#i know i know i sound like a broken record at this point but. MAN.

[copiasblair]

i'm full-on sobbing over copia right now how is everyone else's night going

[peribytes]

.

[xythlia]

› he's obsessed w you (and your pussy)

mdni. f!reader. pussy worshipping satoru. fingering. clit play. edging. multiple orgasms. biting mention. squirting.

satoru who loves playing with your pussy, getting you situated between his legs and creeping his hands up your thighs. especially if you wore those cute sleep shorts to bed last night, the ones that bunch up around your ass when you wake up and sleepily pad into the kitchen looking for coffee.

you don't have to worry, he's got something that can wake you up much better than a cup of steaming hot caffeine ever could. he's practically addicted to the way you moan, quiet and breathy, as his fingers stroke you through your shorts at first. squirming in his hold as you feel his erection press against your lower back but he's not concerned about himself just yet.

placing wet, sloppy kisses against the side of your neck, trailing his tongue against your warm skin makes his head spin and he's gotta use his other hand to hold your hip firmly in place. no wiggling away from him, not when the thought of you has been tempting him since last night. when you whine out his name and paw as his forearms it just urges him on, pulling the fabric to the side to swipe his fingers against you and feel just how wet you are.

"woke up like this, huh? you know I can help," he purrs against the back of your neck as your head rolls back to rest against his chest. Your lips are parted and little puffs of air are coming harshly from between them as his index delicately circles your clit. He doesn't apply much pressure, it's almost like the ghost of a touch against you but it's enough to already have you whining and begging for him to touch you more, stop being so mean 'toru.

but you don't know he's not being mean, quite the opposite it's just that the slick feeling of your pussy drives him insane and feeling the sticky warmth inside you as he slides two fingers against your fluttering walls makes curses drop from his mouth instantly. The way you massage his fingers in a pulsing rhythm is beyond sinful, your body begging him to indulge more, more, more.

and who is he to deny you?

"shit," he grips a handful of your inner thigh as his fingers keep working you open at a lazy pace. there's no rush, not this morning when the sun's barely up and the sounds of the world waking have yet to reach through the exterior of your home. he can feel the way your muscles tense, flexing and holding taut every time he scissors his long fingers against your silky walls.

the squelching sound that fills the apartment makes him salivate, if it was possible he'd have hearts in his eyes from that alone. you're absolutely soaked now, arousal coating his fingers and seeping into the palm of his hand as your hips buck and jerk in a sporadic rhythm shamelessly desperate to chase your release.

but he doesn't want this to be over too soon, not when he's only just started. so he switches, fingers pulling out of you and moving back up to rub your adorably puffy clit. it makes your voice crack and he knows without even looking that there's tears in your eyes now, and you're beyond the point of being able to speak now it's just hiccuped moans and broken cries of his name joining the squishy sound of him toying with you.

it may as well be his own personal platinum record, he could have this cacophony on repeat for a week and die a happy man. his other hand drifts up to grope and massage your breasts intermittently through your t-shirt, one stolen from his wardrobe that you look so jaw dropping in. he groans feeling your nails bite into his forearm, his teeth returning the favor against the side of your neck while you sob and your body goes rigid in his lap.

he knows this is it, feels the stray tears splash against his hand as they drop from your face while your gasps turn silent, mouth hung open and body rigid while his fingers never stop playing with your clit as you ride out the orgasm and he feels, somehow, even more of your slick mixed with cum dripping out of you and making even more of a mess between your legs.

but even after you start coming down satoru doesn't stop. rolling your cute little clit between his fingers and making you nearly jump out of your skin from the unrelenting pleasure, squeezing his arm and begging for a break.

"don't wanna leave my favorite girl just yet," and you just know he's talking about both you and your pussy. it makes you groan and grind your hips again as his fingers dip back inside you, languidly exploring every inch of you while your body can't help but spam intermittently, aftershocks of your previous orgasm hitting against the new waves of pleasure building towards a second.

"toru please," you cry out, the sounds getting mangled by the way your breathing gets so harsh. you're practically crying now, and it's not just your thighs shaking by your whole body because he's taking advantage of the fact that your first orgasm left you so raw.

he shushes you, coos at you so sweetly while his thumb presses against your clit again and you sob, clawing at his skin as he settles on a more rapid pace this time, just to see you come fully undone in his lap. it doesn't take long at all, and he can feel the way liquid spurts against his hand. a lovesick grin works it's way across his face at that and he pulls his hand away fully, situating your shorts back in place over his favorite little treat as he places a sweet kiss to your temple.

satoru knows you're basically made of jello now, answering him in little grunts when he asks if you'd like to sit with him in the bath for a bit, let him hold you and work your body and mind back to full consciousness. carefully he gathers you in his arms, peppering more kisses across your face in silent thanks for always being so good to him, good for him.

[paperbackribs]

Demisexual Eddie who assumed he's straight by default so when Steve says his soulmate words he thinks it's a platonic match.

Steve Harrington looks a hair's breadth away from kissing him and Eddie doesn't know what to do about that.

He eyes him nervously as they linger inside Rick's boathouse; he can hear outside the faint sound of Robin telling Max that they'll drop her off with Dustin. The torch Steve carries shines a yellow light onto the pine floors, while the full moon illuminates enough of the room to see Steve's eyes intently trained on Eddie's face, flickering at moments to his lips.

Eddie clears his throat and shuffles his feet. The tension that had drained from him once he realised that Dustin and his friends were here to help rising again, reminding him of the jolt of shock when Steve had said his soulmate words by crying out for Eddie to wait wait wait as he rushed him with a broken bottle.

"So, uh, I think you should come home with me. My place is empty but for me and it'll be safer than hanging out here," Steve offers.

He glances at Eddie's hair, which must truly be bedraggled by this point after the amount of times he's clutched it in fear and anxiety. "You can clean up and get a meal too; you must be exhausted."

And it sounds like a really fantastic offer, but Eddie's worried about the slight sway in Steve's bearing, like he's close to swooping in to kiss Eddie when he's not even like that. It fuels the tension until Eddie blurts out, "I'm not gay."

"What?" Steve blinks, pulling back, but curiously Eddie doesn't feel any better for his withdrawal.

Nevertheless, he takes the moment to edge away, just slightly because he doesn't want the guy to think he's a bigot. It's just that he doesn't see Steve like that.

"Yeah, I mean, I said your words so I know we're soulmates..."

Steve looks down at his wrist, thoughtfully thumbing what are you doing here. "But you don't like guys?"

Eddie shakes his head gently, genuinely sorry in the face of Steve's confusion. "No, but that just means we're platonic, right?" A jitter of an old fear runs through him and he bites his lip against it, simply asking, "Is that okay?"

Steve's brow furrows and his eyes flicker to the car barely visible in the dark of the night outside. He exhales a long breath, "Sorry, I know I'm repeating myself here but it's a lot to take in. You're straight."

Eddie nods sympathetically. He knows what it's like to live on the fringes of what's considered normal, it must have been really hard for Steve to be gay in small town Hawkins. He wonders if all the rumours of him being a ladies man come from overcompensation or from the rumour mill running overtime.

Either way, it must have been hard for Steve to navigate when all he'd wanted to do is date boys. Probably find his gay soulmate too, Eddie thinks sadly.

"It's rare, but not impossible, right?" He frowns at his bicep where the words are hidden under his jacket, "Though I don't have two marks. Do you?"

Steve huffs a laugh as he rubs at his temple, looking like he doesn't know where to start. "Rare is right, but, yeah, two soulmates." He taps his chest, over the heart where the second mark must lay, and Eddie thinks that is only further proof. His romantic soulmate's words over his heart, what further evidence do they need.

He smiles, relieved for Steve even as he thinks that he'll need to unpack his own feelings over apparently not having a romantic soulmate. He's not sure it'll change much for him he mulls before he's distracted by the expression that crosses Steve's face, uncertainty falling to what looks like determination.

"Either way, it doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting you a safe place to hide. If we could find you through Family Video's records then the cops can't be far behind."

Dread is almost electric in his mouth at the thought, thinking of shouting voices and raised guns. Eddie nods jerkily, "Yeah, good point. Are you sure it's okay? Soulmates or not, you're taking a risk by harbouring the guy who looks like he killed the queen of Hawkins High."

The hardness in Steve's face breaks, softening like gentle rain. He touches the edge of Eddie's sleeve very carefully like he's trying to offer comfort without any skin contact, "You didn't do it and you deserve to not hide like a rat in the dark."

Steve looks around, noting the wet wood and the ever-present creaking of a structure over water. His nose scrunches, "Plus I don't know how you can take the algae smell, man. I'd be running towards my offer."

The tension inside Eddie falls, a gentle cascade like a piece of paper fluttering to the ground. "You're right, how could I live with myself," he says wryly, trying to hide how warmed he is by Steve's insistence.

"So you'll come?" Steve asks hopefully and Eddie nods, passing him to walk towards the car, "Let's get going, big boy."

more steddie fics here

[hecateslore]

💌

supervisor!simon

you have now been promotedddddd 😆😆😝 i'm gonna try to push the valentines party out in a couple

“I’m very fond of these conversations.” he winks, which makes you furrow your brows. 

You put your sandwich, umbrella and chips in a bag, following Simon who was half way out of the store. “You listen to us on the phone?” Simon turns his head to look at you, “It was a joke.” he says, when in actuality, he might've picked up the phone a few times. He likes to monitor, sue him!

“It’s not raining.” you frown, putting the umbrella back in the bag. Simon sits on the store's patio. “Wanna join?” He offers a seat. You think about it, you wanted to be alone and wanted to have a quiet lunch. But he’s offering you a seat, it would be rude to decline. “Sure.” 

You sit and unwrap your sandwich, and Simon stares at it, “Do you always get that?” You nod. “Is it good?” he watches you eat (y’all know that one jake gyllenhaal picture.. That's Simon.). Staring at the way you hold your sandwich, how you inspect it, searching from what side you’re gonna bite next. “You stare a lot.” you comment. “It’s a habit.” he says quickly, “It’s kind of rude.” you say, “I know.” he fixes his gaze on the umbrella you threw on the floor before you sat down. 

“Is that like a military thing? Johnny does it too.” You add, “Johnny stares cause he’s weird.” He snorts, “I don’t mean to, but Johnny does.” He says and grabs your bag of chips, opening it for you. You mutter a quick thank you, grabbing a chip, “So Johnny likes to stare huh?” you ask. 

“It’s in his nature.” he shrugs, sitting back on the patio chair. “Does Simon like to stare?” you jokingly ask, “Simon already answered this question.” he says causing you to chuckle at his response. “You’re quick,” you point out. Simon smiles at you teasingly, “So you and Johnny are a thing now?” he questions. “Who said that?” confusion in your voice and all over your face. “Just thought,” he shrugged, “Since he’s getting a bit territorial.” You let out a small laugh at his comment. “He’s not,” you deny, “He just likes to hang out with me.”

“And we’re best friends.” Simon scoffs and you let out an even louder laugh than before, “He’s nice.” you say, calming down, “I’m sure.” SImon watches as you ball up the paper that your sandwich came in. “Johnny said you two aren’t close anymore.” You say, looking at the umbrella that sat by Simon's feet. “We aren’t.” he affirms, “so that’s what all the tension was about.” You adjust yourself. 

“Nah, He only calls when he needs something.” You raise your brows at what he said. They looked like friends, sometimes even acted like it. Especially on the day Johnny started, they gave each other a big hug, they were laughing and chatting. “So there’s tension?” you ask. 

“If that’s what it means to you.” Simon pulls back the sleeve of his button up, checking the time on his watch, “we should head back.” You agree, throwing the trash and grabbing your umbrella from the floor, “Man, I shouldn’t have bought this.” you hold it up, frowning at it. “It might rain later, you should keep it.” Simon grabs the Umbrella from you and proceeds to open it up to see the design, a clear umbrella with daisies and a black handle. “Cute.”

 You take the umbrella from his hands, closing it and stuffing it in your side, holding it between your arm and ribcage. You both walk side by side quietly, Simon breaks the silence, “ I meant what I said on friday.” 

“I know.” you sigh. “I sound like a broken record, but I really do feel bad.” Simon admits crossing his arms. You look around the strip mall, watching people walk in and out of the buildings that surround you and Simon. “I can tell,” you snort, you stop walking for a moment and stick your hand out for a shake. Simon takes it, and shakes it firmly. “Are we done with this conversation now?” you ask, “Yeah.” he smiles 

-

You both finally get to the office, Simon now soaked. In the midst of your convo it decided to rain heavily. Knowing Simon, he refused to use the umbrella, he’s tracking water all over the office and looking damn good while doing so. His button up stuck to his skin, showing off all of his muscles. “What happened here?” Linda asks, shocked while also grateful for the view in front of her. “We got caught in the rain,” Simon says, walking carefully to the back. “He didn’t want to use my umbrella.” you shrug, “It’s too small to share.” he clarifies. 

You walk past a slow stepping Simon and open the door to the back office, Johnny waiting by your desk, “Hello” you draw out  making Johnny smile, “hi,” he says, “I brought something for you,’ he hands you a green folder filled with paperwork, “this is glorious.” you say taking the folder from him. “How was lunch,” he asks. “It was good, I bought-” 

Your conversation is interrupted by Simon opening the door and walking through. Going to his office, “I bought an umbrella,”  you finish staring at Simon's big frame heading towards his office. 

“Looks like he didn’t” Johnny chuckles, “Yeah,” you say distractedly, Simon's door was left cracked open, from where you’re standing you got a clear shot of him taking his button up off and changing into his sweatshirt from this morning. 

Putting your attention back on Johnny all you could think about was Simon's chest and his big arms, and his abdomen and how big he was and broad his shoulders are. 

Johnny’s mouth was moving but no sound was coming out, you could’ve sworn you heard Simon call your name, and right when you turned to look at his office again, he was walking out, sending you a small smile. You look back at Johnny who was already looking at Simon. Johnny has muscles, Simon also has muscles. “I’ll be right back.” you say. 

You manage to escape to the bathroom.. No wonder all the old ladies are hot for Simon. 

Simon’s fucking hot.

-

Back at your desk you sit, sifting through the paperwork Johnny gave you earlier, you get a tap on your desk. You look up, “I forgot to tell you, we’re having a valentines party after work, if you wanna stay.” He scratches the back of his neck, “Linda’s decorating the front.” he clears his throat. 

“I’ll think about it,” you shrug, giving him a polite smile, “are you going?” you ask, “I am supervisor.” you roll your eyes playfully, “Maybe.” you say and he taps your desk one more time before he goes back to his office. You sit there with a stupid grin on your face. You get a tap on your shoulder, Linda behind you with a heart headband in hand, “Are you staying?” You think for two seconds, “yeah.” she places the head band on your head, and you chuckle at the stupid heart springing back and forth. 

“Nice hat.” Johnny pokes one of the hearts. “It’s a headband,” you fake swat at him, “are you staying?” you ask, “I’m thinking about it, what about you?” you point at the hearts on your head, “this wasn’t a dead give away?” he flicks a heart one more time, “Guess i’ll go.” he shrugs

-

You clock out and walk to the break room, headband still on, Simon stood by the microwave heating up his lunch from earlier. Hearing footsteps he turns his head around, “well one of us is gonna have to change.” you joke, the red hearts springing back and forth on his head, “So you’re staying?” he chuckles. “Yup.” you sigh, going for the vending machine. “What are you heating up?” you ask, taking note of the re-heatable container spinning, “My lunch,” He says, crossing his arm, “what are you buying?” he points to the vending machine, “Snapple.” 

“Classic.” he snorts. You press the button for your drink and feed the machine your dollar, waiting for the drink to fall to the bottom. When it does you grab it and pull the table’s chair in the break room. Sitting and watching Simon stand at where the microwave was put. “You didn’t eat your lunch?” you ask, eyes on the way his muscles flex while pulling out the chair, “I was a little busy during lunch time,” he smirks, holding eye contact. “Ha,ha” you laugh sarcastically, “you should've said something, I wouldn’t have kept you.” 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” he says, opening the plastic pack of cutlery. Now it was your turn to stare and watch him eat. Simon didn’t eat like Johny, Johnny was a messy eater and he talks with his mouth full. Johnny does that weird thing where you drink and chew. 

Not Simon, Simon covers his mouth, and he chews with his mouth closed, his head is mostly down when he eats. He’s kind of fast, not in a disruptive way where you can hear his teeth grinding, but in a; I only have a certain time to eat before I get back here or there. You can see where some of military habits show, when people are in the way of where he needs to go, he says “Move.” instead of excuse me, always says Hurry, or quickly after he asks you to do something.  

the way his brows twitch a little with each chew. The way his jaw tenses and then releases, His knee sort of bounces a bit when he’s sitting. And those long eyelashes that rest slightly above his cheek.

Simon finishes his food, throwing his used cutlery and washing out his food container. 

“You done staring?” He teases. 

“sorry.”

[charlesswife]

Una Noche En Monaco v

unem masterlist

5 Dias De Prueba (5-day trial)

pairing: charles leclerc x latina! reader

summary: after a one night stand between you and Charles, he continues on with his formula one career. until two months later, you come back claiming to be pregnant with his child.

word count: 7.6k - not proofread.

April 2023

"Do you wanna come to the next race? I can get you tickets, you can be my guest."

His words replayed in my head like a broken record. Why would I be interested into going to the race in the first place?

As I opened the door of my apartment I was greeted by the smell of something sweet.

