#gear shift pen

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Verdict Due (Part 4)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4!! OUT NOW

[fairene]

passenger princess / ln4

established relationship lando norris x fem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

in which the weekend takes a twist, and all you want is a baby.

prompt⋯ hi! first of all, i absolutely ADORE your writing. i’ve been reading all of your stuff for the past few days!! second, i was scrolling on pinterest and i rediscovered the lando daddy bracelet pic. that combined with THE dutch gp pic made me be down even worse for him. with that i request a fic with an established reader x lando relationship. that’s set during the weekend of the 2024 dutch gp. where he wears the bracelet over the course of the weekend and it gets you(? or me? idk how to phrase that) really worked up, and after he wins they fuck while he’s still wearing it. and it’s like the most rough feral sex known to mankind. but at the end you want him to come in you and he’s like “oh you wanna make me a daddy”. like yes it is a slight breeding kink but it’s more of the idea of the bracelet and how he definitely knew what he was doing when he wore it (in the fic and irl too tbh). that’s the general idea but feel free to put your own spin on it!! i am incredibly down bad for him and that photo did something to me. ty 🤗🧡

a/n ⋯ yeah tbh i got no excuse for this one chat...like...how could i not resist a breeding kink...i know y'all want it too. but for real--- thank you anon for being patient. i had a lot of fun writing this in between doing work. writing is an escape for me. thank you to all for the continued support, and i'll be continuing to get through asks as time moves along. comment below to be added to my taglist, or comment in general! i love replying to all of them as much as i can.

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, breeding kink, impregnation, teasing, possessiveness, jealousy, creampie, begging, mating press-- allat shit tbh. if i miss a warning, let me know.

wc ⋯ 8.5k (unedited.)

things had begun to be different between you and lando. you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the gears shifted, the stars aligned, though you only cared how good it made you feel with him. 

but he knew. he knew exactly when.

you’d been dating lando for two years now. it was two years of pure bliss— the exciting lifestyle that you’ve craved, the love and care, the passion that you shared with him was exquisitely yours. he is yours. and you are his.

that morning in the paddock he was speaking to max, chattering about the post collision from hungaroring. they seemed to make up in due time, finding it easier to call one another “brother’s” again, despite the damages done to their cars and the media in an uproar about their impish, punitive behaviors. you didn’t spare any glance towards the comments made about it, knowing that lando had been in a rough shape that weekend. 

you played with penelope, p, as they were talking, squatted on the ground with colored pens in your hand. kelly loomed behind, on her phone, thankful enough that you could occupy her for the time being. you had no issue entertaining her. you loved being around children…most of the time. 

“this one?” you held out the red pen for p, as she was pointing to with a bashful look. she was shy– especially around you, given your ethereal, wanderlust nature. you carried yourself in such an elegant way that could facilitate a ray of sunlight through the most tepid storms. 

she nodded and you handed it to her. she latched her smaller hand around it, coloring in the rb20 from her sketchbook. your hand fell beneath your chin as you watched her carefully color inside the lines, dreading falling out of it. you smiled as she did, the dress you wore crinkling fashionably around your thighs. 

p flashed the page at you nervously, awaiting her input. your eyes glowed, sparkles falling onto the page as you scanned it. she really did do a good job.

“beautiful, p!” you commented, your palm splaying over her upper back. “you’re really good at this, you know?”

a shade of red filled her cheeks, warming her skin. you hadn’t meant to embarrass her, nor make her nervous. 

“do you want to color one with me?” you asked her, pointing to the pages in the book. she hesitated for a moment, as if she didn’t hear you properly, but ended up nodding with the same excitement that she did when she’d see max on the podium. “you pick. something…pretty.”

the gears were turning in her head as she flipped through the pages, trying to find the perfect one for you and her to work on. you, on the other hand, were focused on how her brows scrunched together as she furiously searched through her booklet. it was cute the way she perceived things. she was a cutie. it made you think about your own future, what you wanted. 

what you wanted,

your eyes drifted from the carpeted floors inside the hospitality room, to the shoes that he wore, and up his black jeans to the papaya livery he sported for the day. you lingered on the expanse of his chest, the tan skin peaking through the v-neck of his unbuttoned collar. your mouth watered instinctively, thinking about how lucky you were to have a man like lando love you so deeply.

as you glanced further up towards his chin, the unshaved rigid surface that sparked electricity over your body, you found him already looking down at you. he wasn’t even paying attention to max at this point, already giving you all of his attention and you didn’t even need to ask. 

you gave him a smile, covering your lips afterward to stifle your giggle, and turned back to p once she tapped you that she’d found a picture for the two of you to color.

“mate?”

lando was lost in a daze staring at you. gawking at your figure, the dress you decided to wear. it was a denim colored sheath that you’d twin with alexandra with. she’d wear the gia dress in a pomegranate hue, whereas you took the navy. 

lando’s hand was cupped against his chin, rubbing over his stubble, keen on watching how you interacted with p. 

your relationship had progressed further than he’s ever gotten to before in his life. he was at a point where he knew he didn’t want anyone else, to explore someone else’s body the way he did yours. he knew you, inside and out, and he didn’t think another connection was even fathomable. 

you appeared to be so gentle with her, taking the time to listen to what she wanted you to do, how to color, maneuver the pens. there would be no outside the line coloring on her watch, that was for sure. 

he found himself smiling bright. 

do you want kids? 

he knew that he did. he always knew that. but he’d never broach the subject to you directly. your relationship with him was secure, but was it eligible to be taken to the next level? would you be frightened by his sudden urge to create a life with you? a product of him, and the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“yeah? sorry.” lando looked back towards max. but it was too late, and max was looking over his shoulder towards you and p.

when he looked back towards lando, he threw his hands up in defense. max rolled his eyes. “don’t know why you haven’t proposed to her yet. what’re you waiting for?” 

lando bristled. he waited a moment to answer, wondering the same fucking thing. what was he waiting on? the perfect time, perhaps. summer break was rapidly approaching, and he certainly had a ring picked out. 

the papaya clad driver pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos, settled on the right one, and handed it to max. the other driver took it, zooming in, not that he needed to. 

“when?”

lando shrugged. “summer break. greece, maybe.” 

max cheered, slapping his hand over his mouth in shock. “you’re serious, mate?” lando nodded. max pulled him in for a hug, slapping him over the back. he couldn’t be happier for his best friend in this moment, starting to jump up and down. lando settled him down and slid his phone back into his pocket. 

“keep it quiet. i want her to be surprised.” 

max made a motion of a lock and key. “surprised about what?” 

lando felt giddy.

you hadn’t been paying much attention to what lando nor max were chittering about. you’d been so hyper focused on coloring with p, that you were absent minded of the conversation behind you. 

p had picked out a cartoon illustration of max and lando smiling towards the viewer. you’d thought it was an adorable choice, and it showed that p was more aware than what she led on to be. she, of course, started coloring in max. with his neutrally blonde hair, redbull cap, she was fast working. 

but then she shoved the book towards you, politely anyways, and pointed at lando, who was yet to be colored in. 

“my turn?” she nodded her head, handing you the orange marker. 

you grinned, carefully coloring in the lines of the drawing before p took a deep breath. “are you and lando married?” 

the question had you freeze momentarily, taken back by her question. “no, p, we’re not.” 

you continued to color, whilst she continued to question. “why not?”

“because he hasn’t asked me.”

“why don’t you ask him?” 

“i’m not sure that’s what he wants.”

p raised a brow. she looked towards lando and max, giggling together like school girls, then back to you and your focused coloring.

she handed you a brown marker for lando’s curls. “i think you should.”

now it was your turn to be inquisitive, “really, now?”

she nodded her head without hesitating. “then you’d be my aunt!” she giggled. 

you colored in lando’s curls, carefully, diligently, thinking of how they felt beneath your fingertips. your breath hitched thinking about the thought of him proposing, wondering if he had ever even thought about it. you knew what your answer would be. it wouldn’t even take a beat of your heart to give him in answer, if he chose to ask. if he chose you. 

with one final stripe of a black marker, your drawing of lando had been finished. you stood up, and so did p. 

“are you going to have babies?”

“p!” you gasped, mouth dropping. “that’s none of your business, young lady.” 

she laughed, twirling around. “what? that’s what mama says happens when you love someone.” confident, wasn’t she? “do you love lando?”

“of course i do, p.”

she gasped.

“is there a baby in there right now?!” she seemed concerned, becoming so bold as to touch your stomach. it was a little higher than where your womb sat beneath your skin, but close enough. 

you shook your head. “no, honey. i am not having a baby right now.” 

she looked disappointed. taking her hand back, she crossed them over her chest. 

“penelope, what are you going on about?” kelly finally chimed in, rubbing p’s back with her hand. 

“nothing.” 

but it wasn’t nothing.

lando appeared behind you, a hand on your lower back. you leaned into him, recognizing his touch, and you got a brief wave of panic wondering if he heard your conversation with p. 

“p,” lando said over your shoulder. she looked up. “do you still have your bracelet making kit?” 

she nodded again, though you weren’t quite sure what he’d need it for. you guessed you’d find out eventually, because lando uttered, “it’s a secret, sorry baby.”

and he followed p to her small table, pulling out the kit from her backpack. she had taken lando’s hand to guide him, and you watched fondly. 

too fondly, you thought, and knew you were in deep shit.

the morning of the dutch grand prix had you biting at the corners of your fingernails with anticipation. the summer break you had spent with lando was more than you could imagine— filled with delicious foods, sunny weather, morning swims, and of course, the sex. with more free time that lando had, he was utterly obsessed with you. he worshiped the ground you walked on, and it made you feel like more than the queen you deserved to be. 

in the paddock you stood, shifting on your feet, anxiously fiddling with your purse once your fingernails sufficed. lily joined at your side, ethereal with her effortless beauty, and she nudged you with her elbow. “you look nervous,” she gave a short laugh.

you scoffed but joined in on her antics. “do i?” you certainly did. lily raised her brows to inquire further of your apparent distress. 

relenting, you couldn’t resist her. there was no reason to— you were both practically attached at the hip. ever since oscar had been signed to mclaren, the two of you were inseparable. the famous mclaren WAGs. 

your relationship with lando had been going on for two years now. sure, you’d had some rocky slopes to climb with the schedule of his career and the development of your own; that’s the thing about relationships though, isn’t it? that no matter what hill you’d have to climb, you’d find one another on the other side. the two of you wanted to make it work, so there was no obsolete universe in which you’d never find each other. 

“he needs this, lils.” you practically sighed, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eye. she looked at you with the same softness that a mother would, or a best friend that you could count on. 

“you know he’ll do well.” oh, don’t you know it. lando, whilst on vacation, never took a moment’s worth of rest. he wanted this just as much as you did for him, a second career win. it was all that you could think about the moment you stepped off the plane before him in zandvoort. it was going to happen. you had a feeling. 

and a good one at that. 

qualifying swept by in a flash. the saturday afternoon was a clean sweep for your boyfriend in the front row. you couldn’t be more proud of him. when he was finished with his interviews and taking his leave with his half removed fireguard, you launched at him.

flinging your arms around his neck, he gripped onto your waist and thighs like his life depended on it. it did. your nose found the sweat against the column of his neck, inhaling deeply. you melted into him.

lando felt the same. with his forehead burrowing into the hair on your scalp, he let out a deep breath that he’d been holding since he got out of the car. 

“missed my sweet girl,” he breathed, the sweat and perspiration heating the hairs on your head. you sighed softly, relaxing into him as he held you tighter. 

you broke away from him, setting yourself on the ground. you stood happily in front of him, rocking on your heels and playing with the hem of the black, sponser-ridden firesuit. 

“‘m so fucking proud, lan. pole? pole on the first race back?” you were in shellshock, overjoyed disbelief. 

he raised a hand to cup your face before he’d be whisked away. the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye, one that he must’ve put on once he stepped out of the car. the friendship letter bracelet read loudly to you, it letters all capitalized. 

‘daddy’

you gripped his hand, observing the ornament. you raised a brow. is this the bracelet he had made with p? 

lando let out a short laugh. “like it?” 

you flushed, staring down at the small, dainty thing. it had you shifting on your feet, ideas and fantasies running wild through your pillage of a mind. “maybe.” you hummed, stroking the beads with your index finger. 

“wore it for you.” 

the statement had you standing up straight. “really now?” lando nodded. 

and before he was whisked away, he whispered into your ear, “don’t get any ideas, baby. i know that look.” 

you were rendered speechless, and by the time you managed to open your mouth, he had already left through the door. 

the following day was race day. you were dressed flawlessly, curating perfection with your outfits to match the same prestige that lando had with his fans. also, you enjoyed feeling pretty. looking pretty, as lando would often say to you. he didn’t forget this morning either, arriving to the paddock with you in tow, hand wrapped tightly with yours.

as he took selfie after selfie, signed hat after hat, he didn’t forget to remind you, “you look beautiful,” that always brought a smile to your face, a blush fanning your cheeks. 

when the two of you made it inside of mclaren’s hospitality, you were greeted by both lily and oscar. you gave her a warming hug, and she returned it with the same affirmation. when you separated, she danced on her tip-toes. lando and oscar side stepped toward the tea and coffee station, chatting amongst themselves. 

“wow!” you were confused, raising a brow. “front row for him, hmm? told you, had nothing to worry about.” 

you rolled your eyes, still holding anxieties for the race. you were always concerned going into a weekend. no matter how many grand prix’s you’ve attended, seen lando come out safe and sound, you still picked at the skin of your fingertips. anxious habits die hard. 

lando’s managers came in alongside oscar’s beckoning both mclaren drivers to follow them to get ready for the race. lando found you instantly, his hands finding the handles on your hips, squeezing inward. you tensed at the action, wondering what had him on such edge. 

you spun, hands running from his chest up to his neck, his cheeks. you cupped his face in your hands, sheepishly smiling. 

“you’ll win this for me?”

he scoffed, “always.” 

you smiled harder—if that was possible— and connected your lips with his. he returned your kiss, diving deep into your mouth. he held you close by your lower back, as if this was the last time that he’d ever kiss you. he sought to deepen your kiss by the clacking of your teeth, his tongue incessantly searching the inside of your mouth. 

you separated yourself, still holding onto his cheeks. lando dipped his forehead against yours, seeking another kiss, but you pulled away. “go. they’re waiting for you.” 

“don’t care.” 

you flushed, allowing him one last peck before you patted his cheek. “seriously. go.” 

he chuckled to himself, kissing the top of your head, uttering a soft “i love you,” before being swept away. 

“i love you too.” you mouthed, returning your attention back to lily. she was in awe of how you and lando behaved, carving such a rugged, playful boy into a man of posture and mannerisms that were only reflected by your good nature. 

“what?”

“nothing…” she looked away.

“lily.” 

“you’ve got that man on a leash,” she broke into a fit of giggles. you looked back to where they were walking out. lando had been looking for you, then at you. he gave a wave, you returned it, then looked back at lily. 

“i prefer the term ‘free-roaming.’” 

the race was coming to an end with a single lap left. lando led the race with a twenty-two second lead, and your hands were clasped tightly together with your headset on. you listened carefully to his radio messages, sassy and revving, and had your eyes locked onto the screen in front of you. with lily by your side, the two of you were anxiously awaiting the end.

your face suddenly appeared on screen, displaying your glistening eyes, perfectly done makeup and hair. a chic smile grew on your cheeks. you turned towards the camera man and allotted a small wave. your name appeared under the screen, lando norris’ partner. 

god…

was there anything more prideful than that?

surely there was, but it didn’t matter to you. you were there to support your boyfriend, lando, your lando, and it was more than enough to see that you were recognized as that. 

the checkered flag appeared and lando was on the headline for crossing. you had to clutch your heart, hoping to grip it from the inside out to slow its beating, and it didn’t cease when his mcl38 zipped past the flag. 

there was an eruption of cheers throughout the garage and you were swarmed with love by the fellow mechanics and lily, too, who was happy for you to witness such a grand victory. a more than well earned victory. 

a second one in the books for him. you couldn’t have been happier. 

the podium gathering didn’t take long, and you managed to be at the front of the barricade, shoved forward by the team. you stood there, graceful and beautiful as he always saw you, and you were the loudest to clap and cheer as he walked out from the cool down room. 

“your winner, lando norris…!” and you couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, the camera picking up your emotional feedback on the big screen. his eyes caught to it from the bannister, stepping up onto the tallest podium, and found you right at the front. his heart melted, dripped a red hot flame that burned for you. to see you there for him, emotional above all, solidified his feelings. what he wanted in his future. 

you. you above anything else. you above racing, his career, his everything. he had nothing if you weren’t by his side. 

he took off his pirelli hat and let the national anthem play. the camera panned away from you then to zak brown. you swayed gently to the anthem, lost in your own world of loving him. you saw him through clear glasses, though he was always your rose. there was nothing more that you wanted in the future than to be with him. you and lando. 

after his attributed champagne pop, the crowd dissipated from the pit lane and you engaged in conversations with different women, friends, and coworkers of mclaren. you were jovial with your presence, engaged as much as you could be, though your thoughts kept tracing back to him. lando, lando, lando. 

you ended your evening in conversations with the ferrari women— alexandra, rebecca, and one of charles’ friends, marta. you’re a recent acquaintance, meeting her only just a few moments ago. she was noticeably pregnant, and you wondered if that was just the recurring theme of the day. 

“how far along are you?” rebecca chimed in. 

“about twenty weeks, i think.” she smiled, holding her bump and leaning back into one of her heels to get a more comfortable angle. 

“half way there! are you excited?” you asked her, sipping your sparkling water. 

“of course,” she grimaced, though there was joy behind her eyes. “it can be hard, but it’s worth it. always worth it to see my husband with my daughter, and now it’ll be brand new with this babe.” 

you gave her a heart-warming smile. 

“they kick every so often—” she grimaced again, reeling her face into a tight knot. “like right now. do you want to feel?” she was looking at you. it took you a second to understand that she was referring to you, but you jumped at the opportunity.

“are you sure…?” 

marta nodded. “put your hand here,” she placed your hand on her right side. you waited a moment before there was a small lurch beneath your palm. you looked up at her in pure disbelief, marveled by such a feeling. you wondered what it’d feel like to feel your own baby kick. 

“so…” alexandra leered mischievously, “do you plan on having children? with lando?” 

is everyone asking that today?

you stood up straight, embarrassed by the question, and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. “for sure. there’s no one else i want. whenever the time is right.” 

“he’d be such a good dad.” alexandra added, and you couldn’t agree more.

“you should’ve seen him earlier with penelope—” the girls were reeling at your story. “making bracelets with her. almost tripped over my own dress,” you covered your mouth to laugh, attempting to keep your voice down.

“someone has baby fever.” marta commented. 

“ugh,” rebecca groaned. “you two are picturesque. alex and i were just talking about it.” 

“oh?” you wished to know more by their insinuation. it wasn’t often that you listened to anything about you or lando’s relationship. half of the time it was negative comments from fans across social media, and you didn’t want the other half to get to your head. you knew you were lucky as is, the least you could do was stay humble. 

“ohhhh most definitely.” alexandra nodded. “you’ve been together for what— ever? we’re waiting for an engagement post.” 

you were floored. it has been a good amount of time. “so am i,” it came as a laugh. you wondered if lando thought about it. if the thought ever crossed his mind— the possibility of you becoming his wife. 

it did. 

he was watching you. he’d been done with his interviews for a good ten minutes now, but he was gripped by the scene unfolding before him. he had distracted himself by glancing at his phone, pretending to be scrolling through notifications. but he was staring. hard. 

your hand was so tender-loving as it grazed marta’s baby bump. you looked up at her with a graceful smile, asking her important questions about her pregnancy. why were you so interested? 

fuck, he hoped the answer he wanted was what you were thinking. 

you, pregnant in your floral dresses, pleated gowns, traipsing around the halls of your joint home. barefoot, glowing, effervescent. he could see it now. the vision coming to life, coming to fruition from just a mere fantasy. he felt his dick twitch in his pants, his groin running hot.

he overheard the conversation, too. 

“do you plan on having children? with lando?” 

for sure. there’s no one else i’d want. 

fuuuuck. lando had to turn around, attempting to calm himself down. his entire body was aflame, an eternal gloss of bliss for wanting you. needing you. he needed to feel you. your touch. your skin beneath him, the way you curl effortlessly against the shape of his body.

yeah, he’s fucked. 

after a few calming deep breaths, he was at least presentable. with his calmed down cock, he immediately made a beeline in your direction. he wanted—no, needed to get his hands around you as soon as possible. it was a world-ending feeling that suffocated him, gripped him by the throat. 

you heard him approach before you saw him. lando’s hands were warm around your hips as he pulled you close. you felt the outline of his cock in his pants as he jut his hips forward. you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing up at him. 

his nose found a home in the curve of your neck. you giggled when you felt his stubble tickle your skin, a hand coming instinctively to hold the side of his face tight against your skin. he breathed soundly against you, finding eternal peace of mind plastered against your body.

“it was nice seeing you alex, rebecca.” you began to bid your farewells. “marta, it was a pleasure to meet you.” marta leaned in for a hug, which pulled you away from the warmth of lando’s body. you felt like a snail ripped from its shell— hollow, cold. 

