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lilywastaken · 1 year

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⇝ refuge .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART FOUR OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: After a mission goes wrong, the 141 seek shelter in Ghost's so-called "safe house".

WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, blood, wounds, stitching of wounds, mentions of abuse, first fluff in a while.

A/N: My fingers hurt I'm actually going to pass out now goodbye <3 (PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED IT HELPS A LOT!!!)

WORD COUNT: 11.2k.

MASTERLIST.

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Ghost’s hands were covered in blood.

Although this was nothing out of the ordinary for a trained soldier like him, as he’d washed away many gallons of blood off of him in the time where he’d been on the field, this was different.

It wasn’t the enemy’s blood that covered him, no. It wasn’t even his soldiers’ blood.

It was civilian's. People that had been going about their day. Casualties in the mess that had erupted with a single missed bullet.

It was his fault.

If he hadn’t let himself grow distracted with the banter that erupted from his ear piece, if he had paid more attention to the target Laswell had given him, he would’ve been able to game end them right there and then like he had many before, instead, the bullet lodged right in his chest above the heart, enough time to stun the man but not enough to stop his other hand from clicking the detonator.

The chaos that had followed was indescribable. He could still feel his ears ringing from the explosion that had occurred, the screams of the people he could have saved, the panicked shouts and roars from Price as he ordered them about.

Ghost followed the order mindlessly, his body on some type of autopilot that had been turned on after the shock, taking out the other targets that had been lingering around until the bomb had gone off, his emotion-fueled mind taking out it’s anger on them by tearing them apart in the most gruesome ways possible.

But he knew that covering himself in as much enemy blood as he could wouldn’t wash away the innocent’s.

It wouldn’t wipe away the countless deaths he’d caused.

But as he watched his final victim bleed out on the ground, ignoring their screams of pain and the insults that were being hurled at, Soap’s voice came through his earpiece.

“Bastard’s gone. Cannae find him anywhere.”

Ghost’s blood boiled, combat boot slamming down onto the man’s head to finally shut him up, a last act of mercy and a way to express the anger rushing through his veins.

Even after they’d retreated back to the base they’d made theirs in the outskirts of Berlin during their mission there, Ghost couldn’t shake his disgusting feelings off his shoulders.

He’d never been the one to cause such a massacre like this. It was always some rookie or other, never a seasoned Lieutenant like him.

Soap and Gaz’s conversation was just static to his ears, his mind spiralling as he thought about all the people around the city who had lost a family member today because of him.

It wasn’t the first time in a mission where there’d been casualties. But never as many as this. And never had it affected him like this.

The empathy he’d lacked almost all his life had suddenly made itself known in his mind, the little voice gnawing at the back of his head as it fed him scenarios linked to the mission they’d just failed, impossible if he were to think about them clearly, but right then, he couldn’t stop his heart from beating as fast as it could against his ribcage as he thought about the possibility of you or Tommy being involved in something like that, of having to carry the guilt that would no doubt haunt him all his life if that were to happen.

He fucking hated it.

He’d been deep in thought when they finally arrived at the base, the humvie’s doors opening as the other three stepped out, Price the only to take note of Ghost’s dishevelled state.

“Lieutenant.”

…

“Ghost.”

…

“Simon!” Along with the bellow of his real name, the captain’s hand came down to slam onto one of the leather seats, finally pulling Ghost out of his stupor. “We’re here.”

“Copy.” He grunted, pushing himself out of the car and following his captain and the other two back to base mindlessly, almost like a zombie.

It didn’t get better from there. Even as Laswell reassured him that it hadn’t been anyone's fault, that they hadn’t planned on the man wearing a gun vest, that even if he had succeeded in shooting him down, he wouldn’t be the only one with a detonator as found in one of the man’s lackey’s front pocket, that the explosion would have happened either way… He couldn’t help but still feel horrible.

“Any idea where he is, then?” Price asked, looking through some of the files they’d been given on their runaway.

“Probably went back home.” Gaz suggested, pointing out the address for a flat he had somewhere in the outskirts of Manchester.

“Called the airport, they told us a man with similar build and looks boarded a plane for Liverpool over two hours ago. He’s probably already out of the airport.”

Soap clicked his tongue, looking down at the address Gaz had mentioned before. “That’s his maw’s flat. Reckon he’d put ‘er in danger?”

“Doubt he’d care. He was happy to kill countless people for his cause, including his men and himself, what’s one more?” Ghost grunted, throwing the file down and leaning back in his chair, sharp gaze focused on the digital map Laswell had brought up, looking at the location of the terrorist’s house.

“It’s not near any major buildings and isn’t close enough to the city to cause a commotion.” Laswell noted as she looked over the hills and lakes that surrounded the small house. “Good hiding place.”

“And if he’s not there?” Gaz asked, handing all the files back to Laswell, who gave him a solemn look.

“We keep trying. Go get ready, I’ll call for a heli to take you all back to England. Try and get him, preferably alive, but be wary of any more guards or lackeys he might have brought with him. You’re all dismissed.”

Everyone was armed to their teeth by the time they’d made it back to English territory, night vision goggles pulled above their head as they had realised the trip took a bit longer than expected due to the cargo they had been asked to bring back to England in the process, the sky darkening even further with every second they spent on the helicopter.

“Ghost, how copy?” Price shouted over the sound, elbowing Ghost in the side when he didn’t seem to hear him.

“What?!” Ghost shouted back, forcing out the pressure that clogged up his ears in order to hear properly.

“How are you?! Never seen you this melancholic!”

Ghost huffed out a laugh, tightening the straps of the seatbelts around his chest, as if they were the one putting pressure on his lungs.

“Fine, captain!” He snapped, turning to look out of the small window row behind them. “Just ready to kill this fucking bugger!”

“Copy that!” Price slammed one of his burly hands onto Ghost’s shoulder, an act of encouragement the captain found himself giving to each of his members every time they went on a mission.

After that, the helicopter went quiet, focusing on the mission ahead of them.

Which in foresight, was expected to be relatively easy, a copy of many before them where they’d all come out victorious.

But this one differed.

The target wasn’t even that dangerous in itself, he was just some bloke who had had the brilliant idea to make an organisation that had somehow ended up planting bombs in almost every major city under the government and army’s radar. It hadn’t been up to now where they had finally learned who was behind it and where their next target was, but even then, they’d failed in protecting the civilians.

Something they had spent almost a year investigating, fighting, taking down so many factions across the world to get to the top of the pyramid, the man behind it all.

And fuck, if Ghost wasn’t going to make all the time he’d spent stressed and infuriated out of his mind on a wild goose chase for this fucking guy worth it. If he’d never fucking existed, the task force wouldn’t have gone through all that just to lose him, he wouldn’t have ruined the relationship he’d began with you, he would’ve had a proper go at being Tommy’s dad from the get-go.

But a group of people that had afforded to build and plant so many bombs across so many countries, were to have enough money to hire bodyguards en par with the skill the 141 had.

And that’s just what they had.

Just like them, they were well-equipped with as many guns and weapons that the group’s money could buy, and while normally most men like these were just random guys picked off the street who had had guns shoved into their hands, these weren’t. They were trained, skilled enough to almost knock Soap’s gun out of his hands, and although that wasn’t what had happened, it had given them enough time for one of their bullets to graze his leg, not enough to fully bury itself into the flesh but enough to make him bleed and buckle to the ground.

Ghost grabbed Soap by the scruff of his jacket, quickly disposing of the man that had shot him and pulling him up, letting the scot lean on him for balance.

“Captain, Soap’s been hit!” Ghost roared into his radio, letting Soap lean on the wall while he grabbed some bandages they were always advised to bring and helped Soap in stopping the bleeding that the graze had caused. “Can you walk, Johnny?”

“Feckin’ adrenaline’s runnin’ through me, LT., could carry a horse if ye told me to.”

“Atta boy.” He handed him his gun so he could defend himself while they got out of the top floor. “Sir, the first floor’s clear. Taking the sergeant back to the car.”

“Roger. Be careful, fucker’s nowhere to be found down h- Fuck, Gaz!”

The sound of a gun going off and the roar from their captain made both men freeze in place, the dying grunts of someone coming through the radio before Gaz finally spoke, voice wheezy and hurt.

“‘M fine, just- Fuck, that cunt stabbed me!”

They made their way to the bottom of the stairs, where unfortunately, one of the men was waiting for them, stabbing their tactile knife right into Ghost’s shoulder thanks to the fact that he’d switched off his night vision goggles moments before, and wouldn't have seen them in the dark.

“Fuck, where do they keep comin’ from!?”

“Captain!”

“I see ya! Ghost, Soap, meet us outside, there’s not enough of us to take these fuckers out!” Price commanded, all of them responding with a “Roger!” before barreling their way out of the house, shooting a few more men in the process until they both shoved themselves into the car, Ghost immediately grabbing at the keys and pushing them in, getting everything ready while they waited for the other two, that quickly retreated into the back and slammed the doors shut, the captain slamming his fist into the back of GHost’s seat and ordering him to drive.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Gaz cried out as he held onto his wound, planting his feet on the floor as he realised who was driving, both him and soap squeezing their eyes shut as the blond slammed onto the accelerator, bringing the car out of the rocky driveway of the house and back out into one of the main roads.

As the adrenaline started to fade from all of them, Price lazily raised a hand to grab at Soap’s shoulder, looking down at the bullet wound. “Still in one piece?”

“Yeah… Don’ think Lt. can say the same.” He pointed over to the stab wound in Ghost’s shoulder, that luckily had been right over his tactical gear, so it hadn’t caused as much damage as the perpetrator clearly intended.

“‘M fine, Johnny. Worry about yourself.” He grunted, trying to ignore the pain that came with taking a turn with the steering wheel, every single time he moved his arm striking pain into the wound, the adrenaline from before having done a good job at keeping him from realising the amount of pain he had been currently in.

“What about you, Gaz?” Soap called out, turning his head to look at the other as Price got his radio out, planning on informing Laswell on the second failure of the day.

“Not dead.” He joked, tightening the bandage around the cut on his arm. “Gonna need stitches or something.”

Everyone went silent as Laswel’s voice came through the radio, broken and incomplete, but they could slightly understand what she was saying.

Of course, the terrorists had also managed to hack into their servers while the task force was on their way and had made preparations for when they had inevitably barged into their house to arrest the man.

The base back in London was almost a four hour drive away, and they doubted that their wounds would be in perfect condition after that long of a time, they needed to be disinfected and treated as soon as possible.

“Any safe houses ‘round here that we might have access to?” Price called out, listening to what he assumed was Laswell looking through files.

“None that they don’t have access to.”

“Hospital?”

“Too far.”

All of them collectively sweared, Ghost’s grip tightening around the wheel as he took a right into one of the roads leading towards Manchester, the same road he took every time he came back from base to see you.

You…

“Don’t you live in Manchester?” Gaz called out, kicking Ghost’s seat like a kid asking if they were there yet.

“Not safe. If they have the locations of our safe houses, they have the locations of our own.” Price called out. “Unless one of you has a secret house off the grid or some James Bond mansion.”

Silence filled the car.

Now, it had passed through Ghost’s head when they first started talking about safe houses, but it wasn’t really his house, after all. It was yours, Your space, your flat, your building. Not his. He was nothing but some sort of weird tennant.

And his flat would have been the first place to take them to if it hadn’t been compromised, but now that he knew that that idea was out of the picture, he couldn’t help but continue thinking about your flat. With the safety kit he’d given you once after Tommy had gotten a scratch; with the pullout sofa he used every time he was over; with all the warmth and comfort he wished for every time he finished a mission.

And he knew it wasn’t fair on you, it was extremely late compared to the times he came back in the night, you were probably fast asleep curled in your bed like you always where when he checked up on you; and it wasn’t fair to suddenly just shove three more men into your personal space, but as he took another turn and his shoulder throbbed, as he heard Gaz hiss whenever the car bumped a little, as he watched Soap try his best to stop the bleeding occurring from his wound, he knew that the worries Simon had couldn’t overcome the panic and danger Ghost was in. This was an emergency.

“Know somewhere, sir.” Ghost spoke out, his voice hoarse, as if he’d been keeping the secret deep inside of him for longer than a minute. “Safe house, I mean.”

“You’re certain it’s safe?” Price questioned, Laswell going silent on the other side of the radio as well.

“Positive.”

That’s how he found himself copying the exact route he always took to your place, passing the same pubs, the same shops, the same flats… Up until he parked a few blocks away from yours like he always made sure he did.

“This it?” Gaz asked concerned as he gazed upon a closed Greggs, Ghost letting out a huff of amusement.

“No, a bit further up.”

Since Ghost and Price were the only ones who were able to walk without limping, they took it upon themselves to be the ones to help the other two reach the building, Ghost’s hand inexplicably shaky as he stuck the key in like he’d done over a dozen times before, shoving them all into the elevator.

“Quiet.” He hissed to them as Gaz let out a small pained cry, not wanting to wake up the ever-so irritable neighbours or cause you any alarm if you were still awake.

He felt bad as he slotted the second key into the door, thinking about how scared you could be if you heard him coming, pushing it open with his healthy arm and letting it creek open. “Don’t open any doors. Find a place to sit. Don’t move, don’t make a sound, don’t interact with anything.”

The three nodded at his warning, Gaz and Soap slumping onto the sofa as soon as they could and Price taking a seat at the island as Ghost slowly closed the door and turned on the light, dimming it down so it wouldn’t alert you nor Tommy.

As Gaz and Soap whispered between themselves, wondering how the hell Ghost kept a house in such a tidy and pretty state (“Reminds me of my maw’s.” Soap had commented, making Gaz nod and laugh.), Simon pushed open Tommy’s door, listening in to the telltale sound of his son’s breaths to make sure that he was okay, turning around to find Price looking at a small stuffed animal sitting on the counter along with a dummy, his eyes wide in realisation as he turned to his lieutenant.

“Simon-”

“Yeah.” He brushed past, tapping on the back of Soap’s head to catch his attention. “Up, I’ll deal with you first.”

“Oh, I’m honoured!” He said in a faux-british accent, lifting himself off the sofa with his help and leaning against one of the walls Simon had placed him against.

“You’ve got a really nice gaf, didn’ expect this from ya.” Gaz commented as Ghost looked through some of the drawers around your flat, trying to remember where the hell he’d seen you put the medkit last.

“Yeah, you're a classy one aren’t ya, Lt.? Place’s better than mine, I mean, have ya seen your sofa?” He chuckled, signalling towards the plush pillows Gaz was leaning against now, the cute crocheted blanket hanging on the back.

Ghost ignored all of their remarks, slamming one of the drawers shut and pulling himself up, nodding towards your bedroom door. “Shut up. I’m going to check the bathroom. Not a word.”

Soap seemingly assumed that the door Ghost had gestured towards was the direct entrance into the bathroom, so in order to help his lieutenant out a bit, his hand moved towards the doorknob while Ghost started pulling off his combat boots, not wanting to make a sound when he went into your room.

But, apparently, the small sounds they’d been making should have been his main priority, by the way you were almost waiting at your bedroom door with a gun raised to Soap’s forehead, ready to shoot just like he’d taught you in a situation like this one.

“Steamin’ fuckin’-”

Ghost couldn’t rid himself of his boots fast enough before Soap’s hand was instinctively around your neck, the adrenaline that was rushing through both of your veins making it easier for him to ignore the pain shooting through his leg to defend himself and for yourself to scratch and pull at the hand around your throat.

“Soap!” Price shouted as he pushed himself off his seat, noting the panic that had filled Ghost’s normally stoic eyes at the mere sight of you in pain, slowly putting two and two together.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” Ghost roared, abandoning his shoes as soon as he saw your eyes roll back into your skull, a telltale sign that you were about to pass out due to the scot’s strong grip on your neck, while normally it would’ve taken way longer for someone to pass out.

The sight of your legs going limp in Soap's grasp was enough for Ghost to see red, moving like he did on the battlefield to reach Soap, grabbing him by the neck and throwing him onto the ground like a ragdoll, secretly hoping the grip he’d grabbed him with was strong enough to cause him the same pain you were undoubtedly in, arms immediately rushing towards your flailing body and pulling you into his chest, one of his gloved hands holding the back of your head as the other pulled your shaking legs up.

He didn’t really care that he might’ve seriously hurt Soap, gaze and attention fixed on the tears running down your cheeks and the paleness to your normally warm skin, the wheezing breath leaving you as your body tried its best to regain the breath Soap had just stolen from you, your hands clinging to his tact gear instinctively as you coughed with every attempt to breathe.

Once he made sure you were definitely still awake and breathing, he brought you closer to him, the hold on you similar to some desperate attempt at the bridal style, almost like a mutt protecting its territory.

“What the fuck, were you thinking, Saergant!?” He shouted, glaring down at the man, who was rubbing at his neck looking up at you both in confusion.

“Well, I’m sorry for protectin’ myself against someone who was armed, Lt.!” He shouted back, being helped back up by his captain, who seemed torn between who was in the right and who was in the wrong.

“Did you even stop to think-”

“Oh, because you feckin’ warned me about the armed woman who’d be waitin’ for us!” Soap interrupted, coughing out.

Ghost clenched his jaw, turning to make eye contact with Price, who just shook his head at him, imploring him to just let go.

“We’re all stressed. It slipped Ghost’s mind to tell us about her and you shouldn’t've had reacted like that. You’re both in the wrong.”

Neither of them spoke, knowing that the Captain, as always, was right.

“Go take care of her.”

He didn’t have to tell Ghost twice. He and Soap shared one final glance, one that only they knew what meant, full of words neither of them would dare to share out loud, but they understood.

The gun luckily hadn’t gone off during the whole kerfuffle, letting Ghost lean down and pick it up carefully, clicking on the safety before sliding it into one the spare holsters, not trusting himself enough to carry a loaded gun while you were still in his arms.

He pushed the door open, your coughs continuing as your eyes started fluttering open, trying to drive away the flurry of tears that were still streaming down your cheeks and wetting your clothes, a broken croak of his name leaving you.

