#but now… but now we are forced into shadow to watch from behind a table and it is all slipping away so so fast

[fellsoleander]

uh oh watching xxi and im so fucking unwell…. NEED to kill the director of this episode because that sequence of flint breaking down in his cabin is SOOOO fucking good. how 3/4 of the scene is shot from behind flint so he’s left in shadow and the only time we see his face it’s only half of it… as if his grief and rage and pain is still something only he can see… and even at the end, when we are so close to seeing his full face, the camera slowly backs away and hides him from view with the table, as if warning us that this view into flint is not for us. we hover so close to the edge— we are right over his shoulder, we see his shaking hands, we see him slump, we hear him sob— but we are not allowed in. the cinematography really reinforces the message that no one, not flint’s crew, not silver, and not even us, the audience, gets to see the shattered man underneath, because that undoes it all. that breaks the illusion of the monster of the high seas. and that’s the last thing they can afford to do now.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

12 — IN SOME SAD WAY, I ALREADY KNOW

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

“A written statement from the General himself.”

You mindlessly nod, eyes unfocused and ears ringing as you sit at the conference table, Laswell at the head with the paper in hand. Her brows are furrowed, and one of her hands rests at her hip as she reads over the paper’s contents once more.

Everything feels numb. Like your entire body’s been reset, and nothing makes sense – as if your very existence has been muffled.

Price and Ghost sit at the table, too, sharing looks with each other. The Sergeants are out training rookies – and a small, minute part of you is grateful. You don’t want them to see you so…

Whatever you are. Numb, cold, unfeeling. Any adjective that fits.

“Shepherd traded her,” Price seethes, knuckles whitening on the tight grip he has around his pack of cigars. 

“But why?” Laswell asks, exasperated, pacing at the front of the conference room. The overhead beams have been left off, so the frosted window is the only source of light. It allows a soft, gentle glow from the moon to fill the room, and it helps with your racing mind.

“We need to find him,” Ghost demands, voice gruff and icy. Thinly veiled anger – you recognise the tone all too well. 

“This gives us evidence to push the search further,” Laswell cuts in, her footfalls pausing as she searches the scrawled handwriting for something. “And it opens up a new trail. Why did Graves want you? And what did Shepherd deem worthy of trading his star soldier?”

Your leg’s bouncing, the soft tap tap tap of your foot against the linoleum floor sounding more like a ticking time bomb than anything.

When you look up from the table, your eyes instantly clash with a pair of dark brown. Ghost.

He’s watching you – something hidden behind his gaze that you can’t unpack. Not now, at least, with your mind racing at a million thoughts per hour. With your body feeling as sensitive as a live wire. Every breath feels manual, a feat in and of itself.

You break your eye contact with him suddenly, weary, looking to the window instead. The moon isn’t so complicated; doesn’t hold so many layers of darkness, both in colour and soul.

There’s nothing like the feeling of moonlight against your skin, the brush of nightly breezes against your chilled skin.

“Sweetheart –” Your attention instantly goes to Price, whose hands are clasped on the table, gaze heavy where it sits on you, “Do you know anything at all that could help us. Any leads.”

You go to open your mouth, but everything feels wrong, your stomach sinking and hands trembling and vision going blurry.

Without any thought, or reason, you abruptly stand, slightly shaky on your feet. You swallow, once, a difficult movement against your barren throat. Scratchy and harsh.

“I – I’m sorry, I need a moment,” you manage to mutter out, taking a step back in a shadow of defence.

Brows furrow, a question’s asked – you don’t hear, don’t see, because all you can do is turn and bolt out of the room, shouldering the door open and heading down the hospital light-white corridor, the white burning your vision.

Your eyes sting with unshed tears, your chest heaving, the echoing sound of your boots against the floor a distant soundtrack.

“Fuck,” you mutter, palms coming up to rub harshly at your face as you slow, unsure. You just need space, a moment to yourself, a place to break apart with no one as your witness.

A slightly ajar closet to your left seems like your best bet.

Heading for it, you push in, the stale scent of cleaning products hitting your nose. It’s difficult to find any part of you that cares in the slightest.

The door closes, and you just stand, for a moment, your head resting against the wood. Every breath rattles your bones, like your core is falling apart at its seams. Another breath. Two more.

Except it’s getting harder, with every breath, to fill your lungs. They come out harried, shallow and not unlike slices of a knife against your windpipe. They tear from your mouth like coughs.

Your back hits the wall, and you slide down, until you’re sat on the floor, head sat between your bent knees as the first tears finally fall down your cheeks. Hiccups leave your chapped lips, and you squeeze your eyes shut as your shoulders shake.

You haven’t allowed yourself to break down like this in... Gods, you can’t even remember. All you know is that it hurts, at your very core, but it’s also kind of freeing.

It’s as if your world is closing in around you; your breaths doing nothing to quell that intense sense of suffocation, cruel in the grasp your fear has around your throat. Nothing makes sense – everything hurts, your tears leave lines of heat down your cheeks –

The door creaks open.

Heart stuttering in your chest, you look up from your balled up frame with blurry vision, to see who your intruder is. Did Gaz or Soap leave the rookies early? Did Price or Laswell get worried and come check on you?

“Sweetheart.”

The tall, threatening frame of the man fills out the small crack of the door in a way that has your breath catching for a whole other reason.

“Ghost?” You find yourself asking, your voice threatening a whine with the state you’re in. 

He steps in, the scent of blood and some cologne filling the space as he does. You wipe at your bloodshot eyes, curling in closer.

“If you want to kill me, this is probably your best bet,” you bite, posturing, an attempt of goading so your image isn’t completely ruined. The idea isn’t completely unfound, either – he very well could pull out his gun and shoot you clean through the head.

He shakes his head, closing the door – allowing pitch black to envelop you both.

“You’re too cheeky for your own good,” he mutters, and despite all of your notions of the man, he slides into a sitting position next to you.

If you could stabilise your breaths, you would, if for no other fact than your own embarrassment. Your body still trembles, and small hiccups still leave your lips with every shaky breath.

His presence is warm against yours, and when he moves, the fabric of his uniform brushes against your own.

“Why are you here?” You find yourself asking, a whisper under your breath. Just loud enough for him to hear, for him to hear the fragile undertone. The risk you’re taking, sitting beside him in this state. 

He looses a breath – easy, soft. Unlike everything you know about the hulking man. “I understand.”

You can’t help the uneasy chuckle that leaves your lips. “You understand? Mister been-conspiring-against-me-since-day-one?”

“I understand what it’s like to have the weight of the world on your shoulders, with no one you trust there to hold you, too.”

You look to him, but in the darkness, it’s more of an instinctual act than anything. 

“Didn’t realise you were a poet, Lieutenant,” you chide, voice breaking slightly around the syllables. He doesn’t comment; a small mercy.

He shrugs, brushing against you as he does. “Not a poet. Just a soldier.”

“And an asshole,” you hum, and you can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes you when he elbows you in the dip of your waist. You elbow him back, unthinkingly, freely.

Silence fills in the gaps, except for the background noise of your shaky, tight breathing, and the bounce of your knees.

That is, until the man beside you breaks it.

“I asked my dog what two minus two is,” Ghost says, easily. You loosen your posture, just slightly, brows furrowed when you turn your head towards him once more.

“What are you on about?” You ask, incredulous. He shrugs. Nods.

“I asked my dog what two minus two is,” he continues, despite the confusion that is surely emanating off of you. “She said nothing.”

You let out a shocked, lost bark of a laugh at that, turning your body around so you’re facing him in the enclosed space. “Was that a dad joke?”

“I found out why my dog’s such a bad dancer,” Ghost starts once more, continuing despite your elongated groan. Seems to relish in your dismay.

“And why’s that?” You entertain him, despite the anxiety in your gut, the words left unsaid burning your tongue.

“She’s got two left feet.”

You heave a sigh, shaking your head – but the corners of your lips pull into a cheesy grin, and your breaths are lighter. Easier, natural, less harsh against your dry throat. “Do you even have a dog?” You ask.

“Her name’s Riley. She’s my family,” he says, earnestly, and your heart shatters just a bit more.

“What breed is she?”

“German Shepherd. Used to work in the military, till a mission gone wrong left her too scared to work in the field. Saved ‘er from the pound.”

How can this man be the same one who threatened your life? Who – who had made it very clear how little he trusted you, and was generally such a jerk? A complete asshole, of whom you had no qualms hating?

“She’d like you,” he adds, and you blink, “Always did like girls more than guys. Strong ones, at that.”

“You think I’m strong?”

You can tell he rolls his eyes, even without being able to see it. “I’ll bring ‘er in, when this is all said and done.”

“When this is all said and done, we’ll probably never see each other again. Small mercies, hey?” Your tone takes on a joking lilt.

He doesn’t laugh.

And it hits you, then. How fragile this very situation is. How unimportant, in the real scheme of things, your relationship with the 141 is. When Graves and Shepherd have been dealt with, where do you fit in? What purpose will you have?

You don’t, can’t, truly fit in with them. They’re already so interconnected, memories spent together that you’ll never understand, connections you have no place in joining.

Oh, what a stab in the gut that is.

“I can get Johnny or Kyle if you want,” Ghost offers, but you find yourself answering just this side of too soon.

“No.”

You realise, as you sit here beside him, that he is all you need. Soap and Gaz would’ve tried to ramble or make a move on you, Price would’ve tried to embrace you. Ghost just sits, and waits, his presence speaking a thousand words. He’s your anchor, right now.

“What does a bee use to brush its hair?” Ghost breaks the quiet, once more, his words steady and grating with the low timbre of his voice.

You exhale, but go along with it anyways. “I haven’t a clue.”

“A honeycomb.”

You scoff, but the smile on your face doesn’t waver – your cheeks hurting from the way it tugs on the muscles of your tired face. “That was awful, Lt.”

“Johnny laughed at that one,” he replies, head tilted to rest his skull against the wall. His arms rest on the bends of his knees.

“That’s cause he feels bad for you,” you hum, satisfaction weighing on your words.

Ghost elbows you once more, a bit too hard, but you find the movement grounding more than harmful. Like a way for your body to come back to itself, and register the world around you. No need for self-destruction or derealisation.

“They really like you, y’know,” he murmurs, and your breath pauses in your chest. “The Sergeants. Won’t shut up about you when you’re gone.”

“Well, if you’re gonna hate me, some support is nice,” you retort, and he huffs a low breath. Pauses, like he’s thinking something over. Weighing the risk and reward of his next statement.

“I don’t,” he rolls his tongue in his mouth, “I don’t hate you.”

“You’ve had me fooled,” you retort, the cool wall against your cheek a steady reminder of the world. “The whole threatening to kill me thing, and all.”

“If it means protecting Johnny, Kyle – even Price, I’d do it. Still will,” he says, the last statement bordering on a warning. “If you’ve somehow fooled us all, then I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

You swallow. Scratch at the skin of your wrist.

“I just need to figure this shit out,” you admit, looking to the roof for answers. “Once Shadow Company’s been taken down, and Shepherd’s dealt with, everything can go back to normal. This’ll just be a blip in time.”

“The Sergeants aren’t going to let you go,” Ghost warns, an edge to his words. “What are you gonna do, anyways? Live in the countryside?”

“I don’t know,” you confess, picking at your fingernails. “I’ll figure it out when it comes to it. We’ve got bigger things on our plate.”

With his shoulder pressed against your own, you let your body relax, your breaths finally even. No tears on the verge of falling down your cheeks – and no fear lacing your veins with a thick coat of adrenaline.

However, that short-lived relief is quickly replaced with the all too familiar crash.

Your head pounds, and your limbs suddenly feel heavy. Your eyelids threaten to close, even though you don’t feel the need to sleep.

“Tired?” Ghost asks, low and soft, careful not to startle you. So at odds with the idea you had of him.

Without meaning to, you lean further against him, using his frame to hold your own up. He doesn’t comment on it. “I’m – just need a minute,” you murmur.

His hand moves to rest at the side of your head, pulling you in so your temple rests against his shoulder. It’s warm, comforting – a parallel to the man of which you thought you hated.

Rest comes easy, at the side of one of the men who wants to kill you.

*

When you come to, it’s with the feeling of fingers brushing through your hair, and the scent of cajun.

The gentle mid-morning light filters into the room, casting light through your closed eyes, the faraway sound of bullets being fired an odd comfort. Soft sizzling, too, can be heard, as well as the chopping of a knife against a board.

“That smells bloody divine, Si,” a familiar, Scottish voice calls, quietened by what you can only suspect is due to your ‘sleeping’. “Ya’d be a bonnie housewife.”

“Watch it, Johnny,” Ghost replies, stern, even with the undercurrent of humour in his voice. 

The fingers in your hair continue to card through your strands, pausing to massage at your scalp every now and then. The movements have you melting further into Soap’s lap.

“Ken the other two are goin’ at it?” Johnny chides, and even without vision, you can see the goading smile on his face.

“I ken you should shut your face,” Ghost retorts, the sound of chopping finally coming to a pause. “And, no, you’re a bloody idiot.”

“Rude.”

Fluttering your eyes open, you let out a small huff of air, stretching your tense muscles. They feel sore with lethargy, and stiff from the position you fell asleep in.

“Mornin’, Sweetheart,” Johnny smirks, looking down at where your head sits in his lap.

When you look towards the kitchen, it's to find Ghost, flipper in hand as he stands by the stove, a glass bowl filled with salad to his side. One thing in particular has you looking twice.

“A bit promiscuous, don't you think, Lieutenant?”

Ghost's eyes narrow, but Soap lets out a pleased chuckle. “Like a lad seein’ an ankle, aye?”

Instead of gloves, the pale skin of his hands is shown for the first time, patterns of ink decorating the back of his hands. The small hint of a sleeve has you desperate to see the full thing.

“You're both fuckin’ ridiculous,” Ghost scoffs, starting to swap the contents of the pan into the salad bowl.

As you move to sit up, Soap’s hands fall to your waist, pulling you so your back presses against his chest. His thumbs trace circles into the skin where your shirt rides up, but it’s more out of instinct than anything else.

“What’d you make us?” You ask, rubbing at your weary, sleepy eyes as you deflate against Soap.

“Cajun chicken ‘nd salad,” Ghost quips, serving up a plate for each of you. It smells nothing short of delicious, and you sit up straighter against the Sergeant.

“Lt and Gaz are our personal chefs,” Soap chimes, squeezing you tighter against him. “Bloody perfect at it.”

Ghost rolls his eyes, but comes over with two plates, setting them on the coffee table in front of both you and Soap. It’s a small space, next to the personal kitchen, but it’s nice. Intimate.

The first mouthful of salad is like heaven on your tongue, and you look up at Ghost with wide eyes as you swallow. “This is amazing.”

“You’d better eat it all then,” he jerks his chin towards your plate, grabbing his own before sitting on the chair to your left. Soap, still with his chest to your back, shovels his food into his mouth like a man starved.

It’s quiet, for a few moments, just the three of you enjoying your food.

“What’s the next step?” Johnny asks, around a mouthful. You elbow him in the side, and he feigns hurt. He swallows, before continuing, “Aye mean, what’re we gonna do? What lead do we follow?”

“I think,” you work your jaw around the words, thinking, “I think if we get to the root, we can bring down the whole tree.”

You scan the two men, and it’s Ghost who understands your words first.

“Shepherd. You think we should take him out first,” Ghost leans back in his seat, studying you with calculating, chocolate brown eyes. They shine in the midday light.

Nodding, you swallow around some lettuce, before continuing, looking between the two. 

“If we can find Shepherd, and learn why everything’s happened the way it has,” you rub at your face, “Then we can bring it all crumbling down. Like dominoes.”

“He’s MIA,” Soap furrows his brows, placing his empty plate on the coffee table. “We’ve tried finding the twat – he’s gone.”

You shrug, a plan forming in your mind like the final pieces of a puzzle connecting. A small, pleased smile spreads on your lips, before you’re moving off of the couch, ready to head to Price’s office.

“Where’s you going?” Ghost queries, leaning forward, elbows resting on his spread knees.

You tilt your head.

“Power in numbers, right?” Heading for the corridor, you open the door, before turning back to look at the two men one more time.

“I know two soldiers who’ve been waiting for a call.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19 @infpt-zylith @marispunk @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @xvintageghostx @thigh-o-saur

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 1,542

Warnings | +18, smut dubcon(?), somnophilia, pussy worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, fingering, male masturbation, Jungkook is desperately horny, cumming on her, body worship, breast/nipples worship, explicit language and descriptions, kidnapping, Jungkook is absolutely obsessed, this is not for minors.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Third chapter of Happy Ending arrived, enjoy your reading, my dears 🥰❤

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

That same night, a shadow wandered around the young woman's apartment. It had not been difficult to get there, as he had already thought, those windows were too old and easy to force, he could not allow Y/N to live in such a place. If a novice like him had managed to open the window facing the kitchen so quickly, then an experienced thief would have been able to do even better. He looked around, scrutinizing every nook and cranny, being very careful not to make any noise, noticed a pizza box on the table, with Coke cans scattered around, was very careful not to step on a single one - mentally cursing at the girl's mess - and headed for what he guessed was her room.

He opened the door slightly, which squeaked faintly because of rust, but that was not enough to wake the girl who lived in the apartment. Y/N must have been a very heavy sleeper, the boy thought. Jungkook was there for one simple reason, to take Y/N away and make her live a better life with him. Normally an art professor would not have made that much money, but professor was not his only job, he thought with a grin. The school's principal, Kim Seokjin, had his hands in everything, and someone like Jungkook was right for him. He then looked around, studying the environment to get an idea about his beloved's tastes, finding a variety of references to anime and manga, as well as books and flowers. Nothing that hinted at a passion for fashion, but of that Jungkook did not worry, he would see to it that she was dressed cute and perfect, just for the pleasure of his eyes.

Reaching just to one side of the single bed, he stared at Y/N sleeping blissfully with only part of the blanket to give her warmth, the tender lower lip protruded invitingly and Jungkook felt the urge to squeeze it between his teeth, tasting its softness. He shivered slightly when he took a flap of the blanket, pulling it aside. He slowly uncovered Y/N's body, revealing something that made the man's brain go haywire. Y/N slept in only a tank top and panties even in winter. It was a comfortable habit for the girl, but for Jungkook it was like a wedding invitation, literally. His eyes did not break away from the bare skin in the slightest while enough light filtered through the window to make that vision heavenly for him.

He slowly knelt down, a hand flew within inches of her calves, he did not know whether to touch her that way or not, she was not conscious, it would not be right, would it? The boy found himself gritting his teeth, it would only be a caress, a gentle caress. He gently laid his fingers on one calf, held his breath at the smooth sensation of her skin against his fingertips and continued with the slow ascent, felt his lips dry up when, having reached her knee, Y/N decided of her own volition to spread her leg wide, leaving a wide view of her intimacy covered by the blue panties, at which point Jungkook's blood concentrated in one spot. He took that sign as a Y/N response to continue. He climbed onto the bed gently, positioning himself right on top of the young woman, his hand opening on her inner thigh, the softest and most tender part of her leg, felt that buttery texture under his fingers and did the same with the other, thus bringing both legs apart for him, he sent down watering at that scene so erotic that it nearly drove him mad.

He felt powerful as never before in his life, he could do anything he wanted to her and she would continue to sleep blissfully. The young girl's tightly closed eyelids cast lash shadows across her cheeks, she was so serene in sleep that Jungkook found her enchanting, so much so that he leaned over her, stealing a sweet kiss on her cheek, in love with that pure little fairy of his. His. He watched for a possible reaction, but she continued to sleep. Not content, he descended lower, to the tender breasts enclosed in that wide camisole, lifted the pale fabric finding himself face to face with what, he knew, would become his favorite damnation, studied with hungry eyes the perfect color of those still soft and relaxed little buttons, barely touching with a finger the velvety, graceful circle of an areola. He trapped the tender nipple with his lips, sucking it tenderly inside his warm, moist mouth, felt it plump under the strokes of his tongue and found himself nibbling on it without too much pressure, sending small, sweet twinges to the young girl's sleeping body. Y/N, for her part, turned her head slightly, opening her mouth slightly in a moan that her brain could not fully register.

Jungkook cupped the other breast, stimulating it with the tip of a finger, squeezing it lightly before devoting his mouth to it as well, and the more he engulfed that tender flesh, the more his cock throbbed uninterruptedly in search of its dose of forbidden caresses. A pop resounded from the room as he let go of his grip on the young girl's now abused nipple, went down with moist kisses all along the girl's chest, with his sweet prey's breathing rising in response, thus reaching the lower abdomen licking a small trail around her navel, moaning silently at the taste of that skin that he would also have gladly bitten into, but he could not risk waking the girl up in the midst of his fun, so he merely descended lower and lower, reaching to the fabric of her panties. With the tip of his nose he pressed against her covered pussy, ecstatically inhaling the natural scent of her essence, he felt himself salivating and his own boxers got a little wet, he pressed his erection against the mattress moving slightly to give himself some relief, not satisfied he peeled back the fabric of the panties and almost thought he would come there on the spot. The rosy flesh of the folds opened under the pressure of his index finger, revealing the swollen clitoris and the sweet slit from which sweet transparent liquid was already leaking.

Jungkook gave a long lick that from the young woman's narrow entrance reached up to her clitoris, encircling it with the tip in a tender and insistent caress; on another occasion the boy would have cried out in the most bewitching pleasure, but he forced himself to enjoy that taste in silence. Y/N unknowingly thrust his hips into the man's ravenous mouth in a soft, slow rhythm that delighted Jungkook. That to him was the ultimate proof that the girl accepted his intimate attentions without regret. He used two fingers to stimulate the young woman's lit and pulsating clitoris, continuing with the tip of his tongue to penetrate the tight and wet slit, sucking the small quivering lips together with the unconscious girl's legs, continuing to poke and pull at that pearl now stiff and ready to explode between his index finger and thumb, teasing the soft flesh ever more insistently. "Mm... Ah...!" the girl's back arched slightly, exposing more and more of her intimacy to the boy, her body tried to keep up with that forbidden pleasure, in her mind Y/N was dreaming, dreaming of Jungkook and in her dream the boy was doing to her just what the real Jungkook was joyfully enacting in reality.

