#IN THEIR NAME. WITH ONLY THEIR SAFETY/HAPPINESS IN MIND

[moonlight-prose]

i’d love to see your take on #15 from the prompt list: “jealous sex in the alleyway behind the bar” w logan 👀 i’m picturing logan in xmen 1 or 2 specifically 😫

have a cigar

a/n: i am such a fucking sucker for the jealousy trope. especially when he's the idiot who doesn't realize he's the only option. the best one in my opinion. but of course he's got his own hangups and his own issues. so i've thrown a bit of angst in here with the spice. enjoy darling! (the title is based off the pink floyd song which gives massive logan vibes.)

summary: everyone knows who you belong to. if the jacket you wore that left you drowning in the soft leather wasn't indication enough, then the claws attached to your guard dog certainly was.

word count: 3.3k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, possessive logan, violence, tw: blood, animalistic tendencies, cigar smoke, alcohol, harassment, spitting, exhibitionism, p in v sex, rough sex, bruising, choking, logan kinda refers to them as an object (out of love), he's literally unhinged.

The bar reeked of spilled beer and shitty cigarettes. A rock song from the seventies blasted from the speakers—crackling every time the front door was jostled open, another patron stumbling in for a night of fun. Raucous cheers erupted from the corner where four men in leather jackets had taken up residence at a pool table; each one betting higher than the other.

You were perched on a stool. A heavy brown leather jacket wrapped around your body, a half finished whiskey in front of you, and a cigar clutched in your fingers. Neither were yours.

Yet you couldn't help but sip at the drink with a happy sigh, the smoke curling down your hand with a familiar scent that twisted your inside.

For the past ten minutes, you'd been staring at the menu. Trying to discern if ordering the mini plate of nachos was worth it before Logan waltzed back in from the bathroom. He muttered about there being a fucking line due to someone locking the damn stall. But you didn't mind.

Time spent with him was worth sitting here alone.

That is until you heard the telltale familiar scratch of a stool being dragged away—someone sitting to your right with a heavy grunt.

You flinched slightly, turning your back towards them, but their knuckles were already rapping on the bartop. Demanding your attention with another grunt. You could smell the alcohol on their skin, the glaze in their blue eyes as you turned, but that isn't what sent fear curling low in your spine. It was the sleazy grin on their lips.

They wouldn't be taking no for an answer.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doin' sittin' here alone?" he slurred, eyes trailing down your form.

Suddenly wearing the simple sundress for Logan felt like an awful idea. Your stomach turned with nausea as he ogled your body without shame. To him you weren't a person. Fuck you'd be lucky if he even asked for your name before he spewed bullshit about taking you home.

The bartender eyed him with a glare, nodding his head in your direction for some affirmation of safety. He recognized you, knew Logan from the countless times he'd been here, and that left you with some peace to cling to. It wasn't much, but you grasped at it blindly. Offering an awkward smile to appease the victim of Logan's fist when he finally returned.

"I'm with someone." You hated how meek your voice sounded; how small you felt sitting here like prey.

He shrugged, leaning close enough for you to smell the vodka on his breath. "I won't tell if you don't babe."

Heavy boots thumped against the floor and you visibly relaxed in your seat as Logan's form filled your peripheral. He stood stiff at your side, hands curling into fists at the sight of a man practically laying across your lap. Your eyes met his, guilt bleeding into your pupil. Only for anger to fill his. His hand pressed to your back, thumb rubbing into your side softly.

"You got a problem boy?" he snapped.

The man sat up too quickly, his body swaying as he met the guard dog attached to your back. "Just talking to the lady man. Fuck off."

You sighed, feeling Logan's hand freeze. Out of all the mistakes that could be made—that remained the worst. The man had dug his own grave. Logan was merely the executioner tasked with bringing this man to his awaited appointment with death.

Who were you to stand in the way of that?

You slipped off the stool, moving with speed to get out of the way of Logan's claws. Slamming the man against the bartop, he set the blades to his throat. A snarl resonated in the place, forcing everyone to go quiet, as you watched in rapture at the sight of Logan pinning a man. Daring him to move.

He cried in pain, blood dripping from the split open wound in his forehead. But mercy wasn't something Logan gave willingly. You felt his love in the form of wrath. A weight against your chest that you sunk your teeth into with a smile.

He was willing to kill for you.

To spill blood for your lips to curve into a pleased grin.

You were breathless even thinking about it.

"Now," he growled, pressing the man down until he heard the snap of a bone. "Wanna repeat that shit to my face motherfucker?"

"N-No." The scent of copper tinged the air, laying on your tongue. "I'm—fuck—I'm sorry! I didn't know she was yours man."

He lowered his face, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood permeating the air. "Touch her again and it's your arm."

Nodding frantically, you watched as the man practically slid to the floor in a mess of tears. Part of you wanted to feel bad for him. A pathetic soul who couldn't find joy unless it was preying on others. Logan's hand wrapping around the back of your neck is what killed those feelings with a swift slice of an axe. The heat of his touch became an anchor against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Sick, twisted, inhumane. You attempted to label the feelings that catapulted right into your chest at the sight of Logan's red stained fist. There had to be an explanation in the back of your mind. A missing piece as to why you felt such exhilaration in the face of violence.

"Motherfucker," he muttered under his breath, slamming the back door open with his foot, his fingers digging a bit deeper. "Thinks he can take what's mine."

Oh. You liked that.

The click of his lighter and spark of a flame illuminated the shadow of possession that lingered on his face. His eyes watched you, trailed down the form of your body beneath his oversized leather jacket. The soft echo of love was swapped out for something tenebrous—something raw.

"C'mere." He spoke the word as if his hand wasn't still around your neck, leading you into his vicinity.

You stumbled over your own feet, eyes wide with the type of veneration he felt slam into his chest. Such a pretty thing, so lovely and soft for him to caress. To call his.

Perhaps this need to claim you stemmed from an animalistic urge he should have tamped down. He knew he looked like an asshole back in the bar, knew that you weren't a fan of when he got his fists dirty. But the need to sink his teeth into the side of your neck until blood poured into his mouth overtook him on his worst days.

It was fucked to even think about. Harming you, marking you, all to make sure that drunken idiots knew to keep their hands to themselves.

That thought alone was enough to make him feel a hint of disgust over his own fantasies.

Until he smelled it.

Cigar smoke unfurled from his mouth, curling low and falling across your face with a soft brush of air. Your eyes fluttered from the scent, mouth filling with saliva at the thought of him blowing it between your parted lips. All you had to do was ask him—place your hands on his cheeks and press your lips to his. He certainly wouldn't be against kissing you.

But something darker swirled to life in your chest. A hidden truth you felt far too ashamed to reveal that you started to tuck away in the back of your mind.

That didn't stop your scent from growing thick in the air, filling his nose with the sharp tang of your sweetness. He could practically taste it on the tip of his tongue. The ache to see it for himself nearly overwhelmed his body.

Something shifted in the time it took for the both of you to get outside away from the prying eyes inside the bar. Everyone knew you were Logan's. That became clear the second his jacket draped your shoulders—his hand a permanent fixture on your hip as he saw with you at the bar. But seeing him confirm a truth already known.

The spillage of blood was a small price to pay to set his words into stone for those to read. Logan was prepared to do far more than that; the need to bend you over the bar and make you cry those pretty little tears only meant for him growing each time you came here.

"Logan," you murmured, eyes half lidded with lust.

"Yeah you liked that huh sugar."

"I–" What could you say to him? I loved seeing you claim me like an animal in front of everyone. That alone felt too fucking embarrassing to admit out loud.

His thumb pressed into the back of your skull, releasing what tension built up. Moaning softly, you curled your body into his, eyes fluttering shut as he massaged that spot until you purred. You were so pliable under his hold, willing to leap when he said the word, and Logan could feel his cock throb at the sight.

His pretty girl.

"Liked seeing me beat a man cause he touched you." Lips curled into a smirk around his cigar when your mouth parted, breaths coming in harder than before. "You'd let me fuck in front of all of 'em wouldn't ya. Just to show them you're mine."

You went lightheaded, slick pouring out of you, as a soft whine broke through the still night air. Something snapped in your mind at the thought—images of Logan pulling your skirt up and fingering you at the bar. Thoughts of him settling you on his lap to cockwarm him as he smoked his cigar at a table. Entirely at ease with the thought of everyone seeing you leak around him.

They all curled low in your belly, cracking open the door of desires you kept locked shut. Pandora's box was finally about to be pried open and yet all you could think about was his eagerness to show off what belonged to him.

Use me. Mark me. Take me however you want to.

Saying them with a shaky voice and shot nerves would do nothing for that unfathomable throbbing between your legs.

Not when he could see it written across your face with a clarity that should have scared you.

"You're my fuckin' filthy girl aren't ya," he muttered, drawing you close enough to taste the cigar smoke off his lips.

"Uh-huh." The dazed lilt of your words made him smile.

So needy for him even in the proximity of a disgusting alleyway in the back of a bar. How could he resist such sweetness?

His hand moved, closing around your throat, as he plucked the cigar from his lips. "Here's what I'm gonna do sugar." Your open mouth gave him enough leeway to blow the remainder of his smoke past your lips—forcing a gasp past your throat. "'M gonna fuck you right here. And I want you to make them hear it."

"A-Are you sure?"

He smiled, pushing you towards the wall and stubbing his cigar out on the brick. "What? Don't you wanna set those fuckers right?"

Nodding, you let him tug up the hem of your skirt of your dress, fingers delving beneath the lace panties you wore specially for him. With a groan, his eyes fell shut at the feel of you dripping so messily for him. Leaking across his hand even before he pressed the rough calloused pads to your clit—drawing a soft cry from your mouth.

"You get this wet watching me sugar?" he grunted against your cheek, mouth hovering right where you wanted him. "Poor thing. Didn't mean to make ya wait."

"Oh fuck," you gasped, fingers curling into his flannel. "L-Loved seeing you Logan."

He chuckled—degrading yet filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "I should fight in front of you more often. Get you nice and ready for me to fuck you whenever I want."

Whatever response you might have been able to form died in the back of your throat. A choking garbled moan of his name pierced the air when two fingers plunged into you knuckle deep. Curling roughly at your walls with a determined flare. This wasn't him trying to get you off. This was him proving he could.

"You hear that? She's singin' for me baby." The wet squelch of his fingers pounding into you left heat blooming beneath your cheeks and down your chest. "Beggin' for my cock."

"Need it Logan–"

A hand hiked your leg up to curl around his hip, lips finally slotting against yours with a stunted groan. Any coherent thoughts you might have had died with his tongue. He licked into you as if he was looking for something. Claimed your mouth with harsh moans and deep hot strokes against the roof of your mouth.

"I'll give it to you," he bit off, sucking your tongue into his mouth until you trembled in his hold.

He was everywhere. Pulling his fingers free and swallowing your whimper, he hoisted you up and shoved you against the wall so hard your back hurt. The pain quickly dwindled into a dull ache when the familiar clink of his belt buckle hit your ears.

Swallowing his harsh growl, you canted your hips against his. The growing heat in your body fanned into a fire you could no longer ignore; his touch echoing with the embers of something disastrous.

You knew you craved him, but this felt like a baseline urge your body couldn't give up. Some neolithic part of your brain that got off on being protected, possessed.

"You've got no idea how badly I wanna give it to ya," he muttered, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. "Gonna drive me fuckin' insane."

"Yes." The word felt diminutive compared to his, but everything else tapered off into garbled moans of his name.

"Already beggin' and I haven't even started." He smiled cruelly, cock sliding through your slickened pussy with a stuttered grunt.

If you were standing, your knees would have buckled. Even now they locked against his waist to keep him from pulling away. Secrets scratched at the nearly open door as he lined himself, fisting his cock with bared teeth and a throaty growl. There became no use in keeping them at bay. Not when Logan shared the fantasy in his own mind—playing it out like a film projected on your heart.

His hand slapped against the brick wall beside your head, the other snuggly resting at your throat. The flutter of your heart pulsed beneath the vein on your neck, directly along the jugular he often nipped and sucked at. The pad of his thumb pressed down against it—tongue swiping at his bottom lip when you moaned. Broken, pitched high enough to bounce off the alleyway walls.

"So pretty when you're needy." His lips caught yours, spit a glossy smear on your chin. "Can't even think straight without it."

You wanted to agree, to tell him you were nothing if you weren't his.

With a snarl pressed into your mouth he sunk into your pussy in one thrust and your mind went numb. You sagged against the wall, a splintered cry resonating in the air when he bottomed out. Your name a harsh groan—his neck strained and eyes squeezed tight.

"Logan," you sobbed loud enough for it to echo back into the bar. You could practically see them sitting there. Eyes wide and they fought the urge to get off to the sound of Logan fucking you within an inch of your life.

Nails scratched along his clothed shoulders in a desperate attempt at getting him closer when he began to pound into you. Hips slapped against yours with each roll of his hips, his hand slowly tightening around your throat. Even now you stared at him with wonder in your eyes. The glimmer he adored finding its way back into your iris as you admired how he looked.

The way his teeth grit together, nostrils flaring as your scent all but drowned him. He was a mythological being who'd come to declare that you had always been his. That this was merely an act of fate; the strings drawing you two together so tight it cut through your skin and bled you dry.

The hand on your throat shifted higher, prying open your mouth. "C'mon baby. Let 'em know who you belong to."

A ragged moan ripped free from the shackles of your chest, your eyes rolling back as his cock brushed against raw bliss. He smiled, forehead pressed to yours and hips shifting to keep the angle. Even when you began to cry loud enough to alert people on the streets Logan refused to give you a chance to breathe.

This wasn't the man you came with. This was the animal buried deep within his heart; the Wolverine snapping at anyone who dared to come near his other half.

"That's it," he bit out. "You gonna be a good fuckin' girl and cum for me?"

"Mm-hm."

He panted against your lips, tongue licking behind your front teeth. "Can feel her chokin' my cock."

You couldn't breathe. Each thrust sent what little air you had out of your lungs in small breathy whines. He fucked into you with abandon until you swore you felt him in your throat—the echo of skin against skin and the scrape of his boots on gravel when he shifted you higher became your gravity.

With a sharp intake of breath, he dropped his hand from the wall to cup your ass. Swiftly dropping you on his cock to force a scream from your mouth. It clawed up your chest, that familiar aching pull in your torso. The burn you clung to as he tipped your head back and messily spit into your open mouth. You swallowed it with a moan, thighs clenching around his hips.

"That's it," he rumbled, thumb finding your pulsing clit with ease. "Give it to me, yeah? Make a fuckin' mess on it."

A harsh thrust sent your head flying to the back of the wall. Logan was quick to slam his hand behind you, giving you a cushion to stop from severely hurting yourself. His mouth sought out yours with a mumble of your name, hips grinding deep as you came apart with a broken shout.

Bliss tore through every nerve in your body; your pussy now coating his throbbing cock in a fresh wave of slick. Logan moaned high and desperate against your tongue, following you quickly. Neither of you could tell if it was from the adrenaline of the fight or taking you out in the open, but he wouldn't stop coming.

"F-Fuck." He gasped, eyes rolling back as his head tipped. He filled you so much you could feel it leaking out, dripping down your thighs and coating the front of his jeans.

A nasty thought of dropping to your knees and licking the fabric clean filled your head—your walls spasming around him hard enough to make him hiss in pain. You quickly stored it away for later. When the feeling eventually returned to your legs.

"I think they know not to touch what's mine now," he mumbled, stealing a chaste kiss as he rubbed a soothing shape in your hip.

"Logan." He cupped your chin, lips curling into a dopey smile that bled warmth into your chest. "Take me home?"

His nose nudged yours in an act so gentle you nearly forgot how he fucked you a minute prior. "Sure thing sweetheart. Kiss?"

You grinned, eyes still shimmering with that love-struck awe; he felt it clench around his heart. "Well come here baby."

In the dark of the alley his lips found yours, sealing the deal of fate with the fulfillment of a life spent in each other's arms.

[fictionallyinparadise]

I think. Having my f/os call me their weapon or their attack dog would fix so many problems in me.

[add1ctedt0you]

What a plot twist you were. [x]

[targaryenluvs]

OH BABY!

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader, young!naive!tribute reader

summary: finnick found you to be as cute as ever. but you aren’t exactly the smartest in the room according to him. luckily, finnicks more than happy to help his sweet baby succeed, and he will not let you forget him.

warnings: AGE GAP (18 - 23) smut, FILTH THIS MAN IS DOWNBAD, possessive, corruption, pervy finnick, violent thoughts/intrusive, exhibitionist? degradation, oral (m & f), p in v, overstimulation, praise, mirror kink? spanking 👀 rough sex? tummy bulge, my first time writing smut be kind 😭

word count: 5k - this is literally the longest fic ive written.

a/n: this is what happens at 6am and i can’t sleep, thoughts are thunk -UPDATE HOLY CRAP THERE IS GONNA BE A NEW MOVIW AND BOOKKKSJSNABS

taglist: @coolchick333 @doublesideeye

“and the female tribute for district four, y/n l/n.” your eye involuntarily twitched at your name being called. the people around you, distanced themselves from you as a path was carved to your own hell.

as you walked to the platform you kept your head down. you were actually hopeful that you’d get through this reaping, your last and then never see the inside of the arena. but of course fate was against you. as you stood in front of the people you couldn’t help the silent tears that fled down your face.

your mothers face was tired and drained, she had a feeling you’d get picked. mothers intuition? your father was pissed, his little girl, his sweetheart, being thrown into an arena to die? and worst of all, there wasn’t anything he could do.

you felt alone, as if no one could help you. and as you said goodbye to the life you knew, you could only pray for safety, and a quick death.

as you were escorted to the train you fiddled with your sweater sleeves. pulling them down, rolling them up, just to focus your mind on something. it was chilly, most likely the air conditioning on the train and sometimes you had to hold down your skirt.

finnick couldn’t take his eyes of you once he saw you on the train. you looked so tiny in the chair and he couldn’t help but smile.

he practically had you all to himself.

“y/n?” your head shot up at your name being called and you were met with finnick odair in all his glory. “finnick? finnick odair?” even calling his name you sounded so unsure, so he smiled and nodded.

“i’m your mentor, and i promise to try my best to get you to win.” he sat down in front of you, spreading his legs and you felt your face warm up. he found you adorable, with a cute white sweater and a short black skirt. you had your hair down with the front parts tied up with a bow. his own personal present.

your shy demeanour reminded him of your young age, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. you were looking everywhere but at him and he loved it.

“do… do you think i can win?” god no. the tributes would eat you up alive, but he’d try his best. “i do.” with just two words of encouragement, you smiled at him for the first time.

finnick wanted you to smile at him forever.

“are you hungry?” the rumbling of your stomach answered his question, as you ducked your head in your hands in embarrassment.

he moved your hands aside, tilting your chin up, "it's okay to be hungry sweetheart, come on." he held his hand out for you and he laughed at your hesitance. "i don't bite, not unless you want me to.” the last part of his sentence came out hushed and you averted your eyesight from him.

there were so many foods laid out before you, and it wasn’t as if you were poor, but god, it all looked nice. the eclairs took your attention away as you reached for one, your finger sweeping cream off the top before placing it in your mouth. it was sickeningly sugary but you had a sweet tooth, you retracted your finger with a pop! and you somehow didn’t hear finnicks groan.

how on earth were you not realising how dirty it seemed? and it was there finnick realised how pure you were, “its so good,” you flashed him a toothy grin, “you'll have some won't you finnick?" you offered it up to him with two hands and how could he resist? the two of you spent the rest of your time on the train eating and talking, finnick utilising his time to get to know you.

you’d spent a day getting settled and were now to get ready for your interview.

after being prepped and readied, you were shuffled into your dressing room where analise, damian and sarah awaited. a range of compliments were thrown your way.

“oh isn’t she adorable?”

“i could pinch her cheeks forever!”

“you are precious!”

they were so nice to you and you loved it, but you barely ever learned how to take compliments so you ended up just nodding your head. “she is gorgeous,” you snapped your head up to the doorway and there stood your mentor, in all his glory. his compliment felt heavier than the rest, like he truly meant it, and you looked down at your hands as you fought off the blush threatening to rise on your cheeks.

in an hour you’d been through a whirlwind of makeup, dresses and jewels. orange, blue, black and all, you loved each one but for some reason after the four of them discussed you’d always be taken out of it.

it wasn’t until you were placed in an off the shoulder, floor length, white dress that you remained in it. and as you looked in the mirror you couldn’t help but stare. your hair was pinned up again, and small flowers were placed throughout. you felt like a princess and finnick agreed. you hadn’t even noticed that your stylists were gone until you heard the door shut.

it was just you and finnick.

“you look incredible.” finnick whispered, he was behind you now. his hand had a mind of its own as it placed a stray hair behind your ear. you turned your head his way, “really?” your voice was so soft and doused in disbelief. if he wasn’t next to you he wouldn’t have heard you. his hand trailed along your neck as he placed your hair behind, he nodded. “i have something for you.”

he pulled out a small seashell, and your eyes lit up, “oh finnick.” you sighed as he placed it in your hands. “it reminded me of you, small, gorgeous.” you looked up at him with doe eyes and he felt like grabbing you and taking you away.

you were breathtaking and you looked at him as if he was god.

“thank you finn, do you mind maybe putting it in my hair?” he took the trinket and placed it above your ear, entangling in with your hair. your heels were on but untied so finnick got onto his knees before patting his knee. he grabbed the straps before tieing them. his fingertips worked quickly and his face was concentrated. he was done and he looked up at you before turning you to the mirror.

finnicks hands were on your shoulder as he leaned in to whisper, “all done, you look perfect sweetheart.” you turned before reaching up on your tiptoes, “thank you finnick!” you kissed him on his nose before turning back and finnick grinned, “aren’t you cute?” he stood behind you, attached like a shadow. your skin felt soft underneath his fingertips and he couldn’t help but wander. down your arms, to your waist, he could feel you tensing up underneath him and he could feel his face trying to fight off his smirk.

“finnick?” you breathed out, “what’re you doing?” your voice was small, and unsure. “tell me to stop.” you should. you should tell him to stop. but all you could think about was finnicks hands and how good they felt.

“it’s time!” damian shouted out as you peeled away from finnick to open the door. damian was all too happy to see you as he clapped his hands together. “ah, my special girl you are truly an angel.” finnick knew that. finnick has already said that. finnick had you in his arms and oh so close and this idiot took you away. his sweet girl.

finnick was wondering where his trident was so that he could impale him through the stomach.

“come on y/n.” he ushered you out the door but you managed to slip another look at finnick and all you saw was pure rage.

the interview went well, in your eyes at least.

caesar was as upbeat as usual and it did mostly centre around your dress and looks but you felt you could try your best to use it to your advantage.

the audience was enamoured and you felt you did your best. “and y/n, tell us, what’s your secret strategy for the games? any tricks up your sleeve?” you patted his knee before pointing at him jokingly, “well caesar, it wouldn’t be a secret if i divulged now would it?” everyone loved your answer and caesar doubled over, “aren’t you cheeky! isn’t our diamond here so playful? but a sweetheart nonetheless!” the crowd agreed loudly.

“now, since you came out i think we’ve all been wondering where that seashell came from. it doesn’t exactly match the theme of your outfit.” you could hear the murmurs from the crowd agreeing with his words.

“am i right in suspecting a certain blonde mentor of yours?” you pursed your lips and a giggle began to form as caesar pumped his fist in the air, “i think we got it! can we expect the two of you together once you win?” you’d never even had a boyfriend and here you were being put together with the finnick odair, you were sure everyone could tell how giddy you were.

you felt as if you had a million eyes on you, your whole body was heating up as you buried your head in your hands. “ah we caught her out! someone’s got a crush! but then again it’s finnick odair so don’t we all?” a bunch of cheers erupted as you beamed.

“well it was a wonderful to meet you, truly! our diamond here, y/n l/n!” screams and shouts directed your way came in full force as you waved at caesar and blew kisses to all. as you walked back you bumped into someone.

“y/n right?” the boy from three, theo.

you nodded and stuck your hand out, “nice to meet you!” he looked down at your hand and back up at you before laughing, “very formal, i like it. i’m theo, your dress is nice but i think the girl wearing it is breathtaking.” you giggled before tucking your hair behind your ear.

finnick stood with the other mentors and held himself back from shoving haymitch out the way to get him to stop rambling on. his grip on his glass was solid, so it wasn’t a surprise when it shattered. “oh my!” effie yelled out as finnick apologised before someone came to clean it up. he stepped around the person before excusing himself to get to you.

you were laughing, hard. what in panem was so funny?

you were wiping tears away from your eyes as finnick joined the two of you, his hand on your back as theo nodded at him, “finnick.” he hated him. why the hell did theo speak as if he knew him personally? his smug face was unbelievably irritating. “finnick! how’d i do?” and the second you spoke he felt the anger dissipate, he adored the way you waited for his response as if it held all the answers.

