#like jon behind bars

[cult-of-the-eye]

the most insane fic idea came to me hear me out, it's the 19th century, jon is at oxford and he is living life as normally as he can get, only occasionally getting splitting headaches and visions of other people's trauma. he gets kidnapped by a strange man who preaches about apocalypses, chosen ones and eyes. oh and he also might be in love with him. cue the most toxic, one-sided jonelias to ever have been seen

[bookuce]

Fools Rush In (Roman Reigns)

SUMMARY: Nessa wasn’t looking for love, neither was Joe, but when you know, you know. Isn’t it funny how fate work?

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OCs. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, Joe is Roman. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC

TROPE: Love At First Sight

WARNINGS: N/A

WORD COUNT: 1904

CHAPTER ONE

It was supposed to be a Girls’ Night for Nessa and Isabel. The plan was dinner and a movie, but now they wanted drinks. So they found themselves in a popular nightclub here in Miami. They approached the well-lit bar, their eyes visually drinking up the mountain of alcohol in front of them. “So,” Nessa breathes. “What do you want? The first round is on me.” The brunette turns her attention to her best friend. Her fingers excitedly tap the counter. “Are we feeling darks or clears?” She presses.

“Yes,” Isabel answers with a breathy laugh.

“Girl, I can’t drink like that anymore.” Nessa giggles. The statement wasn’t far from the truth. The last time she mixed her liquors, she woke up to potentially blackmailing videos on her phone. Never again. Nessa hums softly, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “Let’s play it safe with clears. Vodka?” She asks. Isabel grimaces.

“Tequila?” She answers with a question.

They exchange stares in silence for a moment before putting their fists out. They shake them four times. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” They say in unison, throwing out different hand gestures. Nessa’s fist remains tight while Isabel’s hand is open. Paper beats rock.

“Lo siento, mi amor!” She exclaims while closing her hand around Nessa’s fist. “Maybe next time.” She turns her attention toward the bartender passing off shots to some nearby clubbers. “Two shots of Teremana, please!” The bartender nods at her request and turns to grab the bottle from the alcohol mountain. “With lime,” she adds with a smile. “Yeah.” she nods slightly.

Nessa shakes her head at the petite Latina. It was never a dull moment with her lively best friend. She turns over her left shoulder to grab her wallet from her back pocket but is halted by dark eyes watching her a few feet down. A smirk curls onto the lips of this bearded man once caught. Anxiety would rush through Nessa’s veins like electricity, causing slight chest pains for her.

Oh, he is handsome, she thought.

The bar lights lit his features well, the shadows chiseling out his bone structure. His hair laid against his head flat, pulled up into a bun, the sides shaved. He looks groomed—at least from here, he did.

“Ness,” Isabel calls, snapping Nessa out of the trance she was in.

The distracted woman turns her attention back to her friend, forgetting all about grabbing her wallet. “Yeah?” She asks. Isabel gestures towards the two shots in front of her. The bartender standing before them waited impatiently for a payment. “Oh shit, sorry.” She mutters, reaching into her back pocket for her wallet. A tan hand appears in front of her, a black credit card between two large fingers.

“Put it on my tab.” A deep voice says right above her ear. “I have their drinks all night.” He adds. The bartender eyed the black card in the man’s hand before taking it.

“What’s the name?” She asks.

“Joe.” He answers. Just as Nessa turns to look at the man, he lowers his hand for her to shake. “Nice to meet you.” He says to her with a half-grin. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of approval from her best friend at the tall man.

Ness takes the warm hand, shaking it slightly. His hands were rough, a sure indication of a hardworking man. She now wonders what he does. Construction? Maybe. Architect? Possibly. “Vanessa—Nessa for short.” She says finally. He presses his lips into a thin grin and nods his head once at her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nessa.” He says, opting for the shorter version of her name. Mentally, she was happy he did. She preferred it over her full name. She felt more like a Nessa than Vanessa. They would continue to shake hands slightly while gazing at each other, both not realizing that they were still doing it. Isabel would watch them curiously from behind Nessa. She gawked over the man’s size. In height, he towered over her and her friend. She could tell he was very fit. She’s now wondering if he has a regimen he’d be willing to share.

“It’s a pleasure,” Nessa says, finally looking away from the chocolate-brown eyes that entranced her. Her eyes find their hands still wrapped around each other’s, and she drops it. She would peer up at him from the side, noticing his eyes still on her. Her heart began to soar at the sight. My, this man was overwhelmingly attractive.

“Thank you for the drinks!” Isabel would say suddenly. Nessa clears her throat and nods.

“Yeah, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” She says, chiming in.

“Well, I had to find a reason to come over here.” He explains with a shrug. “It’s no problem.” Silence would fall between the pair, causing Nessa to look ahead. She wasn’t too good at talking to men. It was only a matter of time before she said something to chase him off, or he realized she was not what he was looking for—whatever that may be.

“So…” Isabel chimes in. “Joe, what brings you here?”

“My cousins. Nightclubs aren’t really my thing, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He confesses. “What about you two? Here with anyone?” He asks. His second question is for Nessa. Joe hoped to God she wasn’t here with anyone. If she was, his efforts to know her would be in vain.

“It’s a Girl’s Night,” Nessa says, opting out of his second question.

“But are you here with anyone?” He asks, now directly asking her.

Isabel smiled at the interaction, mentally hoping Nessa would take what he was giving. Meeting guys in the club wasn’t the safest idea, but he seemed pretty sober to her. At the moment, she sees no warning lights flashing above his head. “I’m married,” Isabel says, jumping in again. If she could do anything for her best friend right now, it would be to set her up with this fine specimen of a man. She leans into her best friend, nudging her to speak up.

Nessa turns to Isabel briefly, her eyes widening before returning to Joe. “I’m not.” She says finally.

“A lucky guy at all?” He asks.

“No.”

“Lucky me.” He smiles, revealing perfectly white teeth. “Bartender,” He calls out, waving his hand. The same one that served us earlier approaches us. “Another round for us, please.” He says, whirling his index finger in the air.

Joe spoke with a swagger Nessa had never heard from a man. He radiated so much confidence. If he looks like that, how can you blame him? She’s now cycling through possible professions again. Lawyer, maybe. Doctor, no. Athlete, strong possibility. The poor girl was guessing everything but a serial killer. Nessa would take a glance down at his right hand. No ring, no ring tan. He was an unmarried man himself.

“Lucky girl?” She asks suddenly.

“Hm?” He hums, his thick brows lifting.

“I said, is there a lucky girl?” She repeats, leaning in towards him. Joe looks at her, quickly shaking his head.

“No, not for a little over a year now.” He answers, giving her more info than she was seeking. He reaches down to grab one of the three shots before them. He tosses it down the hatch, his jaw clenching and unclenching at the taste and burn. His last relationship wasn’t one he preferred to talk about. Though he should’ve been mad at his ex, he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. He’s gone most of the year; who’d want to stay with someone they barely see?

“Are you from here?” She asks.

“No, I’m from Pensacola.” And there it was. Joe was from another city. One that happened to be six hundred miles away from here. He was here for vacation, here for fun. She was not interested in that. “What about you?”

“I’m local.” She breathed, her shoulders shrugging as she spoke. “Been here my entire life.” She adds now reaching to grab her shot. She tosses it back slowly, her eyes closing slightly. She places the glass on the counter.

“That—.”

“Look,” She says suddenly. “I’m sure you’re a great guy and all, and I really hate to assume, but I’m not looking for a hookup.” She looks around. “Especially here.” She looks at him with a shake of her head. “Not a smart idea.”

Joe’s eyes venture away from her face, his eyes now on the bar counter. His large fingers would curl against the surface while he chose his words. “I understand.” He says, nodding. He lifts his hand, his palm up and open. “I’m not much of—of a hookup person myself.” He explains looking over at her. “I barely know how to do that kind of stuff—the pickup lines and whatnot.” He explains, leaning towards her slightly.

“Right,” Nessa nods.

“My cousins tried to teach me, but I’m not really feeling it, you know what I mean? I’ve never been one to do that.” He was now rambling, his anxiety starting to spike. Maybe he shouldn’t have come out. He can already hear Jon and Josh teasing him for not being able to pick up women. It should come easy to him with the way he looked, but how he looked and who he was were two completely different people. He stops himself, a slow blink to follow while he gathers himself. Just talk, Joe, he thinks. He takes a breath. “I just figured I’d come over and introduce myself, maybe find a reason to come back to this place. Miami is a bit scary after a certain hour with all of the…colorful people.” She chuckles at that, receiving a grin from him in return. Maybe he was winning her over again. “Maybe I can get your number instead?” He proposes.

Nessa watches him for a moment, her eyes searching for ill intent she’d never find. He did seem like a sweet guy; at least she was hoping he was. Isabel was staring a hole in the back of Nessa’s head. Surely this woman has some sense. If she didn’t give this man her number, she was going to give her a piece of her mind after (and maybe sneak her number to him behind her back).

“Uh,” Nessa starts.

“Perra, dale tu número.” Isabel hisses, pinching her side. Nessa shrinks away from the pinch, looking back at her friend who was glaring at her.

“Sure, why not.” She says, looking at Joe. A large smile would spread across his face as he fished his phone out of his coat pocket. She’d take the warm phone, putting in her info as a contact. She passes the phone back to him. “Don’t make me regret it.” She warns him.

“I won’t.” He says, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Thank you,” He nods, looking between her and her friend. “I’ll let you ladies get back to your Girls Night. Remember, your drinks are on me. Be safe.” He says, walking off to find his cousins. Nessa and Isabel both watched as he vanished into the crowded space that was the dance area.

“I can’t believe you almost fumbled that!” She exclaims. “That man is fine, fit, and looks rich, mi amoré, okay? Alex is lucky I love him, because that one would’ve gotten fu—.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Nessa snips.

CHAPTER 2

———————————————————————————

A/N: so…fancy seeing you here LMAO. Should’ve seen it coming tbh. This is the first chapter of another little fanfic I have tucked away. I hope you like it!

[theladycarpathia]

Billy’s not expecting the call from his dad.

“Billy?” Hop sounds distant, the faint sound of an idling engine in the background. Billy blinks, because his dad is at work and as far as Billy knows that usually means sitting behind a desk at the station and arguing with Flo.

“Don’t you have paperwork to be doing?” Billy says and Hopper snorts. There’s the sound of background traffic that’s then shut out by the clang of a car door.

“Don’t give me cheek, I am still the chief,” Hopper says as though that means anything in a small town where the most crime that they get is some drunk idiot attempting to rob the gas station.

“Yes, sir,” Billy quips and changes the channel. No one else is home and he’s bored. Jon and Joyce are still at work, and El and Will are doing weird nerd activities. The diner didn’t have a shift for him today and he doesn’t have a date, so he came home. He’d half expected someone to be here, instead of getting stuck with a protein bar and old reruns.

“That’s more like it,” Hopper says and then clears his throat awkwardly. “I was just wondering…are you definitely single?”

“Dad,” Billy says, attention now fully away from the TV set. Hop’s called him before, to ask him shit like do they need milk and to take the trash out. He doesn't call to talk about Billy's love life. They never talk about that, not after that time Hopper came in his room without knocking. “What is your next question, because this could make the next family dinner a little uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Hopper gripes. There’s the sudden cackle of laughter in the background and Billy sits up.

“Are you with someone?” he asks and then sucks in a breath at the implications. “Did you put me on speaker?”

“I may have done,” Hopper says, sounding sheepish. “I just picked up a young man outside the movie theatre and he’s about your age…”

“I’m nineteen!” the mystery guy hollers from the backseat. Hopper keeps talking like the guy hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t know, I just thought he was your type.”

Billy presses a hand to his temple, unable to believe that his dad has just said those words. “What’s my type?” he asks, wondering if he’s going to combust right here and now. Hopper makes that little awkward throat clearing again, like he can’t believe the situation either.

“You know,” he says stiffly. “Sort of…pretty.”

Oh God. Billy can never look Hopper in the eye again.

“You think I’m pretty?” the guy asks curiously, and Billy can’t blame him for sounding a bit weirded out.

“I think you look like a lot of the doe-eyed pretty-boys my son brings home,” Hopper snaps. Despite his obvious discomfort, Billy can’t help the rush of affection at Hopper trying to be supportive. Neil would have beat the shit out of him. Hopper tries to hook him up with appropriately aged delinquents in the back of the police car.

“A lot?” the guy asks and Billy flushes. He then regrets it because he has no idea if he even wants to impress whatever guy Hopper has picked up.

“It’s not a lot,” he says defensively because Hawkins isn’t exactly big on the gay scene. His last boyfriend he met at Tina’s Halloween party and to be fair, if you wear a kilt and not a lot else to a party in October, Billy’s absolutely going to beg you to rail him in the downstairs cloakroom. The relationship hadn't exactly worked out.

“Look, I get the feeling I’m never going to hear the end of this so here’s the situation,” Hopper says, sounding tired. “This is my son, Billy. He’s about to finish high school, he likes cars and burgers and loud music. He has shit taste in men even though he’s attractive, clever and a smart mouth. Billy, this is Steve. I was on my way back from the mayor’s office when I caught him peeing in an alley. Judging by his big brown eyes and the fact that public nudity doesn’t seem to be a problem for him, I thought of you.”

“Aww,” Billy drawls, sitting back on the couch. There are lights in the drive so someone has just arrived home. Which is good because he needs to tell everyone this story so they can give Hopper shit about it over dinner. “Pops, that’s so sweet.”

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Hopper says, like he hasn’t already done everything for Billy by getting him out, giving him a home. “I’ll take an extra polaroid when I process him.”

“I had to take a leak!” Steve protests and Hopper sucks in air through his teeth.

“There are public bathrooms, kid, I’ve heard those work pretty well. Billy, help your mom with dinner when she gets home.” Sucks for Hopper, it’s Jon heading up the path, keys dangling from his fingers. Billy can’t wait to tell him this story.

“Or what, you won’t bring me any more dates?” Billy asks, but he’s only half-joking. Hopper means well and kind of fucks it up a lot but this time he might have hit it right on the money. He thinks he might like Steve.

“Do I get a picture?” Steve asks. “Or does the Hawkins Police just pimp out young innocent men with full bladders?”

Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to like Steve.

“I have a picture on my desk,” Hopper admits grumpily. There’s the jangle of keys in the door as Jonathan lets himself in. “You can look at it if you’re good.”

“And what if I’m not?” Steve asks and Jonathan walks in just in time to raise his eyebrows at Billy.

“I can help punish him, if he’s not,” Billy suggests, and Hopper hangs up the phone just as Steve begins to laugh.

This has probably been done before because it's based on that famous tumblr post but it's so dull during school holidays I have nothing to do but write. And I have no in progress Harringrove fics which is probably a problem I should fix.

[bijouxcarys]

Prove It (Roman Reigns x fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Description: They work together, they travel together, they're around each other almost 24/7. So, why is it so damn hard for them to be alone when they need it? Oh, that's right... it's a secret.

Warnings: NSFW, MINORS DNI, smut, fingering, dirty talk, semi-public escapades, Roman being a lil menace, secret affairs, fluffy undertones...

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: I have used everyone's real names (apart from where Sasha references Ambrose). The superstars included are Roman, Becky Lynch, Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose/Jon Moxley, Sasha Banks, and Liv Morgan.

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen (if you'd like to be added to the tag list for any future Roman fics, just let me know in the replies/reblog!)

The door to the hotel room swung open, a chorus of laughter and chatter spilling out into the hallway. It had been a gruelling week on the road, and the whole lot of them were ready for some much-needed relaxation. Thankfully, a majority of the rooms down that particular hallway were occupied by WWE Superstars, so noise complaints were a slimmer chance than usual.

Using her and Gionna’s hotel room as a gathering spot wasn’t on Y/N’s to-do list, but when conversation struck up in the car about having a night of relaxation, to let go a little, Gi was more than eager to offer up the room. That was Gi for you; more like her Liv alter ego than even she cared to admit.

Not that Y/N was mad of course; these people were practically family.

“Someone get the drinks?” Gi called out, scrunching her nose up to push her clear-framed glasses further up as she plopped down on one of the beds, her blonde hair splayed out behind her.

“I got ‘em, relax,” Colby replied, holding up two six-packs with a grin. He cracked one open and handed it to her, settling onto the floor next to Jon, who was already mid-story.

“So, there I am, right? Middle of this tiny-ass town, and I can’t find the damn gym anywhere,” Jon was saying, his voice animated. “GPS is telling me I’m there, but I’m lookin’ at a freakin’ cornfield!”

“Classic Ambrose move,” Mercedes laughed, shaking her head as she leaned against the wall. “A terrible sense of direction.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! Technology hates me,” Jon shot back, taking a swig from his beer.

Leaning over the group from her place on the bed, Y/N accepted a can from Colby, her eyes involuntarily capturing those she knew would be hard to refrain from the entire night. Gazes locked with the man standing just behind where Colby sat, arms folded; his tank top allowed for a perfect view of his tensing muscles under the gorgeous tan of his complexion. It was a look that spoke volumes—intense, secretive, and heavy.

Considering the close-knit nature of the wrestling world, it was an impressive feat that Joe and Y/N had managed to keep their affair under wraps.

“Who knew we’d all end up here tonight?” Mercedes said, her voice cutting through the din as she reclined on the floor, back pressed against the side of Gi’s bed.

“Yeah, thanks a bunch for lettin’ up the room, Y/N,” Becky added, raising her bottle of water in a mock toast.

“Don’t be thanking me, thank Barbie over there,” Y/N nodded towards Gi, who simply shot a thumbs up in her direction as a response. “But yeah, I mean it’s nice to have a moment to just… be.”

“Amen to that,” Joe said, his deep voice rumbling as he grabbed a drink from the pack Colby brought.

Jon snorted from his spot on the bed. “Yeah, because being crammed into a tiny hotel room is so much better than our own rooms.”

“Hey, at least it’s free entertainment,” Colby retorted, tossing a pillow at Jon, who caught it with a lazy grin.

“Free entertainment, huh? Guess that makes you the clown,” Jon shot back, eliciting laughs from everyone.

“Better than being the guy who gets thrown out of bars,” Colby quipped, throwing his arm around Becky with a cocky grin towards Jon. Colby and Becky were truly in the throes of a honeymoon period. It was a task just getting him to own up to the fact that he liked Becky in more ways than one, so when they finally decided to screw everything and officially become a couple—PDA and all—it was a relief. Finally, the two people who practically pined over each other for at least a year, had gotten their shit, and themselves, together.

The night wore on with more stories, jabbing at one and other, and moments over the last week that were becoming fond memories. At some point, pizza boxes were ordered and devoured, and the room’s occupants settled into various positions of comfort—or as close to comfort as they could get in the cramped space. Joe had claimed a spot on the floor near Y/N’s bed, leaning back against the wall with a relaxed posture that belied what was going through his head.

“Man, I could get used to this,” Mercedes said, stretching out on the floor. “Better than passing out alone in my room.”

“Yeah,” Becky agreed, earning an offended glance from Colby. “We should do this more often, is what I’m sayin’, babe, relax.”

“Just as long as he,” Jon pointed directly at Becky’s boyfriend, “promises to keep his snoring to a minimum.”

“I don’t snore!” Colby protested.

“You absolutely do!” Gi pointed out, honestly scaring the crap out of everyone since they all just assumed she’d passed out across her bed.

Y/N found herself increasingly distracted by Joe’s presence. Every laugh, every shift of his body, every low rumble of his voice seemed to pull her attention like a magnet. She could feel his eyes on her intermittently, a silent conversation playing out between them that no one else in the room could hear.

“Y/N, remember that time we got lost tryin’ to find that diner?” Becky asked, breaking Y/N’s reverie.

“Oh my God, don’t,” Y/N laughed, recalling the memory. “We ended up in the middle of nowhere, and you were convinced we were gonna end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries.”

“I was being cautious!” Becky protested, lifting her hands up. “You never know with those back roads, they’re frickin’ dodgy!”

“That’s why I always use GPS,” Joe interjected smoothly, and deeply, sending a wave of chills over Y/N’s body, though she did a damn good job at hiding it.

“Excuse me, did I not just tell you about my cornfield trauma as a result of GPS earlier?” Jon called out.

“You made it eventually, man, calm down,” Joe chuckled with a roll of his eyes.

As the night wore on, the energy in the room began to wane. Conversations quieted to soft murmurs and the occasional chuckle, as everyone started to feel the weight of the week on the road.

“Alright, I’m calling it,” Colby said, stretching out his arms and yawning. “I’m too beat to head back to my room. Mind if I crash here?”

“You can take the floor, Rollins,” Jon muttered from his foetal position in the armchair, his eyes half-closed. “Ain’t no way I’m movin’.”

“Yeah, me too,” Mercedes chimed in, curling up in a corner with a pillow Gi threw at her. “Too tired to move.”

Becky looked around at the group, her eyes landing on Y/N. “Looks like we’re all stopping in here. Hope you don’t mind, love.”

“Not at all,” Y/N replied with a smile. “It’s nice having everyone here, and I’m sure that one doesn’t mind.” She glanced over at Gi, who was already on the precipice of slumber.

“It is kinda nice,” Becky nodded. “Feels like a big ol’ sleepover.”

“Except with more muscles and less gossip,” Colby quipped with an amused chortle.

Joe had stuck to the spot on the floor near Y/N’s bed. He glanced up at her as she climbed into the sheets, their eyes meeting once again in the dim light.

As the others began to settle in, finding whatever space they could to lay down, the room slowly descended into a comfortable silence. The soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle were the only sounds that broke the silence.

Y/N laid back against her pillows, her thoughts drifting. She felt Joe’s presence nearby like a physical touch, a comforting and exhilarating reminder of their secret. She turned her head slightly, catching his eye in the dark.

“You okay?” Joe whispered.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, her lips curving into a smile. “You?”

“Better now,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her face.

Her pulse quickened. They were surrounded by their friends, all blissfully unaware of the silent conversation happening right under their noses. The thrill of the secrecy only made the moment more intense.

“Think they have any idea?” she asked in a hushed tone, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Joe smirked. “Not a clue. We’re good at this.”

“Guess we are,” she replied, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

A quiet laugh escaped Joe’s lips, and he shook his head slightly. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

Y/N grinned. “You love it.”

“Damn right I do,” he said softly, eyes glued to her.

They shared a long, meaningful look, the best they could in the limited light. They both knew the risks of being discovered, but in that fleeting moment, it didn’t matter. They were together, and that was enough.

