#and please let him completely butcher the accent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dejwrites · 2 years

Text

✧˖*°࿐ synopsis + warnings — a stranger buys you a drink in at a bar in italy ( unprotected sex, cream pie, breeding kink, exhibitionism kinda, female anatomy, she/her pronouns, doggystyle, no foreplay, reader & obi get right to the point, pussydrunk!obi, completely bad italian, like i purposely used google translate because i'm aware that it isn't a reliable translator, obi crush me with your biceps challenge, minors dni )

✧˖*°࿐ @misss-chrisss 1k getaway — congrats on 1k followers chris, so proud of you sis.

YOUR EYES SCANNED OVER THE BAR TAKING IN YOUR SURROUNDINGS. Your legs crossed one of another as you watched people interact with each other. Venice, Italy was just so stunning. The unique architect of the buildings, the liveliness of its natives, museums, and of course the food. You sat at a bar toying with the straw in your now empty glass listening to the Italian pop songs that blared through the speakers in the place. As your curious eyes scan over the bar that was crowded with tourists, locals, and you even remembered some band was supposed to be playing tonight.

The bartender placed a napkin down in front of you before placing a drink down on it. Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion while your lip gloss-covered lips parted to question it, but the bartender beat you to the punch.

She would wipe her hands with the white hand towel before throwing it over her shoulder, "That very handsome hulk of gentlemen right there brought you that drink. I assure you hop on it before another one of these ladies do, he's been declining them left and right." The lady gave you a wink before going to another person at the bar.

You would stare at the man taking in his features. His dark hair was combed perfectly and it went well with his neat undercut. The shirt he wore fitted him so well. You could obviously tell that he worked out, regularly. You sipped at the drink, your teeth nibbling at the straw as you stared at the handsome man across the bar. The two practically eye fucking each other before you decided to finally make the first move. You picked up your drink to make your way towards him, hopefully, he saved the seat next to him.

"Grazie per il drink," You said. You knew you had butchered such a simple statement. You didn't want to assume that everyone in the bar was a tourist. Even though, your tour guide told you that it was a quite popular spot for tourists to whine down.

"Benvenuta bella," He answered with confidence.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. You understood he was telling you you're welcome. However, you didn't hear an Italian accent that you've been hearing for the past couple of days. Perhaps, he was a tourist also. Or maybe, he moved here months ago.

You nervously sipped at your drink wondering what to say next. Adjusting yourself here and there on the stool to be sure to gain his attention by your attire. The skimpy dress you wore rose every second with each movement of your thighs.

"Cosa ti ha portato in Italia?" The man questioned and you could only tilt your head in confusion.

Feeling like a dumb character in a movie for not knowing such a question as the brawny man stared at you waiting for an answer. Soon as you tugged out your little notepad of Italian phrases and questions, the male let a laugh tumble from the back of his throat. To you it seemed like each laugh he let out, his pecks were getting huger. But that could have been just you staring at them for a long period of time.

"I'm a tourist also, no need to bring that out," The stranger motioned to the small book.

Your face heated up in embarrassment before playfully slapping the stranger's arm. "You really was going to let me struggle with trying to figure out what you were saying?" You questioned.

"Yes, just to see you struggle a little bit," He answered truthfully. He took another sip from the beer he was drinking before looking at you. "I believe I was asking, what brought you to Italy?"

"You believe?" You asked.

"My Italian isn't the best. I would hope that's the thing I asked you," The stranger said.

You let out a chuckle before the two of you engaged with each other some more. From talking about different bars in Italy to the wonderful restaurants, it seemed like the two of you just clicked. So lost in each other's conversation, that you haven't even noticed the bartender had placed the two of you tab in front of you. Which the stranger was kind enough to cover both of them.

You tried to argue against it because you weren't the type to like to be indebted with no more. Especially considering the eyes the stranger was giving you. They lingered a little longer at the way your dress rose or the way your boobs jiggled when you giggled. He wanted you.

"This may come off as blunt, but I always wanted to hook up with a stranger during vacation," The stranger admitted as he took another sip from his beer.

You watched as his tongue glides over his lower lip lapping up any droplets of beer that lingered on his lips. You adjusted yourself in your seat before finishing off your drink, "Then let's do it then." You huffed before climbing off the stool.

You gave him an assuring look before disappearing into the crowd of the bar, pushing the door open to the singular bathroom to see it was empty. You felt a bit embarrassing, what tourist would even do something so reckless. As you stared into the mirror, you were wondering what even made you do such a scandalous thing. Having sex with a complete stranger during your trip that was supposed to be filled with museum visits, fancy spas, and shopping sprees.

You were expecting the stranger to not follow you. After all, you didn't know much about him. Other than he liked working out, he was a firefighter, and the captain at his fire company. However, you saw his large frame squeezing through the door and soon locking it. A sly smirk appeared on your face as you were staring at him. The sound of the music playing in the bar vibrated off the walls of the bathroom as you two just stood there. Both of you basking in the sexual tension that built up just from him buying you a drink.

"Well, someone is going to be knocking on the door so we should really—"

His words were cut off by the eager kiss you latched upon his. Your hand placed on the back of his neck clasping him closer to your form as you could feel him tap at your thighs. You hopped out in his arms while your legs wrapped around his waist as he placed you slowly on the edge of the sink.

Bent over the sink with your dress pushed up to your waist, the anticipation of feeling him sink inside your walls caused nervous bubbles to form in your stomach. Your hands grasped at sink feeling the tip of his cock rub teasingly at the entrance of your cunt. You were aware of how huge his muscular stature was and you were sure he had the cock that went with it.

When you felt the stranger push himself slowly inside you, a low hiss escaped within your lips. "You okay?" The stranger asked in a worried tone.

He didn't push any further inside of you as you were adjusting to his quite large size. You would give him a hum in response before glancing back at him giving him a comforting smile. "I'm okay, please keep going, sir." You responded.

Your body was radiating so much heat that you felt like you burning up in the mini black dress you wore, but in reality, your body was just eager to take the stranger's cock. You could feel his soft plush lips place kisses on the back of your shoulder before he continued. His toned hips lunging forward bit by bit as his cock disappeared inside you. The whimper that was stuck inside your throat was forced out when you felt the aggressive thrust towards the fatness of your ass.

"Fuck." You uttered to yourself.

As if your whimper was like a key starting an ignition, his thrusting only grew faster. The pornographic sound of skin slapping against each other bounced off the bathroom walls while your whimpers attempted to overpower it. Your fingers dug at the material of the porcelain sink as you felt the stranger's nails dig at the soft flesh on your waist.

The stranger lifted the black shirt he wore up to get a better view of just how your cunt took him. To his shock, you didn't run from him. He didn't particularly want to brag about the size of his cock. Many of his previous sexual partners has described that his cock could have been overwhelming due to his muscular form. But here you were bucking like an anguished housewife that hasn't been touched for him to move at a better pace.

The fucked out expression that was pasted on your face drove this stranger crazy. However, when his brown-colored eyes traveled down to watch your drooling cunt swallow his dick with ease which pushed him further to being pushed off the edge. The lewd sound of moaning and profanity echoed in the bathroom.

Pretty pedicured fingers digging at the sink in front of you. You could only let out moans of separation. Your moans reeked of wanting more of this stranger that you hardly knew. You needed him now more than ever, despite only meeting him a couple minutes ago. The sinful thoughts of you daring to sleep with a complete stranger were knocked out of your head when you felt his cock pull out of you. Your thighs shook slightly and you let out a childish wine.

"Please put it back in..please..." You whined, your hips bucking to brush your pulsing cunt against his cock.

"Just wait for a second," He affirmed as he was lining himself up once again. Having to tug himself out for a slight break. He could have felt his skin get hot at the thought of cumming a little too quickly. However, when he found himself sinking inside your cunt once again, it felt like an addicting trance was put on him.

Now it was his turn to utter out curse words and strings of groans. His large body hunched over yours as his nails dug into the flesh of your waist. Driving your body upon his cock with ease to the point that he could feel your pretty cunt clenched around him. Your moans rang into his ear while he only thrust forward once more until his thick white cum painted your gummy walls. A sheet of sweat covered his forward while he slowly moved inside of you being sure to keep you stuffed before he's pulling out hesitantly.

You had clenched your thighs together while dabbing your face with a paper towel. The feeling of the stranger's cum dripping down your plump thighs made you even more turned on. Perhaps you could invite him back to your room. You could feel his strong brawny arms around your waist. In just one motion, he's tugging the fat of your ass upon his crotch. When your eyes met his eyes in the mirror, you couldn't help but smirk feeling his soft lips on your neck.

"Should we take this back to our hotel room Mrs. Akitaru?"

"Obi, I have your cum leaking down my thighs. Let's get out of here please." You huffed as your hand extended to him.

Obi let out a low chuckle as he was digging into his pocket to place your wedding ring back onto your finger. "We should try this again," he says as he brought your hand up to his mouth.

His soft kisses on your knuckles cause you to smile.

"Babe, we have too much stuff to do in Italy, we can't roleplay as strangers and fuck in different bars the whole trip."

TAGS (if it's a cross over your url. tumblr didn't let me tag you) — @thicksimpx @aasouthteranoswife @tonaken @rinhoes @gabzlovesu @caribbeanwifey19 @sindinminpin @bbgiirrll @potterbell @gardenof-venus @strawberrysanzu @chieflawyerpastatoad @maydayaisha @akanelover @plussizeficchick @littlemochi @celi-xxmoon @po3ticb3auty@hw-shorty @sunkissedebony97 @gaiasmight @himbrosimp @maideneyes @thenerdyrebel @reiners-milkbiddies @babyyblueey @woahhajime @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @sleepy3 @leviackermanst @ghoejo @yooniluvbot444 @xxkay15xx @xsweetdellzx @suspirihah @minniecums @serotoninaf @pweetchimilk @beat-up-beyblade @hellavile @allukanezuko @moonstar300-blog @onyxluva

#obi akitaru x reader #obi akitaru smut #fire force x reader #fire force smut #anime smut #chris 1k getaway #obi x reader #x reader #ff x reader #obi smut #fire force x black reader #anime x reader #x black reader

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elias-code · 3 years

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The Swine’s Scribe

Characters: c!Technoblade x gn!reader, an appearance by Philza

Background: You're in Techno's cabin after getting the rest of his wolves from L’Manburg after the second war. You were originally rescued by Techno from a blizzard after running from the first L'Manburg explosion (your house was among those destroyed.)

Summary: When Techno gets back from the second L'Manburg war, he lets go of a lot of emotions by ranting to you. You, being concerned about his mental wellbeing, ask if you can do anything for him, and eventually, he kisses you, which leads to some close-calls with Phil and a whole lot of smut and fluff.

Wordcount: 3291 (according to google docs lmao)

Warnings: NSFW, swearing, blood/wounds, biting, getting caught

I REPEAT NSFW, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

-------------------------------- Enjoy :) ----------------------------------

Ever since Techno brought you in from the cold months ago, you've been doing little chores for him in a way to repay his kindness. Even though he was the one who summoned the withers after the initial explosions, you felt safe around him. It had been hard to get used to at first, but now you felt comforted by his presence.

For the past week, you've been writing his journal for him after he broke his hand sparring with Phil. His hand has since healed, but you insisted that you do it for him, and he put up little protest.

"It was stressful, seeing your friends leave like that, in the blink of an eye. I don't trust anyone anymore, not after Tommy betrayed me. I gave him a roof over his head, hid him from Dream, one of the most powerful people on the server, AND I trusted him with my Axe of Peace." Technoblade's tone was strained and he let out a huff.

"Techno," you empathised, "are you sure you're okay after today?"

"I'm fine, please keep writing." He only ever said please when he was really serious, clearly, he was not interested in talking.

"Now, I refuse to bow to the voices. They want blood and I won't let them. Too many allies have died for me or have disappeared onto the other side, only to reemerge when they need ME, never when I need THEM."

Again, you piped in, "Techno, you're clearly not ok," his pale skin was flushed red and his eyebrows knit together into a grimace, "If there's anything I can do to help, please tell me."

He went silent.

"You don't have to talk about it if it's really getting to you... Or you could let it out. Either way, I'm here to help," You said.

"I'll think about it. For now, keep writing,"

For another half hour, he ranted about the destruction of L'Manburg and his dramatic reenactment was accented by occasional yelling and hand gestures. Suddenly, he stops speaking and gets a puzzled look on his face, "Um, what- what's the correct phrasing for - I guess - 'horny for violence'?" The tips of his ears were bright red, matching the blush now forming on his cheeks.

You chuckle, "I think it's hungry for violence..."

"Ah, that's it," Techno states, and then he completed his recounting of events. There's a bubble of silence in the air and he bursts it by asking, "Do you have any thoughts?"

"You know my thoughts, Techno..."

"I think I know, but give me words, I can't read minds."

"You're not healthy, you need help. You need better friends and a proper support system. Right now you really only have Phil, and I guess me if I even count."

"You count."

Now it was your turn to blush, but you continue, "Either way, that's not enough! You deserve more than you're getting. I can tell that even without the things you've had me write down. You're carrying so much weight, Tech."

"I didn't know you cared," he seems touched by your words, "I suppose I don't know a whole lot about you."

"And yet, you trust me with your deepest, darkest secrets, Technoblade."

"One thing I can trust you to do is help me with my armour."

He was still wearing the enchanted netherite chestplate and pants, both of which you started fumbling with. The leather straps were clasped tightly, as to not come off in battle, but you managed to manoeuvre them enough to get them to let go.

As the chestplate was lifted off of him, he hissed and then grunted. You look at the spot his hand flew to on his back, where his shirt had torn to reveal a big gash in his shoulder. It ran from his shoulder blade to his left pec, one of the only places where he was unarmoured.

"Holy shit Tech, why didn't you tell me this was here?!"

"I didn't want to worry you," He chuckled and then hissed again, "I guess that plan failed."

You did not find it funny. You immediately went to get the supplies Phil kept in his house, knowing that Techno didn't keep anything but healing potions in his chests. Phil was eager to help and he handed some bandages and rubbing alcohol to you so you could clean the wound. You also grabbed a spare scrap of leather for him to bite down on.

When you returned, Techno had moved to sit on his bed where he had already removed the greaves and discarded them beside him. You came to his side, putting down the alcohol, rag, and bandage.

"This is probably going to hurt, so I need you to bite down on this," you said, handing him the leather scrap.

"Ok," he said, watching you grab the alcohol and rag from the floor, "Just- just tell me when,"

"Alright," He put the leather in between his teeth, biting lightly, "you ready?"

He nodded, you put the alcohol rag onto the blood-crusted gash. He let out a sharp, low hiss, tightening his jaw on the leather to release some of the pain. You cleaned up quickly to minimise the pain and then wrapped it in the bandage, leaving some so you could clean and replace it later.

"All done, you ok?" You looked at him, one of his eyes was watering.

"Yeah, the pain's much worse when you're not pumped full of adrenaline."

"You better not be hiding any more gashes under all of those clothes,"

"Wanna find out?" He flashed you a smirk, amused by his own confidence.

"I'll take your word for it, but you're going to need to change that shirt, it's covered in blood."

"At least it's not my blood," you shivered a bit at that remark and helped him take his shirt off, careful not to remove the fresh bandages along with it.

For the first time, you saw him without a shirt off. He seemed surprisingly slender for being as strong as he is. There were numerous scars that etched every battle and lesson learned into his skin. Lots of them looked older than you expected and you suddenly realised that he must have been fighting for a long time before coming to the server.

"Like what you see?" he asked, and you rushed to put the shirt down and find an excuse.

"Um, I- I was just looking at your scars, I'll bring this downstairs,"

You rushed away, turning bright red, embarrassed that he had noticed your stares. You absent-mindedly tossed the shirt into the 'wash pile' and then you remembered, in your rush, you had forgotten his greaves. With a huff, you climbed the ladder back to his room.

Techno sat in front of the fireplace, now roaring with renewed vigour from the log he'd tossed in. His pink hair had been undone from the messy braid he had put in that morning. It was almost dyed red and black by the blood and soot in it. He was playing with it, picking out debris and running his fingers through the more knotted bits.

“Tech?”

“Hmm?” he looked up at you, still fiddling with the hair in his hands.

You sat down next to him and he relaxed into a cross-legged position, with one knee tucked under his chin. His free hand is right next to yours and he doesn’t look at you. His face is red, probably from the fire.

“You looked like you were in a trance? Are you ok?”

Silence filled the room again,"

“You don’t have to tell me but just know I’m here if you need to talk. Obviously, I haven’t tattled about anything yet or Tommy and the Butchers would be knocking your door down by now.”

“The voices are quieter than normal. I can hear myself think.”

You try to be encouraging “So? What are you thinking about?”

He looks you in the eyes, they’re deep, his pupils adjusting makes you feel like he’s looking into your soul.

“Um, I’m not sure you’d want to know.”

You frown and protest since you’re now more curious than ever but still a bit freaked out. "C'mon now you've got me curious,"

Techno looked away, solemnly gazing at the fire “I meant what I said about you being a trusted friend. I don't get many of those so, thanks. As for why this is coming up now, well, I guess I’m lonely.”

You hesitated, “Me too, Tech. You're kind of the only one I trust, and I guess Phil, too, but I'd trust you with my life.”

He blushes, looks away, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear before turning back to you and putting his hand on yours.

You immediately flush and you see a grin seep onto his face.

"I'm not really talking about friends anymore. I want... someone..." he almost whispers

"You mean?" he nods, "I guess I've never had anyone before. I think it'd be nice to see what it'd be like."

“I think we can kill two birds with one stone here, don’t you?”

Now you're both bright red, nervous, schoolkids who gingerly lean into each other's faces, gaze fixed on the other's lips. Your hearts beat hard while your brains rush to make sure you feel insecure, the voices in Techno's mind screaming excitedly.

“You good up there Techno? Your light is still on, it's far past midnight, mate!” Phil shouts from the bottom of the ladder.

“I’m fine, just," He pulls away from you, "reading. Goodnight Phil,”

Techno's ears perk up to listen to the receding footsteps. You’re both standing now, he's standing over the trapdoor, making sure Phil had gone. Once he was sure, he comes over and kisses you hard.

“Tech-"

“Is this ok? I’m not doing anything wrong am I?”

You think He’s clearly never done this before, as you respond "Yeah, I like it..." you continue, stumbling towards his bed where you’re initially just kissing like two teenagers as if it were your first time, desperate, but awkward.

Your hand was pressing against his chest as you laid next to him, tasting each other's spit, learning the ropes since neither of you had ever done this before.

The light from the fire made your shadows dance across the wall, arms moving to hold each other closer, legs wrapping around Techno's, bodies shifting so he's on top of you. Only the roar and crackle of the fire and the occasional grunt or gasp from you or Techno could be heard.

