#but do not force yourself to keep them if you are both miserable

[sidetongue]

this beautiful idiot went to live with someone else and honestly, both of our QOL are much better HAHA

[starsxblazing]

Hi! Could I request Azriel who’s mated to the youngest Archeron sister who loves their human traditions. Az finds her celebrating alone despite a whole party being set up, and learns she feels forced to attend solstice or starfall, maybe Rhys even scares her into it a bit, but when she worked hard to set up parties on human holidays, but her sisters always choose starfall? And she feels they force her to adapt to fae traditions while not even her sisters, let alone the others, even acknowledge human holidays, even though feyre said she considers both worlds her home. One that ends in a confrontation with angst would be nice, but happy ending or not is up to you, thanks.

I could have made a small series out of this ask and I really and truly enjoyed writing it. I had intended on a happy ending but this is pushing 5k words and would have taken a lot more for it. I hope it was along the lines of what you wanted!

---

Cause and Effect

From the moment that you were shoved in the cauldron, your life had changed to the point that you weren’t sure what to do. It had hurt that your own sister hadn’t bothered to stop what had happened to you, Nesta, and Elain but you understood since her friend was injured. Being the youngest of all of the Archeron sisters meant that you were always looked over. Nesta had always been worried about Elain and even though you were only a year younger than Feyre, it never made any difference. 

You had always felt horrible that Feyre was the one responsible for keeping all of you fed but your sister refused to let you go with her when she hunted. There had always been an urge to help and try to make things better but as always, you were shoved to the back burner. Most human holidays were forgotten but for some reason, you remembered one in particular. No matter the fact that you tried each year to celebrate it, you were either scoffed at or told that it didn’t matter.

It was something that you held close to your heart because it brought you joy and you wanted it to do the same for your father and sisters. You were different from them in the sense that you wanted to do nothing but spread love and joy but everyone around you was too miserable to care. 

The fae had their own traditions in separate courts you had learned but that piece of you that loved your holiday felt as if it were slowly dying. It had hurt your heart to see Feyre go back to the original court that she had once wanted to go to but you stayed silent and a few feet away from your other two older sisters. Mor had all three of you in an instant as soon as she was able to and took the three of you to a home that you were unfamiliar with.

Your thoughts would linger on the injured males that had been bleeding out in Hybern’s castle as you moved between Nesta and Elain so that you weren’t alone for the three hours that passed. Neither paid you any attention which only added to the hurt. It had been a traumatizing situation for the three of you and you were all trying to cope in your own ways. It didn’t stop the fact that you wished someone would pay you some attention for once in your life. 

Mor had come back to check on all of you after a few hours and she had been the first one in years to show you some genuine kindness. She led you to a room that you would be able to call your own so that you could find your own way to cope. Once she left, giving you a small smile before she did so, you took a moment to admire where you were. The room was huge considering what you had been used to with the bed being just as big. The balcony was what caught your attention the most and you knew that you would spend the most of your time there.

You found yourself enamored with the house that you learned was called the House of Wind. Mor had been the only one that had visited over the course of two days and you reveled in the attention that you were getting, even if it wasn’t a lot. On the third day, one of the males that had been injured returned to the House to see how the three of you were doing. You were instantly entranced with how handsome that he was, especially when he gave you a gentle smile. His eyes went wide when you smiled brightly at him and he stumbled a step as if he were in shock.

**

Azriel had been concerned about the three of his High Lady’s sisters so as soon as he was healed, he made his way up to the House. Only the youngest of the sisters could be seen since she had just finished eating. As soon as their eyes met, he was unable to resist the small smile that he had given you. It wasn’t until you gave him a genuine smile that shock overtook him. The warmth of a golden thread spread through him and it was all that he could do to regain his composure.

“How are you doing?” he asked in a gentle voice as he restrained himself from touching you. 

“I’m still trying to adjust and learn what all of this means,” you answered honestly as you looked around the dining room. “It’s sort of disorienting.”

“I can only imagine.” You gave him another bright smile at his words when your attention turned back to him. “I have faith in you though.”

A small smile replaced your bright, genuine one and he wanted nothing more than to make it return even though he wasn’t sure how. The only thing that he knew was that you were his mate and he wanted to follow you around like a love-sick puppy. Throughout his eleven years of living in a cell, all that he dreamed about was having someone that loved him unconditionally and to love them in return. Even though he knew that mating bonds didn’t always work out, your smile that seemed to show a genuine kind heart had him hoping that it wouldn’t be the case. When a slight frown formed on his face was when your entire mood visibly shifted and it was all that he could feel in the air around the two of you.

“I never saw you when we went to visit your sisters,” he mused quietly, realizing also that you had never been mentioned.

“I was in my room. I didn’t- ” you sighed, your eyes glossing over in the process. “Nevermind. It’s not important.”

“I think it is.” He did his best to keep the curiosity and the hint of anger from his tone. “You shouldn’t have been excluded.”

“It was my choice.” You gave him a sad smile while his heart hurt at your tear lined eyes. “I wasn't.. It’s not really worth sharing.”

“I think-”

“What are you doing?”

Nesta’s voice from the doorway had the both of you turning to look at her, her face etched into pure anger. It had you stiffening up in front of him and it had him rising to his full height while his wings tried to flare in his protective state for you. Your older sister did nothing but continue to glare at the both of you before you sighed quietly while hanging your head and shaking it slightly.

“We were just tal-”

“You don’t need to talk to her,” Nesta snapped. “She has us. Stay away from her.”

You glanced back at him with apologetic eyes before walking away from him but he noticed that you went in a completely different direction than your sister did. He almost followed you but decided against it in hopes that it would help you cope a bit better.

**

“Good morning,” you mumbled sleepily, still in your pajamas, when you entered the dining room with the male from the day before and Mor sitting at the table.

“Good morning,” Mor replied with a small smile. “We weren’t expecting you to be up so early.”

“I do rise early sometimes,” you chuckled as you took a seat beside her with the male sitting across from you. “But everything.. It’s hard to sleep now.”

“That’s completely understandable.” Mor rubbed your arm for a moment in a comforting manner. “We’re glad that you are out here with us.”

You gave her a small but sad smile, unsure of what to say. It was obvious that none of them knew about you and even though it hurt, you did your best not to show it. Feyre had mentioned to you once that the food here was delicious and now that you had a taste, you weren’t sure if you could ever go back to normal human food. The thought had you returning to the day that you had been forced into the cauldron and realized that you didn’t know anyone’s name and most importantly, how they all were doing after injuries.

“You were hurt.” You locked eyes with the hazel ones across from you. “And your friend-”

“We’re alright,” he assured, causing you to slump in relief into your seat. “Cassian’s wings are healing as we speak.”

“I’m so glad.” You gave him a bright smile before gazing at his wings momentarily. “I can’t imagine how much pain that you were in. I feel horrible that I didn’t even think to ask you last night.”

“It’s okay.” He gave you another genuine, small smile that earned a near silent gasp from the female beside her. “You have been through more than any of us can imagine.”

“I don’t even know your names,” you mumbled, choosing to ignore his reassurance since you were trying to avoid the thoughts of your own.

“You’ve met Mor.” He gestured towards the female beside you who simply rolled her eyes. “Cassian, as I said, was the one that was injured as well and Rhysand is our High Lord of the Night Court.”

“Oh.” It was hard to keep your mind from the horrible memories, the thoughts making your heart hurt even more now that you knew their names. “Have you heard from Feyre?”

“She will be alright and will be back as soon as she can,” Mor answered confidently. 

Your sister had obviously thrived since she had become High Fae and you couldn’t help but wonder if you or your other sisters would be able to do it as well even though you didn’t have much of a choice. A part of you wanted to adjust but at the same time, you were terrified of the life that you had been forced into. You were at least trying to be friendly even though Elain still refused to speak and Nesta was being her usual angry self.

You weren’t sure how to feel with everything that was going on around you but your mind began to drift back to your human life. Your favorite holiday would be arriving in a few months and you hoped that it would be something that would be accepted for the first time. Remembering that you didn’t know the male’s name, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you stingy with your name?” 

“No,” he chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeated, finding that you liked how it rolled so simply off of your tongue.

He seemed to like it as well due to the smile tugging at his lips but you chose to ignore it, opting to eat what you could. You could feel his gaze on you and noticed it for yourself when you glanced from your peripheral as Mor began to tell you what Velaris had to offer.

“It sounds beautiful,” you sighed in awe.

“I could take you.” Your eyes met Azriel’s, noting that his expression was neutral even though you felt like he deeply wanted you to agree. “The city is meant to be seen at night.”

“I would expect nothing less from The City of Starlight,” you laughed, noting an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

With a nod in a silent goodbye, you went to find your sisters who were where you thought they would be. Elain was still staring out of the window with a blank stare and Nesta was in a chair in the room with her reading a book. Your oldest sister’s blank stare fell on you and since it made you feel unwelcome, you quickly left and opted to spend your day in your room. The feeling of loneliness was nothing new but it hurt even worse with the circumstances that were beginning to feel impossible to sort through. 

As the day came to a close, you searched through the new wardrobe in hopes of finding something suitable. It was as if Mor knew of your struggle because she was flitting into the room as the afternoon was coming to a close. Her help was more than welcomed since you didn’t know how to dress up for anything at all. She chose a gorgeous blue dress and fixed your hair into loose curls. It was the prettiest that you had ever felt. Azriel’s face softened when you entered the dining room where he was waiting and he guided you to the balcony.

“The House is warded against winnowing so we will have to fly,” he started gently, watching you with nearly invisible caution. “There is always the option of the ten thousand steps to the city but that would ruin your beautiful dress.”

“I’ve never flown before.” It was hard to speak and keep the shock from the simple word from your tone before eyeing his wings. “It sounds scary.”

“I promise not to drop you,” he chuckled, the noise almost inaudible.

You nodded your head and nearly gasped when he picked you up gently, the feeling contradicting his size and obvious muscles. The flight down wasn’t as scary as you expected and you knew that Azriel was doing his best to keep you comfortable. He landed you both down next to what he called the Sidra and you couldn’t help but admire the sight. Azriel followed suit when you leaned against the railing and it was then that you noticed the blue stone on the top of his hand. Your attention turned to the scars and your heart immediately ached for him.

“They are siphons,” he explained to your silent question but stiffened when you placed your hand over his and ran a thumb over his scars. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, admiring how the kind male beside you had turned out that way despite the obvious trauma that he went through before giving him a soft smile. “Oh, your siphons are too.”

He smiled brightly, the sight taking your breath away in the process. You couldn’t help but return it before he placed a hand on your lower back and guided you further into the city. Amazement of the sights sent your heart fluttering and then it warmed when Azriel let you slip your hand into his. 

**

Azriel couldn’t keep his disbelief hidden from himself when it was obvious to see that you deeply enjoyed his company. It seemed that you always found a way to gravitate towards him and a piece of him wondered if it was the unknown mating bond or if you were truly that attention starved. He always silently observed every interaction possible between you and your sisters but each one was short lived. It hurt his own heart for you since he knew what it was like to be shunned by your own family. 

He had a day planned in the city with you when Rhys called him away to help Cassian retrieve Feyre. Even though you knew nothing, you were genuinely understanding and it only made him love you more for it. His heart only hurt worse when they returned with Feyre and you were barely acknowledged. He bristled when you glanced at his High Lord with a hint of fear radiating off of you. When tears lined your eyes, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into an empty hallway to pull you into his arms.

You melted in his embrace and silently cried for less than a handful of minutes before pulling away and wiping your eyes. If he hadn’t needed to watch Lucien, he would have taken you right then and there out to the city in hopes of lightening your mood and bringing the smile back to your face that he desperately wanted to see.

“My favorite human holiday is coming up next week,” you muttered before leaning against the wall behind you. “I wonder if they’ll celebrate it with me.”

“I would be more than happy to help with anything that you need,” he replied quietly before his heart clenched at the sight of your small smile. 

The day before the holiday, he had followed you into the city to get all of the decorations that you needed. Between the shopping that he usually didn’t enjoy doing and helping you set everything up the next morning, he was happier than he had been in a long time. Any amount of time that he got with you was highly cherished and it always seemed that you felt the same. His heart dropped at your frown when his brothers and Feyre returned. The slight scent of your fear again had him bristling but forced himself to keep his face unreadable as he watched.

“I thought that we could actually celebrate now,” you said hopefully to the High Lady. “Maybe make things feel a little more like home in a way.”

“We didn’t want to do your holiday back then and we really don’t now.”

Nesta’s words when she entered the dining room had him glaring at her when tears filled your eyes. He nearly growled in his protective nature at the sight of your oldest sister who wasn’t phased by the sight that always had his stomach turning. She left with a scoff and roll of her eyes before disappearing again. It wasn’t until Feyre gave you a half hearted apologetic smile and disappeared after Nesta did you finally run to your room.

A glare at his High Lord who knew about the bond only had him seeing red when Rhysand simply shrugged and followed after his own mate.

**

Your time with Azriel became less and less the closer that the war came. Despite taking Cassian up on his offer to train, you weren’t anywhere near close to trying to go up against the simplest of opponents. Azriel always appeared proud that you had agreed to learn to defend yourself if need be. There was always an emotion in his eyes that you could never place when your eyes met but what you did know was that you were falling in love with him. 

Even though you were worried about Elain when she was kidnapped, you couldn’t stop the hurt that hit you when you saw her in his arms. Your relief for your sister’s safety quickly changed into horror when you saw the injuries that he had received. You followed behind him quietly and stayed out of the way while he was tended to by Thesan. He would lock eyes with you every so often and give you a reassuring smile that had a tug in your heart pulling towards him.

Azriel stayed with you in your tent that night but even him holding you close against him did nothing to help you sleep. Your worry and fear ate at you about the war that would be taking place kept your heart and mind racing. Standing at the edge of the battlefield with Feyre’s new family and your sisters did nothing but refuel your terror. Hurt coursed through you to see the male that you had fallen in love with hand his dagger to Elain. You knew that you wouldn’t be anywhere near the fight as instructed.

“We will get through this,” Azriel whispered in a low voice that only you could hear when he returned to your side.

You gave a short hum in agreement but stepped away from him as heartbreak continued to swirl within you. With the shortest glance at the shadowsinger, you saw confusion and something akin to hurt on his face before he faced the battle beginning ahead of them. All that you could do was watch with tears streaming down your face and your own sobs escaping you when Feyre's pained screaming met you when it was all over.

You already knew what had happened and since you were all alone, you let yourself fall apart in the place that you had been left at and let yourself grieve for your sister. There was absolutely nothing that you could do to help anyone or anything but you had become used to it at this point in your life. Since there weren’t any other options for you, you disappeared into your tent, continuing to cry. You weren’t sure how much time had gone by before you heard the tent flaps move to find Feyre looking at you with tear-filled eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered as she began to cry and the pain in her eyes and on her face had your heart dropping. “Father- He-”

You already knew what she meant since you had seen his ships and you simply turned your back to her. A soft, pained sigh left your sister before she reluctantly left and your heart hurt even more at the fact that you didn’t know anything at all. You had truly been forgotten by everyone. All that you wanted was to be alone to try to sort through your emotions. It was already hard enough with the struggle that you were having with adjusting to your new life as High Fae but this added pain was too much.

Once you were finally able to return home, you secluded yourself into a room in the townhouse while everyone else gathered around. You wanted nothing to do with any of them but you were stuck in the court that you didn’t want to be in. Time passed in a blur and you even refused to be around Azriel despite his pained features when you told him to go away. The comfort that you had once felt around him had dissipated when you noticed his visible worry for Elain. You couldn’t blame him  because your sister had always been the most beautiful and you would choose her over you any day.

“You’re doing what now?” you asked one afternoon when Feyre cornered you when you were finished eating, silent as you always were.

“Starfall is tomorrow and we need to get you a dress,” Feyre answered, speaking as if it was obvious.

“What is ‘Starfall?’”

“A Fae tradi-”

“So you’ll celebrate the things that the Fae do but you never bothered when I planned anything?” you snapped hatefully.

Feyre simply frowned before sighing and leaving your room. You sat brooding on your balcony, enjoying the light breeze blowing past you, wondering how things had turned out how it had. Being in Fae territory became even more unbearable by the day and you were beginning to not care if humans didn’t like your kind, half heartedly planning a return to the human lands. Before you could get into your thoughts much further, someone landed on the balcony beside you. Not just anyone, but the one in the group that truly scared you.

“I hear you’re opposed to Fae holidays,” Rhys began nonchalantly. “Why-”

“I’m not participating in your stupid traditions,” you snapped, taking steps back when he took enough steps forward and had you cornered with nowhere to go.

“And why, Y/N, do you refuse?”

“Because I don’t want to!” you yelled despite the fear that you knew he could sense.

“This is what you’re going to do.” He placed a hand on the railing on each side of you, hovering too close for comfort with a stern but angry expression. “You will be there tomorrow whether you like it or not. I will not have you ruining this night for Feyre. You will not like the repercussions if you upset her on her favorite holiday.”

With that, he left you there while you shook from the fear that you had just been left in.

**

Azriel had never imagined how much it would hurt to be pushed away by his own mate. You wouldn’t talk to him or even make eye contact. It was very obvious to everyone that you were miserable and he noted that depression had fully taken over you even and you always failed to conceal it when you tried. Every attempt that he made was always quickly shut down or simply ignored.

The night of Starfall, he barely saw you. You stood by yourself, refusing to speak to anyone that tried to engage in conversation with you by a half hearted smile. When he noticed that you disappeared, he followed your scent down the hall towards your room where he knew that you would be. His knock went unanswered but he let himself in anyway since the door wasn’t locked. He noted that your room was half decorated with the human holiday that you loved while you stood against the balcony in a simple dress that replaced your previous one.

“Are you alright?” he asked hesitantly, bracing himself to be told to leave.

“No.” Your answer was short and clipped but you didn’t bother to look at him as you continued to watch the sight of Starfall. “No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Why am I being forced to participate in something that I don’t want to be a part of?” you asked and he heard the anger beginning to fill your tone. “They were never a part of the one simple holiday that I tried to get them to enjoy. All that I wanted was to spread some joy in the crappy situation that we were in and even now, they still refuse to acknowledge it.”

“You didn’t have to join if you didn’t want to,” he assured gently, placing a hand over yours.

“Yes, I did,” you scoffed, causing him to raise an eyebrow in silent question. “Your oh so wonderful High Lord insisted. As a matter of fact, he threatened repercussions if I messed up wonderful Feyre’s favorite Fae tradition. I was forced to become a High Fae and now I’m being forced into traditions that I now want no part of.”

“Rhys did what?” he asked, his voice low with anger that was directed towards his brother.

“It doesn’t even matter anymore.” You went silent for only a moment before anger began to roll off of you. “You know what? It does matter. I will not allow them to walk all over me anymore.”

Azriel followed you in a hurry, hoping to do damage control when it was needed. All eyes fell on you when you stormed directly into the party. As if sensing your anger, Feyre’s eyes immediately locked onto yours. When you got too close, Rhysand gave him a stern glare in silent warning so he caught you around the waist to keep you in one spot.

“You are a shitty sister!” you snapped loudly, turning all eyes on you.

“What-”

“Oh, no. You don’t get to talk or ask questions.” He kept you in place despite your struggling as Elain moved beside the High Lady. “Both you have done nothing but shove me to the very back of your minds! Left me on the back burner! You didn’t even bother telling me that our father was dead until everyone was settled comfortably back in the camp!”

“We’re really sorry, Y/N-”

“You’re just as bad!” His arm tightened around you, pulling your back to his front when you began shaking in anger. “All that all of you have done was forget about me! None of your little ‘family’ even knew I existed! And even though you always disregarded my holiday that was always meant to lighten our troubles, your precious High Lord threatened me to participate in your stupid Fae traditions!”

Azriel’s eyes went wide with all of the information that you had just unleashed for everyone to hear. Even though everyone was staring at the confrontation with gaping mouths, he kept his attention on Rhysand who was trying to keep his power in check from his anger due to his own mate’s tears.

“Get your mate out of my city, Azriel,” Rhys ordered, the secret now revealed causing you to stiffen.

“What the hell is he talking about?” you asked, jerking out of his grip and shoving him harshly in the chest.

“I wanted to tell you but with everythi-”

“Oh no,” you chuckled darkly, tears now flowing freely down your face. “Yet another Fae tradition that I just have to deal with.”

“You don’t have to,” Azriel tried, desperation filling him just as much as his anger at his High Lord. “You-”

“Get away from me,” you snapped, backing away from him towards the door to the steps. “I’ll take care of myself just like I always have.”

With that, you darted for the door while he was left standing there in shock before the heartache took over him.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen 

@hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademejoin

[beggars-opera]

Hey, so we don't talk enough about A Christmas Carol as being at least a little bit about not continuing a cycle of abuse and neglect, both against others and yourself.

In the book little Scrooge is left languishing over the holidays in a boarding school for some never-explained reason, but it is made very clear that this is miserable and unfair, and that his father is doing this on purpose. His sister specifically comes to tell him that "father is so much kinder now than he used to be, that home's like heaven." This also reflects a bit of Dickens's own childhood when his father went into debtor's prison and little Charlie was forced to support his family working full time in a shoe-blacking factory at the age of 12 (which is also why so many of his books seem to have a moral of "hey, kids are people too and maybe we shouldn't make them work in the mines.")

Whatever family reunion happened after didn't work out, because Scrooge continues believing that no one is coming to save him and pulling himself up by his bootstraps at the detriment of all other social relationships is the only way forward. And the more he lives by that philosophy, the more miserable he gets, because obviously he pushes away anyone who has that hope that he lost. They threaten to break down the walls he's built and teach him that a big pile of money doesn't have to be the only thing that he can rely on, if he'd just let himself be vulnerable and have a relationship with people who care about him, because they're out there even if he's ignoring them.

There is a certain type of person still very much out there who thinks this way. "I've never been happy in my life, so no one else has a right to be either. I was abused in my childhood so it's only fair that everyone else suffer as well." We see this in parents who still try to use corporal punishment, and in wealthy people who ignore the social factors keeping others down and scream that everyone else is just entitled, that only those who suffer and scrape deserve happiness. And they especially hate the people like Fred who represent the past that could have been, who have maintained hope for the future, and seem to be rubbing their optimism in your face, when in reality they're just maintaining hope because it's the only way you can survive.

It's so important for Scrooge to actually see the impact this thinking has on both himself and multiple generations. Rich people have this weird hangup about this story because they think Scrooge is bad because he's rich. He's not, he's bad because he's a horrible person and a miser - he doesn't use his money to better anything, including himself. Salting the earth, everyone suffers here, including him. And he learns that he's going to die old and alone without ever having spent or enjoyed his money, and that his family feels sorry for him, and that the nameless masses of poor people out there that he decries so much are in fact living, breathing people, including tiny disabled kids who don't deserve to suffer just because you decided life isn't fair.

In the end he takes responsibility for actually uplifting the people in the next generation who are trying to make the world a better place and no longer punching down, because it doesn't have to be this way. So many people out there just give up hope because things are hard and they think trying to improve things is a pointless exercise that makes them look dumb. How dare you grow a year older and not an hour richer! How dare you marry for love! That's the only thing more ridiculous than a Merry Christmas! When in reality, there are plenty of people who would love to see them happy if they just had a chance.

It's really sad that, while the language used to describe it has changed, these problems still persist. That people feel so wronged and isolated that they spend their days ensuring everyone else will be as well. That they fail to see their fellow humans as fellow humans who are just as deserving of love and kindness and a roof over their heads. I don't care what time of year it is, we should all be lifting each other up rather than tearing each other down.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Third-oldest-Archeron-sibling!reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 4[*]

A/N: a truly beautiful friendship is always founded in chaos (it’s funny because of who Eris is in mythology)

Also, I would like to emphasise the bickering at the end is entirely whispered—enjoy

Warnings: Just general angst, sexual undertones, unjustly jealous!Azriel, swans (don’t even get me started on how scary they are, and don’t try to tell me otherwise if you haven’t been cornered by at least one)

Word Count: 6,618

-Part 3- -Part 5-

A voice is calling your name from somewhere: somewhere foggy, and distant.

A voice that really has no business interfering with the hot, male body that’s pressing you into the wall.

Large, playfully rough hands grip your hips, using his own to keep you pinned against the brickwork, groping your ass appreciatively.

You arch up into him, mouth opening over his own, tongue stroking and flicking. Fingers rake through his hair, turning it messy as you haul him closer. The lovely press of his cock against your abdomen, the ego-boosting sign of his appetite. He groans into your mouth, bucking his hips, and you drag the soft swell of your breasts over his chest. The cool night air scrambles beneath your skirts, making them flutter and billow, urging him closer.

The voice sounds again. Clearer; closer.

It’s strange how it sounds like—

The male body is forcibly torn off you, cold flushing your front, leaving the uncomfortable dig of brick into your backside. You blink away your haze, real world events crushing back down, slamming home when your eyes lock with sharp hazel. He’s clearly pissed. It’s probably the most emotion he’s ever shown to you.

How miserable.

“Did you forget we’re have dinner tonight?” He asks gruffly, hand still resting firmly over the male’s shoulder who’s looking warily between the two of you. It dawns on you what he’s just seen you doing, the position he’s caught you in; heat swallows your body whole. The shameful, humiliated type, and you force yourself to keep his gaze. Beg yourself not to hang your head.

“I’m not going,” you manage, eyes flicking away from his. “I already told Fey, and she said it was fine, so…” His brow narrows, attention piercing into you, judging. “They’re not compulsory, anyway,” you mumble, “so really I— there’s no reason for me to be at one.”

“It’s a family dinner. There’re plenty of reasons for you to be there.” His eyes flick to the male who just had you pressed between him and a wall, “unless something more important comes up.”

There’s no obvious sign, but he’s agitated. Irritated. Maybe a foul mood.

Azriel releases the male, eyes flicking over his shoulder—a sure dismissal. When the male refuses to leave, Azriel’s shadows thicken. Definitely a foul mood. “Is there something I can help you with?” He mutters sharply, piercing attention zeroing in on the male—Bas.

His golden eyes turn on you, peering warily, “who is this? You said you were on your own.” Heat washes down your spine, gaze flicking between them, wishing for the floor to open up under your feet. “He’s—nobody. Just a—…” You fumble, unsure what to say. “Acquaintance,” Azriel finishes for you, hairs rising at the back of your neck as he stares at you. “A friend of a friend.”

Bas’ lips lift into a smirk, and you pray he’s going to keep his mouth shut for once. But he turns to Azriel, standing less than an inch shorter than the shadowsinger, “I don’t see what business you have with a friend of a friend,” he drawls, making both of you stiffen.

The dim faelights gleam in his intelligent golden eyes, bringing out the rich darkness of his skin, the outcropping of his sharp jaw, the thickness of his hair that hangs in lovely, rough locks.

Azriel’s eyes narrow, shadows coiling at his back, peeking over menacingly large wings, “and what business do you have with her? She has plans for tonight.” One of Bas’ brows quirks in subtle challenge, and you brace yourself. “Considering she sought me out, I think her plans have changed,” he says, that provocative smirk still tipping his lips.

“Bas…” you murmur, stress tensing your muscles.

Both of their attention switches to you, and your mouth seals itself shut.

Azriel shakes his head, “she’s coming with me. Don’t bother her again, Bas.” The words are final, and you can tell the conversation is over. Bas doesn’t back down, though. Always ready for a bit of rough and tumble. Practically lives off the edge. “Now I didn’t realise she was your property, Az,” he drawls challengingly, his attention then settling over you. “And you should have told me who this other person was, sweetheart.”

They know one another?

“She’s not your anything,” Azriel says, a rough sharpness to his voice. “Back off, Bas.”

The male doesn’t budge. Instead his gleaming eyes fall on you.

Oh no…

“Sweetheart?”

Heat warms your skin, gaze darting anywhere but the two males before you. You really don’t want to go to the dinner. To see all of them so soon after the mess that happened precisely one week ago… And it would be weird to show up after having said you weren’t going. What if you went and there wasn’t enough food? She has enough on her plate, she doesn’t need to worry about extra dinner guests.

You’re staying with Bas.

Hazel meets your gaze, and words stumble. “I…” I’m not going to the dinner.

“You…?” Azriel repeats, jaw tightening.

You flush, eyes lowering, heat warming your cheeks against the cool night air.

You turn to Bas, and he frowns. “Sorry,” you say gently, “I should see my sister.”

The wings at Azriel’s back loose a slight bit of their tension—still pulled taut. “Right, let’s go,” he says, cutting off any communication, “we’re already late.” You shoot Bas an apologetic look as you move to follow behind Azriel—keeping his gaze ahead. He merely shakes his head, giving you an easy smile, “find me after, okay?” A wave of gratefulness washes over you, and you push every drop of it into the thankful look you send him. Then you turn, hurrying down the uneven cobbles after the Shadowsinger.