I checked the time on my watch. 9:45 pm.

"Isn't it late to be baking Naughty Brownies?" I called from the entrance. I heard a small "Oh no" from Mateo and a "Busted" from Steph.

I heard Mateo's footsteps around the kitchen, "Tia you have to hide me."

"Okay, okay."

As I entered the kitchen, I saw one of the floor cabinets a little open. Steph had a smile on her face.

"Why is Mati awake?" I asked her. I heard a small gasp coming from the cabinet.

"Awake? He's not awake. He's in his bed with Percy." Steph answered, holding her laugh. Just as she said that Percy walked into the kitchen wagging his tail. I petted his face and he licked my hand, then he walked to the slightly open cabinet and stuck his head inside.

Mateo tried to push him away with his tiny hands. "Go away, you're gonna get me caught." He said in a serious tone, the Rottweiler started to lick him as well. In the end, the cabinet door opened, leaving Mateo in full display.

"Oh, Mati. I didn't know that was your new bed. Should've told me before I bought you that big bed you have." I said as I brought the brownie to my lips. Steph loves having slutty brownies before bed, but ever since Mateo was born, we had to change the name to naughty brownies.

He stayed quiet for a second, his green eyes started to gloss. "Am I in trouble?"

He is so cute, I wanted to laugh for a second. "No, mi amor. Come out so you can have a piece and go to bed."

When my mom was alive, she used to say 'When in doubt, leave your destiny in the hands of a coin, flip it and carry on' and while usually I would do it, sometimes I wish she was here to tell me what to do.

Heads - I go to the GP

Tails - I stay

I was never good at flipping coins. All the time I flip it and let it drop to the floor. So that is what I did. I didn’t dare to look down, at least not until the coin stopped circling around the floor.

I picked up the coin. This is my destiny and so be it.

The next day I decided to meet up with Charles, to tell him my answer.

I expect our meeting to be short and easy, so I told him to meet me at a parking lot. It sounds very sketchy now that I think about it.

I saw his car once I got into the parking, I tried to open the door but it was locked - which made sense - I knocked on his window and when he finally saw me he unlocked the door and I got in.

Europeans kiss both cheeks to say hi, and in my culture, we do it just once. But I am not in my country and I do not want to say hi to Charles, let alone kiss me. So when his body approached mine to greet me with kisses I stopped him. His body was close enough that I smelled his perfume. It smelled like a drug... very addicting to the point I wanted t smell more.

"Sorry," he murmured. "It's a habit." he tried to explain.

"Yeah, whatever." I responded. "This is what's going to happen. We are not co-parenting. Mateo is my son, so you don't get a say here. If you really say that you are ready to be a man and be responsible and be a father, that's fine, but you have to prove it. I will decide when is the right time to tell my son you're his father," I saw his Adam's apple go up a bit as if he was nervous.

"His name is Mateo?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"With one T?" My heart stopped for a second. The last time we spoke, he told me he saw a kid in the car, but he never said he met Mateo or even spoke with him to the point he knows his name is with one t.

"How did you know-?"

"Is it really?" his voice was higher this time. "I met him. At the bookstore. And I- I- I felt this connection the moment I saw him, and I asked his name and he said 'Mateo with one T'" His smile is so wide that I wondered for a second if his cheeks hurt.

I stared at him. I don't know if I should curse him out, or simply get out of the car and forget this meeting ever happen, because how dare he say he felt a 'connection'. He's full of shit. "Don't ever say that again. Especially not in front of me. You don't have a connection, you don't know him. I don't know which god or angel is on your side to the point that you found us and you even talked to him. I'm nice enough to actually give you a second chance, but I have my limits, so you better be careful with the things you say."

I took my phone out and opened the Calendar app. "Today is the 19th and most likely you have to be in Baku on the 25th. So you have five days you can spend with Mateo, with me present, of course. If you want to spend time with him, that is."

"Yes! Sorry, yes. Of course." He nodded. "Is it possible to have a dinner with my family? I want my family to know you and Mateo. They don't... they don't really know about any of this,"

"Your family doesn't know about us?" Us meaning Mateo and me, not Charles and I. He shaked his head. "I wouldn't be too worried about your family. If I were you, I would be more concerned about how the public would react to this. The truth will come out sooner or later, and God knows what they are going to say."

His face was blank. He knew I was right, or maybe he was thinking that I would release the information to the public. "I'll protect him. No matter what."

I wanted to say a sarcastic comment but I didn't want to. At least just for today. I saw the way his eyes became a bit red when I told him he doesn't have a connection with Mateo.

He cleared his throat a bit and then he looked me in the eyes. Oh, his big green eyes. "I just want to thank you, for giving me a chance. I will prove to you that I am worthy of you and Mateo." Why is he talking this way?

I texted him the address of my apartment, once it got sent I said, "That's my address, be there at 9:30"

Thursday 20th - Charles' POV

Am I early? Will she be mad that I am early? I stand in front of her door, debating whether I should knock or come back in thirty minutes. Just as I was about to leave the door open.

"Okay, Mati, see you later!" The woman said as she stepped out, she turned around and faced me. "Oh," she looked at her watch and said, "shouldn't you be here in thirty minutes?"

"Yeah, um I wasn't- um I was going to come back in a bit," I said.

"There's no point, you are already here so I might as well let you in. Just go inside and wait, and whatever you do, don't open the curtains." She opened the door again and pushed me inside.

The inside of her apartment was nice, but it makes me wonder how she can afford the place if she only works at a bookstore. I got into the kitchen first, it has an open area that leads to the living room. The tv was on showing a cartoon of what it looked to be a blue cat. On the kitchen counter, I saw what looked to be a tiramisu. I tried to be strong but I am weak when it comes to a good tiramisu.

I quickly found what I needed, a knife, a spoon, and a plate. I don't think Y/n would notice if it just take one tiny little piece. I got ready to cut and I heard someone say.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I looked up and saw him. Mateo. He was beautiful. He made his way toward one of the couches shaped like an L and sat there. "My mami is very protective over her tirmisu and only lets me eat the tirmisu," he said as he mispronounced the name of the dessert, he then looked at me. "You're the guy from the store."

"You remember me?" I asked hopefully.

"I remember you are the guy from the store," he said like it was the most obvious thing.

"Do you remember my name?"

He was quiet for a second. "No, should I?"

His comment did make me sad for a second but then he let out the biggest gap and came running towards me, he put his arms up. "Lift me up,"

My heart is beating so fast, I lifted him up and secured him in my arms. Up close I could see the freckles on his nose, he looks a lot like me. He looked around the kitchen and then he pointed to the microwave. "Take me there. Go, go." Once I did what he asked, he opened the door of the microwave, and inside was a plate of brownies. He took two pieces out and closed the door. "Okay, put me down. Down" He started to squirm in my arms. Once I put him down on the floor, he looked at the brownies in his hands and gave me the smallest piece. "Thank you for the help" He then ran back to the couch to sit down. In front of him was a coffee table, there was paper and crayons all over it.

"Where's your mommy?" I asked him.

"Probably with Percy," he said, without pulling his eyes away from the TV. Who's Percy?

"Do you wanna see my drawing? My mami says I'm the next Picasso," he left the brownie on one side of the table and got one of the papers. I walked to the couch and saw the paper. It was a big house, 4 figure sticks and a small black figure with four legs. "This is Mami," he pointed at the tall figure stick, "This is my tia Steph," he pointed at the second tall figure stick, probably the woman that let me in, "This is me and my brother," he pointed at the two small figure sticks. Brother? He has a brother? "And this is my dog, and this is my new house, but they are building it right now so we live here."

"This is really good Mateo," I complimented him, but my thought are on the brother he mentioned.

"I know, you can have it. I'll sign it for you. Mami says I have to sign all my art so people know I made it," he explained as he grabbed the black crayon.

"Your mom is a smart woman,"

"How do you know mami?" he asked. "If you are the bad man that wants to take me away from mami I won't let you have the drawing. I don't like bad people that want to hurt mami."

"I'm not bad, I promise. I'm a nice person."

"Okay!" He wrote his name on the paper and then grabbed his brownie. "Are you my papi?" he looked at me.

"What?" my eyes widen.

"Yes. Are you my papi? If you're not bad, and you know my mom, then are you my daddy?"

How is this four-year-old so smart and how do I even respond to that? Before I could say anything, someone interrupted me. "Mati! Come here so I can put sunscreen on your pretty face." He got off the couch and went running into the hallway.

I grabbed the paper and stared at it. Did she have another child with someone else after me?

Y/n's POV

Mateo came running into the bathroom and the first thing he did was rub his face against Percy and give him kisses. "No, Mateo no beses al perro, mi amor. Ahora te tengo que lavar la cara otra vez." (No, Mateo, don't kiss the god, my love. Now I have to wash your face again.)

"Percy es tan tierno que solo le quiero dar besitos, mami" (Percy is so cute that I only want to give him kisses)

"Well you are cute too and you don't see me giving you kisses all do time," I said as I washed his face.

"You do give me kisses Mommy." he laughed.

"Alright, that's enough. I'm going to put sunscreen on you." I put sunscreen on my three fingers. "Where do we put sunscreen?"

"On the faceeeee" he said. "On the neeeeeck, y en las orejaaaas" (in the ears) I laughed at the way he explained it. Once I was done putting on the sunscreen, we both walked out of the bathroom and into the living room.

I started to open the curtains.

"Mami this man tried to eat your tirmisu" Mateo said. I turned around and saw Charles sitting on my couch with a brownie on his lips, just frozen, like when Mateo gets caught doing something he shouldn't.

As he was chewing, he said, "I um- I was, Wow these brownies are good. I didn't eat your tiramisu."

"So you eat my brownies instead?" I asked.

"NO no, no. Mateo gave me one."

That wasn't surprising. "Who is he?" Mateo asked.

"He is a friend," I said. "He is going away soon so he's going to hang out with us for some days. Do you like that?"

"Okay! Then he has to meet Percy!" he ran off to the hallway again. I looked at Charles.

He looked like he wanted to tell me a lot of stuff, and ask me a bunch of questions.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"Um, maybe like 10 minutes? Your friend let me in and then Mateo got me the brownie and this drawing," he showed me the paper. It was all of us, the house, Steph and I, my two babies, and my dog. "You look really pretty, by the way. Your boyfriend must be very lucky," Boyfriend? "I thought you only had Mateo, you didn't mention having a second child," he murmured the last part as he ate the last piece of the brownie. He thinks...

Before I could answer, Mateo came running back, "Look! This is my little dog, Percy!" Little is an understatement since Percy is a four-year-old Rottweiler. When the dog came into the living room, Charles got up and backed away.

"Mateo, I don't think Charles likes Percy." I told him.

"Why not?" he looked at Charles while his lips quivered.

"No, no. I love Percy! Percy is a good boy!" I know he wouldn't dare to pet the dog.

"Mati, grab your bag, we have to go." As he walked back to his room, Charles said.

"Did you name your dog Percy as in Perceval?"

"Don't flatter yourself, I named him after a book character."

At the end of the day, Mateo was tired. Reasonable. He was very entertained by all of the stuff the museum had to offer. But one moment kept replaying in my head.

My phone went off, remaining me to reapply sunscreen on Mateo, as I was applying some on his face I saw Charles, and how his face was a bit red.

"Do you not wear sunscreen?" I asked him.

He shrugged, "Only when I'm on the beach," he responded.

I gasped, and for a moment my mother self kicked in, "Charles, your face is red. Jesus, come here," Once he got close to me, I put the sunscreen on three of his fingers so he could apply it himself. He rubbed the sunscreen on his hands and started to rub it on his face.

"Acaso eres un animal?" (Are you an animal?) I told him as I stopped him from doing more damage to his skin. "You can't rub your face like that," I explained as I spread the sunscreen on his face, "You put on your face, on your neck y en las orejas," (and the ears) I murmured. Once I was done, I realized what I did and how close we were to each other.

“Is he going to meet Jules?” Mateo came out of nowhere. 

We visit Jules every week, I was planning to visit him once the day was over with Charles. 

“Who’s Jules?” Charles asked. 

“He’s my brother!” 

I looked at Charles for a second. He has no idea he’s one step closer to the truth, at least a part of it. 

Friday 21st

I had everything ready for the visit to Jules. I prepared some sandwiches and fruit to eat. The favorite snacks for Mateo and Percy. 

I loaded everything into the car, Mateo was in his baby seat with the window rolled down and I was waiting outside the car for Charles to appear. For being a Formula One driver, he is very late right now. 

“Well, I guess he’s not going to come. Maybe next time.” I told my son and his face deflated, I, on the other hand, am very happy, but that didn’t last long because Mateo pointed and something behind me. 

“He’s here!” I turned around and saw Charles with a visible line of sweat on his forehead. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” he said. 

“Don’t make it a habit,” I responded. I opened the passenger seat and said, “Get in.” He approached the door and I placed my hand on his chest to stop him. “Wasn’t talking to you,” I smirked, he looked down and saw Percy get into the seat. “You go in the back,” 

He didn’t say anything and simply did what I said. 

The drive wasn’t bad, Charles got to find out more stuff about Mateo. I, on the other hand, became more nervous the more we got closer to our destination. 

Once we got to our destination, confusion was obvious on Charles’ face. 

“Why are we-” 

“To see Jules,” I responded as I got out of the car, Charles following suit. 

I went to the back of the car and open the truck, I gave Charles the picnic basket. I opened the back seat door and took Mateo out of the car seat and set him down. I opened the passenger seat and got Percy out of the car. With my left hand, I was holding Mateo’s hand and with my right hand, I had the dog’s leash. I locked the car and we began walking. 

Charles hasn’t said anything yet, maybe he’s confused or maybe he’s just trying to process. After walking for an eternity, even though it was like seven minutes, Mateo let go of my hand and ran to our spot. I took Percy out of the leash and he went to be next to Mateo. 

As I was walking I turned around and saw Charles stuck to the floor. 

“Are you coming?” I asked, “I need the blanket that’s on the basket so we can sit down,” I continued walking. 

Charles’ POV

Jules Alexander Y/L/N 

6th November 2018

Loved Son and Brother. 

Ahora eres una estrella mas en el cielo (now you are one more star in the sky) 

Y/n didn’t have a boyfriend or a son with someone else. She had twins and she lost one. I had twins and I lost one. I didn’t know it was possible for my heart to break even more. 

I left her alone during this horrible time. 

“Look, Jules! We brought a friend. His name is Sharls,” Mateo said excitedly to the tombstone. “We got you floweeeers, and we have shanweches to eat,” he explained. Y/n was busy setting up the blanket and taking everything out of the basket. I didn’t dare to speak, if I did I would start crying. How much has this woman handled? 

“Mi principe, porque no vas tu y Percy a jugar un ratito while Charles and I talk for a moment, okay?” (My prince, why don’t you and Percy go play for a bit) Y/n said. The kid nodded and ran with Percy somewhere a bit far but still close enough so we can see them. 

I sat down next to her, still not able to speak. “Jules was the second one to come out,” she said. “There were some complications when I gave birth to him. He passed away thirty minutes after being born. He was only alive for thirty minutes and I wasn’t even able to hold him. Originally Mateo was supposed to be Mateo Agustin, but then Jules died so I changed his name to Mateo Alexander Jules. Alexander Agustin Y/L/N was my father,” She explained. 

“And Jules?” I dared to ask, my voice breaking. 

“I may not know much about you, or your family, but I know about Jules Bianchi,” she said. “I got Percy two months later. Percy was born on the same day. I thought it was a sign,” 

“What about your family?” I asked her. 

She laughed humorlessly, “This is my family. Steph, my son, and my dog. My parents died in a car accident, then I came to Monaco to start again. Getting knocked up wasn’t part of the plan, especially when the father can die the same way my parents did. I wasn’t expecting you to be an asshole either,” 

With tears in my eyes, I said, “I am so sorry. I-” 

“Yeah, me too” 

Y/N’s POV 

After he calmed down, I called Mateo back so we can eat. Everything was great until Charles asked me a question.

“Do you guys want to go on my boat tomorrow? Spend the day at sea?” I stopped eating and Mateo gasped loudly. 

“Can we, mami?!” 

One thing about me is that I am utterly terrified of the ocean. “No,” I said as I continued eating. 

“Mami, please, please. I’ll be good, I promise,” 

“I’m not going to be able to go with you baby,” I said.

“Why not?” he asked. 

I looked at Charles, who also had concern in his eyes. “Well, mommy has this fear of the ocean, and she doesn’t feel well, so she has to stay,” I tried to explain to him. 

I looked at Charles, who also had concern in his eyes. “Well, Mommy has this fear of the ocean, and she doesn’t feel well, so she has to stay,” I tried to explain to him. I could tell Charles wanted to say something but he didn’t dare. “If Charles promises to take great great GREAT care of you, then you can go with him,” 

“Sharls! Take care of me so I can go!” Mateo yelled excitedly. 

“Yes! Okay! Yes, I promise,” he assured me. 

On the way back to the car, I pulled Charles aside and told him. “I am trusting you with my life. Don’t fuck this up.” 

“I won’t. I promise,” 

“Was I stupid to trust Charles into taking care of Mateo?” I asked Steph.

“No, girl. You did the right thing. He’s going to be responsable of Mateo sooner or later,” I didn’t want to admit that she was right. 

I looked at the list I made for Charles so he can take care of Mateo. There’s only three things to follow. 

i - mateo will complain about the weather no matter what

ii - he doesn’t like sodas but loves orange and cherry juices, loves chicken but hates seafood. 

iii -  don’t forget to reapply his sunscreen, don’t loose the bottle. 

