#hell everything was good i was just too blind to appreciate it

[somewhereincairparavel]

The fandom's bias and tendency to wanting to agressively associate EVERYTHING with Percy and getting upset when a character isn't associated with him really taints their view on actually significant relationships, and it ruins Percy's canon character tbh.

I came across a video edit appreciating Jason and Nico's friendship, and the comments were just filled with people raging on how Percy should've been included instead of Jason because he was "much closer friends" to Nico than Jason was. It's appalling how much ppl can turn to a blind eye when it comes to Jason.

People hate Jason SO much in this fandom that they literally refuse to admit that Nico canonically considered Jason as his first ever friend, not Percy (this is literally said in Tower of Nero, by the way)

You guys are seriously so hell bent on wanting to take away every little thing jason had that makes his character meaningful, simple to give it to percy when it isn't even necessary. Doesn't percy have enough good characterization already? Why deprive Nico of a genuinely good friendship? Jason spent time and effort to make Nico comfortable and succeeded in earning nicos trust. He taught nico to never push people away and not to be ashamed of being himself, Isn't that beautiful? Why do people get salty abt that so much? Because of course, it's about appreciating Jason for once, and not Percy, isn't that it?

My perspective on Percy and Nico is that, they were never really "close" to begin with and never ended up being close either, and that's okay. Percy tried his very best to be a brother to Nico, but they somehow always had tension with eachother because of Nico's internal turmoil of idolizing and crushing on Percy whilst simultaneously associating him with Bianca.

Sure, they talked it out a little in the end, but I'd like to think that some tension would always be there, because they started off at the wrong foot, and there was too much bitterness and resentment to come in their dynamic. And them never actually being close "brothers" makes their dynamic very significant and authentic. In the end, Nico acknowledged that Percy was a good person, and I like to think that's the farthest they've ever gone in their dynamic. They both are on amicable terms but the awkwardness still being there is very realistic, the weight of Bianca's death would always be associated with Percy to Nico, and it's neither of their faults. That adds SO much to their angsty dynamic, why get so upset about it when it's such an integral, and meaningful part of the story? Nico and Percy not being close friends shows how complex character relationships can be.

Percy doesn't have to be close with everyone just because he's the main character, it really deprives him of actually meaningful connections. The fandom forcing him to be buddy buddy with everyone simply because they HAVE to associate Percy with anyone and everyone, and getting angry that Jason is closer to Nico than Percy is, is just really weird.

Why do people feel SO threatened about Jason all the time that they have to get all defensive and suppress his connections by dragging Percy into videos that doesn't even have to do anything with him? I swear y'all are creating this whole Jason/Percy rivalry thing because you cannot bear to see someone rival Percy, and you want Percy to be the only powerful/good person in the books.

Let other characters befriend eachother without trying to insert Percy in there all the time.

Percy and Nico would never be like Reyna and Nico, or Jason and Nico, and that's completely fine. I like them better that way. You can't be best friends with everyone. That's just how life works.

[delugguk]

Only Mine, Nobody Else's.

pair: jungkook x reader.

genre: stablished relationship, smut, fluff.

word count: 5.4K

warnings: unprotected sex.

summary: there's you, who finds little things like eating perilla leafs as normal. then there's him,who finds such topics as horrendous. for him, this type of convos shouldn't even exist. so who'll win this battle? it's better to find out, now.

a/n: hellooooo here's the alternative version of THIS. finally!! I wrote this the same day I published the first drabble but never got to finish it until now, so I hope you enjoy this hehe. I really love them ㅠㅠ but I'll shut up now and enjoy their cute dynamics 😩 I'm sorry I took toooooo long to post but my irl schedule is kinda ass :( LET ME KNOW YALL REACTIONS!! I do appreciate it 👉🏼👈🏼🥺

everything can happen during dinner but.. let me explain, okay?

when you start a topic.. normally, your smart and super interesting boyfriend rambles around until he can't stop his pretty mouth from moving - not that you complained though, you adore listening to him.

but as interesting as it could be, there was some nights were each topic jumped from fun conversations to.. sudden serious ones.

like tonight.

A new trend has seemed to flow around socials making everyone have these interesting conversations that.. you're not really sure if you vibe with them to be honest - but it is what it is as soon as seho, jungkook's best friend, brings this topic to the table.

and yep, you wanted to chop his balls right in that moment.

you could swear you were having a good time until that moment came. you and jungkook were oblivious to the matter for some reason so when you're having dinner with your friends, this sudden theme really got you out off guard because you just knew how jungkook was gonna get.

"so what is it about?" jungkook asked and now that you think about it, you wished he could just.. not pay attention but.. oh well.

"well, it's basically a question about.. you letting somebody else help your girlfriend separate her perilla leaf-"

"hell nah." jungkook cuts him out of his sentence.

damn.

"wait.." seho's chuckles, "you didn't even let me finish and you're already prohibiting that from happening." finding the situation funny.

you only ironically rolled your eyes with an ironic smile too.

"you make questions knowing well the way he is.." you say but it wasn't annoying.

"what's love if there's not a little spice to it?" he laughs. oh you hated him.

not really. but you know what I mean.

jungkook's just listening until he began to speak with a cocky grin. "do you really think I'll let y/n get feed by another man?" a small scoff of a laugh leaving his mouth, "yeah sure." as he brushes his hair back with both hands.

just laying back on his sofa, casually looking so fine. but this wasn't the time to think about that.

"It doesn't necessarily have to be a man, you know? It's just any other friend." says yoongi.

"whatever, I don't care. I wont allow it."

you chuckle. "mm.. why not?" sounding more curious, but you really wanted to know why he is so against it. "I don't see nothing wrong about sharing food?"

"not this way??"

"exactly?" seho's following just after jungkook.

"you, shut up." you point at seho. - now looking back at jungkook, "what do you mean 'this way'?"

"mm.. babe, this isn't just something you can share, you know?"

"but.. why not?"

both him and seho sigh. but just before they could talk, luckily, the theme dies as soon as yoongi successfully changes the topic to some stupid funny video he saw these days.

the fact that seho knows about jungkook's possessive/jealous behaviours makes this worst. they're like best friends, for god's sake.

after that little moment, not even a single wrinkle of happiness painted on your boyfriend's face but a slight eyebrow furrowing instead and it's just that his reaction to the matter was... priceless.

jungkook had so much to say but so little to think.. completely blinded by the thought of someone feeding his girl, this obviously wasn't going to end here.

..and you both knew it.

when you arrive to your apartment, jungkook didn't wasted any time to continue your conversation and it's just that.. he was so predictable sometimes, or maybe you knew him too well.

"what did you meant about that?" his voice sounds genuinely curious when he closes the door behind you.

"about.. what?" taking off your jacket as you respond, he smacks his lips in annoyance.

"you know what I'm talking aboutㅡ bam, hi" voice suddenly changing into a whisper-y cute tone when he kneels down to kiss his son.

"..hm?" and as he gets up, he takes your hand leading into the living room.

he seats first. tattooed hand giving little soft but strong palms at the other side of the sofa when he motions you to seat beside him.

when you cross your legs, you give yourself just the perfect enough space between him and you just so you don’t get any other contact with his dangerous body 'cause right now this wasn't your sweet, sweet boyfriend at his best. - not that he’ll do something bad to you, but because you were very weak when it came to having him close..

"are we.. really having this conversation?”

blinking many times as if it wasn't obvious, "uh.. yeah??" he answers.

you sigh. "okay." pausing, "shoot."

"do you really not care?"

"about what? food?"

he glances at you.

you exhale. "It's not that I don't care. It's more of me.. thinking it's not that serious."

his mouth drops into a little gasp. "how isn't it that serious? my friend could easily be feeding you.. you."

"so?"

"so???" he feels so offended. "are you really-"

"no, okay, wait. I do care about that. I dont agree about them feeding me. I don't like that either.. what the hell." you confirm because you realize. "what I'm trying to say is, they won't be feeding me."

"how?"

"because they will just help me separate the leafs, silly. they don't necessarily have to give them in my mouth?"

"but most people do. unconsciously."

"you do?"

"yes. and I think you can tell. I always do it with you."

"but that's because we're dating.."

"it's because I like you. romantically, silly." he flicks your head, making you blink.

"of course, so that makes sense!" you say. "I don't think a random friend will-- wait, friends can also do it if they like you.. as a friend?"

"uh-uh” he nods his head. “that doesn't exist when it comes to this food."

"what's so different about this?"

"you really don't know, huh?"

nodding your head, you shrink your shoulders as you keep silent for a few seconds and he crosses both his arms looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“what?” you playfully exclaimed as you’re also confused but jungkook just pushes his hair back once again, taking a big breather followed with an exhale. “babe," you continue, hands cupping his face. “tell me.” as your face gets closer, eyes trying to read his.

"they could touch your lips with the tip of his fingers." he says. big pupils staring at your lips when he’s soon piercing your gaze.

you do notice. butterflies in your stomach, god.

“no, they won't."

"yes they will and I can't let that happen."

you sigh. "babe, is not that big of a deal. you act as if that will make me fall in love with them.” then you pause to say, "which, it would never happen, by the way."

"but you could."

"no, I won't." you affirm.

"yes? you would." but he keeps being stubborn..

"no? I wouldn't?"

you both pause staring at each other and you roll your eyes.

"I still stand with what I said during dinner though." leaning back on his seat, you’re not longer cupping his face.

"honey, me helping your friend or my friend isn't going to change anything."

"you never know.."

"I think you should stop watching too many dramas. their messing with your little head." you playfully say while softly pulling one of his hair strings.

but he rolls his eyes. "how can you say that?" starting his funny drama. "those things definitely doesn't affect the way I think.." he pauses. "but If that was the case, then they'll be totally right because If it happens in dramas it could happen in real life."

"You're delusional.."

"No I'm not?"

"..and you want me to take you seriously?”

“babe.” jungkook warns, voice sharp.

“okay, okay..” you side smile. “I get it.”

“can you listen to me?”

"always."

"you can't.. you can't still do it for him or anybody that isn't me." he’s serious but his voice is so endearing..

taking a deep breath, you rest one hand against your cheek when you look directly into his eyes. "why though?"

"because I say so."

"mm… that still don’t help."

"yeah, it does."

"you can't just give me that answer as your reason why?"

"just did."

you lightly punch his shoulder. "jungkook!"

he laughs.

“you’re being childish right now.” you fake cry.

"okay, okay.." breathing, he goes back to being serious. "either way you still can't help."

rolling your eyes for the 281 time, you annoyingly respond with, "are you going to keep saying that?" pausing. "like is this about you thinking that's how I'll end up falling in love with somebody else? or… what?”

"mm.. yeah?" he's sarcastic. "Isn't it obvious?"

"how is it obvious?" you frown your eyebrows.

"because he'll give you one perilla leaf and you know how.. when somebody can't separate them, sometimes there's have to be another person to help, right?" he breathes as you nod. "well.. that person is, of course, you!" he argues, "and that could make you end up holding hands with him!”