--- Smut begins here ---

As you both part to take a breath, he pulls your shirt over his head. When he leans into the crook of your neck, you notice the tent in his pants pressing against your inner thigh. In between your own legs, there was a pool of slick forming.

You moan, loud, fully knowing that would send Techno wild. He pushes further towards you and holds your arms above your head so he could press his mouth against your neck, leaving red, hot, sticky marks leading from your collarbone to your abdomen.

You're both panting as he lets go of your arms and you wrap them around his neck, pulling his head in for a long, deep kiss. His hot breath warms your cheeks as he repositions himself.

"Hey, is this still ok?" He asks between breaths.

"Abso-fucking-lutely,"

He fully loses himself, taking his hand from your cheek and moving it to your pants, never losing eye contact. You nod and he pushes his hand into the spot between your legs which was now drenched in slick. He found his way to your hole and pushed his index finger into it, creating a sensation you'd never felt before.

Instinctually, you gasp and then moan, harder than before. You rock your hips to his rhythm while he continues to press bruises into your torso. Eventually, he brings his face back to yours and kisses you. You let out another moan into his mouth. He grunts and then chuckles, kissing your cheek before pulling his finger out and then going back in with two.

Now, you're whining, pulling on his long, pink hair. You notice everything in those moments, his rhythmic breaths into your neck and pumping of his finger in and out of your sex, his other hand holding your waist, pushing upwards to caress you, his soft hair in your hand.

"Is it my turn now?" He gruffs.

You hum in affirmation as he pulls away and you kick off your pants as he undoes his own. You immediately notice his size. Compared to his fingers, which were pretty long and thick, to begin with, due to his big hands, his member was a giant. His hand that had previously been half inside of you was now working his dick, its head coated in pre-cum.

While you had seen other penises before, mostly in study, you had never seen one up close, and you'd only seen ones on humans. The hybrid piglin-shapeshifter was sporting a human-like head and shaft, 9 inches (at least) all the way down to a knot... he had a knot...

He notices you gaping at his dick and grins, leaning into you again. "Wanna help me with this, or... should I help m'self?"

Eager to please, you lightly push him forward so you're both sitting up while your hand inspects the new acquaintance. You look up at Techno for guidance. He nods and pushes your hand down with his own. He guides your hand up and down the shaft until he’s no longer guiding you and you’re doing it all yourself.

He does the same with you. The space between your legs was now, simply put, slippery. He did his best to please you, eventually managing three fingers easily.

The pants and gasps were syncing, the knot in your stomach growing stronger while you danced your mouth on the head of his member. He lets out a particularly loud grunt and removes his fingers from your sex. You suddenly feel empty, and he pushes you over onto your stomach.

He puts himself under you, his dick under your mouth. You lick the ever-present pre-cum off of the head of his dick once again and then begin to bob your head up and down, managing to fit him halfway before choking on him. His groans were now louder than yours, becoming more frequent.

"Ughh- fuck," he moans.

Now he holds your head and gently begins to fuck your mouth. Your bobbing was no longer enough, he wanted more. He thrust his hips into you, managing to get a third of the way into you and then it turns into deepthroating after every thrust.

You gag, unable to take him all the way, and so he decides enough is enough and you both rush to get him inside of you. He gets up, moving to position himself above you. You continue to stay in the position he left you in, on your hands and knees.

"Turn around," Techno says.

And so you do, you lay on your back, full of anticipation and covered in juices. He puts his hand on your stomach, leaning in to kiss you lightly, pressing more red marks into your sides, slowly turning you so you face the wall.

He pulls away and holds your leg away from the other, practically putting you into the splits.

"Techno..." You whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Is this gonna hurt?"

"Dunno, darlin'," He leans in again, "let me know if it gets too hard, ok? I'll stop if you say so."

You nod and kiss for confirmation, reaching to hold your own leg up to give him full access.

He inserts the head and you can already feel the stretch, slightly painful but you push on, your fingers grasping the sheets to keep yourself grounded. He’s pushing into you slowly, making sure you're not getting in over your head. You hold the sheet tighter, groaning from the stretch.

He pulls out slightly and the pressure releases. You moan hard, making sure Techno knows that you like what you feel. He pushes in again and begins to thrust into you. Techno is getting further and further with every thrust, and you moan between every breath. He's three-fifths of the way in and he's only getting harder.

Techno's hand replaces yours, keeping your leg raised as you move your hand to work yourself along with him. Your heart beats faster and he picks up the pace. He can get all the way to the knot before pulling out and thrusting in again.

"Tech... Fuck, it's so gooood..."

Now he's becoming sparattic and his face goes into your neck, biting softly, barely enough for blood to form. The knot in your stomach tightens and you scream into the pillow as he pushes all the way in, his skin hitting yours as his knot slips into you.

He moans and thrusts lightly into you, coming inside of you. You feel the pressure inside of you release as you come with him. You're being filled with his sperm, eventually spilling out along with your own come onto the sheet.

He continues to work you with his hand, breathing heavily into your neck. Your heartbeats are in sync and his juices continue to spill out of you, soaking everything below you. You try to look him in the eye as he shakes slightly, somehow still coming.

"Tech? You're still..." you gasp. "I know, sorry... it might be a while..." He grunts out.

Techno's ears perk up and he shoves you under the blanket, still stuck inside of you with the knot.

"What-"

He puts a hand over your mouth as you quiver underneath him, overstimulated by the pressure and his hand which still rested in between your thighs. What the hell is he doing?! The non-stop cum is weird enough, what-

Soon enough, your questions were answered when you heard the footsteps downstairs.

“Do you have my hat?” Phil's voice yells from the base of the ladder.

“Can't you-" he breathes, "you get it in the morning?”

“No, I'm going out super early tomorrow to scout out and make sure we haven’t been followed back.”

“Uh," fuck "it’s on the chair next to my desk up here? I’m in bed…”

Phil comes up the ladder and opens the hatch, eventually finding his hat while techno covers your mouth and lays belly to belly with you, he’s still dribbling a bit, so are you. You’re whimpering slightly.

Phil stops at the trapdoor. “Did you mean to leave the fire on mate?”

“Uh, yeah I was gonna let it burn… I was cold”

“Where’s your friend, loverboy?”

You feel Techno blush above you, his warmth suddenly radiating out from him.

“Um. They went to trade with some piglins since we’re almost out of spectral arrows.”

“Alright let me know when they get back, I just want to make sure they’re ok. Ever since you found them in the snow you’ve been doing better, it seems. Almost like you two are a... thing?”

The question lingered momentarily and you could almost hear Phil's eyebrow raise before Techno answered.

“Hmm, thank you, Phil. Close the trapdoor when you leave, I don’t want the warmth to leave.”

“Alright.”

Finally, the footsteps were gone. He pulls the blanket off of them and he takes his hand off of your mouth. You gasp for dramatic effect, laughing quietly to yourselves at the close call.

"Can I tell you something?" Techno whispers into your ear.

"Yes, you're literally deep inside of me, I'm guaranteed to be interested in what you have to say,"

"I love you"

"I love you, too..."

#technoblade #dsmp x reader #techno x reader #mcyt smut #dreamsmp #c!technoblade x reader #c!techno #first fic sorry lmao #c!techno x reader #eli scribe #Elias original

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vinnival · 3 years

Note

Hi. Can you please write main 3 + Sheriff x Russian reader. (well, that is, a typical Russian from stereotypes. Also, so that the reader speaks bad English and often uses Russian phrases) it is strange to write this being Russian, lol

If you're sure, my friend! Also I see your other request, and I'll get to that soon,, I wish you luck <3

Я использую Google

Translate😩

(I am using Google Translate😩)

HANK

Why.do you drink so much

??? Hello???

Are you okay? How are you still alive???? Where are you even getting the alcohol????

Everyone would be daring you to chug but Hank would be staring in concern 👁👁

Sometimes you complain about the heat, wondering what it'd be like if it was just a little colder

Definitely very confused when you go on a rant in Russish (Russian + English)

Like, he'll hear some words he recognizes, but not all

At least he pieces together what the problem is using said English words and trying to link them together

Honestly when you have trouble thinking of an English word, he thinks it's so cute, and help you remember it

Like you'd forget the name of "ammo" and be stuck there with him for the next five minutes desperately doing charades to figure out the word

SANFORD

He's intrigued to say the least

He never thought he'd come to love someone as... brash as you

Brutally honest too

Like... brutally

ALSO worried about your alcohol thing

"Are you- wh- you good?"

"Completely fine, cпасибо" (I hope that's the correct translation for thanks 😭)

Your interest in bears is always cute, too bad there's like None in Nevada

Loves just sitting there and looking at you,, you release an energy that he is just infatuated with

Its cute when you speak broke English

He tries to teach you English sometimes :]

You're cool to the touch. Why are you cool to the touch? Nobody knows, you just are

Great for cuddling this warm ass man that has no shirt on, ever, and is still warm

You call him nicknames in Russian and he always blushes even though he doesn't even know what names they are HAHAHA

DEIMOS

Saying his name.....with your accent........ wonderful way to get him flushed and stuttery

Remember when I mentioned that the others would be daring you to chug alcohol?

Yeah that'd mostly be him

But by god don't let him challenge you to a drink-off!!!!!

He will die of alcohol poisoning!!!!!

Definitely tries to bring you as much fur as he can bc you like just petting fur

And wearing it but like. There's no tailors here sooo F

Sometimes tries to pronounce Russian words that he sees (in the most cockiest voice ever like "Yoo i can say this! *proceeds to completely butcher the word*")

Yes he fails miserably

But hey it makes you laugh so he's not gonna stop

Definitely slides up to you one day

"Hey... do you know any good Russian insults-"

"Oh my god, Deimos."

"WHAT? I think me shouting that my enemy is a limp-dicked pissbaby in RUSSIAN is just pure COOLNESS!"

"..."

You:

SHERIFF

Russian mf with a southern mf what will happen!!!!!

Now this one... its okay to challenge a drinking game with

Just don't let him get too far

Thinks it's cute that you just mf sit in front of the ac all the time

"Reminds me of home"

Man is literally infatuated with you saying anything in that accent

When you get angry and start yelling at grunts that mistreated Sheriff? He feels like the coolest man in the world

Like, "Hell YEAH y'all! That's MY s/o!"

Please teach him Russian oh my god

He's so desperate to learn it so you two can exchange cute lil convos together

Sometimes you'll grab his hat and try and do his accent and oh my god. Oh my god

You've shot him in the heart how could you💔/j

He just really loves it

Loves calling you "doll" after the Russian doll jdjshaha

Literally the only word he knows is Babushka

Loves saying it a lot, thinks it's a cool name to say

That's partially why he wants to learn more Russian too

:) he just thinks you're neat!

#madness combat #madness combat x reader #madness combat hank #hank j. wimbleton #madness combat sanford #madness combat deimos #madness combat sheriff

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pepper-up-potion · 3 years

Text

l’amour de ma vie (Sirius Black x fem!reader)

Summary: when Sirius teaches reader French it turns into a confession of love.

A/n: this is cheesy, like maybe to the point of cringe. I think I got cavities just from writing it so read at your own risk. I wrote this really quickly this morning while I procrastinated watching my bio lecture so it’s not my best writing sorry.

Warnings: fluff like pure fluff. Mention of stress but it if you blink you won’t see it. There’s some crying but it’s happy tears. I can’t think of any others but please let me know if you do.

Word count: 1647 words

“Coucou mon amour.” He smiles as his girlfriend (y/n) walks into the gryffindor common room and sits next to him on the sofa.

“What did you just say?” She asks, nose and eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“I said hello my love.” He pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear before cupping her face and giving her a short kiss.

“Can you teach me other French words?” She asks as she stretches her legs out onto the couch and lays her head in his lap.

“Okay. Let’s start with an easy one. Bonjour.” He articulates. She attempts to imitate the unknown sound as best as possible. Her accent is thick but she still succeeds to pronounce the word. “That means hello right?” She asks and Sirius nods with a small smile. “I’m impressed.” He states.

“Here’s a harder one.” He licks his lips before saying “Beauté.” She tries her best to repeat the word having trouble with the last bit. The “é” sound is new. She can’t think of any English sound that resembles it.

“What does that mean?” She asks after several attempts. “Beauty.” States Sirius while pushing a strand of hair behind (y/n)’s ear. “Like you.” A deep blush covers her face. This has taken an extremely cheesy turn and she feels she should be displeased but butterflies fill her stomach and chills run down her spine. She covers her face and giggles a bit.

“Another word please!” She says rather loudly trying to diffuse the tension.

“Intelligente” The word flows from his mouth easily. She looks at him in shock.

“That’s a long word, how am I supposed to say that?” She throws her hands in the air to emphasize her point.

“Well, it’s quite similar to an English word. Just think about it.” He squeezes her shoulder encouragingly as she stops and thinks for a bit. He repeats the word for her a couple times and finally it clicks.

“intelligent.” She looks at him for confirmation and he smiles proudly.

“I knew you would figure it out. See you’re very intelligente”. He caresses her cheek as she repeats the word several times, trying to get the right pronunciation.

“Okay how about merveilleuse.” He suggests. She looks at him doubtfully. The word is long and sounds very little like any English word. He gives her an encouraging smile and repeats the word for her one more time. It’s completely butchered on her first attempt but after five or six more tries it sounds much better.

“What does that mean?”She asks once she’s satisfied with her pronunciation.

“Wonderful.” He smiles a smile she recognizes from times he’s done something devious. “Like you.” His voice has a flirtatious tone and he gives her his best smirk. She rolls her eyes but her smile betrays her as it pulls on her cheeks. She tries to cover it up but she knows he’s already seen it from the look of pride and success on his face. It’s the same look he has when he’s able to talk himself out of detention.

“Okay give me something else. Something that isn’t cheesy!” She says giving him a light push.

“L’amour de ma vie.” His face softens as he says the words. Certainty laces his eyes and he looks at (y/n) with absolute admiration. She blushes under the intense stare. He slowly runs his hand up and down her cheek. His hands are soft and warm. It’s a calming feeling, she feels comfortable and the stress of the day washes away.

“What does that mean?” She asks, dropping all attempts of saying the words.

“You.” He whispers simply before bending down and pressing a short kiss on her lips.

When he pulls away he sees (y/n) with thoughtful eyes and brows knitted, an absolute look of confusion. “That’s a little long to mean you. Don’t you think?” She finally asks.

Sirius raises his brow and puts a hand to his chest. “Are you questioning my knowledge of French?” He has a pretend look of shock on his face. She can’t help but smile and laugh it off but even after the subject has changed, she’s still running those four words through her mind.”

—————-

The next day (y/n) goes to the library early in the morning. She takes the piece of parchment where she had attempted to scribble down the words from last night. The most important were the last four words Sirius taught her. L’amour de ma vie. She was certain it meant something more than what he said it was.

She finds a French to English dictionary in the Muggle section of the library and starts looking for the words. She starts with l’amour. It takes a little while since she first thought the word started with an “l” but she eventually finds out the l’ stands for the.

She moves onto amour which she first thought was writing as amoor but she eventually finds the word a little ways down the page. The word means love. She writes it down next to the that she got from the “l”.

Next is de which was easy to find, it means of. She writes it down and moves onto the next word, just as easy to find. Ma is French for my which she once again scribbles down.

Finally she looks for the last word, vie. It takes a little while because of the silent “e” at the end but she finally writes life down on her piece of parchment. She looks down at the five translated words.

The love of my life.

She reads it over and over again. Her face feels hot, her hands feel numb and slightly sweaty. Her head is spinning a little and she mentally thanks her chair for holding her up because she isn’t sure her knees would work at the moment.

She thinks back at what Sirius said the night before. “L’amour de ma vie.” “You.” She is the love of his life. She sits at the table in the almost empty library staring at the piece of parchment for a very long time. Letting the words on the page sink in. A couple tears run down her cheeks. Her boyfriend, the man she has dreamed to spend the rest of her life with, thinks the same. He loves her and plans to love her for the rest of his life.

“There you are.” She hears a distant voice. It’s like it’s coming from behind a door or from another room. Sirius stops in his steps when he sees her state. She’s a table away, a motionless figure with tears running down her face. He speeds his pace and squats next to her chair.

“Hey” he says softly while gently squeezing her arm. (Y/n) jumps as she finally realizes Sirius’ presence. Her eyes widen when she sees him. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Only a tear runs down her cheek again. Sirius reaches up and wipes it away with a concerned look on his face.

“What’s wrong (y/n)?” He asks. He tries to sound gentle but it’s a little stern. He hates seeing her like this and sometimes he jumps too quickly to solving instead of reassuring her.

She looks at him unsure of what to say. He looks at the table hoping to get a clue to the problem. He sees a big book laying open on the table, an ink bottle with a quill and a piece of parchment. He stands and grabs the parchment. He quickly makes sense of the situation and his eyes soften. He pulls out the chair next to (y/n) and sits to face her.

“It’s true you know.” He states. “I mean it.”

(Y/n)’s eyes glisten with fresh tears that she tries to hold back. A slight panic runs through both their minds as he thinks she maybe didn’t want to hear that and she tells herself she needs to say something before he starts worrying. They both open their mouths to speak and both close them when they see the other has done the same. Sirius chuckles lightly before placing his hand on (y/n) knee.

“I was going to tell you last night but I got too chicken. I was worried you weren’t ready to hear that. I’m sorry you had to find out like this instead of through me.” There’s a silent pause. “Might I add that I am thoroughly impressed in your research skills. I’m amazed you were able to figure that out.” He looks at (y/n) with absolute admiration as he shakes his head in disbelief.

(Y/n) finally musters up the strength to say something.

“I-“ she tries to look him in the eyes but it feels too intense. His love for her is written all over his face and it’s overwhelming for (y/n). She takes a deep breath and looks down at her hands as she plays with one of her sleeves nervously. “I love you. It feels right when I’m with you and I don’t want to experience that with anyone else so I guess you could say - she finally looks at him - that you are also l’amour de ma vie.”

Her pronunciation is terrible and they both know it. They laugh a little, (y/n)’s cheeks are rosy from the confession and the embarrassing French. Sirius has a smile from ear to ear as he thinks how cute she is.

They lock eyes again and fall silent. “I love you (y/n). Now and always.” It sounds like a promise. She takes his hand as she gets up, pulling him up with her. They both have tears in their eyes as they hold each other in a tight embrace.

“Me too Sirius, now and always.” She muffles into his chest. They both smile, feeling incandescently content holding l’amour de leur vie.

#sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black imagine #maurauders era #maurauders #sirius imagine #sirius x y/n

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter One

Summary: You live in Bogotá in the ‘90s, and work odd hours. No, you’re not a DEA agent, but a nurse. These odd hours prompt odd habits, like working out at 2:03 A.M. after a shift. Odd hours attract odd people, and you have a chance encounter with one DEA agent by the name of Javier Peña. Warnings: language, blood and violence (both graphic), descriptions of death and gun violence Chapter 1 W/C: 2.3K A/N: you guys! I am so in love with this fic. I already have quite a bit more written and can’t wait for you to read it! I hope you love it as much as I do! Javi deserves some softness... but not too much. this can’t all be fluff when you’re Javier Peña. Okay, this is not super canon-fitting of Narcos, I’m just gonna be honest with y’all. This is between the time of Escobar’s escape from La Catedral and his final capture and death, but also… Connie’s still in Colombia. Additionally, I don’t really have a year in mind, it’s just somewhere in that period. Please note that this is not a very lighthearted story- it begins with a death, though not of a significant character. Javier and reader both have some trauma, so please check the warnings of each chapter before you start reading. If you’re continuing on, I hope you like it! For the most part, if I use italics here when someone is speaking, it’s indicating that it’s in Spanish. I’m okay at the language, but I don’t want to butcher anything, so… just imagine it. Otherwise, it’s just the way anyone would use italics I guess.

next chapter

Chapter One

You watched a woman you didn’t know die in your arms tonight.

She was beautiful, all dressed up to go out and party, her makeup running down her face with tears. Her lips were the painted the color of the blood that trickled from the side of them, eyes glazing over as she coughed and coughed and ruined the beautiful dress she wore. The nurses had asked what happened, and she had told them, through gurgles of blood: she had slept with one of Escobar’s men. She got too close, learned too much, and they tracked her down.

She flatlined not long after telling the nurses around you. You had stood in the corner, paralyzed at first. You were an experienced ER nurse, nothing was new. You had seen patients die, but something about her was different. Maybe it was the way she reached out to you right before her body went limp. You didn’t make it to her bedside in time to calm her, the panic holding you down, but you finally took her hand right as she took her last breath.

After she passed, you threw up in the bathroom, shaking and clutching the toilet. The night air had grown unbearably hot and humid, causing your scrubs to cling to your skin, and the sweat from the heaving of your stomach didn’t make things easier on you. Lorena, a fellow nurse and your best friend at work, had found you and comforted you, rubbing your back and bringing you water. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t reverse what had happened.

Now, you sit on a bench in the staff’s locker room, redoing the ponytail holding your hair from your damp face. Your shift ended a few minutes ago, but you don’t know what to do now. You don’t feel like drinking; that would only make the visions swimming in your head worse. You know you can’t go home, can’t attempt to find sleep tonight. You look up and spot a bag with tennis shoes and spare clothing and settle your mind on at least one thing: the gym could do you some good. You change into the clothes and put the blood-spattered scrubs in the laundry pile.

As you leave, you give Lorena a little wave goodbye and exit the building. You’re hyper-aware of your surroundings tonight, and you groan as you look at your watch and notice that it’s precisely 2:09 A.M. here in Bogotá. The walk to your fitness club is short, but your step is slightly extra hurried and your hand is on your pepper spray the entire time, extra vigilant to the fact that a hit went down somewhere around here just a few hours earlier. Surprisingly enough, no one catcalls or bugs you tonight.

The little gym is run-down and dilapidated, and there’s no working air conditioning, but it’s the only one near you. You paid the small monthly membership fee to gain access, and you were going to use it to get in shape, you’d decided. As you swipe in and enter, the tiny fitness center looks more depressing in the fluorescent lights, no daylight to sugarcoat the atrocities of the center. There are two of every machine, a punching bag and a speed bag, two weightlifting racks, and a couple of benches.

It’s nice that you get to work out alone tonight, you tell yourself. Even better is the fact that you now get to control the music. Desperate for a taste of home, you flip the large boombox in the corner on and begin scanning the airwaves with the dial. There’s a station in town that plays American music, and you need it more than anything tonight. You listen carefully and nearly start sobbing again as you hear Billy Joel’s voice through the speakers. With a sigh of relief, you lock your bag in the rusty lockers in the corner and head to the treadmill. It’s a beat up old thing, but this is the one you always use. It provides a little bit of comfort tonight, the familiarity of it. You turn it on low and start walking. A few moments later, you up it to a jog, mouthing along to the words of the familiar song.

As the song ends, you push the buttons enough to enter a running speed. Your feet slam into the treadmill harder than normal tonight, feeling as overwhelmed as when you left the hospital. Your body finally works up a sweat, the physical stress overwhelming the mental stress.

As the events of tonight replay in your head to some other song from the late 80’s, your eyes start to water. Everything was so overwhelming, and your mind is just starting to process it. You finally allow the tears to fall, mixing with the sweat coating your cheeks. It’s hard to tell which is causing more of the mess, but you let yourself cry it out as you run for the next few minutes.

The next song that comes on is Venus by Bananarama. You almost chuckle at the fact that it’s a few years old by now, but the song is comforting. It reminds you of home, of a time before you had issues like these. You slow down the treadmill a little, singing to the words aloud once you catch your breath enough. Daring to do a little spin on the rolling surface, you groove along to the music, chuckling a little

After the first chorus, you hear a creaking noise and whip around to find a man standing in the doorway. “Jesus fucking Christ!” You shout before you can stop yourself, hopping off the treadmill and onto the non-moving one before you get flung off. Your heart is pounding from the running, only intensifying the adrenaline rush from the scare.

The man chuckles a little, but the smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s tired- of course he is, it’s now 2:30 in the morning. “Lo siento,” you offer in Spanish, cringing at yourself and your reaction just now. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here this late,” you stutter, still panting from the running. He shakes his head lightly. “You’re American,” he says simply. In English, in a beautifully American accented voice.

Your sweaty brow furrows, a glimmer of hope sparking inside your chest as you notice that he speaks like an American himself. “So are you.”

He nods at that. “That I am,” he says as he puts his things in a locker, snapping it shut behind him. He looks at you for a moment. You’re not working at the Embassy, or he’d know you. It was rare to find an American down here that wasn’t working for the government somehow. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, looking at how tired he appears in the big mirrored wall. He’s curious, but he’s exhausted.

You look at him for a moment. “You going to explain anything, like, tell me about yourself? Or do I have to go first?” You ask, hands on your waist as you hop back on the slowly moving treadmill, back into moving. He doesn’t respond. “Fine. I know you’re government. I’m not an idiot.”

He chuckles and tugs on his t-shirt, moving to the treadmill next to you and getting on. It’s been ages since you’ve held a conversation in English, and you missed this, missed how easily your first language flows from your mouth. “And you’re not.”

“Correct,” you nod, turning up the speed a little on the machine until you’re at a light jog. “My bigger concern was going to be why you’re here at 2-fucking-30, but I’m guessing I know the answer. You get called in around here for the hit?” He nods, starting the treadmill up and walking on it.

“You don’t have to be so guarded, Jesus. I fucking hate Escobar, I’m on your side,” you scoff before turning up the machine until you’re running once more.

Javier shrugs. “Makes sense. How did you know-”

“She died,” you say quickly and firmly, keeping your eyes straight ahead and looking at the room around you. “Add that to your file.”

He nods, understanding a little more now. You knew her somehow. He doesn’t say a word either, cranking up the machine and heading into a jog too.

A few more minutes pass of the two of you silently running next to each other, the American music still playing throughout the gym. It’s a comfort to Javier too. Tonight was shit for the DEA- they had known Escobar’s men would be around here. They had the intel, they had everything ready, but the men somehow had escaped and left a victim in their wake.

The frustration of everything, of the man being something close to home for you yet being a brick wall, threatens your eyes with welling tears again. “I just wanted to talk with an American,” you sigh and cross your arms, moving back into the walking stage of a treadmill.

The man next to you gives a similar sigh, stopping his treadmill completely and offering you a hand. “Javier Peña.” You take it reluctantly, feeling the sweat of both of your hands mix, and tell him your name before retracting it and stopping the treadmill too. “So, what brings you to the gym at 2:30?” He asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the center part of the treadmill.

“I’m a nurse. I work the graveyard shift. Bad night, a patient died because she got fucking shot for having a boyfriend and not knowing he was a narco, I need to get something out, I come here,” you shrug, unconsciously mimicking him by folding your arms as well.

He nods at that. “I’m here for the same. Shitty stakeout, I’m pissed off, I come here.” He leaves out the part about his favorite call girl being taken, and how he needed another way to get the rage inside of him out. He walks off of the treadmill and to the weight rack, pulling a bench beneath the bar.

You turn again and turn the machine back on, slowly jogging. “I see. Odd hours to be here, that’s why I asked,” you say simply. “And to see another American at such a time. I haven’t interacted with one since I came here.”

Javier nods, adjusting the weights on the bar. “Yeah. Weird,” he nods. “And that you’re an American who isn’t working for the government and you’re down here. What, you got a husband who works for us?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard for a moment. “No, don’t have a husband in the first place,” you admit, adjusting the ponytail holding your hair up. “It’s a long story.”

“We got time,” he shrugs as he gets on the bench beneath the rack, looking at you in the mirrored wall. Even with the sweat and the stress of working out, he notices that you’re gorgeous. You have a nice body, and even your face is pretty while you’re working out.

You shake your head. “Fine, if you really want to hear it.”

“Might as well. It’s that or more of this fucking Wham! music, and I’m sick of George Michael.”

“First of all, first person here gets the music, so mind your manners.” This finally earns a chuckle from the man, and you want to smile but it just can’t come. “I came down here with a man. He’s a citizen here. We were going to get married, but he left me. That was a couple of months ago now,” you admit, the tears beading in the corner of your eye again. “My work visa was still valid, and I renewed it so I can keep working at the hospital. I don’t really have anyone down here except the girls I work with, but I like helping out. They need me.” He nods a little as he listens, breaking his focus as he starts his reps with the bar.

“And you’re government, so that explains everything I need to know about you,” you continue to babble. “One of the girls I work with has a husband who’s at the Embassy. Murphy,” you say offhandedly.

Javier’s attention is caught, and he sets the bar on the rack. “Murphy?” He asks, and you turn your head to look at him and give him a nod. “No shit. That’s my partner.”

You chuckle slightly and look back at him, stopping the treadmill. “So you know Connie?”

Javi nods. “Yeah, great gal. She could do better than Steve,” he says, sitting up.

You laugh softly at that. “From what I’ve heard of him, I agree. She’s a really great girl, you’re right,” you nod in agreement, looking back at him. “She’s never mentioned you. She says her husband’s in janitorial, but we all know that’s not true. What, you guys CIA? DEA?”

Javier nods again. “DEA.”

“I see,” you say, folding your arms and leaning against the machine. “Can’t make you many friends around here. I learned pretty quickly to keep my mouth shut about being a gringa. They can usually tell though.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles and cracks his back.

You bite your lip as you look at him, your voice watery when you can finally speak again, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion again. “It’s nice to talk to someone in English again,” you admit with a forced smile.

He can read your eyes easily. You’re a nurse, and you told him that the victim died. You saw it. “It is,” he nods, reading your pain and trying to show you he empathizes with it. Your eyes are beautiful, he notices as he looks into them. So much more hope and trust than anyone else he works with, but the pain in them is unbearable. He looks away, leaning back on the bench to lift again.

“So where you from in the States?” You finally ask when the silence is too long.

“Laredo, Texas,” he chuckles. “Yourself?”

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pascalpanic #narcos #narcos fanfic #blood sweat and tears

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paterson-blue · 3 years

Text

Honey You're Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago); Part 1

(Gif credit: @driverdelight )

Part 1: The Beginning

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5

Summary: It’s gotta be bad luck to meet the love of yer life at a funeral, right? Clyde’s just askin' for a friend.

Word Count: 3,625

Warnings: fluff, awkward plot set-up, butchering of the southern accent, brief mention of cancer & distant side character death (happens off screen), siblings that won't leave well enough alone, original female character— let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: This story contains an original female character. I try to make my OC's fairly neutral in description so everyone can enjoy them; I always accept pointers on how to do this better. This is my first attempt at writing in two years, after some of that good ole' depression-induced writer's block. So if you're here simply to make fun of my sorry writing, I completely understand. Have fun!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

Clyde hates funerals. He really, really hates them. He’s attended far too many in his relatively short time on earth, most for buddies that were far too young to die. Hell, his family had a funeral all planned out for him before he somehow pulled through in the hospital; right as rain—all but one hand.

But he knows he can’t miss this one, so he forces himself to get dressed as nice as he can: an old pair of black slacks that were a little too short, a black dress shirt, and a grey tie of Jimmy’s. His dress shoes were old and scuffed but he figures no one will be looking at his feet. He just wants to get in, show his respects, and get out.

Mr. Stephens had been his high school English teacher two years in a row. He’s the one that got Clyde into reading, who always told Clyde he didn’t need to be an athlete to be great. Mr. Stephens made Clyde proud of himself—had taught Clyde lessons he still carried with him to this day.

He hadn’t even been 65 when the cancer took him. Clyde didn’t think it was fair, but it never is.

Jimmy drives him to the little Baptist church across town and Clyde is pleased to see the parking lot full. Mr. Stephens had been a good man; he deserved the turn-out. There are a couple people milling out front, finishing their last cigarettes before the service starts; Clyde recognizes a couple of them from his high school class.

He takes the front steps two at a time, hunching his shoulders over as he enters the building in an attempt to look smaller. The rows of pews are mostly full, especially nearer to the front. Clyde takes a hasty seat in the back, beside little old Mrs. Hastings, who gives him a warm smile. Clyde can only hope she doesn’t rope him into one of her two-hour-long conversations after the service.

The buzz in the room dies down around ten, the stragglers finding a seat or leaning against the back wall, and the preacher appears out of nowhere. Clyde listens to the man’s booming voice—so out of place at such a somber event—talk about what a good man Mr. Stephens was, and how no one should mourn since he was now in Heaven with his wife. Clyde wasn’t exactly the religious type, but he figures it’s a nice sentiment.

The preacher says the next of kin will now speak, and Clyde’s brows furrow in confusion. He can’t remember any sort of family; the Stephens hadn’t had any kids as far as he knew. Though Clyde guesses he hadn’t exactly been the most in-tune with the family’s business over the years—really just what he’d seen in passing.

A young woman stands and makes her way to the front, only increasing Clyde’s curiosity. She was far too young to be a daughter. A granddaughter, perhaps? She seemed too old for that. Clyde chews on the inside of his cheek, listening to the woman speak. He doesn’t like hearing her voice shake with sorrow; it makes his stomach knot up.

She doesn’t speak for very long. Mostly thanks people for coming, saying her Uncle—oh, she’s a niece, then—would be so happy to see how much he was loved. Clyde’s eyes prickle a little at that. It was all anybody wanted, right? To be loved. He clears his throat as quiet as he can, ducking his head until the water dissipates from his eyes. There’s a prayer, and a hymn, and then the service is over with.

_____________________________

“Clyde! Clyde Logan!”

Clyde pauses at the bottom of the steps, turning around at the unfamiliar voice calling his name. He’s surprised to see the niece—Juniper—speed-walking towards him, her kitten heels clicking on the floor. For a moment he wonders what he’s done, what sort of funeral faux-pas he’s committed, but then she smiles at him. It makes his heart flutter in his chest, an unexpected feeling. She comes to a stop in front of him, still on the last step, not quite in the parking lot.

“Yes ma’am?”

He says politely, curious eyes roaming over her. Juniper is still smiling, looking up at him.

“I’m glad I caught you. I’ve got something for ya.”

She holds out her hand, and it takes Clyde a moment to realize she’s handing him a fifty-dollar bill. He blinks, his brain trying to compute what it meant.

“... Ma’am, I don’t…”

She huffs out a laugh, though Clyde can tell it’s not directed at him, so he doesn’t feel self-conscious about not understanding. Juniper ducks her head as she rubs absently at her collarbone, looking sheepish.

“I figured you wouldn’t remember me. We uh…”

She trails off, mouth doing a funny thing. Clyde suddenly panics, wracking his brain. They what? Did they sleep together? But he would remember, of course he would remember. And she was so young, if they’d been together years ago it would be… no, that couldn’t be it. Juniper isn’t privy to Clyde’s mental gymnastics; he has to focus all his attention on listening to her when she speaks again.

“When I was fifteen, I took my uncle’s car out for a joyride. I figured I wouldn’t get caught, because—well, I was fifteen, and stupid. Drove it fast on a dirt road and a rock flew up and cracked the windshield. I took it to the auto shop, hysterical, knowing my life would be damn near over if my uncle saw the damage.”

Clyde’s heart rate gradually slows; her story was starting to sound vaguely familiar.

“—You were working that afternoon. I gave you all the money I had, my allowance, babysitting money, everything, and still came up fifty dollars short. You paid it. You didn’t have to, you didn’t know me, and I sure deserved getting in trouble for stealing the car. But you saved my ass.”

Juniper lets out a laugh, shaking her head. It makes Clyde’s chest feel all warm. He remembers now, her words bringing forth a fuzzy picture in his head.

He’d been a 24-year-old community college drop-out—more from lack’a tryin’ than lack’a smarts, he now knew—working his last month before basic training. She’d been a gal who was way too young to have a nose piercing, had eyeliner streaming all down her cheeks when she’d come into the shop. He’d felt bad for her, wanted to help. He’d sideswiped his daddy’s truck when he was fourteen and got his hide tore up for it. Fifty bucks was nothin’, really, ‘specially when he was about to leave town. He hadn’t thought he would make such an impression.

“—I always meant to pay you back but then you left for basic, and eventually I left for college, and I just never saw you again. So here— “

She holds the bill out to him again. He looks from her, to it, to her again; can feel a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yer… paying me back from eleven years ago?”

“Well, better late than never.”

Clyde doesn’t know what comes over him. He bursts into laughter, his whole face crinkling up. It’s a loud belly laugh, just the abrupt absurdity of the situation getting to him. Juniper starts laughing with him, her hand landing over her mouth to try to muffle herself. It makes Clyde laugh even more and there they were, strangers yet not, dying laughing out in front of a funeral.

The doors of the church swing open, and Mrs. Hastings emerges with two other women, having taken them hostage with her conversation. The group eyes the laughing pair, and it makes Clyde quiet, placing one big paw over his own mouth in an attempt to be more polite. Juniper giggles, but starts clearing her throat, trying to hush herself. They finally get themselves under control, but don’t dare speak for fear of setting off another fit; all they can do is look mischievously at one another, eyes sparkling. Clyde can’t remember the last time he laughed like this with someone who wasn’t Jimmy or Mellie.

Eventually, Juniper breaks the silence, apparently finding more faith in herself than Clyde had in his own ability not to lose it again.

“I mean it. Take it.”

She gestures with the banknote. It’s crisp, despite having been held in her palm. Clyde slowly drops his hand; shakes his head.