“the same for you,” pregnancy looked good on her. though, you can’t recall the last time you’ve seen her without a baby blooming inside her. “if you ever need advice…alex has my number.” 

you blushed, feeling lando’s hand around your lower belly tense. “thank you. i’ll be in touch.” you glance towards rebecca and alexandra, following lando’s pace back to the car.

lando’s eyes were hot as they drilled holes into the side of your head. you could feel it, though you weren’t even looking at him. “i can feel your urge to talk, lan.” 

he laughed, holding your hand tight in his. “no. no, it’s nothing.” 

you stopped dead in your tracks, pulling your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“okay, okay,” he apologized, taking your hand back into his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss. his lips were warm and wet against your skin. your breath hitched.

“well, go on, then.” 

“this is the congratulations i get? damn, baby, you’re rugged.” 

you shoved his face away, beginning to walk back to the car once more. “you know i’m proud. don’t be silly, now.” 

“i know, i know,” there was a brief silence. “you can show me in other ways.” 

“lando!” you gasped, and he broke into a fit of laughter. “dirty bastard.” you mumbled. 

“what was that, baby?” 

“nothing. nothing. just like what you wanted to tell me, i guess.” two can play at this game. you heard him scoff, but ultimately relent. 

“alright, alright. i just…” he became shy with the tone of his voice. you could recognize it instantly. “heard your conversation with the girls, is all.” 

you attempted your best effort to still your facial expressions from annoyance, shock, embarrassment, and all of the fucking above. 

 “you heard…all of it?” 

“the gist.” 

you tried to cover your face to shield yourself from the world. god, that was your fucking nightmare. you hadn’t ever even touched upon a subject like that with him before. and now he had heard it from you talking to your girlfriends? oh, you just felt like the worst girlfriend in the world right now. 

“fuck. i didn’t mean to—” 

“no, baby,” he opened the car door for you to slip into the passenger seat. you stepped in, gripping his forearm to sit down. 

when he climbed in himself and turned over the engine, you shifted to face him. before you could even open your mouth to speak, he cut you off. 

“i want kids, too, you know. with you.” 

“oh.” a weight lifted from your shoulders in that moment, and then you felt utterly stupid for thinking that he would’ve reacted badly. this is your lando you’re talking to. a man you can share anything with. “you do?” 

he looked flabbergasted. “you’re joking, right?”

you shot your hands up in defense. “i don’t know! children aren’t exactly…temporary. i just— i didn’t know if you thought of me—”

“you’re permanent, love.” his hand wrapped around your thigh as he pulled out of the driver’s lot, whipping past the fans that were keen on snapping a picture of him. 

though you’ve known that, deep down, it still hit you like the first time he told you that he loved you. a jaw-dropping epiphany that had been right in front of you the whole time. you’d been short-sighted, enjoying every moment that you had with him, and had become unknowing about the future you’ve been perpetuating with him.

you covered his hand with your own, playing with the bracelets around his wrist. the charm bracelet ‘daddy’ dangled between your fingers, rolling the beads over and over again. 

“you’d make a good daddy, wouldn’t you?” you said the words under your breath, but even he could hear them like you’d shouted them in his face. he tightened his grip around your thigh.

“don’t say things like that,” he shook his head, eyes locked on the road ahead. 

the air became heavy between you two. when wasn’t it? not only did passion run through your veins, but heinous desire breathed life to your souls. 

“why?” you stroked the top of his hand with your nails. “you heard what i said to the girls.” his head lolled against the back rest. “what’s different now?” 

you felt the car accelerate. it vibrated the cushion you were nestled atop of, sending shockwaves through your cunt.

“driving me fucking nuts, darling.” 

you knew you were. it was the secret to your relationship— the two of you understanding what made you tick. seethe with lust until there was no other option for you to climb him like a tree.

it didn’t take long before he reached the hotel, pulling up to the front. you were getting your things to get up, but he was lost on his phone, pretending to be busy. “coming?” you asked.

“pfft—” you could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror. “i wish. give me a second.” you couldn’t help but huff to yourself under your breath, stepping out of the car with your heels clinking to the ground.

 with your purse over your shoulder you stepped up onto the curb, but was distracted by a small voice echoing over your shoulder. 

down the sidewalk was a mother and a stroller. you smirked lowly, taking only the few steps it’d take to reach the mother and child. 

“oh my gosh,” you squealed. the mother was taken back, but by your demeanor and eyes on her baby, she returned a smile. by her pink bonnet and bunny swath, you knew she was the cutest thing you’d ever laid eyes on. “she is just the cutest thing!” 

“thank you,” the woman said.

“she looks just like her mama,” you heard lando’s car door open, most definitely within earshot. “don’t you, sweet thing? yes you do!” you cooed at the baby, who erupted in a fit of louder giggles and mumbles. 

the mother was flushed, but happy. “you’re too kind. you’re good with children? do you have any of your own?” 

jackpot..!!

you clutched your purse as you stood up straight. you played into your theatrics, “oh gosh, i wish! my husband and i have been trying for ages, but he’s just so busy with work…” 

the woman tsked with disappointment for you. “you’d make a beautiful mother,” 

“you think so?” 

she nodded her affirmation. 

“that’s so sweet of you.” you were really milking this scene, especially that you knew lando was listening. 

“is that your husband there?” she pointed to over your shoulder. and there he was, your husband, watching the two of you from behind the ajar car door. 

“mmm, yes, it is.” you offered a cordial wave to him. he stuck two fingers up for a lazy wave, waiting for you to return to him. “i should go. it was a pleasure, ma’am. your baby is adorable.”

she nodded a thanks, and you took your sweet time walking back to the car. you could hear lando tapping the windshield incessantly. before his head dipped down back into the car he called, “get back in.” 

you…admit, you were confused. brows furrowed, you opened the passenger side door and bent down, “why—?”

“get in the car,” your name was a rumble in his chest. you still didn’t know what he was doing nor going, and your stubborn self wouldn’t settle for a verbal answer.

you took too long for him. gripping your arm, he pulled you into the passenger seat, and you landed on your ass with a ‘thump’. 

he fired up the engine again and pulled out of the traffic circle of the hotel. he radiated with heat— you could feel it from where you sat. “where are we going?” 

he didn’t answer you. 

you crossed your arms and legs, looking out the window. the area was unknown to you, but lando always seemed like he knew where he was going. 

it took only a minute for him to pull into an empty level of a parking garage, dimly lit with only one overhead light at the entrance of the ramp. he put the car in park. 

“what are we—”

you couldn’t finish your sentence until you were on his lap, hands gripping your waist so tightly that you had to gasp for air. 

“husband?” 

oh

oh…!

well, this was a change you welcomed with open arms. 

he lowered the seat back until you were straddled atop of him, fingers aimlessly toiling with the zipper of his jeans. 

“don’t know what you’re—”

he snapped upward, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “baby,” he breathed, and you shivered. “what do you want?”

your hips naturally moved back and forth against his own, dress hiked well above your stomach. his hand snaked between your legs, feeling the wet patch in your underwear. he hummed when you didn’t reply, flicking his finger upward to graze your clit. 

you mewled. 

“what was that?”

your hand twisted around the hem of his shirt. you were already breathless, clenching around nothing except the sound of his words. 

“tell me,” he muttered, staring up at your disheveled state. he made quick work of sliding your panties to the side, massaging the folds of your cunt between his fingers. you continued your writhing against him. 

“want you,” was what you managed to breathe out, hips rutting against his palm. he tsked, but allowed you this moment. a moment for him to bask in the way that you move your hips, writhe against his clothed cock that was egregiously hardening by the second and each amount of pressure you applied. 

he slid his fingers in and out of you with ultra maneuvering, in and out, all around. he was a mastermind when it came to feeling you up, exploring you both on the outside, and the in. you were in heaven, ultimately, when he curled his fingers so deeply upon thrusting them. your cunt tightened so viciously around him that he groaned, his head falling back and his hardened cock thrusting upward. to no avail, his dick was strained against the cloth of his pants.

“fuck,” he cussed, curling his fingers over and over again. your body began to shiver, and only began to fall from grace when his thumb traced against your clit. stimulation grew hotter and hotter, until you let out a piercing moan from the depths of your throat. he angled his fingers differently, making you squirm.

“lando!” you breathed, feeling your climax creeping up on you faster than you could even blink. your core tightened, a coil of veracious flames churning around each other manifesting a slew of energy that released sparks from your nerves. your folds were inflamed, puffy, beating hot that you couldn’t think straight. lando was touching you with his other hand anywhere that he could reach. he palmed your breasts through your dress, twisted a nipple to earn a delicious squeal. 

“come on, sweet thing,” he encouraged you with that stupid lopsided smile of his, you were looking down on him, sweat beading at his forehead, pupils blown dark and wide. his hand that was groping your breast moved upward, threading around the column of your throat. “show daddy what you’re made of.” 

his hand tightened, and you felt the coil snap. he continued to pump his fingers in and out, maneuvering so perfectly, hitting that exact spot with precision. 

he knew you came when your eyes rolled back into your head, legs quivering around his waist. god, you’re a sexy thing. 

his hand loosened from around your neck, dropping to your chest, fiddling with the van cleef necklace he had gifted you. it reeked of possession, marking you as his with the “l.n.” initials engraved on the back of the golden surface.

the moment of bliss passed before he was pulling the zipped down from your dress and throwing it from over your head. your panties were next, though the fabric was thin as is. there you were, bare and glistening, before your so-called ‘husband’ as you had worded it. he wouldn’t forget it, a spark igniting within him that was lit by the phrase leaving your tongue. he didn’t think that it would affect him so much—

but it did. 

he made quick work of his own pants, shoving them down to his knees beneath you, breathless and needy. 

you gripped the hem of his shirt. he lifted his arms to hasten the process, and the shirt went to the back seat. with his skin exposed, you couldn’t help but run your hands along his tan, toned chest. it made you dripping wet, though he was barely touching you now. 

with your skin atop of his, carnage was sure to ensue. he took a drag of his fingers against your wet cunt and brought it to his lips. he sucked on them, releasing with a ‘pop.’ your mouth hung open in anticipation for what he was going to do next. he always kept you on your toes. 

but this…this is not what you expected. 

he took a ring from his index finger, plated in silver, and slid it onto your ring finger on your left hand. the wedding finger. 

it stuck to your sweaty palm, sure enough to not slip off. 

“let’s make it official then, pretty girl.” 

you sat upon him astonished, looking down at the adornment that he had given to you. it dazzled on your finger. 

“if you’re my wife, what does that make me?”

the words trembled from your lips, thighs tightening around his own. you could feel his dick sprung to life against your backside. “my husband.” 

“good, baby, you learn fast.” 

you gulped, finally taking a look at him from his propped upright position. he was downright smitten with you, guzzling everything about you inside of him. you were his, so much fucking so, that he was going to ruin you. and he didn’t even feel bad for wanting it. 

“my husband…” you repeated, lowering your face down to meet his own. he smelled so good—a mix of sweat and his cologne. 

his hand tangled into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail to meet your eye level. 

“makes me fucking crazy when y’say it…” 

you knew that was the truth. you’d known the minute you sat down in the car. his demeanor had changed, shifted to something darker that you didn’t quite understand. it was insane enough as is that you’d discovered so many things about him within a short period of time. 

“husband, daddy…what’s the difference?” you cooed, kissing up and down his neck. he groaned, landing a smack on your ass that had you giggling. 

“‘ll just make you a mommy if you keep throwin’ that word ‘round.” 

you grinned ear to ear. against his cheek, you took a deep breath in, before letting go. 

“daddy.” 

if you’ve ever made a good decision in your life, this has to be the best. a switch flipped. gears started to turn in his head. the spark plug burst into flames. 

you were his undoer,

the key to his shackled restraint,

the sun to his universe.

it was always you. you’d been right in front of him for the past two years. two years to get to this point. two years for the woman he loved most in this world to be sucking his neck whispering ‘daddy’ into his ear. 

lando sat upright in the seat. with a hand at the back of your head, he forced eye contact with you. this was different. this look. you could feel it in your heart, your folds, as they began to beat synchronously. life with him was euphoria, and sex had been the serendipitous release for both of you. 

but seeking the future together?

heaven incarnate.

despite being locked inside such a tight space, lando managed to swap your position with a suave move. you were on your back, shocked by his carnal rampage, as he hooked your legs upward. your toes scathed the ceiling of the car, pressed deep into the metal chassis. 

“kiss me,” you demanded with the breath that you could take. he didn’t waste a second, leaning down to your lips and capturing you with the most breathtaking press that he could muster. his tongue and your own fought for dominance over one another; you lost, quickly, unable to match his revered pace. 

he wanted to eat you from top to bottom. devour your insides, carry you with him every day of his life. you would be his, one way or another, and he didn’t care how it was. 

lucky enough, you were more than willing to be his bride, his lover, his person. 

because he was yours. 

then he was inside of you. braving the treachery of your tight walls, he hissed when the tip of his cock slipped through your folds. you’d been dripping on the leather seat. 

“fuck, baby…” his head fell to the crevice of your neck and collarbone. 

“oh my goddd…” the moan you both let out was terribly lewd, grotesque, even, with how he didn’t start a pace. you both savored this sweet moment of lust, passion, and a figurative toast to a lifelong commitment to fucking one another. 

with each thrust he took, he aimed to make a statement. deeper and deeper he penetrated you, his cock crafted of divine measure with how he quartered your g-spot. 

you could never stay still beneath him. it had him on edge the way you squirmed. dare say it was one of the most favorite things about you, though the list would be never-ending. you shiver from pleasure, leaning into him as your cunt squelches beneath you. 

echoes of moans bounce off the interior of the car, whilst a smile of greed and possession conceives on his own cheeks. the angle he has you at is deeper than any that you’ve had before— it left no room for noncommittal nature, no room for you to complain about wanting him closer, more, more, more. 

“y’feel me here?” his hand rest on your lower belly, your womb, as he applied pressure. you do feel him there. the indent of his cock is poignant, bulging out from the skin. 

“mhm…!” you whine, trying to keep your mouth shut from the onslaught of moans pouring out. 

his attention turned to your tits as he swallowed a nipple whole with his tongue, sucking feverishly at the sensitive bud. it had you weak, dribbling to puddy. 

he could only think about how you’d look pregnant. swollen tits, round belly, glowing with his child. 

“this what you wanted?” he grunted, his pace quickening. you were too dumb to speak, a droplet of drool leaking from your mouth. “hm? fuck you—fuck, fill you up?” 

your back arched at the sentence, not knowing that his words could have such an arousing effect on you. this arousal was different. the way you clench around him was different. your actions spoke a lot louder than your words. 

“yeah? i can feel you, darling.” sounds of skin slapping and your hoarse voice could only be heard. he fucked you so good, treated you even better. fuck it, you’d rather be pregnant than anything else. 

“please, please…” you didn’t know what you were pleading for, in truth— he was already fucking you like he’d been in a rut. 

“yeah? that what you want? want a baby?” 

your head nodded furiously up and down, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks. lando bent down to kiss them away, followed by a capturing of your lips. he swallowed your breaths, your moans. he trailed kisses down the column of your throat; your collarbones, breasts, nipples, nothing went untouched by his mouth. 

“god…these…” he muttered against your tits, voice sending shockwaves through your body. “imagine how big they’d be.” he managed to chuckle to himself. “swollen and beautiful,” he kissed the top of your abdomen. 

“lando…”

his head shot up from his daze. 

“the time is right. please, please—” your words seemed to hit him like a truck. the foreplay had turned reality, and he was more than ready to lurch into fate. 

“what, pretty girl?”

your face flushed, biting your lip. “give me a baby, need it—lan, need it so bad.” your hand found the back of his neck, tugging on the strands of his hair. 

he tsked, his pace evening out to a level throttle. your lips formed a sweet pout, and he stroked your chin with his index finger. “give you?” he mocked. “oh, don’t think that’s how we ask, do we?”

“lan…please, please, can i have your baby? need it so bad lando, need it…” you swallowed your breath. “daddy…wanna make you a daddy…please.” 

it was more than enough for him. “atta girl.” he grunted, deepening his lackluster thrusts into thrilling rides on his cock. “y’learn fast…kids ‘r gonna be so smart.” 

“yes, yes! so good, lan.” you heaved, the heat in your cunt finding a boiling point, and he felt it by how tight you became around him. 

“go on, baby, take it. be a good girl and take it all.” you’d do anything to hear your lando call you a good girl. it had been more than enough to send you over the edge into a spiraling orgasm that had slick seeping around his cock. your vision whitened, and you could only see the shadow of your ‘husband’ through the light. 

with sloppy thrusts, lando came with ease. he didn’t pull out urgently, letting his cum soak inside of you. he peppered kisses along your ankles, your calves, and let them fall to the seat. 

out of breath, your chests rose and fell at a rapid pace. lando’s forehead connected with your own, and through the haze of post-sex, he smiled at you. 

you smiled back. the two of you broke into a laugh. 

“fuckin’ knew that was gonna happen today.” he commented lazily into your chest. a hand of yours threaded through his brown curls. 

“your mastermind plan to babytrap me.” 

he raised a brow. “did you plan on leaving?”

you gave him a knowing look. “not in the slightest.” 

he became embarrassed and sheepish as he hid his face into your ribs. “no chance of it, now.” 

you chuckled, flexing your fingers to see the ring still there. “i want a real proposal, by the way.” 

his head shot up. “what? this wasn’t good enough?”

you palmed his face with one hand, and tugged the back of his curled head with the other. “bastard.” 

it only took you two ten minutes to get your clothes back on from such a leisurely excursion from the empty parking garage. covered in his spit, sweat, and cum, you didn’t feel….dirty. 

when he finally pulled up to the valet and opened the door for you, you stepped out as graciously as possible. though your hair was a tangled mess— you tried your best. lucky enough it was late enough to where minimal paparazzi were gathered. thank god. 

you shifted on your feet, shimmying the dress down, but lando came to your rescue. he pulled the dress down where it was crumpled at the back, caught between the hem of your soaked underwear. 

“that was a rental, wasn’t it?” you pointed out, looking over your shoulder.

“they should auction it.” 

you spun around and laughed in his face, gagged by the ego he has. “you have a big head.” 

“need all that room for you.” 

“cheesy.” 

lando’s eyes lit up— though exhausted from the day and your antics, the sun still rose for him— “almost forgot—” he reached into his pocket whilst you waited patiently. 

he pulled out a bracelet.

a friendship bracelet. 

“thought it suited you.” he put it around your wrist, and you analyzed it clearly. in white, capitalized letters it read:

“MOMMY”

“you really had this thing planned.” you were impressed. 

he shifted on his heels, throwing his hands up as if saying ‘what can i say?’ “p thinks you’re pregnant now.” 

you gasped. “lando!” 

“i mean…hopefully.” he winked as you fiddled with the jewelry, still not bothering to take off the ring from your finger. 

“well…” you brought a finger to your lips, thinking, “we have to be certain, don’t we?” 

lando was catching your drift as you walked backwards towards the entrance of the hotel, luring him in with your charisma. “perhaps…”

“so…we need to try again.” he wasn’t going to argue with that. “and again.” or that. “and again, for good measure.” 

“you’re gonna kill me, baby.” he whined, chasing you up the steps. you squealed, running forward. inside the elevator you two went, clicking the floor for your room. 

after further inspection, lando’s brows furrowed after he glanced over you. “what?” 

he covered his mouth to shield his devious smile. 

“what, lando?” 

he coughed to hide his amusement, but it was a very bad act. “you’re…”

“what?” 

“you’re dripping.”

you looked down at your thighs and saw the glistening reflection of his cum seeping out of you. fuck. maybe the first time was the charm, but you hoped it wasn’t. 

you really hoped it wasn’t. 

tags ; @landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[hollyseb]

A COLLISION OF FATE - CEO!BUCKY X ASSISTANT READER (one-shot)

warnings; swearing, minors dni

2.4k words

summary; As an assistant to the powerful CEO Bucky Barnes, you’ve always kept things strictly professional—maybe even a little distant. But when a chaotic morning commute turns your world upside down, you find yourself relying on your boss in unexpected ways.

authors note; this is my first fic in a while so please let me know what you think!

Fuck.

You couldn’t help but pull the bed sheets over your head as your alarm sounded. You’d slept terribly, anticipation stewing in your chest all night long. A huge day at work loomed ahead. Your boss trusted you with organising a client meeting for a massive company project, and despite your meticulous preparations, anxiety gnawed at you relentlessly.

This marks your fourth month as an assistant to Mr Barnes, CEO of Barnes Industries. Your boss embodies power and leadership, standing well over six feet. He has a presence that’s impossible to ignore, although you often find yourself trying to; avoiding his piercing gaze, shrinking away from his broad figure. He intimidated you.

You’d learned to anticipate his needs, not just to impress him but perhaps as an attempt to keep your conversations to a minimum. Although you had managed to settle into your role, growing accustomed to your boss’ high standards, you often felt a sense of apprehension. You were overwhelmed by how important he was. Mr Barnes wasn’t just your boss - he was a force of nature.