"I- what?" he's unbelievable.

“as soon as I blink!" he continues - pointing at his eyes. "he has already taking you away from me!"

your reaction is.. well, you don’t even know how to react as he says all of this. only thing that could leave your mouth was, "jungkook.. you can't be serious now.."

"well I am?" he’s all pouty and annoying but you needed to make him understand your point of view and that’s all you think when his hands are lightly hitting his own thighs in frustration.

"well, that's ridiculous." now you’re the one leaning back into your side of the sofa.

"It is not?!"

"It is, and it doesn't even makes sense. I won't hold somebody's hand just because they helped me?" you blink several times as something that’s so obvious.

"but- how can you say that? this does makes sense and it can totally happen!"

then pausing, you decide to tease him instead even though you’re still serious. “are you, perhaps.. talking by experience? ..and that's why you're saying this to me?"

"no!” hands brushing his own face in frustration. "that's not why I'm saying this."

"then why you get so mad about it? It doesn't make sense to me. explain how it works because I do not understand and believe me when I say I'm having a hard time trying to." giving up, you give him a good opportunity to make you understand his point of view in full detail but that’s only if he want it though. you weren’t going to force him to do anything.

he was clear of it.

as soon as you said that, jungkook takes a short time of silence to think. rubbing his chin, rubbing his face.. you can clearly see he's really making up his mind for the way he keeps zooming out into his complex mind.

that could be pretty sometimes.

"let’s say.." he quickly nibbles his lip ring as his dimples slightly pronounce more and that's when you confirm for the second time that he wants to make this right. "..you have a friend, a girl friend.” you nod as he speaks. “and she needs help to separate all of her perilla leafs.."

"Aha.." you slowly nod your head.

"would you like it if I help? It'll take a lot of time.." his eyes feel so heavy looking at yours like he really wants you to say what he think is the right answer..

"..yes?"

but your answer is still very.. unbothered and that makes jungkook open his mouth with both hands on his head in a dramatic manner.

"yes???" he’s back to being exalted. “that’s really your answer?” he chuckles but it’s not even a friendly one. more of a sarcastic one.

“I mean.. what do you want me to say?! I just think it’s normal?”

“n-normal?” and there’s that sarcastic grin all over again. “why.”

"because.. it's just food?"

he covers his face in disbelief. "but I'm the one giving it to them.." he pauses. "Isn't it like if I was deeply caring for them? that's why it's wrong! It can look bad."

"not for me.." you look around.

he sighs for the 10th time smacking his lips as he reveals, "babe, you can't help others with perilla leafs because it'll look like you have second intentions with them."

"who said that?" now you're the one rolling your eyes.

jungkook sighs, rubbing his eyes. "it’s something to flirt about.”

“flirt?”

“yeah." he leans his body a little closer to yours, staring at your eyes almost intensely. you felt tension. not a bad one necessarily.

"have you done that?" genuine question.

"no!" he whines with the same pout on his lips. "why do you keep asking me this?”

“genuinely curious.. and you’re saying a lot of things.” you say.

he rolls his eyes. “I know a lot of people that do it..”

“how?”

"well.." he takes one of your hands to caress it while he speaks, "you know how hard they are to separate, right?"

"yeah..?"

"you normally will have to lean closer to that person in order to do so." he pauses. eyes piercing at yours when his voice goes two tones down. "people like closeness."

you nervously clear your throat. "ah.. yeah," immediately changing the direction this was taking— "so.. imagine we're eating on a cute restaurant-“ you fix your posture and jungkook only grins to himself. he has made you feel nervous.

he liked that.

“…with a friend, it doesn't matter if it's a woman or man” he nods, paying attention to your words. “and I can't help like you said.."

“aha..?”

“if I’m minding my business in that situation but my friend needs help, does that mean you’ll be the one helping them?”

"of course not." tone? annoyed and very serious.

"why not?"

"because I don't care if it's a woman or man, I shouldn't be helping anybody that isn't you. MY girlfriend."

that kinda made your stomach flip, let's not lie here.

"but then who'll help them eat?"

"nobody."

"jungkook!" you call him out.

but all he does is shrink his broad shoulders. “what? It's easy! nobody helps them! don't they have arms of their own?" he annoyingly responds.

"but that's so ass. it's not like you're giving them food directly into their mouth?!"

"..and? I still don't care! If I say you shouldn't then you shouldn't."

you raise your eyebrows. “okay boss?”

jungkook exhales, “I'm not saying that. but.. it’s just what's obvious? I can't help either and we're dating."

"..and you're possesive."

"I'm not possessive.

"yes, you are."

"okay, maybe a little but I'm not most of the time."

and that makes you laugh for sure. “see how you shamelessly lie to yourself, gosh.”

now he’s the one raising his eyebrows. “lie? do you want to know what’s a real lie?” he questions.

“yes.” you sarcastically smile.

“the fact that I don’t want to fuck for your stupid answers and the way that I hate how my solution to this has to be to fuck you silly.” then he whispers to himself, “fuck.” really wanting that to happen.

you were frozen, didn’t expected him to say all that. he’s surely crazy too because why did he had to say it while having that nasty smile on his face? why.

“then why don’t you act on it?” you tease back.

“because that’s a “lie”. he smirks, “told you I’ll say a real lie.”

“I hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” he smiles but then, goes back to the main theme. “listen to me, doing that.. I just think it’s thoughtful. like you’re clearly showing you deeply care for that person, you know?” then he pouts, “from my point of view.. we should be the only ones helping each other.. nobody else.”

you sigh. “okay.. I see what you mean. but I still think it depends on how you perceive it though.”

“fine, now you’re the one who needs to explain.” he said that with a slightly annoyed tone that made you chuckle.

“I think you keep seeing it as something romantic and that’s why you can’t accept it.”

“..and you think it’s not?”

“if I considered that to be romantic you think I’ll be reacting this way?”

“…no..”

“there’s your answer.” you smile.

"just.." he exhales. "take care of me and me only, yeah?" plastering his forehead against yours, his palms holds your cheeks ever so delicately when he says, "I will not feel comfortable if you take care of others in that manner when you have me. specially me. your boyfriend." voice so soft while pointing at himself and god, does he was really cute sometimes. "…would you like it if I took care of your friends?"

and at that question you take your time to think.

"I think it depends on the person too, jungkook.."

"why?" he responds as he is genuily curious.

"because.. Imagine if the friend we’re eating with needs help with their perilla but let’s say I’ve eaten that many times with them and everything was always fine,” jungkook nods his head as he carefully listens. “..so in this case, since they’re my friend I know them the most right?”

"yeah."

“but they’re asking for help, your help, when I know they could handle themselves just right..”

“I see where this is going..” there’s a little building smile on jungkooks lips.

“me seeing them acting dumb just so you could help them— of course that’ll make me definitely jealous.”

"you see?!" he suddenly raises his voice in excitement. "that's what I'm saying!" smiling brightly at you.

"but I'll be more mad because of you not noticing this person second intentions!" you defend yourself. "and because my friend must know I'm obviously dating you!"

"but see? you'll still get jealous, and this just meansㅡperilla leafs could lean into romance! you basically said it yourself! It's a way of flirting.." he says, looking very triumphant.

and at his reaction, you just roll your eyes smiling through it because you can't help it at this point.

"yeah..whatever!" you rapidly correct yourself in which he laughs. "all I'm saying is.. that I could only get jealous in circumstances like these because then I'll know this friend is obviously shamelessly flirting with you."

"but I wouldn't be falling in love with them." he says.

then suddenly, being caught off guard, you blink. “meaning… that you’ll help?”

"nope, I still wouldn't." he warmly says. "since I can't be comfortable with you doing it, I have to keep on my word. I can't do things that I wouldn't like someone do to me." then he adds, "and I would not fall in love with them, because I love you." he finishes saying when he plays with your fingers and his eyes tenderly lingers at yours.

"but.. you never know." voice small, you shyly say.

"no, I'm clear of it." affirming with a confident side smile. "I only have eyes for you, love." he says, gently grabbing one of your hands to leave a lingering kiss on top of it when your eyes can’t stop looking at his sweet actions. you do adored him so much..

"shit, I can't even look at other girls if it isn't you. I love you too damn much." he then chuckles when your laugh merges with his.

lovey dovey eyes staring at his.. “I love you too..”

with a smile on your lips, he mirrors your face too.

that night you both ended up fall sleep hugging each other on his big sofa. you thought you couldn’t get more comfortable than this.

the other night though..

“should I fuck you? nah… I don’t think you deserve it.”

you must’ve seen this coming. eager times always results into this. mostly when a jealous jungkook was very much present. you couldn’t believe how you were so easily lured into his words but the more you get to know and see the new sides of your boyfriend, the more you fell in love and the more you get turned on by him.

you couldn’t resist him in situations like these and it’s just that a jealous jungkook wasn’t just something you got to see everyday. he is normally pretty chill, but whenever he wasn’t.. oh boy.

…you whine with that. "Jungkook.."

"Jungkook, what? now you wanna beg?" a smug grin paints his lips.

you whine as you try to squeeze your legs.

"mm-uh." he opens your legs once again. "don't even dare to take this view away from me."

"but I'm so wet.."

"I know baby. but I can't fuck you if you keep playing around when I'm so serious." he pauses and gives you a hungry daring stare. "dead serious."

"I won't let anyone else fuck me if it isn't you."

"are you sure about that?"

"one hundred percent."

"No lies?"

"No lies."

and he smiles when a finger slides through your clit up and down teasing on it. "torturing you is like torturing me.." he sighs. "fucking wet." licking his lips. "want to eat you again."

"no," you fake cry still feeling his now, moist fingers. "fuck me. I want you to fuck me."

"is that so?"

"eunggg"

“you will have to keep waiting then.” he smirks before going down on you all over again.

"fuck, I love eating your pussy so much. always so wet and greedy for me." his voice’s raspy when he spits on it, just adding more into your dripping pussy. "I love making a mess out of you." he groans.

his tongue rapidly moves up and down as he adds a certain weight on it that makes you want to scream your lungs out. - making out with your clit, one finger slides caressing your folds very teasingly.

"jungkook.." you cry.

"what, baby?" he lowly breathes, eating your cunt still. just this time looking up at you.

when you look down the sight is just so fucking hot. your hands hold onto his hair as he gives you those puppy but very dominant eyes. he loves teasing you like this. he knows how much you love when he treats you like this.

"babe.." your hips thrust into his mouth. as you expose your neck to him.

jungkook leaves a slow kiss into your clit very sensually. "fuck.." he sighs as your arousal mixed with his saliva, dripped down your ass. your pussy pulsating and clenching like crazy. "what do you want?" voice raspy.

"fucking make me cum, babe. please" you whine, trying to touch your clit with your fingers the moment jungkook stopped eating you. - he takes his hands off you.

