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cheriladycl01 · 4 months

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So, you lied to me? - Lando Norris x Tourist! Reader

Plot: Going on a travel year you end up in Monaco, the plan wasn't too fall for the man who helped you to the British Embassy and gave you a place to stay when someone stole everything from you ...

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

You took a gap year before university and decided to travel you'd started off the New Year on a flight from London, to Qatar to New Zealand. You travelled around New Zealand and Australia for the majority of January, before moving on to Papa New Guinea, Fiji and Samoa.

You then travelled round the South Asian countries, like Indonesia, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam and the Philippines and Taiwan all throughout February. You then moved onto China, doing both Disney Parks while you were there and sight seeing. You did South Korea and Japan.

Coming into April, you moved onto Sri Lanka and India, and The Middle East, doing Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Bahrian, Qatar, Oman and Saudi Arabia.

Afterwards, now having done 2 continents, you moved onto Africa, you spent the end of April and the majority of May travelling here, before leaving for Europe.

A nice 2 weeks island hopping around Greece, before a week travelling up the boot of Italy.

It was when you drove to Monaco in a rental car that things got difficult.

You were walking along the harbor where all the expensive yachts were docked wishing that one could be yours. You didn't have all your bags on you, the larger ones left behind in the hotel room you'd booked for the night. But you had your important stuff on you, like you passport, your drivers license and all your travel documents.

You were taking a picture on your nice Canon camera of the yachts and the street that had weird red corners rounding it that you put down to being measures to just help drivers slow down round the corners, but they were definitely an eyesore.

Every time nice cars drove by there was whistles and claps that made you look at what car it was, you could never tell what model it was but they looked nice and you guess you could say sporty.

As you were distracted taking your pictures a guy comes up to you with a small, parcel cutting knife in his hand. He slit the straps of what you thought was a really sturdy bag and the weight notifies you to the loss of the bag. You let your camera drop as you turn to see the guy now holding your bag and starting to run away with it.

"Hey! Stop" you shout before running after him.

"Aide, Aide" you shout as you continue to follow him, your minimal French not helping as people scold you for being a bustly tourist.

You aren't really looking where you going and you loose him at a busy intersection of people, you spin round looking at every possible direction he could have gone in.

"Shit!" you whisper to yourself quietly tears coming in your eyes. You spin round a little to quickly, bumping into someone who drops the bag that they were holding.

"Désolé, mon erreur" you try looking at the young gentleman you'd bumped into in a hoodie and jeans. He looks at you with a confused look, a smirk coming onto his face.

"Oh sorry, tu ne parles pas français? Maybe Italian, erm fuck scusa, parli italiano?" you ask with again the bare minimum of Italian you know.

"I speak perfectly good English" he smiles, laughing a little as your expression turns to shock.

"Oh! Oh I'm so stupid. Hello!" you smile looking at the very attractive man in front of you, you blushed a little looking up at him.

"You look panicked what's wrong?" he asks.

"I was tacking pictures of the harbor and some guy took my bag. It has everything in of mine and I don't know what to do" You say to him looking a little more panicked.

"Everything as in money ... because I can help with that" he says placing a hand on your arm.

"I don't care about the money, but he has all of my documents. My passport, my drivers license everything" you cry a little.

"Oh! Erm, I have a friend who was born here, and let me get him and he can help us file a police report. Then mmm the British Embassy is all the way in Paris and you cant get a flight so we'll have to drive there..." he starts to rant and your face turned shocked.

"We?" you ask, confused as to how this guy has just inserted himself into your life drama's.

"Oh yeah, I've gotta help you out now. You got that whole damsel in distress thing going on right now! Any way damsel, what's your name?" he jokes and you look over at him offended.

"I am not a damsel in distress! And Y/N" you retort.

"You so are, the tear stains, the wide, helpless eyes, the guppy fish face your pulling right now, the butchered French and Italian to a strange man who actually is British... Y/N" he laughs making you pout and push him a little.

"I don't even have a place to stay after 3pm today and I cant check in anywhere without ID" you say rubbing your head, looking around as if the man would randomly pop back up and hand you your bag back before saying how sorry he was.

"You can stay at my place, I have two spare bedrooms" he smiles and you look at him in shock.

"You live here, in Monaco ..." you ask.

"Yeah, I moved here a few years ago, for ...work" he offers, he phones his friend walking off for a few seconds alone before he pulls you along one of the side streets and too a quiet cafe he went to, to keep under wraps.

"Okay, Y/N this is my friend ... er Percy" he says pointing to Charles, so far you hadn't shown any signs of knowing who he is and he didn't want you to catch wind of that.

"Hello Percy, its nice to meet you" you smile and he looks at you with a vacant yet confused expression.

"Oh and whose this you are beautiful" you compliment looking at the girl behind him.

"Y/N this is my girlfriend Alex" Charles indicates to Alex behind him who smiles and pulls you in for a kind hug that you definitely needed. You could hear both of their strong accents as they introduced himself.

"Oh, I never got you name, what's your name?" you ask turning to look at Lando, who freezes for a second.

"Erm, my names Robert, but you can call me Bob" he smiles and you raise and eyebrow at him.

"Hmmm, you don't look like a Robert... or a Bob. Interesting choice" you voice your opinion making everyone awkwardly laugh.

Charles, Lando and Alex took you to the nearest police station in Monaco, Charles translated what they were saying and you answered to which he and Alex would help translate back.

Charles explained that they were escalating it because you are a tourist in need, but you picked up some words that made the sentence not sound like that at all.

You were asked if you had a place to say and Lando explained you'd be staying with him until everything was sorted out.

The Monegasque police got in contact with the Paris British Embassy for you, they explained that the police had sent over you information and if you wanted to hold off on a new passport for a few days to see if it would turn up you were more than welcome, but right now your passport was on lockdown.

And that was how you ended up spending the end of July and all of August with Lando, it was strange really. For a man who had and extremely nice collection of clothes and a very large apartment he didn't go to work often. There was one room you weren't allowed in which is where he often went, you assumed it was a man cave or gaming room where he played with his friends because you heard lots of shouting and aggressive banging.

He'd been so sweet, he took you on dates from going out to dinner, to picnics, to going swimming and lots more. It felt like more than a summer fling. Especially once he asked you to be his girlfriend, which you immediately said yes too.

But he got a lot more twitchy after he had.

Eventually, Lando or Bob as you knew him took you to Paris so you could get your passport. He explained that he travelled a lot for work and he would need to leave soon and you explained that before you bumped into him you'd been on a gap year travelling the world.

"Baby, why don't you come with me?" he asked randomly as you were both lying on the sofa, cuddling while watching a film.

"You wont even tell me what you do for work Baby! And besides I had a schedule that I'm already behind on. A week ago you said you didn't mind going our separate ways for a little bit until Christmas and then you'd come to England with me" you say playing with his curls.

"Okay, I'm going to be honest with you now... my name isn't Bob" he says shyly and you sit up at the speed of light turning to look at him.

"I knew it! So you lied to me?" you exclaim laughing.

"So, what's my boyfriends actual name?" you ask looking him dead in the eyes, he leans up on his elbows before sitting the full way up.

"Lando, I am Lando Norris" he smiles.

"Hmmmm, Lando... Lando. I could get used to that" you smile.

"You aren't mad?" he asks looking over you, brushing you hair back and tucking it behind your ear before kissing your cheek.

"I knew you weren't being completely honest when we first met... but I also knew you had your own reasons" you offer.

"I think its going to be easier if I just hand you my Instagram" he admits with a gulp as he hands you his phone. The first thing you notice is how many followers he had, there was around 10million and he had nearly 2,500 posts.

You look at the friends list, and one peeks your interest. Charles Leclerc, who looked exactly like Percy who Lando had introduced you too.

You then go back and look at his bio, that told you his actual job.

"So, I'm dating a super famous athlete?" you ask looking up at him away from the phone to see his head down in his hands. He turns to the side to sneak a look at your expression, his eyes a little glossy.

"To be specific, a Formula 1 driver" you ask again and he nods.

"You are such a muppet, my god" you laugh before pulling him into a hug.

"How aren't you upset with me?" he ask unsure.

"Well, I agreed to date you, because you are you. I doubt you change into Mr Hyde when you become a what was is Porsche race-car driver? I fell in love with you, not Bob, not Lando, you. So whether that is Bob, who kindly helped a crying lady on the street who just had her passport stolen from her, or Lando a cool and amazing race-car driver. Whoever you are is the person I love" you grin and he pulls you into a hug.

"So you want to join me for the last few races? Or you want to finish this world trip of yours?" he asks.

"Well, looking at your calendar, I can actually meet you at the rest of the races, While travelling. I'll continue to do Europe until you have the Netherlands, and ill go back to Italy, just for you. I'll miss Azerbaijan and Singapore because I did that, but I'll knock out some of South America, I'll meet you for Austin, then we can do Mexico and Brazil together, then we can do Vegas together! And by that point I can call it done with my trip!" you exclaim and he looks like he considers it for a second.

He's shocked, he cant remember the last time a girlfriend tried so hard to link up their schedules like this, and proved that they'd be able to work despite some potential scheduling issues.

"I love you. I fucking love you" he grins pulling you back down onto the sofa kissing all over your face making you giggle.

