a minute" he begs.

"Lando we have to go right now, the race starts in 10 minutes". His engineer is adamant, slamming the door behind him, leaving no room for argument.

"Fuck!" he turns to you. "Darling, just stay here, yeah? Just for a while. I- we can talk after the race, I'm so sorry, just please stay here."

He waits for you to nod, eyes frantically scanning every inch of your face for a sign that you would stay. When you don't provide one, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Please. Please, I am begging you just don't lea-"

"Lando! Now." A voice calls through the door.

"Coming." He shouts back. Turning to you again he speaks, walking backwards out the door as he picks up his baclava and helmet. "Please, just stay. I'm so sorry, we'll talk right after the race I promise. I love you."

With that, he leaves you alone in his driver room. You take a deep breath before sitting on the chair. You couldn't find it in you to stay, and so the moment the race started, you were up and finding a taxi back to the hotel.

Lando couldn't focus. From the moment he sat in the car till the moment he got out, all he could think about was you and the pained look on your face when you found out.

He regretted everything. The fact that he had kept this a secret for so long, and the fact that he didn't let you find out this way. But most of all, he regretted the day he agreed to the publicity stunt.

No one was supposed to find out about it. It was simple. He would date you for a couple months, and then make an excuse to break up. You wouldn't find out, the media wouldn't find out and he would have the publicity the team wanted. It would serve as the perfect distraction too, any poor performances would be overshadowed by the news of his new girlfriend. The team thought it was great, it would mean more fans interested in him because it wasn't everyday a driver dated someone that wasn't a model or famous.

Till he fell in love with you. He fell hard too, it wasn't slow and gradual but all at once. He was just sitting at his apartment, watching you read a book on the sofa when the realisation crashed down on him. That he would give up anything for you, that you were it for him. You were the only one he wanted to spend time with, only one he wanted to see when he came home after a race.

Lando knew that he should have stopped it then, broken up or at least told you. But he was selfish, he wanted to stay in the bliss you had created together. And so what was supposed to be a few months turned into 6 and then a year.

The race was shit for Lando. He had half a mind to crash on purpose, just because it would mean getting back to you faster. Nonetheless, he stayed on track, praying that there would be no red flags to delay the end. He had qualified well, at P8, but slipped back to P15 by the time the checkered flag came out.

The second he entered the garage, he walked straight to his drivers room, completely ignoring all the mechanics and engineers trying to console him after the bad result.

Opening the door in a hurry, he swears at the sight of no one in the room. "Fuck fuck fuck!"

He spins around a couple times, making sure you weren't there before opening his phone and walking out of the room in a hurry. At the back of his mind, Lando knew that there were a million things he had to do before leaving, but he forgot about all of them, running to the spot where his car was parked.

He tries calling you, repeatedly pressing on your contact as he speeds past the red light. He'd pay all the fines they wanted, getting to you was more important. He sighs when you don't pick up, face scrunching as he tries to keep the tears back.

Reaching the hotel, he hands the car to the valet, running through the lobby, just managing to slide into a closing elevator. Once at the right floor, he unlocks your hotel room.

He is close to crying when he realises that this room too is empty. You had taken your belongings, and all that was left was Lando's half-open suitcase in the corner.

But what really got him crumbling down is the note you'd written and left on his pillow. He read it over and over, making sure his eyes weren't deceiving him.

I'm sorry, I just can't. Don't message me. Please.

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 33: Heavy silks

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): None A/n: I based the wizarding wedding traditions on this Reddit post. ALSO IGNORE THE FACE ON THE DRESS. I DIDN'T SEE IT AT FIRST OKAY🥲 [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

Your feet ache and the dress the seamstresses are anxiously fitting on you is heavy. The rich silk which feels soft against your skin. One of the ladies accidentally pricks you with a needle and you flinch. She starts to stutter out apologies as your aunt and Bellatrix hover nearby, glaring at the poor woman.

But you pay them no attention. Rather, you are focused on the Daily Prophet in your hands. There you are- the front page of the Daily Prophet standing behind Pius Thicknesse and next to Delores Umbridge. You look cold and heartless, a serious look on your face. You like what is expected of you by everybody.

Dolores — you're taking delight in calling that miserable toad by her first name since she can't do anything about it — has a satisfied smile on her face. 

You don't even want to talk about Yaxley and Runcorn. Creeps.

What, however, saddens you the most is that your true identity was revealed with this arctice. Full name and all underneath the picture taken during the speech.

From left to right: Albert Runcorn, Dolores Umbridge, (Y/n) Riddle, Heir of the Dark Lord, Pius Thicknesse, and Corban Yaxley.

It sickens you that they had to include the fact about who you're a child of. 