"not yet baby.. can't let you cum just yet." he sensually and very much needy bites his lower lip. piercing just shining. him very full of desire, just wanted to slide his hard dick along your wet folds. he wanting to feel you coating his length. make a mess out of you, make you beg for him to get fucked - to want him to destroy you. he wanted you to be left thinking about him only, to let you know how you were his and his only even though he was pretty sure he couldn't claim a person, neither you. but he still very much wanted to. he wanted you to scream you were his and his only. he wanted to have you whole. he also wanted to punish you for ever thinking about having help for someone else but him. is not like nobody could help you but why would you ask or need another person's help when he was right there? it made no fucking sense.

he could be seems as calm and collected from outside but his want and need into wanting to ruin you, begging for him until his name could be marked onto your skin were just fucking growing so much. he wished he could just have you like this forever.

"you make me fucking crazy. I shouldn't even be treating you like this. I should let your fucking pussy scream for me. be left untouched until it's begging for me to be touched." he murmurs, palming himself with one hand as his other one rest on your thight and his legs keep yours spread out enough to feel every blow of breeze as he constantly slaps his dick on your clit from time to time and the sticky sounds going in and out of his head made him want to devour you and swallow you whole. he felt feral, his point of possessiveness getting the best of him but fuck, you deserved this. he needed to show you to fucking behave and not say that stupid shit in front of him -or anyone- ever again. It shouldn't even be a topic of conversation at this point. It should be obvious too.

so that's why he's sliding his thick length along your slit and juices, hissing and cursing to himself a lot - closing his eyes every now and then because his desire into fucking your sopping pussy was getting into him.

"I fucking want you all to myselfㅡfuck." he moans. "I can't let nobody else see you like this." he then exhales, tilting his head back while closing his eyes. "only me.. fuck."

"I want to fuck you so bad but you don't deserve it." he tortures himself.

you cry and move your hips along him for more friction and it's so sticky between both your genitals, you feel so horny for him.

"why do you do this to me.." his lidded eyes gazes at you. "..hm?" he slaps one of your thighs. "you want me to fuck you stupid?" he takes both your legs, placing them at the side of his shoulders. "Is that what you want?" he pants, voice heavy and gone while he continues teasing his tip between your folds. "fffuck.. tell me - baby.. do you want me to fuck you so bad?"

"nngn yes.." you cry, feeling very hot and needy for him. your hips keep moving with tip and the feeling was so hot.. you were so wet it was an absolute mess down there. "babyㅡfuck. fuck me please.. fuck me." you beg.

"tell me how bad you want me to." he watches as his dick masturbates along your legs. he starts slow, later on hard when he's already starting moving his dick back and forth, pressing a bit hard on your pussy between your folds. "should I let you have it?" he scoff clicking his lips and a grin playing along. his legs also getting sticky with your arousal. "I don't think so.." he teases.

"baby please.." you arch your back, body distorting, nipples very much erect, your own hand squeezed your boob. shit, you wanted him so fucking bad. "I won'tㅡah. I won't do that again." you look at him with pleading doe eyes.

"do what?" he dares. eyes cloudy as he glances at his tip rubbing against your needy pulsating clitoris.

"ask stupid questions like that ever again." you moan as you try to open your legs but he keeps them close to his neck, adding more pressure to his dick. breathing hard.

"stupid, huh?" he rasps, chuckling a little about it. lidded eyes piercing at you. his tip moving a little more sensual and faster along your clitoris. He gives small slaps to it while he slides his tip.

It feels so good.

"mhmh-" you feel like crying, the pleasure only rising.

his cocky laugh resonating through your whole body.

"wish you’ve said that earlier.." he whispers. "because then I wouldn't be fucking losing my mind right now." pausing. "you're mine okay?" he says while introducing himself into your needy hole.

the moment he introduces himself, you’re squeezing him so hard he can barely fully put his dick in. "fuckㅡbaby, relax." jungkook opens his mouth into a gasp. "do you want me to cum now?" breathing heavier.

“nno.. but you feel so goood.” you swallow your words when you feel the leaks of your pussy. jungkook is the only person that has ever made you feel this horny.

“fuck.. baby.. how am I so lucky?” he said that one last thing more to himself than you.

after not taking it anymore he makes you ride him instead. “jump on me.” and you do. “fuck yeah, nice and hard baby.. so good..” as he holds your waist with his big hands.

eyes looking up and down your body it was as if he was admiring you. the woman he has in front of him. the perfect sculpture ever made, the hottest girl he has ever crossed his heart and eyes into. it was getting a lot so his natural reaction was to delicately examine each part of your body like how his hands fit so perfectly into your waist, they way your vagina swallowed him just right.. how wet you always were for him.. just the fact that you wanted him just as much as he wants you makes him crazy. the way you close your eyes with each jump or bite your lips giving him that pretty nasty look with a side fucked out smile he loves so much.. you were so sensual, he absolutely loved that.

“I love you so much.” he says before leaning your body against his just so he could start fucking you back and that made you scream.

“agh! mmfuck”

he was going sort of fast and deep just how you like it. the way you could feel his breathing against your neck made your nipples get harder but also because of the little rubs in had with his chest. you tried putting your boobs on his face which was a success so jungkook started to lick them or tried to because he was fucking you so fast now it was getting messy.

“I want to cum.” you say as you’re getting close.

“don’t cum like this.” he answers when he’s already flipping you stomach down, ass up. “let me see that pussy swallow my cum.” when he slaps your ass making you arch your back.

“fuck.”

you closed your legs and leaning your chest into the bed. this position making you hold your boyfriends dick a bit tighter.

he exhales with a ‘ho’ sound when he slaps your ass once again. “you just get better, hm baby?”

damn it he sounds so fucked out.

you felt so full you couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m gonna cum!”

“fucking do it, I can’t wait neither.”

as soon as you do he starts fucking you with paused but hard and deep thrusts. your legs were shaking, it’s like he knows exactly how to get you over it. when he cums inside you, the sight of it was what made him more crazy.

“swallowing my cum just right, huh? fuck..” he squishes your ass to the point it leaves a red stain. “how you’re still so deliciously tight….”

and without noticing, you were horny once again..

if you were going to tell everything that happened that night.. you’re sure you wouldn’t handle to finish with just a few paragraphs but you could guarantee that everything that happened was worth enough to let anybody with more than their mouth open..

[navybrat817]

Bucky needs to be smothered in kisses. No sex has to follow, just him allowing you to pepper kisses all over his cute face simply for being him and for looking so pretty and cute. Like, "Shut up, Bucky and take it" - proceeded by dozens of kisses 💋💋💋

Bucky deserves all the kisses! How about a little something for our tattoo artist?

What Dreams Are Made Of

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You're on Bucky's mind before your date. Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Ki-ssing, Fluff, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Bucky edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: My second Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 1) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in my Sin on Skin AU, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky flopped down on the break room couch with a tired smile. He had a hard time sleeping the night before and wanted a little rest before his first client of the day arrived. It didn't surprise him when he struggled to sleep. He could sometimes be a night owl when he wasn't dealing with the occasional nightmare, but last night was different. You consumed his thoughts after he went home.

Every single one of them.

You thinking of me, Sugar? I hope you are.

Hell, you hadn’t left his mind since he first walked into your shop. His beautiful, sweet baker with the warm smile and humor to brighten his day. You looked too pure to be with someone who looked like him. He wasn't blind to the stares he received whenever he went out. With his physique and exposed skin littered with ink, many wrote him off as dangerous without a second thought. They would’ve been shocked to learn he was a bit of a science nerd who loved to read in his spare time or that he served his country alongside his best friend.

Something told him you’d appreciate all those little details about him, especially since you asked him out.

"Wish I was taking you out now, Sugar," he whispered to himself as he shut his eyes.

Bucky didn’t want to admit to himself that he was a little nervous. From his chats with you, he gathered enough of an idea on where it would be good to take you for your first date. He didn’t want it to be generic though. If he couldn’t make it unique, it at least had to be special. Something you’d remember. You deserve the best.

And he wanted to show you he was nothing like your prick of an ex.

"Hey."

The sound of your voice beside him made his eyes open, his heart racing as you smiled. He hadn’t even heard your footsteps. When he tried to sit up, you pushed him to lay back down. The sugary scent that lingered on your skin from the shop had him licking his lips as you moved on top of him. But instead of your normal work clothes and apron, you wore a sundress.

One that was dangerously riding up your hips as you straddled him.

And he was too in awe to stop you.

“How did you get back here?” he whispered, not at all upset that you managed to sneak into the room.

“Steve let me in,” you whispered back, framing his face. He couldn’t decide where to place his hands. He wanted them all over you. “I had a break and couldn’t wait to see you.”

“You saw me last night,” he smirked as you leaned down, your lips dangerously close to his. “Not that I’m complaining.”

While the guys heard all about you and expected to meet you at some point, no one thought you would rush into the shop the way you had. You didn’t know it yet, but they all had a soft spot for you because of Bucky. Even if they didn’t, not a single one of them would’ve put up with how your dick of an ex spoke to you. Respect meant everything in their establishment and any man who talked down to someone the way he had with you had no right to be there.

The fucker made you cry, but I wiped that smug look off his face just for you.

“Too long to wait,” you smiled, your breath skimming his mouth. It paralyzed him as he waited to see what you would do next. “And I know our date isn’t until Friday, but I want to kiss you now.”

“Why do you wanna kiss me?” he smiled because yours was contagious.

“Because I want to thank you.”

“You don’t need to,” he promised. He’d stick up for you no matter what the situation called for. Call him smitten or a decent guy, that was just how he was.

“I want to. I also want to kiss you because you’re pretty. And, yes, you are pretty because I say so,” you teased, which earned an almost bashful smile from him. He was far from pretty, but any sort of compliment from you meant the world. “But mainly because you’re a good man and deserve a kiss.”

“Just a kiss?” he asked as he did his best to keep his hips still. You didn’t just deserve the best date, but you deserve a gentleman as well. Fuck, did he want you though and the things he wanted to do to you were far from innocent. He wondered if you felt through his jeans just how much he did.

“Just a kiss. For now,” you said, closing the gap between the two of you.

There was no hunger or desperation when your tongue slipped past his lips. Even when he deepend the kiss, you didn’t rush. It was soft and tender, but held the promise of something more just like your first kiss had. He wasn’t just a moth drawn to your flame. He carried the fuel and wanted to douse you in it.

Bucky craved to be the one who brought your fire to the surface until it consumed you both.

“Am I dreaming?” he exhaled, finally gripping your hips when you dragged your lips along his face. The featherlight motions were enough to drive him mad, tempting him to flip you over so he could explore your body properly. No, he needed to let you stay in control for now. “Sugar, you’re killing me.”

“And what a way to go, Hottie. So, shut up and take my kisses,” you giggled.

He chuckled as you smothered him with your lips and he took the opportunity to hold you closer. It felt right to have you in his arms. He couldn’t recall the last time he fell for someone so quickly, if ever. What if that scared you?