“Night, Y/N,” Joe whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Night, Joe,” she replied, equally as gentle.

With a final lingering look, they both turned away, settling into their respective spots. The room was filled with the quiet sounds of their friends, but for Joe and Y/N, the silence couldn’t be louder.

She woke up around 3am, the room shrouded in darkness save for the faint glow from the streetlights outside. She shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, when she felt it—his gaze. Slowly, she turned her head and found Joe propped up on one arm with his phone in his hand. His face was illuminated only by the device.

Seriously? You couldn’t have just stayed asleep? She thought to herself, a mix of amusement and frustration bubbling up inside her. Here they were, in a room full of their sleeping friends, with Joe looking like a whole meal doing the bare minimum. The absurdity and excitement was so much for her to handle.

She gave him a pointed look when he finally took a peek over in her direction, her lips quirking up in a half-smile when he noticed she was awake.

“What are you doing awake?” she asked as quietly as she could.

Joe’s lips curved into a slow, lazy grin, with a bashful undertone. “Couldn’t sleep,” he practically mouthed, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes. “You just want to make this night more interesting.”

Joe shifted quietly on the floor, his movements careful and deliberate. He glanced around the room, ensuring everyone else was still sound asleep, then slowly moved to sit up. Y/N’s heart raced as she watched him, every nerve in her body on high alert.

Sliding onto the bed beside her, he moved with a careful grace that belied his size. The mattress dipped under his weight, and he settled beside her, his body warm and solid against hers.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a giddy giggle that threatened to escape. “We’re gonna get caught one of these days, you know.”

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But that’s what makes it fun, right?”

“Oh yeah, tons of fun,” she replied sarcastically. “Nothing like the thrill of getting caught by our friends to spice things up.”

Even the darkness couldn’t prevent her from seeing his pearly white grin. “Admit it, you love the risk.”

“Maybe I do,” she admitted with a gentle sigh, relaxing into his warmth as his hand slid up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

They laid there for a moment in the snore-filled room. The tension was palpable, a taut wire strung between them that could snap at any moment.

“So, what’s the plan?” she whispered up at him.

“Plan?” he echoed, feigning innocence. “I was just thinkin’ we could enjoy each other’s company.”

She rolled her eyes, positive that her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and despite the darkness, covered her face with her hand anyways. “You’re terrible.”

“And…? You love it, babygirl,” he shot back, his hand moving down to rest on her hip, fingertips teasing the space between her tank top and her shorts. “Remember that time we almost got caught in the locker room?” he asked with an audible smirk, his calloused thumb tracing circles on her exposed skin. “You nearly blew our cover with that yelp.”

“You’re the one who made me jump!” she protested, swatting him lightly on the arm.

He laughed softly, a rich hum that sent sparks straight to her core. “Sure, blame it on me.”

“You really don’t think anyone suspects anything?” Her question came as a small mumble, lost in the shadow of his form practically hovering over her at this point. And he was so close to her. She could feel light tickles from his beard on her cheek.

“Nah, baby,” he confidently reassured her. “We’re too good at this shit.”

“Famous last words,” she chuckled, though she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing delicately against the shell of her ear. “Don’t worry. I got this.”

“Yeah?” she challenged, sliding her hand up to rest on his shoulder. “Prove it.”

With a smirk, Joe shifted, rolling over so he could press his body entirely on top of hers. The bed creaked slightly, and they both froze, glancing around to make sure no one had woken up. Satisfied that their secret was still safe, they relaxed.

“What was that about ‘I got this’?” she lightly scolded, emulating his voice the best she could in her whispered tone.

“Shh…” With that, he pressed his lips down against hers, the hand that rested on her hip coming up to hold the side of her neck. He kissed her with a hunger that spoke of all the nights they had to keep their distance, the desire that had been simmering just below the surface finally boiling over. She returned it with equal fervour, trailing her fingers up to his man bun and feeling where the couple of hours being laid down had taken a toll on its usually pristine quality.

“Take this out,” she mumbled against his lips. “I like when your hair’s down.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. It was a relief to take it out, to let it fall down and create a protective shield around their faces as he went back in for another kiss. It deepened, tips of tongues prodding against each other until they were fully entwined in an intense dance. Her hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath his skin, the same way Joe traced the contours of her curves with a reverence that made her feel like a Goddess.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he breathed out in a gravelly whisper.

“Me too,” she admitted.

They were lost in each other, the world outside their bubble of desire forgotten. Joe’s hands slipped under her shirt, the heat of his touch against her bare skin making her gasp softly. He paused, his eyes searching hers in the small beams of light from outside, asking for silent permission.

She nodded, her breath hitching as his hands continued their exploration upwards. He pushed the fabric up, exposing her round breasts to the cool air and his heated gaze. Following the path of his hands, Joe’s lips made a tender journey down her neck, nipping and sucking lightly, before they stopped at her chest. Pressing kisses to her skin. Tip of his tongue tracing slow patterns along it until one of her hard nubs made contact. Thick lips wrapped around, kissing and suckling like he’d never get to again. Branding possession and desire.

“Joe,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

“Shh, we gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he reminded her, words muffled against the supple skin as he moved to pay the same exquisite attention to her other breast. “Don’t wanna wake the others.”

The reminder of their precarious situation only added to the intensity, causing her to unintentionally roll her hips up towards his. His hands were everywhere, mapping her body with a familiarity that was both comforting and thrilling. Her own hands were just as eager, exploring the hard planes of his chest. His heart pounding beneath her palm, a mirror to her own racing pulse.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin.

She smiled, a flush of pleasure spreading through her at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself, big guy.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her. “Glad you think so.”

Coming back up to her lips, she barely had time to readjust before his long, tepid fingers slipped under the fabric of her shorts and her panties. Another sharp gasp escaped her lips, internally cringing at how loud it was. God forbid, if anyone actually knew what they were doing…

“Easy, baby. Just let me take care of you.”

The pads of his fingers stroked over her slick folds, gently… teasingly. A moan rose in her throat, causing her to clamp her teeth down on Joe’s lower lip to suppress the sound.

“Damn, baby, you’re this wet already?”

“Yes,” she managed to breathe as he pressed heated kisses down the side of her neck. His middle fingers teased the smooth surface of her tiny, sensitive pearl, and she once again was forced to keep her noises to a minimum.

“Good girl,” he praised her efforts, rewarding her by pressing his fingers down firmer, further, until they slipped inside her with a smooth, practised motion.

The sensation was almost too much to bear. She clung to him, her nails digging into his bare shoulders as he began to move, digits sliding in and out in a slow and calculated motion. God only knew he wanted to finger fuck the shit out of her, but he knew that would cause unnecessary noise and a climax too short lived.

“God, how you always feel this good?” he groaned softly.

She whimpered, biting her lip to stifle it. His fingers curled upwards in their movements, pressing closer to her sweet spot. Driving her wild. Coiling her pleasure. Tighter. And tighter.

“Look at you,” he peered over her writhing form in awe. “So gorgeous… so ready for me, huh?”

Her response was a tight grip on the back of his head.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered hotly against her neck. “Tell me how you want it.”

“M-more…” She pathetically sighed. “Please, Joe…”

He chuckled softly, feeling a familiar twitch between his own legs. “Anything for you, doll,” he obliged happily, fingers picking up speed and his thumb finding her clit easily to glide against it in tandem with the rhythm he had curated on her body.

A gasp, an arch, a flutter around his fingers, and he knew. “Feel that?” he whispered in a seductive, dark purr. “Feel how close you are?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Oh, God, yes…”

“Atta girl,” he cooed down at her, propping himself up on his arm and pressing his forehead down on hers. “Cum, baby.”

Noticing her characteristic shudder, the way her eyebrows furrowed when a release was approaching, he took the initiative to manoeuvre his free hand to cover her mouth, baring down enough pressure for her to bite onto it as she rippled and arched into him. Her cunt throbbed and tightened around his fingers, and he watched with parted lips as she came so hard.

“That’s it,” he murmured in a soothing rumble. “Just like that…”

As she came down from her high, twitches and aftershock present, he carefully withdrew his fingers. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his hand smoothing over her hair. Another kiss came quickly, but not without Joe taking an expert taste of his own fingers, where Y/N’s honey coated him with a thick sheen. She tasted herself as he swirled his long tongue around hers, hand stroking back his hair to thread her fingers through the dark tendrils.

It was almost sad, kissing him in that moment. The way she gripped onto him as though she was solidifying how he felt in her mind, capturing the memory; they never knew the next time they’d get to be together.

“Joe…” Y/N whispered. “I need you… so bad.”

“I know, babygirl,” he sighed, peppering small kisses along her jaw. “But as much as I’d love for you to nut on this dick right now, it might be wiser to wait ‘til I can have you alone.”

She whimpered impatiently, making Joe stifle a laugh by burying his face in her neck. “Don’t make me laugh,” he murmured, clearly grinning.

“I’m not trying to…” she giggled softly, biting her lip. They really just did that, in the same room as their sleeping friends. Damn. “Fuck, Joe, we’re totally gonna get found out soon if we keep this up.”

“Yeah?” he asked, lifting his head to gaze down at her. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, baby.”

“Yeah, I’m sure everyone would love to know that you just fingered me a metre away from their sleeping bodies.”

“They will know if you don’t keep it down,” he chuckled. “That bein’ said, we should probably try and get some sleep, huh?”

Y/N frowned, but reluctantly nodded, knowing he would have to leave her bed and return to his spot on the floor. “Where are we heading in the morning?”

“Uh,” Joe hummed, carefully pulling himself back up into a seated position. “Atlanta, I think.”

“Sit next to me on the bus?” she half-asked.

“You sure you wanna do that? Y’know… considering we’re ‘totally gonna get found out soon’?” He sent her a cocky smirk, silently moving himself back to the floor. She rolled over to the edge of the bed so she could still see him. 

“I don’t care… I’ve missed you,” she told him earnestly. It was true; they really hadn’t seen as much of each other lately, which is ironic when you consider the fact they were currently on the road. It just meant eyes were on them more than usual. 

With an understanding exhale, Joe reached over and held the side of her face, stroking over her cheek with his thumb. “I’ve missed you too, baby.”

“So sit with me tomorrow, please,” she practically begged, leaning into his touch.

“I’m not sayin’ no, am I?” he answered with a soft laugh. “Now, go to sleep, ‘kay? It’ll be more suspicious if we’re both tired.”

“Yes, Dad,” Y/N playfully retorted, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll remind you you called me that, as well.”

“I’m sure you fucking will, Big Dog.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Morning crept into the room with the soft glow of dawn filtering through the thin curtains. The peaceful quiet of the night gave way to the gentle sounds of stirring bodies and muffled groans of discomfort.

“Ugh, my back,” Jon complained, rolling over on the cramped armchair. “Why did I think sleeping on here was a good idea?”

“Because you’re an idiot,” Colby mumbled, pulling Becky closer to him. “Pass me that pillow, will ya?” Becky groaned, grabbing the pillow that had fallen off Gi’s bed in the middle of the night, and flinging it back in Colby’s direction.

Gi, still half-asleep, rolled over and bumped into Mercedes, who let out a sleepy groan. “Move over, you bed hog,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the pillow she hugged tightly.

“When did you get there?” Gi mumbled, squinting her eyes as she searched for her glasses somewhere in the bed, realising she must have passed out with them on. 

“When I decided the corner was too damn uncomfortable,” Mercedes bluntly responded.

Y/N slowly opened her eyes, the events of the night playing on a loop in her mind, extended into a pleasurable dream. She sat up, eyes adjusting to the daylight as she surveyed the room. No Joe, just a messy blanket and his balled up jacket from where he had slept. 

“Ahh!” Mercedes let out a yelp as the hotel door began to open, almost hitting her in the process. “Oh, it’s you—what the fuck, man?”

“Sorry, didn’t realise your stupid ass was standin’ in the way,'' Joe's sleepy, but cheery laugh echoed as he emerged, shutting the door behind him. He’d changed his clothes, now wearing his grey shorts and a hoodie, and his hair was back to its pristine nature, perfectly slicked back into a bun.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Colby strained his neck from the floor to look up at him.

“My room? We have rooms, guys, did you know that?” he nudged Colby with his knee as he attempted to sit up. His next stop was Y/N’s bed, where he placed her keycard down on the table beside it, giving her a small smile. 

“You took my key?”

“I’ve been awake for, like, two hours. Needed to get out for a bit, take a shower, y’know,” he shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed to collect his stuff from the floor. He made a point to brush against Y/N’s arm as he did, making her bite back a smile. “You sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” she hummed with a nod. “You?”

“Better than expected,” he said, sending a smirk over his shoulder.

Across the room, Colby struggled to stand, stretching his arms above his head with an exaggerated yawn. “Alright, who’s up for breakfast?”

“Count me in,” Jon said, finally rolling off the armchair and onto the floor with a thud. “As long as it’s not cornflakes.”

Gi sat up, her hair a wild halo around her head. “Can we get coffee first? I need coffee.”

“Coffee sounds so good right now,” Mercedes agreed, brushing her fingers through her hair and rubbing at her neck. “And a chiropractor.”

By the time breakfast was had and everyone had dispersed back to their own rooms, Gi and Y/N started the gruelling task of packing what little they took out of their bags and tidying the room of empty cans and pizza boxes.

“They could have helped us,” Gi sighed as she tried to clumsily shove a pizza box into a trash bag.

“Joe offered,” Y/N shrugged, working on picking up cans and any other scraps of trash. Gi glanced up at her, narrowing her eyes with a cheeky smile.

“Did he?”

Y/N met her gaze, raising an eyebrow at her friend quizzically. “Yeah, he did. But he still had a fuckload left to pack, so I told him we could handle it.”

“Oh,” Gi simply hummed, a grin spreading across her face, unbeknownst to Y/N.

Y/N tried her utmost hardest to avoid eye contact after that, knowing that if she looked at Gi for too long, it would be impossible not to spill everything that happened. And after complaining to Joe herself about the possibility of anyone finding out about them, it would seem somewhat counterproductive and ironic on her end.

When the pair was ready to leave, their WhatsApp group chat dinging with confirmations of the same, Gi leaned over to Y/N as she opened their door.

“Oh, by the way, Y/N, about last night,” Gi started.

“Yeah?” Y/N answered as she shut the door behind them, the two of them now standing in the hallway. She caught glimpses of fresh-faced superstars that weren’t in their room last night, who took more pride in their night routines on the road than anything else, greeting them from afar with a warm smile.

“The next time you and Joe fool about, make sure we’re all actually asleep before you do.”

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1930 Ford Highboy Coupe

There’s always lots of detail work with any build and this ’30 Ford highboy coupe is no exception. Look closely and you will find Craftworks Fabrication handmade steel motor mounts. The license plate and valve covers were painted by Jeremy Seanor of Luckystrike Designs. He also painted all the accompanying engine and tranny parts. The powdercoat was handled by Pittsburgh Powder Coat while the chrome plating was conducted by Jon Wright’s Custom Chrome Plating.

The chassis is comprised of a Roadster Shop custom frame that was stepped, stretched, and features contoured ’32 Ford-style framerails. It was also then boxed, capped, and has hole punch flared front framehorns. From here the frame is outfitted with a Super Bell 4-inch drop, drilled and plated I-beam axle, low-profile monoleaf spring with Ridetech tubular shocks paired to custom-made drilled billet radius rods from Johnson’s Hot Rod Shop. Steering falls to the Flaming River box and a LimeWorks Hot Rod column topped with a four-spoke Billet Specialties Sprint Car–style leather-wrapped wheel. In back there’s a Currie 9-inch rearend outfitted with 3.70 gears, 31-spline axles, QA1 coilovers, a Pete & Jakes Panhard bar, and a parallel four-link setup. Braking is a combination of disc/drum front to rear. The forward braking dark gray–painted Wilwood Dynalite calipers are neatly hidden behind the Pete & Jakes finned backing plates. While in back the 9-inch is outfitted with 11-inch brakes, this time hidden beneath the SO-CAL Speed Shop finned drums all the while the chassis rides on a full set of 16-inch Dayton wire wheels wrapped with Coker/Excelsior rubber measuring 5.50R16 in front and 7.00R18 in the back.

All hot rods have something fun settled between the ’rails and beneath the hood (well if they have a hood). In the case of our ’30 Ford highboy coupe it sure appears to be a vintage Ford Y-block but after more than a cursory look we begin to see the telltale signs that there’s something more. Indeed, while it may look like a Ford it truly is a 376-inch LSX iron block, with aluminum heads and ARP studs, plus adapter-equipped small-block Ford (Windsor) valve covers all from Don Hardy Race Cars and then assembled by Talik and Marc Mullin. The intake is an Edelbrock LS dual quad with a pair of Thunder AVS EnduraShine carbs dressed in OTB air cleaners. Delivering the gas from the Tanks stainless reservoir is an Earl’s Performance billet fuel pump. More engine accessories include an MSD 6AL box to go along with the MSD billet Ford small-block distributor that functions through a timing cover adapter from Chevrolet Performance all the while using an MSD coil and Lokar vintage plug wires. Powermaster also supplied the alternator and starter, the battery is an XS Power AGM, and a Wegner Motorsports water pump is used as well as a Wegner front accessory drive unit. This 500-plus hp V-8 utilizes custom headers made at Craftworks Fabrication based on Ultimate Headers LS header flanges. The pseudo-Ford small-block is backed up to a TCI StreetFighter 700-R4 with a 2,800-stall speed converter operated by a Lokar shifter. The trans cooler comes by way of Derale Performance and moves the power through a 3-inch-diameter custom-made driveshaft.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

All I wanna do is go the distance

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

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

AN: Hey guys, I'm super excited to give you guys this next chapter 💕 I have big things planned hehe

I would reccommend reading this oneshot, but as I am not jon favreau, you don't have to read extra stuff I make to understand the main stuff. Enjoy 😈

Part 7 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

It had taken a few weeks for your head to get completely right again after the concussion. On some days you worried that you’d never get through the fluorescent infested hallways of the base without jamming your fists in your eyes ever again. Sometimes you’d catch Price staring at you with those concerned world weary eyes of his in the worst moments, when the headaches were screaming outwards, bursting through your skull. Though with enough time, and a lot of pain killers, the pain died down and dulled until you were completely back to normal.

It was a good thing too. For one, getting Price off your back while you were continuing to sneak around with König was a must, being under the microscope was only making the head trouble all the worse. And for another, which you were sometimes shocked to think was the secondary reason, you’d been going on more and more missions again as the 141 and KorTac got ever closer to tracking down Rousseau. Things were getting tense now, Ghost had been falling under a lot of pressure to perform and his temper was all over the place. Oftentimes you’d be the lucky one that had to chase him and calm him down.

In the months and missions after you’d come back you’d put away three of Rousseau’s men behind bars, including a very high level man that acted as his consigliere. Apparently he’d been worked on quite a bit since his capture. 141 weren’t privy to the intimate details of course, that was up to the CIA and KorTac, but as far as you’d all been told he’d given over a wealth of information on Rousseau’s location and even some limited blueprints of his hideout. 

Price had told you all in advance that intelligence would be confirming your next mission in a matter of days, so you should all stick close to the base. You were actually getting ready for an upcoming training exercise, Rousseau’s man revealing the details on his base meant that command were adamant that you did a run through first and came up with a successful strategy for the big boss’ take down. 

Luckily for you, because of the stay close order, that meant more time in your little airbnb paradise. The place was starting to feel like home. You were both etching yourselves into the apartment, carving your living narratives into it. 

You could identify marks where König had been clumsy and dropped things or scuffed his boots against the wall. There was a tiny stain on the couch from where you’d come and sat after a mission. Lastly, but not least of all, was the curtain that had been sneakily stitched up to the railing after you and König had accidentally pulled it off several of its hooks when you’d grabbed it a little too enthusiastically one night. And on top of it all was the lingering smell of the room spray you’d bought a few weeks into renting the place, preferring the smell of ‘violet rain’ over the faint notes of tobacco that clung to the walls from other renters.

Sometimes you and König even liked to tell each other ‘see you back at the house’. It was becoming all so humdrum to you both.

You smiled as you glanced over at König one night, ruminating over your little routine. The warmth of you could’ve lifted the apartment into the air. It just felt so good to know that you had something that was yours, something that wasn’t your job, something that wasn’t a material thing, you had a life with König. It was most apparent to you when you watched him, when he was free of his hood and his armour and plates and he lay on the bed on his phone, unburdened from rules and duty. He undressed himself from the myth and lay comfortably as König the man, lounging in his boxers and T-shirt like any boyfriend would act with their partner.

Though that night, his brows were knit together in concentration and his lips were pursed, he was adamant that he be left alone for a minute to do whatever it was that he was doing. It intrigued you because he was rarely so mysterious, normally he’d tell you if it was a work thing, but this time he just waved you off and told you not to be nosy. That being the case, you were watching him closely trying to see if he’d give you any hints or signs of what was so captivating on that screen of his.

“I can feel those doe eyes burning a hole into me,” he chuckled, finally gracing you with his attentions.

“Can you blame me? You’re being all suspicious,” you shrugged, tilting your head a little to see if he’d explain himself.

“I’m not being suspicious, I just asked for some quiet.”

“You said ‘Sneaky, I have something I need to do, but don’t look’ and then when I asked if it was work stuff you said no. That - is suspicious.”

“Well it gave you an excuse to imitate me, so that’s something isn’t it,” he scoffed. 

“Well, you know I do it so well,” you grinned, watching with delight as he rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you repeated, feeling as if you were copying him perfectly. 

“If you think that’s how I sound then I'm surprised you have any kind of attraction to me,” he laughed.

“Well some days are a struggle more than others, but-”

You weren’t given the chance to finish your sentence, he’d forgotten all about his phone and thrown it from his lap, launching himself at you faster than any RPG you’d seen. In a matter of seconds you were pinned to the bed and fighting for your life, tears pouring from your eyes as he tickled you and trapped you underneath his annoyingly unyielding legs. 

“What happened to the Sneaky that cried when I told them that I was bullied for my accent in school, hm? Now you’re making fun of me? I’ve got to say, that hurts me Sneak,” he said, an overdramatic fake upset lacing his tone. “You deserve every bit of this!”

You cried out and tried to protest, making a grab for his hands, but were merely shoved away when you made any kind of headway in distracting him. You wriggled and squirmed and screamed, but it was all for nothing. There was no way to make him stop until he wanted to.

