#and even that final glance is taken from them

[palephilosopherautomaton]

The Hearth and Blade sat nestled at the edge of the world—just far enough from the capital for its reach to weaken and its memory to fade. The tavern was old, but stout, like its owner. Wood darkened with age and soot formed the bones of the place, and a hearth always burned low, even in the warmer months.

You, once Vaelin of the Rift, Slayer of the Howling God, Shield of Kartha's Vale, now known simply as Old Vael, kept to your quiet rituals: stoking the fire with bitter wood, pouring mugs of smoky ale, and occasionally polishing the iron longsword mounted behind the bar—not the one you'd used in the wars, but close enough to keep questions short.

The wind had teeth that night, gnawing at the shutters and rattling the sign. It was late, and you were near closing, counting coins by the orange firelight, when the door burst open and they stumbled in—laughter, exhaustion, and the scent of wet leather and blood.

Four of them. Green eyes, young hearts. You barely glanced up at first.

But then you saw it.

A slender girl with auburn braids slung a staff over her shoulder—carved from ghost ash and tipped with cracked blue crystal. You remembered the feel of that wood in your own hands when you'd pulled it from Elric's burned corpse after the Battle of Hollowfen.

The burly man behind her wore a steel gorget etched with a wolf-and-rose sigil. That was Halden's. You'd buried him in it. Your hands had fastened that clasp shut before the earth took him.

And then—gods, then came the boy with the dagger.

A thin blade of blackened silver, honed by moonslight, never reflecting torchlight—Whisperfang, you’d named it. Ilari had kept it at her thigh. You'd watched it sing through more throats than songs. You’d seen it snap in half during her last breath.

But here it was. Whole. Gleaming. On the belt of a child.

They flopped into seats near the hearth, shedding cloaks, steam rising from them like ghosts. One of them—an elf barely out of boyhood—grinned and called, “Ale, old man! And meat if you've got it!”

The past, long buried, stirred in your bones like a forgotten curse. You stood motionless, eyes scanning them, ears humming with memory. The fire crackled.

Then the girl noticed your stare.

“You alright, barkeep?” she asked, voice light. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You finally moved, slowly. The scrape of your boots on the floor was louder than it should’ve been.

“Aye,” you said, voice low, hoarse from years of silence. You poured ale without looking. “Just thought I’d seen some old friends in the grave.”

You set the mugs down in front of them. Your eyes lingered on the dagger at the boy’s belt. Not a replica. Not a copy.

The same blade.

“Where’d you get that?” you asked, pointing.

He glanced down, casually. “This? Picked it off a wight-queen in the ruins north of Velgor. She had it clutched in a dead girl’s hand. Took a week to pry it free.”

The fire roared behind you. The shadows deepened.

You said nothing for a long time. Just watched them drink, laugh, and warm themselves in the glow of your quiet, haunted tavern. The air felt thick with memory.

The hearth spat sparks.

Would you let them leave?

Would you ask them what they found in the ruins?

Or would you show them the map burned into your back—one the wight-queen should’ve taken to her grave, along with your friends?

Their laughter peeled in the dark, unaware.

What do you do?

You are a retired adventurer running a quiet tavern far from the capital. One night, a party of fresh-faced adventurers stumbles in, wearing gear that once belonged to your long-dead party.

[talesofesther]

best kept secret

➥ Yelena Belova x Reader/fem!OC

Summary: Yelena had chosen to keep what she feels for you a secret. Feelings were dangerous, after all. But maybe walking into the void could make her see things differently.

A/N: This is a very random little idea that I wrote in under an hour loll. It's not masterfully elaborated, but it's cute! Set during Thunderbolts, so expect some spoilers ahead.

Word count: 1,5k

Masterlist

"Why don't you ask her for something different?" You took a sip from your iced coffee, head resting on one palm. "A change of scenery?"

Yelena hummed. She had her eyes cast down, holding a staring contest with her coffee. She hadn't taken a single sip yet. "Valentina is not exactly malleable." She shrugged; there was a tiredness to her that had been there a while.

The night would settle in soon enough; the sky was already a darker shade of blue and orange. The air was fresh, though, that's why you had decided to sit together at the tables outside, instead of inside the little café.

Yelena's hair, still wet from a fresh shower, was combed back and framed her face prettily. She wore a dark grey hoodie and a silver chain around her neck. Her eyes reflected the last rays of sun. She was the most beautiful woman you had ever known.

Yelena had lost contact with all the Widows she set free from mind control. All, except you. She kept you close, she called time and time again to check on you.

You were the only one whom she sought out at night, when her knuckles were bloody and her lips tasted of sin. You kissed it all away. You were the one she'd hold close and press her mouth against with no words necessary.

You were the one no one knew about, the one who she'd deny being hers if anyone asked.

You were the one she couldn't let go of. And the one she'd never admit having.

"Try anyway?" You hoped, leaning down to try and find her gaze. Genuine worry for her hid behind the sweetness of your voice.

One side of Yelena's mouth quirked up. If you looked closely, you'd see her cheeks turning a soft pink. She wasn't used to having someone around, perhaps that's why you sometimes missed her, even when she was right in front of you.

Yelena reached over the table, all timid and reluctant. Her fingers brushed over your knuckles in a silent request for closeness.

It was all she'd give you out here in the streets, under so many watchful eyes. You could only love her in secret—safer that way, or so she'd say.

You turned your hand over, welcoming her touch when she tangled her fingers with yours. There were new scars on Yelena's hands. You made a mental note to kiss them later.

Yelena squeezed your hand. "Can I see you later?" She always asked. Her brows would always tilt up a little with the vulnerability she tried to hide. You could almost hear how she held her breath while you held the silence.

Yelena still feared the day you'd tell her no. The day you'd walk away, too.

You took hold of the spoon resting on Yelena's forgotten coffee. You stirred it lazily, each swirl clinking against the mug's porcelain.

Yelena glanced down, finally took the mug, and brought it to her lips. You smiled; "You better."

—⧗—

The clock read 12:36 a.m. when Yelena knocked on your apartment door.

She felt her heart skip a beat upon hearing your soft steps come to her. Yelena bit the inside of her cheek and wondered if the anticipation would ever go away. Part of her hoped it wouldn't.

When you opened the door for her, a sigh she'd been holding since leaving her father's house fell past her lips. Yelena knew the dangers of getting attached, but every time she tried telling herself it would be the last time, her throat closed up tight, and her fingers shook.

An empty cup of tea was on top of your coffee table, and the only light came from the kitchen adjacent to your living room. There was a wildlife documentary on, serving as background noise. And a fluffy blanket over the couch.

You'd been waiting for her.

Maybe it was unfair. Because Yelena would come back to you tasting of heartache and all the sins that wouldn't let her sleep at night, and still you'd kiss her, and hold her, and look at her as if she's someone worth looking at.

Yelena's hands were dripping with so much blood, but you held them anyway. And you pulled her in and you pressed your lips to each one of her scars, even the ones you couldn't see.

Yelena held onto your waist, falling forward like she had many times before. Her upper lip brushed yours. Yelena couldn't get enough of you.

"I called her," she breathed against you, Russian accent heavy on the syllables, "Just one more job and I'm done." Yelena's hands sneaked under your pajama shirt. She felt your goosebumps. She shivered at the thought of being the one to cause it.

You smiled into the kiss, hands buried in her short hair. You felt giddy at her consideration of what you'd said.

Yelena mimicked your smile with one of her own. She breathed you in. When you held her, she was free of all her sins.

Yelena loved you. She'd never tell you. You were her best kept secret.

—⧗—

New Yorkers were almost used to seeing disasters and superhumans wreak havoc in their city. You would have kept your distance from the chaos, but the city had been engulfed in a black void, and Yelena was at the heart of it.

You'd run to the eye of the storm, with fear sinking in your stomach and your heart beating at the rhythm of her name. There were fires to one side of you and rubble to the other. The smoke in your lungs made it difficult to breathe, but you needed to find her.

When you did, you caught the tail end of Valentina's speech about the new Avengers.

You stood among the crowd of civilians, rising on tiptoes, trying to catch a glimpse of who was at the front of the commotion.

Yelena froze when her gaze landed on you. Her eyes widened, and she took a step forward as if going to your side was second nature.

And you, you felt tears pooling in your eyes as soon as you finally caught sight of her. Dirty skin, bloody lip, torn clothes—but alive, and with the prettiest green eyes, finding you amidst so many people.

As soon as Valentina finished her speech, Yelena rushed forward without a second thought, pushing her way through the crowd. Reporters called out her name, and civilians tried to thank her for saving their lives. Yelena ignored them all, she kept walking, and then running towards you.

You met her in the middle, falling into a bone-crushing hug with the same kind of desperation and relief.

Yelena's arms closed tightly around your waist, her hands roamed over your back, trying to convince herself you were real. Her head fell to your shoulder, nuzzling there. You did the exact same, hands bunching up the fabric of her suit.

She smelled like smoke, blood, and sweat. But still had the same soft warmth you knew so well. Your lips found the space just under Yelena's ear, you placed a kiss there. It was gratitude for her coming back to you and a plea that she'd never leave again.

"What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Yelena's voice broke in the middle, out of relief, or something deeper.

You pulled away only to look her in the eyes, feeling the taste of tears on your lips. "Me? What about you? I was so worried, Lena."

A chuckle escaped her then, all shaky and happy. Her own tears left a clear path down the dust on her cheeks. "I'm okay. I'm okay now."

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Yelena's new teammates throwing very curious glances your way. An older man in red seemed especially excited, and the one you knew to be Bucky Barnes had to hold him back from running in your direction.

Part of you almost instinctively felt compelled to let go of Yelena, to put a respectable distance between the two of you. Yelena had always kept things private and hidden, after all.

But today, she didn't let you. Yelena's hold was strong for both of you; she wouldn't let you take a single step away.

You sighed, feeling your heart rate slow down for the first time in what had been an exceptionally long day. You let your forehead fall against hers at last. "Some last job, huh?"

"I'm sorry," Yelena whispered, one of her hands found your jaw. You felt the warmth of her skin and the fabric of her glove. "Please don't leave."

You closed your eyes. Your nose bumped hers when you shook your head vehemently. "I would never."

Yelena kissed your lips with poorly concealed love. Her hands held the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair and pressing into the skin there—it gave beneath her fingertips, as if it'd been made for her touch alone.

Yelena's love was familiar. You felt the taste of it on your lips, felt the shape of it on your skin. It had always been there.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Yelena’s taglist is open, let me know if you’d like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[internetdaddy98]

The Endgame - Final Chapter

Previous | [Series Masterlist]

Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!SeniorResident!Reader Summary: You and Robby return home after Thanksgiving with your family, finding comfort in each other's presence. Word Count: 1.1 K

The apartment was quiet when they arrived back from Thanksgiving with Sheridan’s family. The usual hum of the city outside and the soft ticking of the clock in the corner of the living room made the space feel like a peaceful retreat, away from the hectic pace of their everyday lives. It was just the two of them now, Y/N and Robby, and the comfort of her apartment seemed to embrace them, as if the walls had always been meant for these quiet, shared moments.

You had already kicked off your shoes by the door, your coat tossed over the back of a chair. Robby hung his up and followed you into the kitchen. You had a soft smile on your lips as you moved around, untying your scarf and letting your wavy hair fall freely. The scent of cinnamon and roasting vegetables still lingered in the air, reminding you of the warmth you had just left behind with her family.

“Home,” You said, glancing over your shoulder at him, your voice light and content. There was something about the way you said it, like the word had taken on a new meaning for you both. Home wasn’t just your apartment anymore. It was wherever you found each other.

Robby leaned against the counter, watching you with a quiet affection. "You sure you want me here? I can always come back tomorrow."

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Stop. You’re not leaving. We have a whole weekend to ourselves.” You pulled open the fridge, scanning its contents. “What do you want for dinner?”

It was a familiar question, but this time, the sense of possibility in the air was different. It wasn’t just a casual question anymore; it was a gesture that symbolized something much deeper. A domestic rhythm that hadn’t existed before. It was yours.

“How about we cook something together?” Robby suggested, stepping closer to you.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Cook? You sure you can handle it?”

Robby chuckled. “I’ve been handling trauma cases for decades. I think I can handle a kitchen.” He winked, reaching for a knife from the block. "What are we making?"

“Chicken Parmesan?” you proposed, already pulling ingredients from the fridge. “We can make it from scratch. You can be in charge of the sauce.”

Robby grinned, stepping to the counter beside you. “Deal.” He rolled up his sleeves, his eyes softening with a touch of something that felt new for him. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

And just like in the ER, you fell into a rhythm. You would chop, and Robby would sauté. There was an easy, practiced flow to your movements, an unspoken communication between you, honed from months of working side by side. You moved around each other like a well-oiled machine, finishing each other’s sentences, anticipating each other’s needs. It was the same teamwork you shared in the emergency room, but now, it was in the kitchen.

“You’re not burning the garlic, are you?” you asked, glancing at him with a teasing smile.

“No, no. I’ve got this,” Robby replied, focusing on the pan in front of him. “I’m not that bad, you know.”

You chuckled softly, wiping your hands on a towel. “We’ll see. If the sauce tastes bad, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Robby shot you a look of mock outrage. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” you said playfully, tapping him with the towel.

You shared a laugh, the kind of laughter that felt like a promise, light, easy, and filled with warmth.

As you moved through the evening, your tasks shifted. Robby set the table, then poured two glasses of wine. You stirred the sauce, checking the flavors one last time before plating the meal. You sat down at the table, your hands brushing as you passed each other food. The atmosphere between you was comfortable, easy. It wasn’t about grand gestures or flashy declarations; it was the simple act of being together. Of sharing a meal you’d made together, in the quiet of your apartment, with only the sound of soft music in the background.

You sipped your wine, glancing at Robby with a thoughtful expression. You seemed to be weighing something in your mind, your gaze lingering on him as if you were about to say something important.

Robby, sensing the shift, put down his glass and gave you a soft, patient smile. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, a small but significant pause before speaking. “I want you to move in with me.”

Robby’s heart skipped a beat. The words were simple, but the weight they carried was heavier than anything he’d felt in a while. He set his glass down carefully, his eyes locking with yours. “Y/N...” His voice faltered, but it was only for a second. He tried to steady himself. “Are you sure? I mean..”

“I’m sure.” You interrupted, your voice steady and sincere. You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the table as you studied him. “I want to wake up with you every day. I don’t want to keep doing this... back-and-forth thing. I want us to live together. For real. For good.”

Robby was quiet for a long moment, processing your words. The idea of being with you every day, of coming home to you, felt like a dream he never thought he could have. But now, with everything you’d been through, everything you’d built, it felt like the most natural next step.

He let out a slow breath, his hand reaching across the table to take yours. “You make it sound so easy.”

Your smile was warm, genuine, full of affection. “It is easy. It just feels... right. Doesn’t it?”

He nodded, squeezing your hand. “Yeah. It feels right.”

You sat there for a while, just holding hands and basking in the shared quiet. It was the kind of peace that only came after years of chaos, the kind that had been hard won. And now, in this kitchen, with the promise of a future together, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

Robby leaned back in his chair, his eyes soft with affection as he watched you. He felt an overwhelming sense of contentment, something he’d never thought he would find after all these years of holding onto his walls. But now, with you beside him, he knew for certain that all those walls had been worth breaking down.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet awe.

You smiled, her eyes bright with understanding. “Me neither.”

And for the first time in a long time, Robby allowed himself to believe in something real. Something lasting.

You finished your dinner in comfortable silence, the kind that only two people who truly understood each other could share. And as the evening wore on, you found yourselves curled up on the couch together, the weight of the world outside forgotten. You were together. And that was enough. ——————————————————————————————— I'm sorry it took so long to get this out!!! I have become a frequent flyer at my local ER T_T @rosiepoise88 @nosebeers @andabuttonnose @luvr4miya @cannonindeez @hagarsays @captainoates @lemonlime09 @delicateflorencia @iceb1ink1uck @moonshooter @qardasngan @penbridgertonn @foreverchangingfandoms @msdariaknight @kmc1989 @trustme3-13 @ilikestuffs-stuff @letstryagaintomorrow @steviebbboi @jazzimac1967 @foolishseven @catmomstyles3 @oklahomapeach

[myfictionaldreams]

If this isn’t specific enough if not pls just ignore this!! But i saw you were back and it made me so excited because I’ve missed you’re writing so much (it’s literally top notch) and you inspired me to start ACoTaR and OMFG I’m obsessed with the bay boys and was wondering how you think they’d be around there human soulmate like casual dominance to the max one of them would have to be with you at all times I feel like they’d be like “no baby let me do it” when ever you wanna do anything forget it if your hurt yourself while they’re not around they’ll be so upset

⁀➷ Nightborn Protectors // BatBoys (Acotar) x F!Reader

Summary: Your life was beginning to perfectly fall into place, especially when you're mated to three powerful Illyrians who would burn the world just to keep you safe. At first, their constant protection feels like overkill… until you realise that sometimes, being shielded is exactly what you need.

Requested by: My love, I absolutely loved this request. Thank you for sending it! I also fucking love that you have started acotar, it's the best right?!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, teasing, alpha-batboys (showing off), possessive, protective, body worship, wrist injury, minor attack/threats, healing, threesome, oral (m receiving), rough sex, multiple orgasms

Words: 5.1k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The atmosphere was alive with soft, golden morning light spilling across the balcony, where the wind hushed through the curtains of The River House. The scent of coffee and something sweet wafted through the halls, mingling with the faint leather and metal scent that always clung to the males of the Night Court.

You were curled on the plush velvet chaise in the reading nook, sunlight catching the curl of your lashes, as you tried (for the third time) to lift a stack of books to reorganise the shelves. It had been your idea and project, something you’d been obsessively thinking about for weeks, but finally, you had the motivation to follow through with your plans.

What you hadn’t taken into account was the books themselves. The books were anxiety, heavy as stone, and you were barely halfway through the first shield before you heard the familiar, clipped thud of boots behind you.

Cassia, shirtless and smug, wings stretching behind him with a lazy ripple, leaned on the archway. “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”

With a glance over your shoulder, you share a grin with your mate, pretending innocence. “Reorganising, obviously.”

Cassian’s brow arched. “Not with those little human arms, you’re not.”

“Cass-”

He was already across the room in three strides, plucking the books out of your arms like they weighed nothing. Casually, he tossed them gently onto a nearby table, turned you around, and lifted you into his arms like it was second nature.

Your mates were always like this. Teasing you, wanting to show their strength, their power. Using the excuse that you were human would sound condescending if it were anyone else, but it never was when it came from your mates. It was all to show off and treat you like their queen.

You squealed, legs wrapping around his waist. “I can do it myself!”

He smirked, “No, baby. Let me.”

Your bond with him shimmered like glitter in your chest, golden and sparking fire. His own glow pulsed in return, possessive, amused, and warm.

“You’re going to throw your back out again,” he teased, nose brushing yours.

“I did not throw my back out; you’re being dramatic, again.”

“You almost did.”

You rolled your eyes and rested your head against his chest. His heart was a steady thrum beneath your ear, comforting, familiar. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Cassian chuckled and carried you into the training room, the floor below, where Azriel was already sharpening his blades.

The dark swirls of his shadows twisted toward you the moment you entered the room, skimming coolly against your skin like they missed you.

“Human pack mule today?” Azriel asked with his hidden sense of humour. He wasn’t even looking at you, assuming his little shadows whispered your current situation into his ear.

“She insists on lifting things, brother,” Cassian said solemnly, as if you had personally offended him. “As if she's not made of spun sugar and soft sighs.”

You stuck your tongue out at him whilst tugging on the low ponytail he had at the nape of his neck.

Azriels’ hazel eyes finally lifted to meet yours. “You smell like sunlight.” His shadows coiled tighter, floating across the edge of his wings. “And mischief.”

“Guilty,” you say, tilting your head back to stare at him.

Azriel finally lowers the weapons, steps forward, and takes your hand from Cass’s shoulder, brushing his lips over your knuckles. His touch is always ice cold due to the scars on his fingers, but it is needed, given how warm your body feels. 

“Next time, call me. Or the shadows. Or anything other than lifting ancient books.”

Cassian's arms tightened as he growled, “You told her she could lift them?”

Azriel raised an elegant brow, staring into the eyes of his best friend without a hint of fear. “I said she shouldn’t. She didn’t listen.”

Your mouth opens to retort, but Rrhysand appears in the doorway, his wings present, casting shadows across the floor. He has a mug of coffee in each hand and his signature smirk that could end empires.

“I bring offerings,” he announces, “ to my hardworking, book-hoarding mate and the two territorial bats who can’t go five minutes without fussing.”

“Rhys,” you sigh, delighted as he floats both mugs toward you with a flick of his fingers, showing off.

But when you reached out to take one, he suddenly reappeared by your side, his hand catching your wrist midair.

“Ah-ah.” Stepping closer, Rhys’s lips brush against your cheek. “No lifting. Didn’t Casian explain the new rule?”

“You’re being utterly ridiculous, High Lord. Anyway, I like carrying things. I’m not made of glass, you know.”

Rhys leans in, kissing your temple with care. “No. But you’re ours. And that’s more fragile than glass.”

The bond between you tugged tightly, a warm violet flame wrapping around your ribs, his presence sliding through your soul like silk and starlight.

You melted into him, resting your forehead against his whilst remaining in Cassian’s arms.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” you whispered.

He straightened his posture, nose brushing yours, “Careful. I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Cassian groans, “She does like it, I can smell her arousal every time you use that voice.”

“I do not-”

“Oh, you do.” Az’s shadows tangled around your legs, their version of a teasing nudge. “But we like it, too.”

You tried to stay grumpy. You really did.

But the three of them surrounded you, Rhys with his silk, Azriel with his shadows, Cassian with his grounding touch, and you felt like you were wrapped in the safest kind of armour.

Even if you could lift your own damn books, you let them fuss. You let them carry a coffee and smirk at each other like they’d won some ancient war over who could out-alpha the others.

Because you knew the hardships they’d endure in life and how much they deserved to be loved, if they wanted to show their love and caution to their human mate by fussing, you would damn well let them.

Mor, ever the nosy friend, peeks her head in later, seeing Cassian massaging your feet while Azriel lifts your drink to your lips, and Rhys is reading a book out loud. She nearly falls over laughing.

“I told you,” she snorted over her shoulder as Amren appeared. “You’ve spoiled her too much. She's going to forget how to walk.”

“Please,” Amren replies dryly. “She’ll weaponise it.”

You just grunt at them, completely content among your Illyrian mates. 

Later that afternoon, you found yourself nestled into a lounger on the balcony nursing a glass of piced wine with Mor and Amren flanking either side of you in their own chairs.

It had become a bit of a tradition, these slow, late afternoons spent watching the Illyrian males orbit around you. Cassian was sparring with Azriel in the courtyard below, shirtless, sweat-slicked, muscles rippling as they moved with a grace that made even Mor whistle low under her breath.

“You know,” she said, sipping her wine. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen those three so obsessed with something before. You have them wrapped around your little finger.”

Biting your lip, you tuck your knees up under you. “They like doing things for me.”

Amren scoffed. “Like? Darling, they fall over themselves trying to impress you. You ask Rhys to pass the salt, and he makes it levitate into your hand with a bow. You so much as look at Cassian’s swift, and he’s offering to teach you ten new forms. Azriel won’t even let you open doors.”

Mor giggles. “I saw him growl at a poor steward who dared to open one for her once.”

“Growled?” you echo, not bothering to hide your grin.

“Growled,” Amren confirmed. “Those boys turn into beasts when it comes to you. And all because he thought someone else might take care of you before he could, it’s ridiculous.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and your heart beat harder, not just with affection but something deeper. That sacred bond between you and them thrummed in your chest like a second pulse, and in moments like this, when your friends teased you and the boys played at war below, it hit you just how rare and precious this life was.

Even for a human, so much more fragile and mortal compared to your friends and family. Yet they loved you like you were carved from stars.

Mor leans across the arm of the chair. " Do you want to test how far we can push them?”

Amren tries to hide her smirk around the rim of her drink. “Oh, please say yes. It’s boring around here without a little chaos.”

“Push them how?”

Mor grins wider, happy that you’re willing to entertain her idea. “Act helpless—just a little. Drop something. Pretend to shiver. Watch what happens.”

You laugh, head tilting back, “You’re evil, my friend.”

“We’re bored. Entertain us.”

With the glint of mischief lighting your spine, you rose from your chair and went to the balcony rail, where the boys were still mid-spar. You lean forward, ever so slightly over the railing and-

“Careful, sweetheart.”

Cassian’s voice booms across the courtyard, wings flaring wide like he’s a second away from flying towards you.

You blink innocently at him. “What?”

“That rail doesn’t look safe, and your centre of gravity is too sweet to be trusted.” He’s given up just watching and flies towards you, landing beside you, scooping you back from the edge and wrapping his arms around you from behind.”Don’t dangle. Illyrian air drafts are unpredictable.”