“It’s me, don’t worry. Just me, love. Just me.” He reassured you the whole way back to the bed, propping you up onto the soft mattress and letting you fall back, kneeling onto the carpeted floor and letting his head rest against the sweet-smelling covers, lifting his head as one of your hands pawed at his mask.

He tried ignoring you for a few moments as he took the gun back out and expelled the mag, squeezing his eyes shut as another one of your sobs reached his ears, shoving the gun and mag back into the drawer it had been in before finally turning to look at you properly.

“Simon…” You managed to get out, cringing at the sound of your voice, still slightly delirious from the lack of air in your brain. “What… It- It hurts…”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He whispered, grabbing at your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Just breathe f’me. It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”

He didn’t even know what he was saying at this point, just reacting to every single thing he usually told himself when he was in the midst of a panic attack ever since he was young.

“Who…”

Your eyes darted over to the door, where both of you could still hear the other talk, flinching as one of them spoke a bit too loud.

“They’re with me. Soap, he was the one to… I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you before coming, we were in the middle of a mission and-”

“Oh my god, Simon!” You cried out, startling the both of you. You propped yourself up, shaking a bit due to the dizziness but grabbing onto his non-wounded shoulder all the same. “You’re bleeding!”

In the midst of everything that had just happened, he seemed to have forgotten the stab wound, his free hand coming up to touch at the now drying blood with a hiss.

“It’s fine. Listen, you-”

“No! It’s not fine, oh my god!” You felt a bit queasy as you noticed the blood that also stained his hands and tact vest, hoping to god that it was his even though deep down you knew that it wasn’t. “What- How are you so okay with this!?”

He grabbed both of your hands before they reached to grab at his wounded shoulder, staring deep into your foggy eyes. “Don’t worry about me.”

Don’t worry about him?

He was fucking freebleeding in the middle of your bedroom like it was a goddamn hobby! How could you not worry about him!?

“I’m fine. How’s your throat?” He let go of one of your hands to bring it up to your neck, fingers softly grazing against a few darkening spots adorning your skin, reminders of what had happened before.

“It… It still hurts to speak. Kind of.” You closed your eyes as the tough material of his gloves brushed against you so gently, surprised that such items that had been used to rip countless people apart were capable of a touch so sweet, so soft, so caring…

You swallowed, the movement of your throat beneath his hand quickly alerting himself of what he was currently touching, holding, and making him let go, going back to search for your other abandoned hand, making it easier for him by raising it and meeting his halfway.

“I’m sorry. For not telling you we were coming.” The apology seemed to slip from his lips oh so easily, compared to when you’d first let him in to explain himself, when he’d clearly physically struggled to speak those two damned words…

“‘We’?” You repeated, feeling his hands tighten around yours.

“Soap’s not the only one. Price and Gaz are also here.” He explained, his eyes motioning towards the door. “We were compromised, in a way. Needed somewhere to go, and I just…”

You looked away, already knowing the ending of the short recap of the night, looking down at your linked hands, gaze darting back up to the blood staining his arm.

“It’s… Fine.”

It really wasn't. You knew you had every right to be angry with him and the three other men he’d brought along, this was your flat! Your home, your building, your living room they had no doubt made their own in the small time you’d been in the bedroom with Simon, and without even thinking about the bruises forming at the base of your neck you already had enough reasons to let your anger boil over.

But you stayed silent as he waited for you to snap, to scream at him, to add even more salt in the wound that had formed both mentally and physically tonight; silent as he took your hands and helped you climb out of bed and cling onto him for balance as you regained the feeling in your legs (that were being invaded by the stabbing feeling of pins and needles); silent as he pushed the door open and walked out with you concealed behind him like some tactical weapon.

You were pleasantly surprised to see that unlike your fears the men had seemingly not touched a single thing in your living room, standing next to the kitchen island despite one of them clearly having problems with standing.

He made eye contact with you, your blood running cold as you realised that he had been the one to cause the soreness that now racked your throat, immediately moving to tear your gaze away from him but stopped as he did it first, looking down at his shoes as if ashamed, and by the way he stayed silent while the other introduced themselves, he was.

The captain was nice enough, he clasped your hand in a firm handshake, one that you assumed he’d been practising for longer than you were alive, and he had a very kind face despite the work you knew the four men did, but you couldn’t help but feel at ease in his presence, an effect you assumed he had on everyone by the way they seemed so lax instead of freaking out over the wounds littering their bodies like you would.

Gaz gave you a smile and a nod, not even attempting to outstretch either of his hands to you due to the tear up his arm and the other hand pressing a bloody piece of cloth to the wound in hopes of keeping himself from losing too much blood.

“Soap.” Ghost’s voice came out low and gruff, a tone of voice you’d never heard from him, and you thanked whatever god was up there that you’d never heard it directed to you, because clearly you weren’t as strong as the Sergeant in front of you and would’ve immediately crumbled into fear.

“I’m sorry.” He immediately spoke out, his accent thick around each word as he outstretched his arm, poised out for a handshake. “I hope I didn’ hurt you t’much.”

Although the burn from his hand was still there, a constant reminder for the rest of the night of what had happened, and though it would take a bit of while for you to let go of it, you still raised your hand up to his, clasping it in a much weaker handshake than his Captain’s, but it was firm nonetheless, confirming your “acceptance” to his apology for now.

“I would have done the same if I had your strength, don’t worry.” You tried lightening up the mood, despite the anxiety that still tugged at your mind, letting go of his hand and going back to standing next to Simon, your arm pressed right against his, hoping that his massive frame would do something to help hide you.

A warm hand came up to your waist, the hairs on your body standing on end as Ghost’s breath hit the shell of your ear. “Go check on Tommy.”

Tommy.

Your stomach dropped at the realisation that you hadn’t even thought about your poor son in the whole time you were awake, too focused on yourself to even think about what fear he could be going through after hearing more than the two voices he was used to in the small apartment, your breath hitching as the hand slowly pushed you towards the nursery door, like you were a dog in need of direction.

“Tommy?” Gaz breathed out as Ghost led him to the kitchen sink, letting the man run his arm under the stream of cold water, washing away any of the crusty blood that stuck to the skin, while Ghost continued his search for the medkit.

The man stayed quiet, not even bothering to even think of beginning to explain Tommy, and by association you and whatever relationship you had, already having had struggled enough when deciding to open up to Price about it, not needing to do it two more times.

“His son.” Price answered for him when he saw that Ghost was making no move to answer, the skull-faced man turning to send a quick glare in his captain’s direction before being shot down with one of the same calibre. “Don’t ask more, though. Bugger still likes keeping his secrets.”

Both Soap and Gaz turned to Ghost with matching expressions, dumbfounded by the information they had just been fed, unbelieving that the man they knew as Ghost, the Ghost that they had watched kill people with a single hand, the Ghost that seemingly felt no emotions towards any of them or anyone, the Ghost they’d worked so hard to even get a sliver of information out of him was indeed a father. An actual father, with a real son who had a mother who lived in a nice and cute-looking flat taking care of said son.

After the confrontation between you and Soap, they had quickly assumed that Ghost harboured some type of feelings towards you, whether they were romantic or platonic was still yet to be known (though by the way he had held you so protectively against his chest, they assumed that they already knew the answer to that small conundrum), but they would’ve never guessed that you were the fucking mother of his son, a son he’d kept pretty well hidden from everyone, except Price, like many of the details of his oh-so mysterious life.

“That’s… Nice.” Gaz croaked out, throat having gone dry by the absolute shock that had filled the two Sergeants, gulping as Ghost stood back up to his full height, suddenly intimidated by the man more than usual.

“Yeah. Stay.” Once again, not even bothering to say it in a nicer way, commanding all of them like dogs before entering the room you’d just retreated to and slamming the door closed.

He immediately regretted it, though, by the way you snapped your head around like the girl from the ring furiously, clutching a fussing Tommy to your chest, reminiscent of the first night he’d spent in your flat.

“Sorry.” He didn’t wait for you to respond, taking a few long strides until he was at your side, gazing down at your sweet boy, who was moving around in your arms like he was actively trying to escape you. “How’s he?”

“Fussy. I mean, he’s been sleeping all day, no surprises there. Probably wants to watch some telly.”

“Can’t really do that lying down now, can he?” A gloved finger came down to tickle his tummy, causing him to move around more as he burst into a fit of giggles, seemingly not caring about his father's sudden change of appearance, hopefully assimilating in his tiny brain that all skull patterns equaled dad.

At his response, you sucked air through your teeth, causing him to snap his head towards you in fear he’d said something wrong, taking a step back as he watched you place your hands underneath Tommy’s armpits and slowly take him to the ground, his little duck printed socks touching the floor and causing Ghost’s eyes to widen, mind racing with thoughts that your son might actually be some type of prodigy if he was standing up at this age, but let out a humoured breath as his little bum hit the floor, and instead of falling back like he always did, he instead stayed there sitting, moving his arms around in order to shake your grip off.

“He’s sitting.”

“You don’t sound very impressed.” You said, looking up at him with a bright smile, not being able to help the immense pride you felt as your son ticked off another milestone off the list, sitting down on the carpet behind him and handing him one of the toys littered on the ground, wanting to enjoy this little moment of peace within the confusing and terrifying night you’d had, trying your best to focus simply on Tommy and not with what would come with having four military trained men in your flat.

“No, it’s… Yeah.” You rolled his eyes at the inexpressive tone his voice took, watching him take a seat in front of you and raise his uninjured arm up to click his fingers in front of Tommy’s chubby face, like you normally did when wanting to catch his attention. “Good job, duck.”

You couldn’t help the way your smile widened as you heard him use the little nickname you’d given him, placing your hands on his chubby tummy and tickling his sides, enticing another few happy giggles.

But through them, you heard the sharp hiss that came from Simon as he moved to put his weight onto the other arm, eyes going wide as you realised you’d completely neglected the wound you’d fussed about so much earlier, one of your hands moving to grasp his hands.

“Why haven’t you treated it yet?” You whispered, keeping your distress to a minimum in front of Tommy, but Ghost could still feel the worry that emanated from you, shrugging (as best he could) and looking away.

“I couldn’t find the medkit.” You raised a brow at his apprehensive words, lifting yourself off the floor along with Tommy and adjusting your hold on him.

“It’s where it always is.” You started moving, giving him little to no time to react before he had jolted up and started following, almost crashing into you as you stopped in your tracks once you’d opened the door, seemingly forgetting about the company you’d been thinking about mere moments before. “Oh.”

“Is that him?” Soap said with a smile before anyone spoke, gesturing towards the small boy fidgeting in your arms.

“No. Just some other random kid, Johnny.” Ghost’s hands once again found their rightful place on your hips and pushed you slightly to urge you to continue your walk, a huff leaving your lips at his impatience (although you couldn’t really blame him, you too would be impatient if there were a literal hole in your shoulder), as you made your way back in to the bedroom, feeling Ghost move around behind you as if he were shielding you from the prying eyes of his Sergeants and Captain, who simply wanted to catch a glimpse of the small boy.

“Here.” You called out as you handed Tommy over to his father, opening up the mirror in the bathroom and pulling out the small yet quite big medkit he’d gifted you.

Ghost tried his best to ignore the small bottles of pills he spied along the shelves of the little cupboard as you opened up the medkit, looking through all the items.

“I… I don’t know how to use most of these.” You mumbled, taking it over to him so he could look through it.

“Don’t worry, we do.” Tommy was handed back off to you, no doubt giving the small boy whiplash from how fast he was being moved from one parent to another like a hot potato. “Might need some help with the stitches.”

Stitches.

You willed away the look of discomfort that would no doubt try to show on your face at the mere thought of it.

Now, you weren’t the most horrible person at stitching clothes, you’d fixed a few items for both Tommy and you, and maybe the odd time you’d found a hole in Simon’s hoodie and couldn’t just leave it like that, but the thought of using a needle and string to stitch up a wound instead of the normal cloth made shivers rack your body.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” You breathed out, instead of letting out the worries that swirled about your brain. I mean, these men were dealing with blood and gore almost daily, surely you could manage to deal with a little wound, right?

“Hey. We’ve been treated by worse. Won’t be any worse than doin’ it ourselves.” He murmured, opening the door for you.

And that filled you with some reassurance at first, but as you disinfected your hands and were given the needle and string, you couldn’t help but feel sick, turning your head over to the little playpen you’d purchased a few days ago where Soap was sitting next to looking down at Tommy play. Ghost right at his side glaring down at them, as if Tommy’s personal bodyguard.

“You don’t have to, really. I can try and do it myself.” Gaz assured you with a smile, starting to move his arm away from you.

“With one hand?”

“You’d be surprised what I can do with one hand, ma’am.” He grinned, getting a furious look from Ghost.

You breathed out a laugh, shakily taking his arm into yours and bringing it back to where he had it before, angling the needle to his wound before taking one last look of reassurance up at the man, who only nodded in response.

It wasn’t as disgusting as you had expected, but the sounds and feelings were still uncomfortable.

You finally finished the final stitch, shakily tying the knot before cutting the thread, disposing yourself of the latex gloves you’d put on.

“Is- Is that okay?”

“It’s perfect, love, don’t you worry. Did it better than I ever could.” Gaz encouraged, getting some bandages and helping you to wrap it around his now sanitised wound. “Could easily get a job as a nurse if you ever wanted to, eh? Think Ghost would love to have you on base.”

“That’s enough, Sergeant.” Ghost snapped, pushing himself off the wall and nodding down at Johnny. “Get a move on.”

You shared a smile with Gaz before Soap took his spot, albeit a bit more awkward, and raised his leg up to the sofa (you almost had a heart attack before you realised he’d kindly discarded his shoes before doing so).

“Oh, do I-.”

“No need f’stitches. I just need a bit o’help disinfecting it.” He mumbled, always the careful one when it came to cleaning.

“Yeah, okay.” You did just as he had told you to, carefully pouring the alcohol onto the gauze before wiping away any dirt and dry blood from the graze before sticking a clean one over the wound with the help of a few bandages.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of your handiwork as you watched him get up, his limp a bit better now that he definitely knew that he hadn’t contracted any types of diseases thanks to the wound, taking back his spot back next to Gaz and Tommy, the other sergeant moving a little toy around in hopes of attracting Tommy’s attention.

“I’ll help with this one, Lieu-”

“No need.” Ghost interrupted the captain, sitting down on the sofa and immediately sinking it, the piece of furniture still not used to his weight even after all the time he’d been using it. “I’ll help her.”

You nodded with a smile, although it quickly flipped upside down as you realised what dealing with Ghost’s wound entailed, watching him slowly take off most of his tactical gear before leaving him in one of those damn tight shirts, moving the sleeve off the wounded shoulder and letting you see what you were dealing with in full detail.

“Clean and stitch it up. Not that hard, lovie.” He mumbled, his words just for your ears, one warm hand landing on one of the thighs you had curled beneath you on the sofa you were kneeling on. “Just going to be a bit more difficult to heal.”

“Okay.” You swallowed, tugging on another pair of gloves before balancing yourself with one hand on the part of his uninjured shoulder, somehow still feeling the body warmth through the latex.

This was different from Gaz’s wound. While the other man had been looking away the whole time, you could feel Ghost’s sharp gaze on you even as you thread the needle, your body squirming beneath the uncomfortable stare.

“C’mon.” He urged, settling himself further into the sofa to make the next part easier for you, letting yourself take a deep breath before starting without a second though, pleasantly surprised as he didn’t even move an inch with every stitch you made, although you could feel his thumb rubbing over the warm skin of your thigh with every second, your hand giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze every time you tightened a stitch, despite knowing he probably didn’t need the same reassurance you did. “It’s okay.”

It almost felt like you were the one getting stitched up, not him.

You finished with shaky hands, dropping the gloves and needles and patching it up, jolting away when his hand grabbed at the bandages, finishing the job himself.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, the hairs on your body standing up as you realised finally how close you’d been to him the whole time, slowly letting go of his arm and letting them fall back onto your lap.

“It’s fine.” You watched him get up, once again not showing a single ounce of pain or discomfort despite the pain you knew a person who wasn’t desensitised to this type of wounds would be in, your eyes following him across the room until he reached the two Sergeants, who were still trying to gain Tommy’s affection.

When you saw them like that, they hardly looked like the type of men whose job consisted on fighting and killing for a living, they just looked like two blokes you’d find at the pub on a random sunday night, despite the tactical gear they still wore, having fun with watching a kid roll around with his toys.

“Thank you.” Price rumbled from behind you, a hand landing on the headrest of the sofa. “For letting us stay. Feels like no one’s said that yet.”

You shrugged, running your hands up and down your thighs in order to cure the chill that had just run through your body. “It’s okay. I mean… Simon’s done a lot for us, guess I could just repay the favour one way or another.”

Although maybe you would’ve thought of a more traditional way of doing that, one that wasn’t stitching up his men and him in the middle of the night.

“Hmph. Well, considering what good a job you’ve done, I’d say you’ve paid it back pretty well.”

You smiled up at him, not catching the look Ghost sent to you from the other side of the room, looking down at the small boy he was cradling and then up at the time, not having missed the eyebags that adorned your normally bright eyes.

He called your name as he came near, his heart missing a beat as you instantly outstretched your arms out at him, stomach sinking as he quickly realised you were gesturing towards Tommy and not him, carefully bringing him down to latch onto your chest.

“Think we’ll be leavin’ now.” He said, catching both your and Price’s attention.

“Leaving?”

“Where else are you going to stay?” You prodded for an answer, pressing Tommy further into the jumper you’d pulled on.

“We’ll find somewhere.” He looked up at Price for reassurance, but got a not so on board look back.

You looked between the two, who stayed silent enough for you to make a quick inventory check in your head, looking down at the pull out sofa you were currently sitting on and thinking back to the possible inflatable mattress you had stored in your room.

“Simon.” You said, almost like a child tugging on their parent’s sleeve to ask for something. “You can just stay for the night. I’ve got a few blankets and a small mattress along with the sofa. I don’t mind.”