“Kö- K…König, please!” you yelped, struggling to breathe. “Enough!”

You were beginning to feel like a struggling furnace as you endured his torture. Your lungs were burning from their failing efforts and you only screamed more as you grew tired of trying to fight back. The second he finally stopped his assault, you gasped in a huge lungful of air and laid back, groaning as you looked up at the blaring lights overhead and registered your sweaty forehead. 

“Remind me not to bully you again,” you sighed, finally finding your voice again.

“Mhmm. I tell you all the time, but you just always insist on being so mean to me regardless,” he chuckled, unhooking his legs from your sides.

König came to rest beside you and tucked a stray strand of hair back in its place. His eyes scanned over your heaving chest and he laughed as he watched you attempt to struggle into a sit. Nevertheless you managed to wobble yourself upwards on the shaky mattress and looked down at him, then over to his forgotten phone. 

“Will you do that again if I try to ask what you were doing so suspiciously on your phone?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” he smiled.

His new favourite line. The way he said it, it always had the undertones of a threat, but it was never said outright maliciously. König could affect his voice with so much masked intent it would have your head spinning sometimes trying to work out what he’d do next. Sometimes you’d get lost thinking about how long he’d practised that. The unfortunate people that had come across his path and challenged him, ending up with a far worse fate than just your tickling. Though you never liked to dwell on it for long. 

“What were you suspiciously doing on your phone, König?” you said, pulling yourself out of your thoughts before you got too sucked in. 

“Well, if you must know…” he trailed off and made a jump toward you, pretending he was going to attack again.

“No! No, no, no! Not again,” you cried out, leaping away from the bed. 

You made a mental note to thank Soap and Ghost one day, all their messing with you had made you quick on your feet. Instinctively, you threw your hands up ready to fight and narrowed your eyes, watching his every movement like a hawk. König remained on the bed though and sat up, laughing and shaking his head to himself as he picked up his phone again and scrolled through it. 

“Please, Sneaky, you really think I’m going to be threatened by those fists?” he tutted, not even looking at you as you remained in your defensive stance. “Put them away and come sit down.”

“These hands have killed people!” you defended.

“Yes, I know that, you’re a good soldier.”

“Exactly, so you should be threatened,” you retorted.

“If I was anyone else, sure. You’d never hurt me though,” he said, looking up from his phone with a smug grin. “I’m your boyfriend after all.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and immediately covered your face in your hands. Every little bit of you was drowning in the feeling of your thundering heart.

König didn’t much care for that particular title, he usually preferred to say partner, but he knew how it made you feel and he weaponised it as much as he possibly could. Knowing that he was all yours still scattered the butterflies in your stomach and you always felt like a little kid in the face of his teasing. You couldn’t help that him being officially yours still got you so excited.

“Are you ever going to stop using that against me?” you mumbled, finally coming to sit by him.

“No. I like watching you get flustered,” he chuckled. “It’s very cute.”

Before you could protest anymore though, he slung his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss, softly releasing all the fight you had left with his teasing lips and tongue. You were locked together for a few moments and sighed contentedly when he broke away, pressing your head to his shoulder and feeling ready to sink down into the bed with him. 

Though it wasn’t time for that yet.

“Would you like me to show you what I’ve been working on?”

You opened your eyes and faced him again, watching his nervous smile grow. Seeing him look so sheepish re-sparked your curiosity and you nodded, ready to see what it was. He hurriedly entered his password and the screen flashed open, landing on the homepage screen with a shot of you both from one of your photobooth pictures from an impromptu date months before, before your concussion. Pictures he was adamant that he couldn’t let you keep because he had to protect his image, even if he was wearing his half mask at the time. As if he was somehow a much better secret keeper than you.

You smirked at the memory of all the playful bickering you’d done over those photos and shook your head, eyeing the screen again as König brought up his tabs. He clicked onto the latest one and it opened onto a confirmation email. It wasn’t what you’d expected, not that you were sure of what you even were expecting. As you read it you raised your brows and looked up at him, wondering what was happening. 

“This is a confirmation email for renting a hire car from some company in Austria,” you stated. 

“Some company has a name,” he retorted. 

“I’m not going to insult you by trying to pronounce that.”

“I see you’re restraining yourself now,” he laughed. “Well yes, it is a hire car confirmation for a cheap company in Vienna.”

“And you’re hiring a car in Vienna because?”

“Because, in a few months time, I’m taking you to Austria. Now, wait! Before you protest, I’ve thought it all out and you don’t need to worry about explaining any passport stamps to Price. I’ve found us flights to Slovakia and a train that can take us from Bucharest into Vienna, and from there I can take you around to see the country for a few days.”

He hastily explained himself and you smiled as you watched his hurried hand movements, his body in a flurry of motion. It was particularly fun to see him turn his hand into, what you figured, was a high speed train. He looked at you seriously as he finished, waiting in a suspended state of worry to see what you’d say. 

As if you’d disappoint him. 

“You sat and booked all that just for us?”

“Of course. I’ve really wanted to take you for a while now, so when you said you had time booked off and the higher ups indicated this mission will be coming to a close soon...I thought, this is the time. So what do you say? Will you come with me?”

“Obviously! I’m so excited, I can’t believe it. I’m getting to go on holiday with my Boyfriend,” you laughed, this time making yourself squeal. “It's gonna be so good! We’re gonna eat so much good food and see so many cool places and oh-  I wanna see those mountains you were talking about! Can we go?”

“We will see the mountains, yes. I’ve put time aside for that,” he laughed.

“You’ve planned the whole trip already?” you asked incredulously. 

“Sneaky I’ve been planning this for weeks,” he smiled. “I just finished the last arrangements there. I want to keep most of it a surprise, but…I actually have one thing on there that I need to ask you about before we go though.”

“Oh?”

He pursed his lips again and looked away before looking back to you. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out to Burgenland? To my mothers house.”

Your heart skipped a beat and somehow you managed to reach new levels of excitement. Meeting König’s mum meant a lot more to him that it did for most people. It came with a lot more meaning. Meeting König’s mum meant that he was accepting you as part of his family, it meant that he wanted you to know more of his annoyingly buried secrets. It meant that he’d have to tell you his name. 

It’s not like his own mother would call him König. 

It had been a sore subject for a little while. The cause of your only serious fights so far. You’d pushed to know a couple times, complaining that he wasn’t letting you in and that it was ridiculous that you were a couple and you wouldn’t even know what to call him  if anything should happen. Something could happen to him out in the field and all you’d know is a codename, he could be taken away from you and you’d never know who he was. 

Of course König argued that that was ridiculous and you knew more than almost anyone knew about him - excluding his mum of course. He claimed that his name was just a burden, that it was just something that would give people an excuse to take from you. Though you argued about that as well, if someone wanted to hurt you to get to him then they’d do it anyway. It didn’t matter if they believed you knew his true identity or not. 

The last time you’d gone almost hysterical because the whole thing was so silly to you. The little airbnb walls felt like they were going to go flying with all the verbal mortars being thrown, like you were going to be swept up like something from the wizard of Oz. You’d both bickered back and forth, forming a dark comedy sketch, two squeaky little cartoon characters that were on the verge of strangling each other as you both held your ground.

“Why does it matter if I know! You keep saying people will come for me, and that it's more dangerous to know you, but it's not that. I know it's not that! Otherwise you wouldn’t be seen with me, you wouldn’t have let me come this close. You just can’t face that all your walls would have to come down. You just don’t want to let me in.”

“It is dangerous to know who I am, how many times must I list the reasons? But you know what, fine, you’re right.You win! I’d love to let you in fully, but yes I am afraid of letting you close! Even though you have no idea how much you’ve taken already. I’ve given you more of me than anyone else has ever gotten, even while it’s been hard. You have no idea how hard all this is for me.”

“Hard for You? I’m in a relationship with someone that won’t tell me their name!”

 “Because it's the last thing I have to protect myself! If you leave me, what then? You could decide you want out of all this complication and find someone nice and simple and then where would I be? You’d have taken everything from me.”

“What am I taking from you? Knowing who you are is not taking anything from you König. Besides, I’m not leaving you. Why do you think I’m so hell bent on trying to find someone else when I spend all my time jeopardising my job just to be here with you? You think I like facing down Price knowing that he’d turn on me if he knew what I got up to in my spare time? I put the respect of someone that I deeply care about on the line, just so that I can be with you and you’re acting like I’m ready to run off at the first chance!”

“Because you’ve done it before!”

“That’s not fair and you know it.”

König may as well have turned and stuck a ten foot spear through your heart. You’d felt a tide of tears wash up in your eyes and you’d walked away from him then, not willing to let him see how much he’d hurt you. Not that that was an option. From his widened eyes alone, you knew that he’d known it was a mistake to dredge up old wounds, his sparkling blue irises dimming as he lost his self conviction. 

“Wait! Hold on, I’m sorry.”

König raced up to you and stopped you in your tracks. His strong arms wrapped around you fast and held you snugly against his chest as pathetic droplets of tears streaked your burning cheeks. You didn’t bother trying to free yourself from him. You just whimpered and clung to him as he shushed you and apologised for what he’d said, kissing your dampened face like it was nothing.

“I’m so sorry. What I just said was stupid. Will you please come sit with me for a moment… I have something I want to tell you.” 

A flare of anger and rebellion flared in you for a second. It was stamped out immediately, but just for a moment you wanted to storm off and tell him that if he wanted to keep you from knowing him then he’d done a great job - that that was it. Though, you couldn’t bring yourself to follow through. Even when you hated him at that moment, you couldn’t bear to see him upset again. You knew that you’d hurt him badly already that day you’d run from him in the park outside the base, you knew that you couldn’t bring yourself to do that again.��

“Ok,” you’d sniffled.

He’d sighed and taken you to the couch, sitting across from you after propping you up against your favourite fluffy pillow. You held onto it with one of your hands, losing yourself in its soft textures as you threaded your fingers through it. König watched you play with the loose strands for a second before looking you in the eyes, his face a perfect picture of remorse. 

“You didn’t really run away from me, that was silly of me to say.”

“I did run from you though, I ran from you that day you tried to explain yourself after the mission” you frowned, not able to help your crackling feebly. “You were  right, I can’t act like I haven’t given you reasons to be wary.”

“No. You didn’t leave me then though. You agreed to work through things and I suppose that’s what we’ve been doing…with mixed results,” he said, laughing dryly. “You haven’t really given me reason to be like this. This is what has happened after years of keeping people out and I suppose…I’m just having a hard time adjusting to what it feels like to let someone in.”

“I know. I know that really,” you sighed. “It's just hard sometimes because sometimes it feels like things are as they should be, like everything we have is so normal. Then I snap back to reality and there’s all this stuff with work where we have to pretend to hate each other and then we have missions that don’t line up and we don’t get to speak, like not even a phone call a lot of the time. Then there’s this intrusive voice I have over it all saying- well saying ‘you don’t even know his name, what is it we really even have together’ and I know its ridiculous and we care about each other and I should ignore it all-”

“It’s not ridiculous,” König soothed. “I feel the strain of these things too.”

He leaned forward then and grabbed your hands, making you jump as you were taken out of worrying at the pillow. His calloused fingers rubbed against yours and his warm grip kept you grounded into reality. The scars that scraped up the backs of his arms jumped up at you in the warmth of the yellow lights, his whole body a patchwork of battered skin. You traced your eyes from his rough hands and arms, up to his bobbing adam's apple and to the depths of his ocean eyes and worried face.

König’s jaw was tensed and he breathed as he worked up to what he was going to say. Your own breath was held then, lungs burning as you waited for him to speak.

“Other people have let me down in the past. My mother moved us to Germany for a manipulative piece of shit that hated me and looked to rid himself of me at every opportunity. I grew up with few friends, in a country that wasn’t mine, and fought so hard for so long that I didn’t know how to be vulnerable. I met a woman after I was forced to join the army that told me I was a hollow shell of a man, and that no one should have to be sentenced to dealing with me…There’s times I’ve agreed with her too, I’ve moved through life feeling like half a person some days. Then I met you. None of what I’ve told you is any excuse to treat you badly, but sometimes I’m so set in my distrust that I can’t let myself cross the lines I need to be able to get to where you are….And- and for you…I’m working on crossing those lines, because you’re the only person I’d ever want to give myself to, but for now its a slow process. You’ve seen my full face, we’ve made love and I have given you almost everything that I can give you for right now. All of this is to say…well - to ask - if you would give me a little more time and allow me to keep working on things with you.”

Listening to him then, as his voice crackled and wavered with emotion, was so very difficult. He kept a hold of your hands the whole time, his fingers shaking as he went on. His whole body looked ready to crumble as he explained himself.

Though before he could be brought down by everything you leaned over and held him, winding your arms around him as tightly as they would go. You hugged him close for the rest of the night and whispered to each other in the darkness when you went to bed, giving your affirmations, like a secret promise, that everything would be ok. 

As you thought back to that night, your body shook with an icy cold shock of frisson. You didn’t want to go through that again. 

“I would love to meet your mum, König,” you said softly, swallowing as you tried to tactfully avoid another horrific argument. “Does this mean…that you’ll tell me your name soon?”

He smiled knowingly at you and nodded, stroking the warm apple of your cheeks fondly. 

“I will tell you sometime soon, yes,” he confirmed, speaking warmly.

You felt a beaming smile shine brightly over your face and jumped on König, feeling full force  of excitement as things seemed to be heading in a good direction. Everything was lining up. Your mission would be done soon, you and König wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking around anymore because the taskforce would have some downtime until you were called upon again for some other earth shattering mission. After that you were going to finally learn his name. 

You sighed. It was almost too good to be true. 

“You just gotta promise me one thing,” you said, shifting your tone seriously. 

“What?” he asked, breaking away from your hug so that he could look at you properly. 

“If it’s something ridiculous you have to prepare me in advance.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned, falling comically backwards onto the couch. 

“I’m being serious,” you laughed. “If it’s something crazy like Wolfgang or Ferdinand I need to be prepared!”

“Do you really think that that’s what Austrian people are called?” he giggled.

“I have no idea! This is what I’ve been saying, I could see your passport in a few months time and could be having to fight myself not to laugh!”

“You would really laugh at my name if you thought it was silly?” he snorted. 

“All I can promise that I’ll try not to,” you grinned, crossing your hands over your heart while he stared back at you with a displeased glare. “All I’m saying is that if I see something mad I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

He rolled his eyes again and sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up into the air. 

“I can’t believe I’m being lectured on silly names by someone called ‘Sneaky’.”

“Hey!”

-☠️- 

When Price called you all in the next day, nothing could’ve prepared you for the shitstorm that was going to ensue. Though you were feeling the full force of it as you stood in the darkened labyrinth of the warehouse that had been set up to emulate Rousseau’s hideout. The 141 and KorTac had been told to find the best way to clear the base and get to Rousseau, but the problem was that you were taking too long and being overwhelmed by too many of Price’s fake men. There were just so many rooms that were connected to other rooms and it meant that a lot of men could get by each other undetected. It was a nightmare.

You’d run through the exercise around eight times already and the more that Price was making you reset, the more tension was being put on the team. It was only a matter of time till someone snapped. Although, given their quick temper and worn down attitude in the last few months, you were sure of who that person was going to be the entire time. 

In the latest reset, you stood next to one of the floppy wooden walls and bit your tongue, watching on with fear as Ghost marched up to König and got in his face. They were almost mask to mask, eye to eye as Ghost took what little gap there was between them and cinched it tight. You felt every little notch in the wood then, backing yourself into it just so that you could force yourself not to get yourself in trouble by intervening.

“Stop fucking around you useless pile of shitting cloth!”

ouch.

“You’re blaming me for the reset?” König scoffed, squaring up his shoulders. “If you would stop lagging through the hallways and would get them cleared properly, then we might be able to get through one of these attempts successfully, Lieutenant.” 

“It was your bright idea to split off with Soap and Gaz and leave us with Horangi. So far it’s been nothing but problems with you and your team rushing and getting hasty and now I’m done. We’re doing it my way again. Slow and methodical. Like it or lump it, king cunt.”

“Problems aren’t from me going too fast, they’re occurring because your team isn't clearing the halls properly, Ghost. I need Soap because Fender is out of the country, I need someone to blow the doors so I can breach plus the extra cover. Your idea failed five times already, why don’t we try to execute mine properly, hm?”

“I’ll fucking show you an execution, König!”

Ghost rammed König and sent him back peddling into the wall you were leaning against with heavy thud. You were sent flying forward as the wood bounced and watched as it rattled with the men’s efforts to take each other down.

It was like watching two stags lock horns, they were grabbing onto each other furiously and neither man seemed to want to let the other go. König swung his fist and Ghost dodged. Ghost tried to knock König unbalanced with a kick, and only succeeded in almost sticking his boot through the cheap chipboard.  

The rest of you watched on helplessly. There was very little anyone of you could do to pull the two titans off of each other -  Not if you didn’t want to get taken out of action in the process. 

“Right! That’s enough boys!” 

Price’s voice echoed through the warehouse, powerful and commanding as it sailed through the air like a brick. It smashed through the two fighters and in a matter of seconds König and Ghost were standing to attention, looking up at Price from his spot on the balcony. The blue light of the warehouse shone starkly against the white in Ghost’s mask, but it failed to stick on the inky black of König’s hood. 

“I appreciate that its been a long day gentlemen, but that doesn’t mean you get the luxury of turning into little school boys that can’t contain their fucking tantrums!” Price bellowed, continuing to reset the temperature. “König, stop pushing so hard when the others are still trying to clear the rooms on the left side. Ghost, work faster and spread your team out. Reset and do it again!”

The Captain’s word was final. Even at the height he stood, illuminated by a few bulbs that flickered like burnt orange like cigarettes, you saw that he was in no mood to be argued with. He’d stood watch for all of the attempts and with every one that failed he grew more and more dissatisfied as your joint teams disintegrated into in-fighting. 

Well, that wasn’t going to be a problem on this attempt. Not unless anyone was in the mood to invoke Price’s wrath. 

All you marched off without another word, dragging your feet as you made your way back to the start point. Ghost was glaring so hard at König it seemed like all of you were staying purposefully clear of his path; attempting to avoid the crossfire. Soap and Gaz grunted a few words of annoyance toward each other on the way, but luckily you all made it in one piece.

A few tense moments proceeded to ebb slowly by. The clatter of doors and scrape of fallen soldiers and obstacles being reset was echoing throughout the building, the heavy breaths of men around you intermingled and all too eerily you began to feel like you were in the belly of a beast. It certainly appeared that way to your eyes, you couldn’t see much through the darkness. You’d have to position your night vision down again. 

In the briefing before training, when you’d had the blueprints and locations revealed to you, you’d been told that your guys would be able to cut the power beforehand. They were sending your two teams in while Price waited with another team on standby. That way if Rousseau tried to make a clever escape, Price would be there to close in on him while you rid his headquarters of his followers.

All of it was easier said than done though apparently.

“If we fuck this up again I’m going home. Fuck the dessertion charges, prison’s better than this,” Gaz muttered.

“If we fuck this up again,” Ghost growled in disbelief. “You mean If your team fuck it up, Garrick.”

“Aw, putting the blame on us, LT?” Soap chuckled. “You’re so sweet. Maybe it's me just looking to spend a little more time with you.”

His laugh still held a little humour in it, even for all the torture you’d all been through. Although he knew for a fact that he had nothing to do with it. It was his big lumbering steam train of a teammate that couldn’t be let off so easily. 

It was true what Price said, he had been moving too quickly. König was frustrated. Somehow, despite not even being able to see him most of the time, and at times just barely through the green haze of your goggles, you could tell he was finally feeling the strain of working with your team. He was getting antsy and forceful, trying to power through so that he could escape the stifling atmosphere that the other men created for him.

You wanted to tell him he’d only make it worse by prolonging the day. Though it wouldn’t have been a good idea to speak to him then - not with Ghost feeling the way he was. 

“If we spend any more time down here you’ll all be wishing for a nice cosy jail cell by the time I’m done,” Ghost spat. 

You flickered your eyes over to König and held your breath. He looked like he desperately wanted to make a comment on the situation, his eyes were narrowing in a familiar way, the kind of look he got when he was about to fight a point. You silently begged him to stand down and cast a wary glance over at Horangi, hoping he’d stop his friend from doing anything dumb.

Though in the end it didn’t matter. Price interjected before König could air his thoughts, entering the scene like a benevolent god shouting from above. 

“Alright. Begin again in 5…4…3…2…and…”

The warehouse descended into complete darkness, all lights were off and it was just you and your two teams, huddled together in the lonely gloom. Ghost silently gestured for you all to get moving and with the rehearsed speed of a broadway play, you filed into two teams and braced as Soap got the first charge ready. 

You drew in a breath and felt your heart thudding in your chest, it made you tighten your grip on your gun as every booming beat cracked out like thunder. You swallowed and scanned your eyes through the green fog, watching bleary eyed as Soap set the first charge. You looked away and hunched your shoulders, already tensing for the first explosion. 

The door broke away and the charge sounded off with a dull boom, soon enough your teams were ‘firing’ on your fake enemy with your fake rounds. The guns clacked and clicked in a foreign kind of way and instead of screaming or disappearing in a spray they took a moment to notice the hits and would drop to the ground like seasoned actors. 

Even despite that all though, the adrenaline felt all too real. The soldiers were growing smarter smarter, even hindered by the darkness,they had begun to forsee your oncoming attacks and fought back twice as hard as before now that they'd seen your strategy a few times. It was taking longer and longer to clear the first room. 

Nevertheless, determined to stay in the exercise and take it through to its bitter end. You kept down behind Ghost and shot out at the hostiles, doing your duty and hoping it would be enough. Luckily for you the men fell after trading a couple rounds of fire.

“Horangi, stay on me. Sneak when I say the word I want you to move up ahead to the first room on the left. Horangi and I will cover you while you clear it and block the entrance on the otherside,” Ghost ordered. 

“Copy that,” you responded, also hearing Horangi sound off similarly. 

König had moved up already, but rather than have Soap and Gaz blow the next door, they were all taking cover and helping your team with the oncoming flood of men. Even as two separate teams you were now united in a common purpose - to improve the strategy and ensure you’d never be put through the exercise again. 

Most of you hated having to do those sessions, rehearsing for the main event. After All It’s not like you can account for everything that can happen when the real mission goes live. Its not like the men would be expecting you like the hapless new recruits, that was only natural as you reset the mission for the ninth time in a row.