He willingly swallowed the young girl's fluids with yet another tongue caress, then replaced his fingers with the latter, cradling the pulsating clitoris in velvety lashings, penetrating the now-soaked entrance with his fingertips, the girl rigidly propped her feet up on the mattress, opening her mouth wide and frowning in a shrill howl, which was prolonged when her clitoris succumbed to extreme pleasure following a light bite from the boy, his teeth weakly crushing that taut pearl, now at the 'extreme and that gesture was enough to release its violent contained pleasure. Jungkook detached himself from Y/N's quivering body, lowering his pants and boxer shorts, took his already dripping cum cock in his hand and leaned over Y/N beginning to pump himself several times, ran his thumb over the scarlet tip increasing the speed of his thrusts, before pouring out a large amount of cum with a choked cry, smearing the girl's breasts and panties with the sticky white liquid. He looked at his work of art with devotion and affection, stroking his cock in an attempt not to let up again on those gentle discharges of pleasure, until it became completely soft again. He adjusted his clothes, retrieving tissues from the girl's bedside table to wipe off his semen, silently praying that the sweet, spicy taste of Y/N would never disappear from his tongue.

God, he would have taken her again and again on that bed, but he shook his head to himself , Y/N deserved better and wanted her awake when it happened. He wanted her to see with her own eyes how much love he would be able to give her.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Demon Fire.

Yan Kafka x F Reader x Yan Blade.

Synopsis: Where is this train going?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

“Which seat do you want, darling?” Kafka asks, her thumb still making circles over your own.

Her hair is half put up in a ponytail as usual, the rest flowing down the sides of her face. She only held her purse, which held only her wallet, her phone, snacks, water, and pictures of you with her and Blade. Blade pulls her suitcase, as well as yours and his, through the narrow gap between the seat rows, with his bag noticeably smaller compared to Kafka's and yours.

You point to the one closest to the window, and Kafka smiles. “That one.”

She nods, and Blade begins to put the luggage in the cabinet above, being silent all the while you and Kafka sit down.

“Neither of you have told me where we are going.” You say as Kafka puts her head on your shoulder.

“Be patient, my dear girl. You will find out soon. You’ll love it, I promise. Bladie and I spent a lot of time searching for a place to celebrate.”

You ask what you are all celebrating, and she continues.

“Do not fret, it will only be a few hours before we reach our destination. We’ll just cuddle for now, and chat. There are also movies to watch and sights to see out the window. Both the ride there and where we are going is going to be so relaxing for all of us. You have my word. Or my honor. Whichever you prefer, dear.” You stop paying attention to her words halfway through, and when she realizes this she pecks your cheek. “Though I suspect you think that neither of them exist.”

“Maybe.” As the train begins its journey, you gaze out the window, murmuring to yourself. Like a well-rehearsed performance or clockwork, an array of colorful flowers and plants glide past, each one swiftly replaced by another. Before you know it, the vibrant beauty of spring and the whispers of Kafka lull you to sleep.

…

The landscape was a surprise, yet not entirely, as it lay in a remote location devoid of human presence except for the occupants of the cabin nestled at the foot of the verdant hill. The vast expanse was a haven of blossoms, grass, and foliage, enough to supply a lifetime's worth of adornments for a spring festival. Every imaginable flower and plant seemed to find a home here. In the nearby lake, crystal clear waters mirrored the mountain's grandeur, while tranquil sea bass and carp glided serenely beneath the surface.

Nestled beside the solitary cottage stood a windmill, its weathered blades casting a gentle shadow. Atop the one aimed towards the heavens, doves perched, unharmed, indicating the absence of predator birds in this vicinity. The setting appeared idyllic, yet a lingering unease persisted within. Despite the hours that have passed, questions lingered in your mind; what is the purpose behind Blade and Kafka bringing you to this place, and what are they commemorating?

Kafka is the one who guides you, as always, holding your hand gently and pulling you along as she chatters away. Blade, as always, simply watches from behind you two like a shadow.

…

It is Blade that opens the door to the cottage, his face still stoic, as Kafka wraps one of her arms around your waist. You have adorned yourself in the attire she adores, a lacy, ebony dress accompanied by sheer black stockings and elegant flats. Much to your misfortune, according to her, Blade doesn’t hate this outfit either.

Even though Blade was the one to open the door, it is you who is forced to step in first, and it is you who is forced to sit down first at the little wooden circular table surrounded by three chairs.

“You still haven’t told me what this is about, Kafka.” Despite your curiosity, you don’t dare to raise one of your eyebrows.

“Yes, yes. Let us just rest for a moment. I’m tired.”

“...Okay. It’s just… you’ve kept me in the dark for the past few days about this trip, so…”

Kafka lets out an exaggerated sigh before sitting down as well with a thump, pressing her thumb and forefinger against her temple, gently massaging in circular motions. She is acting like she was the one who carried all of the luggage, and not Blade, who is still putting your suitcases down in the corner. “Come on, love… I’m tired, take pity on poor little old me.”

“...”

Finally, Blade sits down in the last chair. You’re not surprised by his silence anymore.

“...” In his customary manner, he rests his hands on his lap, maintaining a polite sitting posture. Unchanging, his countenance remains impassive; it is difficult to recall a single instance where a smile has graced his face, except for those dreadful moments when he is mara-struck.

“Sigh. Bladie, which suitcase did you put the peaches in? Was it [First]’s? I’m craving one.” If you were Blade, you would have rolled your eyes. “Really badly. Almost as much as I crave our dearest. I’ll get it myself.”

“...[First]’s.”

In a split second, Kafka's wearied expression transforms into a radiant grin as she stands up and walks toward your suitcase leaning against the wall.

Kafka's gaze freezes time as he rummages through your luggage, searching for the bag of peaches. As Blade utters his words, his voice retains its roughness, yet it carries a touch of tenderness.

“...Do you like this place, [First]?” He asks, looking at you. You think he is trying to put on a small smile, from the way his lips are slightly curved upward, but it does not comfort you as intended. “We picked this place for you.”

“But why?”

As ironic as it may seem, it is always Blade you ask questions to because at least he gives straightforward answers.

“Didn’t Kafka tell you?” For once, Blade seems confused. Was he not paying attention every time you asked? “It’s your birthday, isn’t it? ...Did you not know that?”

“...Well, I’m not exactly always given access to calendars…”

“...Fair.”

You hear Kafka's mischievous laughter from the corner.

“...But happy birthday regardless, [First].”

Once more, his smile achieves the opposite of its intended effect.

[cordeliawhohung]

Death of Me - part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part six (and then some) of "Soft Spot"

You and Simon attend the military ball, and you finally get to come out of the shadows.

warnings: none! mention of alcohol, and anxiety, but very fluffy and fun (: (terrible inaccuracies about military balls, i'm sure)

wc: 7k

It was the watchful eyes that made events awkward, especially for the lucky bastards who did well enough to earn themselves the right to wear those pristine suits.

While a majority of the men in the room wore mostly white uniforms with red jackets that stood out like blood on cotton, Task Force 141 stood out like sore thumbs with their black dress suits. Perhaps it was done on purpose to let everyone know just who they were; SAS, the best of the best. 

Normally, Soap would find himself slipping away to ravage the hors d'oeuvres, steal a drink or two, and maybe chat up an officer to stave off the boredom that always accompanied formal events such as a military ball. But not that time. His blue eyes scanned the room, desperately searching for a tall figure, praying it would emerge from the crowd. 

“Price found us a table,” a voice spoke up next to him. For the first time in what felt like hours, Soap looked away from the crowd in front of him and faced Gaz. He cleaned up well, his young features accentuated with the sharpness of his uniform. “It’s hidden in the back. Should keep most unwanted attention away from us.” 

Soap nodded as he threw a quick glance back at the sea of bodies around him. The entrance hall was full to the brim as soldiers and civilians alike chatted away as they caught up with friends or made new connections. 

“Alright. I’ll be there in a bit,” he said, nearly waving Gaz off. 

But the man didn’t leave. Instead, he settled in further next to Soap, standing with his arms behind his back as he too watched the commotion that raged in front of them. 

“Looking for Ghost?” Gaz questioned. 

“Trying to. Wanna make sure he doesn’t wander too far before we all get the chance to meet Spook,” Soap explained as he kept his eyes locked in front of him. 

Gaz glanced at the man from the corner of his eyes, yet he refused to fully turn to face him. He swayed slightly as he adjusted his position, inching closer to him so that he could drop the tone of his voice and still be heard. 

“I’ve been thinking… what if there is no Spook?” he asked. 

Now that got Soap’s full attention. He turned to fully face Gaz, and he shot him a quizzical look, almost as if he was offended he would even bring up such a thing. 

“You saw what I saw,” Soap retorted. “Remember his handkerchief on the plane? He never uses it, but he brings it with him everywhere. He won't admit it because he’s a quiet bastard, but there’s something there.” 

A sharp sigh came from Gaz as he attempted to sort through his thoughts. “I know, but what if you’ve got it mixed up? Maybe it’s a memento, or a reminder of someone he’s lost and you keep bringing it up like a dick.” 

“He woulda laid me out by now if that were the case,” Soap answered confidently. 

That comment caused a short chuckle to sound from Gaz, but he quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, I reckon so. Or maybe he’s offering you grace and you keep throwing it back in his face.” 

It was obvious that no amount of words from anyone other than Ghost himself would convince Soap to lay off his theory about Spook. Though it wasn’t a secret that the two of them were as close as brothers, there were still walls that Ghost put up to keep people out. Everyone on the force did, to an extent. Gaz was just worried Soap would tear those walls down and not be able to run fast enough and get himself crushed by the rubble. 

“Alright. I’ll make you a deal,” Soap offered, turning his body to fully face Gaz. “If Ghost shows up tonight without a plus one, I’ll leave it alone. Won’t mention it to him, you, or anyone ever again.”

This caught Gaz’s attention. He raised an eyebrow at the Scott and gave the man his full attention. “Alright, deal.” 

Soap grinned, the type of devious smirk that showed that he hadn’t laid all his cards on the table yet. “But if he does show up with someone, you’re buying my drinks every time we go out after missions.” 

Gaz tilted his head to the side a little, a similar smirk crossing his lips. “Yeah, and when he shows up alone, then you’re the one buying all my drinks.” 

Finally coming to some sort of agreement, Soap held his hand out between the two of them, silently asking to seal the deal with a handshake. Gaz slowly moved his hands out from behind his back, right hand raising to meet with Soaps, but he paused just short. His eyes focused on something well behind the man, staring off into the crowd, and whatever evidence of a smirk he had was quickly wiped off his face. 

“Bloody fucking hell,” he murmured. 

Within an instant Soap’s back faced Gaz as he tried to follow the man’s gaze. It didn’t take him long to find Ghost in the crowd as the inky uniform and his towering height were obvious. That, and he was the only one in the crowd who wore a facemask. But his eyes didn’t linger on the man for long when he caught sight of you. Beautiful black silk and chiffon draping from your hips, elegant off-the-shoulder sleeves, and a dazzling smile made you stand out even more than the tall, burly soldier next to you. 

“Ah. Drinks next week, then?” Soap asked, turning around to bump his fist against Gaz’s shoulder. 

Gaz shook himself out of his stupor and found his eyes landing back on Soap. The man quickly shook his head while his hand fell back to his side. “I never shook on it.” 

“But you were going to,” Soap teased. 

“Just… hurry it up before someone gives your seat away to someone more agreeable than you,” Gaz said with a simple sigh. With that, he turned and weaved through the crowd, leaving the entrance hall and his lost bet far behind him. 

Neverbefore had you seen so many people dressed in dazzling gowns and sharp suits and uniforms. A sticky heat hung heavy in the air of the entrance hall that almost made it difficult to breathe, and you found yourself clinging to Simon’s arm as he led you through the crowd. 

“I didn’t expect so many people to be here,” you admitted quietly. 

“Guest of honor is an important aristocrat. No one was able to sneak their way out of this,” Simon answered.

“Not even you?” you teased. 

“Not even me.”

You had never seen him looking so, well, formal before, and you had to admit, it looked good on him. The perfect press of his clothes, the well knotted tie around his neck, the jacket of his uniform; it made your stomach twist with an odd desire you weren’t sure you wanted to entertain quite yet. 

“What makes them so different from any other guest of honor?” you asked. 

“Power. Influence. More so than others.” 

You hummed in response as Simon continued to guide you through the hall. Watchful eyes would glance at the two of you only to flicker away as soon as they did. Either they were just being respectful and not wanting to stare, or they were intimidated by Simon’s status and stony stare. 

There was one person who didn’t seem to be afraid of Simon in the slightest, though. A young man dressed in the very same uniform as your lover approached the two of you with a wide grin. His short and shaved mohawk caught you off guard, as you had never heard of a soldier doing such a thing before, but other than that, he fit in well with the others in the crowd. 

“Evening, L.T.,” the man greeted, his Scottish accent heavy and evident in his voice. 

Simon slowly stopped as the man approached you two, and you followed his lead. The Scot was beaming, and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes kept landing on you every few seconds, despite how he was trying to address Simon.

“Evening,” Simon replied stiffly. 

You weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. Do you introduce yourself? Try to shake his hand? Or do you let Simon take the lead? Even though attending the ball with him was mostly your idea, you were slowly becoming aware of just how ignorant you were of the customs you were supposed to follow. 

Luckily, after a beat Simon turned to you and he slowly pulled his arm out of your grasp in order to motion to the soldier in front of you. “Sergeant John MacTavish. One of the lads I work with. The boys call him Soap,” Simon introduced. 

“Aye,” Soap confirmed as he held his hand out to you, “but it’s just Johnny to you, ma’am.” 

You gave him a polite smile and took his hand to shake. The sheer thickness of his hand caught you off guard, and you realized that it had been quite some time since you had greeted someone so formally. Still, you introduced yourself by name and folded your hands in front of you as you waited for whatever came next. 

“Gaz and Price got a table. You two are welcome to join us, if you’d like,” Johnny offered as he gestured towards the room just beyond the entrance hall. 

Gaz and Price. Two more people on his task force, you assumed. Really, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the thought of meeting more of the people Simon worked with. He had tried so hard to keep it all a secret, and though his intentions were pure, it was silly. It felt like Simon was finally letting you in, allowing you to see the parts of him he tried so hard to smother away with a mask. 

“That’d be lovely,” you said while glancing up at Simon. If he had any objections to that idea, he didn’t voice them. Instead, he only nodded his head and allowed Johnny to lead the way. 

An impressive ballroom awaited the three of you as you exited the hall, and you found your head beginning to spin at the sight of it. No expense was spared for the event, apparently, as countless tables circled around the room, all dawning spotless white tablecloths and the finest dishes and cutlery that shimmered underneath the high hanging chandelier. Aromatic floral centerpieces added a bit of color to the tables, and you wondered how they were able to get so many fresh, real flowers. 

In the center of the room was the dance floor, which was really nothing but a cleared out space on the hardwood floor that was void of tables or other obstacles. One large table sat at the front of the room raised up on a platform, leading you to assume it was reserved for high ranking officers. Smaller yet equally long tables lined the sides of the room housing refreshments and small snacks. A heavy, meaty scent hung in the air with the promise of a hearty meal to follow. Soft and peppy music droned quietly from speakers strategically placed throughout the room, and it really began to feel like something straight out of a movie. 

Eventually, Johnny paused at a table tucked away into the furthest corner of the room, well away from the dance floor and any amenities. Two men sat at the round table, both sporting the same uniform as Simon and Johnny, already waiting. One was a young man with a slight hint of dark facial hair lining his lips and jaw. His hair was short and shaved on the sides, yet longer on top where kinky curls sat. The other man was much older, and he looked up at you with eyes that held a million stories. He was as neat and put together as the other boys, but you couldn’t help but take note of his facial hair, which was styled in what you were certain was mutton chops. 

Once you were close enough to the table, both men stood, and it wasn’t until then that you realized just how tall everyone around you was. Simon was by far the tallest, but even the others were only shorter than him by a few inches. Even in your heels you were absolutely dwarfed in comparison. 

“Ghost,” the older man greeted, “glad you made it.” 

Simon huffed a little as he adjusted the mask on his face. “I would never miss a mandatory event,” he said, voice dripping in sarcasm. 

You giggled a little at his words, and you weren’t sure if it was because you found it genuinely funny, or if your nerves were getting to you. 

“This here is our commanding officer, Captain Price,” Johnny introduced as he gestured to the older man. 

“John is fine,” the man corrected. He also held his hand out, reaching across the table for you to shake and introduce yourself. “Pleasure.” 

Next was the younger man, who Johnny introduced as Gaz. He held his hand out as well, which you promptly shook. 

“Kyle,” he said, offering his real name instead. 

With proper introductions out of the way, everyone began to take a seat at the table. Before you could fully seat yourself though, Simon stood behind you, pulling the chair away from the table for you. Glancing at him from over your shoulder, you grinned at him and offered him a quiet thanks before sitting down and allowing him to push your seat in. 

Simon took the spot to the right of you, and Johnny was on your left, effectively sandwiching you between the men. Despite the large size of the table, the stocky and broad build of all the men at the table took up a majority of the space, making you almost feel smaller than you had when you were all standing. 

Awkward conversation filled in the equally awkward silence while you waited for the event to begin. Though they all looked well put together and confident, you had a nagging feeling that those boys were very much out of their depth. Or, at the very least, they didn’t want to be there. The glassy eyed staring into the distance and bored tapping fingers against the soft tablecloth was a dead giveaway for that. 

Eventually the opening speeches began, and that only fueled everyone's boredom even more. Long, wordy speeches came from men who held way too much power and made way too much money for them to ever be fully respected by their subordinates. You had started to wonder if Simon hid the ball from you to save you from the painful formalities of it all. That was one thing you had forgotten about the military; the bullshit. Simon hardly ever complained about anything, so it was easy to glance over the annoying regulations and traditions they had to uphold. 

Including, but not limited to, terribly bland speeches. 

It was the promise of dinner that finally freed everyone from the boring drone of well paid aristocrats, and that mouthwatering scent you had noticed earlier increased tenfold as waiters and waitresses swarmed the room carrying entries to all the tables. Soon, everyone at the table had their plates full in front of them. Well, everyone but Simon, who had excused the waiter away so that he wouldn’t waste the food he wouldn't eat. 

Golden roasted chicken, yorkshire pudding, fragrant greens, and creamy mashed potatoes sat on the plate with the steam still rising off of it. You could almost feel your stomach twisting in excited anticipation as the tips of your fingers ran across the silverware. 

“At least they gave us a proper meal,” Kyle hummed as he instantly dived in and began cutting up his chicken. 

“Probably more about showing off than it is to entertain,” John quipped. 

The boys all hummed in agreement while you followed their lead. It was certainly one of the best tasting meals you ever had, and it was something you knew you could only dream of making yourself. How they got the mash so creamy was beyond you, and the chicken was so juicy it was more like biting into a water balloon than meat. 

“So, Spook,” Johnny spoke up, and it took you a moment to realize that he was talking to you, “what do you do for work?” 

It took you a moment to swallow the food in your mouth, and you promptly wiped your mouth off on a napkin before throwing him a quizzical look. “Spook?” 

“Don’t mind him,” Simon murmured. “Just a nickname Johnny coined for you.” 

Still slightly confused, you decided not to push on that subject quite yet and opted to answer his question. “I’m a bank teller.”

Johnny nodded and gave you a kind smile as he stabbed a bite of chicken with his fork. “Interesting.”

“Oh, not really. It’s quite boring, honestly,” you admitted. “The most exciting part of my day is watching the machine count money, and maybe fixing a jam every now and then.” 

This earned you a chuckle or two from around the table, and you found yourself smiling slightly in satisfaction. There was something comforting about it. Like you were beginning to fit in with the odd group of strange, and certainly dangerous, men. 

“Every job’s important, I suppose,” John said. 

“So then, how does a bank teller run into someone like Ghost?” Johnny then asked, his eyes glinting with something mischievous as he looked between you and Simon. 

Unsure, you glanced up at Simon. He sat hunched forward slightly, elbows on the table in front of him as he stared at his teammate. His eyes were dark, and difficult to read from that angle, but he hadn’t protested in any way. 

“He would come into work, actually,” you said, turning back to look at Johnny. “Always came to my desk because I was the only teller there who wouldn’t force him to show his face every single time he wanted to get money out of his account.” 

Your added bit of information seemed to stir up some sort of excitement in Johnny. You could see it in the way his eyes lit up and the corners of his lips curled into something childishly devious. 

“Ah. It’s cute to think about Ghost asking out the sweet bank teller,” Johnny teased. 

“What is this, an interrogation?” Simon piped up. His tone was stiff in the way it got when he was uncomfortable, but he brushed it off easily as he leaned back in his seat, eyes refusing to leave Johnny. 

If anything, his reaction only made you want to tell even more about you and Simon. It was obvious he was trying to keep you a secret in some capacity, but you knew only limited information about his teammates, and they knew next to nothing about you. Simon had built that wall and you were hellbent on tearing it down. 

“I was actually the one to ask him out,” you informed him before putting a spoonful of mash in your mouth. “We went to the cinema and watched this god awful movie. I think it was supposed to be a chick flick but god it was boring.” 

Simon shifted slightly as he leaned closer to you. “I think you asking me to the bar was technically our first date,” he corrected so quietly you weren’t sure if the others could pick it up through the chatter of everyone around the table. 