He’s silent when you catch up, walking at his side, a pace behind. He doesn’t look at you once, continuing down the road that will lead to the River House. Fighting down the humiliation, you clear your throat. “Can you—” You nearly trip, righting yourself a second before your tipping point. Stumbling, you scoop the fabric of your long dress into your hands, raising it out of the way of your feet.

He continues walking, though slows a little as you scramble after him.

“Azriel,” you say, a little breathless. “Azriel, wait.”

He halts suddenly, making you flinch with the abrupt stop. Sharp hazel eyes press down on you, and you falter. “Yes?” He asks. Fumbling for words, your eyes flick out from under his, skipping over the shops in the darkening streets. “I—…” you begin, unsure what to say. “Can you…can you not mention any of that?” You request softly, embarrassing heat warming your cheeks.

“Who would tell?” He replies coldly.

Humiliation settles in the pit of your stomach. You lower your head a little. Nod. “I didn’t want you to think…”

“I don’t make a habit of interfering with other people’s business,” he says pointedly, watching you. Why does it feel like he’s scolding you?

Your lips press together, shoulders curving inward almost imperceptibly.

His eyes flick to your hair, and his hand raises, as if to shift a strand—tuck it away. But he stops, noting your gaze. “You need to fix your hair,” he says, a touch softer than before. “It’s obvious what you were doing.” Shame is like a deadweight in your gut, hands feeling dumb as they attempt to neaten out a mess you can’t see. His eyes narrow when you lower them, and you both know it would be easier if he was the one to right whatever’s wrong with you. He doesn’t, though.

“I’m not like Nesta,” you say softly, a little shakily.

His brow narrows slightly, “nobody said you were. There’s nothing wrong about being similar to her.” Heat warms your skin, and you stumble under the look.

“I mean, that—what you…saw—that’s not normal. It’s not a… I’m doing doing any of that…”

“Drinking and fucking?” You flinch at the crude wording, and a gleam of apology flashes in his hazel irises. He watches you quietly for a moment, and you shift under his gaze, hands moving to rest on your elbows, dress swishing close to the ground.

“You know it’s fine if you are,” he says, gently. “As long as you’re being sensible about it,” he adds, “there’s nothing wrong with doing that if it works.” Your lower lip wobbles at the implication—that he knows you’re doing this to try and get over him. How desperate you’ve become.

“But find someone other than Bas,” he says, making you furrow your brow.

“What’s wrong with Bas?” You ask. He’s been great. Azriel watches you silently again, hazel eyes piercing into you blankly. Has your lip-tint smudged?

“He’s not…” Azriel begins, as if debating how to frame what he wants to say. Make sure you’ll understand. “You shouldn’t spend your time with someone like him,” he settles on.

“‘Someone like him’?” You echo, looking back up the street to where the two of you had been. Heat crawls up your spine, and you hastily look away.

“He’s different from you,” Azriel says, bluntly.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” you argue softly, peering at the cobbles. You hear him sigh, as if he doesn’t know what to do with you. “He can’t give you what you’re looking for. He’s the type to string you along until he’s bored, then never visit again. Stay away from him.”

“He hasn’t done anything bad…” you say quietly, shifting lightly from foot to foot. “He’s been…he’s been very nice.”

Azriel sighs again, and that funny feeling settles in your stomach. Disappointment tickling your insides. “That’s to draw you in. As soon as you try to bring him to a dinner, or to meet one of your sisters, he’ll bolt.”

“Why would I bring him to meet any of you?” You ask bitterly at the lack of confidence. “Do you plan to keep your partner a secret?” He counters with, tersely. “Maybe.” You reply defensively, still looking at the ground.

He’s quiet again, and you can almost feel the air shift. “Need I remind you of last week’s events,” he asks, quietly. “You’re not known for keeping your mouth shut.” You bite your lip to keep it from trembling, nails digging into your elbows. “And I thought you didn’t make a habit of interfering with other people’s relationships,” you murmur.

“I know they’ll make good decisions,” he counters. “You don’t have enough experience. To know what you’re doing.”

“Stop treating me like a child,” you whisper, head dipping. “I know what I’m—” you cut yourself off as a sob tries to work its way from your throat. Take a deep breath. Swallow. “I know what I’m doing,” you manage quietly.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt,” he argues. “You don’t want to damage yourself like that.”

Your body stiffens at the words, then a breath eases from your chest. You nod. “Okay.” You begin walking again, one foot in front of the other. He sighs again. “I didn’t mean it like that.” You keep walking.

“I’m trying to help you,” he says flatly, falling into pace.

“Okay.”

“So you’ll stay away from him?” Azriel asks, eyes falling on your smaller frame.

“Okay.”

His brow narrows on you, watching intently. Then, “look at me.”

Look at me.

The feeling of his fingers inside of you, close enough to share breaths, yet you were the only vulnerable one. Not an ounce of intimacy to be exchanged. You keep walking toward the River House.

Azriel doesn’t say another word.

————

In the end, you’re somewhat glad you went to the dinner.

If you hadn’t, you would be back here, in the mortal lands.

Well, with no wall, you’re not sure what to call your previous homeland. But you’re here, nonetheless, and all thanks to Elain. She’d wished to see Lucien, who had near permanent residence in the mostly intact house, and had invited you along with her. Whether she knew you needed some time away, or simply offered, you don’t know.

You’d arrived most likely around an hour ago, Fey and Cassian departing soon after, leaving you and Elain to spend the day as you pleased. You’d opted to take a stroll around the gardens, walking alongside the river that was just beginning to refill after an apparently hot and dry summer.

That was your first encounter with Eris.

You nearly jump out of your skin when he winnows to the river bank mere feet to your left, stumbling backward a few steps in surprise. Cutting caramel eyes pierce into you with razor-sharp scrutiny, noting your pointed ears. His brow narrows as he takes you in; he doesn’t look pleased with what he finds.

Blinking, you mark the blazing colour of his hair, the beautifully tailored finery, the flicker of flame in his eyes—remarkably similar to Lucien. “What…who are you?” You manage, calming your heartbeat. It’s a nonsense question, you realise—it’s obvious who he is. Anyone could figure it out through simple deduction. So you shake your head, “why are you here?”

Eris’ eyes narrow on you, then he’s striding forward, moving up the river bank until he’s come to stop before you. You take a single step back—if you have to crane your neck to look at someone, you’re too close. He’s remarkably imposing with his height and muscle, despite the inherent beauty of the fae.

“Who are you?” The words are short and efficient in a sharp, brazen way, and you find yourself wondering if you should have just continued on your way. “I’m—” you open your mouth to give your name, then realise it would be rude to assume he knew who you were. There’s no reason for him to. “Feyre’s my younger sister,” you supply instead.

His brow narrows. “I didn’t know there were four of you.”

Heat flushes your skin, and you look away. It’s not an insult, yet you feel embarrassed.

“So, why are you here?” You repeat, a little quieter, trying to change the subject.

“I’m expected,” he replies shortly, turning to face the way you had come. “Why have you been kept a secret?” He asks. You mentally scramble for an excuse to continue on your walk. You don’t want to go back yet, and he’ll probably expect you to winnow, and you aren’t really in a talking mood at the moment. No excuse comes to mind.

“I haven’t been kept a secret,” you respond finally, falling into step a little behind him. “Not intentionally, anyway,” you add as an afterthought, frowning. He's walking fast, and you’d like more time to take in the scenery. At least he’s not winnowing.

“You haven’t been present at any meetings,” he counters, “I find it hard to believe that’s a coincidence.”

Your frown deepens, “why would I be at any of them? Elain hasn’t been to any, either. The only time you would have seen her is in the Hewn City.”

“Which you were kept away from, too.”

You come to a stop, watching him. His brow narrows as he’s forced to slow his pace, looking vaguely irritated. “I was there when you danced with Nesta,” you correct, “all of us were.”

Eris stares at you blankly and it’s an effort not to squirm. “I was there,” you insist, “behind Elain?”

He doesn’t remember you.

Well.

“So you’re good at remaining unseen,” he says, turning to set you into motion again. You hurry after him, a little taken aback at the compliment. It’s a nice way to think about it, a faint smile tipping your lips, “thank you.”

“It was a question.”

“Oh…” you say, smile vanishing. It hadn’t sounded like one. “I guess… I prefer it…”

“You and the Shadowsinger must get along swimmingly,” he mutters, continuing along the path, neatly avoiding muddied parts. Something you fail spectacularly at.

The comment registers in your mind and you stiffen, muscles contracting as you force yourself to continue moving. “Not particularly…” you hedge, uncertain what’s appropriate to tell him. You aren’t familiar with Court politics. “No more than anyone else, anyway,” you correct, soothing out the slight rumple.

“No? Not settling in well?” He asks. You could swear there’s some sort of mocking undertone to the question, but you can’t figure out what the taunt is for.

“I…I guess not?” You answer, slowly. “It’s not bad,” you add hastily, not wanting to talk negatively behind their backs. He might bring it up later. You repeat the thought in your head, then shake it, smiling faintly. He hadn’t even know you existed until a few minutes ago, yet you think he could be trying exploit you. How silly.

The result of an over-inflated ego. Maybe you really should stop fooling around with Bas—he’s giving you all sorts of ideas about the value of your person, and it probably isn’t healthy.

“I mean, it’s fine. Just…normal, I guess. Compared with the initial chaos,” you add, satisfied with the end result of your rambling. The house is in sight now. All you need to do is pass between the river and the pond, and—

You stumble.

Not literally—it’s more of a mental scramble. Because right there, where they weren’t mere minutes ago, are a pair of large, powerfully built swans.

Eris continues walking like the two beasts aren’t eyeing you up with those sharp, beady eyes. You can practically see the light catching on the small teeth hidden beneath the beak. Glittering with menace.

“Let’s go this way,” you say abruptly, pointing to the path that winds around the pond. He comes to stop, clearly irritated by the unnecessary hinderances you’re causing. “This way is perfectly usable. We go this way,” he turns, continuing forward, fear rising in y our throat.

You scramble forward, clutching the skirts of your dress, “Eris!”

His caramel eyes slice into you, piercing in their intensity, but you don’t buckle. “I understand that maybe they don’t seem as vicious as the creatures of Prythian,” you murmur, as if they can hear you, “but swans are still very dangerous. We should go around.” Again you point to the pathway, ears perked up for any signs the massive birds are approaching. “And I get that you have magic, but you can’t just go around butchering local animals if they get in your way. That’s not how things are done here.”

He stares at you, as if asking if you’re serious. You hold his gaze because yes, you’re completely serious.

“You know they won’t attack you,” he counters, “and you’re correct, they aren’t dangerous compared to the beasts in Prythian. So move aside.”

You shake your head, “they could break your arm,” you insist, refusing to budge. His brow narrows in a scathing scowl, “they could break a human’s arm. I am not human.” He walks around you.

“They’re still dangerous, Eris. We should really go around,” you urge, watching as he walks along the path, remaining rooted to the spot. “Just winnow,” he snaps, then looks over his shoulder. “Unless you aren’t strong enough.”

“I can winnow fine, but…” Even that’s too close to them. You firmly believe animals have a sixth sense humans do not—you wouldn’t put it past them to know they’ve been cheated. “Please, let’s just go around.”

He watches you with narrowed eyes, weighing; judging. You freeze beneath his gaze, refusing to even breathe in case it’s the wrong thing to do. He turns fully to you then, and you think he might listen to you. Relief washes over you, but—

“You’re scared of these creature?” He asks, amusement underlying his tone. You flush. “Like I said, they’re dangerous,” you defend, lowering your gaze a little.

“You know, you’re fae. They won’t attack you.”

Your eyes flick up, doubting. “Why would they act any differently?”

“We are creatures of magic. Greater than they are. They know it would be unwise to attempt anything.” You blink, having not thought of it like that. The fae had felt different when you were human, more intense, more concentrated in a way humans weren’t. You hadn’t considered maybe other animals would understand that primal difference, too.

Eris’ lips twitch, and he holds out his arm—you’re completely certain it’s a mocking gesture this time. But also a challenge.

It’s also a prompt to face your fears. It’s been long enough.

You can do this.

You can prove to yourself there’s no need to be afraid of them any longer.

You take some small steps forward. Then a few more. And a few more after that. And then your arm is overlapping with Eris’, feeling the hot strength of muscle cording his forearm. An odd feeling of security settles over you, as the two of you begin to move forward.

You’re unable to help tensing as you pass them, even if Eris is on the side closest to them. Then to your dismay, he stops. “You can pet them, if you want,” he says, lips still quirked in the corners. He’s enjoying watching you shake and tremble at something half your size. “Are you insane?” You mutter under your breath, staring at the white beasts that seem to be waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Eyes widen and you stare at him, “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean that.”

He watches you steadily, eyes gleaming as he turns toward the swans, forcibly dragging you with him, despite your protests. “Eris…” you mutter, digging your feet into the mud, but you nearly slip. “Eris, seriously, stop it.”

He stops; you sigh in relief, but the tension doesn’t leave your body—still much too close to the great birds.

“Go up to one,” he says, a smirk on his rosey lips. “Touch one, then you can go.” He’s enjoying this far too much for your liking.

“No way,” you hiss, trying to pull out of his hold. The swans shift at the jerky movement, and you still. You stare at him, but he doesn’t seem inclined to move. “They’ll definitely do something if I try to go up to one!” You argue, as softly as possible. He just hums, and you wish you had continued walking instead of addressing him. Then you could be looking for blackberries, enjoying the natural sounds of the outside.

But here you are.

“You’re fae,” he reminds, eyes gleaming as he watches you intently.

Muscles tremble, thoughts flash in and out of existence within your mind as you look at the swans, sat neatly on the river bank, just at the water’s edge. A few long steps there, then back, and it’ll be over.

He’s right—you’re fae. They won’t attack you.

Still.

His arm unlinks from your own, hand pressing gently against the base of your spine. Egging you on.

You exhale a heavy breath, then move forward. Silently cursing him—unkind as it is. One step at a time as you descend the bank. The wind seems to have picked up, and you’re grateful for your preternatural sense of balance as you move down the muddy slant, feet settling on the pebble-filled shore.

Just three more steps, and you can turn back.

Two more.

One more, and then you’ll be in reaching distance.

The beady eyes pierce into you, wings stiffening, and you force yourself to breathe deeply.

“Just tap one on the head, and it’ll be over,” he reminds from your back, a little too loudly for your liking. Like he’s trying to get them to startle.

You steady yourself, blocking him out.

Come on, you can do this. You’re twice it’s size, and have immortality on your side. You can do this.

Slowly, shakily, you take the last step forward, reaching out your hand.

Black eyes meet your own, and you falter.

The swan shrieks, the second one hissing viciously, wings flaring to strike. You jump away, feet landing on the slippery rocks of the river. The massive birds surge forward, beak opening to snap at you, and you stumble, yelping as you fall backward. Icy water soaks up to your waist, and the breath whooshes out of you, your arms covering your face as wings flap.

When you open your eyes, the swans have taken off, and you’re up to your ribs in freezing river water. Trembling and shaking, you ease yourself out, soaked from the waist down, clothes wet and icy against your skin as you shiver.

Up on the bank, Eris is grinning, eyes gleaming with mirth as he watches your soaked state shuffle from the river, barely keeping his laughter to himself.

“You said—” Your heart is still pounding, vision blurring a little as you fumble for words. “You said they— That they wouldn’t…” Your teeth are already chattering, and you have to get warm quickly. You know how deadly the cold can be. Even with a reinforced body, the cold is as vicious as you remember, softly sinking into your arms, numbing your lips.

“Every animal has a fight or flight response,” he replies, voice lilting with amusement at your terror. “It was foolish of you to think you were above that.”

“But you said—”

“If I told you to dip beneath the river for five minutes without coming up for air because fae lungs are larger, would you do it?” He counters.

“…I wouldn’t disbelieve you,” you stammer, lips numb from the cold, lumbering back toward the bank.

The water in your shoes makes it hard to climb the muddy slope, and you end up having to use your hands to keep yourself steady, gritty dirt sliding beneath your nails. “Why did you lie?” You manage, heart pounding from fear, blinking away tears. His lips are still quirked into a rueful smile, enjoying your terror.

Hateful, hateful, hateful male.

“Don’t blame your idiocy on me,” he says smoothly, offering you a viper’s smile as he turns to continue along the path, leaving you freezing and shivering, soaked in river water. “Anyone with half a brain would have been able to see through that,” he calls over his shoulder. Tears spill down your cheeks, and for once, you don’t think, or fret over the consequences.

You winnow, and land a smack square across his cheek. As hard as you can.

He blinks, startled.

Then flame ignites in his eyes, glittering ire blazing hot as a forge.

“Don’t you ever,” you snarl, “do something like that again.” Fury heats your body, and you feel like a physical warmth is wrapping around you, fingertips tingling as if glowing, skin itching just below the surface. “Do you hear me, Eris?” You repeat, rage sharpening your words as your lip pulls back from your teeth.

The flame banks in his caramel eyes, and he yields a step. It’s satisfying, until you realise why.

You are glowing. But it’s not the bright, warm golden of Feyre’s happiness.

It’s green, and vivid.

Hands the colour of radiant starfall.

————

The Mother seems to enjoy putting you through various trials.

You come to this conclusion as you resist the urge to press deeper into the firm heat of Azriel’s chest as he carries you through the air.

For reasons you can only guess at, Cassian was otherwise preoccupied, leaving the Shadowsinger to fill in. Now Elain understands your relationship with the male, Feyre can guess at the complexities, and Azriel is part of the mess, so it should be obvious you’ll fly with your younger sister, right?

Unfortunately, Lucien had to be accounted for.

He’s well aware of the history between the Spymaster and his mate, and while he would never ask Elain to avoid him, she can guess well enough it would make him unhappy. That’s how you end up in his arms, split between wishing to be anywhere else, and wishing to be able to bask in his touch without anyone questioning how close you would lean. As it is, you’re stuck between keeping your distance, and not leaning so far it looks like you’re attempting to plummet to the ground far below.

The group is moving in silence, passing over the final stretch, and you can make out the twinkle of lights in the distance—Velaris. They’d gotten caught up in—what sounded like—a rather heated conversation with the Autumn Court heir, while you had opted to wait outside. The hallway had seemed too cramped, and you weren’t sure if you could manage being pressed so close to him without making your discomfort obvious.

Azriel breaks the silence. “Was everything okay with Eris suddenly turning up?”

The question startles you from your inner thoughts, and you replay it to catch the beginning. “Yeah,” you reply, trying to keep your eyes off him. “He’s just a bit…” You fumble for words, but he’s already nodding, knowing what you’re getting at. “He’s a little intense,” you settle on, “but everything was fine. For the most part, anyway.” You’re rambling.

“For the most part,” he echoes, a soft question in his voice.

“Well, I ended up falling into the river, but you know how it is…” you mumble, suddenly finding the sky very interesting. More interesting than Azriel.

(Liar.)

“I don’t think I do,” he replies. “What does soaking yourself to the bone have to do with him?” He asks, grip tightening ever so slightly as you begin the descent. You really don’t want to tell him—it’s not going to win you any adult points. At best it’ll just show how emotional your are, and that means baggage.

“It’s a long story,” you hedge, trying not to cling too tight to him as your stomach lifts in your belly. “We’ve got a while left,” he replies, gazing ahead. He could definitely be going at a steeper angle.

You sigh softly, trying to figure out how to make it as quick and concise as possible. “Well…he kind of…appeared out of nowhere, and we ended walking back together.” Azriel’s fingers press into your skin lightly, slowly spiralling in wide circles, “and there was a river involved.”

You nod gently, “yeah.”

“How?”

Teeth worry your lower lip, mouth pursing.

He exhales quietly. “We’re in an alliance, but that doesn’t mean you should trust him. I need to know everything that happened so precautions can be made,” he explains firmly.

“Okay…”

“So tell me what happened when you were walking alone with him,” he prompts.

“There’s not much to say…” you try, but he gives you a look that tells you to quit lying. “I don’t know…we were walking past the river, and there were some swans, and he convinced me to touch one, and…well, I slipped and fell in.” You leave out the glowing hands part. If you mention it, you know they’ll pounce. You don’t want to go through what Nesta did. The things she had to endure just to activate her powers…

Granted, there’s no looming threat of the queen anymore, but still. You’d rather not.

“He convinced you,” Azriel mutters under his breath, “and how did he do that?” You flush with heat, and pray he can’t tell. “I didn’t want to walk past them, and he…encouraged me to tackle my fear.”

“Stop forcing a good narrative on that prick,” he says sharply. “He didn’t encourage you, he manipulated you.”

“Maybe,” you murmur, “but I’m a little less afraid of swans now.”

Azriel sucks in a steadying breath. “And what did you talk about?”

You cast your mind back to the conversation. “He said he hadn’t known there were four sisters,” you admit, quietly, “he thought there were only three, and that Rhys was hiding me, for some reason.” He hums, and your hairs stand on end, able to feel the resonance thrumming through you. You hurriedly shift your mind elsewhere before your scent changes. “What else?”

You put your teeth into the inside of your lower lip, “I…” said we weren’t on the best of terms. “He asked…how…I was settling in,” you manage to string the words together, selecting each one with great care. “And?” He prompts. Oh dear.

“I said it was fine,” you reply, purposely vaguely. His eyes flick to you, and your own snap away in response. “Just fine?” He questions, softly. You make to nod, but he mutters your name under his breath, a quiet reprimand on his tongue. Heat coils in the pit of your belly, making you shift uncomfortably in his arms, leaning away.

A muscle feathers in his jaw, and he tightens his grip on you. “Stop doing that. You’ll fall.” You’re squeezed closer to him, and you squirm, the heat doubling. He mutters your name again, rougher.

“Stop doing that,” you hiss, sharply. You don’t have time to feel bad—it’s better to be rude than for him to realise the immense effect he has on you. “Stop leaning away from me,” he counters, “you’re being difficult.”

“I’m sorry my responses are an inconvenience for you,” you snap, quietly. No louder than a whisper.

“Don’t weaponise your emotions like that,” he murmurs back.

“I don’t see how I’d be able to when I don’t even know what that means,” you return, quietly. You feel his eyes press into you, and you look further away, inspecting the ground. “Don’t feign ignorance either,” he says sharply, “it’s immature.”

“Immature is making a problem out of something I can’t help,” you whisper back, snappily. His eyes narrow on you, and you shift again.

His hold tightens abruptly, fingers digging into you as he roughly readjusts his grip on your thighs and around your back. You squeak at the harsh treatment, heat bursting in your lower belly, and you squeeze your lips together, praying no sounds slip out. “It’s like you’re trying to get me to drop you,” he mutters beside your ear, “just keep still. We’re almost there.”

“Keep still?” You repeat incredulously, staring at him. “I don’t know if you’ve somehow forgotten, Azriel,” you hiss, emphasising his name. Hazel eyes flick down to you, and you gently push away the heat for a moment. “But I struggle to even think straight when you’re around. I can barely keep my head as it is, so forgive me if I’m a little shifty in a position like this,” you snap quietly. Probably the most aggressive you’ve ever been for a consistent time period.

“And I don’t know if you’ve forgotten,” he snipes back, eyes piercing into you, “but you managed to pull away on the brink of an orgasm.” Wild heat swallows you whole, and there’s no way your scent is remaining undetected now. “So you’re clearly more in control than you say you are.”

You stare at him, lips parted, skin flushed with heat.

“We are done with this conversation,” you hiss, breaking your gaze away. He doesn’t appreciate the verbal dismissal. “We’re done when I say we’re done,” he hisses in return. “Now what did you mean when you told Eris you were fine?”

You purse your lips, pointedly averting your eyes.

He mutters your name, grip tightening on you. You ignore him.

He repeats it, rougher this time, shadows twining around you.

“Cut it out,” you whisper, sharply.

“Expand on the fine comment,” he pushes, and you can physically feel the weight of his gaze upon your cheek. “Why are you so hung up on that one, tiny part?” You return, a sliver of irritation peeking through. “Because you’ve been acting strangely for a while now,” he hisses, “and if you’re starting to spiral like Nesta—”

“Do not threaten me, Azriel,” you snarl softly, skin heating—tingling. His eyes flicker, and his hold lessens on you a little, “it’s not a threat,” he soothes, “just an observation.” You narrow your brow as you watch him warily. “Like I said: you’ve been acting strange recently, and if you even gave the slightest hint that something’s off, Eris will exploit it.”

Your eyes flick away, slightly embarrassed by your tiny outburst. That wasn’t appropriate.

“So tell me, what happened when you said you were fine?” He repeats, gritting out the question.

“I…” You bite your lip, then give up. “He asked if I was settling in well, and I said I wasn’t.”

“Why did you tell him that?” He asks, gaze returning to pick out Velaris, much closer now. “Because it’s the truth,” you reply, a little weakly.

“I don’t care if it’s the truth, you shouldn’t have told him,” Azriel hisses. “He’ll give you the comfort you want, offer the reassurance, until you’re wrapped so tightly you choke on it.”

Hurt flickers in your eyes, vision blurring. “Maybe if I was better than fine I wouldn’t need the comforting,” you snap, turning your head and blinking away tears. His jaw tightens, “that’s not the point.” You stare at him. He stares back, features set in a stony line. “What is the point, then?” You ask weakly, the small spark of fight banking, beginning to flicker out beneath his oppressive gaze. “The point is,” he says, dragging out the words like he’s talking to a child. “You’re too naive.”

It’s like a smack to the face, your head reeling.

“You don’t know the dynamics between the courts. You don’t know about the feuds, or the history of Prythian. You don’t know enough to be trusted to act on your own,” he continues, oblivious to the number of scars he’s striking. “You’re a loose cannon, that I now have to compensate for.”

You stare up at him, hazel eyes glittering beneath the starlight.

“What’s worse—”

You put your hands over your ears. You can’t take anymore. If it was coming from someone else—fine. From anyone else it would be fine; understandable.

But not Azriel. That’s too much.

His brow furrows, lips moving, and you can guess he’s telling you to remove your hands.

You shake your head softly, unable to stand another word.

But his shadows contract around your wrists, tugging them away, and you hate the heat the bubbles in your lower belly at the roughness.

“You need to grow up,” he mutters, lowly. “You can’t just run away from something if you don’t want to hear it. You’re going to have to face it.”

A sob breaks from your chest, and your hands cover your face as the tears finally break, spilling down your cheeks. “Just leave me alone,” you cry, shoulders shaking as the tears continue streaming. “You find me irritating? fine. You find me annoying? Fine. You think I’m the worst, ugliest, most useless female in the world, fine,” you sob, unable to look at him. “But keep it to yourself, because every single word from your mouth holds more weight that you can probably even understand. And it is crushing me.”

You tremble in his arms, wishing they were there to offer comfort instead of being purely obligatory.

“You think Eris is the viper? You think he’s the one who’s bad for me? The one who’s trying to choke me?” You ask through your tears. “But you’re the one succeeding.”

Azriel’s eyes harden, and you feel the fractures growing larger. “I’m trying to keep you in line,” he replies, coldly. “For the sake of my Court, my High Lord and Lady, I am doing my best to keep people safe,” he emphasises. “And you are a proving to be a burden.”

You don’t know if he intentionally selected that word, burden.

You don’t know if he even realises which wound he’s targeted—so many have been picked open.

But you go quiet in his arms.

Docile.

The fight finally winking out.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd

[ravencincaide]

Desperate times call for desperate measures 

Summary:  You leave your small twins with Dazai and Chuuya and hope the two of them can manage their fatherly-duties while you take an hour of much needed ‘me time’. Scratch that, you just needed long enough to take a shower in order to feel human again before going back to being a mom.

Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya xfem! Reader 

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 8: Napping together

Warning: Cursing, hints at depression/ postpartum depression, New parents/exhausted parents.

Enjoy~

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You were going to kill Chuuya. 

No, you decided as you paced back and forth around the house, rocking the fussing twins in your arms. You were going to kill Mori for dragging your Chuuya out of his parental leave to deal with whatever shit Dazai had gotten himself into. You had thought the suicidal maniac of a lover would have gotten more efficient on missions- or at the very least more considerate. Nope. Still, somehow, if one part of twin dark was sent on a mission, he’d get in sufficient shit to need the second one's assistance. 

Responsible adults, your ass.

You sighed as the wailing continued with no amount of rocking, hushing, singing and pacing doing much to ease the tears. You were also silently cursing Chuuya for getting you pregnant with twins, why couldn’t it have been one to start with? Though you admitted as you looked down at the two crying balls of ginger, they were adorably cute; both took after their father in appearance,inheriting Chuuyas ginger hair and stunning blue eyes. With the only seeming resemblance to you being in their chins and petit nose. 

You definitely picked the short straw you mused bitterly as another loud cry made your ears ring. 

The ginger haired girl was crying and waving her doll around every now and then, getting it tangled in your hair or hitting you on the head with it with a surprising amount of strength. Her twin, an almost identical copy of her with slightly fluffier hair and larger eyes, was just gripping onto you and crying. He wasn’t wailing as loudly as his sister but the teardrops that rolled down his cheeks were larger, almost comical. 