From below, Azriels gave you a knowing look and winked.

Cassian didn’t notice or say a word about how Mor was cackling behind you.

“This is going to be fun!” she exclaims.

Later, back inside, the teasing continued. You pretend not to be able to open a jar. Rhys appears instantly, eyes darkening with amusement, saying. “Here, darling. Let your High Lord mate assist.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning against the table whilst fluttering your lashes.

Azriel straightened every picture frame you touched, fixed your shoelaces, and insisted on tucking a blanket around your legs as you sat reading.

“They're obsessed,” Mor whispers gleefully, holding your outstretched arm. “Completely gone for you.”

Your gaze turns to the three males, quiet and alert, watching you from different angles.

Your heart ached for a moment because of how much you loved them. They adored you, and you worshipped them.

You hadn’t meant to go alone. You weren’t trying to prove anything, either. You just wanted to get a bottle of that rose-petal wine Rhys liked. A simple errand. One small task.

You slipped out before the boys returned from a meeting at a local Illyrian camp. Mor was busy with court business, and Amren was muttering about some ancient artefact in the study. It was supposed to be a dinner treat: a quick trip down the winding streets of Velaris to the little merchant outside Rita’s.

Only the sun was setting, and Rita’s was loud. The crowds and music thrummed against your bones. The customers spilt out over the cobbled street, the laughter bubbling in the twilight air.

You had to pass close to the edge of the building to avoid the commotion, and that's when you felt it.

A hand on your arm. Too tight. Too rough and very much unwanted as you’re tugged into the slip of alleyway between Rita’s and the merchant, away from most prying eyes.

You turn abruptly, blinking up into the face of a tall, tanned Illyrian male with scarred cheeks and cruel eyes, stinking of alcohol and grinning in a way that unsettles your stomach.

“Well, well,” he slurred, breath sharp and bitter. “Didn’t think they made little playthings like you anymore.”

You swallowed to try to coat the dryness in your throat, ignoring how your stomach flipped. Tugging on your arm, you kept your voice steady and firm. “Let go.”

He didn’t. “Come on now. A little thing like you shouldn’t be out here alone. Not safe for humans, is it?”

The words he was spewing would have had you laughing at any other time. Velaris was one of the safest places for you to be, especially in Rita’s, which was a safe space for you and your friends many times. This relates to you being human, but the fact that you were mates with three members of the inner circle, let alone the High Lord himself, shows that you were loved by the people living in Velaris and treated with respect.

Respect that this male wasn’t giving you, as he’d flown in from a camp nearby.

“I’m not interested, so let me go,” you say, trying to stay calm and muster the energy that Rhysand would give.

The male’s grin widens threateningly, “But I am.”

His hand moved to your waist, where it should not have been. And as you jerked away, his fingers closed around your wrist, hard, snapping a shock of pain up your arm. You cried out, gasping in pain.

Over the pain, warmth sparked to life in your chest from the bond as your pain and fear flowed through to your mates.

But they were already there, flying like black lightning strikes.

Cassian lands first, like a storm slamming into the stone, with enough force that cracks form beneath his knee. One moment, the Illyrian was sneering down at you, and the next, he was gone, hurled backwards with a thunderous crack as Cassian punched him in the centre of his face.

“You put your hands on her?” His voice was a snark. “You touched my mate?”

Azriel appeared next, shadows writhing like angry serpents. He stood beside you, instantly shielding you with one arm around your shoulders, scanning your face, body, and wrist. His voice was deadly.

“You hurt her.”

“She’s just-”

“You hurt her.”

Azriel drew Truth-Teller from his thigh sheath, the blade’s silver edge catching the light from Rita’s window.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was your mate-”

“She didn’t need to”, Rhysand demanded from the sky, descending like a god of night. Wings stretched, face cold. Power was rolling off of him in waves, ripping through the stones beneath your feet as the bleeding male dropped to his knees, begging to the cauldron.

“She is ours,” Rhys said, quiet and terrible. “And you laid your hands on her.”

The male tried to scramble away. Rhys didn’t let him. He waved his hand, and the Illyrian's body lifted off the ground, magic wrapping around him like iron chains. He choked as he floated midair, suspended like an insect as his eyes suddenly glazed over. Rhys was in his mind.

Cassian’s voice was a low growl. “You want him dead?”

Azriel didn’t speak. His shadows had already started pulling tighter around the male’s throat, like they also were trying to protect your honour.

“Not here,” Rhys said with a cold smile as he delved through the male's mind, finding every secret, every weakness this Illyrian had. “Take him to the dungeons. I want to look him in the eye when I decide how to end him.”

Azriel and Cassian flanked the still man, taking an arm each before disappearing into the skies.

Rhysand finally turned to you, “Let me see your wrist.”

You hesitated. The pain was duller now, but it was still there, blooming just beneath the skin and travelling the length of your forearm.

He took your hand so gently that it almost made you cry.

A cool shimmer of his magic curled around your wrist, settling into the bone and muscle, warming until the pain and ache completely faded.

“You healed it,” you said, obviously, confounded, as you wiggled your fingers, bending your wrist with ease.

“I’ll always heal you,” he promises, looking down at you with his brows furrowed with lingering anger. “But Cauldon, help anyone who ever gives me reason to do so.”

Rhys lifts your palm to his mouth, kissing it gently and resting it against his cheek, closing his eyes and having a moment. “We should’ve been with you.”

“I thought it was just a quick errand, I didn’t need you to go to the shop, Rhysand.”

Rhys’s jaw ticked beneath your palm as you ran your thumb across his cheekbone. “It doesn’t matter. From now on, you don’t go alone. Not even to the end of the street.”

The fierce pulse of the bond tugged in the centre of your chest. You could feel it, their guilt, their rage and their love. It wrapped around you like a blanket too heavy to shake off. 

Not that you’d want to. You let it cocoon you.

Back at the River House, everything felt softer. Slower.

Rhysand had refused to let you walk home. One arm supporting your back and the other beneath your knees as he carried you in his arms, flying the two of you home. 

Azriel and Cassian hadn’t returned, but you could feel their reassurance through the bond.

Rhys had settled you onto the sofa in the sitting room, wrapping you in Azriel’s favourite cashmere blanket, before pouring tea. His magic still hummed faintly against your skin, reminding you how close you’d come to worse.

The front door slammed open, and you immediately knew it wasn’t your mates storming in.

“I heard,” Mor snapped, striding like a golden storm in heels and fury. “Tell me that fucked is dead.”

Amren followed, her eyes glowing silver. “Or give me what’s left. I want to play Rhysand.”

You blinked up at them, blowing on the tea in your hands, “I’m okay.  Rhys healed me, stand down, ladies.”

Your attempt at trying to jest was swiftly brushed aside as Mor dropped to her knees before you, eyes flicking over every inch before resting on your wrist, like she could see Rhys’ magical imprint on your skin. “Your wrist?”

“Better, truly,” you reassured softly, lowering the mug onto the table to the side of the sofa, rotating your wrist to show it was fine.

Amren cross her arms. “Better doesn’t mean he shouldn’t choke on his own spine.”

“She’s safe now,” Rhys spoke calmly but with authority, stepping behind the couch to rest a hand on your shoulder. “Cassian and Azriel are locking him in the lower levels.”

“I’ll join them,” Amren said, already turning.

Mor kisses your cheek, her voice tight with barely contained wrath. “I’ll bring wine. Then we’re going to carve that bastard’s name out of the records like he never existed.”

You gave them a small smile, touched despite the violence threaded through their words. “Thank you.”

“You’re ours as well, you know,” Amren’s voice floats from the doorway. “And no one touches what’s ours.”

As they swept out, you released a long, deep breath that you hadn’t realised you had been holding as Rhys moved to sit beside you, his hand brushing your thigh over the blanket.

“How are you feeling, darling?”

“Fine, I just wanted to go and get you a little surprise with your favourite wine, I didn’t mean to be reckless.”

Rhys’s hand slid to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards him as you gaze into his violet eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He did.”

“I know. I just hate that you had to come save me again.”

A new voice, low and gravelly, came from the doorway.

“We live to save you.”

Cassian, with Azriel over his shoulder. Both were standing there, framed by the fae lights on the walls, wings tucked in tight, and the fighting leathers still dusted from the dungeons. There was blood on Cassian’s knuckles.

When your eyes met his, the tension in his body broke. You rose from the couch, blanket slipping from your lap. He crossed the room in two strides and caught you in a crushing hug, burying his face in your neck.

“I’m okay,” you reassure, threading your fingers into his hair and holding him tightly. Azriel steps up to your back, needing to touch you to ensure you’re okay. Reaching back, you cup the back of his head. “Because of you.”

You look at them, your Illyrian mates. Something deep shifted in your heart. A need. A purpose. They fought for you every day. Now it was your turn to worship them.

Turning in Cassian’s arms, he cuddled his jaw. His eyes widened just slightly, startled by the change in your soft and intent expression.

“Let me take care of you now.”

Those hazel eyes widen, “What?”

“I want to show you what you are to me. To all of you.”

Rhys’s breath hitched. Azriel went still, and Cassian’s gaze darkened. “You sure?”

You nod slowly. “Let me love you the way you deserve.”

The door clicked shut behind Cassian as you stood in the middle of the bedroom, bare feet on the plush rugs, wrapping in only one of Rhysand’s robes.

Closing your eyes for a single moment, concentrating on the humming in your chest, like a second heartbeat, the bond gave a comforting tug toward your mates.

They were close by. Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel. Three of the most powerful males in all of Prythian. Lethal, strong and right now, watching you like they were the lucky ones. But you were and needed to prove how much they meant to you.

“I want to worship you. All of you. You’re mine, and I need you to feel that, after everything you’ve been doing for me, always done for me, protecting and caring, I need to do this for you.”

Rhysand’s smile just falters, but it is noticeable to you. Azriel’s shadows stilled. Cassian’s jaw flexed as he stepped closer.

“You’ve had a rough night,” Rhy said, voice like midnight smoke, trying to sound reassuring. “We should be the ones-”

“No,” you interrupt, looking at him. “Tonight is mine. You give me everything. You are everything to me. Let me show you.”

Then you dropped to your knees in front of them, removing the robe until you were bare before them.

Their silence was thunderous. Cassian’s cock visibly hardened, straining against his leathers. Azriel’s breath hitched, his wings expanding slightly. Rhysand’s eyes went nearly black.

“Fuck,” Cassian muttered lowly, taking a step forward. “You trying to kill us?”

You smile in response, leaning on your knees and reaching for him. Hands slow as you unbuckle his uniform, reaching inside to free his cock. He was thick, flushed and heavy in your palm. You licked a long, slow stripe up the length of him, eyes locked on his.

“Cassian,” you speak against his length, using your hand to move up and down the shaft in firm tugs. “You are the shield. The reason I can breathe easily. You’d burn the world to keep me safe, I just wish I could protect you the same. I love your strength, but it’s your heart that undoes me. So let me undo you.”

He groans, hips twitching as you take him as deep as your body will accept, tongue swirling around the head before bobbing lower. Your lips stretched wide, spit slicking your chin as you gagged around him, throat tightening, loving the weight of him against your tongue.

“So perfect,” you whispered against the tip of him. “Big, beautiful, yours. I love how you taste. Long how you feel in my mouth, Cass.”

“Fucking hell, Sweetheart,” he growled. “Your mouth’s made for this- mine.”

His hands fisted at his sides, the strain obvious as his hair falls into his eyes that are still staring at only you.

“I want you to come,” you beg, voice wrecked. “Come for me, Cassian, give it to me.”

With a curse, a steady hand resting on the back of your head, he spilt hot and thick down your throat. You swallowed every drop of his salty goodness, moaning as you did so. As he eases out of your both, you kiss his hipbone, praising him through it, licking him clean until he nearly trembles from the stimulation.

Cassian steps back, brushing his fingers through his hair until it’s out of his eyes and collapses back into the armchair by the roaring fire.

Azriel. He’s watching and waiting on the edge of the bed, his eyes fierce with emotions that he rarely verbalises, not that he’d need to, you can sense, feel how he feels. You crawl to him, ignoring the ache in your knees. Slower this time, your fingers run over his powerful thighs, palming his cock through his pants, feeling it throb in response.

“Az. I see all of you. I feel you. And I love every scar, every shadow, every silent part of you. Protecting us even without being physically there.”

He swallows, and you marvel at the sight of his beautifully tanned throat bobbing at the effort. A single finger runs from your temple, over your cheeks and to your chin, tipping it up whilst wiping some saliva from your time with Cassian.

“I need you.” his voice is rough and low, and your core tightens as the huskiness builds. In moments like this, his tough exterior shatters, becoming raw with his emotions.

You freed him and gasped softly- Cassian was thick, but Azriel had length, already leaking and pulsing in your hand. You licked the tip, catching the precum quickly, moaning at the taste, salty like Cassian but somehow having a unique taste. Sldiing him into your mouth as far as you could, tears burning your eyes as he fills your throat.

Azriel’s hands were firm as he brushed over the back of your head in reassuring strokes of his fingers.

“Don’t hold back, Az, use my mouth, I can take it.”

A shudder runs through him. “Please. Fuck-please,” he grunts out, head tipping back so you can admire more of his beautiful throat as he begins to thrust up into your mouth.

You worked him faster, worshipfully, loving how he lost control. You weren’t able to take much into your mouth without gagging so used your hand to stroke the rest of his cock.

When he came, it was with a breathtaking moan, shadows curling tight around your shoulders like an embrace, encouraging your actions as you swallowed every drop until he was slumping back onto the bed.

Rhysand was ready for you, where he was leaning against the wall, watching as you cared for his best friends. His cock was already out, his leathers resting mid-thigh as it had been obvious he’d been touching himself with the way his cock gleamed with the spread precum.

You’d intended to give him a similar treatment, but the High Lord was impatient as he moved towards you, tugging gently on your wrist as he sat further up the bed, resting against the headboard.

“You are my heart, Rhysand. My mind. My breath. Everything I am exists because you let me free.”

“The stars, the sky- I’d tear the world apart for you. I can’t-I need to be inside you,” Rhys rasped, helping you to climb into his lap, thighs straddling his waist, arms around your waist.

You guided him in slowly, gasping at the stretch. Rhys groaned, burying his face in your neck as you sank inch by inch, until he was fulyl seated inside your cunt. It was perfect, he was perfect.

“You feel like fucking heaven. So wet, so fucking tight. So mine.”

You rocked against him, arms around his shoulders, nails digging in as you moaned his name.

“You are mine and I am yours.”

Hearing your possessive words had his hips thrusting hard into you, his cock throbbing and balls tightening and from the moan you were sure he was already close.

“Not yet, let me just–”

Your hips continued to ease up and down, knocking the tip of his cock against that perfect spot, pushing your hips just slightly forward so that you could add pressure to your clit against his abdomen.

You kissed him then, tongues tangling together, so filthy and slow. Rhys whimpers into your mouth.

Then Cassian and Azriel were back, climbing onto the bed on either side of you, as naked as you were, watching as you rode their High Lord.

“Please come inside of me, Rhys,” you beg, cupping his cheeks so that you could stare into his eyes. You could tell he was still trying to hold back, but you didn’t want to wait; you needed to feel him fill you up.

“Shit-Fuck!” When he came, he sobbed your name, the bed trembling in time with his body.

You collapsed against his chest, breathing hard, pussy tightening and throbbing as his cum seeped out of you.

Cassian was behind you instantly, dragging you back onto your hands and knees.

“My turn, again,” he growled as you push your hips back.

He slammed into you. You screamed, back arching, and Rhys caught your hand and laced your fingers together as your eyes closed, overwhelmed by the welcome intrusion.

Azriel kissed your shoulder, your throat, your mouth, drinking down your pathetic whimpers.

Cassian fucked you like he owned you. A man without restraint, and every thrust of his hips was possessive.

“Tell me you’re mine, say it, sweetheart.”

“Yours, always yours,” you cry.

Rhys watched, stroking himself slowly as his cock thickened once more. Azriel leans down, whispering into your ear, “Open your mouth.”

You obey happily, and he fed you his cock again as Cassian drilled into you from behind. Your body shook with the force of it. Chin covered in spit and precum, your cunt soaked with arousal and cum. 

You’d nearly stopped breathing when you came, vision darkening for a second as your entire body tensed, cunt pulsing in waves.

Rhys doesn’t miss a beat and flips you onto your back, Azriel pulling your thighs wide apart as Rhys slides back into your soaked, fluttering cunt.

“Gotta keep you full,” Rhys promises. “You’ll never forget who you belong to.”

You’d not even noticed through your pleasure that Cassian had come with you, but he was there, holding your hands like Rhys had been. Azriel straddled your chest, not resting his weight on you but just so he could lean over your head, gentle hands cupping yoru cheeks as he fucks your mouth again. 

You let them take everything. Your moans echoed, mixed with theirs. Hands touching every inch of you, entirely owned by them. You came over and over until you were barely conscious, too blissed out to even move your body anymore with how good you felt.

Then things slowed, the touches lightened until everyone had found their peaks.

When it was over, they cradled you between them like something sacred: Cassian holding your trembling legs, Azriel wrapped around your side, and Rhys with his hand over his chest.

“I love you,” you say barely loud enough for them to hear, but they do.

“We can feel it here,” Rhys responds, tapping his hand to the centre of his chest.

“Sleep, love”, Azriel instructs, tightening his hold on you.

“You gave us everything. Now it’s our turn to take care of you, always.”

[feelbokkie]

to fall apart

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), heavy angst

warnings: swearing, emotional exhaustion, hints of emotional abuse (none depicted), family trauma

pov: 2nd person

description: After getting a concerning text in the middle of the night, Chan comes to your rescue.

pairing: chan & reader (aka, platonic pairing)

word count: 3,035

a/n: for those of you who saw me post this earlier, unfinished, no you didn't

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

"Can you pick me up?"

As you sit in the passenger seat of Chan's car, wearing one of the hoodies that he happened to have in his car, you can’t help but feel guilty. It's late, too late for the two of you to be parked in front of a 24-hour convenience store. But you didn't want to go to his place yet and you needed to get out of your parent’s house.

With your head leaning against the cool glass of the window, you watch as Chan disappears and reappears through various parts of the convenience store. A few times, you catch him glancing in your direction, with an expression that you can't see all too well from where you are but you know that at least part of it is concern.

Your heart has finally settled down to a normal rhythm after overworking itself for several hours. You're not sure if it's because of the familiar scent from being in Chan's car or the music he has playing while you wait for him or the melodious pattern of the rainfall hitting the car. Or maybe it's simply being out of your house. Either way, you feel calmer and more relaxed.

You also feel exhausted.

"Sorry for making you wait," Chan says as he hops back into the car. He sets a bag in the center console and shuts the door behind him. He pulls the hood of his jacket off, sending raindroplets flying around the car.

"Sorry for making you leave your place at 3 in the morning." You mumble, not moving from your position.

"Don't do that. You didn't make me do anything. If I thought you were bothering me, I would have said so." Chan softly pats your head before reaching for something in the bag. "Give me your wrist."

You give him your left hand without protest. He slowly rolls up your sleeve, careful not to add more discomfort. He looks over your wrist, moving it around like he knows what he's doing while you wince at the forced movement. He offers whispered apologies each time you express even the slightest sign of being in pain.

"Okay, I think it's just a bad sprain and a bruise, not broken." He whispers more to himself than to you. You glance over at him and spot his phone in his lap open to a WebMD page. He gives you back your arm, making sure to rest it on your lap.

He rummages through the bag for a second before pulling out everything. He does his best to place them on his lap, but the limited space being mostly taken over by the steering wheel makes it nearly impossible. Whatever he can't put on his lap is either placed back into the center console or on that dashboard. He takes two cups of ice that you didn't see him holding earlier and emptys the contents into the bag before tying it as tightly as he possibly can. He stacks one of the empty cups into the other before turning them upside down and putting them over the gear stick.

“This is going to be a little cold,”  He warns before gently putting the makeshift icepack over your wrist.

Silence takes over the car again. The music is softer now and partly being drowned out by the pitter-patter of the raindrops hitting the car, falling harder than it was earlier. You rest your head against the headrest and close your eyes, focusing on the rain. Even then, the soothing rhythm is not enough to combat the jackhammering in your head that is slowly, but surely, drowning out every incessant thought flooding your brain.

"Are you hungry?" Chan offers, breaking the silence.

You shake your head and leave it at that.

You are hungry, starving almost. You can't exactly remember the last time you ate anything. Days blurred together in your head, distant and disconnected as if they happened to someone else. And yet, you're drowning in them, caught in the riptide and being dragged further away as the days continue. Classes during the day, work in the evening, and screaming at night.

"You can talk if you want," Chan tries again, words flowing slowly as he chooses his words with gentle care. "Or if you don't we can just sit in silence. Or I can drive around."

You sit there quietly for a moment, trying to figure out where to start. You can't remember what you've already told him, or exactly how much. You're not even entirely sure he knows exactly what's going on in your life at the moment. Still, as you look back at the last few weeks--no, the last few months--your lips remain sealed, trapping every thought and emotion filling your head. Your eyes slowly open. Unfocused and glassy, staring off at the blurry lights coming from the convenience store.

"I'm just so fucking tired," you finally mumble, your voice barely audible, as though you're speaking to yourself rather than to Chan.

Chan waits patiently in silence, hoping that you'll offer more. His hands fidget in his lap with a desire to reach over to you and embrace you in a tight hug. His heart silently shatters in his chest as looks into your eyes, now devoid of the light and warmth he's grown so accustomed to seeing. Now all he can find is a dull, lifeless gaze.

"I just...I can't do this anymore. I can't...I'm exhausted. I don't know what to do. I just..." You ramble, your voice trembling as you try to make sense of your thoughts.

"Just take a deep breath and start again," Chan's voice drops to a gentle tone.

"I can't," Your voice strains. You take one long, shaky breath before trying to swallow the lump forming in your throat. "I can't fucking breathe, Chan. I'm, I'm at the end of my rope here and I don't have it in me to keep holding on."

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to contain the tears that well up in your eyes. Only, one escapes, and then another and another until a steady stream rolls down your cheeks. You can't stop the choked sob that escapes your throat.

No longer able to watch silently from a distance, Chan wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. The sudden warmth and comforting scent of his body washed and shampoo mixed with his laundry detergent force more sobs out of you. Your right-hand rests on his chest, lightly gripping the fabric of his hoodie.

Chan doesn't shush you or try to get you to stop crying. Instead, his hold around you tightens with one hand on your back and the other on the back of your head. The hand on your back moves slowly, going up and down trying to soothe you a bit. Chan's head hangs low, almost resting against yours.

"It's okay, I'm here. Let it all out." His voice is just above a whisper and yet, he's louder than your sobs.

You're not sure how long you sit there crying with Chan holding you. Eventually, when you're out of tears and your throat starts to ache, Chan lets you go and you lean back into your seat. You start to tell him everything that's been happening for the past few months. The arguments between your older brother and your stepdad. How they end in screaming matches in the dead of the night. Your mother's wails to get them to stop. How you're somehow the one responsible for getting them to stop. The tension in your home and how you've been walking on eggshells, worried about setting either one of them off. With hardly any sleep or peace at home, you leave your house right at the crack of dawn and sit in the library on campus trying to get a few minutes of sleep before your first class of the day. How, even though you finish classes relatively early in the day, you'll stay on campus longer to get your school work done or study for exams without the interruption of the usual chaos in your home. You let him know about all of the extra shifts you've taken at work just to avoid the drama, but even that is wearing you down. And that most days, you come home so exhausted that you skip dinner and head straight to bed before being abruptly woken up by more screaming.

"Did they..." His voice trails off, unsure how to finish the question cautiously. But you don't miss how his eyes drift down to your arm before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

"No, neither of them would lay a finger on me." You shift in your seat so you can face him better. "This was an accident."

"Accident how?" There's an air of accusation in his tone, almost like he doesn't believe you. After hearing to story you just told him, you're not sure you'd believe you if you were in his position.

You move the makeshift ice pack to the other side of your wrist. Most of it melted, probably from the heat of your hug with Chan. "It was mostly my fault. Normally I just try to calm them down from the sidelines. But they were really on one today. One of them was drinking. Maybe both of them, I don't know. But they were really getting into each other's face and it looked like they were going to hit each other. I stupidly jumped in between them and got shoved. I tried to catch myself and landed badly. I forgot that they're both taller than me and when they're arguing, I'm quite literally in their blind spots. They both felt horrible...and then they started fighting again because I got hurt. I snapped after that and cussed both of them out before texting you."

"Were they still fighting when you left?" Chan's hand finds your head again. His fingers move slowly and he starts to massage your scalp, almost as if you're a puppy he's trying to calm down.