Heat instantly rushed to your cheeks and you covered your mouth in a slight gasp. Was it really? God, you had almost forgotten that night. Trying to enjoy the Halloween themed drinks before Eric came waltzing in like the prick he was just to ruin your night. It was almost embarrassing to think about, despite the fact that it was quite literally not your fault. 

“Seriously?” you whispered back, though not as tactfully. “I’d hate to think that was actually our first date.” 

That comment piqued Johnny’s interest, but you saw him hold himself back as he continued eating instead. With your cheeks still burning, you followed his lead, shoveling your mouth full of food to try and wash away the odd embarrassment you felt whenever you thought of that night. Or maybe it wasn’t embarrassment. Was it guilt? Guilt that Simon had to come to your rescue like that? 

You bit the corner of your lip. 

“Make sure to eat your veggies, sergeant,” John spoke up, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked up across the table and saw the man looking over at Kyle as he pointed his fork at the man's plate. “Have to make sure you grow up big and strong, now.” 

Kyle pressed his lips together in a tight lipped smile as he turned his attention towards his captain. “Sure you don’t want milk with that meal, sir? I heard bones grow brittle with age.” 

A giggle erupted from your throat at their bantering. For some reason it caught you off guard. Whenever you thought of the military, it was always manners and being proper, especially to your superiors. Yet those two were bickering like brothers. In a way, it was comforting.

About halfway through dinner was when the dance music started up. The speakers crackled and whined for a short moment as it sounded like someone attempted to shove an aux cord into their phone before the music sputtered to life. Soft classical waltz music you didn’t recognize bounced off of the large walls of the room, and a few couples bounded to the floor in the center and began dancing. 

It was a little strange to have a waltz playing in a modern day ball, but you weren’t exactly complaining. With the swishing gowns in front of you as the dancers spun around the floor, it looked like something out of a fairytale. Absolutely hypnotic as the lights glistened off of the sparkles on the skirts and the metals on the soldiers' uniforms. 

“You two should go dance,” Johnny said, causing you to turn around in your seat to face the table once more.

Really, you wanted nothing more than to dance with Simon. Even just the thought of it was enough to get your stomach fluttering. His hand on your waist, holding you close, guiding you across the floor. And everyone would look at the two of you and question how a big brute like Simon Riley, no, like Ghost, could do a thing such as dance. 

But something was telling you otherwise. Simon hardly wanted to go to that event, and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was mandatory, you were certain he would have skipped out on it completely. Making him dance would have been awkward for him in front of so many people. You were sure he would if you asked him to, but you didn’t want to subjugate him to torture like that. 

“Oh, that’s alright,” you said, brushing it off. “I’ve got two left feet. The last thing I’d want to do is embarrass your lieutenant on the dance floor.” 

You threw a cheeky grin over at Simon as you teased him. His head was tilted towards you, but only slightly as he gave you a challenging look, which only made your grin widen.

“Well, how about some practice, then?” Johnny offered. 

It took you a moment to realize what he had suggested, but once it clicked it took everything in you to keep your eyes from widening. Had he seriously asked you to dance? You looked from Simon, to Johnny, and back to Simon, wondering if you should even accept an offer like that from one of his teammates. It wasn’t like it was anything weird. It was just a dance, afterall, and Simon looked… unfazed, like he couldn’t care less. 

When he felt your eyes on him, he turned his full attention to you, gaze still unchanging. He easily read the odd apprehension in your stare, and he nodded towards Johnny as if saying go ahead. 

“Watch your toes,” he warned. 

And, well, that was all the encouragement you needed.

Before you knew it, you had agreed to Johnny’s offer and he led you out onto the dance floor where the two of you joined in the other spinning bodies as the next song started. His hand rested respectfully on your waist, not wandering too high or too low, and you realized how odd it felt to have someone other than Simon be that close to you. You had grown so used to his touch that anything else felt foreign. Still, you brushed off that feeling while you rested a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and the other in his hand. 

Dancing was much easier than you had anticipated it to be, as everyone seemed to be doing a simple sort of waltz. Honestly, even if you and Johnny had been completely off in your steps, you don’t think you would have minded all that much. 

“Lovely necklace,” Johnny spoke up, his eyes darting down to your neck for a short moment. 

“Thank you,” you said, glancing down as if you could view the necklace before looking back up at him. “It was a gift from Si- I mean, Ghost.” 

Johnny chuckled, but didn’t say anything about your near slip up. “He’s got good taste.” You nodded your head in agreement, and a short silence stretched out as the two of you fell into the groove of things. “So, what was your actual first date?” 

You gave him a breathy laugh as you stared up at him. With your sudden proximity, you were able to make out a few more features about him you hadn’t noticed before; namely, the scar that ran along his chin. He was young, and didn’t quite look like a hardened soldier yet, and you found yourself secretly hoping that it wouldn’t destroy the playfulness he had been demonstrating throughout the night. 

“I see what you’re doing,” you chuckled. “Using the dance as an excuse to interrogate me further, are you?” 

He gave you a toothy grin. “Getting anything out of Ghost is hopeless. Figured you were the next best bet.” 

You grinned back. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, he’s as tight lipped with me as he is with you. I hardly knew any of you existed before tonight.” 

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Johnny chuckled. He then paused for a moment before trying to encourage you one more time. “So… the date?” 

A soft sigh left you as you recalled the events of that night yet again. It wasn’t anything special, or at least you didn’t want it to be, yet it still felt difficult to talk about it at the same time. 

“I uh… invited him out for drinks under the guise that I didn’t want to go alone,” you said, beginning your tale. “Things were going great for a bit, but I ran into an… old friend, of sorts. He was wasted and got a bit handsy and…”

“Ghost give him a good smack?” Johnny finished. 

“Something like that.” 

It was a lot more than just a good smack. It was the closest you had ever seen to anyone losing themselves within a split moment. The sickening crack and squelch of his jaw, the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head, the loud thump that followed as he hit the ground. At first you were scared. Not really of Simon, just of the violence of it all, despite how necessary it was and how thankful you were for it. But as time grew on, you found yourself almost enjoying the memory of it despite the guilt. It was enjoyable how Eric finally got what he deserved. 

Maybe that was something to be scared about. How much you liked it. 

“Alright, is it my turn to ask a question?” you asked. 

Johnny nodded. “Aye, it’s only fair.”

“Why Spook?”

That question got a chuckle out of him, but he didn’t seem at all hesitant to answer. In fact, he almost seemed a little excited. 

“Well, it was only fitting, considering you’re with a man named Ghost. Ghost and Spook just felt right,” he explained.

The simplicity of it all surprised you. You had expected nicknames to come with long and complicated stories, not just something that someone thought of on a whim. Or maybe codenames and things of that sort weren’t as deep as you thought they were. 

“Cute. I like it,” you admitted. “Surprised he even mentioned me to you, though.” 

“Oh, nae, he never mentioned you. That part I figured out on my own,” Johnny admitted triumphantly. 

You hummed, though you weren’t at all surprised. “Smart man.”

“Ghost said the same thing to me once.” 

“How did you figure it out, then?” 

He paused for a moment as he adjusted his grip on your waist some, but his eyes began to glance around the room. They landed back on the table where the others were at for a short moment before he spoke again. 

“That handkerchief. Kept looking at it whenever we were out on missions.” His eyes fell back down to you. “Knew right then and there the poor bastard had fallen for someone. He kept sidestepping it whenever I asked about it. Nearly had me second guessing myself. Yet, here you are.” 

Out of any answer Johnny could have strung together, that had been the very last thing you ever would have thought of. But god did it light something within you. Something fresh, something overpowering and burning. 

“I didn’t even realize he still kept that stupid thing,” you muttered, breaking your gaze off of Johnny to look somewhere off to the side. 

“My turn?” Johnny asked, to which you nodded. “What’s it mean? The handkerchief?” 

His eyes flickered to your lips as your teeth sunk into them, biting at the raised scar that cut through the corner of your lip. You swallowed before looking back up at him. 

“My lip started bleeding at work once while he was there. He gave me his handkerchief to clean it up. I told him that I would just ruin it, but he insisted. I felt bad about staining it, and I certainly wasn’t going to give it back to him like that, so I went out and bought him a new one. Didn’t expect him to carry it around with him, though. It was mostly a gag gift, if anything,” you explained. 

Johnny watched you with kind eyes the entire time you explained yourself. He wasn’t just learning about you, he was learning about Ghost. The man he had been fighting next to, the man he trusted his life with. He’d fight tooth and nail for that man, and now that you were in the picture, that only fueled that desire even more. 

“He carries it in his back left pocket when we’re overseas,” he said, the careful and even tone of his voice catching you off guard. “Sometimes the corner of it sticks out, but it’s always there.” 

As if you needed another reason to fall in love with Simon, there Johnny went, adding another one onto the constantly growing list. It was such a simple and stupid thing, but it made your heart skip a beat all the same. But that feeling was quickly drowned by something else. Something a bit more painful. You could feel it in the way your chest tightened and your mind spun. 

“Can I ask you another question?” you piped up. 

“‘Course.” 

All the moisture left your mouth, and suddenly your tongue felt too big. The question that rattled around in your mind was a simple one, but you were terrified of the answer. But it was something you could never ask Simon. Not if you wanted a legitimate answer, anyway. 

“How much danger are you guys on your missions? Truthfully,” you asked. 

The question burned just as much coming out as it did keeping it trapped in, but you told yourself you needed to ask it. Johnny’s expression didn’t change much, but he was silent for a moment as he carefully curated an answer for you. 

“Well, we get excellent hazard pay, if that’s what you’re wonderin’,” he said, attempting to crack a joke. Though you appreciated it, it wasn’t the answer you were looking for, and he knew that, too. “But I won't lie to you. We get sent on high priority missions, dangerous ones. It’s what we agreed to when we joined the forces. Being in the SAS isn’t supposed to be easy.” 

Of course. What other answer had you expected from him? Simon gets to sit in the back of the humvee in full juggernaut armor just so he can go home safe to his little girlfriend? He was a soldier. Danger was a part of the job. Dying was too, in some cases. A case that you hoped would never happen to him, or any of them, for that matter. 

Johnny was quick to recognize the dejected look that invaded your eyes, and you felt his movements grow a little more firm as he continued to lead you across the dance floor. Really, he could have left his answer at that, as it was the most obvious and true thing he could say. Still, his playful smile softened into something more sincere. Something more understanding. 

“But keep in mind,” he continued, “we wouldn’t be in the SAS if we weren’t the best of the best. We’re good at what we do. Ghost is like a brother to me. I’d do anything to protect him, just as he would for me. We’ll get him home safe, hen. Promise.” 

You knew better than anyone that promises meant very little. They were easily broken, both willing and unwilling. Because of that, it was always difficult for you to put your faith in people. The promise to change, the promise to stay, the promise to be better; it had all been shattered so many times. Even your own broken promises laid in rotting shards embedded in the bottom of your feet. Everyone you ever knew left a trail of blood in their wake, just like you. 

But it wasn’t the promise that was important. It was the act. The want. The words. It was everything else. Johnny wanted to bring Simon home safe. In that moment, that was good enough for you. 

“Thanks, Johnny. I’m glad he has someone like you to watch his back,” you said, your voice coming out a bit weaker than you had intended it to be. 

The song ended and almost instantly rolled over into another song. The airy fabric of your dress flittered with your movements and it wrapped around your legs as you and Johnny continued to dance. More people had joined on the floor by that point, and there was a photographer wandering around taking elegantly timed pictures of every important looking person they could find. 

Simon wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you the entire time you and Johnny danced. Not because he didn’t trust Johnny to be a gentleman, but because he was enamored by you. How the dress fit on your body, how your smile outshined even the expensive chandelier above your heads, how your eyes glimmered in the light. He loved you best like that. Not when you were dressed up (though it was nice to see), but when he could watch you from afar. When he could just sit and watch you enjoy your life and catch every little detail about you that he could. It was perfect. 

You were perfect. 

“She’s a sweet girl,” John spoke up, attempting to catch Simon’s attention. At that point, he wasn’t even sure death could rip his eyes away from you. 

“She is,” he quietly agreed. “More than I deserve.” 

John could only hum in response as he fished for something else to say. His eyes wandered over to the pint of beer that sat next to his empty plate. “When was the last time you went on holiday?” 

Well, it wasn’t quite death, but it was enough to shock him and finally get Simon to turn his attention to his captain. “Holiday? Being stuck on base is the only vacation I need,” he answered, somewhat sarcastically. 

Kyle sat between the two of them, awkwardly glancing back and forth between the men as if he were a child stuck between arguing parents. Neither man paid him much mind though, and he continued to pull out his phone as he attempted to block everything out. 

“I’m talking about an actual holiday, Ghost,” John corrected, and it was difficult to tell if the frustration in his voice was playful or not. 

“I don’t need a vacation,” Simon said with a small shake of his head. 

“Spook agree with you on that?” 

Simon tilted his head slightly, and his eyebrows quirked up with dangerous intent. It was as if he was challenging the man. He shifted slightly in his seat, leaning forward in a way that made Kyle look up from his phone. 

“If you’re tryin’ to say somethin’ just say it,” Simon urged with a sigh. 

“You haven’t taken proper leave in ages,” John elaborated. “You’ve got a nice girl in your life now. Maybe you should use some of that time off and spend it with her.” 

Never in a million years did he ever think he would be getting relationship advice from John fucking Price, yet there Simon sat at that small table full of stupidly expensive silverware, letting the man tutor him. He wasn’t sure what annoyed him more; the situation itself, or the fact that he knew the bastard was right. 

A sigh left Simon, which was quickly muffled by the thick fabric of his mask as he turned away from John and put his attention back on you. Throughout his entire career, he hadn’t ever taken a proper vacation. Whatever time he had spent away from work in the past was either picking up the shattered pieces of what was once his family, or healing from wounds. Sure he knew how to relax when he wasn’t deployed. Even between the paperwork he had to do on base as a lieutenant, it wasn’t like work consumed him all the time. But it did keep him chained and on a tight leash. 

“I’ll think about it,” Simon spoke, the tone in his voice marking the end of the conversation. 

Another hum came from John which quickly turned into a gruff chuckle as he raised his glass to his lips. “Better think carefully.” 

Eventually, you and Johnny got either too bored or too tired to keep up with the painfully traditional waltzes and returned back to the others at the table. The rest of the night was quickly filled with joyous laughter from playful jokes to entertaining stories while everything continued on around you. 

Later in the evening was when things began to devolve into something that resembled childish chaos. It was the type of chaos that was led by the tough members of the military, which only made it more entertaining to watch. Replace the waltz music with something that resembled more of a modern dance, and switch the water out for booze, and suddenly the ball turned into a genuine party. People swarmed the dance floor, stumbling around in their dresses and uniforms while attempting to sway to the fast paced music. 

“I think that’s my queue to leave,” John spoke up while patting his hands on the table. His eyes focused out on the crowd of drunken attendants on the floor, their bodies weaving together while their arms flung haphazardly around their heads. 

“Past your bedtime?” Kyle teased. 

“Everyone needs their beauty sleep,” John retorted. 

It wasn’t until the word sleep was mentioned that you realized just how tired you were. Between the excitement of that evening, and spending most of the day stressing and preparing for the event, you found yourself quite exhausted. You could feel it in the heaviness of your limbs and the featherlight airiness of your mind. 

“Tired, sweetheart?” Simon asked, his voice low and quiet. God, that hint of gruffness to his words made you want to wrap yourself in his voice so tightly that you would suffocate. 

“A little, yeah,” you confirmed as you looked up at him. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed it earlier, but when you made eye contact with him, you realized you could see the reflection of the lights in his eyes. The dark brown, almost black, color of his irises mimicked that of a mirror, and you could see the beauty of the venue through them. 

“Sounds like we’ll be headed out, too,” Simon spoke up, addressing the table. 

“What? Already?” Johnny asked, dejected. “You two didn’t even dance!” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his childlike sadness. “There will be other dances,” you assured him. 

“Yeah, none he’s going to want to go to,” Johnny grumbled. 

It was for the best, anyway. Being able to attend the ball with Simon was a miracle within itself, and you weren’t going to push your luck by making him dance with you, something you knew would certainly make him uncomfortable. That night was already a dream come true, and you’d rather not turn it into something awkward. 

So the two of you said your farewells and expressed your gratitude in finally being able to meet them. Then you began to weave through the tables with your arm wrapped around Simon’s as he led you towards the exit. Laughter hung heavy in the air even as you left, and you let it fill the comfortable silence between the two of you. It was a good night, you decided. A magical one, even. But it was ending, and soon it turned into nothing but muffled music through a set of heavy wooden doors. 

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss @crowbird

find my taglist here

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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First Chapter

11. 𝓟𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

He descended the stairs leading to the cellar, locking the door behind him. Taking on a path he was no stranger to, he moved with a confident and measured pace, his every step echoing through the dimly lit corridor. Passing the wine cellar, he continued on, guided by memory, until he reached a door that only he possessed the key to.

From his pocket, he extracted a golden key and inserted it into the lock. As he turned it, a resounding click announced the door's release. He winced as his enhanced hearing picked up the sound of the door creaking open. Nevertheless, he proceeded into the room.

On a table within, lay a black casket, and Dorian couldn't help but smile affectionately at the sight. He observed its occupant in silence.

He looked peaceful, his eyelids closed, a vision of serenity, with defined features. A cascade of midnight-black hair, like a river of silk, flowed around him, pooling onto the pillow in elegant disarray. Stray strands occasionally danced in the faint breeze, adding to the enchantment of the scene. His dark eyelashes casted delicate shadows on his cheeks. High cheekbones framed his serene face, and his skin, smooth as porcelain, bore no imperfections.

He caressed his cheek. Some might look at the man and think he was dead. After all, a stake piercing one's heart generally led to death. Dorian knew better, and the corner of his lips quirked up. Vampires like them were far sturdier than mere mortals, after all and while a stake through their heart would immobilize them— put them in a slumber, some would even say —, it wasn’t enough to kill. Decapitation in this weakened state would, though. 

Dorian’s eyes landed on the ring the other wore. He could, if he wished to, remove it. He could then place him under the vicious, unforgiving glare of the sun and watch him burn and turn to ash if he wished to. He could kill him for good. Teach him a lesson. The other vampire wouldn’t even be able to do anything in this state. Perhaps the blonde would wake him up before so, just so he could hear his screams. 

"My visits have become less frequent of late," he acknowledged while passing a hand through the other’s hairs. "I have been terribly busy recently." A smile formed on the blond's face. "We have a daughter."

He paused for a moment, as if expecting a response. His hand inched closer to the stake, and his fingers wrapped around it. He could do it if he wished to. He could free the other from this forced slumber. He could pull it out. A second hand joined the first. Then, Dorian stepped away, letting go of the blessed wooden object.

With a cold gaze sent in the slumbering vampire’s direction, he reminded himself of why he shouldn’t. At least not now. He didn’t deserve it now. He didn’t deserve to wake up just yet. Not when he had tried to leave. 

"Poor Killian," he began sarcastically with a sneer, receiving no answer. "Here you lie, a tortured soul who wants nothing more than to be rid of your nature." Their nature. His voice edged with bitterness. "If you did, you would be dead by now. Rotting, decaying in the dirt, consumed by worms."

He collected himself, brushing any potential trace of dust and dirt from his clothing, and spared one last glance at the man before turning and departing the room. He should just be rid of him. Dorian could get rid of him easily. Killian wouldn’t deserve less in his eyes, after all. The blond might find someone else more agreeable than him. His stomach churn at the thought, though. He locked the door securely behind him and ascended the stairs.

Checking the old grandfather clock in the entrance, he noted the time: 11:40 PM. (Y/n) would soon descend to have a meal with him. The young girl had proven to be quick to grasp new knowledge, and she had adjusted to her life within the estate. She was, if not content, at least no longer overwhelmed by her past. There had been a time when her cries filled the days, and instead of restful sleep, she shed tears over the prospect of her new — far better — existence. Now, an air of resigned apathy clung to her, a stark transformation from her earlier emotions. She had learned. Learned not to mourn such matters. She had also readily adapted to her new schedule, her days spent in slumber and nights in activity. 

The vampire found himself pondering the recent transformation in his child's demeanor, contemplating whether her newfound apathy might, in fact, be a welcome change. He had grown accustomed to the serenity that accompanied her lack of protest, appreciating the tranquility of moments when she refrained from making a fuss. Children were better when they behaved after all. His child was meant to be seen by his side, adorned in lavish dresses only fit for princesses, looking like a beautiful little doll. Her purpose was not to voice her opinions or express herself through tantrums, but to exist as a silent but striking presence, a living embodiment of grace and beauty.

Dorian entered his bedroom, making a wardrobe change into more appropriate attire for the evening meal. He then proceeded to the dining room, where he took his usual seat. While food was not a necessity for a being like him, he still indulged in the occasional delicacy, and the time spent with the child was a welcome diversion. He was served a glass of blood and sipped it slowly, paying no heed to which servant's life had been sacrificed for his drink. As long as they didn't soil his estate while spilling the blood, he spared little thought for such matters. Dorian avoided killing within his home. The paintings and tapestries on the walls were too precious to be stained. Furthermore, hunting was far more gratifying, satisfying an urge within him. Yet, with a child who he preferred not to leave on her own, he had settled for this arrangement.

By 12:10 AM, he noticed the girl still hadn't come down to eat. A frown furrowed his brow, and he resorted to ringing a bell, summoning a servant to remind the girl of her mealtime. Ten minutes passed, and still, she had not appeared. His patience wore thin, and he sighed in frustration. He had believed that they were past the point of dealing with her tantrums. Pouting, glaring, or even crying he could endure, but refusing to eat was an entirely different matter. She was still a mortal after all, eating was a necessity for beings such as herself.

