#I don’t know what else to tag this as lmfao

[kaizokuniichan]

Attention Part 5 - Even Exchange

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro/AFAB Reader (referred to as she/her)/Trafalgar Law

Summary: You and Law finally come together in the most complete way.

Also known as: The chapter where Dev’s music nerdery is overwhelming (seriously there are an obscene amount of music references

CW: Mutual mastubation, oral sex, vaginal sex

Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Word Count: 4.8k

Author’s Note: Slight spoiler for Law’s new awakened technique. I’m not sure of the exact logistics of how it works so I took some liberties for the sake of plot.

MDNI; 18+ READERS PLEASE

Divider by @/cafekitsune and banner by @/eelnoise

As you blinked yourself awake and took in your welcoming surroundings your stomach twisted into knots. For a moment you believed you’d been tricked by your overactive imagination—god knows how many times you’d dreamed of him bringing you here. Unsurprisingly it was cozy and dimly lit, slightly fragrant with the spicy scent of incense. The walls of course were metal but that didn’t make it feel unnaturally cold. A grand, Cedar wood desk stood proudly across from the bed with well-worn books and various articles strewn about in a disorganized heap.

“What’s with the mess?”

Striding over to join you, he quickly stacked the books and shuffled his papers.

“You damn Strawhats have been a constant pain in my ass even more these days.”

Giggling, you slid off the bed to admire the shiny coins displayed on the shelf above.

“You collect these?”

With a start he looked up, ears burning as you leaned closer to inspect them.

“Uh yeah. Just a little hobby of mine to pass the time.”

Your chest tightened as it inflated with affection.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s cute. I like knowing you have something that helps your uptight, nonexistent ass unwind.”

He peered intently into your eyes and you suddenly felt shy, as you always were around him. His stare was always so intense.

“Feel free to take a tour around the place. It’s not much but I’m happy to share it with you. If you’d like to stay.”

You cocked a mischievous brow.

“Are you planning on ravishing me tonight Law?”

He smiled without any skin-crawling lecherousness.

“I would love to, but we certainly don’t have to. You don’t even have to stay here tonight if you don’t want. I just wanted to show you my room and spend some time together since we’ve...had to keep a lower profile these days.”

“Not that it really matters considering Jean Bart keeps making suggestive comments about how his captain won’t stop drooling over me.”

His cheeks tinged a soft pink, yet he was bold enough not to deny it.

“Well…he might not be wrong.”

He gave you a crooked smile as he looked you up and down, letting his eyes drag over your bare legs exposed by your sleep shorts. As your body heated you felt a distant second heartbeat in your pelvic floor. You’d never not be amazed by how openly he desired you. How someone like him could desire you. You were someone whom he lusted after, and while it was exhilarating, it was also quite intimidating.

It’d been hard being so near him when you couldn’t touch him the way you wished. Onboard the Sunny you’d been nothing short of a stubborn barnacle at his side—shamelessly sidling up and wrapping yourself around him in an immovable grip. You’d been cautious during the early days of your tentative connection, but the more time you spent together—and after your very passionate excursion in the aquarium—you found him more than willing to allow you to handle him however you pleased, even responding in his own way. A secret squeeze of your thigh under the table and a brush of fingers when you were out in the open were his subtle showings of reciprocity. And of course the many secret kisses. Those were the best.

“Is there uh, a bathroom nearby? I’m a little warm. Wanna splash some water on my face.”

“Am I making you nervous?” He teased, eyes still twinkling with mirth.

“Um. Yes?”

He was so smug you wanted to kick him—he really could be such a bastard when he wanted. Sometimes he liked to be cheeky, and you loved those rare moments where he was laid-back and playful. How it made the cadence of a snare drum kick against your ribs.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom just to the left of the bed.”

“Oh how fancy.”

He stepped closer and in a mild panic you leaned to the side and rolled across the bed to where the bathroom stood. His soft laugh became muffled as you closed the door behind you.

The bathroom itself was nothing extravagant, but you hadn’t expected it to be. Perfectly practical, it was minimally furnished with nothing but the bare essentials. Two towels hung on a wooden rack, two toothbrushes sitting in a cup on the small counter. A grey bath mat lay at the foot of the shower stall, and from what you could see inside the shower, containers of liquid soap, shampoo, and conditioner.

As you walked up to the sink you noticed a small bottle of what appeared to be an oil cologne. Opening it and taking a sniff you were stricken with the same heady aroma he always carried on his skin and clothes. The scent, blended with a hint of antiseptic, always lingered after your brief hugs, and you’d spent many a night breathing it in whilst your hands played between your legs. Just a small whiff brought an immediate wetness to your panties.

Setting the bottle back down, you faced your reflection in the small mirror and pondered just how fuckable you looked. Your deliberation was tireless but necessary, and you wondered what it’d be like to fuck him. How he’d look. What he sounded like. What he tasted like. Were you going to fuck him tonight? You very much wanted to, but you were so anxious as to whether or not you’d even be good enough for him. You’d never had any complaints from previous partners, but Law seemed like someone who was difficult to please. What if it made things awkward? He was already such an awkward man, you’d hate if things became even more awkward.

“I hear you thinking in there, so I’ll just send you back to your room if you want.”

You bounded for the door and flung it open in a panic.

“Don’t you dare.”

He sat on the bed facing away from you.

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure.”

“I don’t feel pressured. I wanna stay here with you tonight.”

He turned to face you skeptically, refusing to move an inch from his seat.

“Law just get comfy. And take off those damn heeled boots.”

With another small smile he rose from the bed and crossed over to a closet you hadn’t noticed. Kicking off his shoes and pulling his sweater over his head, he revealed inch by inch the dark ink on his back contrasting with his tan skin—slightly obscured by the white tank top he’d been wearing underneath. You growled in frustration as he sat back down.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning his body to look at you.

“Nothing, it’s just. You spend all day with your shirts almost fully unbuttoned so I get a full view of your tits, but now that we’re alone you won’t even let me get a proper look.”

He turned back around and you were utterly mesmerized by the way his shoulders and biceps were accentuated by the flimsy fabric.

“I don’t do free shows, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

“You give enough free shows every day with those slutty clothes of yours.”

His breathy laugh filled you with tendrils of honey.

“Maybe if you’re good you’ll get something special.”

You hoped the sound of your gulp was only audible to you.

He observed with amusement as you stumbled over to the other side of the room, reaching your destination back at the desk. When you rested your bottom on the edge your fingers played with the grooves in the wood.

“I think we’ve done enough talking today Law.

His bouncing leg halted when you leaned back on your hands.

“I think so too.”

“Then…come here.”

If you could find a word to describe the way his body moved you’d settle on saunter. His lithe form beheld true majesty as he glided over to you—a little terrifying and absolutely thrilling.

He now towered over you, heavily sunken eyes filled with an almost primal, commanding lust. The tips of his fingers touched your cheek as he stepped closer, and the front of his legs pressed into yours.

You scooted back when he softly ordered you to sit. Immediately you spread your legs to allow him to accommodate the space between, and you looked into his eyes as he cradled your face. Blown wide irises roved endlessly as he studied you, mapping out every delicate feature. You placed a hand on his chest while the other reached up to play with the small hoop earrings in his lobe, tracing your thumb along the smooth surface.

You felt his body shudder as you tickled his sideburns, running your pads down his jawline where they met with his goatee. An indecipherable sound rumbled in his chest when he stepped deeper into your space, and he tightened the hand around the back of your neck as he leaned down.

There was no fanfare when your lips melded into a careful kiss. Your hand on his chest tightened it’s hold and wrinkled the fabric of his shirt while the other wrapped around his neck. It was uncertain whose tongue slipped into whose mouth first but they soon became entwined.

His hands slid down your sides in slow reverence as a whine curled in your throat. When he pulled you closer to bring your center flush with his hips, you marveled at how perfect he felt. Far better than what you could ever have imagined. Despite his lanky appearance his body was sturdy and solid. Carefully crafted as a means for survival.

Your hands continued to caress each other as he dug his fingers into your hips. Unsurprisingly (or maybe surprising to you) he was hard, and you felt a quaking in your thighs that would’ve made you crumble to the floor if you’d been standing. He continued to grip you with more assurance — much more demanding than any other time he’d touched you. Slipping his hands beneath your shirt to fondle your breasts, his thumbs rolled lightly over your nipples as he spread his fingers over your ribs. Throaty whimpers pierced your lust-filled haze as your hips undulated against his, desperately seeking relief.

His lips slipped from yours to make a drunken voyage down your jaw, teeth catching on your skin and licking flames of heated passion behind. He clutched you impossibly close and you wrapped your legs around him.

“You’re crushing all of my papers,” he murmured, voice low and dipped in chocolate.

“Good. Fuck those papers.”

Your hand began a journey to the top of his jeans, unfastening the button and pulling down the zipper. His hand came to grasp yours as if to stop you, and when you looked up you were met with a question lining his golden irises. You reassured him with a nip at his bottom lip, sliding his pants down just enough to comfortably slip your hand inside. His body was hot and trembled with restraint, and he let out a hiss when you swirled a thumb over the already wet, flushed head.

The air in the room suddenly felt cold when he stepped back.

“I...I want you to watch me.”

Your mind became waterlogged as he took a seat across from you on the bed.

“If you really want to hold my attention take that shirt off.”

He smirked, shifting back and pulling his jeans down to the middle of his thighs.

“You first.”

You hadn’t expected this level of sultry confidence from him. Normally he was especially careful when the two of you were alone—never wanting to make you feel as if he was taking advantage. He’d always allowed you to lead.

Yet the basis of your relationship had always been an even exchange, and you were more than willing to comply.

His breath hitched when you slipped your shirt over your head to reveal your bare chest and pert nipples, and his eyes kept yours leashed as he began to stroke himself. You’d never felt more assured of his attraction to you than when your eyes were tethered to his.

He allowed you a moment to admire his dick as he removed his shirt, and you were almost too eager to have it in your hands. Or mouth. Or pussy. Anywhere he wanted to put it really.

He leaned back, allowing dribbles of pre-cum to leak onto his abs, and you wrestled with your mind to accept the reality that this unbelievably gorgeous man was pleasuring himself to the live image of you. With his shirt tossed aside, he allowed you to feast on the hilly planes of inked tan skin and sinewy muscles, all converging into a delectable point between his pelvic bones.

“Law...do you even realize how sexy you are?”

His mouth quirked with pride, still languidly stroking himself.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, the soft tenor of his voice making you throb.

“I refuse to believe I’m the first person to tell you this.”

He sucked in air through clenched teeth and moved his hand faster.

“Well, you’re the first person it ever mattered to hear it from,” he sighed, the flushed head poking between the middle of his fist.

“You want it?” he asked.

“God yes,” you breathed as your pussy clenched.

He leaned over to grasp the rolling chair at his desk and dragged it over in front of him.

“Sit here.”

Almost immediately you complied. Pulling off your shorts and opening your legs you felt the cool air seep into the dampness of your panties.

“Are you gonna put on a show for me Law?”

His hips stirred and he picked up the pace, lips parting as he took in short breaths.

“If that’s something that you want.”

Your center continued to pulsate and you went to snap your legs closed when he grunted a sound of disapproval and shook his head.

“No. Let me see you.”

You’d heard him be commanding before—he was the Captain of a notorious pirate crew after all. But this new authoritative tone he directed at you suggested he wasn’t to be defied, and it excited you. So you opened your legs for him.

“What would you like for me to do Law?”

He breathed shallowly as he pumped himself—liquid pearls dribbling over his knuckles.

“I want…you. All of you. But first I’d like to see how excited you can get for me.”

You let your hand drift between your legs as a sumptuous chill trickled down to your toes.

“Why won’t you touch me?”

He huffed, spreading his legs wider as he bucked his hips.

“He’s already done that for you, hasn’t he?”

Heat fanned across the back of your neck as you were brought back to your kitchen dalliance with Zoro several days prior.

“I wanna do things differently.”

You huffed in frustration. “Well…at least let me put your dick in my mouth.”

His hand stilled as a surprised chuckle escaped him.

“We can do that in a little while. Spread your legs and pull your panties to the side for me.”

You wanted to protest and move things along far more quickly but you understood his need to move at his own pace. And the slow-burning foreplay was definitely not unwelcome.

It was almost embarrassing how slick-saturated your panties had become as you tugged them to the side. Cautiously you looked down and swirled your finger around your bud, releasing a sigh of relief.

“Look at me.”

It’s not that you’d never had an audience before, but Law’s presence made you incredibly self-conscious and unsure.

But as you looked back to him you remembered what made you fall for him in the first place. He’d been so insistent on fixing a part of yourself you’d believed to be broken—like the worn binding of an aged book—and he’d repaired you good as new. Your heart bloomed with achingly sweet love.

Your eyes fluttered while slipping a finger inside yourself, and he groaned as his fist moved faster.

“Fuck. Never seen anything so pretty.”

You melted.

“Oh Law.”

His brows furrowed as he tugged himself, adam’s apple bobbing with every gulping breath. You clenched when you added another finger.

“You want me to eat that pretty pussy of yours?”

You whined louder than you’d intended.

“Yes. Law please.”

“Slip another finger inside.”

Your body was wracked with shudders that had nothing to do with the cold air. A stone sunk into your belly as you eyed his dick still being fisted in front of you. He was much thicker than what you were capable of providing for yourself, even while pumping the three fingers inside you without being told to do so. Finding it difficult to keep contact with his probing eyes you dropped your head back with a shameless moan.

“Law I want you so badly.”

You heard him grunt as he halted his movements.

“I wanna give it to you love.” Suddenly his eyes flew open.

“Um..I mean...”

You lifted your head back up and smiled.

“Did you just call me love?”

“I didn’t mean…that’s not what I meant to say.”

His scrambling was impossibly cute and completely fruitless. Sliding off your seat you knelt down and settled between his legs. When you looked up his lips were parted and glistening as his chest heaved imperceptibly faster.

“You know, you called me baby that one time too.” He rolled his eyes to hide his embarrassment but you saw it anyway. “I never took you as the type to give pet names.”

Covering his scorching hand with yours, you gripped his fist and guided him, squeezing it in with reassurance.

“It was just a slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Oh didn’t you?” You gave him a pout. “Am I not your baby? Am I not your love?”

He cupped your cheek with his other hand, tilting your face up to look at you properly. What a sight you must’ve been, nestled between his legs as he pulled himself closer to release. You hoped it was everything he’d dreamed of. He leaned down to give you a kiss, gripping your jaw tightly.

“I’ll call you whatever you like. I’ll give you whatever you like.”

You shook your head and you leaned back.

“I’m gonna give you something first. Straighten up and watch me.”

You could see him wanting to argue but your sharp look held him back. He sat up and watched as you leaned closer to run your tongue along the trail of dark hair leading to where both your hands held him. The pheromones of his desire left you intoxicated as you transformed into a feral seductress for him—burying your head between his legs. After swatting his hand away you wasted no time. Despite the saltiness that stained your tongue it was mixed with a decadent sweetness. Slowly you picked him apart as you licked along the underside.

The heavy hand gripping the back of your head was welcomed, though he still made no move to force you down. For now he was weakened by the endless weeks filled with pining and yearning, and he allowed you to take control. The wait had proven to be worthwhile as you slid further down until your nose met his pelvis. He felt heavenly in your mouth. As he tickled your esophagus you were brought back to a supposed trick given to you by a friend that was said to prevent gagging. Tucking your thumb into your fist you sucked him slowly, bobbing your head up and down gently. His other hand came back to rest on your cheek in a moment of tenderness that counteracted the sublime sin in your mouth.

Evidently the supposed trick was proven to be false for when he poked the back of your throat you gagged. His hands attempted to pull you off but you remained in place—resigned to keeping him completely encased in your warmth. Taking one of his hands off your face you tangled your fingers together and breathed through your nose, resuming your hedonistic suckling.

The faster you sucked the more his breaths became ragged. He was a fairly respectable man when he wasn’t a merciless pirate, though his careful respectfulness only encouraged your mouth to service him more provocatively. He deserved it. You let your saliva run freely as trails of drool dribbled past your lips, lapping your tongue sloppily around the shaft. With an erotic hum you slurped him down your throat. He panted as more of your mouth juices coated your fingers, and he gripped your head tighter as curses tumbled from his lips.

“Fuck. You love having me in your mouth, don’t you?”

You removed yourself from his length and sat back on your knees, eyes wet from your fervent efforts.

“I love it. I love it so fucking much.”

He shifted to lean his arm on the mattress, cocking his head to the side.

“You want me to fuck your pretty mouth?”

You were unable to answer, too preoccupied with rocking back and forth for some relief.

“Well?”

You took him in your hand and stroked idly as you carefully considered your words.

“I wanna shove you so far down my throat that I can hardly breathe.”

The hand still on your head tugged you closer until you were a mere centimeter away. Your tongue poked out to swipe kitten licks along the head.

“Go ahead and show me how much you want me”

Molten molasses dripped into your panties as you gobbled him up, consuming him completely. You pulled more grunts from his lips, licking, bobbing, and slurping noisily. You made it nasty, showing how much you hungered—how much you craved him. No longer holding himself back he groaned and began thrusting into your mouth. Holding you in place he bucked his hips, shoving himself further down your throat. All hesitancy of his vanished as he used you, tugging his pants down his knees and squeezing his thighs around your head. His ragged breaths grew heavier as you brought him closer and closer to the edge, and you prepared yourself to swallow his milk when he forcefully pulled you off.

“Law please, let me...”

“Get up and lay on the bed.”

You wanted to continue protesting but you were still in an agreeable mood and did as you were told, sitting down on the plush mattress and scooting back against the pillows. He stood to remove his pants and boxers in one fell swoop, making the mattress dip as he mirrored your previous position between his legs.

“I’m gonna give you something he hasn’t, and I want you to picture him watching as I make you cum.”

An icy fist clutched your heart as flashes of green skittered across your mind’s eye. You could almost feel the other stolen piece of your heart toss you a look of amusement as Law slid off your panties. A warm and dexterous tongue flicked between your lower lips and you let out a whimper and covered your mouth.

“Lemme hear you,” he murmured into your skin, nosing your bud.

“I don’t want my voice to bounce off the walls. What if someone hears?”

He considered your words before sitting up.

“Room.”

An invisible, spherical barrier of chantilly lace enclosed your bodies in a noiseless cocoon.

“Silent.”

“What the hell was that?”

He laid back down and kissed your folds.

“Now no one will be able to hear you except for me.”

A thrill of electricity sparked as he hooked your legs over his shoulders—your heart thundering in your chest as his breaths puffed against your sex. A slick river of ambrosia trickled down towards your ass and he licked it clean, groaning as he buried his face into your pussy.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

You wished he hadn’t brought up your eventual departure as your eyes prickled with unshed tears.

“Law, please don’t.”

He licked a long stripe between your folds, wiggling his tongue inside to lap at your juices. Your head fell back as he devoured you, strumming the strings of your longing and playing a ballad of burgeoning ecstasy. The frolicking staccato of your moans married with the symphonic melody of your panting—crescendoing louder when he thrust three fingers inside. Notes of D, E, and A pulled a debaucherous allegro from your walls. He tuned your body to the very key of his choosing.

You clambered closer and closer to your peak and you knew you’d be too exhausted to continue if you prematurely toppled over the edge. With laborious difficulty you pulled him off your heat, shuddering as your body somersaulted back down.

“Law I need you to fuck me. I can’t wait anymore.”

Danger flashed in his eyes and you flattened yourself into the bed.

“I hope you know what you’re asking for. I’ve been holding myself back all this time.”

You knew he wasn’t just referring to tonight. Shuddering from the threat you opened your legs wider and parted your pussy lips with your fingers as an invitation to him. He covered your body with his and lay wet kisses on your face.

“Law. Please.”

His hand cupped your jaw and turned your head to the side, licking sloppy swipes of his tongue along your neck and down your throat. His hips ground against yours as he coated his dick with your juices.

Taking hold and positioning himself at your entrance, he poked your puffy flesh with his head. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he surged forward, halfway sheathing himself inside. He filled you more and more as he bucked his hips forward, further enveloping himself inside your wetness. As he settled at his hilt you brought your knees up, opening yourself completely for him to take.

“Law I want you to use me”

He throbbed and slid his arms beneath your back to grasp your shoulders and hold you close.

“I’m not going to use you. I’m going to pour everything into you that I’ve wanted to give to you all this time.”

You gasped when he thrusted roughly, the slow and steady rhythm of his balls slapping against your ass making you quiver. His mouth hovered over yours as his fingers dug into your flesh, and the harmony of your moans smoothed over the carnality of your want. Your sweat-slicked bodies glided against each other, and the squelching sounds of your slick ricocheted against the walls of your sonically concealed bubble. Senseless babbling urged him on as he fucked into you faster, knocking himself into your hips and pressing your knees up to your chest.

“Fuck, I wanna keep you. Wanna keep you right here with me. Can’t let you go.”

Goose-pimples freckled your flesh as you gushed around him. He’d hit your fleshy and sensitive center sooner than you’d hoped, and you arched off the bed with a wail.

“Law…Law…Law…” you chanted, curling into him when he released his bruising grip on your legs. As he continued grinding his hips the springs of the bed squeaked in exhaustion, and you were endlessly thankful for his versatile technique.

“Can I have you? Are you mine?”

“I’m yours Law. I’ll always be yours.”

You felt a moment of guilt knowing there was still another piece of your heart being held by another man, but you were soon distracted when the stilted pap, pap, pap of his hips grew rougher, and his hand lunged forward to grip the headboard. Your world was filled to the brim with watery sobs and heady groans, rising into an amalgamation of calcified bliss.

You came before him when his calloused fingers slipped over your bud in messy circles—quaking and shivering as your toes curled. Your body continued to shake as his skin slapped into yours, filthy promises of ruination filling your ears.

He soon pulled out and fucked into his fist in a frenzy, spilling himself on your stomach and thighs. Your heaving breaths intermingled with his as he dragged his dick filthily along the trail of his spend.

You were fucked. Physically and mentally so. The words you’d locked away in a carbon coated safe threatened to seep through the cracks as you tangled your fingers into his messy, onyx locks. He cradled your face in his hands, his new favorite thing to do, as he traced your lips with his thumb and littered kisses along your lips and cheeks. A painful sob threatened to escape, and you were frustrated as tears spilled from your eyes.

“Law I…”

“I know. Me too.”

Your happiness was bittersweet as you drew shapes along his back before he finally settled down beside you and covered you both with the covers. Turning to face him you slipped a leg between his and wrapped an arm over his waist, enjoying his heat seeping into your body.