There was no doubt in your mind that they were setting each other off. And all this mess because you got distracted and missed nap time. 

God you could feel yourself reaching your limit. What you’d give for just a little bit of time to yourself- a few hours was all you asked for. Something you hadn’t seen much of- if any after giving birth. As soon as the twins were born you got to spend a month in the hospital recovering before you and the babies were allowed home. Then it went downhill from there. First the wonderful nanny that you had picked out had to leave your services. The agency you hired her through was quick to send a replacement, but that woman got killed in an unfortunate plane crash. Getting another replacement was proving more challenging. Then almost directly after, despite being barely at home Dazai pulled from parental leave due to ‘emergencies’; first several back-to-back abroad missions where he’d only come home for a few days tops and then his last one for which he left over two months ago. You had Chuuya but even he had to go back into the office several times a week.In the best case.  If that wasn’t making your existence miserable, suddenly Dazai needed backup out of the blue, forcing Chuuya to leave without warning in the middle of the night. 

For the last two months you were completely alone. 

You had to do everything; from childcare to household chores, to different parenting classes and doctors visits with the two. In the evenings after putting them to bed you’d be sitting and going through reports and reviewing mission statements to keep your lovers workload manageable and the department not at a standstill. It became your job to ensure subordinates were still sent out on missions and nothing critical, that couldn’t wait until their return, got missed. Then you’d get a little cleaning and food prep done,  shower if you managed to do that before the babies woke up for their nightly feedings. When you’d crawl into bed you’d shut your eyes for twenty minutes at a time, plagued by nightmares of your partners drying and being a failure as a mother. When you’d finally calm your demons, the twins would get hungry again so you’d be up to warm the bottle for them before changing them and rocking them back to sleep. Sometimes you’d fall asleep right on the soft carpeted floor with both of them cuddling to your chest, sleeping a few hours longer than in their own beds. 

Those mornings were your salvation. 

You let out a loud groan, looking up at the ceiling as you felt tears sting your eyes. You didn’t know if children were meant to scream and cry so much. You didn’t know if you were doing this right or wrong. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. You just wanted them to be healthy and happy- why couldn’t you do that? You brought them closer to your chest and pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads. “ Mama’s trying her hardest” you muttered as you continued to rock them “Mama would really really need a helping hand though.” 

-

It seemed gods took pity on you just this once. 

You nearly broke down crying or screamed out in joy when you heard the car pulling up to your driveway. Then silence before a key pushed into the lock followed by the door swinging opened. 

“ Sweetheart we’re back!” Chuuya yelled as he kicked off his shoes. You heard Dazai’s voice muttering something to him, the bickering overshadowed by the twins' cries. You made quick way towards the hallway. The moment Chuuya and Dazai came into sight, new screams filled the house; excited cries of “ Dada” and “ papa” which bounced off the walls, a bitter reminder that you children were never this excited to see you. 

You could see Chuuya chuckling, a bright expression on his face full of love and happiness. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the yelling- if anything it seemed to fill him with contagious happy energy and an eagerness to get his damned coat off so he could come to the children. Dazai, dressed in completely white attire, which resembled something between a prison uniform and the dresscode of asylum patients seemed less happy about the screaming. But even he had a smile playing on his lips as he hurried towards you at the same time as Chuuya, who had given up on hanging his coat and just threw it on the ground. The two were practically tripping over each other, with each ‘papa’ and ‘dad’ cry getting more and more eager to get to you, limbs frailing; hands, arms and snappy remarks at each others inability to get out of the others way. 

Finally they seemed to remember how to walk and the bottleneck in your hallway was replaced by two adult men rushing towards you. 

“ How are my loves?” Chuuya cheered looking far too happy as he hurried pressed a kiss to your children's heads. First the boy then the girl. Dazai did the same in the opposite order, both ignoring you and your puckered lips. 

For a second a pang of jealousy hit your heart. You hadn’t seen your partners in over two months and before greeting you, their attention was on the children. Picture perfect fathers. Shitty lovers. And the second the thought entered your head you felt your heart drop to your stomach with guilt. In what sane world was a mother jealous of the attention her babies were getting? You should be happy and proud that both of your partners- not only the biological father- cared so deeply for the balls of joy you created. Though, you added almost bitterly, right now these two brought you anything but joy. 

“ Here” you stated in a slightly bitter tone as you pawned over one kid per partner “ Do everyone a favour and act like fathers for longer than 30 seconds.  I need some ‘me- time’ before I murder someone” 

Chuuya and Dazai shared a look of bewilderment between each other as you stepped away from them. They had expected kisses, hugs and a warm dinner but got a kid each and a blank stare in return. Dazai stared at your retreating form with agap mouth for a moment before he stretched the little girl towards Chuuya; “ Here Chuuya be a good dad, me and Y/N have some catching up to do.” 

You pretended to ignore what he said, the same way he ignored your comment about ‘me time’. Though you wondered if you should at the very least make them dinner before taking out that ‘me time’ moment. 

“ Heeh stop being so bitter and just hold her, Mackerel.” Chuuya snapped trying to get the boy to settle in his arms “if your swimmers could actually swim they’d be your kids” 

“ Don’t be such a slug about it” Dazai declared as he turned his attention away from Chuuya as the boy began sobbing again making Chuuya curse before attempting to pacify him. Zero attention to either Dazai or the girl in his arms. 

In the process the girl-child who had just settled down, amusing herself by pulling on strands of Dazai’s grown out hair, turned her attention away from him and towards her crying brother. Seeing him cry, her eyes began to water.

 In seconds Dazai’s attention was back to you; “ Ohh Belladonna you’d not be so cruel as to demand your newly returned partner whom you haven’t seen for months to be a father without sleep or proper meal “ Despite his dramatic words he shifted the girl to his other arm so her back was to her brother and began rocking her more quickly. His second hand was trying to keep her attention on the doll she had abandoned in favour of his hair. The very doll she had been hitting you with not even ten minutes earlier.  Scratch your earlier thoughts. They were adults and older than you- they knew how to order in or warm up leftovers! 

You sighed heavily before you went towards the kitchen and the fridge. “ Then you boys are in agreement that we stop at two right?” You questioned  when you returned with a cold rattle for the boy. He was quick to grasp it in his hands before beginning to chew on it. The relief it brought was sufficient to stop the tears. 

For now. 

When you got no reply, you motioned between the two of them and then to the children in their arms. If you weren’t so tired you’d have laughed at the look of horror drawing of Dazai’s face as he realized you were serious, and then the very hurt expression at the mere idea of not having any children of his own with you. That look melted a piece of ice around your heart.  “ Or can you manage to look after them for an hour while I take a shower in peace?” 

Your lovers nodded eagerly, both giving you a salute before shuffling off towards the baby proofed living room with toys, a playpen and floor covered in soft playmats. Your eyes lingered long enough until they were out of sight before you headed upstairs to your bedroom. Once there you dragged yourself towards the chair by your make up table which had a thin layer of dust over your make up palettes. Serving as a bitter reminder of just how ‘much’ time you dedicated towards yourself in the past months. The thought plastered a bitter smirk on your face; no wonder you didn’t get as much as a kiss-hello from either Dazai or Chuuya. 

You dropped in the chair with a heavy sigh and buried your head in your hands. You didn’t understand what was wrong with you. You didn’t understand where you were making mistakes; how could other mafia women manage to do so much more? More time with children, more work, more chores- many would even visit headquarters to spend lunch with their husbands. 

Husbands- the word brought a bitter taste to your mouth. How long have you three been together already? How many milestones have you celebrated? Missions, promotions, twins. Plans for extending the family with at least one more kid- Dazai’s. And still your ring finger remained bare. In fact after the icy greeting today you doubted your relationship would ever move anywhere positive from this standstill. 

You heard steps outside your bedroom, irritated and heavy before the door to your bedroom swung open with Dazai’s usual dramatic appearance “ Ahh my sweet Belladonna my heart-”

You didn’t need to turn around to know the look he was wearing.” One hour” you stated “ Or no more kids. Your choice” 

The door closed as quickly as it had opened. 

The peaceful silence didn’t last for long. Though you didn’t know how long you were sitting in your thoughts, salvaging a moment of being alone, you knew it couldn’t have been longer than five minutes before you were interrupted again. This time the footsteps outside your door were calmer and more confident. Their owner opened the door very gently. You closed your eyes biting back the frustration as you heard Chuuya’s half hesitant whisper “Sweetheart..” 

“ What is it, Chuuya?” You still didn’t have it in you to face him. 

“ If you want to soak in the bath, it's ready any minute now” You nodded, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so cold to him. Especially when he went out of his way to do something nice for you. “ Also, do you know where the nursing bottles are?” 

There it was. 

“ There are some prepared bottles in the fridge; just place them in boiling water for a few seconds until they’re body temperature. Not too hot.” You rubbed your temple as you spoke, fighting off the want to cry and scream much like the children downstairs. These were things he as their father was supposed to know. Or at least be able to figure it out on his own. He could lead an entire faction on his own, why couldn’t he handle a baby or two? 

After your reply you heard Chuuya linger in the doorway for a few moments. You pictured him opening and closing his mouth, hesitating as he thought over what to do. A hopefully side of you hoped he’d come in and wrap his arms around you and just hold. Just fucking hold you for a moment without the children being present. Then another cry from downstairs and he was gone; the door shutting quietly behind himself. 

You waited for a moment, gathering your strengths before leaving the safety of your room, rushing quietly through the small hallway, trying not to waver at the sound of the children's cries. Once in the bathroom you closed and locked the door before leaning your back against it. Why did no one tell you that when you’d become a mother you’d become so alone while constantly surrounded by others? 

Shaking your head you stripped before climbing into the baths. You let out a low moan as the feeling of bath salts soothed your skin. Then salvaged the moment of humanity as you dipped your head underwater with the realization you didn’t need to watch anyone while you washed. Then you reached for the shaving blade and shaving cream, getting rid of the hair on your body that annoyed you more than you’d ever wish to admit. 

When you got out of the bathtub and showered off, you felt human. Like a sliver of being a woman was returned to you. Dressing in clean clothes only reinforce that.  Now then you were feeling more ready to tackle the rest of this cursed day.

Coming out of the bathroom you noticed how quiet it was. The silence filled you with dread; anyone with children knew that the only time they were quiet was either when something was wrong or they were up to something, while anyone acquainted with Dazai and Chuuya were very aware that the two together were constantly either bickering or yapping.

Silence like this filled you with dread. 

Throwing your dirty laundry carelessly to the side you rushed downstairs, heart in your throat. When you made it down the stairs you stopped, shocked as the sound of snores reached your ears. More carefully you made your way towards the livingroom being cautious to remain light on your feet. 

Once there you leaned against the wall, your eyes falling on the heartwarming sight before you. All four of them were on the soft playmat. Chuuya was lying stretched out on his back on his coat, an arm dropped over his eyes and loud snores resonating around the room. On his chest lay your daughter with his hat covering her head from the light. His hand was on her body keeping her close to himself. Dazai was lying curled up into a ball on his side, beside Chuuya. His messy head on his thigh. Your son laying in his arms, held close to himself through a make-ship baby-carry out of his bandages. Although he wasn’t snoring you could tell he was fast asleep by the rise and fall of his shoulders. 

Going over to the couch you picked up the warm covers before gently placing it over them. You saw Dazai stir, a sleepy eye opening just long enough to register that you weren’t a threat then he shifted slightly, creating a space between him and Chuuya for you. “ Don’t be a stranger Belladonna” he whispered as he beckoned you to lay down between them. 

Once you did, he wrapped one arm around you, the second one still holding your son in place, before he buried his face in your hair. He took a deep breath in and out, his hand finding yours and squeezing it once before interlocking your fingers together. “ I’ve missed you” he muttered, his eyes sliding shut in tiredness “ Lets rest now and when we wake up I wanna give you a proper greeting Bella” 

Before you could answer he was fast asleep. Which was probably good because it saved you the embarrassment of explaining why his one sentence brought you to tears.  

______________________________________________________________

Author note: Craving part 2?

Check out We need to talk for the sweeter version, and Happy Unhappy home! For more angst.

All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[madschiavelique]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 — 𝟏

⟢﹒ pairing : matt murdock x vigilante!reader x frank castle

⟢﹒ summary : you’d met them, became their teammate, and the one night you got severely wounded, they took you to their place to patch you up.

⟢﹒ content warnings : i am not a doctor nor do i have any knowledge on how to take care of wounds like that properly so very inaccurate patching up session, mentions of blood, wounds, mentions of needle (to saw reader’s wound), afab!reader, stubborn reader, but stubborn frank, no use of y/n, not proofread

⟢﹒ word count : 7,2k

⟢﹒ note : this is the first part of a 2shot where the second part will be a smut with hunter/prey dynamic ! have a good read <;33

⟢ next part : here

The clouds were brown tonight, covering the inky blackness of the sky like a mass of cotton gathering up the streetlights of Hell's Kitchen. Everything seemed to be reflecting off a lake, the puddles of rain from earlier in the day having settled on every rooftop in the city in a myriad of mirrors.

It was quiet, abnormally quiet even. Hell's Kitchen wasn't exactly your typical idyllic holiday destination; on the contrary, it was the place to flee if you had the chance. Crime had its patch on every street corner, and not a single day or night went by without something happening.

But now, nothing. No problems. No calls for help. Just the calm of an evening. 

Sitting on the edge of a roof, your legs dangling boredly in the air, you listened to your little radio set beside your thigh, hoping that one of the police stations would report a problem. But everything was peaceful.

It had already been a few months since you had taken on the attire of the night, taken on the role of vigilante in Hell's Kitchen, and every evening you found yourself chasing crime out of town like a broom sweeping dust out of the way.

It wasn't necessarily an easy rhythm. After an already long day at work, you usually tried to get some sleep before starting your patrol. You'd realised that although there was no particular time for crime, most of them started after midnight.

But it was already one o'clock in the morning and there was nothing to report. You wondered whether perhaps you were doing your job as a vigilante too well. If you did, this kind of evening was set to happen, because if you did eradicate every crime all at once, there wouldn't be any left for later. The bitter reassurance that, unfortunately, crime, born since the dawn of time, would only die with men, gripped your heart.

The pace of it all was sometimes exhausting, but the advantage of all this was that you weren't really working alone any more. At first, the idea of joining forces with anyone to bring justice to the world of night seemed complicated, for several reasons. 

Firstly, coordination: having team-mates implied having a certain connection so that even without words being spoken, everything ran smoothly. 

And secondly, attachment. An environment like this where every night can be your last if you don't keep a minimum of vigilance can prove destructive. It would be too painful to lose an ally, and even more so if it was your turn to leave and they found themselves grieving.

But colleagues - no, partners? Friends? Whatever, the allies you found on certain nights were probably the most resilient human beings you'd ever met, to the point where the very thought of them dying was impossible. After all, when you're working with two people who have both withstood a bullet to the head and who are sure of themselves, you can't help but feel safe - or very small and miserable in their presence.

You had met them on patrol when the sounds of banging and groans of pain could be heard in an alleyway. Immediately, you had split the sphere of your personally modified Bolas and had helped in the fight after observing the side you had to take. Recognising criminals had become like a sixth sense, but above all you had recognised Daredevil's outfit in the semi-darkness and the silhouette that appeared to be that of Frank Castle.

You were familiar with the work of both of them, had seen enough of their appearances in the newspapers and heard their actions on the radio enough to know that the two men fighting the dozen or so others below were none other than these two.

You had helped them, immobilising a man here, strangling a man of the thread of your bolas there, while the two acolytes were both taking part in the fight. It was only at the end of the latter that the barrage of questions began.

"Who are you?" was of course the first question Matt asked.

"Who do you work for?" was the first question Frank raised, naturally.

It didn't take too long for you to explain that crime was swarming around the city like cockroaches in a dirty carpet and that you wanted to clean up just like them.

Frank was suspicious, Matt was calm, and you were sweating buckets, dreading their every reaction. They weren't exactly idols to you, but you had great respect for them.

It was when Matt agreed that you were sincere and that there was nothing to fear about you that Frank relaxed a bit, without letting go of his grouchy and suspicious attitude. You'd assumed at first that Frank wouldn't appreciate such a radical change of routine that included bringing a new member into the evening vigilante group, but Matt had assured him that having one more person would allow them to be more effective.

And soon, you'd be meeting up from time to time in the evening if you were lucky enough to bump into each other. 

First, you didn't reveal your identity immediately. There was a kind of silent agreement between the three of you on the subject. Of course, Frank's identity was no longer a mystery, but Matt's remained particularly anonymous for a long time.

Once enough trust had been established for Frank not to grumble at you at every given occasion, you were officially introduced.

You learned that Matthew Murdock was a blind lawyer with very heightened senses, and that Frank Castle lived with him, taking on a series of remote jobs under a different identity since his name was not really known in a very positive way. 

You didn't see each other outside of work, often too busy with your own lives to find time to see each other, even if you didn't discuss your free time... at first anyway.

You had exchanged phone numbers, in case an emergency arose and you suddenly needed help. Your exchanges were very cordial, sending addresses or locations when help was needed or to investigate something suspicious.

The first much less professional encounter was on a more turbulent night than the others, when you were cut badly on the leg, flank and arm, with an additional cut to your lip from a punch. 

According to Matt, your costume was similar to the one he wore when he first started as Daredevil. Dark clothes, something to hide your face and combat boots, needless to say that with just these to cover you up, you were extremely vulnerable.

When the fighting stopped, you didn't even have time to wince in pain that Matt was already beside you with a glove off and removing his helmet as Frank observed the situation.

"How bad is it?" Frank had asked, tilting his head to the side as the fabric covering your body darkened with blood.

"As bad as it looks to you and feels to me," Matt sighed as his fingertips brushed the skin of your side.

"It's all right," you assured them, moving slightly away from Matt and his touch, "really, it's fine."

"Are you sure? You look like you can barely walk properly." Matt had asked, obviously knowing that no, everything wasn't all right.

Probably because he'd used that speech over and over again himself, that and the simple fact that your body looked like a cute little pinocchio with a nose extended to its ears.

"Yeah yeah, no big deal - argh!" you started before Frank put his hand on the gaping wound in your arm. “Hey!”

"No big deal, eh? If it was no big deal ya wouldn't be reacting like this."

"It's nothing, really." 

You had no idea if you sounded convincing… well, from the look on both their faces, you weren’t. Frank crossed his arms over his chest, looking you up and down as he bit the inside of his cheek.

You felt tiny under his gaze like that, barely lifting your eyes to look into his. There was a dark insistence in his stare, and you could tell he was frustrated, only whether it was about you or the situation in itself you weren't sure.

"What d’you say Red ?" he said after seconds that felt like minutes.

You turned to Matt, his gaze fixed as usual on a point in the void. But that didn't stop his eyes from being expressive, and the rest of his face reinforced them. You watched in the half-light the way his jaw muscles twitched in the lamplight and your heart fell in your stomach.

"Our flat is closer to here than hers," was what he ended up saying.

Your heart went right back up your chest as you blinked fast, frowning at the sentence he had so casually said.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, "how do you know I'm-" but you didn't finish your own sentence before starting the next, "you followed me all the way to my place?"

Matt put both hands on his hips with a sigh, biting his lower lip before finally answering.

"We had a bit of a scare the other night when you were cut on the shoulder. We just wanted to make sure... that you got home okay."

Your lips parted in surprise, shifting then from Matt to Frank, who was looking at his feet as if the ground was far more interesting than anything he had to say at the moment. You weren't sure how to feel about that.

In a way, you found it strange that they'd followed you home without telling you anything about it, but Matt with his keen senses would probably have known where you were sooner or later. Besides, it was well-intentioned, and the sudden thought that they cared about you - no, about your state - was surprisingly heart-warming.

"In any case," Matt continued, clearing his throat, "ours is a lot closer than yours, and in your current state, you could do with some treatment when you get there."

"I'm not planning to stay the night, am I?" you laughed nervously.

"Why not?" said Frank, raising his eyebrows and his shoulders in one gesture.

From now on, victory would go to the one with the most convincing argument.

"Well, I've got work tomorrow," you began, already thinking about the pain you'd have to endure in the morning when you woke up. 

You could still feel your warm blood clinging to your clothes, and the sensation was becoming increasingly unpleasant.

"Say you're unwell, isn't far off the mark," Frank replied, pointing with a lazy wave of his hand at your body.

"But I don't have any clothes to spend the night in." You retorted, although the argument was easily contradicted by Matt's remark.

"We'll lend you some, it's no big deal," he assured you.

"I don't have a toothbrush," you retorted, as if that couldn't possibly be of any importance in this setting.

"We're not Cro-Magnons, we have backup ones," Matt laughed softly.

It was becoming a little more complicated to come up with relevant arguments. The blood loss was making you dizzy, weak, and preventing you from standing properly without grimacing every second while focusing all your attention on each cut and the intense burning sensation it gave you.

It wasn't so much that you didn't want to go, because on the contrary you found yourself enjoying their company more and more. It was simply the fact that...

"I'm afraid of imposing myself on you and bothering you." You said, looking away.

You were colleagues up to now, people who shared a common interest in justice, and you didn't mind their company. Only, you'd added to the mix completely unexpectedly. They'd already been working together before, even living together. You didn't know a great deal about their private lives and here you were, the millstone, getting hurt in the middle of a patrol and not being able to make a move without everything hurting.

You turned towards them again. The look on Frank's face was like the typical reaction of a human being who has just witnessed the greatest absurdity of all, while Matt's mouth was half-open in surprise. It almost seemed to you that saying that simple sentence had been a mistake.

"That's it, you're coming with us," Matt confirmed.

"Definitely," Frank affirmed as he approached you and placed one of his hands behind your back.

"Hey wait-" you had no say in the matter, though, as Frank's second hand came up behind your knees and lifted you off the ground.

Your hands barely grasped the back of his neck, wincing as you writhed in pain. You wouldn't have minded being carried. The fatigue of the evening weighed on each of your limbs as if they were full of lead. 

You knew how to walk, one step in front of the other like most, and the suddenness of being lifted so easily into the air felt funny. You couldn't help fidgeting, caressing the hope of finding a position more comfortable than one that made you feel every inch of your skin open to the night air.

"Stop movin’ like a chicken ‘bouta have its throat cut," Frank grumbled as the two of them started walking.

"Put it on the ground and the chicken will calm down," you breathed through clenched teeth of discomfort.

"It's not a very long walk, I promise." Matt reassured you.

You huffed, clutching the collar of Frank's jacket to prevent yourself from squeezing the back of his neck too hard and getting another remark. You were torn between the uneasiness of the stir he made with every step, which you felt in every wound, and the new comfort you found in the embrace of his arms.

You felt so... safe that way. And not just with Frank, because you felt the same sense of tranquillity with Matt. They were both involved in your life in such an unusual way and they still managed to make you feel comfortable.

You'd never been so close to him, snuggled up against him and held in his strong arms. As close as you were to his body, you could smell him. A mix of cool and warm. 

He carried the smoky but crisp scent of the night, the fresh but dark air, like the smell of a just-cut apple leaving its cool scent on the blade of the knife that has just sliced it. And all of this was strangely relieving. 

Your eyes drifted to his neck, which was inevitable considering how close you were to it. Your gaze focused on his Adam's apple, ready to be covered by his perpetual stubble, letting your eyes slide up to his marked, strong jawline. You weren't in the habit of observing someone so closely, especially when that someone was handsome. 

The journey across his face continued, passing from his full lips, to his nose bumped by the many blows he must have received in the face, to conclude this pleasant silent voyage with his eyes. Beneath a pair of stern eyebrows were two onyxes, shyly illuminated by the few street lamps on the deserted streets you were travelling through. You had seen them turn black like those of a shark that had smelled blood. 

If you didn't know that look would never be meant for you, you'd be afraid of them.

You'd spent enough time with them in combat situations to know that their rage alone could bring a man down with a look. You hoped you'd never have to pay the price of it.

But this close, you didn't feel in danger, although the very idea that such dark eyes of vengeance and bitterness and death might pass over yours made you shudder.

“You’re staring, little one,” Frank remarked, his gaze never wavering from the path in front of him.

Too embarrassed by your own behaviour, you nestled your head on his shoulder, resting your forehead on it as your neck and cheeks heated up. You felt a little foolish as you felt your heart beating frantically between your ribs, and the very idea that Matt could undoubtedly hear it made you want to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground and disappear.

When were you going to get to that bloody flat where you would - hopefully - never again have to be so close to one of them without your thoughts getting carried away ?

Your wishes were granted, as you soon found yourselves standing in front of a door that Matt habitually opened, letting Frank go first as he pressed you closer to him to get through the doorway. With a single breath, his scent invaded you more and more until, for a few moments, your thoughts were focused on nothing but him.

The sudden closeness of him made you feel your cheek brush against the nape of his neck, cool in the night air, but enough for your own skin to heat up slightly.

Internally, you were slapping yourself in the face. Now was not the time to let yourself be bewitched by your colleagues, although the fact that you would be spending the night with them would intensify those thoughts.

Your reflections kept you prisoner enough that you didn't realise until you'd climbed the stairs that you were about to enter Matt's flat. No... their flat.

This reality dropped into your stomach like a heavy stone. They're together, so don't try or think anything that might disappoint you. Tonight... It's just business. It's just help they're giving you, that's all it is.

Perhaps it was a cruel lack of affection that made you repeat all this to yourself, but whatever the case, your inner monologue gradually died down as your attention was drawn to the inside of the place.

It was big, really big for a flat, and for a moment the idea of Matt and Frank being rich occurred to you. It wasn't until Frank moved further into the living room that your eyes fell almost painfully on the neon lighting that illuminated the whole room.

And the more you looked, the more the charm of the place intensified. Of course, the neon had to be a problem. And yes, the walls had faded wallpaper and cracked paint. And maybe the windows could have done with a bit of a wipe down.

But the cosy atmosphere the flat had was delightful. The warmth that greeted you as you entered was gentle and reassuring. You noticed that there was little smell in the flat, nothing too strong at least so far. 

"On the sofa, she's already lost enough blood for the evening," Matt pointed out as he left for his kitchen.

Ah, right, Matt's senses, you almost forgot. The reason for the absence of perfume or overpowering scents in their flat was surely that it could prove abrasive on his olfactory sensitivity and generally on his senses.

Frank didn't hesitate for a moment, gently lowering you onto the leather sofa, which you felt sink under your back. The sudden change of position made you wince and whimper, the pain of your wounds hitherto camouflaged by your comfort in Frank's arms resurfacing to inflame your skin.

Frank watched you for a moment, frowning as he observed with serious eyes the dark stains that soaked through the various fabrics of your outfit. Without a word, he walked away, and a few seconds later Matt appeared in your field of vision, a bottle of amber liquid in his hand.

"We're going to need you to take off your top and trousers, do you think you can do that?"

The heat rose to your cheek, making you realise that with those wounds on your body, it was inevitable that you would end up naked if they wanted to do anything to help fix you.

You pressed your teeth into your lower lip, keeping it prisoner for a moment and grunting as the gesture made you reopen your little wound. 

"I'll try," you croaked, trying to unclench the hand that had been glued to your side until now. 

The bleeding seemed to have eased, the blood slightly caking to your hand as you pulled it free with an exhaled whimper. The sudden contact of air on your skin felt like an icy slap, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm yourself.

Your head tumbling back on the comfortable leather, you tried to get your hands to the sides of your T-shirt, pulling at the fabric. The material rubbed against your gaping wound, and you gritted your teeth as you breathed heavily.

Matt swallowed, clenching his jaw before kneeling in front of you.

"I can help you, if you don't mind," he offered, his hands coming to rest on your ankles as he began to remove your shoes.

Your reflex would usually have been to say no, your determination to achieve everything on your own without help from others blocking such opportunities. But the more you thought about it, the more the taste of resignation grew in your mouth.

At the rate you were going, getting undressed would take a considerable amount of time, time that Matt and Frank could probably have spent doing something more interesting than helping someone like you. So you gave in.

The blood from your split lip spilled back into your mouth, your tongue running over the cut and burning you. Wrinkling your nose in pain and breathing through your teeth, you nodded vigorously as you readjusted yourself on the sofa.

Matt sat up straight on his knees and faced you, his hands first feeling the leather of the sofa to find your thigh. He gently skimmed along the fabric, his hand brushing the wound on your thigh and making you grunt slightly.

"Sorry," he murmured softly. "The bleeding seems to have stopped," his confirmation letting his hand travel up to your waist. 

His second joined in, avoiding the path of his twin again, and finding the sides of your top.

"Can you put your arms up for me?" he asked softly.

You swallowed, chewing the inside of your cheek as you took a deep breath. Then you did the seemingly impossible by lifting your arms. Your shoulders felt like they were made of lead, and your whole body seemed to be made of nothing but aches and pains.