Dorian rose from his seat, frustration building within him. He made his way to her room, hardly paying attention to the bustling servants he encountered along the way. Upon reaching the girl's bedroom, he opened the door to find two servant ladies engaged in an agitated conversation.

"Where is my daughter?" He demanded, annoyance evident in his tone. He had little patience for another one of her tantrums. The two girls exchanged uncertain glances before one of them spoke. "I do not have all night," he sneered, issuing a warning.

"We don't know, sir," the first servant admitted, following her words with profuse apologies.

Dorian's eyes narrowed to slits. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"We are all looking for her," the second servant began, but he silenced her.

He stormed out of the room and thundered, "I want everyone here. Now!"

In a short span, the entire staff of the household had gathered, all looking highly anxious. He paid no heed to their nervousness, as he had more pressing concerns.

"Where is my daughter?" He repeated his question, prompting various answers, all centered around the fact that they had no idea of (Y/n)'s whereabouts.

"Speak. Clearly," he growled.

"We don't... we have searched everywhere, sir," one man admitted. "She isn't here."

Anger surged within his chest. "She can’t have vanished," he reprimanded, throwing his arms up in frustration. The assembled staff instinctively stepped back in fear.

Attempting to regain his composure, Dorian's enhanced senses failed to pick up any trace of her scent. Every corner of the house had absorbed her fragrance by now, and the servants' constant muttering and apologies drowned out any other sounds he might have detected. 

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he hissed, "Quiet!" Even in the ensuing silence, the sound of their heartbeats echoed loudly in his ears. 

Perhaps, if he were to slaughter them all, the silence would finally prevail. He soon chased that thought away; he needed more people to search, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t furious at them for their incapability of finding one child.

"You are useless," he ranted, his canines emerging, and his nails taking on a more menacing form due to his anger. "Utterly incompetent! Split into groups and search every floor. Leave no stone unturned." The servants hesitated, apprehensive of his demeanor. With another surge of anger, he snapped, "NOW!"

[simp-ly-writes]

Lasting Pictures: When We Are Together (pt.8)

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Reader

Summary: John and 141 discover more about your whereabouts alongside the secrets you have been hiding from them. The lies, the cold shoulders and sleepless nights come swinging back in your face with vengeance yet never have such sweet words been shared in spite of it all. Your future awaits on the horizon, now it is up to you to decide who you are sharing in it.

Warnings: 6180 words, slowburn, swearing, mentions of blood, injury and torture.

A/N: I can't believe its already been 85 pages of this story, thank you all for the support! I hope you enjoy the sweet ending of this chapter!

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

Back in London at Base

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN- KATE” Price shouts in the office space. An assistant shakes from behind the door with the force these words are projected with, doing their best to not eavesdrop from the hallway was a hard task as the rest of the task force… calmly waited in the hall while glaring daggers their way- not being allowed entry. 

Back inside the room, Laswell shakes her head as it drops into her hands, her elbows resting against the table as her usual bun falls out- her hair acting as a shield. “I don’t give a shit about what any General has to say- that is my squad member, my responsibility so do tell me why the FUCK they are in a differnet country operating outside of our military?” Price shouts out once more before taking a step back from leaning over the station chiefs desk, now walking in circles just in front of it and tossing a hand through his hair. 

Taking a deep breath, Laswell tries her best to formulate an answer without giving away too many details yet the Captain notices this change in her personality. “No- you do not get to hide answers away from me Kate. I have gone off the books, committed atrocities in the name of good- I deserve to know why at least. Or what about this- Kate,” The Captain stills, looking up at the ceiling for another ounce of patience as both of theirs were wearing thin. The boys in the hallway could be heard from through the door, piling question after question on the poor assistant.

Price turns his head towards Kate, casting his chin down- his eyes pointed, “Why was I NOT acknowledged when Dice was Injured on that last mission, why was I not noted on that interrogation- Christ, Laswell-”

“No John. You do not get to make these demands of me in MY office, on my base- I am not a secretary, I am not a doctor, and I am not going to tell you the answers when you integrate me, Captain. You could have had those last two answers if you got your jealousy issues over with and asked the damn lieutenant,” Laswell retorts while closing her laptop, she was taking herself off the clock early for today. Grabbing her coat, John blocks the door with his arms crossed as Laswell reflects the same- eyebrows furrowed. 

“Maybe me and the boys would not be having such jealousy issues if the guys were not here on base to begin with- they had no reason to be originally- and they definitely have no reason to be off with MY squad member,” John restates his points with a more leveled tone, his mouth twitches up into a smirk as he watches Laswell internally battle herself- knowing that the guys just outside would make worse demands than he. 

Laswell sighs out, throwing her coat on a nearby chain before motioning John back over to her desk where she turns her laptop around and shows the thread of emails shared between herself, Shepard and Graves. The shadow company CEO demanded for Dice to be stationed with their team, a token that their contract would be upholded. As the missions dragged on, Graves became more restless-  John shakes his head at this new information, refusing to read anymore.  

“This is why I didn’t show you John. I know you are not a fan of these side-deals but-”

“BUT what Kate, but what. With their background, it is absolutely disgusting that you would make them do this-”

“Well they did agree to it?” Laswell states but comes out more like a question. 

“Did they know? Well maybe with someone of their past, they couldn’t imagine saying no- working themselves to the bone. Fuck, we barley saw them and when we did,” John takes a moment closing his eyes as his voice comes out softer, “I looked past my jealously Kate, I saw that they were healing those memories with em’ but I will not look past them being used. I know where they're coming from, when the higher-ups keep shouting in your ear, demanding more of you until you become a husk. I couldn’t look at them Kate, I-I couldn’t look and see that version of myself reflected again. The rest of us we-” Price stops mid sentence as the door is thrusted open and shut, the assistant now fleeing the scene. 

“We were feeling a load of shit- Laswell. You try and watch someone you care for gradually slip away, burying themselves in work because they ‘apparently’ didn't do enough- and when you do try and see them again, they look past you and to someone else- looking happier than ever,” Johnny states while leaning against a wall, looking out the window and onto the training grounds all those months ago. “Sure it is jealousy, yes we did give the cold shoulder but there is no worse feeling than being replaced and everyone was feeling that in one way or another,” Soap finishes as Ghost only nods in reply. 

Gaz speaks up next, “If we are sharing then, I know Graves is trying to recruit them, Kate. We all knew it- saw it, and it became all the more disheartening when those shadows appeared in our own personal space and then next week- BAM! They are off without a word- I fucking wonder we were having sloppy work recently, there is only so much we can get done while functioning in the dark.” By the end Kyle is out of breath, taking a bottled water from the minifridge and sitting in one of the armchairs across from Lasswell's desk. 

Ghost shakes his head before commenting, “So they worked their ass off, fearing they would be replaced in some way or better yet when another devil comes whispering in your ear, complimenting your good work, showing you friends and pleasures of the craft yet we were stuck doing time-consuming work for no use? What fucking plan is that- no actually, a useless plan that is.”

‘Well then boys, it is a good thing I am sending you off to join them tomorrow if you are done? I apologise, that's the best I can give you now with what I have been working with. I can’t do much if I got fired from Shepard- John. And the best strings I could play was ensuring that they would at least be working with people they knew in the area- I’m sorry for what this has caused. I,"Kate takes a moment, a shaky breath exiting herself, “-I see what they were starting to mean to you all and I am sorry that I was the one who had to take that away from you. But it is up to Dice in the end if they end up signing that contract- we all can only hope they do not.” 

“Like fuck they won’t,” Johnny states, a smile gracing its way across his face as he pulls Gaz up and hugs the man, throwing in a hand for Ghost to join them who only rolls his eyes in reply. John shakes his head, the energy in the room having a noticeable difference as he checks his watch. The next day was not far off in the early morning hours they were in now, deployment was soon and soon was when they would make it their personal mission to have you stay with their team. The past meeting the present, and the present overtaking the past as it should- in theory. 

--

↳ One Week Until Mission “Spill”

When the boys touch down on the tarmac, they initially do not see you leaned up against the back of Alex’s truck as you and Farah share drinks out of a water bottle. “Gorgeous!” Johnny calls out once spotting you as he shoves himself in front of a very confused Alez who pats him on the shoulder. “Hey man, it's been a long time since we last saw each other- how have things been?”

“Been better but we have work to do,” Soap replies while wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he practically drags you to sit beside him in the back of the truck. Farah waves you goodbye as she goes to talk to Price who sends you a solid nod in recognition of your presence. You look at the side of Soaps mohawk with confusion, Why are you back to being so touchy all the sudden? 

As if knowing your very thoughts he gives you a wink before squeezing your shoulder and strapping you into your seat with a grin. Horangi slides in on your otherside as Alex turns the engine on, Köing rushes to shotgun, mumbling about more legroom as you kick his seat and blame it on Horangi who curses out loudly before lightly punching you on the thigh. You wince, gripping your pant leg as you invite Soap in on the backseat chaos. 

“Oh my god! Is that blood!” he yells out with exaggerated gasps as Horangi tries to choke back laughter and Alex politely asks for everyone to, “shut the fuck up.” While readjusting the rear view mirror, double checking that you were not in fact hurt. 

--

Once back at the house, the squads are gearing themselves up as you double check your notebooks on all the information you have collected thus fall, helping Farah and Price to outline the ever-growing team you all had established here. 

“And drinks are on me afterwards!” Matthew announces as the crowd cheers, a few members of Farah's group had appeared half-way through the debrief that you had never met before. You giggled to yourself as quite a few eyed up Horangi and Köing, pulling on their sleeves to get their attention, you pointed like gossip girls to the people who were looking for company. 

 Köing turns a bright red, “Maus-I don’t know…” “Oh come on! Doesn't have to add to anything- you don’t even have to fuck, get your head out of the gutter Horangi- I know that look better than anyone,” you tease out but your eyes hold utmost seriousness. You kept thinking about your talks with them earlier in the week and the aftermath of these next few missions, everything was hanging in the air with this departure's success and yet you couldn’t help but want for everyone here in this room to have something for when they arrived back- in whatever state they would be in. 

Seeing your eyes fog over with the depth of your thoughts, Simon brushes his shoulder against your own, nodding along to Farash speech as you snap out of your trance, glancing up to him with a thankful smile as you point to various entrance points you discovered while scooping out the place through public architectural blueprints. 

With one last slam to the table and a battle cry being placed, Price requests to speak with you outside as you follow suit, Gaz in tow. He keeps his back to you while walking, ensuring that you all are a good ways away from the house before he starts to speak. “Before we go out on this mission, Dice. There are a few things I need to come clean about, and a few answers I would like from you in return.”

You process his words, eyes darting anywhere but his own as your palms sweat, You were not reading to make your decision whether to stay with the military or go after Spill- Please don’t ask about this, please don’t. You nod once as Gaz crosses his arms beside Price, “As your Captain I am disappointed you did not come to me for support when you needed it and I don’t just mean work, love. In that disappointment of mine, I directed it towards you rather than at myself, I misplaced my actions while addressing your old squad as did the rest of the boys. I cannot speak for their shite but what I will say is that, I’m sorry Dice. I was an arse,” Price says while casting his eyes down to his boots, he grips his vest, swinging on his feet and you cannot help but cast a smile at his actions. 

“It’s alright, Price. I-I get it, I was in a downright terrible position and I should have gone to the team but when the guys came around-I… I just got lost in the memories, you know? Those good feelings came back but with the more nights we spent talking to one another… the more it wore off and the more guilty I felt knowing that I left you all without a word…” you sigh out in relief that the dreaded question did not get asked yet Gaz takes that sigh as the start of tears as he races up, encasing you in a warm hug. You smile into his skin as he chuckles at the feeling. John decides to make this a group hug as you groan at the weight of gear being toppled on you before an anxious Alex is screaming from the backdoor like a worried mother, “We are on the road in six people, get your shit together- we have deadlines to meet tonight.”

--

Hopping out of the trucks once more, you find Price standing on a stump as he counts heads and ultimately addresses the crowd. Soon lines are being formed throughout the treeline and comms are declared silent, you could see your first objective as part of the abandoned factory. 

Distant echoes of metal grinding in on itself as trees swayed and groaned in the wind provided an eerie atmosphere to the rising tensions in your shoulders. Standing against the wall, with your NODs on, you nodded towards Gaz as he clipped the lock and you entered the room, to what would be a series of offices. Casting yourself against the further wall to your side and making your way to the centre to meet up with Soap he signals for you to unlock the next door. The first and second room were found empty. 

Yet as you move deepering into the facility, through the various offices that have used coffee mugs and papers scattered across their tops, the sound of running feet can be heard echoing down the hall on the outside platform, connecting the offices to the greater factory and mining pit beneath. Turning your head to see Ghost already holding up his hand, you all pause and hear as the steps get closer. 

Raising your gun to your face as Gaz does the same. You hold steady as the door handle jiggles, Johnny takes cover behind a tipped over desk, resting his gun against its side as he tries to squint through the blinds from a distance, unable to identify the possible target. A few shouts in another language can be heard as they fumble for their keys and drop a flashlight, it rolls across the metal platform as they swear out into the night air and another voice soon joins their worries. 

Ghost stares at the door, gun raised in wait as he eyes you all to hold position. The door soon flies open, you all still hidden in the darkness of the room- observing their actions as they shut the door behind themselves and lean against it- panting out. 

Ghost steps towards the window light, motioning them to lay flat against the ground with his gun as he orders with a strict tone, “Hands and Knees on the fucking ground. On the fucking ground now.”

Gaz dashes over to secure them both, moving them against the back wall where Soap and you wait. Equipping the flashlight on your gun you focus in on their faces and kneel to view their badges as Ghost stands behind you, reading to move in if they pull any fast actions on you. They were cousins to the working family who ran this frontal tree-logging factory where in actuality this is where they produced their newest explosive weaponry. 

Both scientists refuse to meet your gaze before you grab one of their chins, ensuring their eyes meet your own. They portray confidence, yet their shaking knees tell otherwise, “I need you to tell me who else works here.”

The scientist to the man you currently hold shakes their head violently, thrashing their hands in the restraints as Soap places a boot against their body, stopping their movements with a stubble bit of pressure. “Do not try to look at your friend. I will not ask you again, you tell me- or you meet our other friends in the woods- your choice,” you speak in a clear, even tone.

The man simply spits in your face as you drop your hold on their chin and instead force their body upright, their feet slipping against the floors in an effort to hold themselves up. “What a shame, your cousin here will get to go first- let your lack of information help their screams,” you pressure them further as their eyes go wide- believing in your hold to words. 

“They-they are 42 of us here, 10 in staff today- I do not know elsewise to their location. Please believe me- do not hurt her” the man shakes underneath your grip, their shirt slightly tearing as you press them into the wall- it creaks from the weight. 

“That's a start, where are they, where are the 10?”

“I-I will show you,” the scientist counter-offers as the lady nods her head in agreement, “yes, we will show.”

“No showing necessary, you will tell me now- I will be taking your badges.”

“Yes, of course! Of course,  t-they are meeting with accountant in west wing,” the man stumbles to answer. 

“Who is this accountant? Where are they from, who do they speak to?”

“I-I do not know, you will have to ask. They only come to see we do the work and leave afterwards. They are not from here, foreign looks. That all I know, please.”

“Good, thank you,” you offer the man a tight-lipped smile before dropping him to the floor. He groans out as you search his jacket for the mentioned ID and destroy the SIN card in his phone as Johnny examines the woman's handbag and empties it across a desk. 

Finding the other ID and her notebook, he stashes them in his vest before enabling comms for another team to keep watch of the two scientists in custody- they would be needed in court afterwards. 

--

After a few moments and adjusting your gear, you hold up your gun abruptly to the sounds of rushing boots. The knocks sounded at the door follow the prediscoled pattern as you sigh out in relief and open the door for the squad to enter, Simon presents the information gathered as they radio back to base while staring down at the two scientists who refuse to make eye-contact once more. 

The squad leader gives Simon a nod, signaling your exit as you all make your way towards the west wing. Greeting other squads that you find along the way as Gaz stays behind to help dress one of their wounds. 

The metal stairs that you deascened for moan in the wind and shift with the building as you enter down into the west wing. A set of double doors greets your faces as you each take a side, readying to enter the space with a sudden burst. All the lights are on inside the large meeting hall as various guns are pointed up at your face, shouting for your compliance. 

Setting your weapon down in your hands as Johnny and Simon do the same, it was squad 3-5 that stood in the room, already holding a tight control over those yet to be interrogated in one of the private meeting rooms or holding the exits. 

Laughing out as horror exits your system, you hear the all-familiar sounds of John's investigations as you enter the room as Johnny and Simon wait outside. Price does not face you, his knuckles bloodied yet the accountant's face looks a whole lot worse, or well at least what you assume to be the accountant in their… disturbed appearance. 

Letting out a low whistle, the Captain chuckles in response before leaning over. He presses his hands snuggly into their shoulders, forcing them to almost break the back of the wooden chair as he whispers into their ear, eyes flicking upwards to meet your own as he speaks, “Nice of you to join us Dice, maybe you have something to help move this investigation along. Any bargaining chips potentially?” 

The accountant stays silent, only glaring into your eyes as you blink twice back at them, “I know that you murdered thousands with the numbers you love to play with back at that office of yours, just outside the city right? Women, children, awaiting fathers, it's all the same to you- isn’t it? Your wife-” you chuckle to yourself, shaking your head as you saunter around the room, “we had a splendid time after the Charity Gala together. Her moans never sounded so sweet while being stripped of that silky red dress,” you humm afterwards as if thoughtfully remembering the scene. 

John keeps his eyes locked onto yours as the account begins to shift in their restraints more. He moves a gloved hand, forcing them to look back up at you as you walk closer to stand in front of their sat form, smiling down. 

“She told me of how you couldn't make her fulfilled in bed. How good my hands felt in her hair, trailing down her neck of diamonds and right to her stomach…” you tisk the accountant, brushing your hand against John's shoulder before continuing, “then she told me how you had to sell your own manliness to women who only were bought for your attention, sick bastard you are truly. So much so that she found herself in the sheets of not only me, your enemy who made her feel more than you did in 20 years- but the oligarch you work for as well. How wonderful is that- no?”

“You tell lies-”

“Why would I waste my words on a man like you if not only to tell the truth? You are pathetic really…” you trail off while Price smiles, he knows that you both are almost there to crack this man's facade. 

“You are pathetic, your little mind games serve as dull knives.”

“Then what will be said of you whatever would your boss think when he finds out you have been tilting the numbers yet again, but are stealing your fortune to pay off that mistress of yours- hm?” you retort with a large plaster across your face as John whistles out, giving their cheek a good pat before coming to stand by your side. 

“Decision is yours, I have a member of death's door waiting, like seeing the reaper himself if you want a pre-show to your fate or you could choose to put your dick back into your pants like a good ol’boy and wag your tail for your boss- we would love a chat,” Captain Price teases out, his voice filled with grovel from all the yelling he had done today.

A low nod of the head is all you need for evidence of his acceptance before John is signaling through the window for someone to handle the accountant. And by the time you both exit the room, the accountant in cuffs walking out with another squad member before you and all of his people who laugh at his appearance. You notice as Ghost refuses to make eye-contact with you, instead shifting his feet when you ask if he’s doing alright. When turning around to face Soap, he gives you a strained grin, his gun lower than usually positioned by his core as he tilts his head, signaling towards Price, signally for assurance.

A cough can be heard as you all turn to face Gaz who stands with his arms outstretched as you walk over to give him a hug, your gun dangling across your chest as you both shimmy around one anothers gear with a laugh. With your face plastered into his side, he gives a wink towards Simon and Johnny- a look of understanding for their current state as messages are shared throughout the facility- it was time for exfil after a mission well served. 

--

A shake of your shoulder as your eyes snapping awake, you did not mean to have a nap. Blinking your eyes clear, you notice as a corporal shakes you awake then points to the Captain. Price’s eyes scan your own in a restless search- but for what? Tilting your head towards the Captain to signify your confusion towards his actions he patches himself into your radio system while holding your gaze. 

“Do you know if your shadow friends will be joining us for the next objective?”

“Unclear sir, I have yet to hear from their intelligence crews” the title you state becomes knives to John’s ears, cutting their way down to his lungs as he takes a breath in trying to calm himself, already worked up from the earlier mission as you blink none-the-wiser to your word choice’s impact. 

“John or Price, your choice Dice…” John replies with a more flat tone than usual that has your head topping to the side. “Sorry Price, still wearing off the adrenaline from the mission, brains a bit scrambled as of current,” you state with a sloppy smile as he casts a tired one of his own, closing his eyes with a humm, extending his boot to touch your own as you lock your ankles around it. 

Soon Ghosts voice comes through your headset as you look around to find where he was seated, five seats down, the masked figure stared down the aisle to look at you and his Captain while moving his mic down to his mouth, “Had to hold Johnny back from that Horangi guy a few days ago, same can be said about Gaz and Köing. Mop-masked was holding Kyle in a death stare in the meeting room.”

Johnny pipes up to conversation beside Simon as he notices what is being discussed from the reactions everyone is displaying from throughout the aisle, pulling down his radio system. Simon grips his thigh, as if warning him of doing something that has your eyes narrowing in mixed confusion, concern and irritation- what were they keeping from you?

“Al’right, that Horangi fucker. What is his deal, gorgeous? Really had to share some harsh words with him after what he said about you. Can’t fucking believe that you would say he’s your best with the alligations he presented,” Soap rants while rolling his shoulders, as if preparing himself for a fight. 

“Is that why you were being so touchy in the car ride? You only had to ask, quite like your hands,” you ask with a teasing tone, blood still pumping through your body as you watch as Johnny's cheeks flush, the adrenaline from the mission has him on edge as your little stab has him falling back in embarrassment before he rounds his own fireback. 

“Love hearing my name on your lips, may have to come over there so you never forget it,” he teases right back with a large wink as Simon whispers for you all to “tone it down,” as he looks at the various eyes looking between our squad- trying to understand the conversation happening between you all. 