With a flick of his wrist he muttered a “shambles” and your privacy dome disappeared, golden lights dimming as you both succumbed to a delicious, dreamy slumber.

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

i clicked on one (1) billy gif and now my entire “for you” is fucking harringrove, literally kill me now

[kannagen]

Kamala is Brat!!!! Stay mad!!! But your music exists in the context!!!!!

💀 this is the only ask i have like ever received on this blog y’all are so weird

maybe re-examine your life and what brought you to sending asks to random nobodies to defend a politician’s bratness. thoughts and prayers

[sunlightfeeling]

god i forgot how much i liked that cohost hid a lot of metrics…

(much ranting in the tags…)

[gothcsz]

Body Language | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 2 to this bad boy right here | ~8.2k wc | Series Masterlist | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Caught in a charged and unexpected moment with Javier Peña, you struggle between resisting his relentless seduction and giving in to the tension that has been building since the last shoot.

Tags: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, no use of Y/N, reader is shorter than javier but other than that no physical descriptions, some dirty talk, semi-public sex (we're in an elevator this time around), reader really doesn't like javi, steve being steve, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: this was supposed to be a short lil thing but then my ass had to drag it out just a little because their dynamic is very fun to write 😭 he's like whyyy don't you like me and she's like how much time do you have? lmfao. this is dedicated to @auteurdelabre 🖤 #1 pornstar javi stan, i almost submitted this for your trope off but decided to save that honor for my other story! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy javier begging to eat you out 🥂 let me know what you think 🖤 mandatory mutual tags: @almostempty / @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

You sit in the cramped waiting room outside of Robbie’s office, the stale air clinging to your skin as you shift uncomfortably in the worn-out chair. The place is too quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the city outdoors.

You glance at the clock on the wall, anxiety creeping up your spine. You have a shift at the bar in an hour, and time is slipping through your fingers. The laundry, the groceries, the endless list of errands— it all piled up today, and now you’re cutting it too close.

But you need this check. It’s the only reason you’re here, tapping your foot in impatience. If you don’t get it today, the money won’t hit your account in time to cover rent, and you really don’t want another lecture from your landlord. It’s bad enough you’re already behind— no need to give him more ammunition to chew you out.

You sigh and lean back, eyes closing as you try to drown out the frustration swirling in your head. That’s when you hear the unmistakable ding of the elevator down the hall and turn your head to see who’s joining.

Your stomach drops and you sit up straight. No. Not now. The air feels heavier, thick with that familiar irritation, as the slow, deliberate sound of boots against the tile grows louder. 

Javier Peña.

Just the thought of him sends a hot wave through your being, a mix of irritation and something else you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t want to think about that last shoot, the one where things shifted. Where shit got weird. You behind the camera, filming as always, while he was balls deep in another woman, claiming you were on his mind.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

“Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

It was like he’d stripped you bare with just a few words, leaving you more exposed than them in the midst of their carnal fucking. And the worst part? You’d been affected by it. Skin on fire, pussy wet. It also didn’t help that Steve had heard it too. The mic catching the flirting, the hitch of your breath getting stuck in your throat, clear as day.

He’d asked you about it later at Lucky’s, as promised, all smug and drinking that God-awful beer. But you’d brushed him off, hoping he’d drop it. Thankfully, he had— for the most part— but you could still feel his restlessness, wanting to stir the pot.

Now, Javier is here, of course, because the universe just loves to mess with you. You roll your eyes and cross your arms, leaning back against the chair in defiance. You refuse to look at him. You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he gets under your skin. 

His footsteps stop just a few feet away, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore. You can feel him looking at you, feel the weight of his brown eyes like a physical thing as they rake over your body.

You keep your gaze glued to the wall, focusing on the ugly, generic painting hanging there like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You gonna act like you don’t see me?” His voice is deep, smooth, and frustratingly cocky, just like always. 

You grit your teeth, biting back a response. You won’t give him an inch. Not again. This motherfucker will take a mile.

“Okay, so that’s what we’re doing.” Before you can react, he plops down beside you. You stiffen immediately, moving your crossed knees to the side, angling yourself away from him, as if the few inches of space will protect you from the onslaught of whatever the hell he’s about to say next.

He spreads his thighs wide, his posture screaming obnoxious confidence. You just barely catch a glimpse of his bulge pressing up against his left thigh and how the fuck does it look so big even when he’s soft? “You know,” he says, voice dripping with that lazy, arrogant drawl, “you’re the only woman that treats me like this, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

You snort, the sound sharp and humorless. You still don’t bother looking at him.

Javier frowns, flitting his tongue across the top row of his teeth. “Is it because I came off too strong the first time we met? ‘Cause if that’s the case; then I’m sorry. Can’t help myself from flirting with pretty little things like you.”

You roll your eyes so hard, it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of their sockets. He doesn’t sound sincere at all.

Thing is, you didn’t mind the flirting. Even if he, like he’s so romantically put it, does flirt with pretty little things all the time; it did make you feel like just that. Pretty. It’s what came after that soured your Javier Peña experience.

He huffs, like a petulant child, frustrated by your silence. You don’t give him the satisfaction of even a glance. Instead, you shift in your seat, your mind racing, wondering what the hell is taking Robbie so damn long. He never works, barely lifts a finger unless there’s money or something else in it for him, and now, suddenly, he’s busy? Yeah, right. He’s probably in his office jerking it to one of his films, getting off on his own work. Typical.

You’re done waiting. With a sharp movement, you stand, startling Javier, though you still don’t give him the time of day. He’s used to women catering to his every whim, hanging on his every word. You aren’t going to be one of them. Not even if he did manage to get you all hot and bothered.

You stalk over to the door and knock harder than necessary. “I’m busy,” his voice grumbles through the wooden surface, and you resist the urge to scream.

“And I need my check. Just slide it under the door or something,” you snap, the urgency in your voice making it clear that you’re not in the mood to get fucked around with.

There’s a pause, followed by the sound of shuffling papers before the door cracks open just enough for Robbie to stick his hand out, an envelope clutched between his fingers. He practically shoves it into your hand before slamming the door shut again.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the envelope with your name scrawled across the front. Surrounded by imbeciles. Just one shift to get through tonight, and then maybe, just maybe, you can get some peace. Enjoy the first weekend off you’ve had in months.

Now that you have what you came for, you spin on your heel and stride down the hallway, ignoring the handsome pornstar still lounging in the chair behind you. From your peripheral, you can see him sitting there, skinny jean clad legs spread, looking all annoyingly sexy without even trying. It would be so much easier if he were ugly— or literally anyone else. But no, it’s Javier fucking Peña, with his ridiculous good looks and that cocky smirk that could probably charm the panties off half the city if he wanted to (it probably has, to be honest).

You mentally map out the next hour: hit the bank, dash home to change, then off to work. You could walk to the bank, maybe catch a taxi home if you’re lucky. But with traffic in this city, luck isn’t really on your side. You start considering your options— do you skip changing and just head to work as you are? Would your other boss even care if you showed up a little underdressed? You’re so lost in your thoughts, focused on cutting corners to save time, that you don’t hear the quiet footsteps behind you.

It’s not until the elevator dings and you step inside that you realize you’re not alone. Javier’s slipped in just before the doors close, sliding smoothly into the cramped space beside you. The sudden proximity makes your heart do this stupid little jump, and you curse yourself for it. You’re trapped now— stuck way too close to him in the tiny metal box.

The air feels charged, his presence impossible to ignore yet again. The smell of his aftershave hits you first— spicy, with a hint of something woodsy, layered under the scent of his leather jacket and the faint, lingering whiff of cigarette smoke. He tries to drown it out with minty gum, but it’s still there, clinging to him like an old habit. And damn it, your knees go a little weak, despite your best efforts to stay cool.

The height difference between you is glaringly obvious now. You’re eye level with the habitually open portion of his cream colored shirt, the buttons undone just enough to give a peek at his brown chest. It’s frustrating how effortlessly he pulls off the whole rugged look— like he doesn’t even try, but somehow manages to look better than most men who spend hours on it.

You swallow hard, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you can smell him, that you can feel the heat radiating off his body in the tight space. He’s just too close, and the damn elevator isn’t moving fast enough. You’ve got a million things to worry about right now—rent, work, your life— and the last thing you need is to be distracted by him.

But, like always, he’s right there, invading your space, making it impossible to think of anything else.

“What the fuck do you want?” You snap, breaking your vow of silence. You frown up at him, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface as you cross your arms defensively over your chest— a bad move, you realize too late, as the motion only pushes your braless tits together beneath the thin fabric of your tank top.

Predictably, his eyes drop immediately. You curse yourself for not wearing something more substantial. It’s not like I was planning to run into him today, you think to yourself.

“To understand why you hate me so much,” Javier says, his voice low, carrying that annoyingly casual tone, as if this whole conversation is nothing more than a mild inconvenience to him.

Your brows knit together, and a dry laugh slips from your lips before you can stop it. “Well, for starters,” you bite out, “you can’t even look me in the eyes when you ask.” 

His gaze snaps up so fast it’s almost comical, his dark eyes locking with yours, defiance flaring there. But there’s something else too— something that makes the air between you even more tense. You hold his stare, daring him to say something, to make this worse for himself. His expression tightens, but you continue before he has a chance to speak. “And I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you. You annoy the shit out of me.” 

He flinches, just barely, but you catch it. The smallest chink in his armor. You reach around him, your hand brushing against his side as you press the button for the main floor. The contact sends a ripple of awareness through you that you try to ignore. You don’t have time for this— for him.

Javier scowls, his mouth pulling into a frown that mirrors yours, and before you can react, he half-turns and punches a button for a different floor, effectively canceling your request. The elevator jolts, shifting direction. 

You groan audibly, exasperation washing over you. “And here you are, proving my point,” you mutter under your breath. Every second you waste in this shitty elevator with him is another second closer to being late for work. Another second closer to not getting everything done that you needed to today. He’s not just in your way—he’s deliberately in your way, and the worst part is, he knows it.

“You don’t like me,” he counters, turning back to face you fully, his tone edging into frustration, “but you never even gave me a chance.” His jaw is set now, his eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to crack, to admit that there’s more to it than just annoyance. Like he wants you to say it’s something else, something deeper.

If you had the luxury of time, you’d lay it all out for him, explain in excruciating detail just why you’ve avoided giving him that chance. How his arrogance grates on you. How his charm, though admittedly effective, feels hollow. How the way he flirts isn’t even the problem—it’s the way he looks at you, like he knows something about you that you don’t want to admit.

But you don’t have that kind of time.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. “As fun as it’d be to stand here and explain this shit to you like a child,” you say, your voice tight, “I have important things to do, and you’re keeping me from them.” You jab the elevator button again, hoping the damn thing will just go where you need it to without another unnecessary detour, but you already know it’s a losing battle. 

Javier shifts closer, just slightly, his presence looming. You can smell that damn aftershave again, all spice and leather and smoke, and it only pisses you off more because your body reacts to it before your brain can stop it. You feel your resolve slipping, just a little. His eyes are on you, unwavering, intense in a way that makes you want to both slap him and pull him closer at the same time.

“I’m not trying to keep you from anything,” he replies, softer now, the edge in his voice gone. His tone is almost... apologetic? No. It can’t be. Javier Peña doesn’t apologize. At least not in any way that feels real.

You don’t even bother responding, just stare at the numbers above the door, willing them to move faster. The sooner you’re out of here, the better.

“Just—fuck, give me something. Anything,” he growls, frustrated as all hell. His eyes are wild, and you can see the cracks in his usual suave demeanor, like he’s barely holding it together. “Ever since that last shoot, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, and I don’t know why. You think you’re exasperated? How the fuck do you think I’m feeling over here?”

You raise a brow, leaning into your disdain as you pout at him mockingly. “Oh, boohoo. Cry me a river. A girl doesn’t like me back, wahh.” You mimic the sound of a crying baby, bringing your fists up to rub against your cheeks in the most exaggerated way possible. Then you drop the act, face deadpanning. 

His eyes narrow, and you think you’ve finally hit a nerve. Good. Let him stew in it. But instead of backing down, he does something you don’t expect— he turns, reaches out, and slams his palm against the emergency stop button. The elevator lurches to a sudden halt, the hum of motion disappearing as the car freezes between floors.

Your eyes widen, a sharp spike of adrenaline shooting through you as the reality of the situation sets in. “What the hell, Javier?” You’re about to cuss him out, to let him know exactly what kind of shit he’s just gotten himself into, but before the words can leave your mouth, he takes two long, purposeful steps toward you.

Instinctively, you move back, the sudden intensity in his eyes sending warning signals through your brain. But there’s nowhere to go. You can’t escape the tight confines of the elevator, your back is pressed up against the cold metal railing. You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as his broad body looms over yours, trapping you in a way that leaves you feeling both furious and breathless.

He’s too close. His chest brushes against yours, and you can feel his gaze as it drags over your face, down your neck, and lower still, lingering in a way that makes your skin prickle.

Any insult you were ready to hurl at him gets stuck in your throat. You hate how your pulse quickens, how your breath catches. You can feel every inch of him— solid muscle, tense with whatever storm is brewing behind those dark eyes. 

For a brief, dizzying moment, you forget to be mad. You forget that you’re supposed to dislike him, that he’s the last person you should let get under your skin like this but somehow is the only one who’s able to. All you can focus on is the way his breath fans across your cheek, the way the small space between you crackles with tension, like a wire pulled too tight.

“You think this is some kind of joke?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, making your pussy tingle in ways you wish it didn’t. “You think it’s easy for me to just... shrug it off? Because it’s not. Not when I keep thinking about you, and I don’t even fucking understand why.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something that catches you off guard, making you pause to wonder if this really isn’t a game to him.

But you can’t let him see that. You can’t let him know how much he’s getting to you (even though he’s more than aware). So instead, you tilt your chin up defiantly, forcing your voice to stay steady. “And stopping the elevator? Trapping me in here with you? That’s your brilliant solution?”

“No,” he breathes, voice dropping to a near whisper as his face inches closer to yours. “But it’s the only way I could get you to stop running from me.” 

You hate how your stomach flips at his words. Hate how much you’re fighting against the instinct to lean into him instead of shoving him away. Every part of your body is screaming at you to tell him to fuck off and leave you the hell alone.

“Do you know what I think it is?” The words come out in a low, dangerous drawl, the kind that seems to wrap around your throat and squeeze. He leans in, crowding your space, eyes boring into you with an intensity that has your pulse skyrocketing. “I think you’re too fucking stubborn to let yourself have any fun. The idea of me fucking you is enticing, isn’t it?” His lips curl into a smirk, the kind that drips with arrogance and dark promises. “Could see it written all over your face that night at the hotel. That look in your eye while I was fucking Lexxie.”

His accusations slam into you, pulling up the exact moment you’ve been trying to bury. It should have been a professional gig, routine even, nothing personal… except that wasn’t the case. Not with the way he looked at you the entire time, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to react.

And, fuck, you had reacted. You felt the heat rise in your face, the way your body betrayed you as you stood behind the camera, mouth salivating, thighs pressing together.

“Javier…” You push at his chest, your hand meeting the hard wall of muscle beneath his shirt. The intent is to shove him back, to create some space between you. But the second your palm makes contact, it’s like the air shifts, and instead of moving him, it’s like you’ve anchored yourself to him.

Goddamn him. Goddamn you for your spineless ass, for not being able to follow through on resisting the temptation that he is.

He smirks wider, clearly reading the war going on behind your eyes. “You were shaking,” he continues, his voice a dark whisper that coils around your insides. “Damn near moaning while you watched me go down on her. Rubbing those thighs together while this pretty ass was in my face as she was sucking my cock.” 

His large hand snakes around you, catching you off guard, fingers gripping a handful of your ass and pulling you closer. Your body collides with his, and that’s when you feel it— his erection, hard and insistent, pressing into your stomach. The heat between you flares up to unbearable levels, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, every nerve ending in your body on high alert, buzzing with want.

“You’re delusional,” it’s breathless but you’re still determined to keep some semblance of control. You squirm in his grip, your body betraying your words, the friction making your mind tilt. “You just can’t stand the fact that, for once, a woman isn’t throwing herself at you. That I’m not kissing the ground you walk on or falling to my knees, ready to suck you off.”

His hold tightens briefly, pulling you even closer, and for a second, you wonder if you’ll be able to break free at all. It’s damn near impossible to ignore the ache building between your thighs at this point. But somehow, you manage to slip out of his grip, your body twisting away from his until you’ve backed yourself into the far corner of the elevator. 

You can’t breathe. Not properly, anyway. You’ve never felt so on edge, so exposed in such a small space. Every fiber of your being screams at you to keep your distance, to reassert control of the situation, but there’s a part of you— dangerous and impulsive— that wants to step right back into his arms.

Javier doesn’t move, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching your every movement like a predator stalking its prey. The elevator is still locked in place, a silent reminder that you’re trapped here with him until one of you decides to relent. His jaw clenches, and you think he’s going to say something cutting, something to tear you down. But instead, he surprises you.

“You’re right.” His voice is rough, but it carries a weight that’s different from the cocky arrogance he usually hides behind. “I can’t stand it.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavier than you expected. There’s no smirk this time, no sarcastic bite. Just honesty, and it’s a fucking curveball.

You weren’t prepared for him to actually admit it. For once, he’s not trying to fuck with you, not trying to win.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

You swallow hard, the weight of his confession making your heart leap out of your chest.

You don’t know what to say, so instead, you just stand there, staring at him, your body buzzing with a cocktail of adrenaline, lust, and confusion. Because as much as you want to dislike him, as much as you need to dislike him for your own sanity, you can’t deny the way your pussy responds to him. The way your mind keeps pulling you back to that night, to the way he made you feel without even touching you.

“Get over it,” you snap, cutting him off before he can sink any deeper into this conversation. You don’t need to entertain this further. It can’t happen, and it will never happen. The second you fall into bed with him, it’ll be game over. Javier Peña isn’t just a casual fuck— you know deep down he’d be the kind that wraps himself around your soul and doesn’t let go until he’s consumed every inch of you. 

The problem is, you’re terrified that you’ll let him. It’s why you’re so dead set on not giving in.

You cross your arms over your chest again, as if trying to shield yourself from the strength in his eyes, the way he seems to reach into your very core with just a look.

You try to focus on anything else— on the fact that you still need to get to the bank, then to your apartment, and finally to your bar shift. You don’t have time for this shit, for the endless back-and-forth with him.

But then he says your name.

The sound of it on his lips makes you close your eyes, every muscle in your body tensing. Damn him. It sounds so fucking sweet, almost reverent, and you know if you make the mistake of looking at him right now— if you see those beautiful, pleading brown eyes— you’ll fold.

He says your name again, softer this time, and the way his voice wraps around each syllable has your resolve teetering on the edge of collapse. “Please, just let me show you how good I can make you feel,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his breath fanning across your cheek. “Just one taste, nena, por favor.” 

And for the first time since you met Javier— he’s begging. You never imagined that he, of all people, would beg for anything. But here he is, his voice low and thick with desire, pleading with you to give him just one chance.

You blink your eyes open slowly, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that have been ignited by his words. The synapses in your brain light up like fucking fireworks, each one triggering a new thought, a new possibility. There’s a moment— a split second— where you picture it.

You imagine his hands on your body, his lips trailing fire down your skin, his mouth between your legs. The image flashes so vividly, so intensely in your mind, that it steals the breath from your lungs. 

You can practically feel the way he’d elicit things you’ve been trying to suppress. Your legs go weak just thinking about it, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself, to remember who you are, what this is. 

But your cavewoman, horny brain betrays you— racing ahead, picturing every possible outcome. You can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to let him in, just once. How it would be to let him take control, to let him show you, like he’s promising, just how good he can make you feel. 

You’re already late getting to the bank. You should be focusing on that, on getting out of this damn elevator and away from him, but your body won’t cooperate. Every part of you is ablaze, screaming at you to just give in.

Javier’s standing there, staring at you with those chocolate eyes, his dark brows drawn together, pouty lips parted just slightly as he waits for you to say something. Anything. He’s laid it all out in front of you, leaving you to make the next move. And fuck, as much as you hate to admit it, you want to. You want to let him pull you into his world, even though you know it’ll consume you. You want to feel his hands on your skin, his mouth everywhere, his name slipping from your lips.

But you can’t. 

If you give in now, you’ll never be able to walk away from him, and you can’t afford to let yourself get tangled up in Javier Peña. He’s chaos wrapped in temptation, and once you let him in, there’s no turning back.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you try to hold on to the last shred of control you have. “Javier,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. You feel like you’re on the edge of a cliff, teetering between desire and self-preservation. The weight of his gaze presses down on you, and for a moment, you think you might just jump.

But then, with every ounce of willpower you have left, you take a shaky breath, shaking your head and breaking the spell he’s woven around you.

“No,” you say, the word barely above a whisper, but firm enough to anchor you back to reality.

His face falls, the fire in his eyes dimming just a little. You almost regret it, almost, but then you remember who he is. What he does. And you know you made the right choice, even if every part of you is berating otherwise.

You stand there, locked in a silent standoff, both of you doing a piss poor job of pretending like you don’t want to tear each other’s clothes off right here in the elevator. 

You’re hoping—no, praying— that he’ll finally let it go. That he’ll stop pushing, stop testing your resolve, and just leave you alone. You’re begging for him to go back to what he does best, to leave you to your job— both of them.

You break eye contact first, glancing down at your watch. You’re definitely not going to make it to your shift on time. Shit. You need to phone your boss and give him a heads up before this gets even worse. But right now, you can’t seem to focus, not with Javier standing there like a Roman statue, immovable and perfect, watching you with that infuriating intensity.

“Now, if you can get the elevator to take us down, I’d really appreciate it,” you say, but the words come out softer than you intended. You hate how small your voice sounds, like you’ve already lost the upper hand, and you mentally slap yourself for it. 

But he doesn’t budge. He just stands there, watching you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world, and it makes you want to scream. His gaze is piercing, boring holes into your entire existence, and it’s taking everything you have not to crumble beneath it.

“Do you really mean that?” He asks as he brings a hand up to smooth down his mustache. There’s a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips, like he already knows the answer. “Because everything about your body language is screaming otherwise.” 

When the fuck did he get so close again? He’s right there, towering over you, and suddenly the air between you feels impossibly thin.

“It’s my fuckin’ job to read a woman’s body,” he continues, his voice growing huskier with each word. “And you know what yours is telling me right now?”

Your pulse quickens, your heart slamming against your ribcage, and you can’t find the words to respond. You don’t trust yourself to speak— not when his presence is drowning you in your own body. 

He leans in, lips so close to your ear that his breath almost has you fainting. “It’s telling me that you want it.”