You always felt like you could drown in his eyes when he looked at you like that, glassy eyes filled with concern and apprehensiveness at your words, as if he was assessing the true nature behind them only to find that you were only speaking the truth.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

And maybe, in the heat of the moment, you’d under planned a bit, since you realised mid unfolding some blankets that both the sofa and the small mattress would not fit four people, even if one decided to sleep on the floor, they’d be far from comfortable curling into some random nook or cranny of the flat.

You fluffed up some of the pillows, listening to some parts of the conversation Gaz and Soap were having from inside the bathroom, jumping out of your skin as one of Ghost’s hands appeared on your back.

“I'm going to let Soap and Gaz take the sofa. Price’s alright with taking the mattress.” He explained, hand continuing to rest on the small of your back even as you leaned back up, working on shoving a cushion into its cover.

“And you?” You asked, almost dreading the answer.

He looked away, a faraway gaze on the visible part of his face as if he wasn’t really there with you, as if you were just talking to a shell of a man who someone else was controlling.

“I don’t need to sleep. I’m fine with staying in Tom’s room.” He responded, taking the pillow from your hands and placing it down on the inflatable mattress that lay next to the sofa.

“What? You’re hurt, Simon, you should be resting!”

Silence.

“You’re not fucking superhuman, you know that, right?!” You snapped, grabbing at his sleeve and forcing him to look your way. “You need rest like anyone else. Just because you cover your face and act like you don’t care about anything does not mean you’re special.”

God, shut up! Your brain was shouting at you, unbelieving that you were getting so worked up over a man you’d convinced yourself that you wouldn’t let in no matter what, but there you were, horrified that he had such little care for his well-being that he would rather stay awake all night than find somewhere else to sleep.

“Just take my bed!”

The words were out of your mouth before you even realised it.

And clearly, you weren’t the only one who was surprised by them.

Simon was staring down at you with what you could only assume was a dumbfounded look, his eyes swirling with confusion.

“Your bed?”

“My bed.” You breathed out, horrified with yourself. “It's queen sized, you know that. You’ll fit.”

Silence engulfed the room, a pattern that seemed to follow every single one of your conversations you had in this exact spot of the living room, gazes interlocked together.

“No-”

“Yes. Get into your pyjamas and come to bed.” You said almost robotically, finishing the final cushion before pushing yourself off, quickly walking back into your room before the man could protest. You placed a hand against the wall in order to balance yourself as soon as you were out of his line of view, a shaky hand coming up to cover your mouth in shock of what you’d just asked, no, insisted him to do.

Soap and Gaz apologised for taking so long in the bathroom, letting you take their place so you could calm down a bit alone and in silence, sitting on the closed toilet with a shaking leg, biting your nails as you stared down at the white tiles.

You were so fucking stupid.

What was wrong with you!?

Why couldn’t you just stick to your initial feelings for him!?

Why couldn’t you just have let him do what he wanted!?

Why did you care so much about someone you’d insisted was nothing to you!?

You rested your face against the open palms of your hands, running them up and down until you rid yourself of the urge to want to cry, the opening of your bedroom door immediately catching your attention.

Ghost knocked at the door, making you jump for what seemed like the nth time tonight, calling out your name.

“I need to get changed.”

Your heart soared at the implication behind his hushed words.

Now, you don’t really know what you were expecting for his pyjamas to be, but the black shirt and cargo sweatpants he sported were definitely on brand for a man like Simon.

It’d been a really long time since you’d caught a peak at his arms, since even in the warmest weather possible, Simon always insisted on wearing at least a long sleeved shirt, leaving the rest of his body up to the imagination (which, thanks to that night, you didn’t really need), but thanks to the shirt he was currently wearing, it allowed you to gaze upon his muscular arms and the tattoo that ran the whole way up one of them, remembering faintly the moment he’d let you look at them for a moment before tugging you closer into his chest.

It also didn’t surprise you that he was still wearing the balaclava, although this one was different to the skulled one he normally wore, silver lines running over his chin, like the bottom set of teeth of the plastic skull he’d now discarded, leaving him almost naked in a way, after having gotten so used to him all covered up.

“Are you sure?” He asked one final time, standing at the edge of the bed.

“Yes, Simon.”

His gaze darted away from you as you called out his name, something you’d noticed he’d done the whole night every time you spoke his real name out, despite him never reacting this way when you were both alone.

“Lie down.” He did as you said, getting into the bed and pulling some of the covers up to cover his lap, turning to watch you as you leaned over to turn off the small lamp on your nightstand, the room instantly being filled with darkness after the click.

“You know…” Your voice came out hushed, further down than before, letting him assume that you’d just rested your face against your pillow. “Your skull mask looks silly.”

“Silly?” He whispered back, mock offended, like you’d just killed his entire family in front of him (which would be largely upsetting considering you were his family…).

“Silly.” You parroted, thinking back to the hard plastic skull. “You look like a little kid on halloween.”

“That was the goal.” He lazily joked, moving down so he too was lying on his own pillow, staring up at the darkness that used to be the ceiling, his hair scratchy against his nape and skull due to it being pressed against the material of his balaclava. “...my brother wore a mask like that. Used to scare the shit out of me.”

You let out a huff, impossible of even imagining a little version of your Simon being scared by his brother. “Isn’t he younger than you?”

“...”

“Oh my god, Simon.”

“I was easily frightened.” He said, knowing that if there were any source of light near you, you’d instantly be able to see the blush that no doubt was dusting his pale cheeks. “I was frail as a kid.”

Why was he telling you this?

“Frail?” You mumbled, moving yourself closer to him in order to hear him clearer.

“My dad wasn’t the nicest person.”

He should stop.

“You mean… He hurt you?”

“In more ways than one.”

You shouldn’t know this about him.

“That’s… Horrible. I’m sorry, Simon…”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t.

“It’s not… You don’t have to act like it is.”

“...”

“Simon.”

Your sweet voice called out to him, your hand brushing against his arm and causing a ripple effect on it, all of his hairs standing on edge at the soft touch.

“Simon…”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed out, turning around, forcing your hand away from him in doing so, leaving you staring at his back in the dark.

Silence engulfed the room once again, your hand frozen in place from where it had been pressed against before, clenching it closed and bringing it back, turning around yourself and snuggling into the nice-smelling covers.

You didn’t even bother trying to continue the conversation or bid him a goodnight like you wish you could, instead keeping the silence going until the inevitable grasp of Hypnos would pull you under.

But you couldn’t seem to fall asleep, even after only having slept two hours that day, even as no sound came through the baby monitor on your bedside table, even if everything was perfectly scripted for you to close your eyes and finally get some rest…

You turned around, feeling around the cold space of the bed that laid between Simon and your sleeping bodies, squeezing your eyes closed before taking a shaking breath.

It was cold. That was it. It was cold, and you felt bad for him.

There was no other reason for why you wrapped your arms around his chest from behind, curling into the shape of his body and pressing your face right against his warm back, feeling him tense beneath your hands.

You stayed there, waiting for the unavoidable moment where he’d try and shake you off like you were some kind of leech, but he didn’t.

Instead, one of his hands came up to rest over the one you had above his heart, squeezing it slightly, his way of telling you that this was okay without openly speaking out.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and pulling yourself closer into his warmth, feeling his heart beat slowly grow steady beneath your palm as time went past.

Simon hoped that the tear streaks down his balaclava wouldn’t be noticeable in the morning.

This time, when you woke up, he wasn’t gone.

Although a bit dishevelled compared to the normal composure he kept, he was there.

The mask had ridden up to his cupid’s bow in the middle of the night, exposing the not very well-kept beard he’d started growing under there, along with tufts of blond hair that peaked out from around his nape.

It was clear you’d both moved a lot across the course of the night, by the way you’d both ended in a completely different position than the one you'd started in, with you on the other side of the bed wrapped up in his arms, your face pressed into his chest instead of his back.

His warm hands were covering your lower back, brushing lightly against the elastic band of your pyjama bottoms, one leg draped over his waist while the other was between his.

You tentatively raised your hand to run your fingers against the hair at the base of his head, curling a slightly long strand around one of your fingers and letting out an amused huff at the curl that formed there.

“Ow.” Simon rasped, although his voice was as monotonous as could be, pulling his head away from your hand. “Ticklish.”

“You’re ticklish?” You mumbled, watching him open his eyes before craning his head away from you, a pop coming from the bone as he stretched, moving onto his back and pulling you with him, letting you curl into his side.

Not one word was spoken during the entire morning about what was going on, about your sudden change of heart (although you knew it wasn’t sudden), about what this night would mean for the two of you moving forward.

Neither of you said a word, afraid that the conversation that would follow would be the one to ruin whatever had happened,

You wandered out of your bedroom an hour after you’d officially woken up, wanting to indulge in the warmth Simon had provided all throughout the night, surprised and a bit shocked (you’d honestly forgotten what was waiting for you outside), Tommy fidgeting around in Soap’s arms as he held him with surprising care and ability.

“Are you some type of expert?” You said with a careful smile, not missing the way his eyes darted down to the bruises around your neck, still feeling bad for what he had done.

“Uh, kinda’? Got four sisters, each of ‘em with their own set of bairns.” He shrugged, the movement making Tommy let out a giggle through his dummy. “Lad was cryin’, couldn’t just leave him there.”

“It’s okay. Thank you.” You felt a bit embarrassed for not having woken up at your baby’s crying, but you were glad that he seemed perfectly happy, clearly enjoying the attention he’d been receiving the past hours. “He’s starting to teeth, that’s probably why he was crying, my poor-”

The slamming down of a mug interrupted you, staring dumbfounded at Gaz, who’d been the one to cause the noise.

“Fuck! Sorry, sorry, ma’am, just-” He wiped away some of the spilt tea (you were even more confused as to where he’d gotten the cuppa until you noticed the captain standing next to the stove with your kettle), looking up at you with darkening cheeks. “Sorry, my arm’s still a bit fucked-”

“Clean it up.” Ghost ordered gruffly as he walked out of the bedroom, clad in most of the clothing he’d worn yesterday, hiding once again all the skin and muscles you’d ran your hands over that morning.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a prick, man.” Gaz grumbled.

Ghost leaned down to you, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden closeness, in front of his teammates no less, but ended up pressing a finger to Tommy's nose, your cheeks going warm out of embarrassment.

“You made tea?” He grunted at his Captain, who shrugged, taking a sip of the warm brew.

“I’ll pay it back.”

“Y-”

“It’s not necessary, it’s just tea.” You elbowed Ghost before he could say anything rude, placing Tommy down onto his highchair before moving to get some of his food and get yourself a cup in the meantime.

“Can’t thank her enough.” Price grumbled to Ghost as you and the other two started a conversation, watching the masked man pour himself a cup before swigging it all down quickly like it was some type of liquor. “For letting us stay.”

“Yeah. I’m going to have to make it up for her.” Ghost answered, watching you try to coerce Tommy to open his mouth for a spoonful of baby food with Soap’s help.

“Seems like you already did, she looks real happy.” Price nudged Ghost, like a father teasing his son for getting his first girlfriend, his moustache twitching as Ghost turned away from him, further pushing the thought that it was just like that type of scenario.

“We should get going. I can’t risk it further.” Ghost responded instead of continuing the banter, pushing himself off the counter and turning to you, Price immediately dropping the funny act and nodding, moving to get some of their things they’d tried to place neatly in one of the corners.

“We’re going.” He announced, heart sinking into his stomach at the disappointment that washed over your face, placing down the baby food on the table and leaning back up to your full height.

“Now?”

“Yes. Soap, go start the car.” Ghost ordered, the scot doing just as his captain had and dropping the smile that had been previously adorning his face, getting up and taking his jacket from Price, not forgetting to say a proper goodbye to you and give you a firm handshake that he hoped transmitted the apology for everything he did, and as you received it with a small smile, he hoped it meant that you forgave him.

“Where are you going?” You asked, watching Gaz and Price reload some of the guns from the other side of the flat.

“Base. Hopefully, Laswell will have backup and we’ll be able to finish what we started.” He said, gloved fingers running over Tommy's soft head, messing up some of the curls that had started to form. “I’ll call you once we’ve finished.”

The look you gave him spoke a million words.

“I promise. I’ll be back, you know that.”

You felt embarrassed at how quickly he’d managed to discern what your look had meant, but nodded nonetheless, saying goodbye to the other two (Gaz giving you a bright smile and Price clasping your hand in his once again, his presence washing away any worry you might have just like last time), leaving the three of you alone in your apartment.

“Duck, daddy’s going now.” You whispered to your son, the small boy clearly having no idea of what you were saying, but giggling up at you as you pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek. “Say bye-bye, now.”

You moved his little hand in a goodbye motion, Ghost’s mask moving over his lips as he smiled, raising one of his hands to wave goodbye back.

Despite having done this same song and dance for almost four months now, it still didn’t get rid of the bittersweet feeling that bloomed in Simon’s chest, already knowing the drill as you led him to the front door with a solemn look tugging at your pretty features.

“We’ll talk once I get back, okay? I promise.” He spoke softly as he stood by the opened door, a gloved hand coming up to cup at your face and tilt you upwards so you were both making eye contact. “‘Bout everything.”

“Okay.” You whispered, fighting the urge to lean further into his touch. “I’ll be here.”

He nodded, but his hand still didn’t move.

You waited, for what, you didn’t know. You were slowly getting lost in his eyes when his other hand came up to pull his mask up over his lips, leaning down and softly tugging you upwards until they met your forehead, the kiss short and sweet despite all the pain and darkness that you knew followed him, always a surprise when it came to how quickly he could change from the personality he showed to you and Tommy to the personality you’d witnessed him show to his teammates not long ago.

You blinked up at him owlishly, watching him pull the mask back down and let go of your face (though his touch still lingered) before taking a step back.

“Stay safe.” You repeated like all the other times.

“I always do.” He replied, and like always, he disappeared down the hall.

“No.”

“Oh, come on. He’ll like it!”

“He won’t.” Ghost snapped, taking one last look at the small toy Gaz was waving around, like Ghost was a child to be entertained and he was just being fussy, which really wasn’t that off track.

“How’d you know?”

“‘Cause I’m his dad!” He looked away, already regretting having brought his teammates back to your place and therefore letting them meet Tommy. Maybe he should’ve just let them bleed out back then.

“And you’re honestly telling me that a child will not like this?” Gaz moved it around a bit more, almost tantalising his lieutenant.

Ghost peaked back at the small teddy bear, its fur fluffy and inviting and its black button eyes adorning its little face.

“Just take it, mate. It’ll make me really happy!”

“I don’t care about your happiness, Sergeant.” Ghost snapped, snatching the toy from his grasp and shoving it into one of his pockets, ignoring the bright smile Gaz sent him and the punch to his shoulder.

“God, you’re the best, Ghost. Text me if he likes it, eh?”

He never did text Gaz back, but Gaz had apparently ran his mouth to Soap about Ghost’s reluctant acceptance of the gift, since the next time he saw Soap, the scot had kindly brought a little teddy bear with a tiny Scottish flag in its paw.

And although Ghost wanted nothing more than to rip it up in front of him, he found himself passing them on to Tommy the day he came back to you, “reluctantly” sending each of the Sergeants a picture of the small boy curled up to the two bears.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x fem!reader #ghost fic #cod mwii x reader #— ménage #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty x reader

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gilverrwrites · 7 months

Note

Could you make a Sam Winchester having erotic dreams with his female best friend?

Author Note: Hello! I hope you don't mind, but I combined this request with your other request for Dean in the same scenario (and added Cas cause 😍) I'm also working on a separate fic for Dean having erotic dreams about a rival per that request. I really hope you enjoy! ❤️

Rating: M/18+

Words: 1940 (Dean 685, Sam 685, Cas 570)

Request Info | Masterlist | Ko-Fi

It's a total coincidence that Dean and Sam are both 685 each!

Please remember: To focus on the things that make you happy.

Dean Winchester

“Oooh yes Dean, yes, that’s it.” Your voice sounds hoarse and breathy. Makes sense cause you’ve been moaning like that, praising like that all night. “You like that baby?” Dean asks from beneath you, completely entranced by the bounce of your breasts and the sway of your hips as you ride him. “You like fuckin’ yourself on my dick baby?” “Yes, Dean, yes! You feel so fucking good. Make me feel so good.” You chant, and when your head rolls back in ecstasy, Dean follows. His fingers grip at your skin, forcing you against him as he ruts into you, spilling himself inside.

That was last night’s dream. The most recent in a string of dreams that left him hot and bothered every morning. The worst part was facing you. Trying to look you in the eye, discuss a case, or make a game plan without thinking about you naked and moaning on his dick.

He’d been avoiding you as much as possible, but sometimes just your name was enough to make him pop a boner, much like the one he had now. He positioned his beer bottle over his offending member and forced himself to stare out the window, averting his gaze from the sight of you, bent over the nearest pool table.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” The sound of your voice made him jump. Man, how out of it was he?

“What?” He looked up at you, hands on hips, staring down at him. The sight made his lips dry. “Oh nothin’, I think I’ve had too many. Maybe I should call it a night.”

“You’ve had like two drinks. That barely even touches the sides.” You state, and you’re not wrong. You know him too well. He can’t help clenching his jaw as you sit down across from him. When he sees how your new angle offers him a perfect shot of your cleavage, he thinks he might start grinding away his teeth. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?” He leans in closer. Not to be closer, but he hopes leaning forward might help hide the bulge in his jeans.

“You’ve been acting funny, and avoiding me all wee-“

“N-“

“Don’t interrupt. Yes, you have.” You punctuate your statement by placing your drink on the table. You don’t slam, but it's hard and firm enough to communicate your point. “Don’t you try to deny it Dean Winchester! I know you too well. You’ve been avoiding me, and when you can’t get away you’re all squirrely and quiet. Now tell me what’s going on.”

He drains his beer as he thinks it over. Partly to try and return some moisture to his mouth but primarily to buy himself some time while he thinks things over. If he’s honest, he might get something out of it. A one-night stand, a fuck buddy, maybe more? Or he might lose you, which he couldn’t stand.