“If I remember, there were some other names you wished me to call you as well but first, do tell me about these allegations,” you press forward. Gaz now joins, offering his side from an unknown place in the plane. “Simon patched me into what's happening. Köing rubbed me the wrong way with his looks, as if he knew something I didn’t.”

Johnny presses the topic further, adding, “Said that I would never know what you really needed from a ‘team’. I don’t regret my actions, Y/N, I will tell you that now. But when they say those kinds of things, and you leave for those weeks when they arrive- leads me to conclusions I don’t wish to face. We acted nice in front of you, Dice. But I need you to tell me before we land, are you a part of our squad or not?”

“Always,” you answer before your brain can keep up, “I talked in parts of this with Simon one day but… you guys are it for me I think. I cannot say for sure after this mission but… I got what I needed off my plate these past few weeks with the past and now I can promise that you have only my attention,” you state with a raised chest in pride. 

“I better have all of your attention,” Johnny comments back, “Alright you,” Simon voices over, taking off Soaps headset and placing it out of reach as you howl with laughter down the line, waking Price up from his temporary drift off, flashing you a smile as you wince out an apology. 

Shaking your head down in your laugh to calm down, you pick your microphone back down to continue speaking, “Look, I apologise to you all for my shitty behaviour, their equally shitty behaviour- really all around shitness that has happened. You all have become my truest friends since meeting Gabby in elementary and friends is a term I do not use sparingly- I must hold my thanks. I will do better to come to you all when I am struggling,” you promise watching as Soap manages to sneak back his headset while Simon sends you a warm stare that has you flashing him a smile, enjoying how beet red he gets underneath his gear. 

“Just, Friends- hm?” Soap questions with a small frown flashing across his features. 

You smile and nod back vigorously, not knowing how to place your thanks into words in a better way than actions. Failing to notice the tone in which the word was replied back in as he leans back against the divider and out of sight with a contemplative humm. 

Simon chuckles at your answer, the deep sound causing your heart to race and our lungs to flutter. How you wished to hear the sound again as you watched his chest rise and fall with the actions while underneath that tight black vest. As Gaz and Price remain silent to the conversation. 

A few moments go by as you all allow the words to sink in. “Do you have a thing for masks, Dice?” Johnny questions in a serious tone while leaning into Simon's side, doing as he does best- lightening the mood. 

You choke on your own spit at the accusation being presented as you stutter for an answer, brain firing on multiple fronts from the whiplash of a conversation. 

“I-I’m sorry, could you repeat the question? I think the lack of air is getting to my head.”

Johnny merely smiles before restating the question as calmly as before, as if asking for your favorite colour or season. “Do you have a thing for people in masks? Notice you know many people that wear em’”

“I uh…” your voice trails off as you contemplate your answer, eyes slowly drifting towards Ghost who stares down your form intently waiting to hear your answer. Yet as the seconds tick by, the lack of answer eventually forms one in itself as you hear Gaz chuckle down the radio before turning himself silent and the Captain coughs a few times, turning red underneath his own mustache as he refuses to meet your stare. 

“Do you?” you question back, partially curious and the other seeking a slight revenge from playing your in this blushed-filled and nervous state. 

“Oh, definitely” he replies quickly before you all burst into laughter and the landing sign is singled moments after, it was home time. 

--

Once back on base, a few days of paperwork are filled out as the days and hours clock down to your next departure. You do your best not to think about it as you ask Gabby for clothing recommendations in your room, she asks you to spin with a wave of her finger as you do so with a groan of frustration. You had been stuck in this endless cycle for nearly two hours now and you had told Gaz you would be meeting him in the lobby in three hours. 

You had gone through your whole closet before you outwords protest, unable to keep to just your facial reactions as Gabby hides behind a pair of shoes she found at the back of your closet between the dozen pairs of work-boots. “It’s not even a date, Gabs. We are just making up for lost time with some coffee, nothin’ more nothing less-”

“And I know where my dad went-okay?! If this is not a date, I do not know what else is sweetheart. Treat yourself~” she sings out before throwing another pair of pants for you to try on. She claps her hands together, fixing the buttons on your shirt as she frizzles your hair. “Have fun, you look like a million dollar baby!” Kicking your butt on the way out she quickly turns around to place the mess she created of your room as you lock the apartment door behind yourself and Gaz pulls you into a hug once meeting downstairs. 

He opens the door for you, helping you out of the car as well and orders you both two teas with an assortment of small snacks for lunch. Conversation flows between small hand touches and the linking of shoes from below the table. You rest a hand against his thigh, watching as he chokes down his glass of water as you cast the man a wink. 

The check slamming against the table has you both stumbling out as dinner time nears, “How about I treat us to dinner?” you say while looking up nearby restaurants on your phone. “Sounds good, love,” Kyle states while wrapping an arm around your waist with a cheeky smile as an elderly couple look towards you both with disgust. 

Gaz watches as your smile falls slightly and you back away. He still walks near you, arms brushing against one another in hopes that you would feel more comfortable again, casting him a thankful smile as you both walk down another block to the small Turkish restaurant. 

You both sit beside one another, sharing food off each others plats as you ignore the endless stream of messages that Gabby sends you, excusing yourself to the washroom- you open your text messages and cough out in shock, “I’m sorry for spamming, you two are probably fucking right now- next time I want in, have fun! Tell me how he is~” Blushing bright red, your fingers rush across the keyboard, scolding your best friend before splashing water across your face. 

Once returning back to the table, Kyle holds his arm up, allowing you to become wrapped underneath its calming pressure, “you doing okay?” he asked you in a hushed tone, lips right against your ear as your blush extends to your ears now. “Just peachy.”

--

When you leave the restaurant and pick the car back up, you invite Kyle back to your place, “It is closer to here and it would be best to not wake the rest of the lads up,” you comment. “If you want me more to yourself- you can just tell me sweetheart,” he teases while running circles into your knee as he makes a turn into your block. 

Leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek, your voice becomes more hushed as you unlock your apartment door and rush up to Spoons. Who looks as happy and healthy as ever, note to self, the elderly neighbour gets a gift. Kyle leans down, giving your pet a quick past before yawning and stretching out of their boots. 

He trails down the hallway behind you, hands on your waist as you open your bedroom door, throwing yourself on the bed with an overtired giggle. He follows suit as you roll over, giving him enough space, noticing this he pulls you underneath the covers and against him. “Thank you, Kyle Garrick,” you whisper out, hoping him to be asleep already. 

“What for?” he asks out in an equally delicate tone, feeling as your heart races against his chest. “For staying with me, for understanding…” you start to cry, unable to find the right words as he kisses the top of your head, brushing some hair from your forehead. “Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart. I am always here, alright? Never question that.” 

He feels as you nod once more and chuckles when Spoons snuggles themselves in the empty space at the foot of the bed, emitting a few purrs as you all drift off into the world beyond.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @ashy-kit @lilliumrorum @kaoyamamegami

[nataliasquote]

Double the trouble | a day out | n romanoff

Part of the ‘Double the trouble AU’

Summary: a day trip with 2 3-year-olds is a lot to handle…

Age: 3 years old

Warnings: none

Pairings: WandaNat

wc: 2.9k

note: this was a request from anon (my first request!) so I hope I did it justice

- ⧗ -

Isla was always the loudest twin. She had all her firsts before her sister; word, steps, you name it, she beat Y/n to it. Which often left the younger girl feeling behind and unworthy, born to only follow in the shadows of her twin sister.

Natasha and Wanda tried their hardest to treat their girls equally, but with Y/n’s reluctance to try anything new and Isla’s strong temperament, they had a difficult situation on their hands.

Being three years old meant days were filled with trips to the park and fun days out for the whole family. Isla had been begging to go to the zoo, the colourful picture books she begged Wanda to read every night cementing her love for animals. Y/n nodded when asked if she wanted to go too. But what was she supposed to say? She did everything Isla did.

But the zoo wasn’t her thing. Whilst her older sister toddled around and pointed animatedly at all the different animals, Y/n stayed beside the stroller, her tiny hands fiddling with the fabric seat as she stared at the concrete pavement. Natasha tried her hardest to involve her, often picking her up so she could see over the fences and pointing to the monkeys who were chasing each other around the enclosure. But the little girl was having none of it, her fist wrapped around the strap of her mama’s tank top.

“What’s the matter maylshka?” Natasha asked, holding Y/n tight to her body as she lead them both over to a nearby bench. “I thought you loved the zoo?”

The small girl shook her head, flaming hair falling loose from its braids. “Isla like zoo. Not me.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed as she looked at her daughter. “But you said you wanted to go?”

Y/n gave her mother a glare. A very familiar one at that. “No. Isla said go. Not me.”

Natasha shifted so her daughter was now sat on her knee. She gently moved a stray piece of hair from her forehead and kissed it gently, rubbing the soft cotton of her t-shirt. “I’m sorry malyshka. I thought you wanted to go too.”

“It’s ok Mama,” Y/n said, placing her cool palms on her mother’s warm cheeks. Natasha smiled softly at the gesture and booped her on the nose, making the young girl giggle. “Can we get ice cream?”

Natasha pretended to think for a moment. “Ice cream? Hmmm, I don’t know.”

“I think yes!”

“Do you? And does Y/n make the rules now?”

The young girl nodded happily, her whole body moving with the force. “Ice cream!”

“Ok, big girl. Let’s get ice cream.” Natasha stood up from her seat and began to set Y/n down on the ground, but the three year old clung to her front like the monkeys behind her, tiny heels digging into Natasha’s waist. There were many things Nat loved about her youngest, but Y/n’s clingy nature was by far her favourite. It made her feel wanted, important.

With a stroller handle in one hand and a child balanced carefully in the other, Nat set off towards the jungle themed cafe she’d spotted on the map by the gate. Wanda had taken Isla off to god knows where, the young girl unable to sit still with so much happening around her.

The cafe itself was rather busy so Natasha expertly manoeuvred the stroller into a corner booth table and kicked the brake down so it wouldn’t roll into anyone’s way. She sank down onto the cushioned blue seat and allowed Y/n to straddle her lap, soft red hair tickling her nostrils as the young girl lay against her mother’s chest.

Natasha quickly scanned her surroundings before pulling out her phone and punching a quick update text to Wanda, who replied back with a video of Isla at the penguin enclosure.

“Look Y/n,” she turned her phone so the young girl could see but Y/n didn’t pay much attention. She watched for two seconds before her head went straight back to Natasha’s collarbone, finding more comfort there than anywhere else. “You’re really not bothered by the zoo, huh?”

Y/n shook her head lazily, her thumb coming up to brush against her lips, a telltale sign for Natasha who was well trained in motherhood.

“I think someone’s tired?” Another sleepy nod. “You wanna go for a nap, detka?” Talking was clearly too much for Y/n, who only replied with yet another nod. Natasha took her response and pulled the stroller close. However, she was met with some resistance as she tried to transfer a now squirmy three year old into her seat. “What’s wrong?”

“-na stay with you,” Y/n mumbled around her thumb before Nat gently prised it out of her mouth. Y/n’s big green eyes blinked up at her tiredly and Natasha couldn’t help but coo at the sight. Her girls were the most adorable things in her life and when they were tired they were so precious.

Nat moved her body back into the corner of the booth and allowed Y/n to swivel around so she was flat against her chest, cheek resting comfortably on the softness of Natasha’s chest. They may not be fed like that anymore, but the twins still found great comfort from their mamas’ chests.

It didn’t take long for Y/n’s breaths to even out and Natasha couldn’t help but take a quick selfie with her daughter, the moment too precious to capture. She stared at her screen with a blissful expression before posting it to her close friends’ instagram story. Only family and the occasional friend was allowed on there, and Yelena of course was the first to send a reply.

@ yelenabelova7

you better be bringing those munchkins to me soon. I want baby Y/n hugs too

Natasha rolled her eyes and laughed as she replied, flawlessly typing even with one hand.

@ natromanoff

i’m impressed you got the twin right. and i’m not putting them on a plane so you’ll have to come here. I know isla would love that.

@ yelenabelova7

I can’t believe you doubt me Natasha. I know my Y/n when I see her. Besides, she’s always clinging to you. You got the quiet one. Wanda has her hands full with the other monkey

@ natromanoff

They’re both our children, Lena. Wands is just happy to be dragged around a zoo. I’d rather sit

@ yelenabelova7

HA! You’re getting old sestra. You’re a mother, not a grandma. Not yet anyway.

Yelena’s comment made Natasha roll her eyes and place her phone down on the table. She cradled Y/n’s head to her chest and rocked her gently back and forth. A smile broke out across her face as she spotted her wife push through the large glass doors, Isla tugging on her arm impatiently.

Natasha held a finger up to her lips as her favourite girls approached, trying not to disturb her youngest. But her efforts were in vain as Y/n recognised the approaching voices and lifted her head to peer around. Wanda bent down and kissed her head softly, brushing her hair back as she pulled away.

“Hello sleepy head,” she cooed, taking a seat on the opposite bench and pulling Isla onto her lap. “Did the ice cream make you sleepy?”

“We didn’t even get that far, did we?” Natasha laughed, watching as Y/n’s head perked up at the mention of the sweet dessert.

“Can we get it now?”

Wanda looked down at Isla. “You wanna get some with me and we can bring it back for Y/n and Mama?”

“Sure!”

“Me go too!” Y/n squirmed off Natasha’s lap and ran over to Wanda, taking the hand on her other side. “Mama stay?” She asked, looking back at Natasha.

The redhead nodded. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

Wanda led the twins away like a mother duck and her ducklings, holding their hands tight until they reached the large glass cabinet. The young woman behind the counter smiled at the precious sight in front of her as the twins stretched up on their toes to peer in.

“Pink!” Y/n exclaimed, pointing to the candy floss ice cream that sounded disgusting in Wanda’s eyes. “Can I get pink?”

“Mommy I want chocolate!”

“What do we say when we want something?” Wanda asked, putting on her best ‘mom’ voice.

“Pleeeeeese?” The girls chorused, tiny toothy smiles dazzling up at their mommy. The worker chuckled and caught Y/n’s eye so she smiled widely at her too.

“That’s better. And yes, you can get whatever you would like. But you have to ask the nice lady politely.”

Isla being Isla spoke up first, puffing out her chest as she took a deep breath. “Please can I have chocolate please?” She pointed into the cabinet, just in case the server wasn’t sure which one was chocolate.

“Of course you can sweetheart. Is that in a cone or a cup?” Isla looked at her blankly and turned to Wanda, a clear cry for help.

“The smallest cone you do please. And just one scoop.” The girl nodded and began preparing her order. “They don’t need too much sugar.”

Once Isla’s order was complete the server turned to Y/n who was staring intently at all the colourful flavours. “Which one would you like sweetheart?”

“Pink?”

“Strawberry?” Y/n looked up at Wanda, tugging her sleeve for help. The mother shook her head and watched to see which one her daughter pointed too. Granted, Y/n could barely point in the right direction but her intention was enough to go off.

“I think she means the candyfloss. The one with the glitter on it.”

Y/n’s was scooped into a similar cone to Isla and then placed on the stand. Wanda quickly sorted herself and Natasha out; two scoops of honeycomb crunch in a cup for herself, and a double scoop of caramel coffee for Nat. Wanda always teased her wife for crunching on the coffee beans that topped her scoop. Natasha sure was a strange one when it came to her flavour preferences.

Ice creams clutched tightly in hands, Wanda ushered her little ducklings back to the safety of the booth where Natasha was waiting, a large grin plastered onto her face that mirrored that of her ice cream laden babies.

Sweet treats were consumed from the safety of the jungle themed cafe and Isla and Y/n swung their feet happily as they nibbled on their cones. Sticky hands and faces were just inevitable and Wanda was soon ready to attack both with baby wipes the second they were done.

“Did you two see everything you wanted to?” Natasha asked, scrolling through the pictures on Wanda’s phone of Isla at various exhibits.

“I saw lions!” Isla bared her teeth and roared, shaking her head like she’d seen the majestic creature do hours earlier. “And the ‘raffes!”

“Giraffes?”

“Yeah!”

Y/n tugged on Natasha’s sleeve and pointed to part of the mural covering the wall to her right. “They have those here?”

The colourful sea creatures were definitely oversaturated; pink sharks didn’t sit comfortably with Natasha. But she followed Y/n finger to a sparkly blue turtle and smiled, noticing how Isla and Wanda also did the same.

“I saw a sign for an aquarium around the corner,” Wanda said. “There could be turtles in there.”

“We go!”

“Now hold on a minute-“ Wanda started, but telling two sugared-up three years olds on a mission to slow down was a fruitless effort. Natasha grabbed both of their tiny wrists and gently tugged them back to the table, earning little angry glares from both girls.

“What did we say about running off?”

“But-“

“Not buts, Y/n. What did we say?”

“Don’t run off,” they said in unison, the floor now much more interesting than Natasha who wasn’t smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok munchkin, just wait 2 minutes and we’ll be ready.”

Wanda and Natasha packed up quickly and headed towards the aquarium side of the zoo, eyes glued to the two little girls in front of them whose hands were tightly clasped together. They may have their favourite parent and stay glued to their side, but Y/n and Isla’s bond truly was unbreakable. Starkly different, yet inseparable.

[queenhunter102]

Part 7 (PART 6) (Part 8) Lore Page

You walk into the hall noting that everyone has vanished, ‘Guess they don’t get much free time’ you think as you head in a random direction, you have somehow managed to make it to the canteen, and you take a seat at an empty table unsure if anyone would welcome you openly.

As you got comfortable, your eyes lazily going over the crowd, your eyes meet the Alpha you had gotten into a fight with you sigh as you force your eyes to move not wanting him to take you as a threat, nor did you want him to believe that you wanted to go round two on kicking his ass.

“You know, for someone who came from NBOC you sure have shit instincts,” a voice says, making you jump, your head snapping to the end of the table where Simon sat, you roll your shoulders, trying to shift the tension in your shoulders.

“Not shit, just there are bigger threats than you,” you say, as your eyes flick to that pissy Alpha, you freeze when his eyes meet yours, and you shift them away, turning your head to Simon.

“That’s fair, you know that the Alpha you beat down, is walking over,” he says, as he casually pulls out his phone, you give him a panicked look before you forcibly relax your shoulders and turn to him smiling at him.

“You are hiding behind your Commanding Officers, little breeder,” the Alpha says, the fake smile on your face drops, as you disengage from the Alpha, refusing to acknowledge the slur.

“Can the little breeder, not take confrontation?” he says, your shoulders tense a little as you rub a spot on the table, you were used to this, you were used to Alpha’s seeing you as shit they scrapped off their shoe.

The Alpha laughed, turning his head to the table he had come from, “Guys come look at the little Beta-wanna-be” he said, goading you.

You crack your neck, refusing to let him win, you refuse to let get a rise out of you, you did not want to add to your disciplinarian.

You shivered when you heard a low growl come from behind you, “Really? Jenson, You’ve already been to Med-Bay once, do you want to make it Twice” a voice you recognised as Gaz came from the end of the table, you looked up at him smiling at him. “Oh, come on Gaz, they’re an Omega, their breeding holes nothing more” The Alpha you can now identify as Jenson, a shadow grow over Jenson, “Watch how you talk to our new member, you’ve been warned once, by them and twice by Gaz, do you want to make it a third” Simon said, Jenson glared at you his eyes practically laser-like, as he shakes his head “No sir”, you turn your head pretending to rub your nose, hiding your smile.

Jenson, growled as he walked away humiliated for a second time today.

“Man, we cannot leave you alone” Gaz said, as he settled down beside you a tray of food, in front of him, he offered you a fruit stick.

“You want one? I know Omegas have cravings for things all the time” you nod your head as you take the offered fruit stick.

“Yeah, I tend to crave Ice-lollies more than anything, specifically Fabs” Gaz nods his head.

“I’ll let provisions know,” Simon said, as he walked away from the table, “Is just me or is he suspicious” you say as you take a bite out the fruit stick, Gaz snorted beside you trying not to choke on the fruit, “Shit don’t say that around Johnny”

[killmongerskeepermain]

What's Your Favorite Scary Movie // Shuriri // 18+

Pairing: Ghostface!Shuriri x Fem!Reader 

Warning: Mentioned Death // Violence // Blood // Fluff // Angst // Attempted Robbery // Guns // Murder // Smut // Threesome //  

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: I started over SO MANY TIMES. Felt like it wasn’t right or something was off but I am happy with how this one turned out. Sorry for making yall wait but here is the Ghostface crossover fic as promised. Not proofread so forgive the errors.

When you first saw them, they were in the middle of one of their nightly outings. You shouldn’t have been there. You were supposed to meet some friends for a movie. But you just had to be stupid as fuck and try to help a woman who had ran into you. She was bleeding, scared, and disoriented. You would think she ran from a car accident or something. She held onto you while sobbing as you tried to calm her down. "Hey let's go ahead and get you to a hospital okay. You look like you've been hit by a car." You rubbed her shoulders making sure you didn't brush over any wounds. "What's your name? Where did you come from?" She cried into your shoulder before wiping blood off her cheek. "Anita. I was coming from a party and they started chasing me. Stabbed me." She was starting to become hysterical and you brushed her hair down. "Who chased you?' You said as a figure stepped out of the shadows. "We have to run!" She screamed out pulling you behind her as you navigated through the park. The figure was ducking through the trees and you went ahead of her as she started to slow down. You took the lead and ran ahead with her hand in yours. You could see the street ahead and smiled. "Come on, we're almost there." You couldn't wait to get to safety. Just as you passed through the gate the woman was snatched away from you with such force you nearly tripped up. The woman locked eyes with you and you can see the fear swimming in her brown eyes before she was stabbed in her stomach. You wanted to scream but couldn't. The scene in front of you had you frozen in place. The knife was yanked out before they stabbed her again, this time you can see the life fade from her eyes. You should run. Dropping her body they turned the mask in your direction and you felt glued to your spot. Your eyes flickered from the figure to the now dead Anita on the ground. The masked figure gave a small nod and you frowned in confusion. Get up and run. You jumped to your feet and booked it into the street. Running down the sidewalk you kept your eyes forward trying to get to your house. It's right there. Dashing up the steps you grabbed your key and went for the doorknob but the silence behind you had your hair on your neck standing straight. Your thoughts cut short when your head was tilted back as a rag was put over your mouth and nose. You reached back while your legs kicked in the air, trying your best to get out of their iron grip. "Relax, pretty girl." And just like that you were out like a light. 