What if he scared you?

“It’s time to wake up, Bucky,” you whispered in his ear. “I’ll see you soon.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed as you faded from his arms. “Sugar?” he asked. Where did you go?

“Buck, you need to get up!”

Steve’s shout startled Bucky awake and it was a miracle he didn’t fall off the couch. His heart pounded before he realized he had been dreaming. You weren’t in the back room with him. You hadn’t smothered him with gentle kisses.

He was all alone.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, tossling his hair as he sat up.

Figures. It was just a dream, but I’m glad I had it.

“You okay?” Steve asked as he carefully approached his friend. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to scare you. Called your name a couple of times and that didn’t do the trick. Didn’t think I should touch you either.”

“I’m fine. Thanks,” Bucky huffed a little. Both of them had their share of nightmares after being overseas. Steve wouldn’t have yelled his name if he thought something was wrong, so he must’ve appeared peaceful enough. Peace. That was what you gave him, even if his jeans felt a little tighther and uncomfortable.

“You need a minute?” the blonde smirked when Bucky adjusted a bit.

“Why did you wake me?” he replied, avoiding his question. The guys knew well enough how crazy he was about you and didn’t need to know he was dreaming about you in the shop. “I’m sure it was extremely important.”

“Because your client should be here in a few minutes and I wanted to make sure you didn’t sleep through the appointment. So, yeah, extremely important.”

With a nod, Bucky slowly got to his feet. “Space is already cleaned and disinfected. Stencil’s done, too,” he said. He liked to prepare as much as he could and they prided themselves on having a clean and safe workspace. “Um, Sugar hasn’t stopped by, has she?”

Steve shook his head. “No, she hasn’t,” he answered, giving Bucky a small smile when he frowned. He knew all about the date. “But Friday is just around the corner if you don’t see her before then.”

He tried not to feel disappointment and swore he could still smell the sugary scent of you in the air. It must’ve lingered on the couch from when you were there the night before. He wished he could have that smell on his pillows and sheets. “I like her.”

“I know you do. We all do,” Steve said, leaning against the wall. “We even told Hal he wasn’t allowed to go into the bakery out of fear that she’d fall for his charm,” he added with a wink.

I’m charming, too.

“No, punk,” he said, not wanting to be more vulnerable than he already had. “I really like her.”

The playful look on Steve’s face fell, replaced with something softer. “I know, jerk. And I think she really likes you, too. So be the good guy we know you are and sweep her off her feet.”

That’s exactly what Bucky planned to do.

Bucky, our hearts are yours! Check out more of Hottie and Sugar wiht Sweet and Strong. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[nhaaauyen]

is it casual now? ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

modern sev x reader au: after a shitty day at work, you go to the beach to release some stress, only for a certain coworker to show up.

series masterpost: floating wc: 4.2k author's note: everything that happened in this fic did actually happen with a girl I was seeing LMAOO (except for the kiss cause i was too shy) but i’ve been wanting to write an ode to this memory for so long! though the title was named after casual by chappell roan, i actually don't recommend you listen to it when you read this because this is anything but casual ~ My Song Recommendation

Sev: Why are you at the beach at 11PM? You: ? You: Why can't I be? Sev: Because it closes at 12am Sev: And you said before you don't go out past 11PM on workdays You: I didn't know you worked for the beach patrol Sev: Lol

You stare at your phone screen, watching the three message dots bounce back and forth. You know you're being an asshole, but you can't help the snappiness in your tone. Sevika never cared or talked to you outside of work before, so why does she suddenly care now?

The typing bubbles disappear and relief washes over you, but a small, masochistic part of you wishes she'd actually sent something.

Sev: Are you good?

The three-word question glares at you from the screen. 

Are you good? Absolutely not. 

But this is Sev, the woman who doesn't bother with greetings or a courtesy "How are you" despite working together for months. How do you answer a question that could unravel the emotions you're barely keeping at bay, especially to someone who's never asked before?

You: Yeah  You: I'll go soon so you don't have to stalk my location haha Sev: Alright

You stare at the tiny message bubble until the blue light stings your eyes. Finally, you shut off your phone and toss it onto your makeshift blanket.

The beach is eerily quiet save for the rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery glow across the water and illuminating the foam as it rushes up the sand. You sit there as the incident at work replays in your mind for the hundredth time. Your head server's harsh words, the embarrassment of being scolded in public, the shame from how quick you were brought to tears - it all comes rushing back, making your chest tighten. 

The cool sand beneath your fingers grounds you somewhat and you inhale deeply, letting the briny scent of the ocean fill your lungs. 

A cool breeze picks up, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. You shiver as you sit there, feeling small and vulnerable, and you can't help but wonder how you'll face everyone tomorrow. The thought makes your stomach churn, and you close your eyes, trying to shut out the world for just a little longer.

As you close your eyes, a new sound cuts through the sounds of waves crashing against the shore. The crunch of rubber tires over pebbles grows louder, and suddenly, a bright light washes over you. You squint, momentarily blinded by the harsh glare of headlights.

"You really had to make me search for you, Pagli?"

Your head whips around in shock, eyes wide as you see Sevika stepping out of her car. You scramble to your feet, brushing sand from your clothes.

"Sev? What are you— You didn't have to come here," you protest.

She approaches with a casual shrug. "Well, too bad, cause I was near here anyways. Had to make sure you weren't drowning or joining a beach cult."

You can't help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. "A beach cult? Really?"

"Hey, you never know," Sevika retorts with a smirk. "I don’t know what you like to do late at night."

You shake your head, trying to maintain your composure. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. You should go home."

"Nah, I think I'll stick around," she says, plopping down on the sand next to where you were sitting. "Unless you've got some secret midnight rituals planned?"

You roll your eyes, but feel your resolve weakening. "You're stubborn as hell, you know that?"

"Part of my charm," Sevika replies with a wink. "Now, are you gonna sit back down, or do I have to drag you?"

After a moment's hesitation, you sigh and lower yourself back onto the sand. "Fine, you win. But don't expect me to be good company."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sevika says softly, her tone gentler than before. "But I'm here if you want to talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need."

“I’m good.”  You replied.

“Fine with me.” 

As you sit in silence, Sevika reaches into her pocket and pulls out a joint. You can't help but shake your head in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable," you mutter.

She glances at you, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"Do you just have an unlimited source of that or something?"

Sevika just shrugs, a small smirk playing on her lips as she places the joint between them. As she fumbles for her lighter, she catches you staring and pauses.

"Do you want some?" she offers casually.

You hesitate, fingers fidgeting in the sand. "No... uh, I never tried."

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Serious?"

"Yeah," you admit, feeling a bit self-conscious.

Sevika's expression softens slightly. "Well, Pagli, I'm in a sharing mood, so..."

You shake your head quickly. "Nah, I'm gonna embarrass myself. I don't know how to..."

"It's easy," she assures you. "Just inhale, hold it for a bit, and release."

You eye the joint warily. "Uh, shit... Yeah sure."

Instead of handing it over, Sevika brings the joint to her lips and lights it. You watch intently as she demonstrates, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she inhales. She holds it for a moment, then slowly exhales a stream of smoke into the night air.

Your eyes are fixed on her, taking in every detail of the process. There's something almost mesmerizing about the way the smoke curls from her lips, dissipating into the darkness.

Sevika turns to you, holding out the joint. "Your turn, if you want."

You hesitate, your heart racing a little. Part of you wants to refuse, to play it safe knowing that you wouldn’t risk humiliation in front of your coworker when you end up messing up, but another part of you was just completely over this day.

Slowly, you reach out and take the joint from her fingers, your skin brushing against hers for a brief moment.

You take the joint, bringing it to your lips with nervous anticipation. Trying to mimic Sevika's actions, you inhale deeply. Immediately, your eyes go wide as the smoke hits your lungs. You start coughing violently, your throat burning.

To your surprise, Sevika gently pats your back. "It's okay, Pagli! Damn. You just gotta practice some more."

As your coughing subsides, you realize this is the most Sevika has ever talked to you. It's oddly comforting, despite your embarrassment. You hand the joint back to her and she casually takes a puff, with her head leaning back slightly as she exhales.

"You're not cold?"

"No, why?" you ask, puzzled.

She gestures at your outfit. "Because you haven't changed out of your work uniform."

Instead of answering - because you know where that conversation would lead - you reach for the joint again. This time, you focus intently on mimicking Sevika's technique. You inhale, hold it for a moment, and exhale. There's still a slight cough, but it's significantly better than your first attempt.

"Hell yeah!" you exclaim, feeling a small surge of pride. "I sorta did it!"

Sevika gives you a half-grin that makes your heart skip a beat. "See? You're gonna be a pro soon." She pauses, her grin widening slightly. "But you're gonna get super hungry later at this rate."

Your eyes widen as realization hits you. "Oh fuck, you're right. I didn't bring any food," you say, a slight pout forming on your lips.

"I brought something," she offers, "but in exchange, you have to tell me what's going on."

You roll your eyes, you weren’t going to fall for that. "I can deal with it."

"Fine," she shrugs, "then no more." She makes a motion as if to put out the joint.

"What? I'm still practicing!" you protest. "What happened to trying to get me to the pro league?"

Sevika just laughs, the sound unexpectedly warm. "Sorry, there's an entry fee."

You sigh, knowing you're cornered. "Fine," you mutter, then barely above a whisper, add, "I fucked up bad at work today."

Her expression turns serious. "What do you mean?"

Taking a deep breath, you tucked a stray hair behind your ear and avoided eye contact. "There was this creepy guy at one of my tables. He kept specifically asking for random things like more napkins or refills, and I knew why he did that." You shudder slightly at the memory. "I wanted to switch with a male server, but we were too booked so I just tried to bear with it.  I didn’t think he would cross any lines since it looked like he was with family too."

Sevika listens intently as you continue, "It got too far when he kept making me uncomfortable, saying he would tip well if I gave him my number." Your hands clenched into fists in the sand. "So after I came back, I... I 'accidentally' spilled water on him."

You can't meet Sevika's eyes as you finish, "I knew it was unprofessional and petty, but I was so frustrated. After getting yelled at by the head server, it kind of hit me what I did."

As you fall silent, you feel a mix of shame and lingering anger. You wait anxiously for Sevika's response, afraid to see judgment in her eyes.

But Sevika's response catches you off guard. "He deserved it," she says firmly.

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Huh? But I made a mess because I couldn't keep my emotions in check. You know there are always going to be horrible customers..."

She cuts you off with a shake of her head. "Nah, he deserved it. It's a shame you couldn't stay to watch when I kicked him out and announced that he was trying to grope one of our servers in front of his entire family and the restaurant."

You stare at her incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. "No way? You actually did that?"

Sevika shrugs nonchalantly. "What's Silco gonna do? I'm the best general manager he's got." She pauses, a prideful glint in her eye. "Though our head server might need a bit of retraining."