Your stomach flips, every nerve ending in your body coming alive as his curved nose barely grazes your skin. The touch is featherlight, but it sends electricity straight to your cunt. You grip the railing behind you like a lifeline, your knuckles flushed as goosebumps ripple across your skin. 

Javier’s smirk deepens, the asshole clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Stop fighting it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet, his hand sliding down the length of your figure in a way that feels too natural, too right. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel…”

You should stop him. You should. But you don’t. You can’t. His hands are on you now, moving with a confidence that’s impossible to resist. One large hand finds its way to your tit, groping it gently through the thin fabric of your tank top, and you gasp, the sound escaping your lips before you can stop it. Your body fails you, head falling back against the elevator wall, your chest arching into his touch. 

The way his hand moves, so sure, so practiced, has your resistance crumbling, piece by piece. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, peppering soft, teasing kisses along your sensitive skin. “Barely done a thing and you’re already gone.” 

Your mind is spinning, your resolve completely undone as you melt under his touch. Every kiss, every graze of his lips against your neck feels like it’s unraveling the last bit of control you have. His body is pressed up against yours, and you can feel his erection through his jeans again, the hard (pun intended) evidence of just how much he wants you.

God help you, it feels too good to resist.

You sigh, a low, breathy sound that’s equal parts surrender and relief. His lips trail lower, his hand still groping your breast, and you let him. You let him because you’ve been fighting this for too long, and right now, you just want to feel something. 

Javier grins against your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he pulls you even closer, his voice hoarse in your ear. “Told you,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I knew you wanted this.”

You don’t respond. There’s nothing left to say. You’ve given in, you’ll figure out how to pick up the pieces later, but right now? Right now, you’re letting yourself fall apart.

It’s like your whole body just deflates against his, sinking into the solid warmth of him as if all the fight has finally drained out of you. You’re giving him the green light, and he knows it. The grunt that escapes his throat is guttural, and you feel the weight of his palm pressing harder against your chest, his thumb and pointer finger expertly pinching your now hardened nipple through the fabric of your tank top.

“After this,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint, “if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone.” His words are punctuated by a sharp tug at your nipple that sends a surge of arousal straight between your legs. Then his hand moves, sliding up to cradle your jaw with a surprising gentleness. He tilts your head so that your eyes meet his, forcing you to look at him— forcing you to really see him. “You have my word.”

You search his eyes, not entirely sure what you’re looking for— honesty, maybe? A hint of something real beyond the heat of the moment? Whatever it is, you can’t find the words to respond, so you just nod weakly, your breath bated. 

Javier smiles at that, a slow, predatory grin, and he leans in as if to kiss you. But you stop him, your hand pressing against his sternum with just enough force to halt him in his tracks.

“No kissing,” you say, your voice more resolute than you feel. “You said one taste, so get to it.” You’re setting boundaries, trying to keep some semblance of control in this situation. No kissing, no fucking— just head. That’s all this will be. He’ll get a taste of you, and you’ll finally get a taste of what all the hype is about. Then it’ll be over, and you’ll go your separate ways. That’s the deal.

His frown deepens, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features, like he’s not used to anyone telling him no in any capacity. But it’s brief, because he’s not about to take the proverbial bone you’ve thrown him for granted. He agrees in his own way, pivoting without protest, his mouth returning to your neck like he’s already forgotten the attempt to kiss you.

Now that the rules are clear, you allow yourself to let your guard down— just a little. It’s not like your sex life has been riveting lately, and truth be told, you can’t even remember the last time a partner went down on you willingly. At least you’re getting something out of this fucked-up little arrangement, and for now, that’s enough. 

He kisses and licks a line down your throat, his stubble scraping deliciously against the sensitive flesh. You sigh, your breath hitching as you feel his hands roaming your body with a confidence that should piss you off but doesn’t. 

His rough palms map out your curves like he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory. He’s groping, squeezing, learning you in a way that makes you feel like you’re his personal discovery. 

The warmth of his breath, the skill in his movements— it’s intoxicating. You can’t help but respond, your hips shifting, your body bending instinctively toward him when one hand slides up under your shirt, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast.

He’s good at this, you’ll give him that. Too damn good. It’s almost like he’s a fucking pornstar.

You hate that you’re enjoying it so much, hate that you’re already melting under his touch like some lovesick fool.

“Don’t overthink it,” he murmurs against your skin, feeling the nerves radiating off of you. 

His touch lingers as he reaches the button on your denim shorts, undoing it with a flick of his fingers before pulling down the zipper, slow and deliberate.

“You and these damn shorts…” you hear him say, more to himself than to you. His voice is gruff, frustrated, like he’s been waging a silent battle against his own restraint. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down over your hips, watching as the fabric slides off your skin. You step out of them, standing there in nothing but your underwear, top and sneakers, exposed in ways you hadn’t intended to be when you walked into that office earlier today.

His brows shoot up, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Of course, it’s laundry day. Of course, you’re left wearing your least practical pair of underwear— this skimpy, lacy purple number you hardly ever break out. The delicate string disappears between the cheeks of your ass, and the sheer front does little to conceal the soft tuft of hair just below your navel. 

And he’s drinking it all in.

“Fuckin’ hell, nena,” he breathes, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and lust. His eyes flick back up to yours, dark and hungry. “You always walkin’ around like this?” His hands grip your hips, and before you can even formulate a response, he’s sinking to his knees in front of you, taking his sweet ass time, like this is some kind of worship.

“No, I—” Your voice is breathy, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “I had to do laundry today…” It’s all you can manage, barely coherent as his lips begin pressing soft, teasing kisses to the inside of your knee.

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder, steadying you, his fingers gripping your thigh with enough pressure to leave you keening. You brace yourself against the elevator railing, your body tense with anticipation, your mind a chaotic swirl of logic and lust. You barely notice as the check you came here for flutters to the floor beside you, forgotten.

Don’t forget to deposit that, the reasonable part of your brain chimes in, but you tell that bitch to shut up because Javier Peña is currently on his knees in font of you, about to take you on the ride of your fucking life, and you’re nowhere near strapped in.

His head is tilted up, lips brushing dangerously close to where you want him most, and all rational thought is slipping through your fingers like sand.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes glinting with something wicked, and your breath catches again. You don’t know how to feel about any of this anymore. There’s a line you swore you wouldn’t cross, but now that he’s right there, so close to giving you what you’ve craved for longer than you care to admit, it’s hard to remember why you drew that line in the first place.

Javier’s lips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and a quiet moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. He smirks against your skin, his fingers tracing a slow path up your leg, sending shivers coursing through you. “Relax, bonita,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “I’ll take care of you.”

You want to tell him to hurry up, to stop teasing, but all that comes out is a shaky exhale as his hands part your thighs wider, positioning you exactly how he wants you. His grip is firm, possessive, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll survive whatever it is he’s about to do to you.

You don’t even have time to dwell on the thought before his mouth is on you, lips pressing a lingering kiss over the thin fabric of your panties. The sudden pressure sends a shockwave through your body, and your eyes fall closed, surrendering to the moment. His tongue teases the fabric, nudging against your already soaked cunt, and you can feel the wetness seeping through the lace. He hums low in his throat, savoring the first taste of you.

“These are so pretty. Don’t think I’ll take ’em off.”

He hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric and pulls it aside, exposing you to him completely. The cool air hits your slick folds, a contrast to the heat of his breath as he hovers just inches away. He’s staring, taking you in, and when he curses under his breath, it’s like he’s caught off guard by how badly he wants this. Wants you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, as he drags his nose up and down the length of your wet slit. The touch is maddeningly light, just enough to make you clench involuntarily, your body reacting without permission. More of your slick leaks out of your pussy, a response to the subtle stimulation, and you grip the elevator railing tighter to keep yourself from falling with how weak your knees get.

Javier flattens his tongue, delivering a slow, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like your entire body ignites at once. You throw your head back, a ragged cry of his name ripping from your throat as your hips buck instinctively, searching for more of him, more of that friction that feels like pure electricity.

He’s not done, though. Not even close. One hand snakes around your thighs, strong and sure. His middle and pointer fingers spread you open, forming an upside-down V, and then he does something so filthy, so perfectly Javier— he spits directly onto your exposed pussy.

The sound alone could get you off, but the sensation is something else entirely. His saliva mixes with your slick, making everything wetter, hotter, and you feel like you’re unraveling before he’s even truly begun. A series of high-pitched moans spill from your lips as he latches his mouth onto your cunt, sucking and licking with a precision that has your entire being quaking.

Lips, tongue, teeth—he’s using everything he has, dragging you deeper into a haze of pleasure where nothing exists but the heat coiling in your belly, tightening with every flick. He’s devouring you, utterly relentless, and it’s too much but not enough, all at once. Every nerve ending is on fire, your thighs trembling as you fight to keep your balance. His grip on your leg tightens, keeping you locked in place, helpless to do anything but take what he’s giving.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pulling back for just a moment, leaning his cheek against your inner thigh. His face is glistening, covered in your arousal, but his eyes are dark and hungry, never straying from your face. “With noises like that and a pussy this pretty— you’d be a fucking sight on camera.”

His words send another jolt through you, dirty and wrong and so fucking hot that you nearly forget how to breathe. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving faint marks in his wake, before diving back in with that skilled tongue of his. He’s a man with something to prove, alternating between broad strokes and tight circles, zeroing in on your fleshy clit with a precision that makes your head spin.

It’s obscene, the way he’s working you over, all these years spent perfecting this art, but there’s a rawness to it too, a desperation like he can’t get enough of you. You’re soaked, dripping onto his face, and he laps it up like a man starved, the sounds of his mouth slurping against your wetness filling the small space around you. Your moans are louder now, more desperate, each one pushing you closer to that edge where you’re not sure if you’ll survive the fall.

His fingers tighten on your thigh again, and then he’s dragging them lower, inching toward your entrance as his tongue flicks mercilessly against your clit. When he slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right, you nearly scream. The combination of his mouth and his fingers is enough to send you spiraling, your legs trembling uncontrollably as you arch into him.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunts when he pulls away to get a good look at your beautiful face and how you look when he’s making you feel like you’re on top of the world. It’s enough to get him to latch onto your clit, sucking on it harshly.

“God, Javier,” you gasp, your voice shaky, barely coherent. You can’t think, can’t form any rational thought, not with the way he’s pulling you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the pleasure.

“Let go,” he growls against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your core. “I’ve got you, nena. Just let go.” 

And with that, the dam breaks. You’re coming hard, hips jerking wildly as waves of pleasure crash over you, your entire body shaking with the force of it. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up for a second, working you through it with that relentless mouth until you’re gasping for air, hands clenching at the railing so hard you’re surprised it hasn’t snapped. 

Your vision blurs, your mind goes blank, and all you can do is hold on as Javier takes you on the ride of your life, just like you knew he would.

You don’t know how long it takes you to come back into your body after letting him take the reins for a little. You’re trembling, legs weak and body heavy against the cool metal wall of the elevator. He’s still on his knees, knuckle-deep inside you, lazily curling them as if savoring every last second.

His mouth trails soft, teasing kisses across your soaked panties, and the tenderness of the act startles you, nearly pulling you under again. But then he withdraws his fingers, slipping them into his mouth with an almost obscene groan, tasting you one last time as if to commit your flavor to memory. He carefully adjusts your underwear back into place.

Javier stands to his full height, your leg falling from his shoulder, towering over you. His hand comes to rest lightly on your waist as if to steady you. “You okay?”

You nod, though your bones feel like jelly. Your eyes stay closed as you try to gather yourself, forcing yourself back into reality, back into the woman who doesn’t fold like a house of cards for her co-worker. You bend down to retrieve your shorts and check from the floor, fingers fumbling with the zipper as you button yourself back up. He presses the button to resume the elevator, the gears shifting as you’re slowly carried back to the main floor. 

And just like that, it hits you. It happened. You’ve came on Javier’s tongue and fingers. You swore it wouldn’t— swore up and down that he was nothing more than a nuisance at work, a distraction you wouldn’t let get to you. But here you are, post-orgasm, in a goddamn public elevator, of all places, with the man who was supposed to be just a headache.

“Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again,” you mutter, trying to summon the biting edge to your words, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Javier just smirks, that infuriating glint back in his eyes like he already knows better, but he doesn’t push it. Not now.

The elevator doors slide open with a sharp ding, and the scene before you is worse than any nightmare you could’ve concocted in the heat of the moment. Two firefighters, the building manager, and— of course because why the hell not— Steve Murphy are standing there with varying degrees of shock and amusement.

You can see the moment Steve takes it all in— your flushed cheeks, the slightly mussed state of your clothes, Javier standing just a bit too close to you. His blue eyes narrow, then widen, and then he breaks into a shit-eating grin so wide you could slap it right off his face.

“Well, well, well,” Steve drawls, barely containing his laughter. “What do we have here?”

Your stomach sinks. Not again. 

Javier, ever the cocky bastard, simply raises an eyebrow and slides his hands into his pockets, all cool nonchalance like he hasn’t just been between your thighs minutes earlier. “Just crapped out on us randomly,” he says smoothly, and you want to strangle him for the audacity.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head as if he’s in on some big joke that only you and Javier are the punchline for. And as you step past him, cheeks burning, all you can think is that this will never, ever happen again.

But even as you repeat it to yourself, a small part of you— the part still buzzing from the memory of Javier’s mouth— wonders if you’re lying.

[mochaclaws]

Borzoi in da tub he’s so clean!!

[dannyricsmirrorball]

tying the knot • cl16 part 2 ੈ✩‧₊˚

ੈ✩‧₊˚ pairing || charles leclerc x gasly!reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚ genre || social media au

ੈ✩‧₊˚ summary || everyone is together on break for some reason, perhaps a wedding. question is… whose is it?

alt. y/n is pierre’s younger sister. there’s no way she’s dating his best friend aka her childhood friend… right?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ warning || google translate 😬

ੈ✩‧₊˚ a/n || so sorry this took a-bit more time to get out then i initially planned but nevertheless hope you enjoy!! one more part after this x. i lied

NOT PROOF READ YET!

part 1 here!

august 2023

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and 1,698,092 others

yourusername forever & always

username2 WHAT?!

username18 please don’t tell me we lost y/n to a guy and a marriage all in one day

username1 I AM HYPERVENTILATING

username9 WHO IS THAT MAN?

username33 y/n is MARRIED?!

username14 omfg she’s so stunning

username81 y/n cheated on me 😭

username72 everyone losing their minds over the guy but i just wanna know who from the grid went

username18 i NEED to know who was in the wedding party

pierregasly jolie fille 🩷

francisca.cgomes sexiest bride out

⤷ yourusername stop it i’m blushing 🫣😘

charles_leclerc 🤍

⤷ username55 u guys don’t think…

⤷ username16 omfg i’d actually cry if it was him, i’ve shipped them forever like they’re literally childhood friends to lovers, brothers best friend/best friends sister, slowburn irl… but realistically it’s defs not

lilymhe the cutest 🥹 but make sure he knows ur still MY wife

⤷ yourusername ofc ofc baby

⤷ alex_albon oh?

luisinhaoliveira99 congrats my girl 😍

estebanocon ouah y/n!

lorenzotl félicitations petite soeur

⤷ yourusername enzo 🥹

⤷ username62 lorenzo calling y/n his little sister I COULD CRY

alex_albon nice!

georgerussell63 congratulations! 👏

carmenmmundt 🩷🩷

joris__trouche belle cérémonie y/n!

⤷ yourusername ❤️

arthur_leclerc 😄😄

heidiberger_ blushing bride!

leclerc_pascale ma belle fille

⤷ yourusername merci maman ❤️

liked by alex_albon, charles_leclerc, and 108,873 others

lilymhe my best friend in the world got cuffed 🥂

tagged yourusername

yourusername the best maid of honour i could’ve asked for 🥹🩷

⤷ lilymhe forever babe 🤍

yourusername u next!!! alex_albon

⤷ alex_albon maybe she’ll stop calling u her wife then 😵‍💫

⤷ lilymhe NEVER

username23 OMFG LILY WAS HER MAID OF HONOUR 😭😭

username9 LILY AND ALEX WERE AT THE WEDDING!!!now we know people from the grid were defs there, now onto who else!

⤷ username11 i mean obv they would be… lily and y/n are best friends. also pierre and kika were obviously there bc he’s her brother, charles and his brothers probably too bc they’re childhood friends, and based on who else was in italy for what was obviously the hens night and bachelor party - carlos, carmen, george, heidi, danny, luisa, lando, isa, carla, charlotte

luisinhaoliveira99 the fits 🥵

alex_albon top night yourusername charles_leclerc

alex_albon top night yourusername

⤷ lilymhe omg alex

⤷ yourusername don’t pretend that wasn’t on purpose

⤷ username72 what are they talking abt?

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 279,093 others

francisca.cgomes parabéns linda menina. eu te amo minha irmã, sempre e para sempre. 💒

translation: congratulations beautiful girl. i love you my sister, always and forever. 💒

tagged yourusername

username15 gonna cry… kika calling y/n her sister 😭😭

username8 the best sister-in-laws

yourusername kika 🥹🥹 the best sister ever

alex_albon LMFAO y/n crying in the third slide 💀

⤷ yourusername watch it albono

⤷ lilymhe idk if my eyes were deceiving me but i’m pretty certain i saw u welling up

⤷ georgerussell63 no no ur eyes weren’t deceiving u, alex cried like a little bitch

⤷ alex_albon UM OK?? i’ve watched them grow up waht did u expect 😫 also george i know u aren’t speaking

⤷ yourusername awww that’s rlly sweet alex

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername, and 109,039 others

carmenmmundt felicidades linda 🤍

tagged yourusername, georgerussell63

yourusername carmen!! 🩷

username63 carmen slaying the wedding fit TRUST she will always show UP

georgerussell63 😍😍

username62 everyone going all in and out for y/n’s wedding, as they shouldddd

alex_albon george looking fitty

⤷ username2363 galex rights!

liked by danielricciardo, lancestroll, and 100,633 others

heidiberger_ cutest weekend! many well wishes to my girl yourusername 🤍

username4 omg danny and heidi look SO good

yourusername love u!!! thanku my love 🤍

username3 this is frfr the wedding of the year

username99 scotty and blake were there?? y/n fr knows EVERYONE

⤷ username8 love how we’ve all collectively ignored that the groom also has family and friends 😭

danielricciardo 😫

liked by scottyjames31, chloestroll, and 187,828 others

daniel3.jpg the royal wedding p1

tagged yourusername, heidiberger_, scottyjames31

username3 heidi and daniel look so perfect 😭

username82 i’m sorry but how many outfit changes did y/n have?!? i love thoooo

yourusername so glad both ur girlfriend and boyfriend could attend

yourusername omg danny 🥹 these are so perfect

scottyjames31 looking fresh DR

username6 i want daniel3.jpg to photograph my wedding

username85 her wedding was literally a DREAM. like the venue, the guest list, the multiple dresses, DANNYRIC PHOTOGRAPHY

username64 the parasols 😍

lando.jpg all my photos turned out crap sorry yourusername

⤷ alex_albon yeah bc u were on the piss mate

⤷ yourusername it’s okay lan just glad u had fun

charles_leclerc thanku daniel.

⤷ daniel3.jpg oh charles don’t thank me yet. this is part 1…

⤷ charles_leclerc daniel.

⤷ daniel3.jpg i take bribes in the form of cash 😄

⤷ yourusername money badger frfr

⤷ username36 oh no what dirt does danny have on charles?!

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 1,898,727 others

maxverstappen1 many congrats to the happy couple!

username92 even max was there?!

danielricciardo looking fitty maxxie

⤷ maxverstappen1 all for you

⤷ heidiberger_ i get the struggle now carmenmmundt lilymhe

username18 just max lookin this good for the wedding of the centuryyy

username74 losing lestappen but at least it’s to y/n

⤷ username14 ITS NOT CHARLES

yourusername thanku maxy 🩷

landonorris he’s laughing at my jokes here 😝😘

⤷ charles_leclerc *laughing at you

username16 IM SORRY BUT LIKE- charles doesn’t even follow max but he’s liked and commented….

liked by yourusername, carla.brocker, and 299,882 others

arthur_leclerc fiancé à marié 🤍

tagged yourusername, lorenzotl, leclerc_pascale, charles_leclerc, pierregasly

username84 so arthur was at the engagement…

⤷ username82 hmmm interesting

carla.brocker 🩷🩷

yourusername love uuu thurthur 🤍🤍

username80 just arthur posting for his brother’s wedding 😝

username73 the picture of the gasly and leclerc siblings with jules and tom IM SO SOFT

charles_leclerc mate where did you find that picture 😦 long time ago, great memories ❤️

username46 guys idk if u understand how crazy it was that he was at the engagement…

⤷ username55 is normal for friends and family to be there for the engagement

liked by scuderiaferrari, landonorris, and 583,378 others

carlossainz55 congrats to the happy couple!

tagged yourusername, landonorris

username18 by the tags you’d think y/n and lando got married 💀

landonorris hot

username7 carlos posting lando like they’re a couple LOL

yourusername grazie chilli 😘

charles_leclerc looking good mate 👌

username72 awww carlos was there as well 🥹

⤷ username46 obv had to be there for his teammates wedding

liked by yourusername, luisinhaoliveira99, and 677,828 others

landonorris don’t remember much 🍾🍾

tagged luisinhaoliveira99, yourusername

luisinhaoliveira99 🥰

username27 he cleans up NICE

username52 how drunk did he get? 💀

yourusername not surprised lan

carlossainz55 😍

alex_albon i remember everything…

liked by lorenzotl, charles_leclerc, 27,727 others

charlotte2304 🔔💐 love you yourusername

tagged carla.brocker

username8 ahhh leclerc wags at y/n’s wedding 🥰

lorenzotl ❤️

carla.brocker pretty 🩷

yourusername 🥹 love u love u love u 🥹

username26 y/n’s sister in laws…?

username3 stop being delulu

liked by luisinhaoliveira99, carlossainz55, and 200,929 others

isahernaez el amor está en el aire. espero que la vida de casados ​​te trate bien, la ceremonia más bonita y me lo pasé genial jugando a decir sí al vestido! 🥂💒

translation: love is in the air. i hope married life treats you well, the most beautiful ceremony and i had a great time playing say yes to the dress!

tagged yourusername

username18 ahhh i love their friendship sm

username66 isa helped pick y/n’s dress 😭 y/n never beating those ferrari wags rumours

yourusername isa 😭 thanku for everything 🥹 i’m gonna cry

luisinhaoliveira99 sooo pretty!!

username7 her and y/n still being friends 🫂🫂

carlossainz55 😍

⤷ username55 🤨

charlottesiine isaaaa 🤩

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, and 109,837 others

daniel3.jpg p2

tagged yourusername, landonorris, pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc

username71 danny coming in w the content he knew we wanted

username14 pierre and kika 🥹

username35 omg ofc they all jumped in the pool. wouldn’t expect anything less from this bunch 😭

username82 omfg this looks so much fun

username27 lando getting litty 💀💀

⤷ username2 lmfao look at charles tho 😭

yourusername foolish of me to think these wouldn’t make the cut but at least none of mine are totally embarra 💀

username16 oh to get drunk and party at y/n’s wedding reception w the grid + the entire f1 community

username8 sorry i’m actually creasing at charles. this must be what he was talking abt on the other post lmfao.

charles_leclerc GIVE ME MY 50 BACK

⤷ lilymhe 50? daniel u do not know how to play the game

⤷ usernams74 did charles really expect 50€ to silence the money badger?

username81 oh charles was GONE gone

username72 y/n planned this so perfectly. making sure it was during summer break when the entire grid was off so they could get wasted without having to worry

scuderiaferrari what is our driver doing…? that’s just bc your so happy right charles… right?