"Yeah," You sigh as you focus back on the rain running down the windshield. "Pretty sure one or both of them were drinking. It reeked of alcohol. My mom was crying and begging them to stop and begging for me to not leave. She probably thinks I'm not coming back."

Chan stops massaging your scalp and instead taps on your head to get your attention. It takes a second before you face him, part of you is embarrassed that he's watched you break down. And yet, you don't find a single look of judgment on his face. Instead, you meet eyes filled with so much tenderness it hurts. A gentle, understanding smile touching the corners of his mouth appears on his face when you finally look at him. His hand stays on your head, holding it in place as he starts to dry your face with the sleeve on his other hand. "Do you want to?"

"I mean, I don't have a choice. I'm a student working a part-time job. I don't even make enough money to rent a room in someone's house. My brother staying with us was only supposed to be temporary. Temporary means like six-plus months apparently."

"You're more than welcome to stay with us. That storage room that Jeongin puts all his packages in is actually a spare bedroom." Chan chuckles as he drops his hands. He focuses his attention back to your wrist. He grabs a tube that resembles toothpaste and squeezes some on your wrist. He takes a napkin that he has sitting next to his phone and spreads it around, making sure to spread the cool liquid evenly.

"I can't do that,"

Chan looks around for something for a moment before finding it on the floor by your feet. He leans over a container for a wrist brace. He flips it over to the back and starts reading the instructions. "Why not?"

"I can’t do that to you and Jeongin.”

“Do what?” He doesn’t look up as he takes the brace out of the packaging and carefully tugs it onto your wrist. “If anything, you’d be doing both of us a favor. I’ll get to see and hang out with my best friend more often. And Jeongin will be more than grateful to you for getting me off his back.”

“Well if you left the man alone and didn’t get cute aggression around him all the time then maybe he wouldn’t escape from the apartment all of the time.”

Chan finishes adjusting the straps and making sure he didn’t make it too tight before softly patting your hand and looking back at you. “Listen, I’m serious. Isn’t our place closer to the university anyway? You could probably walk. Or we could drop you off sometimes. Way cheaper than the bus.”

You subconsciously chew on your bottom lip as you consider it. Your job is also closer to their apartment than your house, something you were grateful for when you had a shift right after class. And yet, the image of your mom trying to deal with both your brother and stepdad alone pops into your head. You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to erase the image in your head and the sound of your mother’s desperate pleas to stop both men. You bow your head in defeat and let out a small sigh. “It’s not fair to my mom,”

“It’s not fair to you either. Look at me,” Chan tucks his finger under your chin and forces you to look at him. “You are one of the strongest people I know but you’re wearing yourself thin trying to solve everything.”

“Yeah but…it’s my family. At the end of the day, I have to be there for them.”

“Are they there for you? Are they supporting you by keeping you up at night over petty bullshit when they know you have school or work in the morning? What about when you’re picking up extra shifts just to avoid being around them? Or making it impossible to do your school work?”

“All families are complicated, you know that.” You laugh awkwardly as you push Chan’s hand away.

“True, but…” Chan pauses for a moment, studying your face as unspoken words linger between the two of you. He runs his hands through his hair, making the already messy curls even more of a disheveled mess. “At least spend the night tonight. Or for a few days. You have exams coming up, right?”

“I could…but for one, I brought none of my stuff with me. Just grabbed my phone and left when you picked me up.” You hold your half-dead phone up. It’s been buzzing in your pocket the entire time with texts and calls that you can’t be bothered to look at right now. Part of you is scared to check.

“You’re already in your pajamas so you’re fine for now. And I’m sure we can find something for you to wear in the morning. I can take you back home when you get up to grab some stuff.” Chan shrugs as he settles his back against the door.

“Okay sure, let’s say I do stay. We go and get my things and I stay with you until exams are over or whatever. You don’t have a bed in that spare room. And as comfortable as your couch is, I can’t just live in your living room for a week. You, specifically, will go crazy.”

Chan lets out an amused laugh as he stares at you, “That’s cute, you think I’m going to make you sleep on the couch. Real funny joke,”

“Well other than the floor, there’s really no other options.”

“You can take my bed. I like the couch more anyway, it’ll give me a reason to sleep on it without being judged by In.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“If I’m willingly offering my bed, you’re not kicking me out.”

“Yeah but—“

“Stop acting like you’re burdening me. You aren’t. I like being around you and you’re genuinely one of my favorite people. You are not and never will be a burden to me. So get that out of your head.”

The last sentence echoes in your head. You never want to inconvenience or bother people, especially your friends, so they never know you’re going through something until it’s already over. You’re not sure what changed and made you text Chan tonight but you’ve spent most of the time feeling bad for waking him and forcing him out of the warmth of his bed.

You are not and never will be a burden to me.

Those simple words, combined with the soft look in Chan’s eyes hit you harder than they should. Your body feels lighter like a boulder has been lifted off your chest, allowing you to breathe for the first time in years. Possibly for the first time ever.

“H-hey, don’t cry,” Chan sits back up in a panic, rushing to wipe the fresh tears falling down your face. “I think it’s time for you to get some sleep. Pretty sure that convenience store worker is ready to call the cops on us for loitering. Let’s go home, hm? We can just share the bed tonight and talk about the rest later.”

You nod quietly as you wipe your face with your good hand and melt back into the seat. Chan moves everything off the dashboard and center console, haphazardly tossing them into the back seat, before getting settled to drive.

After backing out of the parking space Chan rests his hand on your lap, palm up, waiting for you to take it. You don’t think twice before slipping your good hand into his and resting your head on the window once again. Chan’s fingers lightly tap along to the beat of the song playing.

“Sorry for waking you up and falling apart on you,” You mumble with a small yawn, exhaustion slowly taking over your body.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’ll always be here to pick up the pieces whether you want me to or not.”

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[haikyu-mp4]

A little courage – Kyotani x reader wc 683 – f!reader requested by @dira333 for A blast from the past, parenting edition<3

Kyotani was quite nervous about delivering your son, Masuo, to his first day at school. It was such an important day, and Kyotani knew he could look somewhat… uninviting. Despite knowing you trusted him with this, he had his doubts. He almost wished he could send Koganegawa in as an actor in his stead, but the protectiveness he felt for his role as your husband and Masuo’s stepdad made him throw that idea straight in the mental dumpster.

So here he was, helping Masuo out of the car and trying to evade negative thinking. However, his natural frown softened when the boy wasn’t moving from the car, planting himself on the edge of the seat where Kyotani had opened the car door. “Hey, bud. Ready to go?” he asked, hoping he sounded somewhat encouraging.

“You’re not leaving right away, are you?” Masuo mumbled, looking up at Kyotani with the most puppylike eyes he had ever seen. He drew a sharp breath, glancing over his shoulder before ruffling Masuo’s hair a little for attempted comfort.

“I’ll be there until they bring you inside,” he promised, shoulders raising subtly in uncertainty. While he was proud to be the boy’s stepdad, he hadn’t had any practice in the dad role, and often felt awkward in his attempts at parenting.

Masuo was kicking his legs, lip hanging in a pout and fingers fiddling. “I’m scared I won’t make friends.”

Kyotani was taken back to his school days, back when he truly felt like he didn’t fit in with anyone. If only he had the courage to take the first step, maybe he could have made friends even though he was of the brash kind.

“Listen,” he started, squatting a bit to be at eye level. “Making friends can be real scary. I think so, too.” Masuo nodded slowly, and Kyotani copied it. “Yeah. But I think the best thing you can do is take the first step. Show them how brave you are.”

The little boy sniffled a couple more times, as if his body was loading the information through his nose. Then finally, he smiled, wiping off any tears and snot on his shirt sleeve before jumping out of the car. “I’m going to make a friend! Just like mama said!” Masuo swore loudly to whoever could hear it, puffing out his chest to demonstrate his bravery. In contrast, he grabbed his stepdad’s hand tightly before stepping forward.

Hurriedly, Kyotani locked the car and tucked the key away in his pocket, before he realised he still had Masuo’s backpack on his shoulder. The very special one he had chosen for himself, with a range of dinosaurs on it. “Wait, buddy.”

Masuo hummed to show he was listening before gasping at the realisation. “My backpack!”

“You have to have this on. It’s so cool, everyone will want to be your friend. You know, even Tsukishima said it was awesome,” Kyotani said like it was some well-kept secret.

With newfound vigour and the backpack on, Masuo led them into the schoolyard.

The connection was immediate. The kids were all mostly looking to make friends, and it seemed like Masuo felt much better with a little extra courage on his shoulders.

Kyotani had his hands tucked deep in his pockets, except for lifting his phone now and then to take a photo you could see later. Unfortunately, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of stares from parents around him. Cold sweat clung underneath his collar, making him itch to move along. He almost forgot why he was there until he heard it.

“Is that your dad?” a girl asked, pointing at Kyotani with no sense of discretion.

“That’s my stepdad. He’s a professional volleyball player and super tough,” Masuo answered so proudly that Kyotani felt flustered. The topic moved on to comparing their backpacks and discussing possible Beyblade tournaments in the schoolyard, but Kyotani had to strain himself not to tear up at the simple gesture from before.

If there was anything in Masuo that resembled you most, it was your absolute support of Kyotani exactly as he was.

masterlist

/finally had some inspiration for this one from a brainstorm with @cottonlemonade<3

[milk-bby]

For a fic request could you do fluff with alanas? Pretty please and thank yous 🫶🫶 and I live ur work🫶

Melted hearts.

Alanas Brasas x reader

Wordcount: 1.0k

Warnings; fluff. so many pop-culture refrences. marvel slander (my bad chat). not beta read as i started writing at 10pm. Established relationship (can you guys tell i like this trope yet.)

A/n: THANK YOU ANON!! MY SECOND ALANAS FIC YAYY!! I hope you all like this one as much as the last one, because i enjoyed writing this one too. also i like his nose in that first pic so pretty. Fun fact: I called my friend's (@xbugs) planet zoo anteaters "Sigmund" and "Freud".

ENJOY!!

“Can I help you?”

Alanas looks at you suspiciously as you stand in the doorway of the living room, a bowl of chopped mango in your hand. Slowly, you pad over, setting it on the coffee table. 

“.... i’m cold.” You mutter, dressed in his shirt and some tights. Without a word you sit next to him, lips staying pin straight, but your eyes glinting with a mischievous hint behind the irises he adores. 

“You can put the hea- … no. no, you wouldn’t.”

You only grin wider, quick to move. He squirms before letting out an uncharacteristic squawk as you lay your frigid hands under his hoodie and onto his bare stomach. You cackle evilly, as if this was a huge betrayal scene in the millionth marvel movie that has the exact plot every time. 

When he finally adjusts to the temperature of your hands, he lets out a shuddering breath, giving you a disapproving glance with a slight pout that only you would notice. 

“You’re evil. So so evil.”

You don’t even move to deny such a claim, taking your hands out of his hoodie for now, going back to your fruit. You savour a cube of the juicy fruit that you dressed with a small bit of syrup. From your peripherals, you can see him slowly creep his hands towards your bowl. You only give him a side glance, frozen in place as you see his fingers grasp onto a big piece of the mango. If he didn’t want his phone to become sticky, you just know that you would have the most diabolical 0.5 taken of you with your cheeks half-full like a hamster suspicious of its owner’s hand changing the water bottle.

“... Not even a thank you? His greed sickens me.”

He laughs at your jab, getting out an “ačiū” before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You slightly grimace at the sticky residue now on your skin from his lips, but he only grins back as if this was payback doubly for the sin of touching him with cold hands. You believe he much prefers them warm, engulfed in his during any activity. 

“You’re a thief.” He mutters suddenly.

“Oh for stealing your heart? Har har.” You wittily respond, almost expecting him to use a shitty one-liner that only ever works in a rom-com with too many sex scenes and no character development. Instead you get the opposite of what you expected.

“Sure, but that’s not your shirt. Or your mango.”

You stare at him blankly.

“...”

“...”

He stares back, just as playful as you are.

“Is this a ploy? I’m not falling for it.”

“Tt. I’m not an animal, you know… Except when I shred that guitar.”

Another silence runs between you from such a confident line you’d hear in a DisneyXD show or even in a series with the same quality writing as Miraculous Ladybug.

“I’m sorry.” He finally gets out with another tug at his lips.

“There’s no way you’re laughing at your own joke, man, what the hell. I felt like that one Gnomeo and Juliet clip of the frog dying from cringe.”

“It’s not a crime.”

“You’re making a good case for it to be a crime.”

“Wow.”

You both crack, leaning against each other as both of your laughter fills the room. The sound of joy being common between you both but it never changes. Even when your laugh lasts slightly longer than his does, Alanas doesn’t move to wrap up the joke, instead just looking at you like you’ve hung the stars all by yourself. He holds the same adoration in his gaze as if you had struck his heart with a million different chords that he can construct on each fret of the guitar, the stake of a muse piercing the muscle bluntly enough to rewrite how he loves you with the same result every time. That result will always be you in his arms after the sun descends. 

It will always be you stealing his shirts and the fruit that he had planned to eat but never will. It will always be coming home from uni to find you trying to position your fingers correctly to make a chord on his guitar. 

It will always be you to him, even if you give him a right jolt with hands colder than the melting ice caps.

Your laughter had ended a while ago by now, just staring back at him with the same starry eyes that makes him question if he really deserves the beauty and grace of your love (of which your answer has always been a yes, “what would i do without you?” and a kiss pressed to his lips).

Your lips both meet in the middle, locking together sweetly. You can taste the mango piece he stole from your bowl on his lips still, making you grin like an idiot into his lips. He can only reciprocate that energy with a small humoured huff into your lips, teeth lightly catching your bottom lip as you pull away. 

“Are you still cold?” He whispers against your lips, assuming you have in fact warmed up from all the laughing, his touch and the kiss. He expects a no, despite the fact that he knows you’ll find an excuse to touch him more, to feel your skin on his, heartbeat to heartbeat slowly syncing. 

Predictably, you nod, abandoning the mango to cosy up to him. Alanas raises his eyebrow as you start to lift the edge of his hoodie. With the same deviousness as before, you settle yourself into his hoodie, snuggled under the now stretching fabric. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, already slowing to match yours.

“Hi. This is… drastic, isn’t it sweetheart?”

“Maybe. But you’re warm. Can you blame me?”

“I guess not.”

[onlyforsebastianstan]

A Fox Among Heroes

Summary: When a skilled fighter joins the Avengers, she hides her true identity as a kitsune, a seven-tailed fox spirit with an uncontrollable charm that bewitches men.

Genre: Romantic Comedy / Superhero Fantasy / Fluff

Warnings: Mild language, comedic depictions of magical infatuation, light action violence, emotional themes of self-doubt and guilt

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader! nine tailed fox

A/n: I wanna make up for the heart break I caused you guys, myself included, from "Fractured Light" I give you some fluff and by that I mean literal fluffy short fic. ENJOY!!!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The Avengers Compound buzzed with its usual controlled chaos, sparks flying from Tony’s lab, the distant thump of Thor’s hammer against a training dummy, and Natasha’s sharp commands echoing from the sparring ring. You, the newest recruit, stood at the edge of the training room, adjusting the wraps on your hands. Your heart raced, not from nerves but from the constant vigilance of guarding your secret. You were no ordinary fighter. Beneath your human exterior pulsed the spirit of a nine-tailed fox, though you were only on your sixth tail, a fact you kept hidden from everyone, even the world’s mightiest heroes.

Your skills had earned you a place among them. Natasha Romanoff herself had nodded approvingly after you’d matched her move for move in a sparring session, her lips curling into a rare smile. “Not bad, rookie,” she’d said, tossing you a towel. “Keep up like that, and you might just survive us.” The others had warmed to you quickly, Steve with his earnest encouragement, Tony with his relentless teasing, and Clint with his easy camaraderie. But it was Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, who lingered in your orbit most often.

Bucky was quiet, observant, his steel-blue eyes tracking you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He’d offer small gestures, a water bottle after training, a steady hand when you stumbled during a mission debrief, a soft “You okay?” when you looked lost in thought. You weren’t sure why he’d taken to you, but his presence was a comfort, like a warm hearth in a storm.

You’d been with the team for three months when disaster struck. An ambush hit the compound at dawn, a swarm of HYDRA operatives breaching the perimeter with tech that rivaled Tony’s. Alarms blared, and the Avengers sprang into action. You fought alongside them, your movements fluid and precise, dodging energy blasts and disarming enemies with the grace of a predator. Your training kept your instincts in check, but the battle pushed you to your limits.

As the last HYDRA agent fell, you stood panting in the courtyard, adrenaline coursing through you. That’s when you felt it, a tingling warmth spreading from your core. Your eyes widened as you glanced down, and your breath caught. Seven shimmering tails, each tipped with a faint golden glow, fanned out behind you. Your fox ears, soft and pointed, twitched atop your head. The transformation had happened without warning, triggered by the intensity of the fight.

“Oh no,” you whispered, hands flying to cover your ears. You spun, trying to tuck your tails behind you, but they were too voluminous, too alive with energy. The Avengers, scattered across the courtyard, had frozen, their eyes locked on you. Tony’s jaw hung open, his arc reactor humming faintly. Steve’s shield lowered slightly, his brow furrowed. Natasha’s expression was unreadable, but her hand hovered near her holster.

“What… the hell?” Tony finally said, stepping forward. “Are those… tails?”

You stammered, your face burning. “I—I can explain—”

“Explain?” Tony interrupted, circling you like a curious scientist. “Kid, you’ve got a full-on fox vibe going on. This is next-level cosplay or… something else entirely.”

Thor boomed with laughter, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “A kitsune! A spirit of legend! I’ve heard tales of such beings in Midgard’s folklore. Magnificent!”

You winced, your tails twitching nervously. “It’s not… I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m still learning to control it.”

Bucky, who’d been silent until now, stepped closer, his eyes wide but not with fear, something softer, warmer. “You’re a fox?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

“A nine-tailed fox,” you corrected, then bit your lip. “Well, seven tails now. I… I wasn’t ready to tell anyone.”

Natasha crossed her arms, her gaze sharp but not unkind. “Why keep it a secret? We’ve got a literal god and a guy who turns green on this team. You think we’d care?”

“It’s not that,” you said, your ears flattening slightly. “It’s… complicated. My kind... have abilities that can… affect people. I didn’t want to risk it.”

“Abilities?” Steve asked, his tone cautious but curious.

You hesitated, then sighed. “Like… charm. It’s not something I control easily. When I’m in this form, it can just… happen. Especially with men.” Your eyes flicked to Bucky, and you quickly looked away, your cheeks flushing.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Charm, huh? So, what, you’re like a walking rom-com trope?”

“It’s not funny, Tony,” you snapped, your tails swishing in agitation. “It’s dangerous. I don’t want to manipulate anyone.”

To your surprise, Bucky chuckled softly, the sound easing some of your tension. “You’re not manipulating me,” he said, his voice steady. “I’d know.”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. His eyes held no judgment, only a quiet understanding that made your heart ache.

“Okay,” Steve said, breaking the moment. “So, what now? Can you… change back?”

You shook your head, your ears drooping. “Not yet. It takes time—maybe a week. I can’t retract the tails or ears until the energy settles.”

“A week?” Clint whistled. “That’s gonna make stealth missions interesting.”

Thor grinned. “I say we celebrate! A new tail is a milestone, yes? A sign of growth in your power!”

You blinked, then let out a small, surprised laugh. Your tails flicked, and you couldn’t help the small hop you gave, your fox instincts bubbling up. “It… it is kind of exciting,” you admitted, your voice brightening. “Seven tails means I’m getting stronger.”

Natasha smirked. “Alright, Foxy. Let’s get you inside before Tony tries to dissect you.”

The next few days were a whirlwind of adjustment. Your tails and ears drew stares, but the team adapted quickly. Tony, predictably, called you “Tails” nonstop, while Clint tried to pet your tails “for science” until Natasha swatted his hand away. Steve asked earnest questions about your powers, and Thor insisted on toasting your new tail with mead. Bucky, though, was a constant. He’d sit with you during meals, his quiet humor coaxing smiles, or train beside you, his presence steady and reassuring.

But your charm was a ticking time bomb. By the third day, it began to leak. It started with Clint, who lingered too long at breakfast, staring at you with a goofy grin. “You know, your eyes are… really sparkly,” he said, leaning closer.

“Clint, focus,” Natasha snapped, yanking him back by his collar.

Then it was Tony, who started leaving you gadgets “just because.” “Made you a tail-polishing bot yet?” he asked, winking.

Steve wasn’t immune either. He blushed when you caught him staring during a briefing, stammering, “I, uh, just noticed your… ears. They’re… nice.”

Thor, bless him, was unaffected, too godly for your charm to sway. “Fear not, Lady Fox! Your spirit is mighty, but my heart belongs to Jane!” he declared, oblivious to the chaos.

You were mortified, your ears drooping as you apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry! I can’t control it in this form!”

Natasha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Great. Half the team’s acting like lovesick puppies.”

Bucky, for his part, was a constant presence. He’d sit with you during meals, his quiet humor coaxing smiles from you. He’d train beside you, offering pointers with a gentleness that belied his strength. And when you’d curl up in the common room, your tails tucked around you like a blanket, he’d sit nearby, reading or cleaning his gear, a silent guardian.

It was on the sixth day that it happened. You were in the kitchen, reaching for a mug, when Bucky walked in. His hair was mussed from training, his shirt clinging to his frame, and something in you snapped. Your tails glowed faintly, and a warmth spread through you, unbidden. You turned, meeting his eyes, and your voice came out softer, sweeter than you intended. “Hey, Bucky. Want some coffee?”

He froze, his pupils dilating slightly. “Uh… yeah. Sure.” His voice was rough, and he stepped closer, his movements almost trance-like. “You… you look nice today.”

Your heart sank. You recognized the signs, the glazed look, the way his attention fixed on you. Your charm had activated, and Bucky was caught in its pull. “Bucky, I—” You stepped back, but he followed, his expression dazed but adoring.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, reaching out as if to touch your tails. “I’ve never seen anything like you.”

Panic gripped you. You bolted from the kitchen, your tails streaming behind you, and locked yourself in your room. Your heart pounded as you leaned against the door, guilt twisting in your chest. You liked Bucky like really liked him, and now he was under your spell, his feelings warped by your kitsune magic.

The next morning, the team noticed. Bucky hovered near you, offering you snacks, carrying your gear, and smiling like a lovesick teenager. Loki, unaffected by your charms, raised an eyebrow during a meeting. “Okay, what’s with Barnes? He’s worse than Clint.”

You sighed, your ears drooping. “It’s my charm. I didn’t mean to, but it got Bucky too. He’s… well they're... obsessed until my tails retract.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “So, they're basically your personal fanboy until you’re human again?”

You nodded miserably. “I hate it. I… I like him, okay? But this isn’t real. He doesn’t actually feel this way—it’s just the charm.”

Bucky frowned, his brow furrowing. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice firm despite the haze in his eyes. “I’ve felt this way for a while. The charm just… makes it harder to hide.”

You shook your head, tears prickling your eyes. “You don’t understand, Bucky. It’s not you talking. It’s the magic.”

He reached for your hand, but you pulled away, your tails curling protectively around you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, fleeing the room.

The next day, your tails and ears finally retracted, your human form restored. You braced for Bucky to snap out of it, to return to his usual reserved self. But he didn’t. He still sought you out, still lingered near you, still looked at you with that same warmth that made your heart flutter and ache.

“Something’s wrong,” you muttered to Natasha as you watched Bucky spar with Steve, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds. “The charm’s gone, but he’s still… like this.”

Natasha smirked. “Maybe it’s not the charm, Foxy. Maybe the guy’s just head over heels.”

You shook your head. “That’s impossible. He was under my spell. It’s probably some lingering effect.”

But as the days turned into weeks, Bucky’s behavior didn’t change. He’d bring you coffee in the mornings, sit with you during movie nights, and talk with you late into the night about everything from his past to your hopes for the future. Your guilt began to fade, replaced by a cautious hope that Nipples areola.

One evening, as you sat on the compound’s rooftop, your tails long gone but your heart still heavy, Bucky joined you. He sat beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the silence was comfortable but charged.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said quietly, no accusation in his tone.

You hugged your knees, staring at the stars. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I was scared.”

“Of what?”

You took a deep breath. “That you didn’t really feel what you said you did. That it was just the charm.”

He turned to you, his eyes soft but intense. “I told you, it wasn’t just the charm. I’ve been falling for you since the day you walked in here, kicking Natasha’s ass in the ring.”

You laughed despite yourself, your cheeks warming. “I didn’t kick her ass.”

“Close enough,” he teased, his smile small but genuine. “Look, I get why you’re scared. That charm thing… it’s a lot. But I know what’s real. I’ve been through enough to know when my head’s not my own.”

You searched his face, your heart pounding. “How can you be sure?”