“Am I missing anything else?” I asked. Steph took the note and read it. 

“Why don’t you just send it on a text? What if he looses the paper?” She asked. 

“If he doesn’t loose the paper then he’s not going to loose my child,” I responded. 

“Fair enough. I think you got it all cover. That’s pretty much it - I mean, I thought the whole point was for him to get to know Mateo on his own. Why are you making him a list?” Why am I making him a list? 

I crumbled the paper into a ball and thew it at her. “I have to get Mati ready to bath. I’ll be back,” I got up from the chair. 

“Wait! I forgot to tell you, a cute guy passed by the bookstore, asking about you,” she wiggled her eyebrows up and down, “His name is Arthuuuuur," I know who she was talking about. "I gave him your phone number. I told him you are free tomorrow so you guys can go on a date,” she giggled. 

I rolled my eyes and left the living room and went to the bathroom to get the water running. “Mateo,” I yelled, “time to take a shower,” I approached his room, once I opened the door, I saw him playing with his toys, “Come on, little guy. Gotta get you nice and clean for tomorrow,” I waited for him to get up and grabbed his hand. 

Mateo is not the best singer, he’s just a kid, but he likes to sing in the shower. Once I was done with his shower, I wrapped him in a towel and carry him to his room, while I was getting his pijama ready, he started to jump on his bed. 

“Mami, I have a question,” he said. 

“Yes?” I asked. 

“Is Sharls my daddy?” I stopped for a second and looked at him. 

“Why do you ask that, love?”

“Well, he looks like me,” I laughed at his explanation. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mhmm” 

“So just because he looks like you, you think he’s your daddy?” 

“Well…” he stopped jumping and his gaze fell on the floor. It looked as if the hamster in his brain was turning the wheel. “Where is my daddy?” 

I sighed. Do I lie? Do I tell the truth? Am I ready for my kid to know the reality of what happen?

I texted Charles a little but after my shower. 

To CL: He knows. 

I heard a pin instantly. I thought it was Charles texting back but instead it was an unknown number, my eyes widen once reading the message.

From +377 3847502839: hey, this is Arthur. i hope this isn’t weird, i asked for your number to one of the girls from the store. i heard you’re free tomorrow and i want to invite you to some coffee. 

From +377 3847501839: if that’s okay with you of course. 

I added his phone on my contacts and replied “Not weird at all. I’d like to have coffee with you” I smiled a bit. 

From Arthur Cute Guy: great! see you tomorrow then ;) 

To say Mateo was excited was an underestimate, he was thrilled to spend the day with Charles. Once he got home, Mateo jumped into his arms and I think I saw his eyes tear up a bit. 

“Well,” I cleared my throat. Charles put Mateo on the floor, to pay attention to me. “I have his bag ready with towel and clothes,” I passed him his bad, which he was quick to put on his shoulder. “Have fun, and please, please don’t forget to put sunscreen on him every two hours. It’s in the front pocket of the bag. He can only use that sunscreen so for the love of god don’t lose it,” 

“I won’t.” he said. 

“Okay,” I let a long breath out, “Well, have fun,”

Mateo was tugging Charles by the arm, “Come on Sharls we have so much to talk!” I closed the door behind then and ran to my bedroom to get ready for my date. 

“Thank you for meeting me here,” Arthur greeted me with two kisses. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind,” 

“That’s very bold of you to say,” I giggled. I looked at the menu, “Have you been to this Cafe?”

“A few times, they have good pastries,” he said. 

“Do they have a good tiramisu?” I asked as I looked at him, I feel like I have seen him before, like if I met him before our first encounter. He reminds me of someone, but who? 

“It’s good, but it’s not the best,” he told me, “I heard this popular restaurant L’Incantato,” I perked up at the name, “has the best tiramisu.” 

Curiosity got the best of me, “Have you tried it?” 

He made a disappointed face, “I wish. You would think that just because there’s three restaurants in Monaco that there would be any availability in any of them but no, it’s always packed. I can never get a reservation. I wanted to take my mom for her birthday last year but couldn’t get a seat, unfortunately.” 

I know the restaurant is always busy, and I felt a bit sad to hear he couldn’t take his mother to eat there. He’s very sweet. “Well, next time you go there. Tell them I sent you,” I winked at him. 

“What, why?” he asked. 

“You thought I would just own a bookstore? I also own all three L’Incatato restaurants,” I smiled, his eyes got so big I was wondering if they would come out of the sockets. 

“No way!” he laughed, “What are the odds?” I shrugged. “What else do I need to know about you?” he smiled. 

“Let’s get coffee first,” I said.

Charles’ POV

Everything was quiet. 

All I could hear was the sound of the waves. 

I felt at piece. 

The piece was interrupted by the alarm going off from my phone. I turned it off and looked at Mateo, “Sunscreen time,” I said. He got up from his chair and walked to me. I looked around me but I couldn’t find the sunscreen anywhere. Where did I put it? “I can’t find the sunscreen,”

“Oh-oh,” he said. 

“I think I have another sunscreen around, wait here,” I got up from my chair and looked into one of the compartments of the yacht until I found one sunscreen, I went back to Mateo and opened the cap. 

“I don’t use that sunscreen,” 

“I can’t find your sunscreen so we have to use this one,” I explained. I put some on my fingers and applied it into his face, gently. 

“It smells funny,” he giggled. I did as well. 

As I blended the sunscreen into his face I said, “What do you think your maman is doing?” 

“What’s maman?” he asked. 

I laughed a bit, “your mom,” 

“Oh!” he shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably on her date.” I stopped for a second. “Hey, why did you stop?”

“Your mom is on a date?” I asked. 

“Mmhm,” he nodded. “I heard Tia Steph talking about it. My mom sounded very excited,” 

Y/n is on a date? “And do you know who he is?” he nodded. “Who is he?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. 

I smiled for a bit but I was so confused. “What- but you just-” 

“My face feels funny,” he scratched his cheek, “its itchy and burning,” my smile started to fade. 

His face was becoming very red. I have to call Y/n 

Y/N’s POV 

“So let’s see if I understand,” Arthur said. “You own a bookstore,” he counted with his finger and I nodded, “You own one of the most successful restaurants in Monaco,” 

“And Italy,” I added 

“And Italy!” he said, adding a finger to his count. “You are a bestseller author,” I nodded. “Your parents were also authors and they were like the Stephen King of murder mystery books,” 

“Mhmm,” 

“Wow,” he let out, “Simply wow. You amaze me.” I laughed. “No no, truly. You are incredible. You are too perfect,” 

“Oh no! I am far from perfect. I also have a son,” I said slowly. “His name is Mateo. He likes to said Mateo with one T after the daycare wrote it with two T’s” I laughed a bit. “He’s very special to me.” Arthur had an intense look on his face, like paying attention to all the words I am saying. As if whatever I was saying matter to him. “You would like him, he’s very smart for his age. 

“He sounds amazing, just like you,” he smiled. 

“Here,” I pulled up my phone. “Let me show you a picture,” just as I was about to show him one of the newest picture I took of him, eating the naughty brownies, I got an incoming call from Charles. “Sorry, I have to take this call,” I apologized. 

“No, no. Go ahead,” 

I thanked him and answered the phone, “Hello Cha-”

“Y/N something is Mateo on his face,” 

“What? What’s going on?” 

“I don't know! His face is all red and he says it’s itching. He’s crying and I don’t know what to do, please” In the background I could hear Mateo crying. My heart broken a little, I knew what was happening. 

“Wash his face and keep him under the sade if possible, bring him to me now. This play date is over,” I hung up the phone and looked at Arthur, there was concern in his face. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea for my kid to spend time with his father, and now he got an allergic reaction, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to get going,” he felt bad having to leave like that. 

“Don’t apologize, I understand. I might not know the entire situation but from what you just said, it sounds like the father of your kid is a bad father,” he said. 

“Thank you for understanding,” I didn’t deny what he said because I don’t really know how Charles is as a father. 

“Please let me know how your kid is doing and if you need to talk, I’m just one phonecall away,” we said our goodbyes and I rushed to my car to get to my apartment. Once I got there, I got the aloe vera out of the freezer and got the aquaphor ready. Once I cut and slided the aloe vera, I put it was in the freezer. 

A little over an hour, Charles got home with Mateo in his arms, who was still crying, and the backpack I gave him on his shoulders.

Once he saw me he yelled, “Mamiiiii” he extended his arms towards me. 

“Ven aqui, mi amor, (come here, my love)” I carried him in my arms to the kitchen and sat him on the kitchen counter, I took out the aloe vera from the fridge and said, “This is going to make you feel better, okay?” he nodded as he scratched his eye with his fist, I pulled his hand out immediately. “You can’t do that Mateo. Youre gonna make it worse.” I put the aloe vera all over his face. 

“Why would he do that?” he asked. “I thought you loved me,” he looked at something behind me. I turned around and saw Charles standing behind us, bewildered after what Mateo said. He was only wearing his swimsuit, but none of that really matter now. He had the most sad face I have every seen. “But you don’t love me, that’s why you left me! You are mean! You are a mean dad! I hate you and I don’t wanna see you again!” he yelled. 

“Mateo, calm down, let’s get you in the shower. You need to rest.” I carried him in my arms again. Before I got out of the I turned to Charles and lipped a small ‘wait here’ 

I gave Mateo a quick bath under cold water, put his pijamas on and applied the aquaphor and aloe vera on his face, I brough one of the fans close to his face. 

“Are you okay now?” I asked him. 

His green eyes were red from crying. “Mami, am I going to be okay? Am i gonna die?” 

“No, mi amor. You are just having a reaction, nothing bad. You’re going to be okay in a few day,” I reassure him. “Now I need you to sleep. I’ll be checking up on you.” he nodded and closed his eyes. 

I got out of the room and saw Charles pacing back and forth. “He’s fine,” I said, my voice made him stop and look at me, “What happened to the sunscreen I gave you?” 

“I lost it, so I put another instead.” He took out the sunscreen out of Mateo’s bag. 

I took the sunscreen in my hands and examined the product. “You put a chemical sunscreen on his face,” I looked at him. “Mateo has extreme sensitive skin, he can’t use this type of sunscreen.” 

His eyes widen after that, “Why didn’t you tell me that?! I should’ve known that!” 

“Charles, I gave you one rule, just one. It was so simple. ‘Don’t lose the sunscreen’ that’s all.” I looked at the sunscreen again. “For fucks sake Charles, this sunscreen is expired too!” I threw the sunscreen at him, “Are you out of your mind? What is wrong with you?” I sighed. “Just… Go home,” I told him. 

“I-”

“Go!” he looked at me in the eyes and I knew he regretted everything that happened today. He nodded and left the apartment. 

I let myself drop on the couch, and fell asleep there. When I woke up, it was dark outside and Steph has just got home, I told hereverything that happened. 

“Mati said a lot of bad stuff to him, I thought Charles was going to cry on the spot,” I told her. 

“This kind of stuff could’ve happen to anyone, it’s nobody’s fault,” she said. Although I wanted to believe her I though that maybe I should’ve told him about Mateo’s situation. “I’m going to check on Mateo, you go to rest.” 

I got up from the couch, and stretched a bit. “Thank you, Steph.” I gave her a tight-lipped smile and made my way to my room. 

Monday’s are always difficult with Mateo. He never wants to get up, and just wants to keep sleeping. 

“Mateo you are not going to school,” I said as I tried to drag him out of bed, “I just need to face your face and then you can go back to sleep!” 

“I’m not going to school?” He got up and and started jumping on the bed, “Yes! Yes! That means I can hang out with Sharls more! Yes! Yes! Ye-” he stopped jumping and started at the wall. He gasped and covered his mouth with both of his hands, he turned to look at me. His eyes were less puffy and started to peel but his face was still red. 

I got in front of him and pulled his hands away from his mouth. His lips started to quiver. He hugged me so fast and so tight I always fell back “Mami I was so mean to him. I told him I hate him but I don’t hate him, and now I’ll never see him again,” he was crying so hard on my neck. I pulled him away from me and dried his tears. 

“Mateo I cannot have you crying right now, it’s not gonna be good for your face.” I pulled his hair out of his face, “Charles is busy today,” I lied, but I don’t think I’m ready to see him yet after yesterday, “But we can call him later on and you can talk to him and tell him you didn’t mean what you said, okay?” Mateo nodded, more calmed this time. “Okay, let’s go wash your face,” 

I love spending my days with Mateo, when we are just hanging out in the couch and we cuddle and he falls asleep in my arms. It reminds me when he was a tiny baby. 

We are cuddling on the big couch while watching Doraemon, a cartoon I saw while growing up. I heard Mateo murmur something I didn’t quite understand. 

“What did you say baby?” 

“I said you are my mommy and I love you so much,” he looked at me. 

“Yes baby I know,” I giggled. 

Mateo sat on the couch. “No mami, you have to say it baaack,” 

“Say what back?” I laughed. 

“You have to say that you love me too!” He pushed me a bit, he got on top of me and gave kisses. 

“No Mateo, your face!” I laughed now. “Okay, okay. Fine I love you!” He stopped and smiled. 

I was very tempted to text Charles and let him know about Mateo. I looked at the time, 6:32pm. I think that’s a good time to call him. 

“Mateo do you wanna call Charles now?” I asked him. He looked down at his lap and then at me again. I could tell he was being shy now. “I’ll be there with you,” I told him, this time he nodded. I put my phone out and press the phone button, I looked for his name and press call, at the second ring he answered. 

“Y/n?” 

“Hey…” 

“How’s Mateo? Is he okay?” I could clearly hear the concern in his voice. 

“Mateo is fine, he’s getting better,” I looked at my son for a second, “He actually wants to talk to you, I’m going to put you on speaker, hold on.” I moved the phone out of my face and put the call on speaker, I moved the phone towards my son. 

“Hi Sharls…” his voice was small. 

“Hello Mateo, your maman says you are doing better,” 

“Yes…” 

At the other line, Charles let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to take good care of you. I never wanted to hurt you”

Mateo’s lip started to tremble, “I didn’t mean the stuff I said to you yesterday. I was very mean, I’m sorry,” 

“I forgive you, Mati,” 

“No, you can’t call me that, only mommy calls me that,” he was quick to say. 

“Mateo!” I said. 

“Okay, you can call me Mati,” Charles laughed through the phone. 

“Y/n, can I talk to you?” I pulled the phone back and told Mateo to get the cream and aloe vera to apply it to his face again, after he left the living to get the stuff I took the phone out of speaker. 

“Yes?” 

“Is it okay to still have the dinner with my family tomorrow?” Tomorrow is the last day. The day next day Charles is leaving to go to the Baku GP. 

“Yes, I thought that’s what we agreed on. How many are you guys?” 

“Ehh… It’s me, my mum and my two brothers,” he said. 

“Okay, you can be here around seven or eight,” I told him. 

“Okay, then I’ll see you tomorrow, say goodnight to Mateo for me,” 

“Alright, bye.” I hang up. 

I got everything ready, I got catering from the restaurant. I have the table ready. 

Steph came out with Mateo next to her, once she saw me, she stopped walking and covered Mateo’s ears. 

“Girl, you look so hot,” I was wearing a black satin dress and low shoes. 

“Really? I think it’s too much, I have to go change.” Just as I took one step, I heard a knock on the door. 

“No can do, ma’am. You have guests outside.” She let go of Mateo and pushed me towards the door. “Now be a nice hostess and open the door,” after she said that, she made her way into the kitchen. 

I took a deep breath, fixed my dress a bit, and then opened the door, but this wasn’t exactly who I expected to see on the other side. 

“Pascale?” 

“Y/n?” she asked. 

“Maman?” Charles asked. 

“Maman?!” I asked. 

“Y/n?” Charles asked again. 

“Charles, you’re…” Pascale started. She looked at me, and then at Charles. She knows the truth about everything. I feel my eyes burning. What the actual fuck is going on? Can this get any worse? A little far back, I could hear the voice of two guys speaking French. 

“Y/n, you know my mom?” Charles asked. I think I’m going to puke. 

Before I could answer, the two guys got behind Charles, still talking in within themselves. Is that…? 

“Arthur?!” The blond guy turned his face so fast. I was wrong, it can and it did get worse. I felt my whole body start to shake. I want to run far far away from this dinner, I want to floor to open a hole and swallow me whole.

“Y/N?” Seeing Arthur next to Charles, I could see the resemblance. The dimples, the smile. His face went pale and his eyes looked at me and then his brother. What are the odds? This can’t be right. 

Everyone was in some sort of shock, except for the other guy. He was just confused. He pushed Arthur behind and got in between Pascale and Charles. “I’m Lorenzo, very nice to meet,” He greeted me with two kisses on the cheek. 

“Yeah…” I managed to say. “Same…” 

What the fuck do I do now? 

Author's Note - Please please read.

AHHHHHHHH I hope you guys enjoyed the new chapter. This is the longest chapter I have written so far. This chapter has been so intense for me to write because of how long it is. It has taken me two and a half weeks to write. I would really appreciate to know what you guys thought of the chapter.

I love writing, I love the idea of Una Noche En Monaco a lot, and I really wish I could update more frequent. You guys are so lovely with the messages you sent me. Your comments, your praises and your support on this story is what makes me want to continue to write, truly. I mean the absolute world to me and I want to thank you guys for that. You guys are the best!