“I…”

“Come on Dean, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Fuck it. You’re right. He gestures to the bartender for another round, takes a deep breath, and spills. And a funny thing happens: he starts to feel more relaxed as he lets it out. If you’re not into it, that’s fine. So long as it doesn’t scare you off.

When he’s done, he watches you as you process his confession. Man, he loves the way your face moves when you’re thinking.

“So…” You purse your lips and take a quick sip of your drink as you prepare your response. “What’s the problem? Do you not want to sleep with me?”

“No, I do. Obviously, you’re…” hot, incredible, the only woman I want. Unable to voice any of the thoughts in his head at that moment, he gestures to you, head to toe and back again. “I just don’t want it to cause problems between us. Our friendship”

“Then we won’t let it.” You state matter-of-factly. “Now, are you gonna take me back to the bunker so we can fuck each other dumb or not?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Sam Winchester

His fingers are knuckle deep inside of you as you lay back, spread out across his bed. “Fuckkk… Sam!” You look up at him, eyes hazy, hair a mess, and he can feel his dick throb in response. “Sam, I’m so full.” “Poor baby.” He coos in response. “So full already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” He watches the way your expression melts at his words with pride, when he sees your lips start to form your reply, he places a direct smack to your clit. The whine you release is music to his ears. The way you wither and moan as he begins to play with your clit, fuck, you’re so hot. “Are you ready for more?” He asks. He’s pleased when you begin vigorously nodding. “Yes, Sam! Yes! Yes, please!”

Years of impersonating officials and hustling at almost every bar he stopped at had earned Sam a more than convincing poker face. But you always saw right through it.

For that reason, Sam had been bending over backwards to avoid you. He wasn’t totally sure what he was hiding, the fact that he’d dreamed about you, or the fact that he’d furiously masturbated to the memory of it upon waking up. Either way, he wasn’t ready to face you.

He’d hung back in the morning, grabbing his breakfast later than usual. Gone to the local library all day to research, citing a change of scenery when Dean questioned him, and had gone grocery shopping as an excuse to stay out later.

After unpacking the shopping, he’d hopped in the shower, making up for skipping his usual morning routine.

What he hadn’t accounted for was finding you, dressed in nothing but your panties and one of his t-shirts, in the centre of his bed. The very bed he’d vividly fantasised about pleasing you in.

It wasn’t an unusual sight. You were his best friend after all. You often hung out in each other’s rooms, and you frequently borrowed his shirts. He just really could have done without all this today.

“Hey Sam.” You greeted him with a smile, looking up from your laptop. “I missed you today.”

“Hey.” He responds awkwardly. Both hands clutching at his towel. He clears his throat before continuing. “Yeah, I was busy I guess. You too.”

“No worries.” You assure him before returning your gaze to your screen. “I could use your help with something if that’s alright?”

“Sure.” He approaches the bed. Certain close proximity will escalate his predicament he resolves to remain standing. However, looking down at you, with your head so close to his crotch, is equally stirring something within him. Reluctantly, he sits beside you. He glances at your computer briefly but quickly becomes preoccupied with adjusting and readjusting his towel, determined to cover the growing erection beneath.

“So, I’ve been looking into the apple of Sodom for Claire but…” he swears he meant to listen, but he’d never noticed how good you smell before, or how your skin glows even under the dingy light of his room. “Sam? Sam are you even listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” He finally tunes back in. “Apple of Sodom, Claire… hand of God?”

He looks into your eyes to judge his improv, but you’re staring, wide-eyed, right at the thing he’s been trying to hide.

“Is that- are you…” You look at his face, and he can feel the heat spreading across his cheeks. “For- because of me?”

“I’m sorry!” He stands, pausing to compose his words before continuing his apology. “I just, I had this dream last night about you, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about all day. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because you’re my friend. My best friend.”

“Right.” You always saw right through him, but fortunately, that was a two-way skill, and right now, he could hear, he could feel the disappointment you were radiating.

“Unless…” he cocks a brow at you, and your body immediately perks up. You look up at him, eyes hazy, identical to his dream. “Do you want this too?”

Castiel

You’re a vision on your knees before him, eyes watering, cheeks puffed out, hair tangled between his fingers. He stares intently, relishing in all the subtle movements of your faces as he lazily pumps his penis between your lips. His grip grows tighter every time he feels the back of your throat against his tip. Your muffled pants and moans are music to his ears. The way your lips glisten beneath the sheen of your own saliva is erotic, and he worries the sight of you alone will be enough to make him finish before he’s really begun.

It’s that vision he’s thinking of now as he watches you on your hands and knees, scrubbing a chalk pentagram off the floor.

He’s brought out of his chain of thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Is there something on my face?”

“No.” He squints at your face; he is confident it looks fine, more than fine, beautiful in fact, but he examines it in more depth, nonetheless. “There is nothing on your face. In fact, your face is quite adequate.”

“Quite adequate, I’ll take that as high praise.” You laugh. He’s not certain what’s so funny, but the sound is exquisite, and only further fuels the unfamiliar fiery feeling he’s experiencing. “But seriously, why are you staring at me?”

Your line of questioning makes sense to him now. He briefly considers lying to you, but on the spot he cannot think of anything convincing. “I slept last night.”

“I didn’t know Angels did that.” It’s not a question, but he has learned many human cues during his time on Earth. You’re digging for more information.

“We can, but we do not need to, so typically we don’t. I thought I might trial it to see if it would help in replenishing my grace.” He answers.

“Did it help?” Your inquisitiveness is ceaseless. It is something he has always liked about you.

“No.” He replies, he enjoys the brief frown of disappointment you give in response. “I did however, dream of you.”

“Ahh, and what did me and my quite adequate face do in your dream?” You’re smiling again as you scrub at a particularly stubborn stain. He notices the unintentionally alluring way you chew at your bottom lip and is immediately reminded of the way you had looked in his dream, as you waited in anticipation for him to expose his genitals.

He allows himself to wonder how you will react to his next statement; he hopes you’ll be as excited and pliable as you had been in his fantasy. “You were nude, on your knees, performing fellatio on my, well, my vessels penis.”

“Oh!” You respond in a tone that he believes to be humorous and a little surprised. Until you look down at your knees, considering your precarious position. “Oooooh.”

You don’t say anything else, nor do you look back up at him. He begins to worry that he may have said something inappropriate, or that you thought he had disliked the experience.

“It was an enjoyable dream, if that is your concern.” He attempts to offer comfort.

“Well, I suppose that’s good news.” You nod to yourself; your tone gives nothing away. “I wonder if my real-life skills are as enjoyable as your fantasies.”

“I wouldn’t know, we have never…” His line of speech, his thoughts are interrupted by the enticing sight of you crawling towards him. “Oh.”

#supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #supernatural x reader #spn imagine #gilverrwrites

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tangyangie · 1 year

Note

What do you think Karma would react if his s/o sat on his lap?

— 𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘. 𝄪

notes. uh oh !! i hate him (i love him but AUGH he's so annoying)

OHMYGOD he's such an asshole.

he's probably the reason why you're sitting in his lap in the first place. you're about to sit next to him when he just pulls you and plops you down onto his lap.

or, you could've done this on your own.

probably makes a 'tsk tsk tsk' noise and shakes his head playfully. then proceeds to tease the life out of you.

makes eye contact. looooots of eye contact and an innocent-looking smile that's spouting (not-so-innocent) words.

does whatever it takes to get you flustered. if you try get up to leave, he just wraps his arms tight around you and buries himself in your chest.

or, you might not have the ability to leave in the first place. that's a definite possibility—he probably holds you in place with a very firm grip. he's strong, we all know this very well...

so, there's almost no chance of you getting to escape.

anyways, he's definitely surprised if you initiate this. he doesn't show it on his face, but if he had less control of his facial features, his eyebrows would be near the moon and his mouth would be in the core of the earth.

after he thinks he's done making fun of you (for now...) he'll probably give you a kiss. short, but lingering.

he's so unpredictable, though—there's so much he could do from this point.

he might suddenly stand up and throw you onto his back to give you a piggy-back ride. he might cradle you in his arms like a baby while continuing to make fun of you. he might toss you onto the couch and bury you with pillows (and kisses).

point is, he does soooo much to be extra and annoy you. but... he does let you know he loves you a lot !!

notes. guys i think i'm going crazy i have literally so many little dreamland scenarios in my head of all my favs. (they're the only thing that gets me through school so i don't want them to go i'll stay crazy)

i think i'm kinda getting back into the groove of things...

#screaming in the void #and the void screams back #fluff #assassination classroom #ass class #hee hee #karma #karma akabane #karma akabane x reader #akabane karma x reader #karma x reader #akabane x reader #assassination classroom x reader #ass class x reader #mwahahaggagagaa #that was unintentional #reader fic #gn reader

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imagine-shenanigans · 8 months

Text

sighs dramatically.

Okay but the ghost distribution system as we call it is hysterical but can we tlak about how None Of The 141 are built to date.

Like, sure, Gaz is great at flirting, and he's charming, but DATES? He's the type who asks you on a date because he thinks youre pretty/handsome/adorable/etc but by the time the two of you actually go on a date he's ready figured out like. the whole rest of your lives together. He's already imagined up 20 different scenarios of different dates, stalked your front-facing social media and found your secret or hidden accounts that theoretically don't link back to you. Sure, he's scrounged through your discord servers and your private messages and texts and a thousand other things while he was bored on leave. He knows enough to know that he's happy with what comes next. All dates are simply... ritual at this point? Something obligational, other than the fact he gets to spend time with you.

You're not going anywhere, he's just the least heavy handed of them, the one who'll let you think its your choice to keep him around until he's got his ring officially on your finger. Life won't go according to plan but he's prepared for that too. In his head, you're already married anyway, he's just working his way up to that part. He'll manufacture any scenario to keep you with him, because he wants you to be. And he'll make sure you want to be too.

Soap on the other hand is WAY less tactful about it. He's charming, and he'll take you on dates, sure, but the moment he spots you it's incredibly easy to get obsessed. He immediately drops an arm around you, purring in your ear and talking to you. Doesn't ask you on a date so much as demands it, puts his number in your phone and presses a kiss to your temple, his fingertips squeezing your chin before you leave. God forbid you let him into your home - he'll never leave if you do. Johnny's SUCH a physical guy that while, yes, personality matters, it seals the deal for him the moment he's got his tongue down your throat and his fingers in your pants. Something about the way you settle in against him makes him feel like he's home, and you will never get rid of him.

He's willing to take you on dates if you need more proof, but he won't even pretend like he doesnt already have a copy of your key. Like he's not telling the guys about the bonnie little thing he's going home to - he slips into your apartment/house/etc and into your bed without changing, barely finding time to slip his boots off. Presses one hand to your mouth and just... holds you. He'll fuck you within an inch of your life later when you're less panicked, sure, but he just wants to press his nose to your neck and breathe you in. If his hips rut against your ass, ignore it for now. (Haha... unless? No? okay in a minute then)

Price is just as manipulative as Gaz can be, just as charming as Soap and Gaz too. But he just... doesn't care, just like Simon. There's a reason so many people have Price with like... mail order bride or a "one day you look up and hes your husband" scenario and thats because he's good at what he does. And by that I mean being a husband and pumping you full of kids whether or not its physically possible. (Btw check out Ceil's mail order bride western au its good shit, or Bo's Kingpin Price drabbles, makes me lose it every time.)

He sees you walking about and the MOMENT you do anything remotely domestic - pick up a neice/nephew/babysitting kid/etc and put em on your hip? Rock hard. play peekaboo with a baby across from you at a cafe? pick up after yourself just to be polite to the waitress? he's already stalking you on multiple platforms theres no goddamn way youre getting away from him. He'll figure out where you go in your free time and insert himself there as naturally as possible. He's not particularly hiding what he's doing either - he likes to test you, to see if you notice things missing or moved. If you do, he'll be a little more cautious, use it as reason to drive you into hsi arms. If you don't he jsut views it as all the more reason to take you away - poor thing, you just can't help yourself can you? You're lucky nobody else has got their claws around you, hm?

#price cod #gaz cod #soap cod #cod #strawberry writing

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tealfloyd · 27 days

Text

THE PREFECT'S SHOW #1 — TRAVELLING WITH CROWLEY: 0/10

It's not often you go to holiday vacations with your teachers. While some may consider that possibility an interesting situation, you can't say the same for a certain masked headmage.

CONTENT: Crowley + Crewel (Platonic). They're trying to be good father figures; Crowley fails in the process. NUMBER OF WORDS: 1,5k.

“Fun fact,” you started, stirring the coffee you brought with you as you sat down, placing it on the table. “Heartslabyul students don't drink coffee because they have a rule against it. It's kind of like a forbidden drink, and if you consider the health risks, it's understandable. But this thing has been my lifesaver, and I'm no Heartslabyul student, so,” you continued sipping, “it's even better."

“What's up? Ramshackle Prefect here ready to tell the story about how my guardian almost left me behind at the airport during the holidays."

You took a large, final sip of your coffee before placing it aside, clearing your throat.

“To start, I want you to picture this: the holiday break is close, and the finals are over, resulting in happy students having the time of their life, including me. Now, ditch all that and replace it with overwhelming concern the moment Crowley asks for my assistance. Again."

“Headmage?” You asked, stepping inside Crowley's office, looking for his distintive figure everywhere. “Is something the matter?"

“Young MC," he abruptly said, causing you to jump in surprise as you turn to meet his gaze. You felt nervousness begin to creep up your spine upon inspecting his eyes, thinking the worst of scenarios due to how serious he was. Did Grim fail all the exams? Were you about to get expelled? Was he going to cut your allowance once more?

You definitely thought a lot of possibilities. None of them were good.

“You see. While finishing my plans for my upcoming vacations, I happened to encounter an extra-ticket I wasn't aware of, and what kind of headmaster would I be if not the one that makes sure his students are content with wonderful gifts?"

You tilted your head, confused at the implication. "I'm afraid I'm not following you."

"Dear Prefect," Crowley said, his flourished words becoming even more dramatic after your oblivious remark. "I'm inviting you to spend your holidays with me! Oh, how incredibly kind of me!"

Suspicion was the only thing that flooded you, one of the many reactions Crowley often caused in you when putting up questionable situations like these on the table. "You want me to accompany you on your vacations?" You asked, a million of possible scenarios running through your head. "Am I going to encounter some kind of mafia on your behalf—"

"I'd never do such a thing!"

"Asking the mafia for favors or send me off to pay your debt?"

"My, I'm only doing this because of my immense kindness!" He proclaimed, a huff leaving his lips upon seeing that you still hadn't given up on frowning. "Look. I'm aware that I may not have been the best of guardians, but I'm positive that this trip will bring none other than wonderful memories! So, what do you say?"

“I had my doubts," you fixed the camera briefly before continuing. “I think every person that has met Crowley would've had them. But it seemed genuine, so I said yes. However, the problem came after that."

"Absolutely not," Crewel remarked, his gloved hands graciously working on packing every single piece of attire he could find, not even stopping to acknowledge Crowley's proposal. "There's no way I'm letting you take MC to a different country, much less when I can't be there to watch over her."

"May I remind you that I'm perfectly able to care for MC? Why, if I'm perfectly suitable to be her father!" Crowley argued, his overdramatic words only causing Divus' vein to become more noticeable, his eye beginning to twitch.

"And may I remind you that the one who pays for her food and clothes is me?" Divus countered, trying to contain his frustration as to not damage the fragile dress he was preparing for an upcoming event. A gala that was going to be held on another country that featured his new winter designs, or so he told you. "If anything, I was going to invite her to spend her holidays with me."

"Totally inadmissible! The gentlemen code clearly stands up for the one who posed the invitation first."

"Well, I'm sure MC is going to agree with me," and right then and there, both of them turned to look at you at the same time, making you flinch in realization of what was about to come.

"Right?"

"I, uh..." You pondered for a moment, taking your time to think before sighing. "I think that I want to go with Crowley. Not because I favor him or something, but you have your gala, and I don't want to bother you. Plus, it'd be interesting if he stands for what he says."

Crewel sighed, walking a few long strides before standing right in front of you, a concerned expression on his features. "Are you completely sure? I won't have difficulties to take care of you if you do decide to come with me."

You smiled at him, reassuring his uneasiness. "I'm sure. You always told me that we mustn't judge before experiencing first, so I'm trying to abide by that."

"Oh, what an immensely great moment for a daughter and her kind father—"

"Stop that."

“Indeed. I trusted Crowley's invitation," you nodded, grimacing at the memory. "In my defense, I really thought it was going to be a chill vacation. Grim didn't complain much after I told him we were going to a tropical beach, given that he thought he was going to get a lot of free fish, and since Crewel had given Crowley his blessing—and a well-placed threat—all that was left was packaging and leaving."

"Let's focus on the leaving part."

“Are you sure we couldn't have just... I don't know, do something more humane than forcing him to sleep?" You asked Crowley, who was already in vacation mode, as you looked down at the cage Grim was in. For as kind as his invitation was, you surely didn't expect him to use his magic to put your little monster to sleep after he caused a fuss to not get put into "prison" (meaning, a cat cage); all this trouble just so he didn't have to pay for another ticket. Incredible.

"It's completely okay, Prefect! Little Grim will be more than elated once he sees that he hadn't had to withstand the horrors of turbulence," he responded, his apparently unharmful words to excuse himself enough to make you sigh.

"Whatever you say."

It took you both less than ten minutes to arrive to the waiting area, with you about to sit and relax before boarding time when Crowley spoke. "Prefect, can you be so kind to bring me some vittles? It's incredibly important to make sure to board with a full stomach."

"I don't know how factual that is, but okay," you nodded, leaving both Grim and your luggage (which wasn't much to begin with, at least compared to his much larger suitcase) on the chair next to him, walking to the nearest shop.