When the fabric and movement rubbed against the wound on your arm, which you had barely raised, your hand instinctively came to press against it, letting a small, contorted whimper escape from your lips.

Matt let out a sigh, but he didn't seem exasperated or annoyed, more concerned or sharing your pain. Just then Frank came back into the living room, a first aid kit in hand as he came up beside you.

"We're going to have to cut your shirt off," Matt warned.

You sighed, feeling deeply incapable. When did taking off a shirt become so complicated? Every cut on your body was starting to burn severely, and you felt like throwing yourself into a lake of ice water to soothe the pain.

Frank pulled the scissors out of the kit, sitting down next to you and letting the sofa sink beneath him.

"We'll get you a new one," he promised as the cold kiss of the scissor blades touched your skin for a moment near the wound on your arm, bringing a short-lived respite.

Frank tugged at the fabric to pull it away from your skin, then after a few scissor strokes tore the material of your t-shirt as if it were paper with a sharp tear.

The cold skin of his fingers, still covered in the cool of the outside air, came to rest on your skin, and it was as if night met day, as the moon touched the sun with its fingertips, illuminating each of its craters and cuts.

Meanwhile, Matt unbuckled your belt gently, unbuttoning your trouser button at the same time and pulling on the fly until his fingers brushed the birth of...

"Sorry about the whisky but we didn't have anything else," he said apologetically as he took hold of the edges of your trousers.

"Aren't you guys sponsored by first aid kits at this point?" you asked through clenched teeth.

Waiting for Frank to move the scissors away from your skin, you raised your pelvis so that Matt could slide your trousers down more easily. 

"There hasn't been any disinfectant in any of them since last night," he explained with a small smile.

The scene was strangely intimate, Frank's hot breath spreading across the back of your neck as he cut off your shirt, and Matt's hands sliding your trousers down your thighs.

You couldn't help but let out a grunt as the fabric of your pant leg brushed against the wound on your thigh, though Matt was doing his best not to cause you any discomfort, whispering small apologies as he did so.

You then realised the context of all this, and the heat rose to your cheeks when Frank threw the last shred of your old T-shirt somewhere in the background: you were in your underwear in front of them.

For a moment, their fingers on your body felt much less professional. The passage of their digits over your skin left behind a trail of sparkling powder underneath.

Placing a towel under your thigh, Matt indicated to Frank the bottle of alcohol which he uncorked.

"This might sting a bit," Matt advised just before Frank started pouring the cool liquid over the wound on your arm.

You stifled a muffled gasp, your thighs trembling slightly from the heat of your wounds. Matt's face scrunched up, his hands resting on your thighs in the hope of easing your pain or distracting you from the excruciating sensation you were going through. As for Frank, he didn't seem to give a damn, his face filled with his constant annoyed neutrality.

You had wondered several times whether Frank hated you, or whether it was difficult for him to stand you. Whatever the case, he didn't seem to have you in his heart. Maybe it was mistrust, but whatever the reason, he seemed irascible towards you.

He continued to pour the contents of the bottle quite generously onto your side, your eyelids closing so tightly that you felt you were seeing stars. You gritted your teeth so hard that for a moment they cut off your hearing, then released the tension.

"It's almost done," Matt murmured in the hope of encouraging you.

Frank ended up cleaning your trembling thigh. You brought your hand, closed into a fist, up to your mouth, biting the skin of one of your fingers to channel the pain.

Your head jerked back, breathing heavily as tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. The worst had undoubtedly just passed.

You heard them rummaging around in the kit, and as you straightened your head, you saw them pulling out needle and thread.

"No pain killers," you managed to say as your mouth felt almost pasty.

Frank chuckled, preparing the needle properly.

"Gotta get this done first, no painkillers for your princess ass now."

You let out a half-sigh, half-laugh.

"Silly me to assume you'd care." you mumbled, already feeling the discomfort from the alcohol on your gaping skin soften.

"It' all be over soon," Matt asserted, his thumb running over the skin of your thigh.

"And I who was looking forward to living in agony for the rest of my life,' you breathed.

Frank brought one of the armchairs closer to the sofa, needle in hand.

"Gon try and be gentle, softy." he added, the little nickname making you scoff.

"No, Frank, being gentle isn't your area of excellence. You shine mainly in murder and mutilation."

He raised his eyes to yours, still red and wet from your previous pain and reflecting the famous 'gentleness' he had shown in his actions. He frowned, but this gesture was unexpectedly accompanied by a smile mixing surprise and amusement, stretching his face in a way you'd never seen from him before.

He brought the needle up to your thigh, grasping the skin with his large hand as firmly as gently. He pierced it, making you wince at the sensation. 

"Just gonna pretend I didn't hear that," he finally said, his concentration seemingly unwavering.

But the simple idea of saying this when this same man was stitching you up at the moment only enchanted you for a short moment. He had a needle in his hand that he could very well stick anywhere but in the wound that needed to be closed. And although it was an immensely small needle, you were well aware that anything can become a deadly weapon if you have the will to use it. 

So you said nothing, letting that little irritation fade away as you let yourself be stitched up. The pain was bearable in the end, nothing too horrible. It was better than going home and cauterising the whole thing with your straightening iron.

Now that the pain was more bearable, your attention eventually drifted to something other than that feeling, and more to the rest. The feel of their fingers on your body brought a whole new sensory experience, causing a warm cloud to settle in your belly.

Matt straightened up, your thigh already missing the presence of his hand on it. He sat down beside you, his fingers brushing your arm without injury.

"Your lip's cut," he remarked.

"It's not the worst thing on the menu," you laughed nervously, immediately regretting your gesture as your smile stretched your lip and reopened it again.

He fumbled for the kit, taking a cotton ball and grabbing the bottle to soak it in.

"Here," he said, his hand coming to take your chin tenderly and turning it towards him.

He pressed the wet cotton to your wound, and you hissed as your nose wrinkled in pain.

"It might sting a bit when you drink," he murmured.

The proximity gripped your heart, Matt's face close enough to yours that you felt his breath hit your skin gently and evenly. You tried to calm your racing heart in your chest, swallowing as you let him finish disinfecting your lip.

You took the opportunity to watch him more closely, to see the way his stubble ran gracefully across his jaw, the way his brown eyes watching the empty space were full of softness, the way his lips, which you were used to seeing outside the mask, were full and pink.

He seemed incredibly gentle, and if you didn't spend some nights a week in his company fighting crime, you'd never have bet he was fighting like the devil himself: unleashed, full of rage, the taste of revenge and the desire for a better balance blinding him beyond measure.

"You'll take our bed," Matt said, Frank just finishing stitching up your thigh.

You immediately frowned, your lips parting.

"Since I'm on the couch I might just stay on it," you laughed nervously as Frank moved to the wound on your waist.

His hand grabbed your hip and pulled you to the edge of the sofa, looking up at you: 

"Sit straight and still," he says in a tone calm but firm enough to convince you that he wouldn't repeat that command twice.

You straighten up slightly, letting him come and stitch up the wound in your side.

"Of the three of us, you're clearly the one who needs comfort and rest the most, not us," Matt continued, placing the now useless cotton wool on the table.

"I can assure you that I've rarely been on a sofa as comfortable as this one," you added.

You'd invite yourself into their home unannounced, they'd take care of you, and on top of that they'd make you sleep in their bed while they slept elsewhere?

"Do we really have to drag you there?" asked Frank, tugging at the thread.

"And let me squirm and ruin all your previous efforts on my wounds?" you huffed as you looked into his eyes, a muscle near your eye twitching as Frank continued his work. "I'd ruin your sheets, that's really not necessary."

"Listen-" Matt started, but you stopped him.

"No," you assured him, turning to him, "and anyway I can already feel sleep stalking me."

Frank breathed in as he opened his lips to speak and contradict you again, but you stopped him.

"Really," you assured him, "I'll take the sofa."

Frank bit his cheek in irritation, obviously not so happy to know that someone in this town shared being so stubborn. He turned to Matt, who also didn't seem to be enjoying the situation any more than that.

"Alright, but there's no way I'm going to hear you complain as soon as you wake up, is that clear?" finished Frank as he tied the thread over the cut in your abdomen.

"Scout's honour," you sighed.

As Frank started your last cut, Matt got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass. He filled it with water, while you and Frank seemed to be engaged in a stare-down between two obstinate, stubborn people.

"Thanks Matty," you thanked sincerely, taking the two delicious items in your hand.

He seemed surprised by the nickname, a nervous chuckle forming a smile on his lips.

"I'll grab you some clothes," he replied as he left for their shared room and began the process of changing his costume.

You placed the tablet on your tongue, then brought the glass to your lips. As promised, it stung. A cloud of red diluted on the contact with your lips, and as you observed it you wondered how you would justify it to your boss.

You sighed, reminding yourself that you should email them first thing in the morning to let them know you were absent. All you had to do the next day was explain that you'd been attacked in the street for stealing your bag, but you'd managed to get away, and that in a state of shock you didn't feel like coming to work the next day. This would probably do.

Frank finished stitching you up fairly quickly, and when he cut the last thread he still looked at you with that annoyed look he never seemed to shake off.

"Thank you, Frankie" you thanked, using the nickname in a more playful tone than you had with Matt.

He let out a single sharp breath from his lungs before getting up and leaving in his turn for the bedroom, from which Matt emerged in much more... normal clothes.

It was the first time you'd seen him in civilian attire, in a simple hoodie and jogging bottoms. Your eyes went wide, your mouth half-open for a moment, and you had to blink several times to pull yourself together.

"Here," he said, placing the pile of clothes next to you on the sofa. "Do you think you can stand this time?" 

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, and everything else didn't burn as much as if hell itself had invited itself under your skin, you tried to stand up. You wanted to avoid any sudden movements, but eventually, with a bit of effort, you managed to straighten up and start pushing on your legs to get up.

Your knees trembled slightly from the stress and everything else that had gone with it during the night, and just as you thought you'd be sprawled out on the floor in the next few seconds, tasting the parquet floor, Matt grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him.

"Hey, take it easy little fawn, we don't need you damaging your nose on top of everything else," he laughed as he steadied you, letting your legs wobble a little more before you felt comfortable enough to stand.

Your whole body hurt like hell. And no wonder: in addition to your various cuts from the evening, your body was dotted with clouds of bruises that would make all the blueberries jealous of their colour.

"Let me help you," he finally smiled gently as he picked up the T-shirt from the pile.

He helped you into the top, taking care not to let the fabric come into contact with your freshly stitched skin.

"I'll need to borrow one of your shirts tomorrow when I leave," you said with a small smile, "mine's had a bit of a problem."

Matt laughed softly as he poked his head into your top. " May it rest in pieces."

You laughed softly at his little joke, slipping the rest on and feeling his hands roam over your covered skin, the size of the t-shirt far too big for you and reaching the top of your thighs.

Matt lowered himself to his knees in front of you, and you looked down at him as he rolled up the sweatpants so he could slip them around your ankle, guiding your hand over his shoulder so you could find some support.

The vision was heady, taking hold of your heart like an intoxicating scent you want to chase down so you can bury your whole face in it and never leave. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, to let them get lost in its meanders, to let your nails graze his skull before tugging lightly on it... 

But you pulled yourself together, the thought once again creating a warm cloud in your lower belly as he straightened up and pulled the fabric up your legs, his fingers brushing your skin as if you were a statue forbidden to be touched.

"You're gonna have to see that with Frank though," he said as he tied the two laces around your waist, "it's his shirt."

That's how the same smell you'd first smelled when you were in his arms came back to mind, but you remained stoic, preventing yourself from grabbing the collar of the shirt and bringing it up to your nose.

"Challenge of the year," you sighed, smiling though, "thank you. For all of this."

"That's normal, it would be a shame if our partner found herself unable to exercise," he reassured you.

The word sent a shiver up your spine and into your cheeks.

"Red?" called Frank from the bedroom.

"Coming," he answered over his shoulder before turning away from you.

You sat back down on the sofa, tiredness beginning to weigh heavily on your eyelids. You lay down, the multiple events of the evening knocking you out more easily than any sleeping pill. 

You had no trouble falling asleep, even with the neon lights on, even without a blanket, and even when the two of them came back into the room.

When you woke up, your back felt like it was sinking into a cloud. The surface you were lying on was soft, and when you turned on your side, your hand came to rest on a material that was not at all like the leather of the sofa: silk.

You propped yourself up gently on one elbow, observing the place you were in, and that's when you realised: they'd moved you into their bed while you were asleep.

"Bastards," you muttered, and bit your cheek to stop the little smile forming on your lips from breaking out.

A funny feeling sprang up in your heart, making it light and rosy. But that feeling quickly faded as you sat up straighter and your whole body ached. You felt like you'd just come out of a washing machine, all tossed and turned.

You stood up, trying to stretch but stopping immediately when the pain from your stitched-up cuts threatened to reopen. You didn't want to mess up their clothes, you'd probably never forgive yourself if that happened.

You came out of the bedroom and found Frank and Matt talking in the kitchen. Matt turned to you, sending you a smile.

"Good morning," he offered.

You were limping lightly, and bent slightly, walking slowly towards them through fatigue and pain.

"At last the groundhog graces us with her presence," Frank grumbled, turning to you.

"Am I rather not a sleeping beauty ?" you returned with a smile, "I wonder if sleeping beaty had a breakfast date when she woke up. I mean, look at me this is such a tempting offer," you said as your posture could easily have been a cross between an old lady and a pregnant woman, leaning on your hip, alternating between the curve of your back and the arch of it, making your whole body crack into a grimace of relief.

But surprisingly, they both smiled at your joke, and the awkward silence you might have expected or the abrupt change of subject to move on never came. But that didn't stop you from apologising on the spot.

"I'm sorry, I don't want my words to sound inappropriate, but I know that you two... well, you're..." together was the word you were looking for, but your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose. 

Try again, you thought. You'll end up rowing champion if you keep paddling like that. But Matt immediately reassured you.

"There's nothing to worry about, and besides, on my side you have to be forgiving when you don't have the 'pause' button."

Right, you thought, even though the heat was rising to your cheeks and neck enough for your cool hand to come and rest on it, massaging it nervously.

"I find you singularly witty, Red," Frank said, arms folded across his chest.

Of course, there was nothing new under the sun about Frank. His sharp tone brought you back to solid ground in no time.

"How are the wounds?" he asked as he turned to you, his eyes lingering for a moment on the fact that you were wearing his shirt.

"Very well," you assured him as you lifted the sides of your shirt to show the one on your side and the one on your arm, turning back to him, "I think the blue really brings out my eyes, don't you?"

He smirked, and you couldn't quite work out whether it was genuine annoyance or amusement. It all seemed a bit too perfect, and that's when it hit you.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed, looking for where they'd put your trousers where your phone was.

"What is it?" asked Matt.

"My boss," you said, searching the hallway and finding your trousers there, "I didn't tell him-"

"We called him this morning," pointed out Frank.

You stopped in your tracks, turning back to them.

"You what ?" you questioned.

"We called him," Matt informed, "we told him that we were close to you and that after you were mugged last night in the street you decided to stay home for the day out of shock."

"You-"

"It's all sorted, you don't need to worry," Frank grunted, taking his drink in hand, surely in search for you to shut up and let him enjoy his morning cup of coffee.

You stood there like a houseplant in the middle of the living room, and Matt invited you to take a seat for breakfast. Bemused, you took a seat and the three of you ate and chatted for a while.

Matt mentioned taking you to see a guy he knew so that he could cover you up with something other than such a simplistic and obviously flimsy outfit that could put you in danger again.

And after breakfast, you left at the same time as Matt, who was leaving for work. You said your final goodbyes and went your separate ways.

Little did you know the proximity of last night would change many things.

⟢ next part : here

[rinhaler]

MY BOYFRIEND'S BACK, AND HE'S COOLER THAN EVER!

CHAPTER SUMMARY : Bags are packed, parents are disappointed, and Chigiri has arrived to ride up to the Itoshi family cabin together !

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol mention.

WORDS : 4k

notes : me vs wanting to fuck almost everyone in the cabin 😩

LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

“Ready to go?” Chigiri asks, coming inside to assess the situation. He looks at your enormous suitcase and several travel bags before looking back at you with a quirked brow. You look away from him quickly, pretending something on your phone has caught your attention. “You know we’re only going for a week, right?”

“I want to be prepared!”

“It’s crazy,” he laughs, “because I know that somehow you’re gonna come home with more things than you left with.”

“Not true! Your birthday presents are in here!” you smile, shaking the large gift bag in your hand. He tries to take it from you to peak at what’s inside, but you move it out of his reach.

He pouts.

You pout harder.

“Fine, I’ll carry the heavy suitcase. Even though it’s my birthday week.”

“Thank you Chigs~!”

“Don’t call me that~!” he repeats in your sing-song voice.

You laugh, picking up another bag and carrying it to the car. You load them into the back before rushing into your house again and getting the last few bags. He takes them for you, allowing you to lock the door. If you’d had more warning, you definitely would have gotten a house sitter. But you’re trying not to worry about that, you just want to get on the road and leave all of your worries behind.

Worries, including your family. The family who are less than impressed that you’re abandoning them to spend a boozy week with friends instead of them. You don’t care, though. You delivered their gifts and wished them well.

It’s stupid, really, that they’re so frustrated that you won’t be spending time with them. You can’t stomach spending time with your dad and his new girlfriend. He knows you can’t control your face and you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

You inherited that from him.

Your mother however, was devastated when you told her. You figured she’d be okay since she has a larger family to spend the holidays with. But you’re her only child, you suppose you are being a little selfish.

It’s something you have to do though, you feel. You’re not over Rin and you don’t want to spend Christmas with family grieving what should have been you and him spending the day together. This way, you get to actually have fun. It’s not forced or superficial to keep up appearances for your relatives.

No one is going to expect anything of you at the cabin.

“I’m proud of you,” Chigiri smiles, looking at you briefly before focusing back on the road. You scoff, turning the radio up in the car, Mariah Carey blasting through the speakers. You both groan before he hands you the aux cord. “Not in a cringe way. I just mean, I know you’re a people pleaser. So I’m impressed that you put yourself over your parents.”

“Ugh, they were both so disappointed in me. I spent thousands on presents for them both. I even got some toys for my stepdad’s ratty step-kids. What more can I do?”

“God they are ratty.”

“They’re giving Damien from The Omen.” you tell him, both of you laughing loudly as one of your playlists plays softly through the speaker. You turn it up a little, both of you whooping as you hear Boss Bitch by Doja Cat play. “I know I was shitting myself when Sae texted, but I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too, I was dreading spending my birthday with your miserable ass.” he chuckles and you slap his arm lightly. “Wait! I know you’re still down about Rin, so, this will be a fun distraction. Plus I bet you end up hooking up with one of Sae’s friends, you haven’t had your rebound yet.”

“I am not doing another footballer, I can’t.” you shake your head.

You both laugh lightly and carry on chatting about the events to come. It’s like a weeklong party, essentially. And ever since you’ve known Chigiri, you’ve both loved a party. But it’s never actually the party itself.

The days before a party are always the best. Whether you’re hosting or attending, it’s always exciting. A theme is always ideal but not essential. Either way, you’ll spend weeks talking about it. Who’s going? What will you wear? What are you gonna drink?

You go on numerous shopping trips and buy endless amounts of clothes until you find the perfect outfit. Only to wear it that night and never again. But it’s worth it, every time. Hearing people compliment how gorgeous you look never gets old.

No one’s words meant more to you than Rin’s, though. The way he’d rest his hand in the small of your back while showing you off made you feel like a princess. He’d whisper sweet nothings about how you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen and the things he wanted to do to you when you got home. It made your legs weak and your face flush with heat. And yet, he was always so calm. So cool. He liked to rile you up and pay you no mind as you look up at him expectantly. Acting as if he hadn’t said something so salacious and lewd while chatting with guests.

It drove you wild.

But, truthfully, where your best friend is concerned, your favourite part of a party is the morning after. If he spent the night at your place, especially. You’d wait for him to message you to let you know he’s awake and leave Rin’s side while he was snoring softly. Hyoma can’t handle his drink, and you’re no better. You’d crawl into bed with him and burrow under the duvet after handing him some water and painkillers.

Hungover or not, though, you loved gossiping with him. You’d trade stories about what happened throughout the night and things you heard. It made your day; it made the hangover worth it.

And now, you’re driving towards a week’s worth of that.

You groan as the song changes from Doja Cat to Lust for Life by Lana Del Rey.

“Nope!” he objects, “What kind of psychopath has Doja and Lana on the same playlist?” Chigiri asks, skipping the song. You throw your head back against the headrest, sighing as you think about Rin, again.

The album featuring the eponymous song is one of the first gifts Rin gave you. In vinyl form, of course, along with a pink record player. You had a record player already, but you told him a few times that you’d always wanted a pink one. It was a birthday gift, you remember crying so much as you unwrapped it.

“And I thought we could listen to this together.” you reminisce on him telling you as he handed the album to you. You told him you’d never listened to it before when you were going through her discography. It was a throwaway comment you didn’t think he’d even remember.

You cried listening to the self-titled song, wrapped up in his arms as he held you close. Truthfully, you’ve never felt so loved. And unfortunately, you don’t think you will again. You told him, repeatedly, how in love with him you were.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you after that.

“I need to make a new playlist.” you sigh, Chigiri nods, agreeing. “You’re right, Doja and Lana on the same playlist is psycho behaviour.”

“And you’re only just realising this?” he laughs again.

“I bet he’s got a new girlfriend now. Girls always threw themselves at him, even when we were together.” you tell him. “Oh my God, I miss him. I miss him so much I feel sick. I can’t do this.”

“Shut up.” he tells you, sternly, “I haven’t seen anything on his socials about a girlfriend, but that’s none of your business anymore anyway.”

“You’re still on his socials?”

“… anyway…”

“You know how private he is, Hyoma. If he’s seeing someone he wouldn’t post about her.”

“He posted you.” he reminds you, and you shrug defeatedly. “Besides, you broke up with him. You ended things and you’re still heartbroken. Imagine how depressed he probably is. He’s a workaholic, too. He’s probably distracting himself with work, not girls.”

Hyoma always knows what to say. Deep down, you knew that. But you never would have thought about it until he said. It was a miracle that he even asked you out, after all. His friends never failed to tell you how surprised they were. He’s too focused on football to bother with girls.

But you… you were different.

“You’re self-sabotaging, idiot.” Chigiri tells you. “We’ll get there, we’ll have fun, and you won’t think about Rin at all. I’m banning Rin talk for the rest of the week.”

“Fine fine fine.” you relent, shaking your body in an attempt to dispel any further thoughts of your ex. Though, to be honest, Sae might make it hard to not think about or discuss him. He’s his brother, after all. You can’t expect him to not talk about his little brother. And you certainly can’t ask him not to. “You’re gonna love the cabin. It’s huge. And there’s a lake we can ice skate on.”

“Perfect, can’t wait.”

There are several cars parked outside as you pull up. Chigiri parks, but is frozen in place as he looks at the cabin. It’s clear that the place is not what he expected. You end up leaving him alone to process his thoughts as he drinks it in. It’s the closest he’ll get to feeling like a celebrity, he suspects.

He follows you out, rushing to help you lift your suitcase as you struggle under the weight of it. You smile, gratefully, as he drags it towards the cabin. You decide to pick up his much smaller suitcase as well as all of your other bags. It isn’t hard to keep up with him as he struggles to pull your luggage through the snow.

“This isn’t a cabin. I was expecting a log shack with a few amenities. This is a mansion.” Chigiri tells you as you walk by his side. You giggle, agreeing, you felt exactly the same way the first time you came here with Rin.

You walk up the stairs ahead of him and knock on the door, starting to shiver as the biting winter air begins to attack you.

Chigiri manages to get your suitcase to the top of the stairs before anyone even knows you’ve knocked. He’s cold, tired, and impatient, and decides to ring the doorbell. You can both hear music playing inside.

It gets louder once the door swings open, and you see a familiar face.

“Oh hey, are you the little sister?” Oliver asks, forgetting that you’ve met before. You assume that’s how Sae has been referring to you as when talking to his friends, so, you nod. He smiles at Chigiri and takes your heavy suitcase from him, lifting it with ease as he welcomes you in. “They’re all in the lounge, grab yourselves a drink from the kitchen.” he tells you, winking as he sets down your case with all of the others at the bottom of the stairs.

There’s a lot of luggage, though the amount seems to double when you and Chigiri put the rest of yours down. You aren’t sure how many people must be here, but the nerves are setting in.

“She’s cute!” you hear Oliver tell the group as he goes into the lounge, it’s quiet, but you hear it clearly.

“You’ve met her before, idiot.” you hear Sae tell him, his voice getting closer to you as he comes to greet you. “Hey you.” he smiles, hugging you and placing a soft kiss on your cheek. You hug him back, feeling surprisingly calmer as you allow yourself to melt into his embrace.

You aren’t sure why, but you were worried he’d be weird with you when he saw you in person. This is only the second time you’ve seen him since you and Rin split, after all. The first was a coffee date to explain your side of things face to face. You’re happy you decided to keep in contact with Sae, he’s been so sweet and supportive through it all.

So, really, you aren’t sure why you expected him to be off with you.

Especially since he invited you here.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Sae smiles at Chigiri, holding his hand out to shake, which he does. “Your birthday is on the 23rd, yeah? We’ll plan something fun.”

“Being here is fun enough, don’t worry.” Hyoma responds, looking around. “This isn’t a cabin, by the way.” he laughs.

Sae laughs too, walking back towards the lounge. “Come meet everyone.” he insists. You and Chigiri look at each other, but follow.

You’re the only girl here, by the looks of things. You aren’t sure if that’ll change or not though. Maybe they all have partners who are arriving together later. You’re a little surprised by the headcount, you were expecting more. Including Sae, there’s only four of them sitting around the fire, drinking together.

“Apparently we’ve met before?” Oliver’s brows knot in contemplation, and you nod. “Sorry, sweetheart. Normally I don’t forget a pretty face.”

“Yeah ya do, bullshitter.” Tabito snickers, looking up at you from his seat on the floor. You’ve never met Karasu, but you’ve heard a lot about him. Mostly from Rin about when they used to play together. And you may or may not have stalked his socials before, so you’re familiar with his face. “Nice to meet’cha, heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise.” you smile.

“Do you smoke?” you hear another voice speak as you get further into the room. Your eyes lie on Eita Otoya as he pulls a blunt from behind his ear, and you shake your head. You’re surprised to see them letting loose like this, though you suppose they mustn’t get the chance to often.

Rin found it hard to relax and unwind. He’s always been so career focused, never wanting to do anything to harm his reputation. And you understand that, you do. You’re the same, really. You have an image to maintain, people seem to think being a model is just turning up and looking pretty. But you take it seriously, like Rin.

Though he doesn’t seem to know how to turn it off.

“No Ryusei?” you ask, a little surprised he couldn’t make it.

“Not yet, he should be here soon.” Sae assures you. You laugh, knowing you’re in for a really fun week once Shidou gets here. Sae turns back to look at you, taking you back to the entrance. “I’ll show you to your rooms. Did you want to share? There’s enough for everyone to have their own.”

“She snores, I’ll take my own.” Hyoma tells Sae, earning a smirk from him. You try to argue, but your best friend seems to be too convincing. The rest of the guys join you, offering to help with your bags and carry them up to your room.

And, really, who are you to say no?

Chigiri rolls his eyes, carrying his own case and entering the room Sae had planned for him. You realise Sae is sleeping in the master bedroom downstairs when you see all of the other rooms have been claimed by sneakers and jackets from the other guests, all of them are just too lazy to bring their luggage up.

Though none of them had a problem helping with yours.

Your heart sinks when you realise Sae saved your usual room for you to take. The room you always shared with your ex whenever he brought you here. The guys don’t give you much time to feel sorrowful, though. Not when they’re laughing and joking beside you. Sae notices your forlorn expression, pulling you aside slightly.

“I thought you’d feel comfortable in here, but we can switch if you want.” he tells you, but you shake your head. “Ryusei will be in the opposite room so I’m sure you won’t be thinking about anything other than how annoying he is.” he smiles.

“Thank you, Sae.” you smile, albeit a little weakly. It’s bittersweet, that’s all. “At least I have the best view.” you tell him, opening the doors to the large balcony that looks over the lake. You think about how the nearby town’s lights twinkle at night.

“Right.” he puts a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. “Everyone out, let’s leave her to unpack.” Sae announces, ushering the other three men out of the room.

You smile, waving at them all as they leave. Once they’re out, Sae closes the door behind himself and leaves you alone with your thoughts. As much as you want to sit and dwell on things, you decide to occupy your mind and unpack instead.

You’re startled, a little, when Chigiri comes in to see you. Though you’re relieved when he starts to help.

“You did not need to bring all of this.” he grabs a gold glittery mini stress and holds it up. “I— I’ve never seen this in my life. Oh my God, did you buy new clothes for this? You are trying to get a rebound.”