A/N: I've been doing a lot of Lando recently, I don't know if you can tell but I love writing about him, he's my fav to write about right now.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @viennakarma

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theadorableapprentice · 2 months

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You Must Be Mad

MC x Solomon Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 894

A/N: Another Solomon story... But my next story will be either Satan, Barbatos, or Belphegor as I have stories planned for all three of them! I hope you enjoy this!

You were pacing in your bedroom, completely lost in your own thoughts. Not even the nasty weather outside could distract you.

Did he really love you too? Was Asmo right? No, there was no way. Solomon keeps everyone at arms length… But Asmo would know better than anyone… Right? I mean, he seems to know Solomon the best. And Asmo had a point. Solomon does try to spend a lot of time with you. He would drop anything to help you. And there was that one time you thought he was going to kiss you… But surely you misinterpreted what was happening. Surely.

Lightening strikes outside and you don’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about every interaction.

“MC, I saw this trinket while I was out and it reminded me of you… So here you go!”

“MC, I saw a cat that reminded me of you! Would you like to see?”

“MC, I have to go to the human world to pick something up for Diavolo. Do you want to come with? We can stop by that store you really like.”

Okay, so maybe he did go out of his way to spend time with you… But that doesn’t mean he has feelings for you. Those are totally things friends do too.

You could almost hear Asmo’s voice in your head refuting that. “Yes, friends can do those things, but not Solomon. Stop denying it.”

Why were you denying it? If he had feelings for you back, that would be great, right? So why hasn’t he said anything? No, you know the answer to that. Fear of rejection and also there’s the whole thing of him losing so many loved ones so confessing to you could bring him more pain in the end… But wait, why should he have to confess anyways?

No, you’re going to confess to him. You’re going to do something big and dramatic for him because he deserves that. He does big and dramatic things for you, so why shouldn’t you do something for him? But what should you do? Actually, you knew exactly what you were going to do. And hopefully he would find it equally as sweet as he will funny.

Standing in the pouring rain outside of his window at Purgatory Hall, you wondered why you thought this was a good idea. You cast a small spell that would amplify your voice so Solomon could hear you over the rain and the thunder.

“But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Solomon is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.”

Solomon appeared at the window, opening it and looking really concerned. “MC? What are you doing out there? You must be mad coming here like this!”

You smiled. “It is my gentleman, O, it is my love! O, that he knew he were! He speaks, yet he says nothing. What of that?”

Solomon looked even more confused, but a slight blush dusted his cheeks. “MC, are you quoting Shakespeare at me?”

You tried not to laugh. You skipped ahead a few lines. “He speaks! O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head.”

Solomon let out a small laugh. “Hold on, MC.” Solomon closed his window and a moment later the front door opened and he met you outside in the pouring rain. “It’s a little wet to be outside, don’t you think?”

“I find it increases the drama.”

“And, why exactly are you dramatically quoting Shakespeare to me?”

You gently grabbed his hands in yours. “Solomon the Wise, the most wonderful sorcerer and best human being I know, you mean more to me than I can describe with words. When I see you or hear from you, my heart does a little happy dance.”

“MC, I-”

“Solomon, let me finish. You are one of the smartest, funniest, kindest, and most chaotic people I know. Now that you’re in my life, I would feel as if something were missing if you were gone. All of this is to say, I’m quoting Shakespeare at you because I am without a doubt in love with you… And if Asmo tells me to tell you one more time I might have to strangle him.” You chuckled at the end of that, but smiled up at Solomon.

Solomon chuckled too. “Yeah, he can be a bit persistent, can’t he? MC, you didn’t have to do all of this for me. A simple ‘I love you’ text would’ve sufficed.”

You shook your head. “No way. You deserve big dramatic gestures of love. So now that we have that established, can we have the classic kiss in the rain?”

Solomon was about to say yes when lightening struck a tree not too far away from you guys. “Maybe we should skip that and go inside.”

You hurriedly nod and follow him into Purgatory Hall.

Not so unfortunately, you and Solomon got sick and spent the week together. You could’ve probably used magic to make things better, but where was the fun in that?

#obey me #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me x reader #You Must Be Mad

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thedeviltohisangel · 2 months

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All The Things I Did (4): The Only Thing That I See

a/n: ok this is the one i warned you guys was horny but i'm sure its actually to our benefit. this is setting up the next couple big plot pieces: harding's arrival and his past with cass, john demoting himself to fly again, cass' next mission and a whole lot more. happy to chat about any of it//we had a great little sleepover in my inbox and i saved a couple to answer over the next few days. more interludes in the chute, submissions still open, and a new masterpost pinned to my blog. happy reading!

When Mary knocked on Cass’ door before the sun was out and warned her it was pancakes for breakfast, it meant the men were flying today. She was looking forward to this raid in particular as the coordinates for the U-boat pens had been passed to her by a new potential source during a previous trip to Belgium. Surveillance planes had confirmed their location but it meant that Colonel Huglin would want her to brief prior to wheels up. John wasn’t flying but he would be watching. She wanted to impress him. Offer him a little bit of insight into the work that she did. Show him the bumps and bruises were worth it if it brought the war to an end even a moment sooner.

He wasn’t outside waiting for her to get breakfast and her heart fell but she knew he was busy. A piece of her was curious what John Egan, Air Exec behaved like. She imagined he was more stoic and held quite the presence. Or maybe he was exactly the same and more of a pain in the Colonel’s side than anything else. Cass smiled to herself as she walked toward the HQ offices. Yeah, that definitely seemed more like her John.

----

He was rifling through papers when she entered the bullpen, calling out headings to the navigators and dodging orderlies delivering cups of coffee. She dropped her jacket off at her desk without anyone noticing and approached the map with small airplanes meant to simulate the raid.

“A few degrees to the east, gentleman. Otherwise, you’ll miss the last loading dock.” Her fingers nudged the group of planes in the correct direction then she stepped back and let the stares wash over her. Deep breaths, Cass. You know you’re right.

“Gentlemen, surely you’ve all at least heard of Lieutenant Cooper. She is the one responsible for locating these pens for today’s raid.” Some of them nodded with respect, others rolled their eyes or scoffed. Most of them seemed ambivalent.

“I’ll be at my desk should any questions arise, Colonel.” Yet all of them could agree on staring at her backside as she walked away.

“You make a habit out of embarrassing the brass the morning of a raid?” She paused her typing with a smile and walked around her desk to meet him in the doorway. There were wildflowers behind his back and she gripped his chin to pull him down for a kiss.

“Good morning, Major.” John hummed with pleasure before going back in for one, two, three more kisses.

“Morning, doll.” His voice was huskier at this hour than she was used to. It sparked right between her legs. “You thought I forgot?” He produced the flowers from behind his back and handed them to her. As she did every morning, she brought them to her nose and blushed like a schoolgirl.

“First mission as Air Exec. Wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.” John stepped deeper into her office, closing the door behind him, as she tucked the latest bouquet into a vase on her desk that was already filled with his previous gifts.

“Would feel better if I was going up as a squadron commander.”

“You would say that.” Cass jumped up onto her desk, welcoming John between her legs with some light scratches on the back of his neck. “I, for one, am happy you’ve got two feet on the ground today.”

“That’s very selfish of you, Lieutenant Cooper.” He stepped closer and kissed her slow. Deliberate. Decisive. Dangerous. He kissed her like he flew. “I’ll stop flying when you stop spooking.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to see you all hot and bothered over my well being again.” John licked his lips as she fiddled with the knot of his tie. Cass wasn’t sure what was coming over her if not, just simply, the allure of John Egan. They had claimed each other publicly. All that was left was privately.

“Did that turn you on, Cass?” She nodded, pressing her chest against his as her tongue slipped between his lips and stirred an ache within him. “Do you like that they could walk in on us at any time?”

“Fuck, John.” Her lips moved to the column of his throat and he groaned at the nipping of her teeth. She was tempted to have him take her right there on the desk. He was tempted too. Wanted to rip those thin, tantalizing panty hose from her legs and hike her skirt around her waist. Had fantasized how soft the skin of her thighs would be. What she would taste like. How she would sound as he worked her over the edge again and again and again.

“Cass, baby, I want you so bad.” She was intoxicating. A siren at sea. At this moment, he was powerless to deny her anything.

“Then take me, sir.” God, he could die a happy man. He was pushing her skirt up her legs, Cass spreading them wider as she leaned back onto the desk and pulled John down with her when there was a knock on the door.

“Major Egan? Lieutenant Cooper?” Cass collapsed onto her back, panting with pent up tension, John catching himself with his hands on either side of her head.

“Just a minute,” John called. He dropped his sweaty forehead to her shoulder in defeat before standing to his full height. His mouth ran dry with a tease of lace, Cass tugging her skirt down to hide it from his starving eyes.

“You like lace. Noted.”

“I think I’d like anything that was on you.” He grabbed her hands and tugged her closer. “Or off you.” No longer able to control herself around John Egan, she stood on his toes and pressed up into his lips once more.

“Major Egan-”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” John stormed to the door and threw it open. “Private, I said we needed a minute.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Cass chuckled as he scurried away, adjusting her jacket and grabbing her briefing materials from the drawer.

“Don’t go scaring them, John. We need young men to want to stay in.”

“He’ll be fine. I’ll apologize when your spell has worn off a bit.”

“Oh? There you go with that witch motif again.” He followed her out of the office, out of the building and into the daylight.

“Has to be some kind of explanation for the way you’ve got me wrapped your finger like this.” She stopped and turned to face him.