I have so many ideas for new stories of Charles that I wish I could be able to tell you. Like the royal!Charles x low class!reader, royal!Charles x royal! reader, Charles x Ferrari driver! reader, and two more that I can't even say.

If you guys let me vent for a bit, these past few weeks have been a bit of a struggle for me because I am not having that much work at my main job because we work with school and if there's no school, then there's no money, and my second job doesn't have events available to work. So I'm kinda jobless which is really really bad because I have tons of bills to pay and Miami is freaking expensive. All of this is freaking me out a bit and I just can't wait for school to start again so I can have work 😭😭

On better news, I have 736 followers! That is a lot! Like if I had one dollar for each follower I have, I would have 736 dollars?! That's a lot! I can't belie the amount of love you guys have given UNEM, you guys are the goat and I am sending a big kiss to each one of you! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

I'm also thinking about creating a discord group so I could let you guys know about future projects, let you know whenever I update and all that jazz. The reason behind it is that tagging can be messy and Tumblr doesn't let me tag more than 50 people, and some tag don't even work? But I know the people are there because I see their likes and comments. So it's confusing. So pls let me know what you think about the discord.

Also I saw my notes app the other day and remember the bulletpoint draft for UNEM and this whole series was going to be COMPLETELY different from what is it lmaoo, should I show it to you guys? 👀

AND TO ALL THE GIRLIES THAT WRITE ABOUT SEBASTIAN VETTEL, TOTO WOLFF AND FERNANDO ALONSO I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND PLS UPDATE MORE BC THAT IS MY SOURCE OF LIFE RN SPECIALLY RBR!SEBASTIAN FICS AHHHH

TAGLIST IS CLOSED.

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[halcyone-of-the-sea]

How To Adapt To Fire (III)

AU MASTERLIST || THE FINAL PART

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, death/gore, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, attempted murder, burns, needles, injuries, one dirty joke, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Running, the wind whips past your face with the force of a hurricane. 

The screams echoed over the abandoned neighborhood, leaking and rising as the illumination of a burning body sent slashing shadows along the remnants of houses. Flailing arms and sizzling flesh. It followed you as your feet slapped the concrete, satchel still at your side and your breath echoing in your ears. 

You don’t know where Duncan is—and you dare not look behind you as you dart into someone’s lawn, bee-lining away from Kurt’s now-silent inferno of burnt hair and cooking meat. Grass that grows up to your knees is shoved aside, broken down to the earth as your panting breath is too loud in your ears. It’s all you can hear now, which may be the worst part.

“Holy fuck,” your hiss under your breath, sweat dripping down your neck. Your hands were skinned in your little fall off the steps, but the sting as you slap your palm to the side of one of the houses is lost to you—pain doesn’t matter when adrenaline takes over. “Holy fuck.”

Your fingers drip crimson along the siding, but you’re gone again with ragged inhales, snapping eyes wide. You need to try and circle back for the car, you tell yourself. Patting your pockets for the hard pressure of your keys, you dash past a trash can and sigh when you feel them still there. 

And then you hear the whistling. 

It’s over the air, and in a skid of shoes, you halt and listen intently—a bird in the eyes of a fox. Lungs heaving, your head jerks around as a tune wafts up and pierces your ears. The sound echoes over the houses, flying across fallen roofs and peeling paint. You’re frozen, night corralling you in. 

“Who does this dude think he is?” You ask, a deep fear in your heart and an eerie feeling up your spine. 

It was getting closer. 

Heart stuttering, your legs take you up the back steps of a house to your left, hand snapping to the rusted handle and shoulder ramming into it. It gives way on the second shove, slamming into the far wall before you hit the ground and push on once more, the air gone from your body.

If Duncan can murder his own cousin in the way he had…what could he do to you?

Feet shuffling, your head moves quickly, taking in the decaying living room and joint kitchen—falling stairs that you instantly choose to run up, hands burning. 

Your only hope was the car; you needed to get to a vantage point, find out where Duncan was, and try to avoid him. It wasn’t any different than what you’d seen on TV…right? 

The wooden floor creaks like brittle bones, and you move across it while the scent of fire is still in your nose—gasoline and dead eyes. Your eyes go from one open door to another, beds covered with moth-eaten sheets. From outside of a broken window, you see shadows along the street; whistling. 

You choose a room at random and slink inside, hands already jerking into your satchel and pushing aside the active recorder—reaching for your phone. 

Looking between the window and the device, your dripping fingers slash through contacts until you can find the only one you think to call immediately. 

Smashing down on the green button, your phone is right at your ear as your heartbeat pulses like a drum. As it sits there, you gaze outside, panting with blood smearing along your flesh. You can’t stop thinking about Kurt—how you’d seen a man get burnt alive in front of you as if it were nothing. You’d heard and witnessed a lot of things and had been in more courtrooms than you can count…but nothing would ever top seeing the whites of a man’s eyes as his body erupted into flames. 

“Okay, okay,” the phone quivers, clothes ruffled. You hiss softly, not willing to make more noise than you have to. “C’mon, MacTavish.”

A long shadow looms in the streetlight and you drop to the floor swiftly, knees slamming the wood, just as the click on the line pushes through.

“Dearie,” the Scot’s teasing voice is a godsend. “Didn’t expect you to call so soon. Not that I—”

“I fucked up,” you breathe, and the fireman’s audible snapping of his mouth would have been comedic in any other situation. “I really fucked up, and I think I need a little intervention here before I literally go up in the flames of my ambition.”

You’re talking so fast you doubt he can even understand you, but you continue as your forehead peaks above the window frame. 

Duncan is at the house next to where you’re hiding. Standing out front with a gas can in his hand and a matchbox in the other. You watch with horrified eyes as he walks to the front porch, pours the accelerant, and steps back to light a match. 

“Oh,” you growl through a hurried gasp. “So now he decides to change M.O.”

The neighbor's home alights. 

He’s trying to corner you.

Johnny’s panicked voice wafts through. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Listen,” you watch the fire spread, hands spasming. “I was going to wait for you, alright. J-just then I decided to not do that and I—”

“What the fuck!” There’s fast movement on the other side of the line, seemingly paper and pencils hitting the floor as fast feet slam the ground. 

“It’s not my fault I’m a stubborn bitch!” You snap, moving your free hand to the back of your neck and rubbing along the sweat there, smearing crimson. “I can’t get back to the car right now and Duncan is lighting the entire neighborhood on fire to try and catch me. I have all of it on the recorder, and I can’t lose the evidence for the inevitable court case.”

Johnny’s voice is so serious and hard, you know you’ve never seen a side like this from him before. It’s nearly a growl. “I don’t give a shit about fucking evidence. Where are you?”

You rattle off Kurt’s address from memory, face streaked with light from the fire. It was going to spread to this house. The wood is like free food just waiting for it willingly; you have to move before it catches. With the condition of the home, it would only be kindling for a larger blaze ready to overtake the street. 

Johnny’s voice is heavy. “Stay where you are and—”

Your laugh is grim, and you move out of the room rapidly as the boom of falling wood makes the ground shake. Breath nothing more than a shaky jump in your nose, you push out, “Not an option.”

“What do you mean ‘not an option’ what the hell is going on over there?! I swear, I told you not to go without me!” 

“Bring the fire trucks! All of them!” You shout and hang up swiftly as Johnny’s loud call of your name is silenced. 

You’re halfway down the stairs when the back door you’d previously busted through creaks on its hinges. 

Above fire, above the pattering of your pulse, your eyes are stuck-still. Stationary. Stiff. 

Duncan stares at you—and you stare at him. 

It’s like time utterly stops, hit in the face by a metal pipe before its teeth get knocked to the ground in a clatter of white enamel. Shell-shocked. 

Your phone rings again—Johnny, no doubt, but when it does, Duncan pounces.

He tosses the gas canister to the ground, followed by a quick match as you curse and race back upstairs. The whoosh of flames bursts into existence as hard boots follow after you, hot on your heels. 

“Shit!” You yell, calling out a firm and fearful, “Duncan!” 

A hand swipes at your shirt collar before you duck and pivot, shifting to brace your feet and ram your shoulder backward. The man takes the force right to the chest and shouts, tilting on the steps with a flailing arm, fingers that card through the air. 

But you’re not quick enough in the rabid getaway. 

A hand latches onto your wrist, and then you’re being yanked down with him into the awaiting arms of the burning fire.

—

Johnny’s whole heart is more active than when he and you were stuck in the sheets together—arousal is nothing compared to the fear he feels. 

The man’s legs carry him quickly into the engine room, grabbing gear and sending out the alarm. Already calls were coming in from dispatch, worried civilians who had said they’d seen what appeared to be twin fires off into the more abandoned parts of the left-to-rot suburbs. 

His panic extends to the next country it’s so far-reaching. Your call—your voice—the things you’d told him and, worse, what you hadn’t. 

Why did you have to be so stubborn?

He needs to get to you, and he can’t breathe properly until he does.

It doesn’t take the firemen long to get into the trucks—the red demons rocketing out of the station with every blaring alarm at their disposal, and at every bump, Johnny’s stiff eyes glare openly at his lap. The others dare not say anything to him; they all know that look.

A man on the edge of a fraying line. Stuck on the knife—waiting for the final twist. 

With all of the gear, MacTavish could be compared to someone heading straight into war, and with the following wail of police sirens, maybe war was where he was always meant to be. Johnny fidgets, his fingers clenching and unclenching above the meat of his thighs, helmet on his head nothing but a weight of reminder. He was there to stop fires—he was there to put them out. 

But even God knew that the second his boots hit the ground, and the rest of the firemen were grabbing the hoses, he would be running into that inferno without a second glance backward. 

Johnny was born and bred from fire, and at the very end of it, the flames would take him back.  

Not yet, he’d say. Not until she’s safe. 

The Scot grabs the face-piece at his feet, fixes it over his visage, and listens to his own rabid breath echo back to him. It was louder than any other sound he’d ever heard.

The shaking of his fingers is a traitorous beast.

—

Dragging an arm over the ground, the first thing you do is cough through black smoke. 

Mind delirious, you blink rapidly, stinging eyes unwilling to stay open for long simply due to the spike of irritation—instinctual tears blurring the few moments of clarity to be offered.

You choke on nothing and burn through all of it. 

Flopping, you force your body up onto its hands and knees, the world tilting even then as palms drag and fingers dig. The second your tears slap your knuckles, a leg to your ribs is kicking you back down. 

Yelling in pain, you sprawl to your spine, body bouncing as the sound of fire eating away drywall and dead wood sizzle in your eardrums. Your skin is sweltering, and you can’t stop the flood of sweat dripping off your flesh—it nearly hurts.

Head shaking, wet hands grasp at your wrists forcing them back. 

“You could have left,” Duncan hisses above the waves of spreading fire. If you wanted to live, you had to get out now. The very bones of this house are threatening to buckle like the spine of an old man—visible rafters beginning to cave. Splintering wood. Creaking. “You could have stayed out of it!”

You yell, legs kicking out with the strength you can muster above the carbon monoxide coursing through your blood. Your muscles need oxygen. You need to breathe.

Your lungs are too tight.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Cursing, your body lashes, Duncan and yourself battling along the burning ground as the roof across the room caves in, sending ashes and a large tsunami of orange rolling ever upwards and a shockwave that gives a sliver of an opportunity. 

The both of you hiss, arms moving up to protect your faces. 

Your clothes are ruined—ripped; torn. You don’t even care about any of it. There’s a ferality to you now, a bleeding fear that far drowns even the blood of your skinned hands. As you’re trying to stand again, Duncan tries to barrel into you. 

“I warned you to stop looking into it!” He rages. “Look what you made me do! I killed Kurt because of you!”

You grapple for your satchel, his shadow nearly on top of you before your arms flex and spring like the trigger of a pistol. Swinging the bag back, you send it in an arch with your hands gripping the tough material. The heavy thump and grunt resonates quickly as you hack again, sirens just beginning in the distance totally lost to you. 

“Maybe,” you speak on smoke-tight airways—a heavy wheeze as the fire licks your arms. You shout, almost dropping your bag. “You shouldn't fucking kill people!” 

Your hands grasp the satchel once more, lifting and striking down as Duncan yowls, finally grabbing it and tearing it out of your hands. He wraps his arms around your waist and sends you both directly into the heart of the blaze with an animalistic shove.

Crashing, the immediate flush of fire is so hot that it’s cold—like you’re plunged into ice, even as you feel your skin sizzle. Yet, the resounding scream is nothing compared to the roar of rage as an axe is taken to the last standing wall of the house. 

You fight with Duncan all the while the heat overtakes you, clawing and yelling; nothing more than a banshee of snapping teeth and hatred. The man forces you down, the warmth cooking the skin of your back one patch of flesh and fabric at a time. 

Fingers curl your throat as you dig your thumbs into your aggressor's eyes, choking; wheezing. Black begins to settle in front of your hazy vision, seconds leaning into longer glimpses of moving shadows and growing pain—a pain that adrenaline can only do so much against. And then, just before Duncan’s blood can drip down to your face, his eyes leaking and red, he’s ripped off in a flurry of fast hands and muffled calls. 

An oxygen mask flashes across your dying field of view, and a helmet—a fireproof jacket. Wide, panicked cobalt eyes. And yelling…so much yelling. All of it is stuck behind material that makes it sound like there are voices hidden underwater. 

Hands skimming your shoulders, dragging you out quickly as your bloody fingers grasp in dying panic—fading senses. There are others too, three inside of this house all frantically moving. Ducan is being restrained as well as he’s able to be, dragged back with two sets of hands—one on his shoulders the other on his legs like a child. 

You, on the contrary, get taken up in a fast set of arms more bulky than they are not, shoving you into a heavy chest until your face is hidden into a neck protected by a high collar. 

“Pencils!” Your body burns, and your face contorts as your focus can finally bleed into it. 

Shaking—quivering, your ears are ringing and the rushing feet below you jostle your form. 

Finally making it outside, it’s not a moment later that the entire house falls into itself, a tomb of fire and near death—lost to all but ash. Sirens are suddenly louder; shrill voices. 

Johnny’s hurried voice, and the sound of a mask being ripped off of his face. “Medic!” 

You pant, mouth opening but no words coming out beyond a sharp gasp for fresh air. Something is fitted over your face before you’re lying down on a cot, and your fingers reach but meet air. Head craning up, you blink just in time to see it as the EMTs begin jogging over to their ambulance. Johnny moves and grabs his helmet and throws it to the ground, barking something so loud that you’re broken mind can pick it up.

“Give the fucker to me!” The accent makes it all the more violent, and as your oxygen mask is strapped to your head, you stare owlishly, visage awash with blood and tears. You don’t even want to look down at yourself, and in this haze, you’re not even sure you’d be able to. 

But you can see the rabid events unfolding like your very own TV show. 

Firemen try to grapple Johnny back, but it’s useless to try and stop a brick wall. The Scot shoves one away before his gloved fingers snatch a restrained Duncan, and throws him up on his charred legs.

Senselessly, the arsonist smiles—it’s a distant, psychotic thing. 

“You know the journalist—” A fist is sent hurtling into his face.

Falling back, Duncan cries out as his nose breaks in multiple places; shattering like glass under the force of a steel hammer. 

“Get over ‘ere.” Johnny’s voice is raspy; guttural. You cough and the EMTs connect an IV to your arm, quickly nearing the ambulance as they try to coax you to lay back down. “Bastard! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bending above Duncan’s body, MacTavish gets in two more sharp blows before he’s torn away with yells and orders—shoved with appeasing pats to his arms and desperate pleas to hold out. 

The police rush over, restraining Duncan and forcing his unconscious body to the side. Blood stains the ground, and the fires continue to blaze—others in the background trying to push it back. 

Chest heaving, your throat is raw, but even so, as the EMTs can’t stop you from weakly peeling back the oxygen mask, you call hoarsely, “Johnny!”

You’re loaded into the ambulance just as his eyes snap over, his chest rising and flailing through all of that gear still visible. Calming words find your ears as the medics move the oxygen back over your nose and mouth, holding it so you can’t take it off again. 

The back door is about to be slammed shut before the familiar square face bullies itself in. 

“Sir, you can’t—!”

“Drive,” the fireman shuffles into the seat directly across from you as large, damp, rags are set over your flesh in quick succession as you hiss, eyes flinching shut. Johnny grunts at the EMT who blinks quickly before he twitches at the sound of your pain; jaw clenching. “...Before I get into that seat myself.” 

The engine rumbles to life, and Johnny’s the one who takes your hand into his and drops his tone—moving closer. It takes a moment for his worry to be shoved behind a lens of surety, not for himself, but for you. 

The uncertainty in your eyes made him want to storm backward and show Duncan what fists can do when that’s all you have to rely on instead of cowardice. Fire was a tool of a weakling, and no man was weaker than one who tried to murder someone like you and your bright intellect. But there was no use thinking about it now.

“Oh, Hen,” Johnny’s voice cracks, eyes glancing you up and down quickly as the EMTs do their work. You wouldn’t be awake much longer—if you managed to fight the pain, they’d put you to sleep for your own safety. 

The burns were…they weren’t good.

“Hey, now,” the fireman eases, forcing a small smile and capturing your ash-smeared cheek. He doesn’t care about the state of his gear—the heavy oxygen tank on his back—all he needs is to hold you; even as little as this. “You just let those boys do their jobs, yeah? They’ll have you back up in no time at all, Pencils. Breathe for me, Dearie.” 