“you did well.” finnicks answer felt snippy and made you feel as if you’d done something wrong. “we should get going.” he directed you away from the boy as you shouted out, “i’ll see you around!”

the entire elevator ride was, to put it lightly, awkward. it left you feeling confined in what little space you and finnick had. “finn? are you okay?” you placed your hand on his arm and stood in-front of him. you were hoping he’d explain what was wrong but what you didn’t expect was to be pushed against the side of the elevator and finnick kissing you. his hand was on your waist again and he shuffled your dress up, slithering underneath.

you moaned in his mouth, his hands playing and gripping at your ass. in reaction, your fingers thread through his hair and your grip tightened, “finn- not here.” the elevator was glass and you were scared of people seeing. finnick found it hard to care, drunk off your perfume. in a panic, you pulled away from him, your hands cradling his face to make him listen. “i’ve… never,” the whisper hung over the both of you, the tension in the air thick and hot.

instead of being met with judgment, he murmured, “i’ll make it good for you, i promise.” finnick had finally gotten a taste, and he could only crave more. his lips met your neck, his warm tongue painting wet desire into your skin. it was almost too much for little old you, letting out quiet whimpers as he explored you. his sleeves were rolled and you needed to ground yourself, your nails dug into his veiny arms. “finn-” you protested but he could tell you didn’t want to. just a little longer and he could get you to give in. “just let me feel you.”

the elevator stopping brought the two of you back as you fixed your dress and finnick fixed his own hair, running his hands through it. he directed you out of the elevator and nodded in acknowledgment to the people entering. as you walked onto your floor you were met with servants, stylists and others. it seems damian and analise had taken it upon themselves to invite some friends and you were eager to meet them.

whereas finnick wanted to rip your dress off and take you till the morning.

the same dainty hands which were running all over him were shaking others and waving as you all sat down to eat. as everyone feasted away you couldn’t help but play with your own meal. you were flushed and all you wanted was to kiss finnick again. he was sitting next to you and wasn’t hungry for food, he wanted to eat something else.

your dress didn’t hide much of your chest and when you reclined in your seat, crossing your arms and pushing up your breasts?

finnick needed to see more.

the clattering of his fork on the floor drew the attention of some, but they went back to their conversations and bets. “i’ll get it for you.” you pushed back your seat and got down to your knees, flicking up the tables sheet and searched around for it before hitting cold metal. you reached your hand out with the fork to finnick. his cock was throbbing at the image of you on the floor, chest on display and a sweet smile on your face. he bent down and grinned, “you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

his words went straight down between your legs and your mouth fell open at his words.

such vulgar words from such a beautiful man.

his hand came down to close your jaw. you felt, weird. as you sat back on your chair you felt warm? but a good warm? it was tantalising. you wondered if it was normal.

finnick would tell you right?

“finnick.” his head turned your way, “what is it y/n?” you leaned closer and so did he, your hands cupped around his ear, “i feel weird.” his eyebrows shot up as a sign of interest, “oh? what’s wrong honey? where do you feel weird?” you gulped, your throat felt dry and for some reason it felt dirty to talk about.

your eyes drifted downwards and as you looked up finnicks eyes seemed darker. “here?” his touch was soft on your thigh underneath the table as you gasped.

“everything all right dear?” sarah questioned as you nodded. it felt so good, his touch. but it wasn’t exactly where needed, his hand trailed closer and higher, until it was gone. your head snapped up at him as he smirked at you, mocking you.

for the rest of the night he didn’t even pay attention to you. and you had no clue why.

you couldn’t sleep after the day you had and all your mind was thinking of was finnick. finnicks hands, his arms, his mouth, his words.

“i don’t bite, unless you want me to.”

“yes, here.”

“i’ll make it so good for you.”

“just let me feel you.”

“you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

your room was too quiet, making it unchallenging for your thoughts to run wild at the anticipation of finnick odair. you couldn’t bear it, so you left to the busiest room you could think of.

your leg was shaking up and down and your mind was pacing whilst your body couldn’t. the butterflies were practically knocking around in your stomach and you hoped perhaps finnick could help. he’d help you right? but he didn’t before. maybe he was just tired? you were so desperate for help and answers that you’d forgone knocking and walked right in.

only to be met with an extremely wet finnick odair.

by your luck your eyes were probably poking out of your head at the sight of him, you couldn’t help but stare. it was your first time being in the same room as a man so, naked? for the lack of a better word, he still had a very short towel wrapped around his bottom half. was it small? or did he make it look small?

“see something you like sweetie?” god his voice was so saccharine, how the hell did his voice work you up? “i- i wanted to t-talk.” and you were stuttering, great! he walked closer to you and you stepped back, all the way into his wall. “yeah? does my pretty girl wanna talk?” you nodded along dumbly as your breath quickened. “words sweetie, use your words.” you swallowed, “yes.”

his thumb caressed your cheek before brushing along your lips, “you sure you just want to talk?” and there they were, the butterflies. you shook your head, “no? what do you want?” you played with your night dress, “you?” it was a soft murmur and finnick wanted you to beg. he’d been pining after you since the second he saw you, it’s only fair right?

“where do you want me?” his words were hot in your ear, his body was wet and your white night dress was suddenly see through. his hand rested on your ass, “here?” you shook your head, “no?” his thumb brushed over your nipple as your nails pressed into his neck, pulling him into yours. your breath was heavy and he was unrelenting.

his hand moved from your ass to cup your front as you gasped, “here?” you nodding along dumbly, “please finnick, i’ve been wanting you for the whole day, i’ll be good for you i promise.” your words were music to his ears, “yeah? you’re gonna be good f’me?”

“yes, yes, yes.” you whined as you wrapped your arms around his neck. standing on your tiptoes as you bit your lip. “you gonna let me use you yeah? do whatever i want?” you were practically jumping up and down at this point, your tits with you. your straps were pushed down as your dress fell down to the floor. his cock was throbbing at the sight of you, he’d been waiting for this.

“then on your knees honey.” you were quick to obey as he pushed you down to the cold floor, his towel quickly ripped off, courtesy of you.

it was your first time doing anything sexual so any cock was bound to be big in your eyes. finnick loved the sight of you on your knees, innocent as ever. fully nude, hands slotted nicely between your thighs. he wanted to ruin you. he ran his hand along his dick, pumping it before resting the tip on your lips.

as if you were on auto-control, your lips parted to let him through. a salty taste flooded through your mouth as he cooed down at you.

“you’re doing so well for me.”

“pretty baby on her knees, who knew you’d be such a slut?”

your eyes flickered up at him as you moved your head forwards on your own accord. “fuck.” he groaned as you replaced his hands with yours.

he wanted to go easy on you.

but kitten licks at the tip and soft kisses weren’t doing it for him. you opened your mouth again, gaining confidence and feeding off of finnicks praises. his large hand placed on the back of your head, fingers spread out as he thrusted down your throat.

the sounds that filled his room were lewd. squelches and groans as you tried your best to keep going. your cheeks hollowed out as finnick guided you, “relax your throat, try breathe through your nose. if it’s too much just tap my thigh sweetie.”

you retracted, catching your breath as you gazed up at him whilst simultaneously blinking away the tears in your eyes but a few fell free. he couldn’t help but moan. your messy mouth mixed with your saliva and his pre-cum. “you think theo’s this big? you think he could make you choke on his dick?” you shook your head immediately.

his member felt cold without the warmth of your mouth, but he was feeling nice so he let you take a break. “too big for you sweetie?” you shook your head furiously, “naw is my baby tough?” you giggled as you wrapped your lips around him again, your tongue flat against the underside of his dick as he eased himself in. “ah- fuck.”

but he can only hold out for so long as he began to fasten his pace, chasing his high. your fingers dug into his thighs right under his ass, for some reason you seemed to have something to prove as you took him all the way. your moans egged him on as his hips thrust forwards, “so good f’me, my s-sweet girl.” his praises fueled you on as your nose met his naval. salty tears fell down your cheeks and finnick was in his right mind to lick them all up.

god you were better than he’d imagined. and trust him, he’d imagined a lot.

“swallow for me yeah? be a good girl and open wide.” thick cum coated your tongue as you gladly accepted. finnick proudly gazed upon your painted face. watery eyes, sticky face. all for him. you gulped it down before wiping off the remaining waste on your face, eyeing finnick up before licking it off your fingers.

“what happened to the diamond? only a whore for me right?” your fingers were wet as you pulled them out. “uh-huh.” your agreed as he pulled you up. “do you even know what that means?” he teased as you puckered your lips before shaking your head. “thought so, you wanna be good for me?” you nodded, “on the bed baby.”

you sat down on the bed as you waited for finnick to join you. he situated himself between your legs, running his hands along them. “lean back for me. you took me so well, you want me to make you feel good too?” your eyes widened at the idea, “yes please finn.” his hands reached up and rested under your breasts, “i don’t know if you’ve earned it honey.” your lips twisted into a slight frown, your waterline glazing over.

“i was! i did what you asked finn, please.”

he palmed your breast, massaging it softly as you threw your head back, “please. please keep going.” your begging was more than enough for him, his baby asked so nicely no?

“yeah? you like me playing with you?” incoherent babbles fell from your lips as finnicks mouth kissed your breast. his hand trailed down to feel you, and he was met with warm wetness. the moan you let out was ungodly, “finnick please! oh god it feels so- so good.” he couldn’t help admire you, eyes screwed shut, hands clutching the pristine white sheets.

“oh baby, can you be quiet for me? quiet for finn?” a string of ‘uh-huhs’ came from your mouth as finnick slid a finger into you, a tight fit. “oh my god!” you yelped before slamming your hand over your mouth. he was knuckle deep as he worked his finger in before curling it, then another, then another. his free hand was pushing your hips down into the mattress as your hips lifted upwards with every move he made.

“finnick, finnick. you feel so good.” you cried out as he retracted his fingers before curling them upwards. he knew exactly what to do, where to be, what to say. his name fell from your lips like a prayer and your nails raked down his back as he grunted.

now, finnicks fingers were one thing, but his mouth?

his tongue pressed against your clit and you swear you saw god, finnick was probably the god. his tongue flicked over your clit as his fingers entered your cunt again, the pressure in your stomach was building so high you were afraid of the fall.

a wave of pleasure fell over you as finnick talked you through it, “that’s it baby, let go.” he hovered over you as his fingers worked your cunt. your nails had bloodied his back, scratched raw. as you moved your fingers finnick hissed into your ear. “m’ sorry, m’ so so sorry.” your head was spinning and you wanted to rest, but apparently finnick had other ideas as he lowered himself to your core. your mind was hazy as your hand clutched the pillow your head laid on, the other twisted in his hair.

“what’re you doing?” finnicks green eyes pierced through you as he raised his head from in between your thighs. featherlight kisses trailed upwards to your pussy as your thighs twitched and closed around his head, still sensitive as ever. “just want a taste, clean you up.” he mumbled as he tongue breached your entrance and you were back where you were before.

this man was driven youd give him that.

“finn s’ too much, please.” your words were slurred as he delved inside. he couldn’t find it in himself to let up, you were so sweet, he just wanted a taste. so he kept going, his tongue, his hands, his words. if there was one thing you knew about finnick it was that he could talk anyone into anything. so you found yourself squirming underneath his strong arms, forearm pinning you down to the bed as he made your back arch and your toes curl.

“sweet baby, so sweet.” all attempts of getting away, only caused him to get annoyed with you, can’t you just lay down and let him ruin you? at this point it was for his pleasure rather than yours. your thighs were practically squeezing his head and neck but he kept going. you didn’t know where to put your hands, pulling his hair was no good. your hand somehow ended up on your clit, moving in a circular motion as the other palmed your breast.

each time he made you come you rested your head, energy depleted. but again he ended up between your legs and pathetic pleas from you did nothing to make him stop.

“wanna make you feel good.”

“just one more, you can take it sweetheart.”

when your fourth rolled around you were so far gone. “pretty baby, not a single thought up there huh?” you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond, and he didn’t expect you to. he brushed away the stray hairs from your face and kissed you passionately. “you did so well f’me honey. made me proud, you got one more in you for me?” it wasn’t a question, his dick was painfully hard and he only knew of one solution.

you tiredly shook your head, “no more finny.” he grinned, “no? you don’t want my cock?” your breath hitched at his words and you knew you were fucked. “mhm. want it.” you were reduced to one to two words in a sentence.

“yeah you do. on your knees baby.” you tiredly rolled over, situating yourself on your knees and the palms of your hands as finnick kneaded your ass. his hands grazed over the skin before-

smack!

“think you should be able to see yourself baby.” his hand yanked at your hair as you found your reflection glaring back at you. “so pretty, aren’t you?” finnick knew you were horrible at accepting compliments and he was more than happy to use it against you.

smack!

you’d taken too long to answer, but based on finnicks smug expression you could tell he was hoping for it. “you have to answer baby.” finnicks arm came across your waist, pulling you up, flush with his chest as his hands pawed at your chest.

“you wanna be my baby yeah?” you could only manage moans and finnick was not happy. he threw you forwards as you caught yourself with your hands infront of you.

smack!

“fucked you so good you can’t even talk.” he taunted you as he dragged his cock in between your drenched folds. finnicks groans were deep, and so hot. “you know how long i wanted to fuck you baby? in that short skirt on the train? when you licked up that cream? my girls dirty huh?” you didn’t respond and it only fuelled his fire, he’d wanted you for so long and now you had the audacity to ignore him?

he thrusted into you without warning and you screamed out. “want to act like a slut? i’ll treat you like one. fuck!” your walls were squeezing down on him, sucking him in and he was more than happy to oblige. his hips snapped against your ass as you gripped onto the sheets for dear life. his grip on your hips bruised, leaving a fiery impression in their wake. finnick had stamina for days, he was strong and built. you were small and fragile, finnick was glad to be the one to break you in.

he pulled you up to him again as he kissed you frantically, capturing your bottom lip in between his teeth. he was relentless in his pursuit for his high, he marked up any place he could as he continued to drive into you with determination.

“bet you dreamed of this, of me.” his hand gripped your throat, his eyes bore into your own, finnick was inescapable. every touch, every thrust, all him. you were enveloped in his being and he worshipped yours. finnick continued to pound into you harshly, cock gliding easily against your inner walls. he was deep inside but he wanted to be deeper. “yes! yes! harder!” you cried out.

his hand pressed down onto your stomach, “feel that?” his breath was prominent by your ear, “oh god!” you exclaimed, it felt as if you were filled to the brim as he bottomed out in you. thick, hot cum released into you as his and your moans were raising in pitch and his hips began to stutter.

the room was filled with the sound of slapping skin, the promise of silence forgotten. “let go baby, you’re close. let go.” the two of you had eachother and it was more than enough. his groans were deep and animalistic as he spilled himself inside you. your hand reached behind you to caress his neck. thank yous spilled out from you, your whole being was ignited, you never knew you could feel so good.

the two of you lied together, entangled in sheets and a mess of limbs. you couldn’t tell where finnick odair began and y/n l/n started. all you knew was that he was yours, and you were his.

you’d fallen asleep a bit ago, your chest rising and falling steadily. finnicks arm curled around you as you rested on his chest. from the moonlight spilling into his room he could view the bruises tattering your smooth skin. as he traced over them he couldn’t help but grin, he could imagine you limping in the arena.

you sure as hell weren’t forgetting him anytime soon.

[tigerpeachs]

Drunk On You - Itadori Yuuji

-`ღ´- tags: 18+, itadorixreader, pet name usage, afab reader, pwp, alcohol consumption, restroom sex, public sex, cream pie 

-`ღ´- wc: 3.1K

-`ღ´- a/n: I didn’t get to go out because my bank account is empty AND there's a dumb storm in my area. So, while bitterly sitting on my phone, I wrote this whole thing in a single text post. Might be errors but fuck it we ball.

-`ღ´- synopsis: Itadori wants to be a protective friend, but he’s still a man and he’d be stupid to let this opportunity slip by. Basically, you go clubbing with the girls and end up creampied in a nasty club restroom. ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა 

Itadori Yuji was a man at the end of the day. He wanted to be a friend and a caregiver at all times to those close to him. But he can only handle so much.

He didn’t care much about going out, but when Nobara and you explained it’s important to have a guy around for safety, he begrudgingly agreed to join you guys. He feels a little out of place being the only guy around when Nobara, Maki, and you are slamming back shots while picking out outfits and make up. Sometimes Yuuta makes an appearance but tonight he’s “busy”.

Yuji didn’t believe that for a second. He probably was just sleeping in after lounging around with Toge. The thought was taken off his mind as soon as you strolled over with two shots. Tequila. No lime wedge or salt in sight. He gulped harshly, before meeting your eyes.

“C'mon Yu, please. The girls won’t drink tequila with me.” You whine to him, cheeks already flushed from drinking. He tries to laugh and puts his hand out to push the shot away, but you persist, dropping the glass. Itadori’s hand shot out to catch it. The liquid spilled across his hand and you continued your begging.

“Look! It’s less full now, you don’t even have to take a full one, so please?” You pout and your eyebrows furrowed together in a faux fashion.

He can’t help smiling at how persuasive you were. You just wouldn’t quit, would you?

“You’re gonna get me in trouble! How am I supposed to protect you and DD like this?” He whisper-yells, all to play along with  his role for the night. But yet again, you pushed forward.

“Cmon, Yuu, please? Don’t make me drink alone,” your voice became softer and timid as you said the last part. You batted your eyelashes at him and nudged the shot in his hand up. Itadori always feels warm when you give him attention, and now is no different.

If he took the shot would you leave him? Or would you stay close to him, happy that he listened? Is it manipulative if he wants to do whatever makes you stay close to him?

“We’re leaving in five!” Nobara called out, causing you to gasp.

“Please,” you tried one last time. And Itadori sighed before raising the shot in the air. You smiled with those pink glossy lips and joined him.

Up. Down. Drink.

It wasn’t the worst shot he’s taken but it caused his jaw to tense and his lips pursed together. You laughed at his reaction, getting out a little sympathic “Oh Yu.”

Getting to the club was a blur. He remembers Nobara sitting in the front to control the music while you and Maki sang your hearts out in the back of the car. Then he was in the club, ordering drinks for you all.

He got himself a beer and slowly passed out the drinks. When he turned around, you weren’t there. He sighed in defeat, knowing you probably rushed to the dance floor the moment you heard a solid base drop.

Maki and Nobara, with secured drinks, were already going over to the DJ to request whatever music they wanted. Then there was you, alone in the crowd, twisting and whining your hips to the beat. He hated to admit it, but the way you danced had every guy looking your way, including him.

You rolled your body to the sound, throwing your hair to the side. Your split hem skirt was riding up quickly from the constant up and down your hips and ass did. The bass could be felt through the floor. It resonated in your ribcage as you shook your body. Dropping low, rising again, and you kept your eyes closed knowing any contact made with someone else would result in an unwanted invitation.

It wasn’t until Itadori finally reached you, that you finally let a smile grace your features. He passed you the drink and you tried saying “you didn’t have to” over the music but Itadori pretended not to hear you.

“Hmm?” He questioned and you decided to reach up and grab the nape of his neck. Your fingers slid across his undercut as you pulled him down.

“I said!” You lost your thought as his cologne filled your senses. It made your tongue heavy and you had to swallow before continuing. “I said you didn’t have to!”

Yuji pulled back a little bit to smile at you. “I know that, I wanted to,” he said. The cost of the tab was lower than the cost of some creep trying to hit on you or your friends.

Before you could admit how happy that made you. The intro to your favorite song dropped. You widen your eyes, looking over at the DJ booth to see Maki and Nobara cheering as the song starts. You laugh as other girls in the club start to dance with more vigor. Itadori did his best to raise his drink and stop it from spilling as people started to crowd the floor more.

Soon enough you were wedged between him and other girls. You tried to keep things fun and low risk by making a face and moving your head back and forth to show Itadori you enjoyed the song. He did the same, trying to move in sync with you.

You knew Itadori knew how to dance. You chalked it up to how fit he was but nothing more. You knew he settled with his two steps and light shuffling to the beat for the group's sake. You sipped on your drink, watching him through your lashes.

Eventually you found yourself with you back facing him. Yuji couldn’t help but watch you rock your body back and forth, you whined your hips, tightening and rolling your abdomen. Your ass sat right in front of him, moving up and down. He knew his face was flushed and it wasn’t because of the damn beer he was nursing.

You lose your footing, stumbling back against him. Yuji caught you with a hand on your hip. You looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with him. An unintentional invitation was presented to you both. You could probably blame it on the atmosphere and the alcohol in your system, but you both refused to move back.

You looked forward again. The moves started subtle. A whine with a dip. Itadori watched as you held the same movement for a second, letting him catch up to you. His hand on your hip ran across your front as he pulled you back against him. He rocked side to side, closing his eyes to savor your ass settling on his groin.

He’s supposed to be looking out for you.

Itadori grounds himself as your rock your ass against him. He works to follow your movements, dragging the hand on your hip across your form. He feels hot. His cock was stiffening from the moment you tried to beg him to take a shot with him. He rasped out as you danced on him, causing your ass to shake right on him.

He pulls you up, his chest right against your back. He’s at a loss for words. All he can think about is how fucking good you feel pressing against him. You’re so soft and supple. You smell so good. He tried to make sure moments like this never happened beforehand. He’d opt for other guys coming or making sure your front ways face his front. He’d leave room for Jesus if there was space to do so. 

His best friend was grinding on his fucking dick and he didn’t even care to stop you. He fucking wanted it. He’s wanted it for so long. You stood straight, reaching back with a free hand to grab the nape of his neck again. Itadori looked down at your frame. You didn’t opt to say anything but with his chin hooked over your shoulder, he could see right down your skimpy top.

You boobs jiggled with each move your body made. His hand unconsciously started to drift upwards. His fingers played with the hem of your top. His muddled mind tried to work through everything going on. He felt sensitive. Between the people brushing against you both and you latching on to him, he couldn’t be bothered to recognize what song was playing or how your drink spilled over a few times.

But what he did hear, through the people, through the music, was a little soft whine that you bit off as Itadori teased the skin right under your breast. You wanted more. You wanted him to stuff his fingers down your skirt and feel how wet you are under your clothes. You wanted him to bite and suck on your neck just as you dreamed about doing to him.

He’s supposed to protect you.

Itadori lets your little hands pull at his large form. You slowly push through the crowd towards the nearest restroom. The drinks were long forgotten, dropped into the nearest trash can. The haze from grinding on Yuji didn’t pass, even though you both were separated now. You kept a hand wrapped around his as you knocked at the door in front of you. After a few seconds you rattled the doorknob and noticed it was unlocked.

He knew. He knew if he went in there with you, things would change forever. He swallowed trying to get rid of the irritation in his throat. You opened it slowly, not releasing his hand. Itadori wanted to be good.

He wanted to be a good friend for you. So he finally opened his mouth.

“Do you want me to wait outside?” He offered. But he should’ve known better than to stop you.

You continued to give him that sweet clueless look on your face. You didn’t answer him right away. Instead, you started to reach for your skirt, lifting it while saying “You gonna fuck me out here then?”

Itadori rushed to push your hands down, shoving the door open. He slammed you against the door frame the moment it was closed.

It was gross there. The floor is covered in alcohol and piss, the toilet is dirty and the sink has plastic cups collecting in it. The music was muffled through the door but you could still feel the base throughout the building. But neither of you cared as Yuji rutted his hips against yours.

You whined as he kissed your skin and grinded his hips back and forth against you. Your hands gripped at his hair and he wrapped around your ass, pulling you up to his height.

“You want me to fuck you?” Itadori rasped out between the kisses. He swore he could feel how wet your puffy cunt was even through your clothes. “You want my dick? Hmm?” He pressed forward. You whimpered instead of answering.

“Talk to me, pretty,” he begged. His hips halted and he pulled his face back to look at you.

Oh fuck.

Your eyes were glassy and your lip gloss tempted him under the crappy lighting. You looked like you were on the verge of tears from all this unintentional teasing.

“Please, Yu, i'm so,” you hiccuped and your hands grabbed at him for emphasis. “I’m so wet, please fuck me. Pretty please?” Yuji groaned before leaning in. He slotted his mouth right over your plump ones. You moaned and reached down for his cock. Your sloppy hands did their best, and after consistently fumbling, you finally got his belt undone.

You sighed into his kiss, letting his tongue overtake yours. His lips moved in motion with yours, tongue swiping over yours every time you pressed forward. Yuji tried to slide a leg underneath your cunt but you finally remembered the task at hand. You went back to fumbling with the button of his pants and moaned when you finally got them undone.

Itadori could faint from feeling your fingers urgently searching for his dick. He knew his tip was leaking in his underwear. He’s been hard for too long and he can’t wait to feel you wrapped around him. He’s jerked off so many times wondering about how good that pussy would feel on his fingers. On his tongue. Oh fuck and especially on his cock.

Yuji opted to hold you back with one hand, tugging down his underwear and pants down just enough that his cock was free. Within seconds your skirt was bunched around your waist, panties slipped to the side and finally his tip caught on your entrance.

“Oh fuck me,” You rasped out as he worked the first inch inside of you. He was big. Your best friend Itadori was fucking big. Without thinking, Yuji drops your pussy on his clock. Your whole body seizes up as you force your head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Yuji sputtered your name as he bottomed out. Every fucking ridge of his cock was engulfed in your warm wet pussy. He could feel your slick dripping down his balls. He grabbed at your ass to ground himself. You both dropped your mouths in awe. Your whole body felt like it was subjected to this moment.

You clamped down and gasped as Yuji tried to move forward. He gritted his teeth, rubbing his forehead against yours. “Don’t, fuck, don’t tighten up like that, I’m trying not to cum right now.” His admittance caused you to grip him more. Your arms wrapped around his shoulder, nails running across his undercut like before. You finally met his warm eyes, and blushed at the expression on his face.