“Maybe it’s love, Major.” His retort went right back down his throat. How the fuck did she know? He had tried to say it the other night but had since thought better of it. He couldn’t risk scaring her off.

“Maybe.” She read the yes behind his maybe.

“Maybe,” she repeated, whispering. “We should go inside.” John nodded, stepping closer and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I just need one more minute.” It was a moment John had never really thought about. The moment you realize the woman you love, loves you right back. He wanted to engrave it in his mind, heart and soul. Never forget this feeling with her. Carry it with him until he didn’t have to be afraid of losing it anymore. “Cass? You mean a lot to me, you know that?”

“We’ll make it through this, John. Together.” He kissed her one last time before heading, because how could he help himself, the sound of together silencing all the doubt in his mind. If only for a little while.

----

Cass sat quietly along the side of the room as Colonel Huglin unveiled the target for today’s mission and the unfortunate low-low position that the 100th would take. She looked around and tried to read if any of the men seemed nervous or had any understanding of what was about to happen to them. They were doing a good job of keeping it all at bay.

Eventually her eyes landed on John as they always did. He had recovered from their earlier tryst remarkably quickly. Cass was nearly positive she would need to replace her undergarments at the first available instance. Looking at him now only added to her need to shift and adjust in her seat. Back home, men were either ruggedly handsome and good with their hands or politely coiffed and intellectually impressive. For John Egan to somehow embody both was a figment of all her desires.

He caught her staring out of the corner of his eyes. Offered her a smirk and would have blown a kiss if he wasn’t sitting in the front row. As if she could read his mind, she blew a kiss of her own. John pretended to catch it and slip it into his pocket.

“Our intelligence officer, Lieutenant Cooper, will take it from here before Captain Becker delivers the weather.” Cass stood to the sound of whistles and cheers, a low chant of ‘Spook’ spreading throughout the room. John smiled but kept his decorum. Though that blush on her cheeks was going to make him go mad.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, gentlemen. Lights please.” The room plunged into darkness save for the screen she was using to deliver her brief. “Please note there are both naval and ground based anti-aircraft assets located along the Frisian Islands. Towards the mainland, you can expect concentrated flak from here all the way down to Bremen. Sources tell me they are radar enabled so they will have the capability to track you.” A hand shot up in the crowd.

“Ma’am? What kind of artillery are we looking at?”

“88 and 105.” She paused to see if there was follow up before continuing. “The most important aspect is your target to the northwest of Bremen if I could have the target map, please.”

There were no further questions, John standing to the side while she presented the bombardiers and navigators with supplemental files for the run. She didn’t offer them luck or tell them to fly safe. Just told them to remember their training and stick to the headings she had given them. Anything else would be empty words.

“I think they were very thoroughly briefed, don’t you?” Cass laughed as she gathered her maps and placed them back in her folder.

“Surprised I do more than run around Europe and get shot?” John looked at his shoes sheepishly but his jovial tone seemed to have slipped away.

“Shouldn’t joke about getting shot, Cass. Kind of scared me when that happened.” She touched his cheek gently.

“Once they all take off and you’re done being a leader of men, you can sit and read my report if you like. I’m positive your imagination is worse than the truth.” At least, she hoped it was. “You should go talk to Buck. Give him some parting thoughts.”

“You’re the one who told me there are no words to describe it.”

“Not to warn him or guide him. Just remind him why he’s going up there today and why he will again every time after.” His smile was tight lipped. Her words were very carefully chosen to not reflect the truly dire nature of their circumstances. He appreciated her for it. She held onto that quality as long as she could. Beyond the German surrender and the atomic bomb and the curiosity with what came next. But one day she would have to break. And she knew John would be there. He’d always be there. Had to.

----

It was a couple hours later when he found her again. She looked like she was fighting sleep from behind her typewriter. John couldn’t help but admire the sight, almost regretting the gentle rap of his knuckles on her door.

“Leader of men here for Lieutenant Cooper.” She acknowledged his presence with a smile but kept her chin in her hand. “One plane back with mechanical issues. Just a waiting game.”

“You’re not good at patiently waiting, are you?”

“I think I’m being pretty patient with you. With us,” he added as he motioned around them. “An impatient man would have taken advantage of your offer this morning.” Cass scoffed and sat up. Good. John liked when she was at her full capacity to spar with him. Sometimes, he said something just to get her to banter.

“You only didn’t because of that poor man that knocked on the door!”

“Well, he’s not here now.”

“So, what’s stopping you?” She looked at him expectantly. As if she was actually curious if he would just sweep her desk clean and take her right then and there. She would let him.

“Time. Need to make sure there’s no limit to how long I can take.” Cass liked the sound of that. John taking his time to work her up and up then over. Not just once. Maybe not even twice. She knew what she would be thinking about all night.

“A consolation prize then?” There was a red folder dangling from her fingertips. “It can’t leave this room.” John took it, taking a seat with enough distance from her to keep his head clear of sinful thoughts.

She typed away quietly as he read, something domestic about the whole thing that made them both incandescently happy, only the occasional grunt of concern or impressed hum slipping from his mouth.

“They teach you how to do all this at spook school?”

“Most of it. Some just has to be instinctual. Kind of like your piloting. There is only so much to learn in a training environment before the real thing has to take place.” He looked down and reread the lines about the information she had received. How she had written the tangible impact these identifiers would have on the war. Wanted to skip over the part where the local police followed her after her meeting. How they turned her in and she took a beating but convinced the interrogators she was just lost. How she made her tourniquet out of ripped cotton and a stick.

“Cass, you’re fucking incredible, you know that?”

“It’s always nice to have a handsome man tell me.” Their thoughts matching, she met him on the other side of her desk and accepted his kiss eagerly.

“We always find ourselves here,” he said with a sigh, her cheek fitting in his palm and his thumb resting on the top of her cheekbone.

“Are you complaining?”

“Never.” He leaned back in, ready to seal the world off once more, when the sirens ran off. The planes were back. And with them, the real world.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #mota fanfic

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marsbutterfly · 2 years

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Oh, What A View

Summary: After the war is over, you are left to tend for the poor soldiers whose minds got broken in the process. One specific man catches your attention.

Warnings: unprotected, vaginal sex, creampie, cum leaking, oral sex (m! receiving), titty fucking, cum play, accidental voyeurism. | a/n: Hobo!Eren and Nurse! Reader concepts are originally aleks' (@princess-jaeger) <3

Wattpad! | Ao3! | Hobo! Eren Yeager x Nurse! Reader

“They did it!” The news broke loose not long after the event actually happened. All the newspapers, radio stations, and gossipers were talking about it, the end of the four-year-long war between Marley and the Mid-East forces had finally come to an end when a peace treaty was signed after the military destroyed their fleet.

Information traveled so fast that you were barely able to tell what was true and what wasn’t. The only concrete information you had was that Marley’s win was a real achievement and hundreds of mentally and physically scarred soldiers were on their way to your care.

It would take them a few days to get back from Fort Slava and, in the meantime, you find yourself preparing extra beds and blankets to care for those in need.

When the time goes by and the soldiers finally arrive, you watch closely as one of the warrior candidates assists a man who has been scared by the guard leading them towards the hospital, “ugh, typical,” you think to yourself, annoyed by the way those poor people are being treated. Not that there is anything you can do about it.

A week passes and, during those seven days, not a lot happens amidst the broken soldiers. It is a day like any other, medicine rounds begin going around and, with each passing patient, you mark an x next to their name. With the assistance of the other nurses, you get around pretty quickly.

“Has bed five B gotten her medication yet?” You ask one of the other nurses as you flip over the pages on your clipboard, not fully paying attention to what it is that they are currently talking about. If it didn’t involve the patients in your care, you wouldn’t give it a second thought.

“Yeah,” the short-haired nurse responds, dipping two of her fingers into the bag of chips. She brings the wavy food into her mouth before rubbing her fingers together, getting rid of the dust. It is more than clear to you that she doesn’t take her job very seriously, “The only one left is bed fourteen A.”

“Mr. Kruger?” You inquire, bringing the board close to your chest. The other woman shrugs, licking the orange powder off of her fingertips.

“He’s only willing to cooperate when you are the one doing his care,” she says and you can’t help but look away, a deep blush taking over your cheeks as you now stare at the ground. You had indeed been exchanging a few glances here and there with the man, but you wouldn’t think he would go as far as to refuse treatment from anyone but yourself.

Clearing your throat, you nod. With one hand, you bring the clipboard down towards your thigh, and with the other, you reach for a small cup containing a couple of pain pills, one antipsychotic and one antidepressant. It’s a decent cocktail, enough to cause a grown adult to relax.

The sound of your heels colliding with the floor fills the nearly empty hallway, the only exceptions being a few soldiers who sit in their designated wheelchairs, one of them with a book in hand as he reads the words on the page carefully and the other one slamming his head against the wall.

Your hand trembles, a nervous sweat dripping down the side of your head as you touch the handle on the door. The patient himself has never been anything but a gentleman but it is the people around him that worry you, after all, no more than a week has gone by since the military dumped the broken soldiers into the hospital.

With a deep breath, you enter the room without knocking. A small tv plays the same program it did the day before and the men and women sit around it like flies attracted to the light. A couple of them sit on a broken table, marked cards in their hands as they play a game similar to poker, though you can’t decipher what it is.