“No I’m—”

“Yeah, you are.” he stops you immediately. “I’ve been stalking all of their socials in my room, they’re all single. And they all had their tongues hanging out for you when you came in.”

“You work too fast.” you laugh. He shrugs, grabbing a few items of clothing and hanging them up in the wardrobe for you.

You’re thankful for his help, it goes a lot quicker than it would have otherwise. Plus you get to gossip about the week ahead. You try and dodge his questions, but your facial expressions always give you away. You have quite a good poker face, but it doesn’t matter when it comes to Chigiri. He has a way of making you shy and giggly when you’re trying to keep a secret.

“Which one?” he asks, and you tut. “I feel like they’re all your type.” he tells you, handing you your toothbrush to take to the ensuite.

“They are.” you laugh from the other room. You return, zipping up your case and pushing it away. “I’ve always had the hots for Ryusei low key though, but I think Rin would be livid.”

“Rin isn’t here and he’s not our problem.” Chigiri smiles. You both sit on top of your bed and flop backwards with a sigh. He turns his head to the side to look at you while you’re too busy disassociating, staring at the ceiling. “Don’t just do it because you feel like you have to, by the way.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. “Oh, rebound.”

He nods, “We’re here to have fun. So, if you’re going to fuck one of them, do it because it’s fun.”

“I won’t.” you agree. “I’m worried about feeling guilty too… they’re Rin’s friends, after all. I don’t want to upset him.”

As Chigiri is about to respond, he’s stopped by the sound of the doorbell ringing. You smile, widely, when you realise Ryusei is here. Hyoma knows all about Ryusei. His feral replacement whenever Rin used to take you around the world for his away games.

Hyoma isn’t jealous, of course. Especially when he knew you had a little crush on Ryusei. You and Hyoma have only ever been friends, and you’ll never be closer to anyone than you are with each other.

“Should we wait a few minutes so I don’t look desperate?” you ask, sitting upright and resting your bodyweight on one hand as you look down at him.

“Yeah.” he nods.

You nod too. You start lying back down, slowly, looking around at the room as you do. “I can’t.” you tell him, jumping off the bed and heading towards the door. He sighs, but hurries after you.

All of the guests are gathered in the entryway as they greet Ryusei. They exchange hugs and handshakes as they all chat and catch up. You descend the stairs slowly, but not fully, standing at the halfway point with Chigiri as you watch the scene unfold.

His bright smile turns to a look of wonder when he notices you. Eyes softening as he realises you’re here, you’re really here.

“No way…” he smirks, “Hey, kid, how are ya?”

“I’m good,” you nod, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “And you? How are you, Ryu?”

“Better for seeing you,” he laughs. “Didn’t know you were comin’.”

“Shut the door, man, it’s freezing.” Sae tells him, approaching to do it for him. But Ryusei stops him, keeping him at arm’s length so he can’t.

“I actually picked someone up on the way.” Ryusei announces, side stepping a little as he waits for the mystery guest to hurry. Chigiri’s eyes widen in horror, the realisation hitting him before anyone else as he looks at you. You’re too busy feeling deflated that Ryusei has brought a girl along with him.

“Oh no.” Chigiri speaks, and you look at him. “We should go back upstairs.”

“What? Why?” you ask him, confused. Though your attention is forced back downstairs when you see another figure enter the cabin out of your peripheral view.

Your heart sinks.

“Rin?” Sae asks as he watches his younger, yet for some reason taller, brother set down his suitcase.

Your heart keeps plummeting deeper through your body as you watch him, too. God, he looks even better than he did the day you ended things. He’s always been striking, beautiful. Just so God damn handsome. But he looks older, more mature.

You feel your breathing get heavier and more intense the longer you watch him. The way he dusts the snow from his expensive looking coat. And that familiar ruffle of his hair as he fixes it into place.

“You said you weren’t coming.” Sae tells him.

“I changed my mind,” Rin responds, gesturing to Ryusei. “He begged, really.”

Sae holds his eyes shut, sighing. Rin isn’t sure what the issue is. He was invited, after all, he just declined. He expected his brother to be happy to see him, he thought it would be a fun surprise. Though maybe he only invited him out of obligation.

Shidou hadn’t made it seem that way, though.

“Look who’s here.” Ryusei smiles, pointing up at you.

Rin’s weak smile drops to a stoic straight line as he follows his friends directional finger and his sights land on you. You’re frozen. You can’t smile. You can’t say hello. You can’t even wave. You’re just staring at each other, both absolutely paralysed with no idea how to act.

“H— Hi…” you struggle to speak. Hyoma is thankful you’re too distracted looking at Rin to see the way he’s cringing horrendously behind your back, but not showing his face to the lower floor.

“Hey.” Rin responds, even smiling a little when he hears your voice. It’s been so long, after all. “I didn’t know you were coming.” he explains.

“Same…” you tell him, hoping he believes you. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew you were coming. Wait—” you interrupt yourself when you realise how horrible that sounded.

“Stop talking.” Hyoma whispers, and you clear your throat.

Everyone else seems to see the funny side, all except Rin. He appears a little downtrodden, though he disguises it well. You know him, though. You’re sure he knows you didn’t mean it how it sounded, but you can’t help feeling a little guilty.

“You made it very clear you weren’t coming, Rin.” Sae tells him. “If you said you were coming I—”

“It’s fine. I didn’t know you were still talking, though.” Rin says, the annoyance in his voice very evident. You can’t tell if he’s purposefully trying to hurt you or if it’s just Rin being Rin. “But we’re adults. I’m sure we can co-exist for a week, right?” he asks, looking at you with his intense, teal gaze.

“R—Right…”

© 2023 rinhaler

[cb97breathing]

BECAUSE I LOVE YOU - HAN JISUNG

Pairing: Han Jisung x Afab! Reader

Theme: Enemies to lovers, smut, oral, creampie. 18+ NO MINORS.

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: Please do not repost or translate my work! Let me know if you wish to be on the tagged list.

You shouldn’t be upset at what you’re seeing, after all you’ve never once liked him. He always teased you, made your life miserable, was always picking a fight with you. So why now do you feel your heart in your stomach as you see him with a girl practically all over him. Jisung has always been the bane of your existence, ever since Chan introduced you to his friends, wanting you to fit it with them cause well, you never had any and were always keeping to yourself. Han constantly picked on you, with his cocky and condisending smirk. He always riled you up whenever he was around. Chan always said you both fought as if you were an old married couple, and the thought made you gag. But now, seeing him with a girl on his lap made your heart ache. 

You stared at the alcoholic beverage Chan made you, wishing you never let him convince you to even go to this party. When you looked back up you saw Han looking at you with his little infamous smirk. It made you shake in anger. You downed the drink Chan gave you and winced at the sting as it burned your throat. If he wanted to play games, you weren’t up for it. So you went to the kitchen to get another drink, wanting to distract yourself from the jealousy you were clearly feeling. Since when were you jealous, since when did you care if another girl was all over him? Since when did you wish it was you on his lap while he smirked up at you and whispered things in your ear? 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing drinking all alone?” You looked up to see a man you didn’t know leaning against the kitchen counter smirking over at you. 

“Alone is how I prefer it to be honest.” You said quietly. Not liking the way he was eyeing you. He moved closer to you and ran his hand up your thigh, making you freeze. 

“We could do something together that is much more fun than drinking.” He grinned and you shuddered as you felt his hand go for your ass and squeeze.

“Get your fucking hands off of her.” You turned to see Jisung staring at the stranger in pure rage. You had never seen him angry, not like this. “She clearly isn’t interested.” The guy raised his brow and looked at him with a smirk. 

“Fuck off bro, this has nothing to do with you.” He growled as he walked over to Jisung. Compared to Jisung the man was much taller and jacked, but Jisung didn’t seem phased at all. 

“She has everything to do with me you fucking prick.” He hissed. 

“Jisung— it’s okay.” You whispered as he looked over to you. “I’m fine.” 

“Aw, scared I’ll get to fuck her before you do?” Your eyes widened as you saw Jisung’s eyes darken. He punched the man in the face hard and you squeaked. 

“Don’t you fucking talking about her like that you dick.” The man growled and punched Jisung right back making him fall to the ground. 

Your eyes widened as he got on top of Jisung and started wailing on him. 

“S-Stop!!” You cried out. “Don’t hurt him!” You tried to pull him off of Jisung but he just threw you off him making you collide with the counter. Thankfully Chan and Changbin rushed in and forced the man off of him and out of Chan’s apartment before he could do anything else. You rushed to Jisung’s side and helped him sit up. 

“Y-You idiot why did you do that?” You choked out as you looked at his bruised cheek and split lip. “Come on, I’m getting you out of here.” Jisung groaned as you helped him up and out of the apartment, yours was thankfully down the hall so you didn’t have to go far. When you got inside you sat him on the couch. “Stay right there.” You said quietly. 

“If I had known I’d have to be hurt to finally get invited into your apartment I would have done so much earlier.” He smirked over at you, making you scoff in response. You walked into your bathroom to get a cloth and some alcohol to clean his lip with and walked back in. You sat down next to him and poured some alcohol on a q-tip. 

“Maybe if you weren’t such an ass to me all the time you wouldn’t have had to.” You muttered as you gently placed it on his lip. He hissed and flinched away. “Stay still.” You ordered softly. “It’s going to get infected if I don’t clean this up.”  He sighed and did as he was told, flinching and wincing as you gently cleaned it. You didn’t see the gentle loving gaze coming from him as you focused on cleaning his lip. “All done.” You whispered. “I’m going to get you some ice for your cheek.” You gathered the stuff you brought and threw out the stuff you used, once you put everything back you put some ice in a ziplock bag and brought it over to him. You sat back down and gently place it on his cheek. He hissed again and gently placed his hand over yours that held the ice pack to his cheek. You tried to ignore your fluttering heart as it reacted to the contact. “Sorry.” You whispered. 

“Thank you.” He said quietly. You looked up at him and when you saw how he was staring at you, you forgot how to breathe. You both stayed there, staring at each other hands still touching. Your eyes fluttered to his lips and then back to his eyes. 

“W-Why did you do that Jisung?” You asked quietly. “Do you know how scared I was?” He let go of your hand and used the same one to caress your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact. 

“Do you really not know?” He asked quietly. “—Y/n, I don’t know how you can be so oblivious.” You’re eyes opened and you stared at him in confusion. 

“What are you talking abou—“ You’re cut off by his lips being pressed to yours. Your hand let the bag of ice slip from your fingers as he kissed you deeply. Your heart felt like it was going to rupture out of your chest as he pushed you down on the couch, hovering over you. Your fingers gripped his shirt tightly and pulled him down, wanting him to be closer as you melted into him and kissed back just as passionately. He kissed you until he was gasping for air as he pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours. 

“Because I love you, you idiot.” He panted out. “I’ve always loved you.” His nose brushed against yours as you started at him wide eyed. Your cheeks flushed a deep red as you panted softly. “And I know you love me too.” He smirked. You huffed and tried to push him off of you. 

“Keep dreaming you ass ho—“ Once again he pressed his lips to yours, cutting you off with a feverish and hungry kiss. You whimpered as you tangled your fingers in his hair and wrapped your legs around his waist. Han rocked his hips into you making you moan softly in response. You kissed each other desperately as you continued to rock against each other in need. You felt him push your skirt up as he nipped at your lips. He panted softly as he pushed his jeans and boxers down. He ripped your panties off in seconds making you gasp softly. 

“Need you, need you now Y/n.” He whimpered as he brushed the tip of his cock against your core. “Already so wet for me.” He grinned down at you and you whimpered as you felt him press his tip into your entrance. “Gonna make you mine.” He thrusted into you making you cry out and arch off the couch. Jisung moaned loudly as he felt your warm wet walls close in around him. “Perfect, so perfect.” 

“J-Ji.” You whined softly. He thrusted deeply into you and nipped at your neck. His hand slipped between you and began to rub your clit wildly. You cried out loudly and tangled your fingers in his hair. “Please don’t stop.”  

“Keep moaning my name love, God I love when you say my name.” He nipped at sucked on your neck until there was a mark left. “Want everyone to know you’re mine. That you’re finally mine.” You whined loudly as you felt him hit deep into you. Your toes curled and you clung to him tightly. “God you sound so fucking beautiful. You’re so fucking perfect.” 

You could feel yourself getting close, his words, along with his fingers and cock sending you close to the edge. You sobbed out his name as you arched off the couch, feeling your walls begin to clench. 

“That’s it beautiful. Let go for me.” Your eyes rolled back and you finally hit your peak, crying out his name loudly. He pulled out of you and kissed down your neck, he settled between your legs and groaned at the sight of your core. He dove in and made you cry loudly as you tangled your fingers in his hair. Your legs shook as his tongue licked and explored your drenched core. “You taste fucking divine. God I could eat you all night.” You shuddered and whined loudly in response. “You’d like that huh? Me eating out your pussy til you beg me to stop?”

“Want your mouth, want your cock over and over.” You whined and rocked into his mouth. He growled and buried his face into your core, licking and sucking at your clit like a man starved. Your moans and cries fueling him to keep going, he was determined to make you cum from just his tongue. Your eyes rolled back and you rocked against his tongue desperately, the sight almost making him cum instantly. He let you ride his tongue watching you in awe. You moaned his name out desperately and he knew you were close. Your legs began to tremble violently and he sucked at your clit desperately as you screamed out as your second orgasm hit you. 

He groaned as he licked up your juices and kissed your thighs. He picked you up bridal style as he kicked off his pants and boxers. He carried you to your bedroom and gently laid you down on the bed. 

“Strip love, let me see all of you.” He pleaded softly. He ripped off his shirt and you bit your lip as you took in his toned upper body. His cock was still rock hard and you quickly rid yourself of all of your clothes. He crawled over you and kissed you deeply. “So fucking beautiful.” He whispered softly. He spread your legs wide and lined his cock at your entrance again. “Wanna fill this beautiful pussy up with my cum, can I love?” 

“Yes, please.” You begged softly. “Fill me up.” He growled softly and thrusted into you hard making you cry out. “F-Fuck Jisung!” He laid gently on top of you, wanting to feel every bit of you. He nuzzled his face in your neck as one of his hands linked with yours above your head. The other gripped your hip and squeezed as he rocked into you wildly. “Y-Yes yes yes please.” You whimpered out. 

“I love you.” He whimpered into your neck as he rocked into you. “Fuck Y/n I love you so fucking much.” Your heart leaped out of your chest and you turned your head to kiss him deeply.

“I love you.” You whimpered into his lips. He smiled into your lips and nipped at them gently. You rolled him over and settled on top of him kissing him hungrily. Your hips rocked desperately as you rode him, making him whimper and moan beneath you. 

“Oh my god.” He whined at the sight of you riding him, his hands ran up your stomach and he squeezed your breasts gently as he rocked up into you. Your eyes rolled back as you felt him thrust wildly into you. You whined loudly and clung to him as he pulled you close. You kissed him passionately and rocked your hips to meet his thrusts. You could feel yourself getting close as you whined loudly into his lips. You buried your face in his neck as you mewled loudly. 

“G-Gonna cum.. fuck. Jisung please.” You whined loudly. He groaned and rocked into you desperately, feeling his release also coming. He throbbed inside you as he felt you begin to clench. 

“Cum with me love.” He moaned out and you let out a soft cry as you clenched around him. You felt him hit his peak inside you, filling you with his hot seed. You shuddered violently and when limp in his arms. He held you close to him as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You both stayed there, tangled in each other, panting softly as you tried to calm your trembling body. “You did so well.” He said softly as he ran his fingers through your hair. You whimpered and nuzzled your face in his neck. “I can’t wait to show everyone how you’re finally mine.” 

“Yours.” You whispered. “I like the sound of that.” You smiled and kissed his neck gently. 

“Good, cause you are and I will never let you go.” He kissed you softly. “Never.”

[thanotaphobia]

i love the suckening. you've got a sheltered prince and his twin brother who grew up in an LA gang,

and then there's arthur bennett.

where do i even start? imagine being a century old and spending that century hating yourself. you hate the very core of what you are, the things you must do to keep yourself alive, and you keep a physical reminder of the harm you inflicted on your body at all times. every time you do the thing you have to do in order to live, you pull out that book of names and read them. arthur bennett forces himself to remember because if he didn't make the effort, he'd hate himself even more. imagine crucifying yourself for a hundred years and being miserable the whole time- and then one day, you get caught up with two kids. teenagers, but to you they're just children, both of them naive and caught up in things bigger than themselves and you can't help but get involved because otherwise, you'd just feel guilty. so arthur takes them under his wing and knows that it's not the smartest but in the short time he's known them, he's slowly realized they're just two younger versions of him. he sees himself in shilo, devastated and paralyzed with shock and fear. he seems himself in emizel, newly turned and angry and violent and brash. he doesn't want them to end up like him. he doesn't want them to hate themselves because of what- and who- they are. he cares about them, and doesn't want to see them get hurt. he sees a chance to help shape them into something better than himself. maybe, in them, he sees a little bit of hope. maybe by teaching them how to be better he can forgive himself.

[ghostfacesvalentine]

HALLOWEEN DAY 2: Too scary - Multi!Muse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multi!muse  x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of scary movies, trauma, blood, gore, etc. Nothing too graphic

Type: Blurbs

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Turns out the movie was too terrifying for little Y/N to handle, therefore it’s their job to comfort you.

Notes: Let’s see how long I can keep this up.

Jason Voorhees: At first he wouldn’t notice, mostly focused on the movie and the candy he’s stuffing his face with. When you’d shuffle around, when he’d notice the constant movement, then he’d take a look at you only to find you with your knees close to your chest with your arms wrapped around them. It’d take a moment for him to register that your stomach was turning at the imagery. Once he would, Jason would instantly coop you up into his arms and keep you in a tiny ball, doing his best to protect you from your thoughts.

Michael Myers: He can smell fear, he’s always been exposed to fear all around him, it’s like second nature to him. When he realizes you’re afraid of the movie, he turns over to stare at you for a moment, which makes you even more uneasy. Thinking Michael looks at you like you’re a big baby, you decide to just cross your arms and brave through the rest of the film. Of course, failing miserably. Michael would force you into his arms, letting you kind of flop into his arms and situate yourself however you wanted. 

Tiffany Valentine: She loves horror movies, it’s one of the things that could keep her occupied. While your stomach twists at the imagery and blood splatter on the screen, Tiffany seems mesmerized by it, not paying much attention to your squeamish reaction. Once you’re both done with the movie, she’d turn to you asking “So, how’d you like it?” Only to see you near traumatized. “Y/N!” Tiffany would wrap her arms around your face and bring you into her chest, pressing you into a hug. “Was that too scary? Why didn’t you say anything babe?” Of course she’d make it up to you, with much affection and endearment.

Billy Loomis: Doesn’t even notice at first how uncomfortable you are, no matter how much you nuzzle into him. A few flinches in, he’d look down to you to make sure you were awake, but to see you near in tears would cause him to stop the movie. “Y/N? You okay? We can stop watching this, I just thought you’d like to see it with me.” He knew better than to keep it playing when you’d tell him you were fine. “No, I mean, it’s kinda lame anyway, here’s the remote, find something better. I’m gonna get another beer, you want anything?” Then he’d come back, lay into the arm rest and bring you down with him, making sure you were cuddled into the blanket on the couch.

Stu Macher: What a dumbass, he wouldn’t really notice at all if you were crying or looking away from the screen too much. He’s “in the moment” with the gory scenes. After the movie, Stu would ask you how you’d like it only to see hot tears streaming down your cheeks. He’d laugh a little bit at how scared you looked, but then would give you the tightest hug. Stu would hold you tightly enough to give you some troubles breathing regularly, letting you put on some cartoons to forget the imagery. Will this happen again? Absolutely.

Patrick Bateman: Ok, he’s probably the worst of them all. Patrick watches snuff films and all kinds of gruesome films for fun. When you brought it up to his attention, he was more than happy to show you what he liked and explain to you the different methods of torture and what part inflicted the most pain. Even if you’d throw up, Patrick would keep the film going, mesmerized by the screams telling you “It’s actually not that bad.” But he’d let you hide into his arm, clenching onto it as you did so, but there was no way to hide from the terrorizing screams and Patrick's chuckle throughout it.

Leatherface: Honestly always checking up on you through every scene. Bubba doesn’t even want you to watch the scary films, he would think you were too pure for them, ironically. If you insisted though, he’d let you, holding you close to him and giving you space to hide if you needed to look away, which seemed to be often. Bubba would be ready to turn off the screen at any moment, one arm wrapped around you and the other one with the finger on the off button. He too would let you watch cartoons with him after. Bubba would offer you your favorite junk food or candy and let you snuggle into him while you laugh at the new pictures on the screen.

Harley Quinn: Is SUPER into horror. Laughs at the screams and blood splatter “Y/N! Y/N! Did ya see that? Did ya see it?! Let me rewind it.” Harleys a bit clueless when it comes to seeing your discomfort at first, but then when she notices you keep flinching or looking away, her expression immediately changes. “Oh my god Y/N? Are you afraid of this? You shoulda said something pumpkin’!” Immediately cuddles you and keeps you close to her chest, changing the channel to a Disney movie. Harley would be THE best at comforting you, squeezing the near life out of you to keep you comfortable and your mind off of things. Lots of comfort food, honestly.

Poison Ivy: Isn’t necessarily obsessed with horror movies and gore, not very interested in it either but she doesn’t mind playing the exorcist for background noise. If you’re not obviously telling her that you’re scared or you want to play something else, she would pick up on how you would react. Flinching at certain moments in the movie, looking away from the screen constantly, all things Pamela would notice, putting two and two together, she’d turn off the TV, telling you simply “What a trashy movie, let’s go play.” And would lead you into the bedroom for some TLC. Pamela’s love language would be physical touch and she would make sure you would get enough of it to fall asleep to. She’d make a mental note to stay away from horror movies with you.

Bruce Wayne: Never was really big with horror movies to begin with. Bruce grew up with musicals and operas, he was cultured in filmmaking, but horror never really made a mark in his interests, mainly because of the real life horrors he had to face already. Of course Bruce picks up on everything, noticing your reluctance in watching any more of this movie, he decides to nuzzle you into him, not saying a word and changing the channel, or taking your hand to lead you out of the theater. After all, Bruce knew what it felt like to be afraid. Expect a ton of tender touches and soft kisses.

Jason Todd: Sweetest energy tbh. Whether your watching a scary movie as a group or together, his reaction would be similar in both scenarios. As soon as he’d feel your palm in a cold sweat he’d look for your reaction, even if you try to brave through it, Jason would pull your face into his chest, kissing the top of your head. ‘What a bullshit ass movie.” He’d mumble while subconsciously caressing the back of your head. “You’re being brave dollface, but you don’t have to be.” He’d whisper to you and give you a squeeze. ”Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Billy Hargrove: Notices instantly, but wouldn’t want to call you out on it. Instead he would also pull a stunt like Pamela. Telling you “This is kinda tacky, let’s leave.” And would lead you out of the movie theater, turn off the TV or leave whatever house party you were at. He’d make sure to never let you go, holding your hand, keeping his arm around your waist as usual, always being protective of you. Billy would make you feel safe enough to tell him what happened and what was wrong and why. He’d actually listen to you, being quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in, then comfort you by telling you “That’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about,  I had a few movies that scared the daylights out of me, but you know I’m never gonna let anything happen to you.”

Steve Harrington: Knows from the start that you don’t like horror movies, he doesn’t either but he can stomach a lot more than you can. Steve was kind of taken a back when you insisted that it would be fine to have a movie night with your friends even though they planned a horror marathon. When the kill scenes would get severely worse as the movie progresses, you’d get more uncomfortable and at this point it seemed like an unspoken competition to see who could stomach more gore, you or Steve. Still, when you’d take a nap, shifting and shuffling around in the blankets, he’d know the movie maybe actually got to you. Steve would hug you tightly, caress your face when you’d drift in and out of sleep. 

Steve Rogers: Would be such a big time caregiver energy. When you’d hide your face away in certain scenes, Steve would notice instantly, hugging you closely through the scene. If you kept showing discomfort, Steve would take you from the room, not offering an explanation to anyone. “Come on sweetheart, let’s go do something else” He never really understood the concept or horror movies, nor the appeal, so it wasn’t like he was missing out on anything. Steve would pick you up, letting you hide into his chest or his neck. He’d kiss your head, cheek and neck constantly, slow and full of love. “Come on angel, let’s watch something else.” He’d turn on the TV letting you chose any cartoon movie you’d be in the mood to watch.

Bucky Barnes: Also with Steve energy, he’d let you hide into him. He kind of understood the concept of the horror movies, even liked a couple but not to the extent those around you  both would like. His heart melts when he sees you pout and avoiding looking at the screen. Closing your eyes waiting for the screaming to stop, Bucky would want nothing more than to reach over and pull you onto him, letting you hide into him and tell you everything was okay and it was only a movie. When the movie would be over, he’d check up on you, making sure you weren’t still thinking of it, which more than likely you were and he wouldn’t hesitate to spend the night with you, letting you curl into his body, being three times your size and keeping you safe from whatever horror you saw today.

Wanda Maximoff: She would notice it the second scene in, the minute you hesitated to agree on a horror marathon with the team, she knew maybe you were a little bit more of a baby than she initially thought. She’d play it off with you as well, telling the team the movie seemed boring and that she just wanted to go to bed, she was tired. When the others would dismiss her, not paying much attention, she would look at you, who stayed sitting in silence. “Y/N? Are you okay? You keep nodding off, come join me, let’s get you to bed.” Wanda would be your saving grace and of course she would let you sleep in her bed, keeping you comfortable and safe in her pillow fortress and arms.

Loki Laufeyson: He’d always notice any sort of discomfort in you, knowing that you weren’t able to stomach much of the gory scenes but a part of him wanted to see how much you were able to handle. Loki would sit where he was able to look at you with just a flicker of his eyelids in your direction. When you’d all have a movie night, Loki would be the one to agree to watch something gruesome just to see you squirm in your seat. When it would be too much to handle for you and you’d have to excuse yourself, Loki would come to your aid when he would pass by your room to see you sitting on the corner, hugging yourself trying to erase the imagery out of your head by watching your favorite comfort films. “Y/N? How are you doing?”

Cloud Strife: He’s not very fazed by horror movies or anything of that sort, but if he feels you hide against him again throughout the movie, he would let you. He’d hesitate to put his arm around you, but if you snuggle into it, he’d squeeze you in. Because this seemed to be very unlike Cloud, snuggling into his torso would be the most comforting thing. Cloud would let you sleep with him if you admitted you were scared, letting you snuggle in under the covers with him, he’d drape an arm over you and keep you close as you drifted off to sleep.

Aerith Gainsborough: Not terribly interested in horror movies, but would watch a few just to spend some time. Aerith has quite the strong stomach compared to you and the rest of your friends. She could sit there and watch a full marathon with you guys no problem, but if you couldn’t handle it, she’d understand and take a walk with you, picking flowers for you on the sidewalk as she would try to distract you from the imagery from before. Her smile surely would help, Aerith would be the perfect person to comfort you for something that seems as silly as a horror movie.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’d seen it all, fear is not something he was very familiar in feeling, but he knew it came as second nature to the human species. If you were afraid of a movie or show, he’d find it amusing to see you worked up over false imagery when he had seen much worse, all real as well. Sebastian would still excel in his duty to comfort you, assuring you there was nothing to fear, since he would never let anything hurt you. Being cared for by him in this way did help, you knew he meant it and it was silly for you to worry about anything that was plastered across a screen.

Spencer Reid: Would be so wholesome, he had seen so much gruesome scenes, often inspiring many of the plots of movies you two were watching, but he knew to spare you the details. When Spencer heard you wanted to see a horror movie with him, he was surprised, letting you decide which one, but when it was too much for you, he knew right when to stop it and ask you if you were okay, not wanting to have you get nightmares for the next week straight. Spencer would soothe you, holding you close to him, letting you lay down onto him and snuggle under a blanket. He’d play something more wholesome, maybe a Disney classic in the background or some sort of comedy to keep your mind off the previous imagery. 

[realisticfanfictions]

Being Sanji's Girlfriend & Baratie's Head Waitress - Part 2.

Sanji x Waitress!Reader: Part One.

Working at Baratie wasn't without its challenges, and the fights that sprung up because of them weren't rare either. You and your boyfriend never sweated the small stuff, after all working in a high stress environment made you, well, stressed. But maybe some things can't be resolved that easily.

Tags: Sanji x Reader, Waitress!Reader, constant bickering, mostly fluff with some angst, (heavy) swearing.

A/N: I'm so glad the first one was well received! I'm pretty self-concious about my writing, but seeing everyone's hearts and reblogs has made me so happy! There's also been a ton of new people following this page, and I'm so appreciative you guys are liking my stuff enough to keep up to date with my writing <3.

Word Count is 5,427. Hope you enjoy!