“Ten minutes." You brought a hand to your forehead, a heavy sigh leaving your mouth as you recalled the worst part of the story. "It took me ten minutes to grab everything that he and I might need, and apparently, in that short span of TEN MINUTES, an announcement went off informing everyone that our flight was boarding earlier."

"And guess what?"

Slamming your palm on the table, you raised your voice, filled with frustration. “Crowley had forgotten that I hadn't returned despite my belongings and Grim being in his hands! So, I was left alone in a crowded airport with no phone, no boarding ticket and no guardian, so, again, guess what I had to do."

“Excuse me," you politely called, drawing the attention of the woman sitting right at the information booth. “I would like to make an announcement, if possible. It's to call for my familiar; he got lost and I can't find him."

“Of course. Please make sure it's short." You thanked the lady, taking ahold of the intercom being handed to you before pressing the button.

“Dire Crowley. For the crime of leaving MC behind she is in the rightful obligation of telling Divus Crewel you abandoned her and thus, you're to be on the receiving end of his wrath. Thank you for your attention." After the announcement, you handed the communicator back to the information woman, smiling in response to her shocked expression. “Thank you very much."

“To be honest, I kept it classy. Not because I wanted to but because there were children around, but if it wasn't for them then I WOULD'VE TOLD HIM THAT HOW DOES HE DARE TO LEAVE ME BEHIND AT AN AIRPORT WITHOUT ANY MEANS OF COMMUNICATION AND WITH BARELY ENOUGH MONEY FOR A SANDWICH. YES, CROWLEY, I'M TALKING TO YOU, YOU ABSOLUTELY PIECE OF SH—"

Cue to your enraged self being cut off and replaced with a much more calmer one, playing with the edge of your cup.

“It was a hard day. Mostly because after he picked me up, I tripped and fell face-first on the floor. So, yeah, awesome day. I never had so much fun before."

"Crewel doesn't know this since I told him that I was having the time of my life. And, in contrast to what you may think after telling you all this, I did enjoy the rest of the trip; surprisingly enough, Crowley bought me an expensive souvenir as an "I'm sorry" gift." Grabbing a handmade figurine of a traditional character people in that island supposedly adored, you showcased it to the camera, pointing at a few, cheaply painted spots. "Yeah, he was probably scammed, but it's the thought that counts."

You placed it back on the table before returning your focus on the camera, a soft smile adorning your face.

“Well, the coffee is over, the story has been told and the time's up, so today's vlog has come to an end." And before disconnecting the camera, you made a peace sign. "Prefect out."

VIDEO OVER. WISH TO REPLAY?

DON'T REPOST.

EVERY CHARACTER BELONGS TO DISNEY AND YANA TOBOSO, AND I DON'T TAKE CREDIT FOR THEM.

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chuunai · 8 months

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Henlo I have something to add to the 100 followers event if that’s cool

Dazai with scenario 2 and prompt 16. Idk how these things traditionally go but…. Your stuff seems good so far and I’m excited to see what you do with this

Thank you thank you, Anon. Also sorry for how long this took everyone I swear I’m combing through the requests 3_3

✧˚ · . dad first, detective second - dazai osamu

who would’ve imagined the demon prodigy having a hellion of his own?

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), SFW → baby baby baby, Dazai really likes your boobs, etc.

It’s a perfect night, really.

Your warm body resting against his, limbs lazily tossed over each other as you snuggled and acted like lovesick fools. Moonlight poured in from the cracks of the curtains, casting small slivers on your face. Dazai couldn’t help but think of an angel when it came to you. A heavenly being that granted him a new life and forgave him for his past.

Nudging at your cheek with his nose, his voice came out in a sleepy tone.

“You should sleep, [name].”

His hand reached up to cup your face, playfully using his thumbs to gently close your eyelids like one would do with a body. He’d seen many people in the Mafia do that—try and make the deaths they caused seem more peaceful rather than a brutal end. Dazai himself never did that. No need in beautifying a simple concept of its finality and simplicity.

“Can’t. I know she’s about to wake up. It’s nearly eleven, and we put her to sleep at seven. I can tell.”

You shook your head stubbornly, looking at the baby monitor nearby where static noise and the occasional mix of a tiny snore and coo came from.

His little hellion.

Really, he had no clue how he got so lucky. First with the fact that he impregnated you and you carried his baby. Second with the fact that he had his own family now. And third with the fact she looked so much like him. Thick brown curls of hair on her head, big curious eyes that looked at him so adoringly. The tiny freckles and birthmarks scattered across her skin. She had some of your features, yes, but they were more subtle than his features.

Coupled with the fact that she was a bundle of energy and sass like him.

“I insist, pretty. Shinju needs her daddy too.”

He knew how much she made you tired with her habit for refusing to nap for more than an hour or two coupled with breastfeeding and the general responsibility and time that being a mom took. Dazai wanted to spend time with his daughter too and relieve your stress. You’d get sleep, he’d get to see Shinju. Win-win, in all accounts.

Hell, he even gave you puppy eyes in the darkness of your room.

“I…fine. But don’t wake me up if you screw up.”

Dramatically, he sighed and frowned, placing a hand on his heart.

“Does my ‘bella really think I’m an incompetent father? How heartbreaking and cruel of her!”

Much to his relief, you playfully groaned, pinching his sides lightly.

“I didn’t say that, dummy. God, I swear Shinju is more mature than you.”

Jesus, you were so insulting tonight. How was the baby that tried to put anything she could in her mouth more mature than him? Sure, he was a bit funny and childish, but he wasn’t a baby. Well, if he had his face buried in your boobs he’d be a baby. Still, it’s not his fault that they’re just so big and warm and squishy and seem to beg for his attention.

Which is what he soon did, resting his head on your chest while cupping them softly. You were wearing one of his shirts and a nursing bra underneath. He wished you weren’t wearing anything at all, but it wasn’t fair to ask for that when you recently gave birth just a mere two months ago. His libido lowered itself only for you. And when you did have sex—quickies when Shinju would nap—, he was so much nicer and loving than usual. The mother of his child didn’t deserve rough mean sex, no, she deserved gentle treatment under the sheets of their futon.

You deserved everything that he could possibly give you.

So when the small baby demon eventually began to wake up and whimper, he pressed a kiss onto your cheek and slowly got up, whistling a small tune under his breath before waking to the makeshift nursery nearby.

Opening the door slowly, he made his way to the crib and picked up his sniffling newborn, shushing her comfortingly.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Daddy’s here. We don’t want to wake up mama, okay?”

Her tiny hands balled up into fists, weakly moving around and occasionally hitting his chest. Sitting down on the rocking chair nearby, he fumbled around for one of her stuffed animals, grabbing the familiar bunny as he placed it in her arms.

“Look there, Shinju. It’s your bunny!”

From an authoritative Mafia executive to a tired loving father. Lord, Chuuya would be laughing his ass off. Or have that stupid face of confusion while he’d berate Dazai with questions about what unlucky woman had to bear his spawn. But what could that short alcoholic of a ginger say? No woman wanted to birth his babies.

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts when Shinju’s tiny fingers began to grab at his chest, thinking he could feed her too. He could, just not straight from the source unlike you. Standing up, he went over to the mini-fridge nearby which contained bottles of your milk. It wasn’t too chilly, and so he carried it and the cooing baby to the kitchen where he warmed it up in the microwave.

After it warmed up, he carefully began to feed her, leaning back against the counter as he did so.

It still felt so odd to him. Caring and loving someone he helped to create. His self from ten years ago would never believe it—that they’d find love and even have a baby after escaping the Mafia. He had you to thank for that. The one who picked up the discarded pieces of his soul and welded it into the man he is today—a father first, and a detective second.

Kinda rushed the end but I couldn’t think of anything more :(

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #dazai x reader #dazaibsd #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #bsd fluff #fluff #bsd tag #bsd

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mxdnightlvers · 1 year

Text

𝐅𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𓆩♡𓆪

➸ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Nsfw scenarios with the characters in a fitting/changing room

➸𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Childe, Diluc, Alhaitham

➸ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: public sex, choking, lots of teasing, denial

➸ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬/𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: Gender neutral pronouns and reader

➸ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: This was actually from another request I got! They gave me a lot of ideas and this was one of them so ty! This was sm fun to write and I may do a part 2 another time :D

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞❦

You simply wanted help to unzip your dress. If only you knew that you'd have your boyfriend running his hands up and down your body, littering small kisses against your neck as you struggle to keep your whines to a minimum. He simply couldn't resist as he watched the dress fall off your shoulders. Soft hands trace your frame as they slowly drift between your thighs, your cheeks heating up, and whether that was because of where he was touching you, or how lustfully he watched you in the mirror- you couldn't hide how flustered you were.

“How pretty do you think you'd look if I fucked you in front of this mirror hm?” A question that had you searching your vast vocabulary to answer but the only words you could muster were a few 'I's. Your head dropped, hair covering your flushed face as you feel his fingers slip inside your underwear. Holding your breath as he inches even lower as if breathing would make too much noise and get you guys caught. His hands are warm against your skin, and with his head on your neck, you knew he was observing how you react to him. Purposely going slow despite how many times you've shifted your hips.

For what felt like forever, he finally broke the silence, completely pulling away from you, an innocent smile plastered across his face- your flustered frame standing still as you're perplexed by his actions. "Let's continue this at home shall we?" A cheeky grin as he already knows that you can't continue right now even if you wanted to. <3

𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜❦

He had your hands against the wall, as his cock slowly slid in and out of out you. He couldn't wait til you were at home. The soft teases you whispered to him when no one was looking, how close you held him at times- oh the absolute joy he felt when you invited him into the changing room with you. His frame bent over yours, hand around your neck as he pulls you closer to him. His hips twitching, just begging to go faster, to feel you better, to hear you moan his name, but he has to settle for slowly moving in you to stay as quiet as possible. It was almost impossible to stay silent if it wasn't for his hand pressed up against the sides of your neck.

His movements slow, but hitting deep, the adrenaline of being caught has your heart beating faster than usual, making you sensitive to every single stroke of his. “God, how I wish I could fuck you senseless right now love,” His whispers breathless and shaky as his self control grows even thinner with each thrust.

The heat in the fitting room becoming almost unbearable, especially with Diluc’s warm body pressed up against you. It was almost painful how slow he had to move but was still a relief to feel so full of him after hours of teasing. Finally pulling away when he can’t maintain the slow pace anymore, reminding you that he will definitely be continuing that later. <3

𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 ❦

You’re jerking his cock off while he kisses you deeply, your hands running through his hair and his chest pressed up against yours. He’s fucking into your hands without a care in the world to keep quiet. “Mm..shh don’t worry they cant hear us over the music and talking.” You didn’t believe him for the slightest, but after seeing Alhaitham so needy and desperate for you that he needs to fuck you in a changing room, worrying about being caught was the last thing on your mind.

He’s buried in your neck, his breathing shaky and ragged, soft moans barely escaping. Cock twitching constantly in your hand, precum leaking between your fingers with every thrust. He’s so needy with his thrusts that you’re forced against the wall. “Fuck- you feel so good god- I just need more of you darling.” His words string together with his soft moans as he presses soft kisses against your collar bone. Hands never staying still as they roam your body, under your clothes, in your hair, wherever he can reach, trying to feel more of you in the confined space.

Teeth sinking into your neck he cums, staining some parts of your clothes in the process. He’s made a mess of himself despite the situation as his guilty eyes look down at your clothes. He offers you his jacket to cover up and you guys leave the store without getting in trouble, heading straight home. <3

#genshin smut #childe x reader #childe smut #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x reader #diluc smut #diluc x reader

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ethereal-blossom · 9 months

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My thoughts on dating... Dazai!

Credits to @kisara-16 because she basically co-wrote this through our conversations about Dazai. Seriously, these headcanons wouldn't look like this without her amazing insight on Dazai!

sfw

-Instant love is not an option when it comes to Dazai. He can think you're pretty when he first lays his eyes on you, and he can be impressed and admire certain qualities, but he's not going to fall in love that easily. Falling in love requires vulnerability and indirectly the acceptance of a possible loss. No, a slow burn sounds more right.

-Building up trust is the key to getting Dazai vulnerable. You're going to have to prove that you won't leave him. It's not an easy task as Dazai will make you face many challenges, like calling you up in the middle of the night because he's "too drunk" to walk home from the bar yet you're chasing him around the entire city up till dawn.

-However, there are more things needed to win over Dazai's heart. Little things over a long span of time, to be more precise. Dazai is a stranger yet attracted to sincerity and kindness, so a combination of these two things would pull his heartstrings.

-Imagine Dazai sitting at his desk and suddenly you put a can of crab on it. He's confused, but then you explain how you rarely see him eat at the ADA. When Dazai asks you why you chose a can of crab, you answer that he once tried to convince Kunikida to buy it for him with the promise he'd finish that long overdue paperwork. Dazai would be so surprised if someone, you, paid attention to him and remembered a detail from an interaction that didn't even involve you. (Credits to Kisara for this scenario!)

-Dazai would be oblivious to his crush on you at first, may it be because he's scared or the foreignness of the emotion. When Dazai does realize he has feelings for you, he tries to distance himself. As Dazai said, everything he wants is lost the minute he obtains it. He can't afford to add another wound to an already scarred heart. It's crucial to be consistent and prove you're not willing to leave, and that you desire to live.

-You'll have to confess first. Although Dazai easily picks up on other people's emotions and knows how to manipulate them, he has trouble handling his own. Vulnerability is something Dazai fears and that includes opening up about his feelings to you. He would wait until you make the first move.

-If you're scared though, don't worry! Dazai picked up on your crush on him as well as your struggle to confess. He'll tease you until you're convinced he needs to have some interest in you. Imagine being in the ADA kitchen and Dazai pops up behind you. His front is pressed against your back while he's trying to grab something that so accidentally happens to be at your coffee maker. "Don't mind me," he whispers softly into your ear. He could grab it much faster but why wouldn't he take his sweet time? After all, it's so cute how your body reacts to his close presence. And who knows, maybe it makes you confess sooner.

-When you do confess, Dazai might act light-heartened about it. "Oh, Belladonna, I knew you'd fall for my charms eventually! What about a lovely double suicide for our first date?" But don't let it fool you. He's excited yet nervous that you asked him out. He just needs to hide it for the both of you.

-You might also need to kiss him first. Dazai will turn it into a challenge to see how long you can resist kissing him. Imagine Dazai catching you looking at his lips. You turn your head the second you notice Dazai caught onto you, but then his slender fingers grab your chin, turning your head back to him. His eyes lock with yours, the air is filled with want... and then he lets go, focusing on whatever you were doing. The longer you wait for him to kiss you, the more seriously Dazai takes the challenge.

-Dazai's kisses are usually playful and teasing. He knows what makes you stand on the tip of your toes for more. One of the cuter things is when he taps on your shoulder only to appear on the opposite side to kiss your cheek.

-The PDA will be very clownery. Not sure if I wrote something similar for another post, but: If Dazai wants to cuddle with you at the ADA, he's going to drag you to the couch whining like a child needy for attention. It's all to hide that he craves your touch. Physical touch is an intimate action for Dazai as he rarely lets someone that close into his personal space and when he touches someone, it's rarely to show affection. Such an intimate action is something Dazai prefers to hide from his co-workers and strangers, so the way he goes around it is by using his desire for your touch to strengthen his reputation as a lazy clown.

-Nevertheless, there are going to be intimate, hidden touches throughout the day. He'll lightly bump into you at the copy machine. He'll then place his hands on your shoulders as if to steady you and innocently smiles "Sorry, can't have you falling for me again, sugar cube!" Or when nobody is watching and he delicately caresses your lower back for a split second. And perhaps the times your shoulders brush slightly aren't as accidental as they appear to be.

-Physical touch is more intimate when you're in one of your dorms, though. It's where Dazai doesn't have to worry about appearing soft or vulnerable. He loves it when you play with his hair, although it'd be an unfamiliar sensation at first. He'd relax so much if you made him lay his head in your lap while you do your skin-care routine on him. When you fill him in on everything that's going on in your mind while touching his skin aka giving him personal attention... He could never get tired of it.

-Dazai's favorite love language to receive is physical touch. He's so touch-starved, especially with the layers of bandages decorating his skin. It's going to take a long time before Dazai feels at ease and safe enough to remove the bandages around you, though. It's not something he's going to be comfortable with doing at the start of your relationship. Honestly, a lot of things that require even a bit of vulnerability turn into slow burns with Dazai. Even holding hands is a huge milestone that feels intimate to him. You really need to have patience and while you sometimes have to push him outside of his comfort zone or take the initiative, you cannot be too pushy either.

-Once Dazai agrees to remove his bandages, be extra tender with him. Kiss him softly and gently remove the bandages around his neck. Instead of staring at his skin and making him feel self-conscious, start placing kisses on his neck and then slowly trail down to the exposed part of his neck, leaving hickeys at places you couldn't before. Don't immediately let Dazai remove all his bandages. Take it step by step. Leave days between them. You don't have to remove his shield in one go.

-Dazai doesn't often initiate dates as he's rather easy in that aspect. It's not to say that he never takes you out, though! What Dazai values most on dates is the proximity of you and the memories that are being made. When Dazai wants to go on a date, they're rather spontaneous and unpredictable. One minute you're working and before you know it, he makes you chase him to a park. A fun date idea could be escape rooms! Of course, Dazai is smart enough to escape within five minutes, but he enjoys the proximity of it. He'll have already figured out where the key is, but why would he say it? Not only does that make you leave the room sooner, but he finds your cute dedication to escape it endearing. Dazai would also really like cafe or bar dates, but he also wouldn't say no to a date filled with surprises (if you manage to be sneaky enough to surprise him, that is).

-Dazai takes care of you from the shadows. He's a tsundere. So when he does an act of service, it's hard to tell it's him. For example, let's say you're very tired. When Atsushi is ready to grab a cup of coffee from the cafe, Dazai randomly brings up how tired you've looked all day. Next thing you know, Atsushi brings you a cup of coffee.