He reached out, his flesh hand gentle as it brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Because when I look at you, it’s not just some spell. It’s you. Your laugh, your strength, the way you light up when you talk about something you love. The way you try so hard to keep everyone safe, even from yourself.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away. “Bucky, I… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” he said, his voice steady. “And if you’re worried about the charm coming back, then we’ll figure it out together. I’m not going anywhere.”

You laughed softly, wiping your eyes. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

He grinned, a rare, full smile that made your heart skip. “Maybe I just like foxes.”

You shoved his shoulder playfully, and he caught your hand, pulling you closer. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative, questioning kiss. You melted into him, your hands finding his shoulders, and the kiss deepened, warm and real and everything you’d been afraid to hope for.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “Still think it’s the charm?” he murmured.

You smiled, your heart full. “Maybe it’s a little bit of magic. But… I think it’s mostly you.”

He kissed you again, and under the starlit sky, surrounded by the quiet hum of the compound, you felt the weight of your fears lift. Charmed or not, Bucky was yours, and you were his. And that was more than enough.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@beef-brisket

Days had passed with little to no communication from either devils. Adam didn’t mind so much as he was busy with his own business.

Which was of course cleaning up the mess that Lucifer had created. The first thing he did was create a new half way house.

He didn’t just re-build the burnt down former palace. He created a whole new one altogether. That way Lucifer could stay in the manor that was his home for a millennia.

The next thing he did was take away all and any power an overlord had during Lucifer’s reign. No more would a sinner have power equivalent to a royal or aristocrat.

He then found the disbanded group of tormentors and banded them once more. To say that Blitz was pleased would be an understatement.

All in all Adam would say that everything was coming together again with him in charge. He just wished that Lucifer would at least glance at him.

He understood that he would never forgive him for hurting his daughter. However, his eyes were still closed when it came to Lilith.

Even after all that she had done to him. They say that love is blind but Lucifer had downright gouged his eyes out with his utter devotion to her.

He simply wished that he would finally wake up from whatever fantasy he had of the first woman.

Little did he know he would get exactly for what he wished for. In an unexpected visit from the former Queen of Hell herself.

—

Lucifer was walking down the hallway on his way to where Adam’s office was.

Since he restored the manor to its former glory the king of Hell had taken to staying here for days at a time.

Claiming that he simply wished to see Lucifer settling in alright. Even though it had been more than over a half since he came back.

Now the former ruler had decided that he and Adam needed to talk. About what? He wasn’t quite sure himself.

He just knew that they needed to let out whatever they both held inside for one another. The good and the bad feelings.

He was only a few feet away from the door when he saw that it was not only open by a creak, but there were also voices coming from within.

One of them sounding strikingly familiar.

Not being able to help himself he crept towards the door and peaked through. What he saw made his heart leap to his throat.

There standing in the middle of the room while Adam sat at his desk was his ex wife.

Lucifer: Lily…..

He whispered the name underneath his breath. As if it was both a curse and blessing to say it.

Lilith: I don’t understand why you are so hung up what happened Adam. That was literally ten thousand years ago.

Adam paused in his paperwork, his pen stilling as he glared up at her from where he sat.

Adam: You told Lucifer that I abused you in Eden. You made him turn on me, helped him seduce Eve, and bring about evil into the world. What is there not to be upset about?

Lilith: Oh Adam, we both know what it takes to survive. This is a dog eat dog world where we have to do what is needed to get what we wish for. You above anyone else should know about that. In any case I’m not here to talk about the past.

Adam: Then why are you here Lilith?

Lilith giggled as she walked over to the desk, pushed the papers off, lifted herself up, and sat her behind down.

Lilith: I was hoping that maybe we could speak of the future. Our future.

Adam scoffed pushing his chair back as far as it could go: Your future with me includes a dark, damp cell in the worst part of my dungeons. I know what you’re trying to do, and I will not fall for your charms so easily as Lucifer had.

Lilith: Addy come on baby I know I was a bad girl before but you would have to be absolutely insane not to take me back.

Adam: Then call Bel because I am. Lucifer’s here why don’t you go to him? He may not be kind but he still is highly devoted to you. Even defended your honor when I tried telling him the truth about Eden.

Lilith rolled her eyes: What does that useless little worm have to offer me now? Nothing that’s what. But you? You are much more suited for my needs than that pathetic little angel. And much more handsome if I do say so myself. At least I wouldn’t have to break my back bending down to kiss you.

She giggled into her hand as the being she spoke of felt his heart crack and break all over again.

She…..lied to him. About everything. She was nothing more than a SNAKE!!!

HI IT'S ME-! I HAVE AN AU FOR YOU!

God of War!au

👀👀👀

It's set during the extermination. Adam and Lucifer's fight is like Thor and Kratos' fight.

Adam: You think you can fall down here, start a family, and get a clean slate after all of the shit you caused?!

Lucifer glares, struggling to hit back Adam's axe.

Adam: That's not how it works! You're a destroyer, like me!

Lucifer's quickly lost strength, and Adam manages to smack him over the head with his axe, killing him.

Everyone screams as Lucifer falls back, golden blood running down his head.

Adam: Oh no. I say when we're done, asshole!

Lucifer's eyes snap open as Adam shoots holy light into him. He convulsed on the ground as his senses started coming back.

Lucifer: S-Sto-.

Adam: Fight. Me. Asshole. Like you fucking mean it.

@beef-brisket

(Interesting)

Lucifer: A, Adam n, n, no-

Adam growled: I have had enough of this! You WILL fight me!!!

Lucifer may be battered and bruised and barely able to lift a single finger but because of his pride he was unable to beg for mercy.

Lucifer: D, do it! ...pussy!

That was it as Adam felt all his hatred and rage boil down to him in that point with one clean cut, Lucifer's head rolled down.

The demons and angels could only watch as Adam proceeded to chop Lucifer's body into piece after piece.

When Charlie finally realized what Adam was doing after her moment of shock had passed she screamed.

Her screams echoed across the pride as everyone shook from her mournful cry.

Adam stopped what he was doing and turned to the princess, watching her with a mere raised brow. She trampled forward, ready to enact vengeance on her fallen father.

However, Adam was ready for her.

He had been the moment she was born.

When she had gotten close enough he shot a powerful beam of holy light in her direction, disintegrating her entire existence.

The so-called anti-Christ was nothing more than a pile of ash.

Vaggie: CHARLIE!!!

Oh yeah, he almost forgot about the traitor.

He flew right up to her and decided that an extra punishment would be in order. He was no longer taking disrespect from a former soldier.

He held her in a vice grip and refused to let go. He saw the demons around her moving quickly to attack him, but he moved faster.

He took off to the sky high above. But not too far away that she wouldn't be able to see what was to happen.

Adam: NOW!!!

The sinner's eyes widened as the remaining exorcist girls sliced the hotel's residents with their spears.

The former soldier could only watch in despair as the people she had grown close to were butchered and mutilated before her.

Vaggie: NOOOO!!!!!

Adam: You only have yourself to blame, Vaggie.

He then gripped onto the base of her wings and started to swing her around. He threw her so hard that soon she could feel the familiar sting of her wings separating from her body.

When her dizziness dissipated, she could see Adam smiling cruelly at her while he held onto the only thing that gave her the ability to fly.

She screamed as she hurdled towards the earth. Was this what it was like to feel true helplessness?

When she had reached the near ground, she was met with only the steel of angelic metal. She gasped as she began to cough up blood.

How could this have happened? They were the good guys. They were supposed to win.

Good prevails evil.

That's how the story goes...or at least how it's supposed to.

Her vision began to blur as she began to feel cold. She saw two figures approach her. Immediately telling who it was when she heard her voice.

Lute: A debt has been paid...But I think I'll make do on my promise.

She unsheathed her sword and, with one swoop, cut out her good eye. Watching it pop right out as at long last the traitor was dead.

In the midst of it all, there was Adam with his right hand standing by proudly. The cannibal army left not too long ago. Not wanting to take any chances with their souls.

However, too bad for them Adam wasn't finished. In fact, he was just getting started.

Adam: I have had enough.

[dollfacefantasy]

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x bratty!fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: for the first time ever, jason needs dick's help with a client. upon meeting you, dick understands why. you're a handful - bratty, needy, the whole deal. luckily for everyone involved, dick has a soft spot for brats and jason has a tendency to follow in his footsteps.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, praise/degradation, gun play, brat taming, dacryphilia

wc: 12.9k

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, but i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up unfortunately. anyways comm for the sweetest ever @fearcvlt. thank you again hehe. as always reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

part 2

Dick watched the numbers above the elevator door light up one at a time. Every couple seconds, the soft glow moved one space to the right. It started with 1, 2, 3 and now landed on 67, 68, 69. Finally 70 lit up and a soft ding sounded through the cabin.

He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and took a deep breath. When Jason had texted him a few days ago, he made this situation sound dire.

Dick had been in the middle of working out, pulling himself up and down using the rings hanging from the ceiling of the gym. The chime of his phone pulled him from the focus that came with his muscles burning and sweat dripping from his hairline.

'Are we allowed to drop clients?' was the first message he saw.

But then another quickly followed.

'It's been a full twenty-four hours.'

At first he wondered if it was a joke, but Jason didn't really joke about clients.

He tried thinking to himself what case he'd even been assigned to. That gig at the shipping yard had wrapped up by now, and that stalking victim had canceled on them for another security firm.

Then he remembered. That Monday Jason was supposed to start with the senator's daughter.

Something must have really been wrong for him to want to drop that. It was one of the best jobs they'd been offered since starting up their agency. It was full-time protection, meaning round the clock, 24/7 pay.  Also a high profile contractor like a senator meant word of mouth getting around to his colleagues, similar types who would want some security for their own twenty-something-aged brats.

'We can't drop her. Maybe I can see about someone swapping cases with you. Did something happen?' was all he responded with.

The reply was instant. 'I'll take literally anything else.'

'She can't be that bad,' he sent in return.

'You take her then. Find out for yourself.'

He rolled his eyes at his dramatics. There was no way you could really be so awful. While Jason didn't joke about work that much, he loved to complain. Shaking his head, Dick typed back a final message.

'Keep your head for the next few days. I'll come see what I can do over the weekend.'

So that was what he planned on doing for at least the next five or so days. He had said the weekend, but it was Thursday now, and he didn't have to do anything else till next Wednesday. Plus, he figured Jason would try his hardest to rope him in for longer if things with you hadn't changed.

He walked into the entrance hall of the penthouse, eyes briefly scanning his surroundings like they always do upon entering somewhere new. The design was sleek. A classy white end table sat below a large mirror with delicate decorations adorning its surface. A plush rug rolled down the hallways to a set of French doors.

One glance around told him this was all expensive. Every detail chosen by someone young, experiencing their first taste of independence. It was cute in a way. At least he thought so. He could only imagine the distaste Jason had reacted with upon seeing the pink candles or vases of dainty flowers.

He continued in the direction of what he assumed was the living room. Though he had only taken a few more steps across the fuzzy rug before he heard loud voices muffled by the doors ahead. He paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to determine the severity.

The first voice he knew belonged to Jason. It boomed with annoyance, loud and brash. The other was higher pitched.  He waited a few moments, feeling out the rhythm of the argument. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no third party, which meant it wasn't any serious danger.

He took another breath and braced himself to be put in the middle of whatever spat you two were having. Jason still hadn't been clear about what his exact problem with you was, so he didn't know what to fully expect. From the few things he had said over the phone, he gained the impression you were just a spoiled rich girl, and Jason's temper wasn't made to deal with any of those.

Grabbing one of the bronze handles, Dick pushed the door open. From where he stood in the alcove that held the doors, he didn't think either of you had noticed him enter.

The scene looked as he expected. Jason leaned against the pristine ivory island in the kitchen while you stood at the back of the large taupe sectional that spanned through the living area. You had your arms crossed over your chest, your foot looking as if you had just stamped it on the hardwood below. Jason, on the other hand, appeared as though he was about to explode. His fingers rubbed at his eyes before he spoke.

"For the last goddamn time, I'm not taking you, so find something else to do.”

"No. It's not your job to tell me what to do. You're only getting paid to follow me around where I wanna go," you retorted.

"I'm not taking you to the fucking mall!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms open, "Christ, you have a cell phone, a laptop, and an ipad. You could probably even use that watch you got on your wrist to shop."

"But it's not the same," you pouted.

Upon hearing that, it seemed like Jason's brain was actually on the verge of malfunctioning. In an attempt to help out, Dick walked the rest of the way in.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his voice much cooler than the tense argument that preceded it.

Immediately, both sets of eyes were on him. Jason's features melted into relief while yours swirled with curiosity.

"Is this your boss?" you asked. Your arms fell to smooth out the small shorts you had on before they rose again to make sure your hair was in place.

Meanwhile, a sneer spread on Jason's face again. "No. We're partners," he said.

"C'mon, Jason. I like to think of us as friends before coworkers," Dick teased and flashed a smile. That earned him one out of you in return. Right then, he knew this would be easy.

He headed over to the area where you stood, and acting charming as ever, stuck his hand out in search of yours.

You gladly returned the exchange, offering your palm up for shaking like a trained puppy.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he introduced. He wrapped his fingers around your hand with a firm grip.

Your smile widened before those soft lips parted to expel the syllables of your own name. You were being so much sweeter now that your sights had been set on someone besides Jason. Jason, who was currently watching with a mix of disbelief and irritation as your bratty temperament melted away before his eyes.

"Would you mind showing me where I could put my stuff?" Dick asked.

"Oh sure," you answered, "Follow me."

You waved him in your direction before prancing through an archway that led to a small area with a few doors and the stairs.

"I'll just show you where everything is while we're at it. That's the main bathroom. That's the office. And then up the stairs is where all the bedrooms are."

He followed behind you through the small room and then up the curved staircase. Jason trailed behind him, watching like this mask of pleasantness would fall away to reveal your true attitude any second.

Your hips swayed as you walked up each step. He felt like the way your ass jutted out a little as they did was intentional, but it didn't matter. Dick could be professional when he needed to be. He kept his eyes averted and stayed along your path.

After the stairs, you led them down a thin strip of lofted walkway that overlooked the living room and kitchen. With one hand on the silver railing, you explained each door that lined the wall as you went.

"That's the smaller living room. That's the second bathroom. That's the guest room Jason is staying in. And here is yours," you said as you got to the second to last door. You pushed it open and gestured proudly at the space.

"Looks nice. Thank you," he said before heading in. 

He tossed his bag on the bed and glanced around. It truly was nice. The bed looked like one out of a five star hotel. The end tables were polished and seemed as though they'd never seen a visitor throughout their time here. And then there were the floor-to-ceiling windows against the farthest wall. There was nothing to see outside right now. This floor rested so high up, clouds engulfed the glass panes.

"Mhm," you hummed before biting your lip, "And my room is the last door. There's always extra space in my bed if you don't like this one."

"But I thought you said I was a perv for suggesting that?" Jason interjected and shot you a glare from where he leaned against the door frame.

"Ummm, yeah, you are," you deadpanned, "I'm offering it to him, not the other way around like you did, obviously."

"It was a joke," Jason grumbled.

Before the tension could bubble over again, Dick laughed and looked over his shoulder at your teasing expression. "You know, I appreciate the offer, but this looks like more than enough for now."

"Ok, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you put your stuff away while I figure out what we can get for dinner," you told him before stepping back out of the room.

Dick waited a few moments to make sure you were really gone before turning to Jason and smirking. 

"That's who you've been having such a hard time with?" he mocked.

"I swear that's the best she's been all week. When it's just me, she doesn't quit. She goes on and on and on. Whining, complaining. It's borderline harassment to be honest," he responded and crossed his arms.

"Oh come on," he laughed, "She's as hard to deal with as a kitten."

"For you," he responded, "Once she gets bored of you, she'll act the same."

"Guess we're banking on the fact that I'm a lot more entertaining than you then, huh?" he teased.

"Shut up," Jason scoffed before turning and leaving the room too.

Over the next couple hours, Dick got settled in his room and then migrated back downstairs to feel out the situation here. Already he could guess why Jason didn't like you, but if things continued the way they were, he wouldn't mind slipping into his place. A full day of pay, and all he'd have to do is flirt back and forth with you every now and again.

In the living room, you laid back in the corner of your couch. Some tv show played as background noise while you scrolled through your phone. He made an effort to talk to you, to subtly observe more of your personality. Fortunately, you were pretty open to his attempts. Once he found a subject you liked, it was like flood gates opened. You couldn't have been more eager for someone to talk with.

Poor thing, he thought. You had everything you could want, but you were still so starved for attention.

As he listened to you chatter about your favorite tv show or something that happened last summer between you and your friend, he could see the quirks in you that drove Jason up the wall.

For one, you had a tendency to pout. He didn't think you were even aware of it most of the time. While he found it kind of cute, he knew that every time your lip started to puff out, it would send Jason's blood pressure through the roof.

You also were very touchy. Over the course of the short conversation, you drifted from your end of the couch to the cushion right next to Dick. Whenever you laughed your hand landed on his forearm. If he joked around in return, you'd lightly shove his bicep.

It was all pretty juvenile, methods of flirting used most often by kids with their first crushes, but he didn't mind. You were sweet and well-intentioned. Just so desperate to feel wanted.

And admittedly, he played into your desires a bit. He knew Jason would have lambasted him if he was down here right now instead of taking a break in his own room, but Dick didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't the one on call. Though even if he was, it's not like was overtly flirting with you. He was just having some fun and keeping you entertained. A few compliments and well-placed touches. That was it.

He straightened out his behavior a little by the time Jason did return downstairs to join you both for the dinner you'd had delivered.

You stood at the end of the table, graciously distributing the containers of food while they took up a seat on either side of you. Things went pretty smoothly overall. Once you each had a plate with your dishes of choice, you sat down and began to eat.

"You have that big kitchen," Jason commented after a few bites, looking over his shoulder at the room in question, "Do you ever actually cook anything?"

You narrowed your eyes for a moment but responded in the most calm tone of voice. "Yes, I do. But not for you."

Luckily, all that came from the tense exchange was Jason rolling his eyes. Neither of you seemed interested in launching into a full argument when you could focus on the food in front of you instead. A few minutes of quiet passed, but then conversation sprouted back up without an issue.

You asked them how they got into “bodyguarding,” making sure to add that modeling had to have been on the table for Dick. As with most interactions, he responded with a charming laugh. Though this time Jason interrupted to give you the spiel about their past - they worked together under the same mentor at a security company and decided to branch off and start their own as partners.

"Yeah, but why?" you questioned when he concluded his story, "Isn't it like... scary? You have to protect people from stalkers and stuff? That sounds so nerve wracking."

"It's not if you're good at your job like us," Jason dismissed.

Dick saw the frown appear on your face, and he swooped in with an answer of his own to make you feel less discarded. 

"It can be tense sometimes on rough cases, but it's really rewarding, you know? Getting to help people and protect them from the worst parts of life gives us a purpose," he explained.

"That makes sense," you nodded before laughing a little, "I could never do what you two do. I'm wayyyy too scared of being shot."

Dick chuckled, but Jason's look didn't soften at all.

"What is it you plan on doing with your life?" Jason asked.

His tone was short, prime for judgement, but you tried to let it roll off you. You kept your shoulders back as you answered the question, like it was a part of an interview you'd prepared for.

"I'm not totally sure what I'm gonna do with my whole life, but in the spring I'm gonna start working for my dad as an aide. Like when he takes office and everything."

"So what was the point of you going through college when you're guaranteed a job like that anyways?" he asked next.

Dick shot him a look across the table. It was one thing to respond to your whining, but picking a fight was another. He could see the question pricked at a real insecurity of yours. You bristled and tried not to let the weakness show itself.

"Because," you huffed, "I'm still supposed to know things and have skills of my own. And we're not like the Kennedys or something. I can't get by on my last name forever."

"Right..." he said and redirected his focus to shoveling some more food into his mouth.

Again, Dick took it upon himself to resuscitate the mood. He chatted with you some more about school and potential areas you were interested in for your future.

As things wrapped up and the three of you cleared the table, he finished by offering to take you on that shopping trip you'd been asking about earlier tomorrow. That seemed to be all it took to fully brighten up your mood. You eagerly accepted before heading off to your room for the night.

After you'd left, the room clouded with silence for a minute. The two of them migrated over to the living room. Both him and Jason took a moment to enjoy the peace that plumed up in your absence. It dissipated when Dick decided to speak again.

"You know, part of the reason she gets snippy with you is because you're not exactly pleasant to her," he started.

"No, she doesn't like me because I won't play into her flirty bullshit like you do," Jason replied and shrugged.

"It's more than that. You dismiss almost anything she says, and you try to provoke her into lashing out at you."

"Like she doesn't do the same to me? All that whiny, pouty shit she does for you, she tried for me at first, but I hurt her feelings because I didn't act like it was cute. It's pathetic"

"Alright, but as the professional, you're supposed to keep the appearance that she doesn't bother you. I'm just saying you could try playing it cool around her," Dick suggested.

Jason glared at him. "I wasn't hired to be nice to her."

"You're not getting paid to be an asshole either."

The harsh look deepened in the other man's green eyes. "What are we getting paid to do here exactly? She's not in any actual danger."

So that was his problem.

Dick sighed, but before he could provide some form of justification, Jason was pulling up your case files on his phone. He turned the screen to Dick.

"Look. Read it. Why'd we even accept this bullshit? He basically admits there's no real threat in the request," he said.

Dick took the small device and scanned over the document with his eyes. He didn't have to read it to know why they accepted it, of course. The money was great and the connections they could gain from it would be even better for the firm. He still skimmed the tiny words staring back at him though. The request for protection that asked you be assigned a full time guard in the potential event of political retaliation. Political retaliation that both sides of this arrangement knew was not coming. Your father had won his race by a comfortable margin. No one even attempted to contest the result. All of his positions were uncontroversial as well.

It was obvious to Dick that he and Jason were simple pawns in a power struggle here. They were the expendable pieces your father could tote around and punish you with for whatever reason. Maybe you'd been too outspoken about something. Maybe you had a tendency to get too wild when you went out. Maybe you'd just outsmarted the last move in this lifelong game of chess.

Whatever it had been, this was just the next subtle method of control. He'd seen it before in rich kids like you. Shitty as it was, it was part of this business.

Handing the phone back to the other man, he answered. "You know why we took it. And I know it's frustrating, but not every case is gonna be something out of an action movie. If he wants to pay for someone to ease his mind, then that's just how it is."

"He hired a babysitter for an adult," Jason spat with disdain, "That's all this is. The only thing I'm protecting her from is maxing out daddy's credit card or taking a laced bump at some shitty party."

"There are worse jobs in the world than watching over a pretty girl, Jason," Dick said and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh bullshit. This isn't just watching a pretty girl. This is listening to her run her fucking mouth. It's putting up with her bitching and moaning in my ear 24/7 about how she doesn't want me here."

"Look. It's not that hard to figure out," he interjected, "She was spoiled rotten growing up, but that also means she probably had a lot of people trying to control her life. She's getting her first real taste of freedom being out of college and living on her own, and then her dad takes it away by hiring us. Can you blame her for being a little pissy about it?"

"So what? Poor little rich girl. She has people who want to be involved with her life and make sure she has a future," he scoffed, "If she doesn't like that, she can take it out on her dad. Why do we have to deal with the fallout?"

"I know it's not what you want to be dealing with, but you're smart enough to know that things aren't that simple," he responded, "Everything in this place - the clothes she wears, the furniture we're sitting on, I'd bet even her phone she carries around - doesn't belong to her. None of it comes from her own money. Maybe her name's on the title of this place, but you know it's not really hers. She probably plays nice and puts up with things that don't really bug her to make sure he doesn't start taking it all away or offering to give it to her in the first place."

Jason still wouldn't drop his scowl. He understood Dick was right, but you were so goddamn irritating, he didn't want to admit you deserved even the smallest degree of grace.

"You don't have to act like a boyfriend or even her best friend," Dick offered as a compromise, "All I'm saying is that if you weren't so aggressive from the jump, she might feel more inclined to listen to you."

"She's a grown woman," Jason grumbled with hushed incredulity, "I shouldn't have to handle her like a little girl or a puppy or something."

"You're right. You shouldn't have to. But it's the way it is, so adapt or drive yourself crazy. It's your choice," he said.

"I guess," he huffed before slumping back in his seat a bit.

Dick relaxed back against the couch as well. Looking at Jason now, he couldn't help but think that part of the reason the two of you butted heads at every opportunity was because you both were in the running for the most headstrong person he'd ever met.

The next day, Dick made good on his promise to take you shopping. The two of you drove to an upscale mall and spent the next few hours roaming the wide corridors. He stayed close to your side, his muscular arms covered in the bands of your shopping bags as you led him from one place to the next. You talked his ear off, but he didn't mind. It was better than lounging around the penthouse and listening to you and Jason bicker. 

