#and rides (i'm very easily scared on them and the ones i could do are for kids so uh.. i'll see)

[homosexualcitron]

It's the agricultural fair soon (WHICH I CAN'T WAIT FOR!!!!) i think i'll wait that to work on my comic again!! :))

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader

Ao3 Link

Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans

WC: 18k

Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.

Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?

"I don't have one."

"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.

"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.

"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.

"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.

"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.

"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.

"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."

Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.

"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.

"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.

"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.

"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.

"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.

"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.

"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.

"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.

"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.

"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.

"Told you so."

You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."

"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."

It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.

"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."

"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.

"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.

"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.

"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.

Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."

"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"

"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."

"What?"

"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."

Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.

"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.

"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.

"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.

"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"

"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.

"Yeah?"

"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.

"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."

A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.

You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.

"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.

"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.

"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"

"I'm not."

"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"

"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.

"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.

"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."

"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"

"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.

The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."

He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."

"Good."

"Simon?"

The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.

"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.

"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.

Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.

"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.

"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."

You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."

"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."

You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."

"And my dad?"

"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.

You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.

You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.

"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.

"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.

The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.

Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.

You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.

Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."

You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."

You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.

"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"

"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."

Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"

"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."

"That's not true."

"I think it is."

Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.

"Of course."

You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.

Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."

"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.

"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."

You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.

You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.

The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.

"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.

"Then lets go."

You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.

When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."

"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."

"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.

You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.

It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.

Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.

It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.

You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."

You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.

Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.

You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.

The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.

It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.

That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.

No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.

The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”

“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.

“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.

“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.

“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.

The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”

The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.

“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”

“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.

“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.

“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.

“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”

The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.

“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”

“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”

“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.

You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.

That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.

“I didn’t want to lose.”

“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”

“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?

“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.

“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”

“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.

You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”

“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.

At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.

He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”

“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.

Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.

“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”

“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”

“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”

“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”

“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”

“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.

“They gave him a hard time too.”

“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?

Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.

He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.

“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”

“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.

“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”

Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.

Who are you Ghost?

”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”

You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.

“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.

“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”

”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.

“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.

”What are you? My aunt?”

”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.

”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.

”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.

You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.

Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.

He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.

Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.

You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”

You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.

”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.

”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.

”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”

”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”

”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”

”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”

”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.

Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.

It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.

He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.

You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.

You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.

You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.

You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.

Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.

When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”

”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.

”Need to know.”

”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.

”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”

”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.

”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”

”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”

”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.

”What?”

”Forget about it.”

”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”

”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs

”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.

He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.

Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.

”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.

”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”

”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”

”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”

”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“

”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”

”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.

”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.

That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.

He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.

And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.

Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.

The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.

Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.

The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.

He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.

The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.

You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.

You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”

”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.

“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms

Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.

It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.

He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.

Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.

When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.

He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.

”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.

You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.

Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.

He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.

”Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.

He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.

His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.

”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.

He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.

Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.

“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.

You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.

”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.

It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.

It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.

He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.

He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.

“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.

You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.

”I love you.”

Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”

It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.

”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.

”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.

”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”

”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.

”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.

”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.

Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.

God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.

”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.

You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon

”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.

”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.

”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.

”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.

You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.

He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”

”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”

You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”

”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.

”I love you so much Simon Riley.”

His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”

[luimagines]

Doggo request 2: Isekai Reader who had brought their BIG boy dog? Like the ones that are almost as big as bears. I forgot the breed name.

Your wish is my command. Let's make it a Tiberian Mastiff. :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"Ok, Hudson. Easy boy." You gently held the leash of the behemoth you called your baby.

The dog was the runt of the litter, but ended up growing into one of the biggest dogs on the planet. That's what you tell yourself anyway. In your heart and in his, he is just a little guy who wants hugs and kisses and for someone to throw the ball.

"it's going to kill us." The one you were told to call 'The Traveler' all but threw himself backwards when you brought your dog close to them.

Granted, most people tend to get a bit nervous when your dog steps onto the scene, but that's generally because he's huge, not because they're actually afraid of him. Still, you suppose you should have seen this coming.

"No, he's not. He's a sweetheart. Come pet him."

"No thank you."

"I'll do it!" The Rancher stepped forward with a bright smile on his face. You admired his instant bravery. It was a nice change of pace. He walked right up to the two of you, seemingly knowing his way around the creature.

Hudson sniffed his hand and his pants, letting the young man scratch his mane and his muzzle. You knew the procedure by now. It was impressive that Hudson hadn't barked yet. Maybe he was sniffing the fur pelt the man was wearing.

"He's a gorgeous creature. What did you say he was again?"

"He's a Tiberian Mastif, bred to hunt and guard against bears." You say proudly. Husdon had proved to be invaluable where you lived. He took his guarding duty very seriously and hadn't let you down since.

"I'm sorry, bears?" The boy with massive facial scarring seemed to light at the idea. "He's that strong?"

"I mean... I don't have bears where I live but he certainly scares off the coyotes and wolves."

"Wolves?" The youngest asks, hesitantly coming closer. He sneaks a pet onto Hudson's side.

"Someone better keep an eye on Wolfie then." The oldest with the scar over his eye, looks out into the distance.

"Wolfie?" You ask in question.

"A local wolf that seems to follow us where ever we go." The boy with pink hair speaks up. You really need to remember their names better. Didn't his start with an L? "Your dog wouldn't attack him, would he?"

"Oh, he might." You frown. "That would be a problem."

"I doubt it." The Rancher shrugs. "The wolf knows his way around. I'm sure he can take care of himself."

"Ok, well I don't want a wolf attacking my dog either." You put your hands on your hips. "That's a fight tot the death. Hudson won't give up easily."

"Wolfie knows better." The shortest- The Blacksmith, you remind yourself- tells you with another shrug of his shoulders. "Besides, you have all of us with you. We'll get between the two of them should anything happen."

You doubt that. This kid is small enough to ride your dog like a horse. "I wouldn't recommend it but I'll keep that in mind."

He seems to read your mind for a split second because he bites his lip as if he's thought of something that could get him trouble. "...Do you think he'll let me ride him?"

"Not a chance."

[number1mingyustan]

Just in Case ☾

bestfriend!seungkwan x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, cursing, explicit smut, marking, mentions of cheating, protected sex, riding, mentions of oral (f.)

Summary: It was always gonna be you

Word Count: 2.9k

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(a/n: i really meant it when i said I was planning to be more active. school is still kicking my ass and I've been so unmotived to write I'm sorry. i still have a bunch of unfinished drafts but there's no telling when I'll actually finish them)

You first met Seungkwan in December 2019.

You’d gone out to the club and accidentally spilled your drink on him. In a drunken panic you tried to help, but only ended up making the situation worse and staining his clothes.

However, he didn’t get upset. He just chuckled and told you it was fine and joked about how it wasn’t his best shirt anyway.

You offered to buy him another drink to make up for it, but he politely declined and made another joke about how you’d only end up spilling it on him again.

You apologized again and went your separate ways thinking it would be the last time you saw each other. But of course, fate has a weird way of bringing people together.

Less than 4 hours later he would find you, sneaking out of his roommate's room in his apartment with your dress on backwards.

It wasn’t unusual for Jeonghan to bring a girl home, but he never could have expected it to be the clumsy girl who spilled a drink on him just a few hours prior.

Jeonghan was the first to leave the club with you and Seungkwan went back home later that night with Seokmin.

He got up to get a glass of water before going to sleep and you were there, tiptoeing around his apartment and trying to go unnoticed.

You were doing a horrible job at being quiet, but luckily Jeonghan was a heavy sleeper. Such a heavy sleepover that he didn’t realize you and Seungkwan spent the entire night talking.

Conversation came naturally to you. He was shocked initially, to say the least. But he said one thing to you and the conversation ended up lasting for hours leading into the morning.

There was something so familiar about you. It felt like you’d known each other your entire lives and you could talk so easily. You talked about any and everything together like old friends catching up.

When Jeonghan finally woke up and saw you in the kitchen chatting it up with one of his housemates, he’d assumed you’d woken up just before him. Even now it remains a secret between the two of you that you never slept that night.

Since that day, Boo Seungkwan has been your best friend.

After that night, he invited you to roller skating after finding out it was something you both enjoyed. The two of you hung out more and more over time and you were eventually adopted into the friend group.

You got comfortable with all of them, Joshua, Jihoon, Seokmin, Seungkwan, and even Jeonghan. Despite the very one time hookup, you still consider Jeonghan to now be one of your best friends.

But you’ve always been closest with Seungkwan.

————

“We’re gonna get so fucked up!” You scream to Seungkwan over the loud music in the club.

He shouts back at you in agreement before taking your hand in his. He drags you through the crowd, navigating like an expert and ensuring that you stay close to him.

You make your way to the bar and order your drinks. The bartender is nice, but a little flirty. You can admit he's cute, but he's a little touchy and you're not really feeling him all that much.

Seungkwan can sense your discomfort and nearly startles you when he touches your waist. As soon as you realize it's your best friend, you melt into his touch and all your discomfort has dissolved.

"Sorry," he says. "Didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted him to get the message."

You nod. "I understand, thank you." You smile.

You both down your drinks easily and continue with your night out. You spend the new few hours dancing and singing along to the generic club music. Your best friend stays close to you and he looks out for you like he always does.

"You don't have to stay attached to me all night you know, it's your first night out as a single man in a while." You bump your shoulder against his playfully. "I don't wanna scare off any opportunities for you to meet someone."

"You know I didn't come here looking for anything," He gives you a soft smile.

"That doesn't mean you can't find something," You muse, raising an eyebrow.

He takes a sip from his drink. "Thanks, but no thanks. Let's just have fun tonight."

You shrug, bumping your glass against his before downing the rest of your drink.

The next few hours were spent dancing, laughing and drinking. It was nice to see your best friend let loose again, but the night eventually came to an end and he ordered an uber.

The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. The two of you sat leaned against one another in the backseat. The ambiance was comforting, set by the music playing quietly from the radio and the lights from the city surrounding you.

You two enter his apartment together and you immediately throw yourself onto the couch with a sigh of satisfaction. Your eyes fall shut and a smile appears on your face. "My feet were killing me."

Seungkwan crouches down in front of you wordlessly and helps you take off your shoes. You thank him quietly and he disappears into his bedroom.

When your eyes flutter open, he's re-entering the living room with something in hand.

"Here," He hands you a t-shirt of his. "So you don't have to stay in that dress either."

You mouth a 'thank you' before stumbling into the bathroom to change out of your clothes.

"You know," You plop down on the couch next to him. "You still haven't told me why you guys ended things.

Seungkwan sighs. "I know. It's nothing though, don't worry about it. Things just weren't working out, you know?"

"Yeah, it's a shame."

"You didn't even like her," Seungkwan chuckles.

"That's only because she didn't like me first!" You defend. "Never even understood that."

"She was just... nevermind. Doesn't matter now."

"No," You sit up and frown. "Tell me."

He sighs. "She was just kind of jealous of you. Ended up driving the whole relationship into the ground."

A beat.

"You guys broke up because of..me?"

Seungkwan leans his back against the couch. "Like not really... but yeah."

You frown. "Why would you do that?"

"You already knew she didn't like you Y/n."

"Yeah, but you ended a two-year-long relationship. What the hell?"

"Things just weren't working out."

"Yeah... because of me!" You sigh.

"You didn't do anything. She was just jealous and insecure. You ended up being the topic of conversation way more than needed and it was so frustrating. It was a constant argument for those two years and I got exhausted."

"I knew she didn't like me, but I didn't know it was that serious. I feel guilty as hell now, like I ruined your entire relationship."

"You didn't."

"But I did," You frown.

"Do you know how exhausting it was? For two years I had to put up with her turning everything into an argument about you. I was constantly being accused of something and then I'd have to be reassuring her and coddling her like a baby. It was like a never-ending cycle about the same thing Y/n. I could only do that so much before I lose my mind."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you didn't do anything wrong." He pats your head softly. "Seriously."

"I know I just... feel bad. I feel like I compromised your happiness" You pout.