The two of you maintained a strictly professional relationship, even lingering towards slightly cold sometimes. You liked to do what he needed you to do, and then get out of his way. However, every now and then, you’d catch him watching you with a look that lingered a moment too long. You’d always assume there was something on your face, or a smudge on your shirt, anything that might explain why he was staring. But when you checked, there was never anything there.

For Bucky, it started with the little things. He noticed how you always made sure his coffee was exactly how he liked it, down to the last detail, even on the most hectic mornings. You remembered the smallest preferences he had, the things he rarely even thought about himself—like the way you would quietly replace the pens in his office with the specific brand he preferred, or how you always ensured there was a bottle of his favorite water in the conference room before every meeting. These weren’t just the actions of a diligent assistant; they were gestures that spoke of someone who genuinely cared, someone who paid attention to him in a way that no one else ever had.

Your snoozed alarm began to sound again, piercing your thoughts like a violent shriek. Just get through the meeting, you told yourself, before ultimately deciding to drag yourself out of bed. The thought repeated like a mantra. Is it normal to feel this worried about disappointing your boss? You thought, before swatting away the idea. You didn’t need to focus on that for now.

A hot shower did little to wash away the anxiety that clinged to you. Your movements were robotic as you went through your morning routine, driven by the pressure of the meeting.

With a sigh, you reached for your phone, the screen lighting up with a soft glow. 7:45 AM. It felt as though the numbers were taunting you. You ran a hand down your face, bracing yourself for the day.

Time to go.

After locking the door to your small, cozy apartment, you made your way down the narrow, communal staircase. The morning air hitting you with a welcomed bite as you stepped outside into the car park.

You slid into the drivers seat of your aging Mini, the familiar creak of the door and worn leather seat beneath you provided a familiar comfort. It wasn't much, but it was yours, the car you'd had since you were 17. You shifted into gear and gripped the steering wheel, the hum of the engine almost grounding you.

Just get through the meeting, you repeated, merging into the flow of morning traffic. You let your mind drift to the day's plans, mentally rehearsing the things you had to organise when you arrived at the office… calling the clients to confirm their attendance, setting up the meeting room, dropping the itinerary off at Mr Barnes’ desk.

As you approached a red light just a few blocks from the office, you felt a fleeting sense of calm. Your heartbeat, which had been a relentless drumbeat of anxiety, finally began to settle into a more regular rhythm. The office was so close, the meeting so imminent. All you had to do now was make it through the last stretch of traffic and face the day.

Without warning, a loud, violent crashing noise shattered the calm. The force of the impact threw you forward, your seatbelt straining against your body painfully. The contents of your bag spilling into the passenger seat footwell alongside the sound of crunching metal. Your mind was blank, struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

What the -?

Your heart raced, your breaths leaving in shallow and quick successions. The realisation hit you like a second wave of impact - you’d been rear-ended.

You gripped the steering wheel like a vice, catching sight of your pale face as movement caught your attention in the rear view mirror. the driver of the car behind you was already out of his vehicle, storming towards you.

Rather than waiting for you to get out the car, he began shouting at you through the closed window. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He shouted, his voice echoing violently.

He looked to be in his mid thirties, dressed in a wrinkled suit, face red with anger and eyes practically bulging out his head.

You took a deep breath, adrenaline surging through your veins. Stay calm, don’t escalate. You unbuckle your seatbelt, ignoring the dull pain of where it had dug into you, stepping out your beloved car.

“Do you even know how to fucking drive?” He yelled, arms flailing. “I’m going to be late for work because of you, stupid bitch”

You were taken aback by his blatant profanity. Humiliation rising in your body as bystanders gawked at the interaction.

You blinked, your nerves fraying under his aggression. “I was stopped at the light. You hit me,” you said, voice trembling.

”Bullshit!” He spat, inching towards your face. “You stopped like a fucking moron and now look at my fucking car!”, he pointed in the direction of his vehicle, a sleek black BMW, barely scratched.

The sight of your car, however, made your stomach turn. The bumper was shrewd across the concrete, the metal contorted dramatically. You’d come off much worse than him. You could feel tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“This is all your fault!”, he spat, voice dripping with venom. “You’re going to pay every cent for the damage you’ve caused.”

Before you could respond, he lunged closer, jabbing a finger in your face. “Do you even realise how fucking pathetic you look right now? Crying because you’ve ruined my car-“

The man was interrupted. A firm, authoritative voice cutting through his ramblings like steel.

“Is there a problem here?”

You looked up, your heart pounding, and there he was - Bucky Barnes. The sight of him hit you like a tidal wave. For a split second, you were frozen, breath catching in your throat.

Bucky’s sharp blue eyes were fixed on the angry driver, his expression a mask of controlled authority. Your eyes shifted between the two, noticing how Bucky towered over the man.

The man’s voice was quieter than before, his composure tense. “Who the hell are you?”

Bucky stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I’m her boss,” he said, his tone calm but edged with a warning. “And I suggest you step back before you make this any worse.”

The anger in the man’s stance faltered, replaced by a grudging recognition that he was outmatched. With a final glare towards you, he stormed back to his car.

You exhaled, realising you’d been holding your breath. “Thank you,” you murmured, voice shaky from adrenaline.

Bucky’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes softening a fraction. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice low and filled with a warmth which contrasted the icy authority he had shown moments before.

You watched the way his eyes trailed down your shaking body for any obvious signs of injury.

You nodded in response. “Y-yes, I’m okay. Just a bit shaken”, a forced smile pursing against your lips.

He leaned down slightly, lowering himself to your height, his face inches from yours. Placing a hand on each of your shoulders. “You don’t have to put a brave face on with me. Are you really okay?”

The depth of his concern was more than you expected, combined with the gentleness of his touch, you felt like your head was spinning.

”Thank you, Mr Barnes”, your voice barely more than a whisper, “I’m okay, I promise”.

Bucky’s expression softened even more. “Let me take you to the office. I’ll sort you out and make sure everything’s taken care of.” Bucky said, his voice low and earnest.

His words soothed you. He placed a firm but gentle hand on your mid-back, guiding you towards his car. The warmth of his touch was a comforting contrast to the cold air. You found solace in the protective way he guided you.

When you reached his car, Bucky opened the passenger door for you with a quiet, practiced grace. His movements were deliberate and careful, as if he wanted to ensure you felt as secure as possible.

Bucky closed the door gently and walked around to the driver’s side. As he settled into the driver’s seat, he adjusted the rear view mirror, his gaze flicking over to you. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Barnes, when it’s just us two. James will do.”

You met his gaze in the mirror, feeling a sudden rush of warmth. You faltered for a split second under the heat of his stare. “Okay, James”, you said quietly.

He gave a small, approving smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “That’s better,” he said, his voice low. “Let’s get you to the office.”

Your boss wouldn’t let you know, but the way you trembled when that man was yelling at you, the way his words reduced you to feeling small and insignificant, made Bucky’s blood boil. His usual calm and composed demeanor was barely holding back the fury simmering beneath the surface. The sight of you being treated so harshly, so unfairly, sparked something primal in him—something protective and fierce.

Arriving at the office, Bucky parked with a practised ease and opened your door, offering a supportive hand as you stepped out. Eyes glazing over you again to see if you were moving with any discomfort.

As you walked into the building, you were met with a flurry of activity. Bucky led you to your room, settling you into your office chair with a soft, reassuring hand on your back.

“Take a moment to breathe,” he instructed, his voice a mix of warmth and authority. “I’ll handle the meeting for now, okay? You’ve had a rough morning.”

You nodded gratefully, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. Bucky made a few quick phone calls and sent some emails, managing the meeting logistics with the efficiency and competence that defined him.

Throughout the morning, Bucky periodically checked in on you. Each time, his concern was evident, his questions simple but genuine. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” he would ask, always with that soft, protective tone.

By lunchtime, Bucky made sure you had something to eat. He watched with a mixture of satisfaction and relief as you ate, noting the gradual return of color to your cheeks.

As the workday wound down, you wrapped up your tasks and prepared to head home. Bucky had been a steadfast support throughout the day, ensuring that you felt taken care of and that everything went smoothly despite the morning’s chaos.

As you gathered your things, Bucky approached with a rare, genuine smile. “How are you holding up?”

“Much better, thanks to you,” you said, returning his smile. “I really appreciate everything today.”

”Well I would love to drive you home, but I still have a few more things to wrap up. One of my drivers will take you, okay?”, your boss said, leaning against the door frame of your office.

You opened your mouth to politely decline, feeling that he had already done enough for you today. However, you faltered when he raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his expression, you knew there was no point in arguing.

“Alright,” you agreed, feeling a warmth spread through you at his insistence. “Thank you.”

“Good,” he said, satisfied, a part of him wanted to grin at your obedience as he circled back to his office.

The ride home was quiet, the events of the day replaying in your mind. You were exhausted, but there was also a strange sense of anticipation that you couldn’t quite explain.

When the car pulled up outside your apartment, you thanked the driver and stepped out. The cool evening air was refreshing after the long day, and you were eager to wash the day away with a hot shower and a bottle of wine.

But as you approached your apartment building, something caught your eye. Parked in your usual spot was a familiar-looking Mini, only this one was brand new. The gleaming paint, the spotless interior—it was unmistakably the same make and model as your beloved old car, but this one was perfect in every way.

There’s no way, you thought.

Your heart pounded as you took a hesitant step closer, your mind racing to process what you were seeing. There was no mistaking it—this was a gift, one that had been carefully chosen to replace what you had lost earlier today.

A note was tucked under the windshield wiper. With trembling hands, you pulled it free and unfolded the paper. The handwriting was unmistakable.

You’ve had a rough day. I hope this makes it a little easier. – James

A rush of emotions overwhelmed you, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You never expected something like this. Bucky hadn’t just replaced your car—he’d chosen something that he knew would mean something to you, something that was a perfect reflection of who you were.

As you stood there, staring at the car that now felt like a symbol of so much more, you couldn’t help but feel that the boundaries between you and Bucky had shifted in a way that couldn’t be undone.

A collision of fate.

————————————————————-

TAGLIST!

@sashaisready @matchat3a @writingpastmybedtime @melsunshine @lex-the-flex @himawariizephyr @jbbarnesgirl @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @sagebarness @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @selella @armystay89 @globetrotter28 @iwritewithpenandpaper @casa-boiardi @winterslove1917 @buckydarling09 @kandis-mom @scott-loki-barnes @mrsevans90

[themandalalady]

22-335 Shift

[megalony]

Small Mercies

As requested, this is a new Eddie Diaz imagine that I hope you will all like. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700

@ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: While Eddie is at work, he gets a phone call from his wife who is home with the kids. Someone is trying to break into their home.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie ran his fingers through his damp hair and gave his head a light shake, ridding the last few droplets of water from the shower. He could feel the steam clinging to his damp frame and making his work gear stick to him like a second skin.

He could feel a headache forming.

He didn't want to go to work. Eddie wasn't sure he had the energy to go to work on a double shift. He had about as much energy and willpower to get him from the bathroom to the bedroom, but he knew he had to get moving.

If he didn't want to be late to work, Eddie had to get a move on and say goodbye to his family and head down to the station in time for the shift change over.

With his hand still tangled into his damp locks, Eddie headed out of the bathroom that felt more like a sauna once he walked into the hallway.

It might of been a good idea for Eddie to take a nap this afternoon before the kids came home from school, but he had decided against it. Going for a nap during the day always made Eddie feel worse when he woke up. He found it easier to power through and go to sleep the next available night, no matter how many hours that meant he had to stay awake for.

Now it was almost tea time and he was going on shift and wouldn't be home until late tomorrow night.

"Chris, buddy I'm heading to work now." He pushed open the bedroom door and leaned against the frame, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he looked across at his boy.

Chris was laid out on the rug in front of his bed, legs kicking in the air behind him and pens scattered across the floor. He had a cake colouring book in front of him, a red pen tucked behind his ear and a deep plum pen twirling between his fingers. And his tv was on rather loud in the background playing a wide selection of music.

He lifted his head to look up at Eddie, as if only just realising his dad was in the doorway. He looked Eddie up and down, taking in his appearance and realising that he was dressed for work.

"I'm going now, I'll see you tomorrow after tea, okay?"

He dropped the pen in his hand and scratched the one from behind his ear so he could push up from the rug. His arms stretched out in front of him and he deadlocked them around Eddie's waist, burying his face in his dad's chest while Eddie leaned down to kiss the top of his curls.

"Love you."

"Love you too, be good for me." Eddie pressed a few more kisses against Chris's head before he unwound his arms and watched his boy flop back down to continue colouring.

He left the door ajar and turned round, but before he had the chance to try and head into the girl's room, Daisy already beat him to it. The four year old barrelled into his legs before he could move in any direction. Her arms bound around his legs and she tilted her head as far back as she could so she was grinning up at him with such a soft smile that it made his heart melt.

"You leaving, daddy?"

His eyes creased with a wide smile and he reached down to scoop her up into his arms, cuddling her into his chest.

"Yeah, flower, I gotta go to work. I'll be home tomorrow." He pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek, grinning when she wriggled and squirmed in his arms and turned to kiss his cheek in return. "Be a good girl, hm? Love you." He knew he didn't have to tell any of the kids to be good, but he always did out of habit.

He set Daisy back down to her feet and shook his head when he heard her mumble "Love you more." She liked to think Eddie didn't hear her when she said that so she could have the last word, but he always heard her.

"Love you most." He watched her scuttle down the hall, presumably going to the living room so she could watch tv before dinner.

His eyes focused on the hem of his shirt which he tucked into his trousers while he headed into his and (Y/n)'s room. He could hear her humming and he already knew Rosie would be in there with her. He made his way into the room and a smirk flooded his lips when his eyes locked on his wife. He could see from her attire and her damp hair that she had just had a shower too; the light was on in the en-suite, confirming his thoughts.

(Y/n) was wearing one of Eddie's plain cotton shirts and a pair of his boxers that were glued rather shapely around her bum. And his shirt hung off her left shoulder as if giving him a sneak preview of what he was missing out on. But it was the way his shirt was bunched up over her hip and partly tucked into the boxers that made it hard to stay in control. He wanted to go over there and rip it over her head and drag the boxers down to her ankles.

He was suddenly glad he wasn't wearing his boots so he could make a quiet descent over towards (Y/n). As soon as he reached her, Eddie bound his arms tight around her waist and pulled her back into his chest. His lips attached to the side of her neck and he chuckled into her skin when she gasped and stumbled onto her back foot.

Her hands deadlocked around his wrists and her head flopped back on his shoulder. He could feel the deep breaths she took to try and calm down the panic he had rushed through her system.

"Eddie!" (Y/n) scolded quietly, slapping his wrist. He was lucky she hadn't been daydreaming or she might have screamed when he grabbed her. He was always doing his best to sneak up on her and he had gotten Chris into the same habit too.

The feeling of him breathing harshly and sucking at her neck had her knees going weak but when she looked at the watch strapped on his wrist, she knew he was going to be late if he stayed.

"I take it you're leaving now?" She turned her head to look at him but he caught her lips in a kiss instead, and she could feel his hands slip beneath her shirt. His fingertips traced over the curve of her hips causing her to shiver and she felt his fingers trace lower and dip past the waistband of his boxers she was wearing.

His shift was going to feel like a week instead of a day with (Y/n)'s image burned into his mind like this.

"Wish I wasn't." He muttered into her neck, trying his best to sink his teeth into her skin and leave a mark.

His hands squeezed her hips and he pulled back enough so that (Y/n) could turn around in his arms so she was facing him. A tender smile lit up her face and had Eddie's knees going weak and he leaned forward, diminishing the gap between them so their chests were glued together.

"Me too," Sincerity flooded her voice while she cupped Eddie's face in her hands and pecked his lips again before she tried to wriggle out of his arms so he could get ready.

It didn't work. His hands slipped lower into the boxers she wore until both hands had a grip on her bum and he stepped closer, pressing every ridge of his body against hers. When he dug his fingers into her flesh, (Y/n) rolled her lips together and pressed her nose against his cheek.

Maybe she should walk him to the door to make sure he actually left. It wouldn't do him any favours to be late to work when he had a clean track record so far.

Her lips parted into a gasp when she felt Eddie try his luck to walk her backwards towards the bed.

"If you wake her, you deal with the tantrum." (Y/n) warned with an arched brow, talking in hushed tones against his cheek before she dipped her head towards the bed.

Rosie was having a nap.

The toddler had finally settled and (Y/n) wanted to let her sleep for a bit longer before she had to wake her up for her tea. But if Eddie was going to wake her, he could take the time to settle her back down if she started to cry or get grumpy. She hadn't settled for a nap earlier at lunch so this was her first nap of the day which she desperately needed.

The one year old had been fussy all day, but she had finally managed to settle and had fallen asleep in the middle of (Y/n) and Eddie's bed. She was laid across both pillows with a teddy tucked up against her chest and a blue pacifier between her lips. And (Y/n) wasn't going to let Eddie wake her accidentally and cause (Y/n) another hour of pacing the house and rocking to try and settle her again.

Plus, if Rosie was asleep when Eddie left for work, it would cause less stress. The toddler hated it when Eddie had to leave. She would cry when he kissed her goodbye and she would reach out for him and try to follow him when he went out the door. Whereas if she woke up after he had gone, she didn't panic or get as upset.

(Y/n) cupped Eddie's face in her hands when he pulled away from her neck so he could look across at the bed. A fond smile pulled at his lips and his eyes softened when he looked at his youngest girl.

"I won't wake her." He promised against her lips before he leaned forward and stole another kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips and he leaned into the kiss until (Y/n) was tilting back at an angle. "Dios, I'd rather stay here."

"And I want you to stay, but you can't. I don't like being alone at night." (Y/n) curved her arms tighter around Eddie's neck and pushed forward so she could tuck her face against his skin.

She felt his hands give her a squeeze and he pulled her closer and attached his lips to the side of her head. He began to hum softly against her head and started to sway from side to side which made (Y/n) grin into his neck.

"I know mi amor." Eddie didn't like working nights. Not only did it screw with his body clock and mess with his sleep, it made (Y/n) nervous.

He knew she hated to be home alone. (Y/n) was naturally anxious and being home alone spiked that worry, she didn't feel safe unless someone was with her. And Eddie hated working nights because he knew (Y/n) had battled often enough with insomnia. It didn't help her panic either to be left home alone with three kids.

Insomnia heightened every sound outside. The branches tapping and rustling became intruders getting closer to the house. The wind sounded like someone whistling. The gate creaking sounded like someone coming up the drive and banging pipes in the dark sounded like someone breaking in.

"You'd better go, sweetheart." (Y/n) pecked his cheek and her eyes widened when Eddie actually unravelled himself from her. Was he actually going to walk out the door without a fuss?

Her heart softened and her lips rolled together to supress her smile when she watched Eddie move over to the bed. He planted one hand down on the cover so he could lean over Rosie and peck her temple.

"Bye baby girl."

He straightened up after running his fingers through her thin strokes of hair and headed back over to (Y/n).

"If you need me just call, I should be able to answer." He couldn't always answer the phone, but he tried his best. He would rather (Y/n) call him if something was wrong or she didn't feel great, then if Eddie didn't answer he knew to ring her as soon as he could.

(Y/n) tried to untangle herself from him again when he reached out for her because she knew he needed to leave so he wouldn't be late to the station.

But a gasp tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips when Eddie's hand reached up for the collar of her shirt that was halfway down her shoulder. With it being Eddie's shirt and two sizes too big for her, the collar was looser and easier to move. It let Eddie hook a finger into the collar and drag it further down her arm, exposing her bare chest to his prying eyes.

(Y/n) tilted her chest back just as Eddie's lips attached to her cleavage. Both her hands moved to his shoulders and she gave him a strong push until he had to reel back up and disconnect from her chest. She dragged the shirt back up her shoulder, hiding the view he had given himself which made him groan.

"Go to work before you wake the baby." Even though Rosie was one and a half now, they were inclined to calling her the baby because she was their youngest.

She gave him a gentle nudge until he was walking backwards out the room, his arms back around her waist with his elbows digging into her hips. Her hands reached up to rub across his chest and she continued to nudge him backwards while he stole kiss after kiss from her lips like it was the last time he was going to see her and he was getting his money's worth.

Eddie moved one arm behind him to unlock the front door and grab his keys from the lock. When the door opened, he begrudgingly let (Y/n) push him back until he was over the threshold like a lovesick puppy waiting outside for her.

His lips curved into a deadly smirk that flashed his teeth when (Y/n) cupped his face in her hands and tugged him down to press a feverish kiss to his lips. She let him swipe his tongue across her lower lip, begging for entrance before she pulled back, mumbling a quiet 'I love you' and 'goodbye' against his lips before giving him a final nudge out the door.

He needed to go to work and she needed to get the kid's tea ready.

***

Reaching her hand across the bed, (Y/n) feathered her fingers over the cover and up towards the pillow.

Cold. Empty.

Of course it was empty; Eddie was at work tonight. He wouldn't be back until tomorrow night, probably after the kids were all in bed by the time he finished his shift and got showered at the station before leaving.