Your fast breaths stutter and the scrape of your vocal cords makes Johnny flinch, his eyelids pulling in as a grimace shifts the lines of his face. 

The man fights with himself to snap at the others and make them tell the driver to push the gas harder. He knows they’re going as fast as they’re able.

You try to speak, but Johnny shuts it down with a firm shake of his head. Seeing the packages of sterile bandages being unpacked with rapid hands, knowing the sting that will follow as they’re placed on leaking skin, the Scot moves closer and lightly shields your vision of it.

“No, c’mon now, don’t speak.” An unsteady smirk. “I know I take your breath away, but let's just wait until you’re at the hospital for all of that, eh?”

At the jerky glare coming off of you, a sliver of his panic leaves him.

Johnny tries a weak chuckle before it falls flat. 

Your eyes pick up on the agony before the black at the sides of your vision sweeps in—taking you away as the first press of wrappings along your back make themselves known. His hand stays firm at your cheek; thumb moving over the skin until that’s all you can focus on anymore. 

His touch. Not the fire’s—not Duncan’s. His. The same man that held you close and watched your back. Who had run into a burning house for your safety even if that was his job to do so. 

Johnny seems to be thinking the same because before your head goes limp against the cot, the familiar drawl sings you to sleep.

“…I would have searched that house for you until it fucking took me with it.”

—

The voice recordings from your charred satchel were in police custody, just as Duncan was. 

Along with the thick bindings that had taken home along your back and the upper part of your shoulders, there were others. Your voice was still a crackling mess—as if the fire had left behind a remnant of itself there, an ever-bending and shifting shard directly in your throat. Not even water could get rid of the itch, but you’d been told it would get better. 

All things considered, it could have been worse. 

There was a shit load to do—to explain. Duncan's involvement as well as the deceased Kurts, whose face still haunts you even now; it probably always will. 

Johnny’s shadow flashes in front of yours and you blink quickly, clearing your head. A pause emanates, and the man’s brows tighten. 

“What?” You try to clear your throat and grimace, the hospital bed uncomfortable for you. You’d much rather prefer Johnny’s. 

“I asked you if you’d want any more blankets, Bonnie,” the Scot’s head tilts. He hums. “More medicine? Feeling alright?” 

“So doting,” you huff, fingers rubbing at your neck before Soap sighs and stands from the side chair he’d been in. “No, I’m…fine.”

“My job.” Johnny grunts and his hand pushes away your own, fingers finding the spot that itches internally and carefully massaging until you’re like putty in his hands. In fact, you nearly purr before you sag into him, eyelids drooping. There’s a smug glance tossed your way. “And I don’t mean to brag, but I think I’m doin’ pretty good.”

Your lips pull, vision slipping upward. “Careful, people will think I got married over the span of three days.”

Johnny blinks, “Didn’t we?”

Your face burns. “No, MacTavish we did not. Hot-head. All the fumes go straight to your head, I swear.” All the talking was only aggravating your voice, but for the life of you, you can’t stop. 

Johnny rolls his eyes, skull tilting. A bead of serious talk leeks in as his fingers shift from your throat to your head, tips stimulating your scalp which you hum approvingly to. “What’s the plan?”

You think for a moment, letting the man come and lay a firm kiss on your temple. Your heart knows he intends to stay with you through all of this—already he’d been out on paid leave about the whole ‘attacking a restrained man’ fiasco. The bastard deserved it, Johnny had growled to you yesterday as he helped you drink water. You had to agree. 

“Sleep,” your answer is soft and simple. There was no use fretting about the whims of a far-off tomorrow. The future is a fickle creature, ever changing shape to fit the image it wants to play with like a doll at the nearest moment—there was never a pen in your pocket that was trying to jot down its profile; to understand it. Johnny was here, the bed was warm, and his hands were kind. 

That was all you needed.

Cobalt eyes stare for a moment at your response, before the Scot chuckles. “...Well, I can’t fight you there.”

Your hand lightly snares his wrist, and you pull him to you, letting his body melt back onto the bed until you can rest your temple on his shoulder and sigh out your tension. Johnny’s arm curls carefully to rest on your lower back, as delicate as glass. 

It’s a while before he speaks again. 

“You really did worry me,” he whispers, staring into the ceiling and trying to make images out of the shadows on the ceiling. “If I hadn’t gotten there…”

“You did,” you utter, eyes half-closed and fingers rubbing at his stomach. He shivers. “One-way road, Johnny. Stop that.”

“Doesn't make me feel any better when you’re stuck in here for two more weeks.” A smile pulls your face and he glances down, feeling it against his shirt. “...What are you smiling about?”

You hide it into his chest and he shakes his head in exasperation, scoffing.

“I swear, I’m the only one who cares about your safety and then I get mocked for it.”

“M’not mocking you,” your muffled voice grumbles out. “You’re just pouting.”

Johnny grunts, rolling his eyes. “Course.”

“Proving my point.”

“Next time I leave,” Soap’s lips are atop your head, muttering. “I’ll be tying you to the bed and watching you through the camera.”

A thin trail of jumpy laughter echoes out into the halls of the hospital, and your response is just as quick as it always is—as it always would be through Hell and high water. This wasn’t an ideal situation, and there would be more trials to come both literally and metaphorically, but Johnny made for a good rock through all of it. 

He certainly was a better informant than you intended him to be. 

“Ooo, Mr. MacTavish,” a loud groan, laced with a fond, almost worshiped, adoration. “I didn’t know you could be so risqué.” 

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

[ptergwen]

peter parker in glasses owns my heart. can you write something about him in glasses and reader is all over him. (doesn’t have to be smut but can it be a little spicy?)

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 699

warnings: 18+, a lil angst, explicit language, suggestive, and implied smut

a/n: oh absolutely! i had to use tom as my reference because his peter never wears glasses :/ also not to sound like a broken record but pls join my new taglist besties

peter’s lips twitch into a frown as he opens up his new glasses case. he picks the glasses up by their bridge and looks them over, debating whether or not to put them on.

he used to need glasses before he got his powers. the spider bite gave him perfect vision, so he stopped wearing them and hasn’t since. now that he’s older, though, his vision isn’t what it once was. he’s been straining his eyes all these years, squinting through the eyes of his spider-man mask and staring at computer screens for college assignments. it’s back to glasses he goes.

he’s not too upset that he has to wear them again. what he’s worried about is what you’ll think.

the thick, black frames peter wore as a kid were dorky and often got him teased. they were all he could afford, and it’s not like he’s rolling in the dough now either. the new pair he purchased is hardly an upgrade.

you didn’t know peter before he was spider-man. the two of you met and began dating in college, well after he got ripped, taller, and lost the glasses. if he starts wearing glasses again, what if you’re not attracted to him anymore? what if you see him as the nerd everyone else did?

there’s a knock at peter’s dorm door. it must be you. you two have a date later. peter inhales, a deep breath, and opens the door.

“hey, pete.”

“hi, baby. come in.”

you set a hand on peter’s cheek and greet him with a quick kiss, smiling. he smiles back and shuts the door behind you. you take a seat on his bed.

“are those your glasses?”

you point to the pair in peter’s hand.

he’d told you he needed them, but he didn’t tell you they were ready. he was hoping to avoid you seeing him in them for as long as he could.

“uh, yeah. i just picked them up.”

“put them on, i wanna see.”

“i dunno, y/n. i don’t know how they look on me. i haven’t tried them yet.”

“well, then now’s a good a time as any. put them on!”

peter’s face scrunches up, mouth opening to protest. you jut out your bottom lip.

“please? for me?”

as much as he wants to, he can’t say no to that.

“okay, but i warned you.”

peter unfolds the glasses by their hinges and slips them on, adjusting them so they’re behind his ears. he pushes them up on his nose by the bridge. he finally meets your eyes from across the room, teeth clenched nervously. you ogle him for a solid amount of time without blinking, mouth hanging open.

“are they that bad?”

peter starts to take his glasses off.

“no, leave them!”

“but i thought you didn’t like them.”

“are you kidding? i love them!”

you get up from peter’s bed and walk back over to him. peter’s features hold shock. your hands come to either side of his face, lips forming a grin.

“they look so good, pete. they really suit you. and they’re actually super sexy, too.”

“you think they’re sexy?”

“uh huh. they make you look all mature. feel like i should call you sir or something.”

“sir is good. but be honest, do you actually like them? because i think they’re kind of embarrassing.”

you leave a kiss on peter’s nose, just under his glasses.

“i like you with or without glasses, peter. there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, okay? not with me.”

peter cracks a smile and loops his arms around your middle.

“thank you. that made me feel way better.”

“of course.”

one of your hands moves down peter’s body, two fingers inching their way up to his chest.

“seriously, though. the glasses are turning me on. what time does your roommate get back?”

“not til late, why?”

“because.”

you beckon peter closer. he turns his head so you can whisper in his ear. his brows raise, grip on you tightening.

“oh… oh, shit. but i thought we were going out?”

“not anymore. we’re staying in.”

peter lowers his glasses. you push them back up.

“the glasses stay on when we fuck.”

tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda

[fluffyfantasticducky]

Focus on the Good

☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader

☆ Synopsis: Loki is overwhelmed dealing with being accused as a traitor, although this time he's innocent. But this time, he is not the man he used to be, and he has you by his side.

☆ Word Count: 5,110

☆ Notes: The relatively awaited part two of Smile for me. Sorry I took so long to post this, I had a creative block and had trouble deciding what to focus on. The traitor plot twist is anticlimatic but I chose to focus more on Loki and his feelings.

☆ Warnings: Loki dealing with self hatred, insinuations and caresses that aren't spicy per se but are a bit more intimate and flirty but it's all sfw.

Frustrating. How else could he call it?

His first mission as a leader was a complete disaster. You had gotten hurt due to his own incompetence. And add some insult to this pathetic situation, now he was being investigated for treason to S.H.I.E.L.D. despite that he was completely innocent.

It must have been some sick twisted joke of fate. He spent years playing with Asgard like a fiddle, getting away with so much, to the point that where he committed treason everyone realized only when it was too late. And now that he had a reason to make things right, be transparent and honest, now he was investigated as if he was some traitor.

The most offensive thing of those implications was that it suggested that Loki was either using you or lying to you. When in reality he would die for you, he’d walk through fire if you asked him. Or that you were complicit of his ‘crimes.’ You, you who were the kindest, sweetest, most righteous person he had ever met.

Every day or two days at most they come to either interrogate you, him, or inspect your shared room which always left them a mess to clean up.

At least the people he cared about knew he was innocent. Thor was constantly arguing with Fury, going over and over about how this was nonsensical and even offering Loki to flee to New Asgard for a few days until things calmed down. Valkyrie had offered him an extra room if he needed. Bruce, while he wasn’t as passionate about defending Loki, agreed that it made very little sense that Loki would betray them now with all he had accomplished. Even the great Tony Stark agreed between sarcastic jokes that he would’ve believed if he hadn’t seen how down bad, he was for you.

You… what would he do without you? You not only got into mad arguments and made abundantly clear your distaste for this decision, but you were his biggest source of support and peace after all the draining routine he was being put through during the suspension from missions. You were a risk taker by disobeying direct orders from Fury by asking Thor, Bruce, Nat, Clint to trade with you during missions as to make a strike until they decided to reintegrate Loki to his normal duties. And for the first week of interrogations, whenever it was your turn… Norns, he felt a bit bad for the director. You were quite loud and fierce when you wanted to be.

But most importantly, all the support he got from you after all the interrogations and room inspections that hurt him more than he’d ever admit.

“I’m sorry…” he sighed, resting his head on your lap.

In between the inspections to your shared bedroom one of the agents had broken a little figurine you collected.

“It’s just a toy, I’ll get another one…” you assured him.

Loki could sense a lie. But he also remembered how excited you had been when you got it, saying it was rare and it had taken you a huge effort to get it.

“You darling prince…” you spoke softly, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay. We know you’re innocent, soon all of S.H.I.E.L.D. will see it too. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

“What did I do so right to deserve such a pretty angel such as you?” he chuckled. “You are unfairly good to me.”

“You keep saying that baby.” You spoke gently, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear. “You sound like a broken record.”

“I might be one” he shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Yeah?” you giggled. “Then I’ll just have to fix you.”

“I thought you said the I can fix him was a toxic mentality in romance” he said cheekily.

“Oh, now you remember my movie rants” you laughed. “But the I can fix him trope is toxic when—”

“…It is used by the abuser who manipulates them into staying as a rehabilitation center. A partner should be part of your support group but never the responsible to fix you, but a motivation and helping hand while you fix yourself.” He opened his eyes to look up at you as he finished repeating your old rant word by word. “I always remember the things you say.”

“Is that so? When is our anniversary?”

“June 9” Loki smiled and noticed you opening your mouth to retort. “And our 1,000 days together is on March 5th year. And yes, I knew you were going to ask that.”

“Smart pants” you smiled.

“You love me like that.”

“I do” you smiled and kissed his lips softly. “Guess you don’t need fixing after all.”

“Glad we agree, I am the most perfect man” he grinned, relishing the way you cringed and smiled at the silly joke.

“I don’t know about that.” You smiled, “But you are perfect for me.”

You pecked his lips and made him smile.

“I don’t deserve you…” he smiled.

“Oh, that’s it!” you laughed and soon your hands where all over his sides.

And sooner than that Loki was laughing his head off.

“Hehe- hey!” he protested between laughs.

You had an annoying charm. Tickling him silly as a pseudo-punishment. It was your shared secret how much Loki enjoyed being tickled. You stopped soon enough, smiling at him, caressing your thumb across his cheek.

“It’ll pass before you notice…” you whisper. “They will see exactly what you truly are. Just like I do.”

Loki chuckled softly.

“I hope not, you are a handful already” he smirked at the offended look on your face due to his comment.

“Oh, you want to talk about a handful…” you growled as you flipped to straddle him. “Let’s see how much of a handful I can be…”

Loki gulped, unable to fight a smile.

“Ahah…” he huffed, “darling, d-don’t… d-dohohohon’t!”

But your hands were already attacking his sides, your fingers skillfully scribbling along his skin, prodding his ribs, drilling along each crevice in the most maddening way.

“Is that enough handful for you, huh?” you asked in a faux anger. “Eh? Is it?”

“Thihihihihihis is cruel!” Loki protested. “And thahahahat doesn’t mahahake sehehense!”

“Mmm, it might have just been excuse to get my hands on this hot bod of yours” you smiled.

Being tickled was already a vulnerable moment for Loki. To the point where only you could tickle him without any resistance. Anyone else would need to overpower him physically or just restrain him. You, on the other side, he would barely fight back. He’d simply squirm in his place, rolling over to the side or on his stomach. Which it gave you more of a sensation that he just wanted you to focus on other spots. Not that he'd ever admit… you had tried.

“Ehehehe! You ahahahaha— wait no!” he protested as your fingers reached his stomach, giving it little pinches and pokes. “Lohohohove, stop!”

“Alright, alright.” You smiled and kissed his forehead as you stopped the tickling. “Is your mood better?”

“Ihi— if I say yes will you stop torturing my stomach?” he smiled at you, holding onto your hips. “You know I can’t take it there.”

The way you leaned against his chest to kiss his lips never failed to drive him wild. And this wasn’t the exception.

“I am aware” you hummed against his lips. “That’s why it’s my favorite spot to tickle.”

“I am, unfortunately, also aware of that” he chuckled.

“If you really minded it, you’d actually do something to stop me instead of just laughing your heart out.”

“I love it when a beautiful mortal has their hands all over me, is that something to be ashamed about?” he grinned cheekily at you.

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “It wouldn’t be if you were still single. But you are stuck with me now and forgive me if I’m not good at sharing my boyfriend. Unless you’d share me with others.”

“That is out of the question. You are mine, and mine alone.” He said solemnly as he held you in his arms. You lifted your eyebrows, expectantly as he felt his cheeks warm up under your gaze. “As… I am yours; I suppose.”

“Was that so hard to say?” you smiled.

“Terribly so” Loki smiled. But then, his face adopted a serious, melancholic expression. “I’m sorry… I should not be dragging you into this disaster. You deserve better, and I fear you will realize that. It would be best for you, but… I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Lucky for you, that’s not something you have to worry about” you assured him, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I am perfectly happy with you.”

One thing that Loki loved about your relationship was that despite knowing you said stuff to made him feel better, it never came off as dishonest, as if those two concepts weren’t mutually exclusive. You said the kindest, most loving things, and he could tell you honestly felt every single one.

It made his heart soar. That honest and kind heart of yours was exactly what he had been craving for. You were what he had been looking for.

It made him want to open his heart to you. You were kind and listened to him without judging or thinking the worst of him.

“What am I going to do?” he sighed. “If I can’t go on missions, soon I will not be allowed to go outside, and then I will be going back to being a high-class prisoner.”

“Actually… you can’t leave the building given you’re under investigation” you said apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Lovely…” he groaned, throwing his head back, rubbing his face with his palms. “I am back to being a prisoner. Might as well get inside a cell.”

“Yes, we could tie you up, and torture you until you confess” you purred, trailing kisses along his jawline, as your hands made their way to play with his hair.

“You’re making it sound appealing” he hummed, relishing the feeling of your lips against his skin. “Mmm~ Keep touching me like that and I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Mm, what a good boy” you giggled, kissing his lips.

He laughed along with you, but mostly because your hands had found his ears and were tickling behind them.

“W-Whahahat are you doing? T-That tickles!” he laughed.