You can't believe what you're hearing. Sev, the Sev, actually stood up for you. A wave of gratitude washes over you, and you suddenly feel shy.

"Thank you... for that," you murmur. "It meant a lot."

She just nods in response, a comfortable silence falling between you. Sevika passes you the joint again, and this time when you take a hit, you manage to do it without coughing. 

"I did it!" you exclaim, unable to contain your enthusiasm.

"Look at you, you might get into the Olympics next." She teased.

The tension from earlier completely dissipated, and you can't help but feel a newfound appreciation for Sevika.

"Okay, you gotta slow down now. This is your first time," Sevika warns, pulling the joint away as you reach for it again.

"Nooo, give it," you whine, making a half-hearted grab for it.

She shakes her head firmly. "Nuh-uh." Sevika puts out the joint despite your protests.  Then, without warning, she announces, "I'm lying down."

"What?" you ask, confused by the sudden change.

Sevika doesn't respond, just leans back onto an apron acting as your beach blanket. After a moment's hesitation, you did the same. It's only now that you realize how close she is. You can see the rise and fall of her chest, steady and rhythmic.

You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you. "Do you hear that?" you murmur. "The waves sound amazing." A small giggle escapes your lips.

"It's hitting you now," Sevika observes, amusement coloring her voice.

"Shhh, Sev. Listen," you insist, your voice barely above a whisper.  If only you didn’t close your eyes at that moment, because then you would’ve seen the shy smile appear on her lips at the nickname that she only lets you use on her.

As you concentrate on the sound of the waves, you became aware that you're also following the pattern of Sevika's breathing. It's oddly comforting, this synchronicity between her, you, and the ocean.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you dare to look over at her. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize she's staring at you with those stormy gray eyes that never seem to reveal anything. The intensity of her gaze sends a jolt through you, triggering an immediate panic.

You sit up abruptly, your heart racing. Sevika follows, concern etched on her previously relaxed face. "What's wrong?"

"Uh, I'm hungry," you blurt out, desperate for a distraction.

Sevika just laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Here, I’m glad I brought this," she says, reaching into her pocket. She pulls out a colorful bag of sour gummy worms, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet night.

The sight of the candy, so unexpectedly bright in contrast to Sevika's stoic character, makes you laugh. You watch as she pulls out a gummy worm, the candy stretching slightly before she bites into it. The casual act feels strangely intimate in this moment, and you find yourself transfixed by the movement of her jaw as she chews.

"Want one?" she asks, holding out the bag to you.

Your fingers brush against hers as you reach for a candy, sending another small shiver through you. As you pop the gummy worm into your mouth, the burst of sour flavor feels like a shock against your tongue.

While you devoured practically half the bag, Sevika stretches languidly before lying back down on the sand. You followed suit, turning to face her. This time, feeling way less sober than the beginning, you don't shy away from her gaze.

You notice one of her usually tucked fringes has come loose, falling softly across her forehead. Your fingers twitch with the urge to brush it back, but you manage to restrain yourself.

Sevika's eyes are fixed on you, her expression softer than you've ever seen it. "I'm tired," she mumbles, her voice low and slightly husky. "I want to sleep... this feels nice."

A dopey smile spreads across your face at the sight of her uncharacteristic vulnerability. "Do it," you encourage gently.

"Wake me up in a bit?" she asks, her eyelids already starting to droop.

"Of course," you assure her.

As Sevika's eyes close, you sit there, taking in the moment. You listened to the rhythm of her breathing mix with the sound of the waves and the refreshing sea breeze. 

Suddenly, Sevika makes a noise that's almost like a whine. "It's cold," she murmurs, not opening her eyes.

"Really?" you ask, surprised.

"Yeah," she confirms. Then, to your shock, she says, "Come here."

Before you can process what's happening, Sevika is draping her red jacket over both of you. The action brings you even closer to her, and your brain struggles to keep up with this new development.

You find yourself studying Sevika's features up close. Her nose, which you've always thought was cute but never dared to admit, her long lashes resting against her cheeks, and the scar that runs across her cheekbone.

The warmth of her body so close to yours, the scent of her cologne mingling with the salt air, the soft sound of her breathing - it all combined to create a moment so intimate and unexpected that you feel almost dizzy with it. You're acutely aware of every point where your body is almost, but not quite, touching hers.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure she must be able to hear it. But Sevika's breathing has evened out, suggesting she's drifting off to sleep. You lie there, barely daring to move, caught between the desire to savor this moment and the fear of disturbing her.

You find yourself caught in Sevika's gaze as her eyes slowly flutter open. The moonlight reflects in her dark irises, creating an almost ethereal effect. 

"What are you staring at?"

Your heart skips a beat. "You," you reply without thinking, then immediately feel heat rush to your cheeks.

A smirk plays at the corner of Sevika's lips. "Mmm... you're plotting my murder, right?"

You can't help but chuckle softly. "Haha, of course.  I’ve been waiting months for this moment.”

"Damn," she sighs dramatically, through her eyes sparkled with amusement. "At least I get a gorgeous view before my final moments."

The air between you suddenly feels charged. You fall silent, profoundly aware of every breath, every subtle movement. Sevika's hair has fallen across her face, obscuring part of her scar. Without really thinking about it, you reach out, gently tucking the errant strand behind her ear.

As you start to pull your hand back, Sevika's fingers wrap around your wrist. Her touch is gentle, a stark contrast to her usual brusque demeanor. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat.

"Don't," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the soft lapping of waves.

Sevika holds your hand gently, her calloused fingers tracing over yours with surprising tenderness. She examines each fingertip as if committing them to memory. Just as you're getting lost in the intimacy of the moment, she breaks the silence.

"You got tiny ass hands, Pagli.”

You blink, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

Sevika bursts out laughing, the sound rich and wonderful. Her head tilts back, revealing a full set of stunning teeth. The sight momentarily captivates you, but you quickly recover, determined not to let her win this moment.

"You know, I was only trying to steal the gummies," you retort, trying to keep a straight face.

Her eyebrow arches challengingly. "Really? Come and get it then."

Before you know it, you're both wrestling on the makeshift blanket. Sand flies everywhere as you tussle, laughter filling the air. It's been so long since you've felt this carefree, this alive. Your worries from earlier seem like a distant memory now.

Somehow, you manage to gain the upper hand. You find yourself practically pinning Sevika down, your faces mere inches apart. You can feel her warm breath on your skin, catching the faint scent of weed. Your heart races, and for a moment, you're tempted to close that small distance between you.

Instead, you break the tension by snatching the bag of gummies from her grasp. "I win!" you declare triumphantly.

But even as you say it, the victory feels hollow. The gummy bag hangs limp in your hand as you watch Sevika accept defeat with surprising grace. She's still beneath you, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her eyes locked on yours.

You wish you could reach out and caress her face, trace the line of her scar, feel the softness of her skin again. The urge is almost overwhelming, but you hold back, unsure of how she'd react. The moment stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and possibilities.

Sevika pats the spot next to her, inviting you back. You settle in, acutely aware of her warmth beside you. Her eyes, dark and curious, search your face.

"What are you thinking about now, Pagli?" she asks softly.

Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out. "I want to play with your hair."

Immediately, heat rushes to your face. You're about to stammer an apology when Sevika takes your hand, guiding it to her hair. The silky softness surprises you, and you can't help but run your fingers through the strands.

Sevika's eyes flutter closed, a contented sigh escaping her lips. Encouraged, you begin to gently massage her scalp, marveling at how relaxed she seems.

"What does Pagli mean?" you whisper.

A smirk plays on Sevika's lips. "Crazy girl," she replies without skipping a beat.

"Huh?!" You're not sure whether to be offended or flattered.

"It's because you do crazy and bold things. I like that about you."

Your stomach flutters with warmth at the admission. Sevika leans into your touch, murmuring, "That feels amazing."

Gradually, she shifts closer, until her head is tucked against your chest. You can feel the steady pace of her breathing, the warmth of her body against yours. Without really meaning to, you find yourselves practically spooning.

As you stretch out, your feet brush against her shins, and you realize just how much taller she is. It's oddly endearing, this contrast between you. Your fingers continue their gentle exploration of her hair, occasionally trailing down to trace the curve of her neck.

The moment feels soft, intimate in a way you never expected. The sound of waves provides a soothing backdrop, and the moonlight casts a gentle glow over you both. You're struck by how vulnerable Sevika looks like this, all her usual sharp edges softened.

You want to say something, to put into words the feeling blooming in your chest, but you're afraid to break the spell. So instead, you hold her close, savoring the unexpected comfort of this moment, wondering how something so beautiful could arise from such a difficult day.

You keep replaying the moment when Sevika's strong arms practically dragged you into cuddling her. The memory sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. Your hand moves almost of its own accord, slowly rubbing circles on her back. You hear her sigh contentedly, the sound filling you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the physical closeness.

Just as you're sinking deeper into this blissful moment, bright white lights suddenly flash on, startling you both. A loud voice booms across the beach: "THE BEACH IS CLOSING IN 10 MINUTES. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY BACK TO THE PARKING LOT."

"Urghhh," you groan.  You instinctively buried your face into your hands.

Sevika's response is even more vocal - she lets out a louder, more dramatic groan that vibrates through her chest and into yours. The sound is so unexpected and so uncharacteristically cute, that you can't help but laugh.

Your laughter seems to break the spell. Sevika lifts her head, her hair mussed from your earlier attentions, and gives you a mock glare that's softened by the smile tugging at her lips.

"What's so funny, Pagli?" she asks, her voice husky with lingering sleep.

"Nothing," you say, still chuckling. "Just... I never pegged you for a whiner."

Sevika rolls her eyes. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it," she grumbles.

You lean in close to Sevika, whispering conspiratorially, "They can't kick us off if we hide in the sand, right?"

"Yeah, or if we stay really still," she adds, barely suppressing a grin.

You both freeze comically, trying to blend in with the beach around you. But as the final announcement blares across the sand, you finally admit defeat.

As you both reluctantly start to gather your things, you can't help but steal glances at Sevika. Her hair is tousled, her clothes rumpled from lying on the beach, and there's a softness to her expression that you've never seen before. It makes your heart do a little flip in your chest.

Just as you're about to lead the way back, Sevika suddenly grabs your hand, pulling you back towards her. Before you can react, her lips are on yours.

You were suddenly frozen, till your brain practically yelled, Fucking kiss the hot girl back you dumbass! Your hand immediately slides into her hair, and you respond back to the kiss with the same ferocity.  All the tension that's been building between you tonight finally finds its release. Her lips are softer than you imagined, moving against yours with a passion that takes your breath away.  

But the moment was short-lived when it was cut short by another blaring announcement. 

Sevika breaks away, growling, "I'm going to break that speaker."

You can't help but laugh at her annoyance, the sound bubbling up from the happiness overflowing in your chest. You lean in, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "C'mon, we can continue this later."