One woman, in particular, draws the same symbol over and over again with barely usable markers, mumbling words that feel like an incantation based on the number of times she has told you she is a witch. She is harmless overall, though can still be quite difficult when it comes the time to take her medicine.

With one glance around the room, you come to the conclusion that the patient you are searching for is nowhere to be seen inside the small room and it means that he could either be sitting on the bench outside or simply lying in bed in his room.

Making sure not to touch anyone, you make your way towards the massive window, eyes searching for the long-haired man in question. Once you realize that you can’t find him, you decide that it is time to look in the very last place and, if he wasn’t there, you would have to call the guards.

So you rush up the stairs towards the last room on the third floor, where all the physically disabled patients were being kept. It seemed like extremely poor management, considering that most of them weren’t able to walk down the stairs, but it is not like the Marleyan government cared about these men too much.

From underneath the door, you see a shadow hopping around on crutches and it could only mean that he is awake. Unlike the other nurses, you like to knock on the door, making sure that they understand how valuable their privacy is to you.

Inside the room, a low, husky voice speaks as the shadow is now facing towards the wooden surface, “Come on in.” Your heart skips a beat for a second, the tone of his voice is deep and you can feel a dreamy sigh exhaling from your body as you twist the doorknob.

“Mr. Kruger?” You inquire, peaking your head inside the room, the hand that holds the medicine cup also bringing the clipboard closer to your body. His emerald green eye pierces right through you and a warmth grows on your face, even if there is absolutely no light to them, “I’m passing around medication.”

“Ah, I see,” the man exhales a response, extending the hand that does not hold the crutch forward to take it out of your hands. You wish you could offer him some juice or even water to drink the medication with but such luxuries were forbidden. It doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, however.

He takes a deep breath before swinging his head and the cup backward. You can see the movement of his neck as he swallows the pills with amusing ease. Once he is done, his tongue brushes through chapped lips, moisturizing the area as best as he possibly can.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says in that exact same low voice, not shifting it in the slightest. You can feel as his eyes go through your body, taking in the full image of your silhouette and you can’t help but tug at the edge of your skirt, pulling it down in hopes of calming yourself down.

He begins to take a few steps closer and you feel as your legs gain a life of their own, backing your body against the door as you use your free hand to search for the handle, desperately looking for an out. Before you have time to fully take in what is happening, the man is standing before you, his hand touching the wood a little off to the side as he traps you in the space between the door and his body.

The man doesn’t say anything, he simply stands there. His breath is warm and there is a familiar scent to it though you can’t fully identify what it is. One of his eyes is bandaged up and you bring your hand to his face, your thumb brushing against the cloth gently so as not to hurt him.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, cursing yourself for saying it out loud and he shrugs.

“I have gotten used to it at this point,” is all he replies with. He eventually lets go of the crutch, now using your body to balance himself up. His grip on your waist is tight as his fingernails dig through your skin through the cloth of your clothes, but you don’t complain. In fact, it feels good to have him touch you.

You can’t help but exhale loudly, dropping the clipboard in your hand to the ground. When it collides with the surface, it makes a loud sound and immediately the man brings his index finger over your lips, telling you to shush, even if he knows that nobody would care about it, not the nurses and not the broken soldiers.

His lips ghost above yours, so close that you can already taste them, though he doesn’t give in so easily, he wants you to speak, he likes to hear your voice, “Tell me something you have never told anyone,” he requests.

It takes you a second to think and, in that time, he has lifted the edge of your dress, fingers brushing through the silk of your underwear as he carefully watches as the fabric makes its way past your thighs. He doesn’t stop until he can see your belly button, that’s when he shifts his focus to opening the front of your uniform.

You can’t find any words seeing as your brain betrays you, all of your thoughts are targeted at the man’s touch. His vision is focused on you and, without breaking eye contact, his mouth closes on your right nipple. Eren sucks on the hardened bud while your eyes are closed shut in pleasure.

He lets go of the nipple with a pop, then proceeds to bite down, blow a bit of cool air, and watch it as it becomes erect, then goes back to sucking on the bug. Licking, biting, sucking. It goes on. You couldn’t help the erotic sounds that come from deep within your throat.

Lust exploded from a place inside his chest and he couldn’t help but let it take over his actions. You cradle his head against yours; keeping him in place. Letting go of your nipple, he moves on to your left breast to give it the same attention.

Though before he resumes the activity, he asks you the question again, a firmer tone this time and a threat of stopping if you didn’t respond quickly. You scramble to find something inside of your nearly empty mind but finally, something comes up.

“I have a collection of sex toys,” you whisper underneath your breath, afraid that anyone but him would hear your confession. He smiles, bringing his lips around your nipple once more before giving it the attention you so desperately craved. With every flick of his tongue, you could feel the wetness as it pooled in your underwear. “Now will you tell me your first name?”

You puff out your chest, giving him better access to your previously hidden breast. Your arms are pressed against the wall, hands balled into fists as you try and turn your head away from the scene in embarrassment.

The man pulls your body towards him but before you have a chance to collapse against his chest, he is pressing you against the window, your cheeks against the glass as he pulls your underwear to the side, wanting to make this nothing more than a quickie, “Eren, Eren Kruger.”

You feel the head of his cock bumping between your legs, seeking for the entrance to your aching core. Closely after, it began to push slowly into you. The sensation as he filled your cunt wasn't one you had felt in a while, not even on those private, lonely occasions when you’d lay in bed, thinking about him and the encounters you have shared in the past.

You brace yourself against the window as the man buries his length all the way inside of you. Your fantasies seemed so pathetic now, the idea that he would be gentle? Nothing more than a distant dream as Mr. Kruger was known, by you specifically, to be quite rough when he is fucking you.

It isn’t his fault, he would say, there is just something about your juicy, puffy pussy that would make all of his senses go out of the window and he would only be able to think with the head of his cock.

Your breath caught in your throat. The pleasure was gathering inside of you. Every thrust drove you further toward ecstasy. You mouthed something incoherent at the streetlights on the wide road below. His hands on your hip pulled and pushed you as he slammed his cock into you, again and again, fucking you careless of your comfort, like you were just a thing, a doll.

Your breasts are pressed against the window, hands gripping at the curtains as tightly as you can while supporting both of your bodies, he holds you up by wrapping his arms underneath your knees and his cock never leaves the warmth of your cunt, not even for a second.

“People might see us,” you say, drool pooling on the corner of your lips. Wetness drips down your pussy, coating not only his member but the back of your thighs. He is rough, rougher than usual but at every step, no matter how tough his words are, he makes sure that you are ok.

“Then let them see,” he hisses, pumping his hips forward while lowering your body on his cock, allowing more of his length to enter your aching cunt and you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure, “Let them see what a slut you are.”

“Mr. Kruger,” you moan his name quietly, trying to attract as little attention to you as possible, “It feels so good.” Your underwear is still pulled to the side but the fabric now comes in contact with your throbbing clit, rubbing the area ever so gently with his every thrust. A heartbeat passes and you correct yourself, “Eren.”

“I know what you like,” he says and you can tell he has a shit-eating grin on his face just by the way his voice sounded. You open your eyes to make sure nobody is watching the two of you, gripping the curtains hard in the process before allowing your head to fall backward.

A part of you secretly wishes that somebody would walk in, that somebody would catch the two of you in the most embarrassing of situations and you would have to acknowledge that you were having filthy sex with one of your patients, but you would rather live in denial.

He shifts ever so gently and finally hits the spot he was so desperately searching for, you have to bite down on your lip not to let out a loud gasp. You clench your butthole tightly, squeezing your muscles around him and he giggles, an amused laugh as he continues to pound into you, “Here, huh?” He teases.

You want to respond with an insult, something to wipe that smug smirk off of his lips but your vocal cords and your brain betray you at that moment and all you can think about is how delicious it feels to be fucked by him.

The man proceeds to place the tip of your toes onto the window’s sill, spreading your folds apart and giving the passing people on the outside of the facility a perfect view of your stuffed pussy. It’s embarrassing and you can’t help but blush, but not a single part of you wishes to stop.

The man’s long hair sticks to the side of his neck, sweat exhaling from his pores with every thrust of his unstable hips, his mustache is coated in a layer of fluids and he readjusts for a second, pressing your body even further up against the window, your nipples becoming hard as they come in contact with the cold glass.

He brings his lips towards your neck, his tongue generously going through every inch of skin available, the bun on your hair, once elegant and now messy, threatens to fall and if it wasn’t for the lack of one of his legs, Eren would have already used his hand to take it down.

Your nails are rough and so is he, gravity leaving you bouncing on his cock harder and deeper than usual. Suddenly you don’t care that people outside might see you, you don’t care about anything but the angling of your lover’s hips and his ragged breaths against your neck.

“Keep moving just like that, baby,” he whispers against your skin and you take his words as an incentive to continue moving yourself on his cock.

You wrap an arm around his shoulder as you feel yourself unraveling and you moan into the glass. You are still trembling when he lowers you down, gripping one hand to your waist. Even though his pace now is faster than before, a hard thrust that shoves you forward into the window, and bracing your hand against the glass, you beg him for more. You need him now, need him closer than it is possible for two people to be.

“You’re going to make me come, Eren,” you say and he presses your body further against the window with a thudding sound, while the ripping of your underwear can also be heard. The cloth simply falls to the ground.