“I told you I would torture an answer out of you” you giggled, tickling the back of his ears. “Now confess, you war criminal!”

“Nohohoho, stohop it!” he squirmed underneath you. “How is thahahat spot so bahahad?”

“Right?” you chuckled, pressing loving kisses along his face. “I found out the other day while we were kissing.”

He grabbed your wrists. “Oh really?” he smirked, and trapped your wrists in one of his hands as he began tickling your ear shell and behind it. It took absolutely nothing to have you giggling like a kid.

“Ehehehe! L-Loki!” you giggled. “Hehehe! I-It tickles!”

“It does, does it not?” he chuckled.

He traced along the outline of your ear. He relished the way you laughed against him, you never tried to get away nor asked him to stop. You loved that closeness as much as Loki did.

“Mmm, that laugh of yours is so lovely~” he hummed as he stopped, tucking a few streaks of hair behind your ear. “It’s my favorite sound in the whole world, you make me so happy.”

“Cheesy” you chuckled, kissing his lips.

“I mean that, darling” he smiled. “Without you I would have gone mad by now. Or worse, I would be a prisoner.”

“You can’t believe that…” you spoke softly.

“What else am I supposed to believe?” he sighed, “what I did to New York is unforgivable. I should be locked up for life, I was going to be… It’s what I deserve. It took me too long to understand it.”

It broke your heart to hear him talk like that. It was a shame that he still punished himself so badly. You appreciated that he recognized his error, but the fact that it haunted him was painful to watch. He was already working on getting better.

“Loki… Your beef with Earth had its particular and complicated circumstances, it wasn’t 100% your fault.” You assured him. “But even if that was, there are other ways to atone for your mistakes… Punishing yourself but you were helping Earth, compensation is another way of redemption. Being an Avenger is a way to redeem yourself.”

“How do you do it?” he chuckled, “How do you manage to look at all the awful things I have done and still somehow see the best in me?”

“Because I’ve also seen how much you regret it, and I’ve seen you trying to prove to everyone, prove to yourself that you are doing better.” you spoke lovingly. “That means a lot, to me, to Thor, to everyone.”

“But why?” he asked. “What I did is…”

“Fucked up, yes. Tony and Bruce created a genocidal robot, Clint was an international criminal prisoner and retook as an assassin, Steve and Natasha were literal war criminals, your brother before you nearly started a war—”

“That I provoked him into.”

“Would you do it again?” you asked.

“For the sake of entertainment—” Loki pondered.

“Loki!” you giggled.

“I’m jesting, love!” he laughed. “Earth is no good in wars like Asgard, we fight to settle disagreements, make alliances, or get respect. But never to destroy.”

“We’re not so bad…” you smiled.

“Not all of you, no.” Loki agreed. “You for once are a wonderful mor— human. Smart, beautiful, funny, kind… It’s the people on the higher power that worry me.”

“It’s as they say, absolute power corrupts absolutely” you shrugged. “That’s what we fight for. For those without power, and against those who abuse it.”

“You say that as I remain locked in here, simply training and withering away” Loki sighed.

“Well… we can find something interesting to keep you occupied—”

“Reindeer games, out now!” Tony banged on the door.

“Not now Stark!” Loki called annoyed.

“You’ll want to see this.” Tony spoke through the other side of the door.

You stood up and Loki followed right after. Everyone was headed to the meeting room so that’s where you went to.

Bruce and Thor had one of the younger cadets, Philip. He was struggling against the two. His blonde hair was a mess and he looked like he had lost a fight.

“We found our traitor, brother.” Thor said firmly, even a bit prideful. “The little rat sabotaged our missions.”

“A double agent?” Steve asked.

“Self-sabotage” Bruce clarified. “He informed the base you were going. Who and when. And exactly how to take down a god. We found a report of the mission sent to an unknown address.”

“I found it.” Natasha stated.

“You?” Clint raised an eyebrow.

“We” she corrected herself.

“With my technology, that is.” Tony added. “In case anyone was wondering.”

“No one was wondering that, Tony” Steve smiled lightly, amused by the genius’ ego.

“But why? You were the only non-Avenger agent Loki chose personally” Thor asked. “My brother trusted you. And it was a wonderful opportunity for you.”

Fury looked… well, furious.

“Philip Crowe, you’re immediately and effectively removed from all S.H.I.E.L.D. work and installations, permanently for treason, espionage, and sabotage to an elite strike agent.” Fury said firmly.

“Elite?! He’s a monster!” the young man protested, struggling to break free from the arm lock. “It’s a time bomb! It’s in his nature! You’ve seen what he’s capable of! It’s a matter of time before we have New York part two! You’ve read myths, what guarantees that there won’t be a Ragnarök on Earth?! He—”

SMACK! He had been cut off by a slap in the face by you. If the stinging in his cheek was not enough to silence him, your cold glare silenced him.

“Take him away.” You said. “I want him rotting in a cell for a really long time…”

“Oh, he will be locked in the dark for a very long time” Fury agreed, “for espionage, and sabotage… And being an asshole as a whole.”

Thor was about to take him away. He was struggling to break free.

“Don’t.” Loki spoke up. “I’ll use a spell to delete his memories, about S.H.I.E.L.D. about the Avengers. Everything will be gone from his mind. He can live a normal life not remembering being an agent.”

Loki walked and looked down at him. Placed his hand on his forehead as the blond struggled. Loki let his Seidr flow and Philip’s body went limp.

“When he wakes up, he’ll be normal, he can have a normal life, he won’t be a risk for S.H.I.E.L.D.” he sighed and left the room.

Flowers bloomed under him as he sat by the lake. Just enjoying the familiar view. But not even that brought him any joy.

“Loki, there you are, honey.”

“Hello mother” Loki smiled. “I was just… thinking.”

“I thought you would be happy to get your naming” Frigga said. “You were excited this morning to receive your title.”

“God of Mischief, mother?” he asked. “Does that mean I’m supposed to cause trouble?”

“Is that so bad?”

“Will father get upset at me?” Loki asked. “Besides, you like annoying your brother.”

“Pranking Thor is different. Why could I be the God of rain, wind, or something, then Thor and I could be gods together.”

“You can’t revolve your personality around Thor. Your godly title is meant to reflect your personality, not your brother’s” Frigga smiled at him gently. “Your father gave you a title that would fit you.”

“Does father think I’m a bad son?” he asked.

“I think your father thinks you’re creative, smart, with good abilities to get away with what you want” Frigga assured him. “All qualities you do have. And you are quite cheeky.”

Loki chuckled weakly. Frigga smiled and picked up a purple flower and wiggled it against Loki’s face. Causing the young god to scrunch up his nose and swat the pretty flower away.

“You know, son. I think it’s time for you to start learning magic” Frigga said.

“But you said I had to wait until I was 500 years old” Loki asked.

“I think you’re ready” Frigga said, “You’re 250 years old already, and you just got your title. You are a big boy now.”

With a few elegant movements the violet on Frigga’s hands turned into a purple frog that jumped out of hands and into the pond. Loki giggled as his mother’s arms trapped him into a hug as she tickled his sides.

“Pretty memory” you looked at him as you sat next to him. “Your mom is pretty.”

“Most beautiful woman in all of Asgard” Loki agreed. “Do you know what Orvokki means?”

“Uhh, it’s a violet, right?” you said looking at the flowers around the lake.

“It can also be interpreted as little orphan. How ironic that it was my favorite flower as a child…” Loki grumbled.

He flicked his wrist and the illusion of his memory vanished. He was no longer in Asgard, he was sitting on the rooftop of the compound’s main building. He wasn’t with his mother. And his eyes were red from crying.

“That was really nice thing you did back there” you congratulated him as you rubbed circles across his back.

“Not bad for a monster, huh?” Loki huffed out, in a failed attempt to fake out a laugh. “Did you see the way he looked at me? The fear in his eyes…?”

“Don’t listen to him…” you said resting your head against his shoulder. “He never gave you a chance to prove how good you really are. That’s his problem, not yours.”

“I can’t blame him… I would not trust me either… I am a monster, I was a monster to my people, to my home…” he sighed.

“What? No, Loki…”

“My birth father abandoned me to die, I was raced by a kingdom that thought my kind were monsters…” Loki sighed, “and I caused so much pain and death to a Realm that could’ve seen me as something quite literally divine.”

You looked at him and squeezed his hand.

“I thought… I hoped I had a second chance, I wanted to believe people were already accepting me. I thought that if I could have at least one agent to trust me… How foolish of me…”

“Stop that…” you scolded him, giving his hand a gentle and loving squeeze. “You’re not a monster. No one sees you as a monster.”

Loki laughed bitterly. While you weren’t lying in the literal sense, you were being too kind, blinded by your affection for the young Asgardian to acknowledge the recent events.

“I mean it!” you said. “You’re so focused on one person thinking you’re a monster, that you fail to see what everyone else did because they believed in you. They all helped in their own way to prove you were innocent. Either tracking conversation, providing resources… Gosh, even director Fury trusted you were innocent.”

“I…” Loki recapped the events from earlier. You weren’t wrong.

“Besides, you know how picky I am when it comes to dating” you smiled, “I wouldn’t date just anyone. Is that not enough for you?”

Loki was silent for a moment, for once he didn’t even have a smart reply for that.

He had seen you turn down a couple of agents or staff members before the two of you started dating. Philip among the lines of the rejected. In fact, he remembered that during that time where the other Avengers noticed his feelings for you, some of them tried to discourage him from courting you, because “you didn’t date.” In fact, they had brought it up, on his face to prove it so. You were, in fact, very picky when it came to dating. Which just made him value your relationship even more. It gave him a huge confidence boost, and the security of not being replaced or overshadowed he so desperately had been needing.

And once again, you were that source of comfort and security. You were his sweet little balm.

“I… um…” he stuttered.

You chuckled and kissed his cheek.

“Tongue tied?” you teased him, making him groan in frustration as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Just… don’t give him power over you, if he didn’t bother knowing you, he shouldn’t deserve such a space in your mind.”

“Thanks, love” he smiled softly. “For… looking after me. And… helping me see that others look after me.”

“Heh… I’m glad I helped” you spoke lovingly as you rubbed your nose against his neck.

He chuckled rested his cheek against the top of your head.

“Should we head inside?” you asked, rubbing your own arms, as you stood up “it’s a bit chilly out here.”

“You can go inside, love” Loki offered. “I need some time alone.”

You looked at him worried, but a gust of cold wind made you shiver, making the idea of going inside more and more appealing. But he saw the hesitation in your eyes, the way you didn’t want to leave him alone made him smile.

“I promise I’ll meet you inside later” he assured you. But you didn’t look too convinced “Make some tea for us, and I’ll meet you in our room before you’re done putting on your pajamas.”

You gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher but you nodded and made your way inside.

He relished the fresh air. But as he mentally prepared to be burdened with his failure, he surprised himself smiling. His mind wasn’t clouded with the young spy that betrayed him.

All he could think was that all the original Avengers, those he had cursed himself for unintentionally helping assemble to defeat him… now had stood up for him. And it didn’t stop there.

His mind was filled with happy memories.

All the times he had gotten a pat in the back from Tony and being called his new favorite for teasing Steve’s righteous stiffness and the way Bucky and Sam snickered at it. As well as his training contests with the super soldiers to test their serum with Loki and Thor’s godly nature. How he beamed with pride at the blond’s praise after a mission. The way Natasha and her little sister acknowledge his ability to infiltrate and swoon targets and even required him specifically. How Clint and his little new protegee had gotten really happy when Loki gifted them his old Asgardian bows for them, despite the teasing when they saw right through his “I don’t even use them” excuse and treated for dinner after. Bruce acknowledging his observation capabilities during some of his experiments. Thor… who despite all the awful things they had gone through never abandoned him, and still saw Loki as his baby brother, and despite they refused to admit it, both still adored each other.

And you. You had stolen his heart from minute one. He had been hopeless before the first kiss or even a declaration. Your eyes brought him to his knees, and he had sworn to be at your mercy for the rest of his existence when he saw you smile. And with that power you had over him done nothing but nourish him. Your payback when he pestered you was always fun and harmless. You made him laugh. You listened to everything he said and always encouraged him to keep talking until he was hoarse. You gave him the attention he had been craving for so many years. You treated him as the most important being of the universe.

Honestly, he didn’t realize when his thoughts had set him in motion. But by the time he was aware of his actions, he was already turning the doorknob of your shared bedroom.

“Liar” you scoffed, throwing a teddy bear to his face as soon as he set foot inside the room. “You said you’d be here before I was done putting on my jammies, but it’s been 5 minutes since I got in bed, and you weren’t here.”

Loki couldn’t help but smile. For a secret agent, you were terrible at hiding your feelings… at least from him.

“I apologize for not keeping my word, love” he apologized as he took off his shirt and searched through his drawer for the pajama he wanted to wear. “I lost track of time.”

“Did you drink?” you asked him.

“I did not. I trusted my favorite thing to make me tea” he responded with an innocent look as he put on his pajama shirt.

“It’s on your night table” you responded with the slightest pout, knowing you it was because he saw right through you.

He walked to the warm mug and took a sip. Of course, you had prepared his favorite tea… and with extra honey, just the way he liked. Everyone always complained there would never be enough for everyone if you kept spoiling Loki with his favorite all the time. You always got more, but it just meant starting the cycle again.

“Thank you, dear” he smiled as he kneeled on the bed to reach and cup your face to kiss your cheek.

Oh, how he wanted to tackle you and cover you in kisses at the way you fought and lost against the smile that appeared on your lovely face along with a light shade of pink.

“So adorable…” he chuckled.

As he was taking off his pants, he saw the way your blush turned even darked. He rushed to put on the pajama pants and dove in the bed, wrapping his arms around you in a loving embrace with his chest against your back.

“You’re in a lovely mood” you smiled as you reached to caress his cheek. “What gives?”

“I just thought about a lovely little mortal” he hummed pressing soft kisses on your nape, “that makes my darkest days bright and cozy.”

“Do you have a fever or something?” you touched his forehead.

“No, I mean it!” he laughed. “I stayed back to think… and all I could think about was your love, your kindness, and this hot body of yours…”

As he spoke that last bit, he reached to caress your sides, making you giggle.

“Loki…!” you giggle swatting his hand away. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“You know I am” he whispered, resting his face against your shoulder. Taking in your scent, closing his eyes as he relaxed. “Norns, what would I do without you?”

“Probably snuggle your pillow tonight” you smiled. “But you’d be fine.”

“I would not…” Loki choked up, as he felt tears forming in his eyes. “I would be lost; I would be absolutely nothing without you. A monster…”

“No, no, baby…” you spoke softly, turning around to face him. “You’ve worked really hard to be better… That’s all you, you are utterly and undoubtedly wonderful…”

The way you always made him feel better was almost scary. Your word was law. If you said he was so good, then… perhaps he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

“I love you…” he whispered. “Thank you…”

“What for?”

“For being my second chance… For believing I was more than the man that caused so much pain to your people…”

“Second chances are earned, Loki” you said. “You’ve earned it.”

He laughed softly when you rose up to sit on his waist, straddling him with your legs as you gave him a pseudo-menacing look.

“Now speak poorly of my sweet cuddly honeybun and you will be sorry…” you said in the worse threatening tone he had ever heard.

He cringed and laughed softly at the overly cheesy pet name.

“Oh gods…” he muttered with a shaky smile as his lips twitched upwards, amused by the situation. “You goofball.”

You let out an offended gasp and started tickling his sides, immediately making him giggle like a child.

“W-Wait! Dahahaharling! I’m sohohohohohrry!” he whined between laughs.

“Nope! Sorry ain’t gonna cut it this time, you insult me, you insult my prince… you deserve being chastised” you said playfully as you tickled his belly, which always made him hysterical.

“NAHAHAHA! STOP! STOP! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” he cackled, soon wheezing. He was so ridiculously ticklish that had had no chance fighting back or think about anything else but the tingles that made him howl with laughter.

But he wouldn’t change this kind of silly fun with his darling for the world. And if he was honest with himself, this was a great thing to focus on.

| MASTERPOST |

[sixosix]

( a/n ) light angst, hurt/comfort, PROFANITY WARNING, guys im so sorry this is so short but its all im capable of rn

special mention TYSM @earthtooz for proofreading i owe u my soul

he’s always been a little sensitive to people caring for him. he’s used to taking care of others, to have his parents let him get away with everything, and he’s spent his life isolating himself from people who would see him past what he is but for who he is.

reo rolls his shoulder to shove your hand off of him, frowning at the wall. “you know me well enough already, don’t you? you know that i hate it when you get like this.”

“this isn’t good for you, reo. you’re destroying yourself,” you snarl, jabbing at his back. “i’m sick of seeing you like this. i’m not a babysitter, nor your therapist.”

“i’m not asking you to worry about me, am i?” he snaps, finally turning to meet your eyes.

anger boils in your chest, but you let it simmer with a few deep breaths. reo isn’t thinking properly right now, raving on and on about not working hard enough, and how he isn’t catching up. “there isn’t a professional boundary between us, i care for you because i love you. right now, when you say shit like that? i can barely give a fuck about you anymore.”

reo’s sharp scowl falters around the edges, giving way to confusion. “where are you going?” he demands when you make your way to the door.

“away,” you say, slipping your shoes on and refusing to look at him. “you said you need space, right? then i’ll give it to you. we’re over.”