(Y/n) didn't like the nights where Eddie worked during the night, she didn't like an empty bed. She liked to hear Eddie's soft breathing that worked as background noise to get her to sleep. She liked to feel the cover being stolen and tangled around his legs as he twisted from left to right. Or the feeling of an arm draping over her waist or a nose tickling her neck and tucking into her shoulder. All of that compared drastically to being curled up, alone in the bed.

She tucked her face down into the pillow and shuffled into the middle of the bed. It was entirely strange to have the bed to herself, without Eddie or at least one of the kids sneaking in to lay with her.

Sleep pulled at her mind as she curled up on herself, wishing the night away. (Y/n) was tired enough that it shouldn't be a problem falling asleep tonight like previous nights where she laid awake.

(Y/n) could feel her head slowly spinning and twisting from left to right in that usual manner that signalled she was going to fall asleep at any moment.

Until something shattered.

Her body jolted upright in bed and her hands scrunched up in the bedsheets. A shiver tore down (Y/n)'s spine as she tried to blink through the darkness, forcing her brain to clear from the fog rolling in and set her ears to work.

What smashed? Was it just (Y/n) imagining things? Once or twice she thought she heard something as she drifted to sleep, but Eddie had never heard it so she always presumed it was a dream about to start that woke her up.

But she knew she heard something this time. Had Chris or Daisy gotten up for a drink and dropped a glass or knocked into something? Perhaps something had happened at work and Eddie was coming home early for some reason. That didn't seem liable. Eddie hadn't been gone more than seven hours, and if he was coming home he would of called (Y/n) first.

Another rumble of glass breaking caused (Y/n) to cringe and coil her legs up to her stomach. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good.

Her legs turned to jelly as she swung them over the side of the bed and slowly got out of bed. She switched on the lamp and coiled her arms to her chest, forcing herself to take steady breaths as she tiptoed to the bedroom door.

It took a lot of willpower for (Y/n) to try and open the door as slowly as possible so it didn't creak or make a sound. She put one foot into the hall and tried to peer round. It was too dark to see anything and (Y/n) gulped, holding her breath as she inched a few paces down the hall, staying as close to the wall as she could.

"Oh no."

The window beside the front door was smashed. Glass littered the hallway. One of the picture frames on the side table had been knocked to the floor. And the street light outside illuminated the front door enough for (Y/n) to see a large stocky frame at the door.

Someone was trying to break in.

Why now? Why tonight of all nights, when Eddie was out at work and (Y/n) was home alone with the kids?

Why their house? What was so special about their home that someone thought they should try their luck breaking in at midnight?

(Y/n) could feel sweat coating her palms as she pressed them against the wall and tried to keep her front flush against the wall to blend in with the dark night shadows. Her knees quivered and threatened to give way as she shuffled along the corridor, afraid to take big steps in case a floorboard creaked and gave away that someone was awake in the house.

Her hand shook as she slowly twisted the handle on Chris's door and she stumbled into his room, gliding across the carpet until she could plonk herself down on the side of his bed.

"Chris? Baby, baby wake up." Her voice was higher in tone than usual but as quiet as she could be without croaking or going silent.

The ten year old gasped, jolting his head forward and reaching a hand out to grab (Y/n)'s arm in shock. The pitch black of the room gave away that it was still night time. He wasn't waking up late for school, it didn't feel like he had even been in bed for that long so he wasn't sure why his mum was vigorously shaking him to wake him up.

"Mum?"

"Shh, baby I know it's late but I need you to get up and go into my room. Now."

"Why?"

Chris sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. What was going on? Was someone sick? Did they have to go somewhere in the middle of the night? The only time something like this had happened was when (Y/n) went into early labour with Rosie during the night. Chris had been abruptly woken up by his dad and told to get his shoes on and get in the car to go and stay with Buck. This wasn't remotely the same as that.

He went to reach out for his glasses on the side table, but he gasped when his mum reached forward and held him beneath his arms. She got up off the bed and lifted him with her to get him on his feet.

He heard her whisper "Emergency," as she kissed the top of his head and ushered his sleepy, stumbling frame towards the open door.

Chris grabbed the doorframe, unable to see properly in the dark, especially without his glasses. But when he stepped into the hall, he couldn't help but look to the right when he heard something pound on the front door.

Tears welled up in his eyes before he understood what was happening and he let his mum usher him into her room. His arms bound around his chest and he stood near the end of the bed, shaking on the spot while he watched his mum scurry into the girls' bedroom.

"Daisy, Daisy, up sweetheart. Go to mummy's room quickly for me."

The four year old grumbled in discontent, but she didn't argue for some reason. She let (Y/n) lift her out of her bed with the Fireman Sam bedding and she cuddled her teddy to her chest as she swayed and stumbled towards the door. She seemed to believe she was going to sleep in bed with her mum tonight and didn't quabble.

(Y/n) watched Daisy pad across the hall before she leaned down into the cot and scooped Rosie up. She cuddled her youngest to her chest, smothering her lips against the top of Rosie's head to try and calm herself down and she rushed back into her room and shut the door.

"Mum?" Chris reached out to hold her arm, pushing into her side for comfort and security because he felt utterly terrified.

"Daisy off the bed. Everyone in the bathroom please."

"But I don't-"

"Now." (Y/n) hissed and nudged Daisy in front of her before her daughter had chance to tell her she didn't want nor need a bath. She'd had a bath before tea time and she had been in bed, since when did they get a bath in the middle of the night?

(Y/n) snatched her phone from the side table and ushered the pair of them into the small en-suite that adjoined her and Eddie's bedroom.

She went to turn the light on but stopped herself. The light automated the extractor fan. Whoever was trying to break in would be able to hear it when the house was this quiet and (Y/n) had no idea if it was just one person trying to burgle them or not. There could be someone outside who would notice if she turned the light on.

She opted instead to turn on the small LED light over the bathroom mirror, it wasn't much but it was enough.

Once Chris and Daisy were inside, (Y/n) quietly pushed the door shut and turned the lock. Her eyes scanned around the small space. Nowhere to hide, no advantage points.

"Okay…" (Y/n) could feel her body shaking as she carefully knelt down on the floor next to the kids and eased Rosie down onto the bathmat. The toddler was starting to stir. "In the bath for me."

"I don't want one." Daisy's voice was meek and she rubbed her eyes again. The darkness was making her want to fall back asleep but once a loud bang rickoted through the house, the little girl gasped and jumped against Chris. Both of them watched (Y/n) shudder and jolt against them.

The front door had swung open and hit the wall. That meant whoever it was had now gotten inside the house.

"We're not getting a bath, baby, just sitting in the tub until it's safe."

"Who's at the door?" Daisy's voice held no power or tone and she spoke in a whisper like she subconsciously understood the situation.

"I don't know."

Chris on the other hand, didn't say anything. He understood immediately and he knew they were in a bad situation. He scrambled to turn around and slowly climb over the side of the tub. He didn't like sitting in an empty bath, it was cold and it echoed badly, but he did as he was told. He opened his arms so that when (Y/n) carefully picked Daisy up and sat her in the tub, his little sister could sit between his legs and cuddle up into him.

(Y/n) eased Rosie back up into her arms and settled her on her chest with her face nuzzled down beneath her collar bone. She tried to stop herself from trembling, desperate to keep Rosie asleep because if she cried she would giveaway their hiding place.

She got up from the floor and carefully climbed into the end of the tub and sat on the little ledge between the end of the tub and the wall. (Y/n) had to tense her muscles to stop her feet from jittering against the bottom of the tub and she pulled the shower curtain across to hide them all. Not that it would provide much safety or cover, but it was the best she could do.

Each breath (Y/n) tried to take was shallow and raspy and it made her go lightheaded. She felt her chest tingling and her stomach flooded with adrenaline to the point she felt like she was going to be sick or somehow explode.

She felt Chris and Daisy edge close until they were both leaning up against her legs for protection and comfort.

With Rosie curled up into her chest, (Y/n) tried to hold her as best she could with one arm so she could get her phone from her pocket and dial Eddie's number.

Please pick up. Please answer me!

Eddie seemed like a safer bet than calling 911. She wanted Eddie to come home and help them. She needed him to know what was going on. (Y/n) didn't want the headache of whispering and probably crying to a dispatcher. Trying to tell them her name and address and how many people were in the house was going to be much harder than simply calling Eddie for assistance.

"Amor? It's late, is everything okay?" Eddie's voice was like music to (Y/n)'s ears and she felt a tear trickling down her cheek as she silently thanked him for answering so quickly.

He wasn't used to a midnight call like this, not unless they had been texting beforehand. This meant something was wrong, Eddie knew (Y/n) wouldn't just ring him out of the blue, late at night like this when he was at work. He could feel his heartbeat picking up already at the thought of what he was about to be told.

"Eddie, I think- I think there's a burglar."

"What?"

"I can hear someone, and one of the windows has been smashed. Please, please can you come home?"

This was one of his worst nightmares. Something happening to his family while he wasn't there. It had been his fear when he was in the army and (Y/n) was pregnant. He worried something would happen to her or she would have the baby without him. He worried being in another country entirely and not on the end of the phone if someone broke in and hurt his family. He feared not being able to be there if they were hurt or frightened and needed him.

(Y/n) could hear him cursing in the background and she could make out the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he started to breathe deeper, indicating he was now running somewhere.

"We're coming now, okay? We're on our way and I'll get dispatch to send a squad car down. Where are you?"

"We're all in the bathroom." (Y/n) kept her voice quiet when she heard something clattering in the house. It sounded distant which meant whoever it was, they weren't in the hall or near the bedrooms.

That might give them some time to stay here undetected while Eddie and the team rushed down to help them.

They had never been burgled before. (Y/n) had never woken up to someone trying to break in or someone coming in and attacking her. She'd never had to hide the kids with her like this and call for help. Their house back in Texas had been out the way and their only neighbours were Eddie's parents and a little old couple in the next property line.

This was a nice house in a safe neighbourhood. Break-ins didn't happen round here.

"I'm on my way amor, I swear. I'll be there soon."

***

Eddie didn't wait for the truck to roll to a stop. Once they were outside his house, he flung the door open and jumped down, bracing his knees upon landing so he could take off into a sprint.

He could hear the rest of the team calling after him, but their voices drowned out in the night air. He didn't care for them telling him to hang back and wait. That was his home. That was his family. He wasn't waiting for the police to give the all clear, he was going in.

And by the looks of it, Eddie would guess that Athena had only just arrived on scene.

Bobby had called her to let her know of the situation and ask for back up and Eddie had seen her and her partner head inside his home. He was going in now, he was going to find his family and make sure they were alright.

"Eddie!" Bobby's voice hissed behind him as the Captain followed him up the garden path and in through the front door.

The lights were off, Eddie wasn't sure whether he was expecting it to be dark in the house or not, but it unsettled him either way. He saw Athena's partner looking round the seemingly empty living room and he skidded down the hall to follow Athena into the kitchen.

He hung back a step, mostly because Bobby's hand found his shoulder and squeezed tight, as a warning.

They both watched as she flicked on the light and pointed her gun at the tall figure stood near the sink.

Why was this person in the kitchen? There was nothing of value or interest in here. What was he planning to steal, the pots and pans?

He didn't have a bag or a rucksack to put any valuables in. There didn't look to be any ornaments missing in the living room from the sneaking glance Eddie stole. The only damage so far was the busted window and broken picture frames near the front door which had dented the wall when it swung open. If this was a robbery, it was carried out by a very bad thief.

"Hands where I can see them." Athena's voice was calm but stern with a demanding tone that rung out through the air.

The stranger spun round a little too quick for himself and his head swayed back as he stumbled, steadying himself at the last moment by leaning on the island counter.

Eddie narrowed his eyes, his lips curling as he studied the man who had broken into his house. He looked drunk. He could barely keep his eyes open, he was swaying his head back and forth and his sense of balance was very clearly distorted.

"What are you doing?" Eddie couldn't help himself. He had to ask when he realised the man had one hand on the counter and the other was clutching one of the glasses from the cupboard.

"G-getting a drink?" The stranger hiccupped through his words which caused his head to snap back and his trembling hand let the glass drop down on the counter with a resounding clatter.

He was getting a drink? Was he being serious?

"Jesus Christ. You broke into my house for a drink?" Eddie couldn't help but tut as he dragged his hand through his hair and shook his head in disbelief.

This idiot had broken into his home, frightened his wife and kids, all so he could get a drink? Did he know whose home he had broken into? Did he have any clue what time it was, what was going on, or that there was indeed a young family in this house who were currently petrified while he tried to make himself a drink?

"You're house-" Confusion was clearly written across the man's face. A deep frown set in his brows and he turned to look around the kitchen as if he wasn't even sure where he was.

A deep sigh left Athena's lips as she clipped her gun back into her holster and exchanged it for a pair of handcuffs.

"Okay. You're under arrest for breaking and entering, let's go for a ride to the station. See if you can sober up."

He didn't reject the handcuffs. He let his head hang forward and allowed Athena to drag him from the kitchen, practically holding him up as he stumbled and swayed back and forth. He was drunk out of his head. Either he thought this was his home and he'd simply lost his keys, or he thought this was the home of a friend and he was fine to blunder in like this.

Eddie felt Bobby pat his shoulder and a silent exchange passed between them. This was a good thing. This wasn't someone trying to steal things from his home or attack his family or terrorise them. This man hadn't hurt any of Eddie's family and he hadn't approached them or even given them one thought.

This was the best outcome they could have hoped for.

With a shake of his head, Eddie twisted and jogged out of the kitchen. (Y/n) said she was in the bathroom. He needed to go in and tell them everything was okay if they hadn't already heard the team blundering into the house.

He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins and sending his hand shaking as he opened the bedroom door. He flicked the light on as he passed and slowed his steps when he reached the adjoining bathroom.

"Baby? Baby it's me, can you open the door for me?" Eddie rapped his knuckles on the door while his other hand clutched the doorframe tightly to try and keep himself under control. His forehead pressed into his arm and he could feel his foot jittering against the floor out of anxious habit.

He could hear odd sounds and things being moved about before quiet footsteps approached the door. And the way the lock slowly unclipped signalled that (Y/n)'s hands were shaking too.

Relief swarmed through (Y/n)'s stomach and caused her knees to quake when she peered through the gap in the door and set her sights on Eddie.

Tears streamed freely down (Y/n)'s face and she could see black dots twinkling in front of her eyes when she swung the door open and rushed forward. Her arms deadlocked around Eddie's neck and she meshed her face against his shoulder. The feel of his arm bound tight around her waist and his other hand curling around the back of her neck made (Y/n)'s breathing hitch in her throat.

He was here. They were safe. Everything was okay.

"Oh baby. You all okay?" Eddie smothered his lips against the side of (Y/n)'s head and slowly walked her backwards into the bathroom. He could feel her trembling in his arms and he worried if he let her go her legs might cave in.

"Did you get him? Who was it?"

"A fucking drunk, Athena's arrested him. He had no clue where he was, but I don't think he would of done anything if he saw you. Small mercies."

When his sights set on the bath, he could feel his heartstrings being cut, dropping his heart right down to the pit of his stomach.

The kids were petrified.

Chris was sat in the bath, slowly rocking back and forth to try and keep himself calm. He had his arms bound around Rosie who was sitting up between his legs, hand stuffed into her mouth as she sniffed, clearly about to cry. Chris had his cheek resting on top of her head, tears streaked down his face and panic written across his features.

Daisy was sat next to him, cuddled up into his side as much as she could with one hand around Chris's arm and the other binding her teddy to her chest.

Eddie eased (Y/n) down so she was sat on the side of the bath and he crouched down beside her so he could reach his arms forward for the kids. He carefully eased Rosie from Chris's protective embrace, pressing a kiss to her temple before he let (Y/n) take her from him to soothe her.

"Are you two okay?" He braced himself on the heel of his boots when Chris barrelled forward into his chest with his arms looped around Eddie's neck. And he moved his left arm out for Daisy when she whined and scrambled up to latch onto him too like she thought she was missing out.

"W-where's the bad man?"

"Bobby and Athena got him, it's okay. Everyone's safe now."

Eddie shifted his arms a bit lower down around each of them so he could lift them up from the bath. He held one kid in each arm, letting them burrow into his chest while he turned and headed into the bedroom, feeling (Y/n) walking close behind on shaking legs.

He eased them down onto the bed with a kiss to their foreheads and for a brief moment his eyes locked with (Y/n)'s when she sat down. He noticed how she was still shaking and her feet were tapping against the rug while she tried to rock Rosie up and down against her chest, but it was hard when she could barely keep her arms tight around the toddler.

But Eddie twisted to look behind him when Buck cleared his throat, a soft smile on his face as he stood in the doorway with Bobby. He tried to turn in their direction but he stopped when Daisy deadlocked her hands around his arm and pulled his arm into her chest with her teddy.

"Daddy no!"

"I'm just gonna talk to uncle Buck, I won't leave the room flower, I promise." He carded his fingers through her unruly hair and pressed a deep kiss to the top of her head.

It took a few moments for Daisy to debate and confirm that Eddie wasn't lying to her before she grumbled and let go of his arm. She didn't want her dad to leave her sights, he had to stay and keep them safe.

Eddie leaned against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest and his cheek against the door. They could both see that all the energy had been drained from him completely. The adrenaline was still rushing through his body, but he was losing the momentum he had earlier on shift. He had never had a phone call or a night like this before and he never wanted to experience it again.

"You'll need a new window, but we've broke all the glass out and drilled some wood there for now so it's secure."

"Thank you."

Eddie hadn't even thought or worried about the window or the front door when he got here. He just had to make sure whoever was invading his home hadn't managed to reach his family or hurt them. But he was grateful the team had bordered up the window pane, it was one less job for Eddie to do.

"I think you'd better stay home tonight." Bobby nodded his head in the direction of the bed behind Eddie where his family was waiting.

He didn't think it was wise for Eddie to come back on shift, not when his mind would only be focused on wondering if his family was okay. And leaving them after this while all of them were shook up wouldn't be in his best interests either. Eddie needed to stay here with his family and make sure they were all okay.

"We'll leave you to it."

"Call if you need anything."

"Thanks," Eddie ran his hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes before he headed over to the bed and crouched down, taking a quick glance at the watch strapped to his wrist. "Okay, it's way past bedtime. Everyone in while I go lock the door."

A strange look crossed Chris's face while Daisy took a deep breath and managed a small smile. She was the first to move, turning around so she could scramble up the bed when Eddie pointed.

There was no way Eddie was letting either of them go back to their own rooms just to lay there and panic. They would end up having nightmares or a panic attack. Even if none of them managed to get any sleep tonight, at least if they had all the kids in bed with them, all of them would feel safe and secure. And Eddie wouldn't have to keep getting out of bed every half hour to go and check on them and make sure they were okay.

When Chris shuffled up the bed, Eddie headed out into the hall. He made quick work of locking the front door and pulling the chain across, something he hadn't done in a while. He kicked off his boots and turned all the lights out as he headed back to the bedroom.

Part of Eddie wished they had a lock on their bedroom door. It would have felt a lot safer to lock the door and keep them all safe in here, but he would have to settle for knowing the front and back doors were both locked and his family would be wrapped up in his arms for the night. Probably for the next few nights if he was being honest. Daisy and Chris were going to be frightened and shell shocked after this. He couldn't see them sleeping in their own beds for at least a week or more.

There didn't look to be much room left in the bed by the time Eddie stripped from his uniform and headed over to try and climb in.

(Y/n) was on her side, Rosie cuddled up on her chest and abdomen, not quite asleep but well on her way. She had Chris laid next to her, already burrowed down under the cover with his head on (Y/n)'s shoulder, tucked up against her side. And Daisy was laid next to him, teddy deadlocked under one arm and her other hand reaching out for Eddie.

"You gonna let me in, flower?" He lifted the cover and waited for Daisy to wriggle so he could just about squeeze in beside her.

He didn't like the way Daisy shivered and Chris made a little disgruntled noise when Eddie turned the lamp off. The dark seemed to ignite worry in all five of them, even Rosie gurgled and started to wriggle around, unsettled.

A soft "Come're," passed Eddie's lips and he twisted to lay on his right side, pulling Daisy closer until she was burrowed into his bare chest. He could feel her pulling her knees up to her tummy and smothering her face into his upper chest like she was trying to curl up into a ball and make herself as small as possible.

With his right hand trailing up and down Daisy's back, he looped his left arm out over Chris and curled his hand around (Y/n)'s arm. Trying his best to keep hold of each of his family.

They were all tucked up together; they were all safe.

[peachesandfictionalmen]

Jason Todd and paramedic, neighbor, reader?

So, you've got this neighbor, he moved in not long before you, your apartment doors are right next to each other on the top level of the small complex and you just can't stop running into each other.

It started after a pretty unremarkable shift no long after you moved in, more transports and fallen grandmas than gunshot wounds and overdoses. After parking your motorcycle you begun your sleepy accent to your apartment, slinging your duffle over your shoulder. Only to be greeted by a pair of broad shoulders making their way up the stairs in front of you, which wouldn't be all that weird, except that its 3am and the majority of Gotham's population is tucked in bed at this hour. Slinking back a little, as to not bother this man you've never met you continue up the stairs, taking in this fellow occupier of the night, who's wearing tactical gear, gun holsters and has a red helmet unlike you've ever seen, in his hand.