You’ve seen Itadori in awe a lot. He’s someone who enjoys life at every moment. His smile was infectious and he’s adored things before, but the look he was giving you caused something deep inside you to flip over and over again.

“You okay?” He asked. Itadori was a man. As much as he wanted to slam into you, he was also your friend. He cared for you unlike anyone else.

You sniffled before responding.

“Yeah… just not used to something so big.”

He laughed at that, resting his forehead against you as you continue to rub at his undercut. Didn’t he tell you he wasn’t trying to cum too fast inside you?

“You’re such a sweet talker,” he gets out before kissing your cheek. “Am I okay to move, pretty?”

“Mmhm” you get out, recognizing the initial stretch has passed. “Please need you too,” you get out right as he pulls his hips back. From the first thrust the nerves in your body and firing off. Your pussy feels so raw, each thrust working you open more and more. You felt so full. You felt consumed by him.

Small moans slip from your lips as Itadori works into a regular pattern. You feel him circle his hips as he enters and exits your core. The added motion built more wetness from you.

“Fuck, just like that, Yu,” you whimper digging your nails into him. Itadori had a hard time concentrating. You were gripping him from all over. Your hands tugged at his shirt, trying to ground yourself. Your arms were wrapped around him, keeping him close. And your pussy, fuck, it felt like it never wanted him to leave. 

You moaned at every thrust he made, those sweet lips prompting him to keep going. His hands slid from your ass to your thighs, he pinned you against the door and pulled back enough to look down. You whined at the loss of contact but followed his eyes down.

He continued to fill you. Rocking his hips with intention instead of mindlessly thrusting inside your sweet pussy. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, face scrunching up in pleasure.

You dropped your mouth open, letting out a loud moan at the sight. His cock was fucking soaked. Your juices covered everything from his abdomen, shaft, and balls, all the way to your folds, clit, thighs, and even the sorry excuse for panties that you had on. He whined at how you tightened up at the sight.

“Like watching me fuck you?” He questioned only for you to moan and nod in response. You tried your best to thrust your lower half forward in Yuji’s vice-like grip. Your best friend's dick felt soooo good digging in your guts. 

“Mmhm, fuck me, Yu. Don’t stop,” you cried out as he picked up his pace. Yuji leaned back in, watching your face as he continued to fuck you just how you like. He was stretching you out so good. The friction he provided had your toes pointed and nerves on edge. You felt your stomach tightening up with each thrust he worked in.

“I’m close,” you get out softly. Itadori groaned. You were gonna cum on his cock. He couldn’t wait. He needed you to. He piston his hips, locking his lips against yours again. The feeling of his tongue teasing yours along with his bruising pace had you whining.

“Fuck, Yu,” you tried to get out between kisses and moans. He nodded, sliding his lips against yours in the motion.

“I know, I know, me too, baby,” he grits out. Soon you felt that band inside you snap. Your nails dug into his skin as your body seized up. You threw your head back, and couldn’t help but close your eyes at the pleasure shot up your spine throughout your whole body.

Yuji felt his balls tighten and fucking groaned feeling you clench and milk his dick. He was cumming. He was cumming hard right inside your pussy. The thought made his dick throb as you continued to clench and clamp down on him.

“Fu-uck, oh god,” Itadori cried out as you moaned. His sperm felt so good, warm and soothing against your beaten walls. You felt yourself calm down first, petting Yuji's jaw to bring him back to you. You kissed at his sweaty forehead humming as he pulled you up.

A pop sound resonated in the restroom, followed by Itadori’s moan. Fuck, you’d be the death of him. He finally set you down, wincing at the sight of your thighs covered in bruises from his fingertips. His eyes trailed upwards to look at your swollen pussy. A mix of cum dripped from your gaping hole. You shuddered as you slid your panties back in place and tried to fix your skirt.

Yuji hissed as he grabbed at his cock, and slipped it back in his pants. Before he could apologize in the post sex haze you’re giving him that sweet smile again.

And something tells him that you’re going to persist with getting him wrapped around your fingers again.

[comatosebunny09]

misunderstanding | sylus

summary: it was all because the shopkeep got a little handsy. a little too comfortable, purring his name like that. he shrugged her off; did you not see that part? genre(s): romance, angst warning(s): alcohol, drunk reader, self-esteem issues, insecurities, language, short and sweet notes: inspired by that one scene from fifty shades of grey.

Imagine calling Sylus while you’re drunk off your ass.

When you’ve thrown back one too many long islands, and while your friends are all inside, shacked up with their significant others and happy. You toddle outside for some fresh air and a break from your own head.

His voice breaks through the static, all heavy with sleep. But he answers so quickly because you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder. Been brief with your texts, ignoring his phone calls, and going out of your way to avoid running into him. He’s given you your space—minus Mephisto perched outside your window each night, watching you like a hawk.

“Hello?” Sylus husks, bed sheets rustling in the background as he maneuvers himself to sit up.

Somewhere far off, you feel bad for waking him. He already sleeps like shit. But you have liquid encouragement on your side, so you shove that guilt down, down, down in favor of poking the proverbial bear.

Your words are all blurred together, and you can barely keep your eyes open as you prop yourself up on a safety bollard, holding your phone to your ear with two hands.

“Why don’t you like me?”

“I—What?”

You swallow thick. Feel the world swirling and your body teetering, but you press on.

“Why don’t you like me, Sylus? Am I not your type? Is it ‘cause I’m not rich? Not skinny?”

He laughs, all incredulous on the other end. You imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in the stillness of his bedroom, disbelieving of the shit spilling from your mouth. And so early in the evening, too.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Me. I mean, am I annoying?  I kinda am. I talk a lot. But that lady—the one from before. That shopkeeper chick. She was really hot. Like, supermodel hot.”

Your name comes out in an exasperated sigh. “That’s what this is about?”

You confirmed his suspicions. Why you’ve been playing keep-away. Ever since you accompanied him a few weeks back to gather some intel from a verified source, you’ve been acting distant. All because the shopkeep got a little handsy. A little too comfortable, purring his name like that. He shrugged her off. Wordlessly put her in her place. Did you not see that part?

Sylus doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

“No, no, wait. Lemme finish. She seemed more your type. Like the kinda chick you’d be into, ya know? You two’d be like Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

He groans, and this time, you picture him hanging his head low. His long fingers splayed over his face in exhaustion.

“Where are you? Have you been drinking?”

“Mind your business,” you say around a hiccup.

And you’re catching yourself on the bollard, giggling stupidly at how pathetic you must look. Trying to catch your footing like a baby fawn.

“Only had one or two. Maybe three or six. I’m a big girl. A big, un-pretty girl, according to Mr. Sylus.”

A car honks in the distance. You barely stir from it, eyes shuttering as your head falls onto your arm roosted on the bollard.

“Where are you?” Sylus prods again.

There’s a little more urgency this time. A little more concern lurking beneath the tenor of his voice, and the sleep’s almost completely vanished from it.

“Out.”

You burn hot. Sway as the alcohol thickens in your veins. Something of a smile twitches your lips. For a second, you’re convinced he actually gives a shit about you.

“Sweetie, please. I don’t have the patience to entertain your mind games today. And stop putting words into my mouth. Not once have I ever referred to you as ‘un-pretty.’”

You snort. Stumble away from the bollard to lean against a brick wall. It’s cold and raw against your bare back. The world’s a pretty bokeh of light around. Maybe you did have a little too much to drink.

His voice drops an octave. Skates between sincerity and something dulcet; doting.

“You’re anything but. You’re gorgeous. Breathtaking. Incredibly resourceful and infuriatingly kind. You’re tough. And you don’t talk too much. In fact, I wish you would spend more time talking about yourself.”

Your lips crook with a smile. Your eyes begin to water. Your cheeks are warmer now, and you’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the words spuming so effortlessly from the other end of your phone.

You hear fabric rustling. Hear his mattress creaking and things being jostled about in the background. Drawers. Clothes. Shoes clicking against marbled tiles.

“Tell me where you are,” he asserts. “I’m coming to get you.”

“No, no, no!”

You wave your hand dismissively like he can see. You feel bad enough having dragged him down with you. Having dredged up your insecurities and projected them onto him like that. No reason to make him leave the sanctity of his bed to entertain your foolishness.

“It’s cool, Syl. I’ll catch a cab.”

“I’m not asking,” he clips in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

You swallow, suddenly feeling cold sobriety creep in. Metal jangles through the static. Keys. Car keys. A door shuts, followed by an engine stuttering and drawing a breath in. He taps a few buttons on his console. Releases a sigh.

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are. Don’t go running off with any strangers, alright, sweetheart?”

Something warm spills into your tummy. You slide down the wall onto your ass, holding your head in your hands with your phone propped to your ear using your shoulder.

“Sylus, really. You don’t have to do that. I’ll be good—”

“I want to,” he insists. Already peeling out of his driveway and zooming through the streets of the N109 Zone. “Stay on the line. Don’t hang up. I’ll be there soon. Promise.”

You sigh at your own stupidity. At your own pitifulness. Making him come play knight in shining armor like that. All because you couldn’t hold your liquor. Your tongue. Though, you can’t stifle the tiny ping of hope resounding in your head.

“Okay. I’ll wait. But can we get ice cream when you get here?”

He chuckles, the sound of it brassy yet comforting through the drunken slurry of your brain.

“Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

masterlist

[missmugiwara]

A Secret

Summary: gn!reader x Luffy // What happens when you tell the captain a secret? Turns out, it makes him really happy! And he only wants more.

Warning: 18+, suggestive, very flirty, did I make Luffy a slight dom?

Note: I think one of my favorite things about writing for Luffy is that it's kind of hard. But he's my sweetie pie so I'm not complaining.

✦ Word count is 2.2k ✦

Luffy's strength was no secret.

Everyone knew that. It was also no secret that he always got stronger. Sometimes, it seemed like the Straw Hat Pirates were always moving from one adventure to the next, never taking a break. So how did Luffy have the time between fights to find new moves and new gears to try?

Maybe he didn't do it as much as Zoro, but there were instances where you caught the captain training. Sometimes it was on boring days like today where you happened to be parked at some random island for Franky to do routine maintenance to the Sunny.

Luffy's breath was heavy, mouth wide open to release hot pants. His red ruffle-sleeved shirt and yellow sash were chucked off to the side, bunched in a sloppy pile on the ground with his precious straw hat gingerly laid on top. His scarred chest heaved with each breath he took, muscles tensing deliciously. A thin layer of sweat covered his entire body, forming delicate beads of moisture to glisten in the sun. His hair splayed across his forehead and around his face in cute, damp waves from the moisture. It was certainly a sight to behold. The captain was positively mouthwatering, and only one thing crossed your mind at that moment.

You loved him so much.

It was always so hard to take your eyes off him. With feet crunching against the grass, you walked up some distance behind him and just silently admired. A tender smile etched its way onto your lips, and you sighed longingly at Luffy. He had one fist pulled back, while his other free hand - palm outstretched, thumb pointed downward - took aim at the air, and he punched. He repeated this move again and again, grunting and panting the entire time. As he continued with that focused, steady gaze in his eyes. As beads of sweat flew off his body.

He was so strong.

Did anyone ever tell him he looked so good?

A warm heat feathered over your cheeks, and your eyes perked up at the thought. And so, feeling rather bold, you snickered and took a step forward. You almost changed your mind. Then, using every ounce of courage, you merrily called after him.

"Luffy!"

The rubber man turned lazily to the call of his name. With an open-mouth releasing more pants, he tiredly smiled. And then his gaze grew more excited when he registered it was you of all people who called with such adoration. You, who was running toward him. You, who he could never get mad at. You, who lit up with joy every moment you saw him.

The sweetest face he had ever seen, and all his. Well, you were your own person - he didn't own you, and he knew that. But you were his. Somehow. His crewmate. His friend. His… something.

One day, he would gladly say the words: you're so much more to him. That much he knew, but what word could he use? Luffy always knew how to get right to the heart of things that needed saying most - but not today. Seeing your smile was enough, and there was way too much on his mind regarding everyone's safety in Wano.

"Do you wanna know a secret?" you grinned.

A secret? And just for his ears only? He already felt special enough with that smile you gave him. Nobody else ever got that smile.

You slowed to a stop when you collided into his back, pressing your chest to him. You didn't give him a chance to answer when you wrapped one arm around him, gently slapping your hand to his chest. The sweat upon him sticking you to him, and you did not care in the slightest how much it made your shirt wet. With the other free hand, you cupped it to his ear.

"Hey, did you know…" and you whispered into his ear, lips brushing against the shell of it as Luffy's eyes slowly widened.

The words were nearly lost in the breeze.

A red blush dusted over his cheeks, and his lips parted in response. Before he could turn and ask if you reeeally meant what you just said, you giggled and peeled yourself from him. You stepped back, hands clasped innocently behind your back and grinning so much that your eyes clamped shut.

"Huh? Really?" Luffy asked in disbelief.

"Oh, yes!" you nodded your head erratically.

Luffy still stared in shock, and you still smiled. There was a pause before the captain blinked at you, then smirked. He stood a bit taller and a bit prouder, puffing out his chest. He turned back but to a tree this time, taking his usual fighting stance. His fist flew back, and then forward as he launched it into the tree - completely breaking it in two as it fell to the ground with a loud thud. A few of your friends looked up in worry at the loud noise, then disregarded it once they realized it was just Luffy being Luffy. You beamed widely as ever, before giving a wave and returning to your spot next to Robin. She was seated underneath an umbrella and sipping tea.

She smiled and poured a cup for you. Trying not to come off as pyring, she asked, "What did you tell Luffy to put him in such a good mood?"

You grabbed the cup of tea and smiled profusely. She wouldn't dare tease you like the others if you answered honestly. Robin could be told things you could not tell others. And she knew you liked the captain very much so.

"I just told him… well, I said: hey, did you know that you're really sexy?"

Robin seemed surprised at the unexpectedly brazen comment. She was looking down at her cup, then her blue eyes immediately darted to meet yours. You said that to Luffy? A pause before she grinned.

"Oh? Is that so? I'm happy for you."

And Luffy seemed pretty happy about it too.

It was a major risk you took that day, but since then you were smitten even moreso because he responded in such a… pleasant way. So Luffy was the kind of person who understood sex appeal. It was settled then - you wanted to flirt more. You wanted to be more vocal about how you felt. To drop more hints, as ironic as it was because Luffy didn't need subtlety; he needed blunt words. However, the rising butterflies in your stomach told you that testing the waters was further needed. It was really just an excuse to cover up a rising bout of shyness.

It seemed he was not as naïve as his crewmates thought, and he truly understood this game. And really, how did anyone not notice how attractive he was? Zoro and Sanji got attention all the time, but what about the captain? The star of the crew? He was certainly charming in his own ways. And so this game of yours did not let up anytime soon.

"Who's that good-looking guy in the straw hat?"

You waved at him, calling out with a hand cupped to your mouth. Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji walked toward the ship after being in town to buy supplies. Each of them had sacks of food tied to their backs, and Luffy broke out into a huge ear-to-ear smile. He laughed, a blush ever-present at his face. Zoro rolled his eyes, and Sanji's smile faded when he realized - oh, you were speaking to the captain, not him.

"Me? Oh, stop!" and Luffy would blush and blush, identical to the way he blushed when any of his crewmates said he was strong or reliable. The sight was too cute not to eat up. At least he was getting it now, because the first time you said that Luffy whipped his head around. With squinted eyes, he kept asking who was this guy until you bursted out laughing. This was really funny because it was so cute and so like him to do that.

"What a man."

You would purr so lowly when he passed by, especially if he had just defended the weak and beat someone up - panting, sweaty, delicious as usual. Boy, was being in Wano such a treat. Luffy's ears would prick at the sound of your honeyed tone, and sometimes they turned red. He would quickly turn to meet your lidded gaze, your eyes wandering up and down his shirtless self - and the blush would return to his face. He would break out into a loud laugh after he processed the words you graced him with.

The flirting was fun, truly. Yet sometimes you wondered if anything more would happen after all the effort. It had to, right?

What were you even waiting for?

Such questions did not cross your mind at this particular moment though. As usual, Robin and you were passing the time once again while the Sunny sailed off to another adventure. The topic of conversation was another good book you both had read in your little two-person bookclub. Luffy walked by, a tiny smirk at his lips, as you and Robin laughed about something silly in the last chapter.

Luffy froze once he got past far enough. Something was off. Quickly, he whipped his head around to furrow his brows in frustration. He pointed his gaze at you… and pouted. A cute grumble escaped his lips, and with his fists balled to his sides and arms swaying, he tromped right over.

Between the fits of laughter and conversing, you didn't even hear Luffy's feet crunch in the grass behind you - picking up speed. And what really took you by surprise was when one of Luffy's rubbery hands suddenly grasped your jaw between his thumb and fingers, and he turned your face so you could see him. It went without saying that the laughter immediately stopped, and you and the archaelogist froze in place.

You blinked once. Luffy just held your face, not enough to hurt you because he would never, as you two locked gazes. His breath felt hot on your lips. In turn, your own breath was caught in your chest as your face ignited into flustered heat because - well, because he never held you like this and at such closeness too. Something must have been troubling him.

"What's… what's wrong, captain?"

Oh, you were right about something being wrong. Luffy cocked his head to the side in an attempt to deepen his focus. He was really studying your face, and it only got warmer the more he stared.

"You didn't say anything!" he whined.

Another blink or two from you, and Luffy's grip loosened on your face.

"Loofs, I really have no idea what you're talking about."

"You didn't say anything… you know - fun and nice. To me. Like you always do."

Another moment for you to process, and the lightbulb went off in your head. Ohhh! He wanted another - oh, yes. You almost wanted to laugh because apparently it was really that much of a habit by now.

How dare you forget to take care of your precious captain?

With face still in his hand, your eyes darted off to the side. For the third time, your cheeks went even hotter. And you didn't know why this bout of shyness ran over you all of a sudden. Perhaps it was because you were the one always catching him off guard, flustering him so deeply. Not the other way around. So you took a second to think, but you hadn't planned anything yet for that day. So in a small voice, you answered him quickly, truthfully, and without much thought.

"Hottie."

You nearly moaned under your breath. The blush dusting over his rubbery cheeks and the wide smile he bore was enough to let you know he was satisfied. Robin sat in awe (you two completely forgot she was still there) but then brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggle.

And Luffy grinned.

"Keep talking like that. I like it!"

Oh, the way he looked at you made your heart thrum in your chest. The way he held your face, making you lock eyes. Gently, he released your frazzled self. Your jaw dropped into a suprised, open-mouthed smile. Trying to ignore the fact that Luffy said he liked it, you diverted your attention to the first part of his somewhat confession.

"Oh, you think you can boss me around like that, huh?" You smirked, taking a playful tone to let him know you were joking.

Luffy was walking away, but he paused midstep. He turned his head to peek over his shoulder, his bright eyes staring directly into your soul. The wind blew to ruffle his jet black hair and the brim of his beloved straw hat before his eyes grew lidded.

"Of course! I'm the captain here. Besides… you looove doing what I say. You always do, and you never refuse."

With that, he walked off.

And there you sat, flustered to oblivion as you brought a hand to to cover your growing smile. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Robin wink.

[ceesimz]

Who falls in love in November?

part 2 of this, also known as the happy ending everyone wanted :)

Alexia had three days remaining of her time in Menorca after you left. Never in her life had a vacation been so miserable.

Even without you there, her head was constantly on a swivel when she was out, hoping she’d turn a corner and you were there waiting for her. She was withdrawn from social occasions with friends, stuck in her head thinking about how much she wished you were by her side.

But it wasn’t going to happen. It didn’t happen.

And to top it all off, she had no evidence you even existed aside from the book you gifted her, as if you were merely a figure of her imagination. A daydream she didn’t want to come out of. It was simultaneously the best and worst summer of her life, because she had you, and then she didn’t. You slipped out of her grasp before she could do anything about it, and that fact was eating her up inside. 

To be honest, as she boarded her plane home, she had never been so grateful for a vacation to end. She slumped into her seat after storing away her suitcase and sighed heavily, looking out of the window of the place that she currently held mixed feelings about. The whole island was tainted by you and the memories that remained. At the thought, she slammed the window cover shut. It was a pitiful attempt to shove you out of her mind; to be fair to her, it worked for a few seconds. Except, when she reached into her backpack by her feet, her hand grabbed something and pulled it out.

Your book. The only thing that remained of your relationship. 

Relationship? Could it be classed as that? Probably not. But what else could she call it? The greatest mistake of her life?

Since she opened the first page the night you gave it to her, she had probably read the note there a hundred times. And so what if she had traced the curvature of your handwriting with her finger as her eyes burned with tears that night? You weren’t there to see it, that’s the only thing that mattered to her. 

This book means a lot to me, and from all the wonderful things I know about you so far, I think you’ll like it too. We haven’t known each other for very long but I hope that changes because you’ve already had a better effect on me than anyone I have ever met, and for that I am so grateful. Let me know when you finish it.

That last sentence, as well as the accompanying smiley face that was exactly the same as the one you had drawn on another note to her a few days prior, mocked her. She couldn’t reach you if she tried. She only had your first name and the city you lived in, there was nothing to go off of if she attempted to find you. The worst part of it all is that you could be her neighbour for all she knows, but the only thing she could do was hope that your worlds aligned sooner rather than later. You could live in the apartment right beside hers, or above it, or below. The possibilities were endless and it killed her. 

Maybe it was sad and pathetic, but she couldn’t bring herself to read the story. There had been one attempt so far, and it only resulted in a throbbing headache, puffy red eyes, and a damp pillow. Another sigh left her lips as she dropped it back into her bag and zipped it up with more aggression than necessary, earning a strange glance from the flight attendant that walked past her just as she did so. 

A little while passed before the plane got ready for take-off, and ever the rule-stickler, Alexia took one of her earphones out as the safety video played out. At that point, she realised just how screwed she was, because she couldn’t even look at a life vest on a fucking plane without thinking back to that day with you on the boat.

“Qué coño estoy haciendo?” She grumbled under her breath, slipping her earphone back in and resting her head back against the seat, eyes closed. 

Unfortunately, that was a question she would repeat to herself a hell of a lot the following months. Because, really, not a day passed by without her thoughts being infiltrated by those days with you. The second she closed her eyes at night, she saw your face. When she woke up in the morning, she wished you were beside her, even despite the fact she had never once shared a bed with you.

At one point, sometime in September, she even found herself going along to one of Mapi’s dinners in Barcelona that she always planned. Alexia had been invited to every single one in the past few years since the defender had started organising them with her closest friends, but the blonde had only attended a handful in that time. Her attendance for this one was solely for the purpose of seeing you. 

However, you didn’t show up.

There was one chair at the end of the table empty, and though no one ever took it, Alexia couldn’t tear her eyes away. She had a vacant expression on her face throughout the whole duration of the evening, forcing a smile when she had to and keeping her responses short. The people there that didn’t know her too well were probably a little weirded out, but Mapi could see heartbreak in her eyes and the realisation of what likely happened brought a frown to her face. She didn’t want to intrude on a situation she knew Alexia would prefer to keep private, but it hurt to see her friend so down like she was. 

Only one conversation topic truly piqued her interest that evening. Near the end of the night, someone asked why you weren’t there. The single mention of your name had her heart racing.

“-has gone to England to see her family for a while.” 

The person talking, who Alexia assumed was your friend, went on a bit more about your whereabouts, but the blonde had tuned out of it as soon as she heard that you weren’t even in the country, nevermind the city. 

She had the urge to just get up and walk out of the restaurant there and then at the news, but she was here, at a restaurant with alcohol available to her, and instead she decided to throw her personal laws out the window for the night and have a few drinks. They didn’t numb the pain, in fact they probably made it more prominent. Alarm bells were ringing in Mapi’s head at the sight of her friend with an alcoholic drink in her hand, especially since the new season had just started, and she waited until everyone was leaving to bring it up.

“Ale, Ale, espera.” The shorter woman lightly grabbed her friend by the arm just as she started the walk back to her apartment. “Qué passa?”

“No, Mapi.” Alexia mumbled, shaking her head and continuing to walk. Mapi kept up the pace beside her, allowing the silence to sit for a bit, before the older woman sniffled a little. 

“Oye. Habla, ahora.” Mapi demanded, halting their movements on the sidewalk as Alexia kept her head down.

“No es importante.” Alexia shrugged dismissively, opting out of looking at Mapi and instead observing the streets she had walked all of her life. Ones that you have probably walked too.

“Es importante!” Mapi argued, before she pushed down her frustration and addressed her captain much more calmly. “Si estás así de triste, es muy importante, Alexia.”

“Stop, Mapi! Leave it, it has nothing to do with you.” Alexia snapped, before turning away and heading back in the direction of her flat. 

The fact she slipped into English, now of all times, told Mapi everything she needed to know. Things hadn’t gone smoothly between you and Alexia. Whatever happened, Mapi would stay out of it until she was needed. That didn’t mean she was any less disappointed at it though. Not at you, or Alexia, because regardless of what had or hadn’t gone on, she didn’t blame you and she knows neither of you would have blamed each other too. Whatever had occurred was left in the hands of the world to sort it out.