⤷ charles_leclerc look away admin. look away 😔

⤷ daniel3.jpg drunk on happiness 🤣🤣

liked by leclerc_pascale, olliebearman, and 120,838 others

lorenzotl nous vous avons vu grandir ensemble, maintenant vieillir ensemble.

translation: we watched you grow up together, now grow old together.

tagged yourusername, leclerc_pascale, charles_leclerc, pierregasly

username23 ummm does this mean what i think it means?!

username16 IM SORRY??? is lorenzo saying that y/n’s husband is CHARLES

username22 THIS IS HOW I WINNNNN. childhood friends to lovers EXCELLENCE

yourusername awww enzo 🥹

leclerc_pascale mes beaux enfants 🤍

arthur_leclerc oh 😒😒

⤷ yourusername youngest child struggles arth 🤷‍♀️😫

⤷ pierregasly sucks to suck

charles_leclerc oh putain how old we are!

username52 this is CRAZY like i’m so happy but i never thought this would become real

username91 going to SOB look at pascale fixing up y/n’s makeup 😭

⤷ username23 she watched her grow up and now she’s watching her marry her son 😭

username18 i still think that it’s not charles. like why would they hide that

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 1,720,737 others

charles_leclerc my best friend is married 🤍 si fier 😘

tagged yourusername

username99 lol nvm

username87 i’m actually going to SOB

username2 damn i’m still rooting for them

username9 the pic of him y/n and pierre OH IM GONNA CRY

yourusername ❤️

username7 WHY LORENZO WHY DID U TEASE US LIKE THAT?? MAKING US BELIEVE IT WAS CHARLES.

⤷ username86 he’s delulu like us

⤷ username72 he’s still manifesting. biggest y/n charles shipper.

username16 waiting for him to say ‘to me’ 😭 PLEASE

pierregasly mate how long ago was that 😮‍💨

username91 charles and that damn 😘 emoji

username74 i can feel the pining and yearning from here

username62 i just know mans is going thru it. he has had the fattest most obvious crush on her foreverrrr.

username43 dc what anyone says. this doesn’t mean anything. like this could still be a husband posting his wife.

liked by yourusername, francisca.cgomes, and 493,938 others

pierregasly félicitations ma petite. celebrating my best friends tonight!

tagged yourusername, francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc, arthurleclerc, lorenzotl

username37 i’m gonna sob. their relationship is so special to me.

username14 the pic of them dancing 😭😭

username01 best brother sister duo

username16 ‘celebrating my best friends’ hmmmm ur not slick pierre

⤷ username92 or he’s just best friends w her husband. charles isn’t his only best friend.

yourusername pierre 🥹🥹

username81 IM SORRY BUT THE LAST PIC COME ON

username36 im not one to feed into rumours but like why would lorenzo, arthur, pierre, AND charles include baby pics of all of them if it’s not y/n and charles

⤷ username63 y/n is practically family to the leclerc. they grew up w her. she’s like they’re sister.

⤷ username36 see id get that but why would pierre include a baby pic of all of them instead of just him and y/n. like it’s y/n’s wedding and he’s her sister. what does that have to do w the leclercs.

⤷ username16 RIGHT like i get if the leclercs just did that but pierre also including it and tagging the leclercs… like they’re joining families idk man

username91 i’m totally not crying abt the baby pic of y/n and then the pic of her at her wedding holding her cousin’s baby

username27 i’m sorry pierre but i could recognise that jaw from a mile away

username72 all these people saying it’s charles. r u forgetting his post where he said his BEST FRIEND is married???

⤷ username46 people can like yk lie

⤷ username16 he said his best friend is married. he could mean married to him?

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and 493,982 others

yourusername a fairytale 💒

username73 her wedding was a literal fairytale

username27 the shoes 😲 jaw dropped

username86 eating up every piece of content from this wedding. especially any of y/n and her husband 😩

lilymhe my princess 🥹

⤷ yourusername loml iloveuiloveiloveu thanku sm for everything and all of ur help lils

username92 those flower girls look so cute 😭

pierregasly nuit émouvante petit. tellement heureux pour vous deux.

⤷ yourusername je t’aime

francisca.cgomes best night ever linda ✨✨

carlossainz55 so happy for the both of you 👏👏

arthur_leclerc no one deserves it more ❤️

⤷ yourusername mon petit frère 🥺

charles_leclerc ma meilleure pote

taglist: @dl-yum @honey6578 @lillianacristina @xcinnamongirl @glitterf1 @christianpulisic10

[charmedreincarnation]

Hi Maya I was one of your first anons back in March and I manifested my dream life. i just wanted to share some things that helped me, and hope we can all pass some knowledge so we all get our desires life. I did, you did, and everyone reading this can and will so let’s all try to help out by sharing a little of our journey. I’ll never create a blog because tumblr is a mess, so I’ll just share them here bc I trust you as a creator and I hope you agree with what I’m saying. Even if you don’t these are my assumptions and my truth

il get into my methods in one second but users of tumblr there are only 4 THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE LAW (Inspired heavily by you bc I used your blog religiously) I will say you’re kind of too nice and I wish I had someone to yell at me like this, and tell me to stop being a victim!!! So if it sounds aggressive it’s because it is in the best loving way possible.OKAY SO.

★you need to understand that you want to fulfill yourself in imagination because you don’t care about the desires only how you feel about it. Bare with me it sounds stupid I know. But I don’t care about men or how they feel about me. I just want to feel worshiped and love, and I could fulfill that in my imagination. I don’t care about money??? It’s fucking paper !!! I just want to feel secure and financially free and want the feeling of buying my favorite clothes without looking at the tag. I GOT THE SAME FEELING FROM PINTREST EVEN WHEN I WAS POOR GODDAMNIT. I didn’t care about getting all As in school when I’ve always believed school is not a representation of intelligence. I wanted to feel recognized adored and respected which I had to feel for myself in my mind before it projected. I don’t care about looking skinny, I just wanted to feel snatched, I wanted to be envied, and feel pretty. And in my mind everyone wanted to be me even when I was ugly and fat. BUT I DIDNT FEEL FAT. Even with no change in the 3D I had my desires. This applies to all your desires, and you really need to understand that.

★you can affirm,visualize, understand states, understand non dualism, use the Bible or Torah m, wall twerk and say “I AM THAT BITXH,” use sats YADADAA . No one cares it doesn’t matter. you don’t have to feel anything or, even believe in wth you’re doing. As long as you think that having it in imagination means it’s yours that’s all that matter. I’ve read so many teachers, Neville, Abraham, Abdullah, Edward art, paid coaches, and they all do different things but say the same thing. FAITH IS KEY. That’s all that matters. Don’t let anyone you otherwise or tell you what you have to do. All teachers were once students, all success stories were once struggled failures, all masters were once lost okay. You are god so have some faith in yourself.

★YOU ARE GOD. You know what a god is, you know how a god works, you know god can do anything with a snap of a finger, kill anyone with a thought, look anyway it wants, have anything everything and create whatever. You are an omnipotent loving creator so create and give yourself everything.

★you can’t over consume, you can think from lack of whatever, and doubt can’t hinder you unless you think it does. Having a desire does not mean you’re lacking or else having the wanting for it would mean that too no? When creators say that I want to slam my head against the wall. Even now I have all my desires and I still think about them constantly. Thinking of new clothes to buy with MY WEALTH, I think of new food to eat that won’t even affect my SNATCHED BODY, i find new places to try and explore bc MY SOCIAL CIRCLE IS HUGE AND IM SO LOVED, I think of new makeup up to try to enhance my GORGEOUS PRINCESS FACE. I think of it in the same way from when I didn’t have my desired (I always had them in imagination but you know what I mean.) so there is no thinking from lack, or else you’re always lacking it lmfao the fuck. Anyways I doubted my abilities up until I manifested my dream life. I was okay with it in imagination and whether it reflected or not it was my escape I was content with. DID YOU SEE THAT. I had doubts up until the very end, and it doesn’t mean shit unless you think it does. Just affirm having doubts and obsessions only speed up your results. That’s really all it is.

Now to my story if anyone cares. I won’t make a blog for reason number 2 and 3 listed above. That’s all you need but if you want more info for curiosity go for it. I know I was curious and that didn’t stop me from getting my dream life. Anyways I have the same story as about everyone else here. My life sucked, I found the law, and it worked! HOORAY!!! But how did I do it???? Easy peasy, in a couple of steps.

☞ I tattooed my four rules above in my mind. When fear and doubt emerged I sunk that shit like the titanic and went with my laws that I created. It’s literally called the law of assumption like come on, stop fighting with yourself when you assume and create reality.

☞I ignored anything that I didn’t agree with. Sometimes I’d get so mad and be like WHAT NO WHY WOULD THAT BLOGGER OR COACH OR ANON or whoever say that?? But am I dumb ??? each of us have our own reality our own bubbles. The fact that it works for them and not for me started to only motivate me more. It doesn’t work bc I assume sooo… sooo why not just assume the opposite and focus on my rules like they did. The law is always in effect and working. Either it’s in your favor or it’s not. It’s up to you

☞I used affirmations bc repetition is the only thing that works for my logical brain. Anything can change with repetition. It’s basic science. So in the morning and night time I would affirm. ONCE. Repetition meant for me doing it everyday and not wanting. The rest of my day was lived in my imaginations. And the affirmation was to remind me in my vulnerable state that I already have my desires. That’s why my affirmation was “I have my desires no matter what, and everything I do brings them to me faster than the speed of light” it was kind of funny and made me chuckle but I accepted it as facts. Look guys…

☞I didn’t repress myself. If I cried or yelled or told myself “FUCK YOU” it wasn’t me tf. It was the devil or something. Be like those Christian fuckers who when their child comes out as gay…it’s the devil within them or whatever. I would talk to myself, yell when doubt emerged and when my thoughts weren’t the ones I wanted. It wasn’t fucking me so get the fuck out I have my desires so who tf are you ??? It will feel weird but you’ll get used to it trust me. If you’re uncomfortable it’s working. Getting rid of bad habits and your comfort in dwelling in bad thoughts is uncomfortable but it’s worth it.

I manifested my dream life back in March. I LITERALLY WOKE WITH MY DREAM LIFE. A complete 180. I won’t talk about my past life bc I completely revised it and I’m the only one who remembers so for the most part it feels like a long nightmare that has past. I’ll just talk about what I changed instead because that’s the stuff we all want to hear. Anyways I’ll just post some of my list here.

♥ my life feels like the song rich kids by freak ocean

♥I’m a pretty spoiled princess who gets everything I want but I’m still kind

♥I revised my entire family from looks to personality to zodiac to religion and etc. i rewrote my story which included my family

♥I have natural admired intelligent

♥my family has a net worth of 500 million dollars, and my entire family stems from old money. (Think aristocrats not slave or colonization money)

♥I can play many instruments and speak many languages

♥ I am 5’2, 100 pounds, I have natural stunning vixen beauty, and the most desires body in the world. I’m the beauty standard and people either want to be me or date me. I am naturally skinny and have no worries about my weight, I have clear skin that only gets clearer with my skincare routine, and I have my desired personality where I’m kind but also don’t put up with any shit from anyone because I know I’m that bitch. I also have great style and embody a princess !

♥my life is a combination of my favorite watpadd stories, Gilmore girls, gossip girl, and mean girls.

♥ too many people pursue me I have too many options

♥I have a perfect school life, social life, family life, friend life, and people always wonder what I did to be “so lucky it’s unfair”

♥my family has multiple mansions in America, monoco,Australia, france, and China.

♥I’m a daddies and mommies money girl

♥I put myself first (I HAD SUFFERED TOO LONG I NEEDED A SOFT LIFE)

♥everyone’s purpose it to make my life easier and make me happier

♥I’m spoiled and privileged in every aspect of my life

♥I’m a master shifter, and manifester

♥I revised my age to 14. I was 18 and graduating but I wanted to redo high school how I had envisioned it all my life

♥I have a “cool mom” people are always jealous how lucky I am

♥I have my main estate in Hollywood hills with my family that’s in a gated, gorgeous, gate kept neighborhood. It is 30,000 sq feet with my dreams decor, dream cars, dream pets, dream house help, dream room with all my stuff saved on Pinterest including decor, furniture, clothes, shoes, makeup and skincare.

♥everything good in my life I have manifested and it’s too much to list. THERES NOT REASON FEAR OR WAIT. Do what you want and assume it still works and it will.

You honestly said it better than I could have. Literally every single one of these points are so valid :)!! I’m glad you think I inspired you love but all I did was allow you recognize your own godly abilities. I’m very proud of you, and have fun girl 🥹❤️

Also. “All teachers were once students, all success stories were once struggled failures, all masters were once lost okay. You are god so have some faith in yourself.” This one million times !!!!! Invest your faith into yourself more than anyone else and you’ll see how fast your reality conforms. I also adore your point about the state of lacking bc I never believed in that. If wanting your desires insinuates it’s not yours, we would have no thoughts since that’s where it all originates from. In fact Edward explains it pretty well.

When Edward looks at lack, he sees it as being something that is only brought about by the individual. He believes that your own actions, thoughts, and attitudes will bring about an artificial scarcity of resources. Edward says that this artificial lack of resources is not actually real—it exists only in our minds, as we focus on the things that we don’t have rather than the things that are available to us.

He believes that true lack only exists when someone has no access to resources—whether those resources be financial, physical, mental, or emotional. When someone has access to resources but they squander them or don’t use them to their advantage, it isn’t a lack of resources that is at fault—it is the individual’s personal choices and attitudes that create the feeling of lack. Same way we see attractive people feel ugly though they have women or men chasing them, modeling opportunities, and experience many examples of pretty privilege lol. You’re a hot girl.. you’re just not using it to your advantage, same way you have everything in imagination and access to anything yet… nothing bc of your own perceptions. That’s not lack. Simply inappropriate usage of recourse. A waste for better use of words.

[chrisevansonly]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

✯social media au

✯charles leclerc x female reader

✯charles has mega heart eyes for his girl

✯not requested, this is solely to comfort me a bit as my brother leaves in basically 48 hours, probably less now..i wanted to get something out not only for you guys but for me too so i don’t worry that i’m not doing enough, i hope you enjoy<3

yninstagram

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, leclerc_pascale and 257,000 others

one hundred, thousand, million times yes🩷

tagged charles_leclerc

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username omg omg omg omg omg

username im so happy for them😭

francisca.cgomes congratulations beautiful!!🩷

>yninstagram thank you babe!! can’t wait to celebrate with you🥰

leclerc_pascale my angels, congratulations 😘

>yninstagram merci maman!!!❤️

username idk if i wanna sob or scream

charles_leclerc i love love love love love YOU😍

>yninstagram i love love love love love YOU char🥰

>arthur_leclerc you guys make me sick😃

charles_leclerc added to their story!

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charles_leclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, yninstagram, apmmonaco and 876,000 others

shooting something fun today, thank you to my angel for taking the best photos of me❤️

tagged yninstagram

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username charles will do anything to squeeze y/n in a caption😂

username 👀👀👀

yninstagram when the model looks this handsome i can’t help it 😍😍😍

>charles_leclerc 😏😏😏😏

username all i see are constant heart eyes from charles LMFAO

carlossainz55 you know we could have figured out y/n took the photos mate….

>charles_leclerc why don’t you just mind your business 😁

>carlossainz55 no😁

username let this man be whipped in peace😭

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yninstagram

liked by charles_leclerc, lilyhme, charlotte2304 and 456,000 others

pasta + charles = happy y/n😌

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username she’s so fucking stunning

username ok but that pasta looks so good🤤

lilyhme she is everything to me!!!

>yninstagram you are everything to me!!!

charles leclerc y/n + y/n = happy charles 😘

charles_leclerc my gorgeous girl i never get enough of you❤️

liked by yninstagram

leclerc_pascale ❤️❤️❤️❤️

liked by charles_leclerc and yninstagram

charles_leclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, yninstagram, scuderiaferrari and 1M others

happy birthday to the woman who makes my entire world go round, to the woman who brings out the best in me, who lifts me up and supports me no matter what and is my best friend. y/n there is no one else i want to do life with and have as my wife. je t’aime tellement mon cœur ❤️

tagged yninstagram

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username SHES STUNNING

username happy birthday y/n!!!

username WHEN IS IT MY TURN

yninstagram oh 🥹

yninstagram give me 5 minutes i’m currently sobbing i can’t

yninstagram char, je t’aime tellement aussi mon bébé ❤️❤️

liked by charles_leclerc

landonorris happy birthday y/n!!!

>yninstagram thank you lan!!

username she’s so fucking beautiful it hurts

francisca.cgomes happy birthday love🩷🩷

>yninstagram thank you baby🥰

yninstagram added to their story!

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yninstagram

liked by carla.brocker, charles_leclerc, wagsofformula1 and 342,000 others

coffee dates with my love are my favourite, even if he has a really intense schedule and is away a lot, char never fails to make me a priority and keep our weekly dates happening🥰

tagged charles_leclerc

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username i wanna be her so bad

username wait why is this cute😭

username definition of if he wanted to, he would.

charles_leclerc id do anything to make you happy amour

charles_leclerc seeing you smile is worth more than anything

>yninstagram 🥹❤️

carla.brocker i cannot get over you😍😍

>yninstagram see you soon beautiful 😘

username Y/N PLS TELL ME YOUR SECRETS

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liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 765,000 others

back at the track and back in the paddock for another exciting race weekend!! i wish you and your team the best of luck my love, i’ll be cheering the loudest!! forza ferrari!!❤️

tagged charles_leclerc

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username i need y/n’s skincare routine

carlossainz55 😁❤️

liked by yninstagram and charles_leclerc

username they are my parents

scuderiaferrari always a pleasure having you join us ❤️

liked by yninstagram

charles_leclerc i will race my hardest for you baby😘

charles_leclerc my beautiful beautiful girl

>yninstagram i love you sm char, you’ve got this🥰

username tbh sappy charles is my fav charles

arthur_leclerc i better see you cheering for me too😞

>yninstagram ALWAYS!! i’m almost at my spot to watch arth, you’ll do amazing!!🩷

username y/n also supporting arthur in F2 is what keeps me going 🥹

[2knightt]

CANT HOLD IT IN ANY LONGER!!! i’m utterly obsessed with the curtis brothers.

idk if u do this, but if u can, the curtis brothers with a reader who’s super down bad for them? they make it so clear, too. constantly doing everything for them, making food, buying snacks, just utterly everything. compliments, holding their hand religiously … yk.

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ you know i’m a fool for you. ⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH! you think the curtis brothers are the only men on the planet.

tags/warnings: swearing(on my end/once during dialogue.) reader being slightly overprotective or insane, mentions of reader getting hit on, mentions of reader leaving lip stick stains, me not knowing what to write for darry.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i’m using ny other accounts layout bc i can’t be bothered rn. also i’m here to feed y’all i’ve noticed the outsiders x reader tag is lowkey dry asl.

Ponyboy Curtis:

WOAH HE CAN’T HANDLE ALLAT😭

like actually. he is TWEAKING AT ALL TIMES! when you first like started complimenting him, showering him in kisses, giggling n’ shit—he thought it was a one time thing.

ponyboy just thought he’d have to thug that shit out once a week or something. he was, in-fact, pleasantly surprised when you continued to do it.

“you’re so-mwah-cute! i wish-mwah-i could-mwah-hold you forever!”

“y/n…😣”

he’s so flustered omfg like actually he’s beet red LMFAOOO. if you were to put your fingers to his forehead it’d be so hot. like ponyboy’s avoiding eye contact, his lips are tightened, etc.

if he were to stay the night at your place—you make him all types of food. like, food he’d never heard of. or food he’d dream about after eating bologna for a week,

“for me? …really?”

“mhm! c’mon, don’t let it get cold now.”

ponyboy is DIGGING RIGHT THE FUCK IN. okay he is SCARFING THAT DOWN. after he’d be a little embarrassed of how quickly he ate but like you just took it as a good thing.

thinks you’re the best cook ever tbh. gordan ramsey has nothing on you type levels.

going on a walk with him to go grocery shopping for the curtis house with your hands intertwined and letting ponyboy ramble about this annoying substitute he had!!! IT’S REAL!!! ALL OF IT!!!

“n’ then he tried to tell me my answer was wrong when i studied last night—I EVEN ASKED MY FRIENDS. so, i know it was right. i just think mr. johnson had a personal vendetta against me.”

“smh…i could do slash his tires if you’d like♡!”

“what”

“nothing.”

AWHHH PONYBOY FOLLOWING YOU AROUND THE STORE LIKE A LOST PUPPY BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO BUY LMFAO

he’d like holding your sleeve or the hem of your shirt as you walk around, looking more awkward above all else.

uwahh showering ponyboy in compliments late at night when it’s just the two of you, twirling his hair as you hold him closer!!!

“you’re hair is so pretty. it’s so soft…i dunno why you put grease in it. if i was you—i’d never let anyone touch it.”

“i don’t. i only let you.”

“…REALLY??🥰🥰😚😚”

ur friends are soooo sick of you talking about ponyboy LMFAOOOO like actually. every time you go, ‘omfg did i tell you guys, he-‘ they know to just let you mindlessly ramble.

“and then ponyboy read to me ‘til i fell asleep! he’s so sweet—i dunno how he’s real!”

“i dunno how you’re so whipped.”

“he must be the funniest motherfucker on the planet if y/n’s this obsessed.”