And in your defense, while you had him carrying all your stuff, you took plenty of chances to offer to buy him a few things. Anything his eyes lingered on for more than two seconds had you playfully waving around your card. Each time he'd decline. He had to keep some appearance of doing his job. Jason would never let him hear the end of it if he thought he indulged in this shopping spree too.

He was still somewhat playing his part though. His eyes scanned the exits and entries (when they weren't lingering on how your lip gloss shimmered on the soft curves of your mouth). He was focused on making sure no suspicious characters tried approaching you (when he wasn't ogling the way your t-shirt stretched across the swell of your chest). 

"So only one last place, right?" he checked while you typed away on your phone.

"Yup!" you chirped.

You trotted along a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of a store entryway framed by two dark, tile pillars. The words above glowed in a light, classic font. He eyed it and then shifted his gaze to the display windows. That was when he realized this was a store for lingerie.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. "Really?" he said, raising his brows at you.

"What?" you asked, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys that gets all weird about bras and panties. What do you think I'm wearing under this?"

"I don't really think it's my place to be imagining that," he chuckled.

"Well you don't gotta imagine right now. Just stay close to me while I pick some things out," you replied with your own little smile.

Unlike Jason, this wouldn't be a hill he died on. He followed you into the store and remained quiet within a few feet of you while you checked over the stands for items you liked. You seemed pretty picky when it came to this stuff. Your face contorted into contemplative expressions, weighing if you should go with the lacy black or the baby pink.

"So... do you actually have someone to wear these for or...?" he asked while trying to seem aloof.

"I wear them because I like them," you corrected while shooting him a playful glare, "But to answer your question, not yet."

"Ah, yet," he grinned.

"Mhm. It doesn't hurt to be prepared," you said.

He huffed out a small laugh and kept in line with your footsteps. After a while, you selected a few pairs and seemed almost ready to go. You weaved through the array of perfume stands and seasonal racks. On the way to the register though, your eyes caught on a pair of silk pajamas. They were dainty, thin, and striped. Just the kind of thing that looked as though it was sewn specifically for your closet.

"Oh my gosh. Dick, can you hold this?" you said. The question was pointless as you'd already shoved the basket of panties into his arms before the words finished leaving your lips.

You pranced to the display with the sleepwear and looked it over with adoring eyes. With a wave of your hand, you summoned a nearby attendant to ask for a set you could try on.

Moments later the worker guided the two of you towards the back of the store, showing you the changing area. It was nicer than most shops. A large mirror sat on the wall that was covered in floral paper. Next to it a small door concealed the private fitting section, and in the center was a couple seats.

The woman waved you in. She glanced over each of you with a tight-lipped smile before adding that "your boyfriend" was welcome to wait inside for you.

He opened his mouth to amend her definition of him, but before he got the chance, you chimed in with a cheerful "thank you!"

His eyes zipped from the exiting staff member to you. Upon looking in your eyes, he could see your amusement dancing there. You grabbed his free hand and led him to the plush couches. Then you took off with the pajamas in your hands into the private part of the room.

"So boyfriend, huh? Is that my title now?" he called to you through the open space above the door. While you changed, he set the endless supply of bags down on the loveseat across from the one he chose to sit down on.

"It could be," you replied, "Isn't it like safer if bad guys think a girl has a boyfriend?"

He'd dealt with clients flirting with him before, but never one as flagrant as you. Only one day with you, and he could tell you'd never experienced true shame in your two decades and some spare years of life.

"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled in return. Even though your confidence humored him, he couldn't deny the part of him that was flattered. The same part that got turned on.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you strutted out. Your luscious legs stretched out from the tiny shorts that bedizened your hips. The button-up top hung off your shoulders and framed the curves of your waist. With a few steps, you stood in front of him, as if you were a model in a fashion show organized personally for him.

"Exactly. So, how do I look, darling?" you teased, doing a little spin for him.

He reached out and grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your flesh squish beneath the pads of his digits. Your eyes connected with his as he dragged them up from your waist to your face.

"Stunning, sweetheart," he played right along.

A small giggle trickled from your lips before you turned to the side to assess your appearance in the mirror. He kept his grip on you. Both his and your eyes glided over your frame, lingering on his hands clasped around the bottoms.

"I'll have to get them then," you decided after a few moments.

His pupils shifted up, sparkling under the fluorescents on the ceiling. "I think that's a great choice. Though when you wear them later, you may want to fix the pocket," he said.

Trailing his right hand up from its post on your hip, his fingers coasted over your breast to the shirt pocket that was flipped slightly inside out. He pushed the material back into place, delving two digits beneath the silk flap. The tips teased the curve of your breast. They dragged on the skin just above your nipple through the cloth.

Fortunately for you, he pulled them out seconds later, allowing you to step back and hide the way the small bud had begun to pebble for him. The smirk on his face hinted that he still knew though.

"Ok, well I'm gonna change back. Then we can check out and go home. Maybe we could get some food on the way back or something," you said, laying out the plan as a distraction for the blooming heat you felt in your abdomen.

"Yeah, sounds good," he responded and shrugged.

He watched as you capered back behind that door. You were a tease through and through, and that couldn't have pleased him more. It's what made this all so easy. You could flirt and bat your eyelashes and speak in that seductively innocuous tone, but when you caught scent of any real arousal, you pulled back quicker than a skittish dog. 

It could make it easier for him to remain professional. A way of keeping him from crossing the line that was supposed to divide him and all clients. But it also made you so much more tempting. An elusive prey animal just begging to be caught.

The rest of that day followed the plan you had set in the dressing room.

You checked out of that last store then had Dick carry your collection of purchases to the car. The two of you picked up some food on the way home. Despite your lavish taste in just about everything else, when it came to dinner, you were a pretty cheap date.

When you made it back to the penthouse, Dick shoulders the weight of everything you bought again. The two of you don't bother asking Jason for help, knowing it would only cause more drama. Instead, he let the thin handles on the bags of clothes and jewelry and trinkets dig into his skin and nearly cut off his circulation.

Besides that though, everything went fine. Jason gave you both a look of disdain when he saw the evidence of your shopping trip, but he didn't comment. 

Maybe he was taking Dick's advice.

That seemed to be the case even as you came trotting down the stairs not too long later. You'd changed into your new silk set. The fabric didn't leave anything to the imagination in terms of your figure and that was what it did cover. Most of your legs and a sliver of your chest remained exposed to any eyes that should wander by.

You had a little smile on your face as you entered the room. Of course, you knew how you looked. You were bratty, not stupid.

Upon spotting Jason in the kitchen, you headed in that direction. He'd been standing in the corner where the counters met, eating something for a few moments. The calmness of solitude that had previously filled the space dissolved when he caught sight of you.

As much as he couldn't stand you, Jason was still human. His brows raised and his eyes stuck to your scantily-clad body, raking over your curves and smooth skin. You watched with absolute joy as he finally acknowledged you in some way other than a nuisance.

It only took him a few seconds to catch himself, but the damage had been done. You bounded over to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. He kept his eyes down now, intent on trying not to gauge if you were wearing a bra under that skimpy thing by how your breasts bounced.

"So Jason... What did you do while me and Dick were out?" you asked.

"Desperately awaited your return," he grumbled sarcastically.

The question obviously meant nothing to you. He could hear it in every syllable. It served as a placeholder. A plausible reason you could linger around him to flaunt yourself.

His response brought a laugh out of you in spite of the backhanded nature of the statement. "You could've come with us. It probably would've been more fun," you smiled.

"For you maybe."

"Well yeah for me," you said. You pushed off the island and stepped a few paces closer to him. "What do you think of my clothes? They're new. Dick said he liked them."

You did a small twirl like you had in the dressing room. An attempt to lure Jason's gaze back onto you. He didn't take the bait so easily though and locked his gaze on the food he'd been snacking on.

"If you got Dick's opinion, then why do you need mine?" he shot back.

"Cause I want it," you answered.

With a deep breath, he brought his eyes back to you. He could control himself, both his temper and other kinds of impulses. Plus, there was no way he was going to let you win. You had enough smugness in your voice as it was. No way was he gonna make the problem worse by letting you feel as though you had him intimidated.

"Looks the same as the ones you normally wear," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but I didn't ask that. I just wanna know if you like them."

"Why? Are you gonna throw a fit or something if I say no? Call daddy and have him hire someone with better taste to babysit you?" he mocked.

That put a scowl on your face, which made him smile. The two of you worked like a seesaw of emotions, one extreme on each side, animosity shifting so rapidly the bar could never rest at a balanced middle.

"No," you scoffed with a glare, "I was just trying to be nice to you-"

"Oh really? It felt more like you were fishing for compliments to me," he said, "You bought the clothes, so obviously you like them. Why do you need me validating your choice?"

God, this felt so much better than getting worked up over you. Watching your face morph into increasingly petulant expressions gave Jason more joy than imagining the day a month from now when this job would finally be done.

"Whatever," you huffed and rolled your eyes before retreating to the living room to be with Dick.

That was fine with him. He didn't cause a blow up or have to deal with Dick's lecture while simultaneously getting you out of his immediate vicinity. Though, that was probably for the best for reasons other than his anger too. 

He would never ever admit it out loud, especially not after the point he'd made about it last night, but seeing you in that tiny get up, all desperate for his approval... it had him craving some alone time to quell the heat he felt beginning to simmer within.

He cleaned up his plate that was now empty and then ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment, and he let out a sigh. After a few moments, he decided he didn't need to shove down the feelings. He'd been pent up enough over the last week. Nonstop hours of you trying to get under his skin and make him snap. It left him yearning for some outlet, for some relief. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off all the time.

Right now, Dick was with you. The chances of you wandering up to his room to bother him were slim. He could sneak off for a while, spend some quality time with his right hand and chill the fuck out.

So that's what he did. He headed off upstairs and shut the door to his room.

Now you sat beside Dick on the couch as an old movie played on the tv. You were so close to him that your bare thighs rested against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

It wasn't that late, but only a third of the way into the movie you felt yourself sinking into the cushions behind you, tiredness overtaking your body. Your eyes grew droopy and glazed as you tried watching the action playing out in front of you.

A few minutes later, you started to accept this might be a pointless effort. In your defense, shopping was a tiring activity! Malls were big and required lots of steps to get through. When you combined that with doing all the spending math in your head, talking to Dick, and trying things on, it made sense that you were beat.

You let your head slump over and hit his shoulder. Your temple thudded against the curve of it as a yawn made its way out of you. You brought your legs closer to your body and wrapped one of your hands around his bicep as well. If you were gonna go for an inch, why not take the whole mile?

His head swiveled in your direction when he felt the gentle contact. He didn't protest like you knew Jason would have though. Rather, he let you grip onto his muscular arm and rest against his broad frame before bringing his free hand over to smooth down the nape of your neck.

"Are we still playing boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.

Your eyes fluttered open as you tilted your face up to look at him. After a moment's thought, you bobbed your head in a lazy nod.

Upon seeing your confirmation, a lascivious smile spread across his lips. He leaned back further into the couch himself and stretched his legs out onto the extended part of the sectional. Once he was adjusted, he pulled his arm free of your grasp. You showed slight dismay at first, displeased with the loss of support and heat. Though it quickly evaporated as he draped it over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

"Well if I was your boyfriend," he said, drawing out the syllables pointedly, "I think we'd be sitting like this."

Even in your tired condition, you felt a bit flustered. You wouldn't show that though. It would take more to get you to willingly show how he affected you. You snuggle into his sculpted side and nestle your face against his chest. Below his skin, you hear the faint but steady beat of his heart.

"You're probably right," you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, "It's comfier like this."

"Mhm. Safer too," he teased.

You nodded, not needing words this time around. One of your arms encircled his waist to keep you snug against him while you continued to watch the movie. 

It was honestly a miracle in your own eyes that you hadn't passed out yet in the few seconds you'd been sitting like this. He was so warm, and he smelled so good, like fresh laundry. And now his hand had started rubbing up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his palm and the perfect amount of pressure seemed like it would be lulling you into unconsciousness in minutes.

But then he spoke again.

"And if I was your boyfriend, we'd be doing a lot more than just watching this movie," he whispered.

The words hit your ears in soft puffs of air, sending chills down your spine. You bit your lip and willed your eyes to open wider before looking at him again.

"What else would we be doing?" you asked.

"What do you think? With you sitting here, all cute in your little outfit..." he began, lowering his mouth to your neck. A soft gasp left you as he began laying kisses up your throat to your ear. His teeth scraped over your earlobe before his tongue grazed the skin behind it. "I think I'd have a pretty hard time keeping my hands to myself," he finished lowly.

The skin of your shoulders prickled beneath the satiny material of your top and continued to do so down your arms and legs. You weren't completely inexperienced, but you'd never had such intense attention focused on you. You'd never felt like the center of someone's entire world like you did right now.

Your hand lands on his thigh, gripping the meat of it with your fingers. You turn your head into a brief kiss before pulling back an inch.

"If you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to keep your hands to yourself," you murmured.

And that was the last thing he needed to hear.

He dove in and kissed you like it was the millionth time. His lips moved against your own sensually before his tongue found its way into your mouth. A tender moan slipped out of you in response. He played the part of your boyfriend better than any actual candidate for the role before him.

Your palm migrated up from his thigh to his lap. With a few delicate swipes, you coaxed a bulge into rising against the fabric of his pants. Your hand then fled the area and trailed up his abs onto his chest. Every inch of him felt as though it had been crafted by divine beings. A gift for anyone who should have the pleasure of experiencing him.

He tugged you closer, guiding you so close that you were all but in his lap. His right hand groped the dough of your ass while his left crept onto your breast and gave it the squeeze he had wanted to earlier in the changing room.

You squeaked like a chew toy in response, which drew a laugh out of him. He teased the mound again by kneading it a few more times. His fingers dragged across the soft curves before zeroing in on your nipple, tweaking and pulling at the sensitive little nub. That brought some whines out of you.

"My little girlfriend's so responsive," he whispered. 

He knew he was acting like an idiot right now. He wasn't just crossing every client-contractor line in the book, he was practically leaping over them with joy. If Jason came down here and saw this opening to a porno playing out on the couch, he would never hear the end of it. But he just couldn't stop now. The way you arched into his touch was fucking intoxicating. You had him hooked, and he hadn't gotten farther than feeling up your tits.

And then you whimpered and nipped at his bottom lip. It wasn't like you could really defend yourself from his words. Every touch had you keening for more.

He hummed at the mini bite before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. The arm wrapped around your back continued to support you while the set of fingers that had been playing with your chest fell towards the junction of your thighs. You seemed a little nervous at the start of the descent, but by the time his hand made it there, your legs spread open for him with no hesitation.

Both of your harsh breaths drowned out the sounds from the movie that had been long forgotten by now. And then your soft, sweet moans joined them.

He started out with a few loving caresses over your center. A few pets to get you warmed up. It was all you needed to let out those cute little noises. You rolled your hips at his hand, already signaling your need for more.

Without a second thought, he obliged you. His hand slid beneath your waistband and into your panties before his fingers slotted between your lips, finding your clit with expertise. They danced over your bundle of nerves and pressed down on it. More whines trickled from your mouth. He could only hope his lips on yours did a sufficient job of muffling them.

"That's it, sweetheart," he crooned, "You're so cute. Not worried about anything but feeling good."

You bucked your hips without a care in the world now, just like he said. They rocked up into the friction his digits were providing. Wet sloshing sounds emanated from where his hand moved beneath your shorts.

After a little while longer of just touching, he worked a finger inside of you. Then another. He pumped them in and out, relishing each precious mewl that erupted from you in turn. His digits curled. Each stroke inside you brushed a tender spot that made your thighs quiver and jerk.

"Fuck," you inhaled sharply before reaching forward to try palming at him, a haphazard attempt at returning the favor.

His free hand brushed yours away though. Those cerulean eyes glimmered with cockiness.

"I can take care of myself, baby. I'm being paid to service you, remember?" he purred.

Your eyes rolled back, and your head followed in that direction, hitting the backing of the couch. You weakly nodded before allowing the pleasurable sensations to cloud your head. He just kept thrusting his two fingers in and out while his palm ground against your clit.

You vaguely felt him start to grind his hips against the side of your leg. He used the pressure as stimulation, giving himself some muted relief while tending to you.

In the throes of bliss, you hadn't realized how close you were until the edge was right there. You whined and squirmed, trying to alert him that you were a few skillful pumps away from unraveling.

"Dick... gonna..." you whimpered.

"Yeah, I can tell. You're getting nice and tight," he murmured.

You nodded. Your lip started to jut out, those pouty habits making themselves known in the heat of the moment. He grinned before kissing it away.

"Let go, baby. Soak through your new shorts. Get 'em all messy for me," he cooed.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as your toes curled. It was impossible to resist the urge to release when he was guiding you to it like that. Your whole body tensed up and then relaxed over and over, the highs of pleasure washing over you in waves.

He watched every little move you make, drank it all up like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara.

"You look so pretty while you cum," he praised. You heard him say the words; though, they sounded distant amidst the haze of bliss surrounding you.

When you finished, he could tell you were exhausted. Your eyelids drooped as if keeping them open was an impossible task. You laid there limp beside him, just about ready to melt into the couch.

He chuckled and slipped his hand from your shorts. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucked them clean and then ducked in for one last kiss. You squeaked in surprise but didn't pull away. He let you taste yourself for a moment before retreating.

Even though he hadn't cum himself, he figured it would be fine for tonight. There were four weeks left of this job after all. He'd have more time with you. Tonight he could deal with finishing himself off in his room after taking you to bed.

He shut the tv off and then scooped you up. Your body draped between his two arms. You didn't complain or protest; rather, just leaned your head into his shoulder and accepted the aid. He walked with you up the stairs, down the walkway to your bedroom. The last door on the path.

Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the threshold into your space. It appeared like the rest of the apartment, just more concentrated. A more pure embodiment of you. All the other parts of this place he'd seen had traces of your personality throughout, but each and every part of this room represented a piece of you.

He didn't spend any time snooping around or getting a better look. Like the perfect gentleman, he placed you in bed, draped a blanket over your body, and made sure you were situated. Then he retraced his steps back out into the hall. He headed down to the guest room and slipped inside, planning on taking care of himself and then passing out for the night.

The next morning, Dick woke to a thudding on the wall behind his headboard. Knock. Knock. Knock. The noises pounded against the barrier in an even-rhythm, every second or so. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going on by the time he reached full consciousness. They'd invaded the last part of his dream, so he assumed maybe a few minutes.

Even though the sounds should probably concern him, all he felt was annoyance. The wall behind his bed was the one connected to Jason's. He figured the noises were a result of him working out or moving some things around. Maybe you two had gotten into another argument and he was packing his things in anger.

Dick dragged himself out of bed and stretched. He'd slept longer than usual last night. A lazy smile rose to his face as details came flooding back to him. How you'd felt around his fingers and whined for him to keep pleasuring you.

Once he'd figured out what the noise was about, maybe he'd head over to your room, see if you were up yet. It'd been less than twelve hours, but he was already craving another taste of you.

He stepped out into the hallway, walking in the direction of the room the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could hear some grunting too. It sounded pretty intense. Either Jason was working out really hard or you'd really pissed him off. Maybe a combination of both.

"Hey, Jason. Some of us are trying to sleep. You don't need to compete with the construction crews around the rest of the city with all this-" he started to call out, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw the source of the banging.

He felt like a flash grenade had gone off in the room he was looking into. The source of the loud sounds was no longer a mystery. It was coming from Jason's headboard slamming into the wall. The headboard was doing that because the man in question was kneeling on the bed with you pinned down in front of him, fucking you like he was an animal in heat. Dick saw your body jerk in panic as soon as you heard the sound of his voice close in.

"Jesus, man!" Dick said and spun away from the explicit sight before him. His mind reeled and tried to grasp onto what he just witnessed.

As he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he just saw Jason balls deep inside you, he also realized that the lewd noises weren't stopping. He slowly turned back to get another glance - just a curious one, he told himself.

His eyes found the two of you again. Jason kneeled on the edge of the bed. One of his large hands gripped your hip while the other held your face down against the pillows. Now that Dick was really listening, he could hear your little muffled whines and squeaks.

Jason's body glowed, flush from arousal and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. Your limbs were folded up like pieces of a portable chair. Dick tried not to focus on the flicker of heat in his gut, and instead, think about how even with another set of eyes, neither of you had stopped going at it. In your defense, he didn't think the decision was up to you. Jason had manhandled you into a position that gave him all the leverage.

Finally after another second or two, the other man looked his way.

"You need something, Dick?" Jason grunted as though he'd been interrupted while reading a book rather than pounding you into the mattress.

He blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Do you really have to ask that? You're not a prude, and you're far from innocent," he mocked. His voice was breathless as though he found some deep satisfaction in this act. Dick believed that. He'd felt how soft and tight your cunt was last night, warm enough to melt even someone as tough as Jason down a bit.

"I'm not a prude, but you could at least shut the door," he responded. The absurdity of this situation then began to dawn on him. He stepped closer to the bed. "Really, Jason. What the fuck are you doing? She's a client," he finally said.

That brought a laugh out of the younger man. "Client, huh? That's not what I was hearing last night when you had her out on the couch."

Dick tensed in the face of the accusation. Shit. He'd thought the two of you had been quiet enough. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

"That's different..." he defended weakly.

In reality, he of course knew that it wasn't. Him fooling around with you last night was, on a technical level, no different from what Jason was doing now. Either one if found out by your father, their employer, would get them fired and possibly slapped with a lawsuit.

But he did feel it was honestly different on some level. He'd just been playing with you. Going along with your flirting. Having some fun. Jason was fucking you. Every thrust was like an act of revenge for all the pouting and whining and huffy glares. He bullied his cock deep into your cunt with every swing of his hips. Your body jolted from his momentum, your fingers curled around the edges of the pillow. It was intense and raw.

"It is not," Jason denied, "Plus, I thought you'd be happy. We're not arguing anymore. You wanted me to act cool with her? Well she thinks this is pretty fuckin' cool. Don't you, princess?"

Before you could mumble something against the satiny linens below you, he looped an arm around your neck and pulled you up against him. You squealed at the sharp angle this new position put you at. Your eyes rolled back, and the only sounds that came from your lips immediately were hazy babbles.

You eventually collected yourself enough to nod. He laughed in your ear, slotting his face right next to yours. You could feel his breaths against your cheek, his sweat smearing on your skin.

"Use your words, sweetheart," he purred.

A shudder coursed its way through you. Your dazed eyes opened just enough to connect with Dick's bright blue ones. You didn't know what to say, so you let out the easiest thing you could think of.

"F-feels good..."

Dick nearly winced at the fucked-out sound of your voice. It was sultry and slurred. If you weren't so disgustingly rich, he was sure you'd make a killing doing this stuff on camera.

His eyes scraped over the shape Jason had you propped in now. Your body was arched like a bow, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. He had your arms hooked over one of his behind your back while his other was wrapped around your throat. Your chin rested on the thick muscles there. Saliva spilled from your mouth while the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.

Everything about it was turning him on, but he tried to disguise that fact. He shifted where he stood in an attempt to readjust himself and not let his cock fill out. But then his eyes caught on the slight bulge in your stomach. The faint outline that protruded in rhythm with the man behind you thrusting.

He almost came on the spot. A groan worked its way up his throat, and he ran a hand over his face into his messy hair.

Jason huffed out a laugh at the noise. "You should've seen her. She came in here trying to pick a fight. Probably a warm up before she scampered off to your room to get you to relieve her frustration."

"Nuh uh," you whimpered pitifully.

In response, he released your arms and shoved you down onto the mattress again. You whined at the force he put into slamming your face against the blankets. His hips rutted into you even harder too, clearing any further words of denial from your mind.

"I wasn't asking," he chided. He gave your ass a firm slap before holding onto your hips. 

You mewled and clawed at the soft bedding.

"Maybe you are being honest though. Maybe you didn't plan on getting Dick to help you out. You probably knew he couldn't give it to you like you needed," he said. His green eyes flitted up to the man standing beside the bed, letting him know it was an open challenge.

Dick knew he shouldn't take the bait. This was weird enough as it was, standing there and watching the two of you fuck. But wouldn't it be weirder not getting involved? If he just left, he'd still be half-hard. He'd probably skulk off back to his room to jerk off, and that would be more pathetic than whatever he was about to agree to.

"Sure, Jason. If that's what you have to tell yourself," he mocked, "She knows how good I can make her feel. She just knows that you're easier."

Jason’s usual scowl appears on his face. "You cracked first. Gave into her and acted all sweet," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but look at you. She didn't have to work at all to get you to fuck her," he taunted, "I'm sure she'll be so tempted to not act out anymore when this is how you deal with it."

He closed the gap between himself and the bed, reaching for your face. He cupped your jaw and tilted your head upwards to face him. Swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, he smirked at the cute, pouty look on your face.