"What the hell was that?" You knew that this made you look like a crazy girlfriend, dragging your significant other into the cold room and locking the door behind you. You'd gotten a few curious and slightly concerned glances from other staff, but by this point they knew better than to intervene. White fog spewed from your mouth as you spoke, giving you the appearance of a mighty dragon ready to burn down anyone who stood in her way.

Sanji, who hadn't fought you the entire way here, rubbed his face with his hand and shoved the other into his pocket. "I was just trying to be friendly." He shrugged.

A cold breeze caused you to flinch, but you refused to show any weakness. "Bullshit." You hissed and gritted your teeth, unable to fathom this man's arrogance. "I'm not dumb, Sanji-"

"And I never said you were." Both hands were now in his pockets and he finally met your gaze. He looked tired and you could tell he was chewing on the inside of his cheek - a habit you knew stemmed from his nicotine addiction. But his forced eye contact didn't last long and his gaze soon drifted to the corner of the cold room. He let out a small sigh. "I'm sorry. I can't help what I say to women-"

You held up a hand. "I don't care about you miserably failing at flirting. Well, I do care, but that's beside the point." You took a breath, counted to five and stared at your boyfriend's beautiful blue eyes. "I know that you're upset, and though I am very annoyed at you, I will say that I appreciate you telling me you're sorry."

"So it is about the-"

"Sanji." He slowly closed his mouth and subtly nodded. He was listening. "I know that you like women, and that you'll move heaven and earth for one to glance your way. I know that. I knew that when I started going out with you." You licked your suddenly dry lips. "What I get upset about, is that you went over my head and spoke to my customers in a rather vulgar way. I know you think it's beneath you, but I take a lot of pride in what I do. I'm good at it. And when-" God, your lips were so dry. "And when you go over my head, take over my table, insult the place that took me in when I had nowhere else to go-when we had nowhere else to go, and then ignore my discomfort and make a joke of it?" You met his eyes. "I am your girlfriend, Sanji. Something that you're meant to love and cherish- like how- I can't-"

Before you realised it, you found yourself slowly enveloped by the love of your life. "Hey," He shushed you gently as he cradled you against his chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way." He murmured and placed a kiss against your temple. "My love, you're shaking. I didn't realise I made you this upset. Please, forgive me."

You couldn't help but laugh. "I'm just cold, dumbass. And still pissed at you." Despite what you said, you still buried your head in his chest and soaked up his warmth. It was then you realised how long it'd been since the two of you had been alone like this. Just soaking up each other's warmth and committing the other's smell, touch and the feel of their skin to memory. You're embarrassed to admit you forgot just how much you love his cologne. "Guess this is what happens when we don't have sex for a while."

He gave a breathy chuckle and leaned back enough just to press his lips against your forehead and stare into your eyes. "Well, I'd offer to remedy that, but I'm afraid the cold will affect my performance."

"Like you need an excuse for a bad performance."

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

His usual, charming smile stretched across his face and he licked his lips, before hungrily diving in and punishing you with a particularly brutal kiss. He softly moaned into the kiss, and pulled back enough for you to see the devilish look in his eye as he bent down to press a kiss to your neck.

The door suddenly flung open and Pattie groaned. "I should've known." He exclaimed and threw his towel at the both of you. "Move. I'm trying to get some stuff for dessert."

Sanji grew a wicked grin. "What a coincidence. I'm trying to get me some dessert too." He chuckled and moved in to continue his assault, but was thwarted by an incoming barrage of hits from the disgruntled chef.

Backed by the sound of Pattie yelling in disgust, you laughed and shook your head, worming out of Sanji's hold and skipping out of the cold room with said blond on your heels. You both quickly ducked out of the kitchen and into a small hallway where you turned around to look at him once more. "Thank you for listening to me, Sanji. I may have blown my lid a bit too much back there." You fished around in your pocket and pulled out your lighter. "Go take a smoke break."

"Darling-"

You pushed it into his hand. "Take a break, and have a smoke. If not for you, for me. Because I honestly can't handle you when you're being all bitchy."

His shoulders dropped and a tired smile replaced his worried expression. He wrapped his hands around your own and placed a kiss against your knuckles. "Thank you, my love." He exclaimed and you waved him off with a smile.

"Whatever, you wallowing wag. While you're walking, watch the weather and water, and warn the workers if we're wayward. We don't want any wild winds, or another wreck this week."

He smiled. "You still don't realise you do that, do you?"

You blinked. "Do what?"

A hearty chuckle escapes him and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry about it." That damn smile of his made your heart flutter and while you were confused, you returned his kiss with a quick peak of his lips and watched as he walked off. You didn't understand why he was so weird, but you guess it's just part of dating someone.

Before you could go back to serving, a faintly familiar face poked his head around the corner. You squinted your eyes and watched as he walked around aimlessly. "Excuse me, are you lost?"

The boy in the straw hat turned his head in your direction and smiled when he noticed you. "Oh! You're (Y/N), our waitress!" He spun himself around and hastily walked up to you, almost tripping on the aging floorboards. "I didn't get to introduce myself," He tipped his hat. "My name is Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm going to be King of the Pirates!"

That made you pause. "Oh." You dumbly said, not really sure how to respond. "That's... nice. But this is a staff only area-"

"You're a good fighter." The boy- Luffy you corrected yourself, interrupted and leaned in uncomfortably close. "Well, Sanji's a really good fighter, but you're pretty good too!" He made a pistol with his fingers and pretended to shoot. "You seem good with a gun. And the way you backed up Sanji and knocked that guy out? So good!"

Again, you weren't really sure how to respond. "I was only helping out, but thanks, I guess." You put your hands on your hips. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He tilted his head in confusion. "No, I'm fine."

You blinked. "But you're in a staff only area."

He nodded. "I am."

"...And you know you're not a staff member?"

He shook his head. "I'm not."

You sighed and squeezed the bridge of your nose. "I mean, why are you here?"

A smile returned to his face. "Oh, why didn't you just say so!" He waved his hand around as if announcing something great. His eyes wandered around the room, as if searching for something in the distance. You were intrigued. "I'm trying to find..."

You leaned in. "You're trying to find...?"

"Yes, I am trying to find..." His eyes slowly drifted downward until they met yours. They sparkled with great mysteries waiting to be unveiled, a sense of adventure and bravery and fearlessness that you couldn't help but admire. He smiled. "A toilet!"

Before you could stop yourself, you smacked him upside the head. "Don't pretend like it's some big, life-altering explanation, you dumbass!" With each word, you brought your hand down to slap him on any part of his body you could touch. "Besides, there's three signs for the bathroom on the way here!"

He held up his hands, trying to block your attacks. "Ow! I'm sorry! Stop hitting me!"

You rolled your eyes and stepped back, crossing your arms and glaring at him. "You're such an idiot. Fine, come with me. You can use the staff bathroom, it's right down this hall."

Luffy slowly uncurled himself and nodded. "Thanks a lot! I was sure I was going to crap my pants, you're a life saver!"

"I didn't need to know that." You sighed and beckoned him to follow with a finger. "So, King of the Pirates, huh?"

He nodded, his straw hat bobbing with him as you both walked. "Yep! We have a map to the Grand Line, and we're going to find the One Piece."

You laughed. "Only idiots with a death wish go after that thing."

"Hm, not really. I don't have a death wish." He replied with a shrug.

With a dramatic sigh, you playfully shove him. "Sure you don't, straw boy. What's next? You're gonna tell me you don't plunder and raid villages wherever you go?"

He shook his head. "We don't."

You quirked an eyebrow. "Don't yet?"

He shook his head again. "No."

"Fine then, where are you going to get money?"

"Finding the One Piece will give us all the money we'll ever need."

"And until then?"

"I don't know, but we'll figure something out."

You scoffed. "They always say that."

He tilted his head. "Do you know?"

"I do. You can kidnap a princess and random her, rob an orphanage, maybe even take a business hostage and demand money or you'll start executing patrons."

Luffy stopped and stared at you. "That's really dark."

You shrugged and continued walking. "That's what you have to do if you want to find a crazy man's last fuck-you to the government."

His smile turned into a frown. "You don't think it's real?"

"I think that Gold Rodger wanted to bring about the age of pirates, and he did." You explained. "Doesn't matter if it's real or not. Its impact on the world is more valuable than any treasure he ever got his hands on."

Within a second, he was in front of you with a cheeky grin. "Ah ha! So you do think it's real!"

A sigh escaped you. "I honestly don't care enough to believe if it's real or not. What is real is the pain, and death it's caused. Nations tearing each other and themselves apart just to find a glimpse of a shred of evidence that horrid thing is real. And men setting sail and abandoning everything just because they think finding a gold chest is worth losing their family over. Then those same men kill other men with families just like theirs, spreading their filth and disease to every home, town and village just because they can't stand the thought of a man doing the right thing by taking care of his family."

Luffy tilted his head. "You sound like you care a lot."

A tense silence filled the air and you stared at this strange, but oddly charming character. So innocent, so naive. He had no idea of the world you knew, the one that you grew up in. It's rare to find someone this optimistic, or sheltered. You pointed behind him. "Bathroom's there. Leave when you're done."

To say that you were affected by his words would've been both an understatement, and a poor choice of phrasing. You weren't affected, per say. They rubbed you the wrong way, and brought up memories you would rather just forget. It didn't help that they ordered one of everything on the menu, and you were constantly bringing out dishes to a smiling, unbothered Luffy who just shoveled food into his mouth. It was actually really impressive, and you were glad that they didn't come last week when the Baratie did that eating competition. You're pretty sure you probably would've gone out of business.

With a perfectly manufactured smile, you set down the plate of ribs on the only available space between piles of plates and stacked glasses. "And this is the final dish - our limited-time French-Style Ribs braised in red wine and cranberry." You straightened up and the plate was instantly pulled towards the centre of the table. The man in the pirate attire groaned, but he shoved a rib in his mouth and moaned. "I hope everything's been to your satisfaction. Can I get anything else for you tonight? A refill perhaps?"

The orange-haired woman smiled. "We're fine for now, thanks." With a nod, you turned to leave. "When does the bar close?"

"It's open all night, but we do a deep clean around three to four in the morning. So you may not be able to get anything on tap, but prepackaged drinks are always available." The words flowed off your tongue like a rehearsed speech, probably because it was. She smiled and nodded her thanks, before turning back to the conversation they were in. As you walked away, you spotted a certain red-haired pig-tail wearing waitress near the till. "Macy."

Said waitress flinched and slowly turned to you. "Yes, Ma'am?"

More than a little annoyed, you walked up to her and lent against the counter. "Why are you at the till?" She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, trying and failing to start a proper sentence until you stopped her with a hand. "Macy, there was one rule; don't touch the till. What are you doing right now?"

She paused. "Touching the till?"

You nodded. "Good job, you got something right." With a small glare, you pushed past her and looked at the total that she was charging, then compared it to the bill laying on the countertop. "Unless they've agreed to add a ฿65 tip on top of your 10%, I guess we've just found out who's been messing with the till."

"I-"

"You're done for the night." Her shocked expression turned into a bitter snarl and she began to tug at her apron. "Macy, you've got the body of a used fucking tube of toothpaste. No one wants to see you undress here, get the fuck out. You'll make the customers sick." She gasped, but you dismissed her with a wave and she stormed out of the restaurant. You sighed and opened the drawer beneath the counter, pulling out the book of paid receipts and bookings. Both luckily and unluckily, it was getting close to end-of-shift which meant that you had time to fix Macy's mess, but that the mess was probably smeared dog shit on a window at this point.

Grabbing out your pen and a calculator, you mentally prepared yourself for the long night ahead, when you felt something touch your back. "Hello, my darling." Sanji greeted with a kiss to the back of your neck, then rested his chin on your shoulder to watch what you were doing while his hand lazily stroked your side.

With a sigh, you turned your head to kiss him. "Hey, jerkface. Glad to see someone with a shred of intelligence." You greeted, then scribbled down some notes. "Someone's fucked the till again, and screwed the customers' out of at least three-hundred berri from what I can see."

His smile dropped and he reached for the book, tilting it so that he can see it. "Closer to five-hundred than anything. This table didn't even order the Lobster Thermidor, what the hell's going on."

You slammed your pen down in frustration and leaned back against him. "No idea, but I'm going to have to make some calls and refund tables." He wrapped his arm around your stomach and kissed the back of your ear which made you sigh and rub your face. "I need to make a list and figure out how much we fucked people out of money." You happened to look over at Luffy's table. They looked like they were toasting. "Can you bill them? It'd help a lot."

He smiled and took the piece of paper you had offered him. "Of course, my love. And give me a list of the rich pricks you want me to call. We'll divide and conquer."

"What did I do to deserve you?" You asked as he picked up the golden dish used to store cash.

"You, my love, didn't need to do anything." He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then your lips, before turning around and walking over to do as you asked.

Turning back to your mammoth task, now with a smile, you picked up your pen again and started to scribble down the sum total of every receipt that was put in by Macy. It was a good call by Zeff to bar everyone else but yourself from accessing the till. It was pretty easy to differentiate your neat and straightforward ones from Macy's abominations, but it still didn't make it any less painful. The Baratie didn't even serve quiches, so why would she even put that in there?

The telltale sound of Sanji's shoes smacking against the floorboards broke your concentration, and you looked up confused. "That was fast-" You were interrupted by him flashing you what was on the bill. You frowned at his abrupt interruption, but then squinted and jolted back slightly to look at your boyfriend. "What the shit is a 'treasure tab'?"

"We're going to find out." He said with a smile and walked past you to the kitchen. This was going to be interesting.

Just as you thought, the kitchen door slammed open and Zeff's wide, intimating frame appeared in the doorway. "Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?"

Luffy, sweet and innocent Luffy, popped his head out of his booth and waved his milkshake. "Here!" Zeff locked onto him and marched toward the young boy.

"You seem to be confused about the rules of the house," You and Sanji, who had just come out of the kitchen, exchanged knowing glances and you placed down your pen. Led by your boyfriend, you grabbed a jug of water while he grabbed a tray of complimentary scones and he slowly walked around the scene that was unfolding. "But Baratie doesn't offer credit. You eat, you pay." You both stopped at a nearby empty table. You started to examine the glasses in detail, admiring the way the light hit the material, while Sanji wiped the table with a piece of lettuce someone forgot to clean up.

Setting down his glass, Luffy looked up at Zeff. "I think you're confused." Sanji and you shared a look. "The meal has already been paid for. I just haven't given you the money yet."

Pretending to look around the room, you caught the stern, no-shits-given look Zeff was offering the kid. "Yeah, and how's that?"

Luffy smiled. "You can add it to my treasure tab."

You and Sanji snickered at the tone in Zeff's voice. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

"A way to get your ass beat." You mumbled and Sanji quietly shushed you with a smile, trying to hear the rest of what was being said.

Still not realising what's happening, Luffy kept talking. "I may not look like a big deal yet, but you're talking with the future King of the Pirates. And as soon as I find the One Piece, I'm gonna come back here, pay this bill in full, and with interest."

Zeff chuckled. "I got a better idea." And yanked Luffy out of his booth, dragging the confused pirate to the kitchen.

A sigh escaped you. "That certainly didn't disappoint." You commented and picked up Sanji's makeshift lettuce-rag, pocketing it to throw out later. "Guess we have a new busboy."

Sanji shook his head, but kept his eyes on the door. "Wouldn't be good at anything besides dishes." He said and paused for a second. You could see the metaphorical gears in his head turning, before he nodded toward the kitchen. "Hold on."

"Sanji, don't-" But it was too late, the love of your life had walked off, probably to rejoin the line. Your fists balled up and you let out a frustrated groan, your heels clicking as you followed after him. "Sanji! Don't piss him off. Sanji-"

The doors swung open as the blond barged in the kitchen with you on his heels. Your words fell on deaf ears and you rolled your eyes at Zeff who looked between you two confused. "Oy, oy. What do you think you're doing?"

You threw up your hands, but helped Sanji shrug off his coat. "I tried to stop him." You said as you wrapped his jacket around your arm and lent against the wall behind you.

The blond scoffed and held up a hand. "Com on, old man. Enough's enough-"

"Put the jacket back on, little Eggplant. You're not done with your shift yet." Zeff's face was tired and stern as always, and all you wanted to do was pull Sanji back and apologise for the extra stress. However, you knew that the two were stubborn and that would only cause more trouble than it's worth.

Sanji's tone suddenly sharpened. "Let me back on the line, or I walk." You almost said something, but considering you said something similar this afternoon, you settled for a glare.

"You can walk right back into the ocean for all I care. You cook another meal like that in my kitchen, it's going right where the last one did."

"You can kick me out of the kitchen all you like. I'll never be a waiter."

"Well that's fine by me, because you sure as hell are never gonna be a cook in my restaurant. Have you got that?"

Your heart broke seeing your boyfriend's face when he glanced over at you. He was so angry, and hurt, and upset. His hands were balled into fists, but you just shook your head. It wasn't worth it. His gaze shifted back to the man who had taken the both of you in, and then he turned heel, storming out of the kitchen via the hallway.

"So it was Macy, then?" When you nodded, Zeff sighed and held his face in his palm. The two of you were alone on the balcony overlooking the ocean. You were all on a thirty minute break before the next service, and you'd stumbled across the old man while trying to get some peace and quiet. The man you both admired and respected more than anyone was sat beside you tiredly rubbing his face. "And where is she now?"

You fought back what you really wanted to say, and simply shrugged, picking up your glass and taking a sip. "I sent her home for the night. Didn't want to see her fucking face, the red-haired bitch."

He shifted in his chair and leaned forward toward you, pointing a finger in your direction. "There is no talk like that in the Baratie."

You rolled your eyes and put your glass down. "It's not a big deal. Everyone here curses-"

"But you never use such vulgar language when talking about a woman." He said, his tone firm and leaving no room for arguing. "I always taught both you and that boyfriend of yours to never speak badly about, or to, a woman. Just because you're twenty-one now, doesn't mean a thing. Get that?" Ever since you were fifteen, he's drilled his way of life into your head. From scrubbing the decks every time you dropped food, to spending late nights learning the difference between the various cutlery the Baratie offered, it was almost like his life's mission to turn you into a mini-him. To this day, you couldn't eat salad with a table fork, even though the minute difference between a salad fork and a table fork were so inconsequential they were practically the same fucking thing.

You bit the inside of your lip. "Well that bitch-"

"Macy."

The condensation floating slowly down your glass seemed to be more interesting than his face. "Macy has ruined all the work I've done to make the Baratie a place where you can just sit down and enjoy a good meal with the best service around. You know, I've had to deal with so much shit. More than anyone in this goddamn place. All the harassment explained away as jokes and if I'm uncomfortable with it, I'm just 'not getting the joke'. And then having to spend hours listening to the most intolerable stories about slick, rich pricks with small dicks bitching about their toxic chicks with plastic tits. And expecting me to not spit or get sick when they talk about me like I'm some quick flick." You took a breath, counted to five, and licked your lips. "But it's not enough that she'll get away with it. You also won't let me complain about her."

He sighed. "She isn't going to get away with it." You scoffed and raised your glass to take another sip, but a hand under your chin guided your gaze to him. "Look at me." Hesitantly, you lifted your eyes to meet his. "She," He spoke slowly, his intense blue eyes piercing into mine in a way that made you feel small. "Is going to be dealt with." His hand released your chin and migrated upwards to rest atop your head, softly patting your head like he used to when you were younger. "You've done well, little Sprout." You sucked in a breath and nodded, but your pseudo-confidence wasn't fooling the old man. "And if any of these 'rich pricks with small dicks' ever bothers you again, tell me. Nothing is worth you being treated like a sack of shit over. Not the Baratie, not anything."

A fake chuckle wormed its way out of you, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Thanks, Dad."

A smile spread across his face and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in and pressing his lips to your forehead. Zeff smelled like a thousand scents, oregano, paprika, and a dash of vanilla extract, but his warm touch and the feeling of his scruffy beard against your scalp only felt like one thing: safe. You hadn't realised you closed your eyes until you felt him pull away. "Now then, I've got some calls to make."

With a groan, he got up to his feet. "Are you sure? My waitress, my mistake."

He shook his head. "My Baratie, my mistake." He walked past, patting you on the head as he left the balcony.

It was time to face your boyfriend, and you were dreading it. With his coat jacket wrapped over your arm, you slowly made your way down the hall to the kitchen. The doors were swinging slightly, so you knew that someone had just walked in, and you took a deep breath, walking over to the entrance - ready to go in.

"...banned from the line." You paused when you heard Sanji's voice float through the air.

"But that meal you cooked was incredible!"

A smile graced your face and you lent against the wall just beside the doors. "The True Bluefin Sauté?"

"Yeah!"

"You tried it?"

"Yeah, of course I did! I couldn't help myself. I didn't think the food here could get any better. You know, you're a really good cook. Why is Zeff making you wait tables?"

"'Cause he's jealous. I should be running this place, but the old man's so stubborn it'll never happen."

"So, that's your dream. To be head chef of the Baratie."

A pause. "I guess-"

"No, it's not." Both men looked up at you when you entered the double doors.

The other voice who you now realised was Luffy looked at you confused. "It's not?"

Sanji laughed breathlessly and looked at the table he was sitting at, flicking open his lighter and closing it again. "It's not." He confirmed. You smiled and walked over to where your boyfriend sat, draping his coat over an empty chair.

"So you love to cook. You just don't want to cook here?"

The blond grabbed out a cigarette and looked to you where you had taken up residence next to him. When you nodded, he ignited the lighter you gave him earlier and lit the end of his cigarette. He took a drag and hummed. "There's... this place," He started and his eyes drifted to yours. You both shared a small smile. "Where you can find ingredients from all four seas. East Blue, West Blue, North and South - they call it the All Blue. Nobody knows where it is, but..." His gaze lifts heavenward. "There's fish there that have never been seen. You know, rare seaweeds, spices that have never been tasted. It's a cook's paradise, and I'm gonna find it one day." He looked back at you and placed his hand over yours. "That's my dream."

Luffy's gaze was soft, but also intense. "If you want to cook, you should cook. Don't let some stubborn old man stand in the way of your dream." He smiled. "Stand up to him! Tell him what you want."

"It's more..." Sanji looked over at you. "Complicated, than that."

The young boy shrugged. "I don't really do complicated either."

You scoffed. "For someone who claims to be a pirate, you don't like a lot of things that pirates are known for."

Luffy looked at you. "For someone who doesn't like pirates, you sure do act like one."

Before you could say anything, frantic banging on the staff exit caught you all off guard. Begging for help, a man tumbled in and fell to the floor, barely having the strength to cling onto the countertop. On instinct, you went to pull out your gun but stopped when your boyfriend raised a hand to you and marched toward the man. Being the good Samaritan you certainly weren't, Sanji and Luffy helped him up onto a chair. "Are you okay?"

The man's voice sounded croaky and scratchy. "I'm so hungry, please."

Sanji nodded and moved to the stove. "Okay, you got it, man. How does some corned-beef fried rice sound?"

Pattie, appearing from his break, quickly stood up and followed after him. "What do you think you're doing?" He demanded.

The blond didn't bother to look at him and you gave the pirate a warning look before moving to the fridge. "At Baratie, everyone eats." The love of your life explained as you rifled through the fridge for the ingredients he would need.

"And who's gonna pay for that? This is a business, we can't be giving handouts to every down-on-his-luck pirate that washes up."

"If a man is hungry, I feed him. Thank you, darling." He said when you handed him the beef.

Pattie looked at you for help, then back at him when you just shrugged. "Zeff kicked you off the line."

"Yeah, well, I don't see the old man here. Do you?"

The other chef looked at you once more, and you shrugged at him again. You both knew it was a losing battle, and so he waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, your funeral."

You couldn't keep your eyes off the strange pirate while he sat and ate, and explained what had happened to him. Sanji was way too nice a person for people like him to deserve. You knew pirates, and a part of you was tempted to hide the silverware.

"He's a good guy." Luffy, who was slowly becoming less and less of a pirate in your eyes, said and you nodded.

"Sanji's brilliant." The words came easily. "He's the kind of guy that only comes once a generation. He's a dumbass, sure, but he's a good dumbass."

He thought for a second, before turning to Sanji. "You know, if Zeff doesn't appreciate you, you should join my crew."

Your chair scraped as you stood and left the room.

A/N: I am genuinely loving writing this! As said above, I normally tend to leave the reader's backstory and personality ambiguous, but this character has just taken on a personality of her own! This one is a bit longer because I felt like there wasn't enough content in this upload to justify it. I wouldn't want to waste everyone's time with like, two conversations. I'm kinda happier with the longer/more in-depth parts because I get to spend more time building up characters and relationships, and I'm less tempted to accidentally write and spoil things that the OPLA fans haven't seen yet.

Also, I've grappled with the ages for a while now, and I've officially decided that this AU will have Sanji and (Y/N) be 21. Normally I'd leave the reader's age ambiguous, but since age is important to this story, it's needed to be put in there.

[tomhollandisabae]

I've got a request! Ghost and reader on a mission together. They both have definite feelings for each other already. Reader gets shot and from Ghosts pov it looks fatal, but it isn't. Reader has to play dead to escape from the enemy and scares Ghost half to death in the process. THANK YOU

thank u so much for ur request love!!🥰🥰

faking- simon "ghost" riley x reader

masterlist

summary; as the mission goes on, you are forced to fake your death, hurting the man you love most.

warnings; angst, death, mentions of blood, mature language, violence, fluff, english is not my first language, unedited

words; 1.7k

a/n; doesn't follow the events of mw2, but there are some hints here and there

to clear things out MI5 works within the UK (MI6 is the opposite)

“Vox, report.” You heard ghost’s voice.

“I'm going in.” You replied.

“No, no. You stay where you are, you hear me? We didn't agree on that.” He insisted.

“Ghost there is no other way. It has to be done now. Over.”

The situation had as follows; you had organised an ambush on Graves and his team, while your top priority was to capture him and take him hostage to use him against Shepherd. However, your plan wasn't keeping up with theirs as much as you wanted, so you had to improvise. That's why you argued with Ghost and disobeyed his instructions, putting yourself at risk.

As you broke in you started taking down one soldier after the other, but sooner or later found yourself on your knees, putting pressure on the front of your thigh trying to prevent more blood loss as you had apparently been shot.

“Vox, what's going on?” Ghost’s worried voice sounded once again over the comms.

“I'm hit, but I'll survive.” You informed him.

“I'm coming in.”

“Ghost no, I'll be fine.” You insisted, but it had no result as you show him entering the building you were in and approaching you carefully, trying not to compromise himself.

“I told you not to do that. You didn't listen Y/n.” He spoke once he leaned down taking you in his arms and picking you up carefully making you hiss due to the pain.

“I'm sorry…” You responded weakly.

“Hey it's okay, you're going to be okay. Just keep your eyes open, can you do that for me doll?” He asked you, panic written all over his voice.

“Mhhm…” you murmured as you started feeling lightheaded.

“Y/n, Y/n” he shook you “I need a medic immediately! Vox is down!” He shouted over the comm.

“Simon…” you exclaimed his name slowly.

“Everything's going to be okay Y/n, you'll be okay. Please keep your eyes open.” He pleaded as his hands started trembling.

“I'm sorry, i'm so sorry…” a tear rolled down on your cheek.

“Medics are on their way.”

“You hear that darling, they're coming to save you.” He placed you down again, once you were outside the building.

“I'm really sorry…” you kept repeating over and over again.

“You don't have to be sorry about anything sweetheart, everything's fine. Just stay awake.” You could tell that under the mask a sad and hurt expression had overtaken his facial characteristics.

“I'm so…”

“No! No no no! Please no!” He took you in his arms and hugged you tightly as if he could keep you soul in from exiting your cold body.

When the medics finally arrived they found Ghost on his knees holding you as tight as he could, trying to memorise the way you felt for the rest of his miserable life. They tried to take you away from him and after a few tries they succeeded as Soap appeared from behind them, approaching Ghost and kneeling down next to him trying to comfort him, but it was too late.

Ghost had lost his last hope of life. He had lost you…

It took three months for the Task Force 141 to finally give an end to everything. They had accomplished their mission and were now celebrating in a small bar as they waited for Laswell to arrive, so she could congratulate them face to face.

Ghost never spoke to anyone, only when it was needed for the mission. He distanced himself from everyone and everything and promised himself to avenge for you death. As he did.

Now the team were having their time of their lives, when finally Laswell walked in.

“Hello boys.” She greeted them with a smile.

They all said their hellos back, apart from Ghost who just nodded towards her.

However, nobody noticed another figure entering the bar, behind Kate.

“It can't be…” Soap exclaimed shocked and everyone turned to him in question and he pointed towards the person behind Laswell.

“Vox?” Gaz said and Ghost head shot up feeling his heart racing.

“Hi” You finally waved at them appearing now next to Kate.

“How?” Price questioned.

“Sit down boys, we can't talk standing.” Laswell motioned towards the booth where everyone was sitting.