Though, if she had known it was just a miscommunication that could have been easily solved, she would have grabbed you both by the ears and lectured you to no end. 

The truth is, if Alexia wasn’t so stuck in her misery and just read the book given to her, all of her problems would have been solved. In her opinion, if she did read it, it would just mean finding out more about you that she couldn’t have. But, as a matter of fact, getting to the end of the story would give her the one thing she wanted all along.

By the time November rolled around, Alexia and the rest of the Barcelona team were well into the season in most competitions already. The league was going well, they had won the two Champion’s League games so far, and they had just beaten Real Madrid in the first game of the fifth, albeit unofficial, infamous competition of the season- El Clásico.

A win like that always had to be celebrated, and none of the blaugrana players were going to pass up a night of partying in Barcelona afterwards. 

There was just one small thing Mapi failed to tell Alexia before they arrived at the club, however.

—

Your life after that vacation didn’t really change. The only noticeable difference was the heartache and the anguish you felt after arriving home that no one would understand. In secret you met, in silence you have to grieve. 

Except, your pain wasn’t quite the same as Alexia’s. Hers surely had an expiration date, she would get over you at some point. Yours would only get stronger the longer you spent apart from her, the anxiety turning the scenario you were in from a nightmare into a reality.

You had no doubts that Alexia was a busy person, so for a few weeks, you gave her the benefit of the doubt when it came to reading. But a few weeks turned into a month, then one turned into two, and before you knew it, it was November. Maybe she didn’t want to see you again after all, maybe those few days were enough for her.

That summer felt like a lifetime ago, an out of this world experience that was nothing more than a dream. But it was real, you know it was, because you still feel the phantom touch of her lips on your shoulder and the comfortable warmth of her hand in yours. You still remember every detail about her, like the moles on her face and the depth to her hazel eyes, or the tattoos on her back and the strength of her arms when she embraced you. Not even your wildest dreams could have created such a person like Alexia. She was more than anything you could have wished for.

Perhaps you could have searched her up online, the blonde was apparently a prominent public figure after all, so it probably wasn’t that hard to find out more about her. You didn’t want to do that though, in the weirdest way, it would feel like invading her privacy. What could be found online was most likely not a true representation of her. Though she wasn’t yours anymore, and she never really was in the first place, you knew the media’s perception of her would be so different to who she actually was, and indulging in that would be a disservice to the woman you had the honour to love, even if that was for just a week.

In your time since Menorca, you had gone back to your normal life like nothing had happened. As if nothing had changed outwardly, when internally, everything had changed. You had been introduced to the true beauty of life, what it means to feel seen, only to have it ripped away from you. And maybe it was your fault that it wasn’t yours to experience anymore. If you could go back in time to that final moment in the bar, you would have done everything differently, especially if you had known it would end like this.

At some point in September, the city you loved became nothing but a mental challenge. Alexia could be anywhere, yet in your opinion, there was no morally correct way to try and find her. It all got too much, and you had to escape. Going back to England seemed like a good idea at first, however in hindsight, it just made things worse. Somehow it made the pain, regret, sorrow, it made all of it reach new heights. During the taxi ride back to your apartment in Barcelona afterwards, there were tears in your eyes that hardly left for the next two months. No matter what you tried, you couldn’t get her out of your mind, even though you were probably long gone from hers.

A night out in the city sounded perfect suddenly, in November. One mention of it from a friend of a friend, and you were in. There was some special occasion apparently, according to María, but you didn’t care that much to pay attention. All you knew was that the club was booked for you all, there was a ticket with your name on it, and alcohol waiting for you.

Only, you didn’t expect to meet a familiar pair of eyes at the bar a few hours into the night. 

“Ale?” You whispered under your breath at the sight of the woman a few metres to your right, leaning against the bar with a near empty beer bottle in her hand. 

With the music thumping throughout the club, there was no way she heard you. But her eyes averted to her left anyway, and they landed straight on you. Her entire body froze, eyes wide whilst the rest of her face seemed void of emotion. It was hard to get a read on her and considering there was a fair amount of alcohol in your system by this point, it wasn’t surprising when the anxiety took over and made you doubt everything. 

Did she still feel the same way about you? Was there already somebody else for her? Maybe you didn’t mean as much to her as she did to you. There were probably thousands of other people she could have, when you took her supposed stardom into account. The scale of her fame was still a mystery to you, but at that moment it was too overwhelming to think about. What business did she have falling in love with someone who was nothing more than a fly on the wall?

Nobody ever noticed you, you were just there. Alexia was… Alexia. There weren’t enough words in any and all languages to describe what a person she was. 

Unbeknownst to you, Alexia was freaking out too. Not in the way one would initially expect, though; there was one overwhelming feeling for her that wasn’t fear or anxiety, it was relief. Complete, utter, all-consuming relief, because you were right in front of her. Within arms reach, basically. Despite all the possibilities that could occur from here on out, she was just happy to see you. 

However, her face hadn’t changed in the time the pair of you had been staring at each other agasp for the past however long, and it didn’t change as she cautiously took a few steps closer to you. With each step she took, your anxiety grew. It grew and grew, until she was about a metre away, and it reached its peak.

In true anxiety fashion, the fight or flight kicked in.

A proper glance at her face and you were breathless, and not in the swooning, romantic way, but instead out of pure panic. The club was too loud, too restricting and suffocating, and the only option that seemed plausible was getting the hell out. You didn’t care about the people you bumped into, or the voice shouting after you. The situation that confronted you back at the bar was more than you could handle and it seemed to be an insurmountable challenge that you weren’t quite prepared for. 

In your mind, Alexia was done with you. The heartbreak was tearing through you already and had been for months now, you didn’t need a run in with her to increase that, and you definitely didn’t want closure. Too long had passed, you had grown content with the realisation that she had moved on seamlessly.

It took a matter of seconds for Alexia to lose sight of you in the crowded room, and what didn’t help was the sudden barrage of teammates that seemed determined to drag her to the dancefloor. They were buzzing off their copious amounts of alcohol compared to her one bottle of beer, completely unaware of the turmoil she was going through due to the winning high they were still riding. She saw the disappointed look on their faces as she brushed them off and it hurt for a moment, before she remembered the situation she was in, and then the celebrations were forgotten entirely. 

The moment she exited the club, she spotted you outside the next building over, a restaurant with outdoor seating that was closed due to the late hour. You were sat in one of the chairs there, head in your hands with a leg bouncing out of intense anxiety. Alexia knew she was the reason for your current state, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but she also didn’t want to leave you alone when you were so clearly worked up. If you pushed her away, fine, she’d leave. She just wanted to try first.

As she prudently walked over to you with a few gentle calls of your name, like she were approaching a skittish animal, you glanced through your fingers to find the one person at the centre of your anxiety approaching you. Rather than tell her to leave, or get everything off your chest in a ‘screw you’ way, or simply pretend she didn’t exist, you removed your hands and sat up like you weren’t just having an anxiety attack. Your people-pleasing habit had no boundaries. 

“Are… are you okay?” Alexia asked softly, standing a few feet in front of you with her hands, that itched to reach out and comfort you, holding onto the chair behind her which she leaned on just as an excuse to nervously fidget with something not too obvious. 

“I will be.” You gave her a tight-lipped smile that you paired with a quick sniffle and a brush away of the tears on your cheeks. 

To anyone else, this whole situation probably seemed ridiculous and unnecessary. Why not just exchange details in the first place? Why not ask Mapi, a mutual friend, for the other person’s details? There were so many seemingly obvious solutions and ways this could have been prevented. 

But love isn’t so simple. It’s a risk to take, a fact that often goes unacknowledged and underappreciated. Especially when your heart has already been broken and stuck back together so many times, it’s hard to hand it over again. It is a delicate organ, the only one other than the brain that has the ability to feel, to hold sentiment and adoration. 

There’s no rhyme or reason as to why people decide to harm it, but Alexia isn’t one of those people. She’d take your damaged goods and glue them back together with gold if she could, and you’d do the same for her. When all is said and done, there is no blame or resentment present, just guilt and regret. Your souls are too pure for hatred, they’re professionals at harbouring love for those around no matter what, and it’s evident with the way you both treat each other, despite all the unspoken sorrow and devastation individually experienced during all these months. 

A week of pure, whole-hearted, unconditional love was worth all the months of anguish. That was an easy conclusion both of you had come to somewhere along the way.

“I…” There was so much that Alexia wanted to say, but she had no idea how to verbalise any of it or where to even start. She believed that nothing she could say would live up to the moment. 

“We don’t have to do this, Ale.” You decided for her. Your words exuded a confidence that wasn’t there at all, and you figured that it was probably evident in your anxiety-filled appearance, but what’s the harm in trying. 

“Do what?” Alexia replied with her face scrunched in fearful confusion. Ale. She had missed you saying that. 

“Do the awkward back and forth whilst ignoring the fact we fell in love four months ago.” 

It hurt to admit it out loud. 

For months, this pain had been nothing but an internal one, hidden in the background of your thoughts at all points of the day whilst the world around you was none the wiser. The only external signs of such an event were the mascara stains on your pillow after a night of crying and the tear tracks engraved onto your cheeks when walking into work the next day.

You fell in love four months ago. And the person you were still in love with stood before you. But time had passed, and perhaps that love had to be left behind. 

“Maybe I don’t want to ignore that.” Alexia’s shoulders were up in a shrug for a few moments, her heart beating away so fast in her chest that a pit of nausea had formed at the sentence she had just uttered. You looked up at her through tears that glistened in the street lamps, a glint of hope in your eyes that you loathed. In just one statement, you were wrapped around her finger again. 

“What do you mean?” You questioned firmly, voice distant despite the crack in the middle of it.

“Maybe… I am still in love with you.” 

Laughter wasn’t quite the response Alexia was expecting, especially spiteful laughter. Disapproving laughter with anger so clear in its undertones. 

“How can you say that after you’ve obviously moved on? After I’ve heard nothing from you all these months?” You scoffed. Your pent-up exasperation wasn’t even at Alexia, she just so happened to be there and saying all the wrong things to act as the catalyst for the eruption.

No, the anger was entirely at yourself. You opened up your heart to someone you knew you couldn’t have, and still had the audacity to be so hurt by the anticipated turn of events. Alexia was never to blame, it was you. 

“What? I don't understand.” Alexia retorted, and it’s unexplainably hard to continue your onslaught of misdirected blame when there’s so much pain in her voice.

“You had so much time to contact me, and yet you didn’t. I can read the room, Ale, I can tell when I’m not wanted, and I get it.” The fight left you then, your body deflating of all its tension as you curled back into yourself. 

“I had no way to get to you! I don’t get it, cariño, I really don’t, because I have loved you still all these months and I missed you, and if I did have a way to get to you, I would have taken it because I have lost myself after losing you!” 

“Oh, so I just gave you my favourite book with my number in the back of it for no reason then?” You scoffed once more, shaking your head as you willed the tears away once more.

Just a few feet in front of you, Alexia was going through about a million different emotions, thoughts, feelings, all that good stuff, at once. Her head was spinning, dizzy at the gravity of what you just said. 

“I didn’t read your book.” Alexia whispered, her voice quiet and dripping with awe, still stuck in regretful astonishment at the fact the solution to everything had been under her hands all this time. 

Your number, in the back of the book that was right beside her bed. She had you right under her fingertips and she didn’t even know it. 

“What do you mean?” You asked in the same tone.

“I could not bring myself to read it because I missed you too much. Your number is really in the back? You are not doing some… some cruel joke?”

As if you’d ever.

“No! I swear, I wrote it in there that night in the bar when I gave it to you. I thought you saw me write in it!” You exclaimed, overcome with all sorts of emotions at the new revelation. 

It had been a stupid mishap, nothing more. No malicious intent on either side, no animosity (aside from the last few minutes), and most of all, throughout this whole thing, there had been no love lost. It was just a mutual misunderstanding. That label felt too simple for all the turmoil that had occurred, yet at the same time, an exhilarating amount of relief came with it which soon overrode the seething irritation that flashed by. The possibility of exploring a relationship with Alexia was so much more thrilling to focus on than all that could be different.

There was no use in dwelling on what could have been if this mistake hadn’t happened. Far too often have you done that in the past, and it’s never gotten you anywhere. Alexia had done the same during those lonesome nights after hours spent in the presence of thousands of people in stadiums across the world - going from being surrounded by countless adoring fans to nothing but overwhelming silence was something she had struggled with. It opened up a world of vulnerabilities for her, as she thought and thought and thought until the mental exertion exhausted her and she finally fell asleep. 

Something that came with her ACL injury was the introduction of a psychologist, and it had forced her to change so many aspects of her life for the better. Like in this scenario now, where just like you, she wanted to disregard what hasn’t happened, and instead focus on the moment, and all the amazing things that could happen. Because, really, what was standing in her way apart from the threat of a road not taken? And the best thing of all, is that with one look in your eye, she knew you felt the same.

She knew you wanted the simplicity, rather than making it more difficult for yourselves which had happened already since that last goodbye in the bar. Once the realisation settled, the only thing left to do was acknowledge that fact.

“I didn’t. I didn’t see you write in the back, only the front.” Alexia murmured, pausing for a few seconds as the pair of you fell silent. 

The pulse of the music could be faintly heard, as could the distant chatter of people passing by, but none of that mattered when the prospect of the future hung within reach between you both. It was that that had Alexia turning the chair she held onto around and slumping down into it out of shock. The adrenaline had run its course, and now it left a tranquil euphoria, a brewing excitement that took its time to build. 

“So… you haven’t moved on.” You said about a minute later, holding back a smile that broke out anyway when Alexia laughed at it all. 

“No. Not at all.” 

Words seemed a little useless from then on. There were coy smiles on each of your faces afterwards, when everything had been hashed out and made clear despite it being slightly overdue. The only thing you could do was stand from your chair, walk the short distance that separated you both, and gaze down expectantly at Alexia. She stood too, the tables turning so that she was the one looking down now, but that didn’t matter for long, because before you knew it, her arms were back around you and embracing you so tightly that your feet lifted off the ground. You laughed into her neck, which in turn made her laugh too, and then the pair of you were just a mess in each other's arms. 

It felt like someone had come along and stoked the fire in your heart again. The coldness that had settled in your bones at some point during the last months was gone, instead it had been replaced with the love you’d lacked for too long. This time, it didn’t have a time limit, you were free to relish in the fact that from this day on, there was always going to be someone on your side, a person there just for you. And there was a certain level of pride that came in knowing you were going to be that for Alexia too, because the way she held you so close to her heart, metaphorically and in this moment literally too, told you enough about how she felt. 

When you leaned back and looked up at her, you saw the future in her eyes, one that didn’t seem so dauntingly alone and gloomy. There were also tears there too, to your surprise, and it only amplified what you knew about her already; she was made for you. She loved you.

“Please tell me I will not lose you for a second time. I cannot do that again.” She admitted the secret quietly, and before you had even found the words to answer her, the admission was stored away safely in your soul. 

“No, you won’t. I… I think I need you, Ale.” You told her, closing your eyes as you rested your forehead against hers. You sensed the relieving sigh that Alexia let out and shared how she felt; at peace.

“I need you too.” Alexia mumbled in reply, her voice cracking with emotion that for once isn’t drowning her, instead, she feels more alive right now than she had since summer. “Te extrañé mucho. Mucho.” 

You smiled. A genuine one, with no layers or falsity to it. You smiled because you could, because Alexia and all she was in that moment allowed you to feel worth your weight in gold, something that hardly ever came naturally to you. But with the blonde woman holding you so tentatively, firm in her love despite her fears, you owed it to her to provide the reaction her character brought out. 

“I missed you a lot too.” You breathed out, years worth of inadequacy and shame leaving you as you did so. “I’m sorry for causing all this. And for-”

“Why are you apologising?” Alexia cut you off, pulling back from the embrace as her hands gently landed on your shoulders and the frown you had strangely missed came out in full force.

“Because I just made all this so difficult and caused you so much pain for no reason, I should have thought it through more and n-”

“No, don’t.” She shook her head and tugged you back in, her arms around your shoulders and a hand on the back of your head with her thumb stroking up and down comfortingly. “Don’t take yourself down that road. Do not place blame on yourself when there is none there. Please don’t. It is not your fault.” 

All you could do at that was nod into her chest. Alexia’s advice hadn’t failed you thus far, so why stop listening to it now.

“I’m so glad I found you again. In a club of all places.” You said, giggling into her shoulder as she chuckled. 

“I didn’t know you would be here.” Alexia stated, keeping her hands on your waist as her eyes were wide and adoring as they moved all over your face, almost as if she was in disbelief that she was really with you.

“María invited me, I don’t normally come to these things, but… I guess it’s a good job I did.” You replied bashfully, Alexia nodding immediately and making you laugh once more. “She said it was a big occasion or something? I don’t know, but it must be pretty big if the whole club is booked out.”

“It is a big thing. For us, anyway. I…” She glanced up at the building she was in earlier and her smile faltered a little. She was caught in two minds; she wanted to spend time with you, now that you were in her arms she didn’t want to let you out of her sight, but she also had made commitments to be here with her team tonight. It was an abnormality for her to agree to a night like this, but the excitement and the pleading from her teammates made her give in, and their joy at her attendance made it worth it. “The team won a big game earlier, so they wanted to celebrate. I don’t go to these things too. They begged me, so I should probably go back to them.”

“Okay.” You said, trying to disguise the dejection burning through you. Her hands gripped your sides a little tighter, like she knew what her words had done anyway.

“Will you come back in? With me?” She asked hopefully.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude on your time with your team, especially if it’s a big celebra-”

You were interrupted once more, but there wasn’t exactly any complaining from your side. Alexia’s palms were cradling your cheeks, fingertips light and warm on your soft skin, and in much the same way as she did after that first date, she kissed you. Firmly and fervently, months worth of longing reaching its peak and crumbling with each movement of your lips. It was just as mind-numbing as you remembered- you’d thought a lot about those few kisses in Menorca and how you hadn’t had enough. There was no way you could ever wait that long for one again.

“You will not ‘intrude’ on us, I promise. If I could, I would take you on a date right now, but they will be angry if I do. When you are around, there’s no one else I want to spend time with.” Her eyes bored into yours as she held your face securely in her hands, ensuring you couldn’t look anywhere but at her and take in the honesty of her words. “I want you there. You.”

“I’ll go with you.” You responded like you were in a trance. You basically were: entranced by the affirmation that she wants you and you only. The blonde grinned and ducked down again to kiss you, more than content to revel in your touch now that she has you again. 

After that, Alexia took your hand tight in hers and led you back into the club. You trailed behind her, happy to follow her lead, blushing each time she looked back at you with her charming smile that overflowed with utter joy, until you found yourselves back in the main area of the club. Understandably, the vast group of people you didn’t recognise, probably Alexia’s teammates, were partying hard together. There were people on each others’ shoulders, drinks being spilt, some rather abysmal and slurred singing, and a number of new faces that lit up when they saw Alexia again. 

“Some of them are a bit loco. You will get used to them.” Alexia said into your ear, and when she moved back to gauge your reaction, she instantly recognised the uncertainty in your expression. Her arm curled around your waist, her lips pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and she gave a reassuring smile. “I will be with you, I’m not going anywhere.”

Like always, she stuck to her promise. Not for a second did she leave your side as she celebrated, introduced you to her teammates, and hardly took her eyes off you. Some part of her was always touching you, whether that be her arm around your shoulders, her hand brushing against hers as a finger linked with yours, a palm resting on your lower back as she guided you through the bustling room. And though it took some time to settle into the crowdedness, you eventually found yourself joining in with her teammates as they danced and took you in like one of their own.

Throughout the night, the blonde midfielder couldn’t hold back the smile on her face. Watching you fit right in with the people she considered family, whilst knowing to some degree how much you struggled with these things, flooded her with so much admiration and appreciation for you. It reached a new level, and though it was something she didn’t understand, each second she spent with you she felt herself falling more and more in love. Even if you did say ridiculous things like…

“You know what my favourite thing is about football? When you guys sit there at the side with your little blankets like the grandparents from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” 

She might have rolled her eyes at the declaration, but somehow she adored you impossibly more after it. Especially when the group of her teammates you were with burst out laughing at it, some firing off into teasing arguments at it as you turned to Alexia and gave her a beaming smile at the reaction. Before any of the others could wrap you up in a conversation again, she simply took your hand like she did earlier and walked you both over to the bar. Mapi, who had been part of that group and had almost passed out from pure elation when she saw the pair of you walk in together at the start of the night, watched you leave and nudged Ingrid vigorously. The poor Norwegian had been subject to all of the defender’s speculation and conspiracies of what had transpired between her two friends, and the dark-haired woman wasn’t sure if it was that or the current overwhelming excitement of her girlfriend that was worse. 

Alexia ordered new drinks for you both at the bar, before turning to where you stood beside her and smiling softly down at you. You entertained her gaze, mirroring her smile as you waited for her to speak. But instead of doing so, she moved to stand behind you and tugged you back against her while her arms enveloped you completely. Her chin found home on your shoulder, her heart bursting at the seams when she heard you let out a content sigh. She turned her face into your neck then, discreetly scattering kisses up and down the skin there. 

“Ale, what are you doing? All your teammates are here.” You told her quietly, leaning back into her and covering her arms with yours.

“Me da igual. Tendrás que perdonarme por ser tan pegajosa, pero no puedo apartar los ojos ni las manos de ti.” Alexia murmured, reaching around to grab her glass and take a sip from it, before focusing her attention back to you by kissing you. Her lips were cold from the ice of her drink, but they quickly warmed up against yours as she indulged in the kiss without a care for her surroundings. It was only when your drink was placed on the wood of the bar that she broke it off, smirking down at you and the blush to your cheeks. 

If this was how she was going to act, you didn’t want the night to end. 

Fortunately for you, it didn’t. Something you had learnt over the years was that the Spanish knew how to have a good night, and this was no different. The music kept coming, the euphoria kept running, and the dancing didn’t stop for a second. As the hours went on, Alexia came more and more out of her shell, and you saw a new side of her that made you weak at the knees. 

Her actions got bolder as her inhibitions left her, and if she was clingy before, that only increased. Even when she substituted her alcohol for water, as did you, her affection continued to pour out. You were more than happy to revel in all she had to give. This was what you had longed for since the summer, and it still felt surreal that you were here right now. 

Seeing Alexia so carefree and happy sparked the same feelings in you, it willed you to be just as open and unabashed in your joy, and it was fastly turning into one of the best times of your life because of it. But there were other feelings too, ones that were becoming quite unavoidable as they built up throughout the evening. And when the celebrations somehow amped up, there was a certain level of acknowledgement between you and Alexia. Your eyes communicated that to each other, coy smiles shared between you both in anticipation.

The pair of you continued to dance together, none the wiser to the partying around you anymore. You were more than content to stay in your own little bubble, allowing the tense thrill to grow whilst waiting for the other to make the first move. Unsurprisingly, it was Alexia who cracked, her next actions conveying the desperation that fizzed between the two of you. 

“I think I said I had to make it up to you after our first date, no?” She hummed from behind you, one arm around your stomach as the other brushed your hair from your neck so that she could attach her lips to your pulse as she awaited your answer.

“Yes. Please.” The second word slipped out unknowingly, only realising what you had said after Alexia smirked into your skin. Her confidence radiated from her, and you took it and ran with it. “Don’t act like you don’t need it too, la reina.”

“Don’t call me that.” She grumbled and you turned in her hold with a raised eyebrow, your arms linking around her neck. 

“What would you like instead?” You challenged, feeling her hands tighten their grasp just slightly.

“You know. Ale. Alexia.” You hummed and nodded, leaning a little closer and kissing her jaw on your way to placing your lips beside her ear.

“And where would you prefer me to call you that? Here, in this club where you can hardly hear me with your friends all around? Or in your apartment, in your bed?” 

It was that final question from you that had her breathing in sharply and leading you out of the club for the final time that night. Earlier, when you left in a rush, you were wracked with anxiety and self-doubt. Now, you laughed with the woman you loved as she flagged down a taxi and clambered in behind you. She listed off her address as you gazed meekly at her from your seat, heart eyes so glaringly obvious despite the dim light of the car. Granted, she could probably feel your stare more than she could see it, though there wasn’t much else that the midfielder wanted to focus her attention on. 

She smirked and shook her head when she noticed, her hand travelling across the middle seat and reaching its destination on your thigh. You placed your own over it, squeezing it once and averting your eyes to the city’s scenery that passed by, unable to maintain your infatuated look due to the overloading feeling of ardour that reinforced itself every time the footballer was in your vicinity. 

Throughout the car ride to Alexia’s apartment, it was majoritively silent, bar the deafening beating of your heart in your ears that grew in its volume the closer you got. The driver’s GPS sounded out as he parked outside the building, and Alexia rushed to pay him before getting out and offering her hand to you. You took it with a shy grin, swinging it between you both as you made your way inside.

Back at the club, the tension was palpable and unmistakably charged. However, it had taken a turn during the short journey. Now it was teeming with nerves, both aware of what faces you when you step foot in that apartment. There’s exhilaration and simmering desire too due to how much you want it, it was something that had been thought about individually late at night. Ultimately, this would add a whole new layer to the growing relationship, and neither of you wanted to wait a second longer to be able to savour the aftermath and the moment. 