When you came to you were in a bedroom with your hands and feet tied together. Pulling at the restraints you silently cursed as it didn't budge. This is not happening. The door slowly opened and you saw the mask. You leaned further into the headboard and watched them as they set the knife down on the small table. "You good. I won't hurt you." 

"What do you want with me? Why didn't you kill me at the park?" You couldn't help the questions that rolled off your tongue as they made their way closer to you. "Hate to break it to you ma, but you was in the wrong place at the wrong time. What was a pretty thing like you doing alone at night. You ever watch the news? Ever watch scary movies?" They said with a distorted voice and you felt a shiver run down your spine. The mask was lifted high enough for you to see their dark lips and you held your breath. "Use your words ma. It’s rude to not answer a genuine question." They stated in a light tone and you sighed. You waited anxiously as they took the mask completely off their head and your shoulders fell. She was gorgeous. And also dangerous, but you can’t knock her looks. You were sure your eyes were like saucers as she approached you. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you. As long as you don't try anything." You shrunk back into the headboard not knowing what else to do. You wanted to try and escape but with your feet tied together it wouldn't do you much good. She was so ruthless and dangerous when she killed people. She has blood on her hands but yet she spoke so softly to you. Inviting. As if she was afraid you'd despise her. "You're the one going around killing people?" Your fear must've been written all over your face because she was trying her hardest to stay calm. “Nothing gets past you huh pretty?” If you were in any other situation your heart would flutter but she just killed someone AND kidnapped you. You held your hard stare before you gave a small tug on your restraints with a sigh. "This necessary?"

"For now yeah. It was the only way she was gonna let you stay here." You frowned up and looked at the girl. "She?" Riri nodded her head as she walked to the side of the bed. You felt uneasy but did your best to look as calm as possible. "Never been kidnapped before." You mumbled trying to make subtle conversation. You caught her stare and saw a slight glint of worry in her dark eyes. "It ain’t personal. You saw us. Got to make sure you won't say anything to anybody. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt." 

"So she's awake? She better be with how much trouble we just went through for her." A voice called out and you looked behind Riri to see a taller woman leaning on the doorframe wiping her hands with a paper towel. Your stare glued to the red stains. She was a bit thinner but she looks like she could snap you in half if she wanted to. You were sure she was the one that grabbed you. Her curls fell over her eyes but you were sure she was looking right through you. Her accent made it known that she wasn’t from around here. You wanted to seem tough but you stuck in a room with two bitches that kill people. “This is my partner. Wish I coulda introduced yall on a lighter note.” You didn’t miss how she sized you up before a scoff left her lips. “This is her? The one who almost got away. Bast are we getting sloppy?” She slowly approached you before grabbing your chin. “Just because we left you alive doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods. So for your sake you better be on your best behavior.”

A couple hours have passed since you’ve woken up and you've still been kept in the dark on what they were planning to do with you. If they were gonna kill you, you’d like to know. There was a small knock at the door and you sat up quietly. Riri popped her head in the door and your palms started to sweat. "You still looking at me like imma stab you or some shit."

"Like you did ole girl at the park? I'm scared aight. Pretty sure I can be, you’ve killed people." You stated as the other woman walked in shortly after. "She has a right to be afraid. After what we did to those people. I would be too if I was in her position." You winced at the playfulness laced in her words as you watched the two carefully. "Please. I don’t have time for you acting like that.” You were sure she was toying with you at this point. Making you feel uncomfortable on purpose. “Shuri-” A name slipped off her tongue and the three of you sat in silence. The girl noticed her mistake and looked at her partner. “Look, we can only go forward from here. She’s here. Right now. It’s either you get over it or we send her back. Where she could potentially call the cops. The choice was made and now here we are.” You watched the two go back and forth not really knowing if it's your place to say anything. "Why do you think Riri left you alive hm?" She tilted her head and for the first time in this conversation you locked eyes with her. 

"I honestly don’t know. I’m just trying to stay alive here. If I upset you, I’m not doing it on purpose." You tried to level with her but she shook her head. You rubbed your hands down your dirty jeans and she scoffed. 

"You don't have anything to be afraid of. She made sure I knew you were off limits. So I can't kill you. But that doesn't mean I can't harm you." She pulled your chin up so you were looking her in the face. "Shuri-" The taller woman ignored her partner and continued to intimidate you. "You have become a thorn in my side the second we brought you back here." 

"Likewise." You mumbled and she raised an eyebrow. 

"So you do have a little bark in you." She smirked and you balled your fists. "You look like you want to say something. So say it."

"You seem to already know. So why should I?" You scowled and she grabbed the back of your. "Do not forget who you are talking to. I can rip your life away from you in less than a second." For a split second you saw the darkness in her eyes and you felt anger crawl up your spin. "Yo Shuri what the fuck! Let her go." Riri shouted, running to free you from the woman's grip. "Shuri, please calm down. We aint kids no more use your damn words."

"She shouldn't be here." Shuri spat as she ignored Riri's attempts to calm her down. You had enough at this point. You didn’t care if they stabbed you to death or slit your throat. You did NOTHING wrong. "You can talk to me any kind of shit way but when I bite back it’s a problem. What’s the matter, can’t handle what you dish out princess?” You spat before she grabbed her hunting knife off the table. You staggered a bit but refused to back down. You are too deep in the argument to back away now. She swung once but you back away so her next bet was to tackle you to the floor. You brought a hand to the back of her head, grabbing a fist full of curls. She brought the knife up and you used your free arm to cover your chest and neck. “Shuri! Ease up!” Riri ran up to grab her arm before the taller woman swung back. Riri dodged just in time before the blade made contact with her neck. Her eyes grew wide in shock before you felt Shuri’s anger disappear. “Shit. I’m sorry usana. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She got off you, dropping the blade to cup Riri’s cheeks. You watched the exchange in silence before getting to your feet and walking out of the room, leaving the two alone. Riri came to you to apologize on Shuri's behalf sometime after but everything she was saying went in one ear and out the other. You had completely disassociated yourself. She saw you made no effort to speak and let out a sigh. The look on your face. She’d seen it before. When Shuri found out her mother had passed it's like everything else didn't matter. She wouldn't eat or sleep. Riri was the first to notice how you shut everything out. You just sat there and slept. And Shuri has been gone for the past 3 hours. The younger girl waited for Shrui to return and jumped to her feet when the door was pushed open. 

"Hey." Shuri locked eyes with her before setting her gear on the table. "Hey. How's um.." 

"She still hasn't said anything. You really freaked her out earlier. You can’t be snapping on people like that.” Shuri leaned on the counter with her head down as Riri reamined in her spot. “I know. I know.”

“Look Shuri, I think we're good to take her back home." 

"Out of the question."

"Shuri.."

"She was on the security footage from that night. The last person to see that woman. Alive. The police have swarmed her home. Checking everything inside and out. With her not being that for so long they're ready to pin it on her." Now she cares? You listened in on their conversation since Riri mentioned you going home but Shuri had a point. You'd be sent to jail on sight. The police force for this town was more of a 'act now ask questions later' kinda setup. "She has to stay here. You said it yourself, just till things calm down." Shuri left a lingering kiss to Riri's lips before she walked down the hall without another word and Riri looked back at the closed door separating you. On the other side you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace. Shuri was right. You’d have to stay for awhile, a few more days at least. Taking a seat on the bed, you fiddled with your nails when the door opened. Riri walked around to face you with a blank stare. "Hey ma. Listen, I’m sorry about her, but unfortunately you can't go home just yet. Not if you don't want to get arrested." You didn't even flinch in response to her words and she sighed. She tightly grabbed your chin, she made sure you looked at her. Your eyes focused and went wide as she looked at you. "There's no point in sulking now. It's either you stay here with us or go back to get arrested. Which one you prefer?" You remained silent as a smirk appeared on her lips. "You need to loosen up a bit. I can help with that but you gotta tell me yes." You stared up at her with wide eyes before you took your lip between your teeth. “Promise she won’t kill me?” You couldn’t help your shaky voice as she brought her hands to your cheeks. Another voice cut in as she opened her lips to speak. “Cross my heart.” Shuri opened the door with a small smirk. You stared up at her but Riri grabbed your chin, pulling you into a feverish kiss. 

"You okay with this?" You nodded, pulling her flush against you with a soft kiss. Her hands immediately went to your waist as you fell back against the mattress. Any hesitation she held washed away as her kisses became sloppy and hot. "Then tell us what you want, let me hear how you want to get fucked?" Pulling at your pants she slipped her hand over your panties causing you to throw your head back. Riri left a trail of kisses, tongue and spit down your neck as Shuri leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene in front of her unfold. 

"Riri, fuck don't stop." You moaned out while the woman worked diligently on rubbing circles around your covered clit. Your legs spread to give her room to move when the sensation became more than a small jolt of pleasure. You urged her to go faster as she felt the wet spot she created, gently rubbing you down. "You can be louder than that. I know that for a fact." You groaned at her words before she pushed two fingers past the waistband and stroked your folds. "So fucking wet for me." She slipped her fingers inside you as her tongue dragged along your skin. You took the lead and started fucking yourself on her digits while she pulled at your shirt to reveal your gray bra. Not long after the piece was on the floor, giving Riri a chance to clasp her lips around your nipple. She curled her fingers as she sped up the pace, fucking you a bit harder. Shuri watched on as you clenched around her lover's fingers, feeling her own wetness start to pool between her legs. You took her so well. Brushing against your g spot, Riri groaned as you quickly come undone by her hand. "Fuck Ri I'm gonna come. I'm coming." You moaned as your juices spilled into her hand. She pulled away to admire the shine on her fingers before slipping on in her mouth. "You taste so fucking good." You move in for a desperate kiss with half lidded eyes, still warm and sensitive in bliss. You could taste yourself on her tongue before feeling another body beside you. You locked eyes with Shuri, tensing up before Riri tapped your shoulder. 

"It's alright. She gone take care of you too." You felt at ease by her words as Shuri leaned in to kiss your forehead. You sighed into her touch as her hand gently wrapped around your throat. Riri latched onto your pulse to keep herself busy as you fell into the passion of the kiss. "I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you." Riri groaned against your skin before repositioning against the headboard. She brought her hands up to cup your breasts while Shuri pulled your panties down your legs painfully slow. "Will you forgive me Y/N?.”

"Trust us ma. We both know how to treat a lady." Riri added as she spread your legs. Gently tilting your head back to plant a hungry kiss to your lips. When you pulled away Shuri nestled her own hips between your thighs. "This is why you didn't answer my question earlier?" You said as she rubbed the tip of her strap along your dripping slit. She took her time slipping into you causing you to wince from the slight burn of her stretching you out. This one will take some getting used to. She was halfway inside before she grabbed your chin. "Look at me. Usana." The xhosa slipped off her tongue as you stared into her dark eyes. She then took the chance to fully bury herself into your warmth. Riri on the other hand took the chance to wrap her arm around your body to find the throbbing bundle of nerves aching to be touched. "Oh my god." You moaned out leaning against Riri's now bare chest. When she shed her shirt you'll never know. "Wait. Ri let me taste you baby. Please." You whined and she gave a small nod. "When you ask so nicely. Shuri pulled out to let you maneuver until you were hovering over Riri's clothed pussy. You helped her shimmy out of her shorts before a moan left your lips as you laid eyes on the wetness dripping down her thighs. Your tongue peeked from between your lips as you gave a single lick along her slit. The moan that left her was utterly disgusting and you wanted to pull more from her. She usually never let's you go down on her. You started to lap at her pussy as Shuri ran the tip of her strap over your drooling folds. With a sudden thrust you moaned into Riri's heat, the vibrations sending her into a frenzy. The woman behind you started her own pace while you flatten your tongue and lapped up Riri's arousal. You moaned out as she grabbed your hair to use your face to chase her orgasm. You slid a finger past her walls while your mouth worked its magic.

"Fuuuuuuuuuck that's it." Shuri wasted no time pounding into you while you helped Riri with her own. You licked, spit and sucked on her pussy until you felt her clench around your finger. "She's still so pretty when she comes." Shuri joked as Riri's body went limp on the bed. You could tell Shuri was close. The toy brushed against her clit with the same intensity she was giving to fuck you. The knot was so close to coming loose. The toy pushed against your abused g spot and you felt a second orgasm creep up on you. You clenched down on her strap feeling your juices gush out over her thighs. Soon after her grip tightened over the skin of your ass and her orgasm wrecked through her. "Look at that. You're so pretty like this." Riri held your cheeks as Shuri pulled out of you. Your body went slack against Riri's chest as you took a minute to come down from cloud nine. Shuri peppered a trail of kisses down your back. "You did so good for us Y/N. You groaned in response, not being able to form words as Riri ran her fingers over your scalp. “We’re not through with you yet, beautiful.”

You pulled yourself out of your trance from last night's activities when the lightning lit up the night sky. Leaning on the counter you opened the cabinet to get a bowl down. After filling the dish with Cinnamon Toast crunch you heard your phone buzz. Your eyes lit up when you saw a certain group chat icon on your screen.

Shuri: Didn't take you for a squirter.

You felt your face grow hot before hiding behind a pillow. 

Y/N: Neither did I but I guess you're just good with your hands. 

Riri: If you do that everytime, It'll get even better. You trying to slide through tonight?

Y/N: I can't. Got a tutoring session.

Shuri: With who? 

Y/N: That girl Tiana. Said she needed some help so she could pass her herbology lecture. But she was supposed to be here an hour ago. Idek if she's still coming.

Neither of them responded for a couple minutes and you began to wonder if something happened.

Y/N: Yall okay?

Shuri: Yeah, I had to make a call.

Riri: But she asking for help then don't show. Bitch crazy. Couldn't have been me. 

Y/N: Yeah I know you'd charge her an extra $300. 

Riri: Nah $400 just because I don't like ha ass.

Y/N: Ri! You stupid as hell 

Riri: I'm just saying. But look yall start the movie without me, imma swing by later. I need to handle something.

Y/N: Everything alright?

Riri: Yeah. The brainless jock ass thought I was playing about paying me. 

Y/N: Don't go to hard on him 

Riri: I won't ma.

You sat down your phone and put on some sweatpants before heading to the kitchen with your phone now in hand. You turned on the news and stopped in your tracks as the bright red letters urgent news caught your attention. 

"It's been 6 days since Anita Ubie was found stabbed to death just outside of Chicago's outskirts. This marks the fourth killing in the span of 2 weeks. We have suggested that everyone be cautious and the authorities have begun to set a curfew in place.

Your mind began racing over the past couple of days. It could’ve been you. But it wasn’t. There’s nothing you could do now. They brought you home so you could talk to the police and clear your own name. Thanks to Shuri it was said that a man Anita was seeing snapped and killed her when he found out she was cheating on him. You just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You shook your head of the thought and went into your kitchen. You proceeded to put your dishes in the sink before the doorbell rang. You stood still in the middle of the kitchen, dumbfounded. You weren't expecting company at this time of night. You creeped up to the peephole and let out a sigh of relief when you saw a familiar face. You opened the door to see Tiana fixing her makeup with a man next to her. You recognized him as her sneaky link Tay.

"Bitch you were supposed to be here 2 hours ago. Alone." You sneered not to keen on people wasting your time. 

"Girl relax, I had to stop by Tay's place. I swear he can make any stress I have disappear with a good dick down. But decided at the last minute to bring him, he won't be in the way. I promise." She sighed, stretching her arms above her head as she walked in with Tay on her heels. 

"You reach out to me, saying you want a girls night. Then you wasted my time because of a dick appointment? THEN you show up here with said dick appointment. Where ya man? Cause last I heard, its sure as hell not Tay. You chuckled, closing your door. Not aware of the eyes watching the scene unfold.

"Look, he's not giving it to me the way I need it and Tay can. But that's a secret that stays between us." She frowned as you rolled your eyes. "Look, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Let's just get this over with. I got shit to do. Just make sure you pay me my money when we done. Its extra for me to keep your little secret." You told her as you led the way to your living room. You took notice of how Tiana scanned the room before sitting on the couch.

"I gotchu. Maybe Tay can help you out sometime." You laughed at her offer before setting your books down on the table. "Nah. Don’t root for that team." 

"Really! I never would've thought." She said and you nodded before starting your late night study session. "Girl, what the fuck made you move all the way out here? All this land surely can be scary at night huh."

"It's alright. I tend to like being alone so it's not that big of a deal." You told her as she leaned down to grab the remote.

"Have you seen the news lately? People turning up dead left and right. Makes me not want to leave the house anymore." She stated with a shiver.

"Yeah shits wild. That's why you gotta have something to protect yourself. I always keep my pistol somewhere nearby." Your eyes moved from Tiana to Tay who seemed a little skittish. "You aight? You've been a bit jittery since you got here. I'm not going to shoot you. Not unless you give me a reason to." 

"Nah, just tired is all. Been up all day doing some yard work for a couple down the street from my house. Haven't really wound down yet." He told you but kept diverting his eyes away from you. 

"Yeah. In this heat I'm sure working all day will do it to ya. Hey I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back." You told the couple as you grabbed your phone and went down the hall. You hadn't noticed how Tiana burned holes in your back and entire walk until you closed the door. After doing your business you unlocked your phone to see a slew of messages from your best friend, Shuri, and Riri?

Nia: Bitch call me when you read this!

Shuri: Y/N Call me!

Nia: Bitch I know you're tutoring Tiana today. Watch yo back. Especially if she bring that bum ass nigga Tay. Streets whispering that they gone try to pull some shit on you. Saying they just robbed Jerome and his sister after she invited them over to her place. From what I'm hearing, the bitch don't like you. Please be careful. 

Riri: You said you was tutoring Tiana? Did that bitch bring somebody to yo house.

You frowned as you read the messages and cursed. You should have kicked them both out when she showed up 2 hours late with this nigga. You ran the water to pretend you're washing your hands before going under the sink for the gun you have hidden there. Sticking the gun in the back of your pants you walked out with a slight scowl. "I got to cut tonight short. We're done here."

"What but we haven't gotten to the last chapter yet."

"Yeah I'm pretty tired. Picked up an early shift tomorrow and can't afford to be late." You lied with a smile and Tiana's eye twitched. 

"Okay. We'll just have to finish another time then." She said grabbing her books. "Yeah. I'll get to you when I have an opening." She failed to conceal her annoyance as she let a sigh leave her lips. "Don't you want me to pay you?"

"On the house."

"In that case girl, I need you to hand over everything you got." Her friendly persona quickly dropped as Tay aimed a gun at you. You reached for your own and aimed back as you put distance between you and them.

"Don't fuck with me Tiana. Get the fuck out my house." You sneered as you noticed a shadow walk past the window. "Now."

"Look. I know you tight with Riri Williams. That bitch got people dropping bands to help them pass classes. Now all of a sudden yall fucking? I hear the gossip." She shouted as you began to back up. "There's a lot of students paying her Y/N. Meaning it's a shit ton of money. I just know she giving you a cut, so give it up and we'll leave."

"Bitch fuck you and your pansy ass side piece." You spat and her smile faded into a scowl. "I could always make Tay shoot yo ass hoe!"

"How many people you brought to my house?" Her expression switched to confusion for a split second and she scoffed, not even noticing your attention was on the door. "What? Why would I bring groupies to rob yo stupid ass?"

"So who the fuck is at my door?" You questioned and the two of them turned to look. You could see a figure standing there but you refused to run to check.

"How the fuck should I know? Tay tell them to come back later. We're in the middle of something." She said as Tay walked up to the door. He swung open the door to reveal someone dressed in a black cloak with a white mask. 

"The fuck. Nigga it's a little early to be dressing up for Halloween. Look at this nigga bruh." Tay laughed and Tiana giggled behind her hand. "Look bruh you gotta go. We busy right now. But when we're done, you're more than welcome to take some more of her shit. We just want the money."

"Shut yo ass up Tay. You talk too damn much." Tiana sneered as you aimed your gun at her. 

"Get. Out." She let her mask fall as fear crossed her features. Tay had the gun and he was preoccupied. 

"Tay. Shoot this bitch. We'll just take what we want and leave her bleeding out on the floor." She spat before Tay gasped. We both turned to look at the door in time to see Tay drop the gun. He sounded as if he was trying to speak but weird gurgling sounds came out instead. "Tay quit playing!" Tay turned at the sound of her voice and your eyes widened. His throat had been slit and his hand held the cut to try and stop the bleeding but to no avail. The person at the door tilted their head and you bolted up the stairs, Tiana not far behind screaming her head off. You could hear the steps of the intruder as you ran to your room. Tiana locked herself in your hallway bathroom. You slipped under your bed with your pocket knife close. The house sat silent. Not a word was said. But you could hear the slow footsteps echoing throughout the hall. Black boots stopped in front of the bathroom door and they rattled the handle. Tiana screamed for them to stop but they continued to torment the girl. That was until a voice called out from downstairs. "Tiana! Oh shit, is that Tay? Fuck- Tiana!" The intruder dashed down the hall as Devon came up the stairs. "Devon. They're still out there! They killed Tay." Tiana’s voice cracked as she cried in the bathroom. 