Sevika nods, a small but genuine smile playing on her lips. She has that look on her face, that is just so content and full of adoration that your legs practically felt like jelly.

“Race you back to the car, loser has to buy dinner!” You yell as you spirit across the sand.  

You were fortunate enough to get a head start because once Sev realized what was happening, you could already see a blur of her movement closing the distance through the corner of your eye. Your hair whipped wildly in the wind along your combined unadulterated, giddy laughters echoing in the night air.  

With her athletic build, she easily caught up to you but instead of surpassing you, her hand found yours. Her fingers intertwined with yours, fitting perfectly. The warmth of her palm against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world.

You two slowed your pace into an amble, the sound of waves fading behind you. Every so often, you steal glances at Sevika, still hardly believing this night has been real.

When her car comes into view, Sevika gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You turn to look at her, finding her eyes already on you, soft and full of something that makes you unsure of whether this moment was a dream or not.

Sevika tugs you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "We should do this again sometime," she murmurs against your skin. "Minus the getting kicked off the beach part."

You chuckle at the joke and tuck your head into her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Thump. Thump.

"Thank you," she says quietly, her voice a small murmur above your ear, "for making a shitty day end beautifully."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. 

"Thank you for finding me."

[fraugwinska]

I've seen fanfics about Alastor × deaf reader

But what about.. blind reader? Maybe they lost sight in some battle

How they would be confused meeting Alastor at first: did someone turn the radio on- oh, thats a demon talking!

And how confused would be Alastor as his feelings started to grow towards the reader: he just enjoys their company! What else can he do when they like to listen to him spilling the tea and just rambling about everything because of his soothing voice? His favourite listener

Then.. their relationships get a bit different as in another one relaxing evening together Alastor asks if they want to see him..

And on their confused silence he answers bringing their hands to his face for them to "read" his apperience..

Just thought it would be hella fun to read! Not good enough at english, sorry for mistakes

I love your writtings! 💕Stay hydrated and don't dare to overwork yourself ☝

Hiya lovely Anon! <3 I put my own little spin on your idea! I love fics like those, and this one sat in my drafts for ages - I hope the wait was worth it! Thank you so much for this ask! <3 Warning: Contains depictions of attempted SA, please read with caution - MINORS DNI!

The bookstore was always quiet in the evenings. Well, it was quiet almost always.

Hell wasn't the most... appreciative place for tombs and books that didn't have porn or egregious murder in them, so your shop wasn't really frequented much. Occasionally, a new sinner would find their way in, not yet taken by the unpunished excessiveness Pentagram City had to offer, and would buy a book or two, never to be seen again. The rest of your clientele were loyal regulars, mostly elderly demons and imps getting books for their masters in other rings. It wasn't much, but enough for you to get by, live a simple, modest life. Your shop was mundane enough as to not attract the more dangerous ones the city had to offer, yet held the beauty that only an antique bookstore could, with a reading room like atmosphere, mismatched armchairs scattered in between the high bookshelves and an old radio on the counter playing in the background.

That didn't mean there weren't moments you'd have to get yourself out of some serious situations. On rare occasions, the patrons of your bookstore became too demanding or rough with you, thinking they could intimidate or screw you over because of your... handicap. After all, how would you see the hand reaching in the register, or the little spell book slipping into the inside pocket of a jacket. The blindness you were born with on earth hadn't left you in your death, but the enhanced sensitivity of your other senses made things easier for you. You had learned to take your losses, unwilling to let these moments ruin your confidence in your work or diminish your spirits.

You navigated through the little store with ease, putting laid-out books back into their designated places - feeling the backs of the books like it spelled their names, and motion memory guiding you through the maze of furniture and shelves - your plain, long felt skirt softly brushing this edge and that wood panel. What you wore wasn't fancy, modern or stylish attire, but it was comfortable enough. And who were you kidding? At the end of the day, nobody cared for your less-than-ordinary appearance, but yourself.

Your mind had been drifting around between random topics for a while until, on your last trip back to the front desk, your round ears picked up the bell on your door and the faint sound of staticy talking, coming from the direction of the counter. A customer, at this hour no less! But you were sure you had turned off the radio hours ago... maybe the old thing was finally breaking down, you thought with a little sadness. You hurried to it, still hung back in your thoughts and babbling as you turned the desk to shut the little device off so your customer wasn't disturbed.

"Hello, I'm terribly sorry if you're bothered by the radio, I should have turned it off. Feel free to browse through-" you paused mid-sentence as the air shifted slightly. You had turned the familiar knob but the filtered voice didn't stop talking. Your ears moved around, as if the source was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, trying to determine its source, when the other occupant of the store laughed at the surprise written on your face.

"Apologies aren't necessary my dear, but that wasn't the little device here but me, asking for service. Although I'm quite fond of a little old fashioned tune - comes with the title of the Radio Demon, you see." He talked with amusement, or something in his tone seemed powerful and dangerous. As his words started to make sense to you, you held a sharp breath, struggling not to take a step back. Of course you've heard of Alastor, the Radio Demon, but you've never had the honor (or dread) of meeting him in person. Rumors had spread around in hell a long time before you'd even gotten here, stories of a powerful overlord who'd broadcasted the screams and torments of his victims, spreading fear to everyone, from sinner, to lesser demons, to even other overlords themselves.

"W-welcome to my store, sir! What can I help you with today?" You smiled pleasantly, hoping that showing him respect and going out of your way for a courteous interaction could possibly keep you from being torn to pieces. You heard the ruffling of fabric - a hand reaching into a pocket, wrapping it's fingers around a thick piece of paper, along a low, distorted chuckle. "A good friend of mine recommended your store to me, I am looking for a few... unusual books, hopefully to be found here."

You waited into the silence, one second, two, three. When he said nothing, only static noise slowly increasing in volume, you decided to speak again. "May you tell me the titles, sir?"

"If you'd take the list, little mouse, everything I need is on it." His voice had an edge of annoyance to it now. You didn't know when his presence had approached so close to where you stood, and couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not. You sighed, pulling the darkened glasses off you wore day in, day out, revealing the white irises that gave your blindness away. After a sound like a record scratch, you managed a helpless smile. "I fear if it's not in braille, it won't do much to hand me that."

The other demon was silent again, but the crackling static had dropped, and before you had time to add something that wouldn't get you gutted, he'd barked a laugh, sounding genuinely amused and entertained.

"My, isn't that a bit cliché, my dear? A blind mouse? Any chance you have two siblings?"

That joke was new. You dared to husk out a little laugh, too, your hands gently resting on the counter top. "I hate to disappoint, but no. I even have my tail still, no farmers wife with a knife."

There was a change in his stance, his coat sweeping the air as you heard the list was laid on the wooden surface in front of you, surprisingly not crushed or crumbling under the power of his hand. Coldness swept like waves of fog over the front desk and your hands, you pulled them away with a shudder, confused, but your patron just hummed.

"There, that should've done the trick. I'd rather not want to read my little.... requests aloud, they're a rather curious bunch, I believe. Very useful, though, especially those for more creative types in cooking."

You reached for the paper and thumbed through the braille letters one after the other, feeling a long list of more... taboo tomes you were sure wouldn't have even been mentioned in any respectable catalogue. Luckily, you were a glutton for oddities and curiosities, and with a small smile of pride you found that you had every book on the list on hand. Maybe it was this pride thatgave you the confidence so that you didn't reply and instead swiftly jumped ahead, bustling through the rows and pillars of bookshelves. Every step was calculated, from the short staircase to the tiny nook where you stored spell books and tombs of dark magic, navigating past all the tables and furniture to the particular bookcase containing ritualistic cookbooks. Once you had a feeling where a book would be located, you searched the titles by stroking the backs with the pads of your fingers, tapping quickly and analyzing the material and little bumps and nicks of the spines. Once found, you traced the edges of the piece and drew up a mental image in your mind to check it wasn't bent, dirty, torn or had any parts missing. Your fingers were your eyes, and they were keen.

As you carried the rather heavy stack back, the Radio Demon hadn't moved an inch from where you'd left him, as far as you could tell. It had been hard not to acknowledge him throughout the ordeal while your brain just went on autopilot after realizing he didn't mean to kill you, at least for the moment. On one hand, that was comforting; on the other hand, it was absolutely horrifying.

"Here you go, sir. Please, feel free to check if they are up to your standards." You set the books down carefully, counting the number of thick covers in the stack to be sure and your fingers brushed sharp talons as apparently the Radio Demon reached out to inspect the books as you offered. With a sharp inhale and a heated face you quickly drew back, stammering apologies. He only chuckled faintly, the static surrounding him crackling as if it, too, was amused.

You stood silently behind the counter and listened to him flipping through the pages, turning the books around to read their contents, humming here and there. He seemed content with the lot and you were sure that once he'd paid, he would leave, hopefully sparing your meager existence and not leaving any destruction behind.

"Very well! These will do perfectly, little mouse. And, I have to say, you have a very interesting collection. The quality of your inventory exceeds what Zestial promised. You might expect a few more visits from me in the future, if you don't mind."

The last sentence wasn't a question. It was a statement, underlined with the sound of a heavy stack of bills placed on your counter. Your hands confirmed what your ears already suspected - your patron well overpaid you.

"Not at all, sir, but you gave me too much mon...."

But the air shifted again, and a chime and a thud later you knew he had already walked out, his laughter the last thing you heard before the door clicked shut.

“...ey.”

What a peculiar man, you thought, still processing the entire experience. His voice had been darling, no wonder he chose radio as his medium. You were sure his smile you've heard so many demons whisper about was wide and predatory, but he had been so polite. Even the nickname he'd given you had been charming, compared to the names and remarks you've had thrown at you by lesser demons, and you shook your head at the ridiculousness of your face flushing at the memory.

'Little mouse.'

After a long moment, you finally counted the money and put the amount he tipped you aside in your hidden safe, making a note to yourself that you would give it back to him when he'd return. If he'd return.

Weeks passed and the Radio Demon had kept his promise and visited again. And again. And again.

The first time he came back and you, already flustered, offered to give back the surplus money he'd paid you, he was baffled before he heartily laughed and ignored your attempts to return it to him, instead buying three more books and leaving you with even more undeserved cash in your hands.

Almost once a week he'd return to your store, sometimes he'd have a whole list of books he'd want to buy, and he almost never left your store with empty hands. Sometimes he'd sit down in one of the many chairs to peruse a tomb you set aside for him, predicting he'd find interest in it as you learned his tastes in literature, and he'd hum almost happily when you found a new curiosity or a grimoire that was especially hard to come by. And sometimes he just came in for a quick visit, not even intending to buy a book but just to chat a bit. With every encounter your initial apprehension shifted into appreciation, so much so that you'd grow to eagerly await his return, the sound the bell made when he enthusiastically swung the door open or the slight distortion of your radio when he changed the station to one that suited his mood better.