"You could never. You're my best friend." He gives you a reassuring smile.

He rises to his feet.

"I'm getting tired, are you ready for bed?"

You remain silent, giving him a small nod. About 10 minutes later you find yourself laying in bed next to him. The lights are dim, but you can still make out the features of his face clearly.

You don't know why your heart is suddenly beating so fast. It's so quiet in the room that he just might be able to hear it.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"Huh?" You mumble. "Nothing."

"You know you can't lie to me," he grins.

"I don't know," You sigh. "You just feel so like... close right now. I don't know."

"Oh," He breathes out. "Do you want me to take the couch? It's never been an issue before."

"No!" You say a little louder than intended. "No," Your voice softens. "I just... what you told me earlier about Hayeon. Like, what if she's right?"

"That there's something romantic between us? I'm not sure I understand you Y/n."

"I mean, you just said it yourself. It's never been a problem for us to sleep in the same bed, but isn't that kind of weird? Like you and I have always been close... but maybe this is too close?"

"I think you're drunk and still hung up on my stuff with Hayeon.

"You're drunk too," You frown.

"Yeah, but I'm not speaking a bunch of nonsense right now." He pushes your hair out of your face softly. "Go to sleep Y/n."

"No," You protest.

"Y/n–"

You weren't really thinking when you kissed him. It just sort of... happened. Granted, he wasn't really thinking when he kissed you back either.

It felt so natural, like you were kissing a lover of 10 years. it was easy to melt into his touch, everything was just so easy with him. Your hands are in his hair, tugging lightly at the blue-tinted strands atop his head.

You let out a soft moan against his lips, pressing your body against his.

You feel like you're floating and drowning all at the same time. Floating on a cloud of bliss while simultaneously drowning deeper and deeper in him.

He pulls away, breathless with swollen lips. You both lay on your side, staring at one another. Neither of you really know what to say. Your heart is still beating out of your chest as you lick your lips slowly, relishing in the lingering taste of him.

"What the hell Y/n?"

"I'm sorry! I don't know," You panic, covering your face in embarrassment.

He sighs, falling onto his back. "Why did you do that?"

"It's not like we've never kissed before."

"Yeah, but not like that. The worst I've ever done with you was barely a peck. That was different."

"You felt it too?"

"What?"

You fall silent. There's a million things running through your head and they're all circling back to him.

"I don't know!"

"That's not a good enough answer.

"That's not fair to me," he frowns.

"Of course I have," he huffs out. "From the very first moment I met you, you made me feel something. It's been what, 5 years? When you left the bar that night, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was convinced I'd never see you again. And then I did! Yeah you had just fucked my roommate and it was somewhat heart breaking, but from the moment I met you I knew I wanted you in my life. You were just... I don't know. You were shining a little brighter than anyone else in that club. You've got an aura about you that's hard to ignore."

You sit there, completely speechless.

"I know that I felt something for you since that night. I don't know if it really ever went away. I know I loved Hayeon when I was with her, I'm not saying I didn't. I don't know if I've been ignoring what I've felt for you, or if I really did get over it. But you suddenly deciding this now is confusing for me." He frowns.

For the second time that night, you act before thinking yet again. Your lips are on his and you find yourself melting into his touch. He kisses you back, pulling your body on top of his.

You don't know what you're doing or why you're really doing it, but it feels good. It feels right, like it's something you know you won't regret even though it may be confusing.

You straddle his lap and his hands rest comfortable on your lower back. His kisses are addictive, leaving you breathless with a fuzzy head.

You pull away to catch your breath, staring down at him with lust in your eyes. Wordlessly, you feel his shirt off your body and toss it onto the ground.

His eyes go wide and his breath gets caught in his throat. "Are you sure?"

"Never been so sure in my life. I want this... if you do too," you breathe out.

"Course I want this," He responds.

He pulls you back down and reconnects your lips with fervent passion. You grind yourself against him slowly, body moving on its own accord with his.

You tug at his shirt lightly and he breaks the kiss again to pull it off of his body.

"Shit," You breathe out. "Do you have any condoms?"

He nods. "In the drawer."

You reach over to his nightstand and open the drawer. You fish out the small gold package and tear it open with your teeth.

"You know, it's not safe to do that." he muses. "Could poke a hole or something."

"Oh well," You smirk, disposing of the gold packaging. "Maybe you'll just have to knock me up."

He raises an eyebrow at your statement. "Knock you up? But you're my best friend."

You let out a scoff and lean back, rolling the latex on his length. "Don't think.." You lift your hips, slowly sinking down onto him. You wince at the initial feeling. "Don't think I'd be on top of you like this if I was just your best friend."

He breathes out, tilting his head back into the pillow. His nails dig into your hips as he feels himself stretching you out.

You both let out a gasp as you start grinding down on him slowly. He holds you steady by your hips as you start to pick up your pace. you tilt your head back, gripping onto the sheets for support.

"Shit," he breathes out.

Your breathing grows heavier and you find yourself getting lost in the pleasure. It feels so good, so right. It's not fully processing in your head that you're riding your best friend right now.

"Should've done this sooner," You mumble to yourself.

Seungkwan can only nod in agreement. He's in awe watching as you bounce on his cock. The room is still dimly lit, but there's just enough moonlight seeping between the blinds for him to see how gorgeous you are.

He wants this image of you forever etched in his brain. He slides one of his hands from your hip to your inner thigh. Your pace is disrupted when you feel his thumb pressed against your clit.

"Oh fuck," You curse out.

He smirks to himself as he picks but the pace with his finger. You match his movements, falling back into your rhythm as ride him. He leans back deeper into the bed and pushes his hips up to meet you halfway.

His cock now brushes deep inside of you, hitting the same spot that has you struggling to stay quiet. Your nails are digging deeper into his bedsheets and you're whining out loud.

His thumb draws quick circles on your clit and his eyes never leave your frame. He watches you bounce on his cock, filling yourself up and cry out his name.

Fuck. He really regrets not doing this sooner.

He knows he won't last much longer. The intimacy and pleasure of it all is too intense. He applies more pressure on your sensitive bud, causing you to moan louder.

"Close," You warn him breathlessly.

He sits up on the bed, pulling your frame closer against his. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He sucks on your skin, nibbling softly and ensuring he marks you. He knows he might regret this in the morning, but he can't help himself. He has you now and he can't help but want a little reminder.

Moments later you're falling apart in his lap. You gasp your air pathetically as your hips lose rhythm and you tighten around his cock. He's losing his fucking mind.

You squeeze around him, driving him into his own orgasm and milking him for everything he's got. He groans into your skin as he spills his load into the condom.

Both your chests rise and fall against one another as you tap back into your senses. He places one last kiss on your cheek before he lifts you off his lap and lays you on the bed. He disposes of the condom and lays down next to you.

The room falls silent and neither of you is really sure what you should say.

You break the silence. "Now what?"

He shrugs.

"I feel like, like we need to talk about this."

"We should."

"Okay.... so.." You start.

He shushes you lightly, placing a finger on your lips. "Later."

You blink at him slowly. “What?”

He ignores you, pulling you in by the legs. “Later.”

“Is now a bad time?” Your voice is filled with confusion.

"No, it’s just you know…," he strokes your arm softly. "If we wake up tomorrow and decide this isn't for the better, I want to have at least had a taste."

You eyes go wide.

He smirks at you, pulling your body closer to his. "Just in case, y'know?"

You bite your lower lip, meeting his suggestive gaze.

"Yeah," You lean into his touch, allowing him to pin you down on the bed. "Just in case."

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© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[softtdaisy]

🌲 save us for later l pierre gasly

summary. Christmas could have been great. if pierre didn't forget to tell his parents you broke. and you didn't have to pretend you were still together.

words count. 2,434

a/n. ok I'm totally obsessed with this one and I really hope you will love it as much as I do🫶

a very angsty Christmas l masterlist

“I can’t believe you did that.” 

You heard Pierre sigh by your side, like he was already tired of this situation.

Like it wasn’t his fault if you were there today. What a joke.

“You don’t even try to understand.” he added, still focused on the road to not look at you. You noticed he was gripping the wheel so hard his joints were white. Or how he was biting his lips so badly, a habit you helped him to cease doing but apparently he didn’t stop, it was almost bleeding. 

But you couldn’t care less. Because this was so typical of Pierre: putting the blame on you by saying you didn’t want to hear his explanation.

“Oh.” you laughed nervously, turning to look at him. “Maybe you’re right.” you took a break long enough for him to frown, wondering if you really agreed with him. He knew for sure that during your past arguments, none of you would flinch this easily. 

“I really can’t fucking understand how you could lie to your parents and pretend we are still together, Pierre.” 

“What was I supposed to do?

“Tell the fucking truth.” you replied, slamming your hand on the dashboard. 

This was absolutely not how you planned your Christmas’ eve. 

Well, to be honest, you didn’t plan much. Your parents were away for the holiday and you were just going to eat some homemade food in front of a christmas movie. Nothing much but a well appreciated evening.

For sure, you didn’t plan on spending it with your ex-boyfriend and his family.

Pierre suddenly drove on the sideway and stopped there, getting some horns from annoyed drivers. You looked at him with confusion, he wasn’t the reckless driver type. Obviously. It was his habit to scare you when you shared the car.

He stopped the car and turned to you. “I fucked up, ok? I know that. On so many levels.” you rolled your eyes at this and held back any bad comments. “But everything went fast after our breakup. I haven't seen them since this summer and I couldn’t announce that we broke off our engagement through the phone. When my mom said they were waiting for us tonight, I didn’t have the heart to ruin their christmas. You can blame me for lying. But don’t fucking blame me for protecting my parents for god sake!”

Pierre was right. You knew it. 

It was something you’ve always kinda admired about him: how his family would always go first. You couldn’t count the number of hours you waited for him in the hotel room, ready to go out and celebrate, while he was on the phone with his parents or his brothers. For sure, you would be a liar to blame him for something you’ve always encouraged him to do.

Especially considering that you accepted to play pretend tonight for the sake of protecting them, too. 

When Pierre called you tonight, you didn’t answer. When he texted you, you barely read the message.

When he knocked on your door, you didn’t have any other choice than to open.

And when he told you, you needed to come with him at his parents’ place to act like a couple even though you’ve been apart for three months now because he still hasn't told them about you…well you laughed. Nervously. And argued a lot.

Then you realised you didn’t want to be the bad person in this narrative. What was one night in a whole life?

You sighed, still looking at Pierre. He still hasn’t moved, waiting for an answer from you. You got lost in each other’s eyes.

And that was the thing that convinced you to come. The fact that he was ready to bring you back home if you really didn’t want to accompany him.

“Fine.” you sat back normally. “You could have told them I wasn’t available.” 

You heard Pierre laugh softly. “You still want to have the last word I see.”

Most of the ride went quietly after that. Pierre put on some music and you answered most of your texts. You only started to talk again ten minutes before you arrived to make sure you had the same ideas in mind. No break up, you were still planning your wedding and happy as before. And the reason you didn’t see his family in so long was simply a lack of time from both of you. 

“And…” Pierre started once he was parked in front of his family house. You frowned, wondering what you could have potentially forgotten. You memorised everything and it wouldn’t be that hard to pretend after a three year relationship.

But then it hit you when he took the box out of his pocket. “I almost forgot it at home but it’s here.” 

You remember when Pierre proposed to you. 

You went to Greece during the summer break, last year. One night, while you were walking around the city, you found a place that was recreating Mamma Mia and invited everyone to sing and have fun. And so you went there, singing Abba the whole night. At some point during the night, after a kiss that lasted longer than it should in public, Pierre looked at you with a big smile and said “I want to marry you.” You laughed, thinking he was joking. But he wasn’t. “I meant it. Would you marry me?” and this time you started to cry, nodding so hard you had a neckache. 

You later learnt that Pierre had imagined a whole different scenario for the proposal. But it spoke with his heart and did it when it felt perfectly right.

And tonight, you were putting back the ring you worshipped with your whole heart. “It feels weird.” you whispered. 