Jason growled and tugged you back. His hips clapped against your ass. You whined in a mixture of pleasure and pain, screwing your eyes shut. He leaned over your body like a dog guarding its favorite toy while continuing to pound into you.

"You know I'm right," Dick said, "You're so rough because you know you have to compensate."

Now Jason was actually getting a little pissy. He was the one who made this competitive, but it didn't take much to trigger his temper.

He let go of your body and pulled out. "You think you can do better? Go ahead then," he said, gesturing to your twitching form. You whined at the emptiness you now felt, but it did nothing to change his mind. He gave you a quick swat between your legs, ripping a cry from you. 

"No whining, little brat," he said, "Not when you're getting so much attention. More than you deserve."

Dick watched with interest before connecting his stare with the other man's.

"You just want me to what? Strip down and fuck her?" he asked.

"Why not? Don't act like you don't want to. I can see the tent in your pants," he responded.

Looking down, he knew he was right. The front of his sweats had puffed out with his desire. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed about it right now though. Jason was shameless as could be, so why should he try to keep up an appearance of modesty?

He shrugged and began peeling off his t-shirt before pushing his pants and boxers to the floor. Both pieces crumple up next to his feet as his cock comes into view. He gives it a few lazy strokes while reaching for you.

You glanced up at him, your pupils dilating upon seeing his length. It was slightly skinnier than Jason's but just as long. Your mouth watered for a taste. He chuckled, your admiration stroking his ego.

"Come here, baby," he cooed, much more gentle than Jason.

The sound of his voice revived you from your fucked out state, and you were happy to be guided into his arms. He sat against the headboard and took you onto his lap. Pressing a few kisses to your lips, he ran his fingers down your jawline.

He knew he wouldn't have to do anything to get you ready. You were already dripping onto his thighs from the mess Jason left between your legs. He shifted you around by your waist, laying you back against his chest. The both of you faced Jason who sat at the end of the bed.

"You think you can ride for me?" he murmured against the shell of your ear.

Your legs were wobbly and your mind still felt a little cloudy from the euphoria Jason pumped into your veins, but you nodded anyways, not wanting to disappoint Dick.

He rewarded you with a grin and pecked your temple. "Such a good girl. Gonna show him how sweet you can be when you're treated right, huh?"

Again, you nodded, but he also caught Jason rolling his eyes.

You rose onto your feet and positioned yourself above his lap. He helped you out a little, lining his shaft up at your entrance and sliding it through your slick.

Slowly, you began sinking down on him. He couldn't help the choked moan that slipped out of his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight," he rasped.

You didn't let up, lowering yourself all the way down in one go. Your ass rested against his pelvis, and he gave you a few moments to adjust. Hell, he needed them too to catch his breath. He couldn't cum too quickly right now. Not with Jason watching. He'd never hear the end of it.

But eventually you do start to bounce. His hands hold onto the little divots in your side to help you keep balance. Your warm slippery walls squeeze around him with each of your movements.

More whiny sounds seep from your lips. They were higher-pitched than last night. Less drawn out and delirious. Each time you took him all the way, your hips jerked. He reached around, swirling his fingers over your clit.

"So sensitive," he teased.

You whimpered and continued to bounce yourself in haphazard bursts. Your pussy gushed for him, your juices dripping down to his balls. By the time you finished, there would be a wet patch for sure.

He tilted his head back against the headboard, just letting himself feel for a moment. Meanwhile, your eyes meet Jason's. He had a fist wrapped around his cock. He kept his strokes slow, as if trying to hide the fact that he was doing it at all.

"Feeling good?" he asked, but you know it was intended to mock you, "You like sweet and gentle? Better than how I do it?"

Before you could answer, Dick slammed you down on his cock. Your eyes fluttered, and you loosened up, allowing him to take over in lifting you up and down on his shaft.

"If you're asking, that means you know you're losing," Dick chimed in a sing-song voice.

That just spiked Jason’s blood pressure. He stood up. "My turn again," he demanded.

Dick openly laughed in his face while continuing to pump you like a fleshlight. "No," he said.

"Yeah. You've had your turn, now it's mine. Give her back," he said. He was getting more agitated because he realized how petulant he sounded.

It only brought more laughter from Dick. "Give her back? What is she? Your favorite doll or something?" he taunted, "It doesn't really seem like she wants to go back to you. I think I'll keep her here till she finishes."

"You're the one who interrupted."

"You're the one who practically invited me to."

"I don't care. You had enough time, now it's my turn to show you. I'll get her at fucking gunpoint if I have to."

Both of them knew he was just blowing off steam. When Jason got mad, he would say things like that without thinking twice. But you'd never heard his voice so gruff, dripping with the potential for violence. When he got pissed at you, he was annoyed and agitated. Frustrated more than anything else. This was something else, and it turned you on.

You clenched around Dick's cock and let out a shaky whine. They simultaneously dropped their bickering and looked at you. Dick slowed the pace as he eyed you, but Jason's lips curved upward. 

"Oh you like that idea?" he chuckled, "Thought you were afraid of guns, princess?"

"I- I am," you said, trying to backtrack.

His dark locks swayed from side to side as he shook his head. The moment he headed towards the nightstand Dick knew what he was doing.

"Jason-" he started, but his gun was already in his hand. The dark pistol pointed towards you.

"Come here," he said.

Your eyes widened, thighs quivering as Dick stopped moving you and let you slide off of him. He watched as his cock slid out of you, still coated in your arousal. You crawled forward towards the man pointing the gun at you.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair when you were close enough and dragged you the rest of the way. His cock kicked at the yelp you let out.

"That's a good girl. You know to come when you're called," he praised.

You whimpered in response, looking up at him with wide, puppy-eyes. He didn't soften in the slightest though. Scooping you from behind, he dumped you onto your back.

"Spread your legs for me nice and wide," he directed. You clasped your own legs behind the knee and made sure there was ample room for him to get at your center.

The gun remained aimed at you. It kept your heart pumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. A sick combination of fear and lust ran through your limbs. Jason didn't mind the shakiness though. With his free hand, he guided his thick cock back to your entrance and slid right in.

"Fuck, you take it so well for such a prissy little thing," he growled.

He didn't give you the adjustment period like Dick had. Instead, he pushed all the way in and then dragged his hips back before slamming in again. You mewled at the stretch. The sweet burn of him splitting your cunt open.

"Jason..." Dick said again in the tone of a parent about to count to three.

Jason didn't drop it though. He leaned forward, pressing the cool metal barrel against your shoulder and folding you in half under his bulky frame. He was so deep inside you that you couldn't really say he was thrusting anymore. Just grinding his hips. Deep, even rolls. Those tears that had been teasing you before leaked out freely now. You hiccuped out a broken sob as he continued fucking you within an inch of your life.

"She's fine," he grunted, trying to suppress a moan of his own, "Fuck... you know I'm careful."

It was true. Dick didn't actually believe Jason would shoot you, but still, this felt like the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing. This was probably the most danger you'd been in over the course of your entire life. It was definitely the first time you'd had a gun aimed at you.

Heat sweltered between you and Jason, making it almost impossible to breathe. Your head lolled back in search of some relief. Some semblance of breathing room. But he was just all around you. Every part of your body felt under his control.

Your vision went spotty for a moment, but when you came back, you saw Dick's face above yours. Jason had leaned back a bit, allowing you to cool down. His hips maintained a steady rhythm though. 

The older man stared down at you, stroking your cheek gently. He swiped your tears away with your thumb. His palms kept your head cradled as if you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It just made you cry more.

"You're so pretty crying like that," he crooned. His knuckles swept over your heated skin. "Such a sweet girl. Not used to getting it so rough."

"She'll be used to it by the time the month is over," Jason said. He put the gun aside now, using both hands to hold onto you.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued showering you with soft words and tender touches. It was like each half of your body was in a separate world.

You could tell Jason was close by the way his thrusts were becoming more sporadic. His breaths puffed out in harsh pants while his fingers gripped you tight enough to bruise. Luckily, you were getting there too.

The only one left behind was Dick, but he wasn't worried. He had the patience for you.

Jason thumbed your clit, dragging you the rest of the way to the finish line. You came with a scream so loud that both of them were thankful the penthouse suite meant no neighbors to hear you. Your body quivered and convulsed. You sobbed out cries for both of them. Your hands flew to Dick's wrist to hold onto something.

Jason kept pumping into you for a few moments more, but you were tight as a vise. He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he should pull out. But as he was going to, you locked your shaky legs around him and shook your head.

"I'm-" you tried before cutting yourself off with a whimper, "I'm on the pill."

In that moment, it was like he heard an angel speak to him. He slammed into you as hard as he could and collapsed onto your body. His larger chest crushed you against the bed, his face nuzzling into your neck as he spilled himself inside you. You swore you heard him whine, but it was hard to tell with everything going on.

He fucked his cum into you, not pulling out until he was completely satisfied. Once he was and that dreamy bliss of post-release had settled over him, he reluctantly rolled off and landed next to you flat on his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.

But you weren't done yet. Dick slid around to where he had been and pushed his cock into your hole that was still leaking Jason's cum.

"The best goes on last," he teased with a lazy smirk.

He sighed, his long lashes dusting his cheeks at the sensation. His grip was much softer. He took his thrusts slower too, knowing your poor pussy was aching from how rough Jason got.

You whimpered and twitched at the slight overstimulation.

"Shhh, doing good for me," he cooed, "Pussy's so warm and soft. She wants me. I’ll make her feel all better."

The sounds coming from where your bodies connected were absolutely obscene. And even though Dick wasn't going as fast, he was getting just as deep. His tip brushed your sweet spot over and over. Your toes curled and your back arched. This time it was Jason you held onto. You gripped his hand tight as you could, and he let you. He didn't baby you like Dick did, but he allowed you the comfort of his large, warm palm around yours.

You were totally gone by the time Dick was ready to let go. He angled his hips to guide you into another release. Your walls fluttered around his length. His head tilted back and he let out a groan, feeling his own peak bubble up inside him.

He came inside too, pumping your cunt full of another load. Like Jason, he fucked it all in. He stayed snug in the tight grip of your pussy for a moment before pulling out. Sticky, white cum gushed out, dripping down onto the bed.

Dick landed on the opposite side of you from Jason. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

The three of you laid in silence for a little while. For you, it was out of pure exhaustion. You wondered if it was that for them too, or if they were processing what they'd done. The lines they'd crossed and the secret they'd now have to keep.

But you didn't get the chance to dwell on it for too long because soon enough, Dick guided you off the bed.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to your bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. You assumed Jason stayed behind to take care of the bedding, but you didn't ask.

Dick drew you a bath and helped you in. He did like he said he would, cleaned you up. Every move he made he did so with all the care in the world. Gentle hands wiping the dried drool and tear streaks from your face.

When you were done, he helped you out and dried you off. He let you go about the other parts of putting yourself back together on your own, taking a few moments to tend to himself. 

You didn't know how the rest of the day would look. If things would be awkward now or if they just wouldn't acknowledge what happened. You waited on your bed for Dick, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes and your skin smooth after being lathered in lotion.

He came in after you a few minutes later. Immediately, your fears of things being weird were extinguished by the smile he gave you. The same charming one he'd had since a few days ago. He climbed on the bed with you and laid back against your pillows. You followed in suit, leaning your head against his shoulder.

You were content like this, just relaxing with him. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the quietest you'd been since he arrived.

Moments later the door opened and Jason came in. He crossed the room without a word. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he basically answered the question when he reached the other side of your bed.

He laid down next to you like Dick had on your other side. You eyed him suspiciously. Never would you have imagined he'd willingly spend time with you. He caught the look though and gave it his usual frown.

"What?" he scoffed, "I was the one actually hired to watch you. I gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble."

Unlike before, his speaking didn't provoke you to whine or insult. Instead, you smiled and wrapped your arm around his bicep.

"It's ok. I won't make you admit that you wanna cuddle too," you grinned.

He shook his head in denial. "I'm just doing my job," he asserted, "Plus, I think I won the contest, so it only makes sense that I'm the one who stays with you."

"Hey, we never decided on a winner," Dick cut in.

"I mean, we didn't have to because it was pretty obvious."

"Well we got a whole month, so if you're so confident, we can always have a rematch later," Dick challenged.

"Um, you guys didn't even ask for my vote on who I think won," you interrupted with a pout.

They both turn their eyes to you. For once, Jason didn’t look at you with total disdain. In this moment, you could see some fondness under the top coat of annoyance.

"There's that attitude. I guess it was naive of me to hope we fucked it out of you," he said.

Dick chuckled at that. "It'll take a couple more rounds before that's even a real possibility."

You glared at the both of them, but like Jason, your eyes didn't hold real anger or frustration now. Only the hope that they'd try to put you back in line again.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

warning: dubcon, predator and prey, double peen, breeding

Imagine being bought as food for a snake!hybrid only for him to keep you as his little bunny mate~

Every hybrid knew that getting taken home from the store was a good day. You had just arrived, and you mingled with the other bunny hybrids as people began filing in to look at the new hybrids available.

Before you knew it, you were being lifted out of your enclosure, your hair being styled and your fluffy ears brushed before you were dressed in soft pastels that complimented your eyes.

For most people, a bunny hybrid would either be a prized possession or a sexual partner, and you assumed you'd be the second by all the pampering you were receiving before you were purchased.

It made you nervous just as much as it excited you.

Your chubby cheeks heated up as you imagined the life you'd have outside of the hybrid store. Would you be doted on as a precious pet, or lusted after by a handsome owner?

It made your heart race to think about!

But your hopes were dashed when you were handed over to a tall, scary looking man. He barely looked at you as he talked to the owner of the store, keeping a tight grip on your leash.

"She's the most plump bunny hybrid we have, sir. It seems you like them chubby, huh?"

The man looked down at you with a strange, almost sinister look. "You could say that."

As he led you out of the store, your cotton tail wagged nervously. "O-owner, where are we going?"

He stayed quiet for a moment before glancing down at you. "I'm not your owner, I bought you for someone else."

You felt a sudden wave of relief. Maybe he had a girlfriend that he wanted to give you to, or had kids.

Although you weren't thrilled to be a nanny or some pet that was fussed over, it was better than having to mate with some weird guy.

Unfortunately, your fate was worse than you could have ever imagined.

He led you into his dark home, pushing you inside and getting rough with you the second no one else could see.

"Can't believe they dress you little vermin up like this, makes it harder for my big guy to digest you."

You blinked in confusion, but a yelp was ripped from you when the man grabbed you by the ears and dragged you down a flight of stairs into a dimly lit basement.

"S-stop that, it hurts!" you babbled out, tears running down your chubby cheeks. The man only scoffed, holding you still as he took out a key.

"You won't be in pain for much longer."

You heard the sound of him unlocking something, and you were shoved into a door before it was slammed behind you.

All you could do was cry. That asshole owner of yours had been rough with your delicate ears, tossed you into a damp and dark room, then left you all alone!

As tears poured down your chubby cheeks and fell into your lap, you heard a sound somewhere in the distance. Instantly, your ears pricked up and you were on full alert.

Your instincts told you something was watching and waiting for the moment to strike.

Before you could think of fight or flight, something wrapped around your body, constricting your movements.

“Finally, owner has given me something good to eat~”

You thrashed around violently, every movement only making whatever was wrapped around you tighten even more.

“Don’t struggle, you poor little thing. It’ll be over quick, I promise,” he cooed. Something wet flicked across your neck, a purring rumbling in his chest.

“P-please, don’t kill me! I’ll… d-do anything!” you blubbered out, your little bunny heart thumping wildly in your chest. You could just die from fright! Just before a pair of teeth were about to sink into your flesh, they stopped and simply brushed against your skin.

“Oh… anything, hmm?”

You were nearly blinded when the light was turned on. Whatever had been restraining you loosened just enough for you to pull out your arms and rub your eyes.

When you opened them, you nearly had a heart attack.

Staring down at you was a pair of pink snake eyes, and wrapped around your body was a thick tail of pure muscle. The white and pink scales glittered in the dim light, sparkling so brightly you nearly had to squint to see.

“Mmm… you are pretty cute. Usually I devour my pray in the dark and digest under my heat lamp after,” the snake hybrid mused, squeezing you. The squeak you let out seemed to amuse him.

“My owner hasn’t brought me a mate yet… I guess I’ll have to make due for now.”

He held you up, opening up your thighs to get a look at you. Your body trembled, and you let out scared squeaks as he pulled the silk panties you had been dressed in aside.

“I knew I smelled something good… look at you, little bunny. You’re soaking wet…”

Before your cruel owner threw you downstairs, you had been imagining so many different things. Bunny hybrids were typically bought for companionship, and usually of the sexual variety.

Two of his fingers pumped in and out of you, curling up inside and pressing against your g-spot. “Such a brave bunny… I’ve had a few offer their pussy to me before, but I’ve never taken them up on the offer. You’re different, so soft…”

His tongue flicked out again. “And you’re so close to your heat, aren’t you?”

You squirmed in his grasp, feeling his tail tighten around you again. Although he talked a big game, his cocks twitched in excitement as he teased and played with your cunt.

The snake hybrid had never been so close to a fertile female before. His words from before had been a lie, no female had ever offered to mate with him. This would be his first time…

Drool dropped into your shoulder as he positioned his cocks at your entrance, his precum helping to lube up your hole.

His cocks were almost dripping, and he was desperate to claim his little mate. Going a few weeks without a meal wouldn’t be so bad if he had such a cute little bunny to fuck whenever he pleased.

One of his hands gripped and squeezed your fat ass, and he licked his lip when he noticed your little bunny tail twitching.

It was embarrassing, he was already head over heels for you. The snake hybrid wouldn’t let you know that though, he enjoyed hearing you little squeaks and whimpers as you wondered when he’d devour you.

One of his cock stretched you out slowly. Your little bunny cunt was meant to be used and bred, it was what you were made for. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, getting such a perfect little bunny as his mate.

“I’m gonna take good care of you,” he cooed, bouncing you on one cock as the other rubbed against your clit. “Gonna fatten you up even more, my cute little bunny~”

You whimpered, already on your third orgasm. The stimulation of his tip against your clit as his other cock pressed against your cervix was almost too much to bear!

His cum dropped out of your poor cunt by the time he was done with you. Everything felt sore, and his lower body constricting you as he clung to your chubby form didn’t help much.

You felt like a toy… and it seemed he would be playing with you often.

Part 2? Become a member of my Creature Tier on Patreon or Kofi and ask for it, or send a tip on Kofi! If you want to read more early and exclusive content, become a member of my Patreon or Kofi!

—————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[readwritealldayallnight]

Declined

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 9.2k words (whoopsies)

warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, stalker!Simon but he does it with the intention of loving you so therefore I also tag this as fluff, the usual swearing, smut, f!oral receiving, p in v sex, unprotected sex, finishing inside

Continuation of this idea

He almost hadn’t seen you, that very first time

He was begrudgingly on his sixth day of mandatory leave, something he had been pushing Price on for too long now, the Captain finally putting his foot down and saying the Lieutenant could no longer avoid it. Following a couple of particularly brutal operations recently, the higher ups were becoming increasingly concerned as to his mental stability, stating Ghost’s actions and his own written reports reflected an impulsivity and darkness they were steadily losing confidence in.

Ghost found the claims ridiculous. They had shaped him into exactly what they needed him to be on the battlefield, hadn’t they? They’d taken the scrawny runt of the litter and shaped him into a lean, mean, killing machine who never blinked twice as the blood of those lives he’d taken became as permanent of a stain on his skin as the ink from a tattoo gun. What did they fuckin’ care how his bloody mental health was?

Price insisted that the younger man not sulk inside of his flat for the entire duration of what he tried to convince him could be treated as a well deserved rest, encouraging him to get out at least once a day, if only to stretch his legs and prevent him from going truly stir crazy.

“Ye do understand they won’t let you back until they think you’re at least tryin’ to put the work in?” The Captain had told him the last time he saw him, doing his best to remind his second in command of the situation they’d been put into. “Take up fuckin’ yoga if ye think it’ll help ye. Just find something to distract yer mind and have them clear ye to come back sooner than later.”

A distraction huh?

Now, he’s sat at a table in the corner of an already too small and too cramped cafe, nursing a less than mediocre cup of tea on his daily outing, only just looking to help pass the time faster until he could be back on base where he belonged. For no particular reason other than perhaps divine intervention, he had only happened to glance up that time the bell above the door rang rather than the other hundred times it had gone off this morning, and that was when Ghost saw you

You, who appeared as though you’d only stumbled into the shop because a strong gust of wind had pushed you in his direction, your skittish, frazzled appearance making you stand out amongst the crowd of bored looking caffeine addicts stood waiting in queue, hardly sparing you a glance as they awaited their next 5£ fix

You were pushing your hair out of your face as you caught your breath, accompanied by the sound of the bell ringing as the door finally shut behind you, a noise nearly akin to angels strumming their harps up above when Ghost caught his first proper glimpse of your visage

There was something about you that piqued his interest then and there, his eyes never leaving you as you continuously struggled with the stack of books, journals and loose papers nearly slipping from your grasp, your other arm occupied with the so full it could burst tote bag that kept sliding off your shoulder

He had to stop himself from actually scoffing at your appearance, you came across as so opposite to how he carries himself, silent and stealthy, cool and collected, priding himself on being able to slip in and out of rooms unnoticed, even with his huge frame. And here you were, stumbling in like a bull in a china shop and appearing before him like the epitome of a hot mess on legs

He watched you the entire time you stood in queue, he watched you place your order and pay, noting the way his cold, dead to the world heart tried to skip a beat when you smiled at the barista, he watched you glance about the cafe as you waited for your beverage, your gaze somehow never landing on the one that had been focused on you since you walked in

Now, there are countless explanations as to why Ghost did what he did next, many of them could be explained away as being innocent enough, no real ill-intent or harm done, the Lieutenant was simply bored and looking for something to occupy his time with, to entertain his mind, like the higher ups had ordered

Unfortunately for you, he believed he had just found his distraction

It was really almost too easy, any simple civilian could have done it, his SAS skills not even needing to come into play you were making this so simple for him, you might as well have been asking for it

First, he saw your eyes light up when the barista called your name out along with your drink order, giving Ghost the first half of the information he needed. Next, he was watching you walk by his table to collect your beverage, paying him no mind at all as he glanced towards the stack in your arms, your last name practically popping out at him from the top corners of nearly all your loose papers, granting the large men exactly what he’d been hoping to see

You were none the wiser as you happily skipped out of the cafe, bidding the girl behind the counter a happy Sunday along the way, unaware as to the pair of eyes following your every movement, and the traumatized mind behind them who had already begun his plotting

One week

Seven days go by since that first Sunday he saw you in the cafe

And in that time, Simon’s kept himself busy, learning as much as he can about his newest distraction, his new little hobby, his pet project

Equipped with your first and last name tucked into the folds of his brain, it had been all too simple, nearly comical how easy it was for Ghost to look you up online and learn all he wanted to know about you

Thanks to the world wide web, in a weeks time Ghost had been able to discover all those essential details he supposes other men would have had to learn through taking you on date after date, finding out which school you’re attending for your masters degree, gaining access to your class schedule, giving him a glimpse into your routine Mondays through Fridays, discovering which local book store you’re working at part time on the weekends

You’re evidently a clever bird, having your few social media accounts set to private mode, but you’re sweet to think something like that could keep someone like him from getting what he wants

Soon enough, he’s got access to every photo and video you’ve ever uploaded to the web through the years, happy to note that you’ve never posted anything that would hint towards there being a man in your life right now

And really, it isn’t entirely your fault that you’re so open and honest in some of your posts, believing that no one apart from your family and close friends will be reading it, as you had excitedly posted photos of your new apartment last year, writing in the caption how you were eager to start this new chapter of your life, living on your own, all by yourself, not even a dog to keep you company when the floor boards creak at night and branches tap against the windows, just and old blind cat you’d rescued

While your friends had commented on how cute and cozy your decor had been, his own eyes skipped over the overpriced pillows and throws and instead locked on to the windows and doors, noting the standard, or altogether missing, security systems in place

Ghost is thinking about what the easiest way to gain access to your flat’s floor plan would be, he could pretend he’s an interested tenant and reach out to the landlord, hmm but then he’d have to actually talk to someone, something he’s been able to avoid doing so far, avoid leaving any trace- when the sound of the bell ringing above the door lets him know you’ve walked in

Much like last time, his eyes following your figure is the only perceptible movement he allowed himself, guarded by the shadows of his hood over his head, no one would ever be able to notice the steadfast attention he pays to your every single movement

You spend a total of 9 minutes 38 seconds in the cafe this time around, from the time you enter until you’re walking back out with your warm drink in hand, each second being ingrained into Ghost’s mind