“Then come for me baby,” when finally you feel yourself tightening around his cock, a wave of an intense orgasm washing over you, you rock your hips against him, Eren moaning with you at the feel of your quivering muscles. You want people to see you now, to see them gasping in jealousy.

He witches, holding you perfectly in place for a few seconds, and his warm cum begins to flow inside of you, filling your body with sensations you could never grow too used to. So much comes out that eventually, you felt as the warmth began to squirt onto the glass and down your thighs.

Not a word leaves his lips so you are the first one to break the silence, “You made a mess, Mr. Kruger. Would you like me to clean it up?” A devious smile curls into his lips, though you cannot see it for he is hiding his face on the back of your neck, but you can feel as the corners twitch in excitement.

Slowly and carefully, he raises your body one more time, pulling his cock out from its newly found home inside of you. Your toes touch the ground, finding footing enough for the rest of your feet. It’s a slow process but, soon enough, you find yourself kneeling before him.

You raise his shirt and begin to kiss his stomach, starting just above the belly button. His body collides with the window, one hand searching for balance as he holds onto the ledge while the other is tangled around the back of your head, playing with your hair in a desperate attempt to show you what he has in mind. You cooperate slowly, letting him guide you down. It takes less than a minute before your mouth gets to the happy trail above his pubes.

His cock is right there, inches from your face. You hesitate for a second, wondering if a blowjob would be the best way to reward him. You decide on something better but, to prepare him for it, you run your tongue along the shaft, getting it wet with your saliva and you can taste the mixture of your juices and his, it’s still warm and quite salty.

It’s difficult and messy to navigate with just your mouth, but you do the best you can. Starting with kitten licks along his slit. The taste of his cum floods your tongue making you salivate.

You meet his eyes to find him still smiling, the corner of his mouth pulling up more into a smirk. He knows what he is doing to you. So you continue your motions down his shaft. Licking lightly along veins, drool escaping as you do.

Clearly, this was the wrong choice, everything about this situation seemed wrong. As soon as you are halfway down, he begins to set the pace and it is relentless. Using you a hole more than a person.

You remove him from your mouth and move your hands towards your chest, unbuttoning the uniform you wear. Your hard nipples tingle in the cool air. You move up again, breasts large enough to cover his entire cock. He looked down at you in shock, but the devious smirk on his lips never ceased.

"I want you to cum between my tits,” you announce to him, knowing that is exactly the kind of stuff he wants to hear you say.

He simply moans as he thrust up against you. You respond by moaning as well, your breasts have always been sensitive, and react to his hips being pushed against them quite well. His hands come down, joining yours in squeezing your breasts around his cock. "Oh, shit." He hisses, his thrusting speeding up as he finds a rhythm, "You feel amazing."

You smile up at him. He doesn’t look like he'd last much longer, "That's it, baby, fuck my tits. Cum all over them."

"Uh... ohh fuck..." that is all he manages to say as a warning, his fingers begin digging onto the soft skin of your breasts, and his cock starts pulsing in its place between your boobs. You can feel wetness spreading, most of it being squeezed out and forming in a pool on your cleavage.

You continue to rub the shaft, looking at the mess he made. You can’t control yourself and your mind slowly slips away, rubbing his warm cum all over. There was enough to cover your breasts in his cum and have left over on your fingers. "There is so much, baby, and you just came not too long ago.”

“You’re just so fucking hot,” he pants, removing his hand from your breast to bring his cum coated fingers towards your lips. He pushes through gently, silently asking for permission before you open wide to receive him.

Your tongue swirls around his digits, fully taking in the flavors he is offering you. The viscous liquid drips against your taste buds and you continue to do so until his fingers are removed from your mouth completely clear, the only thing still coating them is a thick layer of your saliva.

As he places his cock back into his pants, Eren shakes his head, removing the hair from his eye. You are still on your knees, searching in your pockets for something that could be used as a tissue to clean the cum off of your bare chest.

“No,” Eren says, his voice is firm and it echoes through the almost completely empty room. You pause your movements for a second, wondering what he is talking about before he continues, “I want you to have my cum on your chest until you go home. A little reminder of me.”

“But, Mr. Kruger,” you try to reason with him, watching as he extends you a hand in the hopes of assisting you as you get up, “People will know.”

“After the little show we just gave them,” he smirks, buttoning up the top and covering your cum soaked cleavage, “I doubt many people don’t know about it already.”

You can’t help but blush in embarrassment, flustered cheeks facing away from him as you try to hide your emotions from him. You didn’t know what came over you, a public display such as the one you just experienced, and with an eldian no less, oh what the marleyan government would do to you if they figured it out.

A thousand thoughts go through your head in the span of a minute or so. Unconsciously, you begin to gather around your clipboard and the papers that fell out of it while you were busy being kissed by the man, and, before you have time to realize it, he has already walked out of the door and is on his way out of the courtyard.

You wipe away the steam off the window to find him sitting on the bench, he props his body up on the crutches as he speaks with one of the clinically insane patients. It takes a second for you to realize it is one of your patients, so you begin to make your way down the stairs, carefully enough not to fall but moving your feet at an incredibly quick pace.

Once you are finally there, you speak to him again, “I’m sorry, I looked away for two seconds,” you say, though your voice trembles with the thoughts of how the two of you were linked together mere moments ago. He shrugs, no light in his eyes.

“I don’t care,” he says, pretending not to know you. You knew how little you meant to him but still, to hear not a shred of empathy in his voice was enough to cause your heart to break. So you simply sigh, putting on a fake smile.

As you walk away, arm wrapped around your patient, you feel a cold breeze down against your free pubes and you finally realize that nothing is protecting your cunt, “Where are my panties?” You ask yourself silently, looking back at the man with a desperate look on your face, only to realize he has the cloth attached to his nostril, taking in a deep whiff out of it before placing it into his pocket, a smile on his face. That man was truly a devil.

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nordickies · 7 months

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I'm curious, how do you view Åland in your head? Are they Sweden and Finland's kid or something else? How about Faroe, what is their relationship to Denmark? Or Greenland (I know for a fact that Greenland's relationship with Denmark isn't good)

Sorry for the long ask ;w;

Hello anon! It's not a long question! I just don't really know how to introduce these guys, so let's start with an oversimplified relationship chart, I guess?

Quick explanation under the cut. I don't know why it is so scary to talk about my OCs publicly, aah

Åland isn't Sweden and Finland's kid, but she's significantly younger than them, and they did end up practically raising her together. I've been going back and forth on whether I want her to be their "kid" or not - but in the end, I decided to apply the same logic I use with Denmark and Iceland; it's some kind of guardianship.

To me, guardianship means person X is looking after person Y and being responsible for their upbringing. In these instances, we're talking about significantly younger Nations that have been juveniles for most of their lifetime; someone has needed to take the custodian responsibility over them. But because the relationship can be interpreted as parental or siblinglike (with a significant age gap), I just prefer to use the term "guardian."

Faroe, just like Iceland, was raised by Denmark. Except unlucky for him, he's still stuck with the old man. Faroe just tends to get forgotten a lot. He's a friendly young gentleman, the "easy" child in a messy household, if you will. Though he wishes he made more of a noise about himself - to remind everyone that he exists and show that he's indeed an individual. Well, at least he has Åland to keep him company, since they're both doomed to sit at the "kids' table" during family gatherings. And yes, they're the same age as Iceland

While Denmark has been Greenland's "guardian" on paper, they never developed that kind of relationship. She doesn't feel particularly close to him and for various reasons, she never adjusted to her "adoptive" family. The relationship is rough but they still try to make it work somehow. Nowadays, she's happier with home rule, slowly making her way toward potential full independence. Greenland, Kalaallit Nunaat, has been inhabited by indigenous people for thousands of years. But this isn't the same Greenland that would have been around during the Viking Age. I'm just basing that on the fact that the ancestors of the modern people of Greenland, the Inuit, came to the island from the east in the 13th century, referred to as the Thule culture, which replaced the former Dorset/Tuniit culture.

Sápmi is the oldest Nation of the bunch by a long margin. Because of this, she has acted as a mentor figure to the Fennoscandians in their youth and is often referred to as their "aunt." Sápmi's relationship with her neighbors has been extremely turbulent. But still, she remembers them as hopeless little kids getting lost in the wilderness, whom she taught survival skills. She sees them as her unruly boys but feels especially bad that Finland had to grow up so soon. She still finds herself scolding Sweden, who to this day acts like a little kid around her. Norway views her in high regard, someone he goes to with his worries and feelings. She's a nation with no state, but tries her best to represent her people and culture to the world.

Karelia is an older Nation as well, perhaps older than the Scandinavians. Karelia is a Baltic-Finnic nation extending from Lake Ladoga to the White Sea. She has longtime connections with Finland, Sweden, Estonia, Ingria, Sápmi, Russia, and Ukraine. But she has always been a nation between East and West, being literally split between them even to this day. Karelia's borders have changed constantly throughout history, making the region extremely diverse. Because of this, and her people being broken apart multiple times in recent memory, her identity feels a bit shattered. Yet it's incredibly strong, with colorful culture, traditions, and language - being unique from the other Finnic groups.