Pierre didn’t answer and simply left the car. It was hard for him too. Acting like he didn’t lose the woman of his life over stupid decisions.

“Vous voilà! Je suis tellement contente de vous voir.” (oh there you are! I’m so happy to see you)

Before you even got the chance to prepare yourself in front of the door, Pierre’s mom opened it and took you both in her arms. You couldn’t lie, it felt good to see her and feel just as appreciated as before. Like nothing changed. And it was the truth, somehow. For his mom, nothing has changed. You were still her son’s fiancé, the one she almost saw as a daughter.

You looked at them, the way she kept touching his face to see any changes. And, what she told you one day, if he had any scars from races he tried to hide from her. You had this weird feeling of being home. Like you were right where you belong. For a second, you were back a year ago, when everything was perfectly fine. 

But then it hit you when Pierre took your hand to bring you inside to see everyone. It always felt natural when you were holding hands. In one of your birthday cards, you told him he must be your soulmate simply because your hands seemed to be held by the other. 

Tonight, it didn’t feel natural. It was hesitant. Pierre wasn’t confident about closing his fingers on yours and you could feel it.

Everybody seemed so happy to see. They all see you as an official member of their family. And it would be lying to say you weren’t happy to be by their side too. 

It helped that you didn’t see much of them for months. You spend the first two hours of the night talking with everyone but Pierre. Asking about their life, their own family, their friends… you had many things to learn. And you avoided some questions. That was one of the rules you established with Pierre. Pretend that the wedding was a big secret you couldn’t tell a thing about. For the rest, you just made the truth prettier.

Sure, you started a new job. But you didn’t admit it was a full time one because you didn’t go to the races anymore.

Yes, your pet was doing so fine. You just had to find the right pictures that would show your new apartment. 

No, you still haven’t decided where you would spend the winter break with Pierre. Because you weren’t going on any holiday anymore. At least, not together.

The dinner was a little harder to live. Because you sat next to Pierre, like it was planned. Like it has always been. And this time, compared to the whole drive, you felt more trapped. Because you couldn’t roll your eyes at what he was saying, or avoid his hand when he tried to touch you. Everyone would notice that and understand that something was wrong. You had to be careful.

So careful that, at some point during the evening, you even forgot why you were acting like that. You got lost in his stories about races you went to and especially those you miss after your breakup. You laughed at his joke, sympathised with his bad moments and cheered at the podium you missed.

You remember that day, or night actually for you. You didn’t watch the end of the season after your separation but you still had the notifications from the official account. So you knew the results. And when you learnt that Pierre had secured a second place on the podium, you almost called him. It was still a natural reflex: this desire of celebrating with your loved one.

But you didn’t. You didn’t even send him a text. And for one good reason: the last text you got from him was simply “Je suis désolé” (i am sorry) and you couldn’t handle the pain of going through the pain again. 

There had been hard times these past months where you almost forgive Pierre for breaking your engagement. There had been many times where you still wanted to call him and insult him for breaking up just because he woke up one day and realised this was maybe not what he wanted for his future.

What was this? This has been the question you’ve asked yourself many, many times. Was it your couple, your wedding or just you? You had no idea. Pierre couldn’t even explain it himself. He just knew that it wouldn’t be fair to keep pretending he was happy in a life he learnt to despise.

And it was now, sitting by his side, that you realised you had overcome all these mixed feelings. You felt alright. Not good, because the wound was still wide open. But you had accepted it. You would never marry Pierre. And you didn’t want to anymore.

After he finished telling the story of the last race of the season and the battle of champagne he had with Charles, while everyone was talking together, Pierre turned to you. You both got lost in each other's eyes. And you were convinced his little smile was a soft thank you. For being here, for lying, for…being happy. 

Because it hadn’t been easy months for Pierre either. Many times he woke up, thinking he had made the worst decision of his life. And some morning, he still wonders if he didn’t lose you for nothing. And those questions weren’t created by some insecurities about his happiness because he knew that he felt happier without this weight on his shoulder. But because he was scared he had ruined you. He would have accepted to be miserable for the rest of his life over this stupid. But he couldn’t accept hurting you forever.

But tonight, you both realised that maybe, things were going better for the both of you. And maybe, that night, was the one you both needed to start healing.

This helps the rest of the night go smoothly. You played games together, laughed together without thinking about the lie you were telling everyone. Even the drive back home felt natural, you talked about his family a lot. He even asked about yours. It was a whole different from the outward journey earlier. 

Pierre insisted on walking to your door with you. “It wasn’t that bad, right?” you couldn’t help but smile at him. He had this kind of unserious almost flirty tone like he needed to prove to himself and to you that he was right, in the end. It wasn’t such a terrible thing to do. 

You crossed your arms on your chest, a way to protect your heart from opening itself again. “No it wasn’t. You’re right.” he shrugged like it wasn’t such a surprise and you immediately hit him in the chest. You both laughed and oh how it felt good to be this lighthearted again for a few minutes. 

It meant more than you imagined that you were standing in front of your door, with your ex-fiancé in front of you. When you could already be in the bed but rather got lost in his eyes. Because you knew exactly what this moment was. And deep down, you weren’t ready to let it go.

You could hear Pierre talk before he even opened his mouth. “We were good together, huh?” you tried to not focus on his glossy eyes or the way he was playing with his fingers. 

“Yeah, we were.” you smiled, containing your own tears from falling. “It was good while it lasted.” 

Pierre crossed the few steps between you. You closed your eyes when you felt his lips on your forehead. Such a kind and sweet attention you remember he had when you started dating. When, for the first time maybe in his life, he wanted to take things slow to make them last. But this time, there were no other moments to share. And you had to watch him leave your place.

For the last time. 

You finally put the key in the door, taking your time to not close this chapter of your life too fast. “Eh!” you jumped, turning around immediately and saw Pierre holding the elevator’s door open. “You know I'll still love you, right?”

“I do.” you tried to ignore this weird feeling in your stomach, not waiting to think about the fact you ended up saying the two words you would never say to him. “Me too.” 

There lies the truth. You loved each other. Still. 

But you couldn’t be together anymore.

And so when you finally opened the front door and got inside. When Pierre finally let the elevator closed on him and brought him back to his car. You both knew what it meant.

[imtotallyokandnormal]

I would kill for some hurt/comfort headcannons about what John Doe does when he realizes that stabbing humans does in fact kill them. I assume he probably panicked real bad when he figures that out, and frantically resets the timeline. Probably would be really careful with You after that.

UGH NO YOU'RE SO RIGHT THOUGH OK OK I'M ON IT ANON I'M RIDING THE HURT COMFORT TRAIN LET'S GO

This ended up being way more sad than comforting but I hope you like it anyway I did my best

Reader: gn reader

Warnings: stabbing, death, angst, description of a corpse and blood, it gets pretty fucked up and sad actually

Image link: howdy!

》☆John Doe After Killing You☆《

- It was the moments after that made him realize. An accumulating number of seconds where you laid limp, staring up at him with those eyes. Those horribly glassy eyes, once full of emotion and now hollow of anything at all.

- After his frantic breathing slowed enough, he would grab your shoulders again, starting on a second wind of manic praise before he noticed something.

- You weren't moving.

- At first they thought you were playing some kind of human joke they didn't understand, chuckling and sitting you up as your lifeless body flopped over. "Oh you are funny, dearest! I may not understand the joke- but you're very good at staying still!"

- When you didn't respond, they tilted their head like a confused puppy. "Dearest? Could you explain the joke to me? I don't really understand."

- The silence was deafening. All you did was lay there, head flopped over with your neck bent at a weird angle. In the silence John took notice to something else; you haven't taken a breath this entire time.

- That's when the panic set in. At first they were in denial, trying to shake you awake as your limbs only swayed under their own gravity. More blood spills from your gaping maw and John's heartbeat quickens again, not from excitement but from fear, a primal fear erupting in him as he continues to shake and grab and plead for you to please wake up.

- But you don't. All you do is lay there. Cold, bloody and dead.

- The guilt ravaged him, all he could do was hold your bloody corpse close and howl in pain as he squeezed you. Or what you used to be, rather.

- He had promised himself to love you, to cherish you. He didn't think his actions were that of harm, he thought they were of love. To be able to see the inside of you, to be close enough that their hands can feel your blood pumping out from your heart, to feel your life force in their hands, becoming one in a way. But they found out too late that humans can only take so much.

- They could only sob violently as they cradled you, tugging at their hair and vowing over and over and over again that they can't let this happen again, not ever again.

- The reset was different.

- Seeing you, moving, breathing...it was different now. A hesitancy came when he stalked you at work, scared that he might hurt you again. Showing his love unbridled and uncontrolled led to the scene that flashes in front of him whenever he sees your face now. The smile he loves only to be interrupted by a vision of blood. So, so much blood.

- It took many resets for them to even let themselves touch you again. Eventually the loneliness became too much. Once you got home one day, there was suddenly a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, squeezing as if you might slip away as easily as the wind.

- John didn't say anything to you then. They didn't need to. The vow they had made was apparent.

- John would never, never see you that way again.

[marveloustimestwo]

love your hcs!! can i request more game of thrones, preferably the starks? platonic or romantic!

Thank you so much! I'm glad you like them! I went for Robb because he's one of my favorites in Game of Thrones.

Warnings: Yandere themes, a couple mentions of death, but not at all graphic.

Across the board, platonic or romantic, Robb is overprotective, clingy, and possessive.

He's a very loyal and naturally protective person. When he loves someone, he's going to do all that he can to make sure that they're safe and cared for.

In a platonic sense, he's going to view you as a little sibling, whether you're blood-related or not. He almost immediately demands you be taken in if you're not. He leaves no room for argument, and considering how stubborn he can be, his parents give in pretty easily.

I can easily also see him calling you his best friend as well as a sibling, which means that he'll want to spend a lot of time with you.

Robb will demand you have the room next to him so that you're closer and more easily accessible. He'll also make sure everything is up to his pretty high standards so that you're comfortable and well cared for.

And if anyone dares say you're not actually his sibling or best friend, he's not afraid to challenge them to a fight. He'll rough them up a bit more than necessary, too, just to let the message sink in.

In a romantic sense, once Robb gets an inkling of affection for you, he'll fall pretty fast and hard.

Robb grew up seeing his parents have this fairytale-like love and he strives to have that sort of thing with you.

He'll go about courting you in a very romantic manner. He brings you your favorite flowers, asks you to go on walks or on a horse ride alone with him, compliments you all the time, and tries his hardest to win all of the sparring matches he has with Theon and Jon when you're around.

(And not that you'll ever know this, but he goes out of his way to scare off any other potential suitors you have. Sometimes he might threaten them himself, but other times he'll pay a guard or two to do the dirty work.)

Robb wants you to see him as honorable, strong, and brave. He never wants you to fear him.

And he can be pretty good about being normal. If his father is still around, he'll be pretty persistent in convincing him to arrange a marriage with you, even if you're a commoner or a bastard.

Once Robb becomes King of the North, he won't really care what anyone else thinks. He's going to marry you, end of story.

He's pretty convincing when it comes to you. Any doubts or protests you have about the idea will be reasoned away because Robb will hammer in the idea that he is hopelessly in love with you.

Robb could not care less if you were born a bastard or anything else. Once he's as obsessed as he is with you, he'd go to hell and back to protect and love you.

And Grey Wind would be just as protective. The giant dire wolf would follow you anywhere, especially when Robb isn't able to be near you.

The two are psychically connected, so you'll have a giant wolf who will see any new and not directly trusted person as a threat. After all, Grey Wind is basically just Robb if he didn't hold himself back all the time.

Given the level of Robb's obsession, no one can get within fifteen feet of you without getting snapped at.

Still, Robb isn't all that bad. When it comes to you, he's very loving, kind, and loyal. He will never give you any reason to doubt his devotion to you.

If you ignore the number of people you know he would and has killed for you, it's actually a pretty nice time.