A small part of him had almost tried to fool himself in the beginning, attempting to convince himself that this would be enough, learning about a curious little bird from behind a screen and silently watching her bounce around a coffee shop once a week should have been enough to keep his warring mind occupied, to keep the Lieutenant distracted until the higher ups decided enough time had passed to offer him a chance back

That was until, he’d heard you laugh

You were nearly out of the cafe, so close to being an itch he could almost consider satisfyingly scratched and over with, when a woman and her overzealous toddler came bounding round the corner, practically knocking into you with your full arms

But rather than becoming upset at your nearly spilled drink or almost ruined academic papers, you reassured the woman, got down to the tots level to make sure they were alright, and then you laughed with them

Your fucking giggle was to him what children heard when the ice cream truck came driving by, your smile stretching further than it previously had before his eyes, your voice sounding as melodic as the bell above the door did, and that was when Ghost knew, he was fucked

All of the world’s information online couldn’t put into words what he was seeing in front of him with his own two tired eyes; you were sweet

Too sweet, tooth-achingly sweet, sweet enough to trust this cold, dark world and offer it a bright smile in return

He’s seen people killed for far, far less

But not you

He wouldn’t allow such a cruel fate to befall such a darling bird, he wanted to keep you sweet, keep you smiling and giggling without worries of predators watching from the shadows, mouths salivating and jaws itching to clamp down on something soft

Not when you’d flown to close to him twice now, near enough that he can practically feel the wind beneath your wings as you float out of the cafe again, unaware that you’ve stepped into the large, gilded cage that is Ghost’s attention

Another week passes

Ghost takes his curiosity away onto the streets for the first time and counts to sixty before he follows you out of the coffee shop that Sunday, careful to stick close to the buildings and shadows, mingling in with the crowds and keeping a reasonable distance from you as he follows in your steps

He lurks near the crowded bust stop across the street from the moment you walk into your shift at the bookshop, and remains there until the second you step back out hours later, locking up the store behind you and beginning your stroll home

He waits outside your flat, noting which window on the second floor lights up with the soft glow of a lamp not long after you venture into the building, letting him know exactly which one is yours, and which one he’ll be keeping a close eye on from now on

Another week passes

Ghost has most of your routine memorized by now

He knows what time you leave in the morning depending on your classes that day, knows you often don’t make it home until after dark on those days

He knows your shifts at the bookstore every weekend never change, with your Sunday morning visits to the cafe before work being one of the few luxuries you apparently allow yourself

Ghost hangs around your flat often enough that he allows some of the neighbours to begin recognizing him in passing, letting them assume he must live in the building as well

All the better for him really, when the nice older couple doesn’t blink twice as he carefully grumbles about being locked out one night and they grant him their key code to unlock the front doors

Another week passes

Ghost knows you’ve been complaining to your landlord about how the building’s laundry machines are giving you a hard time, though you don’t tell the balding man about how it seems your undergarments are the only thing disappearing from your loads-

He knows where you do your shopping, and how you avoid a certain cashier who never gets the hint when you don’t return his attempts at flirting

He knows your Sunday morning coffee order by heart, knows exactly around what time you’ll be popping into the cafe, always around 8:25am before your 9am shift stocking books six blocks away

Another week passes

Ghost knows you haven’t noticed yet that the nuisance of a cashier at your local grocer hasn’t shown up to work in days now, the Lieutenant having ensured that he wouldn’t be bothering you anymore

He knows you’re running low on panties, considering he has nearly an entire weeks worth of your unwashed garments tucked safely in his nightstand

He knows you’ve started to notice the door leading out to your second storey balcony isn’t always locked when you return home, even though you could have sworn it was secured before you left that morning

He knows you’ve begun to question whether you left that lamp on when you rushed out for school, or if you’d closed your bedroom curtains before bed at night, or where those leftovers in the fridge went-

Ghost knows it’s nearly time to act - his clever bird is slowly catching on as he grows less and less careful, more daring - but it’s on one of those nights that he feels bold enough to slide your balcony door ajar enough for him to slide inside and watch your chest rise and fill with each breath as you sleep peacefully unaware, that his phone rings and nearly ruins everything

It was only in recent weeks that Ghost felt confident enough, or perhaps stupid enough his Captain say, to observe you more closely, taking a more ‘hands-on’ approach. At night, he more often than not occupied the nooks and crannies of your domicile as you tossed and turned in your sleep, mere steps away from the man who simply wished to watch you dream for now

He can’t explain his fascination with you even to himself - it’s as if he awoke one morning to discover he- someone had drilled a hole into his skull and poured your liquid form directly into his cranium

He sometimes wishes you were as easy to catch as a common insect, wishes that he could examine you under a microscope, to pin your extremities down and take a scalpel to your soft flesh to finally peer inside and see what makes you tick- but he knows he must tread lightly, keep you from bleeding out on the table too soon

Always careful and sure of his movements as he inched your bedroom door open that night, he had been preoccupied on watching you for any sudden indication of disturbing and waking you, he’d been entirely caught off guard by the sudden buzzing going off in his pocket

He hadn’t been expecting anything from his cell that night, considering that this was the first sign of life his the device had shown in the month he’d been forced on leave, but he thanked whatever God might still be listening to him that the ringer was off like it always was, saving him from the disaster that would have been his ringtone suddenly waking you just before two o’ clock in the morning to a masked stranger lurking in your doorway

Though the phone call hadn’t woken you, it had startled Ghost enough to throw him off, had him stepping back in surprise and making the near fatal mistake of stepping on one of your cats squeaky toys

The cheap pet store toy goes off in the otherwise deadly silent room, only the light of the moon creeping through your curtains casts a faint glow across your sleeping figure, which to Ghost’s horror, begins to stir softly

Ghost has backed out of your bedroom, slipped out the balcony door, silently shut it behind him and jumped back down onto the street with the agility of a trained professional in their element, all before the call has even been sent to voicemail

He’s ripping the device from his pocket and slamming thick fingers onto buttons as the sudden surge of adrenaline catches up to him- as he realizes just how fucking close that was - daring to glance up and spot a single light turning on in the window he knows is your bedroom

“What?” He asks harshly into the receiver, uncaring to check what the caller ID says- only one person has his cell number anyhow

“I’ll be honest,” The Captain’s accent comes through clear as day, sounding all too chipper for the current time on the clock. “I was expectin’ at least a slightly warmer greetin’ from you.”

“After a month of hearing jack shit from you?” Ghost knows he’s being slightly crueller than he needs to be. He is happy to hear Price’s voice, but the inconvenient timing of this call has him on edge, has him wishing this conversation would end already. His body may be out of your flat, but his mind is still up there with you, wondering if you’ve gone back to sleep yet, if you were convinced it was just the cat moving around at night. “Wha’ is it, Cap?”

There’s silence on the line for a moment, shuffling and the tell-tale sound of the older man letting out a deep sigh as he settles in says, “You’ve been… quiet Ghost. Was expectin’ to have heard from you by now.”

“Ain’t I supposed to be bloody takin’ it easy? As you’d put it? Why would I call when you’re the one that fuckin’ sent me away.” He surprises even himself with his harshness towards a man he holds so much respect for, one of the few people he holds to such a high standard. But the inconvenience of the timing of this call has Ghost on edge, has him uneasy, spitting out any words that will end this call and allow him to let out the breath he feels he’s still holding in.

“Fair ‘nough.” The Captain answers, having already suspected that this would likely not turn into the most joyous of phone calls. “Though for the record, you know it was never my call, Ghost. I pushed against it, vouched for you, they just-” the older man lets another deep sigh before he decides to end that train of thought and get to the point of why he called in the first place. “They’re saying they’re willing to have you come in now, with the time that’s passed. Retake your psych eval. You tell them whatever they want to hear to pass you, and you’re back in, you hear me?”

He can almost picture it, the longer Price goes on

He could pick up the duffel bag he’s had packed and sitting ready by the door since the moment he’d been put on this mandatory leave, drive to base, bullshit his way through whatever fuckin’ questions are meant to determine whether he’s fit for duty or not (even if he risks returning with a mind even darker than when they sent him away-), and be back on the battlefield by the end of the week, gunshots ringing in his ears once more and blood under his fingernails

The thing is however, there’s an itch under his skin he hasn’t been able to scratch yet, a melody stuck on repeat in his mind he hasn’t been able to perfect the tune to quiet yet, a sliver he put into his flesh himself and hasn’t found a way to pry out without making a mess

“Wish it were that simple.” The masked man grumbles under his breath, leaning his head back against the scratchy brick of the building, staring up at the starless sky, the only light he can see is one leading him back towards you

“What was that?” Price attempts to clarify, believing he’s misheard his Lieutenant. From his perspective, this is the news his second in command has been waiting to hear this entire time and he suffered through days of boredom and inactivity. He figured this would be a quick call that ended with his missing task force member returning as soon as possible

“‘Fraid I ain’t quite ready yet, sir. Got something I need to take care of first.”

“You- how do you mean, Ghost?” He asks again, in slight disbelief that the man on the other end of the line isn’t itching to return as he believed he would be.

“Took your advice, Cap. Found a distraction. Can’t go being upset now, to find out I’m distracted.”

It takes him longer than it should, to come up with what he considers as Plan A

Every scenario he dreamt up in his head, every possible meet-cute that could occur, none of it seemed good enough for inserting himself into your life and ensuring his spot became a permanent one

What if he caught you at a bad time and you hardly spared a glance at him?

What if he intimidated you, the way he tended to throw most people off?

What if you found him strange, creepy, scary?

What if you didn’t like him and he ruined any chance he ever had at doing this right?

He couldn’t risk such a thing, not when he intended on keeping you around for a long, long time

He had to ensure that your first meeting went well, was one where you would be just as infatuated with him as he’d been with you

In order for this to work, he had to have you approach him

Either way, he was going to have you, he would just rather if you went willingly and happily

The idea had struck him on a Saturday, as he watched you and your coworker locking up the bookstore one evening, overhearing a snippet of your conversation had a lightbulb appearing above his head

You stood by the shopfront as your coworker tugged on the door handle, making sure it was locked tight for the night, before she mentioned to you; “God, I wish payday wasn’t a week away.”

“Tell me ‘bout it.” You’d agreed, readjusting the strap of your constantly slipping tote bag on your shoulder. “I hope I’ve got enough money in my bank account to cover my coffee tomorrow morning.”

Bingo

He’d shown up to the cafe extra early the next morning, though he always arrived at least a half hour before you did, wanting to fade into the background of the bustling morning crowd before you popped in

He’d considered finding a way to hack your bank cards and have them malfunction, but then thought better of it, curious if he could go about this another way that was less likely to leave a digital footprint

He knew the barista working the counter this morning was a newer hire, hadn’t even been here for a full month yet

He tried to look as non-intimidating as he could as he walked up to her, though that was no easy feat considering his stature alone

He ordered his drink, his fee for being able to occupy the corner table as long as he liked, before he told her he had a strange request to make

He was confident that she wouldn’t tell him no, that she was still new enough to the job that she wouldn’t want to deny a paying customer

He explained that there’d be a woman coming in later, and that he wanted to pay for her order

Ghost could see how the naive girl was almost fooled into believing he was sweet for a moment, perhaps caring even, asking him if he was wanting to start one of those pay it forward trains where everyone pays for the person behind them- before he cut her off

“No.” He’d clarified firmly, seeing her eyes widen only slightly before hastily putting her customer service face back in place. “Only her.”

He said he wanted to her pretend as though your cards weren’t working when you would go to pay- to tell you they had declined or something, before he’d step in and pay for you

“She’s an old friend o’ mine. Haven’t seen her in a while. Was hoping you could help me with this sort o’ … ‘prank’ if you will.”

Any hesitation the woman might have still been harbouring quickly disappeared when a 20£ note was flashed to her

Nearly a half hour later, he watches his plan unfold without a hitch

You think nothing of it the first time the barista tells you your payment didn’t go through, becoming confused when it declines a second time, and increasingly flustered each time after that when every method of payment you have can’t cover your 5£ morning drink

Ghost watches this unfold with a satisfied smirk hidden under his plain medical mask - he thought the balaclava might be a bit too much for your first meeting - enjoying seeing you flounder momentarily, unaware of how everything you know is about to change as he steps closer, extending his gloved hand next to you, close enough to feel your heat radiating through your jacket, before he’s tapping his card against the machine and speaking to you for the first time

“I’ve got tha’ for ya.”

And suddenly, as simple as flicking a switch on, as easy as waking up from a peaceful sleep, Ghost now gets to watch all his hard work pay off right before him, as your eyes meet finally meet his for the first time

He has to actively fight to hear your incessant apologies and thank you’s aimed his way over the thundering of his heart beating in his damaged eardrums, has to refrain himself from grinning as wide as a Cheshire Cat beneath his mask and give himself away too soon

Though his poker experience is usually limited to late nights under foreign stars with the 141, Ghost knows how to play his cards right, especially with you

He turns you down at your first offer to pay him back, letting you stew in the awkward discomfort of a stranger saving your ass in front of other strangers for a moment longer, before you’re saying the exact words he wanted to hear coming from your lips, as though he’d handed you the script himself

“Do you come here often? I just mean that- I come here a lot- sometimes. And if you’re here next time I’m here, then maybe I can pay you back, buy you a drink.”

With a hurried promise to meet him here at this time next week, and a sheepish smile sent his way as you duck out of the busy cafe to head to work, Ghost slips the barista another 20£ in thanks before he’s out of the shop as well, following you from a distance, each step he takes feeling lighter than the next

You can’t keep pretending anymore

Even your friends are starting to take notice

Well, if you can count the people who are forced to spend time with you, your classmates and coworkers, as friends

“You all good over there?” Your colleague asks you as you’re restocking books on the shelves one afternoon, having noticed the way you jumped in surprise when a customer rounded the corner unexpectedly

“Yeah I-” You take a steadying breath, one hand still clutching your frantic heart as it races in your chest. “I’ve just been paranoid recently. Think school’s getting to me.”

You can tell she doesn’t quite believe you, based off the way she’s still looking at you, before she decides to drop the subject for now, going to greet the couple that just walked in

You’re not sure you’d believe yourself either, if you were the one on the outside looking in

While it was true that you were in a particularly busy portion of the semester at the moment, your assignments and grades were unfortunately the furthest thing from your mind

You’d been able to play it off at first, blaming your constantly preoccupied mind and overloaded schedule, how else could you keep forgetting such silly things like turning the lamp off though you could’ve sworn you had- and believing you’d left yourself two slices of pizza when the plate in the fridge obviously only had one on it but wait you only ordered a small and ate half last night how could- and the plants that you knew you kept neglecting suddenly began blooming back to life when you knew you hadn’t watered them in ages

Those strange occurrences, those little blips in your memory were easier to pass off, less difficult to wrestle around in with in your psyche and instead pass off as moments of forgetfulness, a busy student and part time employee with too much on her plate and not enough of a social life

But then things went from being strange, to downright concerning

You knew you had locked the balcony door last night, hell you checked it every damn night, a habit you’d had long before you lived on your own in the middle of a busy city, so why were you not only often finding it unlocked, but one night you found it slightly ajar, the morning breeze rustling the curtains as though they were taunting you step closer

Speaking to some of your other neighbours in passing, none of them had anything close to similar complaints about the laundry machine stealing their undergarments as a price to pay for clean laundry, your panties apparently being the only victims, something you were trying to convince yourself wasn’t as bizarre as it clearly was, especially when you were folding laundry one day and discovered you had quite literally not a single pair of knickers left

And then there were the dreams

If you could even call them that

Dreams where a large, dark stranger creeps into your home, into your bedroom, and simply watches you

Lurks in the corners of your flat and observes your every move, your every breath, never making a single sound, as silent as a ghost

And the stranger never does anything, never says anything, only ever just stands there, until you wake up and you can swear you see his shadow disappearing out of the corner of your eyes as you open them

It doesn’t take long for you to start noticing the shadow when you’re awake too

Disappearing around bends and corners, slipping through grocery aisles and alley ways, blending amongst crowds and backgrounds, vanishing when you turn your head to catch sight of him

You feel like you’re losing your mind

“Why don’t you come out with Jordan and I tonight?” She tries again, coming to drop another box full next to your feet. “Take your mind off of school. We’re going to try that new pub down near Walton Street.”

“I would, but-” You cut yourself off, spotting your manager coming to ring up a customer at the front. The two of you exchange knowing glances and small smiles, knowing your sweet old man of a boss doesn’t truly mind when his employees chit chat together, he says he likes seeing you all getting along, but you still try to keep up appearances

You put your thumb and pinky out to look like a phone before shaking it by your ear, letting your coworker know you’ve got plans for the night as she playfully rolls her eyes at you and mouths “I see, I see” with her hands up in mock surrender, before she’s retreating to gather more boxes from the back

It’s the same plans you’ve had almost every night for going on nearly two weeks now

While it was true that the sudden strange occurrences in your life were preoccupying most of your mind these days, you were still in fact a busy student, and so while you hadn’t entirely forgotten about the stranger you’d promised a coffee to the week prior, you couldn’t hide your genuine surprise at seeing him there that next Sunday

He was sat at a table in the corner, his hands free of any drink, allowing you to pay him back, just as he said he would

What he hadn’t prefaced the last time however, was how quickly he’d make you fall for him

While he might not have been the type of guy you would have originally gone for, unable to deny the intimidating aura that follows him around, you were all too pleased to discover that behind that hardened exterior was someone you got along with without even having to try, discovering he agreed with everything you said, had a lot in common with you, listened attentively to every word you spoke, not to mention he was certainly not hard on the eyes

You weren’t able to sit with him long that morning, explaining to him that the cafe was usually your much needed caffeine stop on your way to work, though you’d walked to the bookstore that morning with a pep in your step, and a new number in your contacts, under the name Simon

It wasn’t even a full 24 hours later when he’d first called you up

You were doing dishes in your flat, getting ready to turn in early that night when your phone rang

You couldn’t help the blush that overtook you at hearing his gravelly voice come through the line, tickling your ear as he apologized for already calling you so soon, he just couldn’t remember the name of that book you’d mentioned yesterday and it was bothering him because he wanted to read it before he saw you again

Next thing you knew, close to three hours had gone by, and you felt like a teenager when you both admitted neither wanted to hang up yet, satisfying one another with a promise to call again soon

Soon, it turns out, was the very next night

And the night after that

And the night after that

And soon, you can Simon were talking on the phone every night before bed, hours and hours racking up as you learned more about each other

It was a nice distraction from the source of your anxieties you refused to fully acknowledge yet, a welcome way to take your mind off the stress you’d been experiencing

If you weren’t already so distracted, you might have been paying just a little closer attention

You might have noticed how skilled he was at deflecting personal question aimed his way, or how he was able to answer without truly answering, always quickly turning the spotlight back to you, making you feel seen and listened to in a way no man had done before, taking the attention away from him time and time again

You might have noticed he agreed with you a little too often, never actually voicing any opinions until he knew what yours was first, never taking a stance unless he knew what yours was

What you really should have noticed was the way he seemed to know things about you that you couldn’t remember telling him, chalking it up to being so tired some nights you must have forgotten sharing that with him

In the end, Simon was saying all the right things at the right time, and you were all too happy to hear what you wanted to hear

It was barely ten minutes passed 9 when you were turning the key in the lock for the night, making sure the doors wouldn’t budge before you tightened your hold on your bag and began the trek home, the butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter at the thought of hearing Simon’s voice through the phone soon enough

Luckily, you were only about eight blocks away from home, and the summer sun had only just begun setting as the last of the customers were dwindling out of the shop, meaning you weren’t walking in total darkness quite yet

Yet somehow, something in the air tonight felt different, had the hairs on the back of your neck rising as though anticipating a predator lurking around the corner, ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey

You tried you continue convincing yourself you were nothing short of delusional, paranoid, that watching too many true crime docs was getting to you

But then, just as you were waiting for the pedestrian crossing sign to change, out of the corner of your eye, you saw your shadow

You whipped your head around too quickly, straining your neck but desperate to catch a glimpse and prove you weren’t crazy, but as always, there was no one there

The small crowd around you began crossing the street, unaware of the adrenaline begin to course through your veins as you hobbled along with them, noticing with regret that no one else continued in the direction you would have to turn, leaving you to traverse the next few blocks alone

You hurried your pace, trying to shake the undeniable feeling of something being wrong, when for the first time, you heard your shadow

Light footsteps that grew heavier the more you paid attention to them, the kind that weren’t casually strolling by as you might have hoped, but rather were on a determined path, and to your utter fear, were gaining speed

You never once dared turn your head this time, fear convincing you that should you stop and look back, he would be right there over your shoulder, a shadow coming to life just in time to take yours away

With your building in sight, you said fuck it and broke out into a sprint, hurrying towards the main doors and frantically entering in your code before the worst fo your fears could come true, never glancing back as the doors unlocked and you made a mad dash inside and up the stairs

You were barely through your apartment door before your phone was in your hand, dialling the last number you’d called, the only number you called these days

He answered before the first ring had finished

“‘ello?”

“Simon.” You hated the way your voice sounded, trembling around his name and giving away the clear distress you were in, but you couldn’t help it. Your poor heart was racing a mile a minute, you had tears threatening to spill over your lash line at any moment, you were trembling like a leaf and wanted to seek out the only comfort you’d had recently

“Wha’s wrong?” He immediately asked, evidently hearing your panic through the phone

“Simon, I just-” you let out a gasp, no longer in control of the tears that were starting to run down your cheeks. You double, triple checked the lock on your door was secured before on trembling legs, you slowly made your way towards the balcony doors, blood running cold when you spotted the latch undone. “I know this sounds insane but I really need you, I- I swear someone’s been following me and I think he’s outside my flat and I- I’m so scared Simon I don’t-”

“You’re alrigh’ love.” He cut off your rambling, the confidence in his voice lending you a sliver of strength for a moment. “Jus’ breathe, yeah? I’ll be righ’ there.”

True to his word, Simon is knocking at your flat door in less than four minutes, another anomaly you would have noticed had you not been in such a frantic state of mind

“It’s me love. Jus’ me.” You hear his voice say through the door, standing up on tip toes to peer through the peephole and confirm for your own peace of mind that it really truly is your knight in shining armour, hardly paying any mind to the fact that this is the first time you see him without a mask on the lower half of his face

You’re practically banging the door against the wall as you swing it open in a hurry to get him inside, grabbing him by his jacket to pull his figure closer to yours, barely giving him a chance to shut it behind him before you’re clinging to him like a lost pet whose been returned to their owner

You can hear him shushing you, a large hand coming to soothe your hair as another grabs you by the waist and holds you tighter, trying to reassure you between your sobs that you’re alright, that he’s here now, that you’re always safe with him

There’s a fleeting moment where you can’t help but think about how this isn’t you, how you’ve always been fiercely independent, how you’ve never needed to rely on others for comfort before, let alone a man you met all of two weeks ago, but the thought is gone just as quickly as it appeared, when Simon pulls back to hold your face gently in both of his hands, thumbs carefully rubbing tears off your cheeks as he looks at you with such sincerity, you couldn’t care less if you’ve known him for two weeks or two years, right now you just need someone to tell you everything is okay, that you’re not insane

He leads you towards the couch, planting you sideways across his lap as he leans your head on his shoulder and rubs a soothing hand across your back

“Now, try again, love. Tell me wha’s happened.”

And when he’s asking you so sweetly, touching you so nicely in a way no one has in who knows how long, how could you every deny him?

You tell him everything, all of it, the bizarre coincidences you can no longer explain away, the strange happenings that you cannot chalk up to forgetfulness, the odd feeling of being constantly watched you cannot shake, you tell him all of it

And Simon, he listens to it all, every concern of yours, every worry you’d had, he nods along showing you he’s listening, never interrupting you, always rubbing some part of your skin to let you know he’s here, he’s here and he’s got you

By the end of it, you’re no longer crying, your heart has begun to slow to a more normal rhythm, the goosebumps dotting your skin only a result of the large man caressing you as you avoid dribbling snot onto his jumper

“You must think I’m crazy, right? I- I even think I sound crazy.” You admit, avoiding looking at him as you pick at a loose thread on his collar

“Not at all, love.” His words have your eyes lifting to meet his, finding nothing but honesty in his steady gaze.

“W-what?”

“Said I believe you.” He reiterates, giving your hip a slight squeeze before he’s dragging his fingers down across your thigh, rubbing soothing strokes against your flesh. “Everythin’ you jus’ told me, I don’ wanna scare you bird, but I think you migh’ be righ’. Sounds like someone’s been followin’ ya.”

He must see it in your face, the way your heart practically drops to the floor at his words, because he’s gripping the meat of your thigh a little tighter, opening his mouth to continue before you can spiral further

“But you’re so smart, love. You did exactly the righ’ thing, callin’ me. You knew I wouldn’ let anythin’ happen to ya. I’m here now, I’ve got ya.”