You feel people look at you and you quickly put away the papers, focusing instead on the others in the room. "I'm sorry?"

"How does the dress feel?", repeats Aunt Cissy her question as she sits on a chase in the corner, her eyes slightly watery.

You look at yourself in the mirror. Smoothing your hands over the bodice of the dress, you frown. It doesn't really look like a wedding dress you would have wanted to wear. But the Lord himself insisted that the fabrics must be in traditional Slytherin colours. Being prideful of our house and forefathers and whatnot.

"Good", you manage to croak out, not having spoken at all today. There was no need for you to. Every aspect of the wedding is already decided or is being decided by someone else.

Bellatrix raises one eyebrow. "Just good?"

You shake your head. "No. Great. I love it! It's just what I always dreamed of." You give the seamstresses your best and brightest smile. But you know it doesn't reach your eyes. 

"May I be excused?", you ask to nobody in particular. You have to get out. Out of the dress. Out of the Mannor. Away.

Once you're released from your dress, you hurry outside. One part of the garden is off-limits to anyone except you and anyone you bring with you. You've heard Death Eaters discuss the place and that they have deemed it an honour to be invited by you to that corner of the garden. Ugh, as if.

When you finally reach it, someone's already seated on the stone bench located in the middle. You round the bench and go sit next to Draco, whose shoulders are sagged.

"How's Theodore?", he asks, not looking at you.

"He's fine. Getting his tux fitted right now."

"How are you?"

Now that is a loaded question. "Fine", you answer curtly, but both of you know that that is not true. You've been far from 'fine'. "Absolutely miserable. But I imagine that I speak for the three of us."

Your cousin looks at you. He is paler than he has ever been. Obviously has he not been eating and sleeping well. You know for a fact that if you didn't have Theo you would be in the same state.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" 

Leaning over, you rest your head against his shoulder. You sniff and swallow the lump in your throat. There is no need to answer Draco's question. Of course, you're not. Nobody is ready to unwillingly marry at seventeen.

You hesitate for a moment, questioning yourself if you can really ask that of him. You instead bite the bullet and just ask it. "Will you give me away?"

Draco senses up, snapping his head towards you. "What?", he asks incredulously.

"Tomorrow. Will you give me away? My... father won't be there, too busy with himself. And I want to not be it anyone other than you."

Draco's speechless. His mouth opens and closes like a goldfish as he stares at you. You give him a small, unsure smile. Just as you want to take your words back and tell him to forget you asked, he engulfs you in a tight hug.

"Thank you", he whispers, "I would be honoured."

There is a knock on your door as you sit alone in your bedroom, the stylists just having left and let you be by yourself for a moment. Picking up the many layers of skirts of your dress, you make your way over to the door. 

Cracking it open just a smidge you're surprised to find Theo. "What are you doing here?", you whisper-shout, looking around the hall. "It's bad luck if you see me before the ceremony."

"I wanted- needed to see you."

You take his hand and pull him into your room. He presses his forehead against yours as he smiles. "Hi", he whispers. 

"Hi", you whisper back, smiling shyly. You caress his face and push back the locks that escaped his gelled hair. "Your hair is stubborn", you giggle. 

Theo's eyes flicker over your face, leaning into your touch. "I didn't think you could even look more beautiful than Yule Ball. I love to be proven wrong." He gives you a quick kiss before holding you at arm's length and ordering you to spin.

You do so and the many diamonds in your hair shimmer in the sunlight. Your gown balloons around you and it makes you smile to see the adoration on Theo's face. 

He looks good. Theo's wearing a suit with embroidered sleeves in a matching shade of green to your dress. The embroidery shimmers in the light, giving the effect of it moving on its own.

Theo pats his jacket in search of something and pulls out a small box from one of the inside pockets. He looks unsure for a moment before getting down on one knee and opening the box. A beautiful golden ring with a pearl in the middle that’s enchanted to display little pearlescent swirls within.

"I know we're doing this backwards... but will you do me the honour of marrying me?" Theo looks up at you, his brows knitted together and his hands shaky.

You stand breathlessly for a moment, your eyes fixed on the ring. Slowly you nod as a smile breaks out on your face. "It would be nothing more I wish than to marry you."

He jumps up from his kneeled position and takes you in his arms, swirling you around. You kiss him while he slips the ring on your finger. You look at it and clutch your hand to your chest, running your thumb over the stone.

A harsh knock on the door pops the little happy bubble the two of you are in. "Quick, hide", you whisper, pushing him behind an armchair. You open the door and peek outside. A relieved sigh escapes you as it is only Draco.

"You haven't seen Theodore by chance, have you?"