And in the end, it was inexplicably better than you could have imagined. Once the initial awkwardness wore off, the desperation took over and gave the night a tale to tell. You hadn’t experienced anything like it– it was tentative and ineffably intimate and something you wouldn’t forget. It was perfect. 

Most importantly, it didn’t leave you in a pit of anxiety afterwards. Being able to freely relish in the moment when it was over in the comforting hold of the figure you loved so wholly was something you appreciated greatly. Words wouldn’t do it justice, what it meant to you. All you could do was return the benevolence handed to you on a silver platter and hope that Alexia understood the gravity behind your actions. 

The sheets covered your sated bodies, you with your head on her chest as her arms held you securely and sincerely, and they rustled when she reached over into her bedside table for something. You leaned up a little in confusion, watching her curiously as she searched around the drawer, only to pull out the bane of your existence.

“What are you doing with that?” You asked humorously, nestling back down into the warm, sturdy body beneath you. 

She had gotten out your book. With a hum, she opened it and flicked to the back page. There she found your number, written clearly just as you had told her. 

“I don’t believe it.” Alexia mumbled, one of her fingers tracing the ink there. “It really was there.”

Quietly, without disrupting the serenity of the room that had settled, you took it from her hands and dropped it onto the table on your side. Then you turned back to her, brushing some strands of hair from her face as you rested upon your elbows and cupped her face. You looked at her with a pointed gaze, leaning down to place a slow, meaningful kiss to her lips, before pulling back.

“Forget about that. We’re here now.” You whispered, thumbs stroking softly over her cheekbones as she accepted your words, willing herself out of that regretful mindset. Because she had you, right where she wanted you.

“We’re here now.” She repeated with a loving smile, one you instantly reciprocated as you nodded at her response.

On a night like this, there wasn’t much else that needed to be said. So you laid back down then, on your side as Alexia copied your position with the covers pulled up to your shoulders, face to face and barely able to make out each other’s features in the dark room. 

That book, the one you nervously handed over to Alexia back in Menorca, was possibly one of the most revealing things you had done. It didn’t quite go the way you expected it to go, but it didn’t matter in the end. You got the result you wanted and it was so much better than you anticipated. There was still a lot to learn, about each other and the lives you led, though nothing felt unaccomplishable now that you had Alexia on your team. 

Alexia didn’t quite know when your book had moved from the top of the table into the drawer, but it probably had something to do with how much it hurt to look at. It still didn’t fill her with the best thoughts whenever she saw it. She had no doubts that you being with her now would change that. She could see herself reading it in the near future, with you on the opposite end of the sofa, your feet in her lap as she got a glimpse into your soul. New memories could be made with it, and even right now, despite the grievances she had with it, it was still something she treasured deeply and she knew that would only become more true as time went on. 

In your current position, you could just make out how deeply she was looking at you. There were a lot of things swirling around those favourite eyes of yours, but it was the insecurities there that you hadn’t noticed previously which caught your attention. Wordlessly, you willed her to voice them, and she did.

“Things might get difficult sometimes.” She began, and you acknowledged it with a gentle nod and a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “There is… a lot that comes with my job that I do not enjoy. I am afraid it will come between us.”

You could only guess what she meant. Finding out exactly what that was, was a task for another day. Right now, she needed your belief and your assurances, you knew that.

“I don’t care about that. As long as you promise that I’ll have you, then I don’t care about anything else. I only need you, that’s all. The rest is just background noise.” You told her, pleased to see those doubts dissipate before you, her whole body language changing as it did.

“You do. You do have me. I promise.” Alexia stated firmly, quietly sighing out of relief and exhaustion.

The day was beginning to take its toll on her. It had been pretty packed, with a full game of fiercely competitive football, partying, a whole load of emotions, and the events afterwards that had gotten her to this point. Sleep didn’t come so easily to you, even after all that had happened. You gladly took the extra time to rake your eyes over Alexia’s face, who seemed so at peace as she began to drift off. There was a brief moment where you envied that fact, but you shoved that thought away as quick as it came, because that was the old you. There was a new version of you now, and it was one that did have the capability to experience that very same tranquillity that Alexia was in the midst of. And it was all down to her, the woman resting in your arms. 

There was just one more thing you needed clarity about, and it unfortunately meant disturbing the blonde’s bliss, but it couldn’t wait.

“Ale, will you go on a date with me?” You asked shyly, waiting for her reaction with a grimace, for what reason you weren’t sure of. She chuckled under her breath and subtly shook her head, which was indeed not what you were looking for, until she spoke before you could panic.

“You really just asked that after we spent the evening together and had sex?” 

Your hand covered her mouth immediately, though the damage was already done and she laughed at that fact. 

“It was a simple question that needed a simple yes or no.” You attempted to come across as serious, but there was a smile already there as Alexia pulled your hand away and nodded. 

Her lips found yours in what you thought could be deemed as the softest kiss in mankind, before she leans back just enough to be able to murmur her answer against your lips.

“You don’t have to ask.”

—

there's a bit of pressure and nerves that comes with writing a part two like this so i hope i took the right path with the plot and that it was worth the wait 🙃

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ safety net; t.f.

synopsis: when toji decided to be a good man and rescue two puppies for his son... content: canon divergence (I want a happy story for the fushiguro's!), fem!reader, reader is mamaguro, in this world your last name is fushiguro and toji took it bc f*ck the zenin, megumi is ur son (he's just a baby!), domestic bliss, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: seeing how successful my gojo anthology series is going (only two parts but going strong), I wanted to do one for toji bc I've always wanted to write his story with mamaguro (aka you!) and do a bunch of one shots that can be read as stand alones or together! pls lmk if you want more and if u wanna be tagged in the future <3 p.s. the divine dogs are actual dogs that inspired megumi's later manifestation of his shikigami in this au

It was one of those late nights for Toji. A summer evening with a heavy downpour to blur his path before him. The windshields were moving as fast as they could, swiftly clearing his vision with every wipe across the glass. He was quite used to this, running around town in the wee hours of the night, nothing new to him. It just annoyed him how difficult it could be driving in the rain when his windows fogged up and the headlights could only do so much. 

He wasn't too far from home, running a quick errand before returning to his abode, wanting nothing more than the warmth of his bed. 

A bed... A home...

Toji couldn't help but sigh and lean his head back against the car's headrest. Had this all been a dream? Was it real? Him, Zenin Toji, living a normal life? It had been quite some time now where he left it all behind to be domesticated—as if he were a wild animal. He didn't mind, though, a part of him was begging for a simple kind of life. 

Sat at a red light as his pointer finger tapped away against the leather steering wheel, his eyes wandered the environment around him—well, as much as he could see during an evening shower. From building to building, the empty sidewalks and dim storefronts, his eyes suddenly bounced back to a bus stop. Squinting, he leaned in before turning on his blinkers. 

This was very unlike him, his curiosity getting the best of him... Maybe it was because he was a changed man. Maybe it was because he had someone to go home to. Someone who made his deflated heart triple in size; someond who made him care about little things that he never did before.

Pulling over and parking his car next to the bus stop, Toji pulled up his hoodie and reached for the small umbrella that sat on the floor of the passenger seat. Rushing out and popping open the coverage, he stood before a small, cardboard box. 

It was falling apart, the rain tearing at the flimsy material as the little towel beneath was completely drenched. Hearing the faint whimpers and cries of the tiny creatures that stared up at him, Toji took in a sharp breath and shook his head. He was a good man now. Better than he ever was before. He had a heart. He had a home. He had someone who loved him. These little bodies did not. 

Lifting the box, he quickly maneuvered it underneath the umbrella before carefully placing it in the backseat of his car. "I hope she won't mind..." he said before making his way to the front, closing the umbrella and shutting the door after, resuming his route. 

The drive home was quicker this time around, zooming to gather the bags and box he had within the car, shutting the doors and locking them behind him before he made his way towards the front door. Taking the steps and fumbling with his keys, he unlocked the door and slipped inside before kicking off his shoes and making his way towards the living room. 

Settling the box down before moving towards the kitchen with the bag, he washed his hands and emptied the contents within it. Pulling out the small device, Toji made his way upstairs, ruffling his dark hair as he pressed a few buttons on the gadget. "Babe, this one should be fine," he spoke as he approached one of the two bedrooms. 

"Oh, good," the voice responded as he entered the room. You were sitting on your son's rocking chair, holding him close to your chest as you caressed his little back. He was about six months old and the constant change in weather was getting to him, causing a slight cold to disrupt his immunity. It pained both of you to see your boy anything but happy and healthy... but, he was such a little trooper. Both of you weren't sure where he got his calmness from, seeing as you nor Toji were such a way, but you thanked the heavens for blessing you with a child like him. 

"How's Megs doin'?" Toji asked as he handed you the new thermometer, squatting and gently caressing his son's head. His hand practically engulfed it, always entertaining him how tiny his boy was. It brought a small smile to his face. "Doesn't seem so fussy."

"A bit better, I got him to fall asleep. You weren't gone for too long, thankfully," you sweetly smiled, settling the small device down before caressing Toji's face. "Raining hard, huh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, only to widen his eyes. 

"What is it?" You furrowed your eyebrows. 

Scratching the back of his head, Toji stood up. "Got a surprise along the way... hope you don't mind."

"What do you mean?" You tilted your head. 

"Let's go downstairs," he nudged his own, waving you to follow him. 

Standing up carefully as to not wake your baby boy, you followed your man down the hall and staircase, towards your living room. You were confused at first, unsure as to what surprise he could've gotten you. But then you heard it. The faint cries and rustling coming from a box. The box in front of you. "Toji..."

"You've changed me, y'know?" He said. "I wouldn't have cared back then, would've left them suffer... but, guess it's because I'm a father now and I have you... I couldn't let them die out there..." rubbing the back of his neck as he stood by the box, you curiously peeked over before gasping. "Thought it would be nice to keep 'em... give Megs something to grow with."

"Toji... there's two," you nearly whispered, eyeing the puppies. One in pure white and one in all black, both equally precious. Tiny, scared, cold... you couldn't deny them either, even if you were currently raising your own baby. 

"Yeah..." Toji sighed. "I was thinkin' about giving them a quick bath now and take them to the vet early tomorrow. Don't have much to feed them but we can make it work, right?" He said, keeping his eyes on them, a bit afraid of your reaction. 

As upset as you should've been, seeing as it was two more mouths to feed, instead, you felt... elated? You weren't sure why, maybe it was because you were seeing more and more sides of Toji you didn't think would exist. Or maybe you loved the idea of giving your son two furry best friends to grow with. It could've also been that you were just happy that your son was okay and getting through his cold that you couldn't be as bothered. 

It also didn't help that you may or may not have mentioned a few times (while taking your strolls during your pregnancy) that your little blessing should have some furry friends around. You just didn't think it would happen... this way. 

"So?" Toji asked, looking at you with timid eyes. "Can we keep 'em?"

"Toji," you chuckled. "I'm not going to abandon these poor babies. You brought them here, you're gonna have to do a lot of raising. You're now a father of three," you teased as he nodded. 

"I'm well aware."

"I'm surprised you're okay with this, let alone, brought them," you pointed out. 

Shrugging, he looked back down. "Like I said, it's cause you changed me and I'm a father now. As scary as that is... I dunno... guess I want that normal life and normal people have dogs, right?" Seeing you nod with a small smile, Toji couldn't help but reflect your facial expression. "I wanna give him everything I've never had," he nudged his head in Megumi's direction. 

"Such a good dad," you softly spoke, caressing your sons back before stepping closer and kissing Toji's arm. "Then I guess we have two puppies now. What should we name them?"

Eyeing the two, Toji hummed. "Kuro and Shiro."

[xxchumanixx]

Okay, Tim Bradford x reader, but the reader is a police captain and becomes the captain of the mid-wilshire division after Zoë and that one dude. They are married, and the reader is expecting?

It's Captain, baby

Tim Bradford x wife!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, Tim being a little grumpy Word count: 879 Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! I hope you like it. It was very fun to write and I really like the idea!

Enjoy!

It was meant as a surprise - really.

He knew you wanted to become a captain one day, so when the LAPD asked if you wanted to become the captain of mid wilshire, you instantly said yes.

That you'd be the captain of your own husband, slipped your mind in said moment, though.

You decided not to tell him 'for now', pushing the matter further and further away, until there was no further anymore - until the day you were supposed to start as captain.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea, risking that he'd have a heart attack or get mad, when he saw you - especially considering that you were six months pregnant, and your new position meant stress and pressure - something you weren't supposed to have until in at least about three months, when you were in labor.

Biting your lip and rocking on your heels, you nervously waited for Sergeant Grey to announce you.

The moment he'd say your name, Tim would find out - and he wouldn't like that you refrained from telling him beforehand.

But he was a professional - he wouldn't let you see any emotion on his face during roll call - no, he would tell you how he felt in detail afterwards, giving you an even more guilty conscience.

"And now, I'm happy to introduce our new captain: Y/N Bradford! Please give her a warm welcome." Grey announced, causing your heart to miss a beat, as your hands doubled their sweating.

Taking a deep breath, you entered the room, trying to avoid Tim's face - which, despite your supposition, showed the slightest bit of shock and anger - as you made your way to the pult.

Forcing yourself to smile at the numerous people applauding you, you braced yourself for the speech you had prepared.

"Hello, for those who don't know me yet, my name's Y/N Bradford - yes, I'm sergeant Bradford's wife, and yes, I am pregnant." you started nervously.

A fit of quiet laughter echoed through the crowd, lifting some of the weight off your shoulders.

"I'm proud to call myself captain of the mid Wilshire department." you continued, nodding slightly. "I started here as a rookie, thinking that I knew everything and could do everything. But I didn't - which is an important thing to realize. We're all here for one goal: the safety of our city."

Your eyes briefly found Tim's, his jaw clenched. He looked straight back at you, not even blinking.

"But that means, that we have to learn a lot, especially about ourselves. I know how hard you work for this goal, and I know what it takes to do so. I once was where you are now, and I will have your backs, no matter what. If there's something you wanna talk about - let me know. I'm here to support you, and it's an honor to be your captain. That's it."

They applauded again, causing your cheeks to turn pinkish. Your heart beat fastened in your chest, hands trembling a little, as you smiled at them.

They were your people now, they counted on you, and you'd do everything in your power, to never let them down.

When the room cleared, Tim was the only one still sitting with his arms crossed over his chest.

He was clearly angry.

Taking a shaky breath, you walked over to him, preparing yourself for his speech.

He stayed silent for a couple more moments, just staring at you, before he stood, hands on the table as he leaned towards you.

"Did you even plan to tell me at all?" he wanted to know, brows furrowed. It took all his might not to get too loud, trying to look calmer than he was as well.

His colleagues didn't need to know that he was angry - fuming even.

"Did you think about our baby? What if it's too dangerous - not to mention the stress! Why didn't you tell me beforehand?"

"I did want to tell you." you stated, biting your lip. "But I didn't know how to. I wanted to surprise you, but I pushed it further and further away. I thought it all through, and I'm gonna take it slow - no harm for the baby. Imagine my surprise when they asked me to become their captain - me of all people!"

He bit his lip as well, the corners of his mouth twitching treacherously. At least he wouldn't stay angry at you for long.

"Are you happy?" he wanted to know, glancing at your belly. It was getting harder each day to find something that covered it up at least a little.

Nodding, you pressed out a dry laugh. "I am, but I'm scared as shit." you admitted, causing the crinkles around his eyes to deepen.

"I mean, I wanted to become a captain for so long, but - how to captain? How does this work? It's like my mind suddenly just went blank."

He chuckled, keeping himself from kissing you in front of the curious eyes watching you - didn't they have any work to do?

"I'm glad you like it, baby." he said honestly, his lips wide in a proud smile, as you huffed, cocking a brow.

"It's Captain, baby."

[hughiecampbelle]

Imagine being Hughies older sibling whose a doctor and Butcher instantly liking you:

Requested: anon

"Get out of my way."

Butcher had never been talked to like that before. Immediately, he liked you. He took a step back, giving you your space. The wound wasn't bad, but it didn't mean you were happy about it. The stitches were done quickly, messily, and your brother would probably have a scar, but he was alert, his breathing was normal, he was even making jokes. "Don't you ever do this to me again." You say, your words hostile, but your tone petrified. You were scared out of your mind, covered in Hughies blood. You were used to blood. You worked with blood. But when it was seeping into your couch, your clothes, hemorrhaging from your brother, it left you rattled. They didn't know where else to go, though. Hughie told them your address and they followed instructions. He knew going to the hospital was out of the question, they'd ask too many questions none of them could answer. So, you were the next best option.

"Promise, it won't happen again." He smiles. The painkillers you gave him were finally setting in. You placed your hand against his forehead, wiping off the blood. You and Hughie were always close growing up. You took care of him, he was your baby brother after all. You and him and your father were all you had. They supported you when you went through medical school and your father couldn't have been prouder of your career. As soon as you got your white coat your father changed your contact name to Dr. Campbell. After Robin was killed, you sort of became estranged. He disappeared more often, took longer to text back, rarely returned your phone calls. Then, a few months ago, he appeared out of the blue and told you everything. He couldn't keep it a secret anymore. The guilt was eating him alive. He didn't want to hurt you anymore, it was bad enough he was keeping it from Dad. So, you listened. No judgement, or yelling, just listening. You never thought it would lead to this, though.

"You," You say, turning your attention towards Butcher. "If you ever put his life in danger again, I will personally perform an autopsy on you while you're still alive. Got it?" You weren't like Hughie. You were bossy, and sarcastic, and crude. You didn't put up with any bullshit and you wouldn't let anyone get away with it, either, especially not Butcher. The last time you met, weeks ago, Hughie came to warn you, tell you about what was going to happen, that you might need to leave for a little while for your own safety. You refused. Butcher tried talking to you, but you were only interested in what Hughie had to say. You didn't like the looks of Butcher. Now, you actually had a reason not to. But he liked you. You were smart, you had an attitude, and you weren't afraid of him. He wanted to talk to you, to show his interest, but it was never the right time. Especially not now.

"Understood."

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [4] | Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: MDNI 18+!! canon divergence!!! I fucked the timeline and nigly bits bc this was an impulse fic ok soooo it was mostly unplanned, almost smut, angst, let the grovelling happen babyyy, unedited, mention of alys x aemond but not in a good way :((, infidelity, talk of sex, guilt, mentions of Aegon x reader, hmmm I ramble, little vulnerable Aemond, bad language, let me know if I've missed anything!

Author's note: y'all I was never done with that man like there's no easy out for him :llll. Anyways I wrote most of this instead of studying which I needed to do. Perhaps I'll have my hand at another idea I'm cooking before part 5 but I'm alsoooo unsure about how keen we are to keep this one going - like is it getting too much??? either way, I enjoy writing this. and idk how to shut up, clearly, because I love that internal mind talk shit. Drop your thoughts in my inbox or PM me because I love to yap!!! xoxo, kisses!!! <3

Masterlist

-

He was a fool. A spoiled, arrogant and entitled fool. You often thought about whether Aemond actually recognised the effect of his actions on anyone else. It was always ‘I did it for us’ or ‘I did it because I had to do it’.

So after your confrontation the day before, it had surprised you that Aemond had truly believed he was forgiven. Maybe it shouldn’t have. You had, after all, sat beside him and laughed with him. Shared a moment as if things were better. But it was nothing more than a lighthearted acknowledgement that whatever game was being played was entirely ridiculous yet you could feel how something had changed. There was a newfound intensity between the two of you and Aemond had clearly understood that he had made a mistake

But that wouldn't be enough for forgiveness. Things would never really be the same. You will never forget. The nameless woman had made a home in your unconscious mind and everything would remind you of the woman your husband had chosen to take to bed over you. She was beautiful, she was experienced and free of burden. Based on that alone a part of you could see why she could have been a better choice–a part of you that ached and pained ceaselessly. 

And you weren’t sure you could carry on as if Aemond hadn’t thrown your entire world into the pits of ruin. Because that is exactly what he may as well have done. All you had was your marriage to him–a fact that was as painful as it was true. If it all fell apart because of him only you would suffer from it. 

Your name, your family’s name. A Lady born to a house of remarkably lowly nobility with little more than your marriage to the prince. A charity case marriage to tell the realm’s people that the Crown was not so prejudiced as to be above uniting with the likes of your house. That the Lannisters and Baratheons were important but they were not everything. A fabrication only made necessary to cover up the fact that it was a lie–the Targaryens (and even the Hightowers as you had come to realise) really did believe they were of better blood. 

A failure to fulfil your duty to the Targaryen crown as Prince Aemond’s wife would destroy your family name. And you would have no prospect of happiness after it. What else did you have aside from this?

Aemond would never understand that. Because not only was he a man but he was a prince. A privilege, a safety and a security he had inherited through birth. 

Aside from the pressures of society, he had hurt you. Badly. 

Despite your own confliction about it, you did have love for Aemond–how could you not? Love came from many things and while yours may have come from your dependance on his word, on the duty he performed to be your protector as he was to the Crown and its subjects, on his polite affections as limited as they were, it still found its way into your heart. Perhaps it was foolish to allow it entry into your existence when you had already known that there was no love to come from Aemond. 

It didn’t change anything. Betrayed your trust, taken you for granted and destroyed the sanctity of a husband’s loyalty as if he were as dishonourable as any other Lord. 

You would never say it out loud but it had broken your heart. And heartache is a consuming, suffocating and painful thing to feel. A constant lump in your throat, something always weighing your chest down, a disastrous, aching discomfort in your belly. Tears had stained your pillow at night and dried by the morning, the fabric of the linen acquiring the same unphased facade that you would wear as you plastered on a mask of ignorance so that you could continue to live through your day. 

All because you had wanted him. Aemond, who was doomed to disappoint and destroy merely because that is all that princes do. 

For him to have mistaken your truce–the end to the back and forth game that had been wreaking havoc in its wake-as forgiveness was infuriating. He had no idea. 

Well, maybe he did. Now that he had seen you with another just as you had seen him. And you recognised your own experience in the moment he had realised what was happening. 

Aemond’s call to breakfast made you want to laugh. But you had turned him down for afternoon tea just the day before only to be found swallowing his brother’s seed. You winced at the shamefulness of your thought, muttering a quick prayer for the sake of your piety whether it was genuine or not. 

He was seated lazily in the chair he favoured, an array of food spread across the table. There was a book in his hand. The same one he had taken from you the last time you had shared your morning meal together. Aemond had a smirk playing on his lips. 

You cleared your throat, curtsying before sitting down at the other end of the table to him and with as much distance between you as you could muster. “Good morrow, my Prince,”

“Formalities, I see,” He looked at you through his lashes. It was odd seeing him so relaxed, the tension that was always in his shoulders had been lost and there was a playful glint to his eye. You wanted to smack it out. “I believed we were past titles and distance for the sake of propriety, my sweet. As well as rigid greetings.”

All you responded with was a stare. 

Dropping the book to his side, Aemond sighed and leaned forward, pouring tea into a cup. He stood, taking a couple steps forward to hand it to you. “We have fixed-”

“We have fixed nothing.”

“I am trying to turn a new leaf,” he commanded. You took the cup and saucer from his hand, the warm waft of vanilla and rose giving you a slight reprieve from the threat that rolled off his tongue. “If you do not recall, dear wife, I as well have every reason to resent you. The image of you sucking on my useless brother’s cock is not one I can easily bare. Yet I have chosen to let it be. I could have easily decided otherwise.”

“That would make you a hypocrite.” You glanced at him over the rim of your teacup. 

“It does not matter much if I am a hypocrite, does it?” Aemond sat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t bothered with the food in front of him, focused solely on you. “I hardly see how that would change anything.”

You squirmed under the intensity of his stare, picking up a cherry from the bowl of fruits and rolling the stem between your fingers. “It matters to me. Certainly, it matters for your reputation among the smallfolk. Nobody cares for a selfish prince, my dear.”

Aemond hummed, smirking at the venom you spat at him. You noticed the coin that he rolled between his fingers, nimble and thoughtless as if it were like breathing. Not so much a nervous habit but a thoughtful one. 

He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy your confidence. It was refreshing. But there was a dip in his gut at the thought that there was no hope for the two of you. Aemond, ever logical, knew he had no one else to blame but himself with his lack of foresight and failure to see beyond the now and here. 

Because Aemond had not even considered how things would go on should you not forgive him. He had assumed that you would if not merely on the basis that there was little lost from a relationship that hardly existed in the first place. You had love for him and he was so convinced that such a thing would be impossible that he didn’t consider that it would cause you heartache beyond slighted offence and jealousy. 

A violet eye lingered on the cherry that remained between your fingers. Aemond was good at putting on an act. He thought for a moment that he would rather take lashes to his back than have you know that he had no idea how to love someone properly. A part of him was persuaded that he was incapable of being a good lover. The lashes seemed like a blissful gift compared to the self-loathing that simmered in his belly at the probability that he had ruined any chance your marriage had of recovery.  

It crossed his mind that it was his ignorance towards you right from the beginning that had damned your relationship. 

Either way, it did not help that you had turned to his brother for intimacy. Aemond felt his blood scorch whenever that invaded his mind. He wanted to crumble the walls of this fortress when he wondered if Aegon had enjoyed your womanhood. Jealousy did motivate him well, he realised, and Aemond had the murderous urge to feed Aegon to Vhagar. 

Nonetheless, he feigned amusement. “It seems as if you care for one.”