-Dazai isn't the one to get jealous easily, but oh does he taste it when somebody else thinks they can wrap you around their fingers when you're already wrapped around his. Softly said, it's not appreciated. It's hard to tell when Dazai is jealous, but he does get extra clingy and starts making it obvious that you belong to him. They're looking at your hair? Oops, Dazai is brushing it behind your ear. They're looking at your cheek? Dazai kisses it. They're trying to make a conversation with you? Dazai is answering all the questions in the most annoying way. They try to stand closer to you? Dazai has an arm around your waist, pressing you against him.

-When you need a hug for comfort, Dazai will make a remark on how clingy you are. But when you want to pull away, he hugs you even tighter and doesn't let go until he feels your heart rate go back to its usual tempo.

-Dazai prefers to sleep next to you. It doesn't necessarily helps him fall asleep (although it does make him feel more relaxed) but Dazai enjoys to have you in his arms, listening to your steady heartbeat and breathing, feel your warmth, and loves to have you close even though you're sleeping. It makes the night a bit more bearable and less lonely.

-Dazai isn't very used to praise, and if he does, then it usually doesn't mean anything to him. He knows he's smart. He's aware people perceive him as handsome. Nothing new. However, he'd secretly get flustered when it's you who praises him. It's the way you praise him with such sincerity and admiration without expecting anything back that makes the blood want to rush to his cheeks. Dazai knows how to smoothly hide his face, although you can still catch a tiny hint of him being flustered if the praise comes so unexpectedly.

-He's not always going to believe your praise, sadly. Not because Dazai doesn't trust you, but because Dazai doesn't believe himself to be a good human. So, whenever you praise him for being kind or beautiful, he's hesitant to internally accept it.

-Dazai calls you cringy pet names in public + Belladonna, but in the safety of your dorms he calls you "love" and "dear." All credits to Kisara and I'm still fangirling over how accurate this feels: "Sweet angel princess Belladonna, would you possibly... reconsider my double suicide offer?"

-Self-care does not come natural to Dazai. He is a pro in neglecting himself, so it is important that you motivate him in taking care of himself. Dazai will whine about how he does not want to shower only for him to do a full 180 turn when you offer to shower together. He clings to his can of crab, claiming it is all he need, only to change his mind once you make a delicious homemade meal (emphasis on you because there is something about knowing you made it that makes the food more enticing).

-To be fair, there are downsides to dating Dazai that you have to deal with. His acts of service often isn't noticeable, he has trouble opening up and sharing what is happening inside his head, and he requires patience on many surfaces. There are times he is as ungraspable as the wind. However;

-If there's one thing Dazai considers most important then it's your life. He has lost too many and he's not ready to lose you, too. So, it's almost a given that Dazai feels protective of you. He wouldn't let anyone harm you and if someone does... Well, that automatically makes them Dazai's enemy and we know what saying goes around. If you actually once get seriously hurt on a mission, it's going to keep Dazai up for the next couple of nights. Sure, the Agency has Yosano and she fixed you up like a pro, but still. What would've happened if they got you to Yosano too late? Especially if you got hurt in Dazai's plan, he'd beat himself up. Either way, he's going to feel like he should have predicted it. He praises himself for his intelligence but couldn't even use it to keep his love safe? Pathetic. Dazai is going to find it endearing though if you decide to stay up with him even though you're basically falling asleep on his shoulder.

nsfw (mdni)

-As I mentioned before, holding hands is already going to be a huge achievement, so I don't think you will sleep together very soon in the relationship.

-This man is unmotivated to do anything until we're talking about how many orgasms he can get out of you. Dazai is both a fan of overstimulation and edging. He will edge you for what feels like hours on end to then go full out without hitting the brakes because "Wasn't that what you were begging me for, my Bella?"

-I am not saying Dazai has a praise kink but he is going to be flustered the first few times you praise him during (oral) sex. Imagine moaning his name in the middle of the act and Dazai, the tease that he is, asks "Yes, love?" "Mhm, you are doing so good, Osamu." Instantly, Dazai's pace stutters and slows down as he lets the words sink in. "Is that so?" he replies before muttering to himself "Better live up to the expectations then." Good luck walking the next day, you will need it.

-He probably has been praised before when pleasuring other women but it never did matter as much to him as your praise does.

-I don't think Dazai is that much into degradation. I can't see him wanting to degrade someone he deeply cares about; the closest you will get him to degradation is when he teases how desperate you are for him. However, if you are into it, he will degrade you more because he knows it serves the purpose of pleasuring you.

-Dazai is going to be soft and gentle the first time you will do it. He is self-aware enough to know the times he has been cruel, so he feels extra motivated to do this right. If it is your actual first time, Dazai is more scared of hurting you and feels more pressure to make this time as memorable and pleasurable as possible. He will prep you extra well, entering you slowly while observing every sign that tells him you are hurting, and he will take all the time in the world before he starts moving in and out. During all of that, he coos lovely words that comfort you and distract you from the pain.

-Dazai is a switch with a preference to dom. It will take a while before he takes the role of the sub. When he does, make sure to be gentle with him.

-At the start, Dazai prefers to give. He barely prioritizes himself, so he doesn't make a huge deal out of being on the receiving end. It is quite the opposite: Dazai is aware he does not show love easily and this is a skill he is confident in to show you how devoted he is to you. Yet, a new world opened to Dazai when he realized how good this feels with you. The difference between before and now is the emotions and attachment he feels towards you, which increases his pleasure during such intimate acts. Soon, Dazai will want to drown in the pleasure that you give him and crave more of it like a selfish man.

-Dazai is a pro with his mouth and fingers. Not only that, but he mastered the art of sensuality. He understands roughness, speed, and impatience are not everything. He knows how to make your body tremble with the unbearable slow trace of a single finger against your bare skin, the intimacy of an intense gaze, and the tone of his voice when he tells you all the things that will you crave more of him.

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd fluff #dazai osamu #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #bsd writing #bsd dazai #haven't posted something in so long i forgot which tags I use #incredibly grateful for my friend!!

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purplecoffee13 · 2 months

Note

I’ve had this scenario in my head for ages now and yesterday after watching Harry’s performance with Stevie Nicks I couldn’t stop thinking abt it. I was wondering if you could make a one shot or smth abt y/n getting ready to see Harry perform (solo or w some1) and all of her emotions growing considering she was/still is a fan but not like before when she was a teen ykwim? She’s so in awe and loves him so much!! Once the show or wtv it’s over they get back home/ or hotel (you choose) order room service (or delivery) eat and then cuddle till the fall asleep. Idk it’s just so cute and It’s one of my fav scenarios to make me fall asleep 🤍

STAHP this is so cute yes ofc🥹💞 it’s on the short side, but I hope it lives up to your imagination at least a little bit, enjoy! xxx

General Masterlist

Blurb Masterlist

Proud was understatement for the way you felt about Harry performing with his friend Stevie tonight.

His friend, Stevie fucking Nicks.

The fact that he could call her a friend was insane. You knew how much he had looked up to her all his life, and for her to ask him to join her on stage once again was an honor which he couldn’t believe was bestowed upon him.

There was a giddiness that traveled through your entire body as you got ready for Harry’s performance. He had been gone since midday, as his presence was required for sound check. The smile on your face couldn’t have been beaten off with a bat; you were too happy for him.

He had been so nervous this morning, checking whether his keys were in his pocket three times before finally taking off. Last night in bed, after taking up your offer for a massage, he confessed he was afraid he’d mess it up. You assured him that he wouldn’t, but he merely sighed.

“This is different.” He had said. “She asked me, to help her.”

You had temporarily stopped massaging him then, almost tearing up at the worry in his voice. It made sense. She was asking him for a favor, and she’d never really done that before. It wasn’t just a performance, it was a tribute. It was about more than just Stevie, so he wanted to get it right.

And my god, did he get it right.

Your vision was partly blurry during the entirety of his time on stage, and you were glad that you had simultaneously—albeit badly—recorded the performance. Harry was shining of course; he always did when on stage.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen Harry perform. You had been to many shows since you started going out with him, and before that.

A show of his was actually how you two met.

It was years ago, and you were still working as a receptionist at one of New York’s finest hotels, when one night you had to check in someone under quite a peculiar name.

Ricky BlueLetter.

You had chuckled to yourself upon seeing the reservation, wondering who could possibly be so lucky as to have been named after Fleetwood Mac songs. No one, it turned out to be. It was Harry Styles’ alias.

It was hard to contain your heartbeat when Harry stood at your desk, greeting you and handing you his I.D. while he waited for the check-in to be completed. You were trembling a bit, and when he asked you if you were okay, you quickly made up a lie about being cold. To be fair, the air conditioning was always blowing quite harshly.

The following night, you were attending his concert. Your plan was to stay in the back of the pit, but upon realizing the stage went around the pit, you knew that you were going to be close to him anyway. You were far too nervous that he’d see you; it would’ve been too embarrassing considering you pretended not to know him the night before.

Safe to say, Harry did see you. He spotted you as he hopped around the stage, holding your gaze for a couple of seconds before laughing. You swore you could have melted through the floor, especially since you probably had to be confronted with this situation at work. You did have to work the rest of the weekend—it was the only way you would’ve gotten the night off—and Harry was performing both Saturday and Sunday. You wanted to slap yourself in the face for being so nonchalant the night before.

The next morning, you had a shift from 7am to 2pm. Upon going to soundcheck, Harry saw you, and approached you. He was cocky when he asked what you thought of his show, and you rolled your eyes before you could even stop yourself. Harry liked your playfulness, and before his stay officially came to an end, he asked you for your number.

Of course you said yes, the little girl inside of you was screaming and throwing a party. You couldn’t believe that the guy who you used to read about in a magazine as a kid was asking you out in real life. However, you never thought it would’ve lead to a stable, three year long relationship.

That first show, despite how embarrassing you thought it was back then, was the most special and defining event you’d ever been to.

And yet, it felt different this time.

Maybe it had to do with the audience not being there solely for Harry, and him performing songs he had loved so deeply ever since he was a kid, instead ones he wrote. There was a different type of love attached to those songs, and you felt the radiation of it burst through the speakers.

It was simple, yet intricate. The gruff edges of his voice blended perfectly with the soft tone in which he sang, making for an almost impossible cohesiveness that was as complex as the feeling of grief itself. Without necessarily intending to, he had mirrored the harsh reality of loss interwoven with precious memories. It was pure, in a sad way. In a way that had you go through two packs of tissues in the short time that he had accompanied his friend on stage.

It was beautiful— he was beautiful, and perfect.

Your eyes were red, and your make-up was ruined by the time Harry left the stage. The fact that the first thing he did was walk towards you and pull you into an embrace could’ve made you run through seven more packs of tissues. How lucky were you to have a man who could not only write and tell you his feelings, but express them with the sole sound of his voice? You felt blessed.

Afterwards, Harry introduced you to Stevie—which was the second most scary thing you had ever done, because meeting his sister was the first—and you talked for an hour or two. The active reminder in your head that these were normal people with normal feelings who just happened to have a shit ton of money and talent was the only thing that kept you slightly calm, as did the touch of Harry’s hand on you at all times.

Later that night, as you lie in bed with Harry, eating some grapes from the dessert plate you ordered, you are still gushing about every aspect of the night.

“She called me pretty.”

“Well, you are pretty.” Harry says, pulling you further into him. The soft noise of the TV playing some random movie makes the night feel a lot more normal than it actually was.

“And smart!” You giggle, biting your lip at the feeling of Harry’s lips pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You’re very smart, too.” He responds softly. You turn around to face him, and climb onto his lap. Observing his beautiful face, you run a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment at the soothing feeling, before they softly flutter open again.

“I am so proud of you, Harry.” You whisper. The smile on your face feels light and easy, just as easy as it is to love him.

“Thank you baby.” He breathes, the corner of his mouth slowly rising as he looks down. You cup his face, moving his face until it’s directed toward you again, and inch closer to your boyfriend.

“I don’t think you understand. I am so fucking proud of you, Harry. The way you sang on that stage, it— you are the first person who has ever made sorrow look so stunning to me.” You elaborate, needing him to know the significance of what he did today. Not only did he not mess up at all, he went above and beyond the definition of a great performance. “She saw it too, she felt it.”

A breathy laugh escapes Harry’s throat, and he slowly shakes his head, his hands sneaking around your waist. His head dips down as he pulls you closer, and he buries himself into your neck. It stays awfully quiet, but the deep breath that follows from his side tells you enough. That exhale made way for the anxiety and nervousness to leave his body, so that he could be proud of the perfect memory that replaced those feelings. You both stay like that for a few minutes, before you interrupt the self-made silence, and tap him softly on the back of his head.

“Harry…”

He hums from inside your neck, tightening his grip around you to communicate that, in case you were gonna ask him to let go, he doesn’t want to.

“Could I interest you in a grape?” You offer. It had occurred to you that so far, you had been the only one to eat from the plate, and you want to make sure that Harry eats something before he goes to bed. You don’t know how much he ate since he left home early today, because he was too nervous this morning.

Harry pulls his head away from your neck, a lazy smirk on his face as his eyes meet yours. He chuckles at the way you grab the plate and hold it up in front of him with a sweet smile.

“You’re a dork.” He says. You frown at the comment.

“That’s not an answer.” You pout, pushing the plate further towards him. He laughs, grabbing the plate from your hands and putting it next to the two of you where it was before. He plucks two grapes and throws them into his mouth, raising his brows at you as he chews and swallows them.

“Happy?”

You grin. “The happiest.”

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parkerslatte · 7 months

Text

Finding Home || Part Three

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: mentions of parental death

Summary: Azriel and Y/N cross of two tasks and get to know each other a little better.

Finding Home Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

If Azriel had thought a week ago that he would be sitting outside a small cafe with flowers overflowing in hanging baskets waiting for Y/N to come out with drinks, he would think it was a completely made up scenario in his head. But it was his reality. The air was cold but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle, but Y/N was wrapped up in her scarf, thick coat and gloves and shivering as she sat in her chair, placing a mug of coffee in front of him.

As he looked at her, he did feel bad. The only reason they needed to sit outside was because of him. There was nowhere inside the cafe where Azriel could sit comfortably with his wings. Azriel watched as Y/N pulled out a seat and sat down opposite him, cupping her mug between her two gloved hands. She raised her gaze and met Azriel’s slightly concerned one.

“What’s with the look?” Y/N asked, her voice slightly muffled by her scarf.

“You can sit inside,” Azriel said. “I can stay out here.”

Y/N frowned. “Absolutely not! We are completing that list together. It will not be together if I have my coffee indoors while you sit out here all on your own.”

“But you are shivering,” Azriel said.

Despite the many layers Y/N wore, there was still a small shake to her body that Azriel could tell she was trying to hide. “I will be fine,” she answered. “Now, how do you want to tackle the tasks?”

Azriel took a sip of his coffee, the small chill in his body slowly warming. He was used to the cold temperature yet the warm drink still felt satisfying spreading through his body. “I don’t know. I haven’t even read the whole list.”

Y/N held out one of her gloved hands. “Give me the list.”

Without any questions, Azriel handed over the list and Y/N unfolded it and placed it on the table. She shuffled her chair closer to him, the metal scraping against the cobblestone street. While Y/N’s eyes were on the list in front of her, Azriel’s were on her. He still couldn’t believe that someone was willing to do any of these tasks with him.

“We can cross a lot of these off in one go,” Y/N said. “You can easily do number one and number thirty at the same time.”

“What are those?” Azriel questioned.

“Read a book and relax,” Y/N said. “In fact you can easily pair number twenty two with it as well. Have breakfast in bed.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I don’t see how I could have possibly done that by myself. I would need to go to the kitchen and make the food then go back to my room. It would be easier to just sit at the kitchen table.”

Y/N giggled and Azriel turned his head toward her. “What’s so funny?”

“That you assume that I will make you breakfast in bed.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant, I just…”

Y/N placed her gloved hand on his forearm. “Relax, I’m just teasing. But I will be expecting you to make me breakfast in bed too.”

“There will be no doubt about that,” Azriel replied, his gaze falling to the list once again. “So what shall we do about the theatre one? As far as I know the theatre in Velaris is currently under construction.”

“Well, there is a theatre in the Summer Court, it’s right on the beach. It’s gorgeous! My father was originally from the Summer Court and he took me there when I was child. I try to go back on occasion. It’s a way to remember him.”

“I’m sorry,” Azriel said, placing his hand on top of her gloved one.

Y/N smiled, yet it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s okay. It didn’t happen suddenly or anything, he caught an illness that was incurable, even the best healers couldn’t help him. For a year I was expecting it but even when it happened, it was a surprise.”

“When did it happen?” Azriel asked.

“Nearly one-hundred years ago,” Y/N answered, looking at where Azriel’s hand rested on top of hers.

Azriel looked at Y/N, truly looked at her. Despite her happy and calm demeanour, there was a certain sadness lurking beneath the surface. Something within him wanted to take all of that sadness and pain away and make sure that she never had to feel it again.

Y/N cleared her throat. “So, how about we tackle two of these tasks today? One obviously being the coffee and the second could number seventeen, cook dinner? Only if you want to, of course.”

Azriel smiled. “Of course I want to.”

The smile that spread across Y/N’s face was unlike anything Azriel had ever seen. It felt as if a warm blanket had been draped across him. “Great,” Y/N said. “We can buy some ingredients and go back to my apartment. Unless you want to do it at yours?”

Azriel thought of his apartment. The lifeless rooms that held no meaning to him. He had moved into it when he began to feel like he was intruding on Cassian and Nesta. Every morning he would have breakfast with the two of them and he could tell that both of them were too polite to mention that they just wanted breakfast for the two of them.

His small apartment was the first and only thing he looked at before he bought it. It did its job well enough and that was all Azriel was after. Now…he only craved a home. Somewhere where memories are etched into the walls and floors. Somewhere where he could make his own memories…with his own family someday. Y/N’s apartment was the closest thing to that. Even if he hadn’t even fully looked around it, just from the living area alone, Azriel could tell it was well loved and lived in. He could tell that it was a home, not just a building.

“No, your apartment is fine with me,” Azriel answered.