[padsmoony04]

For the very obvious reason that there aren't many fanfics or stuff related to Jack, I've decided to share with you how I think he is like, so i hope you enjoy it :)

Disclaimer: sorry if there are any grammatical error, english it's not my first lenguaje. Remember most of this is made up.

Jack Champion it's like...

First things first, he's a theater kid. He has said it in a few interviews so I'm going to a assume that he probably (most likely) also like musical theater and that goes to the other theory wich is that he likes Hamilton, and it's also most likely that he has a couple (multiple) of the songs in he's playlist.

I wish I could also said that he's a swiftie, but I big part of me says that he's not a fan, but what I do think is that he does likes a few song's, like the mainstream one, for example shake it up, you belong with me, etc, etc, etc.

He's a fan of old school rock or old school music, like the beatles, queen, Fleetwood Mac, Michael Jackson and anothers. I meanly assume this for the fact that he's favorite song it's lest groove.

A true gentleman and no one can tell me other wise, that boy was raised by he's mom and he's mom alone, so I just know that he's sweet mother teach him how to be respectful to women and to treat them as equals.

He's a little dorky, but in a cute way. I mean have you seen the interviews..? Lmao.

Jack very confident: do you know what blowing a raspberry is? 😏

Bailey laughing her ass off: that's the definition!

Jack: What?...

Bailey: That's the definition..! *still laughing*

Jamie: But I still don't know what it is! 😀

Jack:..Oh...

The way that I have seen how he's friendship with Trinity is, I'm going to say that he's a really gentle boy and honestly really sweet.

Also he does a lot of dad jokes or better said bad jokes. I mean, I saw a video of him when he was younger saying "do you know why the chicken cross the road?... to prove it wasn't chicken!".

He's very carismatic but I also feel that he has a shy side.

He loves to cuddle (something that he also said).

I have a theory that he's the type of boy that, when he has a crush, he does a lot of silly things to make he's crush laugh.

He didn't like scary movies until he was sixteen, but that doesn't mean he can get scared easily with some of those movies now.

My next assumption is that when he likes something he turns it in he's whole personally (and no, I'm not projecting wdym?)

He's a Scorpio, so I just know for fact that he doesn't have patience, like at all, and also he has a short temperament.

Loves dogs and cats, but I feel he's more of a cat person.

He definitely had that fase where he used to film videos for his "YouTube channel" like almost all 2000's babies did.

Cookie lover, don't ask me why I think this he just gives me the vibe.

Obviously he's a marvel fan, and he's favorite superhero it's Spiderman (and something tells me that when he got the role for spider he's brain associated the word immediately with the superhero)

He's Favorite holiday is Halloween.

He also gives me the vibe that he's a ride or die type of friend.

Definitely the one how's always joking around in he's friend's group.

When he gest nervous he laughs.

A completely softie.

Nature lover.

He said that when he gets older he would like to settle down and have a family of his own, and live close to nature in a really calm place.

He prefer small towns rather than big cities.

He gives the impression that if he gest a girlfriend/boyfriend (to not assume directly what he's attracted to) he would follow them averywhere like a little puppy.

Probably would like to post things about he's partner, but not too much to not over share with the internet.

Also a little bit clingy as well.

He also looks like he would used the pet name "baby" a lot.

He cursed almost all the time, but like unconsciously, it just comes from him naturally. And when he's not supposed to curse and can find himself to stop doing it he would cover he's mouth with both of he's hands (something that it's really cute if you picture it).

Even though he's carismatic, he would get all shy and smiley when someone gives him a compliment.

Anyways! I think that it's it! Hope you guys like and enjoy my little theories about the lovely boy Jack Champion <3.

If you have more ideas about him don't be afraid to share it, I would love to know what theories you have about him.

And again, sorry if there are any grammatical errors :)

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Spicy ask

Could I get something for puppeteer, Jason and bloody painter with an s/o who's VERY adventurous in bed. And goes from wanting to dominating them to being dominated. Gn is fine!

This got incredibly long, so I hope you enjoy~

Puppeteer:

You definitely throw him off his game at first, that's for sure. Pup is more dominant by nature, although he's willing to submit for the right partner, however... When you first decide to try it out, in the middle of him being the one in charge, and you flip him onto his back, he's wide-eyed and not expecting it at all. Of course, the look of confidence vanishes from your face, and you ask if he's not interested in this, but he's quick to reassure you it's alright and to just give him more warning next time. The more the two of you do things like this, the more Pup gets used to it and gets into it himself. I think there will definitely be times when he actually approaches you first asking to be dominated by you, and times when you do the same for him. The only thing with Pup I'd say is he can't always go back and forth each session. Sometimes he just needs one or the other, and he doesn't always enjoy having both. So long as you're alright with checking in with him and just going with the flow for each session, he's down for it for sure. Pup enjoys both railing you and putting you in your place, and having you ride or rail him and putting him in his place as well. I'm also gonna say Pup definitely has a hidden interest in sex toys, so I would say use that to your advantage when you're the one that's being more dominant for that evening. Find the right rhythm when dominating him, and he'll absolutely turn into a whining, begging mess below you. He doesn't easily admit it out loud, but he loves losing control to you and being submissive for you more than just about anything. 

Jason:

Jason is the most hesitant when it comes to this. Jason likes to be the dominant one in the bedroom, and with the fact that he's generally a little more on the vanilla side, he is not prepared at all for even letting you just be the one in charge. If you want to dominate Jason at all, you are going to have to have multiple sit-down conversations with him and start off very, very slowly. Jason is very scared to give up control and let you take charge, as letting others be in control of him terrifies him, so you're probably going to have to be a soft dom for Jason, and that's his absolute limit, no being rough or hard on him, or he's going to shut down and end up pushing you away. Be gentle with him, kiss down his body, suck on his skin, praise him as you go, start off by touching him gently, and escalate to a firmer, more insistent pace. You'll have him crumbling underneath you, whining and shedding tears as you love his body and pleasure him. Jason comes to love things like that, the two of you pleasuring each other, praising each other's body, and switching between control that way. Get on top of him, comb through his hair, give him the most gentle, loving fuck of his life, and he'll absolutely turn into a puddle underneath you, begging for more, thanking you for loving him and bucking his hips into yours as you remind him who it is he belongs to. He finds that as[ect exhilarating, so as long as you're willing to not cross his limits and have regular check-ins, Jason is fine to have a partner like that. Love him with all you've got, and he'll make sure to return the favor wholeheartedly once the tables are flipped right back around, and he'll turn you into a messy puddle underneath him just as you did to him.

Helen:

I originally said Helen would be the only dominant one when I first made his NSFW headcanons, however, as his character has adapted as I've written him, I think I've changed my stance on this. Once you're fully committed to Helen, and you've been together a while, I think he could be much more willing to submit for his partner, so long as there are absolutely safe words and limits in place, because like Jason, Helen gets a bit scared about giving up control, however, he's willing to allow you to be rougher and go further than Jason would. Let Helen mark you up, get rough with you, force you down and put you in your place, and then flip him over, hold him by his throat, and remind him that he's not the only one that holds power. Helen is a sadist, but he's also got a masochistic side he doesn't often let show through. Tie him down, blindfold him, bite him, spank him, claw him with your nails, do anything you want to him, and give him a mix of degradation and praise, and you'll have an absolute mess underneath you. There are definitely nights where he wants you to be a bit softer, though, where nothing but praise and gentle, teasing touches will have him crying and panting, whimpering and trembling as your touch ghosts over his body. Helen also likes receiving and following commands and being praised for doing so. Lay back and instruct him exactly how to touch you and himself, and he'll eagerly set to work, and the more you praise him, the more excitedly he follows them through. However, don't be surprised when he expects the exact same behavior from you when he's done, as fair is fair after all. 

[silent-raven13]

Power Trip

"Got me up all night," Hobie sang to himself "All I'm singin' is love songs" He fiddle with his guitar remembering the song he listened with Miles. Some rap song from a famous rapper from the young lad's world, apparently Miles enjoys this J. Cole's music.

Meanwhile, he's here lying on his bed playing on his guitar while singing this tune. His body in a bright shade of pink, he felt flustered about what happen earlier today.

-Few hours ago-

The seventeen year old punker casually walking around Spider Society with a lit cigarette in his mouth, his dark eyes seeing all the Spider-heroes going about their day. It's a busy day like always, this time there is a good amount of Spider-heroes frantically passing by the punker trying to get on their missions.

"Pfft, poor blokes." Hobie grunts to himself at the idea these Spider-heroes are so easily brainwashed into the system. It's ridiculous. He's still surprised after everything happen with Miles and Spot, they would open their eyes with the way Miguel is controlling them.

He took his almost finished cigarette tossing it across the floor just because! Fuck the establishment!

It's such a damn how easily fooled these Spider-heroes are. He wonders why he's still- "Da-Da-dadda Da! Hm-mm MmMm," Hearing someone softly singing to themselves.

"What's dis?" He asked himself knowing that voice. He looks below the edge of the floor to find Miles sitting with legs crossed on an empty space. He had wireless earbuds on and drawing on his sketchbook being on his lap.

Hobie couldn't help himself, he uses his web shooter to launch a web to a high ceiling. Then he launch himself to swing up toward his Sunflower. He hears Miles softly singing, "Would you believe me if I said I'm in love?" The punker tilted his head as he landed on his two feet behind his crush singing about love.

Miles confidently sings, "Baby, I want you to want me!" His singing isn't good, but he does love to sing along being in tune with the song.

Hobie couldn't help but chuckle at the way the sixteen year old rocks his upper body side to side. "Haha," He playfully tap Miles' left shoulder, then he jumps from being startled at the touch.

"Ah!" Miles' Spider sense went frizzy which made the punker use his own Spider sense to calm down him. "Oh shit, man! You scared me!" He had his sketch close to his chest, "Damn, I almost threw my sketchbook!"

Hobie smirks widely, "Hah, I never knew you were a scaredy cat, Sunflower." He went to sit next to Miles' right side. "I heard you singing." Miles took one of his earbuds off to listen to his friend.

"Oh god, you didn't!" Miles' face fell into a massive frown being so embarrassed. "Fuck, I thought I was high enough so no one would hear me! Ughh, this is mad embarrassing, man." He bites his bottom plump lip which got the punker to stare very hard on those lips.

"Nah, luv. You do what you love," Hobie casually said then smirks widely, "no matter if you sound like a screeching cat!"

"UGH, you're such a dick, man!" Miles playfully slap Hobie's arm before laughing at his friend's shady comment.

The punker leans back by the soft hit having to laugh out loud, then his mid-tone magazine paper started to turn slightly pink. "Easy, luv. I'm still sore from last mission."

"Oh pfft, you can't be sore! I was the one that got on that damn bull's back!" His crush scoffs by the mention of their last mission.

The Spider Band had to fight off three massive bull anomalies, which caused Miles riding one and landing in a nasty fall. He can still feel the aches on his sides. Hobie was slammed against a wall from one bull's horns. He was luckily those nasty sharp horns didn't stab him.

"Hey, you seem like you know what you were doing, mate. Riding that bull like it wasn't your first time." Hobie flirted having to imply something very dirty that made his Sunflower's face turned bashful.

"What? Pfft, no! I'm-I-I- that was my first time riding a bull." Miles could feel his cheeks burning up. "Stop being gross!"

"What? I didn't say anything... bad." Hobie smirks widely showing off his teeth, his right eyebrow raised high, "Are you implying something else, Sunflower?"

"No!" Miles lean back seeing Hobie getting close to his face. "Stop it, Hobie."

"What? I'm just lookin', luv."

"You're in my personal space." Miles' heart pound against his chest.

Hobie gave a slight nod, "Alright. Alright. Anyway, what were you listening to?" He took Miles' right earbud to put it close to his ear to hear anything, but there was no sound.

Miles went back to sketching in his sketchbook, "Heh, I paused it, dude. I was listening to J. Cole."

"Who?"

"J. Cole! You don't know who is J. Cole?" Miles asked out loud with his doe eyes widen.