You ate the cherry. It was sweet and rich. All you replied with was an upturn of your chin as you gracefully held a small embroidered towel to your lips.

“So I am not forgiven?” Aemond had to break the silence before it cut him open. “Are we not even?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you held back a surprised laugh. “You never apologised. Not that it would make any difference.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“Of course you are not forgiven,” you sighed. The tea cup hit the table with a clang. Your disdain for his actions and his ignorance gave you an unfettered confidence around him which you weren’t accustomed to. It made it very difficult to control yourself. “And no, we are not even, my Prince. And since you have brought it to my attention, I am of half a mind to find Aegon and offer him a meal between my thighs. You see, I have often wondered how it would feel and I expect that our King would be happy to indulge my… curiosities.”

Aemond sneered, a silent one that was more visible in his intake of a breath, the curl of his lips and the hardening of his eye. Bullseye. 

It took him less than a couple seconds to be on his knees in front of where you sat, a strong hand tightly gripping each side of your thighs over the thick fabrics of your dress. He had shoved the table aside, unphased as tea spilled and fruits and cheeses toppled to the floor. Something in the look of bewilderment on your face had Aemond ready to both grin at your clueless innocence and frown at your shock.

Aemond didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that you had given up on expecting such pleasures from him. He was your husband; nothing about what he was clearly intending on doing to you should surprise you. Cursing himself to perdition would not be enough for how he has failed you. 

“I feel obliged to remind you that we had agreed,” he grazed his nose across your knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes, jaw clenched tight as he all but growled his words. “That there will be no more of this foolishness. Not from you and not from me.”

It was an onslaught of different things that had rendered you still and silent. The way Aemond looked at you like you were the only satiating force for his eternal hunger, the wordless mixture of desire and anger in how his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, the desperation in his voice, strained by the fear that you would. Or was it the overwhelming feeling that Aemond was finally taking some accountability and that maybe he recognised not what his actions were but the meaning that they carried?

For a moment Aemond just looked at you, conflicted and fragmented and unguarded. The sight of him like this reminded you of a vulnerable child. But it didn’t last long before the menacing, cautionary glint was back in his eye, his posture becoming rigid as shuffled the fabrics of your skirts. 

A new kind of anxiety overcame you. Not like the insignificant nervousness you had felt that night when you had wandered into his chambers or used his leg to make yourself peak and not like the clueless apprehension with Aegon. It formed a ball in your chest and made it hard to breathe. 

There was no chance he would ever admit it but you could see Aemond’s vulnerability and desperation within the hardened facade he had perfected. He wanted nothing more than to seem strong and powerful at all times, worthy of acclaim and reverence. But here he was, willing to stay on his knees and worship you forever, all under the pretence of rageful infatuation. 

It was too hot. Even with the cool of the shadows cast by the dark net curtains that only let in enough daylight to see clearly and not enough to cause Aemond irritation from sensitivity in his eye, it was so warm you worried you would have to rip the sleeves off of your dress.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Aemond let out a soft, dark groan, running his fingers across the expanse of your legs over your stockings, your skirts already bunched at your hips. Skin burning at his touch, you couldn’t help the way you whined and squeezed your thighs together, squirming under the intensity of his gaze. 

His voice was heavy with the burden of lust and regret. “I will be better. In all the ways that I have failed you and more. Your forgiveness, I realise, is not as easily granted as I presumed but I will show you that I am worthy of it.” 

There was a moment of weakness in your mind before you caught yourself. You didn’t quite believe him. It had clearly been too easy for him to give you empty promises and there was no reason why things would be different now. 

It was odd. Seeing Aemond weak like this. 

What would it mean if you let him continue? It was clearly different this time. You couldn’t put it into words exactly but there was a rawness, a blitz of different emotions that set things ablaze and made you want to both weep and mewl for him. 

You couldn’t spare a thought about why it was different. Aemond was right there, a weaponised Prince on his knees for you, a lowly Lady with nothing more to offer him than yourself. Since when did you hold all this power over him? 

That night in his bedchambers and last night when you had shared a laugh despite everything that had unfolded felt detached in a way. When you had allowed yourself release over his leg it was simply that. A way to ease the tension he had put in your body and a way to leave him wanting.

Aemond’s eye swam with a tenderness you had not seen from him. He continued to look up at you waiting to gauge your response. It was a slight nod of your head which had his hands tearing at the soft fabric of your stockings, his lips instantly meeting the skin of your knees before you had the chance to even gasp. All the while, he kept his eye on you as if his heart would cease to beat if he could not watch the way you reacted to him. 

It became increasingly harder to breathe. There were so many thoughts, so many sensations that you struggled to put it all together. Your flushed with anticipation, your cunt throbbed at the wet plushness of his lips on your hot skin and your hips squirmed at what was to come. 

Your mind, however, flashed with the image of Aemond, exactly as he was now, between another woman’s thighs. A woman who didn’t flinch at the unfamiliar touch, who didn’t jerk away at the foreign feeling of being pleasured. You wondered if he would be so angered at the prospect of another man’s mouth on her womanhood, if her skin felt softer or more rough on his lips and if he looked at her with the same heated need.

It made you feel sick. 

Aemond let himself enjoy the way your thighs tensed, pulling your smallclothes off of you as much as carefully as he could under the restriction of your skirts. There was an urge to rip the entire dress off but he knew it would be a step too far. He couldn’t help the low sounds that left him, sounds he couldn’t recognise. The expanse of your thighs and the sight of your flushed, hot cunt in front of him made his mouth water with a hunger that would have shocked him had he not been so distracted by your scent. 

Without complete vision, Aemond had learned to train his sense of touch, taste, smell and hearing to make up for the disadvantage he was stuck with. They were always slightly heightened compared to those who never needed the compensation of senses but in the cloud of desire and lust, he was sensitive. 

You whined at the way his tongue glided over your skin, biting down hard but not hard enough to be painful on the flesh of your upper thigh so close to where you needed to feel him. But Aemond was always remarkably patient and he merely made way to your other leg, repeating his ministrations and licking you from your knee to where he bit you at your thigh. 

The haze that had possessed you made you lose track of your thoughts so easily. Still, they fought their way to the forefront of your mind at every chance they could and you were reminded of her. 

Aemond’s mind was overwhelmed by you. There was no power in the realm that could make him think of anything else, not with the way you were trembling under his feathered touch and making such beautiful sounds for him, and not when he desired for anyone else apart from you. 

A heavy breath of shame and excitement tumbled out of you at how lewdly he dragged the tip of his nose across your thigh, pressing it into the flesh that sat above your slick, aching cunt and inhaling. You clenched around nothing, your clit twitching at the sound of Aemond’s unabashed groan. 

He grasped at your hips and your legs, his fingers burying into your flesh and tugging as if there would never be enough of you in his hands. It would have driven you into a similarly desperate state had things been different. 

The prince between your thighs was a sight to behold. Aemond’s skin was flushed pink, his eyepatch slightly out of place and his hair tousled from the way your legs clenched and unclenched against his head. He was almost drooling, mumbling about how good you smelled and how perfect and pretty your cunt was for him. His cock had never been so hard, constricted by the stiff leather of his training attires. 

Aemond enjoyed being a tease but there was only so much he could handle himself. While he wanted you to crave for him the way he was craving you so unbearably, Aemond needed to taste you. He needed to make you feel the blinding pleasure he should have been giving you at every chance he had since the night you were married. He needed to show you the ways of unbridled human desire and to show you all the ways your body could come undone and fall apart only to feel completely whole and fulfilled. 

There was no changing the past but Aemond would make up for how completely inattentive he had been. He would show you all the more fervently. When Aemond placed an open mouthed kiss just above your slit, letting a string of his spit glide off of his tongue onto your sensitive pussy, you shuddered.

All at once your mind was once again taken over by unsavoury thoughts. It had your eyes welling with tears, a familiar lump lodging in your throat, threatening to come out in a devastated sob. There was a ringing in your ears and you were back at Aemond’s door, peeking in only to see him giving that woman the same touch he was giving you right now. He had seemed so enthralled by her and the way she must have tasted. It was as if he’d been there before, indulging in her with so much passion it rivalled how eagerly touched you in this moment. 

Did her smell fill his veins with fire as yours was? Did her scent alone make his cock as painfully hard as yours did? Did her cunt drip for him the way yours did? Was the hunger in his eye shining for her too?

It was terrifying to consider. 

Aemond would spend hours here, he had decided. His duties for the day could be damned to the hells for all he cared. There was a rumbling in his chest for what he saw in front of him, inviting him to indulge and filling his mind with senseless ardour. Aemond let himself enjoy just the scent of you, his eye fluttering shut and his nose gently resting above your folds as he breathed you in, caressing your thighs softly with his hands. As if he were starved for years, Aemond salivated and with no patience left within him, he brought his lips downwards to meet the precious cunt he had been dreaming of. 

With a whimper that you couldn’t hold back, you jerked away from him. Aemond pulled away in surprise, his gaze full of confusion and lust and insecurity. “Wait, my love—“

You had slipped free of his grasp, a strangled cry escaping no matter how hard you tried to keep it in. There was one tear that slipped free, followed by countless more and you couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to see that he was hurt before scrambling away from him. 

She was stuck in your mind. The memory of Aemond’s little trysts with her replaying behind your eyes no matter how hard you tried to shut it out. It was clear that there was nothing you could do to get ahold of yourself because everytime you looked at him, so enthralled in you and your sex, she was there. 

Laughing at you in the back of your mind, as if she had taken residence in a permanent place in your head, enjoying the state of despair and madness she and Aemond had led you to. 

But she couldn’t be in your head. Not really. Not in the way it felt she was. 

You barely glanced back at Aemond through your tears, struggling to even your breathing and calm the rapid beating of your heart. He hadn’t moved much; just simply stayed there frowning at the space that you had once occupied on the chair. 

There was nothing he could do to change things. Aemond knew that as well as you did. But there was a pain in your heart at the way he looked so defeated, so guilty that it almost seemed like he would melt into a puddle of remorse. A far stretch from the usual stoic warrior that you had known him as.

“My prince, I–” you swallowed, your voice catching when he looked up at you with a wide eye and furrowed eyebrows. For a moment you remembered that he had no right - but he was trying, was he not? “I cannot continue with this knowing that you had touched her like this. It angers me and it upsets me and it pains me to think of it but ‘tis beyond my control.”

He stayed silent, observing the way you hid yourself from him and struggled to meet his gaze. There was a sullen look to you, one you had not entered with and it stuck needles in his flesh to think that he had been the cause of it. Aemond’s entire body felt hot and he was itching to tear off his leathers. He wished the gods would strike him down as he was for hurting you so.

You had turned away, disappearing from his quarters swiftly. You would never forget the image of how you had left him there–it was both satisfying and devastating. 

Aemond, still on his knees for the ghost of you, his expression tortured and his shoulders tensed. It was a pathetic sight, should anyone stumble upon it, but you considered it beautiful. Beautiful in a lethal, catastrophic manner. Not unlike himself; a weaponised source of destruction who had a tendency to bring torment upon those he loved. 

The rest of your day had been spent alone in your chambers. You hadn’t cried so much over any of it until now. The tears and sobs that you had held inside of yourself for weeks had forced themselves out, along with the emotions you had pushed down until you could no longer. 

Aemond had a certain control while you were sitting in that seat, skirts bunched to your stomach and quivering for him to have his way. Regardless, the power was still yours and you knew that it was Aemond who was wrapped tightly around your finger at that moment. He would have listened to anything you had said–done anything you had told him to do. 

Perhaps you had become too stubborn in your anger to have let yourself feel anything else. A retributive anger; one that sprouted from the lack of love that existed in your marriage and reached a climax at Aemond’s brazen adultery. And it only grew stronger in whatever back and forth Aemond had encouraged by dangling his whore in front of your face. 

Whatever it was, you were feeling so much more now than you had before. 

Or perhaps it was because you could see that Aemond was remorseful. He would never yet admit it but you knew from the way he had behaved since you had visited him in his bed. It was no act of redemption and definitely no apology but it was impossible to ignore the change in him. You had never seen Aemond the way you had seen him this morning. 

Vulnerable, gentle, tormented. 

A knock on your door had you sniffling and wiping away any tear stains that may have lingered on your cheeks. You had stopped crying for some time but the need to wallow and lament had stayed. When you called out to ask, the guard at your door notified you of the Dowager Queen’s presence. 

Oh, seven hells. 

There was really no chance you could refuse her so you merely let her in and called a servant to bring some refreshments. Queen Alicent sat herself down but remained tense, carefully watching you as you took a place beside her. 

“Have you been crying?” Her concern was comforting. “I believe I know why.”

You straightened, not meeting the eye of the woman who reached a tender hand to your knee. Hiding behind a forced smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “I am certain the entirety of the Red Keep knows, Your Grace.”

“It has been known for some time,” Alicent was gentle, her cautionary gaze telling you that she was apprehensive about bringing her son’s misadventures up. You held your breath. “Since the first time he had summoned that Alys woman-”

“Alys? Is that her name?”

“You do not know?” There was a tense silence. Alicent couldn’t meet your gaze, pity swimming across her features. Aemond was her son and there were many things that she had let her sons get away with but her heart pained at the broken quiver in your voice. 

Alicent had noticed the change in Aemond since the night that you had found him with Alys. The second time. He had never paid much attention to you aside from what appearances required yet Alicent knew her son far more than he would be willing to accept. She had known that there was something in his heart for you, no matter how small and no matter how it dwindled until set alight. 

Aemond had done the wrong thing. She had no doubts about that. Alicent would have words with him once she figured out what to say to him. But he was her son and there were certain misdoings that she knew she had to defend them through. To protect his marriage, his image and his happiness. The Queen Dowager cleared her throat and reached for your hand, eyebrows furrowing at the way you stared down at your lap, the anguish you felt in your heart written clearly across your face. 

“I understand that you are hurting, my dear. Although my husband remained faithful to me until his death and I cannot quite imagine the pain in your heart–I see how you have love for my son, even if you nor him have known it, I do understand,” Alicent took a breath, closing her eyes. “This is the way of men. And princes–”

“Please, Your Grace, I mean this with utmost respect for you but I do not wish to hear your excuses,” you whispered. There was a prickly, breathless worry that had settled in your gut. What did you not know? Was this Alys someone who mattered? “But I would like to know what you are withholding from me about this woman. I believe I deserve that at the very least.”

Alicent stared at you for a moment, examining you. She could drive her son further into the ground with what she was about to say. “Aemond had a paramour–at least it was rumoured, he never spoke of such things with me. Alys Rivers, a wetnurse and servant woman from Harrenhal.”

“A paramour?”

“It was before you were married,” Alicent was quick to clarify. “I had assumed that Aemond wanted nothing more to do with her when she left–at his order, I believe. Some say she was a witch. Perhaps she enchanted him.” 

You couldn’t look at her. She was more than just a whore? Had he lied to you right from the beginning? Bile rose up in your throat. There was a thrum in your ears, the sound of your own heartbeat and you feared that you would be sick from the drop in your gut. 

“Did he love her? Could he still?”

Alicent sucked in a breath. “I do not know, my child.”

All you could do was nod pathetically. Alicent was a woman of great strength and dedication; you had once wished to be much like her one day. But as you sat beside her now, you wished she had been a liar and a cheat and a meddling gossip. That you could find a way to fault her words but you could tell it caused her great difficulty to speak of Aemond’s actions honestly. 

Ever poised and elegant, Alicent only leaned forward to you, her posture straight as a needle and her touch soft as linen. “I did not mean to upset you further. I only meant to speak with you about returning to Courtly activities, with the other Ladies and Helaena has been asking for you. And the Ladies speak–”

“They speak terribly of me,” you scoffed, allowing a humourless laugh. “I understand, Your Grace. I will return to spending my days in company other than my own.”

Alicent hated to pry but she felt that she must, now that she had dealt her cards against Aemond’s fate. “Perhaps you should speak with Aemond. He cares for you deeply. It would be a shame for your union to fall apart over such misunderstandings.”

If not for formality, you would have rolled your eyes. Again, you simply nodded, your mind reeling back to the woman that Alicent had given a name to. You would ask Aemond about her. It would be the less damning option rather than turning to Aegon once more but the idea of speaking to Aemond about a woman he may once have loved still made you want to crawl underneath the sheets of your bed and disappear. 

You thought of the woman who you had seen through the crack in the door and wished you had taken extra care in looking at her. There was little you could recall other than the darkness and length of her hair, the paleness of her skin and the perfection in her curves as she pleasured Aemond and as he did the same for her. 

As if she was familiar with all the things that made him weak. All the things that made Aemond weak. How she had touched him like she was an expert in his body. And you thought of Aemond, bare and comfortable with her. Aemond with his sapphire glimmering under the lamplight instead of an eye, a rawness and trust that you had never seen of him until that night. 

He trusted her.

Alys Rivers. 

.....................................................

Tagging: @padfooteyes @thedyingwriter @mamawiggers1980 @queenofshinigamis @ewanmitchellfanatic @nurtargaryen

[midnightwriter21]

demon slayer hcs: the hashira men having a demon!SO that’s immune to sunlight pt.1

characters: fem!reader x rengoku, giyuu

PT 2 with Sanemi HERE

AN: the long awaited request is finally here!! sorry for the delay! im in college and finals week was crazy! but the semester is over and i'm ready to get back to it with a bunch of new content for you guys! <3

RENGOKU

when he comes home from a mission to find the house completely trashed and a trail of blood leading to the bedroom he freezes

his first thought is that you're dead

someone or something has broken in

and he wasn't here to protect you

immediately blames himself

and poor kyo just can't force himself to walk in the bedroom only to discover your broken bleeding body

his heart couldn't take it

its not until he hears movement and small noises of pain that he pushes the bedroom door open

only to discover you hiding in the corner of the room covered with a blanket

relief

until he pulls the blanket from your head to see what you've turned into

he doesn't react

doesn't talk

doesn't move

doesn't even breathe

just stares at you

until you manage to croak out his name

this snaps his mind into high gear

immediately thoughts of the young Kamado girl are running through his head

she has never hurt a human and seems to do just fine

and if you were going to harm him you would have done it already

quickly pulls you into his arms, making sure to avoid the sunlight peaking through the curtains and carries you to the bed to set you down

scribbles a note to the head of the corps to inform him of your condition

and spends the rest of the day and that night comforting and reassuring you because of what had to have been a traumatic night

a week or so passes

you fall back into your old routine of caring for the house

and its quite obvious that you're becoming depressed

no longer able to enjoy the warmth of the sun and being cooped up in the house for your own safety

it isnt until a young man wearing the head of a boar bursts headfirst through the window

breaking the glass, ripping down the curtains

with a "comin through!"

that you realize the sunlight doesn't harm you like it does to other demons

leave it to inosuke lmao

when kyo returns home from another mission around noon

imagine his surprise when his demon SO bursts through the front door into the sun

and into his arms

takes a minute for him to process that you're not burning up

"oh my god we have to get you inside NOW"

the poor man is having a heartattack

but then he sees your smile and hears your laugh for the first time since the attack

finally he's able to realize that the sun has no effect on you

and he's picking you up and swinging you around in a giant hug

i just know he gives the best hugs

i'd let him crush me to death in one

of course kyo is still sometimes crushed with guilt

he blames himself for your transformation in the first place

but the most important thing is that you're safe and happy again

GIYUU

why can't this man ever just be happy

when you don't show up at your usual meeting place with Giyuu in between missions he knows somethings up

he rushes to your home

and there you are

sitting on the steps in front of your house

covered in blood and in tears

it isn't until he gets closer that he realizes what has happened

he has no words

everyone that giyuu has ever loved has been taken from him

and he allowed himself to love you

thats why this has happened

blames himself even though it obviously not his fault

still not speaking he looks at the sky to see the sun

and then back at you

a demon

who isn't affected by the sunlight in the slightest

and isn't attacking him

and then he disappears

when he returns several hours later it's dark outside

and with him he's brought Shinobu and the Kamado siblings

one of which is a demon

Shinobu checks you over and determines that the blood you are covered in is indeed yours

but any wounds you had have already healed

Nezuko senses what you are but seems to know that you're docile and snuggles up to your side as a comfort

and Giyuu just watches quietly

when Nezuko has fallen asleep her brother picks her up giving you a sad smile before he leaves

Giyuu helps you stand and brings you inside

he runs a bath so you can clean urself off

and goes about cleaning the house which was destroyed during your attack

it isn't until you're in bed that Giyuu lays behind you, tugs you close to him, and speaks to you for the first time

"i am staying with you. and i WILL turn you back."

and those two sentences bring you all the comfort in the world

[girasollake]

Hello

Would you be able to write for Theodore Nott with the trope fake dating and the prompt 50?

Thank youu <3

✧ theodore nott x fem!reader x fake dating x "my love language is bullying people." "you bully me. a lot." "..."✧

( this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

❁ i hope this turned out well, happy reading:)

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Pacing around your dorm and chewing on your thumb, you tried to figure out how to get out of the situation you got yourself into. You didn’t mean to answer the question with his name, it just happened. It’s like you weren’t even thinking and your mind made that quick decision for you.

For the last month your ex boyfriend had been harrasing you to get back together. You dumped him after catching him in the act with a girl from a year below yours. You felt anger, sadness and loath, not because of the relationship he decided to end, but because it hurt to see someone you started to trust - pick someone over you.

Over the time he was stalking you and trying various ways to get back, you had found yourself being more and more drawn towards your best friend’s mate.

“ ‘We’re done Patrick! I don’t know what I have to say for it to get through your fucking skull.’ You hissed at your ex.

‘We’re not done.’ He took a step closer. ‘Do you really think someone else will want you besides me?’ A chuckle escaped his lips.

You stood there frozen, the insult burning itself into your mind.

‘My boyfriend.’ You finally replied after a moment of silence.

‘You don’t have one, love.’ He placed his finger under your chin and made you look up at him. ‘But you can have me again.’

‘No.’ You spat and took a step back. ‘I am seeing someone else.’

That’s the moment where you should have stopped talking.

‘Oh, really?’ He cocked his brow, a mocking expression on his face. ‘Who?’

Don’t say it.

Don’t say it.

‘Theo Nott.’ “

You sat down on your bed, the finger slightly covered in your blood from the biting. You had only two options, either admit to your ex that you lied to him and still get harrassed by him, or ask Nott out.

You rubbed your temples slowly, sighed and decided to go to the library to clear your mind, hoping that Patrick won’t be able to talk to Theo until tomorrow.

At this time of the day there was barely anyone inside the library. You were slowly walking between the shelfes, looking at each book and reading the title. After a few minutes of strolling you reached the Romance Novels section, very few books there, but it lured you in. Especially one of them, which you have read a long time ago.

‘Of course.’ You chuckled, holding the book in your hands and tracing the cover with your fingers.

The story was about a woman who was a spy and had to make a deal with a member of an organisation they were infiltrating. She promised to get him the safety he needed to escape his boss and he promised her to give her all the information she needed. They started fake dating.

You should’ve thought of this idea earlier, but you were too stressed to even sit in one spot, let alone think of this good of a plan. You put the book back in it’s place and rushed out of the library. While you were running through the halls, you spotted a familiar figure talking with her friends.

‘Hi, can I borrow Pansy for a moment? Thanks!’

You snatched her by the arm and led her to an empty classroom.

‘This better be an emergency.’ She playfully rolled her eyes.

‘Long story short - Patrick thinks I’m dating Theo and I have to prove him that I am.’

She looked at you dumbfounded and then a loud laugh escaped her lips.

‘Is this a joke?’ She asked, laughter still present in her voice.

It slowly faded as she realised how stoic and serious was the expression on your face.

‘Shut up!’ She exclaimed. ‘Merlin, what have you done?’

She put her palm on her forehead and exhaled all the air she had.

‘You know Theo does NOT date.’

‘I know! I don’t even know why I said his name! It just… It just came out, okay?’ You sighed and closed your eyes while throwing your head back. “But I do have an idea…’ you mumbled and slowly opened your eyes to look at Pansy.

‘Good Lord.. I don’t know if I even want to hear it.’ She sighed. ‘Go on.’ She showed a motion with her hand to tell you to proceed.

‘Fake dating.’

She bursted out in laughter.

‘What?’ She finally managed to get out. ‘How on earth do you want to persuade him into that?’

‘I’ll just… I’ll offer him something if he says no.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know yet, whatever he says he’d like.’

‘So like, you’d give him a b-‘

‘Bloody hell Pans!’ You whisper-yelled. ‘I’ll do anything that does not involve sexual exchange.’

‘Alright, just askin’’ She raised her hands in defence.

‘Where can I find him?’

It was Saturday, so you couldn’t catch him in class. Pansy looked at her watch and made a thinking face.

‘Ummm… If I’m correct…’ She sighed. ‘They should finish their quidditch practice in a few minutes.’

You jumped up and gave her a quick hug before running out.

‘Thanks P, you’re the best!’ You shouted just before disappearing behind the door.

‘Course I am.’ She whispered and smirked to herself.

She looked around the room where she was now alone and shook her head.

‘Fingers crossed’ She muttered and headed outside.

You on the other hand, had reached the quidditch pitch in the right moment. Standing outside the boys locker room, you couldn’t help but listen to their faint voices. Unfortunately it was too quiet for you to make out any words. The door swung open unexpectedly and your head shot up to meet Draco’s eyes.