“I can’t take yer money.”

“You can and you will, Clyde Logan.”

Juniper gives him a look, and he finds himself taking the bill from her fingers. His hand dwarfs hers; he has the odd thought that if he held it, it would break. She looks pleased; gives him a victorious grin.

“Good. My uncle would probably haunt me if I never paid you back.”

Clyde barks out another gleeful laugh, surprised at her comment. She starts to speak again, but then the church door is opening, the preacher sticking his head out. He asks for her, and Juniper gives Clyde one last look.

“Save it for a rainy day.”

She points at the bill, now crumpled up in his palm, then she’s up the steps and into the church before Clyde can even think of a response.

_____________________________

“Now, tell me why I thought this was a diner.”

Clyde turns from his place at Duck Tape’s front door—keys in hand to start settin’ up for opening hours—to look towards the voice behind him. There was Juniper, leaning against a shiny corolla and giving him a megawatt smile. Clyde can’t help but smile back, surprised but happy to see her. It’s been almost a week since the funeral, he was sure she’d be gone by now.

“Sorry to disappoint, ma’am.”

Juniper scoffs, shaking her head.

“You better stop calling me “ma’am.” And I don’t think you could ever disappoint me, Clyde Logan.”

He can feel his cheeks pinkening up at her words, though he isn’t exactly sure why. So, he nods, and hopes she can’t see his blush from so far away.

“Alright. Juniper, then.”

She nods at him; he nods back.

“This used to be the Campbell’s diner. They got bored with it and turned it into a bar, and then they realized they just hated runnin’ a business.”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“—I was their best worker. They trained me as a manager and then one day just up and gave me the place. Said they wanted it to go to someone who loved it.”

Clyde still remembers the swirl of emotions he’d felt that day—the disbelief mixed with gratitude mixed with hope like no other. He’d floundered for a while after coming back, with his hand and PTSD and no sense of direction. The bar gave him that, and suddenly it was his. Mr. Campbell had gruffly told Clyde that the place was a curse; that it “sucked out your soul and your money.” Clyde thinks it’s the one thing his family curse hasn’t touched.

“... You can come in, if y’like. We ain’t open yet but I don’t mind. I’ll fix ya up a drink and a sandwich.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Ya can and ya will.”

He grins at her, echoing her past words, and she laughs.

“Alright, twist my arm why dontcha.”

She moves to grab her purse from her car, and Clyde gets a view of the curve of her ass in her denim shorts. He turns back to the door quickly, fumbling to unlock it. Dammit, why couldn’t he behave himself? She was sweet, and charming, and beautiful, and—and she didn’t deserve being gawked at by him.

You’re not that type’a guy, Clyde, he chastises himself in his head.

He holds the door open for her and she thanks him as she walks in, looking around curiously. Clyde is suddenly nervous, though he’s unsure why. He was proud of Duck Tape, of what he’d done to it and how he ran it. Maybe it was a little old fashioned, but he never had complaints. So why, now, was he anxious to see what she—a relative stranger—thought?

“You c’n, uh—sit at the bar, I’ll be right back. Just gonna get some stuff.”

Juniper nods; she’s still looking around when he escapes into the back. The kitchen was small, barely used; Duck Tape didn’t exactly have food, per se. Sometimes Pete, one of the barbacks, would make a special batch of little appetizers for people, but mostly it was pretzels and peanuts. Clyde’s considered adding a permanent food menu, but he’s still got some calculatin’ to do on if he can afford it. Some months the bar was scraping by as it was, even with his regular VA disability checks, and it’s not like the regulars came to eat.

Still, the pantry was regularly stocked with sandwich fixings for the staff, and that’s what Clyde collects—bread, turkey, lettuce, tomato, pickle. He’s just coming out of the kitchen when music starts up, Patsy Cline’s crooning filling the empty bar. Juniper looks at him from where she was standing in front of the jukebox, a sheepish smile on her face.

“Sorry, I didn’t think about how loud it would be with no people in here.”

Clyde chuckles, shakes his head.

“S’alright. There’s a little knob on the side for the volume.”

Juniper turns it down before coming to join him at the bar top. She sits on a stool across from him, watching him start making them both a sandwich. It’s quiet as he works, but it’s not uncomfortable. Clyde finds that he enjoys her presence; likes her there in his space. It’s odd—usually he values his time alone opening up the bar. He likes the routine of setting up, making sure everything is stocked and clean; likes the silence and the peace it brings him. Yet he’d invited her into his sanctuary, and somehow, she fit.

“I thought y’would’ve gone back home by now. Heard you were out West.”

Clyde speaks up as he serves her the sandwich he’s made, grabbing them each a cold glass of water. He tries to busy himself; tries to act like he’s not wholly invested in her sticking around. Heard you were out West, he’d said. Heard. Like it was happenstance, like someone said it to him in passing; like he hadn’t been in the salon just two days ago, purposely eavesdroppin’ on the Purple Lady’s gossip. Juniper hums around a mouthful of food, breaking him out of his guilty thoughts.

“Yeah, up in Portland. I thought I’d be back by now too, t’be honest. Not that I don’t like being here! It’s just not what I had planned. But Uncle Roy left me the bed & breakfast, and I need to get things sorted to make sure it’s taken care of. I don’t want to leave it for just anyone to run.”

Clyde nods, leaning against the counter as he eats. After Mr. Stephens left teaching, he and his wife had turned their large home into a two-room bed & breakfast. It was surprisingly popular with both locals and travelers who wanted a “small town stay” while passing through. He hadn’t thought about what would happen to the place now that the Stephens’ were gone. Juniper sips at her water before speaking again.

“I’ve been able to convince my job to let me work remotely for now, but that won’t last forever.”

She sighs, scrunching up her face; Clyde thinks it’s cute.

“Whaddaya do for work, if ya don’t mind me askin’?”

Juniper huffs, a rueful smile on her lips. She has another bite of sandwich, taking her time to answer.

“I’m an in-house attorney for an energy corporation out there.”

“Yer a lawyer?”

Clyde’s brows arch plumb to the ceiling as he stares at her. He spares a thought to the bundles of heist money he had stowed away in a safe in the back of his closet, right next to his daddy’s old pistol. Lawyer’s not the same as a cop, he tells himself. Juniper’s oblivious to his plight; she takes his surprise in another way.

“What? Don’t I look like one?”

She grins, gesturing to her lacy shirt and jean cut-offs. Clyde almost apologizes, but her laugh is open and carefree; he hadn’t insulted her. She continues speaking, shifting on the barstool.

“It’s not what I wanted to do with my degree. I wanna work for a non-profit, maybe a defense fund. I have a specialization in human rights law, but— “

She sighs, a little frown appearing on her face. Clyde has the sudden urge to reach out, to use his thumb to massage the furrow between her brows until she’s smiling again.

“—but it doesn’t pay the bills. Especially not Portland bills. And I was lucky to get the corporate internship as it was, so when it turned into a job, I just thought hey, I’ll gain some experience, save some money, and then find where I really want to work once I’ve earned my keep. But I dunno, recently things just feel so…”

She trails off, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. It’s obvious she has more to say, so Clyde waits patiently as he eats. It was somethin’ he was good at: waiting patiently.

“I mean I don’t want to complain. It’s a good job, and someone has to do it. I’m—I mean, I do good work. It’s just not what I want to do.”

She stops suddenly, letting out a soft laugh before looking up at him, a sheepish look on her face.

“Sorry. Here we are, basically strangers, and I’m unloading all my problems onto you.”

If it were anyone else Clyde would brush it off in the most casual way possible. Say oh, I’m’a bartender, it comes with the territory. Make it easier for both of them to distance themselves. But he doesn’t. Instead, he says:

“I don’t mind. I’m always here to listen.”

When Juniper looks at him, he swears she’s looking straight into his soul, like she knows his every thought, every feeling, every shudderin’ beat of his heart. There’s a pause, and then she gives him a smile.

“I guess I’m making a bit of a habit of unloading my problems onto you, huh? First the windshield, now this.”

And just like that, the spell is broken. But instead of it being jarring, it’s a smooth, seamless transition. That moment was over, but there was a reassurance in the air: there would be many more moments to come.

_____________________________

Days turn into a week; one week turns into three, and then four. Juniper sticks around, still trying to work things out with the bed & breakfast. That afternoon at the bar turns into a habit, and Clyde finds himself offerin’ to be the one to open the bar on days he doesn’t even work. He wants to spend as much time with her as he can, and these not-a-date lunch-dates were the perfect excuse.

They were friends; Clyde felt confident enough to say that. It was probably the quickest friend he’d ever made, and he knew that was likely all thanks to her. It’s not that she was extremely outgoing or anything; they just seemed to click in a way he rarely did with anyone. Some days when they had lunch together it was silent, him cleaning and her working on her computer. Quiet but comfortable, together. They didn’t have to speak, didn’t have to anxiously fill the space between them with words. They could just be.

Jimmy barges in one day, having driven up early from Lynchburg and apparently decidin’ not to tell Clyde of his plans. The older Logan breaks the peaceful silence of the bar, shoving the door open and bitching ‘bout traffic. Juniper jumps just about a foot off the barstool she was perched on, and even normally-stoic Clyde startles. The pair look wide-eyed at the intruder, and then Clyde is clearing his throat, moving away from where he’d been leaning into Juniper’s space over the bar top.

A slow grin spreads across Jimmy’s face, lookin’ like the cat that caught the canary, and Clyde knows he’s in big trouble.

Mellie just so happens to come into the bar the next day, askin’ Clyde if he’s seen her purple sparkly clippers when they both know he hasn’t. He tries to tell her with his eyes to get the hell out, but he knows it’s a lost cause—growin’ up with Mellie, she never got out of your room if she knew it was buggin’ ya.

As soon as she finally—finally—leaves (only after she goes out of her way to introduce herself to Juniper, telling her to come by the salon anytime she needs anything), Clyde gets a little ping on his phone.

Then another.

And another.

And another until he’s huffing, scrollin’ through and punching the mute chat button with one of his giant fingers.

Juniper twirls back and forth on her barstool, her pretty summer dress dancing around her legs. She’s watching him with an amused little smile.

“Your siblings are nice.”

She says eventually; she says knowingly. It makes him flush pink; makes him curse the little messages he knows are building up on his phone.

Ask her out.

#clyde logan #clyde logan fic #clyde logan x ofc #logan lucky #clyde logan fluff #adcu #feedback always welcome & appreciated!#tori writes #clyde logan x original female character #clyde logan x oc

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

florence (iv)

warnings: smut!! in the middle but you can see it coming if u wanna skip over it

wordcount: 8.3k

______

Six and a half hours and two transfers later on the train, Sophie and Rafe made it to Florence. They’d fallen asleep on each other multiple times and woken up with cricks in their necks or imprints of each other’s clothing onto their cheeks, and were both running on little sleep - somehow, he’d convinced her to go skinny dipping off a little cove at 2am the night before. She lasted about ten minutes in the water with him before she spotted someone with a flashlight along the beach and freaked, practically sprinting out of the water to pull her wet clothes back on and shove Rafe’s at him. (He’d hissed at her to relax until they heard yelling of “arrêter! Policiers!” They put together pretty quickly that it was “stop! Police!” and booked it back to the hotel, giggling the whole way.)

Despite Rafe’s tired grumblings, she made him freshen up and walk with her to go get dinner at a place a few blocks from the hostel. It was only 6, but they both hadn’t eaten in a while and had to be up early for an architecture tour Sophie had scheduled at 8am. He took two looks at the menu before handing it to her - she raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “You know what you’re getting?”

“It’s Italy. I want pasta every day.”

“Every day.” She repeated, doubtful.

“Every day. And gelato, every day. Those are my two requests.” He nodded, sure of himself.

“I think we can manage that. Did you learn Italian too over the summer, you want to order for us?” She teased, holding back a smile.

“C’mon, my Spanish wasn’t that terrible. It really wasn’t.” He protested, kicking her gently under the table.

She kicked him back reflexively, maybe a little too hard, and just rolled her eyes when he made a show of dramatically grabbing his leg. “It wasn’t awful. You just had zero accent, that’s kind of important.”

“Whatever, I’ll work on it.” He grinned. “You can teach me where to put my tongue.”

“Your ability to make anything sexual is impressive.”

“Wasn’t even sexual, but good job on you for twisting it.” He smirked, leaning across the table and lowering her voice. “Hey. Guess what.”

She did the same, reaching out and taking his hand. “What.”

“We’re in Italy.” He whispered conspiratorially, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah, and…?”

“When you were drunk on FaceTime once, you told me we needed to have sex in every country.”

She blushed, raising her eyebrows. “Did I?”

“You did, and I’m holding you to it. I got us single rooms in the hostels for a reason.” Rafe wiggled his eyebrows back with a smile, trying to get her to laugh. “But there’s like, a 98% chance I fall asleep on you if we try anything tonight, so we can check that off the list tomorrow.”

She had to hide a giggle as their waiter came over to take their order, turning it into a cough into her elbow. When the waiter left she shook her head, grinning. “Tomorrow’s fine. I appreciate the honesty.”

“Any time.”

_______

The next morning, Sophie woke up to her third alarm in a row with Rafe still blissfully asleep next to her, his arm curled around her middle and her leg thrown over his waist. She nudged her head up, knocking against his chin. “Hey.”

He stirred just enough to pull her closer and bury his face into her hair. “Shh. Sleeping.”

“We gotta get up, Rafe, we need breakfast before our tour.” She started scratching gentle circles on his chest, placing short kisses up along his neck. “Up.”

“If you keep doing that something else is going to get up.” He mumbled, humming contentedly with his eyes still shut. The hostel was busy with other kids their age and he’d woken up to the sound of two groups trying to open their door - twice - and their drunken whisper-yells. Sophie, of course, slept peacefully through the whole thing.

“We don’t have time for that.” She placed a kiss on the tip of his nose and tried squirming from his grip unsuccessfully. “Come on.”

“Five minutes.”

“Two.”

“Four.”

“...Fine.” She settled her head back onto the pillow, sighing as he grinned and nuzzled against her. “Only ‘cause you’re warm.”

“Yeah, what the fuck is up with the temps? This place is an icebox.” He replied, slipping his hand under her shirt and cupping her breast.

“Rafe.” She elbowed at him, a warning tone to her voice.

“M’ just holding it. You’re warm.” He argued, brushing his thumb over her nipple and smiling to himself when she let out a tiny whine. She made the mistake of pressing her hips back into him, just a little, and he groaned quietly into her ear. “Careful there.”

“You’re not seriously - oh my god, Rafe.”

He wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest, just pushed his hips against her ass. “Can’t help it. I have my beautiful girlfriend in my bed that I haven’t seen in months.”

“It wasn’t even that long -”

“It was a whole quarter of a year without you, Sophie, now hush and let me sleep.” His tone took on a teasing lilt and he brushed his fingers down her stomach, making her tense. “Unless you’d like to do something else.”

“We don’t have time.” She told him firmly, knocking his hand away. He grumbled and pulled his hand out from under her shirt, settling his arm around her waist instead. “Lame.”

“You’re lame.”

“Okay. Good comeback. You’ve lost your touch.” He quipped with a tone of amusement, pulling her close again. Her alarm went off and he sighed dramatically, dropping his head to her shoulder. “Let’s skip.”

“We’re not skipping, we might never be in Florence again and I’ve wanted to see the Duomo and Palazzo Vecchio for years.” She twisted in his grip just enough to place a quick kiss on his lips then sit up, stretching. “Get up.”

“I’ll bring you back - no, Sophie, stay -” He protested weakly, reaching for her.

She smiled fondly at the way he was all squinty in the mornings, adjusting to the lights and trying to find his glasses, but her smile gave way to a pout she knew Rafe couldn’t say no to. “Baby, please? I don’t want to be late.”

“Fine.” He yawned and dragged himself out of bed, pulled on his glasses and shoved his feet into sneakers, just wearing his boxers. “I’m gonna go pee.”

“You’re not gonna at least throw on a shirt? Or shorts?” She questioned, eyeing him over with no shame.

He caught her gaze and flexed his chest, smirking. “Not if you’re enjoying the show.”

“You’re the worst.” She informed him, leaning over to give him a kick to the ass. “Go.”

As requested, she pulled out his clothes for the day after she got ready, finding a certain kind of pride in the fact that he trusted her in his appearance. She grabbed his wallet from the desk too, ready to stick it in her backpack, but paused when she realized it was a little thicker than normal, barely snapping shut. Curiosity got the best of her and she flicked open the wallet, pulling out a couple wrinkled and worn pieces of paper from one of the slots.

Rafe returned just as she was smoothing it open. “What are you doing?”

She startled, quickly turning and holding the paper behind her back. “Nothing! Just putting your wallet in my bag. So we didn’t forget.” She clarified quickly, cheeks blooming red at being caught.

He smirked, kicking off his shoes and striding closer. “If you wanted money, you could’ve just asked.” He teased, reaching around behind her. “Whatcha got?”

“Nothing.” She twisted, trying to set it on the desk without him noticing, completely unsubtle.

“Oh. You found your letters?”

Sophie paused. “My letters?”

“Yeah, that’s what they are.” He nodded and started pulling on his clothes for the day.

She brought it from behind her back to read and brightened, realizing it was two scraps from the many letters she’d sent to him when they were apart. He’d just cut out the two sappiest paragraphs she’d written, embarrassingly, as she found it much easier to express the extent of her love for him through writing rather than face to face. She pouted a little, skimming over them. “Baby.”

He turned back to her and ran his thumb over her bottom lip, shaking his head. “Hm? No pouting, little fish.”

“Little fish?” She quirked her brow, confused.

“Yeah, remember that one time you blamed your crying during finals week on being a Pisces moon? Pisces is the fish, I think.” Rafe reasoned, taking the papers out of her hand and carefully tucked them into a zippered pocket of his suitcase. “Since you’re here with me now, I guess you’ll just have to tell me how much you love me in person instead.”

She beamed up at him, adoringly. “I love you so damn much.”

He grinned and slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her close to kiss her slow. “Love you too, Soph. My favorite girl.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them strolled out hand-in-hand to the hostel cafeteria and picked through some pastries for breakfast, Sophie promising him a protein bar from her backpack when he complained he’d be lightheaded by eleven. He snapped a photo of her when she recoiled at the strong cappuccino with zero cream or sugar to cut it with, laughing as she tried her best to hide a cough. They found a spot at an empty table and it wasn’t long until a friendly couple came up to them with twin smiles.

“Hi, can we sit?” The girl asked, already setting down their plates.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Rafe replied, gesturing. Sophie noticed that his slight Carolinian accent came out a little more in Europe instead of in Ohio, as if he was trying to mimic a little bit of the Spanish and Italian accents and butchered it in his own special way. (She hadn’t corrected him yet, finding it endearing.)