His words are akin to stepping into a steaming warm bath at the end of a gruelling day, the exact comfort you needed in that moment, easing you slowly back into a state of calm, though you don’t feel quite out of the woods yet

“Let me take care of ya, huh? Here, follow me.” He gives your thigh one last squeeze before he’s helping you back up onto more stable legs, never going without at least on hand touching you as he guides you towards your balcony door, making a show of peering outside for any lurking dangers before he snaps the lock in place and draws the curtains shut

“C’mon, let’s check all your windows, eh? Can’t be too sure.”

And so you follow him room to room, watching him with growing gratitude as he goes from window to window, ensuring it’s properly shut and locked before moving onto the next, scanning each room for any sign of a disturbance, letting you know everything is clear each time, until there’s only one door left to go through

Simon inches the door to your bedroom open with the toe of his boot, letting it hit the wall before he steps inside, doing a full scan before he nods towards you to follow him in

You take a seat at the end of your bed as you watch him move through your space, checking your window and closing your curtains, even going as far as to open your closet and peek under the bed, something that forces a fleeting smile on your face in spite of the circumstances

“Think that’s everythin’, birdie.” He admits, coming to sit down next to you on the bed, thighs touching, his muscled arm sneaking around your shoulders to pull you into him. “My brave girl. You’ve been goin’ through all this by yourself, huh?”

“Mhm.” You confirm, feeling too exhausted after the rush of emotions and adrenaline let down to say anything more, too tired to notice the way he’s taken to calling you his all of a sudden, especially when Simon’s embrace is so warm, so inviting

“Poor bird. Must’ve been so scary, not knowing who’s out there.” He coos into your ear, brushing your hair back from your neck, letting you feel his hot breath against your skin. “Aren’t you so glad you called? That I’m ‘ere now?”

“Mhm. Thank you, Simon.” You murmur, the events of the day really catching up to you now

“You never have to thank me, love. I’m here with ya. Not goin’ anywhere.” You feel your lashes flutter shut when his chapped lips come to press a chaste kiss to your temple, as gentle as a butterflies wings as this behemoth of a man comforts you. “You jus’ let me take care of ya now, love. Let me make it all better. Make ya feel good.”

There’s a fraction of a second where your mind catches back up to you, where logic floats up to the surface of your consciousness when you feel Simon’s hand sneak under your shirt, something on the tip of your tongue about how this is only the third time you meet face to face, how you haven’t gone on a proper date yet, how you’ve only known him two weeks-

Any common sense flies out the window however when his lips connect with yours

As his calloused fingers manage to rid you of your top before tangling in your hair, your own are grasping on tightly at his collar, allowing him to take control of the kiss, to take control of the situation, to do as he’s promised and make you feel good, make you forget about everything that’s had you so on edge and allow yourself to be taken care of

Simon hasn’t steered you wrong so far, has he? He’s been nothing but kind, nothing but attentive, nothing but sweet and caring and present and-

Fuck can he kiss

Your heart is racing for an entirely different reason as his fingers reach behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall haphazardly amongst your sheets before he’s pulling his lips off of yours, kissing and nipping along your jaw, your neck, down your collarbone and sternum until his hot breath is tickling one of your nipples and he sucks it gently into his mouth, teeth playfully skimming the raised bud

You can’t help the way you melt like putty in his hands, unknowingly as touch starved as he is, unable to hold back the sounds of your enjoyment when his other hand comes up to tweak your neglected breast, squeezing and pinching until it’s as taut as the one he’s still slobbering all over

Your fingers are pulling at the fabric of his jumper, arching into his touch and gasping when he lets your breast go with a ‘plop’, before his mouth is trailing wet kisses down your sternum, down your stomach, before his skilled fingers are tugging down your pants

“No panties, hm?” You never could have imagined his voice could be deeper than it already was, but the sound of his gravelly accent has chills running up your spine, blush deepening when you see the dark look in his eyes as he peers down at your bare, weeping slit

You have half a mind to explain that you haven’t had time to run to the shops and replace all your missing knickers, but quickly lose any sense of time and place when his broad shoulders are pushing themselves between your thighs, opening them up for his head to drop down and his lips to wrap around your throbbing clit

You can feel him smirk against your folds at the sound you let out, something between a moan and a gasp, before he’s pulling out more delicious noises from you with his tongue alone

“Mmm, you really do taste as good as you look.” He murmurs against your dripping folds, eyes dancing with mischief before his lips are on you again

You feel like your entire being has been pulled apart and put back together in the blink of an eye, your would be stalker having you fearing for your life, and now Simon having you holding on for dear life

You can both hear and feel him groaning against your pussy, licking up your arousal, probing his skilled tongue around your entrance before plunging it as deep as the muscle will go, reminiscent of a man starved as he devours you from the inside out, with no sign of being satiated any time soon

“Simon!” You plead, toes curling, legs shaking. You can hardly believe this is happening, that you’re on the precipice of cumming on this man’s tongue so soon, when suddenly his thumb sneaks down and slides across your clit engorged clit, rubbing steady circles until you’re seeing stars behind your eyelids, eyes rolling to the back of your head and his name the only word you know as you fall headfirst off that cliff known as ecstasy

You’re gasping for breath, still coming back to yourself when he finally pulls himself away, licking his lips as though this was a five star meal he’s just tasted, the look in his eyes telling you he’s likely to be a returning customer

With the way he’s brought you to orgasm faster than any vibrator ever has, you’re hardly in any place to protest when you hear the sound of his belt being undone, his zipper being pulled down, a ringing in your ears when your eyes land on his throbbing, erect member

You barely get a chance to gasp at its size before Simon is on you again, strong hands dragging you further up the mattress before he’s kissing you senseless yet again

You can feel him pumping his cock with one hand as he takes his time tasting you, having you taste yourself on his tongue

He pulls one of your legs up around his waist, opening your centre up to him before you can feel the head of his prick sliding through your folds, teasing your sensitive clit until you’re practically shaking, rolling your hips up against him

He’s swallowing your gasp when he notches himself at your entrance, wasting no time before he’s sinking himself inch by devastating inch, plunging further and further than you thought was possible, until he’s all the way in, hips flush with yours as he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, a perfect fit

While sweet might have been a word you used for the Simon who talks to you on the phone at all hours, who buys you coffee when your cards decline, you cannot bring yourself to believe that that same sweet Simon is the same man who begins thrusting in and out of you with such vigour, such force, it knocks the breath right out of your lungs as your headboard begins banging against the wall

“Fuck!” He’s grunting in your ear, the sounds of skin slapping and your wetness squelching echoing in the room. “Fuckin’ knew it. Knew you’d be this tight. So warm, so wet for me. Perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

“Simon! Oh, Simon!” His name is the only word your lips can make sense of, the only thing your mind can understand. You’re already headed towards another climax, your body feeling like an instrument he’s spent years mastering the art of playing

“Yeah, you gonna come again, pretty bird? Come on my cock? Just for me?” He’s picking up his pace, intent of meeting you there with his own release, grip tightening on your waist as he plunges in and out of you, feeling your tight walls increasingly gripping his cock. “Say it. Say it’s just for me. Say it.”

“It- it’s for you. Just for you, Simon! You!”

“Fuckin’ righ’ it is. My perfect girl.” He praises, sucking dark purple circles onto your neck, fingers unrelenting in their teasing against your clit. “You want it, pretty girl? Then fuckin’ take it.”

Your vision goes white, body practically going numb the pleasure is so all consuming as it shoots through every nerve ending and back, every star in the galaxy appearing before your eyes as you come on his cock. You’re so lost in your orgasm, you hardly notice when he groans out your own name, hips stilling as he shoots his load into you, rutting helplessly against your overused cunt to drag out every second of ecstasy, making sure you take very last drop he has to give you

If you were exhausted before, you’re practically dead to the world now, uncaring that Simon doesn’t even pull out his softening member as he maneuvers the two of you under the covers, smoothing your hair back as he kisses all over your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips

He rubs soothing hands up and down your naked back, telling you how good you did, how good you are for him, how good he’ll be for you, before he’s reaching to turn your lamp off, casting the two of you into darkness as sleep fights to drag you under

You’re on the brink of slumber, too spent to really think about anything that’s transpired tonight, though just conscious enough to feel the smallest of alarms try and go off in the back of your foggy mind at Simon’s words, the last of your self preservation instincts trying to weave its way to the front of your mind, waving the red flag as high as it’ll go

“Good thing I came over soon as you called. Who knows what could’ve happened.”

Your eyes snap open

You’d never told Simon where you lived

~~~~~

If you’ve made it this far, I’d like to offer you a sticker of appreciation

Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! Thank you for your patience on this fic, I cannot even tell you how many times I felt like this story was ready to be posted, but I’d reread it and wouldn’t be satisfied with how it was. This is probably the draft I’ve spent the most time on, and so again I really appreciate the patience in waiting for the upload

But here she is!!! And I hope she was worth the wait

I know this is different from the usual fluff I post, both with a darker Ghost and smut still not being my forte, but I really do sincerely hope this part 2 was everything you guys hoped for! I had a lot of fun writing it, turned into one of my longest ones, and now I’m excited to get to my inbox and answer more requests from you lovely folks

- M 🫶🏻

[homeofthelonelywriter]

The boys still couldn’t believe it. They had just taken down Makarov, Johnny barely surviving it, and now they were somewhere in America, in a beach house with a strip of private beach. All curtesy of Kate, apparently it belonged to her family but was hardly used, so the boys using it was a welcome change.

They had been uncertain if they wanted to accept the (paid for) vacation, but after they all finally got released from the hospital, Price decided it was time for a break and some relaxation. So, they packed their bags and flew to the States. Kate had given them a brief introduction on what was where over the phone and the excitement grew, especially when she mentioned that there was scuba diving equipment.

So, the moment they arrived, after quickly dumping their stuff in the entry way and changing, they grabbed the equipment and set out into the waters. Even Simon couldn’t suppress a small smile or hide his excitement. At first, they stayed fairly close to the surface, but after Johnny saw a colorful fish he wanted to follow, they continued on into deeper waters. And that was when they heard it.

At first, it sounded like a wounded animal, but nothing like anything they had heard before. Either way, a sudden protectiveness coursed through them as they followed the sound to the source. And then they saw it. Or rather her. You.

Your tail had gotten stuck in an abandoned fishing net and you couldn’t get out. Originally, you had tried to reach your people with your cries, but no one came. Well, except for these four men suddenly in front of you. The few encounters you had with humans so far, had never ended well, so no one could blame you when you shrunk back in fear, reaching for the dagger that usually rested in its sheath on your hip, but you had lost it when you tried to free yourself earlier.

The men and you starred at each other for a few moments, before one of them approached. Immediately you tried to swim away, momentarily forgetting about the net, but you were immediately pulled back as the rope cut into your scales. A pained wail escaped you, as blood slowly seeped into the water. The man quickly raised his hands, before slowly gesturing to the net and then to his thigh, where you could see a small knife. You could see his eyebrows raise, as if asking for permission, and you slowly nodded, hoping that they would just let you go afterwards.

He mirrored your nod, before slowly approaching you and taking out his knife. With precision that was unknown to you, he cut through the rope until you were free. Out of reflex, you darted away, your tail swishing hard enough to send the man back a bit, making him loose his grip on the knife and you watched as it disappeared into the darkness. You glanced back at the four, before diving into the darkness, after the knife. Along with it, you found your dagger, which you put back in its place, before swimming back up, just to see the four still there, as if they hadn’t moved. Slowly, you swam up to the man who freed you and held out the knife with both hands, a small smile gracing your lips.

He took it from you, nodding in thanks. After one more glance over all of them, you turned around and swam back to your home, taking a few detours in case they were following you. But when you came to rest later that day, you mind stayed with the men. No matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about them. And little did you know that they had the exact same problem.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3

A/N: Inspired by a post by @beloveds-embrace. Should I continue this?

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄/𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

You wake up early, stretching lazily before grabbing Xavier’s hoodie from where it hangs on the rack like it’s routine. He’s still sleeping soundly as you slip out of the bedroom. The hoodie envelops you completely, sleeves hanging past your wrists, carrying his distinct, comforting scent.

In the kitchen, you prepare a simple breakfast for yourself, and a plate for Xavier that you know will likely go cold. The morning news plays quietly on the TV as you settle onto the couch, legs tucked underneath you, swimming in the soft fabric of his hoodie, feeling wrapped in Xavier’s presence despite his absence.

Movement catches your eye as Xavier appears in the doorway. His eyes find you immediately, taking in the sight of you wearing his clothing.

“Good morning,” you say, offering him his plate. “I made you breakfast.”

Xavier glances at the food but doesn’t take it. Instead, he shifts closer, arm sliding around your shoulders to pull you against his side. “Later,” he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep.

His fingers trace absent patterns on your arm through the fabric of his hoodie, and you can feel him breathing in deeply, as if taking in the sight of you wrapped in something that belongs to him.

You nestle closer, and within minutes, his breathing becomes more even. Looking up, you find his eyes have drifted closed, his posture completely relaxed. You smile, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. Even in sleep, his arm remains securely around you, keeping you close as if unwilling to let you go now that he’s found you this way—comfortable, content, and wrapped in his clothing.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The mission had been longer than expected, and you’re exhausted as you make your way back home. Zayne had returned from his shift a few hours ago, and you’ve been looking forward to seeing him after days apart. You’re wearing his jacket—the black one with the subtle white trim that you’d taken from his closet before leaving. It’s become a comfort object during your mission, the lingering scent of his cologne providing reassurance during stressful moments.

You stop at the corner store for snacks before finally unlocking the apartment door. The place is quiet but warm as you kick off your shoes and pad toward the living room.

You find Zayne on the couch with journals spread around him. He looks up as you enter, his eyes immediately locking onto his jacket draped over your frame. Given his preference for professional coats, his collection of casual jackets and hoodies is small and meticulously maintained—making the absence of even one immediately noticeable to someone as detail-oriented as him.

“So that’s where it went,” he says. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he sets aside his work, creating space beside him.

You drop down next to him with a tired sigh. “Found me out.”

Zayne reaches out, fingers brushing against the collar of his jacket where it meets your neck. The touch is gentle, almost reverent. “It suits you better than me,” he murmurs.

His hand moves to your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. “Next time,” he says, voice low near your ear, “take more than one. You know I don’t mind.”

His arm remains around you, a subtle but clear indication that while you may have his jacket, he’s pleased to have you.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The gallery opening had been exhausting—too many people packed into too small a space, all of them wanting a piece of Rafayel’s attention. You’d smiled and nodded and played your part perfectly, but by the time you returned to his seaside home, you were completely drained.

Rafayel had stayed behind to handle some business with Thomas, insisting you go ahead without him. You’d grabbed one of his hoodies—the soft blue one with white pattern of waves—and changed into it the moment you got home. Now, curled up on the couch with the artsy duckie plushie he’d won for you clutched against your chest, you’d finally found peace in the quiet of the evening.

The sound of the door opening and closing barely registers as you drift between sleep and wakefulness. You vaguely hear the soft footsteps approaching, then a delighted sound that could only come from Rafayel.

“Oh, look at you,” he coos, his voice soft. “Absolutely precious.”

You hear the click of his phone camera and crack open one eye to see him standing above you, a fond expression on his face as he takes another photo to set it as his home screen later.

“Are you documenting my crime?” you mumble sleepily.

“I’m documenting perfection,” he corrects, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Move over a bit.”

You comply, and he squeezes onto the couch beside you, pulling you half onto his chest. His fingers thread through your hair, and you feel the tension in his body from the event slowly release.

“Did Thomas give you a hard time about leaving early?” you ask, voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

“Thomas always gives me a hard time,” Rafayel replies with a dismissive wave. “But I’d rather be here with you.”

You snuggle closer, the artsy duckie plushie squished between you, and feel him press a kiss to the top of your head as you both settle into the comfortable silence.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Snow falls in thick flakes outside the window, blanketing the forest view in pristine white. You stand before the floor-to-ceiling glass, mesmerized by the winter snow cascading from the gloomy sky. Sylus’s dark jacket envelops you like a protective shell, the sleeves long enough that you can curl your fingers into them. It smells like him—a blend of expensive cologne and something uniquely his—and wearing it feels almost like being wrapped in his embrace.

You’ve been standing there for nearly twenty minutes, lost in thought, when you hear the door to the residence open and close. You don’t turn, knowing exactly who it is from the footsteps entering the room.

“Enjoying the view?” Sylus asks, his voice closer than you expected.

You glance over your shoulder to find him watching you with an expression that makes your heart rate quicken. His eyes track from your face down to the jacket you’re wearing.

“It’s peaceful,” you reply, turning back to the window. “Everything looks so quiet from up here.”

“Indeed,” he agrees, though you can tell from his reflection in the glass that he’s not looking at the snow at all. He moves to sit behind you, close enough that you can feel his warmth. “Though I must say, my jacket looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

You smile, watching his reflection. “It’s warm.”

“If it’s warmth you’re seeking,” Sylus says, his hands coming to rest lightly on your shoulders, “perhaps I could offer something more comforting than a piece of fabric?”

You turn to face him, still wrapped in his jacket. “Is that an offer or a command?”

His lips curve into that familiar smirk as he pulls you closer. “With you? Always an offer.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The DAA jacket is practically a relic now—Caleb hasn’t worn it in years, not since he became Colonel in the Farspace Fleet. But it still hangs in the closet of your shared place, and on the nights when he’s away on missions, you find yourself reaching for it.

Tonight is one of those nights. The bed feels too big, too empty without him, and the jacket is a poor substitute but better than nothing. You’ve wrapped yourself in it, breathing in the faint traces of his scent that somehow still cling to the fabric after all this time.

You’re reading through reports on your tablet when the door slides open unexpectedly. You look up, startled, to see Caleb standing in the doorway, still in his Fleet uniform, a day earlier than scheduled.

“Caleb! You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow,” you say, sitting up straighter.

His eyes immediately zero in on the jacket you’re wearing, and a slow, teasing grin spreads across his face. “Well, well. What do we have here? A thief in the house?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “Hardly stealing when it’s been hanging untouched for years.”

Caleb fully enters the room and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to finger the fabric of the jacket’s collar. “I don’t know,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Looks like theft to me. I should probably report this.”

“I’ll give it back,” you offer, starting to shrug it off.

“Don’t you dare,” he says quickly, catching your hands with a grin. “It looks better on you anyway.” He pauses, then adds with mischief, “In fact, I think you should raid my entire closet. Take it all. Every last shirt and sock.”

You laugh, leaning forward to kiss him. “Welcome home, Caleb.”

“Home is wherever you are,” he replies, pulling you closer. “Stolen jacket and all.”

Based on this request.

[captainpriceslilwife]

Thinking about Gaz trying to hit on insecure!reader at the bar, but he's oblivious to the fact that she's self-conscious until he starts talking to her. And for the first time in his life, he gets turned down...and he's never been more attracted to anyone in his life.

Maybe you were all on your own bc your friends abandoned you, or maybe you showed up on your own in an attempt to be flirted with. But once you got there you felt too insecure to look anyone in the eye, so you've kept your gaze locked on your drink since you arrived.

Maybe Gaz sees you - a pretty bird - all on your own and looking sad. It doesn't even cross his mind that you could be insecure, after all, you're gorgous. But you've never seen yourself that way.

So when he finally works up the courage and gets a bit of encouragement from his team, he slinks up next to you and turns on the charm, like he always does with women.

But it doesn't work out like he planned.

There's no blushing smiles and bashful giggles coming from you. Only a blank, surprised stare and tensed muscles. You even look around like you think he's talking to someone else.

I mean, he couldn't possibly be hitting on you, right? It must be some kind of joke, or prank, or...something. Someone that handsome would not be interested in someone like you. And your concerns are only confirmed when he glances over his shoulder and gets a thumbs-up and a wide, toothy grin from some idiot with a mohawk.

He thinks maybe he's just making you nervous, but when you flinch when he calls you 'beautiful', he knows he's done something wrong. He just doesn't know what.

Of course, it's not his fault. He doesn't know how many times you've been asked out as a joke...or a prank...or a dare. Nobody's ever made a genuine effort to be with you. And he's struck a chord in you hard enough to make you have to swallow against the lump forming in your throat.

"You think it's funny to go up to random girls and make fun of them?" Your trembling voice speaks up as you cling to your drink, trying to seem tough even as the tears build in your eyes.

"Make fun-?" He doesn't even get to finish voicing his confusion before you're standing up, staring down at his brown, puppy-dog eyes with the firmest glare you can muster despite your tears.

"You might be this...this handsome guy, but that doesn't mean you can be mean!" You stutter out as you gather up your purse clumsily, like you're desperate to get away from him...which you are...even if he is the hottest man who has ever talked to you.

"Love, I wasn't making fun of you-" He desperately tries to salvage the situation as he watches in horror as your tears begin to roll down your cheeks, but you quickly snap back. "Oh, save it! You...you asshole!" You seem to hesitate for a moment before you grip your drink tightly and splash it into his face, but he can tell by the immediate guilt lacing your features that you regret your choice.

Before either of you can say anything else, you gather your purse and practically sprint to the exit. But in your hurry, you don't realize you've left behind your wallet - which Gaz picks up once he's broken himself out of the shock you've left him in.

He returns to his table - slightly dazed and dripping with strawberry daquiri as he stares down at your I.D., completely lost in thought as he studies the small picture of your face smiling sweetly at the camera. It looks nothing like the gorgeous woman he saw sitting at the bar - you looked...different, on your license. Not ugly, per se, but you were certainly more awkward when that picture was taken. You just hadn't come into yourself quite yet, and he can already picture how people must've been treating you when you looked like that. And it finally clicks for him.

You genuinely thought he was just teasing you, like you've probably always been teased. But this time, you had enough confidence in yourself to at least tell him to fuck off, even if you did it with tears in your eyes.

Ghost's voice breaks through the barrier first, with a gruff "fuck was tha' about?"

"Aye, what'd ye say to tha poor lass?" Soap's concern quickly follows, his head craning to look out the window as he watches you scurry down the dark street with tears in your eyes. "Couldnae be good from tha' look on her bonnie face."

Their words barely register in Gaz's mind, especially when he's too focused on the way his heart is pounding against his ribs as he tears his eyes away from your picture. "I think I just met the love of my life."

"What?"

[part 1, part 2, part 3]

[ohimsummer]

“four days?”

satoru pauses mid-sentence, raising his eyebrows. “uh–, hm?”

you can feel the irritation building in your body. “you haven’t slept in four days?”

suguru continues washing dishes as he silently observes the interaction. he knows better than to get involved when he hears that tone.

your other boyfriend clears his throat, shuffling back and forth on his feet. whatever story he was telling has been completely forgotten about.

“satoru, you’re about to piss me off.“

“baby!”, he whines, drawing closer to put his hands on your waist. you don’t return his touch, opting to keep your arms crossed over your chest. “baby, the higher ups needed me for these missions.”

“i don’t give a d–,” you pause, narrow your eyes at him, and sigh. “i don’t care.”

satoru gives you a puppy-eyed pout, glancing at suguru for help. help he unfortunately won’t be receiving.

“it’s fine.” satoru tries to calm your anger. he gently squeezes your hips, resting his forehead against yours. he can’t tell it isn’t doing a thing.

“i only have a few more days of missions.” your face twists into something wicked. satoru would’ve kept this from you, but he knows if you found out afterwards, his life would probably be on the line.

“you’re not going.”, you snap. “tell them you’re using time off. matter of fact, go upstairs and get ready for bed. i’ll tell them myself.”

“babyyyy.”, satoru whines again at you. “you know I don’t like you talking to the higher ups–“

“you know i don’t like you abusing yourself for their sake. now you’re on a sex ban. get upstairs, now.”

he sputters. “wha–?! a sex ban?”

“that’s what i said.”

the glare you give him lets satoru know you’re not joking in the slightest. he shares another glance with suguru, but your tone seeps of finality. he’s fucked up, royally. no pouts, pleads, or puppy-dog eyes will get him out of this one.

he utters a final, dejected ‘yes ma’am’ and carries himself off to bed.

with satoru taken care of, you raise a brow at your other partner who has remained silent throughout this entire ordeal.

“when’s the last time you slept?”

suguru has nothing to worry about. even with his sporadic insomnia, he was able to get at least 6 hours of sleep a night in between his own missions. so, he doesn’t know why he’s sweating so hard.

“yesterday.”, he answers with a timid, placating smile. “i slept almost all night.”

you study him for a couple seconds. it feels like hours to suguru. he withers under your contemplative stare, wondering if he sounded convincing enough for your liking.

“mhm.”, you hum at him, and suguru stops holding his breath. “done with the dishes?”

“i have a few more.”

“i’ll do those. you go upstairs, too.”

suguru can’t tell whether or not you believe him, but he also doesn’t want to argue with you. he slinks off feeling like he’s also been scolded, murmuring his own ‘yes, ma’am’ as he passes by.