I personally think that Nations and their relationships with each other don't have to be 1-1 adaptations to their real-life counterparts, where every single historical event plays out exactly like in a textbook. History, culture, politics, and, most importantly, people's personal experiences and relationships with their country will always be individual even to people from the same group. But we also shouldn't completely ignore and sugarcoat history, thus downplaying or, in the worst case, contributing to the ongoing harm. So, as rich as the source to create OCs is in this fandom, it's also an endless loophole with no clear answer to anything. But as long as we're ready to be respectful, be willing to learn, and keep an open mind, I don't see a problem with it <3

#i'm bad at explaining but hopefully my idea comes across #also perhaps this explains why i don't feel particularly strongly about shipping the nordics with each other - there is a lot going on #oc talk #hws faroe islands #hws åland #hws greenland #hws sápmi #hws karelia

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setaripendragon · 4 months

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Okay, now I'm kinda interested in what the Kingsman "The King's Whores" wip is about...

=D I am so glad you asked!

Basically, it's a post!Secret Service (not Golden Circle or King's Man compliant) fic where Harry gets found alive and comes back to take the position of Arthur, and the first thing he has to do is replace a bunch of agents who died because of the four minutes of murder.

Eggsy decides that his own appointment wasn't scandalous enough, and not only does Kingsman have a classism problem, it also has a sexism problem, and goes trawling the east end's street hookers for his candidates for the trials.

The story is told from the PoV of a street hooker called Emma who is Massively Confused about this rich-ass chav who's paying her and a bunch of other girls a lot of money for the privilege of... taking them to dinner at the Ritz?

The plan is to have Eggsy run a couple of 'tests' to check for general comatibility (the ritz), physical ability (free running? laser tag? adult-sized jungle gym? I haven't decided yet), and some sort of puzzle-solving/detectiving skills (city wide treasure hunt? some sort of pin the tail on the asshole rich guy??? still a bit vague on this one, ngl) and Emma eventually gets bonus points for pretty much figuring out what Eggsy's looking for and possibly catching him bugging them all and such.

And the grand finale is going to be Eggsy presenting these three to Merlin as his candidates, and ALL of the other agents and candidates pulling faces as the girls fly through the Kingsman tests in a little epilogue montage and, like, two out of three of them getting the job or something.

(Harry thinks it's delightful, and fist-bumps Eggsy when Emma's knighted, much to the agony of all the other stuffed-up inbred aristocrats in Kingsman)

Have an excerpt:

“If you want us to get in your car, you’re gonna have to tell us where the hell you’re taking us.” Emma informed him with a grimace. So far, he’d been remarkably polite and respectful, but she knew full well just how quickly that could change once a bloke didn’t need to be. And sure, there were more of them than there were of him, but she couldn’t guarantee on it staying that way.

Eggsy thought about it for a moment, then nodded in a ‘that’s fair’ sort of way. “Dinner at at the Ritz.” He informed them blandly, and then grinned with mischief.

“Bullshit.” Emma snapped.

Eggsy sobered up at that, but he didn’t look angry to be called out, or even irritated. He just looked sombre. “I give you my word, that’s all. Dinner, two hours, and I’ll drop you all back here in exactly the same condition you’re in now, only better fed, and maybe a little bit tipsy. They got good wine there.” He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “And you don’t have to come. The money’s yours whether you do or don’t, but hey, when else’re you gonna get to make all the waiters at the Ritz uncomfortable as hell?”

That was tempting, Emma had to admit, but she also had her kids to think about, and if she got abducted, who the hell would look after them? “Your word?” Laura challenged, unimpressed.

“A true gentleman never breaks his word.” Eggsy replied sincerely, and it was an odd thing to hear in such a common accent, but Emma was pretty good at reading people, and she was pretty damn sure he meant it.

#Kingsman #my wips

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gaysindistress · 7 months

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Since you did latina can you do arab that would be so cute plsss i love your fics its my favourite fics i have ever read

AHAH IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS!!! *crackles knuckles and rolls neck* it’s my time to shine.

This list has a special place in my heart since I’m Arab. Idk why I didn’t do this sooner but….

here is a list of things I think would happen if Bucky dated an Arab!reader

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

1. He would absolutely terrified of your mom and aunts.

You would warn him about them before you brought him home for the first time but nothing could prepare him for awaited him. The moment you stepped foot inside, your mom and aunt were upon him, touching, poking, grabbing, everything. They were all over him as he looked at you with wide eyes that begged to help him. You tried but your mom hit your hand with a sharp “khalas” as she leads him into the kitchen. Your dad is useless and backs away with his hands up when you look to him for help.

“Mami, bi sharafak. Give him some breathing room,” you gently demand as to not turn her attention to you.

Bucky’s gentle smile and even kinder eyes warrant even more commotion from the herd of women around him. They finally let him go after thoroughly interrogating him about everything under the sun and he instantly finds you. Wrapping his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your hair, he whispers to you that you’re not allowed to ever leave him alone with them again. When you ask him why, all he mumbles is something along the lines of “some many questions and the touching.”

“Food?” You ask as a peace offering and he happily accepts it.

2. Whenever he’s around you, he literally doesn’t stop complimenting you.

Maybe it’s your perfume, maybe it’s the way you style your hair, or maybe it’s your outfit that day. No matter what, he is ALWAYS complimenting you.

You have about 40 bottles of perfume but there are few that he loves more and will ask if you can wear them more often. At first, he would just casually mention that he liked how you smelled that day but the longer you’re together, the more obvious he is about it. He goes from asking if you can wear the gold one to straight up picking your perfume out for the day. It’s become a little routine at this point; when you’re getting dressed, he’ll pick something out and help you put it on. You’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself but it’s an excuse to have him close and to feel his hands on you. His favorite and the one he picks the most is the one that your mom got you as a graduation gift. You asked him one day why he liked it so much and he told you that it was what you wore the day you two met. That and it smells like “oranges and summer.”

Bucky is OBSESSED with your hair, maybe more than your perfume collection. It’s usually blown out and styled so he can’t touch it but it’s all over when you leave it natural. Of course he’s a gentleman and will ask if it’s okay to play with it before fully twisting his hand into your curls. They’re almost like a fidget toy for him; he’ll toy with a curl when you’re cuddling on the couch. If you’re in public, he’s gently massaging the base of your neck and playing with the little ringlets that live there. If you need to wash it, he’s right there with all of your products in hand. If you need to put it up, he’s already behind you and gathering your hair for you.

3. If you’re Muslim, he would try so hard to understand your religion.

I genuinely don’t believe that Bucky knows anything about Islam prior to meeting you. It’s possible he met a few Muslims in the 30s and 40s since he lived in Brooklyn but he knows nothing about Islam.

To put it mildly, America is a very interesting place when it comes to the Middle East and Islam and a lot of the information he gets at first is contradictory. When he learns that you’re Arab and also Muslim, he tries to do as much research as he can but ends up getting pissed off and stops. He’s not frustrated due to a lack of understanding, he’s livid that new sources are allowed to say whatever they want and no one stops it.

The following convo is just one example of when this happens:

Aside from wanting to never use the internet again, he’d take the time to sit down and talk to you about your different holidays so when they come around so that he understands what’s going on. He’d buy an English translation of the Qur'an so he can read with you. You’ve offered to read yours in English but he’s adamant that he wants his own. It’s adorable really.

I think he would try really hard to learn Arabic so that he can understand Islam better but it’s a very diffcult language to master. What’s even cuter though is watching him study a word and you can see those big beautiful blue eyes scan it over and over again as he thinks about how to say it. You don’t even try to help him as you sit back and shamelessly watch him. Your Arabic lessons usually end with him whispering “تقبرني” (taqburni) against your lips.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #Arab reader #Arab reader x Bucky #Arab!reader x Bucky #request #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel

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alatabouleau · 1 year

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German terms of endearments for your fic

.Now, it's been two years since I've fallen into the X-Men/Cherik-fandom and one thing that I have seen continuously is people trying to find terms of endearment in German for Erik to use for Charles (or his mother for him). (I've lost count of how many times I've seen the word "Liebling" spelled wrong) And honestly, no offense. I know it's hard writing a character who speaks a language you don't. And obviously, you're gonna make mistakes. So I thought I'd share my knowledge as a mother tongue in German and let you know some of the most common ways we described our loved ones. ;) DISCLAIMER: I am but one single person, grown up south-east from Berlin, I DO NOT speak for the whole of Germany, nor do I ever intent to, especially since we are anything but a cultural monolith. Just keep that in mind while reading. ;)

Exclusively romantic terms: - Liebste (fem.)/ Liebster (masc.) : literally means "most loved". Closest English equivalent is probably "love" or "beloved". Bit old-fashioned. Makes you sound like a 20th-century-gentleman. ;) Make sure to write it "I-E" NOT the other way around! It would make the opposite sound. - Geliebte (fem.) / Geliebter (masc.): literally "beloved". Makes you sound even older, like Jane-Eyre-19th-century-old. Again, I before E. - Süße (fem.) / Süßer (masc.): literally "sweetie" (I KNOW this is probably now confusing, but trust me.) This is where we get into the... sappy side of German. Like, there are some mid-forty/fifty-couples who use that, but the rest makes it probably just cringe. (I know I am right now really helpful by starting with those that are not really modern, but I've seen this used because people translating English terms so I just wanted to say it here.)

Terms for both romantic and parental love: - Liebling: literally "darling". Classic, neutral, always the safe option for every situation. (I before E ;) ) - Schatz: literally "treasure". Again, safe option, though this leans rather to the romantic side, but can be used for children either way. And then of course, some animal pet names may be used for either children or romantic partners, but honestly, I don't know any couples who do that. So, those will go into the parental category, I'm afraid.