With that in mind, you kept your gun in your hands like it was superglued to you and marched on, following through with Ghost’s plan as he directed you forward. You gulped and sprinted toward the room, taking cover behind the door and angling your head so that you could spot the men that were spraying heavy fire just inches from where you stood. You blinked and took a breath, reminding yourself that you had the edge. You had night vision. 

In a flash you whirled around and took out one of the men closest to you, diving behind a desk before anyone else could get to you. Already marking out your next target, you were relieved when you spotted Ghost in your peripheral and shot up.

“Support pillar, LT!” you shouted, marking out your ‘kill’. 

Ghost acknowledged you and directed his gun toward the other two, and soon enough you were standing in an empty room, listening to the fire outside. Though you weren’t done, you hustled over to the entrance on the other side and tipped a desk over the doorway, making entry very difficult. Then seconds later another explosion went off and Ghost signalled for you to follow him, covering the rear of team König. 

“On me, team!”

Horangi and you followed Ghost as closely as possible, heeding his every command as you cleared the rest of the rooms with slow and steady precision. König battered down every door with Soap’s help and with he and Gaz ploughing forward, you were able to keep watch of the rear as more men crawled out of the woodwork in an attempt to surprise you. 

Even with the fake ammo your blood was pumping around your body like white water rapids and your breathing came fast and heavy. The clack of the guns and the sound of feet scrabbling against the crumbly warehouse floors were echoing around your head and before long you were beginning to feel wired, could feel your body shake as you grew ever closer to the end. This was it. An escape from the labyrinth and the endless blurry green of the night vision goggles.

“Ready?” König asked, standing prone at the last door.

Ghost and Horangi took out a couple of stragglers, and once they were down and static silence was ringing all around you, König was given the go ahead.

“One last door and then we’re home free, Gazzy,” Soap grinned, setting the door to blow. 

“Yeah yeah, just blow the door, Soap,” Ghost growled.

The last breach felt strong enough to shake the ground you were standing on. Though you’d concede that by the time the charge went off, you were starting to shiver a little. You were full of anticipation, ready to sit down and get some rest before the actual mission. A good night’s sleep was within your grasp. 

Once that door swung out, you’d realised that you’d never been so relieved to see a potential hostage. 

The new recruit made a mighty effort to mimic Rousseau, he tried to go down fighting and raised his gun at you all. Though with six people on him he didn’t have a chance. All of you shrank back from his shots while he attempted to flee, though when you noticed that the recruits back was turning to run, you took your chance and barrelled toward him. 

With every ounce of strength that was left in your body you tackled the man to the ground, landing softly on his thick padding - something Rousseau definitely wouldn’t have when it came time to dive on him. Even with your body protesting, exacerbated limbs crying out for a break, you wrestled his gun from his hands and pinned them to the ground. Fake Rousseau had nowhere to go after that, he was stuck below your body even as you heaved out heavy breaths and soon was surrounded by the rest of your team.

At long last it was game over. 

“Alright, very good team,” Price’s voice called, “You can take off the night vision and we’ll turn the lights up.”

You were all too eager to follow Price’s command. You whipped the goggles up and looked around in the sheer darkness for a moment until the blue lights faded on and were then chased up by the stark flicker of the overhead lights. 

Everyone was blinking hard, adjusting to the brilliance and grimacing as you all looked around the grotty old warehouse with new eyes. When it was set up with low lighting there was something very intimidating about the training area, though now that you looked at it in the new light you couldn’t help but compare it to waking up the morning after a one night stand. 

The chip boards looked floppy and pathetic and the huge towering walls beyond your little simulated maze were covered in warning signs and caution notices. The mirage had cleared, and finally you could look up at Price properly, settling your strained eyes on his terse expression.

“Much better. That’s the sort of performance I expect from you lot, and that’s what I want when we launch tomorrow. Get yourselves cleaned up and get ready to meet in the hanger for oh-four hundred. You’re all dismissed.”

-☠️- 

“Fucking Training exercises.”

You lumbered behind Ghost and made your way to the bathrooms, getting ready to wash up with the rest of the team, hearing bed calling out to you sweetly before your early start. Soap and Gaz were unsuaully quiet, meanwhile König and Horangi were their usual type of quiet. Ghost wasn’t satisfied with that though, he was muttering to himself and stomping down the hallway like a man about to fly himself off to Rousseau and end the mission himself.

“At least it’s over now,” you sighed. 

“Would’ve been over a long time ago if we hadn’t started improvising with the hired help,” Ghost groused.

“How many times, Ghost. We tried your plan and we failed, we worked mine out and we passed,” König growled. “Doesn’t matter how many times you whine about it, the plan worked and that’s all that matters.”

“Is it? Is that all that matters?”

“Yes. We all wanted out and now we’re out. Job done,” König groaned. “What else is there to bitch about?”

“It’s not bitching when I have legitimate concerns about letting a private contractor shit all over my team’s dynamic and split us up!”

“What dynamic is that? The one where you get them all killed?”

Ghost flew toward König again, except this time none of you were allowing it. You, Gaz and Soap leapt toward your Lieutenant while Horangi acted as a barrier, keeping a steady hand on König’s flaring chest. All of you struggled as Ghost threatened to explode, but in a matter of seconds he calmed enough to see he wasn’t going to be allowed his revenge and broke away, grumbling that he’d leave it. 

König watched the exchange between you all and laughed to himself, the little titter escaping the thick fabric of his hood even as he tried to keep it soft. You glared over at him, not appreciating his antagonising just as you’d managed to get a grip of Ghost, though he rolled his eyes at you and walked off. 

Only when he was around the corner did you finally feel it was fit to let Ghost have it.

“What the fuck was that, LT?”

“What do you mean what the fuck was that?” he growled.

The way Ghost looked at you, the way his eyes glinted like he was settling on a new target, normally would’ve had you crumbling like brittle harling in a storm but you were resolute in your mission. You straightened your shoulders and walked up to him, not letting the disappointment fade from your face. 

In your periphery, you caught your fellow teammates giving you a shared look of fear. Soap and Gaz more than made up for what you lacked in that moment, but you ignored them keeping your mind focused completely on Ghost. 

“Price cleared the op to run just as we practised it there, just as it was successfully run and you want to have a go at König because he happened to make a valid suggestion?”

“I’m not having a go, I’m pissed that we’re taking orders from paid guns that shouldn’t even be here in the first place! This was supposed to be our mission, Price assembled our taskforce back together all to take down Rousseau and what happens? The government get involved with KorTac and suddenly we have to play nice with money grubbing slime balls. It’s all not right, Sneaky, and I won’t sit by and take it!”

“It might not be right, but it's the situation we’re in. You might not like König, and things have been…not ideal with all thats happened, but like it or not he made a good call and Price recognised it for what it was.”

Ghost grunted and was about to fire back another load of verbal ammunition, though Soap interjected before he could say anything else.

“Sneak’s right, Ghost. If they’re telling you to let the König thing go, then let it go. Sneak has the most right out of anyone to be pissed about König calling the shots, and they’re not. Fuck sake, Ghost, even Price hates the man. If Price likes his plan, then its a good plan.”

You raised your brows, surprised at seeing Soap opposing Ghost for once. He walked over to you and stood shoulder to shoulder, holding the giant back as he teetered on the verge of a rampage. The warmth of Soap brought a calm to your bones and now that you knew you had someone else supporting you, you let out a breath you’d barely been aware of holding. 

You so rarely had to butt heads with your Lieutenant, you’d never get used to the feeling. Your bones felt like they were rattling with the energy it required.

“You don’t have to worry about the team dynamic, Ghost,” you continued, hoping to expel the last of his anger. “In fact arguing with König is more of an issue than anything that he or any of KorTac can do. We get through this mission and take down Rousseau, then KorTac will leave and we can get back to our jobs until the 141 is called on again. If we fuck this up then we’ll be dealing with losses and we’ll have to keep working with them. We just need to get through this and its done…ok?”

Ghost sighed and cast his eyes down to the floor. Silence reigned for a few beats, but eventually he looked back up and eyed you and Soap and Gaz who’d moved to your other side. The blue in his darkened irises could’ve been swamp water with the way they’d been tainted with frustration. Though even with all of his anger at the situation, he had visibly sagged as he recognised he was looking at things wrong.

“You’re right,” he grunted, rubbing his head and furling up his mask. “I’ll go apologise and see if I can’t get through the rest of our time together without murdering the bastard. Like you say, Sneak - not long till he fucks off.”

With that he left to go slink down the hall and catch König, still grumbling to himself even as he retreated. You and the rest of 141 laughed as he turned the corner and eyed each other, smiles slowly spreading across your mouths as if you’d just turned up to a mad hatters tea party. A moment of euphoria shared as you thanked your lucky stars that Ghost didn’t go Godzilla on all of you before he carried on with murdering König just as he’d said.

Though a small part of you still worried for your boyfriend. You’d winced a little when Ghost insulted him, but on the other side of the coin, you realised that with the mission coming to a close soon you’d be able to stop the obligatory concerns that came with König being on base. Soon you could carry on with your illicit affair and not worry one bit that Price would be any the wiser. What you can’t see can’t hurt you, right?

“Thought for sure ma neck was gonna get snapped there,” Soap chuckled.

“I know, I was picturing being the next skull he wore,” Gaz laughed, his nervousness expelled in a low rasp. “Fuck, Sneak. Next time you want to go on a crusade, give us a bit of warning.”

“I’d have loved to have given myself warning,” you snorted, still in disbelief you’d stood up to Ghost. “It just came out of me out of nowhere. If anyone was getting scalped there, it was gonna be me.”

“Well…at the very least, thank jesus,” Soap smirked, “Ghost listened rather than wringing yer little brass neck. But you know what, Sneaky? Next time you decide to have a brave moment like that, leave us the fuck out of it!”

“Yeah, let us get out of the blast radius first, and then go at him,” Gaz laughed, slapping your shoulder. 

With that they both walked off to the showers together and you rolled your eyes, following after them so that you weren’t hanging around the hallway by yourself. Your weary boots slapped against the floors and you continued to joke as you rounded the corner, feeling at ease as you got your mind focused on getting ready for the mission and the calm that would ensue after its completion. 

When you got to the changing room though, you frowned when you saw König’s things scattered. Normally he wasn’t one for throwing things around, he was usually quite careful to pile things up. However his shirt was sprawled on the ground and his trousers were hung over the benches like a set of bowlegs straddling a horse. Most unsettling of all was when you’d glanced down and saw the wooden bird you’d given him months before laying on the floor just under his upturned pockets. 

“Huh, big man must’ve been in a hurry to shower,” Soap noted.

“Probably wanted to try and hurry to avoid Ghost,” Gaz snorted. “Not that I can blame him, I’d hide from the LT too if I knew he was after me.”

You laughed along with the guys because it seemed like the thing to do, but the smile on your face dropped instantly afterward. Something wasn’t right. You gulped and looked over the mess of his clothes one last time and bit your lip, barely feeling the harsh scrape of your canine against your soft flesh. 

“You gonna wash up, Sneak?” Gaz asked, elbowing you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You’re standing there like a spare prick, Sneaky,” Soap laughed. “You gonna shower? Or are you cooking up a little pre-mission prank?”

“Don’t encourage that, Soap,” Gaz laughed. “We need to put all that to rest. Like Ghost said, this is the last time we have to see the guy. Let’s just get past it and pray we don’t ever work with KorTac again.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you said, stopping Soap in his tracks just as he picked up the hem of König’s shirt. “I agree with Gaz, let’s leave it, alright? I’m just gonna see where Ghost got to first then I’ll go shower. His stuff’s not here, so he must’ve gone off and I figure I should make sure he got away from König in one piece.”

“Ghost getting away from König?” Gaz snorted. “Think I’d worry more for the other way around…if I gave a shit about König that is.”

You gave another little weak laugh and walked off without anything else to say. You didn’t have anything else in the chamber. Your mind was too busy reeling and wondering where Ghost got to and why König’s stuff was laid out everywhere and all the ways you could combine those pieces of information into horrible conclusions.

You walked through the doorway to the opposite corridor and mindlessly carried yourself forward while your skin burned too hot and your stomach tightened into tiny knots. 

Did they have an argument? Did Ghost notice something about König’s things that gave you both away? Had he seen the bird and known it was yours? If so, how? You’d never shown anyone else the bird that you could remember, but then you cursed to yourself as you remembered your less than sound mental state and struggled to try and remember if you possibly had told the guys or shown them the bird at any point. 

Why did König have to carry it around with him? Why couldn’t he have left it in his room on base or secreted it away somewhere safe?

Were you being crazy? You reasoned you were being crazy. Maybe he really had just left his things in a hurry. Perhaps he did just want to get through his-

You felt your blood run cold when you heard a low growl tear you from your thoughts and speak your name, your real name.  

“You look lost.”

You glanced up after trailing your eyes along the gloomy grey floor and shivered as you finally noticed Ghost towering above you, casting a mighty shadow. He had his eyes fixed on you like a shark, cold and deadly as he surveyed your trembling form. He was glaring hot pits into your skin and from that moment on you had absolutely no doubt that he was onto you. 

He’d never looked at you like that in his entire time leading you. He looked furious, distressed, agitated, so many emotions were etched those glaring dark eyes of his and you were losing track trying to figure out how to best appeal to him. 

“I was trying to find you,” you murmured, barely speaking above a whisper. 

“Why would you be doing that then, ay?” he gritted out, walking toward you cornering you into a wall.

His boots sounded against the floor like canons. With the way he was acting, you worried he’d shove you and crush you underneath them. Though maybe that would be kinder than the fate he had in store for you…

“You.. you- uh, tossed König’s things didn’t you?” you whimpered.

“I did.”

“Why?” you breathed, feeling your eyes welling with tears before you could even attempt to think of calming yourself. 

“I’ll admit I got angry at the thought of having to go crawling and apologising to him and I lost it. I knocked his things off the bench. It went everywhere and shit went scattering out his pockets, y’know he left his wallet in his trousers, stupid cunt. Shouldn’t even have personal shit on a training exercise, but I suppose that’s what happens when you hire a bunch of undisciplined mercs… you know what I happened to see when I spotted his wallet though? You have any guesses, Sneak?”

You gulped and all of a sudden, it became all too clear to you exactly how Ghost had caught you out. 

“The photos,” you whispered.

“That’s right,” Ghost growled, “I saw the fucking photos of you two poking out of it.”

Next part here

[paradiseprincesss]

Absolutely ANYTHING with psychiatrist reader x patient jon crane! We don’t have enough of these 😭 and I loveee your fics so far!

Just a suggestion, maybe him meeting reader who has suppressed feelings for him in order to not cross any professional boundaries, at her place after breaking out of Arkham. Could be angsty with some intense lovemaking afterwards (once again, it’s totally up to you what you want to write. This was just an idea I had. No smut is fine too)

experience | jonathan crane

hello my love - this is such a good idea! i tried to write it the way you explained it so i hope this lives up to all ur expectations haha <3 and thank you for the kind words! i had so much fun writing this!

summary: falling in love with your patient was not something you ever thought you'd experience - but what if he's fallen for you too?

warnings: mentions of suicide, swearing, p in v, masturbation, slight choking, kind of size kink lowkeyyy, just smut lol, mdni 18+ only

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

working at arkham asylum was...interesting to say the least. you were in the last year of your psychiatry residency, and after this you'd be a full, licensed, practicing doctor specializing in psychiatry. it was exciting for sure, but dealing with your patients at arkham was no easy feat.

you'd seen it all - criminals, drug addicts, the insane; all of it. every single day there was something, wether that was an patient or inmate causing a riot or someone having a mental breakdown and hanging themselves in their cell - there was always something happening.

however, there was one patient; inmate - that stood out the most to you; jonathan crane.

he'd been your patient for the last eight months as none of your colleagues wanted to take him on because of who he was - but you loved a challenge. you wanted to prove yourself to your higher-ups, you wanted to show the preceptor in charge your residency program to see what you were capable of.

so, you offered to take him off everyone else's hands - and well, you'd come to partially regret that decision. however, your higher-ups and preceptor were impressed by your skills. he wasn't easy to deal with, that's for sure. he was the scarecrow after all - and don't forget, he was a psychiatrist himself.

though, you had a hold on him the same way he had a hold on you - but you didn't tell him that. jonathan made it clear from the start that he found you attractive, even behind bars and wrapped up in a straightjacket he would find ways to flirt with you, talk to you, or get your attention.

today, you had a scheduled session with jonathan to see if any progress was being made regarding his medication (which you knew he never took), and his behaviour.

your black pumps clicked against the wooden floor, and you closed the door quietly behind you, taking a seat in your office chair. you pulled up his file quickly on your laptop, and he sat a few feet away from you on the plush couch in your office. straightjacket and all.

"good morning, jonathan." you say, finally looking up from your laptop and locking eyes with him - god, his eyes were so pretty.

he never addressed you as "doctor" with your last name following, but instead, he insisted on calling you by your first name, or some pet name he felt like using that day.

you didn't mind actually, he was one of your more...tame and easy patients that you had, if not the easiest to deal with.

"you look beautiful as always." he said, and you smile at him sweetly. "thank you, jonathan."

today, you wore a black, mid-length pencil skirt and white blouse, with your hair down in your favourite style, some black pumps - and you finished it off with your doctors coat, of course.

skimming over his file, you type a few quick notes into your laptop - freshly done nails clicking over the keys in the otherwise silent office. after that, you got up and went over to him, helping him out of the straightjacket as he sat there in his white arkham inmate jumpsuit.

at first, you didn't let him have this privilege, but as he proved himself to be non-temperamental over time, it started off with the loosening of the straightjacket just a little...then taking it off fully but making sure he wore handcuffs. slowly, under your careful watch, you allowed him the freedom of zero restraints in your office once he proved he wasn't a threat or a danger towards you.

"let's get you out of this." you say softly, and he stays quiet for a moment, just stretching once the restraint was fully off of him. you had a different method of approaching him than the other doctors who worked (and gave up) with him.

you noticed that in a calmer, less hectic environment he responded better. so instead of having check-ups in his cell or in an interrogation room like you did with all your other patients, you let him chill in your office - restraint free.

you returned to your chair, and started to type away as you asked him the usual questions.

"how are you feeling today?"

"fine, i missed seeing your face though. seeing you three times a week isn't enough for me anymore." he says to you, making you stop typing and look up at him.

"please elaborate for me, jonathan." you say clinically, trying to ignore the way your heart started to race when he said that.

"you know what i mean. you're the only thing keeping me sane in here." he says to you with a pleading tone, making you sigh as you continue to write down your clinical notes onto the laptop.

"but you're making progress, jonathan. you seem to be doing better, there's no need for me to be seeing you more frequently." you answer curtly, but pause for a moment for letting the next few words slip out in a hushed tone, "...unless you feel like you need a few extra therapy sessions on a weekly basis."

he smirks, looking you up and down - clearly checking you out with no shame. "that's exactly what i need. i'm going crazy without you. i'd be so good to you if you were mine..." he throws in that last part quickly, but you catch it.

you clear your throat and try not to pay any mind to it, as to appear professional - but he's slowly breaking your walls down. he already has. you couldn't even lie to yourself - you were attracted to your patient. fuck, maybe you were even in love with him - how could you not be?

the fluffy brown hair, slightly tousled and messy, those beautiful, blue eyes that reminded you of sapphires, those plump, pink lips that-

no, stop it, you told yourself, focus on your job.

"ah, um- have you been taking your medications?" you ask softly, giving him a small smile to which he returns. "...yeah." he says hesitantly, and you know he's lying - you find the little cup the nurses gave him full of the pills he's supposed to be taking every time you check up on how he's feeling in his cell.

but you turn a blind eye - you may have been giving him special treatment because you were attracted to him, but you tried to tell yourself it was fine, that it wasn't like you were breaking any professional boundaries because technically, you didn't act on his advances - yet.

"good, just wanted to make sure." you speak in a hushed tone again, typing up all information in his file.

"you're a really good doctor." he says, breaking the momentary silence between the two of you, "you work hard, i can tell."

"thanks, jonathan." you say, trying your hardest to sound detached as you keep your eyes on the laptop in front of you, continuing to type away but he speaks again.

"you're welcome. you're so pretty." he sighs, "is it wrong for me to be having these thoughts about-? never mind, actually."

now it was your turn to sigh, looking up at him with a raised brow. you knew what he was doing, he was literally trying to play mind games with you. he was on purposely trying to get you to pry so he could flirt with you more - but that was your job...right? to pry?

"what thoughts?" you ask, biting your lip. "i have to ask cause...it's my job to know what's going on up here." you gesture to your own temple. he knew that this was indeed your job - to know what was going through his mind.

buuuuut you were definitely curious. the way he would talk to you gave you butterflies. the way he would act out and act violently to everyone except you gave you butterflies - even though it shouldn't have.

"i just can't get you out of my mind, pretty girl. you do things to me. 'm thinking about you when i'm all alone in my cell, how your body would feel. how it feels to kiss you, hold you. what it's like to love you." he breaths out, and you look at him incredulously, feeling your cheeks heat up at his admission.

"well," you stay, breathing slightly staggered now, "you must have an active imagination, then." you couldn't look him in the eye after that. you were trying so hard to suppress your feelings for him that were ever growing.

although one part of you knew it was wrong on both ends, wrong of you to let him effect you this way (and letting it happen), and wrong of him to be talking to you like this - you couldn't stop yourself. however, a part of you wondered if this was really how he felt - or if it was just some ploy to get out of arkham. perhaps he thought if he could get into your head, you would either help him escape or sign his release papers.

you always tried to force yourself to believe that to prevent your fantasies from growing any further - but it drove you wild.

"i know you feel the same way," his voice cut through the silence, snapping you out of your thoughts again, "i have a doctorate in psychiatry - don't forget i can also see right through you and your thoughts too."

"i-i can assure you that this is strictly professional - you and i. i mean, even if it were true, that it was mutual, it wouldn't work. you're my patient in an asylum for the criminally insane and i'm your doctor because you are criminally insane." you say, looking at him with a stoic expression, though both you and him knew of the feelings that were lurking underneath your "professional" facade. "plus, saying this won't help you get out of here any quicker. i'm not stupid."

you entirely regretted those words as soon as they left your mouth, and he shot you a look of surprise.

suddenly, he got up off the couch and made his way over to your desk - your heart now palpitating in ways you didn't even realize was physically possible.

he placed his hands on the desk, looming over you - but not in a psychotic way - or threatening, even. he just looked at you up and down, with a small smirk.