Y/N nodded and folded up the list and placed it within her own pocket. Azriel couldn’t help but smile at that simple action. She was really in it for the long haul with him. This complete stranger he met not even twenty-four hours ago.

“I don’t have a particular recipe in mind but when we buy the ingredients, we can just improvise,” Y/N said, taking a sip from her coffee.

Azriel agreed and lifted his own coffee back to his lips, smiling as he took a sip. The feeling of a real smile still felt foreign on his face yet he was getting used to it. As he looked at Y/N wth her thick scarf, gloves and coat he couldn’t help but smile a little wider. He wasn’t expecting to be caught but as soon as Y/N’s eyes met his, she smiled in return. Her quiet laugh was the only sound he could focus on.

“What?” Azriel asked.

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing, I just…you weren’t who I expected you to be.”

Azriel frowned. “What do you mean?”

Y/N shrugged. “I just didn’t expect the shadowsinger of the Night Court to be all smiles and laughs. It’s far from the way others talk about you.”

Azriel deflated a little in his chair and Y/N’s eyes widened. “Not that it’s a bad thing. I was just expecting you to be…broodier, I suppose. But you seem to smile a lot. It’s rather beautiful.”

Her compliment sent another faint blush across Azriel’s cheeks. He hadn’t received attention like this from someone for quite a while. It was nice.

“I-thank you, Y/N,” Azriel said.

Y/N waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t need to thank me for a simple compliment you know damn well is true. Just look at those dimples.”

Azriel cleared his throat. “You are ruining my reputation here.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “It was ruined the moment that gorgeous smile appeared on your face.”

Azriel’s cheeks began to ache. He tried to fight the smile away but he couldn’t no matter how hard he tried. “So,” he said, changing the subject, “when do you want to buy the ingredients?”

Y/N quickly glanced at her coffee, it was nearly empty. She lifted it to her lips and took a final sip. “Now, if you are ready too?”

The coffee in Azriel’s mug was gone, only a tiny amount remained, not even enough for a mouthful. “Let’s go.”

As the two stood to their feet, Y/N suddenly gasped. “Wait, before we go.”

She dug in her pocket and pulled out the folded list and placed it down on the small wooden table. “We can now cross one thing off.” She handed a pencil to Azriel. “You can do the honours.”

Azriel took the pencil from her grasp, her fingertips brushing against hers. He expected her to pull her hand away the moment they made contact but she didn’t. In fact Y/N didn’t even pay any attention to the scars on his hands. All she did was look at him with an excited expression on her face. Azriel didn’t want to recall his hand.

“One down, twenty-nine to go,” Y/N said as Azriel reluctantly pulled his hand away to cross out the task.

“Twenty-nine to go,” Azriel repeated.

Originally thirty tasks seemed to be a long and pointless list but now as he stared down at it, he couldn’t help but think that it was too short. He was only one task down but he had found that he hadn’t had as much fun or smiled as much as he had in a long time. The way Azriel felt; he never wanted the feeling to end.

“Let’s go and get the ingredients,” Y/N said, tucking the list back into her pocket. “There was a recipe my parents used to make that I loved when I was younger. If that’s okay with you? If there is something you would like to make, just tell me. They are your tasks after all.”

“That sounds perfect to me, Y/N,” Azriel said.

She smiled and linked her arm through his. “Then let’s go, shadowsinger. Let’s show the rest of Velaris how intimidating you are with that gorgeous smile.”

Azriel couldn’t help but blush.

***

The moment Y/N and Azriel entered her apartment, it was getting dark outside. Their trip to gather ingredients for their meal took a lot longer than originally anticipated. The two of them simply enjoyed strolling around different stores with one another. The domesticity of it all made Azriel’s heart soar.

“So,” Azriel said as he peeled potatoes. “Tell me more about yourself, Y/N. I’m sure you have spent more time talking about my smile than you have talking about yourself.”

Y/N laughed as she nudged Azriel out of the way to reach for the carrots next to him. “I can’t help it if your smile takes my breath away and I find it hard to speak.”

Azriel rolled his eyes but remained silent.

“In all honesty, I’m not too interesting,” Y/N said.

“Liar,” Azriel said, nudging her with his elbow lightly.

“I’m serious!” Y/N exclaimed. “I just have a simple job.”

“What is it?” Azriel asked. “You haven’t mentioned anything about your job so far.”

“I haven’t? Hmm, must have slipped my mind,” Y/N said and began to chop up the carrots. “If you must know, I work in a music shop. I teach lessons there on occasion too.”

Azriel smiled softly. “That is not simple.”

“It really is,” Y/N replied. “It’s nothing like a job defending this court and keeping it safe.”

Azriel frowned. “It may not be but it is a beautiful job regardless. What do you teach?”

“Mostly piano and violin,” Y/N answered. “I mainly teach children but sometimes I get some older fae request lessons.”

“How long have you taught them?”

“Probably close to a century now,” Y/N replied before sighing. “Before that I simply worked in a bakery.”

Azriel gleaned over and noticed her eyes glossed over in sadness. He stopped peeling the potato immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Y/N said, though it was clear she wasn’t. “It’s just…the reason why I started to teach children to play music is because it is what my father taught me. From the moment I could walk he began to teach me piano. I was awful at first and I hated playing it. But I soon fell in love with it.”

Azriel placed his hand gently upon hers, squeezing it to offer some comfort. Y/N’s eyes snapped to his hand then to his eyes. A small smile appeared on her face.

“That piano over there was his,” Y/N said, glancing to the corner of the room where a piano resided covered in a layer of dust. “I haven’t been able to play it since he passed.”

“It is a beautiful piano,” Azriel said.

Y/N smiled. “It truly is. My mother gifted it to him for their mating ceremony.”

Azriel smiled. “She must have truly loved him. It is a beautiful gift.”

“She did,” Y/N said. “I don’t remember much of my mother, she died when I was only two years old. But I do remember the love she had for my father. And from what I vaguely remember and from what my father told me, she loved me very much.”

Azriel smiled. “Your parents sounded wonderful.”

“They were,” Y/N said sadly. “My mother was Illyrian, you know?”

“Really?” Azriel asked, looking to her back, seeing if she had hidden wings she hadn’t told him about. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Y/N chuckled. “A lot of people don’t realise. I was born without wings, not even the power to summon them at all.”

Azriel looked down at the potato he held in his hands as he realised he had gotten caught looking for the most distinguishable feature of an Illyrian.

Y/N brushed her hair behind her ears. “My ears aren’t as pointed as the High Fae’s either, but not as rounded as yours.”

Azriel looked at her ears, at the tips that seemed different to any he had seen before. Though he was rather distracted by the jewellery that decorated them.

“So it seems that we have something in common, Azriel,” Y/N said.

Azriel looked away from the jewellery that decorated her ears and back to her eyes. “It seems that we do.”

Y/N smiled before picking up her carrot again. “Tell me about yourself now. I feel like I’ve spoken about myself forever.”

“There is not much to talk about,” Azriel answered.

Y/N groaned. “Come on! You are what? Over five-hundred years old? There is surely plenty you can talk to me about.”

“You are not that much younger than me!” Azriel exclaimed. “There is surely more fot you to talk about too.”

Y/N gasped dramatically. “You should never assume a female’s age, Azriel. Now, tell me about yourself. Remember I am holding a knife, I might not be able to do anything with it, but remember I am holding one.”

Azriel huffed out a laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“What are your hobbies? What do you like to do except flash that smile about?”

Azriel nudged her gently before cutting into the potato. “I am…not really sure what I like doing.”

“Come on,” Y/N said. “There has to be something.”

The shadowsinger shrugged. “I like reading, I suppose.”

“Great, that’s a start,” Y/N said.

Azriel placed the potato in the pan and moved onto another but found himself at a loss for words. What did he like to do? In his feelings of loneliness he had seemed to abandon everything he enjoyed doing in favour of taking on more tasks and missions to distract himself and keep himself busy. He was sure that he hadn’t picked up a book for his own pleasure in quite some time.

“I honestly can’t think of what I enjoy doing,” Azriel admitted. “It’s been a while since I have done anything for my own personal pleasure.”

Y/N looked up at him, something akin to empathy in her eyes. Azriel looked away quickly and continued to peel the potato. “I normally just ask Rhys to send me on more missions to fill my time.”

“You need to take time for yourself,” Y/N said, lowering the carrot once again.

Azriel scoffed. “I’ve taken enough time for myself. All I ever am is by myself.”

“I never mentioned anything about being by yourself,” Y/N said. “Do the things you enjoy doing but invite someone along.”

Azriel looked down at her, his eyes calculating before his shoulders slumped. “It’s difficult. Every conversation I have with my family now is all about their family. I just feel so…behind.”

Saying exactly what he was feeling aloud made everything real but at the same time lifted a small amount of the weight on his shoulders.

“It’s okay to be behind, you have a long life Azriel. You don’t need to catch up with your family, you can take things at your own pace,” Y/N said, toying with a carrot shaving.

“Y/N, I am nearly five hundred and fifty years old,” Azriel said. “If I was destined to have a family, surely I would have been blessed with one by now.”

Y/N shrugged. “I am four hundred and ninety eight. If I were destined to have a family, surely I would have one by now. It doesn’t matter when you begin your family, Azriel. What matters is that you are ready to start it with the right person.”

“You’ve never found that person?” Azriel found himself asking.

Y/N shook her head. “I thought I did. It was a long time ago now but he was from the Winter Court and I was in love with him and he was in love with me.”

“What happened?” Azriel asked.

“We grew apart,” Y/N replied. “He was part of the Winter Court’s army and was constantly busy with his duties where we would have no time to see one another. We still loved one another but we weren’t in love with one another. It ended amicably, I was even invited to his wedding. When I saw them, that was the love that he deserved, not the surface level love I was offering.”

“What about you? I guess you haven’t found that person either?” Y/N questioned.

Azriel thought of Elain. “I thought I did too. But we were not compatible at all. After the initial…lust passed, we were left with stale conversation. She is a great friend now, though. There has been no one since.”

“There’s another thing,” Y/N said.

“Another what?”

“Thing we have in common,” Y/N responded and shuffled over to the other side of the kitchen and poured glasses of wine out and passed one to Azriel. “To our loveless lives.”

Azriel huffed out a laugh and clinked his glass against hers. “To our loveless lives.”

Taglist:

@justdreamstars @naturakaashi @thesunloveschips @hijabi-desi-bookworm @mischiefmanagers @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @ithan-holstroms-girl @meshellexplosionmurder @nightcourt-daydreaming @brujitafantomarico @qinfeii @pinksmellslikelove @schultzlindsey5 @mell-bell @we-were-beautiful @fightmedraco @glitterypirateduck @lostinpages13 @actuallyacerrr @poetryinshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @topaz125 @acourtofbatboydreams @luvmoo @daily-dose-of-sass @applerubyy @tonysttank @just-a-social-casualty-1 @scatteredstardustt @samaxraph99 @i-m-in-loki-s-army @katlyndawn51 @skyesayshi @iamjimintrash @reverieinthestars @witchymomfrien @oliviajdjarin @tele86 @sfhsgrad-blog

- strike through could not be tagged -

#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fluff

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jinkookspencil · 10 months

Text

a way to wake | ksj

you're fast asleep and seokjin has to wake you up... an old method he used on his friend eventually comes to mind

description/tags/note: seokijn drabble / fluff + suggestive / established relationship / i had this idea in my head for a while, ever since i found out how jin used to wake up jungkook when they were younger... and i ended up writing the whole thing while stuck in traffic on a random afternoon / i am actively working on til you make it 2 whenever i have the time! i'm glad i took my time with it, i improved it in all this time and am still thinking of ways to improve it little by little / also, i often get ideas or scenarios in my head that could be mini pieces, not even a drabble - some are barely even 500 words. would you guys be interested in stuff like that? lmk!! / anyways, enjoy!! / edit: i edited this fic to make it even more suggestive. they both hint at yn wanting jin to wake her up by touching her.

wc: ~1.3k words

Seokjin didn’t have it in him. You were sleeping so peacefully beside him, as you had through all seven of your alarms, likely finally getting in a good rest after many sleepless nights… and he had to disturb it?

He knew he didn’t really have a choice - you were already running late. It wasn’t going to be a problem for Seokjin really, after you both showered, it’d only take him a couple more minutes at most to change into his suit. You, on the other hand, always needed some extra time to get ready, and that ‘extra’ time was getting shorter and shorter the more he let you sleep.

You’d want him to wake you up, he knew that for certain, as well as the fact that you would probably scold him as well as yourself for your sleeping in. That reminder is what finally got him to nudge and rub your shoulder.

“Jagiya?”

He repeats the action numerous times, raising the volume of his voice every time, but still, you slept.

“Honey,” he calls with a laugh, tickling your side, belly, and thigh. Your elbow twitches once, but never again despite him repeating the action over and over again. “We need to leave soon. You need to wake up now, darling.”

Nothing.

He gets up to pull open a bit of the curtains, letting sunlight stream in and disrupt the darkness of your bedroom.

Still, nothing.

Frustrated now, Seokjin pulls out his phone and quickly takes a photo of you sleeping - just for himself - before opening up the music app. He plays clips of several songs, and all you do is wince, sleeping through them as you did your alarms.

“Are you faking it?” he asks aloud to your sleeping body. “Jagi… if you’re faking sleep, I swear I won’t eat you out tonight. I’m serious.”

Nothing.

That definitely would’ve done it if you were faking sleep. Really, you had no reason to fake it - you'd panic at the mere thought of running late - but Seokjin couldn’t eliminate the possibility entirely. You could be a bit of a brat at times.

He half considers physically pulling you out of bed, throwing a plushie at you, or emptying a water bottle on you, until he remembers a failsafe. A way that couldn’t hurt you like manhandling could, nor anger you with wet pajamas and sheets.

Jungkook’s way.

Seokjin giggles to himself at the thought. He had never tried it on any of his exes in the past, just Jungkook, really. It wasn't uncommon for boys to do such a thing at that age, especially when they were playfully roughhousing, which, with Jungkook, happened every day and at any time of day. Seokjin always had the edge by starting off Jungkook's days just like that - it always did the trick... And considering the other similarities you shared with Seokjin's younger friend, it wasn’t something to dismiss entirely.

Slowly, he turns you until you’re lying entirely on your back against the mattress, facing the ceiling with shut eyes. He moves from his position next to you until he’s over you, straddling your body with a knee planted on either side of your hips. He never took on this position with Jungkook of course, and almost started regretting it already - you felt too good.

“Jagi,” he whispers, pulling away the blanket from your body and letting his hand graze the skin at your collarbone and your stomach by the hem of your pajama top. He kisses your neck once, calling your name. It was the final chance he'd give you before he’d pull the trigger.

And you didn’t budge.

He sighs in defeat, not holding back his smile any longer when he sees your hardened nipples peak through the thin fabric of your top. Ready. Just for him.

With his index finger and thumb on both hands, Seokjin pinches and fiddles with your raised buds for mere seconds before you shoot up, finally awake.

“Wh?! W..what the fuck?! Jin!” you yell, wriggling underneath your fiancé’s body as he laughs, tumbling over you.

“I can’t believe that worked,” he says between his giggles, stopping only when you lazily reach towards his chest. “YA! I only did that to wake you up. You slept through your alarms, bub. We’re running late.”

“WHAT?!” you yell, pushing him off of you and hurriedly searching for your phone. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?

“I TRIED!” he protests, getting off the bed. “You slept like a rock. Who knew squeezing your nipples would finally do it? It’s what I used to do to Jungkook when we shared a dorm. Though, of course, I used to twist his nipples to the point where he was certain I detached them from his body somehow. I tried handling you with care, princess.”

“Couldn’t you have used your fingers somewhere else, Seokjin? A bit lower perhaps? You know, something Jungkook doesn’t have? Something you could only possibly do with your girlfriend?”

Seokjin stares at you. Despite the fact that you’d looked delectable asleep and under him already, the thought never occurred to him. Of course the thought wouldn’t occur to him. This wasn’t a conversation you had had together and he hadn’t gotten your consent or any hint that it’d be something you would want. Unless of course, he had been the reason you refused to wake up… Seokjin’s mind wanders with a desperate need within him to have the conversation then and there, knowingly unprepared if you’d admitted to it all. Wanting to be woken up that way. A dream, perhaps. They might have just forget the event altogether…

He begins following you around the room with pleas for a moment to talk, but you don’t turn back for a second until it is to do the exact opposite of handling him with care - dragging and pushing him into the bathroom.

Seokjin watches as you undress, doing the same and half hoping for a quickie, considering your eagerness. He almost felt his length begin to harden, but soon you’re pushing him once more, into the tepid shower with a loofah in hand. He tries to put his thought away for now, caring for your body in another way he felt so privileged to do. To maximize efficiency, you wash yourselves and one another before going about your routines at double the pace. Seokjin’s entirely dressed in minutes, save for his suit jacket, while you were still getting ready, wearing a lingerie set underneath a robe. Extra time for you, and extra time for him to admire you.

“Help me with my dress,” you command him, stepping into a dress he promptly zips up, but not before he drinks up the sight of you in brown silk and lace underneath. Stood behind you, he watches as you adorn yourself with jewelry but can’t stop his hand from snaking over your waist, softly cupping your breasts over the fabric of your dress. You don’t react save for a sharp inhale, continuing to adorn your look. You’re so stunning it almost brings him to his knees. He’d happily allow his body to get there, too, kneeling to tease you at the very least and at most, sneaking his head underneath your dress and pulling down your underwear - just for a taste. But instead, he nudges his head in the crook of your neck - softly kissing along the chain of your necklace. “Tell me, honey… were you dreaming of me? Is that why you didn’t want to wake up?”

You roll your eyes, playfully swatting Seokjin’s hand on your waist, his fake arrogance replaced with a wide smile in seconds. “We need to leave.”

“I made a promise,” Seokjin says, wearing his jacket. “While you were asleep. I made a promise.”

“Oh?” you question, spraying perfume on the two of you. The final touch.