Sodapop Curtis

OHHH Y’ALL ARE AT A CONSTANT WAR TO SEE WHO’S GONNA BEAT THE OTHER AT BEING THE BETTER PARTNER LMFAOOO

HE’S usually the whipped one in the relationship…he felt both extremely lucky and threatened when you started attacking him with kisses…

“you’re so handsome. i’m just the luckiest person on earth—ain’t i?”

“…yeah…🤨”

“why’d you say it like that?😞”

“cause I’M the luckiest person on the earth…I’M supposed to be tellin’ you this…”

but as time goes on—he does take the loss and accepts you’re better at him. for now. it’s only a matter of seconds until sodapop thinks of something insane to show his love for you.

anyways! IMAGINE COOKING WITH HIM OHHHH NY GODDDDD /?:&$:&: he just mainly stands there and looks pretty as he asks what you’re doing but SHHH. HE’S MORAL SUPPORT.

“…what?”

“i’m chopping onions for the flavour, honey.”

“you don’t like onions, though?”

“i don’t like the crunch rather than the flavou—YOU REMEMBERED I DON’T LIKE ONIONS??☹️☹️”

“of course i would!”

gladly holds ur hand 24/7. i’m not kidding. you two are like super magnets. HEHEHE IMAGINE HIM DRIVING WITH ONE HAND ON THE WHEEL AND HIS OTHER HAND HOLDING YOURS!!/!2!

you do take him grocery shopping. only sometimes, though. he only buys junk food rather than actual food.

“can i get these? please?”

“you already have two bags of chips in the cart, soda.”

“okay..😣”

“SIGH…get them.”

“HURRAY!”

knows you can’t say no to him and that’s like the only time he uses it to his advantage.

soc’s do hit on you under the premise of ‘showing you how a real man is supposed to spoil a lady like you.’ HOWEVER, you look at them like they’re aliens.

“hey, baby. what’re you doin’ around here?”

“…EW.”

“???”

they’re shocked above all else as they see you turn away from them and quickly walk away without looking back. AND WOOO SODA IS SO PROUD.

Darry Curtis

the gang acts like you two are constantly fighting whenever you start to look at darry with that sparkle in your eyes.

“guys, PLEASE! YOU’RE BREAKING UP THE FAMILY! STOP ARGUING!”

“what the hell are you on about, soda?”

“you’re scaring pony!” “don’t bring me into this.”

“mind you’re own business, soda.”

AJDIEHJR DARRY HAVING A HAND AROUND YOUR WAIST AS YOU MUTTER SWEET NOTHINGS BETWEEN KISSINGS>>>

you two are a POWER COUPLE IN THE GROCERY STORE! EVEN IF YOU REFUSE TO LET HIM PAY AND HE GETS POUTTY! EVEN IF HE DOESN’T TAKE COMPLIMENTS WELL!

“y/n, please. these are for my house.”

“so?? my wallet was out first.”

“that doesn’t mean anything. baby, i’m telling you, i’m paying.”

“too late, i already handed the cashier the money.”

you cook and clean for the curtis’ to take something off of darry’s back out of the kindness in your heart and totally not because you want him to pay more attention to you!! NEVER!!

but you do enjoy the fact that darry has more time to sit down and pay attention to you! and darry really likes the extra time he has!!

“you didn’t have to.”

“yes i did! you’ve been so stressed out, it’s the least i could do for you.”

“you’re such a treat, y’know.”

“mh. only f’you.”

you FORCE him to hold your hand. sometimes he forgets that he’s supposed to hold your hand in public so do NOT BE AFRAID TO GRAB IT YOURSELF.

but once you do, darry is the last person to let go. maybe to wrap an arm around your hip—BUT THAT’S IT.

teehee leaving lipstick stains on his white t-shirt accidentally🫶🫶!! it’s all so real to me!! sure, darry’s a little annoyed but it’s okay! he can never be mad at you!

[ma1dita]

do we have any sick!trouble and luke taking care of everything for her??(including her hehe🤭) if not then i’d like to think she would probably try to push herself through the day making sure camp doesn’t get set on fire bc older sister core! + dionysus probably dgaf 🤷🏻‍♀️ and maybe only luke noticing that she’s breaking out in a cold sweat and her movements a little more sluggish than usual but shes stubborn af so she refuses to rest

🐥

also ur works are crushing me jo they’re soo good😭💗

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: no trouble tags fuck it we ball! no edits either lmfao fluff :) can be a standalone just know reader is camp mom and Luke calls her trouble/slight cabin 12 mentions but not important (partners in crime series if you wanna check it out)

wc: 860

Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen you be quiet.

Your voice is synonymous with the harmony of Camp Half-Blood in all of its forms: early morning announcements over the loudspeaker that serve as a wake-up call for campers to be ready for cabin inspections, hollow outcries to keep certain deviants in line (the Stolls and your brothers are a deadly force to be reckoned with), comforting words like kisses for scraped knees for the little ones, down to the gentle blanket of your singing at lights out. Luke also just knows by now that you love to have the last word—gods forbid someone else beat you at something you’re good at. Words always come easy when it comes to you (abilities of sons of Hermes aside) he finds out—but he can’t think of what can convince you to go back to bed today, especially with a temperature of 100.7 F.

He’s been circling you like a hawk this whole morning, not chastising (because clogged sinuses and all you’d probably fight him to your last breath), but rather helping out where he can. He swiftly double-checks counselor assignments once your puffy eyes leave the page, steers you away from walking straight into the fires of the forge instead of the exit at the armory, and waves off any bystanders who dare to get caught in the crosshairs of your bullheadedness.

In times like these, Luke’s almost grateful to be his father’s son (still a hard no, but you get the point). Doing these tasks undetected and mostly through a sleight of hand is better than worrying you even if he’s already at his wit's end; you’re quick in your own right too, body and brain separated today yet working on autopilot through a foggy sick-riddled mind. He hates leaving you like this even for a moment despite your protests of being able to handle yourself, but the two of you are spread thin today with all the work to do.

Luke finds you later after his workshop with your head against the cool stone of the climbing wall. You sniff into your sleeve, a wet sound stifled by the worn-down orange uniform you all wear, though yours looks as exhausted as you are, eyes closed and motionless even with lava slowly trickling from the top.

“Trouble? Are you okay babe? Grover fell off the wall already, you should… restart the mechanism,” he mutters, a big hand clasping at the nape of your neck like someone grabbing a kitten by its scruff.

“He’ll be fine, he’s a big boy,” you mumble with your face still attached to the rocks. “I’ve seen him climb over the Ares table for the last donut at lunchtime, molten lava and boulders should be a piece of cake.”

“At least cake is less painful and more delicious,” the satyr groans, hairs singed down to his hooves. Luke sighs, helping Grover back onto his feet for a well-deserved break.

“Babe…If you don’t move, sooner or later the lava’s gonna smother you.”

He shakes your arm since the controls are wedged between your body and the wall but it’s as if your body is bolted to the floor. A dissonant noise crawls out of your throat, “Dunno, kinda sounds nice. Maybe it’ll clear my sinuses.”

“Maybe it’s time to admit you’re sick.”

Even if he can’t see your face he knows there’s a scowl carved across it, “M’not sick. Just some allergies. I don’t get sick, Lu. Being sick is for the weak!” Lava continues to slide down the wall like molasses, inching you closer to a fate of fire— and your boyfriend watches you try to welcome it with weary arms.

“If you’re not sick, then I’m the best singer at Camp Half-Blood,” Luke drones as he crosses his arms. He can hear Percy laugh from the sidelines at that, silenced quickly by a glare.

“Now that would really clear her sinuses—even better if he dresses up for Theatrics again,” the son of Poseidon sniggers until a stray boulder comes barrelling towards where he and Grover are sitting. Everything’s suddenly less funny.

“It was one time, Jackson, and I wasn’t…” Luke sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Trouble was just mending a costume.”

“It’s okay Luke, not everyone can pull off a corset.”

“Grover, another word out of you man and I’ll make sure your legs are permanently hairless,” Luke grits, finally tired of the chit-chat and more focused on getting you to rest. In one quick movement, he sweeps you off your feet and over his shoulder while his other hand slams on the button to reset the gears of the climbing wall. A delayed reaction falters from your throat, something of a yelp and an exhale.

“Luke! Put me down!”

But he’s already off in the direction of Cabin 12 to get you settled under the covers for at least the rest of the day until you’re up and kicking again. Your protests are scratchy but loud as he takes you away from the two kids and it's as if everything is right in the world again.

“Remind me not to get a girlfriend that stubborn one day,” Percy mumbles, bumping shoulders with his best friend.

[lewisvinga]

chocolate almond croissant | jude bellingham x fem! perez! reader

summary; jude bellingham and the granddaughter of florentino pérez, the president of real madrid, soft launch their relationship

fc; nailea devora

note; i haven’t written in forever and i’ve never done a smau on tumblr so here’s my attempt😋😋 my requests are closed btw 😁

masterlist !

liked by bsfuser, judebellingham, and 739,038 others!

ynperez: in france, kinda want a baguette

user1: mother

user2: i wanna be u

bsfuser: u only know the words oui and allez les bleus

ynperez: i know cama ooh too

camavinga: i feel so special

user3: anyone see jude in her likes

user4: he’s trying to get on presi’s good side

user5: our future president

user6: tell papa pérez to send the damn bid

user7: i’m a culer but i love yn

liked by ynperez, camavinga, and 2,038,937 others!

judebellingham: the south of france

user8: we were in the same country we’re meant to be guys

user9: my faves

user10: going feral rn

camavinga: QP QP-skyyy

vinijr: 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄me dejaron

judebellingham: restttt bro😘

ynperez: ur so unserious

judebellingham: thx

user11: isn’t yn in france rn??

user12: who is yn??

user13: she’s florentino pérez’s granddaughter, he’s the president of real madrid 😭

liked by judebellingham, aurelientchm, and 723,938 others!

ynperez: when bae ate the last bite of your chocolate almond croissant

bsfuser: u look so sad

ynperez: nothing to smile about in my life

user14: BAE????

user15: omg she’s not in her single era anymore

user16: 100% believe she’s dating a real madrid player

aurelientchm: how many bites did he take

ynperez: one too many

ynperez: and one too many sips of my matcha latte 💔💔

judebellingham: sounds delicious 😁

ynperez: yeah yeah 😒

user17: can you blame her?? jude and aurelien are on that team i’d want them too if my father was the president of the biggest club!

user18: real

liked by ynperez, vinijr, and 2,985,034 others!

judebellingham: new found love for chocolate almond croissants

user19: it’s illegal to be this fine

user20: damn

user21: call me delusional but didn’t yn pérez talk about her ‘bae’ eating her chocolate almond croissant & they seemed to be in france together

user22: delusional

vinijr: wonder what else you love 😂🤣

judebellingham: hey man, chillll🤫

ynperez: u should try matcha lattes i heard they’re good

judebellingham: i’m a fan of them icl

user23: no way jude isn’t dating yn pérez

user24: tryna get on presi’s good side like presi didn’t speak english for him at his presentation 😭

liked by judebellingham, camavinga, and 940,038 others!

ynperez: bf always taking pics of me mid complaining should i dump

user25: yn so cute😭

user26: THE SECOND PIC LMFAO

user27: dump him u can do better (me)

judebellingham: I CANT HELP IT THAT YOU LOOK CUTE WHILE COMPLAINING??

ynperez: ur so dumb ur lucky ur cute

judebellingham: oopsies

user28: JUDES COMMENT IM SCREAMING

user29: i knew those twitter threads were right

camavinga: it only took so long for jude to explode

vinijr: to be fair u always complain

ynperez: i helped sign him he should be grateful for me!

liked by judebellingham, vinijr, and 1,482,038 others!

ynperez: ruined my soft launch but it’s okay, mi novio is tan lindo y lo quiero 🤍 [my boyfriend is so cute and i love him]

tagged; judebellingham

judebellingham: i said i’m sorry😔

ynperez: it’s ok pumpkin

vinijr: just so you know he giggled

judebellingham: i don’t giggle idk what u mean

judebellingham: i love you🤍

ynperez: i love you 🤍🤍

user30: I KNEW IT

user31: it couple

user32: now we know why jude signed for real madrid

yourbsf: finally u posted him, such cuties 🥹

ynperez: i wanted a cute soft launch but this will do😔😔

user33: she calls him pumpkin that’s so adorable

user34: idk if i want him or her

user35: anyone see vini’s comment 😭

liked by ynperez, camavinga, and 3,028,937 others!

judebellingham: prettiest girl ever, te quiero, mi flor 🌹🤍 [i love you, my flower]

tagged; ynperez

ynperez: AWHH U SPOKE SPANISH TO ME YOU LOVE ME🥹🥹🥹🥹

judebellingham: what can i say, i have vw the best teacher!

ynperez: te quiero muchísimo mi querido [i love you very much, my dear]

judebellingham: te quiero siempre [i love you always]

user36: 50% of me is crying but the other 50% is so excited

user37: him speaking in spanish for her?? that’s so cute stop

camavinga: he asked me 20 times to make sure he was saying it right btw

judebellingham: mate, don’t expose me like this 😕😕😕😕

user38: camavinga 😭

user39: wanna know how presi feels

ynperez: papa pérez is happy that his granddaughter is happy 😁

user40: i’d sign for real madrid too if that means yn perez would be my gf

[junicult]

What do you think the bachelors prefer more, Ass or Tits? I'm just curious what you think

!! which bachelors prefer your boobs / ass

contains ; nsfw! reader is implied to have a curvier body. some smut. some fluff. fem!farmer. the words boobs & butt are used. (1) mention of f!receiving oral. not proofread / probably missing some tags.

note ; ahh, the age old question.

harvey.

- he couldn’t care less what you have under your clothes.

- that being said…boobs.

- during sex, in general he doesn’t really like when he can’t see you / your face.

- doggy style isn’t his favorite, not because it doesn’t feel good but because it doesn’t feel like he’s focused on you. he wants to see you, he doesn’t like the way it makes him feel like he’s not having sex with you.

- he’s already a big fan of missionary. he loves when he can really be in the moment w you.

- …and ur boobs just so happen to be right in front of him.

- the soft bounce, how they fit in his palms, and overall just how they look. he likes them, okay🤷‍♀️

- he’s never outright said it, though. if u asked he might but i doubt it.

- he doesn’t want to objectify you like that. it’s not like he looks at you and thinks how much better your tits look then anything else.

- it’s just obvious.

- wear a low cut shirt and his eyes might wander. i’m just saying.

sam.

- i literally can’t decide. i’m serious i have no idea.

- i just love the thought of him being obsessed with you (like a good husband should) so even if he was asked the question, he couldn’t answer!!!

- “hey babe, do you like my tits or ass more?” and he’ll ponder on it like you asked him what the meaning of life was.

- he loves your boobs because they’re soft, he likes resting his head on them, and holding them under your shirt whenever you lay together (yes he does that).

- he loves your butt because…well it looks nice. he likes looking at it lmfao.

- it’s just as soft and fits nice in his hands when he pulls you in to kiss you sometimes.

- it’d be funny if you actually asked him, cus he’d still be thinking about it hours later.

- ur laying in bed together, his cheek is resting on your chest and he’ll just mumble, “i think your boobs might be the answer.”

- and if u bend over in front of him to pick up something on the floor, he’ll just sigh and say, “maybe it’s your butt…?”

- like MOVE ON!! IT’S BEEN DAYS😭😭😭

shane.

- might be controversial…but boobs.

- he loves ur boobs, and all for the previously stated reasons.

- he’s a little more openly a pervert then anyone else💀

- he’ll stare at ur boobs mid conversation, and will just look up at you like nothing happened.

- lol if u guys were arguing or something, and you catch him looking, you’ll just stop and say, “i’m sorry, were they saying something?”

- he just chuckles, “yeah, i think they were agreeing with you.”

- he knows time and place tho. if the argument is more of a fight, he doesn’t have time to stare💀💀

- he also loves the way they feel, how soft they are when he squeezes them.

- and in general your tits can easily get him hard if that’s your goal.

- he likes to bite them, suck on them, squeeze them, fuck them. they’re pretty & he enjoys feeling them up.

- don’t even get me started on when u wear jewelry that dangles right into your cleavage.

- he’s way too horny to just ignore it.

- needless to say, you’ve given him a titjob before 😇

sebastian.

- he’ll never admit it.

- and he definitely loves both, i promise.

- it’s a close second…but i think he likes ur ass more.

- in general, i don’t think he actually dwells on that stuff. he thinks it’s silly, and stupid because he loves you no matter what you have.

- i don’t even think he’s ever even given it in-deep thought.

- if we’re talking non-sexual, he might prefer your boobs only because they’re so versatile 😊

- he’s just like any other guy: he wants to lay between them with your arms wrapped around him while he naps.

- he’ll hold them while you spoon. he’s no different then anyone else.

- but when he’s horny, and he’s looking at your body sexually, he might like your ass a bit more.

- it’s sorta obvious in the way he’ll get hard so quickly if you turn around to take off ur pants in front of him lmfao.

- he runs on auto pilot when ur ass is in front of him, i’m just sayin.

- he’ll definitely want to squeeze it, especially when you’re sitting on his lap.

- or when he’s fucking you from behind, he’s addicted to the way you arch into him, and the way your skin ripples when his hips slam into yours.

- he’s pretty lanky, & something abt ur phat ass just drowning him makes him a little excited. i’ll say it.

- if you ever asked, he’d probably just say, “i dunno, i like them both.”

- and if you told him you think he likes ur ass more, he’ll just shrug and say, “i guess so.”

- he really doesn’t gaf.

alex.

- ughhhhh

- i feel like this one kinda depends on whichever you have more of.

- he’s not a pig (anymore.) it’s not like he’s married to you because of your cup size.

- he likes all of you, not just your body.

- he’s also not picky!! i’m just saying, if his ex had larger boobs when you have a larger ass—that literally means nothing to him.

- it’s your boobs and your ass that sexually attracts him. not anyone else’s.

- and also, if you don’t have larger boobs or a larger ass, he doesn’t care either.

- he’ll still smack your ass if you walk past him, and eye ur tits in a tank top.

- if u have larger boobs, he’s definitely wanting to moterboat them😭😭😭

- he likes to hold them, press them together and squeeze them whenever u give him the chance.

- he acts like they’re the first pair of tits he’s ever seen.

- and if your ass is larger, dw, he’s unrelenting.

- his hands will always wander whenever you give him even just a quick kiss.

- he’ll give it a little squeeze and grin at you like he didn’t.

- …he’ll eat u out from the back just so ur ass is in his face🫣

- but the thing is, no matter what you have larger or less of, he’s still doing all of these things 😭

elliot.

- is there a third option?

- i’m not abt to say personality, bc obviously all of these men love your personality. they’re grown adults, they’re not married to u bc of ur body.

- if we bring thighs into the mix, then i might have to rewrite some things (sdv men love thighs it’s canon.)

- it’s impossible to tell if he actually did have a preference because of the way he treats you so delicately.

- like, if he did prefer your ass, all you would have to show for it was when his hand would already be resting on your lower back, before he moved to just cup one of your cheeks (lol)

- or your boobs, when he’d gently kiss over your heart as a sign of affection.

- if we’re heading towards sexual, i still think he doesn’t have a favorites

- he does everything in his power to show every bit of you as much love as he can.

- you’re perfect to him, and he wants you to know that.

- he doesn’t wanna potentially make you insecure if you know he prefers your boobs, which you have less of then your ass, or vise versa.

- he loves all of you, and he’ll absolutely prove it.

psa: pls take this lightheartedly, i don’t intend to hurt anyone’s feelings. it’s all in good fun!!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi!

I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all of your COD fics! Your Price fics made me fall in love with him (I saw a recommendation for See No Evil on TikTok and just went down the rabbit hole from there (it’s also my comfort fic)) and Laughing Poets made me buy Ghosts for Keegan. Your writing is so beautiful and poetic and has inspired me to start writing again after a really bad writing’s block!

I also did want to put in a request for Ghost (because I love him so much) but given his hype, I understand if you don’t want to write for him or if it may be hard. But I was hoping that this hasn’t been done before (much) and that I could read it in your words since you are so amazing!

I was thinking of the reader being a CIA agent that was working undercover to get classified information and 141 was sent in to extract her after she was compromised. And her and Ghost don’t really get along at first, like they don’t hate each other but they could just care less about one another. But then they get separated and one of them is injured and the other fights tooth and nail to get to them, realizing how much they care. I was thinking that her callsign could be ‘Reaper’ but it can be anything else if it fits better. It can be angsty (because that’s the absolute best genre), fluffy, nsfw, whatever you want to do with it.

I know this is asking a bit much and I’m sorry for that. Feel free to change it as you see fit and do whatever you want with it, if you want to do it. I really appreciate and love your work!! Thank you!!

'Til it Hurts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: This duology will be 18+ and contain the following: intense gore, blood, violence, vulgar language, angst, fluff, suggestive content, (smut, p in v sex, virgin!reader (relevant to plot) all in part 2), abuse of power in the past, toxic working environment in the past, copious flashbacks, soft!simon because I love him like that (I guess considered ooc), banter, etc...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted tomorrow after I edit it and the link will be added to this part as well for ease of access. But, anna, that's wild that people post about my work on tiktok, lmfao. I'm so glad I helped you out of that writer's block, though! Enjoy part 1, Love (I did change it around a bit)!

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

You often think of the friends you had when you were six. The neighborhood you grew up in was full of other kids your age, and there was practically a horde of young boys and girls outside at any given moment. Early mornings were ripe for adventures – ears perking up from your pillows at the sound of bird songs and lawnmowers like an instinctual call to cause mischief. Days would run long and nights would end late with games of tag. 

It was inevitable, at this point in your life, to not think about where your friends would be now. Were they happy? Starting families and getting married on island resorts; white sand underfoot and a gentle lapping of ocean water? You’d lost contact a long, long, time ago – never bothered to get back in touch, though you know things might be better if you had. 

God, you’d never have friends like that again. 

Selfless. Genuine. Without competition or a need to stab each other in the back. Friendships built on a childlike innocence that was never meant to stay or grow with the brutal stretch of years. People mature. They harden, sharpen. 

They break themselves to fit a mold of what they want to be without even realizing…Or maybe that was just how you grew up. 

Your feet pound against the cobblestone streets of Bergamo, Italy, as you make your way through the packed road of the Upper Old District. Under your chin, your fingers go up to grasp the scarf around your neck and pull the thick navy fabric up farther. Fast eyes flicker over faces as a fake plastered smile splays over your lips, and your jaw holds a tension that seeps into your shoulders.

Keep the act up, you have to remind yourself, fingers heavy at your hips, don’t let the facade slip, or else it’s over before it begins.