“Thank you! I’m Elena, this is Marco.” Elena introduced herself, sliding into her seat.

Marco gave them a nod and pointed at Rafe, hesitant. “It’s...Jake?”

“Rafe.” He corrected, then explained to Sophie, “we met in the bathroom.”

“Your boyfriend is built.” Marco informed Sophie with a grin, making her laugh. “I know. I’m Sophie, it’s nice to meet you both. Are you just visiting, or…?”

“Yes, we’re from Milan, we wanted to make a weekend trip.” Elena confirmed. “And you? Americans?”

“North Carolina, yeah.” Rafe nodded. “Sophie was studying abroad in Barcelona, then I came to tag along.”

“Oh, so cool!” Elena grinned. “Do you have plans today? I love Florence, it’s beautiful.”

“It is, yeah.” Sophie glanced down at her phone, then back up at them. “I’m sorry, but we have to run, actually, we have a tour to go to this morning. But no plans later.”

“We will meet you by the Duomo, then, around lunch! We can show you around.” Marco declared, handing over his phone to Rafe to put in his phone number - he was a little confused, but did so anyways. “You guys don’t have to -”

“No, new friends are always fun.” Elena waved him off with a smile. “Enjoy your morning.”

Sophie brightened, slipping out of her chair. “See you later!”

Rafe followed her back to their room, and turned to face her after shutting the door with a skeptical look. “He was flirting with me.”

She laughed, packing up her backpack for the day (she’d bought the little leather bag in Barcelona and it was now one of her most treasured possessions, carrying her camera and sketchbook every day). “Don’t be ridiculous, you just have a big head.”

“No, I swear, he was giving me a look this morning when I walked back from the bathroom.” He insisted.

“I think you’re misinterpreting things, he was probably confused that you were shirtless. They were friendly, we should meet up with them! New friends!” She grinned and slapped a protein bar into his hand, as promised.

He furrowed his brow a little but slipped the bar into his pocket. “How long do I have to share you for?”

“Rafe.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He amended quickly, leaning down to give her a sweet kiss. “Ready to see your Domo and whatever?”

“Duomo, baby. And the Palazzo Vecchio.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Uh huh.” She held out her hand with a grin. “C’mon, Florence awaits.”

He took her hand and raised it, guiding her into a twirl. “We certainly can’t keep her waiting, then.”

______

Rafe wasn’t sure he absorbed a single word of the self-guided tour. Twenty boring minutes in, he’d turned down the volume on his audio pack that they’d rented and just observed Sophie and the small look of awe on her face at every new turn, the way she nodded enthusiastically when she recognized a piece of information shared on the audio. He decided he would be perfectly content with just watching her for the rest of his life, to see the way her face lit up when she learned new things and got to share that information with him.

He listened just enough to be able to hold a conversation with her afterward, but his intro to architecture class that he’d had to drop midway through the first month of the semester didn’t really give him a strong enough background to keep up. Sophie made him pause the audio several times too, so she could tell him a story about the architect or about the construction of the buildings - he did his best to look as interested as possible. She could tell he was losing interest, just a little, but carried on anyways, just excited to share her passions with him.

After finishing the tour and returning their audio devices a little early, they took a seat out on the steps of the piazza as they waited for their new friends. Sophie took out her sketchbook and started drawing the front entryway of the Duomo, and after two minutes she ripped out a sheet so Rafe could doodle too. (His sketches were much less refined, a little rough around the edges, but they made up for it in character.)

“Do you think they’ll show?”

“Marco and Elena? Yeah. They sounded genuine.” She replied, her tongue poking out a little in concentration as she sketched.

He suppressed a grin and snapped a quick photo of her before she could realize. “How long do we have to hang out with them?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe go to lunch, let them show us around and if we like them we can hang out more?”

“Hm. You think we’ll like them?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” She reached over and adjusted his hand, trying to help him draw a straighter line, but he just scowled and went back to his usual method.

“We don’t know anything about them.”

“That’s the whole point of staying in the hostel, baby, to meet people.” She nudged her foot against his, giving him an eager smile. “C’mon, you like making friends. You’re good at it.”

“Okay, fine, but I have something planned for us tomorrow afternoon.” He told her, raising his eyebrows.

She huffed, exasperated. “Rafe, I promise, we can have sex later, but I’m not wasting the day in bed -”

He laughed, flicking at her knee. “No, no, not that, but I like where your mind is at.”

“Oh.” She cocked her head a little. “What is it?”

“A surprise.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not an expensive one, I hope?”

He made a show of pulling out his phone, dramatic. “Siri, cancel the private shopping tour at Gucci please.“

“Rafe Cameron.” She fixed him with a glare, unamused. He grinned back and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I know you better than that, don’t worry.”

“You’d better.” She rolled her eyes, then brightened when she saw Marco and Elena approaching and gathered up her sketchbook and pencils back into her bag, along with Rafe’s little drawings. He followed her gaze and stood, visibly steeling himself a little - she instantly nudged him to relax.

It didn’t take long for Rafe to warm up to their newfound friends, especially when Marco showed interest in his camera and when Elena asked him about his film minor, and enthused about how jealous she was that she couldn’t study something fun like that. He was a little caught off guard when they each got kisses on cheeks as a greeting, but didn’t mention it when Sophie shot him a look.

As promised, the two gave Rafe and Sophie a mini tour of the city, stopping for gelato twice along the way. After a solid few hours of walking and chatting, they stopped at a fountain by their hostel and sat around it to take a break.

“This fountain is special to us, you know.” Elena smiled at Marco and he nodded, tugging her down to his lap.

Rafe cocked his head. “Why’s that?”

“It is where we kissed for the first time.” Marco revealed with a raise of his eyebrows. “There’s a legend, if you throw a coin in here over your shoulder and it makes it to the top tier, you will find your lover.”

“Or lovers.” Elena added with a grin and dug in her pocket, then tossed two coins to Rafe and Sophie. “Here. I’ll tell you where it lands.”

Rafe tried handing his back, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want to waste your coin. I already have Sophie.”

Elena pushed it back into his hand, insistent. “You never know what will happen. It’s just good luck.”

Sophie looked a little confused but accepted the coin, tossing it in. Marco let out a whoop as it landed in the top tier, making a satisfying clink. “There you go!”

Rafe scowled but flicked his in too, looking a little smug when it joined hers up top. “See, I told you. Your lover’s right here.” He slipped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and mumbled, “Stupid fountain.”

Elena laughed, gesturing out to the crowd milling around. “Your lovers could be anywhere. Love is meant to be shared with more, yes?”

“...Sure.” Sophie leaned back into Rafe, content. “How long are you two here for?”

“We have as long as we’d like.” Marco shrugged. “Wherever the wind takes us.”

Rafe chuckled quietly into Sophie’s hair, murmuring. “Sounds like your worst nightmare.”

She just hummed in agreement back to him. “Oh. We leave in two days, early in the morning. Do you have plans tonight?”

“Probably a club.” Elena grinned. “You should come! We will teach you the tricks, get you the good Italian drinks. Sophie, I can show you how to flirt for the free drinks, the Italian way.”

She held back a laugh as she felt Rafe’s grip tighten a little around her. “Going out sounds fun. I’m not sure I have the right clothes, though, I sent a lot home already…”

“I have clothes! We will share.” Elena dismissed her immediately, then got up off Marco’s lap, tugging him up. “We are meeting with friends for dinner, but we will meet you later? At the hostel?”

“Sounds good.” Rafe nodded, letting Sophie go, and was surprised when the two of them said goodbye - again - with cheek kisses, Marco included. Once they were out of earshot, Sophie giggled at the bemused expression he wore. “I think you should start greeting James and Colin that way.”

He scowled. “James would participate. Colin might deck me.”

“Yeah, probably. I miss them.”

“More than you missed me?” He raised his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes, shoving at his chest. “Of course not. Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird, you get all overprotective and I know you wanted to say something earlier when she talked about flirting.” She took his hand and intertwined their fingers, giving it a little squeeze.

He softened a little and leaned down to press a kiss against the crown of her head, ignoring her remark. “What do you think she’ll have you wearing?”

“No clue. We’ll see, I guess.” She shrugged. “We have a few hours to kill, what do you want to do?”

“Hmm. We can go see the David?” Rafe tipped his head in that direction, and Sophie visibly brightened. “You want to go to an art museum?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s cool. One of my buddies went last year and said it was worth checking out. Plus, air conditioning.”

“My two favorite words.” She grinned.

____

Later that night, Sophie walked out of the girls’ dorm with Elena to meet the boys, looking extra hesitant. She wore a black bikini top, maneuvered differently so it was upside down and strung up to push her boobs together, with an open back. One tug of a string and it’d all come undone. It was paired with a leather miniskirt and Elena insisted on doing winged eyeliner and soft pink lipstick too, all completely out of Sophie’s comfort zone.

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw fell open a little. “Soph.”

“She’s gorgeous, yes?” Elena grinned, giving Sophie a little push on the shoulder toward him.

“Yeah, definitely, stunning.” Rafe nodded, searching her face. Sophie gave him a small smile, clearly uncomfortable in the attire. “It doesn’t look bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Do you like it…?” He questioned. “I can go get an extra shirt of mine from our room, if you want a little more, uh, coverage - not that you need to cover up, but -” He started, stepping toward that way even without her encouragement.

“No, um, I think it’s okay.” She grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Just a little...different. I just need a drink. Or two.”

He paused. “You’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” She nodded, then gave him a wry grin. “Just make sure no one accidentally tugs at this string or I think it’s all coming apart.”

He clapped his hand against the string at the back of her neck protectively. “You got it.”

“Ready? You look nice, Sophie.” Marco asked, sending her a polite smile, then stopped in front of Rafe. “No, wait.”

“Something wrong?” Rafe frowned, then widened his eyes as Marco reached out and undid two more buttons on Rafe’s shirt that already had three unbuttoned, so his chest was basically on full display. His attire was completely out of character for him, a short-sleeved maroon silk button-down that Marco had insisted on, but he wore it well. Sophie stifled a laugh.

“There! Much better. Now we go.” Marco took Elena’s hand and they led the way, starting the walk toward the club.

Sophie giggled at Rafe’s bemused expression and reached over and undid another button with her free hand. “You look extra slutty tonight.”

“Extra slutty?” He emphasized in mock outrage. “Maybe I’ll be the one getting us free drinks.”

She grinned. “How about we make it a competition?”

“Go on…”

“Whoever can get to...um, two drinks first wins.” She decided.

“Just two? Why not go the whole night?” He cocked his head.

“I don’t think I’m going to drink too much tonight.” She reached up and tugged at the bikini string to tighten it a little, pushing her boobs together more. “I feel like my tits are gonna fall out at any second.”

He snorted. “Say the word and I’ll give you my shirt.”

“I know you would, baby, but I think you need some semblance of decency too.”

They were practically glued to each other’s side all night despite their bet, with her being stressed about her outfit and him being overprotective. (Sophie noted that Rafe looked remarkably comfortable in the overpriced and fancy club environment, while she felt wildly out of place. For a moment she wished she’d taken him to Monaco just to see how quickly he’d assimilate, even though she knew she’d probably hate it.)

They took two shots with Elena and Marco and lost both of them shortly after, not expecting them to leave so soon. After they said hasty goodbyes, not returning, Rafe slung his arm around Sophie’s shoulders and kept her close. “I’m pretty sure I just saw Elena making out with some girl on the dance floor.”

Sophie furrowed her brow, leaning into him. “You’re sure? Isn’t she dating Marco?”

He shrugged. “Dunno, maybe it’s their thing. I swear it was her.” He grinned, repeating Elena’s words from earlier. “Your lovers could be anywhere, remember?”

She rolled her eyes. “She’s a little out there. When we were getting dressed she dragged a crystal down my spine and told me I had to align my chakras.”

“Kinky.” He quipped, laughing when she shoved at his shoulder. “Whatcha thinking, want to stay?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head. “I’m tired and my feet are killing me. Let’s just head back?”

He took the rest of her drink and tipped it back, then set it on a nearby counter as they walked out. “Exactly how tired are you?”

She grinned. “I could stay up for a little longer. I saw your packing skills, might as well put them to good use.”

Rafe blushed - she’d found a whole strip of condoms in his bag on the first night in Barcelona and immediately teased him, asking how many nights he thought they’d be doing it. He merely responded by shrugging and ripping one open, setting it on the bed like an invitation. (She had accepted. Of course she did.) “We might as well take advantage of your top. Easy access, y’know.”

She rolled her eyes and checked her hip against his, shaking her head. “You have me, you know. You don’t have to keep constantly flirting.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Touché.”

_________

Rafe’s planned surprise for the next day was a bike tour (“so you can live out your Lizzie McGuire dream,” he’d told her, but she didn’t have the heart to correct him that technically Lizzie rode a Vespa in Rome).

The bike tour was out to a small winery where they had a private dinner and both got drunker than they expected, especially Sophie. The owners of the winery made them a three-course meal and kept coming out with more and more wines to try, successfully convincing Rafe to order three bottles to be shipped home. When Sophie nearly fell only a few feet after attempting to ride the bike back, the owners laughed and just ordered them a cab - Rafe thanked them with a tip that was probably a little too excessive, but his drunk brain didn’t care.

When they tumbled into the car, Rafe immediately pulled her feet into his lap, running his hand over her shin. She gave him a look and tried twitching away but he wouldn’t let her, keeping a firm grasp on her ankle. In Spanish, a little slurred but near-perfect, Sophie told the driver their address and the name of the hostel. Their driver nodded and responded something in Italian - neither of them could understand, so they just nodded back.

Rafe dug his thumbs into her calf and she nearly moaned, biting her lip. “Oh my god.”

“That good or you’re just drunk?” He smirked, continuing his motions.

She let her head flop back against the car door. “Both. You’re drunk too. My brain is working funny though.”

He raised his eyebrows, smiling. “I don’t think it is. What’s 15 plus 26?”

“Rafe, you know I can’t do mental math, unfair.” She whined, pulling her leg back a little so his hand slipped back to her ankle.

He swapped her legs, massaging into her other calf. “Not gonna take your shoes off in the car, sweetheart, you’ll have to wait for more.”

“Sweetheart. That’s new,” she repeated, mulling it over. “You know what?”

“What?”

“If you gave me a foot massage right now, I genuinely think I’d marry you on the spot. No contest.”

“No contest implies there is competition, Soph.” He pushed both her legs off his lap, ignoring her squawk of protest, and slid into the middle seat so he could buckle her in and lean into her.

She tucked her head into his side comfortably. “You’d marry me too. Wouldn’t you?”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. No.”

She whined, squeezing his thigh. “Rafe!”

“Sophie!” He mimicked her whine, although much quieter, and pushed her hand away from his leg. “No, I wouldn’t, you deserve a big party and a pretty white dress. Plus, wouldn’t you want our friends there?”

“I suppose.” She hummed, pulling his arm a little tighter around her shoulders. “Sometime, then.”

“Yeah, sometime.” He agreed, starting to play with her hair. It wasn’t long until she fell asleep on his side, always extra sleepy when she was wine drunk. He snapped a picture and sent it to Allie and Julia, who instantly demanded a Facetime session.

A few minutes later, the cab dropped them at the hostel and Rafe had to practically drag her sleepy body out of the car and haul her inside. He convinced her to stay awake just long enough to get into their room, then let her flop onto the bed as he untied her shoes.

She perked up a little when she heard the familiar ring of the Facetime call. “Who’s that?” He scooted in close to her, pressing his cheek to hers to fit them both on the screen with minimal effort. Allie and Julia picked up right away and both their faces broke out into a grin.

“Mom and Dad!” Julia exclaimed.

Sophie grinned back, immediately taking the phone from Rafe and shoving him away. “Hi!”

“She’s drunk.” Rafe informed them unnecessarily off screen.

“I am not, shh.” She snapped at him. “Hi guys! I miss you!”

“How’s your trip? I want to hear all about it!” Allie asked right away.

Sophie glanced at Rafe, the wheels turning in her head. “Should we tell them? Are we allowed?”

He furrowed his brow. “Why wouldn’t we be allowed?”

“Okay. So we had sex last night -”

“Jesus, Sophie, no -” He immediately wrestled the phone away from her as Allie and Julia both cried out with a chorus of “no, stop!”

“You said it was allowed!”

“I didn’t think you were going to talk about that!” Rafe rolled his eyes and gave them an apologetic smile. “We’ll be home in a little under a week, Soph can catch you up then. On the less explicit details.”

“You taking care of our girl, Cameron?” Julia asked, smiling as Sophie nuzzled into his side like a cat - she was always extra touchy when drunk, even just with the girls.

“Technically, she was mine first.” He pointed out.

“Technically, you made her cry after multiple fights before you ever dated, so no. She’s been ours since freshman year.” Allie corrected.

“I can be everybody’s.” Sophie mumbled, taking Rafe’s hand and placing it on her head so he’d get the hint and start playing with her hair again.

“Polygamy. Spicy.” Julia quipped.

“I would like to have sex or go to sleep now.” Sophie announced without a care in the world. “Can we hang up?”

Julia snorted, while Allie rolled her eyes.

“You’re not gonna talk to your friends?” He asked, trying to hand the phone back to her, but she just shook her head and pushed it away. “M’tired.”

“You just said you wanted to have sex.” Julia said.

“Yes, I’m not gonna do any of the work.”

Rafe shook his head and angled the phone back to his face. “Okay then. Sorry, guys, we had way too much wine at dinner. We’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, of course. See you soon! Bye, Soph!” They both chimed in, waving until they hung up. He dropped the phone, amused. “What was that about?”

“Honesty is the best policy.” She told him, sprawling out onto the bed. “Alright. Have at me.”

He rolled his eyes. “No. You need to shower, then we can go to sleep.”

She sighed dramatically. “Rafael.”

“That is not my name.”

“Okay. Rafe.”

“Yes.”

“Can we please have sex?”

“No we cannot.”

She pouted, rolling over onto her stomach and looking up at him. “Please? I’ll let you go down on me.”

He laughed. “You’re so generous. No. Come on, shower time.” He gathered up her towel and clothes for her to change into after, then tugged at her hand. “Angel. Up.”

“Shower with me.” She demanded, getting up and following him out the room with only a few stumbles along the way.

“You want us to get kicked out? I don’t think so.” He ushered her into the small shower stall, slipping in behind her and locking the door, then helped her undress, dodging multiple kisses. He folded her clothes and set them aside then gave her a small push into the shower that he’d turned on for her. “Okay. I’m going to wait outside.”

“No, no, stay.” She yelped as the water hit her, ice cold, and fiddled with the handles. “Fucking - oh my god -”

Rafe quickly jumped forward and adjusted them to the right temp, then turned his back on her. “Fine, I’ll stay, but only because I’m worried you’ll drown.”