And they did so, as you sat down across from Ghost, not daring to look at him. You didn't know what to expect from him. You had left him, you broke him, making him think he had lost everything once again. You were his war partner, wanting to be his life partner eventually, but you betrayed him.

“So where should I start from?” Kate sighed.

“How's Y/n alive, no offence Y/n, I'm really glad your alive, but.. how?” He turned to you and you just nodded.

“Y/l/n works for the MI5, she's been a secret agent for the British army since the beginning of her career. When she was placed in Task Force 141, she had already agreed that her alliance would always be to MI5, so when she was asked to fake her death she couldn't do otherwise.” She began explaining “Y/n, you wanna continue? You know the situation better than anyone.” She asked you and you nodded.

“Yeah, umm… M asked me to get into the Shadow company swearing my allegiance to them, but to do so I had to make you all believe that I'm dead. I had approached Graves and talked to him about it. I promised him that I would be by his side and I would let him know everything about our team. Of course I had already spoken with M and we had agreed on what I would be giving away to him, most of them were false informations. So when I entered that building I had already a bag with fake blood on my foot and prosthetics above it to make it look real. I stabbed the bag and you know the rest… Once I was in the Shadow company I had found a way to secretly commuting with M and gave them all the information they needed. Graves trusted me with everything and I was beside him all the time. When he was finally killed, I was… well… brought back to life.” You said.

“Wow…” Soap was in awe.

“Badass.” Has smirked.

“That's a hell of sacrifice you did there Y/l/n. If they had found out, you'd be for real dead.” Price told you.

“I know, but I was extremely careful.” You smiled at him.

“So you were out secret informer” Soap raised his eyebrow.

“Don't think so. I was providing some information to the MI5, I guess M was talking with Kate and then passing the info to you.” You bit your lip.

“So badass” Soap agreed with Gaz.

Suddenly, Ghost rose up from his seat and walked out of the bar leaving you speechless.

“You should go talk to him. He went through a lot after what happened.” Soap looked at you.

“Yeah, I remember…” You exhaled as you had flashbacks of when he wouldn't let you go as the paramedics were trying to take you away from him.

You got up and finally went outside to find him leaning against a tree in the far back.

“Simon…” You breathed out his name as you approached him.

He didn't respond, didn't even look at you for a second.

“Simon I'm really sorry…”

“Yeah, you said so. Now it all makes sense, the way you were repeating that you were sorry over and over again, the fact that there was no funeral… it all makes sense now.” He shook his head.

“I had no other choice. You have to believe me.” You tried to reason with him.

“Everyone has a choice Vox.” It took you aback as he used your code name and not the real one. He would never call you that when you weren't in the battlefield.

“Well I didn't.” You raised your voice having enough at this point and he finally looked at you shocked.

“You don't know how it is to work for the secret services Simon. They have no morals. They used my fucking family. They had promised me that they would provide them protection as long as I was away for the mission, but they had captured them and threatening to kill them all in the name of saving thousands of other lives. As much as I love you Simon, I love my family too. I might not be able to have a decent relationship with you anymore, but at least you and my family are alive.” You cried out as words kept spilling out of your mouth.

“You love me?” He interrupted you after a while.

“I… yes Simon, I love you more than anything.” You wiped your tears away as you saw him walking up to you.

“Is your family okay?” He asked once he stood in front of you.

“Yeah” you shook your head positively “they're fine.”

“Good.” He placed his arms around your waist pushing you closer to him, making you gasp at the gesture.

“Simon…” you looked up at him.

“What about the MI5?” He asked you.

“I'm out. I don't work for them anymore.” You bit your lip nervously, but he placed his thumb on top of your lower lip, freeing it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You barely whispered.

“Good.”

What he did next was something that you never expected him to do. He lifted his mask, taking it off completely, revealing his beautiful face to you.

With your hands trembling, you placed them carefully on each side of his face.

“I love you Y/n.” He lowered his head, your lips only centimetres from each other.

“Please…” you pleaded.

“What do you want darling?” His lips brushed the crooner of yours softly.

“Kiss me.” Your eyes looked with his.

And he did so, finally connecting your lips in a so long awaited kiss. His soft once moving slowly on top of yours with so much care and love.

And that was just the beginning of a new chapter of both your lives.

Because you would leave a happy ever after, together and forever!

[metranart]

Mikey x Reader x Draken (Tokyo Revengers)(Part 6)

⭕️ Visit my PATREON LINK for some spicy Tokyo Rev NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction.

Warning tag: obsessed! Mikey, possessive! Draken, naive! reader, threesome, violation of trust, dubious consent, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, teenage craves, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, pussy eating, love confessions, cock-drunk, boys trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, sleeping! reader, gang stuff.

-

The water is already steamy, and both boys itch to fulfil their next fantasy. They know it would take time to have your full and undeniable consent and approval. 

The duo also knows this wasn’t the best path to win you over but now that it's done, there’s no way back and letting you go isn't even an option.

“N-No.” your defiance is intoxicating for some unknown reason. 

“No, huh?” 

“Yes, I said no.” You don’t let the shake in your voice manifest. 

Meanwhile, the heat emanating from the shower starts to create a cloud of steam and being the only one with clothes on, you can feel the fabric beginning to stick against your skin. 

You don’t know how to be shameless regarding nakedness like them. As if they didn't care if someone else saw them….  Even as if they've seen each other naked a million times, and then, it hits you. 

“—Since when are you together?” 

Mikey hums, pensively, “We know each other since we were just your height, little one.” The blond openly jokes, and you can hear Draken snickering. 

“You are like one inch taller than me—” 

“You’ll do good to remember that.” Mikey keeps teasing, sassy grin curving his lips. 

Fed up with his antics, you stop tip toing around them, and aim for a punch under the belt. 

“Your boyfriend is being an asshole, Draken.” You spat, venom dripping from your tongue, crossing your arms in front of your chest a tense silence floats for a second too long, and it pops like a soap bubble when, they burst out laughing. 

“She is at us, baby.” 

Draken says between laughter, and you can hear his equally annoying buddy, clap a hand at his knee while holding his stomach, letting the laughter slowly die down. 

“(Y/N)—you perspicacious little thing…” Mikey chuckles out, and cleaning the remnant of tears from his eyes, shakes his head, “of course, Draken and I are a thing.” The short blond unashamedly, admits. 

“…Lover?” you murmur and quickly correct, “—boyfriend!” 

“The first one…” Mikey replies, unconcerned “and the second one—” continues, your mouth opens but he keeps going, “and… the third one.” 

Confusion reflects on your features and is quick to add. 

“He is mine—” easily claims, “the same as you are.” Shrugs his shoulders, unworriedly looking through your shoulder at Draken who plainly grins. 

“You can’t own a person…” you hear yourself whisper. 

“Sure, you can!” he boasts, “as long as he owns you back—” Mikey explains, standing up from the toilet lid to take a couple of leisured steps towards you “… and I promise you…” the bastard towers over you, even when he’s just a bit taller, “Its. Fucking. Fulfilling.” Closes the distance with each word until is face to face with you. 

The whole room begins to feel cramped; you feel like an animal inside a cage and sensing your weariness, Draken pats your shoulder, lightly. 

“You must be suffocating in so many clothes—you’d better take them off.” He suggests, previous warning buried under layers of patience. 

You hadn’t even noticed that you were profusely sweating, Toman’s uniforms are not for hot weather … or, rather for steam baths.

The fabric adhered to your skin feels awfully uncomfortable and soon the discomfort is so much that you don’t see another option.  No doubt that damn Draken did this on purpose, smart little bastard.

“—Could you turn around?” 

The request leaves your mouth out of your control and to your surprise, both comply.

They turn around without saying a word, and you stay still for a moment before starting to undress.  You know it's silly because they're going to have to see you eventually, but being granted this small favor makes you feel a little more in control. 

“Ready?” 

Mikey asks, since the noises of clothes falling to the ground stopped being heard, and you sigh heavily before answering.

“I would feel more comfortable if you let me bath on my own—” 

“We understand…” the ghost of a smile hunts your face for a brief moment when Mikey seems to yield “—but then who would wash your back,” but then he adds, wiping all mirth from your features right away, fake concern tainting his sarcastic tone, “or clean behind your ears…?” Draken joins following his lead, and you can hear the smirk on their faces even when you can’t see it. 

“—Does messing up with me bring you guys any kind of twisted pleasure?” you ask, making sure they notice your contempt for them, “or is it part of your supposed unconditional LOVE for me?” Your blatant mock makes you feel pleased when they don’t reply immediately. 

Finally, some payback, you think, but you couldn’t be more wrong because you just gave them the excuse they’ve been looking for, since the three entered the bathroom.

“She still doesn’t believe us, Kenchin.”

Mikey groans, stretching his back soundly, like subtly reminding you how strong they are compared to you. 

“I heard—” the dragon tattoo owner replies, “and it breaks my heart.” Draken sighs, yet it sounds false and combing his blond hair back, stresses.

“Sounds to me like it’s our sacred duty as her irrevocable boyfriends…” makes a meaningful pause for you to witness him slowly turn around to look at you while spelling the next words, “—to remind her who she belongs to now.”

Fear melts your satisfied grin into pure despair and taking a step away from the intimidating tall blond and his dark promise, your naked back bumps against a solid chest.

“I agree, baby...” Mikey´s voice sounds closer to your ear, “now (y/n) … It’s your decision how this will happen…” the Toman leader explains, pressing his strong chest flush against your bare back, resting his chin on the curve of your shoulder to spy your reactions, “… we can be gentle and sweet, or NONE…” putting a lock of hair behind your ear, pecks your cheek, gallantly and finishes, “your move.”

A loud breath tells them that you are getting awfully nervous, your gaze desperately searches for a way out, and they only follow your line of sight, yet don’t attempt to move. Until you try to take a step forward and as if in chain reaction, Mikey’s arm encircles your waist and Draken closes the distance, only leaving a centimeter of air that prevents your breast from colliding with his.

“I—…I believe you!” you lie, “there’s no need—” 

“Nop.” You feel Mikey´s lips glued to the shell of your ear, “Just decide.”

You hate being put in these scenarios, and you hate more that you are so afraid of them that you prefer a known devil, than a devil to know. So, disgusted by your next words, you shamefully reduce to play they little sick game of power. 

“Gentle.”

Both boys' smirk, wildly. Without a doubt, you are beginning to be trained to comply, and that pleases them very much, so much that they are going to gift you an extra special, session. 

“Smart move.” Draken praises, “of course, she´s our smart girl.” Mikey complements.

Is the last you hear before been push under the hot water jet, the sound of the water lapping at your skin drowns out every sinful moan you try so hard to bit back as their naughty hands and thirsty mouths, explore your curves without restraint. 

Trying to keep your legs closed is useless as teaming up, they spread them, effortlessly, losing all sense of composure and frantically both drag their fingers among your slick folds, enticing you to follow their euphoric pace. 

You can´t swallow the heavy moan that breaks your composure, and Draken presses his lips to the line of your jaw, you instantly go rigid at the gentle kiss, making you wonder how someone who looks so dangerous can be so mellow.  

“I know it´s only being a night since,” he whispers against your skin, fervently, maneuvering your palm to wrap around his warm, thick cock. “But don’t you ever stop us from touching you again, (y/n).” He groans and aids you to give him a good, rough squeeze, so he can slowly start to thrust his hips into your clenched fist.

“Fuck—that´s it.” He moans hoarsely, “keep going—Don´t s-stop...” your hand moves erratically, not sure how to please him and not sure if you want to keep going, when Mikey urges you to continue by wrapping his hand among your fingers, “Like this, Babygirl, Draken likes it when you pamper the head...” and following his instructions, you brush your thumb along the tip of his cock and Mikey hums approvingly when his bestie´s body jerks with it. “That´s a good girl.” The shorter blond praises, letting you keep going on your own.

Meanwhile, Mikey’s hands attack you gliding over your wet skin like a snake, caresses with a smooth continuous motion, insistently pursuing the curve of your breasts, squeezing hard enough for the plump flesh to spill among his fingers while his hard cock smears against your bottom, letting you nestle it between your butt cheeks, praises of how good your being falling from their mouths like water from the faucet. 

“Be honest with us, (Y/N),” Draken gasps, growing harder and harder in your hand, “at some point —Fuck....” his breathing stutters, “—this scenario had to cross your mind… at least once….”

“W-What—what scenario?” you murmur, overstimulation making your speech drag, for Mikey is unable to stop playing with your hardened nipples, “don´t stop—” Draken groans, and you begin to stroke his throbbing length up and down in time with his euphoric thrusts.  

“You guys are not my cup of tea...” you drag out, between pitiful whimpers and Mikey barks a humorless laugh before reply, “what's not to like, babe?... To me, you sound outstandingly pleased.”

“—Being fucked… without my-my consent—by two abusive gang members w-who won’t take no for… an answer?” how the fuck do you find the words to entice them even more is beyond them, but you do, “… and you ask—...what's not to like?”  

A crude chuckle quakes Draken’s chest with blessed amusement and he press soft, open-mouthed kisses along the heaving curve of your neck, letting his warm tongue come out to taste you and slowly disentangles your fingers off his length, for your attention to be solely on Mikey, who reaches one of his hands down to gently cup your cunt.

“It’s not ideal, of course,” Mikey admits, mindlessly and you gasp at his blatant honesty, hand in hand with his working fingers on you, “-we are not some stupid gang members who don't understand anything,” his words are being muffled by your skin when his lips trace your shoulder, “we also understand that what we did, has consequences—” he agrees, and you realize why he´s one of the most respected leaders among the gangs, “but everything has a solution... if you accept us as yours.” 

You groan deliriously when his digits scissor your sensitive cunt.  “We´ll give you anything, sweet girl.” A ragged gasp tears through your throat and his back straightens, proudly at hearing your melodic orgasm rip out through your convulsing frame. “Thats it —” he breaths against your ear, “... that orgasm was nothing compared to what awaits you, if you say YES.”

Collapsing against Mikey´s body, he all too pleased holds you, lifting you a little off the floor, patiently waiting for your legs to work again.

“There is nothing you can do—to make me say yes...” you strive for your voice to sound firm but fail miserably, even so, the message is sent... “—nothing.”

“Well, that was disappointing...” Mikey slumps down a little, “but hey! this was my first attempt to woo you—” Oh my God, they had to be kidding... “I'm sure the others will be successful, and soon you'll come back to your senses, ain't that right, Draken?”

Draken nods, “—but that doesn't mean we can't help her to cope, Mikey,” he adds, wickedly.

“Ain´t you smart, baby…” Mikey praises his lover.

“Just...this time... let ME set the tune—” Draken calls dibs.

“By all means, Commander.” Mikey concedes.

Your sarcastic comeback catches in your throat as the tall blond, invasively slides his palm between your buttocks, and his thick thumb breaches the sanctity of your ass.

You raggedly gasp, stunned by his audacity.  

“—Don´t...!”

“Shhh... just relax and let me work you.”

Your body fills with wildfire, ladling heat into your lower tummy. The sensation is genuinely mind shattering, no one has ever done something like that to you... not even yourself, the discomfort is too fleeting, only remaining a feeling that you cannot describe. 

Your eyes shut tight as your mouth forms an “o” shape, but no sound comes out, and Mikey takes advantage of the moment of blindness to slide his fingers inside your tired slit, thumb designated to your clit, making lazy circles over your vulnerable bundle of nerves.

“It feels—I feel...w-weird,” you gasp out, swallowing thickly and reaching your hand out to rest along the smoothness of Mikey´s neck.  He noticeably leans into your touch. “Relax, baby, just let him work.” He advices reassuringly, peeking down at Draken pumping his thumb, in and out of your virgin ass. 

Your fingers squeeze gently, ranking your nails among the wet skin you can find. “...I don´t think... I can handle—”

“Sure, you can—” Draken is swift to interrupt you, thick fingers abandoning your spasming asshole to brace you up into his arms, you manage to stay remarkably still for someone who is being forced to straddle and present its ass out.  

“I think she´s as ready as she will be.” Mikey suddenly says, speaking to Draken while ignoring your constant pleas for them to stop. “I guess, it´ll hurt,” Draken´s sigh presses against the side of your face, and glimpsing Mikey´s furrowed brows, hurries to add “—but just for a second before she stretches.”

The skin of Draken´s back feels feverishly warm under your fidgety palms as his toned muscles periodically flicker and shine under the slippery gush of water.

“Hold on tight to me, (y/n).” Draken instructs, sliding his palms from your thighs to your ass where he parts your butt cheeks for Mikey to dip the head of his cock inside your butthole.

You have to bite down on your lip, hard and harder, when Mikey suddenly impales you to the hilt in one swift roll of his hips, splitting you wide open in one single sharp thrust, which drags a pitched scream out of you and a highly pleasurable and long grunt, out of him.

“Oh my—….FUCK!” he blasts, out of breath “Oh my fucking god,” his head falls back, gasping deeply.  

“...That good?” Draken wonders, firmly holding the sides of your thighs to keep you sprawl, Mikey nods.  

“I´m gonna—make her milk me ´till she burst,” Mikey mutters raggedly, before setting a brutal pace, your moan piercingly loud, forcing Draken to cover your mouth. “Easy there, gorgeous, we don't want the whole brothel to wake up,” Draken says, and once he sees your brows starting to smooth again, he takes it as his cue to massage your ass before burying himself inside your cunt to the hilt. This is too fucking much. Your body is reaching a point of overstimulation you had never experienced before and noticing your slitted, crossed eyes, the sub-commander takes a long stilling moment for you to accommodate and enjoy the way you feel so asphyxiatingly tight around them, thanks to how well both are filling you. 

“Thi-This...This is definitely it, Babygirl, you are so... so PERFECT.”

“She´s doing so well,” Mikey´s eyes remain tightly shut to be able to last, the slapping of his grinding hips against your ass a constant sound among your pitiful whimpers. “I’m so fucking close,” his voice sounds annoyed, “this kitten´s reaaaaally squeezing down on me, good—Fuck.”

“I know—...Ngh! So, fucking cramped-…. this cunt is...—driving me nuts.” Draken’s long, and awfully thick, every thrust of his fat cock nudges against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. 

You feel them sync up, and suddenly each thrust is appropriately devastating to your inexperienced body, not a trace of pain left, just the feeling of being impossibly stuffed. Your mouth drops open, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when Mikey sinks his canines to your shoulder. “M cumming,” and, bites hard to prevent the loud growl when he spills his seed inside you so fucking violent, it makes his legs almost collapse under his weight. 

“´Yo still with us, Mikey?” Draken barks a laugh when his leader slumps down into the solid ground with a maniac grin stretching his lips like a wild man. His back continues to rise and fall with quiet, unsteady breaths, clearly passed out from overexertion. “Oh my god... oh my fucking God, Kenchin—...I'm going to burst into happy tears, man.”

“´Yo kidding, right?” Draken reaches up and takes one fistful of your hair to lean your face to his, but you are already half-way numb, and groaning a little, he keeps fucking you, steady and slow.

“Then, you call it a day.” Draken hurries to ask his fallen comrade, hips never faltering, your legs limp at each side of him.

“I, fucking, am—” Mikey grunts, too pleased with the experience to even care.

“So, do I have green light to: do whatever the fuck I want with our kitten?” he smirks, slowing down for a second to rub your back, affectional. 

“Sure, man, fuck her stupid... stupider, if that’s even possible.” 

Mikey enjoys the show from the wet floor. Draken gives your ass a hard slap which makes you wince out of your numbness, and throws his head back in ecstasy, allowing your gummy walls to embrace him at its fullest. 

“’M about to find out.” 

COMING SOON PART 7....

⭕️ In my PATREON LINK you will find NSFW art of this chapter and more spicy Tokyo Rev NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction.... Plus 'Spicy Foreplay tier reward' like: voting poll privilege for the exclusively Patreon one-shot stories where you can choose the couple pairing and kinky mood for the story and NSFW art, along with some naughty animation like THIS ONE ....and my eternal and vast gratitude for your support!!!

[412foryou]

The last one.

“bless your heart, make you part of my life forever. and always.”

₊˚ pairing– sunwoo x gn!reader

₊˚ genre– hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers.

₊˚ overview– sunwoo comforts you after an unpleasant event. you go for a drive in his car, in the sunset. a confession at the beach. kissing.

₊˚ word count– 3k

₊˚ warnings– depictions of feelings of anxiety/social anxiety and loneliness; self-conscious, depressive thoughts.

₊˚ notes– I'm finally giving this a try! I'm super excited to write on here!! the beautiful pictures sunwoo posted on ig made me think of the idea for this fic. I got inspired to write it while I was feeling really down myself, and even though it's pretty specific, I felt like I could share it here, in hopes that this might comfort anyone else who needs it. it took me a week to finish this, but I enjoyed every moment of it. note that this is my first fic in a while, so please be kind. I'd love to hear what you think about it!! and btw! stuff in italics is for the reader's thoughts.

like & reblog if you enjoy please <3

♪₊˚ song— tejano blue by cigarettes after s*x.

it's so loud.

you can hear the noisy chatter of the people in your group, bantering and laughing out loud.

what are they laughing so much about? are they laughing about.. about me?

you sink in your seat, hands in pockets, body slumping even more than before, aiming to merge with the chair. your eyebrows set low, unknowingly glaring at the group.

"hey, you okay?" one of them calls out, making you perk up, but you know it isn't a genuine question, so you lower your eyes, nodding briefly.

a scoff. "it's no use talking to them, they're not gonna answer you." another voice retorts, clearly tipsy. you try to pay it no mind.

it was fine before, they didn't care much. why now?

but before you can come up with an answer to your own question, your thoughts are interrupted with laughter, even louder this time.

they're laughing at me.

the discomfort that gradually began setting in since you first stepped into the building, was about to overflow. so you go to stand up and leave, while your mind imagines the remarks they could be throwing at you.

"leaving already? so boring."

"they're so weird"

"wow, that's one scary kid."

"not worth our time."

"yeah, you better leave."

real or not, it didn't make much of a difference for you. you still cared, it still bothered you, no matter how miserable that might sound. the non-spoken words sharp and piercing, biting at your skin. you brushed both of your arms up and down roughly to rid your mind of the thoughts.

it burns.

so much for trying to socialize.

you awkwardly squeeze through people crowded in groups outside, keeping your eyes on the ground, paying no mind to where you're headed.

you just need to get away from there, as far as possible, and quickly. you don't even check your surroundings, as your legs seem to be taking charge right now, shaking but not able to stop moving ahead.

I'm so embarrassing. I'm just so...

you're continuously reminded of what happened at the bar, the image seemingly stuck in your brain. the mocking laughter replaying over and over, taunting you, leaving no choice but to think about it.

why can't I just do it the way they can, what is wrong with me?

they all seem to like it.

why doesn't it come naturally to me too?

why do I have to force myself?

you walk with your head down, trying to hold in your tears. you knew this wouldn't end well, you didn't expect anything from it, and yet,

I'm pathetic. I'm disgusting. and I'm miserable.

I knew this wasn't a good idea, why did I even..

they all probably hate me now. the way I am.

I feel so sorry for myself-

there's a halt in you thoughts, as in your steps. you notice you've bumped shoulders with someone.

wait- what am I doing, where am I?

you frantically take a look around, only to find yourself in an unfamiliar place, yet again, the anxiety sets in. you have no way of telling where you are.

the sun will set soon, too. shit-

you walk around in hopes to find a way to get back to your place, maybe think of something. but, you remember-

sunwoo has my location! yes. he'll help.

you mentally thank yourself for thinking of that, taking your phone out to text your friend.

"changed my mind, come get me."

the reply is almost instantaneous, as it always is whenever it's sunwoo you're texting.

"be there in 10. stay where you are."

a sigh of relief escapes through your lips, your shoulders feeling lighter, knowing you'll be on your way soon. but you still need to-

I have to go back to that place.

reluctantly making your way back to the bar, you linger nearby, just so sunwoo can find you, but not close enough to be spotted by anyone else. pulling your hood up, you put your hands in your pockets, shifting back and forth, unable to stay still.

it's fine. it's alright now. it's over. he'll be here soon. I'm okay..

letting a big puff of air out, you try to steady your stance, your breath shaky. you lean your elbows on the railing in front of some shop, as the light from inside gives you shelter from the darkness of the street.

I wish I didn't have to be like this.

you tuck your head into your arms.

this always happens, I don't know why I thought this time would be different.

I should've never come.

I'm shameful.

I'm ashamed!

regardless of your efforts to hold back, you still feel a single stubborn tear touch your skin, staining your sleeves. a sniffle. you can't be crying like this outside,

but I've already embarrassed myself anyway.

another involuntary sniffle, and a tear on the other side of your face. it's gotten colder. a warm hand on your shoulder.

frightened, your head springs up, your eyes frantically searching for the person the hand belongs to. your body slackens in his grip. thank god. the hand on your shoulder moves to stroke your back.

"I'm here." a gentle smile.

you feel the tear streaks drying on the sides of your face in the light breeze as you look back at sunwoo. you're so drained that you feel as though you've lost the ability to form words, so you can only hope your eyes are able to relay your thoughts to him.

I'm exhausted.

sunwoo's gaze shifts between your eyes trying to gauge anything that hints at your mood. his other hand comes up to wipe your cheekbone. and it stays there, holding the side of your face.

a quiet gasp. "you're freezing! I should've been quicker. I'm sorry." he retracts his hand on your cheek. the one still on your back guides you in a certain direction, your body completely relaxed and yielding in his hold. you're safe now, sunwoo knows what to do. you know to trust him.

before you know it you feel warm again. even though the roof of sunwoo's cabriolet is folded, even though it's even colder now, even though the breeze blows rougher. the warmth seems to be spreading from within, a feeling, your heartbeat slow and steady. sunwoo buckles your seatbelt for you and closes the door.

don't go.

he rounds the vehicle to get in his seat on the other side. you knew he wouldn't leave, but

still..

"I'll pull the roof back up in a minute." he has taken off his jacket and it's now spread over your lap. "I didn't know it'd get this cold, should've thought to fix it before coming to get you." he halts his movements when he feels your hand on his arm.

I want to feel the breeze.

"you want me to leave it?" a mild nod from you, eyes downturned. he gazes back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "okay... but put the jacket on properly, the breeze is strong."

when you don't make a move to comply as he instructed, he leans over and carefully adjusts the jacket so that it covers more of you, giving you a sliver of a smile.

soon enough the blow of the wind picks up as sunwoo starts driving. you lean your head back, resting it on the headrest. the bitter gusts of wind crash into your face, turning it red, keeping you awake. you can feel the frigid air burning your skin, soothing your body. your eyelids drop to focus on the feeling as you take in a deep breath.

that feels nice.

I can breathe again.

you open your eyes and look out the window. the city lights are harsh and bright, dazzling you, making you squint, your view of them softening.

"are you cold?" asks sunwoo in a low voice. yes. but it feels good. slowly tilting your head, you face him, beyond him a glimpse of the beach.

your gaze fixes on sunwoo, eyes listless. only now taking notice of his appearance. laid back in the seat, his arm rests on the door, the other one gripping the wheel. arms bare, your eyes linger. soon enough they shift to look at his dark hair flying around with the wind. thick eyebrows set firm in concentration. eyes half lidded, but alert. you can still see the restlessness in them. he keeps stealing sideway glances at you, eager to grasp your thoughts. you pay it no mind, because..

he's so beautiful.

and most of all, his skin is glowing golden even in the dark, now illuminated scarlet as you stop at a red light. he turns his head toward you "hmm?"

ah,

you forgot he'd asked a question. that snaps you out of your dazed state effectively. blinking rapidly to rid your eyes of the haze.

shit, I got distracted.

clearing your throat, your voice raspy, "sorry. no, I'm not cold." you fidget with the sleeves of your hoodie. you hear him sigh softly. he's facing ahead again, the light green. "you.. okay?" you can hear the concern in his voice and your heart swells.

"yeah, I'm good." averting your eyes from his face, feeling sheepish.

your response doesn't seem to ease his worry, "you can talk to me, you know I don't mind. I'll listen." his words so gentle, you barely hear them.

he's so kind to me.

your eyes shift to your lap. sunwoo's jacket has slid down, and you can see your fingers picking at the skin on your hands.

why... does he treat me like this?

when other people seem to have given up on me completely?

he's too kind.

"I..." you try to form an intelligible sentence. an exhale- "I'm alright. I'm just fine.. if you're with me." you try not to look over at him. "everything sort of.. feels okay when you're here." you breathe deep, in and out. voice trembling. "I just want you to know that.. I'm thankful- for everything you do for me. even though, I don't get why you do this... I know I can be... difficult. to understand, and to talk to most of the time. I guess I'm grateful that you try. and that you've kept me with you despite.. that, I don't give anything in return. and I'm sorry." you trail off, tears welling in your eyes. "anyway, just thank you." you finish with a sniffle.

sunwoo is quiet. you're too afraid to meet eyes with him, so you keep your head down.

why isn't he saying anything?

did I make him uncomfortable?

you wipe your nose with a sleeve. another awkward sniff.

should've just stayed quiet. it wasn't even that serious..