"What, who?" He asked, leaning into the door. "Unlock the door. There's no one out here." As the lock clicked she opened the door but the intruder chose to strike and bury their knife in his back. This one was different. Taller. Slimmer. Stronger. Devon shouted in pain as he was pushed into the bathroom. Between his shouts of pain and Tiana's screams of fear you put a hand over your mouth to silence your own sobs. Tiana slipped out the bathroom unscathed just to trip over her own feet. She crawled into your room before she was grabbed by the hair to lift her up off the floor. You locked eyes with her as the same knife that killed Tay, slid across her neck leaving a thick red line. She began choking on her own blood until she lay still on the floor. The intruders silently backed out of the room leaving you alone under the bed. Your carpet began to stain red the longer Tiana's body laid there. Moving from under the bed you quietly tried to reach the door and run yo ass up outta there. Fuck me.

You tiptoed down the steps trying to avoid tripping over Devon while searching for the masked intruder. When you reached the doorway a gloved hand reached out and wrapped around your neck and you stopped in your tracks. Staring into the dark voids of the mask you just stopped fighting and relaxed. You felt another presence behind you and looked up to see another mask. Tilting their head as they stared down at you, running a gloved finger down your neck.

"What's the matter ma, cat got your tongue?" The voice was distorted and you gave a small sigh. "Took you two long enough."

[hyperfixiation-station]

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Information Pt.2

Apprehension

TW: Torture, graphicish violence, angst Summary: Backstory time >:)

A Study in Torture, Rescue

1 Month, 3 days ago

You grunt softly, hoisting yourself over the wall and dropping near silently to the ground. You cradle a fractured wrist to your chest, cursing Ghost and his inability to fly a helicopter. 

“Hang on kid!”

“I’m trying!” 

“Shit! Ghost you’ve got to level the chopper!”

“I’m! Trying!” 

“Don’t let me fall, MacTavish!”

“Y/N!”

“Oh my God.” 

“Ghost you have to turn around!” 

“I can’t!” 

“Y/N!”

You shake your head, breaking out of the reverie. Focus, you tell yourself. You creep silently through the enemy encampment, sticking to the shadows. Your eyes dart back and forth, constantly scanning your surroundings for danger. 

You crouch, moving behind a tent as voices sounded from in front of you. You watch as soldiers walk past you, sighing in relief when they don't seem to notice you. That relief is short-lived however, as cool metal is pressed into your back.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Heavily-accented English sounds from behind you. The man holding the gun pulls it away, then slams the butt of it into your temple. You don’t even have time to respond before the world goes dark. 

You come to in a dark room. Grunting, you try to sit up, but stop when spikes of pain flare through your wrists. Your head spins and you look down, blinking sluggishly. Your eyes widen as you finally notice that you are handcuffed to a table, hands up above your head.  

“Good morning, pretty bird.” Slightly Russian-accented English sounds from behind you, “about time you woke up.” A man comes into view, and though it takes you a few seconds, you recognize him. 

“Colonel Kravchenko.” You mutter, tongue thick and heavy in your mouth. 

“So you know me.” You say nothing, just follow him with your eyes. He sighs softly, moving next to the table you are strapped to.

“So, Y/N L/N. You know, you really should not be in enemy territory with an I.D. on you. As it is, I now know pretty much everything about you, including the fact that you are a member of an...elite team I have been hunting.” He double checks your restraints as he speaks, circling the table and stopping by your side. 

“Being as such, you have information I want.” He grins, “You can give this to me the boring, easy way, or you can let me have fun.” 

Fear coils in your belly, but you do not let it show. You are a trained, battle-hardened soldier, and you will not give up your team for anything.

“Well, pretty bird? Are you going to talk to me?” You remain silent, watching him. He grins sharply at the silence, almost eager. 

“Good. I hate the boring ones anyways.” He moves out of your line of sight, returning with a covered cart next to him, “There are a few rules we’ll have to go over before we start, of course. But we can introduce them slowly, I don’t want to…overwhelm you. The first, and most important, is that you will address me as Sir whenever you speak.” You snort, rolling your eyes at that.

“You think that's a funny, pretty bird?”

“A little, yeah.” You snark, trying to hide your fear.

“Sir.” He says, annoyed.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t.” 

“You are a soldier, no?” You nod instinctively, confused at the turn in conversation. 

“It would be a shame for you to never be able to hold a gun again, wouldn’t it be, pretty bird?” he croons. He slides his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers. If you weren’t concussed, maybe you would be able to guess what he was about to do, but your brain is foggy, thought process muddled. So it comes as a surprise when he jerks his hand up, forcing your fingers back. There is a crunching noise as your bones shatter, fire lacing up your arm. He squeezes the broken fingers and you scream. 

“Pretty bird, you and I are going to have so much fun together.” The man laughs, letting go of your hand, “Now, we’ll start off simple. What were you doing in my airspace?” You say nothing, teeth clenched, eyes watering. He turns his back to you, flipping the cloth of the cart. You watch through blurry eyes as he pulls something from it before flipping the cloth back over. In his hands is a towel.

“I’ll ask you one more time. What were you doing in my airspace?” You say nothing, just stare at him. He smiles, delighted by your decision to play hard to get. 

“Your choice, pretty bird.” He drapes the towel over your face, obscuring your vision. You panic, breaths coming in rapid bursts at the inability to see anything. You calm down slightly as the towel is flipped down so you can see again, still covering your mouth and nose. You blame the concussion again for not being able to put two-and-two together, but you are confused until he returns, bucket in hand. 

You squirm pointlessly, trying to get away. The man simply chuckles, pouring the water over your face. You hold your breath for as long as you can, but eventually you exhale, gasping as your lungs demand air. Immediately, the wet cloth is sucked to your skin, suffocating you. You panic, no longer able to control your breathing as you inhale sharply and gag at the water running down your throat in a vicious cycle. 

Though it feels like hours, you are only under the water for about a minute before the cloth is pulled away. Your body heaves as you choke, gasping greedily for air. 

“What were you doing in our airspace?” You say nothing, just sob softly. 

“Have it your way, pretty bird.” The cloth is placed back over your face and the water is poured again. And again. And again. 

~~~~~Meanwhile~~~~~

“Bloody hell.” Ghosts snarls as he brings the chopper to a rough landing. He jumps out, followed by Soap and Gaz. Price stands in the hanger, waiting for them.

“I heard.” He says solemnly as Gaz opens his mouth, “They are sending men out to look for them, and it took every favor Laswell has ever owed me to get us sent out.” He turns on his heel, not bothering to check if his men were following. He leads them to a briefing room, slamming the door shut behind him. 

A map of the enemy territory is projected on the white board, upon which Price draws a small red circle. 

“This is our best guess as to where they landed. We have received no communication from them since they fell.” He pauses, sighing softly, “Officially, they have been marked K.I.A and this is a body recovery. Unofficially, this is a rescue op. We don’t lose hope until their body is on the table in front of us, okay?” 

“We are rolling out tomorrow.” He continues, “So get to the infirmary, get checked out, and get some sleep.”

Sounds of agreement echo from the room, and Gaz and Price exit, leaving Soap and Ghost alone in the room.

“Not your fault Johnny.” 

“Not yours either Lt.”

Neither of them believe the other. The guilt lays heavy in the room, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. The minutes drag out for hours as they sit in stony silence.

"If anyone can survive out there, it's Y/N. We'll find 'em." Soaps voice trembles slightly as he breaks the silence. Ghost nods in agreement.

"Lets hit the rack." It's not a suggestion. They walk out of the room side-by-side, both thinking the same thing.

My fault.

 Soap still holds the glove that had slid off your hand as you fell from the chopper. 

Okay question. When you finally get rescued do we want major PTSD or only some PTSD?

Also do y'all want more torture scenes or do you want the rescue?

[poisonlove]

i hate you!¹

I still hate you… but less.

4:35 PM

It was only 4:35 PM when the principal's verdict had hit us like a bolt from the blue. After the heated argument with the unbearable Jenna Ortega, we were forced to stay at school for an extra two hours. But the worst part? It wasn't just for one day; it was for an entire week.

"I want to die," I sighed. My elbow rested on the desk, my head propped up by my hand as I watched the clock tick away the time.

Our Science teacher shot us a stern look. "Absolute silence, please. I'll be back at the end of detention," he warned, making it clear that any infractions would lead to further penalties. "If you attempt to escape, the detention will be extended by a week, and if you argue, another hour... understood?"

"Mmm-hmm," I muttered with boredom, rolling my eyes in annoyance.

"Miss Ortega, did you understand?" the teacher turned his attention to the source of my frustration.

Jenna was sitting three desks away, her back against the wall, and from my vantage point, I could only see her profile. Ortega had her legs up on the table and earphones in her ears. It was as if she had erected an invisible wall between us, a clear sign of our tension.

"Ortega!" the teacher scolded with annoyance.

Jenna removed her earphones. "Yes, I understood," she replied through gritted teeth, clearly fed up.

"And remove your feet from the table," the teacher added with exasperation.

Jenna complied, and the teacher gave us one final glance before leaving the room.

I decided to pass the time by pulling out my notebook from my backpack, along with a pencil, and started drawing whatever came to mind. The punishment felt endless, and I needed something to distract myself.

As I drew, I scrutinized Jenna's profile more closely. She was clearly ignoring me, with earphones in her ears and a body posture that sent a clear message: she didn't want to talk at all.

My attention focused on her face, noting her upturned nose, heart-shaped lips, and slightly hollowed cheeks. But what struck me the most were her eyes. They were a deep brown, with long lashes framing them perfectly. They were physically flawless, and they captured the attention of anyone who gazed upon them.

My pencil began moving on the paper almost instinctively, creating lines and shadows that took shape. The graphite flowed on the page, delineating every detail of her brown eyes. Each individual eyelash seemed to come to life, capturing the imaginary light reflecting in her real eyes. It was as if I was trying to capture not only the physical appearance of her eyes but also the essence of what they might hide behind that distant expression.

I stuck out my tongue with a slight smile as I continued to draw, this time focusing on Jenna's eyebrows. She raised an eyebrow with confusion and shot me a glare, clearly feeling my gaze on her.

I increased the pressure on the pencil, creating heavy and precise lines as I outlined the curves of Jenna's eyebrows.

"What a pain," Jenna muttered and then stretched, yawning slightly.

In that motion, she lifted her hoodie slightly, revealing her perfectly flat stomach. I felt a bit embarrassed and quickly averted my gaze, my cheeks flushed, continuing to draw while only looking at my notebook. I had gotten the sketch I wanted, and now I wanted to fully concentrate on my work, trying to ignore the distractions around me. The tension between us was still palpable, but at least my drawing was taking shape as I desired.

This bitch has some nice facial features, despite being so insufferable I thought with a wry smile.

Her beauty was undeniable, even though her attitude was anything but amiable. It was a contradictory thought, but at least it helped me focus on my work and set aside the tensions.

"I must say I was wrong; you don't draw that badly," a voice murmured beside me.

"What do you want, Ortega?" I asked with a sigh, not in the mood for an argument.

Jenna had placed her hands on my desk, her head close to mine as she closely examined the contents of my notebook. Her breath was very close to my ear, her hair gracefully falling over her shoulders.

"Nothing from you, just the least I can do is see how you draw, considering that my eyes are on that notebook," she confessed in a bored tone.

The desire to draw faded.

Jenna, with a quick movement, sat in the desk next to mine. "Not drawing anymore?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"No, I feel a terrible presence by my side... very annoying, I must say," I muttered with faux irony.

Jenna burst into laughter.

"I don't understand why you've become so unbearable, you know?" I asked sincerely. "I remember that we were very close friends as children," I mumbled distractedly, smiling at the memory.

Flashback:

I was a little child using colored pencils, trying my best to color a car printed on a piece of paper.

"Wow, you're really amazing!" a voice came from my right, and I smiled when I saw a girl looking at my drawing.

That girl was completely covered in marker stains and seemed quite clumsy. "Can you teach me?" she asked with bright eyes. "Of course," I muttered absentmindedly, and the girl sat down next to me.

"I'm Jenna," the girl said with a big smile. "Y/N," I returned the smile. "I'm sure you and I will become great friends," she confessed, clumsily coloring the sheet.

"The best!" she added quickly, sticking out her tongue and running it over her lower lip.

"We're friends because I'm helping you draw?" I asked, intrigued and a bit confused.

She tilted her head to the side, looking at me curiously. "Isn't that what friends do?" she innocently asked.

End of the flashback.

The reminiscence of those happy moments with Jenna filled me with warmth, but at the same time, it made me feel the sadness of time passed and friendships lost. It was a missing puzzle piece that I had forgotten, and now I held it in my hands, hoping it could help resolve the current situation between us.

Jenna's fingers snapped in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Everything okay, weirdo?" she asked with a small smile.

"Yeah, pain in the neck," I muttered absentmindedly.

"Ugh... what can I say? Those were good times," she smiled, eliciting a faint smile from me.

"Do you remember the times we used to play Romeo and Juliet?" Jenna asked with a smile on her lips.

I chuckled, nodding. "How could I forget? You dressed me up as a prince and said we had to get married," I confessed, making Jenna blush.

"And that time I broke my arm falling from the tree?" she asked, amused.

"I'm sorry about that, it's my fault the ball ended up there," I admitted, remembering the moment when Jenna had tried to catch the ball thrown too high, ending up falling and breaking her arm.

"We were friends... for how long? 7 years?" I asked uncertainly.

"7 years and 4 months," Jenna murmured, surprising me.

"Can you explain why you've become like this?" I asked curiously.

Her smile faded. She crossed her arms around herself, almost embarrassed. "Do you really not remember?" she asked in a whisper.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"No," I honestly replied.

"And if I tell you... 'monkey arms'?" she asked, making a grimace.

I widened my eyes in realization.

I couldn't believe it... Jenna had become so unbearable because of a comment I made when we were 12 years old. We were in the gym, ready for our physical education class.

"Hey, Jen," I called my best friend.

Jenna turned toward my direction, looking at me with a smile on her face and bright eyes.

"Tell me," she asked, adjusting her short-sleeved shirt.

"Have you heard the new song 'Dance Monkey'?" I asked, barely holding back my laughter.

"Yes?" she asked unsurely.

"With those arms, it's definitely your song," I exclaimed, making the girls in the locker room burst into laughter.

I was clearly joking. But Jenna looked at me with flushed cheeks and teary eyes, grabbed her hoodie, and rushed out of the locker room. That moment of light teasing had a much deeper impact than I could have ever imagined.

"Oh, crap," I looked at Jenna with wide eyes, incredulous.

"You made my life impossible because of a comment from when we were kids?" I asked, unable to believe it.

Jenna shrugged without thinking, looking at me with narrowed eyes. "Because of you, I'm still afraid to wear short sleeves," she confessed.

I analyzed her outfit again: an oversized hoodie that completely covered her arms.

"Damn... Jen, I was just joking! I didn't mean to cause all this drama," I muttered absentmindedly, taking her hand to uncover her arm.

"What are you doing?" she asked in panic.

"Showing that you look amazing regardless," I muttered absentmindedly, trying to address her insecurities.

Jenna blushed, and she seemed almost on the verge of a panic attack. "See?" I asked with a nervous smile.

I ran my fingers along her arm, feeling like a complete idiot for making this girl feel bad for years. I had never thought that such a joke could ruin a friendship.

Jenna broke free from my grasp and got up from the desk, seeing that the science teacher had returned to the classroom, ending our punishment.

"See you tomorrow, loser," Jenna muttered, a small smile on her lips.

In the end, now I knew why Jenna detested me so much. In the end, the responsible, clueless idiot was just me.

[fallenneziah]

(trying out the new community label thing so lets see how far out into the world this makes it. I legitimately just wanted to write the "pay to ride" part, this is purely 2am trash)

Simon who is something of a manwhore when he moves out of his parents house. The years of being held away and exposed to his brother's loads of magazines of sexy bikini models shaping a large portion of his freedom.

He idles at the bars on his leave. Stirring a drink with soft flicks of his wrist, looking around the cool glow of the lot bar as patrons waltz through.

He takes a sip of his drink, the warm liquid leaves a sting on his tongue that quenches the fire in his stomach. He watches the girls across the bar, giggling and feeling up some of the men, others too focused on the mechanical bull that had been set up.

A good use of the old space, Simon never liked looking at those damn dark brown walls. The bartender approaches him, sweeping another pound off the table and pouring Simon more into his drink.

He sipped it down, rolling the smooth liquid down his throat with a pleasant hum. His pockets felt tight with the odd shift in his chair. His eyes couldn't stay off their target, practically groping the servers.

Be respectful his mother had said. And he was a mama's boy so who was he to disobey.

You must be either drunk or stupid when you approach him. The tall glass of smooth whiskey built man. Tactical pants making your eyes see shadows in a whole new way. Some scars on his face but not enough he yet feels a need to cover it.

Simon notices you, taking a sip as he eyes you up. Your soft hips and smooth stomach exposed by the crop top knot tied into a rather large, baggy shirt.

"Look at you all alone." You commented.

Simon placed his cup down, shifting his chair, knees finding an excuse to put more distance between each other. "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"

"Can I get your name?"

Simon chuckles, rubbing his stubble. "Mm, it's pay to ride, sweetheart."

"It is, how much will that be?" You lean on the bar, ass popping out behind you.

Simon leans in, the stench of liquor on his lips as he whispers, "How about a few more drinks, then we can see what happens."

"Scared I'll take you out?"

Simon leans back, swigging his drink. His hand rests on his thigh, looking back over at the mechanical bull as another girl falls off with a shrill laugh.

"If you can't ride that, can't ride this."

You laugh, "Well I can ride both and a few other things." You reach down to your pocket, pulling out a £20.

"What'll this get me?"

Simon's lips purse, eyes squinting to look at the bill. He thinks it over carefully, eyes dragging back down over your body and up to the bill. "That's for you, and only if you can last long enough."

You giggle, snatching the bill from your fingers and tucking it into the front of your top. Simon licks his lips, leaning forward. "Out here in the open is no place for that, love." He reprimands, finally standing.

His heavy feet falling and his gaze dragging right down your shirt. A perverted whore is what he is. Thinking with the wrong head most times. Sees a pretty woman and wants his rightful turn.

Dragging off to a back room seat from the bar, Simon haphazardly falls back into a comfy chair. He grunts, looking at the £20.

"Now, how about you make good on that and show me what you got."

Your hands grab at the front of your top, the knot coming undone slowly, the shirt hanging onto the top of your breasts for dear life. He chuckles, motioning you over. He grabs the 20 and forces you down into his lap. In his drunken state, he wraps his arms around you and tugs your top off with his teeth.

"Look'at 'at..." He licked your breasts, tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples.

Your legs straddled him, your fingers tugging on his pants and pulling the button open. You felt his cock pressing against his briefs, a wet spot growing from his precum.

"Fuck."

"Hands off, princess." He growled, sloppily sucking on one of your nipples, taking you into his mouth like a desperate man for water. "Gotta pay for that." He sloppily laps up his saliva on your nipple, moving to the other breast and giving you what he thinks is worth that £20.

His cock throbs against his pants, your hand slipping in and teasing his tip. Simon bucks his hips, letting out a soft groan and a laugh.

"Gotta work hard for that one." He teases.

Your palm strokes his length, your fingers gripping the thick girth and working him slowly.

He grunts, "Fuck baby." He bucks his hips, the alcohol in his system making his cock a little more sensitive than usual.

He groans, latching onto your breast, pulling you in, fingers sinking into the pudge of your hips. He sucks your raw nipple into his mouth, swirling around it and pulling back. His mouth warm and wet, your breasts red and perked.

He leans back, your hand working him and his cock drooling precum. His balls heavy and tight as you palm them. He grunts, "Get the fuck on with it."

You giggled, pulling him out of his briefs and stroking his cock, "What happened to paying for the goods."

"Suck it you slut."

"Mmm, is that the way to treat a lady." You teased.

"I'll treat you like a fucking whore if you don't suck me now." He leaned his head back, his palm traveling over your shoulder, squeezing your breast in his hand and feeling you slide down, knees resting on the cold floor.

He exhales shakily, hand traveling up and latching into your hair as you continue to lazily stroke his cock. Your tongue briefly teasing his head, watching him leak pre-cum down his shaft.

His heavy cock pulses, twitching and demanding attention. Simon groans, his hips bucking and his hand forcing your head down, his cock shoving past your lips and hitting the back of your throat.

"Good girl." He hummed.

You sucked his cock, your eyes locked with his.

His chest rose and fell, his hips bucking up into your mouth, forcing your head further down on his cock. You gag around his thick girth, Simon's hips thrusting faster.

"F-Fuck..."

His eyes rolled back, grinning. He watched you as you took his cock. Saliva pooling around your molars and leaking out around your cheek, dripping down his fat shaft. His balls twitched as saliva slowly rolled down.

"Didn't shave this pretty thing for nothing." He comments, flicking your neck gently. "Open it sweetheart."

You pulled your mouth away, drool running down your chin as he gripped his shaft and slapped his cock across your face, smearing saliva and precum over your cheeks.

"So fucking hot, look at that." He teased, his tip resting on your cheek, a heavy glob of precum pooling on your cheek.

He shoved his cock back in, your nose pressed against his pelvis, his cock pulsing in your throat as he thrusted again, the loud slaps of skin and gagging filling his ears.

He guided you up and down along his cock. Coating him in warm saliva that made him ache and twitch. He rolled his eyes back, running blunt fingertips over your scalp. "Never had bad luck, fuck, Simon." He grins to himself.

His hips jerk forward, his cock swelling as he reaches his end. He bucks into you, his grip on your head tightening, a sharp pain that makes you gag.

Simon's moans grow louder, his chest heaving, his cock spurting hot, heavy loads into your throat.

He pulls out prematurely and splatters cum across your nose and lips. The thick spillage leaking down your lips and off your tongue.

Simon's cock pulses as he strokes it, leaking some cum over his knuckles.

"You like that." He cooed, his thumb pressing his cum into your lips.

You suck on his thumb, cleaning the rest of his load up.

"That's a good girl."

He tucked himself back into his briefs, fixing his pants. He looked up at you, his thumb wiping cum from your face and forcing you to swallow it.

"Don't need it going to waste."

"Tits sucked, throat used. I'd say that's a good reward for £20..." He left the open pause, giving you the opportunity to interject. Tell him what you want, what you're willing to pay for.

He doesn't need to pay for sex. He isn't a desperate man. But if you want it you need to put your offer up, always do.

"You can stay with me tonight if you pay the right price." He winks, "But I don't think you can afford it."

"And what would be the right price?"

"More than a twenty love."

"What would a hundred get me?"

Simon hummed, stroking his stubble and staring down at the mess he made of you.

"A lot, and a shower."

"How much more?"

Simon chuckles, "You really are a fucking whore. You know how to treat a man..."

"I guess that makes two of us." You wipe your face, standing up. Without hesitation you fish around in your purse and pull out more money. "This is yours at my flat."

"Oh? A bit more than I was thinking."

"You can get the rest later."

Simon grins, grabbing the starter £50 and placing it in his wallet. "Deal."

[dailypersonamodding]

Saturday, April 15th, 2023

[ Sorry for the prolonged absence! Life got complicated for both of the admins and for the time being you'll need to deal with me! ]

ANYWAY, Goro Akechi Time

So, as is considered nearly common knowledge by now, data present in P5 and P5R points to the existence of a scrapped Akechi Palace for our ✨lovely pancake boy✨, but how much is known about it *really?* Here's a data breakdown of the scraps left over!

Every field in Persona 5 has a Major and Minor Field ID, and the game is programmed to assume Major ID's between 150 and 200 are Palaces. The final game uses IDs 150 to 162 for each Palace like so:

f150 - Prologue [ Casino Duplicate ]

f151 - Castle Pt.1

f152 - Castle Pt.2

f153 - Museum

f154 - Bank

f155 - Pyramid

f156 - Moon Base

f157 - Casino

f159 - Cruiseship

f160 - Holy Grail Path

f161 - Mementos Depths

f162 - Labratory

As you can see, there are missing Fields between 157 and 159, but how can we prove this is Akechi? We look at the dialogue for negotiating with Shadows!

When knocked down, Shadows occasionally mention whatever Palace Ruler is currently active. This data is stored in BATTLE\TALK in various .BF ( Binary Flowscript ) files that are run based on the enemy type.

Inside the BMD ( Binary Message Data ) chunk of these files, there's some unused dialogue:

Flee while you still can! Ahahaha! It is futile to oppose Lord Akechi! You would do well to tread carefully. Lord Akechi is a man possessed of immense desire. Hmph… I wonder if your power would even pose a threat to Lord Akechi… I give up… *sob* Lord Akechiii…

There are 27 lines in total from Shadows referencing "Lord Akechi", all of them localized! Normally, this is where most investigation ends. There was a planned Akechi Palace between Sae and Shido, but all data was scrapped and any attempts to load into the Palace by force fail due to an intense scrub of all related data.

( Generally this is a sign things are not going well )

This, however is not the end of things just yet—Atlus was not entirely diligent in the data wipe. One of the things left behind is a single .ENV ( Environment ) file. These files—among many other things—specify properties like texture color, color grading, light effects and so on for every field.

ENV\ENV0158_001_000.ENV is found in this folder, corresponding to the missing 158 Palace ID. However, since there's no meshes left over, we can only see ENV 158's effects by placing it on another field. Here is the front hall of the Bank Palace as seen in-game normally:

Here is what Akechi's Palace would have looked like, at least the ambiance, had development continued:

( I'm sure someone can make some kind of argument about how this represents Akechi thematically, lord knows I can. )

One other aspect still remaining is found in FIELD\FTD\FLDDNGPACK.FTD, a list that specifies what encounters can be found in any Palace, along with loot in Chests and Search Objects. Akechi's DNGPACK List is not entirely empty!

We can see by parsing this file that Akechi's Palace would have had around 21 different Fields, about the standard for every Palace in P5R, though this excludes Safe Rooms. While the Encounter Entries sadly lead only to default Kamoshida Castle battles, his list references a unique Random Loot Table 7! At the time of writing, it appears no other part of the game references Random Loot Table 7. While it lacks unique items found in other Palaces, the data is indicative of what could've been found inside Akechi's Palace Search Objects.

Jades and Garnets are placed at surprisingly high priority, along with the Marble Chessboard. Of note are the items such as the Marble Chessboard and Brass Pocket Watch, those specific Item IDs cannot be found in any other location in the ENTIRE Random Loot Table .FTD file.

Until more info about how Palaces function is uncovered, it seems like our Detective Prince will continue to elude us in his heavily fog-covered ways, this subject clearly needs more research to find any more remnants!

That’s all for now, see you soon!

[sunny-mercya]

Memento Mori

Clark Kent x Male Reader | Hinted former Ex!Husband!Bruce Wayne x Male Reader

Masterlist

Long afloat on the shipless oceans

I did all my best to smile

The 4th of July wasn't a day to celebrate—hadn't and shouldn't been one anyway—it was a reminder of death and who you have lost.

Rain was something calming, the pitter patter of it—how it taps with a force against the windows and the roof, leaving tactful rhythm behind—and yet at the same time, the rain itself was a cry from the sky above. Crying out and mourning their loss.

Jon jerked awake from his nap, a nap which shouldn't he have done, when the first chorus of thunder strikes through the sky. Rubbing his eyes he took a glance at the greenish numbers of the DVD-Player; 01:30 AM, past midnight already.

Getting up from the couch, Jon strutted into the kitchen, thanking his dads for always leaving small lights on everywhere in the house—darkness wasn't his favourite, even with his superpowers he hated the dark and what was lurking inside the shadows. There was a time, when he was still in Kindergarten, were he has giving his parents—his papa especially—a hard time during both day and night.

A cup of either Chocolate milk or Tea sounded nice, maybe a few cookies with it. Filling the cup with milk, Jon was about to put 3 spoons of the choco-powder in it, but stopped and dropped the spoon—spilling the powder everywhere.

Jon had gotten spooked by his own papa, who sat there outside on the grass in the rain. Jon had to take a double look on the digital watch above the kitchen table, before running towards his dad office. It wasn't the time, it was the current date.