“fine.” his tone is biting, but his voice sounds strange. “fine…”

he’s still lethargic, you tell yourself; he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and he’ll regret it later. but he doesn’t stop you.

maybe if you were to glance back at him one last time, you’d see the broken expression on his face hitting him right after.

from the start, reo’s always been expecting you would leave him. everyone does that to him, anyway. even nagi, who he still considers his best friend. it was a little too good to be true with you, so he tells himself that this was bound to happen. that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when it finally happens.

reo groans, shoving his face into his pillow. his friends snicker at his misery, so reo does what he needs to and flips them off with two hands. but as a groveling man with his face hidden by his sheets, it does not paint the intimidating picture he wanted.

“it hasn’t even been that long,” nagi remarks. he doesn’t spare reo a glance so unfortunately, he doesn’t get see reo flashing him with his middle finger.

“mmrgh,” reo says, still pressed against his bed.

isagi pats him on the shoulder, which doesn’t help anyone, but it’s the thought that counts.

“record him, record him, do it,” bachira says, clapping nagi on the back repeatedly, his strength enough to jostle him back and forth. obediently, nagi follows, pointing his phone camera right at a moping reo.

“day two without y/n,” nagi says to his future audience. “barely holding on.”

“i feel awful,” reo groans. “y/n blocked me.”

“do you regret what you said?” isagi asks.

“‘course i do,” reo hisses, offended that he would even ask that. “i was an asshole. y/n was right—y/n’s always right. i’m stupid.”

bachira snorts, “keep fighting, reo!” and barely manages to dodge the pillow thrown his way.

the camera pans back to reo, who’s looking red in the face, awfully pathetic. “fuck off. don’t post that. y/n’s gonna see it and make fun of me when we’re back again.”

nagi posts it anyway.

chigiri hums thoughtfully, waving a hand in front of your face. “you don’t look like you moved on to me.”

you splutter, shoving his phone back onto him. you feel your heart pound in your ears and with the way chigiri smiles knowingly, you almost wonder if he can hear it, too. “shut up! why did he say that? i hate him.”

“sure you do. say what?”

“‘when we’re back together again’ like he’s so sure about it,” you try to say it like you’re angry, but your expression resembles reo from that video. it doesn’t come out as you want it.

reo looks much better now. nagi says that reo religiously followed your advice right after and has been faring better, which is a real shame since you can’t even see it for yourself. he looks less pale and much brighter, but instead of the anger you last saw him with, he’s just become a carbon copy of a wet blanket.

“aren’t you?” chigiri watches the post again, just to torment you with your sniveling ex. “getting back together again, i mean.”

“i’m leaving.”

“yeah? and go where? reo’s bed?”

“i’ll strangle you!”

[jwillbiteyourfingersoff]

Ch.1 : Meet Cute

Norm Maclean loves his sister, and after Betty finds out about his discovery in vault 31, he is forced out into the wastelands to "find her"

Norm Maclean/Gn!Surface!Reader

Ch: 2

Another day in an unloving wasteland, in an unloving life, and undignified exile. Getting adopted then expelled from the brotherhood of steel in 6 months had to be some kind of laughable record. Stalking through the desolate stretches of sand and broken down buildings put a hamper on my mood, but sitting alone in one of said buildings and finding some rations and a place to rest let my sour mood settle for a while. Taking the goggles from my eyes and laying them besides the palette, hand still on my hostler, I closed my eyes for a possible 30 minutes of sweet escape from the world surrounding me.

This slumber, of course, was interrupted by the sounds of approaching feet. An eye shoots open, the hand still resting lightly on my pistol tightens, readying to shoot an angry cannibal (or maybe a ghoul?) straight between the eyes. “Fuck off unless you want your brains as some fresh paint for these walls.” I bark, pointing my pistol at the entrance of the half destroyed structure. The footsteps stop, and a small noise seems to come from the entrance. I walk closer, pistol still aimed and ready, trying to sneak a peek outside the slanted door. I see someone dressed in all blue, yellow accents curving their suit and…

“Holy shit.” I whisper, not believing what I’m seeing for a moment. “A… vault dweller?” I lower my gun slightly as I continue to scan the man before me. He's slim, slight in his build, almost mousey. His hair is fluffed and he looks like hes actually most likely showered in the past week. “I thought all y’all were dead. What are you doing up here?” I question him, gun now less of a concern to keep up at all times.

“I-” The vault boy croaks before coughing, “My name is Norm. I’m looking for my sister.” He raises his hand up to his sides as he takes a very small step forward, showing his lack of weapons and threat to me as best he can. “Her name is Lucy, she has a suit with a 33 on it like me.” He continues to speak cautiously and slowly, as if trying to communicate with an animal. “I don't want trouble or to hurt you, I just want to know if you've seen her.” He looks at me, sincere and hiding his fear well.

I study his face. Hes admittedly quite cute, but that might be because he doesn't look like he's starving and rotting at the same time. His big brown eyes feel… trustable. Truly a unique trait on the surface, same as his uncracked lips and clean(ish) face. “I haven't seen your sister, vault boy.” He seems to deflate a bit, some of the hopeful energy he carries seems to vanish.

“Oh. Alright, then. Have a…” He looks behind me, into the sand filled, ramshackle building, “…palatable rest of your day.” He begins to walk backwards, and I lower my gun. He lets out a sigh of relief and turns around as I do so. He begins stomping through the sand away from me, but something makes me want him to stay.

“You know, a vaulty like you ain't gonna make it long alone out here.” I yell after him. “The only reason I didn't shoot ya is because I don't like killing people who ain't carrying no weapons.” I re-holster my gun, putting my hands on my hips as I watch him try to ignore me. “Not a lot of people are gonna be as kind, especially not to a vaulty like you.” He stops for a moment, turning to look at me in a mix of annoyance and fear. “That 33 might as well be a big ol target on your back.”

He turns to look at me fully, facing me as he seems to scan me “And why should I trust what you say?”

I shrug “Shouldn't, really. But if you want someone who don't kill for fun or food, I’m the best you got for miles.” Leaning against the door, I cross my arms. We stare at one another for a long while, him searching for answers in a purposefully cryptic face. “This is the only livable shelter for a long while, I’m willing to share as long as you promise not to steal any of my shit.” The deal comes out of the blue even for me, often I’m not willing to share my spaces but something about him seemed different. Maybe it was because he was a vaulty, their whole shtick was being harmless and wanting to help right?

Hey y'all! this is the first chapter in a series that I'm gonna be doing about Norm post-season 1, hope y'all like it :]

[world-of-aus]

Hi, Hello and Welcome To Today’s Gym Thought..

Feat. Criminal!Bucky

Momma I’m in love with a criminal???

The warehouse was abandoned, quiet, the only sound was the soft crunch of the occasional broken glass beneath your foot.  

Detective Walker is ahead of you gun drawn high as he makes his way through the warehouse, every corner he turns a silent prayer is on your lips that he’s not here despite the sources that had brought the two of you here. 

“Walker it’s a bust,” you try, “he’s not here, look at the place it’s empty.” 

The blonde turns advancing on you, you don’t back down meeting his glare. “The perfect grounds for vermin like him!” he hisses. “I am not leaving this place till every square inch has been checked, every crate turned over, every office examined, do you understand detective!”  

“I'm not your enemy here walker get your goddamn gun out of my face.” You grit gesturing to the gun he waves around wildly.  “Yeah, well you’re acting like it, why don’t you be useful for once and go check one of the damn offices, I got the floor.” 

You turn without another word, heading your chiefs warning of your partner from earlier, “don’t let him deter you from what the two of you are going in to do, he’s a hothead detective y/l/n – reactive, you need to stay cool, one of you needs to be the brains of this operation.” 

Taking the rusty stairs two at a time you make it up to the lone dusty office that overlooks the warehouse, you spot Walker creeping through the shadows, eyes and gun trained ahead. You lead with your gun as you step into the office, it's quiet, eerily dark. You descend further into the room, looking one way then another. You examine the crooks and crannies for anything, you find nothing, you let out a silent breath, he wasn’t here.  

A curse leaves your breath when you turn and find him. You’ve got your gun raised and pressed against this chest in record time, Walker's growl of your name piercing the stale air.  

The brunette gives you a pointed stare, “Answer him.”  

“I’m fine Walker, nothing up here, just a rat!” you grit, holding the man’s gaze before you the whites of his teeth shine in the moonlight gleaming through the broken glass. 

“Alright I'm heading out to the docks, stop messing around up there!” 

You want to roll your eyes, but they stay trained on the man before you, “What are you doing here!” you hiss when the warehouse falls quiet once more. 

His grin only grows, hands slowly coming up to cradle the gun you have pressed against his chest, he could easily disarm you if he wanted. “They said you were looking for me.” 

Your jaw clenches, “We are, and you’re not supposed to be here.” 

“Worried for me Lisichka?” 

You press the gun harder into his chest, he chuckles, “let’s get one thing straight here Barnes my job is always to get the right guy not a wrongfully convicted one, so no unfortunately I’m not worried for you, I’m worried about locking up the wrong guy.” 

He chuckles again before he does exactly what you knew he would, he’s got you disarmed and in his arms in a second. His front is flush to your back, lips by the hollow of your ear, “you know Lisichka, for someone not worried about me, you sure make my safety your top priority.” 

“Don’t think too much of it Barnes, I’m just doing my job.” 

His laughter ghosts over the skin of your neck, fingers trailing along your clothed skin as he circles you like a predator, he stops in front of you. “It’s endearing how much you care detective, though you know you don’t need too.” 

You roll your eyes, “I refuse to watch the wrong person be incarcerated because of revenge.” 

He touches your cheek, “Lisichka.” 

There’s a bang from downstairs Walker growling your name, “Y/l/n, get down here, we got another lead, bastards moving!” 

Your eyes flicker, from the door back to his, he’s grinning, “Go lisichka, we’ll be seeing each other soon.” 

Walkers screaming your name now, your feet carrying you out the door, and when you look back he’s gone – like a ghost. 

[libraryofloveletters]

Sing It With Me

John Stones x Fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol and the consumption of, the boys are so unhinged - especially john and kyle, ruben's in his vlogging era, sash are sooo over them, broken tables, terrible singing, jack and erling are attached at the hip per usual, reader is ready to go to bed and not deal with them, a few minor injuries.

Word Count: 834

Author's Note: I feel like this perfectly captures what the man city christmas parties would look like lmao

--

John’s Christmas parties were famous for being crazy and unhinged, much like their host himself; because who else would end up drunk on a table, singing Christmas carols? 

John's Christmas party was famous amongst the Manchester City players; a night of fun, antics and plenty of booze.

Coincidently, your husband's ideal idea of a perfect night.

It was a week before Christmas and it's nearing 4am. "Are you sure you don't want to wait for him? You'll be alright to get home alone?" You asked Sasha, walking with her to the front door.

The woman nods, "he's not gonna leave anytime soon, I'd be shocked if he was home when I woke up."

Both you and Sasha knew how Jack was, his tendency to party outweighing his logical decisions.

You laughed, giving her a hug. "I'll keep an eye on him, keep him out of trouble. Let me know when you get home, yeah?"

"Of course," she smiles and you watch her walk to her car and get in before you shut the door and rejoin the group in the living room.

The boys who were left; Ruben, Jack, Erling and Kyle, were all drunk and giggling about who knows what. Your husband was pouring another round of shots when you dropped yourself on the couch next to Ruben.

"Tired?" He asks, his fingers tapping along his thigh to the beat of Last Christmas by WHAM that was playing quietly.

"Exhausted."

John comes in, tray in hand as he passes the shots around to the boys. He sits on the arm rest of the couch, his own arm around you. "Cheers! Happy Christmas!"

The seven of you messily attempt to tap your glasses together and down the shots.

At that very moment, it seemed as if the music had bitten your husband. He began singing terribly off key. You groan, slouching back into the couch. "Johnny, please.. don't start."

"Last Christmas I gave you my heart but the very next day you gave it away," he gets up, pointing to you as he sings.

Kyle jumps up from his spot, getting onto the coffee table. "This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special!" He shimmed along to the music and you can't help but laugh.

John joins his friend on the coffee table, the two of them dancing and singing along; it sounded more like screeching rather than singing. You assume it's the thought that counts.

Before you know it, Jack's up on the couch and singing too.

"Once bitten and twice shy. I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye." He does his little dance, hips popping from side to side.

It seems to have become the Manchester City musical in here because Erling gets up, tv remote in hand as a microphone when he too starts to sing. "Tell me baby, do you recognize me? Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me!"

You roll your eyes, "oh my god."

"Y/n! Y/n! What do you think?" Ruben shouts from behind his phone, the flash on as he points to you - he decided to make a video of their lovely performance.

"It's fantastic, 10/10 truly."

Erling grabs John's arm, leaving Jack to bounce on the couch alone.

"It's not gonna hold, you guys. The table isn't meant for that many-" And before you could finish your sentence, and just as Ruben pans to them, there's a crack and the table collapses in on itself.

"Are you guys okay?" You're out of your seat as fast as they fall on each other.

"Erling!" Jack gets off the couch and helps his friend up.

Ruben is still standing there, phone in hand as he recorded all the chaos. You, on the other hand, help Kyle up and then pull John up off the floor.

It takes you a second to check all of them, making sure the broken glass and wood hasn't nicked them anywhere. Kyle slouched on the couch, Ruben was 'interviewing' him, asking him about his performance and what he thought of it.

Erling was sitting on the floor, his head on Jack's knee while Jack was trying to take a selfie of them.

John was lying on the floor still, next to the broken coffee table.

"I told you the table couldn't hold all of you." You tell them, coming back to put a bandaid on John's wrist. "It was fun though," John mumbles, his arm pulling you down onto his chest.

Kyle gives Ruben a shove, the Portuguese take that as a sign to stop recording. "I'll buy you a new table." Kyle mumbles, taking a sip of his beer that he had left next to the couch.

Technically, it was Erling who broke it, so..." You trailed off, looking at the man who was half asleep.

Erling gives you a thumbs up, "send me the link, I'll buy it."

You can't help but smile as you look around the living room; all you husband's teammates and closest friends were here, all drunk and sprawled out, chaotic as ever.

It's not the holidays without the chaos, is it?

[satoruoo]

VIA VIA VIA HEAR ME OUT. secret santa b they get u and accidentally spill it / the big reveal…

(NOT SO) SECRET SANTA - aki hayawaka

summary: despite aki's best efforts to keep your gift a secret, his (stupid) roommates somehow manage to spoil the surprise.

genre: fluff, non-devil au, everyone is happy, crack

warnings: swearing, denji, f!reader, suggestive

notes: hope u like it babe !! this is my apology for the recent aki slander 😈🔥

now playing: rockin' around the christmas tree - brenda lee

"for the millionth time, do not tell [name] i got her, understood?"

denji and power sit crossed-legged on the floor, looking only half interested in what aki is saying. they're dressed in christmas gear from head to toe, heads swaying slightly to the christmas music coming from the record player.

power looks awfully happy with the pair of antlers that denji unwillingly brought her from the store after she threatened to throw a fit in the middle of the aisle. they're decorated with little bells, and every time she nods her head, aki can visibly tell how delighted she is from the jingles that they make. she now refuses to take them off.

denji's gone for a more traditional approach, sporting a santa hat with a light up pom pom at the end.

(the hat also says "ho! ho! ho!" if the button on the left is pressed, but denji had overused it so much that aki cut it open and took out the speaker. he then burnt the speaker. denji was told told it must have broken.)

"duh, i ain’t a snitch!" denji claims, saluting his roommate with a shit-eating grin. he would snitch, aki is fully aware of that. bribe him with a lollipop or a tit squeeze? done deal.

"why are we not allowed to tell her?" power asks, fiddling with rudolph's nose on her christmas jumper.

aki audibly groans, fingers working at his temples in exasperation. "because, it’s a secret santa. we aren’t supposed to tell anyone who we got."

power's face twists in mild disgust, "what is the point of that?! just give me my present now!"

aki rolls his eyes, raking his fingers through his dark hair, "because it builds the suspense, power. do you want to have all your gifts now and have none on christmas day?"

she seems to quieten at that, closing her eyes as she mulls over his words. after three agonizing seconds of her silence and aki wondering whether it'd be easier to just throw himself out of the nearest window, power pouts and nods.

denji dramatically sighs before aki can say anything further, slapping her twice on the back in an attempt to comfort her, "i feel ya, powey."

the girl mirrors the sigh, slumping against denji as she flips aki off with a scowl.

"you should thank me, human! i will not go and tell [name] that you have her!" she declares smugly, resting her body weight on the male next to her.

aki vaguely hears "ow, fuck! power, y’re crushin’ me! how the fuck are ya so heavy?!" and a loud slap that probably came from power as he walks away.

• . ✿ ° × . *.

aki really does try his hardest to keep the secret.

he finds himself slapping a hand over denji's mouth when he almost lets it spill, and shoving a piece of food into power's when the topic of the secret santa comes up.

it's only halfway through december. he doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up. he can tell you're starting to pick up on something fishy and it's beginning to stress him out.

"and so aki has-"

"what are you doing?"

power freezes up at the sound of aki's voice, head lifting from your lap as she scrambles to defend herself.

"nothing!" she says a pitch higher than usual.

your eyes narrow at aki who sends a subtle glare in power's direction before taking a seat beside you on the couch. you're immediately taking his hand in yours, rubbing the pad of your thumb over his knuckles to soothe his anger.

the man melts so quickly that it should be embarrassing, shoulders relaxing with a simple touch.