You pull him inside before locking the door and tell Theo to come out. His head of brown curls pops from behind the high back of the chair as he gets up to his feet.

Draco smiles as Theo naturally gravitates towards you, his hand searching yours. "They are looking for you. It is about to start."

Theo gives your hand a squeeze as he leans in for a kiss. "See you soon", he says with a smile, giving one last kiss before leaving the room.

You sigh. Now that he left, the anxiousness you've been feeling all day returns. Pacing the room, you drag your dress behind you as you chew on your cheek, not wanting to ruin the lipstick. 

A hand suddenly takes ahold of your own and you turn to look at Draco. He gives you a sad smile that wordlessly tells you that it is time.

From the way to the room where the ceremony will be held is all a blur until the double doors are opened for you and everybody turns around. You tightly clutch Draco's arm as he leads you down the aisle, towards Theo.

At the end stands your only driving for your feet to be moving. He has a soft smile on his face and eyes filled with love. Once you've reached the end without a hitch, Draco extends his arm and places your hand in Theo's. The two boys share a look before your cousin takes a step back.

Much of the ceremony is the same haze. The only thing you can focus on is your heavily beating heart and those warm brown eyes peering into your own. You follow the orders of the officiant to place the golden robes over Theo's shoulders and clasp the bracelet with your house crest, his house crest, and the rune of love around his wrist. Theo does the same to you, tracing your knuckles once the bracelet is secured on both of your wrists by magic. 

"And with the power invested in me by the Ministry, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may share your first kiss as a married couple."

Your eyes meet Theo's and you close the gap, closing your eyes and pressing your lips against his. You cup his face as he leans into you, wrapping his hands around your middle. 

For just a moment, it's the two of you. Not the room full of Death Eaters. No expectant stares, empty looks and contestant sneers. It's just you and your now husband.

Merlin, how great it feels to finally say that.

You close your eyes, breathing in deeply. "I love you, Teddy."

Theo beams up at you. "I love you too."

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[mugiwarahostclub]

Strawhat trio meeting your parents for the first time over dinner

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤluffy, zoro, sanji boyfriend edition ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤmale/fem/ non bi readerㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ one piece world setting

— LUFFY

Y/n's dad: So what do you do?

Luffy: I'm gonna become the king of pirates!

At first Luffy didn't want to go, saying that it "sounds boring", but he easily got excited when you mentioned food.

Whilst greeting your parents, he gave them each a nickname based on their looks without thinking about it. They were just random though and weren't the offensive types of nicknames. "White hair" for your dad, and "necklace" for your mother just because she decided to wear a necklace that time.

He had poor table manners, even casually picking his nose, and ended up eating almost everything on the table. Your parent that did the cooking felt flattered by luffy's enjoyment towards the food, but the other.. not so much.

Your parents ended up having a bad impression of Luffy at the end, judging you for your taste in men. Probably should've trained him beforehand...

— ZORO

Y/n's mom: So how did you two meet?

Zoro: Boat

Y/n's mom: Oh! How.. romantic, I guess...

He was moody and a complete pain in the ass on the way to your parents house. Grunting and bitching about how stupid this tradition is. He just ended up agreeing to this dinner because you begged him to over and over again. And, well, cause he loves you.

He's not a messy eater on the table, but he was the type to stuff food all at once into his mouth and chewed a liiiiittle too loudly, leading your parents to be a bit annoyed. Zoro was just being himself the entire time and didn't try to woo your parents, so he'd only give them short replies whenever they asked him questions.

After dinner, your parents told you that "your boyfriend's very unfriendly." Zoro gave them a bad impression, but they don't exactly disapprove of you dating him. It was probably due to the fact that Zoro was a swordsman that made them like him, thinking that you're safe with him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

— SANJI

Y/n's mom: Oh you must be Sanji! Welcome, welcome!

Sanji: Oh mademoiselle it's an honor to be with you today *kisses the back of her hand* you have raised such a lovely woman~

Y/n's dad: .........

He was beyond excited when you brought the dinner up. He immediately cooked food to bring, and even asked you tons of questions about your parents, like their favorite food and hobbies. Sanji even decided not to smoke the entire time, knowing that most parents frown down upon that. He badly wanted those brownie points from your parents...

Entering your parents house, his eyes immediately noticed your childhood photos hung on the wall, easily getting flustered over them and thought that they're the most adorable thing to exist. He carefully took pictures of each frame when your parents weren't looking.

He had good table etiquette and answered the questions of your parents with respect.. though your father was a tad bit weirded out by Sanji being overly friendly with your mother.

Of course, your parents loved him. Your dad still thinks he's a little odd, but he can tell that Sanji loves you. And your mother was happy with him too, so.. your dad didn't complain.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