At your sides, past the unending sea of loudly speaking humans and loyal animals alike, the broad expanse of ancient architecture calls to the history of this city; red-terracotta roofing, extravagant greenery, and pillars as tall as the buildings themselves. A picturesque land filled with mysteries lost to time, stories never told beyond the scratch of a pen and moth-eaten parchment. 

A city now filled with killers. 

“Sitrep,” you grunt into the open channel, the earpiece fizzling as it sits in the clutch of your canal. No one answers and, slipping past a family of tourists, you glare at the ground; heart going so fast you feel like it could jump-start a car. “Damnit!”

The seconds draw on and as you pick up the pace, now shoving your way through the crowd, you feel eyes on you. Slithering over your skin like oil. 

Not good. 

Shit. Karver, where did you go!? 

Karver ‘Rigs’ Massarini was an informant – someone who’d been giving you everything that you needed to know about the cell in this area; along with a grouping of eyewitnesses to a stash of ICBMs. A stash that could do some serious damage if they stayed here with the wrong people. Intel suggests that those very missiles were going to be shipped off to Mexico in only a few days, smuggled across the border into United States territory with the intent of doing some pretty awful stuff and framing the US. 

If you and Rigs weren’t quick with this, so many innocents would suffer.

You’d already gotten into contact with Mexican Special Forces yourself, warning Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra of a possible breach and to watch for any unregistered shipments on the docks or coming in from the air. 

But now Rigs was missing, and you had a funny feeling you were being trailed. 

Back alley. You take a quick right, boots slamming to the ground and heart hammering. Get away from the civvies in case someone decides to go trigger-happy. 

This cell was known for being deadly, Mr. Massarini had sent the file over to CIA headquarters before you were shipped out; Laswell had set you on it right away without even taking the time to read it entirely.

“Extremely high Kinetic; I’m giving you full Execute Authority on this, Reaper. We’re running out of time. Find those missiles.” 

Torture, kidnappings, mutilations, the list went on for this group and how far they would go to keep secrets. No one had gotten any clear insight as to what their motives were – just that they needed to be put down in exactly the ways they had been doing to others. Ruthlessly, before they grew bigger or spread their influence beyond borders, and created a group that could rival what Al-Qatala had been. 

So that was where you came in. 

God, you wished Farah and Alex were here with you – at the very least you could rely on them to help, even if you sectioned yourself off from others more than a dying cat. There was a reason you preferred being sent in alone with only your wits.  

Mostly because of situations like this.

“Rigs, sitrep. Where are you,” you try again, the close walls shrouding in your shadows. Throwing looks over your shoulders, you take down deep breaths, a growl gradually digging itself a hole in your esophagus. Desperately, you say, “I’m heading back to the safe house ASAP. Wait for me there.” 

Your right hand gravitates to your pocket, slipping through the fabric and pushing aside the ripped seam at the bottom. The sheath at your thigh pinches you with every step, but you’ve endured it for years, calluses breeding where the leather had chaffed the flesh to toughness. To an ingrained perfection. Flinching when your fingers bump against the handle, the metal adornments feel cool to the touch despite the sweat dripping down your spine; temperature and nerves leaving your palms sweaty. 

None of this was going to plan.

You caress the small Dirk blade strapped to you, and when the first footsteps enter the alleyway behind you, your hand clenched into a loose fist around it. Your eyebrows pull tight with annoyance.

Taking a slow breath as the trailing stranger begins to move faster, you take a corner, halting the second you were out of sight. You nonchalantly turn on your heel and lean into the wall, feeling your body conform to the building and the stone dig into your back. 

The material is cold, and as you raise your Dirk up, you flip the blade parallel to your forearm, wrist lax, and fingers still. A slow breath flows from your barely-parted lips. 

3 seconds. You don’t blink, only gazing out across the space and noticing the dark shadow gaining ground. 2…1…

Your body jerks forward, free hand snapping out and grasping the fabric of a shirt. Twisting your hips, you plant your feet and wrench the stranger around the corner, breath coming out in a loud snarl. Without a shout, you have the person’s back shoved to the building in an instant, blade held above an Adam’s Apple. 

A man, then.

“I’m going to give you one full minute.” Your Italian was only surface level – far better at understanding others than speaking full sentences. But you think whoever this man is comes to a conclusion well enough. “Before I cut you open and watch the life spill from your eyes.”

You don’t recognize this person, his sharp face or dark, sly, eyes, and with a quick assessment of his large stature you figure out he’s the basic definition of a man sent to complete a job. One that would have left you dead if you were anything less than a contracted CIA Agent on a job. You had been trained among the best from your time in the Marines – years on Special Ops forces; taking point. Even if they were the worst times of your life, you still learned a great deal from them, particularly, how to know when to cut your losses. 

With one look into his smug face, you know that this stranger would tell you nothing. 

Your lips formed a grimace, teeth flashing under flesh at the rod-straight form of the man under you. He was smirking with eyes seeming to be laughing at you. Arrogant. Self-assured. 

“You’ll get nothing out of me, Reaper. We are already on your trail.” Your head tilts, a numb huff escaping your throat and pushing the individual's hair back as a breeze would. There was a small pause; tiny shiftings of your feet as your blade digs ever deeper. 

A thin trail of blood falls from the placement, and your muscles writhe under the epidermis. There’s no thought behind the laugh that enters the air, that cold, dark, thing that’s more of a bark from a hellhound. It was just a realization that no matter where you went, there could never be anything unique anymore. Everyone was always the same. 

“You’ll never get it out of me-”

“Break my bones; rip my flesh, you will never make me talk-”

“If you want to see me beg, you’ll be disappointed-”

There were countless memories you could bring to the precipice of your mind and re-live; moments ingrained into your psyche like a tattoo is to skin. So you can only smile and nod, scarf swishing around your neck. The man looks confused now, if not slightly nervous. That self-assured attitude leaking to the ground. Eyes as dark as obsidian beginning to snap back and forth – looking for a saving grace in the make-up of ancient stone that wasn’t going to come. 

You wondered how many people had died in this city throughout history. The stories lost to time. Have these alleys seen war? Famine?

Have they seen murder? 

But you are a woman of your word. A minute passes in tense silence, your eyes never leaving his own and ears carefully in tune, twitching like an antenna, to the joyous shouts and laughter just a street over. Here you wait like a rat in a trap, though you like to believe yourself more of the metal Hammer than the unknowing participant in a dance of death and wits.

You tighten your grip on your Dirk, shrugging up at the man. Your face is nonchalant as an understanding smile grows. As simple as a server at a restaurant.

“I believe you.” And you run the knife’s edge across his flesh like a match to a striker before he can scream.

Stepping back, you’re suddenly thankful for the scarf over your sweat-slick neck because as the spray of blood splatters over your nose bridge and forehead, you swipe it away with one of the ends of the thick fabric. You let the body drop, watching large hands snap to the gushing wound like that alone would stop the cold grip of death. 

Your mark has been met. 

The External Carotid Artery was easy enough to cut, though you had to dig deep for it, and it seemed the man had moved mid-slice. Frowning while the man gasps and gurgles; flails as a fish would, you study your work as you flick the blade clear of blood. Your brows furrow. 

“Nicked the Thyroid Cartilage, hm.” Sighing and shaking your head, you sheathe the Dirk and twist on your feet, still intent on making your way back to the hotel safe house and trying to find a lead on Rigs. The slumping of a body reverberates a moment later, a grandiose death rattle, and still, only a street over you hear animated conversations – the bustle of traveling feet, and the sound of the breeze. 

You often think about the friends you had when you were six. But, now, instead of being the one who fought off the monsters at the ends of the beds, you had become it. The monster. The boogeyman. 

The Reaper. 

Oh, what would they think of you now? 

You swipe at the blood along your fingertips, seeing the red bleed under your nails with such a numb feeling that it scares you more than anything. Taking down a gathering of saliva that feels more like a slug in your throat, you wonder when you lost the ability to value human life. Of course, the answer was slated in those early years in Special Ops, but you don’t dwell on those times. 

In fact, it was better if you never thought of them at all. 

Taking a left, you hum a tune under your breath and listen to the birds sing as the blood dries. 

—

The meeting room wasn’t even a room, just a vacant air-craft hangar that had been fitted out with two rows of metal fold-out chairs and a projector. Shadows danced over the floor, long streaks of darkness over concrete. 

“...I’ll be giving you full Execute Authority – but this mission is completely Black. Host weapons only. No Evac team.” Laswell’s voice echoes off the ceiling, and Ghost’s eyes flow over the projected intel, memorizing the faces and locations with nothing more than a blink of his blue eyes. Fluttering eyelashes caress the hard material of his mask before settling. 

Task Force 141 was being sent off on another deployment again, deep into Belarus and near the Russian border.

“Time frame?” The Captain asks, standing a small distance away and leaning against a crate of ammunition. His arms are crossed; jaw is loosely set. 

Kate looks at him, above the heads of Gaz and Soap, and nods her head before she comments, “one week.”

Gaz huffs from ahead of the hulking form of Ghost, and the silent man shifts his attention back to the group. 

“One week, Kate? No offense, but we don’t even know if the bastard’s in Belarus.”

“‘fraid to get dirty there, Garrick? Ah, we’re good enough for it.” Soap elbows the male at his side, and the masked man releases a puff of breath one row back. The Scot twists in his seat, mohawk tendrils falling over his forehead, and smirks. “C’mon Lt. back me up here. We’ve got this in the bag already.”

“Bit confident, Johnny?” Ghost grunts out, accented voice low and muffled from under the black fabric over his lips. His hips shift over the chair, legs splayed and arms crossed as he reclines back; letting the bulk of his gear weigh heavy. “Just wait until you’ve got us sitting on a pile of dry leads and rotting corpses.”

“Eh, nothin’ we haven’t dealt with before.”

“Focus, you three.” Kate interrupts as Gaz rolls his eyes to himself, fixing his ball cap over his head with a fast flick of his wrist at the antics of the other two. “You’re going to be shipped out at 2000–”

An easily recognizable ringtone starts to play. 

Blinking in surprise, Laswell takes a glance at the table that had been long forgotten and spies her phone buzzing over the metal. Her light brown hair, kept securely tied back, swished at the nape of her neck. She wastes no time.

Briskly walking over, the rest of the men in the room watched intently, heads perked up. Ghost couldn’t stop the pique of interest at the strange behavior, though his form remains still, only making a noise under his breath in contemplation. In the hold of his crossed arms, his fingers tighten.

“Not the person I’d imagine keeps her phone on for just anyone…” Gaz makes a slow comment, and John slides up beside him, hands hooking onto the sides of his combat vest. Watching. 

“Hm,” their command affirms.  

 Kate picks up her phone and immediately answers, brows furrowed. She shifts her weight as an inhalation reverberates. The conversation on the other side was too muffled, a small droaning the only signal that someone was on the opposite.

Unconsciously, Ghost straightens in his chair as the rolled-back sleeves of his undershirt leave his black ink tattoos on display. A deep intrigue spilled in his chest but otherwise, he was still focused on the previous instructions for the next Op. This was just another cog in the wheel, perhaps a location change for their safe house, or an accelerated timeline. No matter, they would get it done regardless–

“Reaper?” Laswell speaks, and blue eyes slide to stare at the Captain, whose legs had tensed. “What’s happened–” 

The Lieutenant knows something was wrong just by the simple fact that he’d never seen their Station Chief talk on her personal phone with that look on her face before – he’d seen it mirrored on the Captain and he’d clocked it from her just as simply. The wrinkled skin at the side of her eyes, and stiff-set lips peeled back in a frown. She’d always been serious, but the air was different. 

Reaper? He runs through the database of his mind and ignores Gaz’s and Johnny’s muttered words and glances. 

“Now who do you think that is, then?” Soap grunts out. Ghost doesn’t answer.

Brows furrow. 

Sounds familiar, the man can’t help but admit. 

“Patch me through. Now.” Kate slips to the computer a few steps away and opens a fresh tab, sorting through files and months of intel as if it mattered just as much as a bug under her heel.

“Kate?” Price prompts. The woman only holds up a finger and keeps the phone in between her shoulder and cheek, hands fast across the keys. 

Soon enough, a feed pops up on the projector, and the three previously sitting all rise to their feet in an instant. 

An open wound is in the process of being stitched and displays itself over the entire available space, violent red internal flesh puckering over the edges of…Ghost narrows his eyes, unphased.

Was that a fabric needle and thread being used for sutures? Resourceful, he admits.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” The manchester man levels thought the blandness of the tone contradicts itself. “Where’s this feed from, Laswell?”

“What the fuck…?” Soap growls out, and the Scot blinks at the screen in shock as the Brit beside him lets off a sound of disgust akin to a sick cat. 

“Reaper, sitrep.” Kate doesn’t flinch, rushing off into procedure as steady hands delve back into flesh, blood falling from their fingers like water to splatter to a rundown wooden table. The world-away computer was most likely getting a rain of crimson all over the keys at this rate. 

Price grunts under his breath. 

“Shit,” a distinctly feminine voice wafts out, a harsh sigh held back, though the annoyed tone was noticed immediately, “can’t a girl stitch herself up in peace? Besides, Watcher-1 answer me this, huh?” The computer is jerked, its screen going staticky as Ghost watches with roving eyes to take in the background when the visibility returns. A bed, nightstand, and sitting by the floor of the front door, copious amounts of weapons. The man takes stock – an M13 assault rifle, X12 handgun, and Arctic .50 sniper rifle. Ammunition lines the floor in a way that leaves Ghost’s lips thinning under the mask. 

Someone’s in a hurry. But from what?

“…what goddamn hotel doesn’t have mirrors in it?” Kate’s sigh can be heard a mile away. “No, I’m being serious here, Watcher – how the hell does that happen?” 

Watching you take a step back, Ghost as well as the other three all blink in surprise when you come into view. Your top was off, only a sports bra covering your flesh, as your focus stays on the digging needle you send into yourself over and over. 

Yet again a feeling of intense familiarity strikes the Brit in the chest. Your soft face, your hair, your voice. It was infuriating.

Who are you? The inability to call forth a memory leaves the fists at his sides gradually clenching under his gloves. 

“Reaper.” Seriousness grows in the Agent’s voice, and Price lets out a slow chuckle that leaves Gaz turning to him in confusion. 

“Sir?” But the inquiry is ignored.

“Still as stubborn as ever, then, Reap?” Everyone sees your hurried stitches stop, head snapping up as they clock a veiled panic behind the iris’. 

Your eyes tell all the story they need, and Ghost’s body freezes as the color evokes a physical twitching of his hand. 

“Holy hell,” he utters under his breath so silently no one even realizes he spoke; eyelids pulling back before settling like nothing had even happened.

“You know, you're the first person who’s been nice to me out here.”

“...Then I’d tell you to get better friends, Sergeant. I’m not sticking around.”

“I never said they were my friends, Ghost, and I never expected you to stay, anyways. That’s not how this works.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Bravo-06?” You ask, voice sometimes cutting out over the line. A laugh breaks out, and a small smirk twitches the corners of your lips, “Hey, Old Man, how’s it going over there? Been a while.”

“What have you got yourself into now?” Price asks, chuckling under his breath with a groaned continuation, “and how do you need me to get you out of it?”

The spectral man now watches with a newfound fervency, blue eyes boiling so violently that if anyone had seen, they would have thought he was about to attack. Like a split second of eye contact with a wolf before it rushes. The build of his shoulders was still loose, however, and the only indication of shock was his optics; the mask shrouded all. 

But there was a subtle movement of his hips, feet transferring over the floor to stand shoulder-length apart.

“Oh, this,” you point to your injury with a free finger, tying off a knot on the last line of sutures. “Nah, it’s nothing. A couple of assholes tried to get the jump on me a block back, one had a knife on ‘em.” Your hand tosses the needle and thread to the table, a muttered, thunk, sounding off. Looking down at your work with a raised brow, everyone watches. “Took care of it – they gave me a name, too, but with the trail of bodies I left today, I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t pan out.” 

A pause before you turn your head back up, face now completely serious as you focus on Laswell. 

“But we have a bigger problem, Watcher. Rigs is gone; I think my position’s compromised. I’m going black.” Your form leans to the side, and a wrinkled t-shirt is thrown over your head. From your mouth, a stifled groan releases. Ghost blinks in surprise.

The Captain’s lips thin, and he looks at a tight-wound Kate. 

“I have a contact in the lower levels, Reaper, meet up with her and she can have you out of the city by tonight. I’ll send over her info.”

“No can do, Watcher.” You sigh, and Ghost simply stares, following your figure as you back up, heading to the X12 and shimmying it into the back of your pants before looking over your shoulder. Kate hums under her breath. “If they’ve got Rigs,” Walking quickly back over to the computer, one of your hands grasps the top of the frame, thumb poking out from the corner. You tilt your head. “I ain't leaving without him right behind me. I’ll be in contact in a month – if I’m not, then I’m dead already.” 

Your chuckle strikes a cord through the room and Soap snorts in answer. 

“Glass-half-empty kind of person, then?” 

“I’d say,” Gaz mutters.

Continuing, you’re about to say something else – lips already partially parted and breath sucked in  – before your eyes lock onto Ghost. The atmosphere of the room flips like the page of a book. 

You stare at him with what seems to be a million emotions flying past the glossiness of your optics; lids already peeled back and whites showing in a display that showed more than told. The man could only begin to imagine what you were thinking – how long had it been since he’d seen you last? You’d obviously gotten out of your Marines Special Ops unit. 

Not quite how I remember you. It wasn’t hard to recall that small branch of the MRR – Marine Raider Regiment – and how they treated you. But that wasn’t any of his business. He’d been there to do a job, and he’d accomplished it. Quite thoroughly, if anyone would have checked the file after it was all over. 

Ghost’s life was counted in the sands of an hourglass, small, molecular, bits hitting the bottom one after the other; rarely was that time wasted on pointless squabbles and words but at that moment, he was conflicted. 

The Brit had never expected to see you again, and the sand briefly halted when you spoke. Hm. 

Yes, he remembered that voice… he’d just never heard you this confident before. 

“Ghost.” He watches the emotions on your face settle, and he was thankful for the mask covering his visage because he knows he would have left at least a small twitch of his lips slip. “Long time no see.”

“Mutt.” The Lieutenant nods in a monotone greeting but notices a slight jerk of your shoulders at the name. His eyebrows furrow, but mentions nothing as his pulse slows. 

Your neck moves as you swallow, looking to the side as a dark curiosity fills the space in Ghost’s lungs; head nanoscopically tilting to the side like a vulture. 

“Nice seeing you, Bravo-06,” You tilt your head toward the Captain before clearing your throat and addressing Laswell. “I’ll be around.” 

It wasn’t hard to tell that the title had made you freak, a kind of bad cloud suddenly springing to life above your head. 

Seems to bother her more than being in a Hot Zone, Ghost tells himself, the deep well of dark water in his gut still. That didn’t make any sense. He watches your hand slaps over the computer and the feed goes dark in an instant. 

The room is more silent than Ghost is. 

“Kate, she’ll need our help.” Price shakes his head from side to side; body moving to the front of the room. “I’m not asking.” 

The two talk it over as Ghost’s mind trails, head tilting down more towards his chest as his eyelids narrow. 

“Hm,” He grunts, arms tensing as his grip shifts. Soap turns around as Gaz goes to join the conversation between the Captain and the agent.

“What? Know ‘er or something, Lt?” The Scot asks, slapping a hand on the taller man’s arm. Ghost eyes lock on the grip before he blinks, looking back up and leveling the Sergeant with a dead stare. Johnny laughs awkwardly and moves his limb back to his side. “Just…didn’t peg you for the type to start relationships.”

The Lieutenant turns down the aisle of chairs and lets out a bland, “negative. Leave it, Sergeant.” 

Why did you react badly to the namesake you’d gone by for the entire time you’d been in Special Ops? Mutt was when everyone had called you when he had been around for that short time. 

He felt no great concern for you – no hatred or care – you were just another Agent that would probably end up dead like everyone else. Another time, maybe, he’d have gone in a heartbeat, and if the team decided to go after you, he’d follow. A mission was a mission, it wasn’t like it largely mattered. 

But there was something in the back of his mind. Intrigue? Yes, perhaps. The blue-eyed Lieutenant wasn’t one to dwell on these types of things, but a colleague was still a colleague. 

Whatever the outcome, he’d do his job with all the ruthlessness and tact he always did.

Ghost’s hand goes up to fix the position of his mask and glances at the blank projector stream, eyes boring into it as they darken. A moment later, he was leaning against the ammunition crate that Price had previously been on, arms crossed and ears twitching at the ongoing battle of wills; isolated to himself as his intimidating form towers ever upwards. Spine straight. Bones stiff. Eyes grim. 

You’d been nice to him – a person that, for the limited time he’d interacted with, had left an impression that was only just starting to come back full force. Smart and resourceful; not too bad on the eyes. 

He takes down a sigh. Stubborn…but undoubtedly loyal. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, and you look up at him as if he wasn’t the one in a mask – as if his entire being was laid bare before you. He swipes away the trail of blood with one firm press. The gentleness of your skin is known even through his glove.

“You’ll live, Sergeant.” He utters, teasing in his monotone voice, “now, where the hell are we goin’? Gun’s itchin’ to lay a few out.” 

Ghost would have smirked at the way your eyes dilated if he had the ability, but in the end, he brushes past. Because if he hadn’t, you would have seen his own do the same.

‘Reaper,’ he frowns, feeling the ammunition crate dig further into his hip, they never called you that one.

Perhaps the real battle of wills was happening inside of him – not five feet away between his Captain and his Station Chief.

—

You remember every interaction like it was yesterday, and although he might not, you can’t help the memories from flooding as you gather your gear. Stuffing guns into duffel bags and intel into crossbody sacks that weigh you down like boulders. 

Fuck, you open the back window and shimmy out into the back streets, knowing that your position is compromised and not waiting any longer to test your luck. Your side burns something awful; horrible stitches peeling back skin as you groan in pain. What the fuck was Ghost doing with Price? I didn’t know they knew each other. And the two other men in the room…eh. Not the problem right now! 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you pant, swinging your legs out of the window frame and sharply inhaling when a suture tears. “I’m never in the loop.” 

In all honesty, you don’t want to be – too complicated. It’s better to just stick around and be told what to do. 

Glaring down at the ground with glazed eyes, you only take a breath of hesitation and let off a curse before dropping. 

Your knees take the brunt of the force, and the ricochets of landing on cobblestones travel up your ankles and leave your legs shaking. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you would have come up with a dirty joke to mutter to yourself. 

The discomfort can only last so long, you tell yourself, and ignore the spreading liquid on your side, only thinking of Rigs and the mission. 