"why can't you just give in? i'm not going to tell anyone. it's not like i can, anyway." he said jokingly, but went back to being serious quickly. "please."

the way he said "please" made your breath hitch, and you look up at him with poorly concealed desire. "w-we can't, okay? we just...can't."

"but i have feelings for you - and i know you do too." he insists, and you get up out of your chair, walking over to him, having to look up at him due to your height difference.

"how i feel isn't important," you state, trying so hard not to break your facade. "if you really cared about me, you would stop doing this to me. stop making my job harder than it has to be, please jonathan. it's- it's just not fair. telling me this won't make me sign those papers-"

"fuck the papers, i don't need anything as long as i have you. you're-" he exasperates, but pauses before continuing, "you're all i have in here, you're the only one who's treated me like a person, like a real person with valid emotions. you know who i am and you don't have any fear - you aren't scared of me. you see me for...me."

silence.

after he confessed that to you, it was silent. he stood there, looking at you through his wire-frame glasses that he always wore, and you stood there in shock. at that moment, you didn't know what to say - what to do.

"i'm not feeling well," you suddenly say, "i-i'm going to take the rest of the day off. i'm going to call a nurse to escort you back to your cell." you say quickly, trying to keep your composure.

you weren't very good at that when he was around, but he didn't say anything. he let you process your emotions in your own way - of course he would. but he was plotting.

you paged a nurse to escort him back to his cell early, and you didn't dare look at him when they took him out of your office - too embarrassed and such to do so.

that night, when you got home, you decided to take the next few days off work before returning - you were too high strung with anxiety for work right now; and the cause of that anxiety was literally at work.

you ran yourself a hot shower, dried your hair, and got ready for bed throwing on your silk nightie in your favourite colour. that night, you couldn't sleep at all - constantly tossing and turning in bed, thoughts running wild.

why did it all have to be so complicated?

you didn't understand, honestly. the one guy who actually managed to steal your heart happened to be...him.

you laid in the dark quietly, the only thing light source being the tv on the wall of your bedroom. the sound of your tv playing faintly in the silence, some random show you put on was on in the background.

"can't sleep either?" a familiar voice said softly from the doorway of your bedroom, causing you to let out a small scream from being startled - nobody expects someone to be in their house at nearly 3 am unnoticed.

"what the fuck?!" you say, reaching to turn the light on your bedside table on, and sat up in your bed - seeing the one and only jonathan crane standing in your bedroom looking a little different than before.

he had escaped, that much was clear. but instead of that stupid inmate jumpsuit, he was in his actual suit and tie attire but no scarecrow mask.

"sorry, darling." he cringed at the way he startled you. "hear me out, please. you look beautiful, by the way. you always do."

"jonathan-" you warned.

"i know." he says, walking towards you, now sitting on the edge of your bed as you watched in both fear and awe. "i can't let you go. if 'professional boundaries' are whats standing between us-"

"you broke into my house, jonathan!" you exclaim, cutting him off but he just gives you a small smile, which made your heart leap. "and i'm sorry for that," he explains, "but like i said, now there is nothing standing in between us."

you look at him, and your jaw almost drops. was he for real right now?

"i just wanted you to know that, um, i wasn't just saying those things with the hope that you'd ya know - release me from arkham." he says to you softly, and you nod. "well, you've made that pretty clear by doing...this." you tell him, a small smile playing on your lips.

god, he was crazy - but he was crazy over you, and maybe you were fucked up in your own little way because you found it endearing, the thought of it all excited you.

"you don't need to fight the feeling anymore." he informs you softly, reaching a hand out for you to take - and you do. his hands were surprisingly soft, a little calloused but soft.

"you know how i feel about you, i want to be yours - i want us." you finally tell him.

"be mine, then." he whispers, and you crawl over to him on your king sized bed. you crawl onto his lap, and you can already feel him getting harder by the minute.

"i can't sleep, dr. crane." you tease, calling him 'dr. crane,' instead of the usual 'jonathan.'

he places a trail of kisses down your neck softly, pushing your hair back to do so, and whispers softly to you. "why don't you let me take care of you for once?"

the words gave you shivers, and you felt yourself getting wetter with every word he said - hanging onto them with desperation. "please, baby." you whisper, and he pulls you into a frenzied kiss.

his lips were soft - so soft. you kiss him back and he takes his time with you, hands roaming all over your body as he explored your mouth. you moaned softly into the kiss, giving him the green light to keep going. he pulled away from the kiss hesitantly to undress you.

slowly, he pulled the skimpy little nightie you wore to bed down, past your shoulders - then all the way down. you felt the cold air of your room hit your bare chest, but that feeling was replaced with the new sensation of jonathans warm mouth taking one of your nipples in his mouth. he took the bud in his mouth, licking and sucking.

"oh, baby." you say, letting out a breathless moan at the sensation. in response, he took hold of your other breast and started to play with your nipple between his fingers.

"fuck, need you so bad." you say, profanities leaving your mouth every five seconds with the way he was touching you. "yeah? tell me how badly you need me, sweetheart." he says to you, coming back up to trail kisses along your jawline and neck.

"i need you so bad, jon. please, you're everything i want." you tell him, breathless and soaked. he snaked his hand up to your neck and gave it a light squeeze, keeping his hand there. "fucking jerked off to the thought of you every night in arkham," he says, making your cheeks heat up from the thought, "every time we had our little scheduled meetings - fuck, you looked so good. just the thought of you alone had me cumming all over my fist instantly."

"i-i touched myself to the thought of you in my bed, too." you tell him, making him smirk. "did you?" he cooed, "why don't you show me how you did it. let me see."

that had you blushing, and you swallowed. you nervously laid back, propped up on your elbows as he watched. with a little hesitance, you spread your legs - suddenly feeling very vulnerable. he watched you intently, still smirking, and ran his hand along your lower leg - slowly trailing it up to your thighs, rubbing up and down.

"don't be shy, sweetheart." he says lowly, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening cunt on full display for him. you take your hand and slowly started to rub your clit in front of him, and you can feel how wet you are.

tossing your head back slightly, and closing your eyes you let out a filthy moan, and he groans at the sight of you. you hear his belt buckle being undone, and you open your eyes to see him pulling his cock out - fat and leaking at the tip.

he positioned himself between your spread legs - your hand still rubbing your clit. he started to stroke his cock slowly, the pre cum leaking out the pink head of his cock. it was so big it looked like it could split you in two. "feel good, princess?" he asked, making you nod and moan.

"f-fuck, yeah. f-feels ah- so good, baby." you respond, and he started to rub the head of his cock through your sticky, soaking folds making you whine. "please!"

he chuckled lowly, and pushed into your soaked cunt with no warning. your hands flew to his shoulders, and his hand snaked to your clit to replace yours. "oh fuck-" you say, his cock stretching you out to the limit. you felt so full.

"jesus, sweetheart," he moans as he sunk into you, "fuck- tightest pussy i've ever had. best pussy i've ever had, actually." he decided as he started to thrust himself in and out of you.

"right there, baby ah-" you moan, looking up at him. his fat cock was stretching you so good - he was so deep. as his fingers played with your clit, you couldn't help but start screaming out his name.

"jonathan, fuuuck-!" you were a screaming, moaning mess for him - and he adored it. the sight alone almost had him cumming into your tight little cunt. as he pounded the same spot in your cunt, you felt yourself about to cum for him.

"i-i'm gonna fucking cum, please." you started to beg incoherently, and he moaned as he felt your pussy tighten up around his cock. "cum for me baby, i wanna see your pretty face when you cum." he says to you softly, voice saccharine.

as you came all over his cock, you swore you saw stars. the feeling was otherworldly when your orgasm washed over you. jonathans thrusts started to get sloppy and erratic indicating that he was about to cum, too.

"gonna fill this little pussy up, make sure everyone knows your mine, fuck-" he grunted, "you're gonna be dripping with my cum."

he fucked his cock into you a few more times before stilling with a groan, and his cock twitched inside of you; spilling all of his cum into your cunt, filling you up with everything he had.

he pulled out slowly, and used his fingers to push his cum back into your cunt as soon as it started to leak out, causing you to moan. "what a sight." he sighs out of breath, and you giggle breathlessly to that.

"can we cuddle?" you ask quietly, and he was already pulling you into his arms. "open." he says, fingers covered with both your fluids mixed together at your lips. you wrap your lips around his fingers, sucking them and swallowing the mixture with a little moan. "such a pretty, obedient girl." he coos, making you blush.

you settle into his arms, exhausted, and he holds you close as his heart beat heavily in his chest. he placed a kiss on the top of your head, and you felt your eyes grow heavy.

when you went back to work, you knew you would have to pretend that you didn't know where or how jonathan escaped arkham (to be fair - you still weren't 100% sure on how he actually escaped), but that was still a few days down the road - you were too fucked out and sleepy to think about that right now.

"go to sleep, sweetheart." he says to you softly, turning the light on your bedside table off, "i'll be here when you wake up - i'll always be here. i love you."

with a content sigh, and a sleepily mumbled little "i love you too," you fell asleep wrapped up in your no-longer-forbidden lovers embrace for the night.

together at last.

[morganski-19]

The One with the Child

Robin and Nancy walk into the café after a long day of work. Stopping when they see Jonathan sitting on the couch reading a book with a toddler sitting next to him, playing with a toy. They share a confused look before walking around the couch.

“Hey Jon,” Nancy leads.

Jonathan looks up from his book. “Oh, hey guys. How was work?”

“Uh, fine,” Nancy says, still confused. “Just one, tiny, quick question.”

“Whose child is that?” Robin points at the toddler looking up at them with big eyes.

“Oh, right, this is Argyle’s niece, Stella. He’s in the bathroom, so I’m watching her for a minute.”

Robin flops on the armchair. “Oh, thank God. I thought that was just a random kid.”

Jonathan gives her a weird look. “Did you think I just stole a child? What gave you the impression that I would do that?”

Robin shrugs. “Someone could have just left the child here. You don’t know. That happens. You would be surprised how many times Steve has had to stay afterschool to sit with a kid whose parent forgot to come pick them up.”

“To be fair, my mom did that a few times when I was a kid.” Nancy pulls one of the other chairs closer. “Only a few times though.”

“My mom did that too. Happens when you’re a single mom.”

Argyle comes back from the bathroom, hair braided down his back. “Hey dudes. You meet Stella?” He sits down on the couch, Stella grabbing his arm and hiding behind it. “She’s a bit shy.”

“Robin thought I stole her.”

Robin makes a high-pitched noise. “I did not. I thought you were picked by a lazy parent to be entrusted with their child. That is far different than stealing.”

“Still doesn’t make it any better.”

Robin rolls her eyes, getting up to go order a coffee at the bar.

“Which sister is Stella’s mom?” Nancy asks, trying to change the conversation.

Argyle tries to get Stella to loosen her grip on his arm but fails. “Julia. She has a job interview in the city today so I’m watching her.”

“And you brought her here?” Robin sits back down with her coffee.

“Hey, this is a family friendly establishment until seven and by then she will be back with her mom. She should be done soon to come pick her up.”

Eddie walks into the café, waving as he orders a coffee at the bar. Doing a double take when he sits down, eyes wide.

“I know I’ve only known you guys for like a year but none of you had a secret kid, right?”

“No, this is my sister’s kid. I’m watching her for a few hours.”

Eddie relaxes in his seat. “Oh, thank God. I could not have dealt with that twice in one week.”

Nancy perks up. “Twice?”

“Yeah, remember my buddy Jeff from high school. Apparently, him and his girl are expecting. Sent me into a whole crisis.”

“Oh, that’s why you were cleaning your room a few days ago.”

“I’m offended that’s why you think I was cleaning, but you’re correct.”

“Why were you having a crisis?” Robin asks over her coffee. “It’s not like we’re not at an age where people we know start having kids.”

Eddie makes a large gesture. “That’s why I was having a crisis. It was the first one of my friends that is taking that next step in life. While I’m still stuck between two jobs, not in a relationship, and a giant fucking mess. Sorry,” he apologizes to Argyle.

“She’s two, she doesn’t know what that word means,” Argyle assures.

Steve comes into the café and sits on the chair next to Eddie. Covering his face in his hands. “If I see another first grader, it’ll be too soon.”

“Bad day.” Robin gives him a sympathetic look.

Steve nods. “Three kids had to be sent to the nurse because they were sick. Three, like visibly sick. They shouldn’t have even been sent in at all. And then the rest were just on edge and didn’t want to settle down after recess. And.” He finally spots Stella on the couch. “One of your sister’s kids?”

Argyle nods. “Yeah. Her mom should be here soon, so don’t worry.”

“I said first graders for a reason. They are monsters. What’s her name?”

“Stella. Do you want to say hi?” he asks her. Stella gives Steve a small wave.

Steve melts a little bit. “You have just made my whole day, Stella.”

A woman who looks a little like Argyle walks into the café. Argyle notices her and stands, picking up Stella from the couch. “Hey, Jules. How was the interview?”

“Pretty good. Thanks for watching her again, I appreciate it.” She takes Stella out of Argyle’s arms. “Did you have a good time with Uncle Argyle?” Stella nods into her mother’s shoulder. “Hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

Argyle shakes his head. “Not at all. Right Jon?”

“Yeah, not at all.”

Julia nods, finally realizing the rest of the group.

“Oh right, Julie, these are my friends. You’ve met some of them. Dudes, this is my sister Julia.”

The group gives a mix of greetings before going back to separate conversations. Julia says hello back before Argyle walks her out of the café.

“It was seriously no trouble watching her, it was nice to see her. And you.”

“I know. Wish I could stay more, but we got to get back.”

“If you need a place to stay, you can chill at our place. I’ll take the couch so you can have a bed.”

Julia shakes her head. “That sweet but I didn’t pack an overnight bag. If we leave now, we might make it before the next rush hour. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you and Jon.”

“Nonsense. You know you’re always welcome at our place.”

“When are you two finally going to cut the crap and get together already. The whole family’s been waiting for it.”

Argyle groans. “Tell me there’s not a betting pool.”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Jesus. I’m not sure we even ever will. He’s like the first best friend I’ve ever had, I don’t want to lose him over some stupid feelings.”

Stella coos, grabbing at her mom’s hair. “We should go before she starts getting fussy. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you will. You might not believe me, but there’s more hope than you think there is. From an outsider’s perspective.”

“So, I can blame you when everything goes up in flames. Nice.” Julie gently slaps his arm. “Call me when you get back, alright.”

“I will. Wave goodbye to Uncle Argyle, Stella.”

“Bye, bye,” Steve whispers with a small wave.

Argyle smiles. “Bye, Stella. Nice seeing you both.”

They walk down the street to where Julia parked as Argyle returns to the café.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1

[justmymindandstuff]

Promise - Jon Snow x Y/N (Reader)

Summary: You are a Lady from House Tully and Catelyn Starks ward. But you love her husband bastard son Jon and he loves you. Your relationship is a secret, but you don't care. But then Jon makes the decision to go to the Wall.

Warnings: implied first time, fluff, forbidden love

Words: 2.876

Gif not mine

English is not my frist language, so forgive me for my mistakes; not proof read. 

You sit in the warm room and work on a handcraft. Sansa sits next to you and you both listen to the Septa's words. She explains something about housekeeping and numbers to you and Sansa, but you get bored and Sansa also prefers to concentrate on her stitches. Lady lies at your feet, her eyes are closed and she makes a quiet hum every now and then. Arya, fortunately for her, had hidden before the lesson with the Septa began. She's probably wandering around Winterfell or watching her brothers training with their swords. You are jealous of her.

"Septa, can you please tell us something about the Prince?" asks Sansa. Since Lord and Lady Stark shared with you that the royal party are one their way to visit Winterfell Sansa can only think about the golden Prince Joffrey.

"No, you have more important topics to learn my dear child." the Septa answers.

There's a knock on the door and Jon pokes his head in. Sansa rolls her eyes at the sight of her „Bastard-Brother“.

“Excuse me, Lady Stark sent me to get Lady Y/N.” You put your work aside and stand up.

"We will make up for the lesson." says the Septa.

"Of course." You say, but know you won't mind hearing such boring facts again. "Shall we go for a walk with Lady later?" Sansa asks. The Direwolf opens her eyes when she hears her name, but doesn´t move.

"Yes, I'll come straight to you after I've been to your mother." you answer. You are Catelyn Stark's ward, the daughter of a distant cousin of the Tullys. After your mother died giving birth to your brother and your father was called to Kingslanding by King Robert, Catelyn and her family let you in their house and raise you like you are one of them.

Jon closes the door behind you and smiles at you. You both walk through the corridors.

"Do you know what Catelyn wants?"

"Nothing. It was a lie. Do you really thought Catelyn will send me to get you?"

You laugh. "You can´t do things like that." you say but you smile. "It´s dangerous."

"Is it?" he asks, grabs your hips and press you gently against the next wall.

"Jon no." you giggle but then you grab his hand and kiss him, his grip at your hip tightens. Suddenly you hear steps, you and Jon jump apart and he takes two steps back.

"Because of you we will get caught." You say, Jon holds his arm to you, and you rake under it.

"You kissed me My Lady."

"I am sorry my Lord." Jons gaze is a bit sad now and he opens his mouth but you already know what he wants to say.

"I´m not a Lord.” You are faster than him and he smiles. “I know but I don´t care."

"Do you want to go for a ride?" he changes the topic. 

"Of course."

"Good, meet me at the gates." Jon presses a light kiss at your lips and walks down the floor. You take a deep breath to calm down your heartbeat. Everytime you see him you have the feeling that your heart jumps out of your chest and in your stomach fly butterflies. You are madly in love with this man and you have the luck that he loves you too. You know it´s dangerous. He is a bastard and you are a Lady. Your Love is forbidden but you don´t care.

You walk through Winterfell, your home, to the gates. Ghost comes to you and nudges his snout into your hand. Behind the gates waits Jon with two horses. You take the reins from him and get on the horse. Jon also gets on his horse and together you ride off into the forest. It´s a bit cold, but you don´t care. You just enjoy the time you spend with Jon.

Jon stops in a clearing. "Let's take a break." You look at him a little confused, you two usually ride for hours through the forests around Winterfell. And it's usually you who ends up barely getting off the horse because your legs are stiff and hurt. Jon gets of his horse and comes to you to help you, but you don´t need his help. You jump from the horseback and land bevor your Lover.

"Not really Ladylike."

"Shut up Snow." you laugh, and he takes your hand in his.

"Usually, your word is my command." he kisses your hand. "But today I have to talk to you."

You look at him worried. "Something happened?" you ask. Jon sighs, taking your hand in one hand and the reins in the other. Then he starts walking, Ghost runs next to you. You're still waiting for an answer. "I spoke to father today. After the king came to visit, he allowed me to go to the wall."

You stop, forcing Jon to stop too.

"What?"

"It has always been my dream to go to the wall."

"You want to put on the black? You want to leave me?" you can´t believe what you´re hearing.

"No! No Y/N of course I don't want to leave you. But father says the king wants him as his hand. There is no other reason why he should travel north otherwise. And then I can't stay here."

"Robb wouldn't send you away."

"Of course not. But you know what Catelyn thinks of me, when father is gone it will only get worse and besides, what else do I have other than the wall?"

Tears come to your eyes. "You have me. But that doesn't seem to be that important to you." you pull your hand away.

"No! Y/N please. Listen to me okay. Please let me explain."

"What do you want to explain? Why you are leaving me? I don´t want to hear it." You say angrily, you don't want him to leave you. "You said you loved me!"

"I love you."

"You don't leave the person you love."

Now tears come to Jon's eyes too. "What choice do I have?"

"You can stay here with me."

"And then? Continue to hide? Continue to meet in secret? Secret kisses and always being afraid of being caught? In the worst-case Catelyn catches us and she will demand my head."

"No she won't! I'll explain to her that we love each other."

"You know her, she will not listen to you."

"Is that what you care about? Is it fear? Do you not want to see me anymore? But please, don´t leave our home."

"I love you! I can't even spend a day away from you without it tearing me up inside." He pulls you towards him and presses his lips against yours. The kiss is full of passion and love and you cling to him like you'll never see him again. You break apart breathless. Jon rests his forehead against yours and looks deep into your eyes.

“Please believe me that I love you and that I don't want to leave you. But I'm a bastard Y/N, there's hardly a place for me in this world. But I will have a place and a task at the Wall."

"I believe you. But I don't understand why you want to leave. You have a place in Winterfell. Your place is at my side. Isn't that enough for you? Am I not enough for you?"

"Of course." Tears run down your cheeks. Jon carefully wipes them away with his thumbs. “But we both know, someday you will leave Winterfell to marry some old Lord. And then I have nothing left. The Wall is my only way out, even if I have to leave you for it. It is better like this, for both of us.“ It feels like he's leaving you already “Please Y/N please don’t be mad at me and try to understand why I have to leave.”

"I'll try it."

"Let's ride back. You have a meeting with Sansa."

"Now I don't feel like walking anymore."

"I'm sorry. But I just wanted to explain my decision to you."

You nod and you head back to Winterfell. You stay silent the whole way back, you have a lot to think about. Shortly before you arrive, you part ways and you are the first to ride into the courtyard of Winterfell. Jon will follow you after a while.

Sansa comes towards you. "There you are." she calls. "We wanted to go for a walk."

"I'm not feeling so well, Sansa." you say, getting off the horse and walking past her. Sansa looks at you a little confused, but she doesn't say anything else.

Your thoughts revolve around Jon and his decision to go to the Wall.

You try to understand why he wants to leave. And even if you don't really want to admit it to yourself, you can understand his reasons.

You walk towards your room when Arya approaches you.

"Hello Y/N." Arya says happily when she sees you.

"Hello little wolf." You say, forcing a smile on your lips for her. "You weren't at the class with the Speta this morning."

"Yes, I managed to escape." laughs Arya.

"You shouldn't neglect your classes."

"I know."

"I won't tell your mother under one condition."

"What do you want?"

"Come with me and read something to me. You read so well, please Arya."

She rolls her eyes. She hates these things, actually she hates everything that has nothing to do with swords and bows. "Fine." she then agrees. The two of you make your way to your room, you take the book you are currently reading and give it to Arya. It's a silly fairy tale about love, but when Arya starts reading you close your eyes and imagine it's your story. Your love story with Jon.