~~~

Jon wrung his hands into his pyjama shirt, getting nervous within the passing seconds and the downpour of the rain, which echoed through the walls off the house, wasn't helping with it.

Jon felt always incredible nerve wracking nervous, whenever he stood in front of his dad office or even had to go inside. It wasn't because of his dad, never. It just was the office itself and Jon never liked it to bother his dad when he was working. Though now he had to and so, without knocking—dad wouldn't hear it anyways, not when he is listening to music—and taking a deep breath, he open the door and stepped inside.

Jon pulled at his dad headphones, giving Clark a scare in the process.

«Papa is sitting outside in the rain and we already have the 5th of July today and you totally missed dinner last night and you didn't do the laundry and also, I think we forgot to bake cake and visit grave yesterday and flowers we didn't buy either and papa is sad, like really sad and and—»

Flabbergasted, Clark needs a moment to process his sons rambling. A bad habit Jon has gotten from him. Though he only needed to hear 5th of July to know whats going on.

Ruffling his sons hair, bringing a stop to the rambling, Clark smiled down at Jon.

«How about you sleep with us tonight? And I'll go and get Papa» said Clark, taking Jons hand and guiding him out of the office and towards their bedroom, before making his way towards the garden.

~~~

Clark ventured through the house and outside into the garden. Ignoring the howling wind and face slapping rain, which soaks him instantly. Only focusing on his husband, only having his focus on you.

Wordless he picks you up, for him—with his super strength—you were are lightweight. Carrying you back inside, debating for a second if Clark should put you onto the couch, but deciding against it and walking up the stairs into the bathroom. Sitting you down onto bench.

The wave of silence, a tense one, still lingers in the room as Clark drys you off—taking off all your clothes, getting a new set of comfortable nightwear from the bedroom—and redressing you and himself.

«You shouldn't sit in the rain so late, love,» said Clark, airy chuckling leaving his lips. Wanting to try and lift the mood just a bit. So Clark, just like his Son before, starts to ramble about his newest report he is writing.

«You forgot.»

Clarks stopped with his talking, upon hearing your voice—which sounded drily hoarse—and how you said it, with such harshly monotony and in a matter of fact tone. He didn't replied right away.

«You forgot.» you repeated, face turning into a frown. Anger showing through your narrowing glare.

«I didn't.» Clark licked over his lips, feeling a dryness over them as he answers you firmly without hesitation in his words.

But that was a lie and the both of you knew this. Clark did forget, he did. Too immersed with his work to take notice of everything else around him.

«Yes, yes you fucking did. Yesterday, 4th of July, was our son death-day and you forgot about! We didn't even visit the graves, because you forgot about it!» your voice rose an octave higher within the last sentences. Anger now clearly prominent in your feature.

You didn't want to have an argument, even when they are sometimes unavoidable, to erupt into a shouting with Clark—had enough of those with Bruce back then, when the both of you were once married. Hateful and nasty they were—but Clark knew how important this was.

Guilt gnawed at Clarks soft felt heart, weighting it down with heaviness. He knew how important the 4th of July was for you, what that day means to you, knew the past and present connected to it.

Not only have you lost Conner—his death still recent, even when one year has passed already—on this day, but Jason as well—who you had lost years ago, when you were still married with Bruce—and who was also your son, part of a family, your family.

A once fondest happiness in your life and now a memory you held dear.

You still grieved hard over Jason death and with Conners death now, you had pressure on you which would lead to collapse soon.

Clark sighed, taking your hands and pulls you up. Engulfing you into his strong arms, which emits a instant suction of protectiveness, into a loving hug.

«I know that I forgot about it and I'm sorry love.» he mumbles into your ear, leaving gentle kisses all over your face. Picking you up, he carries you into the bedroom.

~~~

When Clark enters the bedroom with you in his arms, he saw that Jon was still wide awake, giving them a worried glance.

Clark gave his youngest a tiny weariness smile. Laying you down into the middle of the bed, Jon goes straight into your arms as Clarks lays himself down behind you. Hugging both, you and Jon to him.

«Do you want to visit the graveyard tomorrow, I mean today?» asked Clark and when you weakly nodded, he kissed the top of your head. Humming some song, while Jon sleepily rambles about some cartoons till he falls into dreamland

Say, if I only could, I'd make a deal with God.

And I'd get him to swap our places

[oumaheroes]

Congrats on 1000 followers!! If you're still taking requests, I'd go absolutely feral for some of your scotfra! I love how you write modern nationverse with where characters reminisce or philosophise about the past <33

Phi I... I strayed. Okay, I strayed way off topic because this came to me so clearly that I couldn't not write it. I hope that you like it, even though there is no nationverse philosophying ;u;

Characters: Scotland, France (ScotFra)

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

Starscape

Their home hits him with unexpected force as soon as he opens the door, the brass handle cool against bare palm. The smell of their lives together, clean linen and cedar aftershave. Walls cluttered with photos, Alisdair’s large leather armchair in the corner, Francis’ collection of Vogues tucked neatly besides Alisdair’s nature books into a handmade bookcase- collected fragments of two lives turned into one. A busy, friendly, assault of the senses.

Francis is in the kitchen, warm yellow lights and background radio above the metallic clatter of their cutlery drawer.

Alisdair sloughs his coat off, drapes it over the sofa, and walks in to join him.

‘Hello there.’

Alisdair can hear Francis’ smile through the words as he hugs him tightly from behind where he is at the counter, chin to shoulder. His arms go around him to their places automatically, right hand to Francis’ left hip.

Francis tilts his head back and up to try and meet his eye, ‘Good day?’

‘It’ll do.’

Francis snorts and cups his cheek lazily with one hand, reaching to place an empty pan on the stove, ‘Better than nothing.’

‘How was yours?’ Alisdair is loath to let him go but Francis wiggles free, gently nudging him back and away to let him get on with things. Alisdair retreats to the table in the middle of the room and watches.

‘Oh, you know. Same old same old.’

‘Tell me.’

Francis gifts him with a raised eyebrow. He fills up a pot with water and sets it salted to boil. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘Do you remember that new woman from a few weeks ago?’

Alisdair casts far back in time to find the name Francis might be referring to and finds too many to filter. ‘I remember you telling me about her.’

Francis raises an eyebrow, ‘Tina.’

‘Ah. Tina.’ He had forgotten Tina.

‘I cannot understand what is driving her to-‘ Francis sighs and clicks his tongue, ‘I don’t want to judge, but-‘

Alisdair smiles, ‘Yes, you do.’

Francis waves a hand. ‘Yes, fine. I do. But still, I am aware it’s not my place to say older people can’t randomly move jobs out of nowhere, and obviously they can learn how to do something new, but it’s...’

He stops, ties his hair up, and Alisdair's smiles widens. ‘Some people are slow, and I understand. It’s irritating to train them but I understand. Everyone has their own pace, and all that. Christ, I sound like Arthur when he’s being his most pretentious.’

Alisdair wants to call his brother then and has to swallow the feeling away, eyes fixed on Francis to keep him focused.

Butter to pan, salt to onions. The smell in the air is sweet. Condensation softens the windows, fogs the dark shadows of their garden beyond the glass. Francis moves whilst he talks, stepping lightly from one task to another.

‘But she’s not just slow to train. She’s someone who keeps questioning things, rather than just learning them. “Why do it this way, that way is much better.” Or, “In my last position, we did X Y Z blah blah blah”. Horrible. Aggravating.’ Francis tips mushrooms into the pan and shakes his head, ‘Anyway. Today I found out that she didn’t just move to join the analyst team because she wanted some sort of end of career change or have a last-minute depressing existential crisis. She was asked to move down. Because she was terrible at her job.’

Francis grins at him, his smile sharp teethed and wicked, ‘No wonder she’s so picky with everything. I got the feeling that she thought that we and what we do were beneath her but now-‘

Alisdair cuts him off before he can finish. Away from the table before Francis can stop him, he presses his mouth to Francis’, then to his cheek. Cups the back of his head in his hand, kisses his neck and feels the beat of Francis’ heart jump his pulse strong against his lips.

‘Stop it.’ Francis swats at him but the gesture is half-hearted at best, ‘You’re going to make me burn dinner.’

Alisdair kisses him again, Francis’ long hair soft and undone in his hands. ‘I don’t care.’

‘I care.’

Francis never burns dinner. No matter how busy the day or how many tasks he’s doing at once, dinner is never something to be sacrificed as part of a greater good. No matter how hard Alisdair could have tried to force it, in their life burning dinner was not a thing that would ever have happened. Today is no different. Francis extracts himself just in time to save things and Alisdair lets him go, knowing he needs to in order for things to work as they should.

The taste, once Francis is done, is perfect- one of his best meals, in Alisdair’s opinion, a warm mushroom soup. Thick bread- not homemade, Francis laments, but good enough- lightly toasted and thickly buttered. Alisdair savours every bite, takes small spoonfuls to draw out the experience for as long as it can go.

After they’ve eaten, the cooking a perfect mixture of memory and longing, they retreat to the living room sofa to fall deadweight against the cushions.

‘That was too much food.’ Francis says where he sits against Alisdair’s chest, their legs together under blankets before them on the L-shaped bend. ‘We keep on eating portion sizes that are way more than we need.’

Alisdair disagrees entirely. He is slimmer now, of course, much slimmer, but Francis doesn’t seem to notice. He pats the meat of Francis’ thigh and then grips it tight, ‘We’re doing just fine.’

Francis rolls his eyes and tuts but Alisdair sees the smile in his eyes, ‘No, not that. I mean that it’s expensive.’

‘It’s doable.’

‘Not with the sheer amount of lamb that you’re eating.’

‘It’s my favourite.’

‘It’s the costliest of all of them.’ Francis smiles and reaches up an arm to play with the short hair at the nape of Alisdair’s neck, ‘This needs a cut.’

‘You said you wouldn’t cut my hair anymore.’ Alisdair reminds him. Francis’ hand is warm, so warm, and Alisdair closes his eyes. ‘You said I complain too much.’

‘You do.’

‘Only because you threatened to shave me.’

Francis laughs lightly, ‘It would suit you.’

‘Well. That's why I complained.’

Beep.

Alisdair opens his eyes.

‘Shall we watch something?’ Francis sits up for the remote on the coffee table.

‘Only if it’s not a period drama.’

Francis sighs, weary, ‘Emma is not just a period drama. I’m told it’s a brilliant film.’

Alisdair wrinkles his nose and then grins at the look Francis gives him, ‘I’m sure it is. But are you going to be able to sit there quietly and not bitch about the costume design?’

Francis blinks at him. ‘Yes,’ he says after a while, ‘Obviously.’

‘Fucking liar.’

‘I will! I won’t say anything.’

‘I’ll bet you a fucking tenner you won’t be able to stop yourself saying something.’

Francis glances at the TV, then back to him. ‘Fine,’ he says after a moment, ‘If it’s shit research, I won’t be able to help myself. But that doesn’t detract from it potentially being a very good film.’

‘Besides shit costuming.’

‘… So I’m told.’

‘But see, there you go.’ Alisdair leans forwards, ‘You’ll have a great time nonetheless but I won’t be able to focus on anything because-‘

Beep.

Alisdair wavers, ‘…because I’ll have you going off making comments all the time and I’ll forget what’s happening and-‘

Francis looks scandalised, ‘You don’t know the story anyway?’

‘Why the fuck would I know the story?’

‘Oh for the love of-‘ Beep. ‘We have to watch it. That’s it, I can’t have this.’ Francis clicks on the TV and scrolls to Netflix, ‘What on earth was your mother thinking. You’d think with the amount Arthur goes on-‘

‘Arthur was the weird one. I-‘

Beep.

Alisdair feels a tightness in his chest. He tries not to think of the cause.

Francis turns to him. ‘What?’

Alisdair’s tongue feels heavy, throat tight. ‘What.’

‘You were saying?’ Francis prompts. ‘Something about you and Arthur.’

His hair is tucked behind on ear but strands have fallen free. Alisdair wants to reach forward and brush them back but he can’t move. He feels hollow, belly empty.

He takes a deep, long breath in. His lungs fill, then release. Under his fingers, he feels the whorls of the sofa upholstery on the arm rest. Feels the warmth of Francis near his outstretched leg, face buttery yellow in the lamplight by the wall. It is all so real.

‘Right.’ He runs a hand over his face, ‘Arthur was the one who read all the books. I was a normal child and young man, and went outside. Made friends.’

‘I read those same books.’ Francis presses a hand to his chest, ‘And I feel I came out quite normal from the experience.’

‘I wouldn’t quite say that.’

Francis nods, sagely, and tilts his head to one side. ‘You’re not entirely wrong. I’m with you, after all.’

Alisdair nudges him with his foot, in the softness of his stomach, and Francis laughs.

Beep. Oxygen levels critically low. Warning.

Alisdair should have turned the alarms off.

Francis settles back against him and Alisdair leans back against the sofa, tucking them back in as he goes and wraps his arms around Francis, hold him tight. Here, like this, it would be so easy to forget. To think that this was happening, and was still something he could have and return to. Francis is so solid, so real.

Beep.

But Alisdair cannot forget. Thousands of miles above earth, his body free from gravity, he watched as without warning mushroom clouds peppered through the skies below him. Rushes of clouds shot across oceans to collide with another wave, and then another, until the planet fell still.

The silence was loud. Space pressed in against the glass, a thick, dark nothingness that stretched on and outwards around him. Endless stars dull when there is no one waiting to share them with, Alisdair has found.

He still has no idea what happened. Whether it was planned, who started it, who could be left. He waited weeks for something, endless days on a knife’s edge by the comms system, unable to leave in case something came through or his planned replacement arrive to relieve him. Sleep in broken chunks, too tired to stay away any longer.

He doesn’t know now how long it has been. He stopped checking the days. There was nothing that could be done for him, anyhow. What good is it to know details of his final days, when the grand fact was that no one was coming. He lived because he was too scared to die, and that was that.

And now, here it is.

Warning.

Alisdair had remembered to override the auto-safety control that diverted power to essential systems, at least. That was the important part.

Warning.

It could warn him all it wanted; he wasn’t going to change anything.

Oxygen levels critically low.

A few more days with the bare essentials to sustain life, or this. One last go at the hollo-systems, one last story to play.

Warning. Oxygen levels critically low.

Alisdair had been holding back on playing this one. Eking out the power left on his ship for as long as he could, everything non-essential closed off to- why? To live? To remember?

Just in case, maybe. Just in case.

In his arms, the programmed memory of Francis shifts under the blankets and sighs through his nose. The film has started, Alisdair hadn’t noticed. The colours and sounds all curl and bleed together, flashes of something distinct stand out before falling away like a motion blur. Francis breathes in Alisdair’s arms, his face calm and easy, and Alisdair watches.

Beep.

This is how he wants to go.

Beep.

To go home to a life that only he can remember. Kept safe here in memories and code, a final goodbye.

‘I love you,’ he says. His voice cracks, ‘So, so much.’

Francis turns his head. He reads something in Alisdair’s face; Alisdair sees the flicker in his expression as he notes that something is wrong. But memory and code can only go so far, the real Francis would never have seen him like this before. Alisdair doesn’t know how he would have reacted. Whatever his husband’s virtual echo sees in Alisdair’s drawn, wasted face, it is not something that he was designed to see.

So, he smiles. Sees him as whole. ‘I love you too.’

The living room darkens, shadows fill the edges. Alisdair closes his eyes and buries his face in Francis’ shoulder. ‘I’ll be home soon.’

Francis turns slightly and wraps and arm around and under Alisdair’s back, ‘I’ll be waiting.’