"Mate, I know Sex Pistol... that's music." Hobie added

"Oh wait, my bad... you're on a different timeline. Um, in my world there's this famous rapper named J. Cole. His stuff is pretty good." He went on his Spotify to rewind the song he was listening to, "Here." His hand went to touch Hobie's hand making the punker's body turned bright pink. The slight touch of his Sunflower felt so beautifully warm and soft.

Miles's hand lightly took his earbud from Hobie's hand then put it in the punker's right ear. The Punker nuzzle against Miles' warm hand feeling it on his cheek. the two sitting closer now. Miles gently massage the punker's cheek, "Your like a cat."

"Oh yeah?" Hobie nuzzles some more, "Like this?"

"Hahaha, yeah." Miles giggles before scooting closer to Hobie's space. This time he's being bold wanting to feel the punker, to smell that musky, cigarette and cologne on him. Miles never liked the smell of cigarettes, but with Hobie, it smelled so good on him. It comforts the sixteen year old. "Hear this." He plays the song from his Smartphone.

Hobie placed his arm around Miles' narrow shoulders pulling him close. This time he's also being bold. He wanted to smell Miles' sweet mango tropical Shea Butter, and sweet vanilla scent. He always wonder why he smell so good, so sweet and a bit woody spice to it.

"Got me up all night. All I'm singin' is love songs" The song plays making Hobie's eyes focus on Miles, who's bobbing his head at the song. "She got me up all night. Constant drinkin' and love songs..."

Miles snuggle his body close against the punker while swaying himself as he sing along, "She got me up all night..." Hobie admiring lovingly at his Sunflower's soft singing, "Down and out with these love songs..."

"She got me up all night. Drownin' out with these love songs," The song plays while Hobie made his first move to lift Miles' chin up.

"Hmm? What's up?" Miles innocently asked.

Hobie slowly got close enough to Miles' lips, so close that his lower lip gently tap against Miles' bottom lip. Then he quickly pulled away being a coward. No, he can't. Miles is his friend. "Nuthin' luv."

The young Spider-man pouts, "Oh..." He expected a kid, he felt so prepare with his eyes being closed and waiting for the magic. Damn.... Oh well, Miles lay his head on Hobie's chest while drawing.

The two sat in silence while listening to Miles' playlist. Hobie's hand covering his lower mouth still kicking himself for backing out on that kiss.

"Would you believe me if I said I'm in love?" Hobie mentally sang along to the song, he didn't think he would like it so much. Especially when his Sunflower is in his arms, "Baby, I want you to want me!"

Miles glanced up to find his crush lost in his thought, he decided to be bold. He wants that kiss! "Hobie."

"Hmm?" The punker's dark eyes snapped at the teenager Spider-man turning his body to be on his knees.

"Can you closed your eyes for a moment, please?" Miles innocently asked.

The punker did as he's told. The only person who can make him listen and follow instructions. He trusts his Sunflower. In mere darkness, he felt Miles' warm hands cupping his define jawline.

"What are you planning, Sunflower?"

"Just a little surprise... no peaking." Miles' voice rings his ears, his hands made his punker lean his head back to face toward him.

The young Spider-man took another sharp inhale. Alright, here it goes! He lean forward to plant his lips onto Hobie's full black painted lips.

The punker felt soft lips with the taste of honey, and berries. Wait, lips? His eyes snap wide open to find Miles kissing him. His whole body froze, the colors on his body quickly shifts into multiple rainbow colors, then blooming into Sunflowers and hearts images with bright pink colors. Then guitars rocking symbols pop out when he felt Miles deepening his kiss by adding a bit of tongue.

Such a sexy move. It made Hobie shudder with delight. His arms tightly wraps around his Sunflower's waist, then straight his posture to continue their kisses. His own mouth did the work too.

"Mmm!" Miles softly let out a moan.

Ohh, this new. Hobie felt his own body hot, his tongue flap against his Miles' tongue. "Mmm." He let out a low purr.

"Hmphhemph," Miles gave out a throaty chuckle, before his eyes slowly open to find Hobie's eyes meeting him. He slowly pulled away from his mouth. "Hobie, you promise!"

He felt so embarrassed.

Hobie lick his lips knowing his lipstick is a mess by the way Miles' lips were stained. "I wanted to see you, luv."

"Hmph!" Miles huffs.

"Don't be like that, darling. You kiss so beautifully."

"You're just trying to get another from me." Miles pouts at his crush.

Hobie snuggles against his Sunflower, "And? Why would that be bad?" He made Miles look at him, "Hmm?"

"It's not."

"Then? I would like another, luv."

Miles giggles before lifting his crush's face to lean in another kiss, his phone rang out loud. "Oh shit, I... I gotta go. I have to be home before my mom gets back. Maybe next time." He give Hobie a quick peck on the lips before gathering his sketchbook and backpack to rush off.

Hobie's body still pink from the kiss as he watched his Sunflower opening a portal to go back home.

-present-

"He got me open all night" Hobie sang out loud as he sat outside on the roof of his boat house, "All I'm singin' is love songs..." He stood daze thinking about that kiss. That delicious, addictive kiss.

[animatorweirdo]

A Dream or Reality?

Finrod had unknowingly changed his fate when he met a hunter from another world.

(This is a fic I kinda abandoned in my WIPs and have no motivation or what so ever to edit or do proper work on it, so there are certain mistakes. A crossover between Silmarillion and Bloodborne. I didn't want to simply put it in the trash, so I hope you like it. Another note: I haven't played Bloodborne, so I'm sorry if some of the things are wrong. )

Warnings: violence, blood, reader scaring most of the elves, using a gun, a lot of fighting, mentions of getting eaten by a wolf, and reader coming to rescue Finrod.

------------------------------------

Finrod’s first encounter with you was strange and sudden. 

He was on patrol with his men, seeking something else to do besides his royal duties and ensuring no orcs were hiding in his lands, trying to find out the location of his kingdom. 

The patrol was going more easily than he expected, so he allowed himself and his men to take a break at a river, enjoying the sounds of the flowing river and letting the horses drink after hours of riding. The sun was at its highest, so Finrod was certain no orc or other creature of darkness would ambush them at such a peaceful hour. 

That was it till he heard shooting in the distance. 

The horses were startled by the sudden sounds of what seemed to sound like explosions. Finrod had never heard such sounds before, so he didn’t know what to call them. However, the sounds were then accompanied by the howls of wargs– sounds which he knew very well and gave him a feeling something serious was happening. 

Finrod rallied his men and rode to investigate, following the sounds, which became louder as he got closer. He then arrived at a scene of a lone edain fending off a pack of wargs. 

You were shooting down the wargs one by one with a strange projectile-like weapon that created an explosion from the top of its pipe and sent something small yet fast flying at the wargs, killing them instantly. 

In your other hand, you held a strange saw-like weapon that seemed to be folded in a way, using it to cut down the wargs that came too close for your liking. It suddenly changed form as you plunged it into the warg’s chest and threw the beast over your shoulder, letting it die on the ground as your weapon changed back.

Finrod was surprised, to say at least. Your weapons were strange yet efficient contraptions. 

With his elven sight, he noticed your movements and reactions getting slower and clumsier. You also left a trail of blood in your steps, so it was clear you were injured and would soon get mauled by the pack if he didn’t do something. You were clearly getting too exhausted to handle the wargs by yourself, so he needed to step in and save you before it was too late. 

He ordered his men to shoot down the rest of the wargs as he came to you, dropping down from his horse when you fell to the ground, obviously exhausted and wounded. 

However, before he could touch you or even ask to see your injuries – you pushed your weapon at him, breathing heavily and with fear in your eyes. Finrod stayed still, trying not to startle you even though he was unnerved by the scent of something burning within the pipe of your weapon. He saw what it did to the wargs, so he was not keen on finding out what it could do to him, especially from such close range. 

His men were ready to shoot you, but he told them to stand back.

Your hold on the weapon was shaking, and the frightened look in your eyes told him you had never seen his kind before and the rush of fighting to stay alive was still affecting you. 

Finrod remained calm and slowly but gently assured you he was a friend and wanted to help. 

You cautiously laid your weapon down, confused by his fair appearance and calming voice but convinced he was not a monster or an illusion to trick your mind. He offered to check on your wounds, but before you could say anything – the blood loss you had suffered during the fight made you lose consciousness. 

Concerned, he quickly took you to his kingdom and left you in the care of the healers, who tried their best to stabilize your condition even though the odds seemed to be against you. He feared you would die despite his efforts, but luckily, you survived and fell into a deep sleep. 

He left you to rest in peace, letting the healers watch over you and wait for you to awaken from your sleep. However, he was confused when they told him about the unusual healing speed of your wounds. They had given you medicine, but your injuries seemed to have recovered in a matter of a day without leaving scars. It was like you were never in a fight in the first place. 

It was way too quick for a human, and not only that — you also seemed to be bothered by an illness of sorts. 

Finrod was concerned by the news, but he knew he could not do much about your condition. He will only find out when you wake up and tell him who you are and what this sickness was. 

It took a few days for you to recover, and when you finally woke up, you were startled to see yourself in a new place without your weapons and dark garments they took to be fixed and washed from the blood. It was a good thing Finrod was visiting when you woke up because you nearly wounded some of the healers in your panic. 

It was chaotic, but Finrod managed to calm you down before you accidentally injured his people. 

He tried to talk to you when you calmed down and went back to rest on the bed. You seemed much more docile around him but did not utter a word. Strangely, you seemed to be trying to figure out if you were in a dream of sorts or trying to find something hiding in the corners. At least taken by your constant cautious and suspicious look in your eyes. 

It was such a strange behavior. Finrod could definitely tell you were not from Beleriand since everything seemed so new and strange for you, minus your weapons and clothes, which were strangely fashioned. 

But when you spoke for the first time, he was both delighted and even more perplexed. 

“Is this a dream?” you asked him. 

Finrod was not certain how to answer since you looked at him seriously, yearning for the answer to your question. It gave him thoughts if you had something to do with dreams before that had greatly affected your mind. 

He assured you were not in a dream, and everything was real. You didn’t seem very convinced but took the answer and didn’t speak much. 

When he asked where you were from; you told him you were from a city called Yharnam which he was not familiar with like you weren’t familiar with Nargothrond or Middle Earth. 

It was one of the last times you spoke so much. Now you mostly answered with hums and nods. 

Finrod took you for a quiet person, so he didn’t push you to talk when he started visiting you, bringing some sweets and filling you in about his people and the kingdom and the world outside. 

You listened attentively and rarely answered his questions with words. 

You told him you were a hunter and your home had been plagued with a terrible disease that turned people into monsters. Your task was to hunt these monsters while trying to find a cure for the illness within you.  

Finrod felt sympathetic for you, especially when there was no known cure yet for your illness. 

The last thing you remember was an odd feeling taking over you during a fight then you woke up somewhere unknown, ambushed by the pack of wargs. 

Since it would take time for you to find a way back to your home. Finrod allowed you to stay and even offered the help of his healers to find a cure for your illness. 

You gratefully accepted the offer even though you had doubts even his healers could find the cure and thus – your stay in Nargothrond began. 

Finrod’s people felt unease by your presence when you got better and started walking around. You were quiet and dressed strangely. They had also heard about the weapons you possessed, so no one dared to approach you. 

You followed Finrod around like a shadow, listening to him and rarely speaking. It intimidated the elves of Nargothrond even though their king did not seem to mind, already used to your silence. 

Celegorm, however, decided to test your patience, throwing slight insults and trying to gain any reaction from you. It was pretty clear to you, so you paid him no mind and continued with your own business, talking with Finrod and working with the healers on the possible cure for you. 

It of course made him try harder, but you have faced darker things, so his jabbing was nothing thus there was nothing to gain by ingulding his attention-seeking behaviour, so it was rather easy. 

When Finrod couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore, he asked you about your weapons, especially about the projectile weapon that made explosions. 

You were confused till you realized he was talking about your pistol, so you then gave a brief explanation and even demonstrated how to use it on the training grounds, blowing the targets with your bullets and startling the bystanders with its explosive sounds. 

You even demonstrated your saw-cleaver in both of its forms. 