--

And then the day comes. The worst day of your life! Today the royal Party will leave Winterfell and with them Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya and Jon. Originally you should travel with Lord Stark and his daughters to Kings Landing, but after Bran fell from a tower, you stay behind with Catelyn and Robb. 

You are awake long before the sun will rise, but you couldn´t stay in bed. You get dressed and leave your room. You walk through the corridors up to Jons room. You are not often here, the danger of being caught is far too great, but today nothing matters anymore. You knock at his door, it takes a moment and then he opens the door. He stands in front of you and looks at you in surprise.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

You try to ignore his bare chest and step inside his room.

“I couldn´t sleep and I wanted to say goodbye to you. Before we doesn´t have time for us anymore.” Tears well up in your eyes. You had prayed to the gods that this day will never come, but now there is nothing you can do anymore than watch the love of your life leave.

Jon smiles at you. “I am glade, that you are here, but what if someone sees you?”

“I don´t care.”

“You should.”

“No. Everything I care about is that we only have hours left together.” You reach up to him and kiss his lips.

Jon kisses you back for a second, but than he pulls away. “Y/N.” he sighs and looks at you with sad eyes.

“No. I don´t want to be sad now. Please. We only have a few hours left together. I don´t want to waste them.”

Jon strokes your cheek and smiles. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. Forever.”

Jon kisses you again, you wrap your arms around his neck. Jon wraps his arms around your body and pulls you closer to him. The kiss is full of love and affection. You know he loves you and he know you love him. Even if your love is forbidden, even if everything speaks against your love. Nobody can take this away form you. Not a King, not a Lord or the Wall.

Your hands run over his bare chest.

His lips move to your neck, and you have to suppress a moan. His touch sets a fire inside you. You know this feeling, Jon has triggered this feeling in you again and again.

His hands roam over your back and then in front and over your arms. Jon pulls away from you, breathing heavily. His eyes sparkle and his lips meet yours again. Just for a second and then he pulls away.

"You have to go."

"Why."

"If you stay any longer, I can't promise anything anymore."

"I don't want you to promise me anything." you kiss him again, this time demanding and passionate. Your hands bury themselves in his hair and Jon groans.

"We can´t." He whispers against your lips and then kisses you again. His hands roam over your body and you get goosebumps all over your body.

"I know what you're afraid of, Jon. But don't worry."

Jon looks at you for a moment. You can see in his face that he is thinking.

And then he kisses you passionately. His hands are all over your body. You snuggle up against him and moan under his touch. "Are you sure?" he asks breathless.

"Yes. I've never been so sure."

You turn around, Jon kisses your neck as he undoes the laces of your dress. It falls to the floor and you shiver.

You've never experienced anything like what you had with Jon that morning. It was loving, tender and beautiful.

You lie together on his bed. The sun rises and you hear the first servants walking across the hallways. Jon’s hand gently strokes your bare shoulder.

"We have to get up." you say.

"I don't want this moment to be over."

"I don't want it either." You turn to him and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Jon.” It's just a whisper in the room, but to you it means everything. No one can take your time with Jon away from you, even if he leaves you today.

“Y/N.” Jon's voice is suddenly serious. "I will travel to the Wall today and I will put on the black. But I want to promise you something. I promise you that we will see each other again." He kisses your forehead and now you can't hold back the tears. "Don't cry my lady."

"I'm trying My." you interrupt yourself. “My Jon.”

--

You stand next to Catelyn in the courtyard to say goodbye to the king and his entourage. And to say goodbye to Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya and Jon. You hardly dare to look Jon in the eyes. You try to hold back the tears, but you can't quite manage it. A few tears roll down your cheeks, but you can blame it on the fact that you're going to miss Sansa and Arya so much.

The royal party starts moving and Jon also turns his horse towards the gate. But before he leaves Winterfell he turns around again, and your eyes meet. You look into his eyes one last time. He nods slightly at you and smiles. It's a sad smile, but you know what it means. I love you and this farewell isn´t forever. You will see each other again.

The gates close and you stand alone in the courtyard, and for the first time since you have been in Winterfell, you are actually cold. For the first time in your live you feel lonely. Caytlin says something to you, but you don´t hear what she said. You turn around and run into your room. You lock the door behind you and fall weakly onto your bed. Tears immediately stream down your cheeks, and you feel like your heart is tearing apart in your chest. He is gone. He is really gone.

--

The cold wind blows around your ears and you pull the fur collar of your cloak further up. You take a deep breath and ride towards the gate of Castle Black. You stop just before the gate and get off your horse. Your steps slowly carry you forward.

“Who are you?” a strange voice came from behind the gate.

“Lady Y/N, from Winterfell. I want to see Jon Snow.” Your voice trembles, but you´re almost there. You´re almost with him.

It takes a short moment and then the gate open and you can step into the courtyard of Castle Black. A lot of strange man look at you. You look around nervously. Your hair is messy, and your dress is covered in dirt and the hem is soaked in blood. Robbs blood.

“Y/N.” his voice flows through you, you turn around and looks at him. Jon comes down the stairs and runs across the yard to you. Before he even reaches you, tears are running down your cheeks. Finally, he wraps you in his arms again. You take a deep breath. His scent, so familiar and yet so strange, envelops you. For the first time since you left the Twins you feel safe.

“Please never leave me again.” You whisper in his ear.

“Never. I promise.”

[allywthsr]

RECKLESS | (l.norris)

summary: you couldn’t attend the Hungarian grandprix and you find out through articles that Lando cheated on you

wordcount: 3.3k words

pairing: landonorris x singer!femreader

warnings: cheating, being sad

notes: felt a little sad today and listened to Reckless by Madison Beer on repeat so needed to write something down! Comment your thoughts!!

request are open

Lando and you, everybody thought that you would make it to the end. Nothing could ever tear you apart, it was him and you against the world, the power couple that physically felt pain when you spent more than three days apart. The singer and the driver, everybody always made fun of Lando on how he managed to catch you, but you always told them that you couldn’t believe he was yours. In your eyes, you were the lucky one, having such a supportive boyfriend was like winning the lottery, if not even better.

Whenever you were spending hours in the studio, he understood the situation and even canceled the movie night you guys planned because you had a creative day. He sat on the couch in your studio listening to you singing while he wondered how you were able to sound that beautiful. When you were sad, he was there to cuddle, whenever you were on your period he would run to the shops and get you your tampons and pads, your favorite sweet you always craved, and put his hand on your lower stomach while hoping this would somehow help your cramps, and if they were unbearable he would get up and make you a hot water bottle. Even in the middle of the night when you would be tossing and turning he would get up, get you a painkiller, and a hot water bottle, and cuddle you until you felt better and ready to sleep, without you ever asking him to do that. Whether it was a race week or not.

But really, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. You first moved to Woking for him, moving everything you needed into your first shared home. You found a new studio and crew just so you could always be close to him. You were never angry when a meeting at the MTC or a training session took longer than expected and he came home late. You even moved to a whole different country for him. Monaco. You, again, found a new studio and crew that offered amazing support. You left all your friends you made in Woking to start over in your new home with Lando. You made cookies and told Jon they were sugar and everything free and full of proteins just so Lando could have one or two, sneaked little Kinder bars in the paddock that Lando could have after the race without anyone knowing. You knew him like the back of your hand.

Everyone joked about how you were practically married even without the ring, at least you were acting like a married couple. Always next to each other, holding hands, or one hand was always on your lower back, showing each other memes or fan edits wherever you were. He was in your family group chat and you were in the Norris‘ group chat as well, always sending little pics of the other to keep the family updated. You thought about kids' names, what kind of dog you wanted to get, and what your final home should look like.

Over the course of the last three weeks, he started to act weird. Coming home late, and not the ’I had training and Jon made me practically puke‘ late, it was the late where he would appear after 2:00 am. When you asked where he was, the only response you got was a: ”Sorry, the guys and I got stuck in a club“, knowing damn well that Max Fewtrell wasn’t even in Monaco and you couldn’t imagine his other friends staying up that late. He would kiss your forehead and cuddle you from behind, while you couldn’t smell any alcohol.

Every other day he would hang out with his friends, while their girlfriends shared how they were all doing something different with their significant other than Lando said they would do. Nor were there any fans posting a sighting of Lando, what would happen every time he went out in Monaco. When you asked him about that, he told you not to worry, he would be in his friends‘ flat that’s why there weren’t any sightings of him.

When the first picture with an unknown girl in his car appeared, he told you to not worry about her, she was the sister of one of his friends and he just picked her up because his friend couldn’t. You believed him because you‘ve been in a relationship for so long and you could never imagine a life without him. So when another picture of her and him appeared, you got another ’don’t worry about her, she‘s just a friend that wanted to hang out ‘. You didn’t worry but were sad that she got his attention and you didn’t. He was less affectionate than he normally was. But you didn’t worry. You told him that you didn’t feel comfortable with him always being with her, he listened and promised to change, but not even two hours later he got a call from who you believed was her and he ’needed to go, his friends needed him, it was an emergency‘.

But that all changed rapidly. Just because of one night the love story of Lando and Y/N was over.

Hungary.

Hungary now left a bitter taste on your tongue when you talked about the country.

You couldn’t join him for this race, because you had stuff to do for the album that came out a week ago, this was your most famous album yet, so everyone wanted you for an interview, getting your thoughts on the album and the stories behind them. Of course, it was an Album about Lando and the love you felt for him. What else were you supposed to write about, if he was your biggest inspiration?

So when you woke up the day after the race and you had hundreds of messages on your phone, from family and friends telling you to answer their texts and read the articles that came out during the morning, you were worried. Already having a bad feeling in your gut. Just yesterday you celebrated with Lando over FaceTime. Congratulating him over his P2 finish and making fun of him for smashing Max‘s trophy while doing his famous champagne celebration. You regretted not going yesterday, but now, you regretted it even more. Maybe then it wouldn’t have happened.

When you googled Lando Norris you found hundreds of articles. All of them with the same headline ’Lando Norris cheating on his girlfriend singer Y/N?‘. Your vision immediately clouded with tears, you didn’t even want to read the articles. Too scared of what they would say. So when you opened the first one you saw, you could see a blurry picture with bad lighting. Probably taken in a nightclub.

’Is Lando Norris kissing this unknown girl or is it just a bad angle? All we know is that his longterm girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N and singer couldn’t join him for the Hungary Grandprix because of a press tour she had for her newly released album that’s a love dedication for her boyfriend Lando Norris. Insights say that they‘ve split up not that long ago because of this mystery woman, who’s hugging Norris. Whether it is true or not, we currently have no exact information. But all we can say is that people that were partying with them said, that they looked very much in love and couldn’t stop touching each other, they made various trips to the bathroom and even went to his hotel together. But why would Y/N release an album about Lando if they were broken up? So far we have no statement from both of them, we‘ll keep you updated.‘

When you tried to call Lando, he didn’t pick up, nor did he read or answer any of your texts. You didn’t want to believe this article because you both swore to the other that you wouldn’t. The media would always take the smallest bit of gossip and turn it into a big thing and often enough assume things, that didn’t even happen. You couldn’t count the times Lando and you sat on your couch and laughed while reading all of the articles about your supposed breakup.

But this time, they had pictures and pictures can’t lie. You could clearly see Lando and the girl he ’had picked up for his friend‘. So maybe she wasn’t the sister but the reason he was always late and always missing important events like your album launch party. You could still see all the pitiful faces everyone made when you told them he couldn’t come because of an ’MTC emergency‘, you didn’t come up with a better excuse. He never even told you he wouldn’t make it, he just didn’t show. So you released the album that’s about him, without him, you‘ve never been more embarrassed.

So you went to get your notebook and started writing. Letting all the feelings out you felt in that moment.

Hey, this is a story I hate

You already hated how it ended, hated how your story now had an end.

And telling it might make me break

You weren’t sure how you could make it through this situation without breaking, Lando was your first real love, you'd never thought he would be a cheater.

But I'll tell it anyway

You needed to get everything out of your system or you might burst.

This chapter's about

How you said there was nobody else

You remembered all the times he told you there was nobody else after you saw the picture of her in his car. Filling your spot, the spot where you kept all your essentials you needed during a short ride, Lando being a huge fan of the hand creme and you knew he secretly used it.

Then you got up and went to her house

The missing and coming home late made sense now. He always went to her house, that’s why the boys always did different things than he told you. Now you understood why there were no pictures of Lando in his car or him walking around town because he was always with her.

You guys always left me out

Whenever you asked if you could join his group for a round of golf he told you it was a boys-only round, but when you saw the girls‘ Instagram story of a golf caddie you knew you'd been left out and now you wondered if he took her. Introducing her to his friends. Were the girls already friends with her and meeting for lunch?

I still have the letter you wrote

When you told me that I was the only girl

You'd ever want in your life

You remembered the times he gave you a handwritten letter. At the beginning of your relationship, you told him how sweet you found it in movies when the boyfriend gave his girlfriend a love letter. And every now and then he wrote you a love letter. You memorized the last line he always wrote in every letter. ’You‘re the only girl I’d ever want in my life next to my mum and sisters, darling, I love you so much‘ and you believed him, because why shouldn’t you?

I guess my friends were right

During the early stages of your relationship your friends always told you, that he would want a younger girlfriend at some point, because he was famous and had money, he could get every girl he wanted even when he was sixty-three years old. You laughed at them, telling them what Lando and you had was real and would last a lifetime, he wasn’t someone that would want someone new every other week, he was a keeper. Oh how wrong you were.

Each day goes by and each night, I cry

After the first few pictures, when things got too much you let a few tears slip your eyes. And with every night that he came home late, you laid awake, hiding your tears and trying to keep your sobs quiet.

Somebody saw you with her last night

The more time passed the more pictures appeared and slowly headlines started to form but you didn’t believe them. Every day there was a new sighting of them, but she was just a friend, you had nothing to worry about.

You gave me your word, "Don't worry 'bout her"

You tried to count how often he told you not to worry, but you lost count. Now you found yourself pathetic, believing his lies and not even worrying while you had every right to be skeptical but you weren’t.

You might love her now, but you loved me first

They say you always love your first love, but did he? Was it even possible to love someone new that fast after cheating on someone? You couldn’t imagine it. But apparently he did, he had to, if he cheated then he had to love her now because why else would you betray your partner if you would love them?

Said you'd never hurt me, but here we are

”I will never hurt you, angel, you are forever my favorite person. If I ever hurt you, you have my permission to kill me.“ you laughed after he said that. Thinking how silly he was, he could never hurt you. Why should he? You wanted to punch yourself for believing him.

Oh, you swore on every star

”Are you seeing all the stars baby?“, you were laying on your blanket you bought for stargazing nights, as Lando liked to call them, he found it romantic to lay under the stars. ”Yes of course I am Lando“, you giggled. ”That’s how much I love you, I swear on all of them that I will always love you, you are my person.“, after that you kissed him and didn’t let him go, you remember how sweet you found the words he always told you.

How could you be so reckless with my heart?

He played with your heart and trust, threw it on the ground, and ran over it with his f1 car. At least that’s how it felt. It felt like he didn’t even care what he was doing to you, doing what he wanted and not even thinking about you.

You check in and out

Of my heart like a hotel

Whenever he wanted to be affectionate, you would let him and whenever he needed his space, you gave him that. Being at his back and call whenever he needed you, not caring what you felt and needed. He chose when to be loved and when not.

And she must be perfect, oh well

You both always said how you found the ’you‘re perfect‘ saying, bullshit. Nobody is perfect, everybody has their flaw and makes mistakes. When he forgot to get your favorite brand of sweets when he went out for groceries, he apologized but you were okay with it because he wasn’t perfect. He always told you, you were close to being perfect and if there was someone better than you, she had to be perfect. But that was impossible because perfect didn’t exist.

I hope you both go to hell

Maybe you were overreacting, maybe there was a logical explanation on why he cheated, but you couldn’t imagine one. You wanted him to leave and go somewhere far away, so you would never have to see him again. You wished him to have a broken leg so he couldn’t race next weekend, you wanted him to suffer somewhere the way he deserved. And her too. She must’ve known he wasn’t single, she could‘ve stopped it or even prevented it if she would have wanted to.

I still have the letter you wrote

When you told me that I was the only girl

You'd ever want in your life

Often the letters were addressed to ’the only girl I ever want in my life‘, you even put his handwriting with this sentence on your album cover. Showing his love for you with it, while everybody was swooning over the sweet words he always found for you, now all they meant to you, were broken promises.

I guess my friends were right

Even after celebrating your fourth anniversary, your friends told you to be careful, you never knew what men were up to. You laughed, thinking how your man would never hurt you. You should’ve listened.

Each day goes by and each night, I cry

Somebody saw you with her last night

Every time someone sent you another picture of her, you cried your little heart out, too scared that she would do something that he would regret later, you trusted Lando, but not her.

You gave me your word, "Don't worry 'bout her"

You could only shake your head now. The typical ’don’t worry about her‘ and you actually believed him, you didn’t worry about her because he made you feel loved. With every ’don’t worry about her‘ you grew a little more suspicious but you trusted him, so you didn’t worry.

You might love her now, but you loved me first

”The first love is not supposed to last, but you will always be my first love and my favorite.“, he told you one morning in bed after a wild night. You smiled and cuddled to his naked chest, thinking how you were Lando Norris‘ first love, no one could take that from you. Being the first love was a good feeling.

Said you'd never hurt me, but here we are (here we are)

Even before you got together you told him that you were scared of getting hurt, you didn’t want to go through the process of getting over someone you loved. But he promised to never hurt you, because he loved you too much for it, guess not, huh?

Oh, you swore on every star

Every time you couldn’t be together for a race he would text you when it was nighttime at your place, that you‘d only have to count the stars to see his love for you. The stars would represent his love when he couldn’t show you personally.

How could you be so reckless with my heart?

Your poor heart now had a hard time, recovering from such a tragic event, not being thought about and just trashed like he didn’t even care.

How could you be so reckless?

How could you be so reckless?

Yes, how could he be so reckless?

How could you be so reckless with someone's heart?

You were sure that she also must feel bad, or at least start feeling bad when the fans would find her Instagram account and trash her. You were never a fan of hating someone online, but it was her own fault, being the other girl is a hard thing that you have to carry for the rest of your life, you basically destroyed a relationship.

Hey, this is a story I hate

You couldn’t believe how love could turn into hate so quickly. You had loved the love story you and Lando shared. Meeting at an event, exchanging numbers, and falling in love. But now you hated every minute of it. Wishing you would have never met him.

But I told it to cope with the pain

Music was your therapy. You needed it to survive, otherwise, you would burst with feelings, normally happy ones, now you needed it so you wouldn’t fully break down.

I'm so sorry if you can relate

———————————————————————————

Part two

[blughxreader]

Platonic Yan!Superman

Summary: An afternoon-in-the-life of Superfam's kidnapped darling CW: post-kidnap, chains. relatively tame, Clark is a good daddy. ambiguously aged reader. ft, mommy lois. WC: 624

When it comes to you, Clark's strength and self-control sit in a precarious balance.

It takes monumental discipline not to break people's ear drums from the blast-off towards home or to flatten Smallville's crops when landing too suddenly. The frenzied excitement at seeing you after a long day makes him forget his powers, but he's generally mindful.

---

Clark landed in a gust of air that rattled the house, hand on the doorknob before the windows even vibrated. It took him a second to remember to be human.

Clark inhaled deeply through his nose and went through his checklist.

Human strength?

Breathing?

Feet on the ground?

Calm and collected?

Warm air and the delicious smell of dinner greeted him like a hug. Clark took a step inside, carefully measuring the weight behind each step until he comfortably distributed his usual 235 pounds. Tension bled from his muscles when he narrowed in on your frantic heartbeat upstairs.

"Hi, baby," Lois called from the kitchen.

Clark migrated towards her voice, spotting Lois at the table with her head ducked behind her computer screen.

"Hi, you." Clark smiled.

His eyes skirted over the pot of soup simmering on the stove as he walked to the table. With feather-light fingers, he guided Lois's face up for a kiss. Comforting serenity did away with the last of his nerves, and Clark took a second to appreciate how perfect his family was.

They parted, faces lingering close.

"So..." Clark started, voice an absent hum. Your heartbeat seemed to echo through the house, but Clark knew only he could hear. "Mind if I ask how your day was, then get back to you in a few minutes for the answer?"

Lois rolled her eyes with a smile, pushing his chest away. "Go on, you awful worrier."

Shooting her a sheepish grin, Clark hurried out of the kitchen towards the stairs.

Finally. Clark worried about you at all hours of the day. Thoughts of you escaping or accidentally hurting yourself were an ever-present concern, despite his thorough precautions. Worrying wasn't all he did, though. Clark also just longed to see you.

Clark's foot landed on the squeaky step, followed by your sharp breath from down the hall.

It was no secret that you didn't want to be a part of their family, and Clark understood. He did everything to make himself as predictable and gentle as possible, hoping that one day you would be happy to hear him come home.

Clark carefully approached your door, listening to you move. Thumpthumpthump, your pulse fluttered.

Rasping a knuckle on the door, he said, "Kiddo?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Time slowed as the door slid open, revealing you in all your precious glory.

You were sitting at your desk, back straight and hands in your lap. Despite your fear, your face was as pleasant as you could make it, save for the small quivers in your tight smile.

Clark’s eyes crinkled from his smile. “Hey, kid. I missed you.”

“Hi,” you said meekly, rising to greet him.

Clark crossed the room with more speed than he intended and swept you into his arms, pulling you off your chair. The chain around your ankle rattled at the disturbance.

Your shaky arms wrapped around Clark's back, and his heart swelled with love. His sweet kid. His unending joy.

Clark kissed the crown of your head, drawing out the hug for as long as possible. He looked out your window, seeing sunny, blue skies past the iron bars that caged the glass.

Now that he thought about it, it was beautiful weather on the flight home.

Clark settled you down on your feet, arms still wrapped around your small frame. With a smile that matched the sun's light, Clark asked, "Want to sit outside and wait for Jon's school bus?"

For more yandere superfam content, visit my batfam & superfam masterlist!

[feyhunter78]

ms girl I'm begging you to be added to you tag list for the jon snow fic cause I can't keep maniacally scrolling every 2 days this is very very serious.

thank you.

I'll add you to the taglist, but I also thought I'd reward your patience with a little chapter delivery!