“Can’t drown in a shower, silly.” She reached out and shoved her soapy hand through his hair and he sighed, turning back to look her in the eye. “Sophie Flint. Please behave.”

“You behave.” She gave him a mischievous grin, then lowered her voice to a whisper despite there being no one else milling around in the bathroom. “Come in.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Not completely. Not anymore.” She argued. “I’ll go down on you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “If you really want to, you can save that for the morning. Finish your shower so I can get in. I’ve decided I don’t trust you to stay alone in the room.”

“Or you could get in with me…” she trailed off, tugging him down for a kiss - he gave in just for a moment before glancing away, trying his hardest to ignore his naked girlfriend - wet and covered in soap suds, no less.

“Soph. Rinse your hair.”

She crossed her arms, stubborn. “No.”

“Oh my god.” He rolled his eyes and double-checked the lock before he stripped down and got in with her, nudging her back under the feeble shower spray. He figured he’d have to shower anyways, and the faster he got her back to bed, the better. “Rinse.”

“Do it for me.” She protested, resting her head against his chest. He sighed but tipped her head back into the water and massaged his hands through her strands, stilling for a brief moment when she let out a breathy moan. “Hey. Can’t do that.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself.” She excused, then reached up onto her toes to lather shampoo into his hair once he was finished. He ducked down a little so she could reach, pressing his head against her hand. “M’ gonna be hard if you keep that up,” he mumbled.

She giggled. “It’s just shampooing. And I think you’re halfway there.”

“It’s intimate.” He protested, nearly melting into her touch. He loved when she played with his hair, how gentle she was (except when she’d occasionally tug on some strands to get his attention).

After shampooing and rinsing his hair, she lathered soap between her hands and smoothed it over his chest, over his shoulders. He swallowed, watching her and feeling like his skin was on fire despite the warm water waning. “You’re still drunk.” He mumbled.

“Not really.” She pressed a kiss to his neck, then another, then along his collarbone. “I know what I’m doing.” His illogical side was beginning to give way to her actions, especially as she sunk to her knees in the shower, running her hands down his thighs. “Let me.”

“Baby…” He was hesitant and clearly worried about being caught, and reached down to tip up her chin. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Although this is twice now that I’m getting cheated out of shower sex, kind of rude.” She grinned up at him.

“Sophie, I will fuck you in the shower all you want when we’re home - oh, shit -” He nearly gasped as she took him into her mouth, jerking his hips involuntarily. She gagged and immediately pulled off him, pinching his thigh. “Jesus, Rafe, trying to bruise my throat or something?”

“I had no warning! I’m sorry!” He exclaimed in a hushed whisper, fumbling for the shower faucet to turn it just a tad hotter as it rained down on his back. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“I mean, we can try it, but another time, okay?” She smirked as his eyes went wide and she licked up the underside of his cock, carefully taking him into her mouth again. He let out a deep exhale and bit down on his knuckle to keep himself quiet, letting his head fall back against the shower wall. She continued bobbing up and down on him and when he looked down after a few moments, he nearly choked watching her touch herself at the same time.

“Sophie - let me -” He tried, but she just hollowed out her cheeks and moved on him a little faster, and he could tell from the way she hummed around him that she was close too - impossibly close. He pushed her gently off of him and hauled her up to stand, even though she protested, and traded places faster than she could think, hooking her knee over his shoulder and going straight in with his tongue.

She gasped, a little louder than intended, and he sent her a warning look. They could hear some giggles from down the hall, coming closer and closer, and she panicked, tugging at his hair to bring him up, but he refused to stand. “Be quiet.”

“Rafe you know I can’t -” She pleaded, then pressed her hand tight to her mouth when the door opened and he continued to eat her out with no sign of stopping. Realistically, there was no chance of getting caught unless they were heard - they were in one of four locked shower stalls and even Rafe couldn’t be seen over the top, despite his height. Another gasp caught in her throat as he flicked his tongue across her clit, faster, and she felt like she might black out when she came.

He looked up at her and she could barely see the blue rimming his pupils, eyes dark with lust. That was enough to push her over the edge and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a not-so-quiet whine.

The girls’ conversation stopped out by the sinks and one of them spoke up, loudly. “Did you hear that?”

Rafe stood after working her through the orgasm - as always - and clamped his hand over her mouth, reaching down in between them to jack himself off as he whispered in her ear. “Don’t make a sound. You’re so good for me, Soph, so fucking special.”

She felt like her legs were jelly and her head was spinning, in a haze post-orgasm (and the excessive steam in the shower didn’t help). She pushed his hand away and kissed him, hard, grinning against his lips when he uttered a soft groan, painting her stomach with his cum.

He rested his forehead against hers, trying his best to breathe quietly, a different girl spoke up. “No, I didn’t hear anything. Probably just the shower faucet being weird.” There was a murmur of agreement and the group left, the door swinging shut to make a loud exit.

Sophie let out a small laugh of disbelief, shaking her head. “You’re…I can’t even think.”

“Incredibly sexy?” He supplied with a grin, nudging her back under the shower spray and handing her the body wash to clean herself off.

“Incredibly insane, more like it.” She shivered once she was clean and flicked off the faucet. “You went from no sex tonight to near-exhibitionism all within the span of a half hour.”

He glanced at his watch before wrapping her in her towel. “Forty-five minutes since we’ve been home, actually, it’s a miracle the water wasn’t ice.”

She patted herself dry and pulled on her clean clothes, scowling as she had to shove her feet into her mildly sweaty shoes. “Um. You need fresh clothes.”

“Right.” Rafe paused, then stacked his clothes on top of hers and wrapped her towel around his waist. “This’ll do. You leave first?”

“Good call.” She grinned and slipped out of the bathroom unnoticed, back to their room, and was under the covers when he returned. “C’mere.”

He tugged on clean boxers and called it good, slipping under the covers with her and drawing her close. “Sleepy?”

“Yeah.” She grinned to herself and pressed a chaste kiss to her jaw. “Baby.”

“Hm?” He closed his eyes, feeling like he could fall asleep at any second.

“You’re so easy.”

“Easy?” He echoed. “Maybe. Just for you.”

“Aw. Slutty just for me.” She grinned and rested her head on his chest, sighing contentedly when he wrapped his arms around her. “Good night.”

“Night, love you.” He mumbled.

“Love you too.”

_____

After another long day of exploring (and five gelatos, between the two of them), Sophie and Rafe agreed to meet up with Marco and Elena to go out again before they left. Rafe insisted on buying Sophie a better outfit for going out, despite her protests, and they ended up buying three outfits instead of just one. The night started out tame, with Marco and Elena actually sticking by Sophie and Rafe - until Marco kept buying more and more shots of limoncello and sambuca.

The sambuca shots came to their table on fire, and Rafe was a little too enamored by the flame by the third round he’d consumed (Sophie passed hers off to him, a little worried about her ability to keep an eye on him otherwise). When she noticed Rafe’s terrible typing on a Snapchat to Colin and James, she leaned up to yell in his ear. “Hey! I’m going to go get water. No more shots.”

“I’ll come!” He got up from his chair and immediately stumbled, gripping the table. Marco caught him by the arm, laughing. “I can watch him. It’s okay.”

She nodded and pressed both hands to his shoulders to keep Rafe in place. “Okay. You stay here with Marco, I’ll be right back, baby.”

“Promise?” He frowned, reaching out for her.

“I promise.” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “Stay.”

After fighting her way up to the bar, and poorly communicating that she wanted acqua, water, not acqua di cedro, an Italian liqueur, Sophie finally made it back to the table after ten minutes - just in time to catch Marco leaning in and kissing Rafe.

Rafe had leaned in a little too, misreading and thinking Marco was just trying to tell him something in his ear over the loud crowd. He jerked away with wide eyes just so Marco caught the corner of his lips, then abruptly looked around in shock to see if anyone else caught it.

Marco cocked his head, confused. “You are not interested?”

Sophie came up and handed Rafe the water, tucking herself into his side protectively. “What’s going on?” He gaped at her for a second then back at Marco, trying to gather his thoughts. “Interested?”

“In me.” Marco nodded. “We have been flirting.”

“We’ve been what?” He repeated, in shock.

“I’m his girlfriend.” Sophie clarified, gesturing between the two of them. “I thought we told you -”

“Yes, and I have my girlfriend too!” Marco nodded, tapping Elena on the shoulder and bringing her close. “What is the issue?”

“Oh, did you ask?” Elena brightened, sending Sophie a flirtatious grin. “Did they say yes?”

“I’m too drunk for this.” Rafe mumbled, pressing his palm to his forehead.

“Wait, wait, so. You two want to hook up with Rafe -” Sophie started, only for Marco to shake his head. “No, no, both of you. You for Elena.”

“I thought you could tell? We were flirting all week!” Elena exclaimed, and both Sophie and Rafe thought back to several incidents over the past few days that they’d just chalked up to the Italians being friendly. Kisses on cheeks, Elena telling Sophie to toss coins in the fountain so she’d meet her lover in Florence, Marco complimenting Rafe’s body multiple times when he came back in just a towel after the showers - shit, were they really that oblivious?

Rafe just groaned and dropped his head down to Sophie’s shoulder. “I’m so drunk.” She laughed, more out of confusion than anything. “Um, I’m sorry, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We’re not really inter - well -” She paused, debating for a moment and glancing up at Rafe to make sure she wasn’t speaking for him. (In her defense, she wasn’t sober either.)

“No!” Rafe exclaimed.

She nodded quickly. “Right, right, yeah. We’re not really interested, I’m so sorry if we gave you the wrong idea.”

“Oh. I would not have kissed you, I am sorry -” Marco began to apologize, but Sophie shook her head. “It’s okay! It’s okay, he’s fine. Um, here, you can have these, I think I need to get Rafe back home.” She pushed their waters into Elena’s hands, giving them an awkward smile.

“Will we see you at breakfast?” Elena asked as she smiled back, completely unfazed.

“Um...yeah. Maybe. Rafe, c’mon, let’s go.” Sophie looped her arm around his waist and tried pulling him out of the club, and he just dragged his feet along. “I can’t believe he kissed me.”

“Shh,” she giggled as she hushed him, tugging on his arm. “Rafe, cooperate, please.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” He grumbled, standing slightly more upright and doing his best to walk with her once they finally made it out. She got out her phone to look up the directions back to their metro stop and he wiped his hand over his mouth, scowling. “I need a kiss.”

“You nearly got one from Marco.” Sophie quipped with a smirk.

“I didn’t want a kiss from Marco.” He lamented with a big sigh. “Need one from my girl.”

“Just one, then we gotta make it home.” She complied, rising up on her toes to give him a short kiss. He grabbed her chin, not so gently, and tilted it back up to give her another kiss. “No. More.”

“I’ll kiss you as much as you want when we get back. Will you please help me and walk to the metro? One block, then just two when we go to the hostel. You can do it.” She pulled out of his grip and looped her arm in his, trying to get him going. “Rafe. Please.”

“So whiny.” He mumbled, but followed along. “Sophie, baby, Soph.”

“Yeah, bud?”

“My legs feel like jello.”

She grinned. “Kissing Marco had you that weak-kneed?”

“Shut uppppp.” He whined, messing with her hair. She jerked away, swatting his hand. “Hey! Quit.”

“You quit.”

“Shut it.”

He was quiet for a solid minute and she could tell he was thinking something over, with the way his brow was furrowed and lips were pursed. “Sophie Flint.”

“Yeah?” She was grateful when they arrived at the metro, tugging him onto the empty car and scanning their tickets. She wrestled him into a seat and eventually ended up on his lap after some pushing and pulling, his forehead pressed to hers. “What, Rafe.”

“Were you gonna sleep with Elena?” He looked concerned and his hands gripped her waist a little tighter.

She laughed, pulling back to brush his hair out of his face. “No, baby, I wasn’t going to sleep with her. I didn’t even know that’s what they were trying for.”

“Oh. Good. I don’t think I’d like you sleeping with someone else.” He told her, closing his eyes a little as she combed her fingers through his hair.

Sophie held back another laugh, nodding. “Yeah? I didn’t think you would. Don’t fall asleep on me, buddy.”

“Boyfriend. Not buddy. Buddy’s just a friend. I can have other nicknames too though.” He argued, letting his head fall back against the metro walls.

“What other nicknames?” She asked, moving to get off his lap, but he just tightened his grip on her so she couldn’t.

“Hm…I’m okay with smokeshow.”

She snorted, nodding. “Alright, smokeshow. We can go with that.”

“Sophie.”

“Yes, Rafe.”

“I’m in love with you.” He declared, leaning forward and placing a kiss to the bridge of her nose. She beamed and leaned in too to bump her nose against his, then press a short kiss to his lips. “You’re very sweet when you’re drunk.”

“I need you to say it back.” He frowned, tugging gently at the ends of her hair.

“I’m in love with you too.” She grinned. “Adore you, even.”

He hummed, looking her over with concentration and a small smile. “I like the sound of that. Do we have to go to breakfast tomorrow? I don’t really wanna see them again.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Our train to Rome is at seven, I was kind of hoping they’d be too hungover to remember us.”

“Hostel breakfast doesn’t open til 8.” He frowned. “Am I gonna starve?”

Sophie rolled her eyes and nudged her nose against his. “No. I’ll make sure you get food.”

“You’re so good at taking care of me.” He smiled sleepily, pulling her closer and dropping his head to her shoulder.

She beamed, combing her hand through his hair. “I try my best, baby. Always will.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

#also this happened to one of my friends lmao it's not a weird take on italians #the story is just too good #i am 80% sure this gif is of florence but for some reason i am doubting myself even tho i have been there #idk whatever #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfic #frat rafe #college rafe #rafe x sophie #mine

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edie-baby · 3 years

Text

Les Fleurs du Mal Chapter 2 | Pierre Gasly

Summary: Sava Dvorakova had big dreams for Formula One. An opportunity of a lifetime comes around, so she takes it and runs. She proved just about everyone wrong, and is awarded a very controversial seat on the F1 grid. There’s smiles and grins, hugs and kisses, love and laughter. There’s tears and sobs, fights and break ups. There’s evil where you least expect it, hidden in the garden of eden. The Flowers of Evil.

Warnings: a lot of swearing, shitty parents (they’re a recurring theme), sexism, i ignored a lot of actual f1 rules because i couldn’t be bothered writing it into the story tbh, yuki is fcking adorable, a lot of smut eventually, like a lot.

Sava woke up on Friday with no intention of getting out of bed before noon. And then realised that she wasn’t in her bed, it was a hotel room. The memories and realities of her current situation made her head spin, and with a shit eating grin on her face, she jumped out of bed and into the shower. Feeling as though she should stay on brand, Sava pulled on a white pleated skirt and tucked the oversized Carlin shirt into the waistband. She braided her hair while it was still a little wet, knowing it would be easier than the kerfuffle she had yesterday trying to walk, carry a helmet, and braid at the same time. Combat boots, a phone, and paddock pass later and Sava was leaving the hotel room to meet Amelia in the cafeteria-like space on the ground floor to have breakfast and chat about the agenda for the day before they headed to the track.

Unbeknownst to Sava, a number of the F1 drivers were staying at the same hotel, and when she stepped into the room, eyes focused on finding other Carlin shirts, many heads turned her way. Obviously, news about a girl in a Carlin race suit with pink hair had spread into the formula one paddock quite quickly. Sava gave up on trying to find her assistant when she had no luck, preferring to make her way to the coffee bench to make herself a very sweet black coffee over ice. While the coffee began brewing, she turned her back to the bench, taking another look out over the crowds of people at tables to try and find her friends again, only to see that 75% of the room was already looking at her, and those that weren’t were whispering to the people that were. The poor girl looked like a deer in the headlights, and apparently one man couldn’t see her like that, as he stood from his table and walked toward her. He was still metres away and Sava was already having to strain her neck to look up at him.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bombard you like this while you’re already quite overwhelmed. But I can tell you’re a bit lost. Would you like to come and sit with me until you find your team?” The man asked, his accent was distinctly French, and Sava kicked herself for not instantly recognising the man as Esteban Ocon.

“Oh my, yes please! This is my first time outside of karting, let alone in the actual F2 paddock, so I’m so lost and don’t know anyone.” Sava giggled, finishing up making her super sweet coffee and following Esteban’s stride toward a table of black and yellow clad people, along with the unmistakable grin of Daniel Ricciardo.

“I’m Esteban, by the way. I think I heard your name was Dvarokova?” The Frenchman questioned after a few beats of silence, realising that the 5’1 woman couldn’t walk as quickly as he.

“Ah, Dvorakova. Don’t worry about messing up the pronunciation, I misspell it sometimes. My name is Sava, but pretty much everyone calls me Bunny.” Sava replied with a giggle at the butchering of her surname. She couldn’t blame anyone, it was a hard enough name to most Eastern Europeans, she couldn’t even imagine how some of the nationalities in the paddock would pronounce it.

“Bunny. That’s quite cute.” Esteban mused, and they finally reached the rowdy table of Renault employees.

“Guys, this is Bunny. She’s going to sit with us cause she’s new and can’t find anyone from Carlin.” Esteban introduced, and a round of wolf whistles sounded as she threw up a peace sign, then took the seat next to Esteban, across from Daniel.

“Hi, I’m Danny. You’re such a little cutie.” Daniel introduced, leaning his arm over to poke at Sava’s cheeks that immediately heated up in a flaming blush. Another round of oohs and ahs went through the table and Sava giggled again.

“Pipe down, I’m only 17.” In immediate reaction to her statement, Daniel threw his hands up in surrender, his eyes connecting with a few guys nearby who all laughed at his expression.

“Way to make a man feel like a pedo.” Daniel mumbled, and more chuckles reverberated around the group who heard. The team all spoke to Sava with interest and respect, something she didn’t expect she would be getting before she had even gotten into a car. After about fifteen minutes, she spotted Yuki walking through the door with Amelia, and excused herself quickly, exchanging fist bumps with everyone she passed along the Renault table. When she got to the end, she met Yuki and Amelia with surprised looks on their faces before the three found a small table by the window to finally sit down and eat.

“How ready are you Bunny?” Yuki asked later on that morning while the two pulled their race suits up and made final preparations. Sava looked over at him nervously as she tucked her pink braids into the suit.

“Considering I’ve only ever driven a go-kart or a Hyundai I-20, I’m shitting myself. But I’m confident enough in my karting ability to do well-enough here. How about you? Amelia told me you have a seat at Alpha Tauri next season, are you still nervous about these races or are you a cool guy about it?” Sava hit back, smiling at her first friend in serious motorsport, who she could tell she would miss if she made it into F2 next year like Dr Marko had suggested.