And Ghost. 

Gritting your teeth, eyes vulnerable, you turn down the backroad and stay away from others, drowning in memories more deadly than blood. It had been a while since you had thought of it – the lockbox in the back of your mind keeping all under tight watch; guard dogs with metal teeth and chained necks. 

But that title; that namesake you’d scrubbed your skin raw over. Mutt and all the others said in cruel breaths. Oh…but Mutt. 

Mutt was the worst of them.

Your hands were vibrating, the tremors traveling up your wrists and arms – past elbows and bruised flesh under skin; bloodied nose and quivering lips. Why did they always yell at you? But worse, why did they always make you do the dirty work? 

The Captain, everyone just called him Alke, was standing in front of you, berating your accuracy on the last round of target practice. Fortunately, this deep into the Unit itself, you’d found a way to let it go in one ear and out the next, eyes as blank as a starless sky. 

You could see the spittle flying from the man’s lips and some even splashes across your cheeks like acid, but there was something artful to the way you didn't react. A culmination of crafted numbness that bleeds like trauma. It was a constant, everlasting, void.  

What they were making you into was not what you wanted, but what possible other option was there? Resign? No, this was nearly an unimaginable position to be in at such an age. You deserve to be here. Should you report the blatant unprofessionalism and favoritism in the ranks? And be blacklisted by these people's friends so that you never ascend the line?

Your ears twitch. 

“...You’re not sleeping until your marks are perfect – else we’re overthinking your position in this Unit. Can’t have a Mutt in our ranks, can we?” The last sentence is punctuated with a ruffling of your hair almost like a brother would; teasing, but you know that isn’t what it symbolizes. Harsh laughs and mocking remarks from the bystanders. “Least of all one that’s gonna get us killed. Tch.” When you don’t answer, staring off in a daze at his nose in a perfect image of formation, the Captain raises an eyebrow. “Affirmative,” he smirks, “Mutt?”

“Sir!” Your mouth shouts, though the action is more instinctual as your back straightens.  He frowns at that, perhaps wanting to torment you more, but huffs and files out, ordering the rest to follow with one last call.

“I expect you to be up for morning drills an hour early. I’ll be checking your shots myself.” 

“Sir!” 

After everyone’s gone, you blink back to reality. There’s a second of confusion, creases forming in your forehead at the sound of birds and blowing glass. Head turning side to side, your lips thin at the absence of others as if only realizing how spaced out you’d actually been. 

Flashing teeth and heated eyes flash through your mind before you blink them away. Signing away the tense nature of your chest, you clear your throat and relax your legs. Your vision slides to the corners of the concrete dugout, snapping past sectioned-off areas for privacy to search if there was someone who might have stayed back. 

Not finding anyone, your hands, clenched behind your back, loosen and fall limp to your sides like bags of rock. One weakly goes to swipe at the trail of blood from your nose, wrecking your already wrinkled sleeve with crimson; but soon an identical trail drips off your chin regardless. Licking your lips and tasting copper, you take a shaky breath and nod to yourself. 

You knew what shooting all night would bring on – lesions under the firing pad covering your shoulder; deep-rooted pain leading to nerve damage later on. Blisters that leak puss and blood onto your bedsheets. Not to mention the mental strain, the bags under your eyes burn from lack of rest. 

Gritting your teeth, you walk over the tossed rifle on the floor and pick it up with shaky fingers, the tips flinching back from the cool metal before encompassing it tightly. 

Silently, you get on your stomach and set the weapon in the crook of your already pain-laced shoulder. Your blood splatters the stock.

—

It had been two weeks with no luck in finding Rigs, and you were starting to get paranoid.

Staring at the dead body tied to the wooden chair, you growl and tear your Dirk from the woman’s chest angrily. 

There had been increased police patrols from all the corpses you were leaving, so you’d compromised and limited the chance of being caught at the same time. 

Bergamo, Italy, was an ancient place, and the underground was what you were now both metaphorically, and physically, exploiting. Sewer systems. Catacombs. You’d lost track of the paths you’d taken a million times over, and had started to hate the constant darkness only kept back by the small hand lamp you’d stolen. 

But there were ups to this constant downward slope. 

It made interrogations increasingly easier to pull off with multiple feet of stone all around you. The screams don’t meet the surface.

“Catello Tullio,” you mutter, caressing your sensitive side with your free hand and placing your blade on a turned-over piece of rock. The area reeks of blood and gore, a stack of bodies chucked carelessly in the corner beginning to reek something awful; even as you have another to add to the count. It wouldn’t be long before the rats came in droves.

Another given name, another score. But this one was new. Apparently, the title of the one that took Rigs while he was out getting more rations in the market. 

You point a finger at the slumped body, “you better hope I don’t find you in hell if you gave me the wrong damn name.” 

Grabbing your light, you stalk off down one side of the tunnel back to your camp, dodging drag lines that strike your eyes with their crimson streaks. 

The raggedy blanket and gun-sack you’d been using for a pillow take form in the dark, and somewhere in the corridor a rat squeals; feet pitter-pattering until it disappears altogether. You didn’t even want to think of the spiders living down here. Files and notes are strewn along the floor, perfect hiding places for eight-legged monsters. 

You couldn’t do anything until nightfall. It was just too risky. 

Massaging your side as you bend down, you grimace at the partially healed wound and scoop up your pistol before plopping to the ground with a grunt. With the deadly object held in your lap, you take a moment to breathe and try to push away a growing headache in the back of your skull. 

“This has to be one of the worst Ops on record, huh?” your small voice speaks back to you in bouncing waves of echoes as you begin to fiddle over the gun's small grooves and dents. “How did you manage this, Reap?”

Smiling blandly, the overwhelming quiet and nothingness all around you is like a curse. And in those pockets of a void, your mind always trails to him – or at least it had been for your time on the run. Ghost. That dark and brooding mass of horribly bleak humor and…well…you couldn’t call him mean. 

Your eyebrows furrow.

He was never mean to me. 

There were soft instances where you would question yourself as to if the Brit had possibly had some affection for you. It wasn’t a long shared history of course, but you had sworn that there was something about the way he looked at you…something that you remember so vividly…

You shake your head and stand after a small while, stretching your feet. Placing your pistol in the back of your belt, the weight brings you dull comfort.

 Shining your light on the hand-held radio on the ground in passing, you rove back to it after you scan the perimeter. Its black metal mocks you.

No one’s coming to help ‘cept you. One voice says, and another grunts out, get it together, Mutt. 

You turn on your heel to go and take a breather to disperse your dark thoughts but only make it three steps before your eyes widen, lips parting in awe. Nearly falling flat over yourself, you whirl around in an instant. 

A static enters the air as if the gods above were laughing at you - toying with your fate like it was a rock tossed to the sky. The familiar British drawl causes your chest to tighten, though the sentence is broken and barely understandable.

Someone’s here for me! A smile slashes your face – fierce hope lighting your eyes. You hadn’t wanted anyone to explicitly come for you, but this was a welcome discovery. Someone to talk to!

“--eper…Copy?” Darting like a cat, you move so fast that you stumble over rocks on the way there. “Lead…cafe…red cloth…Out.”

By the time you snatch the small black object, the garbled and firm tone has already shut itself up. Your mouth parts.

“Shit!” You yell, shaking the thing in your hand with an iron grip, hissing like a snake. You look above you at the cracked ceiling of stone and a growled accusation.“I’m too deep…Fuck. Gotta get up there if I want to be able to respond.”

But it hadn’t all been fruitless. Lead. Cafe. Red cloth. You clip the radio to your belt and make sure your shirt covers your weapon; pat your thigh and tell yourself to stop forgetting your Dirk everywhere before setting off in a jog. The light flashes over dead eyes and stiff bodies.

You snatch the blade off of the stone as you pass it, slipping it into your cut pocket and hearing the satisfying clink of it sheathing.

“Let’s just hope I don’t smell too bad…” You say aloud, chuckling, and listening as the sound echoes off the stone. If no other company, you still had the sound of your own voice. 

You couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. But, you were getting side-tracked. 

A Cafe with red cloth, then. Not exactly the place you’d go for an intel swap, but if someone had been trying to contact you for more than a week, you’d imagine they were getting desperate at this point. 

If I had known…you frown. 

Thinking over the multiple blueprints and pictures of the city in your files, you go through your internal cabinet of knowledge for color schemes - not what you’d have thought you’d be using it for, but, oh well. A lead was a lead.

“Golositá!” You laugh, sudden glee on your face as you dodge a pile of large stones; lips peeling back as you take a fast corner. “Gluttony! Of course, that’s the place.” 

The bustling business on the upper side of Bergamo with red table cloths as well as red awnings extending into the street. Anyone would be a fool to miss it. 

Like blood lining the street. 

You force yourself to run faster.

—

You met him last, despite being a Sergeant. The Captain had you up late last night yet again – running the forest trail this time rather than shooting. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it surprised him when you were still up early with the others; from the looks that he was giving you, you just decided that, yes, he was. Or he was just pissed he didn’t have an excuse to get rid of you. 

Blinking away fatigue, you keep your stance relaxed as a gargantuan shadow comes to loom ahead of you. 

The man everyone had whispered about called himself ‘Ghost’ and, if nothing more, was certainly intimidating. Shoulders wider than a bench, arms as rounded and as strong as boulders; not to mention the tattoos that made him look like he took cross-country motorcycle rides in his spare time. Tan tactical gear and dark patches for the SAS, the red and white British flag. Gloves covered his large hands, straps carried knives on his biceps and thigh. Something akin to a tan cape that was loose around his hidden neck.

But the mask was what really caught your attention; your head tilting with an innocence that no longer lives in you.

Skeletal. Half a visage of a dead and gone intimidation of humanity. Sewn into a hood of black cloth from which only the eye sockets were open…But the eyes there were no different than if the holes had been empty in the first place; as if the person inside was as dead as sun-bleached bone. Was a corpse piloting this suit?

Ice blue. Freezing blue. Harsh. Colder than a grip of a phantom, you thought as you blinked up at him, colder than the nights you would stay awake working yourself to death. You watched this Ghost’s chest move in a steady inhalation and you stuck out a busted-knuckle hand. Foolish, maybe, but there were worse things to be afraid of than a mask. Then of those eyes that made your spine shiver. 

But you didn’t look away.

“Pleasure, Sir.” There was a moment of tense silence where your Captain, at Ghost’s side, was frowning at you silently. The man could say nothing as long as this SAS member was here to assist in your next Op overseas. At your sides, your colleagues on the tarmac shuffle on their feet like nervous penguins. 

Ghost glances at your hand, and you try not to show how fast your pulse is running when his eyes leave a cold trail as they grace your split knuckles and torn nails. He ends with a slow look at your name patch. 

“Sergeant.” He says and slips past without another word. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you inhale smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. Snickers bounce off air particles, striking your ears as an embarrassed heat rises to your cheeks, but that scent stays in your nostrils for days. 

Your Captain scurries after. 

“Erm, forgive, Mutt. She’s a helluva strange woman, that one.” You keep your sneer hidden, a hiss lodged in your throat and a twitching finger. But your anger isn’t directed at the masked beast that stalks away. That yapping bully of a Captain would hold all of it as long as you were here.

At that point, you were sure you’d seen the last of Ghost until the Op – not really getting the feeling he’s a people person so much as a ‘give orders and follow them’ type. 

But that was fine by you, it didn’t change anything. You’d been told to go back to the firing range tonight for opening your mouth and ‘making an embarrassment of the Unit’....whatever that meant. All you did was welcome the guy with the barest hint of a good attitude. 

You supposed manners were a foreign concept around here.

The world ahead of you was blurring, red circles in your eyes that gloss over with water every minute you force yourself to stay awake. The stars were out, sky dark, and the area was only lit by large lights situated around the base. In some sort of strange way, you enjoyed the sound of crickets and the cold breeze over your bare arms as if the only sense of peace you got was when you were half-passed out, nailing shots from a rifle. 

The stock was where it always is, your cheek pressed to the side; staring down the scope at the multiple holes in the paper targets. Dots surrounded by multiple other dots like a slice of cheese. You suppose that made you the hungry mouse in that case. 

‘A mouse with a fucking day before she drops.’ You frown, blink, and pull the trigger as the trees rustle. The force lands directly on your shoulder – the kickback is usually not one to bother you, but seeing as your appendage was one bad day away from being dislocated and forever damaged – you took it with a grit of your teeth. 

And you took it because you knew you could. Just as you knew that you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your neck. Freezing, you remove your finger from the trigger and loosen your grip. Turning your head to the side, a free hand goes up and shifts the ear mufflers from your head to your neck in a single movement. 

You swear your heart jumps to your throat when you see a skeleton’s icy blues numbly watching you; arms crossed while a nice-looking SA-B 50 Marksman Rifle sits against the wall at his side. How…long had he been there? Watching?

“What’re you doing, Sergeant?” Ghost asks sternly, that Manchester accent making him sound harsh. Grating like a rock being run against concrete. “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be thrilled at a scene like this, eh?” 

Blinking, you remind yourself to breathe before answering – voice tough and hoarse.

“I have my orders, Sir. You’re free to join me.” 

You turn back as a grunted huff falls from behind muted cloth. Ghost walks up to your laying form, standing on your left side and picking up the binoculars from the hanging hook in your station. As you look back through your scope you don’t know why, but you hold your breath; waiting for something.

“...Not a bad shot. You’re prone to firing more to the right, judging from the grouping. I’d fix that, less you miss a moving target runnin’ the opposite.” He lowers the object - staring from the side of his eye. From your position, your neck cranes to see his fingers twitch. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” For someone you’d expected to be quite harsh – though you had no doubt he still was – Ghost was more sarcastic in his mannerisms. 

Backhanded comments that wound sting if you got on the other end of them.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.” Shifting your grip, you move the stock farther up your shoulder, feeling an immediate release of tension, though the expansive trauma still leaves needles in your tissue.

“Hm, pay attention and you just might learn something.” You feel yourself quirk a lip for the first time in months; your mouth doesn’t stop to think.

“You mentor a lot of people in the middle of the night, then?” 

“Only the ones stupid enough to be awake.” He takes a step back, going to grab his own rifle as his footsteps don’t even make a sound.

‘Quiet for a guy with thighs that could choke me out.’ 

Your brows furrow at the heated thought, taking a slow breath and flexing your hands as the shadow disappears from over you. Why were your hands sweaty?

Were you…afraid? That…that wasn’t it.

“You’re up too, you know, Sir. Bit hypocritical.” This was the first time you’d had a full conversation with someone since you’d gotten in with this Unit. A mildly pleasant one, at least…you wouldn't really call this bonding.

“I can always leave ya’ to it, Sergeant.” Deadpanning the words, you clear your throat and fall silent at the threat. 

‘No,’ you wanted to comment, ‘no, I want the company so badly it hurts.’ 

You swallow saliva and reposition your ear mufflers back over your head, heart bruising your ribs, as you bring down a calming breath of air to still your nerves. 

The two of you don’t speak again, and you don’t ask why he takes the shooting cubby right next to yours, the nose of his rifle peeking out from the concrete wall. You certainly don’t ask why he’s up, either.

And in return, he doesn’t ask you the same.

—

When you find Golositá you’ve managed to sneak through the city unseen, taking every backroad and alley you could as the heat of the day increases to near sweltering. Panting, you stick to the thin shadows of the path across the street, eyes dancing over red cloth and flicking to faces; studying visages as one would a medical report. 

Your chest hurts, and you run a hand over your side, feeling the raised skin under your shirt before digging into the aching ribs. All this running around and little food to help keep your normal strength was troublesome, and it would only get worse if this Op from hell continued. 

I need new intel. Badly.

About to retreat, not finding anyone you recognize off the bat, a black-shrouded figure kisses the side of your vision as if a phantom. 

On the outside table, the farthest removed, a man sits stiffly with an untouched teacup in front of him. Smirking, you can’t help but scoff at the thought of Ghost using the thing – you’d think his thumb and forefinger would break the delicate porcelain in an instant. Like a spine over his thigh.

Your cheeks heat. 

He looked almost identical to what you remember – minus the gear, obviously – and your stomach twisted at the thought. Was a simple look enough to bring you to the breaking point? Why were your lungs tight?

As if feeling your stuck eyes, those icy blues shift from people-watching to lock onto yours immediately. As hollow as they always were, it seemed. He blinks and the blonde eyebrows on his sliver of visible forehead move.

Shit. Your hips trade weight. Look at you.

Loose shoulders under a rugged buttoned-down and painted balaclava make your breath go thin, not able to resist sneaking a glance at those tattoos you remember so vividly. Yes, that was still Ghost.

Jesus, is this how it felt to see someone you barely even remembered suddenly appear? Was it elation or caution that was making your heart race? 

Ghost doesn’t look surprised. His eyes don’t widen; don’t soften or light up. They blankly watch you as you shake away the shock and raise a brow in return. A sarcastic finger goes to your head, and you mock salute. 

What are you doing? You seem to ask, a mischievous expression growing as you start forward when he dismissively narrows his eyes. You look ridiculous. Are you asking to be spotted? 

The man leans into the too-small chair he sits in, one hand going to hang off the back and the other resting on the tabletop. Gloved fingers tapping morse in slow measures.

Clear. Come here. He follows you with his gaze, head stationary, as you enter the flow of traffic, smiling at people at your sides and letting off polite greetings when you could. Steadily striding, you weave through groups and individuals like water, legs steady even as your ears pick up every little sound. 

A comfortable middle point of visible excitement and strict business. Why were you so…happy?

When you approach Ghost’s table, you slip up beside him with a sly chuckle, pulling out the chair to his right. You, softy, lower yourself down into it, not turning to him but instead simply making sure no one had followed you with a quick scan. His heat only adds to the warmth of the day like a walk through damnation.

“Well, well, well,” you smile, addressing the SAS member with his shadow hanging over you once more; such a heavy thing, though you don’t mind. Your expression mellows to have it above you again. There was a safety to it, you had to admit. The cold comfort of death. “Trip to Italy, Sir? Take a little vacation?”

“Came to bail out a bird from my past,” You smell that scent again – smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. “And if I ever went on a vacation, I sure as hell wouldn’t pick this place. ‘Bout to burst into flames; traumatize a few kids and their mums.” 

Hadn’t he changed even a little bit? 

“Now that’s dark.” 

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Of course he hasn’t, you answer your own question, feet shifting and skin pliable, why would he? He isn’t like me – didn’t have to reinvent himself based on atoms and in the wake of silent nights. 

There was a piece of you that believed that Ghost had always been this way, though you knew it was false. Nobody in this profession was just born like this, they were led to it. Whoever it was under the mask or balaclava didn’t matter anymore. 

They had died a long time ago.

“Not a fan of the history, Brit?” You tease, bringing up a hand to itch at your undereye, finally taking a peak at the form that nearly swallows you. 

Your lids try not to peel back, but you didn’t realize how close you’d sat next to Ghost – any closer and you would be in the crook of his arm; the relaxed spread of his knee bumping into yours and arm over the back of your seat. Trying to act nonchalant, you ignore the strange swirling in your gut with a hum and a twitching of your leg.

Stop that.

“Don’t care a smidge, just not a fan of the damn heat.” The gruff man responds with his inked arm on the table flexing, as though he was tenser than he showed. Ghost clears his throat, “needs a good downpour, eh?” 

“Try living underground for two weeks. Literally. Sun’ll feel like a blessing.”

“Fuckin’ hell…That’s why the radio wasn’t working, then.” While this was all cute – re-learning each other like a shaken puzzle – there were dangers to being this open. The Brit would be fine, but if you got spotted, well, there would be worse things to worry about than an achy side and a pile of bodies in a tunnel.

“You got something for me, or are we here just to stand out like bullet holes in a forehead?” Feeling his head tilt to you, snaking down your form, your body leans forward, palms sweaty as they lock on the table. “Price with you? The other two I saw on the feed?”

“Negative. Op in Belarus. Sent me in alone.” Your knees brush, delicately; like a touch of down feathers. You refrain from taking in a shallow breath, knowing he’s analyzing every movement with a hidden mouth and gentle huffs of air that rises his sculpted chest. Through a grunted sigh, Ghost tells, “The Old Man insisted. Laswell thought you’d be alright by yourself, regardless,” and falls silent.

What was he doing? Why was he talking with that rasp in his tone? Your heart swells at the comment about Kate, but a confusing feeling settles in your lower body. Why did the air feel thick?

The warmth of the sun was making your skin perspire, leaving a sheen of sweat over your arms. But the thought of heat stroke fled as you became hyper-aware of the man beside you, keeping careful not to touch you, though his gaze still bore into the side of your face like prodding fingers anyways.

He can’t quite figure you out, he admits to himself. So much of you was different – and he couldn’t tell how. 

She’s lighter, he tightens his face, not the same as when I left. 

But there had been an utter satisfaction when he’d seen you in that alleyway, even if you were different in a million ways, that would never change. Ghost’s body had loosened, his clenched jaw let go, and snappy answers to servers stopped entirely. 

Because those were still the same colored eyes that he remembered. He takes a long breath. 

Through the haze under your creased skin, a red alarm starts to sound off. Not because of the confusing way you felt the chilled form of Ghost on a near internal level, but because of the hooded individual across the street.

When your eyes lock, they back up three paces and bolt down the adjacent street, vanishing into the crowd. Your expression darkens, and Ghost shifts his attention from your face to the streets. 

His eyes blankly follow where you were looking.

“Come on,” you get to your feet, hand snatching at the SAS member's sleeve, dragging him with you as a mother would a toddler. It was ironic – if he resisted, you wouldn’t be able to force him to move, not in a million years, but he slid off his chair with fluid muscles. 

He doesn’t question you when he’s brought into an offshoot of the road, vacant of tourists or locals besides a stray cat and a few scavenger birds. Flies jump off garbage cans, buzzing through the air above your heads as you level Ghost with a serious stare. 

You nearly stumble over your words when you get to look at those long blonde eyelashes that you remember heatedly, but push through as they move to half-lid his blank eyes. Your heart skips beats as you spare looks up and down the space.

What the fuck is going on with me? Focus. This is serious. 

But, Jesus, he should really stop looking at you like that.

“You said you had a lead over the radio – anything on someone called Catello Tullio by chance?” You ask, voice like stone.

“Tullio?” Ghost hums in the back of his throat, all business, hips moving under him as he goes to glance at the street. His balaclava moves as he speaks. “Someone made a mention of it. ‘Fore I put a knife in ‘em, ‘o course.” Nodding, he huffs out, “On me.” 