“I said that if you were faking sleeping through your alarms, I wouldn’t eat you out tonight.”

The promise makes you stop in your tracks towards the front door, Seokjin getting there first with an intrigued expression on his face when he looks back. “Since you weren’t faking it, that means I have to do it. And since you slept through the many different ways I tried waking you up… I guess it seems I gotta get you to do something else.... gotta get you somewhere.... many different ways tonight…. Oh, and of course, you won't be faking it this time around as well.”

He’s unsure if the redness in your cheeks is heat flooding your system or makeup he simply hadn’t noticed a minute prior. As you make your way towards your fiancee, you see smugness only slightly present on his face, overshadowed by sincerity - that of a genuine promise. Your hands fiddle with Seokjin’s tie before resting on his chest.

“I didn’t realize dreams could manifest into reality that quickly.”

“I knew it,” Seokjin smiles, kissing your hand as his ears go red. The idea of you actually having a wet dream about him this long into your relationship… the fact that you’d dream of him and his body pleasuring yours, after only hours apart in sleep… it sent him into a frenzy.

“I mean, I know I’ll hear it tonight, but I kind of wish you’d been moaning my name in your sleep…”

“Well, you didn’t see my pajama shorts, did you?,” you whisper, flicking Seokjin’s nipple over his shirt. He winces but is quick to disregard the pain - his face flushed, and he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands, trying to reach for your waist, thigh, or ass - you push him away.

“It was a very vivid dream, honey. Don’t you worry… I’ll tell you all the many different ways I want it. The ways you did it… And tomorrow, wake me up like it never ended.”

There it was.

“Can we stay in? We’re late already,” Seokjin whines. “We can get a head start. Morning to morning…” He feeling his knees buckling at the thought, slowly trying to pull you closer to him in persuasion. You don’t budge and open the door instead.

“You know we can’t…. Now’s your time to dream of me.”

The hunger within him only grew, already fantasising of the of the night to come. Now, he was in competition with himself and he’d make sure your reality is far better than anything you could dream of.

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deebris · 3 months

Text

The Fractured Bonds

Nolan Grayson x daughter reader (platonic!)

Mark Grayson x sister reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: Mark finds himself facing an unexpected threat to his family when Angstrom Levy decides to hold his mother and sister hostage. Despite the family turmoil they've endured and Nolan's departure, he returns to rescue his daughter.

Warnings: Contains scenes of violence, emotional distress and it mentions that the reader was murdered in other realities. The reader is 5 years old. This is just an idea I had a long time ago and kept it stored. This scenario was inspired by Chapter 33 of the "Invincible" comics in portuguese.

Word count: 3.6k

As soon as Mark flew into the house through the window, his heart stopped when he saw you and his mother clinging to each other, as if your lives depended on that embrace. When Eve told him that Debbie had called, but the voice on the phone was a man's, he couldn't help but rush back to you two and imagine that something was wrong, and indeed it was.

At first, he ignored the hideous figure holding you both hostage, but made a point to glare at him with hatred now. His head was larger than that of an ordinary person and the shape of his brain was imprinted around the skull; moreover, the expression on the stranger's face was manic and as furious as Mark's, but there was a kind of excitement shining through.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Your brother's voice was deeper than usual; an attempt to sound more authoritative and intimidating.

"He wanted me to bring you here..." Debbie suddenly began to speak "I-I didn't know where you were. I remembered that Eve had called, I thought maybe she knew." Her voice was faltering, full of pauses between words due to nervousness. And it was while his mother was speaking that Mark noticed her bruised face, with a bleeding nose and purple patches on her arms as she held your small body as protected as possible.

You seemed to be in better physical condition than her, but your injured knee did not go unnoticed, as a thin trail of blood had formed around your calf. In an adult, the wound wouldn't have been a big deal, but your delicate skin stung with the cut, and he knew it hurt because of your sniffles. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do. H-he hurt me, he was going to hurt my baby." She said the last part with regret, referring to you, while holding you closer and running her fingers through your hair.

"In fact, I think your son was talking to me." Interrupting his mother, finally that man had spoken, and his tone was cynical, too unconcerned for the taste of the furious Mark glaring at him. As if that weren't enough, he dared to touch Debbie's shoulder, acting as if he had every right to do so.

"Let them go now." Mark ordered him with dangerously calm voice, although the expression on his face was one of pure disgust.

"Not yet." He opened a diabolical smile as he began his ridiculous speech: "I've learned a lot about you, Mark Grayson. Many things. I know how violent you can get when you're angry, like now..." He paused dramatically, as if he needed to emphasize what he was about to say next, and it was only irritating Mark's impatient. "I know you got it from your father."

The scowl on Mark's face deepened as you tried to peek out from your mother's arms to try to understand what was going on, but she pulled you closer to her embrace. "Stay here with mommy, sweetheart."

Both she and your brother hadn't had the courage to tell you what had happened to Nolan; you were still too young, maybe you wouldn't even understand. They both spent the last few months avoiding mentioning your father at home, and when they did, it was in whispers so that you wouldn't start asking questions they wouldn't know how to answer. No child should know that their own father was a superhero killer, let alone that he had abandoned his own family out of sheer moral caprice.

"Did you know that your identity is public in almost forty percent of the realities where you exist, Mark?" The villain continued his taunts, wanting to get to some point. "That's almost half. And that means you're careless."

"Get to the point already." Mark asked, or rather demanded. If this continued, he was sure he would snap. This dialogue was irritating him, but as long as his mother and sister were witnessing everything, he would need to hold himself together until he found a way to get him away from here.

"You see this?" He pointed to himself, referring to his own appearance "I'm a freak... A deformed freak. So I guess it's understandable that you don't recognize me." Then he wrapped you and your mother around his arm in threat, and the grip was painful. "When you saw me before, when you did this to me, I looked much more normal!"

"Oh, god... You're that guy." Realization struck him, widening his eyes as he remembered the past.

"That guy? Is that all you remember of me? That I was that guy?" If that man's temperament was bad before, now it must have risen about twenty degrees with the lack of importance his sworn enemy had given him. "I'm Angstrom Levy! The next time you forget my name, it will be because you'll be dead!"

He was certainly furious, pouring out hatred and continuing to blame Mark for interrupting his inter-dimensional goals, blaming him for his current deformed appearance, repeating that he would always be a freak, even though he had sought out the best surgeons to reconstruct his shattered body.

"The greatest minds in a dozen realities couldn't find a way to fix my brain!" His hands clenched into heavy, tense fists, ready to crush something "And it's all because of you!"

After that, he exploded and everything happened too quickly for Debbie to stop him, and even if she were quick, she wouldn't have had the strength. In moments, you were ripped from your mother, who had taken a punch to the face. Levy held you and stretched one of your arms with the free hand. You hadn't acquired powers yet and were nothing but a child; you couldn't defend yourself alone.

Mark took a step forward, but Levy raised your arm in a strange position, ready to break it. You cried and sobbed desperately due to the intense pain. "Mommy, make him stop! Mark!" You pleaded as he twisted your arm, and irrationally shouted for your brother repeatedly, seeking someone who could come to your rescue.

"Let her go!" Mark was no longer the Invincible, even in his superhero costume. He was just a man trying to protect his family, and he felt so useless and powerless that it was agonizing. Without thinking, he lunged at the hideous villain in front of him, ready to confront him in physical combat at that very moment.

"That's right. I'm right here. Come get me!" And he did, but Mark was taken aback to find himself in a completely strange place. He was no longer in his home; Angstrom Levy had sent him through one of his portals to another dimension.

He watched in shock the weird jungle he found himself in, with mutant dinosaur-like creatures devouring the carcass of another beast as large as they were right beside him. The animals noticed Mark, and suddenly they... Spoke? He heard the beasts mention that it had been a long time since they had seen any Homo Sapiens, obsessed with devouring him. Apparently, he was in some apocalyptic dimension where humans had been extinct by these beasts. He could have ended these animals in seconds, but still couldn't help but feel fear, not for himself, but for you. How would he return to help you?

At home, Debbie had to plead with Levy to return you to her, and with some pity for your cries after he broke the arm, he returned you, allowing you to be comforted by your mother. But he kept you two close to him, with a firm grip on the older woman's shoulder, so he could use you against Mark at any moment.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay," she repeated comforting words as she wiped away your tears and rubbed your back gently. Debbie had seen and heard of many cruel villains thanks to her life as the wife of a "hero," but how insensitive would a human being need to be to break a 5-year-old's arm like this? Of course, she knew that even more horrendous things had happened to children in this world, but you were her daughter, and it hit her deeply.

Debbie felt you faint in her lap and panicked. She shouldn't have shaken you the way she did, but in the midst of desperation, the last thing she wanted was to see you silent, with your eyes closed. You passed out from the pain. It's normal, she's aware of that, but it was still terrifying. She was only taken out of her stupor when she heard his disgusting voice again:

"I can't believe you're going to lie to her like that." He drew attention to himself. "What kind of mother are you? How can you say that to her? You're not sure about that." Debbie ignored him, and he took it as a challenge. "I bet you're not even listening to me. Blocking me from your mind, aren't you?" He insisted. "Are you sure you don't want to talk? I could use your company."

He tried once more, but still received no response from the woman. Levy shifted his gaze from Debbie to carefully observe you. He knew the pain must be intense; he should have given up injuring you as soon as Mark passed through the portal, but he preferred to do it as a reminder. A warning for when his brother returned. If he returned. "Let's check on your son. Let's see how well Mark managed to survive this reality."

Extending his hands to summon a portal that glowed green, a figure in his yellow superhero uniform passed through the colorful circle.

"You were going to hurt my sister?" The boy shouted as soon as he saw he was back home, numb with a sense of vengeance.

"Not only was I going to, but I did." The statement made Mark's blood run cold.

"Mark?" Debbie called him desperately to show your state. She couldn't bear to see you suffer. Mark held his mother's gaze, interrupting only to finally notice you, who were motionless. Your arm was in such a unusual and swollen position. Your face, which was once red from crying, now had turned pale, and if it weren't for your shallow breathing, he would have thought you were dead.

"What have you done?" He asked furiously.

Levy made no move to respond, taking you from Debbie's arms once again. "No! Let go of my daughter!" She shouted angrily, completely abandoning her earlier fearful expression. She refused to allow that horrendous creature to take you away from her a second time. Debbie had felt how cold and clammy your skin was, and the more she looked at you, the paler your face became.

"Welcome back, Mark Grayson." Levy said after observing the hysterical scene of the woman beside him unfold with some indifference. "Your little sister here is really cute; I personally adore this chubby face of hers." Mark's throat tightened at the sight of you in the arms of that despicable man, scared with force, and seeing his broken mother in the corner of the bed only made his heart beat harder. "You know, I've encountered her in other realities." His tone was perverse, too cynical. "But unfortunately, those versions of her didn't get to advance much in age compared to this one. Isn't that interesting?"

"You bastard!" It didn't take much intelligence to understand what he meant, and it made Mark's nostrils flare with fury.

"That also makes me wonder what must have happened differently for her to survive longer in this dimension." Debbie moved from where she was on the bed and carefully reached for the bedside lampshade while Angstrom Levy was distracted, but a brief glance at her son made her abandon the idea. Mark discreetly shook his head negatively, implying that she shouldn't do that. "Or maybe I am the trigger for this event here," he pointed out with a smile.

"If you hurt her more, I swear-" Mark said with hatred and tense body, but he was interrupted.

"What? You'll kill me? Of course, you will." The villain stared at him seriously, with some skepticism. "Don't worry. However, her well-being really only depends on you. After all, it was you who let Anissa kill her once, and Conquest, and Thragg... Although the latter was more your father's fault," he stated matter-of-factly while scratching his chin.

He seemed like had finished speaking, but decided that the hero needed to hear more upon seeing the boy's shocked face at the mention of those peculiar names, yours assassins, curiously, all Viltrumites. Levy wasn't sure if Mark was already aware of these people, but what really mattered to him was to disturb the boy. "But it's you whom I want to hurt. I want to hurt you so, so much... Your little sister is very safe, as long as I determine that the only way to hurt you is by hurting her."

Then suddenly he lifted your unconscious body in his arms as he prepared to throw you into a portal. Debbie's heart was in combustion, beating faster than ever as she suppressed a scream. But your brother's temper finally snapped, completely determined to kill him once and for all.

Mark moved forward to stop him, but within seconds, the roof of the house was pierced and him felt something, or rather, someone push him away. He couldn't see much, but he followed his mother's pleas and embraced her, protecting her from the wreckage. His throat tightened at not seeing you, not knowing what was happening, but soon part of the dust began to settle.

Struggling a bit, the boy managed to see his father's back, apparently holding the man, who moments ago was about to send you away, in the air by the neck. He relaxed a little more when he saw traces of his hair resting on Nolan's broad shoulder, finally free from the dangerous clutches. Despite the disturbing events regarding his father, Mark knew he wouldn't let anyone harm you under his protection.

Levy felt himself losing breath, his brain throbbing from the blow he received from a piece of wood fallen from the ceiling. An intense pain hit him as Omni-Man began to bash his head repeatedly against the wall. His skull was now partly mashed into the concrete, and the red liquid that was his blood flowed to the ground.

"If my left fist weren't busy, I'd make you suffer much more," Nolan's thunderous and deep voice sounded intimidatingly throughout the room. "Despicable trash like you should keep your filthy hands to yourself."

Nolan struck one last time as he whispered in a chilling whisper the last words that man would hear before having his skull pushed against the wall slowly, until it crushed like gelatin: "I'll ensure that every version of you that dares to appear here on this Earth, or anywhere in this Universe, has a slow and painful death before laying a finger on my daughter again."

And as the Viltrumite increased the grip on Levy's neck and continued pressing his head against the wall, it seemed like his eyes were about to pop out. The skin that was once brown now split between purple and pink in some spots due to the continuous pressure while him was dying.

Observing the man coldly, Nolan withdrew his hand and took care not to stain you with the blood dripping from his fingers, portraying a much gentler grimace as he observed your sleeping figure. He always found it adorable to see how incredibly tiny you looked in his arms, It awakened an intense feeling of protection. But upon noticing that you were injured, his eyebrows furrowed, carefully examining your broken arm while wondering how Mark had let this happen.

"Father, what-" Mark broke free from his mother, finally finding words amidst the shock, but was interrupted.

"Your sister needs to go to the hospital." His voice was distant, almost emotionless, successfully masking the concern.

Debbie honestly wasn't ready to face the man she had been deceived by so soon, but she couldn't care less when the only thing she had wanted for hours was just to keep you safe and close to her. She avoided his eyes as she anxiously waited for an opportunity to have you back in her arms, and her ex-husband seemed to have noticed. As hesitant as he was, he walked over to her carefully, avoiding showing a more human side of himself to his family, but also not being hostile in his gestures. He surrendered to the act and pressed his lips to one of her temples before putting you in her arms.

"Take good care of her." He stared at his son with some severity. "I can't always be here, I'm entrusting her life to you, Mark."

The boy looked at him with some indignation, as if his father doubted that he would do everything to protect you, but he knew he had been too careless, as Angstrom Levy said he was. Even though he had the strength to defend his little sister, he still found himself vulnerable tonight, almost incapable.

"You don't need to ask for that." Mark was firm, and Nolan nodded satisfactorily. He thought about saying something more, even though he didn't understand why, the last thing he should want is to speak to his father again. Perhaps it was to unload the disgust he still felt, but the health of both of you was a more important matter to him now.

"Go away." Debbie's voice surprised them. She was obviously defeated, too tired for all this, but still found the energy to stand while holding you. "It was the necklace, wasn't it? Are you spying on us?"

Nolan's gaze was hard, trying to hide how his ex-wife's contempt affected him. The months of bitterness he spent in space had changed his demeanor a bit, but he thought it would be less painful for both of them not to hear his regret after all the harm he had caused. He didn't consider himself worthy of his family's pity, although now they considered him a stranger. He knew that Mark and Debbie still harbored a monstrous image of the person he was, and perhaps he really was.

"Aren't you going to admit it?" She asked him again with indignation, seeing that the man didn't make a single move to leave.

The object she referred to was a gift from both of them to you, or rather, from Nolan. He was the one who had the idea of putting the necklace around your neck with the excuse of keeping you safe. He wanted to know where you were and who you were talking to, and the way he found to do that was by projecting this piece with the help of his planet's technology. "I hope every time you hear this little girl mention your name, you wriggle with remorse and agony, if you still have any kind of heart. You were better off away."

She still remembers when he told you: 'Whenever you want to talk to me, just hold your necklace close. That way I'll always be with you.' At the time, it was something so beautiful, something they hadn't thought of doing with Mark, but now it could be different. In your childish mind, it was as if it were magical and a piece of your father would really be with you all the time. But now it stirred disgust in her, she wanted to destroy it.

"Don't take it off, Debbie. Please." Nolan's imposing voice had become softer, almost frightened, and he had finally shown some kind of weakness after so long. "Please." He repeated the plea.

"Mom, maybe it's a good idea to let her keep wearing it. At least sometimes." Mark interfered not for his father, but thinking of you. If Nolan had been able to appear today to save you, he could come to your rescue more often, although the idea of you being in danger again gave him chills.

Debbie hesitated, giving up tearing the necklace off your neck. Knowing that Nolan would be able to experience their day-to-day life bothered her, but she would deal with it later, remembering that you needed medical care. She was very hurt, but her own condition didn't matter to herself as long as she saw you awake and well again. "Mark. Hospital." she announced hurriedly ignoring the fourth person in the room and the bloody scene beside her.

Nolan sighed in relief for a moment, looking one last time at you and Mark, ashamed, but adopting the stone-cold expression he had previously. "Mark, don't let her take it off." He didn't want to sound like that, but the tone of his voice carried a threat. The boy cared little about giving him any kind of response, returning a grim expression to his father as he departed at a thunderous speed through the now-open roof, just as he had come, raising the dust once again.

"Let's go," Mark said gently to his mother, lifting her delicately since you were in her arms.

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