“I still want to do well so that they don’t think they’ve made a mistake. But I’m not as nervous as I was when I didn’t know if I’d have a seat.” The Japanese man replied, and pulled on his balaclava, Sava following shortly after. They made eye contact, their mouths obscured by the fabric, and burst out laughing. Amelia guided Sava away so that she could get her helmet on and have one final chat with the engineer she would be hearing in her ears for the weekend. Yuki ran over just before Sava jumped in the car and slapped the top of her helmet, just like her uncle Sebastian had done before every race and she smiled the biggest she probably ever has. With a quick hug to Yuki and another scolding glance from Amelia, Sava climbed into her car for her first ever free practice in a single seater.

“Radio check.” Sava spoke, her voice wobbling slightly as she felt the rumble of the car beneath her.

“Confirm, Bunny. Hop to it.” Her engineer, Marcus, stated with amusement in his voice. Sava audibly laughed as she stepped on the accelerator, rolling out of the garage when she got the signal. Driving through the pitlane was surreal, and Sava knew she’d be feeling that a lot throughout the weekend. She ran two warm-up laps, getting acquainted with the car and testing the responsiveness of the brakes and the throttle. Once her tyres were at the right temperature, she got a radio message to give it hell, and so she did.

It was complete radio silence in the Carlin garage as everyone, including Yuki, sat and watched the rookie on her first hot-lap. She got a purple first sector, green second sector, and purple third sector, putting herself at the very top of the timing tower. While the practice session had only been active for around eight minutes, she had already beat two other drivers who had put in preliminary hot laps. Marcus relayed the time to Sava, and when she asked for the fastest time out of a qualifying session from the year prior, she groaned in frustration.

“Can I run a few more out laps and get comfortable with the responsiveness? I know I can do better.” Sava pleaded, and Marcus quickly agreed. If she thought she could get a better time than the one she had already given them, then hell they’d let her run all day. After four out-laps, she was brought in for a quick refuel and to look over the data of her hot-lap in comparison to Yuki’s. He was braking later, but Sava was getting better acceleration out of the corners. She knew now just how good the brakes were and considering she was known throughout the European karting scene for braking extremely late, she knew she could get better times, and maybe knock a few tenths off her entire lap. By the time she was finished looking at the data, everyone on the grid had put in multiple flying laps, and she was confident that whatever she pulled out now would be a decent comparison of her speed to the rest of the grid. With two more out-laps to get her tyres and brakes at the perfect temperature, she was off again.

Purple first sector, purple second sector, purple third sector.

As her name flew up the timing table, the Carlin garage waited with baited breath, to finally see Sava Dvorakova land at P1, four tenths quicker than the next fastest, Juri Vips.

“No fucking way.” Amelia mumbled, her eyes trained on the initials of the girl she had been following around for the past two days. Similar reactions were happening over in the Renault garage, many of the team who spoke with the girl earlier that morning tuned in to catch the first performance.

Qualifying later that day followed a very similar pattern. Finishing P2 behind Juri Vips, their times separated by one one-thousandth of a second. The real test was to see if the Czech could keep up the pace in their sprint and feature races over the next two days.

Those boys had hell to pay, and sure as shit, Sava was gonna come collect.

#pierre gasly #Pierre Gasly fanfiction #Pierre Gasly imagine #Pierre Gasly x reader #pg10 #gasly #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic

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operation-619 · 3 years

Note

What if the reader is an alien that has the same power as superman and stronger than Homelander? The reader works at the Vought and doesn't know the corruption in it until Butcher told the truth. Homelander acts soft on her when they see each other, and Homelander was still confused about his feelings and put his ego shit first. I kinda wanna see Homelander battling the reader when she was trying to protect Ryan and Butcher while Maeve hasn’t arrived yet. She will make him bleed.

Even the strongest man Bleeds.

Edited 17-01-21

Homelander x Alien! Reader

Warning: mentions of blood, language, mentions of death and murder. Violence read at your own risk.

Bold italics- inner dialogue, Bold- the past.

WC - 3.1k

Masterlist

“The compound V is what makes them, supes. It’s not real and the golden boy, your Homelander, is the most corrupt motherfucker I have ever met. We need your help (Y/N). Please?” his voice was hoarse, the stress in his words were leaking onto his face. She could see the worry on his face, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe the men in front of her.

“You’re lying to me. Billy Butcher, you have a lot of nerve coming here, you and your gang are mortal enemies to Homelander right now. It’s not safe.” The muscular black man scoffed at her statement and leaned back against the seat. He seemed relaxed but his eyes constantly sweeping the place told (Y/N) otherwise.

“I swear, come back with me and I will show you everything. Please?” his eyes crinkled at the sides as he pulled his face into what looked like a poor attempt at a pleading face. (Y/N)’s mouth was just forming the word ‘NO’ when the man called Mother’s Milk chuckled and leaned forward.

He whispered, “he doesn’t ever say please,” and stood up from the booth and walked out of the café. Her mind was racing, weighing the pros and cons of her current situation. She considered whether or not they were just baiting her into a trap, but she was confident that she could make her way out of it. But it isn’t everyday that two men come waltzing into her favourite café, sit themselves down like they own the place and cough up a semi-convincing story about the corruption at Vought.

“Fuck it,” she whispered under her breathe, “fine I’ll come, it’s good to go out your comfort zone once in a while.” The smile on her face made Billy look at her with confusion painted on his rugged features. She stood, and gestured Butcher to show her the way, “just so you know, I don’t believe you at all.”

(Y/N) replayed her past movement in her head carefully over and over again, and yet she still could not believe how naïve she truly was. But here she is sat in a car that smells like Old Spice, waiting for Frenchie to get the speakers ready. She threw her head back against the headrest and released a shaky breath; everything she believed and knew had been a lie to her. Including John. ‘Oh dear god John, what have you done?’ Her thoughts were getting too loud, they were screaming at her asking how she could’ve been so stupid to not know.

‘How could you not know?’

‘It was right in front of your face you idiot’

‘Your really are a cunt!’

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples, the stress of all the sudden information was taking a toll on the woman. Whimpering under her breath, she opened the car door and inhaled the cold air. Closing the car door, she leaned against it and watched as the group of friends conversed amongst themselves. The plan was to set off the sonic device and John to go over and destroy the source, and when he does Billy and Becca will drive and get Ryan. She still didn’t know why she was needed, (Y/N) was still processing the information she was given 48 hours ago.

“Okay, 15 minutes and everything will be all set,” the French accent let her know who was talking, but she wasn’t paying that much attention when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck arise.

“Get in the cars!” she whispered harshly, her arms waving about ushering the people back into the cars. (Y/N)’s breath shallowed once everyone was in their respected cars, she creeped forward and looked upwards, watching as the uncovered Nazi zoomed by. She vividly remembered the moment she had met that woman. (Y/N) never trusted that woman, something about the way her heart leaped when an opportunity to hurt someone arose. (Y/N) also didn’t like the way John was towards her, all bark, and no bite- vulnerable.

(Y/N) had never seen John so vulnerable around anyone except her.

The metallic taste in the air is what told (Y/N) that Stormfront had just flown by, the hair on the back of her neck relaxed and so did her posture. Walking over to Butcher, she waited until he rolled down his window before she spoke; “She’s seen the leaked news, my guess is she is going back to Vaught to see what caused that, fiasco.” She heard another window come down, not doubt Frenchie and the others.

“Was she alone?” without turning around she nodded. (Y/N)’s tongue ran across the bottom of her teeth before she turned around and faced the two cars, the cars holding the people that brought the truth to her naïve and simplistic eyes. “What exactly am I doing here? Because, you have the weapons, metaphorical and physical to defeat them. So please, tell me why I am here?” her eye followed the movements of the human bodies getting out of the cars. She could see the look on Becca’s face, and she didn’t like it.

“We’re gonna use ya.” Her (E/C) eyes shot towards MM, he stood there tall and domineering, with his hands on his hips. “Starlight, or Annie told us how soft Homelander is on you. And if things go south, you are our pawn.” (Y/N)’s hearts faltered.

“You humans are so pathetic. I mean, I am old. Older than all of you put together, so I have seen shit that no one can imagine. But the one thing that never changes is the utter stupidity of you homo-sapiens, the selfishness and carnage that I have experienced puts my species to shame.” (Y/N) paced back and forth, her anger evident as black veins started to appear under her (E/C) eyes.

“(Y/N). Please, MM didn’t mean it like that,”

“I did. I did mean it exactly how I said it Becca,” (Y/N) stalked the movement of the vigilante group. Her hearing was being drowned by the loudness of her beating hearts. She watched as Becca stepped forwards and stopped right in front of her.

“My son, who was conceived in the most- my son is in there. I don’t know if you have had children before. But I am not going anywhere until I have my boy in my arms. So please, help me.” (Y/N) flinched when she felt warm hands placed onto her cold shoulders, echoes of her past resonating inside her head. She now understood the look on Becca’s face, the look of a mother- a childless mother that no longer understands their purpose in life. Because she was one.

“Okay, but I want this on my terms.”

The little boy was screaming when (Y/N) landed behind John, crying for his mommy to wake up. She looked around, seeing the two women laying lifeless. She was too late to save them. The metallic taste in the air was getting stronger the closer she walked towards the pandemonium. The woman that confided in her mere moments ago, now lay with blood flowing out the cut in her neck. She watched as Butcher tried to stop the bleeding his white hands now crimson. His whole body covered in blood, soaking him to his soul.

Turning her head, (Y/N) saw John knelt next to Stormfront or what is left of her. The burnt woman mumbling in what sounded like German. “Ryan- ‘her attention went from the barbequed supe to John, ‘did you do this?”

“He didn’t mean to John,” she watched his whole-body flinch at the sound of her voice, she was happy to see his face finally, to get some sort of justification. But the feeling that shot through her body was the complete opposite, the look in his eyes reminded her of herself, and she didn’t like it.

“What are you doing here, I thought you left?” he surged forward and cupped her face, (Y/N) placed her hand on his chest and the other on his hand. She closed her eyes and inhaled her John deeply. “(Y/N), you have no idea, I. I don’t understand.” The beating of his heart grounded her for a moment, everything around them disappeared for a moment as the two of them were caught in their own bubble. But (Y/N) knew the bubble had to be popped. And she had the sharpest needle to do it with.

“John, what happened on the plane.” She was met with silence, the hands gripped her face harder, but her eyes still remained closed. “You left them all to die, didn’t you?”

“I did not leave them to die, I tried to save them. You know this (Y/N), why are you asking me this.” His mouth was talking but his heart told her the truth. Releasing a soft sigh, (Y/N) stepped back from John and finally opened her eyes. The bubble burst when his blue eyes met pitch black, her pupils had flooded the white out leaving a demonic presence behind, the black veins appeared all over her body pulsing violently.

“I know everything John, you have been lying to me. I trusted you, and you know that.” He started to mutter words that didn’t make sense to her, his hands anchored in his hair. (Y/N) watched as the great Homelander fell apart right in front of her, Earths favourite and mightiest hero crumbled under the pressure of words.

“Now let them go John. Please?” when his blue eyes met hers, the look rivalled hell itself. His jaw twitched, tongue pocking out to lick his bottom lip. He never broke eye contact with her, his eyes tracked her like predator to prey. (Y/N) moved cautiously, never turning her back to John. Once she was stationed in front of Butcher and the kid, she placed her right arm out and behind her. (Y/N)’s ears were ringing, the power surging through her was immense and yet she felt weak. Weak, it wasn’t a word her species spoke, and she never heard of such a word until she came to earth. Vulnerable, weak, powerless, helpless, defenceless, and fragile; all these words are now part of her vocabulary, and she was feeling every single one of them as she looked at the man she had come to love.

(Y/N) had given him not just one but both of her hearts. He was the first person that offered her his hand when the rest of this new world beat her down with their harsh words, he taught her how the ways of her new life, he was her new life. (Y/N) may have been a celestial being, but she knew when something wasn’t right. At first, she thought John was just trapping her, the distance – although not physical – was fluctuating between then constantly; first John welcomed her with open arms, then he kept her at arms-length when they got too close and then the cycle repeated.

But through all the shit he had put her through, she was still there for him. until now.

“We are going to leave, and you will never trouble them again.” Her vision was sharp as she watched the wrecked man in front of her chose the option she hoped he wouldn’t.

“You know I can’t do that, he’s my son.” And with that he charged towards them, eyes red with hunger and rage. His path changed when he felt a fist connect with his cheek, sending him flying into a tree. His world spun, staggering up onto his feet he made eye contact with the shell of the woman he loves. Her black eyes reminded him of a starless night, an abyss that was forbidden to travel.

Something cold dripped onto his lip, and out of instinct his tongue licked it away, he thought nothing of it until the unfamiliar taste of blood slithered its way down his throat. His naked hand came up and delicately touched his nose, he hissed in pain when his calloused hand touch it, retracting his hand he look in bewilderment at the blood sat there taunting him on his hand.

“You broke my nose,” his voice was meagre but loud enough for her to hear the vulnerability in it.

She turned to Butcher and the child hurriedly telling them , “get away from here, quickly,” and before she could turn back around, she was pinned to the muddy floor. Her face caked in the mixture of blood and dirt; she could feel John’s breath on her neck. Without a second thought she flung her head back and used the distraction to spin around and wrap her hand around the heroes throat. (Y/N) paid no mind to the thoughts pounding in her head, she wasn’t about to let them stop her from – whatever she thought she was doing.

“(Y/N) … (Y/N). please.” the air around them froze, she wanted answers but standing here with her hand around the nations saviour’s throat was not the way she needed to get them. “You lied to me John, the one person who promised to never lie to me. You betrayed my trust.” She threw him to the ground.

“You had me working for monsters. They never helped people!” the wind started to pick up around them, her (Y/H/C) hair danced ferociously around her face, a face that was covered in black veins pulsating in rage. (Y/N)’s head snapped to the right when she heard a twig snap, her vision was met with Butcher and the kid watching her in astonishment and fear. The kid was hiding behind Butcher, just his head poking out watching (Y/N) beat up his father. And god did he look like John.

(Y/N)’s body moved before she could even realise what was happening, her left hand came up to stop the blow coming her way and then she knelt down, using John’s momentum against him, she throw him over her shoulder. But the outcome wasn’t in her favour as he managed to land on his feet. And then he was charging at her. Punches were thrown and bodied flung everywhere, (Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to kill John, but it felt good to hurt him.

“He’s my son (Y/N). He needs me!” his words were met with a foot to his chest.

“No one need you John, not after what you did,” her elbow jabbed into his stomach, causing his arms to release her waist, she looked at his body lying pathetically on the forest floor. Americas strongest man, the embodiment of patriotism and pride had fallen to his knees.

“(Y/N), you have and always will need me’, his blue eye sparkled with malicious intent, ‘no one wanted a freak roaming our home, but because I stood by your side, they welcomed you. But the moment I’m gone. You will be nothing. But a monster to the people you love so much.” Blood came flying out of his mouth as he spat his words at her. His armour had crumbled and all he had left was his words.

“Stop” the alien smiled at the hero on his knees, her eyes only moved off his body when she felt a presence next to her. John started to get up, but (Y/N) swiftly moved forward, wrapping her arm around his neck, and gripping his hair with her free hand. She forced him to stay down, on his knees.

Maeve came into sight, moving cautiously like she was afraid he would brake from his bond. She stopped when she was right in front of the disgraced hero.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” (Y/N) could feel John shaking in her grip. The two looked at each other in silence for a while, their eye contact unbreakable. (Y/N) spared a glance at Butcher, who was still stood in the same place.

“You’re going to let them go,” the man in question scoffed but immediately fell silent when (Y/N) tightened her grip on his hair. He cleared his throat, moving subtlety before answering the Queen.

“And if I don’t?” his ego spoke louder than the words coming out of his mouth, he was confident that everything was going his way. Both Maeve and (Y/N) knew that. But the moment Maeve held up the recording of the plane (Y/N) could physically feel The Homelander admitting defeat. The cries of the passengers echoed through her head, along with the bullshit lie the man in her arms fed her. ‘there was nothing we could do, the terrorist had too much control I tried to save them (Y/N). I tried.’

“You’re going to stop hunting Starlight, you’re going to leave me and Elena alone. Or I release this.” there was no room for argument, and he knew that. But he had to open his mouth. “If you do that, I’ll destroy everything and everyone.” (Y/N)’s grip tightened, she dragged his head backward and brought her lips to his bloody ear. Her voice was cold, no hint of vulnerability, no hint of emotion.

She could feel his bones quaking under her arm as she tightened her hold on the man she had come to love. The man that made everything feel less painful, the man that she called a true friend. But standing here in the middle of a forest with two dead women, a sobbing child and a emotionless man; she realised that what her people said about the human race was true. And John had proven that to her. It took everything in (Y/N) not to simply break his neck but she wanted him to hurt.

She wanted him to bleed.

So, she looked up at Maeve and signalled her to get the two boys out of here, she wanted to be alone with him. she willed herself to calm down, she knew she wasn’t in the right headframe to talk to John because if she did so now, his head would be lying two feet way from his body. So, she whispered to the man calmly, hearts no longer racing with hatred or fear. She let the venom in her voice speak for itself as she whispered to Homelander. But she let man she loved hear the pain in her voice, because the man she was holding was not her John, her John had died the moment Butcher and Mother’s Milk sat down across from her in the café. However, (Y/N) had comfort as she let the ten simple words leave her mouth, because she knows that no matter how much Compound V is pumping through his body. Even the Strongest man bleeds.

“If you do that Homelander, I will make you bleed.”

|=|=|

Hello beautiful people, I hope you enjoyed my little piece, feel free to leave comments about what you liked and didn’t like, I’m okay with a bit of constructive criticism I believe it will help me get better, and if you want anything else.

#homelander x reader #homelander #the boys #violence #angst #blood #queen maeve #alien reader #extraterestrial #the boys x reader

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cloudy-leonhart · 3 years

Text

Marleyan Warriors with a Filipino S/O!!

[Author Note: this is literally a re-do of my headcanons bc tumblr’s being mean and deleting my drafts, anyways trying to rush another finished bc outta here 😭 also! Reminder that my requests are OPEN, don’t be afraid to send in any requests!!]

Summary: Marleyan Warriors with a Pinoy S/O!

Recommended Song: Titibo-Tibo by Moira Dela Torre

TW: Swearing.

Theme: Fluff, Modern AU.

Characters: Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Zeke, Pieck, Porco.

Annie Leonhart

Annie knew, she actually met you at an event for those with cultures, and saw you dancing with your friends to traditional filipino folk music.

She was kinda hesitant to go when you asked her to accompany you to the Philippines, she didn’t like traveling.

She was kinda shocked on how welcoming your family was, your mom and dad hugged her out of nowhere and she just let out a squeak.