Chapter Seventeen - Within the war camp of the Starks and Tullys you find yourself facing your family in different ways. CH 18

You try not to laugh as you watch Margaery smooth down her skirts, Robb’s tunic laces strung back up incorrectly, hanging uneven as he addresses his men.

“Tyrion Lannister has responded quickly, as we expected, considering we have his children and grandchildren.” Robb says, letting your grandsire’s letter be passed around among his bannermen. “He will meet us in the fields outside Bitterbridge and asks that we list our demands so that he might decide if they are worth considering.”

“Does he truly believe he has any leverage? My entire family is here.” You whisper to Jon, feeling a pang of guilt for not immediately inquiring after the health of your family. You have been so preoccupied with Jon, with sticking to him in order to avoid the harsh stares, the whispers that circulated throughout the camp. True you may have Jon’s heart, and Robb liked you well enough but their men? They did not trust you; you remained a lion at the side of a wolf, and it will serve you well to remember that.

“You know your grandsire; he will not give in so easily.” Jon whispers back, his eyes on Robb.

Robb continues, his voice gaining in volume, in confidence. “We know our terms men, the throne for Stannis Baratheon, more bodies for the wall, the annulment of Queen Margaery’s marriage—”

“And enough Redwyne wine to last us through the winter.” Theon chimes in from his place behind Robb, a tongue-in-cheek smile on his face, his eyes bright with mirth.

“Aye, enough drink to warm us while it snows.” A Northman you do not recognize says.

“And perhaps some pretty Southron wives too.” Someone else calls, as laughter begins to roll through the crowd.

Margaery laughs, and it sounds like bells, clear and pure, all eyes shift to her. “While I cannot speak for every woman of the south… I can say that I have found myself quite content with my Northman, and I am sure many others will feel the same once they are rescued from their soft willed and greedy husbands.”

A cheer rises at her words, and you find yourself biting your tongue to keep from laughing once more. Only Margaery can make possible bride kidnapping sound like a heroic deed. Though you guess you cannot blame her, nor would you blame any women that left the South for the North. If you were married to one of those lazy, greedy lords who spent all day chasing after servant girls and squandering away his gold, you would rush into the arms of the nearest Northman as well.

Even though Robb had dismissed everyone hours ago, their cheers still ring faintly in your ears as you walk towards the constructed cells that held your aunt and uncle. They were less cells but cages, bars of iron stuck into the ground, a metal sheet hammered atop for a roof. You had not wanted your aunt and uncle put in these things. They were people, not animals, but you know your presence in the camp is still a precarious one. You are still a Lannister, still an enemy of the North, and your voice is not one they wish to hear.

Tommen and your father have been put in a tent, of course. Your father had helped organize this entire plan and no one truly thought Tommen would run, he was still a boy, but your aunt and uncle? Perhaps your aunt would not run if she were alone, but with your Uncle Jamie by her side? Anything was possible.

Your aunt and uncle look up when they hear your footsteps, both dirtied and tired, the smell of smoke clinging to them.

Your aunt’s eyes are wildfire, the heat directed at you, while your uncle’s eyes are dull swamp water, and downcast. “How could you do this to us?” She spits, rising to her feet when you approach.

“I did not, I had no idea, you must voice your complaints to my father.” You tell her, handing her and your uncle bowls of oatmeal.

Your uncle takes it quietly, giving you a nod of thanks, but your aunt slaps it from your hands, the mushy oats splattering across the ground and the hem of your gown. “Tell your snake of a father I will not be given gruel and locked up as if I were a common criminal. I am the Dowager Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I will tell him, but I cannot promise much, he is sitting on Lord Robb’s war council at the moment, preparing for Grandsire’s arrival.” You say airily, trying not to look at your uncle, trying not to see the defeat and acceptance in his eyes.

“War council? That boy truly thinks he will defeat our father? You disappoint me, niece; you have squandered my lessons.” Your aunt says, her arms crossed over her chest, her head held high, even in a cage she still looks every inch a queen. “Pray to the Seven that your grandsire will be merciful and send you off to become a septa instead of taking your head.”

“Cersei…” Your uncle says quietly, leaning his head back against the bars of his cage.

“I will pray that King Stannis grants you mercy.” You tell her, collecting the bowl and spoon from the ground before turning on your heel, a mountain of guilt ever-growing in your heart.

As you walk back to the kitchen tent you spot Ser Arthur, he is polishing his sword, his eyes drifting in the direction of the cells every so often.

“My uncle spoke very highly of you.” You say once you get closer. You do not know what he had said to your uncle that day he claimed Jon in court, but it had struck him to his core. “He wished to be you, to live up to the standard you set.”

“I know.” Ser Arthur says softly, a frown etched into his weathered face, his hand stilling in its task. “I told him the truth, the whole of it, and in return he told me why he had done it, of the wildfire beneath the city. I have told Lord Robb; he will write to King Stannis and inform him of the danger.”

You are still holding your aunt’s rejected bowl, your grip on it tightening at his words. Your uncle had only once told you the story, you were young, and he was deep in his cups, the words spilling out like water. You wanted to tell everyone of his brave actions, to erase the title Kingslayer from his name, but he forbid you, said it did not matter now.

“He is better than me, surpassed the standard I set, he had always been rebellious, or we thought him rebellious. We did not see it was a conscious he possesses not a nasty streak of near insubordination.” Ser Arthur sighs.

“He hated it, standing guard while two kings raped their queens, it would have been three if Joffrey had lived, I do not know if he could have survived three.” You admit quietly, scanning your surroundings.

It is early morning, the sun still rising, the birds still waking, the breeze slightly cool but ever warming. There is dew on the grass, and in the quiet stillness you look at Ser Arthur. He is soon to be your good-father, you have grown up hearing tales of his greatness, but in this moment he is nothing but the man who failed your uncle. The man followed his oath to a mad prince so blindly he could not see the bodies left in his wake, and could not muster the courage to flee, to take Lady Lyanna somewhere safe. You know he is Jon’s father, that his acknowledgement of Jon, his affection for him has made your sworn sword happy beyond words, but you would trade Ser Arthur for your uncle in a heartbeat. Your Uncle Jaime is a good man, he saved millions. Defended you, protected you, even now as he sits in a cage, he has not lost his honor, has not spat cruel words at you for your part in this scheme.

“My uncle is a good man; he does not deserve to die.” You whisper, hoping the wind will take your words before anyone else hears them.

Ser Arthur stares at his sword, his eyes reflected in the metal. “I will ask the king to send him to The Wall, I cannot see Ser Jaime lose his head, not when he saved the whole of King’s Landing. I trained that boy, he was five and ten when he came to us, I watched him become a man with great honor, I know he has been tainted, manipulated by your aunt, but he is not beyond saving.” He says, beginning to polish his sword once more.

You nod, but do not let your hopes rise.

Your father and cousin sit playing cyvasse in your father’s tent, the entrance watched by two Stark guards, who give you a cautious look but allow you entry. Your father’s tent is large, not as large as Robb’s but more than enough for him and Tommen. Furs are laid out on two cots pushed in the far corner, a small table and a few chairs sit in the middle with a large chest set against one wall of the tent. A fire pit has been dug, a low flame within to heat the tent.

Tommen looks up at your approach, his eyes rimmed with red. “Cousin.”

“Cousin.” You echo, taking a seat between them.

“If I am to die, will you ensure Ser Pounce, and Lady Whiskers are looked after?” Tommen asks, his voice shaky, his eyes on the gameboard.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you grip the edge of the table, glancing at your father. “You will not die; you are a child.”

Tommen nods and wipes at his eyes with his sleeve. “That is what your father said too, but I wished to hear it from someone the Starks truly trust.”

Your father looks away, and you can spot tears forming in his eyes as he stands. “I must go and meet with Lord Robb; I will return for dinner.”

He makes a hasty exit, leaving you and Tommen at the table, the silence only broken by Tommen’s soft sniffles.

“You will not die; I will beg the king on my knees for your life if need be.” You tell him, taking his hands between yours. Besides your father, Tommen is all the family you have left, Myrcella is in Dorne, and your aunt and uncle will likely be killed. Your grandsire will surely be killed as well, if not imprisoned or sent to the Wall for the rest of his life.

“What will happen to me?” He asks.

You curse your father for his quick escape, it should be him who explains all this to Tommen, why is it left to you? Because Tommen trusts you, he finds you far more comforting than I. You can already hear your father’s explanation in your head.

Reaching out to brush away a few stray tears for his cheeks, you lay out your plan. “I will advocate for you to join Lord Stark in Winterfell as a ward, I do not expect it to be allowed, so my next suggestion will be for you to become a septon or a maester in the Citadel.”

“But they will hate me in Winterfell.”

“No, no, you will find happiness there, Bran and Rickon are near your age, and the Starks are good, honorable people, they understand you are not to blame.” You reassure him, squeezing his hands tightly.

“What about Margaery, what will happen to her?” Tommen sniffles.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Margaery will be marrying Lord Robb, to help secure peace.”

“They are a similar age; she will be happier with someone who likes what she does.” Tommen sounds almost relieved by the news, then his bottom lip begins to tremble, and his shoulders slump. “What if he hits her, like father or Joffrey? I saw father hit mother, I saw Joffrey hit you and Myrcella simply for speaking your thoughts aloud. Margaery has many thoughts, and she enjoys voicing them. What if Lord Robb does not like that?”

You squeeze his hands again and give him a soft smile, your heartbreaking at the thought of Tommen seeing what you, your aunt, and Myrcella had tried so hard to hide from him. “He will not, Lord Robb finds everything she says interesting, and if he does then I am sure one of his sisters will make him pay. They do not tolerate such things; you will see when you go to meet them.”

Tommen nods but does not relinquish your hand. “Will you come visit me in Winterfell?”

“Of course, Tommen, I will come see you in Winterfell then I will go see Uncle Jamie at the wall and then when I return, I will stop by and see you once more. Perhaps I will even be able to bring Myrcella.”

He smiles, it is slow to spread across his face, and it is watery, but it is still a smile. “I would like that.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain, @rebeccawinters, @taylorsfemalerage, @rax-raxus, @certainwonderlandperfection, @designatedramaiver

[what0smart]

Jay and Nia:Absolute Power Ground Zero

I really loved stage one as a step into Jay and Nia’s conflict for this story. I think Nia expecting Jay to be more understanding and after he snapped at her hoping that he’ll understand once it’s all over is just denial on her part to be able to keep moving forward, and I mean her name literally in the word so. She definitely should have gone a less emotional route, more like “this is the position I was put in, I can’t justify what I did because I panicked under the pressure but it’s what happened.” But I also completely understand her breaking after seeing Jay behind bars and wanting to be able to talk normally with a friend. We’ve never really gotten to see Jay this angry so I was really happy to see it, love how sarcastic and aggressive he gets with it, I can’t get over the air quotes he does. While I said Nia should have handled it differently I could also see Jay just being a bit inconsolably right now, he’s reliving the worst trauma that happened to him, which is incredible that his country being taken over by a dictator and his mother being taken from him happened twice but here we are. I think the both of them are in unbelievably bad places and while Nia did choose her family and people over Jay’s both Nia’s attempt at explaining and Jay’s snap at her felt very understandable. On a different note I feel the need to mention Skylar Patridge’s art style was a great choice because of how expressive everyone’s faces are, I really loved all the new Jay panels we got. Overall I was really enjoyed this and I can’t wait to see Jay’s reaction to Jon being controlled by Amanda, gonna be so sad I can’t wait! Be sure to read the full issue as there are three other important stories in this issue.

[bookuce]

Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it.

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book also uses the actual names of the wrestlers. Gionna is Liv, Austin is Xavier Woods, Josh is Jey Uso, Jon is Jimmy Uso, Trinity is Naomi, Alina is just Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO POST MY WORK ON ANY SITE*

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 2,297

PART ONE

PART TWO

“One! Two! Three!” Shouts the crowd. The bell would ring, signifying the end of the tag match. The Usos rolled out the ring quickly before an angry Street Profits could reach them. The tag match ended dirty. Montez’s shoulder was up, but the referee didn’t see it. Josh and Jon knew they got off without being caught and were celebrating on the ramp without care. They would eventually run to the back, vanishing behind the curtain.

Alina is informed to be at the gorilla for Josh and Jon for a backstage interview, and she can hear them as rowdy as ever, drawing near. They would pop out from the dark ramp, bouncing around with their championships in their hands. “Jimmy, Jey, can I get a word? What happened out there?” She says, catching their attention. Jon would drop his sweaty arm across her shoulders while Josh snatched the mic and her hand up.

“What happened out there? What happened out there, Uce, is that we won! Ain’t nothing else happened out there. The Street Profits thought they could hang with us, and what happened!”

“They got dropped!” Jon chimed in.

“They got dropped!” Josh repeats. “Ain’t no one taking these from us, Uce!”

“Yeet!”

“And if you think you got a chance,” Josh takes the mic out of Alina’s hands, blocking her from the camera. She took this as a chance to rid her hand of the sweat he left behind.

“Yeet!”

“You can get dropped too!”

“Yeet!”

“Cause at the end of the day, Uce, you the number twos, and we the ones!” Josh would end his promo with a raise of his pointer finger. His twin would follow suit before they both walked off towards the locker rooms. The cameraman would put his camera down, and the light on its head turned off.

“That was good.” Alex, the cameraman, would say, causing Alina to nod in agreement.

“Ay, Lina!” Josh shouts from across the large hall. “We going out tonight! Don’t make no plans!” Every time they successfully defended their championships, they wanted to go out. Though their night was ending, Alina had to stick around for the last two matches in case the company needed her for backstage interviews.

“Too late!” She teases.

“Cancel that shit, Uce!” Jon shouts, making Alina chuckle softly.

“Text me the details!” She shouts back.

———————————————————————————

Alina didn’t do much clubbing anymore. As she got older, she noticed the club crowd got younger. At thirty-two years old, she just didn’t see the hype anymore. That and it always took her days to recover. Getting her out of the house or a hotel room wasn’t an easy accomplishment, but somehow, Josh could do it every time. Maybe it was because he would harass her until she said yes; He always knew how to make her say yes.

She didn’t like that, but he loved it.

Here she was, standing in a nightclub surrounded by sloshed party-goers, and she had no idea where her group was. What she did know was that she needed a drink. If she was going to be able to tolerate being here, she needed to join the masses. She moved through the crowd, her eyes fixated on the glowing bar at the back of the large room. She hadn’t received any text messages from Josh in over forty-five minutes. All he had to say the last time they spoke was that he was here. When she gets to the bar, she squeezes between two people. They didn't pay her any mind, but the bartender saw her just as she got in.

“What can I get for you?” He asks.

“Vodka sprite, please!” She answered. The bartender quickly moved from her sight to prepare her drink for her. While Alina waited, she took her phone out of her pocket. The screen lit up, showing that she still had no new messages. Her thumb swipes up to unlock it, tapping the messages icon immediately after. Josh’s name was at the top of her inbox, her last message still there. She’d click on the message thread to type up a new message.

Alina: Hey, I’m here at the bar.

The screen would go dark after she sent the message, but she would keep the phone in her hand. The bartender would return with her drink, a smile on his face. “Thank you.” She says. She’d hand over her debit card, allowing him to swipe it. He asked her if she would want to start a tab, but she’d declined. She knew her drinks were on Josh once he found her. She glanced down at her phone; Still no new messages.

A hand would touch the small of her back, causing her to jump. Alina glanced over her left shoulder to find a man who wasn’t her best friend. This man towered over her. If she had to guess his height, she would say he was six foot five inches. He gives her a grin. “Hi,” He greets her.

“Hi.” She returns.

He leans down slightly; his mouth is in listening shot of her ear. “I’m Gavin, and you are?” He holds his hand out for her to shake.

“Alina.” She says, taking his hand. She shakes it gently before letting go of it. “Am I in your way? I can move.” She begins to make space for him. Gavin’s hand rests on her shoulder, stopping her from moving more.

“I came over here for you,” He starts. “I couldn’t walk away without telling you you're beautiful.” Heat began to rise in Alina’s face as her eyes shifted to the floor.

“Thank you.” She says, looking up at the guy again. Gavin wasn’t bad-looking. His black hair was shaggy on his head, his eyes a deep brown that looked almost black. His skin was pale, but his cheeks were faintly pink. He had a nostalgic feel to him overall.

“Are you here with anyone?” He asks.

“I…”

“Yeah, she’s with me, Uce.” A familiar voice chimes in. Josh eyes the man in front of him before holding out his hand. “You good, baby?” He asks, glancing at Alina. Took him long enough, she thought. She slips her hand into his warm one, instantly pulled to the Samoan. Once she was near him, he would slide his arm around her waist. Mentally, Alina took a deep breath to steady her now racing heart.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She says, leaning in to kiss his earlobe. Josh’s collected demeanor wouldn’t falter at the action, but boy, was he doing somersaults in his head. Gavin glances between the two before letting his brown eyes settle on Alina.

“Lucky man.” He says before turning to vanish back into the crowd.

Alina turns to look at Josh. “Damn, I thought you forgot how to use a phone.” She takes a step away from him.

“My bad, I didn’t know you texted me.” He says. Josh takes in Alina’s appearance. He couldn’t verbally tell her how good she looked, but he’s sure she knows. Of course, she knows how attractive she is. He was always having to fight off men on her behalf. Was he fighting off men for his sake or her own? Both? Both. He was selfish like that. Selfish, possessive—whatever you wanted to call it, he was that.

Alina noticed his staring. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide that he was doing it. He was blatant about things he did when it came to her. “Where is everyone?” She asks, snapping him out of his trance. He looks in two directions before allowing his eyes to settle on her.

“Oh, uh, we got a section. Come on.” Josh snatches up her hand again, pulling her through the crowd. They would zigzag through the dancefloor before making it to a set of stairs. A security guard stood there, blocking people who weren’t them from going up. He would step to the side to allow Josh and Alina to pass. They’d climb the stairs, finding themselves in an area lit up blue. In the corner was a bar that resembled the same as the bottom but smaller.

“Yay, he found her!” Gionna exclaims, jumping up from her seat on a white couch. With one hand, Alina hugs her friend. Josh stood to the side of them, watching the two women interact.

“You gonna let her go, Uce?” Jon shouts at him. The eldest twin always had time to tease Josh and Alina about their relationship. It wasn’t a friendship to him. He was beyond calling it that, as was everyone around them. The only two that were fighting for the title of friendship were the two people involved. Josh reluctantly lets go of her hand, and Alina notices instantly. Her eyes meet his back as he’s walking towards the couch.

“Have you gotten a drink yet?” Gionna asks.

It was then Alina realized she left her drink downstairs at the bar. She looks over the ledge, spotting the small cup sitting at the bar with no one around it. Well, she wasn’t going back for that. “No.” She answers, looking at the petite blonde in front of her. Gionna snatches up the same hand Josh previously held and pulls her over to the bar.

“Alina looks good,” Austin says, watching Alina and Gionna walk towards the bar. Josh and Jon look at each other before Josh looks off in the distance. He could feel his blood pressure rising by the second.

“Not too much on my sister-in-law, Uce,” Jon says. Trinity would slap Jon’s chest, making him bring his hand up to cover himself. Josh looks at his brother, pointing his finger at him.

“Quit playing with me, Jon! I done told you!” His brother would laugh, kicking his feet slightly at the reaction he’d gotten from his little brother.

“Oh, so she’s free game?” Austin asks, standing up.

“This ass whooping can be free game.” Josh snaps, rising with him. “Try it if you want to.” He warns. Austin lowered his eyes at Josh, a mischievous grin on his face. Slowly, he sits down. He wasn’t in the loop about what happens within The Usos friend group, but this little interaction told him everything he needed to know.

“So, like I said, not too much on my sister-in-law,” Jon repeats with a smile. “He don’t play about her.” Josh shoots a glare in his brother’s direction before sitting down.

Gionna ordered a tray of tequila shots at the bar for their group. She got twelve shots for six people. She was on an unspoken mission to loosen everyone up. Now that Lina was here, Gionna knew that the energy in their space would be different. Without fail, Josh and Alina always get weird around each other. “What’s new with you?” She would ask, making a quiet Alina speak up.

“Nothing,” She breathes. “I’m not complaining, though. After that last attempt, I decided to take a break from dating. It’s not worth it.”

“Why? Because of Josh?”

Alina was quiet for a moment. That was part of the reason, but not for what everyone’s thinking. She brings her index finger to her mouth, rubbing slightly at the bottom of her lower lip. It was something she often did when she was choosing her words. “I’m due for some much-needed reflection.” She settled, glancing at her friend. Gionna grinned, her lips twitching as she fought a laugh. “What?”

“Whatever the fuck that means.” She says, laughing at Alina. “I mean, I’m not one to judge…”

“You are right now!” Alina exclaims, causing Gionna to laugh more. The bartender places a tray of shots on the bar before them. Gionna grabs them, moving off her seat. Without another word, she turns to go back to their group. Alina follows behind her, quickly downing the Sex On The Beach cocktail she purchased. She’s going to need more by the end of the night.

“I come baring gifts!” Gionna shouts when they get back to their section. She places the shots on the table and drops down next to Austin, leaving a spot next to Josh open. She sits down, her body turned in towards everyone. Everyone reached for their two shots.

Josh sniffs his shots. “Girl, is this tequila?” He asks.

“Oh, hell nah, Gigi,” Jon says, shaking his head. “This ain’t gonna work for us.” The twins are both leaning to put their shots down.

“No balls.” She says. They pause, glancing up at her.

“Who!?” They shout in unison. They sit up again with their shots in their hands, ready to toss both back. Reverse psychology beats their asses without fail each time.

“Ooh, let’s toast, y’all!” Trin shouts, scooting to the edge of her seat. She holds a shot glass up. “Congrats to my honey and his brother for retaining their championships! Here’s to another successful defense and friendship!” She exclaims. Everyone cheered, leaning in to toast their glasses.

Josh turns to toast his shot glasses at Alina before they both toss them back. The alcohol warms their chests, but they both make a face of disgust before setting their glasses down. “You want another drink?” He asks, tapping her leg. “Vodka Sprite?” She nods. He stands to his feet, moving around her to the bar. Alina watches after him, a soft smile on her face.

“Alina,” Austin sings, sliding over to her. “How are you?” He asks.

“I’m good,” She answers. “You?”

“Oh, never better.” He replies. “Say, I have a question for you…” The pair wasn’t aware, but Jon and Trin were watching. The eldest twin had a grin on his face, not because Alina was talking to anyone, but because Josh was going to lose his fucking shit when he got back.