Finrod was fascinated though he did not like the sounds your pistol made in its use. 

You were interesting company even though you didn’t talk much. You spent most of your time with him or enjoying the calmness of nature since you were rather reluctant to interact with anyone else. Finrod had hoped you would spend some time with other people, making friends and acquaintances since it seemed you might stay in Nargothrond for longer. Your reasoning was you shouldn't make attachments that might not last or because you might never see them again. It was logical in a way, but still. To his delight, you did start interacting with his loyal friend Edrahil, who was often seen scolding you for scaring other elves with your looming presence even as a joke. He had a feeling you liked it in a way since Edrahil did not seem to bear any fear toward you. 

The day finally arrived when Barahir’s son, Beren,  came to seek his aid in a quest. Finrod knew the day would eventually come, but to reclaim a silmaril from Morgoth’s crown, he hoped it would have been something else, especially when the two sons of Feanor spoke against him and convinced his own people against partaking in the quest, save for Edrahil and a handful of people, who were willing to join. 

You were willing to join to repay for his kindness, but Finrod convinced you to stay behind. You have been healed from your injuries, but since you were ill. It would be best for you to stay behind with his people, so they could continue researching the cure for you. 

You did not like the sound of him going on his own with only a handful of people to steal from Morgoth. But you did not like trying to talk back to him. He was too convincing, so you stayed behind. 

But as Finrod suspected, he, Beren, and his company barely made past Sirion and got captured by Sauron. He tried to fight back the wicked lieutenant of Morgoth, but his power proved to be too great and they were trapped in a dungeon with a ravenous wolf who began eating his companions one by one. 

Hope seemed lost, but he couldn't bring himself to give up easily and let Beren die, so he was prepared to die. 

But in the darkness, he heard a sound that sparked hope within his heart, the gunshot of your pistol. 

You had come. 

You were shooting Sauron's werewolves left and right as they charged at you. You pulled out your saw-spear and plunged it into one of the beasts, letting its blood dress the bridge that was now collecting bodies of werewolves. 

You pulled out your weapon, letting it click back into its primary form and the werewolf fell dead on your feet. The hound, Huan, stood beside you as it had fought alongside you. You gazed at the tower before you. 

You have faced several foes, so you did not fear. However, this time you hoped you would get to Finrod just in time before fate's claws would take him. Determined, you clogged your gun and prepared for a fierce fight to save your friend. 

[wellloiledmachine]

weak bladder 1/?

I have a very weak bladder.

It's not so small, I can actually hold a lot, but my bladder is easily upset by minor things, like being startled, scared or even just exercising. When I'm desperate, I can't hold it for very long.

I'm very accident prone, I often have very close calls and sometimes full accidents wherever I am. I also leak a lot for very minor things. Most of the days my panties are wet and stained at the end of my day, and often I have to change them at some point of the day.

It takes very little to make me leak. Startled, and I let out a spurt of pee in my panties. Sneezing, and I suddenly feel warm and wet. Bending over at the wrong time, and my underwear are soaked. It's so embarrassing...

I drink alot of water, so my pee is clear and doesn't smell too much. I'd be mortified if anyone could guess the state of my panties by the smell!

I only wear skirts, so no embarrassing stains; well, no visible ones. Most of my underwear are stained yellow because of how many times I lost control in them. But this way, no one can know when I had an accident! Sometimes, I lose a few drops on my seat, tho. Apologizes to all cinema workers, I rarely can completely hold it through a movie, and I often leak a lot on the seat, spending half of the movie on a wet spot with my panties sticking against my pussy. Sometime, when I can't hold it, I lift my skirt and let go slowly, so the seat can absorb my accident. One time, I even took off my panties, and I could feel the warm pee soaking under me directly against my pussy. It was so naughty, I know, but I was so desperate and wanted to keep my underwear dry!

Public transports are also difficult. With all of the road shaking, and sometime not being able to go to the bathroom in the ride home after work, I often uncontrolably leak, squeezed between people. Sometimes, it runs down my legs and it is absorbed by my socks, and sometimes it falls directly on the ground. It makes my so nervous, every time I hope no one see the small puddle under me.

One time, someone tried to grope me in the bus while going to work. They played with my nipples, then slipped a hand under my skirt. My mind was so clouded with arousal I couldn't do anything to stop them. At first, they thougt the wetness was from my pussy juices, but as I got closer and closer to orgasm, I kept letting out uncontrolable leaks. When they found out I was helplessly wetting myself, they were grossed out and quickly found another victim, leaving me shaking, on the verge of orgasm amd of a public accident. Luckily, I managed to make it to the bathroom, but I was so aroused I didn't know which need to take care first, so I fingered myself on the toilet while uncontrolably pissing.

[verybadatwriting]

Winged One 3

Summary: The rest of the First Avenger play out more or less the same as they would have without Reader.

Warnings: self blame, falling, broken bones, heights, plane crash, guns

Notes: Gefahr, nicht drücken= danger do not push

Gn!reader

Word count: 4,481

Cool air streamed across your face, arms, legs. Flying high up through the clouds, you could almost forget what was going on below. Almost. You dipped through and eventually caught a glimpse of the buildings below. Between the streets, soldiers streamed.

Hydra had taken a small town. A very, very small town. It was barely a cluster of buildings. There were fortifications strung up loosely between a few of them, but not super heavy-duty. A few soldiers were scattered about, on raised platforms standing watch. The others were milling around, moving boxes, giving orders.

None of them seemed to be in a hurry, good. 

Before they spotted you, you swooped back into the safety of the cloud cover and wheeled around. While flying back, you pulled out a small notepad, and jotted down troop numbers and defense placements. 

A few minutes later, you landed back at the Howling Commandos’ temporary camp. Unlike the base you’d just surveyed, this one was bustling with purpose and last-minute preparations. 

Bucky met up with you as you made your way to the command tent. 

“All’s in order?” He asked.

“Mhm,” you didn’t look up from the notepad. He peeked over your shoulder and smirked at the wobbly letters.

“You sure you’ve been practicing?”

True, your handwriting wasn’t the best, but in all fairness you’d only just started learning this script a few months ago.

“I’d like to see you try to write while flying,” you teased. “Oh wait, you can’t fly!”

“I'm actually impressed with how quickly you picked up English writing.”

“I'd say I have a pretty good teacher.”

The two of you kept up your banter the rest of the way. Like most times you spoke with him, you and Bucky used a mashup of English, German, and your people's language, which didn't have a name. Even if it once did, that knowledge was burned with the rest of the village.

Bucky tried. You knew he did. He was the only other living person who even knew any basic vocab in your language. He was your best shot at keeping it alive. And yet, every time he couldn't describe something, every time he didn't have the words and had to revert back to English, a little part of you broke. Sometimes you wished he didn’t even try. Then it would only be your fault that your language was dying. 

“It's looking good,” Bucky reported to the others. You were now standing underneath a tarp, huddled around a table strewn with maps, scribbled notes, and little figurines to plan the attack. 

It was going to be fairly simple, just storm in, overpower the Hydra forces, and take the  foothold they so kindly prepared for the Allies. You were used to this kinda mission, and it didn't scare you anymore. After learning that your wings were bulletproof, you actually felt rather confident.

The truck ride there was fine, a lot of loud conversations and a few jokes, nothing out of the ordinary. Everybody sobered up when y’all neared the launch point. 

“L’kan kwe nor’c,” Bucky called to you as he dismounted the truck. “Did I pronounce it right?”

“Yes, and good luck to you as well,” you replied in English, smiling at him. 

Now, you had to focus. Despite having bulletproof wings, both shielding you and making you easily recognizable, the Howling Commandos insisted you have armor and a uniform. Easier said than done. 

First issue, you were a teenager, not a grown man. The army uniforms didn’t allow for much variation in body type, and none accommodated wings. To get around some obvious issues, you altered the uniforms so that the shirt could be put on like an apron, but with a button up part covering your lower back, and a string tied behind your neck.

The cold was the only problem. Frostbite’s something you never wanted to get again. Especially not between your wings, which was so hard to reach. Instead of freezing that chunk of your back, you fastened a length of warm cloth over it, using four shiny metal clasps. 

The rest of your clothes were normal. Pants, gloves, hats, those would all fit just fine, if they had your size. You did remove anything causing unnecessary weight, and typically had your pockets sparsely filled. The army issued boots were too heavy to wear while flying, so you stuck to a lighter pair of shoes. They weren't as protective or warm, but they allowed you to fly for longer without tiring, and they didn't hurt to run in.

All that said, you were wearing the least amount of body armor Bucky would let you, and a heavily altered uniform. You carried a small gun in a holster on your hip, a knife and canteen on the opposite side. A couple of grenades and extra ammo cases were stashed in a bag slung over one shoulder. 

For most of the battle you'd stay in the clouds, cutting down just to take note of troop movements and maybe deal a little damage. Things were going well. The Howling Commandos had already taken two of the buildings, since Hydra had essentially abandoned all defenses and was scrambling to evacuate.

You dropped a grenade, prayed your aim was true, and swooped back up for a single breath above the clouds. A small explosion told you that it'd found its target. You savored another moment before you dropped back through. The dew stuck to your skin, making it feel even colder than it was. Still, you swooped around, picking off targets one after another.

The whole while, you were unaware that someone on the ground was tracking your every move, and now he'd figured out the pattern. As you cut through the clouds, he adjusted his aim, and fired. 

If this has been a normal gun, you would've been fine. Simply wrap your wings around yourself as a shield, perhaps free fall for a moment in hopes of avoiding it, then back to business as usual.

But this soldier had not fired a normal weapon. What sailed towards you unfurled as it flew. Within a second of it making contact, you found your wings bound. No matter how hard you tried, the thin cords wrapped around you wouldn't budge.

Hurtling towards the ground, you caught a glimpse of where you'd land, an empty clearing on top of a hill to the south of the battle.

You braced for impact and hit the ground hard. You felt your arm crack and snap beneath you, but luckily the fall’s adrenaline overpowered the pain. For now.

A moment passed before you regained your senses and continued struggling against the net. It was futile. Bound too tight for you to reach your knife, you'd simply be unable to cut your way out. 

Footsteps came running towards you, and you prepared to fight as best you could. To your surprise, the man dropped to his knees right beside you, and began slashing away at the ropes with a knife.

He has a sniper rifle slung across his back.

“Bucky?” You ask. “How did you get to me so fast?”

“You landed near my sniper's nest,” he replied without looking up from the net. He finally tore apart the last cord, and said “You've gotta hurry.”

“Hurry where?”

“Fly. Go! Get out of here.” He gestured vaguely to the sky.

That's when you noticed the Hydra soldiers closing in from every side.

“What? No!” You said, “I'm not leaving you here! I'll… I think I can lift you and get us both out of here.”

“No. We both know that's not possible,” he glanced at your arm, which was hanging at a strange angle by your side. “Especially with that arm.” 

The soldiers were a few yards away, approaching fast. They'd be here in a moment.

“Go!” Bucky yelled. He rarely raised his voice at you. You turned and fled into the sky. Behind you, you heard a few short orders barked in German, and the sound of a body hitting the snowy ground.

You swirled through the clouds, careening – you hoped – unpredictability. The last thing you wanted was to get caught again, and have Bucky die in vain.

Your heart felt like it was in your head, it was beating so loud. When you finally perched in the highest hidden branch of a tree, you found your balance was a bit off, and you nearly slipped off. The lid of your canteen slipped out of your shaking fingers, and landed somewhere far below.

Despite the increased risk of being discovered, you allowed yourself to cry. A few minutes of sobbing, albeit quietly, was enough time for someone to approach.

You fled before they saw you. The tree shook, shedding some of its snow onto whoever was below.

After the battle, Steve insisted that you at least put your arm in a sling before allowing you to lead him back to the clearing you'd nearly been captured in. It was empty, besides for a mush of slushy footprints, some blood, and a tiny shiny piece of metal. 

They'd taken his body.

The only thing left, the only way you knew he'd been here, was the delicately crafted leaf necklace that you'd given him on the first day of spring.