‘Can I talk to Nott?’ You asked and lifted up your chin higher.

Draco looked you up and down and then turned his head towards the boys.

‘Nott, come and say hi to one of your girls.’ He said and everyone started snickering at Theo.

‘Shut up, Malfoy.’ He glared at him and then your eyes met his.

He came over to you and you almost forgot about why you came here because, well, he was shirtless and his bottom was wrapped in a towel, leaving very little to your imagination. You gulped and quickly straightened up to not get caught checking him out.

‘I really need your help with something. Can we talk after you…’ You motioned towards his outfit, or better - the lack of it.

He cleared his throat and nodded, ‘Wait for me on the pitch?’

‘Sure.’ You gave him a soft smile and headed outside.

Thankfully there was a few benches on the sides of the pitch, they were there during practice, but hidden when there was a match. You sat down and buried your face in your hands.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ You mumbled.

You started playing with your rings and thinking about what to say when you felt him sit down next to you.

‘So, what do you need?’ He asked while lighting up his cigarette.

‘Just don’t laugh at me, ‘kay?’ You said while closing your eyes.

He furrowed his brows in confusion, ‘Okay?’ He replied.

‘I need you to be my fake boyfriend.’ You quickly stated.

He looked at you dumbfounded and then proceeded to laugh.

‘You said you wouldn’t laugh, you bastard!’ You exclaimed and playfully hit his arm.

‘ ‘M sorry’ He met your eyes. ‘That punch hurt’ he held the place where you hit him.

‘Good.’ You replied. ‘So, will you help me or not?’

‘Why? Is it to make your ex jealous?’ He exhaled the smoke. ‘Never liked him, if I’m bein’ honest.’

‘Actually, the opposite.’ You took the cigarrete from him, took a drag and then placed it between his lips again. ‘He cheated on me and now he keeps stalking me to get back together. I’m so sick of him and I just don’t know what to do.. I just want him to fuck off.’ You looked at Theo for a response.

‘Fine.’

‘Wait, really?’ You asked excitedly.

‘Yeah, fuck that guy.’ He finished his cigarette and threw it on the ground. ‘We need some rules though.’

‘Alright.’ You paused to think about some. ‘How about we often hold hands, you kiss me on the cheek sometimes for the effect, and we can sometimes hang out in each others rooms, so no one would get suspicious. Of course we’d like study or some shit, but..’ You started rambling. ‘You get the idea.’ You added quietly.

‘You forgot about the most important one.’ He stated. ‘Don’t fall in love with me.’

‘Yeah, I think that’ll be easy considering your stupid face.’ You chuckled, but inside of you something twisted.

Don’t fall in love with me? Does he mean that, he knows he would never love you? Maybe that’s why he agreed? Cause he knows he won’t fall for you?

Am I this unlovable?

The next morning you were slowly making your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. On the outside you looked calm, but the inside was burning. With questions you couldn’t answer, with plans for what to do, with your hopes for finding someone good to love you back, with your growing attraction to Theo. You knew it was a bad idea, you knew you had a crush on him, but you’d rather hide that somewhere deep than admit it to yourself. You knew you were going to fall for him doing this, but if that’s what it takes for Patrick to leave you alone - then so be it. You can take the pain of Theo not reciprocating your feelings.

‘Hello, love.’ The voice from your nightmares spoke up next to you.

‘Fuck off, Patrick.’ You replied without even looking at the boy.

‘Oh, come on, can you finally stop playing this game and-‘

‘She told you to fuck off.’ You heard Theo’s voice on your other side and then his hand grabbed your waist to pull you closer.

Patrick’s face in that moment was going to be in your memory forever, he was so shocked, so defeated, so small. He looked between the two of you and scoffed.

‘We’ll see about that.’ He mumbled and walked away.

‘Thank you’ You looked up at Theo.

‘For what? I think that’s what boyfriend’s are supposed to do’ He winked at you and intertwined your hands.

‘You read a book or something to prepare for that role? Didn’t think of you as an academic type.’ You snickered.

‘I beg you pardon?’ He chuckled. ‘Am I that stupid to you?’

You waved your head from side to side and smirked at him.

‘Mm, yeah.’ You whispered to which he shook his head with a smile.

‘Come on, darlin’, we’re gon’ be late for breakfast.’

Darling.

For the next month you and Theo had gotten closer than you anticipated, but he was still too far for your liking. You wanted him closer, you wanted this to be a real relationship, but he wouldn’t want that.

“Theo does NOT date.”

Pansy’s words echoed in your ears every time you caught yourself staring at his messy hair. Or thinking about the way his fingers caressed the pages of a book, or the way his beauty spots were perfectly placed on his face, or the way he always knew what to say to you, or the way he cheerfully reacted to your insults and playful smacks on his arms.

‘When do you want to end this?’ He asked one night when you were studying for potions in his dorm.

The question caught you off guard and the air got stuck in your throat for a second.

‘I actually didn’t think about that part yet.’ You admitted, not taking your eyes off of your notes. ‘There is only a month of school left until holidays, so maybe until then? I’ll have those months for myself without Patrick bothering me and next year we’ll make up some excuse why it didn’t work out between us. Sounds good?’ The lack of emotion in your voice was weird for him.

‘Yeah.’ He whispered, his eyes lingering on your form. ‘Sounds good.’

He didn’t want to admit to himself that he started falling for you either. That’s why he asked about this, he didn’t think he could hold himself back much longer. Hold his feelings back.

‘Earth to Nott!!’ You smacked his arm with your notebook. ‘Do the bloody homework or I’ll feed you to my cat.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

There were moments where you thought he might feel the same. Like when he held your hand tighter than usual, when Patrick was passing by. Or when he kissed your forehead to calm you down when you were stressed before classes. Or the subtle smirks and glances between the two of you, when you weren’t next to each other. At first you thought no one would believe in your ‘relationship’, but surprisingly everyone didn’t have a clue it was fake. Were you both this good at pretending or did they just think you look nice together?

‘Probably the first one.’ You thought.

Soon there was only a week of school left and you didn’t want to think about what the end brings. You felt sadness, but you couldn’t show him that, you knew he didn’t feel the same. This was just temporary, he did what you asked for and now you owe him a favor. So now you had to let him go.

You met up near the Black Lake the day before going home. You were playing with your rings again and he was smoking a cigarette, just like in the beggining.

‘We’re still going to be friends?’ You asked.

‘If that’s what you want, darlin’ ‘ He replied, but deep inside he wanted to say no, to protect himself from whatever it was he felt towards you, it was too strong now.

‘Hmm.. No, not really.’ You muttered and then added, ‘I can’t stand looking at your hideous face much longer, but other than that, you’re fine to be around.’

He chuckled at your response.

‘Why are you always like this?’

‘What do you mean?’ You raised one of your eyebrows.

‘You know exactly what I mean.’

You chuckled to yourself, ‘My love language is bullying people.’

He processed your answer carefully and saw the way you stiffened. You didn’t realise you said that out loud.

‘Well…’ He took a deep breath. ‘You bully me. A lot.’

You didn’t want to meet his eyes so you shrugged and turned away, ‘Yeah, I guess I do.’ You whispered.

You heard Theo toss the cigarette on the ground and press his shoe on top of it. But what he did next, even Professor Trelawney couldn’t predict.

He turned you around and pressed his lips into yours, the taste of smoke and blueberry gum made its way into your mouth. His hands were holding your face on both sides, he didn’t want to take them off, scared you’d disappear if he did.

‘I thought you don’t date.’ You whispered with a smirk when you broke the kiss and pressed your foreheads together.

‘I don’t.’ He smiled. ‘I’m already taken.’

He pressed his lips to yours again and you felt like this moment could last forever.

‘By the way, you broke the rule.’ He mumbled.

‘Fuck your rule and fuck you, Nott.’ You replied making him smile to himself.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

© girasollake 2023

[dixons-sunshine]

Daryl Dixon x Mom!Reader With Baby Headcannons

*GIF isn't mine*

Warnings: None, really.

Word count: 802

A/n: I'm in desperate need for some Scud Frohmeyer or Daryl requests. I have two requests that I'm working on right now but I have no idea where I want to go with them, so they're going to be on hold for now until I get the motivation to write them again. I'm so sorry, but I'm hoping that some new ideas might spark some motivation back into my mind, then I can go back to those stories and give it my all!

—

★ For Daryl Dixon, there were only three days in his entire life that meant the world to him—the day you became his, the day you told him that you were pregnant and the day your baby was born.

★ When he held his baby for the first time, he definitely teared up a little. The little being in his arms was so tiny but so perfect. He would die to protect his baby.

★ Daryl would have no problems with staying up late to take care of the baby while you slept. In fact, he would insist on it most of the time. He didn't want to be the type of guy who slept while the girl had to always take care of the baby. You and the baby were the most important people to Daryl, and if it meant offering up his sleep to ensure you both were okay and that you, the mother of his child was well rested, so be it.

★ Although Daryl took most of the night shifts with the baby, there were a lot of times when you'd refuse to go back to sleep and stubbornly stay up with him.

★ In those 3am times with the two of you taking care of your bundle of joy is when Daryl would wonder how he managed to get that lucky. Merle had told him once that people like him and Daryl weren't cut out to have families and that even if they did, it would bring them nothing but misery.

★ But there he was, holding both the love of his life and his baby, in his arms, and he was the happiest man in the world.

★ Daryl would be so affectionate with the baby that you wished that you had a video camera to record it.

★ He would tell the baby stories that he could vaguely remember Beth telling Judith back at the prison, and he would tell them in the softest voice ever. There was no doubt that he loved that baby with his whole heart.

★ He would definitely also be extremely affectionate with you. Cuddles, kisses, hugs, you name it. Mainly because he's happy with his little family, but also because he's relieved. He knew the risks of dying while giving birth were there, so to have you alive and well after the birth was a huge relief to him.

★ While the feelings of happiness and love overpower his other emotions most of the time, doubt and fear still creep up from time to time.

★ Daryl feared that something would happen to you and the baby. It was a dangerous world you lived in and anything could happen at any given moment. But Daryl swore to himself that he would die fighting to protect you and your little one.

★ Daryl also doubted sometimes if he was a good father. He never had a good example of one growing up and he feared that he would end up being like his father. But even as those thoughts plagued his mind, one look at his baby and he knew that he would never be able to be that cruel towards his little one. However, the fear still lingered, and it would probably be there forever.

★ You and the baby came first. Always. You thought Daryl was overprotective while you were pregnant? It would be nothing compared to when the baby is born. Everybody knew not to even look at you wrong or they would be food for the walkers.

★ His escapades beyond the walls would decrease significantly. He preferred to be by yours and the baby's sides as much as he could, and nobody would be able to tear him away.

★ Daryl has definitely snuck a picture of you holding the baby in your arms while the both of you were sleeping. He keeps it in his pocket at all times.

★ Daryl would definitely keep the baby in his arms at all times if you ever had to venture beyond the walls.

★ Yours and the baby's safety were his main priority, so he definitely wouldn't let you out of his sight until you're all back inside the walls again.

★ He loves you both with his whole heart, that much anyone could see.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

To Be Alive In Summer

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Betrayal had never been in your cards, and you definitely didn't see yourself being the one responsible for the act. When having to go undercover, first comes the problem of staging your death.

WORDCOUNT: 8.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, betrayal, intense gore, violence, death, allusions to intimacy, weapons, vulgar language, recovery, torture, happy ending, etc.

A/N: The final request is finished, hope you enjoy it @l-inkage! Onto the AUs next.

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

You didn’t want to do it, but in this job, comfort was always an option and never a guarantee. It needed to be done. And that meant sacrifices had to be made to the dark altar of your contract with One-Four-One.

But this one just might break you in the process. 

“Are you sure that,” you pause and think over the instructions that Price had just given you—straight from the top of the line. “Are you sure that this is the best way, Sir?” 

The man’s lips are flat, eyes narrowed, he doesn’t like this either—especially if you don’t. John’s a Captain, he tallies out orders and expects people to listen without hesitation; doesn’t express his worry about their safety because that isn’t what this is about at the end of the day. It’s about keeping the good people outside of bases like these alive and breathing.

And right now that hinged on you being dead.

“Berto needs mercenaries,” Price grunts, “and any record of you needs to be wiped before we send you in.”

Vito Berto—head of a crime family that had been picking up traction in recent years, so much so that One-Four-One had to be put on it for covert reconnaissance before any more people ended up dead.

You would be sent in under the cover of an experienced mercenary; one among the ranks that Berto would need for a hostile takeover planned in three months on the Palace of Westminster in London. The House of Parliament. 

Vito was one cocky son of a bitch if he expected no one to get word of this.

Your job was to uncover the exact date, time, and the mission plan before getting out as quickly as possible. In order to do that, the soldier holding your name needed to be dead so nothing could be traced back to you, your task force, or your loved ones. 

And people needed to believe it.

“Can’t the records just be forged, Sir?” You ask, the meeting room dark and pulsing with the cold air from the vents. “What about Gaz and Soap?” Your throat closes for a moment and you speak slightly lower. “Simon?”

Price sighs and crosses his arms, fixing the stance of his feet.

“They’ll deal with it.” Inside of your pockets, your hands twitch. 

He won't. Not inwardly.  

“I…” your jaw clenched. 

Your relationship with Ghost was…strange. You’d both had your fun, of course, and you had a casual air about that sort of thing—it had happened, but nothing more could ever come of it. There was a modicum of soft care with you two; an acknowledgment of partnership in the field and out of it. 

You didn’t have to explain to people that Ghost was closer to you than others. You’d seen his face; that says enough. 

“It needs to look real,” Price explains, tilting his head down to you. “Not only for Laswell's state of mind but yours. I won’t be putting you in without giving you the best chance.” 

“You can’t tell them?”

“Negative. Security measure.” You frown, biting at your lip.

John closes his eyes and shakes his head. A second later a hand is set on your shoulder and the man leans in slightly to reassure you like a relative. You look up into your Captain’s gruff face, seeing the small amount of care he levels into his cerulean irises for you. 

He squeezes your flesh, watching hard.

“We need you for this, Trick.” The nickname was exactly why you were the only one who could do this. 

You were the first choice. No one was better at undercover work.

“How long would I be gone, Price?” Shifting out of the hold, you cross your arms and level him with a dead stare. “How long do they have to live with this lie?”

John grunts. “Less than three months, yeah? But all of it’s up to how long it takes to gather intel. Full black.” 

“Exfil point?” 

“Town five miles from Berto’s estate. Cafe with a red door near the bookstore. Woman inside’ll be your handler.” You turn away to glare at the far wall, hesitant even when you know you shouldn't be. This was your job. 

Brown eyes keep flashing behind your eyes—a skeletal mask that stares with stained glistening blood, blood you yourself feel reflected on your own visage. A shared damning of two people who would never see those great halls of the afterlife. Neither of you are good.

Simon had to understand. 

The Captain sees the shift in your expression.

“You in?” He asks you with a blank look. 

You take a deep breath, chest heavy and heart hurting. “I don’t like it,” your voice is low, monotone. “But, yeah, Sir, I’m in.”

“Good,” the man nods, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “It’ll happen in three days. Be ready.”

You watch him walk out of the room, patting you on the shoulder one last time before the door shuts behind him with a click of finality that pierces your lungs. You clear your throat and swallow down saliva, turning your face away as if ashamed. 

It’s the quiet that gets to you in that moment—the encompassing nothingness. So often you would have moments like these with Simon. Just sitting; not taking. But this silence was so different. 

This was betrayal. 

After you steady the slight tremor in your hands, you scoff and shake your head backing up a step before leaving the room; turning off the lights. 

You walk down the long hallway, feet heavy as your mind runs, and overhead the lights buzz like flies. Eyes stuck to the floor, your shoulders are hunched in with thought and your lids half-closed in a display of obvious inner turmoil. 

The shadow that waits for you, leaning against the wall, you walk past entirely—missing it and not hearing the confused call of your name behind you because of it.

“Trick!” Your hand comes up to itch at your chin, fingers pushing into your flesh. The aggressive Manchester accent slides off of you until large fingers curl into the back collar of your vest rig. 

You breathe in sharply, blinking in surprise as your feet get pulled back a step or two, pace halting as Ghost curls around your body, staring down at you. His brows are narrowed, that mask still on and the bottom fabric twisted in the obvious downward press of his lips.

“Bloody hell is wrong with you, then?” 

Sighing, you scowl and shake him off of you, moving back to allow yourself some air. Did he really have to show up now? Why was he even here, you had to ask yourself. Was he…waiting for you?

“Nothing,” you don’t look at him, speaking low. “Distracted, is all.” 

Ghost crosses his arms slowly, his brows flinching briefly as he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Meeting go well?” 

“Fine.” He can tell something’s wrong; you know he can—he’s the best at interrogations for a reason. Ghost knows when someone is lying to him. 

You glance at his chest before you begin to open your mouth. 

What could telling him hurt? Just a hint. He’d get it—I know he would. Berto had the nickname ‘The Tanner,’ given to him by his men. When he found out anyone had double-crossed him, he’d take a large breaking knife and separate the thin layers of skin from his victims. Intel suggests he keeps them awake for all of it, stopping when they pass out only to start again when they wake back up. 

If there was any leak in this base…any at all…you wouldn’t be coming back. 

You wouldn’t be coming back to him. 

Simon’s thighs shift.

“Talk to me.” He always speaks like he doesn’t care about the answer, but you’d be a fool this far into your… relationship? To believe that he didn’t. You’d seen Simon panic over your injured body before—it told you enough. 

The easy moments and the side-eyed looks when he thought you didn’t notice or weren’t doing the same to him. 

Your fingers twitch, forcing a smirk that didn’t convince even you. Your heart was telling you to explain it to him, but your brain was firmly set behind iron doors; tongue held back by iron tongs. 

“Personal matters, Simon. Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes. Brows set in a line and that mask jeering at you; almost mocking. 

The Lieutenant doesn’t answer and your heart is visible from under your gear.

“J-just,” you stutter, face getting hot as you look away. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s…” 

Trailing off, you rub at the back of your head in a self-soothing motion. 

Simon blinks slowly and you hear a large chest-rattling sigh. He shrugs in that way only he can—a fast jerk of shoulders that looks more like he’s trying to push off a bug than simply trying to move past what you’re saying to him. 

“Doesn’t make a difference,” it does. “Garrick and MacTavish are waitin’ down at the firing range. Best get down there ‘fore one comes looking like a kicked dog.” You can still feel him digging into you. Knives and the suspicion in his tone. 

You don’t want to do this to him. Not after all that you’ve gone through together. 

“Right.” Your feet are moving before he is, planted into the floor and pushing off through the small pinches of electricity in the nerves. Pushing out a hard laugh, you try to send him a light smile. “Did you tell them to be ready to get their arses beat?” 

Simon looks down at you as he walks beside your form in large steps; arms swinging. “Haven’t seen ‘em yet. Waiting for you.” 

If it were possible to shrivel up from guilt, you’d be nothing but bones.

“O-oh,” you huff, but it sounds like all of the air has been expelled from your lungs. “You didn’t have to do that, y’know.”

Simon grunts, accent grating as he stares ahead. “Wanted to.” 

“Good. That’s nice.” You feel like screaming. “Thank you.”

It’s nearly instantaneous how fast his eyes go dark with concern. “You sure that head of yours is on straight, Trick?”

You push open the doors outside and wonder if you even have the ability to answer him; out of everyone, you can’t lie to Simon.

“No,” your lips admit quietly, self-degrading in its own right. 

A hand grabs you by the wrist and before you can slip out, you’re being pulled back into the building and pushed into a side room. 

“Hey!” You shout, eyes flashing as the door is shut behind you. You’re released and the light is immediately turned on. “Simon, what the hell are you doing?” 

“Enough,” he levels, and your arms are clasped so you’re facing his chest, looking up into his serious and hard gaze. “Fuckin’ speak to me.” 

You’re surprised at how insistent he is about this. 

“I’m not telling you anything,” you speak through stutters and he growls in his throat. His hands are like motel lava even under his gloves and above your skin—burning like a brand.

“What happened in that meeting room, Trick?”

“It’s classified,” you say, harder than intended, spitting the words with a hint of desperation. If not for your own safety, then for his, but you know that if he keeps asking then you’ll tell him the truth. 

They were going to stage your death, and they won’t be making it pretty. 

“Fuck classified,” he leans in closer, curling over you. “You’re acting like someone’s bloody taking you hostage.”

“Simon! It’s not—”

“Cut the bullshit!” You growl and try to shove away from him, struggling with glaring eyes that go sharp with the onset of tears. “Somethings got you worried and I wanna know what it is.”

Simon wasn’t the greatest at articulation, but neither were you. 

You knew he was trying to tell you he was concerned. The man was holding you tight, but not hurting you; his face close and his shoulders wide. Along your face his eyes were darting, as if he could peel back your skin and make you explain what Price had told you. 

The Captain had given the Lieutenant a look as he’d seen him waiting for you but had said nothing. That alone had tipped Ghost off to something being wrong. 

But you weren’t having it.

Yanking out of Simon’s hands, you shake your head and put on your worst glare—meeting muddy brown and huffing. 

“Mind your own business, Riley. It’s for your own good.” The man blinks in mute shock, fingers in the air twitching before they fall to his sides.

You speed-walk out of the room before he can speak, lips slightly parted at your strange behavior. 

For his own good? What in the hell did that mean? 

Simon’s jaw clenches, a grunt in his chest as he aggressively rolls his wrist. He turns to follow after. The both of you don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

Your body shakes along with the helo as it takes off, carrying you away from the scene of gunfire down below. In your earpiece, you hear the loud calls and yelling from your friends. Gaz is calling out to Price to give him permission to move up; the Captain too busy grappling Soap to the ground. 

Ghost is taking cover behind a wall, but he’s not quiet. 

“Trick’s in the damn building!” 

No, I’m not, you want to flick on the line and tell him. Over the three days before this operation you'd barely spoken—in fact, you’d been avoiding all of them fervently by the mass amount of guilt in your stomach. 

In the nights, you hadn’t even slept, and now you’re sure it’ll take even longer too.

Their forms become tinier, and you grasp the roof’s handle as the helo rises farther and farther. 

“Price!” Simon barks. “We have to get her—”

“There’s no time!” John responds, grunting and forcing Johnny down as he spits curses and tries to call your name over the comms. You flinch violently, looking away for a moment. “We’re surrounded!”

“I can get through!” Bullets wiz through the comms, and you can nearly imagine you are down there—trapped in the house down the way after being shot and injured by hosties. But you’d never been in that house. Never been alone down the way for recon. 

You’d been at the second exfil point. Price knew it. Laswell knew it. 

But Simon had not. 

“Negative, Ghost! Keep where you are, we can get to her later. We need to—” The building you were supposed to be in explodes in a fiery wreck; a great bloom cloud going into the air as the helo shakes from the after-blast. 

You have to turn your face away, shielding your eyes. The pilot calls to see if you’re alright, but you don’t answer. All you can hear is the screams.

“Trick!”

“Simon, get back into bloody cover!” 

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!” It gets too much—the bareness of his panic for you. The panting breath; the running stomp of feet.

You rip the connection from the radio on your vest and place a hand over your mouth, breathing as if you had really been in an inferno like a piece of fodder. 

Simon had already been through so much in his life, and doing this to him as well as the task force was the definition of betrayal of the loyalty you’d cultivated.

Of the love.

Because you did love him—even if you’d never say it to each other. If he found out about what you did, which he would eventually, in one way or another, he’d hate you for the rest of his life. So perhaps you were mourning, as you stare below as the helicopter takes you higher and higher up. Farther away from him. You were mourning what you had, because you knew it would never be the same. 

Simon Riley would never trust you again, and all you had to blame was yourself. 

The tiny tears dribble out of you and fall all the way down to the ground, where the man still screams for you to answer him; John barks orders with a sheen of panic in his eyes from the bare-bones ferality of the Lieutenant. Brown eyes blazed and cities burned in his pupils. 

John had underestimated the bond that the two of you shared. 

And he just might pay the price for it.

—

Getting through selection was far easier than getting through SAS training, Vito Berto seemed to only want mercenaries that had the faintest hint of the ability to hold a smuggled weapon. It made sense because if the people he was planning to send in were well-trained, it would be easier to trace to him—ability equaled a higher level of intelligence. Planning. Resources. 

To fit in, you made sure to miss a few of your shots, even if it made your instinctual perfectionism rise. John would have torn you a new one if you’d missed this many during your selection all those years back. Probably would have asked how a Muppet like you had gotten this far with shite aim like that.

But Berto ate it up like Sunday dinner. Gave you the nickname Cross, actually. Like the crosshair of a scope.

It was safe to say you despised him. 

But the days grew longer and the nights short with all of your running around. You’d found out that your Captain’s timeline was incorrect—the attack wasn’t in three months, it was in two. And while Berto was cocky, he wasn’t reckless. 

He somehow knew there was a breach in the ranks; you could see it by how he looked over the squads in the underground bunker, all of you hidden under rock and stone like prisoners. The man would sneer, eyes filtering back and forth from the perch. 

Sometimes you had to stop yourself from simply taking the shot presented in front of you and deal with the consequences afterward.

Price had been clear: all of the people gathered here needed to be taken care of quickly and quietly—if you snapped, the rest would disappear like roaches. Alive and biding time.