Turning on long legs, he starts to walk farther down the path, and you follow at his side, peering up and eager to gain more intel. “You’ve caused quite a panic around here, Sunshine. Cell’s terrified of the ‘Reaper.’ I’m nearly impressed.”

He briefly flashes an optic to you, heart betraying him as he remains locked on your lips. Rotating his jaw, he turns back forward.

“Oh, my,” smirking slowly, you roll your eyes, “whatever will I do without your approval, great Ghost.”

“Dunno – kick the bucket probably.” Shaking your head in false annoyance, the slow, mocking, stain in the man’s tone leaks into your very DNA; coating it with honey. Like a warm sunrise, you clock a small hitch in his chest and equate it to muted chuckles when you laugh. 

“Don’t go placing bets, now. I’m not so easily broken.”

“Oh, wouldn’t think of it, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t be my handiwork if it happened,” his tone goes light, “don’t wanna take credit away from you.”

“Brit.” You spit with fake venom.

“American.” He grumbles back, but you clock the small spark in his iris, cold blue bouncing silver light like snow. 

He sounded…entertained? Snide in a sarcastic way. 

Your mouth rises in a stupid, dopey, grin as you stare from the side of your vision, chest jumping in easy comedy. What a strange pair you two were, but you find you liked his company even more, this time around. 

Or maybe he had changed slightly. Or maybe it was just you.

At the end of the day, you were relieved that it was easy to talk to him. Conversations with corpses are a bit one sided, after all.

Ghost’s lips had to be at least quirked under that dark fabric to achieve mischief like what he was spitting out, you leveled with yourself. At the minimum, the man wasn’t annoyed he’d been forced out of his own primary mission because of you. 

You remember he wasn’t averse to cracking jokes – particularly dark ones – but it had…it had never felt like his before.

Strange, you admit with a raised brow and a cocked head, cheeks burning for no apparent reason. You’d gotten him to chuckle? Holy hell, you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for that. I’d think he would be pretty pissed about being sent here. He’s never been one to fuck around. 

You both continue in easy silence until you decide to speak once more, intent on asking where you were being led. 

Ghost’s head had perked up in what you assumed to be soldier-like attention, but then his head had whipped behind the two of you. Oblivious to his shift in mood, like a dark cloud, you open your mouth.

“Well, where are we–” 

“--Get down!” Hands slap on the back of your arm and jerk you to the opposite wall as a loud echo rings out. Whizzing over your head so close that you feel the breeze of it. 

Gasping, the air is expelled from your lungs in one fell swoop; your spine grating over the rough stone as your legs scramble to keep upright. Wiping away the shock quicker than an eraser over a whiteboard, your neck snaps to the problem; brain already hardwired to get over being shot at and the adrenaline that floods your veins immediately after. 

Across the way, Ghost’s fast hand was reaching to the back of his outfit – without a doubt going to grab a concealed weapon. Eyes fiery and arms tight. And as though you were seeing it happen in slow motion, you lock onto the hostile in the middle of the alley back the way you both came. And then onto the hooded silhouette ahead of you. 

Boxed in. 

Hyperfocused, all of it happens in only three seconds, two trained professionals protecting each other without even realizing it. 

One, you realize how this will have to play out if you don’t act immediately. You don’t know how you can trust Ghost to take the other hostile while you focus on the one ahead, but you don’t question it. Two, your gun lays heavy in your hand as your legs pivot. Three, you fire double shots with a loose finger and hear mirrored gunfire from the man beside you. 

You don’t bother watching him drop.

Snapping your head backward with a rageful expression to see Ghost’s corpse hit the floor with a cracking of a skull, shouts start to ring over the city. When you lower your weapon, you turn to notice the Birt examining your own downed hostile with a satisfied stare. If you hadn’t had his back, he would have been shot in it. 

But what you didn’t know was that he was thinking the same thing about you. 

Turning to stare at each other, your widened eyes lock; fingers twitching along the cool X12’s metal as those stormy iris’ only seem to darken further when they dart to your lips. Like staring into a wild animal’s gaze and pretending you’re not in a trance because of it – stuck in that moment of infinity and nothingness with not a single muscle moving. Waiting for either a mouthful of fangs around your supple neck or for the beast to turn away with grace and practiced steps. 

You swore Ghost’s mouth parted under that damned balaclava, but whatever he was going to say was lost when the world came back in a violent storm of screams. Panicking, you gape at the entrance – seeing multiple shadows shoving through the crowd to get to you.

“On me!” Keeping your pistol in one hand, you bolt, hearing heavy footsteps pounding behind you as your mind begins to run.

Ghost trails without a single doubt in his mind as to why he’s following you, and it makes him cautious. 

Catacombs, you decide, get under the city and backtrack to the outskirts. Survey and have Ghost tell me his intel before making a move…yeah! 

“Where are we headin'?!” Ghost shouts, keeping right your heels as you turn corners. Gunshots ring over your heads as you jump up small groupings of tile steps, blood pounding in your ears. You try to remember the maps you had stored in your files underground. Left…no, two rights. Shit! I need to be higher – see the streets like a bird would! “Reaper?!”

“Do you trust me?!” You call over your shoulder, and though it seems deranged, a smile forms over your lips. “I’ll need an answer in the next few minutes, yeah? I’m on a time crunch!” 

“What are you on, Girl?” The adrenaline speaks to you, propelling your legs faster and faster. You vault over a fallen trash bin and take the shock to your ankles as it travels to your thighs. Snickering, you feel the brooding man’s presence like you always could – just beside you like a loyal hound. His focus excites you as you put your gun away in the small of your back. “Bloody hell! Not giving me a choice?”

“Not if you don’t want to get shot in the ass!” Taking one more right, you find yourself rapidly approaching a dead end, tall walls, a balcony, and a large dumpster – the flap already closed overtop. Not answering the man as he barks out a comment, you throw yourself atop it with a puff of breath and spasming lungs. 

Laughing, your hands don’t falter. Reaching up with eager fingers, you grab at the black metal front of the balcony a small distance above and suck down a hot breath. Your arms strain, sickly sweet sweat on the top of your lip, and eyes wide with glee despite the gaining footfalls rising like a battlefield cry. Jerking your body up with only your upper-body strength, you slide your abdomen over the railing with barely a second passing. Once your feet are firmly on someone's property, you twist around and slap your hands to the metal with a twinkle in your vision; face wrinkled with all the animated amusement. 

A wide grin is stuck on you.

Ghost stares up with slightly widened eyes from the ground, arms poised on the garbage bin.

Oh, hell, when she smiles like that…

“But I can’t judge, can I?” Teasing, you extend a helping grip with a smirk. “Everyone has their fetishes, hm, Ghost? Maybe yours is just having a gun pointed at you.” 

He blinks at that, but knowing the urgency in the back of your throat, he pushes himself up with a grunt. You try not to watch his muscles strain, but spy the way the veins in his forearms grow larger as his alluring hips flex. They situate themselves under him as he crunches before straightening in an instant. 

Fuck, don’t drool, you scold, lips lightly parted like seven devils were flying in the back of your mind. Jesus, imagine the weight those things can carry…shit. Wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to that. 

A leather-coated hand slaps into your awaiting one. You snap back to a screaming reality and stare down into hypnotic sheens of ice and…wait…did Ghost have fucking green flecks near his pupils?

“You sure it isn’t yours, Sunshine?” He harshly comments, and his balaclava moves with a rising of his eyebrow. 

Clearing your throat, you murmur a weak reply as your face begins to feel like a blazing fire, squeezing his limb before pulling. He chuffs. Grunting violently, you know he does most of the work in helping himself up, though the Brit still slaps your shoulder in comradery when he’s stable. Kneeling down, he forces himself into the wall behind the two of you, fingers weaving to create a cuff over his knee. 

Tossing his head up, he motions with urgency.  

“C’mon. Be quick ‘bout it.”

Catching one foot in the basin of his clutch, you force down your illicit thoughts about Ghost and jump, pushing off with your opposite leg on his shoulder and his added boost. Scaling the wall, you arch and scramble - with a growing bite in your side – to the terracotta-shingle roof.

Following after and checking your six, the beast of a man joins just in time. 

Shadows dart around the corner far on the ground, and the both of you are speeding animals over the rooftops in the meantime. Against better judgment, boots pounding the tiles, you release loud bouts of genuine laughter. 

How long had it been since you’d had such fun? Enjoyed someone else's company like this? Running across homes, you look at your side, only to find Ghost’s eyes already digging into you. Unrelenting. Unmovable. Panting, you smile brightly, giggles making your sides hurt something awful but your pace doesn't slow for an instant. 

All it took was a glance at the streets – you know where you are now. 

“Enjoying yourself, Reaper?” He asks, arms pumping and barely winded, and you wonder for a moment how he breathes under that covering of his – it had to smell horrible by the end of the day.

“For…the first time in ages, Ghost.” He chuckles at that, and it is a betrayal of his nature. How could someone so violent, so cloaked in oceans of blood, produce such a soft sound? A genuine sound that makes your stomach flip? 

His bewitched eyes rove back in front of him, and he can’t deny the simplicity of speaking to you. It wasn’t a chore, just a conversation with a person who he wouldn’t mind having on 141 at his side. 

There were few people worthy of that.

You swallow thickly and take point, leading the shadow of death to your home underground so you can re-evaluate. 

You can only wonder why you don’t feel nervous as he watches over you, skin marked with horrors but his hand had fit so well in your own. And you also wonder how you can come to care for someone you haven’t seen in ages so quickly, as if you’d both been around each other for years. 

Had you really ever forgotten him? Or just tried to push the affection, both emotional and physical, for him out? But that was the problem, you tell yourself with a clenched jaw, that physical attraction. All of that was just…tied into a million knots. Complicated. 

You’d never had sex before.

And, Ghost questioned himself as he watched your legs move, did he forget you out of necessity? Because those eyes of yours won’t leave him alone, and he so very much enjoyed looming over you.

He sighs heavily and follows in silence.

—

When you first joined them, they all created rumors. This was long before you were permitted solo Ops, long before half of your file was filled and bleeding with black ink that would shame a warlord. When everyone just thought you were signed up because you were some unhinged kid, brimming with unchecked problems and willing to throw everything away just for the chance to prove yourself. Who got into it for kicks. 

They would say you enjoyed it, killing. Reveled in it, really. That it got you off when you were covered in blood and crimson guts as they pooled at your feet. 

You suppose that was what turned you away from sex in general – those heavy comments said with no remorse that stuck with you. It was fear almost, a genuine twisting of your mind to make it your fault. It wasn’t your fault, you knew that; you could sleep with anyone you wanted and the comments weren’t a brand on your skin.

You could forget about it. You should. 

But the words were so mean. Just cruel for the sense of being cruel. And it stuck with you.

If that was all anyone would see, why try and force them to look away? You kept to yourself, never spoke unless spoken to, and shoved all of it down like a kill switch. No sex, no relationships. Nothing to make you think about the rumors. 

Getting off on death? You were horrified at the concept, horrified that people would play around like that with you – with your life!

You just ended up telling yourself you wouldn’t feel it until it hurt too bad. In a way, you were right…but you can only force emotions down for a while until they break forward like a fist to the mouth. 

Besides Mutt, they had many names for you – titles and backhanded monikers. Rabid. Demon. Devil. Monster. Sometimes, beast.

But they all had the same meaning. Inhuman. Wrong. 

It shouldn’t have bothered you that much. It…It shouldn’t have made you stay up at night still thinking about the way they would laugh and pinch your arms as you were left shaking; drowning in gore not your own because they sent you into the heart of the Hot Zone for a few jokes. Teasing you about how you probably touched yourself because of it.

But it was just an excuse to make you too scared to leave. Your reputation…

“There’s that Devil for ya’, always ready to slit some more throats for us. You think you could do the next few, Mutt? You’ll love it, I know you will. I’ll give you a good report if you do it without alerting the guards – see there… ‘Course you will. Fucking freak.”

Your eyes stare forward blankly, Dirk leaving a dotted fluid trail over the dusty ground.

Why did they do this to you? 

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[diorsluv]

feather , part 34

“ where i’m at ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

hockeynewschannel

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newschannel1 rookie nhl player, luke hughes of the new jersey devils, and longtime suspected girlfriend are seen out at the beach spending time together!

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username21 no fucking way they got news channels covering this

username78 LMFAOOO

username45 how the hell do you even????

username90 there’s no way they could tell it was them from the BACK

→ username79 prob just couldn’t snap a pic from the front without getting caught

username46 i genuinely think they could give less shits if they’re seen out together

username84 ppl are forgetting they were friends before they started dating 😭

yourusername oh my god i’m famous 😱

→ username42 LMFAOAOAOAO

→ username71 stirring up the drama i see

→ username99 you’re trolling so hard aren’t you

bardown

liked by yourusername, lhughes_06, and 194,901 others

bardown luke hughes or a dupe?

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username1 BARDOWN??? this has got to be jesse there’s no one else who would cover this

username82 even bardown’s roped into the dryshughes rabbit hole 😭

username72 waiting for the next pod to come out and it’s just then talking about the dryshughes lore for an hour straight

liked by bardown

→ bardown soon!

username24 LMFAO IS THAT THE DRUNK LEAKED PHOTO

username36 i’m sorry they did luke so dirty

→ username34 on par with all the other news reports about him 😔😔

username47 THAT’S MY WIFE she’s so hot

username88 but they’re not even canadian 😭

→ username14 they used to live in toronto idk

username8 next quiz idea: state every event to happen in the dryshughes timeline

liked by bardown

username23 next thing i know i’m prob getting a notif from tsn about this shit

tsn_official

liked by yourusername, lhughes_06, and 200,007 others

tsn_official just spotted luke hughes and his girlfriend getting lovey on the ferris wheel

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username23 i just manifested this wtf

username41 GOOD FUCKING BYE

username60 they can’t even say mother’s name i see how it is 🙄🙄

username79 wtf!

username15 since when did tsn and bardown cover romantic relationships in the nhl 😭

→ username2 since dryshughes.

username58 they can’t catch a break holy

username97 let’s just leave them alone 💀💀

username42 they didn’t even wait for the actual hard launch to happen 😭😭

username76 THEY’RE CUTE TOGETHER WHO IS SHE

lhughes_06 damn i thought we were being lowkey about it

→ yourusername ‼️‼️

→ username84 i’m so confused what’s going on

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, _quinnhughes, njdevils, and 320,155 others

yourusername we had it coming boys…

look at this fucking dumbass (i love him) he looks so stupid (he’s so cute) and he’s so cheesy (he legitimately makes me swoon) AND IF ANY OF YOU TRY AND SHIT ON OUR RELATIONSHIP i’ll thank you! (I WILL BEAT YOU UP)

thank you for coming to my ted talk

tagged: lhughes_06

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lhughes_06 i hate you more (i love you so much) and you’re my least favorite drysdale (you’ll always be my girl)

→ yourusername this is so gross you made me cry fuck you

→ lhughes_06 i think you forgot to add the parentheses

_quinnhughes only took you a decade!

→ yourusername HEY DON’T CALL US OUT

→ lhughes_06 fr that’s so uncoolio

markestapa OH MY GOD I CALLED IT

→ yourusername called what 🤨

→ markestapa mackie’s dumb ass said luke was gonna hard launch first

→ mackie.samo THEY PRACTICALLY POSTED AT THE SAME TIME

→ markestapa BUT SHE POSTED FIRST

→ mackie.samo BY LIKE 10 FUCKING SECONDS

→ markestapa give me my damn money 🙄

maddysamo does this mean samo time gets cut down even more

→ yourusername unfortunately yes…

→ msamoskevich okay then keep breaking my heart 😔

→ mackie.samo stfu samo time is NOT getting cut down

→ lhughes_06 yes tf it will mackie.samo

→ maddysamo YOU ALREADY SPEND ENOUGH TIME WITH HER AS IT IS

njdevils favorite couple by far!

→ lhughes_06 YEAHHH LETS GO

→ yourusername 🤭

colecaufield you chose the worst possible photos of him

→ yourusername i deadass didn’t have any good pics of him

→ colecaufield go on pinterest???

→ yourusername and search up pics of my own boyfriend?? hell no

_alexturcotte ayeeee there we gooo

→ yourusername you were our #1 supporter from the start 🙈

→ trevorzegras THAT IS A FUCKING LIE AND YOU KNOW IT.

adamfantilli oh look he gave you flowers

→ yourusername he gave me flowers 🥰💐

dylanduke25 mini golf

→ yourusername i destroyed him

→ lhughes_06 you didn’t but i love you so i’ll let it slide yourusername

→ dylanduke25 the balls r really small right

→ yourusername yeah…….

→ dylanduke25 maybe that’s why you were so good at it yk, since you got a lot of experience from lukey boy

��� lhughes_06 DUDE STOP

rutgermcgroarty why was bro recording the helicopter

→ lhughes_06 because i wanted to 😔

→ rutgermcgroarty ur such a weirdo

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lhughes_06

liked by yourusername, trevorzegras, edwards.73, and 345,174 others

lhughes_06 just wanted to say i was fucking struggling to keep us a secret and i love you more than the entire universe

tagged: yourusername

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yourusername WHY’D YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE THE WORST PHOTOS OF MEEE

→ lhughes_06 shush you look beautiful

edwards.73 you were not keeping it a secret bro 💀💀

→ lhughes_06 BECAUSE I WAS STRUGGLING

→ edwards.73 yeah we could tell… 😬

mackie.samo that first pic is photo evidence of you selling on chel

→ lhughes_06 IT WAS LITERALLY YOUR FAULT

→ _quinnhughes i was a witness i can attest to your shit playing

→ lhughes_06 😐

luca.fantilli you let her paint ur nails.

→ lhughes_06 IT’S CLEAR

→ luca.fantilli u were shitting on me for wanting to paint stars on my nails

→ lhughes_06 IT WOULD LOOK BAD ON YOU

→ lhughes_06 AND MINES JUST A TOP COAT

→ luca.fantilli SHUT UP HYPOCRITE

jamie.drysdale yeah yeah you look cute but you better not hurt her or else i will hunt you down and i am a hell of a lot closer to you than i was when i was still with the ducks

→ lhughes_05 yes sir 🫡

→ yourusername the paragraph. the fucking paragraph.

→ jamie.drysdale I’M JUST DEFENDING YOUR HONOR

trevorzegras LETS FUCKING GO???

trevorzegras ROOTING FOR YOU SINCE THE START

→ lhughes_05 we thank you for your service

→ yourusername sure you were z

→ _alexturcotte it was obviously me 🙄

jackhughes i bought you all of those films and they were expensive as hell

→ lhughes_06 so was my tooth when you knocked it out of my mouth when I WAS SIX

→ jackhughes IT WAS GONNA COME OUT ANYWAYS

→ _quinnhughes it was not about to come out 💀

→ yourusername you’re rich stop whining about instax films

njdevils that’s our boy!

liked by lhughes_06

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njdevils

liked by lhughes_06, yourusername, dylanduke25, and 356,924 others

njdevils we support you! (as long as she’s cheering us on when we play the flyers 🤫)

tagged: lhughes_06, yourusername

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philadelphiaflyers gritty will not be happy to learn that his favorite player’s sister will be cheering for the other team

liked by njdevils

lhughes_06 ❤️

→ yourusername dry ass comment

username3 SCREAMINGGGG

jamie.drysdale hm.

→ lhughes_06 don’t be salty man

→ yourusername frfrrr

username87 MY BABIES

username41 IT FINALLY FUCKING HAPPENEDDDDD

username56 AHHHH

username68 LOOK AT THEM THEY’RE SO CUTE

username25 FUCK YEAH

username76 HARD LAUNCH OF THE CENTURY

yourusername i’ll make a deal 🫣

→ njdevils let’s hear it

→ yourusername whoever’s playing at home is who i’ll cheer for

→ lhughes_06 no

→ jamie.drysdale no

→ njdevils no

→ philadelphiaflyers no

username44 YESSSS

next chapter notes ) HARD LAUNCH OF THE CENTURY?? YES OR YES????? and also i’m so pumped from the stars’ 9-2 thursday win and we finally got our hard launchhhhh

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02 @ho3forfakeguys@loveforaugust@cstads-blog@h0e4fictionalme-n

[mywons]

៹ bf!maknae-line when jealous.

▸ ִֶָ tags [ boyfriend ] enha x reader, fluff + mentions of other member ( heeseung ) + jealousy / possessiveness + warnings! && none i think? REQUESTED : okok so bf!enha maknae line when they're jealous pls and ty <33 ✿ 0.4k words —

## HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT !

kim sunoo !

sunoo doesn’t get jealous very easily

but he def will act like he is to get ur attention bc he’s petty like that

when he is jealous tho, it’ll be super obvious. like super obvious. similar to niki, he wears his expressions on his face

and he’s absolutely disgusted when someone leans into your frame, flashes a dumb smile, and flirts at an attempt to get you to go home with them

he barely spares them a glance besides one of pity if they don’t get tf away from you—but he definitely does shoot them annoyed glares even after you’ve shot them down

“i can’t believe they actually thought they had a chance”

he’s confident in himself and rightfully so.. have u seen him hello??

does get super affectionate afterwards tho, bc now he’s a little upset and you’re his comfort

stays by your side for the rest of the day/night to make sure nobody else tries anything

but swears up and down that he’s not jealous LMFAO

yang jungwon !

jungwon probably won’t care if anyone makes any passes at you

like, he acknowledges it, but he knows you love him so what’s to worry about?

the problem is only when you seem to like their attention

if you don’t tell them you have a boyfriend, for whatever reason (genuinely liking the attention, wanting to rile won up, not realizing they’re flirting) jungwon has no problem with stepping in and introducing himself as your husband

yes.. your husband

he’s like a chill possessive kinda guy, he’s not controlling but you belong to eachother and that’s that

also, he knows his worth, so if he feels like you’re not being fair to him, he won’t hesitate to call you out on it

when he feels as though ppl want more than friendship from him, he makes it known he’s uninterested

therefore he expects the same from you

don’t disappoint him !!

nishimura riki !

riki is really possessive

like really possessive. like the type to give you a bunch of hickeys and then hide your makeup from you

so, he doesn’t take well to people flirting with you

but also there haven’t been many incidents where they get the chance because he’s always next to you. at your side with his hands under your shirt nesting at your hips, head buried into your neck or you in his lap with his arm around you

he’s already extremely affectionate but it worsens in public

so you guys don’t really have to worry ab him getting jealous

besides that one time you played video games w heeseung and he whined ab it for an hour

and he doesn’t even pay enough attention to other ppl for them to get the chance to flirt w him

yeah so

just extremely uninterested in anyone that isn’t you

mywons © 2023 ## please do not plagiarize my works.