You picked it up, the silver metal dulled by now dried blood, still managing to glint faintly in the sunlight. You stared at it for a moment longer, then closed your fist around it.

Steve had seen the necklace, too. He knew what it meant. 

“Y/n,” he started, but before he could say anything more, you cut him off.

“It's fine. I've been through this before.” You turned to walk back to the now empty battlefield. “We’ve gotta wipe these bastards off the face of the earth.”

From then on, you were different. You took your meals in solitary, preferring a treetop to a dinner table. You barely knew these people, Bucky had been your only link. With him gone, killing those Snake Worshippers was your only goal. In an attempt to reconnect with you, Steve gave you a book, Oliver Twist. It was slow going, but most of the words made sense.

Before Bucky's death, you'd been hesitant to be the boots on the ground. It was partly due to some of the adaptations that came with your wings. To decrease the weight you had to carry, your bones had turned hollow, which led to fracturning more easily. 

Now, however, you fought hand to hand with a ferocity that put even Steve on edge, ignoring any splintering of bones.

Off the battlefield, you were constantly training. You pushed yourself further and further, getting stronger every day. Each night, you collapsed into your hammock – the tent held too many memories – and went out like a light.

In the mornings, you rose before the others, although that didn't matter, since you rarely interacted with them outside of tactical meetings anymore. Every waking moment was dedicated to training. Physically, you could lift more than ever before, fly for longer, and move faster. Your punches carried more weight than they'd used to. 

Mentally, you sharpened your skills as well. You'd taken to reading Steve's book during meals, or in the truck heading to or from battle.

Your English speaking skills stagnated, though. Fewer interactions meant fewer chances to practice. That was fine by you. No use keeping some random language spoken by people you would never see again after this war was over. It was comforting to know that you hadn't gotten too used to the new language, that you still held fast to the language you'd grown with.

The weeks flew by. The weather warmed. The icy spring finally melted into summer. Countless missions blended together. Kills, which you used to keep track of with a notch on a tree near camp, now numbered in the hundreds. If you'd carved all of them into the tree, it would look like a beaver attacked it.

Jaw set, eyes staring dead ahead, you sat in the truck, tucked in the corner. Your spine was so straight, rigid almost, that your posture was impeccable. Waves of quiet rage radiated off of you, and everyone seemed to know to stay away.

The plan was for the Commandos to raid yet another underground base and retrieve whatever “powerful device” Hydra had gotten its grubby claws on. Today, it was a ridiculously powerful source of energy, which Red Skull had harnessed for evil, as he usually did.

The truck had barely shuddered to a halt before the Commandos jumped out. They swarmed the building, going fast yet thorough, each move carefully practiced. You darted above, hoping to spot any targets. Instead, you saw something that made you zip back down to meet up with Steve.

“Captain,” you said. “Hydra’s abandoned everything else but a defensive position around the loading bay.”

Within minutes, the Howling Commandos broke through the door, just as Red Skull was scaling the ladder up into the most massive plane any of them had seen in their lives. The soldiers launched a spray of gunfire, but it was too late. The giant thrusters roared to life, letting out a burst of flame.

The plane turned to the left, towards the hangar exit.

Steve saw where it was heading, and battled his way through the remaining horde of Hydra soldiers. They were all armed with the glowing blue weapons you’d first seen what felt like so very long ago. Steve’s shield easily deflected the blows. 

Despite his superhuman strength and speed, the jet pulled further and further ahead of Steve.

Through the mayhem, you saw a black, open top car swerving so expertly that it could only be driven by Colonel Phillips. You sprinted after it, and ducked into the backseat next to Agent Carter.

“What in the–?” The colonel started to ask.

“Drive,” you cut him off.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” He sped up, engine growling, then came to an abrupt stop once he caught up with the now stationary Steve. 

“Get in!” He yelled. Immediately, Steve obeyed, and you were off again.

Faster and faster, Colonel Phillips pushed the engine to its limits and then some. By some miracle, you were gaining on the plane. But would it be enough? The light at the end of the runway, the opening to the outside world, grew infinitely closer each second. 

As though hearing your doubts, the colonel flipped the cover off of a large, red button, labeled “Gefahr, nicht drücken” and pressed it. Jets of flame propelled the car forward as Steve readied himself to jump. 

“Keep it steady!” He shouted.

“Wait!” Peggy interrupted. She grabbed the strap of the holster fastened across his chest, and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Go get him,” she said as they leaned apart. 

“I’m not kissing you,” Colonel Phillips added, glancing up from the road briefly.

Steve fastened his shield to his back, and carefully navigated around to the front bumper of the car. Though he tried to navigate between them, the colonel simply didn’t have enough room to avoid all the propellers. The spinning blades sparked as they striked against the shield and the hood of the car. Everyone in, or on, the car ducked as low as they could go until you were in the clear.

There. Only a moment away, twenty seconds at best, was the outdoors. The plane’s wheels began to lift off the ground; if Steve didn’t jump now, he’d never make it. He propelled himself forwards and upwards as hard as he could.

It wasn’t enough. His fingers grazed metal, but couldn’t find purchase. He started to fall, and in that split second, you made a decision.

Scrambling over both Peggy and the colonel’s seats, you ran across the hood, beating your wings as hard as you could, and you, too, jumped. With all the might in your body, you wrapped your arms around Steve and brought him just a little higher, so his hands could grasp the slick metal. The moment he had pulled himself up and gained his footing, he reached back for you, yanking you onto the wheel next to him. 

The ground below vanished, replaced with a thousand foot drop into an icy ravine. You could only hope that the colonel had swerved so as to avoid plummeting over the edge. You dared a glance backwards, and saw the car, a small black smudge against the white, snowy background. They were safe. 

Navigating through the pistons and gears, all the intricate yet massive machinery was surprisingly similar to weaving through tree branches. You led the way, seeing as you were familiar with navigating such high, complex spaces. You found a walkway, and ducked under the railing. 

Steve, the showoff he always was, placed both hands on the rail and swung himself over.

“You could’ve easily fit underneath,” you noted.

“Oh God…” Steve said, but not in reply to you. He was looking past you, at the rows and rows of single-pilot jets, with bombs large enough for a child to crawl inside. They were pitch black, with a red loop of paint and a series of symbols painted in clear white on all of them.

“Ch-eek-ag-oo?” You sounded out quietly. “What does that mean?”

“Chicago. These are all names of American cities. This one,” he pointed to the one nearest the walkway, “that’s where I grew up.”

Many pairs of feet rattled the walkway towards you. Hydra pilots, faces concealed and goggles on, sprinted towards their bomber jets. Steve hurled the first one over the railing, down into the machines below, while you lunged at the second one. One drew a knife out of thin air, and started towards Steve, but he didn’t make it very far. A few quick jabs, and the knife was in Steve’s hand. He hurled it with precision, stabbing another in the back as he ran.

The final one climbed on top of the bomb destined for Chicago in an attempt to escape. You quickly found a control panel, and released the hatch. The floor opened beneath both man and bomb, which quickly fell into the ocean miles below. 

The fight continued, more waves of Hydra went down to the launch bay. You two continued dispatching them as quickly as they came. That is, until a pilot managed to weasel his way past and into the cockpit of the bomb bound for New York.

Steve jumped on top of the jet, whaling on it with his shield. It made a dent, and perhaps he could have broken through, had another pilot not jumped on Steve from behind and knocked the shield out of his hand.

The floor beneath the jet opened up. The jet dropped, leaving Steve and the Hydra pilot to hang on for dear life. There was nothing you could do now besides hope he came back.

You turned back to the fight, unsheathing your knife. You held it backwards, a trick you learned early on in hand to hand combat. If they’re expecting a slash from one angle, a different grip could be the difference between life and death. This hold allowed you to take out one man fairly easily, which gave you enough time to get to Steve’s shield. 

He’d needed it if he got back. If he didn’t… Why let perfectly good vibranium go to waste?

Fighting felt good. Letting out some of the anger that had built up for so long only made you more powerful. The minor bone breakages you sustained were easily ignored. Bones were fragile; if a few had to snap for you to win victory, so be it.

This is why, when Steve ‘expertly’ piloted the jet back into the bay, he found you waiting there, surrounded by the bodies of countless Hydra soldiers. 

“You dropped this,” you said, passing back his shield. He looked down at it. A red smear stained one edge, which he wiped off before motioning for you to follow him.

After winding through the corridors, you came to the control room. Steve opened the door slowly, cautiously, so as to not alert anyone inside. A great window took up most of the wall in front of you. It was segmented into squares, no more than a foot and a half wide each. Outside the familiar sight of clouds stretched out before you. 

Your view was obstructed by a few things. A large, permanent-looking chair sat before the windows and in the middle of the room there glowed a strange blue contraption. Obviously the powersource the Howling Commandos had been tasked with retrieving.

You and Steve entered further, cautiously, though the room appeared to be empty. You were right to be cautious, because not a second later, a man missing the skin from his face shot a giant blue laser gun at you from behind. Steve blocked it with ease, although the sheer power reverberated around the room for a moment afterwards.

“You don’t give up, do you?” Red Skull said.

“Nope!” Steve replied, charging at him head-on. After deflecting two more shots, he whacked the gun out of Red Skull’s hands. They traded punches for a bit, with Red Skull managing to disarm the Captain and knock him to the floor. You yanked the German off, sending him tumbling across the blue contraption, and handed Steve his shield back. 

Now the upper hand was back where it should have always been. Steve shoved, then snap kicked Red Skull so hard he went crashing into the control panel. The plane started to dive. Gravity seemed to reverse, throwing the three of you to the ceiling.

Red Skull managed to free himself from Steve, and scurried down a column, trying, and succeeding, to get back to the controls. The plane leveled out, and threw you and Steve back onto the floor. The landing wasn’t too hard, but still enough that you heard a crack against the floor.

“You could have the power of the gods!” Red Skull sauntered down from the controls, waving a small pistol. Despite its appearances, it packed quite a punch. One shot, perilously close to Steve’s head, bore a hole into the metal of the wall.

“Yet you wear a flag on your chest and think you fight a battle of nations!” Red Skull continued, voice rising above even the howling winds ripping through the room. He fired again, once more too close for comfort.

“I have seen the future, Captain!” He yelled, firing off another shot. “There are no flags!”

“Not my future!” Steve yelled back, barely dodging another shot in time. He rolled across the floor, to where you and his shield were. He pulled it up in a pitiful attempt at protecting the both of you.

“You alright?” He asked.

“Mhm,” you grunted shortly, holding your side. “Broke something. Be fine.” 

“Good.” 

He flung his shield at Red Skull, slamming him into and partially through the blue apparatus. Power surged, whirling through the room. It almost looked like lightning. 

“What have you done?” Red Skull hissed, dragging himself to his unsteady feet once again. He reached out to a now exposed cube. 

“No…” He said, holding it up to his eyes. A few sparks leapt out, streaking towards the ceiling. A tapestry of color and dust appeared, stagnant, in the air above him. A column of flame grew from his palm, eating away at his flesh, his bone, spreading across every inch of his body as he screamed in agony. The fire grew into a spire of light, stretching into the tapestry and beyond forever, temporarily blinding you.

Suddenly, the light was gone. All that was left was a glowing blue cube. It burned through the metal grate beneath it, the metal floor beneath that, until it fell into the clouds below.

Steve crouched next to you.

“Can you walk?”

“Think so.” You only needed to grip his arm to raise yourself to your feet, after that you were good enough to walk unaided. It wasn’t pleasant. You suspected you’d broken a rib or two. 

“What do all these do?” You asked, examining the controls. 

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment. He started out the window. 

“Can you still fly?”

You tried lifting your wings, only to be met with a wave of pain, nausea, and overwhelming weariness all rolled into one.

“No, not in this state,” you shook your head, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. “And definitely not at this altitude.”

“I don’t see any way out of this,” he said, reaching for the radio. “Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?”

“Captain Rogers, what is your–” Jim Morita started from the other side.