I'm sorry for being like this.

however, before your mind can make your grey thoughts into a whirlpool and suck you in, you see colors seep into the darkness. you look up in surprise and find the source. the now setting sun seems to be casting the purple-pink light on the waves just before you.

"it has never once felt like that to me." you turn your head, the beams reaching his face too, making you stare. he's looking ahead.

"our.. friendship. I have never thought of it as a chore, a challenge- maybe. because we're so different from each other, there's a lot to consider. but.." he shakes his head, lowering it, "oh my god- I always thought of this-" he gestures between the two of you. "as something precious, something I needed to protect. if anything, it felt like it was you keeping me close." he brings his head back up but still doesn't glance your way.

...what?

eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion you question, "you.. but, why? there's nothing I have to offer, I mean.." he brings his head back up, concern evident in the way he looks at you. you avoid his eyes, bashful. "you're.. you're so ordinary. you know.. you can befriend anyone, do anything you want.. you're likable, and I don't know.. I'm- I'm just me. and I can barely take being alive, at least..." you sigh shakily, it's so hard to talk about this. "but that was before, now I don't think it's all that bad. and it's all because you came into my life." you didn't even notice you'd started to cry, until you felt sunwoo's thumb on your face, wiping the tears away. you let him, eyes glazed over.

he makes this even more difficult than it already is.

he retracts his hand. you shift your eyes once more. "you know, whenever I think of myself, I'm always out of place. nothing comes naturally to me, like it does with others, and it- it's so frustrating... it's lonely. and it makes me hate myself. but.. weirdly enough, all it took for me to feel at least a little bit normal, was one person who understood me. who listened to me. you're my link to the rest of the world, the only thing that keeps my feet on the ground. I- I really don't know where I would be right now, if you weren't by my side." you feel more silent tears escape.

my whole existence is disgraceful.

but I don't regret this, he has to know how much he means to me.

"I know it's selfish as well, that I wish for you to stay here forever. but.. truly, you're the sole good thing in my life." you've never felt so exposed and vulnerable before, putting your heart on display, right in front of sunwoo.

"it isn't, selfish- I mean." he catches you off guard, so you turn to look. you notice colors dimming on his face, the sunset imminent. he's got a warm expression on his face, one full of tenderness. "well if it is, then I must be selfish too. because I can never imagine my life without you in it either." he leans over, resting his elbow on the armrest in-between your seats. "it honestly breaks my heart that you think that way about yourself, I wish I could take those feelings away from you.." he reaches over with his other hand and takes your hood off. "I don't know how much I'll be able to help, but I can promise that I'll always try to. I'll be here, whenever you need me." his gaze shifts to the top of your head briefly, patting your hair into place. "and I need you with me, just as much. so, don't ever think like that, okay?"

you should've known better than to doubt sunwoo's feelings. he's the one that gets you, even if no words are exchanged. of course, he'd understand. he always has. but.. it's hard to focus on that, when he's just

he's so close.

your heartbeat picks up, alerting you of the proximity between your faces. you can feel the heat of sunwoo's breath on your ice cold face, as you try to keep your own even. try to keep your mind clear, aware.

oh god...

he eyes your lips for a moment, and you can hear it in his slightly quickened breaths-

he feels it too.

your eyes lock, and you feel like you're going insane. with the way he's looking at you, gaze filled with longing. with the way his hand's still resting in your hair. with the way your heart just can't seem to calm. with the way your faces have frozen into place, neither moving an inch to break the distance. it all makes you want to..

I desperately want to kiss him.

"I want to kiss you." you're not even sure who asked the question, because it was whispered, and because you're too tired to make sense of anything. "...can I?" oh, it was him, after all. his voice so soft, but breathy- rushed with desire.

please.

instead of answering, you pull him in by the back of his head, rushing to connect your lips. your eagerness visible in the intensity of the kiss. this stuns sunwoo for a brief second, but he meets your lips and steadies the kiss, slowing you down.

..finally.

he holds you by the jaw. your lips moving in sync, almost naturally. you pull at his hair. you can feel him smiling into the kiss.

he's driving me crazy.

the kiss can't last forever, you have to pull away to take a breath. you can feel the dissatisfaction in the way sunwoo whines lowly. it pleases you, to know he yearns for you the same way you do, for him.

I can't believe we just kissed.

your faces remain close still, seemingly unable to pull apart, now that you've connected. the sound of your heavy breaths and the waves crashing, the only thing to be heard. you wait for each other to regain oxygen back in your lungs. sunwoo's cheeks are flushed cherry, but you're sure yours are worse.

I can't believe I just kissed sunwoo.

he holds your cheek in his palm now, thumb stroking the blush on it, gaze filled with adoration.

is this really happening?

sunwoo's half lidded eyes are relentless in raking over your face, noticing every detail, staring. but it isn't uncomfortable, you don't feel self-conscious. you feel seen.

"you're beautiful." he confesses with care.

he likes me.

he finds me beautiful.

his bold words don't make you question their genuineness. you feel confident in the way you look from his point of view, you know you're beautiful, because he sees it.

tightening your grip on his hair, pulling a strand, you look at his swollen mouth "you have no idea, how long I've waited for this." he ducks his head, smiling shyly. ...he's so.. cute.

bringing both of your hands together, you cup his flushed face.

pretty.

you take a moment to study him. he lets you. after a few moments of silence, he whispers "me too. I've longed for you.. without even realizing." he's a bit hesitant in his words, avoiding your gaze. you didn't know shy sunwoo would come as a punch to your heart, making your affection for him grow.

so adorable.

smiling softly, you lean in to taste his lips once more. this time you make sure to go slow and sunwoo melts into the kiss. he moves his lips according to your pace, kissing you back tenderly. you feel content in his presence, his lips touching yours, comfortable and familiar.

I feel so... warm.

you gently lift your lips from his, but stay near, foreheads joined together. you can feel the breeze biting. your mind screams at you, begging, to connect your mouth back with his again. sunwoo's low breaths grazing your lips not helping the case.

I miss his touch.

the side of his mouth upturned, as if reading your mind, sunwoo briefly brushes your lips with his plump ones.

I need more.

but brief isn't enough. you yearn for him, his touch in the way that wouldn't be sated with a momentary peck. a noise of frustration leaves your lips, and he catches on, finding your impatience cute.

a chuckle. his lips back on yours.

perfect.

[python333]

task force 141 reacting to [reader] telling them corny jokes during a mission — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says, tf141 reacts to you telling them some corny dad jokes during a mission!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], bad jokes.

note ME AND MY 23 FOLLOWERS ARE STRAIGHT CHILLING RN. i love all of u. anyway gaz is in this one!! yippee!! i thought about ghost and his jokes in that one part of one of the cod games idk ive never played them i watch other people play it but you guys know what im talking about. i also just figured out that i should probably specify gender neutral reader for my fics?? so i'll start doing that! ANYWAY enjoy!! this is all fluff and has some classic tired parent & hyper toddler energy in the first part :}

JOHN “BRAVO SIX” PRICE

➥ insert exasperated sigh here.

➥ he will let you keep telling him jokes, however he will only respond to them with a simple, tired, “Uh huh. Good one. Very funny. Nice one.”

➥ tired dad energy.

➥ the first one you told was okay. he laughed at that one. the tenth one? please, god, just stop talking and put him out of his misery.

➥ he wonders how you know so many jokes, and then wonders if you got them all from ghost.

➥ if you did get them from ghost, trust that he will be telling the man himself all about how you constantly told him bad jokes over comms.

➥ if you just happen to know all of these, he won’t be surprised.

➥ he’ll put up with all of the jokes, for your sake, of course.

➥ the first time this happens, you’re both on a pretty insignificant mission compared to other ones you’ve done.

➥ you’re both talking over comms, just making sure you’re both okay.

➥ that’s when you started your attack.

—

“Captain?” You’d asked, listening as Price hummed in acknowledgment of you talking, “Wanna hear a joke?”

You could practically hear his hesitation, before he responded with a tentative, almost scared, “... Sure, [c/n].”

A delighted grin split across your face as you asked him, “How does dry skin affect you at work?”

He thought for a moment before asking, “How?”

“You don’t have any elbow grease to put into it.” You heard Price give a small chuckle, and decided to ask, “Wanna hear another one?”

Price’s second mistake of the evening, “Sure.”

“Where do boats go when they’re sick?” You asked, still keeping a lookout on your surroundings on your end while focusing on telling your Captain shitty jokes.

“Where?” Price asked.

“To the boat doc.” It took Price a moment, before he huffed out a small laugh and muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “Jesus, that’s terrible.”

Without warning, you tell him another one. He asks why, when, how, or what, whichever was appropriate for the joke you told, and slowly but surely his questioning tone became tired and exasperated. You don’t know why, but somehow his miserable tone made you even more motivated to tell him corny jokes.

“Do you just… memorize all of these?” Price asked in the middle of you telling a new joke, sounding almost astonished.

“Yes I do. Just for these missions, I do,” You answered confidently, smiling when Price sighed. You continued on with your joke, and even though Price didn’t respond verbally, you still told the punch line. You had repeated this for at least ten minutes, all of those minutes appallingly slow to Price, the poor man having to endure your bullshit for such a short yet such a long time. At the tenth minute, the only thing that stopped you from continuing was Gaz’s voice coming on over comms and interrupting you, telling everyone else on the mission that they could head back to the rendezvous point. Price, relieved at the interruption, gave a thankful sigh and you could hear him getting up from his spot before he muted himself.

You sighed as well, yours a direct opposite of Prices, full of disappointment, but you let it go. Besides, you’ll always have more opportunities to terrorize Price with your jokes on the ride back to base!

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ he has the same reaction he had with ghost telling him corny jokes.

➥ he’ll call your jokes terrible, but will still laugh at them somehow.

➥ will 100% put up with your jokes, will laugh every time, even if his laughter slowly becomes more and more strained, he’ll laugh.

➥ tells you some jokes back, but after your 4th joke, he gives up and accepts his fate.

➥ he will suffer for your entertainment, guaranteed.

➥ he will be sure to remind you of how terrible your jokes are though!!

➥ he’s honestly impressed by how many jokes you’ve memorized.

➥ he’ll happily support you doing this to other people, no matter how much it damages his soul when you do it to him.

➥ the first time you do it to him, he starts getting deja vu from when ghost did it to him.

➥ “Oh, God, no’ ye too,” he’d groan playfully the moment you start telling him jokes, getting flashbacks.

➥ enjoys your jokes, even if he would do anything for you to shut up, he still enjoys them.

—

You and Soap were camping out in the same spot—atop a roof of a tall building that was just tall enough to give you a view of practically every other building in the area as well as the ground. It was cold up there, the air so cold that every time you’d exhaled, your breath turned to white condensation before fading into the clear sky.

It was fair to say that you and Soap were fairly bothered by the cold, so you really had no other option, you just had to start telling your jokes. How else could you warm the both of you up? Sure, it wouldn’t do anything physically, but mentally? It was sure to practically melt Soap’s brain.

“Soap?” Soap hummed and looked over at you, “Wanna hear a joke?”

Soap smiled, and decided to humor you, “Sure. Joke ‘way.”

“Why couldn’t the bike stand up by itself?” You asked, turning fully towards Soap. He didn’t bother to think before asking, “Why?”

“Because it was two-tired.” It took him a moment, but eventually he huffed out a small laugh and nodded.

“No’ bad,” He’d hummed, “Want me to say one?”

“Go ahead.”

“How did vikings communicate with one another?” Soap asked, turning fully towards you in turn.

“How?”

“By Norse code,” Soap had said with a grin on his face, clearly proud of the joke. You laughed quietly at it.

Without asking, you tell another joke. “Why did the bed wear a disguise?”

“Why?”

“It was undercover.”

Soap chuckled and turned back down to the ground, assuming you were done. But, oh boy, did he assume wrong. You told another one. He asked for the punchline. You delivered. You told another. He asked again. You delivered, again. Can you recall just how many jokes you told that fateful night? No. Does that make the memory any less funny to look back on? No.

Soap’s expression slowly turned to one of misery, his laughter becoming strained and slowly coming to a stop, the light in his eyes fading away as God himself seemed to appear behind you and reassure him that it would all be over soon. God, how he wished that were true.

Soon enough, you were both told over comms that you were able to safely make it back to the rendezvous point, and Soap couldn’t be happier.

He let you tell him more jokes during the walk over there, of course, and made sure to tell you how awful they were, but still endured them for your sake.

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ it’s like he’s been preparing for this moment his whole life.

➥ he’ll put up with your jokes and will tell you a joke back every single time.

➥ at some point you guys will probably use a joke on each other that the other one told you.

➥ he actively enjoys the joke-telling.

➥ he probably tells the first joke and that’s what triggers you to tell him your own.

➥ he’s annoyed soap, gaz, price, and a few others with his jokes, yet you’re the first one to go back and forth with him.

➥ every time you tell him one he’ll make a mental note of it and remember it for annoying people on future missions.

➥ probably thinks some of the jokes are genuinely funny but still knows that it annoys people.

➥ if you tell him a corny joke related to ghosts, he’ll probably laugh more.

➥ i am aware that that is pretty corny in itself but look at the title man what did you expect.

➥ he’ll probably tell some jokes about your [c/n] to you back.

➥ he’ll know when you’re reusing a joke and calls you out on it.

➥ “Does this require more creativity than you expected, [c/n]?”

➥ [in a perfect imitation of matpat’s voice] i find his jokes delightful! [in regular voice, now whispering as if scared i’m going to get caught by ghost saying this] i’m lying. he’s my fictional father figure so i am very much obligated to enjoy his jokes.

—

”[c/n], how copy?” You heard Ghost’s voice crackle through over comms, and pushed the PTT button on your small ear piece to respond.

“Copy, doing just fine,” You responded, “Little bored, if I’m gonna be honest.”

“Oh really?” Ghost breathed out, sounding amused. You could hear some gunfire on his end, and the wind his his earpiece making the annoying whoosh noise you hated. Just a few moments later, Ghost spoke up again, “Y’wanna hear a joke to ease your boredom?”

“Sure,” You’d hummed, looking around to make sure you were still safe to just stay where you were and chat for a moment.

“What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back?” Ghost asked, his voice dry and sarcastic. You thought for a moment before shrugging—even though he couldn’t see you—and asking, “What?”

“A stick.” Ghost delivered. The stupid joke made you huff out a small laugh and mutter under your breath something about how good it was, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically hear Ghost’s self-satisfied smile.

“Another?” Ghost offered.

“How about I tell one?”

“Alright. Go ‘head.”

“How do ghosts stay in shape?” You asked, listening to Ghost’s amused huff on the other end of the line, like he knew where you were going with the joke but decided not to say the punch line for you.

“How?”

“They exorcize,” You responded, grinning, proud of yourself for thinking of that one.

“That’s not bad,” Ghost hummed, “Not bad at all.”

Ghost stayed quiet for another moment before asking, “Where do fish keep their money?”

“Where?”

“In a river bank,” Ghost said, his smile almost audible in his words.

“Nice one, L.t,” You breathed out, laughing quietly.

“We could do this all night,” Ghost mused, oddly happy at the sound of your quiet laughter, a little rustling audible on his end.

“Is that a challenge?” You asked in response to his musings, to which Ghost responds with a simple, affirmative hum. You think for a moment, before asking, “Why can’t a leopard hide?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s always spotted.”

Ghost hummed, mentally writing that one down before asking, “Why did the scarecrow get an award?”

“Why?”

“Because he was outstanding in his field,” Ghost delivered. With each joke you cringed more, and yet you kept responding with the same bullshit. The two of you went back and forth with the shitty jokes, eliciting responses from each other like, “That’s a good one,” or, “God, that’s awful.” It really had no in between, it was one or the other.

Eventually, and just in time because you were beginning to run out of jokes, Price’s voice crackled through over comms, letting you both know that everything was now under control and gave you both the coordinates for the rendezvous point. Before you get up from your spot, you can hear Ghost asking Price, “Wanna hear a joke?”, and Price’s quick response of, “I’m good”, the quick interaction making you laugh quietly.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” You muttered, voice full of amusement.

“Damn right he doesn’t,” Ghost huffed out, chuckling quietly when Price groaned and muted himself.

—

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

➥ he just gives up and accepts his fate.

➥ i’m actually in full belief that he’ll just let you tell jokes and won’t even respond.

➥ if y’all are in the same spot, he’ll just stare at you in astonished silence, wondering how you know all of this and also wondering if he’ll make it out of this alive.

➥ i think he’s lovely, i also think that he would just let you do whatever.

➥ it’s like an older brother participating in his younger sibling’s tea party with their stuffed animals and bright pink plastic tea cups and fake tea.

➥ he considers taking out his earpiece but then realizes that that’s a bad idea so he just suffers through it.

➥ surprisingly, it’s easy to focus on his tasks even with your voice in the background.

➥ he’s only heard of ghost’s shitty jokes, and thinks that this might be worse, somehow.

➥ i mean, it’s not like he can’t ignore it, but he feels kind of bad that he does.

➥ he hums every now and then to remind you that he’s listening but he’s too caught up in pretending to listen to actually listen.

➥ when the mission’s over and you eventually stop telling your jokes he realizes how quiet it is without your voice in the background laughing at your own jokes.

—

“Why do bees have sticky hair?” You asked, this being about your twentieth joke of that evening. Gaz hummed in response, tone questioning, and you delivered the punch line, “Because they use a honeycomb.”

Gaz didn’t pay much attention to any of your punchlines, really just letting you get all of this out of your system, figuring that if you didn’t do it now it’d happen to some poor soul later. He accepted his fate early on, the moment you told your third dad joke, he knew it wouldn’t end. Call it a sixth sense of his, knowing when you’d be persistent in your quest to annoy every member of the 141, but he just knew.

“Where do surfers learn to surf?” You asked, giggling quietly at your own joke, despite the punchline being stupid. Gaz didn’t even respond, yet you still delivered, “At boarding school.”

Gaz considers taking his earpiece out for a moment, then thinks again and decides it’s probably better not to, knowing Price’s voice could crackle through into the earpiece and let you both know to head to the rendezvous point. Sighing quietly, he continued to look around him, scanning the area as he walked around, making sure no enemies were left alive. Your voice still hummed in the background, the sound becoming more normal to him and less distracting.

“Why did the tourists feel disappointed after seeing the Liberty Bell?” No response from Gaz. “Because it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

“What do rabbits need after getting caught in the rain?” A small, questioning hum. “A hare dryer.”

You continued to tell your jokes, and in the middle of one, Gaz interrupted.

“Y’know,” He started, “If you didn’t already have a call sign, we’d be calling you Jester.”

“I’d love to go by Jester,” You laughed quietly, lightly, “I feel like it’d be more fitting.”

“Probably, yeah,” Gaz chuckled quietly, about to say something else before Price’s voice came through over comms and let you both know to head over to the rendezvous point. After you stop telling your jokes and mute yourself, Gaz can’t help but notice how quiet it becomes.

He got a bit too used to your voice, it seems. He muted himself and sighed, pulling up the coordinates to the rendezvous point and heading over there.

[ezm-imagines]

maybe it’s inevitable - eddie munson x reader

SUMMARY: You build up the courage to finally ask Eddie on a date! Buuut he thinks you’re just trying to buy drugs. 😬

TAGS: eddie munson x fem!cheerleader!reader,  angst to fluff, Eddie is an idiot who doesn’t believe you’d ask him out, pining, no season spoilees!

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

[ EDDIE’S POV (Part Two) ]

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

Y/N POV

It was just like any other normal day at Hawkins High. You were sitting with Chrissy and all your friends, but yet again staring hopelessly at the Hellfire table. Well, not quite the whole table…

“You’re so gone for him,” Chrissy laughed, her ponytail swishing behind her.

You wish you could argue, but she’s so right.

“I know,” you mumbled.

“So! Ask him out!”

“I don’t know, Chriss. I don’t think he’d agree. He hates cheerleaders.”

“No way! You’re always telling me you think he’s way sweeter than he looks. If he’s so sweet, then he totally wouldn’t judge you like that. Just try it, Y/N! Maybe he’ll give you a chance…”

“I don’t know—“

“Honey, you’re literally the prettiest girl in this whole school. If he doesn’t get over his crap enough to go out with you, then he’s delusional and blind and dumb.”

You gave your friend a small smile.

“So go ask him out already so I don’t have to watch you keep pining across the room for him,” she pushed you slightly. You sighed, but decided maybe she was right.

It was nearing the end of the school year after all, and Eddie and you both were about to graduate. You didn’t have a lot of time. Besides, if it went poorly, that only meant an awkward couple months of avoiding him. You could do this. You took a deep breath and stood up.

“Yes! You got this!” Chrissy cheered.

You rubbed your hands together nervously as you approached his table.

Several other Hellfire members caught your arrival, staring up at you with wide eyes and gaping mouths. You watched them all start whispering to each other frantically. Oh God. You dug your nails into your hand to force yourself not to turn and run.

Just do it just do it just do it.

“Hey!” You gave your best attempt at a smile as you sat down next to Eddie. It was hard to smile when you could feel the lunch you just ate rising back up your stomach from the nerves.

“Hi.” His eyes bore through you, waiting for what you wanted. You looked down at your sleeves. His eyes were your fucking kryptonite. The only way you’d get through this would be to not look at him.

“Uh… you wanna…” you ran your thumb nails together, “maybe… meet up this Saturday?” You manage. There. It’s out. You did it. You look up finally, catching his gaze.

Fifty emotions flicker through Eddie’s brown eyes but the one he settles on is… disappointment?

You felt your heart shatter in your chest.

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

“Oh, we don’t have to,” you say, already trying to back out. Clearly he’s not interested, and you really don’t want his pity.

“No, no, we… can,” he decided, “Uh. My place? … Or we could meet in the—“

“No! Your place is fine! Uh, how’s 6 sound?”

He just nodded, the sad frown not leaving his face.

You nodded back, “Cool. See you then.”

You didn’t even wait for his response before you returned to your table, feeling utterly miserable.

“So! What did he say?!” Chrissy asked, tugging at your hand as you approached the seat. Your desire to vomit only doubled.

“He… he agreed…” you mumbled.

Chrissy frowned, “Then what’s wrong?”

“He doesn’t sound at all interested.”

“What?” Chrissy turned back to his table, but Eddie was already getting up and leaving the lunch room. “How can he not like you, Y/N?”

“He probably likes somebody else. Which is fine, I just… wish he wouldn’t agree to pity me. That’s so much worse than a rejection.”

“Hey,” Chrissy put her hand on your shoulder, “Maybe it’s just an off day for him, you know? Maybe something happened. Go on the date, and maybe it’ll all work out!”

You looked at her, at her blind encouraging optimism, and gave a small smile, “Okay, Chrissy.” You took a deep breath, “I hope you’re right...”

~~~

You stood, shifting your weight back and forth in the grass.

You had dressed up. Weeks before you’d even built the courage to ask Eddie, you’d thought all about how, for your first date, you were gonna wear your newest white sweater with your favorite light blue skirt, matching the color of your manicured nails. You’d felt so pretty when you’d thought about it in your head. You felt stupid now, standing in front of his trailer in your dumb little clothes, hoping that Eddie freaking Munson would think you were pretty. What were you doing?

You knocked on his door anyway, already resigned to this going poorly.

Eddie opened the door to you, and for a moment, you saw his eyes light up.

Your heart surged. Maybe Chrissy was right!

His eyes tracked you up and down for a moment before returning to your face, and his joy left again.

Jesus, he really was in love with someone else then. Maybe you should just turn around and go home…

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” you replied, unable to prevent a small smile. He was just so pretty. You couldn’t help it but smile when you saw him. Even if he was never gonna be yours.

“Come on in,” he nodded his head, and you followed him in.

Your eyes feasted on everything around you. It was all soo him. You couldn’t say you knew all that much about it, but it just felt like it fit. Maybe it was worth it to come here just to learn just this much more about him. God, you were so painfully in love with this boy.

“So, what party?” he asked.

“Huh?” your eyes peeled from his decor and towards him.

“What party are you going to tonight?” He repeated. He wasn’t even fucking facing you. He was digging through a drawer. Jesus Christ. This was pathetic of you. A whole new low to your dating life. And you’d dated some really douchey jocks before…

“Uh. No party…?” You answered.

“I’m not gonna show up, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he joked, though there was no humor there.

Who was this guy? You thought you had a good understanding of him, albeit from afar. But here, he seemed nothing like the guy you thought you knew. Or rather, he seemed exactly like the guy everyone else thought he was. You had just thought he was secretly different. Talk about pathetic...

“I’m not lying,” you frowned, “Why would I lie?”

Eddie stopped rummaging through the drawer for a moment to look at you. His eyes drifted down to your outfit again and he frowned, then returning back to his drawer.

You hugged your sweater around you tighter. Jesus, you didn’t think he’d be so judgmental. The jocks were, but you thought that Eddie Munson of all people would be better than that. 

You had been right. He thought your outfit was dumb. He thought you were dumb— not even worth looking at. Or maybe this was just his sick way of being mean to someone who associated with people who were so mean to him. 

You felt your eyes begin to sting with tears. You should just run out the front door and never look back.

But you couldn’t just yet. You wanted answers.

“Am I not good enough for you? Is that it?” you spoke up, willing yourself to channel the anger and not the crushing heartbreak, “Some backwards retribution for what the guys put you through? Or is it someone else?” You brushed away a tear as he turned toward you, hoping he wouldn’t notice you crying.

His eyes were wide with confusion when they met yours.

“Uh,” he replied, completely lost and alarmed, “I was gonna give you a half ounce for $20? That seems fair to me…?”

You blinked, your tears halting immediately, “What?” you asked quietly.

His eyes shifted down to his hands. He was holding a little baggie of weed. His eyes shifted back up to you, “What???”

You laughed a bit, wiping your tears away, “Eddie,” you let out, “Eddie, I’m not here for drugs.”

Eddie cocked his head slightly, confused.

“I was asking…” you laughed more. It wasn’t funny, but you were so fucking relieved that at least some of his behavior had been a misunderstanding, “I was asking you to go on a date with me.”

“You…” he replied slowly, “you were… asking me… on a date…?”

You nodded, nervous butterflies springing back into your chest.

“And… not a date as a way to get drugs?” He questioned.

You shook your head, “I don’t even do drugs, Eddie.”

Eddie set the weed on the dresser and put his other hand up to rub his forehead, “You’re serious?”

You frowned, worry coloring your face as you felt your eyes prickle again, “Um. If it’s… if it’s so ridiculous to you that I’m interested in you, you could just say that. I know your whole M.O. is, like, anti-cheerleader. So, if you don’t want to date me, I can just g—“

“Woah, woah, I never said that.”

You blinked up at him.

“I’m… just trying to process that the queen of Hawkins high is… asking me on a date. You do know who I am, right?”

“Um, well, that is kind of the whole point of going on a date with someone. To learn about who they are…” You teased, hoping this was putting you on lighter ground. He didn’t seem… uninterested at least.

The teasing worked, because suddenly he was blinding you with a grin.

He crossed his arms and squinted at you, grinning wider, “So you LIKE me?”

“Eddie! Answer me!”

“I’m sorry! Sorry! Obviously, obviously I want to date you. I’m not entirely sure what you think you’re getting out of this situation, and I know you’re gonna get sick of me really quick, but if you’re willing to low ball yourself to my—“

“Eddie,” you repeated, putting a hand on your hip.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just shut up,” you told him.

He grinned like a fucking cat, stepping toward you, “See? Told ya you’d get tired of me quickly.”

You scoffed, “Ed—“

He took your face in his hands and kissed you. And oh, god, maybe the constant desire to hurl yourself into a black hole all week was worth it because Jesus Christ his lips were soft and he was holding you like you were precious and like you were his.

You pulled away eventually, breathless and laughing as you leaned your forehead on his.

His face dropped to a look of horror in an instant, and you were back to feeling deeply ill. Oh, fuck, did he not like the kiss? How could it possibly keep getting worse?!?

“Oh my god, I’ve been so rude to you this week!”

You exhaled, relieved that was what he was worked up about.

“It’s okay,” you assured.

“It most certainly is not!”

“Eddie--“

“If anyone else treated the girl I was dating like that and made her cry, I would literally go kick their teeth in.”

You giggled, “As admirable as that is, I prefer your teeth as they are.”

“Okay, then think of something else. Anything. You name it.”

“Go on a real date with me?”

“That’s a reward, not a punishment.”

“Go on a real date with me to the movies and buy my body’s weight worth of popcorn for me?”

He grinned, “Atta girl.”

-------

[ EDDIE’S POV ]

A/N: Hi hi hi hi!!!!!

Please please please comment all ur thoughts below! I’m obsessed with this boy so much let’s talk about himmmmm.