At the top of the stairs you both take out your keys, and end up at a set of identical doors, placed right next to each other. There's no sense in hanging back, you can tell he knows your there, and he seems oddly unthreatening. You each fumble with your respective locks, exchange an awkward glance as he turns and takes in your work uniform, at this point disheveled and almost certainly clad with spare gloves, sailene and pens hanging out of ajar pockets on your pants, you depart with a slight nod, entering the dim comfort of your apartment.

The next time you see the oddly handsome, tactically clad neighbor is again, after work, but this time at your favorite 24 hour chinese place. You run into him walking in, there to pick up your respective orders. The man at the counter, of course, handed you each the wrong order.

"hey, um sorry-" he says rubbing the back of his neck, "I think I got yours-" "oh, sorry" you say, turning to face him "your, um Jason?" looking at the tag stapled to the bag. "um yeah, that's me, we're neighbors, right? You live in 211?" He says hesitantly."Yeah, it's nice to actually meet you, I'm y/n. You hold out your hand for him to shake, he takes it, his hand gently engulfing yours, it's rough and warm "it's good to know you like good chinese" you say laughing at the situation. You end up making it home before your neighbor that night.

The week after that you run into your neighbor again, this time at work. Your answering a call that came in for a civilian that was injured in the crossfire of a drug bust. When you pull up to the scene you get the feeling this wasn't a normal cop operation. Amongst the various cop cars you see none other than batman with nightwing not far away from him, but what catches your eye after you and your partner have loaded the patient is a man seemingly trying to keep to the shadows next to batman, who's wearing the very same tactical gear, helmet and leather jacket that you've seen on your neighbor. He glances your way, latching onto your figure before the ambulance doors are pulled shut and your off to the hospital.

The next two interactions with your unusual neighbor are almost strangely normal.

You see him on your day off, because of course he goes to the same gym you do. You spot him after moving to a new rack, he's doing bicep curls, in shorts and a tank top instead of the tactical gear you're used to seeing him in. Varying size scars dot his skin like freckles. You can't help but notice just how big he is, yeah, you knew he was tall, but seeing him for more than a fleeting moment you can observe just how broad he is, well, everywhere. He notices you when he turns to take a drink out of his water bottle, expression surprised as he sends a hesitant little wave your way.

Later the same day your sitting on your couch at dusk when you get a soft knock on your door. Looking through the peephole you see Jason standing outside your door in sweats an a t-shirt, what looks like flour dusting his shirt as he stands outside your door twiddling his thumbs. "Hey, what's up?" You say after opening the door. "Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if I could borrow some sugar.." Jason says while wringing his hands. "Oh, sure, come in." you move out of the doorway. Jason hulks awkwardly in your kitchen, like he's afraid he'll break something or scare you. "How much do you need?", you say getting a bag and moving over to your sugar jar. "Oh, only about half a cup-" "Okay, not to pry or anything but, you uh..work with batman?" Jason shifts on his feet, "Yeah, you could say that, we work together sometimes... I noticed your a paramedic?" Obviously deflecting from himself. "Yeah, I just got transferred to a station near here." Normally you'd never tell someone you aren't all that close to that you work in the area, but considering that he's seen you at work, oh, what the hell. "Are you enjoying it here?", Jason shifts on his feet again, seeming to scan your apartment like he's looking for danger or vulnerability on the walls. "It's been okay, I'm pretty familiar with the area.. I've lived in Gotham my whole life." You move to hand Jason the sugar "Y'know I wouldn't have pegged you as someone who cooks.." He gently takes the bag of sugar, nessling it in his hand, "Oh, I like to bake actually, I'm making a cake." You walk him to the door, he tells you tidbits about his cake all the way. "Sounds delicious, I'd love to try it sometime Jason." A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he nods before returning to his apartment.

The next day you're greeted by a bag on your door handle when you get off work. Inside is a carefully packaged piece of cake in tupperware, with a note on top, 'Hope you enjoy - J.T.' .

The next time you run into your neighbor is in the parking garage. You ride your bike down to your assigned parking spot, Jason's is in it's spot, but so is he, slumped against it visibly having been put through the ringer. "Jason?" you call out, parking your bike. "Hey, do you happen to have any medical supplies from work?" The gash on his thigh, along with several other little cuts are visible now that your closer. "Jesus, yeah I've got a full kit in my apartment-" Jason shifts, standing. "Thanks" he says.

"You really don't have to go to this much trouble-" Jason grimises as you put another stitch in the gash. "Yes I do, I'm not gonna let you walk around with a gaping wound-" You finish the final stitch with a swift cut of the thread, "I feel bad for making you work after your shift".

You begin dabbing antiseptic into his cuts, "I think you'd feel worse if you were left with an open wound." You awkwardly squat in front of Jason to get the cut on his forehead easier, "Still, let me make it up to you?" Jason lightly touches your knee, "I'd love to get dinner sometime if you want."

"This is an odd way to ask a girl out Jason" You chuckle as Jason blushes, "I'm free tomorrow"

[atimeofyourlife]

Buck was almost vibrating with excitement as he stepped into Bobby's office after three days off, three days that had perfectly lined up with Tommy.

"So, Cap." He started has he approached the desk. "I may have done something impulsive on my days off."

"What did- actually, you know what, I'm not even going to ask." Bobby said, putting his pen down. "Just tell me how much paperwork I'm going to have to do."

"I've already filled it all out, you just need to sign and file it." Buck replied with a grin, sliding the stack of papers he was carrying across the desk to Bobby. Making sure to use his left hand, highlighting the glint of gold now adorning his ring finger.

"Change to benefits, change of relationship status, change of name. Request for new name tag and updating personalized gear." Bobby flipped through the papers. "You and Tommy got hitched without telling the rest of us."

"We got bored. He'd had a rough shift, and we just thought fuck it and went to Vegas." Buck admitted.

"Well, I guess we'll have to get used to calling you Kinard." Bobby smiled at Buck. "Congratulations, kid."

[chaosandmarigolds]

me, laying in bed after my 12hr shift:

my gf: remember that ask you got

me: ..

gf:

me: aside from wondering how you accessed my Tumblr I’ve gotten a lot of asks which one. gf: the sad one. me: 99% of them are sad

gf: The REALLY sad one

ANYWAY here we go and bc I am horrible with titles imma go after a song-

Tourner Dans Le Vide

It was a stupid question, one someone would find on a ‘get to know about me’ section of a questionnaire, a small talkish question. But it stung like he didn’t expect it to, so as he stood in the gala, glass in hand, he cleared his throat, “Sorry, one more time mate?”

“Your spouse.” The poor person motioned to the finger that comfortably sat on his ring finger, the gold glimmering in the sunset light, “Are they here?”

You should’ve been here. You had the outfit planned for months. You knew you wanted to get your hair done the day before, insisting that you ought to look nice to represent your family name.

“No, got caught up at home unfortunately.”

“Ah, kids?”

“Two.” Not a lie, you had two young girls you had both adopted, just now he was just the only person within the household, adding more weight to their shoulders.

—

with a huff he gets into the car and then takes off the face mask, scrunching his nose as he adjusted to the cold air, and he starts the car. After a moment he pulls out his phone, expecting a notification from your name above Macey’s, the eldest, yet he was surprised to see none.

so with a hum he makes sure the phone is conntected to the car and begins to call you, shifting the car to drive, it rings….and rings until he is met with-

“hey! It’s me, sorry I’m not at the phone right now, leave me a message and I’ll get back to ya!”

the short automated message follows and he begins to drive home on the darkened roads, until it was his turn to speak, “Luv, it’s Simon, baby I know I was out really late yesterday but I brought the girls some pizza, Macey had her rugby game this mornin- she did amazin. Taylor got an A on her spelling test, so I got her ice cream after school today. What else..mm, the girls send you love. I love you. Call me when you can.”

—

“Papa,” Taylor chirps from her car seat, happily looking out the window, “Papa, when is mama coming home?”

He furrows his eyebrows to the questions and then shrugs, “I’m not sure, princess, I hope soon.”

“did you and mama have fight? Is tha’ why she go way?”

“No no, princess, mama and I didn’t fight- she’s okay, she’s just,” the words died in his throat, because maybe he knew them to be a lie but he would never admit such, “busy. You know how mama works real long hours.”

—

“How’s ya dad?” Johnny stood in the doorway of the ordinary home, peering in from where he stood as Macey stood in front of him- the young girl still in her gear.

to that she shrugs, allowing the man she had learned to be her uncle enter, “fine I guess.”

upon entering the home Johnny noticed your coat still hanging on the rack, even though it was the middle of summer so it mismatched from the girls pink pool towels, he noticed how your mug sat beside the coffee maker, hot water steaming inside- indicating it was just filled. He noticed how your spot on the dining table still had your notebook, pen still tucked where you had left off writing.

he then saw Simon walking down the stairs, and he gave him a grin, “Haven’t been answerin my calls, mate,” with a quick side hug he nudged the man, “Got worried bout ya.”

Simon shrugs it off with a brief laugh, “Got caught up here, with her off at work- got a lil busy.” his heart dropped, and Johnny clears his throat, “Mm? At work she is?”

“Yeah, more like fuckin deployed, never see her.”

it had been close to nine months since a car accident had taken your life, suddenly and harsh, and Simon chose to completely leave his position within the force to stay with the girls. Something Johnny could respect, losing a spouse was a horrid thing but until that moment he had assumed his friend had been taking it in stride. He fell quiet and followed Simon as he said he needed to grab something from the laundry room, so he followed.

His eye caught sight of the master bedroom, lit up by the summer sun (Simon had never been a fan of natural light, unless he was outside) one side of the room messy, clothes tossed about and looking like a proper grieving man’s room, and the other just how would have left it, a glass of water sitting atop a floral coaster, bed still made with the pillows creased just how you do them. The small bottle of perfume still tossed atop of it- as you put it on that morning and threw it on the bed as you ran out the door.

oh…this was not good. This was not good at all.

(um…yeah!! Based off an amazing ask! Comments mean the world to me, toodles!!)

[throwaway-yandere]

And The Sun Is Silent (Yandere!Wriothesley/Reader)

Unreliable Synopsis: You, a former writer, received a fan letter. Truly a curious thing, for the contents appear more personal than what it should be.

A/n: I am not back. I posted this cuz first off, I adore Joe Zieja and all his works and I was so hyped when I saw he voiced Wriothesley and second, mfer gave me C4 qiqi. i love my daughter but cmon wrio, I literally got the same haircut as you do now-

CW: nothing really. Just a lil mind frick ig

“When I saw his hands wrapped around his dearest new spouse, cutting that vile wedding cake together, I wanted nothing more than to take that knife and slit his throat.”

(Y/n) was a serialized author in Fontaine whose works were primarily geared towards detective novels. However, their words were less laced with objectivity and “irrefutable facts” as the heavy pockets do when spinning their tales. Unfortunately, they weren’t meant to fill their coffers with hit-release masterpieces. (Y/n)– pen name “Maestro Justiniano” – was more engrossed in the perpetrators' psychology like the barkeeps and magicians do. They were the main characters– the sung hero of the tale. The glorified violence thrived in each passing page for the only mystery to be solved was “who will they target next?”

If young fans of other authors were seen as aspiring detectives or law enforcers, those who were known as fans of the Maestro were unjustifiably labeled as “future degenerates.” For (Y/n), it was funny. Overhearing grandparents waste their already fleeting energy to scold their grandchild’s love for their sinful work was their source of joy.

But (Y/n) (L/n) was not Maestro Justiano in public.

They were Duke Wriothesley’s spouse. Maestro Justiano is but a shade and (Y/n) is a human. The maestro does not feed on earth nor mora, but (Y/n) is obliged to. He bought his title, and he bought his spouse.

Gone was their free fourth finger. With a golden shackle, they sealed their fate to a wealthy man for table scraps. Perhaps it is fortunate that he is generous with his pockets, but to (Y/n), they would rather starve themselves writing than sit through another seminar about the nation’s ever-changing laws.

The Maestro’s life used to be so full of thrill; the “pelf” they received for each writing commission was a life worth their breaths. 

The Maestro’s life used to be coated in moonlight; sneaking out and running gigs was their bread and butter.

But now the sun is silent, and (Y/n) stands with a tail behind their legs. 

“(Y/n), do you need anything?”

Wriothesley asked even when he could guess the answer. Lazily, (Y/n) shifted from the covers, peering over with half-closed eyes.

“Nothing, Your Grace.” (Y/n) yawned. “Close the door.”

The Duke nods, understanding their fatigue. He silently shuts the door, and nothing of interest is to be noted afterward.

This has been their canned script every Wednesday to Friday without fail for the past 3 years. 

In (Y/n)’s eyes, Wriothesley is a mere animal with whom they mate for survival. Barely any true emotional trysts occurred in their first two years of marriage. They’re a “friend” of fortune. With him always away from home, (Y/n) is left with nothing but their thoughts. 

The nights were warm, but the mornings were cold. 

And the sun is silent.

Their husband has never been quite the same after an incident during their 2nd year of marriage. 

On the night they were attacked in the comfort of their shared home, a gear in his head was stolen.

Wriothesley held them, audibly more alarmed and broken than (Y/n)– the victim– was. He shook, afraid of what you must’ve gone through in his absence. Robbery, that’s what the records say. An armed man entered their home with the intent to steal. Black were his gloves and hair. The perpetrator thought they had been away on a business trip and pulled the trigger by surprise when they emerged from the kitchen. 

That thief had failed to steal material possessions, but their husband had lost his good of intellect. He cannot stand the notion of leaving them alone. What is a collector’s item if it’s not in great condition? Wriothesley has locked the gates and kept (Y/n) in, and he’ll continue to do so to preserve their value.

“I want to meet you somewhere someday, in a place where the sun is no longer silent. I want to crawl and bury myself under your skin where I can read through your mind. The house is too quiet. I want to trace your collarbones. I want to bite into your flesh, and I need you to look into my eyes as I tear myself apart. I am in love with you, (Y/n). It’s unbelievable, but it’s true. I live within these walls. I am what keeps you grounded with a golden ring. But why does the sun hide from me?”

Despite how much closer the couple are now, (Y/n) feels more distant than before. Not that they had the right to say "The duke was not the man I married" when they rarely talked— but it surely felt that way.

And in one Sunday night, the forcibly retired author used their words not to immerse readers, but to intimidate guards to grant entry to their "beloved" husband's office.

"You fucking bitch…"

"Lovely to see you too, honey."

"You made me lose my job!!!"

"Here I thought you refer to it as a side-line."

"Are you fucking for real right now?!" They screamed and slammed a fist down on the table. The pain hasn't hit them yet as their unbridled shock and rage hit overdrive. "Since when did you have the right to just take my–"

"Your hobbies away?" Wriothesley placed down his chamomile tea and shrugged. "Honey, I'm not doing anything like that. No, I'm only protecting you."

"Oh, great!" They waved a hand around dramatically before slapping it back to their thigh, rolling their eyes. "Let me guess, there's a biiiig explanation that fits into one giant puzzle."

"You know me too well for someone who never initiates conversation." He smiled mockingly. 

"You're right. Court Dense Publishing House is being investigated for numerous allegations. Toxic working environment, which included stalking and superiors leveraging pay for sexual favors might I add, and tax fraud. The details of the latter will bore you." Wriothesley continued.

He sighed. "Can't you tell? I'm just being a decent husband. What if you were being harassed and you were afraid to tell me?" 

"Like hell, I was–" They took a sharp deep breath in. "Listen. Let me get back to my work and we won't have any problems, Your Grace."

"No can do. You're an ex-Maestro now."

“And you're an ex-con.” They quickly retorted.

…

…

“... You're calling me an ex-con?" Wriothesley laughed dryly. The lone sound made them inch their heels slightly backward.

His eyelids lowered as his dull gray eyes peeked behind underneath his tilted glare.

They had never seen him this serious.

"Who do you think turned me into one?”

…

…

…

They blinked.

His words– though not making sense without context– carried a heavy weight they had unfortunately missed.

His gaze and words were accusingly pointed.

At them.

…

…

Wriothesley laughed.

"I'm kidding, of course. Don't be so tense."

(Y/n) didn't laugh.

He smiled. They can't tell if it was fake or not. He's been too good at pretending to be nice that they never knew when he genuinely dropped the act.

Like Maestro Justiniano, that argument is history now. 

And maybe that's why (Y/n) first thought it would be a comforting experience to read a story written by an avid fan.

It was a long manuscript. Sigewinne claimed it came from a fellow Melusine who wanted her favorite author's thoughts on how to write a criminal male lead. When asked for the writer's name, she refused to say it. (Y/n) respected it since they too posted anonymously…

But this reading sounds less like a professional job and more like a stalker's confession…

“When I first finished a book of yours in two sittings, I had formed a vague fantasy on how you looked like. You were a tall man, thin, long-necked, sharp-nosed, with a body slightly bent forward. Needless to say, I was stoked to find that description failed to perfectly describe who you were in person. I hope that with my new appearance, my description perfectly describes how your husband used to look as well. These black gloves just don’t fit me right.”

These black gloves…?

"Honey, I'm home!!! Oh, and Sigewinne's here too."

As soon as they heard the door open, (Y/n) shoved the fan's manuscript inside their drawer. Wriothesley hates seeing any semblance of creative writing inside the house.

"Can you brew two cups of tea for us?" Wriothesley asked as he removed his jacket, placing it recklessly on the sofa. "We're exhausted."

(Y/n) nodded. They never tell him how they make his tea. For a bottle weighing 8 fl oz, they'd take a rounded scoop of sunsettia powder to the pitcher and pour steamed 2% milk to whatever was the appropriate line. Once aerated for 3 seconds, they fill it with their macha mix with ¼’’ foam and ¾’’ more below the rim for the aesthetic. 

The process is not as difficult as it sounds, but they like withholding information. Why else won't friends and family know that they're a prolific writer, right?

"Sure. I'll be right back."

They left.

Their “husband” picked up the letter they hastily hid, a faint smile playing on his face.

Were you frightened after reading it? 

How did his favorite author react?

He wished he knew. But he’s no detective– he’s a present “degenerate”. He won’t find clues just by looking at the parchment. "Wriothesley" placed it back to where it was earlier and adjusted his black gloves to fit just right. 

“Wriothesley” glanced at Sigewinne with a giddy smile.

“So, do you think they liked my writing?”

"(P.S: I finally figured out how you make your coffee. It's 3 pumps of Fonta, 1 shot of espresso roast, chilled milk, and stirred with ice. This unique combination would've perplexed me if I didn't find out you made it out of spite. 

But it does taste good. I promise. After all, in the cold solitude of your sunless prison, I'll be the one brewing you coffee. May each sip be a reminder of my affection. The sun may be silent too in the Fortress, but maybe in there, you'll finally appreciate my warmth.")

[ink-perfect]

“care to dance, princess?”

you, nami and sanji are gathered for a drink (or five) on the deck, watching as the sun sets. as nami suddenly leaves, however, the once-calm evening takes a more intense turn for the two of you that remain...

as the thousand sunny floats across the waves, gently rocking you side to side, you nudge periodically into your two neighbours: nami and sanji. the three of you are gathered on one side of a table littered with empty beer bottles, watching the sun slowly melt into the end of the ocean and paint the sky brilliant hues of pink, orange and blue. it’s a beautifully tranquil moment, but drunken giggles break the atmosphere each time you and nami make contact.

when it happens with sanji, however, the mood shifts again. your body tenses, and the laughter dies, replaced by an awkward stillness. usually, it’s easy between you two, but tonight, something feels different. the warm glow of candlelight flickers across his face, and the alcohol seems to thicken the air between you, making each accidental brush of your arm against his feel weightier, charged with an unspoken tension that lingers longer than it should.

nami seems to sense this too, and you can almost see the gears turning in her head as she glances between you and sanji. her expression softens into a knowing smile as she starts to rise, unsteadily swaying on her feet. “long day tomorrow… gotta find the best… charting pens… and whatnot… at the island markets,” she slurs, the smirk playing on her lips showing how painstakingly obvious her lie is. before either of you can even think to call her out, she’s already skipping away, her steps clumsy and uneven from the alcohol. this makes sanji laugh, although your frames of mind aren’t any clearer. 

a heavy silence fills the air for a few beats, sending rapid boosts of adrenaline through the both of you, making you feel more sober than ever all of a sudden. without warning, sanji turns to fully face you - this unexpected shift makes a shiver shoot up your spine, equal parts nervousness and excitement. he studies you for a moment, eyes darting across your face, before finally meeting your eyes once more.