You were a bit enchanted with him, if you were honest. Not only had every interaction been intriguing and entertaining, he'd been one of the rare visitors who hadn't maliciously mocked or threatened you, or worse. And you found that you enjoyed the small banters you could have with him, the fact that he treated you no differently than anyone else. It was refreshing, and each of his visits put a spring in your step for days, no matter how hard you tried not to think about him.

By the time several months had passed, he became your favorite client and he seemed to have an everlasting interest in your inventory as well as yourself. You learned that he was quite a wealthy demon with a seemingly insatiable appetite for entertainment, and always with an eye for quality, which you vowed yourself to provide in return, if only to keep him coming back. You found you could spend hours with only him at the store over freshly made coffee, discussing various literary concepts and historical events he used as references, and it was a delight to laugh together about some particularly odd rituals in books like 'Old Spells to Cure Thievery' or 'Blood Rituals of the Flaying Kink'.

Sometimes, when you'd hand him a new find or a heavy tomb, his hands would lightly brush yours and his voice would drop and become a bit softer, quieter as he cooed his nickname for you - 'Little Mouse'. With your lack of vision, you didn't know how his face looked nor how his expression would've surely changed - but his voice took on a tone that would be fitting for a date, and the touches made you shiver lightly and tingle and you felt heat spread all over your chest and the pit of your stomach when he did. If your body betrayed those reactions on your face, he wouldn't tease you for them. At least, you never noticed if he did. Maybe he had the grace to simply not remark on them, you thought, for once grateful for your blindness so you wouldn't have to see your own - surely ridiculously dumbstruck - expression reflected in the windows of your storefront. But the physical contact between you became more frequent, more deliberately made, and you'd caught his own quiet sigh every now and again when he lingered for just a moment longer before the doorbell chimed and he'd leave again.

One evening, as you were cleaning up and preparing for tomorrow's customers, a soft knock on the already locked door pulled you out of the haze of your radio's gentle tune. Turning around, you moved slowly towards the sound of the interruption, adjusting your dark glasses.

"My apologies, but we're closed for tonight, please come back tomorrow."

There was no reply, no sound of footsteps and your ears strained to catch a whisper of a sound, to find a new hint as to who was outside. Another knock, harder now, sounded and this time it took all your courage to approach. Your hair stood at its roots as your hands rested at the wooden door, your senses tingling that you better not open - that danger stood in front of your store.

"Please go, we'll be open again tomorrow."

Your reflexes, acting faster than your brain, made you stumble back as the glass of your front doors shattered into a million pieces. In a panic you tumbled to the floor, hands over your face as the pieces broke apart on impact. There were voices, rough and foreign sounding, that accompanied the stomping of boots. You shuffled back on the ground, trying to get out of the way before being stepped or kicked upon, reaching to the walls and bookshelves to find some stability to guide you in getting away from what was coming towards you.

"T-take what you want, please, I won't stop you. Just... just take it and leave."

Your words were shaking in fear and the little hope that a verbal warning and submission would placate the robbers. To your horror the voices - two, if your panicked mind didn't fool you - erupted into raspy laughter and you realized then that money might not be the only thing these demons were after.

"You were right, Hank. This is going to be easier than I thought, look at how helpless the bitch is."

"Told 'ya, Tommy Boy. An' the best part..." supposedly the one called Hank said deviously, and you were yanked up at your wrists and thrown over what must've been your counter, your glasses slipping and breaking at the impact and your eyes dwelling with hot tears. You recognized this voice… just a few days ago this demon had come into the shop, just as Alastor was about to leave, lingering around the shop and leaving quickly mumbling a half-asses excuse without buying anything after you asked if you could help him find something and Alastor's static crackled dangerously. The same smell of sharp sweat and wet tobacco lingered around him, making your stomach turn. "... she can't tell anyone who we are. Hoh, look, her eyes are some freaky shit, 'n you bet her tits 're freaky, too. S'not even our damn birthday but looks like we got ourselves a gift. 'Ya wanna go first?"

"You know me - Don't mind if I do."

With a heart beating out of your chest and shallow breaths, you tried to feel with your only free hand for something, anything, to defend yourself with. You had to defend yourself. Anything would be better than what horrific thing they were about to do. There was only the flat, leather bound accounting book close by, but it was better than nothing, and in a motion of impulse and fear you slashed with it into the general direction you felt the weight of Tommy settle onto the counter top above you. His complice bellowed angrily, making your ears ring, and Tommy snatched the weapon from your hand to throw it away. His breath smelled of filth and cold ash, the skin of your throat burned when he wrapped his calloused hands around it.

"We're gonna show ya your fucking place, worthless blind cum-chunk bitch, an' when we're done with ya..."

There was a sudden, instant sound of feedback, a wet splatter and a horrified scream and hasty, fleeing footsteps before a wave of relief washed over you as your neck fell free from the intruders grasp and you heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, my dear fellow, do go on. I'd love to hear the end of that sentence." A low, distorted chuckle followed. Alastor sounded different - menacing. Bone-chilling. If those words would've been directed at you, you would've been mortified. But it sounded like honey in your ears, knowing who the recipient was. "Ah, how silly of me - surely it's much harder to speak without vocal chords."

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as the sounds of violence became ever more gruesome. A whipping sound, a wail and a choked gasp and two stomach-churning thuds of something hitting the floor.

"Well that's not handy at all - you can't even sign your pathetic pleas now. How unfortunate to be in such a vulnerable position, isn't it?"

A thud, then another - your stomach turned as the room got flooded with a different type of warmth. Your lungs and chest stung from the stench of iron and decay and your throat hurt as you realized one aura had vanished from the store and Tommy was most likely reduced to a fleshy pile on the ground. Suddenly you felt a sharp but warm, strangely long but familar hand cradling the back of your skull, pressing your cheek against a broad, angled shoulder, another wrapped tightly around your shoulders, resting under your ears. It was quiet, now - you could only hear your staggered breathing and Alastors static that had gone down a notch or two. You thought his breathing had become more labored, too, when he slowly, gently, let go and straightened you to bring you to a standing position, his hands shifting into their usual shape as they came to rest lightly on your upper arms.

"Are you alright, dear?" His voice was almost back to the tone you were so fond of - almost. There still was an undertone, a dangerous sharpness. Your fingertips instinctively grasped and searched until they met with the familiar texture of his clothing and you nodded.

"Y-yes... I think so, yes. What - what happened to the other one?"

There was a deep laugh, one you haven't heard yet from him. "Oh, my dear, no need to fret over that. I'll deal with that pest later. I should've dealt with him the moment he stepped into your store. An oversight I intend to shortly redeem."

It should have frightened you - should've made the situation so, so much worse, hearing that Alastor planned more torture for that vile creature, probably even an equally gruesome death like the one his friend got. But his words only calmed you. Made you feel... safer. Your fingers lingered on his suit longer than you expected, tracing the detailed seams of his lapels, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the fabric, feeling the details of the cool, metallic buttons. And he let you. He stood still, allowing your hands to see what your eyes couldn't.

"I can't decide if it's a blessing or a shame that you can't see the carnage I caused. Although I am pleased that you didn't have to look at the ugly faces of those cretins who tried to defile you." He took your hands from his coat and placed them softly on his face. "But maybe… you can try to envision what your savior looks like, hm?"

His hands left yours again, though you found the sensation and feeling of his touch remained where he placed them. Your heart fluttered as you couldn't keep yourself from running your palms and fingertips over his skin, cautiously tracing his angular jaw, making out the distinct feeling and sharp lines of a toothy grin. Then you pushed further, fingers running along a slight bow and over the indent where his brows arched, his cheekbones prominent enough you felt the warmth of blood flushing under the skin as the mental image of his face got clearer.

You were in awe that you could do this, that he encouraged it even, but he allowed you the tender moment, making a muffled humming sound and exhaling quietly under your soft, curious touch. You realized at last that his eyes were closed for you, the skin there slightly pliant and firm at the same time. With the tips of your fingers, you followed the firm, straight bridge of his nose down the length of it and he inhaled sharply when you brushed his lips. The familiar sound of static increased just enough for you to realize there had been complete silence aside from your soft and his steady breathing. He opened his eyes again, slowly taking your hands away to leave a feathery light, lingering kiss on your knuckles as he hummed thoughtfully.

"Now, let me clean up this mess, we don't want you stumble over any... unpleasant bits." You heard a snap and felt the air whirring around you, filling with a thick, fog-like sensation as you heard your floors creaking, wood mending and cracking and tiny bits of glass swirling around you, piecing itself together and returning into their frame. Not even a minute later the shop felt normal again, the unpleasant smell gone as well, and with it the overall apprehension the threat had caused.

"Thank you, Alastor. Truly, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't..." you started, pausing as his hands wandered gently around your face to put on your miraculously repaired glasses. He laughed softly, tapping a gentle, slender finger on the tip of your nose.

"Luckily we didn't find out, did we? Ah, but, unfortunately, I'd say the night has been spoiled for us, given that there's another vermin to take care of." He walked behind you, carefully setting the accounting book you had used as an attempted weapon into your hands, his taloned fingers curling gently around yours as if to make sure you had a proper hold on it.

"You lock up when I'm gone, little mouse. And who knows - Maybe we'll continue to see each other... tomorrow night."

And then you felt another gentle peck, this time on your flushed cheek, and the door opened with the bell ringing, the faint crackle of a radio fading and his heavy, signature scent of burned wood and bourbon lingering around you as you hurried to bolt the doors shut, heart racing painfully in your chest at the prospect of adding even more parts of the Radio Demon to the image in your mind.

[heartsteel-heartbeats]

More dating Heartsteel Kayn HCs (Birthday + Halloween Edition! ft. Rhaast)

Brief mention of drinking, but doesn’t go into full detail.

(( Happy birthday to this silly guy!! 😚😚 )) ~ OBBY 💗

You’ve known Kayn’s birthday was on the 30th and not the 31st thanks to a certain K/DA member texting him at a very unfortunate time, but you did enjoy the idea of celebrating both days in general. Kayn, on the other hand, prefers the 31st because that is what he says his birthday is. It doesn’t hurt to just simply indulge him. If he wants his birthday on the 31st, who the hell are you to say? Don’t let that stop you from doing something fun on the 30th though. Try to take advantage of the fact he has a habit of staying up very late. As long as you two aren’t caught, perhaps you could get away with a thing or two. Maybe a little spray paint to liven up this boring alley right?

Kayn might catch on to what your intentions are and he will tease you about it and telling you his birthday is tomorrow, but he truly does appreciate what you’re doing. Any moment he can spare just to be with you is everything to him.

“Is this for my birthday? You know that’s tomorrow.” “Whattt? Of course I know that.” “This is for my birthday, isn’t it?” “Totally not.” “It’s totally for my birthday!” “It’s past midnight anyway! It’s your birthday right now!”