Your little sister forced her to go to SM mall with her omg- She literally came home with bags of candy.

Yes, Annie has a soft spot for your family, she probably almost spent all her money on them.

Buchi rivals her love for donuts. She looked like she discovered a new universe after eating one of them thangs.

God, help her when she’s watching filipino movies, your family encouraged her to watch movies with them, and by the end of it she was a mess, pretty sure she cried into your shoulder after watching Seven Sundays.

BUT LIKE SHE ENDS UP BEING ABLE TO COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR PARENTS.

You see, Annie is a really fast learner, she was bound to learn to be able to speak some point in her stay.

You were shocked when she spoke back to you in tagalog, like ‘dropped my stuff out of shock’ kinda way.

IT WAS A PAIN GETTING HER INTO A BARO’T SAYA. But bribing her with Buchis got her to keep it on for like 2 hours so like..good enough.

Her favourite filipino song is Porque.

Everybody acts like it’s a concert for every karaoke night because she’s there, like she’s just THAT good.

Reiner Braun

This man was so awkward. He went on a trip with Bertholdt to the Philippines, and met you.

He didn’t think you would understand him, so he just stared at you while you talked with your friends, until you were creeped out enough and asked him if he had a problem.

When you and him started dating, you convinced him to travel all around the country.

Firstly, you guys visited your family, your dad absolutely loved him, your mom was a little bit hesitant in letting him in the family, he was blonde, big and buff. Filipinos are bound to worry. Until Reiner cooked with her, then she started to warm up to him.

Okay but why did your family’s chickens like him so much??

He likes the feeling of being around your family, him not having a dad left an impact on him and he felt complete being with you and your family, he swore to himself that he’d marry you.

He almost fainted when he found you battling with one of the kids with your pet spider, mf was deathly afraid of your spider, it was like the size of your hand pls-

I think he’d be fairly good at speaking tagalog, he’s got an accent but people can understand him.

He eats like a tito omg- You lost him at a party once and when you found him, he’s already eaten half of the barbecue.

Everyone thought he was really old, because of his beard so everyone called him tito Reiner.

He’s somewhat good with the village kids, you could see Reiner playing soccer with the kids or goofing off.

He says he doesn’t like watching Manny Pacquiao but it’s his guilty pressure.

He doesn’t really listen or watch anything filipino, but he will listen to old filipino bands if you play them in his car.

Bertholdt Hoover

HAHA PLs- you got mad at him for eating your cake and started cursing in filipino. He was confused because he thought you were just blurting out nonsense.

One second you’re explaining what you were saying and the next second y’all are on the way to the Philippines.

He sweats like a waterfall, LITERALLY. Everyone would like move away because he sweated that much.

You had a private island..because y’all were RICH rich. he was kinda awestruck, you literally just said out of nowhere.

“oh yeah, we have a private island.” ‘YOU HAVE A FUCKING WHAT??”

Poor baby was kinda intimidated by your basket-ball player of a brother, he was taller than Bertholdt omg-

You’re always worrying him somehow, he’s be on the toilet and he’d just hear you scream and he comes running down with his boxers, just to see you watching a telenovela and you had to tell him that you were just gushing over the drama.

He has never felt so embarrassed.

Am I the only one who thinks he looks amazing in a Barong?? Like he’d rock that shit-

He loves eating filipino food, he likes when you guys stay in the country and you go out to buy bread at the nearest bakery.

Like every filipino, he too, dips his bread in coffee.

He ended up learning guitar while he’s in the Philippines, the country’s filled with people who can sing amazingly, he’s bound to learn guitar.

His favourite filipino song to play is Tadhana, it’s also the only song that he knows to sing to, like he absolutely butchers pronunciation for words but this man covers it up with this song.

Zeke Jaeger

He bumped into you and you cursed at him in tagalog, he basically just fell for you at that point.

I just know your family secretly hates this man, he slapped your ass once around your mom and your dad, it’s always tense when he’s around now.

You don’t have the heart to tell him your parents saw because one afternoon, he was gushing and praising your family, you didn’t want to ruin his happiness, his dad’s barely around and his mom passed away. he’d obviously be attached.

Yes you had to talk to your parents about it, a lot of filipinos are very kinds and forgiving, so your parents were very understanding, and made sure he felt loved around the family.

He actually almost cried when your dad told him to marry you already.

He calls your parents nanay and tatay.

You got him to buy a pet spider please- You would catch him fighting a kid’s spider to the death in a match, he’d feel bad though so he buys them new ones after.

Hey this man looks so hot in a Barong, please. You guys had to book a hotel for a night for some alone time yk.

Lord help this man, he tried to do the tinikling dance and he tripped, in front of everyone.

Every night, he comes to bed all shirtless, you could just hear the air conditioner buzzing as he tells you how fun it was playing with the village kids, or talking about he and your titos had a drink while watching a boxing match.

He more so listens to various artists, he doesn’t have a favourite.

but he will replay Joseph Vincent’s filipino covers.

Pieck Finger

She was on a business trip in the Philippines, and you were coincidentally at the same bar they were celebrating at. You were by the karaoke section and she kinda just, fell in love with you. right there and then.

Honestly some people thought you guys were siblings, Pieck can be mistaken as a filipino easily so, you guys expect it from time to time.

She likes to ask from time to time to teach her guitar, your mom probably has a lot of pictures of you and Pieck.

She loves eating the food in the Philippines, she thinks the adobo is great and if you lose her in public she’s probably by a street vendor eating food.

You guys dance to old filipino songs, a replaying song for you guys is Mabagal by Daniel Padillia and Moira Dela Torre.

She learnt Moira’s Part while you had Daniel’s part.

GUys she looks so beautiful in a Baro’t Saya. And she knows it, she flaunts it so well.

You guys probably have a vacation house in the Philippines after leaving with her to go back to her country.

She helps you with packing balikbayan boxes for your family, she makes handwritten letters, she’s both good at writing and saying anything in tagalog.

Her favourite artist is definitely Moira Dela Torre, she just loves her airy voice.

Favourite Filipino Movie? Yes.

You cannot tell me she doesn’t have a shelf full of filipino movies you guys watch.

Her favourite street food is probably qwek-qwek. She likes the sauce she dips, and she probably bought almost twenty bucks worth of the fishballs.

Porco Galliard

UGh honestly he’s a little cringey when it comes to the culture, for some reason I can see him accidentally disrespecting it somehow, I can’t help it.

Your family owned a sari-sari store, and he could not help for the love of him, he ended up being the one stocking it up while you chatted with the customers.

Like Pieck, he and you dance when you’re alone, he probably learnt from Pieck too.

He listens to modern filipino artists, like Ex Battalion, Skusta Clee.

He tries hard to really be respectful, he butchers the way he says nanay and tatay but your parents appreciate the effort.

I can see him being able to secretly make amazing filipino desserts, his ube cake is bomb.

He watches Basketball with your dad, and they both drink during the match.

I can also see him being the type to scream out curses when he hurts himself, a ‘PUNYETA’ comes out of his mouth.

he doesn’t enjoy the hot weather in the Philippines, and due to that, he wears sandos all the time at home, and when he goes out, every girl always looks at him because he’s ripped, yes you’re jealous, but as you should, he’s your mans-

He also knows how use a barbecue grill? You can find him helping your family members while they’re selling barbecue.

he hates going to SM?? He just really hates going, because you genuinely just go for the food court. They sell hella good food.

One time he got chased by the village dogs, so he doesn’t go out without you or a family member.

He secretly loves watching telenovelas with you.

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

🎀 scarlet ribbons.

ITS SELF INDULGENT FRIDAY BOIS !! time for scarlet ribbons headcanons that i’ve been working on in between commissions, this is essentially just a reverse harem ... there’s no yandere here for once, just some vibes... click here for an explanation ! the reader described here is the same in all the scenarios. i’m using she/her pronouns for this reader.

Bruno Bucciarati;

He forms a special kind of attachment to you, seeing as you’ll be the second person to join his team. You won over his compassionate heart, preventing a much crueler fate. As a foreign exchange student, you had taken out a loan with Passione to complete your education. The problem is, the egregious amount of interest being too much for you to pay back on time. Bucciarati had been ordered to collect your debt. Instead of following through with his orders, he used his favor with Polpo to let you pay back your debt by working for Passione under his leadership.

Appreciates the dynamic and resolve you bring to the group. While he tries his best not to show favoritism to any members of his team, you’re someone he always looks out for extra much. Not because he thinks of you incapable, but because his care for you runs deep after knowing you for years. He’s definitely going to catch onto the others holding similar feelings for you though.

Acts a bit different towards you in one on one scenarios, versus when the others are around. He’s more relaxed when it’s only the two of you, speaking of matters not relating to work and checking up on your well being. Bruno realizes he could listen to you for hours, enjoying your unique perspective. He also finds your foreign accent endearing, and has mentioned it to see how you blush at the compliment.

Super sweet with you, always has looked out for your best interest. He’s your go to when you feel stressed about your situation, providing the support you need, since he’s the only person aware of your circumstances. Bruno is reassuring, helping you in the moments the debt to the organization feels impossible to overcome. He’s offered to help pay for part of it, but you always refuse, feeling grateful enough to him as is. It pains him to see you hurting, but he does anything he can to make you feel better. Always pays for your meals though, no matter how much you raise a fuss about it.

Giorno Giovanna;

There’s a certain warmth in you that he wasn’t sure what to think of at first. Giorno is an astute individual, making observations from afar, watching you joking and smiling with the rest of the team. He eventually comes to the conclusion that your presence fills his stomach with butterflies, seeing your more lighthearted approach to life. There’s something intoxicating about it, and he’ll jump for any opportunity to spend time with you much to the annoyance of everyone else, they already had enough competition wtf.

He’s a coy little shit at times. Giorno sees how the others look at you, especially how obvious Narancia and Mista are. When they get defensive over how much Giorno is talking to you, he’ll just flash a faux innocent smile and ask what the problem with it is. It’s more effective on Narancia, who just ends up sputtering before slinking away in defeat. Mista can kinda deflect the accusation better, though there’s still a blush on his face. Giorno knows what he’s doing lmaoo

It infuriates Abbacchio how obvious he is with you, like, the audacity of this man. Just swinging into Bucciarati’s team, trying to woo you away. Giorno is always asking for your opinion on how to proceed with certain things, even if his mind has already been made up. Anything just to talk to you. Most likely going to receive Abbacchio’s scorn the most for this, especially since Giorno will lean closer to you when you’re answering his questions. Giorno is just going :) , meanwhile Narancia is furiously taking notes. (”Okay, so if I ask [First] about this, I have an excuse to get closer to her...!)

He did strongly in school, maybe not as well as Fugo but is definitely academically gifted. So that means when he enters the picture, Fugo has some Competition for the English speaking buddy role. Giorno can understand most simple phrases and is capable of following the conversation, occasionally interjecting when he feels confident enough. Fugo might try and make his conversations with you more complicated because of this, since he’s petty and wants all your attention. You’re meant to be his English speaking buddy >:( !!

To be honest, Giorno’s not really sure what he’s doing, despite the suave impression he gives. Giorno has charisma, sure, but this is all very new to him. He’s still learning as he goes, and pays very close attention to how everyone else interacts with you. Anything to see your preferences, so he can use it to his advantage later. Has a large mental file on you, that comes in handy. He isn’t so much flirty, but more seeking out your company and thoughts on things.

Guido Mista;

Poor Mista almost friendzones himself in a way... he doesn’t mean to, but he wants to warm up to you in his own way!! And that way is through joking around and a lot of “friendly” banter. The friendly banter is more like thinly veiled flirting. He tries so hard to act cool and mysterious around you, like a Clint Eastwood character. Ends up being super goofy, though it works in his favor since he gets to see your cute smile!!! Victory!!

Mista has no shame. He’ll show up outside your apartment, food in hand, saying he wants to come over and hang. He even lets you pick the movie if that’s what you want to do!! A true honor, since Mista is willing to sit through stuff he wouldn’t normally be interested in all for the sake of winning you over. <33

Probably tied with Narancia for the most Unfortunate Mishaps to occur when attempting to woo you. Some favorites include, but are not limited to: when he tried giving you flowers but they kept making him sneeze, that time he was leaning against your door frame and fell over, and basically anything that happens when the Pistols come out. They wanna be his lil wing men, but they keep screwing him over... :<

“[First]!! [First]!! We’re bored, come hang out with us instead!!!!” You’ll end up with a flurry of Pistols swirling around you very often, putting Mista’s affection for you on full display. It irritates Fugo the most, he almost wants to smack them away like they’re flies lmao. They might start sweatin’ when they see Fugo’s eyebrow twitch, the Stand often interrupting your conversations with the blonde. Mista tests his patience for sure.

Pannacotta Fugo;

A bit of a typical tsun towards you at first. He’s all acting high and mighty, huffing about the newest member of the team not being as bright as him. In reality he just thinks you’re vvv cute, and doesn’t know how to process it. You greet him and his brain just kinda short circuits, and he gives a standoffish insult before running off to hide his blush. Bruno would find it endearing if not for his feelings for you lmao.

How he gets over this initial stump at the start of your relationship is by acting like you need his help. Especially if you stumble over any Italian words, namely Naples lingo being more difficult to master. He takes it upon himself to help you out... in reality he just really wants to spend more time with you. Also, seeing you stumble over words is precious, he tries not to tease you about it though. Does occasionally...

You end up being roommate at the start!!! To save money, but it’s whatever, who cares about the practical reasoning behind it. What matters is that he gets to spend even more time with you than the others. The problem is that Narancia and Mista make a point to come by often, which he finds to be very irritating. They even crash at your shared apartment at times, but because of how messy they are, don’t get an invitation to live permanently. Fugo is smug about how you picked him due to his cleanliness >:)c

English speaking buddies !! He might not be fluent in it, but he’s better at it than everyone else. Also a lot more capable of learning it, just for the sake of impressing you. Gets this very pleased look on his face when you two speak in simple English, Narancia staring over, pouting for being left out. It’s like a special connection or something, not that Fugo would ever admit to saying that to you. He’s flexing his academic muscles.

Narancia Ghirgha;

Anyone could look over at Narancia and see his huge heart eyes for you. You like the same foreign music as him!! You can speak another language!! He wants to learn English from you, and keeps asking. Sometimes butchers the pronunciation but god it’s so cute who cares. Teach Narancia one phrase and he’s gonna be saying it nonstop for the rest of the week. Fugo, the only other member to understand English on a decent level until GioGio, is gonna be miserable whenever this happens. That’s his thing with you! Why can’t Narancia get something else, smh ...

If you recommend him a song he will not stop listening to it. Also expect a lot of discussions about different artists, mostly hip hop ones when Narancia is leading the conversation. He thinks it’s so cool you understand what they’re saying!! Is gonna ask you to translate them a lot. He kinda just stares at you, mouth agape when you’re singing along, like woah!! His crush is so talented.

His most treasured moments with you, is when you recommend one another music, and share headphones. Sometimes you just bob your head to the rhythm, or sing along. Whatever the case, he gets to be close to you, and his brain is practically turning to mush at the fact your thighs are touching.

Fugo did him dirty once in the past. Before Narancia realized he had Competition for your affections, he went to Fugo, asking how to compliment you in English. He should’ve known by how Fugo was staring at him with the most malicious smirk that he made a mistake. The next day, when meeting up at Libeccio, he came up to you. Chest puffed out, proud after a night of practicing his phrase. Then proceeded to say to you in English, “I am a fucking idiot!!!!” looking all smiley and excited. Needless to say, you almost spit out your food and laughed about it for a long time. Narancia has been planning his revenge on Fugo ever since...

Narancia follows you around like a lost puppy at times, but he’s a lot of fun to hang out around!! He’ll buy you gelato, and even lets you have a bite of his food if you ask. No one else has this special privilege. There is a time you offered to let him try a sip of your drink, and he almost melted. All his brain could think of is, indirect kiss, indirect kiss!!!! One of the best moments of his life tbh.

Leone Abbacchio;

Abbacchio put a lot of effort into distancing himself from you. Why do you smile so much?? It makes him uncomfortable being around you, someone who is basically sunshine stuffed into a human body. It reminds him of all his shortcomings, which he feels he has no shortage of. But when you make the initially irritating decision to keep speaking to him, only giving space when you felt he really needed it, it won over his little grinch heart.

He’s been wrapped around your finger ever since. Unlike the other bumbling buffoons who are tripping over themselves to get an ounce of your attention, he plays it cool. More of a Bucciarati approach to things. Asking about your interests, letting you do most of the talking so he has no chance to embarrass himself (like *cough* Narancia *cough*).

Next to Fugo, is most likely to call other members out on their nonsense. He wouldn’t dare do so for Bruno, but everyone else is fair game. The main victim to this treatment is Giorno. Abbacchio might even offer some “advice” to him, giving false information all under the guise of assisting Giorno’s pursuit of you. He takes a more hands off approach on everyone else.

He doesn’t want to invite you over to his place because of how dreary it is, so he has to find other ways to get one on one time with you. This mostly happens by talking about things no one else finds of interest to you, namely makeup or other fashion things.

You are the only person who gets to call him any nicknames, the one you lean towards typically being Abba. Narancia once made a mistake of calling him this, only to earn a very threatening glare. When you do it though, he has to push down the urge to smile. How cute!!

Trish Una;

Gay rights time . Trish looks at you and immediately thinks wow, perfect girlfriend material right there. Still acts a bit reserved at first, considering her complex situation and how she’s still piecing it all together in her heard. Since you’re the only other girl on the team, she gets the benefit of Bucciarati assigning you to be extra close to her. All according to plan heheh >:)

When she flirts, she goes all in. Asking about what kind of perfume you wear, your favorite shade of lipstick, what kind of outfits you like the most. All of it is under the pretense of getting to know you better, and while she does enjoy that aspect of it, she might start adopting some of the things you find appealing. She is 100% gonna ask to borrow your shirts and makeup, and extends the same offer to you.

Trish is far more playful with you than the others, who all just kinda stare at the interactions like ??? When you were her bodyguard, she always subconsciously went to sit down next to you. No one else on the team can say anything, since she’s the boss’ daughter after all !! She considered you more of a distraction from her anxiety inducing situation at first, seeing as you had shared interests to speak about. Over time, your doting nature over her won out.

Would be pissed if you ever got hurt trying to defend her. You might joke around about how you’re her bodyguard, not the other way around. Trish just can’t bear the thought of losing someone important to her, after all she’s already lost.

Her phone background is a selfie the two of you took, even after she eventually distances herself from Passione to advance her singing career. Expect lots of texts messages, checking up on how you’re doing!! Trish unfortunately has a busy schedule, that requires a lot of traveling for her concerts and other bookings. Though anytime she is near Naples, she’s messaging you and asking to meet up. <33

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