“care to dance, princess?”

the question makes you laugh out loud - not because of the request itself, but because of the way it’s delivered: the refined english, the pet name, his extended hand - it’s all so sanji. it’s then that you realise how much his presence brings you comfort. the playful banter, the random flirting that once seemed so casual, now feels like an anchor, something that puts you at ease, holding you to a bay of warmth and familiarity.

sanji doesn’t immediately catch on to the innocent reason behind your laughter, however. his eyes fall, uncertainty flickering across his face. he’s never felt like this before - unsure of his words. the cook, usually a master of smooth lines and endless charm with any woman in sight, has been second-guessing himself lately, especially around you.

it started the moment he realised he liked you for more than just your beauty. the depth of that feeling unsettled him, how naturally you’d taken root in his thoughts. suddenly, his usual flirtatious comments and dramatic proclamations seemed hollow compared to the connection he shared with you. over time, the other women who once caught his eye faded into the background, their allure paling next to the warmth you brought him. he had stopped chasing fantasies, focusing instead on the real moments he had with you. 

as your laughter fades and you catch sight of his expression, you reach out and take his hand, squeezing it softly in reassurance. the slight upward curve of your lips, the sparkle in your eyes - these things tell him what he needs to know. he’s fine.

“i’m laughing because you’re such a dork, sanji,” you explain, the softness in your laughter steadying his racing heart. “but yes, i would love to dance with you.”

his grin returns, brighter than before, and with a smooth twirl of his wrist, he pulls you gently to your feet. you don’t know how he's organised it, but music begins to play. your right hand finds his left, while his other arm slips around your waist, locking the two of you into an incredibly close position. you and sanji begin to sway, smiling like fools as you try to figure out footwork and coordination. once you find a steady rhythm, the atmosphere shifts once more - this time, into something even more exhilarating.

“you’re not so bad at this, buster.” you tease, your voice cracking with nervousness as you pull him closer.

sanji raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “not so bad? love, you won’t find a dancer better than me anywhere across the seven seas,” he declares, his voice oozing with confidence. the teasing glint in his eye only makes you laugh harder, the tension between you softening as he leans into his familiar charm, effortlessly pulling you into his world with that signature bravado.

you give him an exaggerated nod as a response, feigning agreement, but a part of you knows that there is truth in his proclamation. his firm hand on the small of your back, his focused yet still flirtatious look, the way he leads you with him across the deck - he really is skilled. 

so much so that the world outside of this moment ceases to exist. as you look into his eyes, the cook's heart beats wildly: not because of a passing crush or a whimsical flirtation for once. it's because he’s dancing with you - someone who’s become so much more than a fleeting fancy. the moment is the most intimate feeling he’s ever had, and his cheeks feel like molten lava. it is insane to him that his hands are on you right now, not only because he has craved your touch, but because he can feel how real you are. from where his arm is perched, your heartbeat drums into his palm, sending warmth coursing through his veins with every thump. he’s with you, and to him that is a blessing.

as the song draws to a close, sanji pulls you even closer, his breath warm against your ear. “you know,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “this is the best dance i've ever had.”

you tilt your head slightly, catching his gaze. the intensity in his eyes, the way they hold yours with such depth, tells you more than words ever could. you smile, a soft, genuine smile that reaches your eyes. “i’d have to agree. it’s perfect.”

the music fades, but neither of you makes a move to break the embrace. instead, you remain in that shared space, savouring the closeness and the unspoken promise of what could be. as the last notes of the song drift away, sanji takes a deep breath, his fingers gently grazing up and down your back.

with a soft, contented sigh, he leans in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “then let’s make more of these moments, yeah?”

your heart swells, and you nod, wanting nothing more. “i’d love that.”

and so, as the thousand sunny continues to sail under the starry sky, you and sanji stand together, holding each other. every glance and smile exchanged says what words can’t: that something between the two of you has shifted for good, and you are so ready for whatever it entails.

-- ౨ৎ

masterlist

[partycatty]

OKAY BUT LIKE..

I NEED a part 2 of eyes on the prize!! Like I wanna know if it alters the present!! Like maybe older Johnny just stares at readers breast and doesnt know why or maybe he’s distant, maybe flirtatious? How it affects their relationship with well, everyone in the S.F

johnny cage > something shifts

something about your timeline alters after you flash your boss's younger counterpart.

warnings: dilfy is kinda creepy here

notes: younger johnny is "johnny." older johnny is "cage."

[ read part one here ] [ masterlist ]

• shortly after your admittedly shameful spur-of-the-moment decision, you and younger johnny packed up shop and assumed you were needed back in the intel room, clothed and mature. as you walked through the hallway, your skin prickled and the air felt thicker as you walked. brushing it off as newfound heat for the timeline jumper beside you, you tried your best to ignore it and focus on the job.

• "so, how about that number?" johnny nudges your arm, pulling you from your thoughts. you shake your head with a smirk.

• "do you expect our phones to connect across entire timelines?" you grin up at him, brow cocked. he shrugs, adjusting his sunglasses.

• "so you bet on a losing battle! and hey, who said i was going anywhere?" his tone has returned to his playboy attitude, though you know his ego is still bruised from your smart move.

• "seems like older you says so," you respond, eyes forward. "lieutenant cage might burst a blood vessel if we kept you around."

• "old fart me just forgot how to have fun," johnny brushes... himself(?) off, rolling his shoulders as you two near the room with your colleagues. a quick adjustment of your gear and a tug of your collar later, the metal doors slide open with a scan of a keycard.

• lieutenant cage stands near the door, head snapping in your direction with wide, curious eyes. his gaze softens as it locks on you, quickly turning to a furrowed, conflicted glare.

• "gone a while," cage observes, standing straight. "i said keep an eye on him, not let him poke around the compound."

• "cool it, gramps," johnny's quick to butt in. "you guys have awesome future gear and i wanted to snag a look at it. no big deal, nothing broken, mini-me."

• "you're mini-me," cage corrects johnny with a scowl. "this is the present."

• your head spins at their conversation. "my apologies, lieutenant."

• there it is again. that gentle analytical stare. "don't worry about it." cage's hand rubs the bottom half of his face, grounding himself as he physically shakes his head to rid of the foggy thoughts brewing in his mind.

• some time passes as the timeline mixup becomes a graspable concept now, everyone discussing their solutions and understandings of the odd scenario. you sat at one of the monitors, desk chair facing outward as you chatted with a coworker, aimless talk that was even harder to focus on when you glanced past them to notice the two men staring daggers into you.

• johnny's feet rested on the desk, his teeth absentmindedly toying with a pen. cage's head is tilted, thick arms crossed but eyes averted downward. which is to say, entirely transfixed on your tits. as someone with them, it was a second sense to know when they're being stared at, so there was no doubt in your mind what he was doing.

• your body heats exponentially faster. sure, flashing johnny was one thing, but since then, cage has been giving you nothing but funny looks. did he catch you two on the security cameras, you wonder?

• cage shifts in his seat, subtly adjusting himself before muttering to johnny. "it's bothering me."

• "what? how hot that rack is?" johnny replies with a cackle, earning a solid whack on the back of the head. "don't be mad that i'm right, old man. you're totally into it."

• "i wasn't before," cage honestly admits, lips concealed by his hand it props up on the armrest. "at least, i don't think so."

• johnny is silent for a long moment. "don't be mad."

• cage swivels, now facing his younger self directly. "what the hell did you do?"

• "me? nothing!" he holds his hands up in a faux surrender. "what happened wasn't even my fault."

• cage pales, assuming his younger self to be far grosser than he was in the moment. "you didn't bang anyone, did you?"

• "not yet," johnny wags a finger. "though i bet you're picturing a nice set right about now. i know that look."

• cage's anger had a veil of daydreaming about it, something glossy in his stare. sure enough, yeah, somehow and someway he was able to fully envision you underneath him, breasts rippling and nipples hardened from the cool air. the memory slips from him the moment it becomes coherent.

• it was starting to make sense now. the new memories were being forcibly implanted into his brain, a new set of wires connecting at this development. and damn, you were looking sexier by the minute.

• cage stands with a huff, chair scratching the floor and silencing the room as they observed the sudden movement. he exits the room, finding the nearest break room. a smaller, shut away room complete with a water dispenser was his personal oasis when he grabbed a paper cup, gulping it down with intense thirst.

• he couldn't shake the violently sudden attraction to you. wondering if he might burst if he kept being in the room with you, scent and body overwhelming his every sense, cage shakes his head and splashes himself with water, eyes transfixed on the faucet as he tries to distract himself from the increasingly vivid image of your sweet skin and alluring form.

• you needed answers. "lieutenant." your voice pulls him back to reality, and he only gets a moment to adjust his hard-on before turning to face you. his jaw clenches as he meets his gaze with you as you stand in the doorway. "you seem bothered."

• cage's voice is colder than he meant for it to be. "i'm fine, no need to pry." his desire was consuming, pissing him off beyond belief that he needed to take you as soon as the opportunity arises. "just needed a break from the timeline nonsense is all." he pauses, taking another sip of the water as he thinks about his younger self. "i can be a lot."

• "that, i understand," you laugh with a deep breath, wondering why you felt so compelled to follow him. "a real charmer." you freeze, wondering if complimenting himself was a wise decision.

• cage's expression was dubious, unreadable. "you still think i am?"

• a smirk tugs at your lips. "what?"

• "charming," he clarified. "do you think i'm still charming?"

• there's no need to ponder the question. "i'd say so. the whole johnny cage flair thing is a hard thing to ignore, if i may say so, sir."

• cage's expression is dark. "you may." his eyes lock onto your chest, his own heaving.

• you follow his gaze. "you know what we did, don't you?" your face burns.

• "i have an idea," he mutters, face twitching as his gaze traces the plumpness of your boobs. "i feel different."

• so you know your boss has officially seen your tits in his memories now. your curiosity is piqued, butterflies tugging in your stomach as you inspect his wrinkles deepen. "did you like them?"

• the cup is quickly discarded, his eyes unmoving as he nods slowly. his gaze flicks up to your own as you bat your lashes his way. confidence surges through you after your realization of the timeline altering.

• "to be frank with you," he chuckles dryly, rubbing at the back of his neck. your fingers dance on the hem of your shirt with a bubbling need. "can't say i'd mind seeing them again. refresh my memory, would you?"

[fukcnoplease]

Things always go wrong Pt2 :0

Pt1 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5

Dani roused from her sleep to see forests rushing passed and the sun beginning to dip behind them. The world was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun and she basked in its beauty. This was why she loved traveling. The beauty, the freedom, the fun.

She turned to Danny to see none of those things. He was gaunt and rigid. Eyes pinned to the road in tense silence as they drove way too many miles over the speed limit. 

“Did you die die?” Dani asked, poking his cheek. He felt clammy. That probably wasn't good. Dani didn't feel great either. Tired and saggy, like all her muscles had deflated.

Danny just grunted in response. That was VERY not good. No Danny banter meant Danny really HAD died.

“So is this a drive to heaven or to hell?” She asked. Danny snorted. That was a good sign.

“Gotham.” He grumbled. It sounded forced, like it hurt to say. Dani frowned.

“So hell it is. Why are we going there?” Danny remained silent and his face fell into a scowl. “You’re doing a pretty good Batman impression but that doesnt tell me why we are going to meet him.”

“We are not meeting batman. We are going to Jazz” Danny said.

“Ooh, better than batman!” Dani playfully punched her arms in the air and Danny winced. Dani noticed but didn’t comment as she went to grab his phone. It was cracked slightly and was full of messages and calls from Sam and Tucker. Notably, it didn't have any directions pulled up.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Danni asked. Danny moved for the first time, shifting uncomfortably.

“...No.” He muttered as he kept his eyes on the road. Dani rolled her eyes at him and started looking through his phone, she had learned his password ages ago and as much as he threatened to change it on her, he never did. Though that might have been more forgetfulness than endearment but Dani would interpret it as she wished.

“You are so bad at road trips.” She said as she connected his phone to the aux cord and pulled up directions to Gotham. They still had almost nine hours to drive and the sun was only getting lower. “There is a rest stop about an hour from here. We can rest there for the night.”

Danny didn't look too pleased at the idea but he knew they didn't have any money for a motel and he couldn't drive the entire night. He didn't want to stop driving so soon though. Moving helped dull the pain.

“Are there any further rest stops?”

“Hmm… Theres one about three hours from us?and then another at the six hour mark. We could stop there for lunch tomorrow.” Dani said. Danny grumbled but nodded. He didn't want to stop at all tomorrow. Stopping for the night felt like too much, let alone pausing midway through the drive tomorrow.

The rest of the drive was Dani playing music and chatting away. Chipping away at Danny’s panicked and suffering walls until he finally relaxed into their usual banter. She played eye-spy and when she got bored of that she played twenty questions. When Danny chose a water bear as his animal she gave up on that too. They devolved into silly arguments about how water bears shouldn't be allowed or how it wasn't fair that Dani kept picking things Danny couldn't see in eye-spy. 

As the sky darkened and the car’s headlights came on they fell into an easy silence. Danny still hurt but it was better and Dani’s core was humming comfort at him which helped.

Dani was half asleep when they pulled into the rest stop. The lights still on but the cafes and restaurants, closed or closing. She woke up fully when Danny moved to look through the back seat. Shuffling through whatever he had thrown back there and forgotten about. 

Gloves, a box of tissues, an empty tote bag and an old backpack he used before he bought a new one. It had a gum packet in it and a pen but nothing else. Groaning, he went and opened the trunk, a black scorch mark from where it had been hit earlier that day. He had camping gear for when he went stargazing. A tent, blankets, portable stove and a lighter, gas for the stove, a pocket knife, a mess kit. He was rummaging through when Dani popped up beside him.

“You got twenty dollars in your phone case.” She said and Danny jerked up hitting his head on the trunk door. He rubbed his head and whacked Dani’s shoulder while she laughed, he was smiling but he wouldn't admit it.

He grabbed his phone from the car and Dani closed the trunk, whistling at the damage.

“Who did that?” She asked, eyeing the marks on the car.

“Some fruitloops after a kidnapped ghost.” Danny said.

“Kidnapped? Me? How awful.” She said, putting her hand up and pretending to swoon.

“You’re right. The poor kidnappers.” Danny laughed and Dani rolled her eyes. She punched him in the side playfully and he hissed in pain. 

They both paused and Dani poked his side and he winced.

“Are you ok?” She asked. He hasn't seemed that injured when he was driving.

“Yeah, just a bit tender.” Danny joked. Dani stared at him, waiting for a better answer than that and Danny sighed. “Leaving Amity was harder than I thought it would be.” Dani still didn't really understand but Danny looked like he would rather be sick than answer her and she really didn't want him to be sick in front of her. 

“Do you want to get food?” she asked and Danny gave her a thankful smile before nodding. 

They grabbed a snack each, bbq chips and oreos,  and a bottle of water to share. Dani nicked a portable charger and some jerky while Danny was in the bathroom and then they headed back out to the door. When they were back in the car Dani pulled out the portable charger and plugged in Danny’s phone.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, eyeing it incredulously. It definitely didn't look under twelve dollars and thats all they had left after the snacks.

“Same place we got the rest of this stuff.” She said dropping the rest of the snacks and jerky between them. Danny noted the extra snack but just rolled his eyes. They ate but Danny kept the jerky for the next day and then he pulled out the blankets from his trunk. 

Snuggled up, with their cores harmonizing, they fell asleep. 

The car shook and a bang followed by the crunching and scraping of metal woke them up. Danny shot up, the sky just starting to lighten, face meeting with the barrel of an anti-ecto gun. He lunged to the side. The headrest of his seat was evaporated and Dani sent out her own ecto blast. The attacker was forced back into the white van that was ramming them and they could hear some colourful words through their panic. Danny jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine roaring to life. Shrieking metal filled their ears as the forced the vehicles apart and booked it out of the parking lot. The road bumps sending pieces of glass flying as Danny realized his window had been smashed during the attack. The back seat window seemed cracked but still intact and the windscreen had a spider web fracture but was holding up. His core shuddered at the damage but the pain was overridden by the need to protect Dani. 

He glanced over and saw a very shellshocked young ghost shaking in the passenger seat. She probably used too much ectoplasm in that blast. Neither of them were recovered enough and even with harmonizing he wasn't sure they would be able to recover enough to take another attack. He shook his head and focused on driving.

It took some maneuvers and some, maybe a lot, of speeding to lose the GIW but they managed. Dani pulled up directions and turned on whatever music she could find.

They spent the next few hours staring out their respective windows. Dani didn't like it. She didn't like the silence or the stress or the way her body shook in fear and exhaustion. Road Trips were supposed to be fun.

Danny didn't speak. His core was barely humming, barely responding to her, as they drove. It wasn't until the low gas symbol popped up on the dash that he said anything and of course it was just another curse. Dani was getting fed up with Danny’s shrinking vocabulary. 

She didn't say anything as she added a new stop to the directions, the closest gas station. Maybe a part of her was hoping her grumpiness would get Danny to snap out of whatever grump he was experiencing. Probably not a reasonable or healthy way to handle the situation, if you asked someone like Jazz, but Dani didn't ask Jazz. 

Danny didn't seem to notice though. He pulled into the gas station and turned off the car. His core buzzing with panic as he set up the gas pump and slumped against the car with a groan of pain. Dani frowned and poked her head out of the car. He looked pale, too pale. They were in their human forms, he shouldn't be that pale. At least she didn't think so. Though maybe she wasn't an expert on normal human medicine.

The gas pump beeped and Danny dragged himself up to remove the pump and go into the gas station. Dani suddenly worried about how they would pay, they had filled the tank up to full and that couldn't be cheap. 

Danny stumbled and fell into someone by the gas station entrance, a big guy with tattoos in a tank top, jeans and were those cowboy boots? Danny apologized and the guy shoved him, making him stumble again. Dani almost flew out of the car at him before she noticed a flash of dark leather in Danny’s hand.

No way.

The big tough guy waved him off and went back to smoking as Danny went inside and paid with a wallet he had most definitely not had five minutes ago. Danni stared at her basically brother, slacked jawed, as he casually dropped the wallet back into the guys pocket with some intangibility and then hurriedly slipped back into the car. His face was hard and he glared forward as he started the car.

“Did you just-?” Dani started, her excitement at her brother's newfound skills making her bounce in her seat. 

“No. Dont. Talk about it.” He cut her off, jaw set. She stilled in her seat and went back to pouting. When she vibrated her core at him he didn't even respond. She felt her core freeze at the lack of reaction and she tried again. There was a thump of something and Danny grunted but that was it. That was all that she got. Dread curled in her stomach as she stared at the road in front of her. 

They drove on and Dani didn't even mention the second rest stop they were supposed to stop at and Danny didn't either. There wasn't even music and the silence was only occasionally broken by a pained breath from Danny or an attempted hum from Dani’s core. It was a painful drive and Dani tried to sleep to help time passed. It worked partially, she slept fitfully for about twenty minutes each rest but it helped her heal. By the time they had found themselves in the midmorning traffic into Gotham she was feeling much more herself.

Danny looked worse and his arm trembled from being kept in a tense position for so long. A thin sheen of sweat covered him and Dani opened to her mouth to say something only to slam it shut at the waves of panic suddenly rolling off Danny. 

The car had rolled to a stop as the traffic came to a standstill. Thankfully they were in the slowest lane and there was a hard shoulder on their right but it did little to comfort Danny’s mounting panic. He didn't want to stay still, he couldn't, they were in danger and needed to keep moving. 

“Hey, are you-” Dani was interrupted by an explosion. They both spun to see billows of smoke about twenty cars back and a familiar white van barreling down the hard shoulder. Danny sucked in a breath of air and hit the gas as he swerved into the hard shoulder himself. He pressed on the gas as they went, coming up on a motorcycle attempting to skip traffic. Dani reached over Danny’s shaking arms and slammed on the horn as they gained on the man in red. He glanced back and barely managed to crash out of the way before they ran him down. As they zoomed passed the poor guy Dani looked out her window to give him an apologetic wave. His helmet was weirder when she saw it close up, less like a motorcycle helmet and more like a mask but for his whole head. She gave him a wave and he stared after them. The white van careening after them and obstructing her view. 

Danny followed the hard shoulder until it turned to grass and he kept going. The grass turned into a ditch and he grit his teeth as he maneuvered his beloved car to keep going. Thankfully the car, even turned at an almost forty five degree angle still kept going, if only slower than he would have liked. The white van on the other hand, hit the ditch and flipped, crashing to a halt behind them. Dani watched people crawl out of the van and try to chase after them but even going slowly their car was still faster. Though a lucky shot shattered the back window.

They pulled the car back into traffic, receiving honks and rude gestures before they went deeper into the murky city. It was only another few minutes of driving before Danny found an empty, unkempt parking lot to stop in. He shot out of the car and ripped the back seat door off its hinges trying to get the backpack he had back there. Dani grabbed his phone, the leftover cash, portable charger, and jerky before joining him behind the car as he stuffed his knife, lighter and a blanket into his bag. She offered her stuff and he opened the bag for her. As soon as everything was in he zipped it shut and went to pick Dani up.

“Woah! No! You’re not carrying me. I can walk just fine.” She said, glaring at Danny as he looked back at her. His eyes didn't seem totally focused and she grabbed his hand instead. “If you need to hold on to me so bad you can hold this. Now lets go.” And she was off, dragging a clearly not ok Danny behind her. 