Terms for children: -Spatz: "sparrow". That's what we basically use as "sweetie". You can also use the diminutive "Spätzchen" for either toddlers or said by grandmothers. -Maus: "mouse". same thing. Diminutive is "Mäuschen". Tendency in usage for girls, but can work for either gender. (This is what my Mom still calls me sometimes even though I'm already 22! XD) -Motte: "moth". This is now really rather for girls, and rather those whose names start with M. -Krümel: "crumb". Not used by many, rather comes from the North, also rather used for unborn children in the womb. -Fussel: "fluff". Also not that common but can be cute in my PoV. :) -Hase: "rabbit". Diminutive is "Häschen". This one's rather for boys in my experience.

And then again, at the end of the day, expressions of affection are personal and as we get more personal in German, we tend to use our respective dialects. Yes, there are actually quite a many dialects for our relative "small" country. Around 30, to be concrete. Though they are all decreasing in being used, sadly, as we get more and more globalized and mobilized. However, here are some examples that I know, my knowledge being utterly limited as I am only one single person from the region south of Berlin:

-Kleene (fem.) / Kleener (masc.): "little one". If you ever have a character originating from Berlin or south of Berlin, this can be used for children. -Meechen: "girl" in the dialect of the region called "Lausitz" around the border of Brandenburg and Saxonia. Also for kids. -Schätzelein: diminutive of "treasure" in Colognian dialect. Romantic in nature, though it can also be used in a way like hairdressers in American movies sometimes call their customers "sweetie". (please, if there's a person from Cologne here, correct me on that!) -Liebchen: "darling" or "beloved" in Saxonian dialect, I believe. Rather used by old couples. -Min Dern (fem.)/ Min Jung (masc): "my girl/boy". Northern dialect. In the region around Hamburg, if I remember correctly. Used for kids.

That's it for the moment. I will probably add to this list whenever I learn some new, but I hope this is already helpful for some people. Have a great day! :) Also, if to other German mother-speakers, feel free to share your perspective, correct me if I did put something in the wrong region or enlighten me with other words.

#fandom things #fanfiction writing #german things #germany #cherik #kurt wagner #erik lehnsherr #ao3 stuff #translation

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beautflstranger · 3 months

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Some years ago, in a dimly lit restaurant on the upper east side with tables closely nested together, I watched an intriguing scenario unfold.

A well dressed gentleman entered with a woman, and were seated at the tiny table next to the one where I was.

Their conversation was based mainly upon his speaking, with the woman asking permission for literally everything.

He ordered their entire meal.

What happened next was unlike anything I'd ever seen in Manhattan.

She sat completely still, her hands at her side, while he began to feed her, interspersed with sips of wine.

My eyes and conversation were solely focused on my dinner companion, but my peripheral vision was watching this erotic scene unfold.

She asked his permission to be excused. 30 seconds later, I excused myself, as I was that curious to know more.

I was putting on lipstick in the ladies room, as she was washing her hands.

She politely nodded and smiled, complimenting my dress.

An opportunity for a conversation.

Typical of the city, you will have the most amazing conversations with complete strangers, never seeing them again.

It was a relationship that she had entered 6 months prior. "Kind of 9 1/2 Weeks," was how she explained it.

A complete power exchange relationship.

Slave to her Master.

I can't help but wonder what became of them.

Did she one day leave in tears, spiraled in a complete breakdown, similar to the end scene of 9 1/2 Weeks?

Or, are they still, in some darkly lit elegant restaurant, him proferring her bites of food?

- beautflstranger

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laughingsour · 1 year

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The (Laugh?) Sad Tale of Joy Boy

(Spoilers ahead, don’t read if you haven’t caught up with the manga)

This analysis came about from me remembering the ending of Wind Waker and the line from Amphibia’s true colors: “That’s the thing about friends isn’t it? The more you love ‘em the more it hurts when they go”

I don’t think a lot of people have caught on to the truly heartbreaking irony in the title of Joy Boy. That, despite his cheery name, his story did NOT have a happy ending.

We already know that the 20 kings (and Imu, most likely) won 800 years ago and destroyed most of what Joy Boy and his allies and friends accomplished.

This not only means that the many races of the world were doomed to persecution and racism by humans but it also means that the technology of the world was regressed to the point that they can only begin to catch up after 800 years (and largely because the man responsible is said to be 500 years ahead of his time) and the people don’t even know what they have lost.

Think about it, in the Jaya arc Robin examines a skull from the fallen galleon and deduces that they medically relieved him of a tumor by making a hole in the skull, without anesthesia. It’s a forgotten practice by the present time, but it still proves that medicine had to evolve to resort to less gruesome methods. And in the East Blue they mentioned that scurvy was only recently fully understood. None of these things are an issue for us because of current medical knowledge.

Of course not every technological advancement is good and some of them have actually caused horrific results both in the One piece world and real life. But people have an unfortunate tendency to take for granted the good things science has given us.

Back to the original topic though, if the Ancient Kingdom had won the One piece world would be unrecognizable to the one we’ve come to known. We don’t know how much for the better, but the 20 kings were very much afraid that such a world could have existed and of a man who‘s implied to have had a pretty innocent dream

When someone who doesn’t make sense to the rest of the world appears there’s two things that can happen with them. Either the world destroys them and who they are at their core, or the world is forced to change to make sense of them.

Joy Boy was definitely one such person in the past like Luffy is in the present. But unlike Luffy, when met with the violent nature of the world, he couldn’t beat it because of some cruel twist of fate. (Or perhaps betrayal? I think Imu knew the first Joy Boy or they wouldn’t keep the frozen straw hat).

Even if (when) Luffy wins and fulfills the original Joy Boy’s dream, the original Joy Boy didn’t, no matter how hard he tried.

But the 20 king were still unable to destroy who Joy Boy was at his core: a dreamer. The very reason that he had friends who loved him. And because of that, Joy Boy had to dream even further than thought posible and imagine that someone else would appear in the future who was like him. Surprise, surprise, that came true.

But he still died without fulfilling his promise. And he and his friends, like all people eventually do one way or another, had to part ways.

But no matter how much Joy Boy may think he failed his friends, they love him no matter what and believe in him. And go on to make sure Joy Boy’s dream of a new person like him appearing comes true. (And adopt the name D. as one of their methods?)

Even so, Joy Boy himself lost and his loss is felt by all who knew him because he is no longer there. Which isn’t the same as the memory of a person. Luffy may be the heir of Joy Boy, but he isn’t Nika (or whatever his real name was).

Imagine if Brook didn’t have the Revive fruit. Laboon would have kept waiting for someone who wouldn’t come back; and even if Luffy gave him a new reason to keep waiting, it still would be a very different person than the perverted-dad (skull?) joke telling-musical gentleman that Laboon knew, wouldn’t it? In this regard Brook is luckier than Joy Boy was.

That always was one of the most horrible things about the World Government, thinking people are expendable. They are not. Galley-La couldn’t make a new Going Merry even if they had the original blueprints because the crew that sailed her would notice small things that are not there anymore.

Although his memory and dreams for a new Dawn in the world are very much alive, the fact he lost so long ago after giving it his all cannot be undone. Similarly the 800 years of abuse the Government, the Celestial Dragons and Imu have inflicted cannot be undone either and many people who dreamed to see themselves free did not live to see it happen.

Is it any wonder then that a piece of the Rio Poneglyph, one of the only means of the Ancient Kingdom to communicate and perhaps the most crucial historical document in the One Piece world, is an apology letter from Joy Boy?

His dream will come true after all in such a way that will be mind-boggling to the point of it being funny, no matter what the world has thrown his way, which may be why Roger laughed.

What I mean to say is that I’m sure Joy Boy’s story will be extraordinarily tragic and yet triumphant somehow. And in line with who Luffy is, he’s not unbreakable.

But he’s not finished yet.

#One Piece #joy boy #op spoilers #gear 5 luffy #egghead arc #Luffy #Imu #sun god nika #op brook #As King Daphnes said “This is the only world your ancestors were able to leave you”#“Please…forgive us”#op theory #ohara #gol d. roger #one piece analysis

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camprell-art · 10 months

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Vinicio is terrible at sleeping

also I only know how to measure with meters, sorry asjhdg

#my art #oc #original characters #vinicio leonard #edgar martin avilov #madeline aubinet avilov #evelyn klein #the gentleman of the east end

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mandoalorian · 11 months

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Hey Rach my love, could I request something soft with Javi P and gender neutral reader please.

Something where they're just relaxing in bed in each others presence. And Javi thinking how unbelievably lucky he is.

Love you loads x

Peace [Javier Peña x gn!Reader]

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1000 approx.

Warnings: Narcos-related themes so soft mentions of drug-use, war and violence. Mild sexual themes.

Notes: Love you so much Meg, my number one supporter<3 This isn't appearing in tags so please reblog to help spread it around and support my work<3

MASTERLIST

How did this happen? Javier adjusted himself, turning onto his side and watching you sleep next to him peacefully. With every breath, your chest would rise and fall, and tiny little snores escaped your lips, signifying you were in deep sleep.

Javier had been to war-- he'd killed people and watched his friends be killed. He'd seen first-hand how drugs took the lives of innocents, women and children. He'd chased and been chased. He'd thrown punches and been punched. He'd been through it all and yet he never imagined that, amidst this real-life nightmare, he'd have the privilege of meeting you.