During those two months, the thoughts of Simon wouldn’t leave you. 

Moments that seeped in behind closed eyelids after you’d slunk back into bed, the USBs full of vital intel stashed into the lining of your uniform in a small hidden pocket. His twitching smile and those deep scars along his face; the ones that would never go away. 

In those moments you wondered what it would be like if you had told him how much you cared for his quiet company or his dark humor. The way he would level a hand on the small of your back off duty at the bars as a way to silently shield you from the stares from patrons. 

You’d never be able to tell him now. 

Vito “The Tanner” Berto knew of a leak, and when you came back to the bunker after sending out the multiple USB sticks, the physical files, and the first-hand accounts of what was going on—eager for just a little more to make this betrayal worth it…he was waiting. 

You could only fight off so many others, no matter how subpar the training on their part, before sheer mass overtook ability. Like a house of cards with a bowling ball, you were shoved to the ground surrounded by multiple dead bodies of those you’d taken down with you—writhing and hissing as if a feral animal. 

Restraints were leveled with your wrists; your head pulled back so your nose faced the ceiling. You only stopped struggling when the chilled barrel of a pistol was set under your chin.

Breath stilling, it was hard to understand how, even then, all that was in the front of your mind was Simon. Simon and his brown eyes. Simon and his screams when that building went up in fire and smoke.

“Trick!”

You could still hear the exact pitch and rhythm like it was yesterday.

“Cross,” Berto mutters, gun heavy as it digs into your flesh. Men pant and grapple to keep you back as you sneer and jerk your arms. “I should have known it would be you.” 

“Well,” you growl, teeth bared, “obviously you didn’t.”

A slow smirk runs on his lips. 

“No, but I’ll have to rectify this. I can’t have you getting in the way.” You can only hope that the intel gets out before the end of the second month—if not, then all of this was for nothing. 

Why couldn’t you have left when you had the chance?

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!”

He was why. 

Simon—the source of all of your problems and the only person who could fix them besides yourself. It’s a sick joke really. 

Vito grabs your chin and you huff out a swift breath, heart skipping beats as he burrows his digits tightly into your skin; hard enough to leave marks. He sighs and clicks his tongue and you have to keep back a whimper as his nails create crescents along your jaw. 

“You won’t tell me anything, will you, then?”

“Negative,” you spit, heated. 

He scoffs. “Of course.” 

Berto throws your head back as you try to snap out and bite at his hand, rabid, but the man’s already gone and the mercenaries behind you yank you back like a dog on a leash. Your knees slide along the floor and you rage trying to turn around before the others are forced to shove your face into the ground. There is a distinctive snapping in your nose bridge as the concrete comes up to meet you; the tears come instinctually after—unable to be stopped as you yell in pain. 

Blood floods your nostrils and mouth, making you cough as Vito’s voice echoes in your ringing ears. 

“Let me get my knives.” 

—

They had you chained in some damp back room, the corners riddled with mold spores and the air heavy with condensation. You were tied to the ceiling—feet dangling uselessly below you and the tips of your boots dragging across the floor with a quiet scrape and a creak of metal. 

Above you, on the hook, the chains were tied so ruthlessly that you’d lost circulation to your arms entirely, nothing but an electric buzzing far inside of your bones. Akin to the static of a TV screen in between connections. Your clothes had been shredded by blades—long sections of your flesh underneath, cut away. 

Blood stains most, if not all, of the floor. It drips from your nose; it falls like rain to pool at your feet in rippling crimson. 

Simon had been your partner during required interrogation training and he was far better at it than you. The man could go for hours through the mental strain that was leveled out by other soldiers on him; stoic and silent. It was the way his eyes would blank that told you he could live through far worse—that he already had. You’d had your fair share as well, but never before had you felt as hopeless as this. 

There was a slim chance that anyone would come for you here. Laswell and Price would carry the guilt of it, but you didn’t want them to. 

The blood slips over your lips, and the taste of copper makes you gag; spitting out saliva from your lips. 

It was half your choice, after all. 

You try to slip into a happy memory as the lights fade in and out, the footsteps and mutterings outside the door of little interest anymore.

ironic, that the man with the mask of a dead person brought you comfort when so little could. 

You never got to tell him how much you loved him. A thin smile comes across your lips. 

“Shouldn’t be out here this late,” the man utters as you lay out in the field, arms and legs splayed and twitching when the long grass brushes against them. “Past curfew.”

“Like you aren't out here with me?” You raise an eyebrow, looking up at the stars now that the large base lights have been dimmed. The air is cold, and the breeze makes you shudder through a chill. But you don’t wipe that smile from your lips. “Bit hypocritical, Simon.”

You hear a low grunt. 

“Out ‘ere because you weren’t answering your damn door.” A shadow slips to your side, and the man settles down with a huff on his lips. Simon retired his combat mask for a simple balaclava instead, and he sighed long as he settled his arm on the bent form of his right leg. 

You blink over at him, raising a brow. 

“Looking for me, Ghosty?” 

“Bloody hell, Trick.” You chuckle, shifting your arms to rest on your chest as you look back at the stars far above. 

“Oh, it’s alright, Big Guy.” The man shakes his head. “I won’t tell anyone you’re going soft for me.” 

“I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Trick, I’m tellin’ you to—”

“Shh!” You wave a hand in his direction, silencing him and making him blink at you in deep annoyance and confusion. Ghost’s eyes were narrowed, the black of his face paint gone and smelling like standard issue body wash. 

He must have gotten out of the shower and come to see if you were still awake before making his way outside when you never answered the door. Funny how he knew where you would be.

“Fucking what, then?” He growls, shoulders wide.

You place a finger to your ear, shifting so you’re sitting up on one elbow and facing Simon. On your face, a wide smile lingers, but on his, the dark brows narrow with knowledge of a deceitful event incoming. “Listen.” 

A silence falls, Simon’s ears twitching for something in the long grass or across the field. Nothing. Nothing but the breeze and the way your face glowed as you watched him, eyes glinting with amusement. 

After a long minute or two, he looks at you with utter bewilderment. You lean in closer, poking a finger into his bicep.

“Can you hear it, Simon?” You’re one of the few he lets call him that, though never in public.

He glares. “No.”

You flutter your digits in the air, giggles trapped in your mouth. A whisper hits the Lieutenant’s ears. “Silence.”

“Bugger off,” he hisses as you reel back and belt out laughter, holding your sides and lightly curling into yourself. “You’re worse than Johnny. Jesus.”

“Aww, c’mon!” You let your laughter die down to chuckles, sanctity of night broken, but not so between the two individuals who look at each other with brimming affection none will name. 

“You’re the one that came to find me, remember?” Your tease makes Ghost roll his eyes, looking away across the open area with its wave-like grasses.

“You’re right, then, I did,” Simon grunts, his hand coming up to rub his neck. “Mistake on my part.”

“Jerk,” a soft slap is leveled to his arm and he chuckles deeply. “But you can’t fool me, Ghosty. I know you’ll always come lookin’ for me—I’m too important to you to lose.”

“Keep kiddin’ yourself, Trickster.” He doesn’t say how he would agree with the statement, it was true after all. “I won’t be dragged into your bloody messes.”

He wouldn’t leave you behind to drown in them, even if it was as simple as you sneaking out of your bunk to watch the stars. 

You’d both known each other too long for that.

You smile over at him as he sighs before slipping off his mask, itching at his stubble with hard fingers. The air settles. No comment about it entering in on the see-through waves—there didn’t need to be one. 

“Mhm,” you hum, beaming. “You keep thinking that, Big Guy.”

“Trick!” Your memory shifts, and you sit up immediately. You’d thought you’d just heard…

Eyes dart out over the field, jumping back and forth rapidly. You look to the side, but Simon is gone entirely.

“Simon?” Heart beating, you stand fully up and turn in a fast circle, confusion and fear infecting your mind.

“Trick!” Pain sparks in your body, and you hiss and grab at your clothes. You blink so fast that you half-believe the world is ending.

“S-Simon?!” What was happening? What was hurting so bad? Where did Simon go?

“Trick, fucking wake up!”

Your eyes snap open and you instantaneously feel the burning pain inside of your ribs. 

The ground is underneath you, hard and wet from your own blood as you yowl and cough, air entering your lungs in quick bursts. 

Hands encase your cheeks, shaking your head—keeping you present. 

A skeletal mask littered with droplets of human fluid stares down at you, and behind it, panicked brown eyes slash through your psyche in the small moment between agony and confusion. 

Simon?

“Holy hell.” It’s that same Manchester accent. The same scrape of vocal cords. “Alright, Sweetheart. Keep those eyes open—keep ‘em on me, yeah?” 

What was going on? You try to open your mouth to say something but all of it is lead. Were your ribs broken? How? And why was Simon’s bottom covering pushed up to his nose; his lips stained with blood? 

The man frantically goes to press into his radio.

“This is Bravo 0-7,” he breathes, and you whimper as your throat gets clogged with congealed saliva and blood. You cough violently, gagging, and Ghost quickly turns you on your side to help you expel it. His hand is hard on your shoulder. 

“I say again, this is Bravo 0-7!” Those browns never leave you, shocked and serious. “Price, I’ve got ‘er. It’s not good; had to revive but I don’t know how long she’s got.”

Revive? You’re spacing in and out, limp, and trying to breathe. 

Simon tears open his medical pouch and begins wrapping tourniquets—packing the wounds with gauze until you can get proper medical treatment on the helo back to base. 

“Bloody…” he trails, Price barking an order over the connection to bring you out; the firefight was moving to the East to give him an opening to sneak back out. “C’mon, Trick.”

Everything swims; you want to go back to that field—those stars. 

Simon was here? Truly? The thought was hard to understand in your state. 

“S-Sim—” Your voice gurgles, and you can’t feel your legs. You had to tell him. Tell him the good and the bad; all of it.

“Don’t talk,” he growls, moving you as your body seizes in a state of static shock. “I’m getting you out of ‘ere.” You’re lifted up in one grand movement, Simon grunting as he shifts you carefully into a bridal hold. “Then you’re going to explain this to me when you’re squared. Won’t take no for an answer.” 

You could feel the anger sizzling off of him even half-conscious. The mixing emotions that convulsed into a mess of adrenaline and desperation. Forcing your eyes to stay open, you blink up at him as he glances down at you at the same time, just before he exits the door he had broken down. 

The visible skin of his lips and chin tighten; going down with the twitch of with a serious frown. Something flutters behind his eyes as he stares before glancing away and clearing his throat. 

“Eyes on me, Trickster. Don’t you dare close ‘em.” You grimace as he begins jogging, heavy boots echoing along the empty corridor as the sounds of gunfire and pandemonium sound off from the other side of the bunker. 

It was hard to push back the black at the sides of your vision; already it was seeping back in. Ghost holds you tight, unwilling to even let you slip an inch from his grip as the lights above swirl, brightening and dimming. 

“Oi!” You’re jostled, and you snap back to it, tensing as your wounds flex and pull. Simon glares. “What’d I just say?”

Your weakly poisoned grimace makes his lips twitch up. 

“Good.” 

There’s the sudden flick of a safety being clicked off, and the Lieutenant halts in a jerking of feet and a ruffle of canvas.

“I’ve heard about a Ghost making his rounds, hm?” Berto stands at the end of the hall, pistol held in front of him. “I saw an apparition disappearing to find one of its own. No worries. She’ll be a ghost, too, soon enough. Perhaps I’ll have to put you both to rest together.” 

The voice makes you go panicked, remembering the tear of flesh and the sharp blades slicing your skin away, chunks that peeled, and the long stripes of flexible tendons. Your lungs fight for breath, your head weakly slapping into Simon’s neck after an attempt to move your body. Limbs shake and battle nerves; the fabric of your brain.

Your blood stains the man’s gear all the way down the front. It’s dripping to the floor, down his arms and off his elbows. You’re bathing him in it—a full-body baptism of betrayal. 

“Berto,” Ghost says, accent casual despite the gun leveled at him. The name is drawn out. “Apologies, but I’m taking back what’s mine.” He tilts his head. “Scratch that, I’m not apologizing for getting back on a Bastard like you, eh? Pity I can’t hang you up like a hog, I’m proper good with a blade too, but as you can see, I’m on a crunch.” 

Vito’s face goes confused, skin scrunching. “What—”

The bang of a bullet being discharged echoes down the way. The clatter of a great expulsion of air from lungs. Stumbling. Gargles. 

The slam of a body to the ground. 

Smoke spreads up from under the clutch of your knees, where Ghost holds the abyssal body of an M19 forward, his finger lightly on the trigger before he shifts it back in well-practiced discipline. 

“Slag,” he spits. 

Simon hikes you farther into him, lending over his available body heat as you shiver. He presses his face into the top of your head, sighing in relief before starting his pace again. The man’s lips brush your flesh as your lids flutter. 

“Still with me?” You whine into his neck, fingers twitching. “I know it hurts, Love. I know. Easy with it.” 

It didn’t just hurt, it burned. Buried like the nine layers of Hell. 

He keeps whispering to you, slinking around corners and stepping into shadows. By the time he makes it outside with you, the chill of the air on the bottom of his face he didn’t even bother to re-cover, you’re tapering on the edge of oblivion again. 

Teetering like a porcelain doll on the end of the high shelf. 

“Bravo 0-6, leaving the bunker now, I need that MedEvac prepped and ready to go,” Simon speaks quickly, not wasting a single instant. 

John’s voice wafts through. “Copy, 0-7. Helo is comin’ in, be ready it’s going to get hot!” 

“Affirm. Keep it frosty down ‘ere.” There’s a low chuckle and the swift wizz of bullets. 

“Get our Trickster back in one piece, Ghost.” Simon hears the buzzing of helicopter blades in the night, a slick form descending from the dark clouds not moments later. He turns away from the flurry of air, walking hurriedly backward so the air doesn’t aggravate you. 

“Trick,” Ghost calls to you above the noise, hearing the hurried feet of medics coming out to take you from him. Your face is scrunched and you burrow into him. “I’m handing you over!” 

You try to open your eyes enough to convey your unease at that. You have to tell him. You have to explain why you had to do it. The guilt is eating you; gnawing with red teeth and gripping with devil’s claws. You have to explain that you love him even if he hates you now. 

Medics grapple you away, and you are in pain, lips peeling back to gasp sharply, thrashing. 

No!

“Fuck,” Ghost growls, pulling you away from the men as they ask him what in the bloody hell he’s doing. He doesn’t even know—all he knows is that he’s pissed at you for what you did, but never in a million years did that mean he wanted to see you in pain. 

Simon can’t lie, when he was told you were alive, the universe had held its breath. A miracle. A ruse. But alive. Alive and trapped. 

“Stop it!” He yells, caging you into him. “I’m here! I’m right here, Trickster!” 

You’re already too gone for it, not recognizing the metal of the helo as you’re settled on your back, the loud slam of the door. Fingers pull and prob as you hiss and snap, suffocating. 

Ghost holds down your shoulders, his eyes right above yours—but you’re not looking. The helo takes off

“Bloody hell,” Simon yells. “Look at me!” 

You don’t know what compels you to do so, but your eyes open just the slightest bit wider. Brown melts into your pupils, taking you in and reminding you of chilled summer nights. Simon. You pant but stop struggling. 

The medics jump into action, ripping away the remains of your shirt and pants so they can get to the wounds; assess the damage done. 

“That’s it,” Simon sighs long, swallowing. “That’s a girl. There we go, Sunshine.” 

You blink, face peeled as everything swirls far more aggressively this time. 

“Listen to me, Trick. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you understand. You said I’d always find you, yeah?” Hands grab your cheeks. “Well, I fucking did, eh? I found you. We’re gonna fix you up, Sweetheart. It’ll all be gone by morning.” You stutter down a breath, ragged throat stretching.

“Let ‘em fix you up—”

“I love you.” 

It all fades to black, but all you remember is the sweep of horror that spreads behind the man’s eyes.

—

“You went back,” Price’s arms are crossed, and he stares at you as your fingers play with the sheets of the hospital bed. “Why?”

You sigh and rub at your face.

“Trick.”

“I felt like I needed to,” you give away, twitching your fingers out in an expression of nonchalantness. “I felt…” Your voice trailed off into a growl. “Bad.”

“Feelings aren’t a part of this, Trickster, you bloody know that,” John hisses, leaning his head closer as you glare silently. “If you’d left when you could, none of this would have fucking happened.” 

“I feel bad, Price!” You break, snapping. “I fucking know! But I-I thought if I just got a bit more intel, then this would have been worth it.” Taking a deep breath you shake your head and rub at your face, all of the bandages and stitches pulling tight. “It’s eating at me. I can’t…I can’t just act like what I lied about can be forgotten.” 

You shrug as the man listens silently, monitors beeping and the small buzz of the overhead lights. 

“Soap barely looks at me—Gaz gave me that fucking pity smile and it makes me want to scream.”

“They’ll get over it.” The Captain repeats what he said months prior firmly. “They know the Op was top priority, they’ll grow up and be back to fucking around in days.”

You scoff, muttering in a dejected tone. “He won’t.”

John is still, fixing his feet from under him as he rolls his nose and looks away slowly. 

Simon hadn’t come to visit once in the time you’d been here in the ward—four days. That fact alone makes you restless. You don’t remember what you said to him, if you said anything. But you knew that he wasn’t going to be going out of his way to be near you anymore. 

You’d taken a grenade to the relationship you’d built. Toy building blocks are scattered. 

“Simon’s…Simon,” Price ends on. You groan and itch at the IV in your hand. “He cares about you more than anyone, yeah? He just needs time. Wasn’t himself after the set-up.”

“I’ve been told,” Gaz had informed you about the Lieutenant's self-isolation after your ‘death’. The snappy orders—deathly glares. He’d gone back to the ruthless man he was in the field and instead of being directed at his enemies, it was directed at them.

Kyle explained how he’d argued with Price about how he could have gotten to you, before abruptly falling silent and stalking away as if a flip had been switched. Snake eyes and clenched fists. 

They’d heard him in the gym late at night, reaming on the punching bags. They didn’t think he slept more than three hours per day if the red lines in his eyes were anything to go by.

And then they were told that you were alive but captured, and he’d gotten worse.

You’d nearly started sobbing when the Sergeant had told you all of that.

“I betrayed his trust, Price,” you level. “I…I never wanted to do that to him. Ever. Not Simon.”

A shadow passes by the door just as the Captain grunts. “That’s the job.”

“That’s not the job I signed up for when I got into this. We don’t lie to our own.”

“‘We get dirty, the world—’” You cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘stays clean’.” Your eyes level with his. “I can do the dirty work, John, you know that. Infiltration and undercover work is what I’m good at.” The man nods slightly. “But if you ask me to betray One-Four-One’s trust again, I’m out.”

Blue eyes blink in shock, but you don’t let him speak.

“Find someone else to get fake blown up in a building. I can’t get his fucking screams out of my head.” John watches you silently, eyes narrowed. 

You meet that gaze head-on, not backing down from this.

The Captain shakes his head a minute later. “Bloody made for each other,” he mutters under his breath, grunting. Another shadow slips past going the opposite direction, probably a nurse.

Without another word John turns and exits the room, tossing a hand behind his head casually in a way to say goodbye.

You huff and roll your eyes, heat on your cheeks. 

The day wains, and you let the nurses come in to do their checkups and replace the IV. As the curtains are pulled back into place, supper sits heavy in your stomach. 

You wanted to see Simon. 

You knew it wouldn’t go well, and wouldn’t be the goody-goody outcome you prayed for…but you felt wrong without apologizing in person. It went against your morals, and already those were incredibly skewed. Maybe he’d yell, or even ignore you as if you weren’t there.

Simon wasn’t above not speaking to people he didn’t like.

You had to try.

When all was dark, you shuffled out of the hospital bed and fought the weakness of your legs. Shaking like a leaf, you walked around with only your tied gown, unapologetic of the slit down the back showing flashes of your bra and underwear. 

It wouldn’t be anything the Lieutenant hadn’t seen before.

Walking through the silence, you sigh and stand outside of his door; dread in your heart and seeping from the pulled stitches of your wounds. Your bare feet on the tile make you shiver. 

Lifting up a fist, you hesitate. 

Your hand hovers over the wood, sliding forward before you pull it back to you. Closing your eyes tight, you clench your jaw once and take a deep breath.

Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock.

The sequence was your call sign. If you knocked like that, he would know it was you—whereas Simon's own was just a single slam of the side of his fist.

The only real problem now was that he wasn’t answering.

You stare dumbly at the barrier, blinking like a fool. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to understand the realization that he wasn’t ignoring you—he just wasn’t in his room. 

Taking a step back, you rub the back of your neck in exasperation and hurry to the nearest exit.

“Of course,” you breathe. You know exactly where he is at a time like this.

The field holds a standing shadow, a ghost of issued fatigues with a thick jacket against the chill that leaves you shivering. Simon stares out over the training grounds with his hands in his pockets, balaclava pulled all the way down to hide him from you. 

You come to a slow halt behind him and stare. 

It’s not long before the man gunts, turning his head back from over his shoulder to look at you blankly. He knew you were there.

The eye contact stays for a long, long while—until you’re hypnotized in the shades of brown and amber and the large build that seems to broaden because of your appearance.

“I’m here to apologize.” You say it breathlessly. “I’m not asking you to hear me out, but I have to let you know I regret doing it. Price said that it was time-sensitive and I—”

Stopping yourself, you look away. It sounded too much like an excuse, you hissed to yourself. At the end of the day, it was still your acceptance that pushed the pawn forward. 

“I’m sorry, Simon,” you breathe. “I betrayed your trust.”

His eyes are piercing you, but you still can’t look at him. The man slightly turns your way. His voice was monotone and grunting out like a dog.

“You think I couldn’t handle it?” Your heart starts, and you’re shaking your head instantly.

“No.” You explain quickly—honestly. “It’s that…I didn’t want you to.” 

You hear his lips take in a quiet breath. Simon rolls his shoulders before looking away from you. Nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“You said you loved me.” Your body freezes, jaw going slack as your face drops. You don’t speak, mute as if the air in your lungs has been stolen.

You had done…what?

All of your tricks couldn’t get you out of this one.

“I,” you force a fake laugh, hands beginning to shake. “I, what? No, I’m sure that’s not what I said. A-are you sure it wasn’t, like, an ‘I appreciate you’ or maybe a…a,” your voice catches. “A whole ‘I’m fond of you’ sort of thing…? Hm?”

Simon takes a step forward and you take one back. This was worse than torture, you decided. The pain in your pulling stitches and re-set nose was welcome here.

“Trick,” Ghost utters, and you stare hard at his neck, humming. “Stop talking.”

“Copy,” you whisper quickly, shoulders falling. 

He’s so close you can feel his body heat melting into you, and you want nothing more than to touch him. Simon’s hand comes up to your chin, and he angles it up as you stop breathing, lips parted.

“I heard you in the med ward talkin’ to Price. Was outside the door the ‘ole time.” The shadow. 

He tilts your head to the side to stare at the medical tape over the slashes in your skin. The scars won’t bother you—you had plenty of others to show as well. But Simon was…studying you. Assessing. 

His eyes blink slowly with those long pale lashes, and they slide up to you as he leans in close to your ear. Still, you stand comatose.

“You put me through a fucking heap ‘o hurt, Love.” You stare over his shoulder, not speaking, not moving. 

Simon leans back and lets go of your chin, brushing a finger over your nose and the puffy skin there.

“Never do that again.” It’s final, how he says it. But the layers of depth are plain to hear. Simon speaks low and even—gaze trapping yours like a curse. 

You know he won’t talk about the things you’ve heard. The aggression or the late-night gym trips. You’ve known him for years, and know his brain like the back of your hand.

Shivering, you nod once, content with not answering verbally to break the sanctity of the moment. Seeing Simon like this made you ease your fears. You clear your throat to push back the stuffiness.

“Thought you held grudges, Big Guy?” Nearly not heard, you mutter and pick at where the IV needle is supposed to be. 

A hand catches yours and stops you from making it bleed.

“Do,” Ghost grumbles, turning your hand over and moving his face closer until you feel his breath. “Just not with my Bird.” 

His balaclava is suddenly up to his nose, and those lips that had been covered in your blood previously situated themselves perfectly to yours. 

You gasp, arm outstretched beside you in shock. 

You’d kissed him before, but this felt different. More intimate. Simon’s arms slip around your waist, and you retaliate by locking your shaking arms behind his back, feeling the gentle passes of his lips. 

Mouth to mouth, you breathe each other in as if grasping for the other’s soul in desperation. A desperation that tells you how much the beast of a man around you was terrified of your death and the body he had to carry into the helo—of the lengths he would go to stave death from touching your tender flesh. 

No, only he was allowed to do that, and he was a reaper in his own right.

A small death that infected you at every breath puffing into your mouth, every whine and whimper he could draw like water to swallow down as ambrosia. Nectar of the Gods, and it was right there in his arms. Back. Alive. 

To be alive in the summer field of this old military base was to accept that death, and into it, hope that the few moments you had together truly made a difference. 

Simon would hold you there—and when that was done, wrap you in his jacket and carry your battered body back inside; watching your swollen lips and the wide eyes as they gaze back at him. 

Because he could hate you all he wanted for this, for the lies, for the way you made him care…but the both of you would still be alive to do so.

He guessed that was all that mattered.

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