Did she know where she was going? No, but she would figure it out. Unlike Danny, she was used to finding places to sleep in unfriendly and unfamiliar cities. She could recognize safe places to stay. At least she was pretty sure she could.

~~

Gonna try and figure out how to do the Pt1 Pt2 links I actually have like four chapters(?) written cause i got sucked in last night

[x-reader-theater]

Breaking and Entering {1}

summary: Someone breaks into your flat through the window, and you don't have enough energy left to care.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Gender Neutral!Reader

word count: 1801

warnings: The Reader is described as having depression and suicidal ideations. Nothing is done about it, but it's very obvious so if you don't think you can handle that please do not read.

a/n: this is also going to be a series, but i have no idea how long it's going to take to finish it or how long it's gonna be. also if you haven't seen, my requests are open and you can find my request rules here.

Breaking and Entering Series: {Chapter 1}, {Chapter 2}, (You can also use the tag #breaking and entering series as well if you don't want to use links)

It was supposed to be a normal night. Lonely. Depressed. It was going to be the perfect terrible night.

So of course someone had to ruin it.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, about to disassociate and share at the wall across from you for eight hours, when you have to go back to work, when you hear a loud crash coming from beside you.

“Shit!” you exclaim, jumping back and over the back of your chair, stumbling over it and smacking the back of your head on your old wooden floors.

“Shit,” you hear a low, gravely voice say from where the smashing sound came from.

Your vision is blurry for a moment, but it clears as you see a skull leaning over you. The skull talks, but your ears have started ringing, subsiding right as he finishes talking.

“What?” you ask, dazed and probably a lot more calm for someone who just had a floating skull smash through what was probably their window, but you’re too dazed right now to really care.

“I said,” the heavily accented skull says and as your vision clears, you see the skull isn't actually floating, but is attached to a body covered in what looks to be some sort of tactical gear. “Sit up. I want to have a look at your head.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you say, before slowly sitting up. The man holds out his arm, and you feel his hand on your back push you up as well. He shifts, so he’s looking at the back of you, and you stare forward at the wall, trying to get your senses back.

“I don't see a wound,” the man mumbles, probably just intended for himself, but you definitely heard. You’re just too shocked to say anything. The man sits in front of you again, his hand still on your back as he pulls out what looks to be a pen light. He holds it up in front of your eyes, and you move away from it, but he reaches out with the hand holding the light and places it gently on your cheek, pushing your head, so it’s facing you again. “Stay still.” Gus gruff voice is contradictory to how gentle he's handling you right now. “I need to look at your pupillary response.”

You try to sit still, though you still jump at the bright light. He flashes the light in your eye and away and back again a couple of times, moving onto the second one and doing the same, before finally clicking it off again. You sigh in relief.

“Response looks good, but you should probably have someone monitor you in case something happens,” the man says. “Does anyone else live here?”

“No,” you say, probably unwisely but, again, you’re exactly sound of mind right now.

“Do you have anyone you can call? A friend or a neighbour? Someone who might stay with you and take care of you?”

You shake your head, but instantly regret it as it causes a lance of pain to shoot through your skull. You hiss and clutch at your temple.

“Careful,” the man admonishes, his voice gentler than it has been. “You don't have anyone?”

“No,” you say, watery and thick with building mucus. You blink a few times to drive the tears back as you are suddenly faced with how lonely you really are.

The man hums, but doesn’t say anything more, instead opting to ask, “What’s your name?”

You wipe at your eyes to get any stray tears and say with a tight throat, “[Y/N]. What about you?”

“You can call me Ghost,” is all he says.

You chuckle. “Terrifying,” you mock. You think you hear a laugh coming from the man, but underneath that skull mask you can’t tell. You get up and walk over to the freezer, grabbing a Ziplock bag you left on the counter a little while ago. You fill the baggie with ice before walking back over to the table and flipping the chair back onto its feet before sitting down again. Pressing the ice to the back of your head, you wince as you ask, “What are you anyways? What are you doing in my flat?”

“It's classified,” Ghost says.

“Ooooooooooooh,” you draw out, nodding. “You're military, aren't ya?” When the man doesn’t answer, you make a clicking sound with your teeth. “Right. Classified.”

“I could be a murderer,” the man says suddenly.

“I mean, so could I,” you say, just as cryptically as he did. “Besides. If you really are in the military like I totally think you are, you probably have killed people so, you’re probably right that you’re a murderer. But I’m also not a soldier so if you did kill me that would be like, some sort of violation of something, right? If not totally illegal,” you ramble, using your one free arm to gesture wildly as you talk.

“Do you have no sense of self-preservation?” Ghost asks finally after you take a pause.

You stare at him, taken aback by the question before saying, “Uh, aha… you could say that my will to live is currently… wilted, at the moment.”

Ghost stares at you for a long moment, for several moments even, and you fidget underneath his gaze. When you glance at his eyes, you see they’re a deep brown, almost black, ringed with black eye makeup to conceal anything that could give away his identity, you guess.

When he finally speaks again, he says, “Maybe you could use a friend right now.”

You stare at him blankly, and say, “Yes, I want the masked soldier man who broke through my window to be my friend…”

“Do you have much of a choice otherwise?” Ghost asks and your mouth clicks shut with a clack of your teeth. You look away, dropping the hand with the ice and wrapping your arms around your body.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you ask, finally raising your eyes and catching Ghost’s stare.

“Because I’ve been you,” he states plainly. “You’re better off alive than dead.”

The way he says it so plainly, in a way you’ve never heard before, it makes your heart thud in your chest, like it hasn't beat for so long that no it finally is, it has to work in overdrive to pump blood through your veins. You've gotten the pitying glances, you’ve felt the patronising slaps on the shoulder, and you’ve heard the infuriating “It will get better soon” speeches.

But this six foot, masked, most likely military, stranger, telling you he was just like you? Somehow, that's what makes you have a little hope. Because he’s still here.

“There must be something wrong with you to want to be friends with someone whose window you just crashed through,” you judge, putting the ice back against your head.

Ghost sighs but gets up, going to your oven and grabbing the tea towel. He walks back over to you and gently pries the baggie of ice from your hand, wrapping it up in the towel and placing it back on the back of your head, moving your hand, so it’s placed on top of his before he slips his hand out from under yours. “I think there’s always been something a little wrong with me,” he says, and you look up at him standing over you, that white skull with brown eyes looking down and through you. You expect him to say something serious, but instead he says, “I’m wearing a fuckin’ mask, there’s obviously something wrong with me.”

You stare at him for a moment before bursting out laughing, wrapping your free arm around your stomach as you howl out laughter, probably more laughter than the situation required, but you just can’t stop. Eventually you suck in large lungfuls of air, hiccuping as you try and catch your breath, wiping your eyes for the second time today, but this time for a different reason.

When you catch your breath, you look over at Ghost who has sat down again, and you see his eyes are crinkled and his shoulders and bouncing up and down, and you realise he’s laughing as well.

You watch as he laughs, realising he’s been tense since the moment he got here. Now, he seems relaxed and open. You can see the laughter in his eyes before he closes them and throws his head back in bliss. This, human connection, laughing with someone else, just being near someone who doesn’t hate you, you think it could help fix you. Maybe not entirely, you’ll need more help for that, therapy and maybe some drugs, but having someone else, it could really help you.

And you don’t want to lose that.

“Will you come back?” you ask while Ghost is still laughing. He takes a moment to catch his breath, steadying himself again.

“When I’m in town, I’ll stop by,” he says, his voice sounding inhumanly steady after laughing so hard for so long. The control he has over himself makes him even more alluring.

You smile and nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.” You feel your eyes begin to get heavy, and you ask, “Is it okay for me to sleep?”

Ghost nods. “You don’t have a concussion. But I’ll stay until I have to go.”

“No one’s going to follow you here, right?” you ask, laying your head down on the table and placing the towel-wrapped bag of ice on the table next to your face.

Ghost chuckles guiltily. “No, I think before I smashed through your window, I lost them.”

“Why did you crash through my window?” you ask, fading off to sleep.

“I slipped,” you hear Ghost’s low voice mumble as it lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up the next morning, Ghost is gone. In his place there’s a small sticky note like the ones in a drawer in your kitchen, a pen that looks like it’s from that drawer as well. Probably because it is from that drawer, you realise as you rub your eyes to try and get them to work again. When they finally clear a little more, you see that the sticky note is a lot bigger than it should be. Grabbing it and pulling it towards you, you see there’s money folded neatly underneath it. Unfolding it, you see a couple hundred dollars, and on the note it says, “Sorry for your window.”

Looking over at the window, you see Ghost has patched up the window temporarily with a rubbish bag and some tape. You have no idea how he could have slipped and fallen into your seventh story flat, but you also don’t really care. You clutch the note to your chest with a smile, the first real smile you’ve felt in years.

[cherryredstars]

Hiii cherry♥️ i have a request for simon🙃🫠 ok so smth where they kidnap his civilian wife and he's losing his mind trying to find and save her😣😫 also she's pregnant but he doesn't know🥲 love your writing mwah mwah💋💋♥️♥️

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst(???), Mentions of Kidnapping, Mentions to Simon’s Trauma, Happy Ending

Summary: His worst fear has come true. 

Word Count: 1.5K (Unedited)

He’s loosing his fucking mind. 

Of course, right when he got comfortable. Right when all these fears started to melt away. Right when he was happy and he had a family again. Everything always goes to shit for him. He can't have a single good thing. History repeats itself. Again and again and again. He should have known. He should have known better. He knew better. He shouldn’t have gotten close to someone again.

Six good years. Six peaceful years.That’s what he got. Six years without any threats, or blackmailing, or discovering. Six years of learning how to love and be loved. Six years of finally having a home again. Six years isn't enough. He wants more damnit. If you’ve taught him anything, it's that he deserves more. And he’d be damned if he didn’t fight for it. Fight for you. But in order to do that he has to fight through this… this fog in his head. This murky fuzziness that shadows in the corners of his mind. It makes his trained focus wane. 

He can’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes. He’s zoning out. One second he’s thinking strategies in a briefing room, then his eyes are floating past Price’s shoulders and he’s looking at the fucking wall. You’re missing and all Simon, or Ghost, or he can do is look at the fucking concrete walls like a fucking idiot. Any sounds are just white noise, a soft, distant buzzing. He doesn’t process anything. It’s not going through one ear and out the other. No, it’s not even reaching him. He’s not even thinking about anything as he sits there. It’s all just blank, empty. 

He’s claustrophobic too. He can’t sit in a room for too long. Can’t stand too close to any single person. Fuck going to the mess for food or training or meetings or even being on base. He can’t even fucking spend more than an hour in his barrick before he can see the walls shrinking in on him. It makes his breath quicken and he races out of there quickly. But there isn’t anywhere else he can go. He can’t even stomach the thought of going to your shared home. He knows the second he steps in he’ll feel like a traitor, a murderer, and an accomplice to your abduction. He won’t survive that, he can’t. It feels like he’s back in that fucking coffin again. 

He needs to get up and walk around. His body demands it. He… he needs to be doing something. He just doesn’t know what. So he trains and works out and runs laps over a thousand times. He bounces his knees when he sits. He shifts in his chair no matter how comfortable it is. He picks at loose threads on his gloves and he fidgets with his combat gear. He cleans and disassembles his guns and puts them back together. He does paperwork, or he attempts to. He can’t focus on the words and he can’t get his words right. He spends the time in his office bouncing his knee and clicking his pen and sweating because even though the window is open he can see the walls caving in from the corner of his eye. Nothing is right. Nothing he does is ever right. 

He’s just so tired.

In the late hours of the night, usually on the nights he comes back from deployment or had a god awful nightmare, he would lay awake with you. The two of you facing each other, breathing in each other’s exhales as he played with your hair. He would lean in close and whisper into the still air, I don’t know what I would do without you. It’s the truth. Look at him now: an unfunctional mess with less capabilities than a bloody piece of paper. He’s absolutely useless without you. I don’t know what I would do without you, he had said. Guess he knows now, and his future doesn’t look very promising, (not that it would last more than a couple of hours if you weren’t ever saved). 

He isn’t the only one who sees how he’s losing his mind. Everyone sees it. Johnny, Price, Gaz, even fucking Laswell. It makes him want to laugh. In fact, he does laugh in Price’s face. It’s funny, really. Really goddamn funny. Price and the lot of them. He won’t admit that he feels like he’s backed into a corner. That he’s seconds away from barring claws and fangs at them. He thinks he’s really fucking funny.

“You’re not going on this mission, Simon. I’m not signing off on it.”

Ghost wants to roll his eyes. Of course Simon isn’t going to go. That weak, emotional twat would get killed in seconds. Ghost is going. Not Simon, never Simon. Not anymore. But Price is looking at him like he’s fucking stupid. Like he’s dense and missing something. Then it clicks. If Simon isn’t going… that also means Ghost isn’t going. Two lives in one he realizes. Ghost and Simon. Simon and You. 

“Like fucking hell I’m not going!” Both of them growl, Simon and Ghost together. For your sake, he can get his mind straight. There is no fucking way that he isn’t going to go out there and save you. Leave your life-  the only life that matters in this damn world- in the hands of someone else? He thinks absolutely fucking not. He just hopes Price doesn’t see the thickening film over his eyes that’s been developing since you’ve been gone. 

“It’s too personal for you. At this rate, you’re more of a liability than an asset.”

The anger coursing through his bones is strong and vibrating. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides and he feels like he can breathe fire. “Yeah? Things between the two of us are about to get fucking personal.”

Price does nothing but look at him calmly. He gives Ghost a pat on the shoulder, one that he quickly brushes off, and… walks away. It leaves Simon fuming, but as he stands there, his mind drifts again. And it floats and it flutters and his mind has gone blank again. His anger dies down to nothingness. He hates when that old geezer is right. 

______________________________________

It’s made final. He watches them through the cameras in Laswell’s room. Yeah, he’s on Laswell’s personal assistant duty. He’s standing besides her, brooding as the rest of 141 board the chopper. He watches as it slowly begins to lift off the pad, and in a few seconds, it’s flying away. Laswell gives him what’s supposed to be a comforting pat on the shoulder, but Simon just stands there, looking at the empty helicopter pad. 

He spends the rest of the time blanking out. He doesn’t really care for what Laswell is saying to her team on base, telling them to check coordinates and statuses and whatnot. Every now and then, one of the lads says something in comms that fills the room with static words. It all just sounds like white noise. Simon only realizes that they retrieved that target when Laswell shakes his shoulders and gives them a tight squeeze. It takes him a minute or two, his mind trying to channel in. But then it hits. It registers in his mind and in his heart and in his body. The fuzzy edges of his mind recede and everything looks sharper than it has in the past week and a half. 

You’re coming home. He sags, head buried in his hands. His shoulders shake as he cries. 

Even when the tears dry, he stays in that position until the boys get back. He jumps up, following behind Laswell to the medical center. The rest of 141 is there already, conversing about the briefing they will have to go to afterwards. When they hear the two of them approaching, they quieten up and smile. Simon doesn’t give them the chance to say anything before he pulls each of them into a hug, muttering that he owes each of them one. When he gets to Price, he holds onto him the longest, thank yous rushing from his mouth. When he finally pulls away, he asks how you are. 

Price smiles, slapping his shoulder firmly, “Both are fine. Just check ups.”

Simon furrows, looking at Price, “There was another hostage?”

He’s confused when no one answers, looking around. He wants to slap the wide smile off of all their faces. Have they gone manic or something? 

His attention draws back to Price as he chuckles, “Her and the baby.”

Simon feels his breath escape his lungs, his mind getting light headed. He might just cry again. He wastes no time walking into the room, eyes wide as he looks to the bed. You’re conversing casually with the nurse, hand resting on your stomach. When they both hear him enter, the both of you quiet and turn. You smile at him, opening your mouth to say something that never escapes as he rushes you. His hug is bone crushing, but you let him have it. 

You’re finally back. You and the baby.

[sturniozo]

Tutor part Seven

AN: I’m sorry in advance.

masterlist

NOT PROOFREAD

Things have seemed to go back to normal with Chris. He’s still flirty and goofy with me when we’re studying together, but still reserved and quieter when I’m hanging out with him and his brothers.

I’ve learned to forget about the girls Chris flirts with in the halls of our school. It’s a new one almost every week. It still almost drives me crazy, but I no longer run to cry in the bathroom when I see him with someone else.

As for Ty, Chris was sure to talk to him for me. And from what Chris tells me, he let him down gently.

-

Chris entered the locker room to change into gear before his hockey practice. After he finished he sees Ty walking out into the hallway. Chris immediately walks behind him.

“Hey!” Chris yells. “Hey, Ty!”

Ty turns around and sees Chris. “Hey man.” He says with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Stay the fuck away from her.” Chris spat.

“What?” Ty looks at him shocked.

“Y/n. Stay the fuck away from her. She isn’t interested.”

“I thought she was single?”

“You heard wrong. I don’t want you near her.”

“She told me you guys weren’t dating.” Ty says, confused.

“That was then. This is now.” Chris steps closer. “Don’t go near her.”

-

I sit on my bed, tapping my pen on my notebook that lays in my lap. Chris spins slowly in my wheely seat, his head leaned back as he tries to balance a pencil between his nose and upper lip. The pencils falls on the floor and he looks down at it before looking back up at me and smiling.

I try not to blush at his stupid, adorable smile. “What?” I ask.

“You’re just so cute.” He says. Chris gets up and sits on the bed next to me. He leans his head on my shoulder. “I’m bored of studying, we’ve studied non stop for weeks.”

“We study twice a week. It’s like a total of three hours a week.” I correct him.

“It’s too much. It cuts into my Y/n time.”

“Your y/n time?” I ask, laughing a little.

Chris pouts. “Yeah, my y/n time. Nick gets unlimited y/n time and I only get three hours a week. And it’s all spent on studying.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you got bad grades.” I respond.

“They’re getting better! I have a c in Literature now!”

“Well, that’s good news.”

“I suppose.” Chris shrugs. After a small pause he says “do you think you’d ever had hung out with me one on one if I never had Nick ask you to tutor me?”

I pause and bite me lip, thinking of an answer. I’m not even sure I would have. “I don’t know. Maybe.” I shrug and try to change the subject. “It doesn’t matter, let’s just get back to studying.”

Chris lifts his head up from my shoulder. “I don’t want to study, haven’t you been listening to me?” He sighs and sits up fully in the bed. “You just don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” I ask.

“Forget it.” He mumbles. He leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. “Let’s just study.”

-

My shift at the diner was only half over with two hours to go. I write down the order for a nice elderly couple and walk to the kitchen to give the ticket to the chefs, when I see a familiar face. Ty.

I quickly give the ticket to the chefs and watch through the window of the kitchen door to see which section the host seats Ty and his friends in. My heartbeat quickens and I bite my lip in anticipation.

The host leads them to a table in my section and I don’t know whether to feel relieved or excited. I step out of the kitchen and wipe down my uniform. I watch at the host hands them their menus and walks back to the booth.

I make a round to refill drinks and deliver plates to give them time to look over the menu before I walk to their table to take their order.

I take a deep breath before I step to their table and say “Hello, my name is y/n and I’ll be your server today. Can I get you any drinks to start you out with?”

Ty looks up at me in shock. “Oh! Y/n I didn’t know you worked here…”

“Yeah, I started just as soon as I turned 16.” I smile at him.

“I can go somewhere else…” Ty says as he begins to stand up.

“No, no. Why? You don’t have to everything’s fine?” I say as I usher him to sit back down.

“I just don’t want you boyfriend to-“

“Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend?”

“Chris.”

“I told you, Chris isn’t my boyfriend.”

“He told me he is.”

“No the hoodie thing was-“

“It wasn’t the hoodie.” Ty interrupts me. “Chris told me to my face. He told me to stay away from you because you’re his.”

I blink in shock. “He… he what? No…”

“He did.”

“I’m not his.” I say calmly.

“Look, even if you aren’t Chris’s girl, there’s no way I can go out with you knowing he’s pining for you. I’d like to keep all my limbs intact.” Ty stands up and his friends do the same. “If he even finds out I ate here while you’re working here, I’d be in for it.”

I just stare in shock as Ty and his friends walk out of the diner.

After my shift is over I stand outside by my car, looking through my contacts for Chris’s number. I find it and click the call option. I hold my phone to my ear waiting for him to pick up which he does surprisingly quickly.

“Hey y/n.” Chris says happily.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask angerly, on the verge of tears that are also a surprise to me.

“What are you talking about?” Chris says with a scoff.

“Ty?”

“Him? What about him?” Chris asks, sounding annoyed.

“You fucking told him I’m yours and to stay away from me?”

“Oh yeah, that.” Chris mumbles.

“Don’t oh yeah that me. What is wrong with you?”

“I thought you wanted me to tell him you weren’t interested. I don’t see the problem.”

“You don’t get to go claiming me as yours to guys when you’re sleeping around with every damn girl in our school!” I almost yell into my phone as tears begin to fall down my cheeks. “It’s not fucking fair that you can be with whoever you want and you won’t let me be with anyone at all.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be with him?”