"she was telling me about secret santa," you fill in gently, "something about who everyone has."

power wishes she was dead.

the glare that aki gives her makes certain that she'll be banned from chocolates for at least a week. that's practically the same as death.

"was she now?" aki asks, an angry rumble in his throat.

the girl is looking at anything but his face; when had the wall become so interesting? look at that, is that a new vase? what are denji's pornos doing on the floor-

"why don't you tell both of us, power?"

before anything else can be said, she shoots up from her spot on the couch sweating bullets.

"meowy needs to shit!" is all she says before leaving the room at hurricane speeds. (if only she were that quick to close her mouth.)

you smile, turning to look at your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow.

"so?" you question, idly threading your fingers through his.

"so, what?" aki responds.

he can tell from the way a small laugh escapes those pretty lips that playing dumb isn't going to work.

"nothing, just a bad day." he tries, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"you're snapping at power because of a 'bad day'?" you state, scepticism evident in your tone. "righhhht."

aki chuckles into your flesh, placing a chaste kiss there before pulling away. "yeah, that's all."

you press a kiss to his lips, tongue swiping over his. "sure, okay. i'll let you have this one, handsome."

the edges of his mouth tip up at the nickname and silent relief fills his veins at the clarification that you won't push the matter.

"thanks, love."

• . ✿ ° × . *.

aki swears on his life that he tries his hardest to keep the secret.

it's just that denji and power are not good secret keepers. they're a pair of loudmouths who are easily bribed. if not for your presence to keep him sane, aki's sure he would have strangled denji and confiscated power's antlers. actually, he's sure that if the gift he'd gotten you wasn't so important, he'd have let his roommates tell you already.

"makima, c'monnnn! i licked the floor so ya owe me a tit squeeze!" denji whines in a kneeling position on the floor.

going out for christmas lunch with you, his two roommates and makima may be one of the best and worst decisions aki's ever made in his life.

power still has her antlers on with a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, you had to persuade her to wear it, as she makes fun of her friend. there are still remnants of the snowball fight he was forced to engage in on her coat, and her nose is pink from the one denji threw in her face.

denji is as desperate as ever - shame didn't seem to find a place in his vocabulary. his purposefully broken santa hat is still finding a home atop his dirty blonde hair, though the pom pom looks like it's about to give up and fall off.

you on the other hand look ethereal in his eyes, a smile etched into your gorgeous features. with every small giggle that escapes your lips, aki feels his chest constrict almost painfully, heart thumping loudly within his ribcage.

you're still holding his hand; you have been for the past three hours.

"only if you tell me who aki has for secret santa, denji." makima answers, voice silky smooth.

it's meant as a joke 100%. everyone else in the room, even power, understood the joke. curse aki for forgetting denji's inability to read social cues.

"he has [name]!!"

on december 23rd, the day before christmas eve, denji tells makima who he has for secret santa in exchange for a tit squeeze. typical.

there's silence for a while. no one really knows what to say. all eyes are on the dark-haired male who genuinely seems to be in the middle of a breakdown.

denji's all frozen up and fully ready to make a run for it if needs be.

"i already know he has me, though." you say, confused.

comically, multiple heads whip towards you.

"...you do?" aki breathes, annoyance towards denji disappearing as fast as it came.

"well if you didn't already know, you suck at keeping secrets, honey. i've known for ages."

part of him feels relieved. if you already knew, then technically he didn't fuck up. technically, it didn't even count-

"it doesn't take a genius to figure it out, you know."

"for real, bro. i knew ya sucked ass like in general but not at lying as well-"

denji will be dead by morning.

BONUS:

"your secret santa gift was an engagement ring?" power asks, mortified.

"what a shitty gift!" denji pipes up, "it's not even edible- ow!"

you chuckle, fiddling with the ring that fits perfectly around your finger as aki smacks denji's arm.

"really? i think it's a wonderful gift." you muse, "it'll last way longer than food."

"so what?! food stays in your tummy forever!" power argues with her hand pointing at her stomach.

"no the fuck it doesn't! ya shit it out, duh!"

their bickering falls upon deaf ears as aki steals a sneaky kiss from you.

"merry christmas, [name]. i hope we'll spend many more together." his cheeks are definitely not dusted pink as he says that. not at all.

[chaotic-iguana]

Hello, I would like to request a story about Joel (no apocalypse) who picking up reader from their workplace. However, as the reader is walking towards the car, she experience a hit-and-run accident or another type of accident (you can choose freely).

Joel, who witnesses the accident becomes extremely panicked and protective during and after reader out the hospital. Joel is deeply traumatized and afraid that something bad might happen to the reader. I need fluff and angst Joel and you are excellent at creating it 🥺💖

thank you anon! you’re so sweet, i really appreciate you and the prompt! im going to make this an installment of the husband! joel verse (introduced in tease)

Borrowed time

Summary: Reader gets hurt, and Joel doesn’t know how to deal with it. (no-outbreak! au)

Wordcount: 1.7K

Pairing: husband joel x f! reader (no use of y/n)

Warning: angst, hurt/comfort, near-death experiences, blood, a little gore, allusions to sex 

masterlist

Your car had broken down last week, so Joel had been dropping you off and picking you up from work. You’d resisted at first, suggested walking or cycling or even the bus - all of which had been met with the same incredulous expression etched onto your husband’s face, an eyebrow raised at you in amusement. ‘As if, honey’ was all he’d snark at you before shushing you when you tried to argue about the fact that this would add an hour and a half to his route after dropping Sarah off in the mornings and  two hours in the evenings, which felt unsustainable for you since your car was at the mechanic’s garage for the foreseeable future. At that, he’d just huff and mumble something about not minding the extra time with you that much, and your heart would just melt again. 

The two of you settled into the new routine fairly quickly; Joel chuckling at your sleepy grumbling in the mornings and getting teased by you when he was grumpier and complaining about his aching back in the evenings. “Too far past your bedtime, old man?”, paired with a shit-eating grin as you watched him scowl and shake his head at you, turning back to the road as his lips twitched ever-so-slightly upwards. Enough for you to make iterations of the same joke every evening, just to watch him fight his smile. 

On a seemingly normal thursday morning, you’d been slightly distracted by a meeting you had with your bosses. The board of directors, actually, and the anxiety was practically crippling you by the time Joel was ushering you and Sarah into his truck. There was just so much that could go wrong, but if it went right, it would result in a massive promotion with a pretty nifty raise and four-day work weeks. Which sounds amazing, but you were sure it would feel even better. A whole extra day? 

Joel rested a hand on your knee to stop its bouncing, the warmth of his palm seeping through your jeans and immediately crushing the wave of nervousness that had been rising in you. “Look at me, sweetheart. You’re gonna crush it. And ‘f for whatever reason you don’t, we’ll go out an’ watch that movie you’d been wantin’ to, even pig out on icecream after. Whaddya call it? Self-care.” His words made you burst out laughing and lean over to kiss his cheek. 

“That actually sounds good. And for the record, I call taking a bubble bath self care, not swallowing five pints of icecream at three am. Like you apparently have the ability to.” He mock-frowned while beaming in the rear-view mirror. 

“Technically honeymoons are to learn new things about each other. Plus, we’d been fuckin’ an’ passin’ out with damn near no breaks f’thirty six hours at that point. A man’s gotta have some fuel to keep up with that kinda pace, no?” He snickered as he glanced at you with a pointed look. To be fair, you had, in fact been fucking till you passed out for the first three days of your trip to Italy, and you’d both only realised how hungry you were when neither of you had the energy to leave the bed. It was three am, and for some inconceivable reason, most restaurants had closed. So Joel had walked into the nearest grocery and just gotten 5 huge tubs of icecream and some waterbottles. While it worked great as fuel, you and Joel had been forced to spend two consecutive days holding each others’ hair back and eating proper meals, because as it turns out, eating four meals’ worth of icecream on empty stomachs does not sit well. 

“Seemed pretty good at keeping up when you fingered me in a full restaurant just because the waiter asked to get some wine for your missus.” You retorted back, shaking your head at how insatiable he’d been, too. It had taken a whole week for the nearl-feral glint in his eyes while referring to you his wife to fade - even then, not completely. 

“Never gonna tire of hearin’ that, you know.” Turning the corner to pull up to your stop, he leaned down for a sweet, slow kiss before leaning back to whisper softly. “You’re gonna do well, baby. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever seen, alright? Don’t you worry about a damn thing.” At your wordless nod, he kissed your forehead. “Go get ‘em, honey.” With nod and a parting greeting, you turn and walked into the building. 

After a long but extremely successful day, you rushed out of work the second your phone buzzed with Joel’s message, practically vibrating with the need to give him the good news. Brows furrowing, you scanned your surroundings looking for his truck. You caught his wave out of the corner of your eye and  returned it with a breathless laugh, striding in his direction and failing to notice the smudge of black approaching your side rapidly. The last thing you saw before your vision went black was Joel’s wide, panicked eyes and the urgency with which he pushed his door and stumbled out. For a second, it felt like you were in the air, limbs flailing. A second of impact; a sharp pain settling in your right leg, before you were out. 

Your eyes heaved open, blurry, and you heaved your head to the side to see Joel holding your hand and stroking your head, tears running down his face. You were lying in the middle of the road, surrounded by a crowd of concerned passengers. Joel’s mouth was moving, but you couldn’t hear him- in fact, you couldn’t hear anything except for a high-pitched tone buzzing in your ear. There was blood on his shirt, and before you could ask whose it was, you noticed it coated your hands, too. Looking down, you caught a glimpse of your thigh, flesh ripped open as bone jut out from its side, just before your eyes rolled back and consciousness slipped from your grasp once again. 

When you woke, it took you far too much effort to wrench your eyes open. Blinking against the painfully blinding lights overhead, you opened your mouth to call someone, anyone, to explain where the hell you were and why the beeping coming from next to you was so damn loud. Even your thoughts were lagging, unable to piece together why you were in this room that definitely wasn’t your own. Images of your previous waking moments flashing in your mind, you felt alarm building in your chest as your breath began coming in short gasps. Suddenly, something in your peripheral vision moved and suddenly Joel was here, his large hand cupping your face as he urged you to breathe. It took a minute - maybe even more- for lucidity to return to your rapidly-spiraling mind, but he stayed unwaveringly calm as he held you patiently and waited for you to come back. 

“W-“ you wince at the dryness of your throat, at how hoarse your voice sounds from lack of use. “What happened?” You tried again, clearing your throat this time. Joel’s soft eyes met yours, lips turned downwards in a frown. 

“Fuckin’ idiot drivin’ a car was on his phone, texting when you started crossin’ the road. Bastard didn’t see ya, and one second you were smilin’ so sweet at me, an’ by the next you were on the floor, bone stickin’ outta your thigh. Closest I’ve ever been to a heart attack.” You could fear fraying at the edges of his voice as you moved your hand up to hold his, cradling it to your cheek. “Asshole drove away, too. Didn’t even get his number plate ‘cause I was so fuckin’ scared for you.” He looked away, tears filling his eyes. 

Reaching out to stroke his jaw, you nudged him to look at you again. “‘M sorry, honey. Should have been more careful. Think I would have gone crazy if I ever had to see you like that.” You murmured, feeling your heart break at seeing Joel this scared, this frantic. He shook his head. 

“Not your fault, baby. None ‘f it, ya hear me? ‘M just so glad you’re okay. Rest up, sweetheart, you need it right now.” You nod, kissing the back of his hand as you lean back in your bed.

The next few days in the hospital go by in a blur, Joel refusing to leave your side for a single minute. His hand is always somewhere on you: holding yours, stroking your face, your hair. Sarah hadn’t come in at your request; you hadn’t wanted her to see you in a hospital bed, unable to move much. When the time to get discharged rolled around, Joel seemed even tenser, his grip on you tighter. It took some time for you to get the cast taken off, which on one hand was an extreme relief, it also meant that you now had to attend regular physiotherapy sessions to regain full mobility. 

The real adjustment, however, was the way Joel would straighten and tense up any time you left home after that. The way he grabbed your hand when you crossed streets; accompanying you even to the pharmacy down the block. At first, it irked you. Then, you realised what he had been through. If the roles had been reversed, you’d want to accompany him everywhere too. His fear was very real and very valid - one of his worst nightmares had just taken place in front of him, afterall, and if all he needed to feel a bit better was to walk you to places you needed to go, then you’d indulge him for as long as it took for him to realise that you were safe. 

It lasted a few months, but as you returned to normal, so did he. Your car came back from the garage, but Joel still drove you. Not because of his fear, or because he had to, but just to revel in that extra hour he got out of it. He’d learned that time was precious, and he wanted to spend every conceivable second of his with you and Sarah. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore AMAZING dividers by @cafekitsune!! absolute god who makes amazing dividers for free! 

[tazzertopia]

phantom troupe: do they snore?

this idea for phantom troupe hcs came to me randomly at 2:00am last night so enjoy xoxo

chrollo

-probably not unexpected but not really

-he’s generally a super quiet sleeper

-the loudest he ever is in his sleep is breathing loudly on occasion

-his lack of snoring is most likely attributed by the fact he’s a very light sleeper

-he’s one of those bitches who will wake up because the whistling of the wind was slightly louder than usual

uvogin

-his ass sounds like a heavy metal concert when he sleeps

-his snores are earth-shaking. ear-splitting. pain-inducing.

-his snores single handedly contribute to noise pollution

-think of how loud your dad snores and x1000

-if the troupe members have to share a room at any point during a mission, they will throw a whole rock paper scissors tournament to see who’s taking one for the team and sacrificing their sleep (it’s usually nobunaga)

-because covering his mouth with a sock doesn’t stop the snoring, the troupe have an emergency weighted blanket on standby

-the complete opposite of chrollo, this man could sleep in an active war zone and and not budge an inch (in other words you cannot wake his ass up by force to get him to stop snoring so the only option is to wait it out or sleep somewhere else)

pakunoda

-the most silent sleeper ever

-not even a peep from miss pakunoda

-the ideal person to share a bed with. she doesn’t snore, her breathing is inaudible and she’s extremely still

-almost unnerving in a way bc she looks dead when she sleeps

-if you were to share a bed with her you’d probably spend most of the night checking her pulse to ensure she is actually alive and breathing

phinks

-he’s one of those people who when he snores the buildup is super loud but he exhales quietly (i hope that makes sense)

-ljke the buildup is super dragged out like hhhHhhhhhhUUUHHHUUUH but the exhale is just hoooooooo !!

-idk how to express snoring via text so you may have to act it out to know what i mean

-honestly this type of snoring is arguably worse than uvogin’s bc at least his is consistent whereas phinks will give you hope that he’s finally stopped snoring until it starts up again ☹️☹️😢

-he will forever deny he snores tho

feitan

-comedic ass snore

-probably snores like mimimimimimimimi zzzzzzzzz 😴💤😴💤😴💤

-he sleeps like he should be wearing a night cap and a long night gown with a candle on his bedside table

-trying not to piss yourself laughing while he’s snoring if you’re still awake is an olympic level sport

-one time shalnark recorded him while he was snoring and showed it to him (when he was down with him, he ensured the recording was eradicated from his phone)

-ik realistically he would probably be a silent sleeper but the idea of him sounding like a whole cartoon character is actually hilarious to me

shalnark

-sleep? WHAT’S THAT? 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣 (get it because he’s the tech whiz so he probably stays up all night gaming lololololol XDD)

-probably a loud ass mouth breather

-like he sounds like a broken ventilator sometimes

-he sounds like he ran a lap around mt everest before bed why is he so loud

-if you pissed him off during the day he would probably amp up the volume on his breathing to prevent you from sleeping well (now we’re both mad xx)

shizuku

-for the most part very quiet

-occasionally she will jumpscare you awake by randomly snoring out of no where

-like you’ll wake up to this loud ass noise only to realise it was just shizuku

-sometimes she’ll wake up aswell and accuse you of snoring

-aside from that pretty quiet- not as ideal to share a bed with as pakunoda but fine for the most part as long as you don’t mind surprises

nobunaga

-i feel like he’d have one of those super low growly snores ???????

-like those low, shaky ones

-the ones that kinda sound like grunts

-idk if i’m making sense so i pray i am 🙏

-they’re not that bad tho bc they’re quiet enough to not keep you awake and are low-key kinda relaxing

-if you’re gonna share a bed with anyone who snores, it’s nobunaga

machi

-another generally quiet sleeper except for occasionally sighing in her sleep

-from time to time she’ll just go like huhhhhhhhh :// and then will go back to being quiet again

-don’t bring it up the next day tho bc she WILL deny it and seem embarrassed

-you can tell when she’s having a nice dream based on how often she sighs

franklin

-surprisingly quiet

-you wouldn’t expect his oversized enormous ass to be quiet but he is

-similar to chrollo, the most you’re getting out of him is some occasionally loud breathing

-aside from that he’s a quiet sleeper

bonolenov

-i feel like bc of the holes in his body he’d probably make a whistling sound in his sleep

-like a pan flute

-not the worst tho bc like nobunaga it’s low high key relaxing

-free asmr what could be better xxx

kortopi

-quiet as hell

-are we really surprised

-sorry to the two kortopi fans out there but i can’t be bothered to think of anything to add on he’s just quiet

another tazzertopia classic 💯💯💯💯 if you like these hc posts pls give me requests (idk if the ask box is visible on my profile but do it through here or via the comments) bc these are super fun, i can also do other characters too !!! if i do more i might start doing them for other shows anyways bye xoxoxoxoxoxoxox