“Steve, is that you? Are you alright?” Peggy interrupted.

“Peggy! Schmidt’s dead.”

“What about the plane?”

“That’s a little bit tougher to explain.”

“Give me your coordinates, I’ll find you a safe landing site.”

“There's not gonna be a safe landing, but I can try to force it down.”

The line went dead, and for a split second Steve seemed to think they’d lost connection already.

“I’ll get Howard on the line,” Peggy suggested. “He’ll know what to do.”

“There’s not enough time,” Steve shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. “This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading to New York. I gotta put her in the water.”

“Please, don't do this,” Peggy asked, although it sounded like she already knew he would. “We have time. We can work it out.”

“Right now we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Steve said, looking over the radar. “If I wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice.” He took the cut out that he always kept close, a picture of Peggy, and placed it on the board. He started to lower the controls, dipping the plane down, down, down. You held onto his chair, sinking to the floor to avoid falling.

“Do you want to say anything?” Steve asked you.

“No.”

“Don’t you want to say goodbye?”

“I don't have anyone to say goodbye to,” you shrugged. He nodded in a sad, understanding way. 

“Peggy?” He said to the radio.

“I’m here.”

“I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”

“All right…” She hesitated. “A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

“You got it.”

“Eight o’clock on the dot,” her voice started to grow staticky around the edges. “Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

“You know, I still don't know how to dance.”

“I’ll show you how. Just be there.” The signal cut out completely.

You replayed her words over and over again. Just be there. Hoping that wherever you went after this your dad was waiting. 

“Just be there,” you whispered as the plane hit and cold, cold water flooded in around you.

Tag list!

@arctrooper69

[suuuupernovaaa]

meyam

meyam [m·ɛ.ˈj·am] vtr. hug, embrace, hold in one’s arms

Anonymous Request: Could you do a Neteyam x fem!plus size human? She's both tall and plus size so she never felt small till she was around the Na'vi especially with Neteyam. Maybe she gets extremely shy but also secretly loves it.

875 words

"Y/N, can you double check these numbers?" My colleague and direct supervisor, Matt, asks, tossing a print out I literally just put on his desk.

I nod, taking the sheet, and grumble under my breath as I walk back to my desk about what a prick Matt is.

Instead of actually double checking the numbers that I am confident are accurate, I work on something that actually matters to kill time.

Matt can't stand that a 19-year-old, who was born on Pandora, is better at this job than he ever was. He can't stand that I'm smarter than him, I get along better with the natives, and there's an avatar nearly ready for my use.

He hates me, and takes any chance he gets to minimize me.

I hand him the data back seconds before I'm set to punch out, and leave without another word.

I have a date.

--

Neteyam waits outside the base, throwing a nearly-flat basketball through a moss-covered hoop.

"Hey!" Y/N calls, jogging up behind him, smiling behind the oxygen mask she must wear. "Sorry you had to wait. Matt was a massive dick today."

Neteyam feels the anger in his chest at the mention of Matt. He can't imagine anyone mistreating Y/N, his Y/N, and he holds a deep contempt in his heart for this man. If he was Na'vi, Neteyam would handle this physically, but he's a human, so there's nothing to be done.

"Don't look so mad," Y/N says, reaching up to pat his arm. "Just a few more days and I'll be in the avatar program. Matt won't even be my boss anymore."

For a human woman, Y/N is quite tall, over six feet, and she can reach up to grab his arm easily. While Neteyam still towers over her, she's much more comparable to his size than any other human woman (and most men) that he's met.

She's expressed that she feels uncomfortable, being as tall as she is, but he can't quite comprehend that - she still looks very tiny to him. He also knows that she feels uncomfortable with the shape of her body, the soft curves, her full, round cheeks, her wide hips, her soft stomach... but he can't complain about this, either.

He likes every soft, round edge of her.

That evening, he's taking her for her first ikran ride. He knows it's a little dangerous to take a human, but he thinks, with the amount of time she's spent around them already, especially around his, it will be okay.

She tells him how nervous she is, as he helps her ascend through the forest, and when his ikran lands, he lifts her into his lap, securing one arm around her waist and the other holding tight onto the reigns.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

"Yes," she replies, and they take off.

--

It's like nothing I've ever experienced before, flying on this Ikran with Neteyam. It's terrifying and exhilarating and even though I'm scared, I feel safe, with his arm wrapped tightly around me. He pulls me with him as he leans into every turn, and I know he won't let me fall.

It's too soon when we land, and Neteyam leaps off, then catches me when I do the same.

It's amazing, feeling as light as air in his arms. I tower over almost every other human on base - but among the Na'vi, I'm miniscule.

"Well, what did you think?" he asks, a wide smile across his face.

"I want to do that every day."

"Soon, you can!" he says. No one is more excited about me joining the Avatar program than Neteyam. It was a coveted spot, one I'm lucky to have obtained, and I fought for it so hard, mostly for him.

We smile at each other, and he leads over, holding my hand in his.

"Do you think your family will... be okay?" I ask, squeezing his hand. "With me, I mean?"

"They would be hypocrites not to, Y/N," he reminds me, alluding to the fact that his father was also a Sky Person, once upon a time.

"Will you still want to see me, like this?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Like a human."

Neteyam tilts his head to the side, obviously never having considered this before. "I like you like this. I'll like you taller, too."

I frown and turn my head, and Neteyam reaches down, tilting my chin up to his.

"I like you like this," he says again, forcing me to look into his eyes as he says it.

I try to smile. "I know you do, Neteyam. But I feel... to small and too big, all at the same time."

“You’re not small to me… or big. You’re the perfect size. I hold you in my arms, and it feels right." He crouches down, reaching out to pull me into his long, strong arms, holding me against his chest. "You just, fit. Right here.”

I wrap my arms around him in return, though they don't go quite all the way around.

"In a couple days, I can really hug you, really tightly," I say.

Neteyam presses a warm kiss to my cheek. "I cannot wait, my love."

[onlyinmy-ass]

i never cared about being a virgin and "missing out" until anal. want it so bad and been training up and anal only for almost 8 months now. but also kinda saddens me that i'll never be with anyone irl. I am scared to death of anyone who gets close, like beyond friendship close.

You have come to the right mess of a person with this, friend. I understand 100% how you're feeling, trust me. This is about to get long and personal but I hope it'll help in some tiny way

I'm aroace and have had very similar feelings and experiences to what your describing here - so you're not alone. I had two really good friendships at uni (almost 6 years ago, sobs in late 20s) that I completely fucked over the moment I realised they were actually interested in me romantically, I turned and fucking ran to the hills to get away from that because I knew I'd never be able to give them what they wanted or needed from me

Those feelings and that fear haven't really gone away but as I've gotten older and interacted with more people in life, in other countries, online, in the kinky community etc what I've found is a whole broad spectrum of relationships that I'd never imagined possible as a young adult

And that can be turned so easily to these difficult thoughts right

So, okay, you and I might never want a romantic thing. Platonic relationships with sexual elements exist. BDSM relationships are often added to the context of romantic partnerships but can also be platonic, outside separately or in addition to traditional relationships. One off encounters with clear expectations and boundaries and, perhaps most importantly, defined endings can be found if you want one

Or, if you're not all that keen on having another person actually touch you, toys exist - as you already know! We don't need anyone else to enjoy those great sensations of anal. But maybe you do want someone, so you can find a person that is in to watching, directing or even using the toy on you without any other contact.

What I'm trying to say is that there are SO many possibilities that don't require deep emotional bonds. (Trust and consent and boundaries absolutely but these are not exclusively linked to long term partners)

With some searching and vetting, you could - if you so desired- find someone that matches your freak and have an encounter (s, if it goes well!) with that satisfies your needs and theirs

Sex, anal, play, control.... It can just be a physical thing done for fun. You don't need to put the fear and pressure of something more on it if you don't want to.

I know that for me personally that romantic relationships really aren't on the table, and I'm not particularly fussed about getting anyone else in on the action because I can get the physical enjoyment and sensations on my own and know I'm avoiding the potential emotional freak out/fall out, but if I ever chose to pursue something it would be solely on my shoulders to explain what I wanted and how it would have to play out; I couldn't expect someone to understand if I didn't lay it out for them and, unfortunately, that's probably gonna be the same for you. But as I said, that doesn't mean noone will be interested if that's what your putting out

TLDR: if you want someone to fuck you in the ass without crossing into uncomfortable feeling territory, I guarantee there are people out there also looking for this sort of arrangement. You just have to be clear with what you want, set your boundaries and for the love of sanity have an exit plan so you can leave immediately if the vibes are wrong. And if you don't want that? Keep on riding that dildo and enjoy yourself anyway

You're not missing out because 9/10 people aren't doing anal anyway so actually you're doing better as a virgin that most the population. That's pretty fucking cool honestly

(also 8 months anal only training? Get it!)

[captainharlock]

more update. just went through the longest three days of my whole life. click to read my tale of woe.

sept 10: had to go get my visa medical exam done (which ate 500 of my savings up... boohoo...) and it was such a long and evil journey into toronto to go get that done (i live in a city an hour outside) because my dad's car is being weird right now so i had to take trains there... and then when i got there they informed me that i was missing blood work (it was done, but i didn't have the actual proof of it. so i needed to ask the doctor who did my blood work to email me that.) so i almost started crying until they said i could still get the rest of the exam done that day and just email them the blood work proof later. Like legit immediately tearing up. i'm not built for these sorts of tasks i think. anyway that meant that i couldn't even ride home with a peace of mind knowing that that's done because it wasnt. i needed that blood work proof.

sept 11: i called the walk in clinic who initially did my blood work to ask if i could get it emailed to me so i could then email it to the visa medical people, and no one answered at all. ever. so i just got up and walked to the clinic. and when i entered the building there was a huge sign on the clinic's door that said they moved and the clinic no longer operates. again, started immediately tearing up because i can't handle anything. anyway i went on a wild goose chase that ended in me calling the doctor who issued the blood test personally and asking if anyone even still had my records and she said that public health did, but i needed to schedule a telehealth appointment to ask a doctor for it. my online appointment would be in the afternoon of the next day which was stressful becauuuuse

sept 12: in the morning of this day i had to go for an oral diagnostic to find out how much it was gonna cost to fix my painful rotting bulimia teeth. i didn't want to go on the train again and my dad was still eager to drive despite his car's condition so i said fuck it because my dentist appointment could be rescheduled if the car broke down on the highway, unlike my visa medical exam where i had to be there. so we went to toronto in our shitty car and i got poked and prodded by a dental student (i have to get my work done by students because it's the lowest cost dental work available to me) and he then informed me that i would need two cleanings which would cost $208 together, and then it would be $130 per tooth filled. and i have very very many cavities. so i think my stuff would be around $1500 to fix which is by all means a bargain but i started freaking the fuck out in the car on the way home because i still don't even have that. like YES it could have been $5000-$10000. but i still don't have $1500. so um. god. yeah. actually i'm still kind of freaking out about that. lol anyway

sept 12 pt 2: we got home just in time for my telehealth appointment and they gave me my blood work proof immediately and easily and i was very relieved and then i emailed it to the visa medical people like they told me to. and it's been very many daylight work hours and no one has responded to me so now i'm filled with an insane dread that there's still something wrong and missing and i can't stop freaking out and crying because i need just one thing to go smoothly just one please just one damn thing. oh ym god please. PLEASEE

sept 13: now we're at today where i am covered in exposed nerves and irritable and scared because i cannot stop thinking about how i need 1500 bucks and also an email back from the visa people who have my whole life in their hands right now. i am doing my commissions because i need to take more because i need that money. i put up a ko-fi goal for an amount a little less than $1500 because that's more of a broad estimate, but i can't be asked to spread my ko-fi link around again so close to when i already e-begged. i feel bad. there's people dying and i'm begging for help to get my tooth hurty fixed. it feels bad. but the goal is there and my commissions are open and if anyone wants to smile at me they can. if anyone has and ideas on how to spead it without me actually spreading it because i just don't have the moxie rn that would be nice too.

Thanks for reading i love you all