He remembered the day so vividly. What was originally an office day had turned into a day of chasing a Cartel lead and had ended in a shanty bar east of the small village in South America where he'd been staying. He spotted you sitting underneath the cheap amber lights, nursing a whiskey, slumped alone on a bar stool, staring into the almost empty glass. It was a vision he'd never forget. You weren't local, but instead, visiting the area on an expedition for work.

Javier never usually had any trouble with approaching attractive individuals such as yourself, but with you, he hesitated. He didn't want to hit on you or plan on taking out any of his sexual frustrations with you. But he was a gentleman and he would offer to buy you a drink.

"Rough day?" Javi asked you, his smooth-as-silk voice breaking your stare with the whiskey glass.

"Rough day." you confirmed with a huff, offering the man a weak smile.

"Hm," Javier hummed. "Can I fill you up?"

You almost choked on your own tongue. "Excuse me?"

Javier barked out a laugh at your reaction, realising his words could have been easily misinterpreted considering the circumstances.

"Your glass," Javier laughed. "Can I buy you a drink?"

You never usually felt inclined to accept drink offers from strange men but Javier seemed different. You weren't the naive type either. You could trust your instinct therefore you could trust him. You accepted the Agent's offer and watched him as he turned away and headed to a free space void of crowds at the bar. He seemed like a natural, getting the bar maids attention immediately.

The day you met Javier he was wearing tight denim jeans and a pale yellow button-down. Clipped to his belt was an officer badge with the word 'DEA' engraved into it. You later accused Javier of wearing the emblem to impress you, but he still remained adamant that he'd simply forgotten to take it off.

You and the agent bonded quickly and hit it off so well. Javier had never connected with anyone the way he connected with you, not even his ex-fiancee, Lorraine. You were different.

You interrupted Javier out of his thoughts, calling out his name tiredly as you rubbed your sleepy eyes.

"Oh, hey honey," Javier said, placing a chaste kiss atop your forehead. His moustache tickled against your skin.

"What time is it?"

"Just past three," Javier replied, leaning over you to check the alarm clock on your bedside.

"Oh my God," you dramatically pulled your pillow out from under your head and put it over your face. "Why are you awake?"

"Was just thinking about how lucky I am to have met you," Javier answered truthfully. You let out a groan and Javi walked you playfully before pulling the pillow away from you so he could see your beautiful face once more.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," he imitated. "I love you so much."

You wanted to bite back with something snarky but you were simply too sweet on your boyfriend to do that. Sighing in defeat, you cuddled up next to him and buried your head into the warmth of his chest.

"I love you too."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #request #javier pena #Javi peña #javier peña x reader #narcos

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jaidens · 4 months

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Can you do a Steve randle fic where the reader's dad won't let her keep dating him so they have to keep it a secret but they get found out anyway and the fic is really angsty but it ends fluffy between Steve and y/n

i would marry you in secret

pairing [s] : steve randle x fem!reader

warnings [s] mentions of : controlling parents, hatred against greasers, violence with the plot of “The Outsiders”

a/n [s] : hey… hi everyone

In Tulsa, there was an obvious separation between the Greasers and the Socs. It was hard enough living in an environment with such prejudice, but when you fell head over heels for one of the Greasers; it was even worse. Your father was a wealthy businessman man, who had already set up your life. You would inherit the money which would go to your husband, who was already decided to be one of his partners son; who was the head of the football team.

You couldn’t have cared less about his son’s ignorance, or the way he creepily sneaked up on you in the hallways. His disgusting aftershave that made you sick, and the switchblade that he kept in the back of his expensive pant pockets. Your secret life hadn’t been known by many. How you hung around the east side more than your own. Steve Randle had been the reason why you became such a ‘rebel’ by your parents. He had treated you better than anybody, even if it began on a stigma between the two of you. You were walking through the eastside, your purse pulled to the front of your body.

It wasn’t that you were scared of walking through, it was the cold weather that made you regret wearing the dress without a pair of warmer stockings. The wispy October air sent a shiver down your spine, and the trees blew leaves onto the ground. You ran your hands over your arms, hugging into yourself.

When you were relaxed, a voice had suddenly appeared behind you.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” The voice spoke, a small twang intertwined. “What’cha doing on this part of town?” You were finally given a look at the man. A thick denim jacket, smears of grease and oil splattered on his blue uniform. His hair was perfectly swooped, and a warm smile grazed his lips.

“I don’t want any trouble. I’m just walking home.” Embarrassingly, a chitter hit your voice when you were talking. The man waved his hands in the air. “No trouble here. Do you want my jacket, you seem cold.” You weren’t able to even disagree, when his jacket was wrapped around your shoulders.

“I’m Steve. Steve Randle.” Steve smiled at you, and put his hand out to be shaken. You shook it with a matching smile on his face. He happened to walk you home, and only show you the kindness of a southern gentleman. Steve explained about his job, his family, his brothers, and told you many facts about his favorite type of car.

You undeniably began to swoon over the man. You chose to walk the wrong route home, just in case Steve showed up to walk you home. One of the days, it had happened. He was waiting for you, and small flower that had been plucked from one of the local florist stands. You took it, and Steve put it in the pocket of your handbag.

You had traded your number for the flower, and now you had been anxiously awaiting his call in the depths of your room. You shivered underneath your blankets whenever the phone rattled on your wall, and you jumped up to answer it. “Hello!” You had blurted quite loudly.

“Were you waiting for my call, doll? Can I come over? It has been awhile since you visited me.” Steve said, clicking his tongue as he finished to signify his sarcasm laced words. “Sure.. but be quiet. My parents are on a date, but I still have neighbors." You giggle once the phone is hung up against the wall.

You looked in your vanity mirror, giving yourself a quick smile and lying down back in bed. Ten minutes later, you can hear the sound of knocks against your bedroom window. You open your curtains and find Steve with a big smile crowding his face. You smile once the window is open and he attaches a small peck to the apple of your cheek. “Well hello to you too!”

Steve crawls through the window and falls against your bed. His usual work uniform was replaced with a pair of dark blue jeans, and a relaxed white tee. You couldn’t lie to his face, but he was the most handsome man you had seen in a while. He gives you a dumb smile, his pearly whites shining at you. Steve made you giddy, and made you want to draw hearts all over his face.

“I missed you.” You admit quietly. Steve’s hand goes to the heart of your face and he caresses the skin gently. His eyes capture yours, and he nods. There's bruises that litter his face, and on his nose is a dark purple and green bruise. “What happened here, love?" The name makes Steve perk up, but then sink down.

“Some Socs on our side of town were messing with me when I was doing stuff.” Steve explains, a sense of anger that pulls through his words. You give him a small frown, and put a small kiss against the tip of his nose. “It was that guy your Dad wants you to marry.” Steve’s added words makes your heart race with added anger. David had been one of the worst men you had met, and he would walk the wrong way home just to mess with the Greasers.

“I hate him.” You groaned, slapping the back of your hand across your forehead and falling against your pillows. Steve followed, putting his head against your secondary pillow. He pulled you close, his hands wrapping around your back. You giggled as he kissed you, your hand falling against his chest. In the quietly moment, you had fallen asleep against his warmth. The sound of his heart beating, and the idea that he was a portable heater caused you to doze off into the corner of his shoulder and neck.

In what seemed to be a perfect moment, a sudden rush of yelling at the sound of your father screaming at Steve. His face was more angry than anything you had seen. He had picked Steve up by the shoulder and was yelling at him to leave. “Dad! What are you doing!?” You frantically screamed, but your mother’s crabby hands had pulled you away from attacking your father’s face.

Steve caught your eye as he solemnly left, embarrassed more than anything. You, on the other hand, had your blood boiling as you huffed and yelled at your dad. However, your father would have always been right.

“Dad, I love him and he loves me! What’s so hard about that?” Your father put his hand on the table, his finger in your face, and broke the thin glass. “It is because he is a dirty Greaser! He’s trouble!” In a fit of rage, you grabbed your sweater and left the house with a slam of the door. You wipe away the tears that drip, with only two things in your mind: Steve Randle and the east side.

Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to leave with the freezing air breaking through your sweater. You walk quicker once you hear some distant yelling and the recognizable neighborhood that lived The Curtis’ home. It was where Steve would go during hard times, and it also held where his best friend was. You hadn’t ever been in the house, you had only seen him walking there or saying bye to his friends that disappeared in the small home.

You walk closer to the home, whose porch light was on and you could hear distant shouts of unhappy couples. You run up to the door, knocking against it and attempting to not freeze in the time it takes to open the door. A taller, older man opens the door. A dirty white t-shirt and baggy jeans. “Who is it!?” A shout from further away, knocks you back into reality. “Is Steve here?” The man nods, and yells for Steve to come out to the front door.

Steve walks in, hands in his pockets. You give him a small smile, and he frowns at you. “You shouldn’t be here.” He whispers once he comes into contact with your hand. “I know. But, I couldn’t leave you.” Steve pulls you forward before he kisses you while holding onto you tightly.

“Your daddy is gonna kill me.” Steve says once he pulls you back in for another round of shared kisses.

Maybe he would, but you’d rather die than be separated from Steve.

#steve randle x y/n #steve randle the outsiders #steve randle x reader #steve randle x female reader #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfic #the outsiders steve

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