NEXT PART

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A/N: Hi! This chapter is a little long! It would’ve been longer but I chose to stop here! I’m sorry if it’s awkward or anything!!

Jey (Josh) is gonna blow a gasket LMAO

Comment to be in the tag-list!

🏷️ list: @wrestlingprincess80 @venusesworld @fearlesschimera @tbmotw @paigereeder @yana3sworld @truefant4sy @sisinever @empressdede @thesamoanqueen

[urhoneycombwitch]

shelter thee to me

foreword: apparently I just love putting Steve in Situations™️ since this is the second back-to-back sick fic I’ve written for him. Hmm. Cheers to all u other hurt/comfort lovers this one’s 4 u <3 this piece was finished thanks to the inspo I got from Syl @thecreelhouse - she has a GREAT fic called Accident Prone that you totally should check out if you’re interested in this type of subject matter! ❤️‍🩹

cw: descriptions of a migraine, Steve is a bit of a depressed mess, there is comfort tho I promise, alcohol consumption, Steve actively does things to worsen his pain (but it does get addressed), gender neutral reader

wc: 4k

___

It’s the first warm spring day of 1987, and the Munson Bar-B-Q Bash is in full-swing.

Wayne flips burgers and rotates hot dogs dutifully on the grill, cigarette perched at his lips wiggling as he talks to El. Her doey eyes are wide with rapturous attention, like she’s never seen someone cooking outdoors before (highly likely; the world holds so much newness and wonders yet-unseen for a kid who’s been recently liberated from her windowless underground existence).

A few of the other Party kids are playing a raucous and complicated game of multi-player checkers, Dustin and Lucas kneeling in the grass while Mike and Will oppose, pressed in close around the small board. Max (inexplicably and suddenly) declares her piece as “knighted”, the chorus of boyish complaints quickly silenced the moment her hand flexes around the handle of the black cane at her side (in every possible alternate universe, you hope Max Mayfield always has a cool weapon to defend herself with).

The adults of the group are in various forms of relax around Forest Hills park- Joyce stacks paper plates at a nearby picnic table while Hopper is close behind, muttering things that make her laugh, earning playful little swats from her free hand; Jon, Argyle, and Eddie gave the classic “taking a walk” excuse to Mrs. Byers about twenty minutes back, the heady smell of weed drifting from the sparse forest nearly imperceptible over the smell of cooking meat.

Robin’s at your feet, the length of your legs supporting her torso as your fingers work to tie off the neat braid you’ve just finished on the left side of her hair. She’s been letting it grow, since the shitshow of last year- tawny brown locks swing just past her upper shoulders now.

“And I really mean it, this time- Keith’s out to get me,” Robin is saying, wiggling despite your instruction to “Sit still, or your right braid’s gonna be all fucked up,” gripping the strands of her hair a bit tighter in warning. She complies, then huffs out- “Steve, are you even listening back there?”

Steve hums. He’s by your side on the bench, a spot that you’d snagged early on for the both of you- under the comforting shade of a big willow tree, slightly on the outskirts of all the activity. Heat and direct sunlight can sometimes mess with Steve’s vision, loud noise has the potential to fuck with his hearing- facts of life he hasn’t so much told you rather than the result of many quiet observations about your partner over the course of a year.

Steve doesn’t like to talk about it. He’s not interested in rehashing the past, tunes out Eddie’s dramatics whenever the curly-haired boy’s story-telling nature arises; the only thing Steve hates more than remembering is being remembered- by Joyce, tearfully thanking him for being brave and saving her boys; by Hopper, with a firm pat to the shoulder and a stilted speech of unsung heroics; even by Robin, who gets in on the recollections in defiance of Steve’s glare, her hands arcing through the air to recreate the whoosh of his wooden oar.

Alcohol also tends to affect Steve differently, in this post-fight world that you all now live- but he’s taking sips from a cooler-chilled can of beer, thick-framed glasses resolutely off and buried in that nest of hair. You’d given him a look, earlier, when he’d walked back to give Robin a soda, hands still wet from digging around in the ice- but if Steve noticed your worry he didn’t respond to it, instead pressing a freezing can of Coke to the bare skin of Robin’s leg, backing down with a laugh when she squealed and got one good smack in against his arm.

“I’m listening, Robs,” Steve says, leaning forward to rest elbows on knees, condensation dripping off the can of Coors Light between his hands. “Keith’s been on one lately. I’ll fight him for you, if y’want.”

Robin snorts. You fit another elastic around her second braid, just as she brings her fist up to bump against Steve’s. “We’ll tag team him. Out back by the dumpsters. Great place to hide a body.”

“Jesus, Robin,” Steve chides, over the sound of your giggle.

She pushes herself up from off the ground, smoothing hands over her fresh braids as she thanks you, then turns to walk towards the huddled group of teens, winking over her shoulder- “Gotta show the kiddies what a real Checker Champ looks like.”

There’s a din of excitement as Robin joins, cheering and clapping echoing across the lawn- beside you, Steve stiffens, just slightly.

You pretend not to notice, instead scooching over until your shorts-covered thigh is pressing against his leg. Steve makes a happy noise in the back of his throat, wraps the arm not impeded by a beer can around your shoulders, tucking his nose to the top of your head.

“Feeling okay?” You try to keep your tone light, neutral, plucking a stray thread from Steve’s jeans absentmindedly.

He nods into your hair, squeezing your opposite shoulder- “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”

Ignoring his immediate deflection in the form of a question, you spread your hand flat over his thigh, thumb running up the side seam of denim, a bit more earnest in your questioning- “It’s just- are you okay? You’d tell me if you wanted to go home, right? You know I’m always happy to make some excu-”

“I don’t want to go home. I’m fine.”

Steve rarely ever interrupts you, even more rare that he speaks to you with any sort of anger, which is why the sharpness of those short sentences is enough to have you pulling back to look at him, incredulous and a little wounded (though you do your best not to show it).

He seems to realize his mistake as soon the words are out of his mouth; Steve winces, palm still warm over your shoulder blade, comforting squeeze as he cuts in, quickly- “Honey. Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just- I’m good, okay? You don’t have to worry about me.”

Your eyes roam over his face: the deep-set apology in those amber eyes, the soft lock of hair flopping over his forehead, the twist at the corner of his mouth. You fit your thumb to it, and the shape changes, your heart lurching as he smiles against your touch. “Steve-”

“Steve!”

The moment you say his name softly there’s a louder, more piercing version being yelled from a few yards away, Dustin waving frantically amidst Robin’s triumphant cackles- “Steve! Stop making out and come help, Robin’s whipping our asses!”

Steve blinks, and you can pinpoint the exact second he gives in, shuttering those walls back up with a straightened spine. One tender kiss to your palm, then he rises, leaving the beer in his empty seat- “Duty calls.”

After a robust round of Crazy Checkers surrounded by shrieking children, Steve’s energy is waning, you can tell- there’s this certain way he holds himself, little indicators of pain and discomfort that you’ve learned to pick up on; his finger taps mindlessly on the rim of his plastic water cup, the space between his neck and shoulders is one tight line, and his silence has been absorbed by the miasma of noise all around.

No one else seems to have noticed, too absorbed in eating and joking with mouthfuls of food, everyone crammed around two shoved-together picnic tables.

Robin jostles into your side reaching for the ketchup, which in turn makes you bump into Steve on your right; when you hear the sharp intake of his breath, you lean in, careful to keep up appearances, making it seem like you’re whispering a sweet nothing, hand cupped around his ear to dampen all the other sounds.

“Will you let me take you home?”

Should’ve known that wasn’t gonna work. Steve squeezes your leg under the table, his hand wracked with tiny tremors, smile tight and not reaching his eyes as he turns to whisper back, “Quit asking. Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

So goddamn stubborn. Well, so be it, Harrington. You scoff, as if he’s just told a joke timed to the beat of overlapping conversations, and peel yourself off of his side.

Cool air seeps up your bare arm where it had been kept warm in the crook of Steve’s own arm. It feels strange, to not have some sort of constant contact- but if Steve is playing the obstinate game, count you in.

Twenty minutes later, lunch and its accompanying mess has been cleared away, many hands making light work, and Eddie has brought out his stereo system to try and goad the anti-dancers of the group to join a makeshift dance floor.

Jonathan’s playing at being too post-meal sleepy to move off the bench, while Will and Eddie tussle and pull at him, and everyone’s laughing but you can’t focus on anything other than Steve- silent and stiff at your side, doing the bare minimum of human interaction to fly under the radar of suspicion.

Your radar, however, is finely tuned, and you know he’s minutes away from needing to be horizontal; it’s physically painful to keep your hands to yourself as they long to soothe, hugging arms-crossed around your own middle to keep from reaching for him.

Jonathan joins the dance circle with shambling reluctance, and when everyone cheers, Steve’s voice is at your ear, faint and sounding like a shadow of himself- “Gonna use the bathroom. Save me a piece of pie.” And with a final squeeze to your shoulder, he starts back down the path to the Munson’s new trailer.

Two minutes is a rather generous amount of time, in your opinion, to stay seated- until Robin splits from the jumping, dancing fray, light sheen of sweat on her forehead as she bends towards your seated form- “If you wanna go check on Dingus, I’ll make up a good excuse for you both.”

Overwhelmed with gratefulness and anxiety, you pull Robin into a quick hug, then make a smooth break for the winding gravel path.

The noises of the party fade as you walk through the door of the trailer, wiping your feet on the Welcome mat but keeping them on in case you need to make a quick exit with a sick partner in tow.

“Steve?” You keep your calling quiet, rounding the corner of the sun-warmed trailer walls towards the sliding bathroom door, then pull up short- Steve’s sitting against the closed door, on the outside of it, shoes planted on the rug, hands in fists at his side.

His head is tipped forward, resting on bent knees; his glasses are tucked by one arm into the neck of his collared tee, bellows of his breath coming shallow and quick.

Sinking to your knees beside him, you press a hand to the back of his neck, firm pressure against the taut muscle, attempting to bring some relief; Steve makes a choked, whimpery noise, and it almost breaks you.

A wave of helplessness washes through your veins; in defiance of the feeling, you suck in a steadying breath, grasping at adrenaline-fueled resolve as you run through the mental checklist of warning signs.

Thanks to Doc Owens (and the one-and-only appointment you forced Steve into last year, when you found him passed out on your kitchen floor from overheating in the summer sun), you know what to look for, and it gives purpose to your movements.

Steve’s breathing is rapid but not emergency-levels; he’s sweating, but not entirely through his shirt, yet; you get him to lift his head with murmured encouragement- thick lashes rimmed with tears, flushed cheeks reflecting heat back into your palms, and you find what you’re looking for- the black of his pupils equally dilated, twin moons almost eclipsing the almond-brown of his irises.

Last time Steve got a migraine, it lasted for hours, a whole sweltering afternoon of him pale and in pain on your couch, arm draped over his eyes while you kept a rotating supply of fresh ice packs to his temples and top of his spine.

The worst part of all, besides seeing Steve in pain, is the fact that he so resolutely denies himself the help that he would give others, in a heartbeat. Years of putting himself on a back burner, of making sure his nearest and dearest are taken care of before he even thinks about his own needs, have stuck firm.

Steve doesn’t have any heels left to dig in, now, as you feel the slide-grind of his teeth beneath your hands; you let your thumbs brush down his cheeks, a small movement to say I’m here, I’m not leaving you, and his eyes flutter shut.

“Gonna take you home,” you say, soft as your hands that drop to the broad width of his shoulders, “And this time I’m not asking.”

“Okay,” Steve manages, voice thin and strained, and you hate how much that single word is soaked in defeat.

Moving slow, you manage to get Steve on his feet- he leans heavy against you, waving off your offer to get Robin or Eddie to help with a simple and devastatingly earnest “Please, don’t, just want you-”; at a snail’s pace down the hall, in tandem down the front steps, Steve’s eyes slamming shut to block out the waning light of the sunset as you guide him to the Beemer, thankfully out of sight from the party.

You get him settled in the passenger seat, pocketing his glasses and sliding the seatbelt into place across his chest with a click; while you don’t want to make Steve feel any more childlike than he already probably feels, you can’t stop from pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling away, adding in a voice that you hope is quiet enough-

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it in the glovebox, okay? This is my boyfriend’s car, and I can’t have him knowing I’m taking strays home. Especially since you’re so handsome.”

Steve smiles weakly at your joke- his eyes are still closed but he catches your hand wrapped around the seatbelt, brings your knuckles up to his lips- “Sure thing, honey.”

There are footsteps crunching up the gravel, and you straighten in the tight space of the partially open car door to find Robin approaching.

She stops a few feet away, hands planted on her hips with a shake of her head. “Jesus, Harrington, you look like shit.”

Steve, eyes still closed and leaning back on the headrest, says to you in an obvious, scratchy stage-whisper- “Maybe if we stay reaaaal still, she won’t know we’re here.”

“If you didn’t look ready to keel over at any moment, I’d punch you for that,” Robin snipes, rocking heel to toe in her converse, locking eyes with you- “Need a good excuse?”

Relief washes out any remaining traces of helplessness. You breathe a sigh. “Yes. Please and thank you, Robs.”

“I got you covered. Emergency at the office, sink sprung a leak, a goldfish death in the family- got ‘em locked and loaded.” She shoots you two exuberant thumbs up, then sobers a bit, expression dropping. “Just. Take care of him, okay?”

You shut the car door with the least amount of noise you can manage, bumping your hip into the handle so the inner latch catches, then squeeze Robin’s hand on your way to the driver’s seat. “I will, Robin. I’ll call your landline later, let you know if he’s up for visitors.”

With a final salute, the ends of Robin’s hair fan out as she jogs back to the party, outdoor sounds disappearing as you duck into the car.

The ride home is mostly silent as you listen for Steve’s breathing, taking each stop sign and turn in the road with measured slowness. Brake, check for signs of life, and creep onwards.

You’re less than three blocks from Loch Nora when Steve leans into the sling of his belt, one hand flat against the dash, the other to his stomach, and you’re quick to swallow down panic, asking in what you hope is a calm voice, “Are you gonna throw up?”

“No,” Steve says, chin dropping to his chest, huffing- then, quietly, “Maybe.”

You’ve already pulled off the main road, throwing the gear shift into park before unbuckling and scrambling around in the seat pocket behind you, plastic grocery bag you’d stashed months ago for occasions such as this crinkling in your fist.

Steve’s fingers on the dash curl into a fist. There’s a spike of alarm you claw at, capture, and shove back, unable to quell the rush of murmured comfort as you lean across the middle console- “Here, baby. ‘S okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe…”

Steve doesn’t take the bag that you press into his left hand, still in a fist at his abdomen; his eyes are squeezed shut under slanted dark brows, and tears begin leaking out, coursing in rivulets down cheeks gone pallid. His voice is barely more than a croak when he speaks.

“I just want to be normal.”

And then, Steve’s crying in earnest: short breathy sobs and strung-out whimpers, like the only thing that hurts more than the act of crying itself would be to hold it all in.

The plastic bag gets shoved to the side as you pull Steve in, hands soothing down the shuddering planes of his back, your voice soothing and breaking in equal measure- “I know, baby, I know, I’m so sorry…”

Hot tears drip down your neck as his forehead rolls against your shoulder. Steve’s hands ball into fists, fabric of your shirt caught in his desperate grounding attempt, fighting through the wreck to speak broken secrets against your bare skin-

“Jus’ wanna be normal. Just want to drink a fucking beer without getting a goddamn headache afterwards. I wanted to stay at the party, wanted to…”

Breath catching, a fresh jolt of pain, and Steve’s whimpering like a child against your chest, unspooling a release that’s been building for over a year- Steve never affords himself time for a breakdown, and it’s all coming to a head now.

“It’s not fair,” Steve grits out. He’s doing his best to ride the wave but it’s threatening to pull him under; you can tell by the sinking weight of his head at your collarbone, the way his hands loosen and go lax at your sides, sobs giving way to gritting teeth and steel-tight jaw as Steve battles back the slicing pain in his head.

You know this is a purging, of sorts, and you’re grateful that your boy feels safe enough around you to let go and feel, but you also know that him getting worked up is just going to prolong an already-bad migraine.

So you let your hands drift up again, take his face between your palms, let his forehead rest against yours, speaking low, stripped raw with honesty.

“You’re right, honey. It’s not fair.” Your thumbs smooth gentle against his cheeks, under the dark lashes that flutter into your touch. “I’m so sorry that you have to go through this, and you’re allowed to be upset- but right now, I need you to just breathe, okay, Stevie? Can you do that for me?”

It gives Steve something to focus on, instead of spiraling out- he’s obedient, clutching at your shirt again, eyes shut in concentration, trying to match his too-fast breathing to your steadied tempo. Your fingers wind into the longer pieces of hair at the base of his skull, notching against the pressure points Doc Owens instructed you on ages ago.

Steve shivers. Lets out a dry, choking laugh that sounds nothing like him. “Couldn’t even last one full afternoon.”

He sounds so disappointed in himself. It makes your heart ache, tears stinging at your own eyes as you respond, still gentle despite your first instinct to bite back against his self-loathing. “Steve, give yourself some credit. You’re doing remarkably well, considering the circumstances.”

Steve scoffs, makes to lean back and away but your hands stop him in his tracks, nose to nose with you now as you insist, “When you had to drive Max home because her leg was hurting during Will’s birthday party, you didn’t judge her, right? Didn’t question why she needed a ride home?”

With this proximity, you can see the light dusting of freckles spanning the width of his cheeks, color returning slow but sure. He doesn’t try to pull away again so you keep speaking. “And all those times you’ve taken care of me during a nightmare, or had to come home early ‘cuz I just couldn’t stand an empty room. Remember?

“You were there for me. Always have been, just like I’m gonna be here for you. Better or worse, Harrington. You’re stuck with me.”

There’s a puff of warm air against your lips, a half-laugh but you’ll take it, pulling him in by the elbows, nuzzling against the side of Steve’s tear-lined face for a close hug as you whisper, “I’m really glad you’re alive.”

Your nose follows the slope of his neck down, brushes at the rippled line of scarring, tissue healed but still lightly raised in a ring at the base of his throat.

“Really glad,” you whisper, fiercely.

___

Steve lets you take him home. Even lets you baby him, a bit; though you make a solid effort to not infantilize him, there lives in you a deep desire to swaddle Steve in a blanket and keep him there. Safe from all the swirling noise and light and too-bright colors of the harsh world.

You compromise. Get Steve stretched out on the couch, take his shoes off with a calculated swoop-tug, lay his favorite green knitted blanket over the length of his body.

There’s a pill bottle on the kitchen counter that you pocket, leaving his glasses folded in its place. Blue ice pack burning-cold until you wrap a thin dishcloth around it to take out the sting, you bring it to Steve’s side along with a glass of water.

He takes the pills you offer with a wince- sitting up causes the blood to pound at his temples so you help him back down, sliding the ice pack into place at the top of his spine where the pain is blooming.

From your place on the floor, you monitor Steve, one hand stroking soft at his chest to lull his breaths to normal. After a few minutes, his brows smooth out; a few more, and he’s taking careful blinks in the low-lit room.

“C’mere,” he says, voice still scratchy, doe-brown eyes pleading, catching your hand on the upstroke and giving a small tug. When you start to protest, he whines, sounding more and more like himself by the minute- “Come here, baby. Please.”

Another compromise. Keeping the jostling to a minimum, you settle into Steve’s side, ear pressed over the thumping beat of his heart, arms fit around his waist.

Steve holds you. Breathes. Says, “Thanks. ‘M sorry we had to leave so early.”

Nose tilting up, you kiss against his scar again. “It’s okay. I really didn’t want to dance, and Eddie was about to drag my ass out there against my will so really, you did us all a favor.”

Under your head, Steve’s chest dips and rises with a laugh. His lips press into the crown of your head, and you can feel his smile as he says, “You’re dancin’ with me next time. I wanna see some ass shaking at our next family barbecue.”

You exhale a laugh, too, kiss his jaw, his cheek. “Okay, Swayze. Next time.”

Eventually, you both fall asleep, winding down sleepy and safe in each other’s arms, Steve’s pain eased to near-extinction with the care you’ve given him.

Later you’ll call Robin, give her an update for her peace of mind, cuddle up to Steve some more and listen to a record.

But for now, you’ve got a boy in your arms and the warmth of his body as your anchor into the dreaming.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

Hi :) can you write sth for cyclone. he is so underrated. total as*hole to all world but big softie for his girl

Oh, absolutely!! We don’t talk about him enough and between you and me, i would 1000% go Hamm on his Jon 😝

but listen. The thing about Cyclone is that he’s always been a grumpy fuck. He sports a permanent scowl at work, and good luck on inviting him to an after-work thing.

Which is why seeing him drink at the bar alone is a rare sight.

And seeing him talking to and beaming at the young bartender… well.

In his defense, you’re very pretty. Much too young than what he’s used to, but then again he’s used to a shitty marriage with an ex in his age bracket. And you’re so pretty, moving behind the counter as you effortlessly banter with him.

“So… Beau? With a regular spelling or the French one?” You ask as you make somebody else’s ordered.

“‘B-E-A-U’, the right one.”

It makes you chuckle. “You from the South?”

“Yeah, actually. Texas.”

“Ah, so you’re one of those French Southerners. The one with the big ranches and, uh… questionable ancestry.”

He smiles into his Scotch. Gosh, he loves how ballsy you are with your jokes. He can’t help but lean into it. “Well, I wouldn’t say we all married our cousins… but there was a time where—when it’s time to to get hitched, we didn’t have a whole lot of options.”

“Oh no! Is that why it didn’t work out with your ex-wife?”

Beau just about loses it. He tips his head back laughing. Nobody had ever dared to talk to him that way… and he actually liked it.

“No, seriously. You didn’t marry your cousin, right…?”

“No! Sweet Jesus…” he shakes his head, his full laughter slowly dissipating into a chuckle.

“Dude, are you seeing this shit?” Coyote blindly nudges Payback and Fanboy at their booth across the bath.

Fanboy looks up to where his friend is nodding. “Huh. Ten bucks he’ll leave with her at the end of the night.”

Payback snorts. “Are you kidding? She’s got him giggling like a school girl. Ten bucks if he marries her.”

Rightly so, Fanboy and Coyote shoves a ten-dollar bill just a year later.