“Because you said he was an ass. Every conversation I’ve had with him has been pleasant and-“

“You fucking talked to him again?” Chris interrupts me.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want, I’m not yours. You can’t tell people I am!”

“Why the fuck would you even want him? What does he have that interests you so much?” Chris’s voice starts getting angrier.

“That’s not the problem here. The problem here is you.”

“Y/n-“

I stop him. “No. I’m done. Find someone else to help you with your grades. I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Y/n” Chris pleads.

“I’m done. Bye Chris.” I say and hang up the phone. I put my hand to my lips, closing my eyes and sobbing as I slide my back down my car door and sit on the cold concrete of the parking lot.

Tag list : @freshloveforthefit @sturniolo14 @sturniolosreads @bethsturn @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @dwalk41202 @blahbel668 @sturnioloenthusiast

[flowerxbunnie]

Star Crossed

Chris x Fem reader

Warnings: angst, cheating/breakup, underage drinking, scene involving cigarettes

“Fuck you Garrett, like actually.” I spat, gripping at the handle of his jeep and threatening to leave.

“What is your problem? You never told me that it wasn’t okay. She’s literally Tristan’s cousin. And your best friend is a guy, I thought you would be okay with this.” he argued, his face plastered with confusion but his voice filled with anger.

“Don’t try to make me feel crazy,” I warned, turning back to face him and pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m okay with you having friends of the opposite gender. But I don’t care if it’s the Queen of England, since when is it okay to text other girls private details about our relationship?”

“I only do it when we’re in arguments and I need someone to vent to. She told me I could come to her when I was upset. It’s not like it’s an everyday thing.” He throws his hands up in frustration.

“Okay,” I let an angry chuckle out. “I’m gonna call up one of my girls’ cousins and tell him about this right quick then. See if he maybe has some advice for me.”

“That’s not the fucking same and you know it. He’d try to fuck you or god knows what else.” He scowled.

I stare into his eyes, blinking slowly, hoping the hypocrisy behind his words catches up to him. But it doesn’t.

“I just don’t get why you treat me like I’m some horrible boyfriend,” he starts, “I meet my best friend’s cousin at a bonfire, get her number and text her casually and you fly off the handle.”

“You text her about OUR RELATIONSHIP. When we’re at our worst. Why do you need advice from a random fucking girl who you barely know?” I snapped, my cheeks burning and my hands shaking. Tears threaten to spill over, something I hate about myself when I get angry. “Let’s not forget that you went through and liked every single one of her instagram pictures. Every single one. Was that a piece of the advice she gave you? To make your girlfriend look like a fucking idiot?” I fumed, his hands moving to grip the steering wheel with white knuckles. “And how do I know that’s all you talk about, hm? All the texts are deleted.”

His face remains blank as he grabs the gear-shifter and throws the jeep into reverse. His eyes flick up to the rear view and he backs out of our spot in the random shopping outlet’s parking lot, roughly shifting into drive a he pulls out and into the road.

“What the fuck are you doing, Garrett?” I grumble, watching the streetlights lining the road zoom past my window as he speeds down the highway.

“I’m taking you home. I’m not gonna stay with a crazy bitch who thinks she can micromanage my every move.” He spoke, his tone calm and his expression unwavering.

I take a deep breath. I’m done with the arguing.

“Okay.”

I close out of her instagram account, still trying to convince myself that my eyes are playing tricks on me as Garrett’s name is plastered under her newest scandalous photos. I toss my phone into the space between my bed and the wall, knowing it’s unhealthy to stalk her and mourn my relationship everyday. It’s been a week.

Somehow I’ve managed to drag myself to class everyday. The lessons don’t click in my brain this week, my notebook is empty and my pen is dry. I’m not even sure I have a voice anymore. I haven’t spoken to anyone unless I had to. None of my friends know what happened, I’m too embarrassed to come across as the crazy ex-girlfriend who got her heart broken because she can’t mind her own business.

Aside from class I’ve been lying down rotting for the past seven days, going back and forth on if I’m in the wrong or if I’m valid in my feelings. Garrett was right, my best friend is a guy, but I’ve known him since middle school. We know everything about each other, he’s like family. Garrett threw everything away for a girl he had just met, deleting text messages and completely failing to ever mention her name in conversation.

My body feels like it’s physically reacting, my muscles aching and my head throbbing. My mind races with questions.

How can someone who I poured so much of my love into take it and wring it down the drain?

How can I even feel angry? He just wanted a new friend.

Why did he like all of her pictures, even the first embarrassing one she ever posted in 2013?

Why are you so controlling?

Why didn’t he tell me?

Why do you care so much? It’s just Tristan’s cousin.

Is it bad for my boyfriend to like pictures of a girl in a hot tub?

I hear my phone vibrating, but I can’t even find the energy to move the comforter off of my body. I put a pillow over my ears and try to wish it away. I’m tired of the questions. I don’t want to explain why I’ve seemed down.

It keeps going off, vibrating against the wall over and over relentlessly. Huffing, I shove my hand down into the gap and dig for it, pulling it up and squinting as the screen beams light into my eyes.

“Party tonight at the same house as last week. Y/n please get off your lazy ass and come!!!”

“yeah y/n i need to see ur pretty face!”

“If Garrett gets mad tell him he can come too”

“its senior year pleaseee we don’t have many parties left :(“

My group chat is flooded with messages from my girl friends. I can’t even reply right now. Maybe getting out would be good for me, but I really want to sit in my two day old clothes and stuff my face with Oreos tonight. How dumb am I gonna look dancing alone?

My mind races for the next hour, contemplating whether going out will make me feel better or become a huge regret. Garrett and I never officially broke things off, we just haven’t talked in a week. What if he’s pining over it like I am? I can’t exactly just dance my feelings away with some random guy when I don’t even know the status of my relationship.

After a phone call from Sophie and a lot of convincing, I decide it would be best for me to get out tonight. I need the interaction, and maybe a couple drinks if someone was able to bum them from their college friends. I need to hear music, I need to speak with other humans. But I can’t go alone.

My phone hovers over Chris’s name, worried I might wake him up since it’s already late. I click it anyway, the dial tone only going off twice before I hear his voice on the other side.

“Y/n/n, what’s up!” he chirps.

I smile to myself, my best friend always cheering me up whether he knows it or not. “You know, the usual. Coming up with a blue print for a new and improved Golden Gate Bridge. You?”

“Fuck off,” he stifles his laughter. “I’m watching some show Nick and Matt told me about. For real though, what’s up?”

“Sophie is begging me to go to a party tonight. You down to be my plus one?” I question as I shuffle through my closet.

“Garrett didn’t wanna go?” he asks puzzled.

I take a moment and debate whether or not I want to tell him. I really don’t want to bring down the mood of the night. I’m supposed to be having fun.

“Nah, not tonight. He’s on some boys trip upstate.” I lie through my teeth.

“Sounds lame. I’ll be there, what time?” He asks and I hear rustling, presumably him getting up off the couch or his bed.

“Uhhhh like two hours….” I trail off, nervous it might be too short of notice.

“Alright, I’ll meet you at your house and we can walk together.”

“Perfect! Thank you Chrissy.” I feel tears well up in my eyes, actual happiness igniting, even if only a small spark, for the first time in a week.

“Don’t thank me, weirdo.” He laughs. “See ya dude.” The line goes silent.

I spend the next couple hours taking everything slow. I eat a meal, my first fulfilling one since that night. I wash my face, do my hair, throw on makeup to look and feel more alive. I decide on a maroon slip dress, silky and comfortable. As I’m saying my goodbyes to my parents and about to walk out the door, my phone vibrates in my hand.

“What color are you wearing?”

“Maroon!”

I smile as I text him back, knowing he’s gonna wear something to coordinate our looks. As cringe as it may be, that’s just Chris.

We meet exactly where we planned, the chill in the air causing us to walk shoulder to shoulder for any sort of warmth. We don’t talk much, but the silence is comfortable. We never felt the need to force something out of nothing. Nothing is everything with him.

We walk in and we’re immediately greeted by Sophie and a bunch of other people she’s been hanging around.

“Y/n!” She pulls me into a hug. “Where’s Garrett? Hey Chris!” She waves in his direction.

“Boys trip.” I shrug, going into as little detail as possible.

“Oh, well I’m SO glad you came. You haven’t been yourself the last few days.” She says while giving me a look of genuine concern.

“Class has been super stressful,” I lie. “But I’m so glad I came too!”

Chris smiles as he listens in on our conversation, waving at various people who greet him in passing.

He looks so handsome. He’s wearing a maroon sweater with a button up peeking out from underneath and some jeans that fall perfectly over his long legs. I’ve always been so jealous of his ability to throw anything together and make it an outfit, a good one at that.

“Chrissy I love your outfit,” I whisper in his ear, the music too loud to try to talk from a distance.

“Had to layer, it’s too cold for a ratty tshirt,” he jokes. “But I could say the same to you. You look gorgeous.” He smiles and bumps his shoulder against mine.

The night goes on and we drink, dance, take goofy photos in front of a prop wall, and talk to so many fucking people. I’ve went over my social meter for the night, but Chris looks like he’s having so much fun and I would never say anything to ruin that. He makes his way back over to me after a round of beer pong that he absolutely crushed everyone else at.

“I wanna get one more picture in front of the prop wall and then I think I’m gonna call it a night. Gonna walk to McDonalds if you wanna comeee..” he sing songs, giving me a pleading look.

“Thank fuck,” I laugh, relief washing over me. “I was done an hour ago. Just didn’t wanna take the experience away from you.”

“That’s crazy because I was also done an hour ago, but I thought you were having a good time.” He laughs, his nose scrunching up.

We walk over to the prop wall and find someone to snap a photo for us. I grab a pair of red heart glasses, he grabs a bow tie on a stick and holds it up to his neck.

“3.. 2.. 1… and cheese!” The girl slurs before the flash blinds us.

She tosses me my phone and we thank her before slipping out the door, thankfully going unnoticed by Sophie. We giggle and walk alongside each other on the sidewalk, the smell of dewy late night air flooding my nose. The streetlights carve out Chris’s cheekbones as he looks down at me, rambling about nothing and everything all at once. I listen intently, glad to have my mind on anything other than what it’s been rampant with recently.

“It’s fucking cold,” I complain as I cross my arms across my chest and rub some friction onto them.

“Here.” Chris quickly stops in his tracks and pulls his sweater off, his button up left behind. He tosses it my way and gives me a small smile.

It smells like him as I slip it over my head and bring the sleeves over my hands.

“Thank you.”

We make it to McDonald’s relatively quickly. Chris holds the door open for me and we order our food and find a booth to wait in. My feet ache and my hair just feels tangled.

“What a fucking night. I can’t wait to crash after this,” I sigh and lay my head on the table.

His hand comes down to rub my hair, a sweet gesture he loves to do. His love language has always been physical touch.

“Aww, I was hoping you’d hang out with me a little longer. I’ve got ideas!” He whines.

I look up at him with a raised eyebrow. You never know what this kid is going to come up with in the spur of the moment.

“Just wanted to walk around that nature park down the road. Seems spooooky at night.” He laughs and turns his head, standing up as the cashier calls out our number.

We laugh and eat, my mind completely free of any thoughts besides how much fun I’m having with Chris. Ever since we met in 6th grade art class he’s known how to keep a smile on my face. He’s the kind of person you can’t help but be drawn to. His laugh alone is infectious, filling up any room he’s in. He’s such an attentive friend, which is why I’m not surprised when his mood shifts and he starts to question me.

“So what’s been going on, Y/n/n?” He looks down at his fries and scoots them around.

Do we really need to do this right now? I’m prepared to sink back into my sadness once I’m alone. I don’t plan on telling anyone until I’m sure of where we stand myself.

“Uh, nothing really,” I mumble, taking a sip of my blue Powerade. “Just stressed from assignments and stuff I guess.”

“Not gonna fool me, kid. What’s up?” He looks me in the eye this time.

His blue eyes hold so much genuine concern. They flicker back and forth between my own and he blinks slowly awaiting my response.

“It’s Garrett.” I admit.

“What about him this time?” He huffs as his eyes harden, sitting back against his side of the booth with his arms across his chest.

“He… I don’t know. He crossed a boundary and I wasn’t comfortable with it,” I start, breaking eye contact and pushing my hair behind my ear. “And then he acted like I was out of line. He dropped me off at my house and I haven’t heard from him since.”

His gaze softens and he puts his elbows on the table, scooting closer to me with a knowing look. “I figured it had something to do with that. You know I can read you like a book. So is it over, or…?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say, and I haven’t even tried to reach out.” I close my box of chicken nuggets as my appetite fizzles away.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. He fucking sucks.” He leaves it at that and gathers all our trash. “Let’s go.”

We walk to a nearby gas station in silence, the mood heavier this time. I wander around the snack aisle as he makes his purchase. I hear the bell on the door ring and look over as he holds it open and nods his head at me. The black bag swings lazily at his side as we walk to the park.

“What did you get?” I ask as we settle on a bench under a lamp post.

“Cigarettes. Oh and a lighter.” He says casually as he pulls them out of the bag.

“What the fuck,” I laugh, my eyes widening as I realize he’s serious. “Why?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, just figured we could try something new. You’re stressed and shit so I kinda just thought it would be nice, I don’t know.” He flicks his thumb across the lighter and the yellow flame illuminates his face before he blows it out.

“I mean.. I guess. I’m probably gonna cough super bad.” I laugh and straighten my legs in front of me, crossing my ankles.

“Eh, fuck it. I probably will too.” He laughs and rips the pack open.

He brings a cigarette between his lips and holds it there, cupping a hand around it to block the wind. His other hand comes up with the lighter and sparks it a couple times before he gets it to light. He holds the flame against the end and draws in a breath, the tip glowing red as it catches fire. He immediately pulls it away from his mouth and coughs loudly, standing up and holding his chest.

“What… the FUCK.” He says between heaving coughs, small puffs of smoke escaping his mouth each time.

I can’t help but laugh, throwing my hands over my mouth and taking in the sight in front of me. He shakes his head back and forth with his eyes closed, his brown waves flopping around. He extends his arm to me and squats down trying to take control over his breath again.

“Good fuckin’ luck.” He coughs out.

I lean forward and grab it between my fingers, his warm ones brushing mine in the process. He looks up and smiles before shaking his head in disgust again.

“So fucking dizzy.” He says as he sits down fully on the asphalt.

“Baby’s first nicotine buzz!” I joke, stopping my laughter quickly as he squints his eyes at me.

I bring the cigarette between my lips and drag on it, my lungs immediately filling with thick, rancid smelling smoke. I cough one big time and try to hold it in, puffing my cheeks out and attempting to hold my breath. My chest starts burning and my eyes are watering, and my body instinctively coughs over and over to try to clear my airway. I see Chris laughing through my blurry vision, smacking his knees and stomping a foot on the ground.

“Oh… my.. god.” I choke out, my head spinning and my fingers erupting with a static feeling.

“Yeah, shit’s no joke. How do people enjoy this?” He stands up and drags himself back over to the bench, reclaiming his spot beside me and grabbing the cigarette from me.

I cough on and off, still trying to rid my lungs of the contaminants. I throw my head back and my hair dangles off the backrest of the bench. Chris’s hand finds its way to me and strokes my hair softly and slowly. I bring my head back up and look at him, shaking my head with disappointment.

“Can’t believe you would do that to me.” I tease through a stifled smile.

“Just wanted to see what it was like..” he giggles and brings it back to his lips, the end glowing again as he takes a smaller puff.

He coughs once or twice as the smoke billows out of his mouth and dissipates into the foggy air around us. He looks at me with wide eyes. “Hey, that one wasn’t so bad!” He holds it back out to me, gesturing me to try again.

“Uhh.. I think I’m good. My lungs feel like they’re collapsing.” I push his hand back.

“You should try one more time..” he looks away in thought before snapping his head back. “What if we shotgun? I’ll take the brunt of the smoke and you can have whatever’s leftover. It’ll be less harsh that way.”

I’m sorry, but shotgunning a cigarette? First of all, that’s nasty. Does not sound appealing in the slightest. Secondly, I can’t fathom bringing my lips that close to Chris.

“Uhhh..” I trail off and shake my head slightly.

“Come onnnn Y/n/n!” He pouts, scooting closer to me on the bench. “I’m not gonna peer pressure you into it if you really don’t want to..” he says seriously.

“Fine. ONE more time.” I say and narrow my eyes at him.

He nods furiously and scoots even closer, our thighs touching and his cologne strong in the breeze. I can see every detail of his face under the light of the lamp post. His bushy but clean brows, his smile lines, his pink lips wet from obsessively licking them. His hair falls over his eyes as he brings the cigarette back into his mouth and takes a big drag. His eyes widen and he grabs my face in a rush, his warm hand against my cold cheek.

He pulls me close and our noses brush against each other. Time feels like it slows down to a crawl. I open my mouth and he does the same, our lips micrometers apart. His hot breath mixed with the smoke fan over my face as his eyes close, his long eyelashes fanning across his cheeks. I can feel heat in my cheeks that I’ve never felt around him.

He exhales as I inhale, the smoke that was once in his lungs filling my own. I take all that I can and he stays for what feels like a moment too long, his icy blue eyes opening to lock onto mine. I feel a weird pit in my stomach and the blood stills in my veins. Why am I feeling like this?

He pulls back and scans over my face, watching as I exhale and a comically small puff of smoke blows out.

“Well, that was lame.” He laughs and brushes his hair back.

“Yeah, little bit.” I agree flatly.

We sit in silence and finish the cigarette together, our lungs adjusting and my mind racing. I try to take my mind off the feeling of his thigh still brushing against mine, but the nicotine doesn’t have any effect at all. I thought these things are supposed to relieve stress.

Once we’ve burnt it to the end, he rubs the bud against the asphalt and flicks it away. It rolls until it hits the curb and we both sigh at the same time. We look at eachother and laugh at our ‘jinx’ moment, not knowing just how different we were feeling internally but thankful that we feel no pressure to be perfect when we were together.

“I’m so thankful to have a friend like you, Chrissy.” I smile and blow some warm air into my frozen hands.

He smiles lazily at me for a second, an almost sad look flashing across his eyes as his hand comes to lay on top of mine and stroke the back of it with his thumb. “Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”

•••

The morning sun comes out from hiding, her rays illuminating his brown hair on his pillow beside me. I watch his chest rising and falling steadily, a calming rhythm that could lull me back to sleep any day. Nothing makes me happier than waking up and feeling warmth on his side of the bed. I feel whole in his presence.

I look around at our bedroom and realize just how far we’ve come. We’ve both left the comfort of our parents homes and have made these four walls our own. Piece by piece we made a sanctuary like a bird collecting sticks and paper straw wrappers for its nest. I could go anywhere with him and build a nest. He makes everything okay.

I take my phone off the charger and scroll around aimlessly, hoping not to disturb his sleep, his pink lips hanging open and his eyes moving under his lids. I go through instagram and flip through recipes, gym videos, and dog compilations before I’m bored and close it out. I try Facebook and my distant older relatives have flooded my timeline with political garbage, so I close it out too. I open Snapchat and see a memory, smiling as I start to click through the photos and videos taken on this day from the previous years.

The first video plays, a snippet from last year of us in his car, lip syncing to one of our favorite songs. The next one is from the same night, a photo of him with his arm around me in front of the door to our then-new apartment. His eyes shimmered with happiness, mine mirroring his own with a huge smile plastered on my face.

I click again and watch as our past plays out on the screen in front of me. I can’t help but feel so thankful for the way everything worked out. So much would be different if the world hadn’t knitted us in the exact pattern it planned, one frayed thread and I wouldn’t be sitting in this room with the love of my life.

Click

My smile fades as I scan over the photo. I reminisce on the night, remembering everything as if it were a movie playing in my brain. They used to be some of the best times of my life. He made me so happy.

It’s strange how well you can know the inner workings of someone, sometimes more than your own. You know the temperature they like to drink their water, their favorite salad dressing, the commercials that make them cry. And you sit together and watch the commercials from time to time, because you know the end makes them smile again.

It’s strange how quickly it can all fizzle out, both of you existing in the world without a clue of who the person could be today. Here one minute and gone the next. I know he’s out there. He knows I’m out here. But who is he?

How different would my life had been if I did end up with him? Would I have had the same opportunities, the same zeal for life, would I be happier? Would it be my single biggest regret?

I wonder if he thinks about me and everything we went through together. I wonder if he remembers the angsty songs we played in his car late at night, or the scent of the air freshener I always bought for him when he ran out. Does he wonder what his life would be like with me, or has he moved on and found his own paper straw wrappers?

I know he was in love with me. I knew I loved him. But sometimes things are star-crossed and confusing and they hurt and there’s nothing we can do about it. Sometimes the right people come into your life at the wrong time. Do we pine about it forever, or do we let the world continue knitting while hoping the strings don’t fray?

I look over the photo once more, our shadows on the ground innocent and unaware of the future.

I look over and the boy beside me stretches his arms above him and takes in a deep breath before turning over to me, his brown waves a mess. He smiles from ear to ear and I can’t help but return it.

“Morning, baby.”

“Good morning, Garrett.”

a/n: i sobbed many times writing this im sorry if you like happy endings

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