On the 31st, do expect Rhaast to make an appearance. In fact, it may or may not have been his idea for you to dress up like him. He thinks it’d look cool, and luckily for both of you, some people seemed to have the same idea to dress up as him. Of course, it’d be obvious to tell which one was the real Rhaast, but you? The media can just say you were just a “mysterious talented artist” who practically nailed the costume. At least they never got a picture of your face or even your name, and they’ll never know that you actually got help from the man himself.

Rhaast does eventually escape from the crowd just to go to you and drag you onto a rooftop to watch everyone else. Does he make fun of other people’s attempts to dress up as him? Absolutely.

“[name]! Look at that one over there!” “A for effort, at least.” “No, that’s too high! Bump it down to C tier.” “Hah! That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? Not even low B tier?” “Not at all!” “Oh come on, look at that one. That one’s not that bad, right?” “Ugh, more like cheaply made.”

Rhaast himself is pretty anti-paparazzi. Not in the “literally blinding in the camera” kind of anti-paparazzi, but rather the one that tends to scare them away quite literally. Popping out of nowhere with a loud “BOO!” and a boisterous laugh. Although in general, Rhaast is just really hard to get a good picture of if it’s not during a show. I mean have you seen him? Look at him go.

tbh he’d probably scare some kids too

Since we’re talking about Rhaast, let’s talk about your relationship with him. He loves you. In fact, he’s the one that pushed Kayn to approach you when he realized how Kayn felt about you. In a way, you could say this relationship is polyamorous. Rhaast still gets very jealous if he’s not let out to have time with you, though it’s not so different with Kayn. Both of them can get pretty jealous in general.

“You’re such a wimp! Just do it!!” “No..!” “Oh come on!! They’re perfect! You even thought it!” “Well-! Yes, I did! But-!” “They even love the way I work things! If you want them, you have to get them before someone else does! Have you seen how that other guy was looking at them earlier?!” “I am not doing it.” “What’s that saying? “The worst they can do is say no”? Just do it Kayn!!" “Ugh! Fine! Tomorrow." "Pussy."

Rhaast was Kayn's personal alarm that next morning. He wasn't going to let Kayn forget the plan. Let’s just say he was a bit of a mess when he finally came to you thanks to Rhaast, but when you said yes, he was ecstatic. Kayn struggled trying to keep a straight face when all he can hear is Rhaast yelling triumphantly. That was also the day you realized Rhaast wasn't just his "alter-ego," but rather a whole other person that only Kayn hears and lets out time to time. Well, you did like Kayn, and you did like "not simply an alter-ego" Rhaast, so it worked out.

He definitely tried scaring you a few times. Maybe he succeeded, maybe he didn’t, but he’s done a handful of things to you and others to try and get a reaction. Maybe you grew a resistance to it overtime and your reactions gradually changed.

Rhaast does let you snap some pretty cool photos of him which probably includes him doing dangerous stunts. Still, seeing him go do what he loves to do without anything to stop him was nice. That didn’t stop you from being worried if he’ll actually get hurt, though. He sometimes teases you on that. To be fair, he does this all the time and comes out unscathed.

Heading towards your next destination (which would be wherever they had agreed to celebrate his birthday) had to be done with the two of you doing in different routes so that attention wasn’t drawn to either of you, or to you specifically. Wouldn’t want too many speculations now, though it is fun to see the fans create their own thoughts on the matter. They were either entirely wrong, or they were so close to the truth. You were going to meet up again a few blocks from the location, and of course, he was there first waiting for you in a wall just to kind of surprise you. You were greeted by Kayn instead of Rhaast, and he lifts the mask on your face to give you a kiss.

“Hey there gorgeous~” “Hey yourself. Were you just standing in that wall the entire time?” “Guilty as charged. You’re so slow.” “Says the one who can walk in walls.” “Yeah, but you love it when I do it.”

Serves as good time to just walk and chat now that you’re away from the crowd. Most people, and kids, would be at home and maybe sleeping by now, so the streets are rather empty.

“Not that I’m complaining, but are you here because Rhaast is tired?” “If I let Rhaast drink to his heart’s content, none of us will be going home.” “Since when did that ever stop you?” “Yeah… But Yone won’t be letting me off the hook, so I’m unfortunately at a limit.” “And on your birthday. What a shame.”

Whether this is your first time meeting the rest of Heartsteel or not, it’s safe to say you get along with them fairly well. Ezreal wanted all the details, but gets cut off by Kayn who would pull you away from him. K’Sante and Alune are always fun to talk to, so if things get too rowdy, you can run to them and chat for a while.

You’ve spotted Aphelios taking pictures of some stuff happening, like how Kayn and Ezreal are still bickering which he’ll post somewhere later. He’ll probably go to you to show you some photos he took of the others a few days or weeks prior. There was even a photo of Aphelios and Kayn beating Sett with plushies and pillows (Ezreal took the photo). He’ll send it to you if you ask.

You know those little charms he has on his belt of Rhaast and his shadow assassin form? Your gift to him were matching charms of you and him. He wears the charm of you with so much pride, he loves it so much. You're even placed between the two he already had. No one would suspect a thing either if they see your little charm of Kayn. It's normal for people to have silly pins and charms of their favorite artist, and if anyone asks where you got it from, just say you made it yourself. It wasn't a lie after all.

It’s safe to say both Kayn and Rhaast had fun on their 48 hour birthday.

[teojira]

On my hands and knees for some general headcannons for Koba, a fragile friendship forged from a hunt gone wrong or just mildly getting along like pissy siblings 😭. Your writings are so memorizing, and it's like eating a 5-star meal. All the kudos and love for you as my favorite pota writer

[General Koba drabble/ headcanons!] [Platonic]

Summary: Koba deals with you because he absolutely has to, not because he actually cares for you.

Warnings: Platonic Koba and Reader, Koba being a dick but that's canon.

A/N: THANK YOU SO SUCH KIND WORDS I TWIRLED MY HAIR??? this literally means so much to me, thank you :( I tried my best to incorporate both ideas you had! I hope this is good, Koba is kinda hard to write for and I am nervous lmfao.

Ohhh my fucking god, will he never let you rest.

Koba doesn't love humans, it is so very very very apparent in everything he does that he DOESN'T like you, he would let you drop dead in front of him without caring.

Imagine his shock and gal when he starts to actually form some kind of attachment to you. How bitter it makes him to think he can even have a somewhat positive thought about you.

It makes him want to claw his fur out, maybe even go blind in his other eye to get some damn sense into him. How dare you, and if he cared to use human curse words, he'd call you every name in the book.

He begrudgingly will help you learn how to hunt, and I mean begrudgingly. Caesar has to damn near hold the bonobo at gun point to get him to stop being so fucking hostile and just give you a chance.

He watches you from a tree as you hunt pitifully, the spear much too large for you to wield like apes do. It's pathetic really, watching you stumble like a baby elk with no sense of balance. You can't spear a single fish.

"Human...stupid." The Bonobo sneers, rolling his eyes after you continuously miss, he can see your face burn with what he's been told is embarrassment. Serves you right.

Koba has no actual plans on helping you, until he starts to see you throw your spear onto the forest floor with a thump, curling into yourself, hiding your face in your knees.

Great, now you're crying and he's gonna have to be the one to deal with it. Just, Great. Just what he wanted to deal with.

Koba is already mentally trying to prepare himself to get down and attempt to soothe those pitiful cries coming from you when he hears footsteps rapidly approaching.

You, being so caught up in your own world, don't realise a mountain lion is stalking you, but Koba does.

It's scary how fast he can move at his age and with his disabilities, he's down the tree and at your side before you even realize.

The growl he lets out startles you enough to break out of whatever trance you find yourself in, watching Koba plunge his own spear at the mountain lion, the large cat yowling when it's hit You can't help but let out a yelp of your own.

Koba puts more force, piercing the jagged rock deeper into its neck, breathing harshly from the extension.

The cat falls silent finally, Koba turning to you, staring down at you with a glower.

"....stupid."

Koba chooses to ignore how you look back at him with appreciation, he didnt do it for you, he did it for Caesar. Doesn't matter if it gives him a pleasant feeling deep in his core.

This starts you both off with a rocky 'friendship' between you and the old Bonobo.

He doesn't like that you seem to keep following him around the colony and very vocally tries to scare you off. Hell, he tries to pawn you off to Stone and Grey, but it's no use.

For some reason, you've decided that you'd make his existence even harder and make it a point to bug him.

He hates it. He hates you even more. But it's akin to having a dog, and he lets you know so.

"Like dog. Follow Koba." "That's rude." "...good."

He's such an asshole it's ridiculous. What do you see in him?

Koba eventually gets used to his new normal, antagonizing you just as much as you do him.

He's learned how to get away with fucking with you so that he doesn't get in trouble with Caesar or the others.

Fucker has pushed you into the lake more times than you can count and it makes him huff out laughter. It's all under the guise of being playful.

Jokes on him because you constantly will try and touch him, saying he has fleas or what not, only for him to growl at you when you pull back and stick up a middle finger towards his face. Peak sibling behavior tbh

Caesar sees you as a good thing for Koba, exposure to a human that isn't out to harm.

No matter what Koba claims, you're harmless. Everyone knows this.

They fight about it, Koba adamantly saying he was no part in caring for you, but when Caesar raises an eyebrow ridge, signing quickly that this isn't a discussion, Koba fumes.

Would rather drop dead than admit he misses your presence. If you decide to spend more time with Maurice or Rocket, he gets so pissy.

Koba will drag you away if you push him hard enough, grabbing you by your waist and dragging you. He doesn't care if you don't want him man handling you, oh well.

I know it in my heart that he yanks your hair to piss you off. He does it to get your attention. It's never for anything of importance, he just likes that it pisses you off.

"You can literally just chatter, and I'll hear it!"

The asshole just shrugs with one shoulder.

He's insufferable, and I hate him.

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 3

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4

A/N: Part 3 is finally here y’all! Sorry it took such a while to finally upload, I have been extremely burnt out and needed some time to recharge after completing my semester. Therefore I have made this chapter extra long! Also sorry if it in any way feels rushed, I tried to get this posted as soon as possible since it has long been due. Let me know if you would like some more dynamics between the reader and the other characters. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts and things that you enjoyed! (Also this chapter contains a surprise guest!) 💜💜💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, slight implication of past abuse.

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂That night, the same night Ghost saw you on that roof, your face illuminated by the stars and the moon that seemed to pale in comparison to you, he had returned to his own quarters as stealthily as he had came. His presence had always gone unnoticed both to you and the others at this time of night, a time of night when even the nightingales had laid down to rest, exhausted from their song. When he settled himself in bed that night, his torso covered by his blanket and his arm propped up on the pillow to rest under his head, he could not sleep, staring at the ceiling just as he did the night before. His body begged for a moment’s rest, anything to let his consciousness slip away in order to escape the reality of this world in which only sleep could provide. But in spite of the efforts of his nervous system, his mind contested for a few more minutes of wakefulness, moments that would only turn into hours.

🍂There was always this unspoken battle within Simon Riley, a battle of peace and conflict, a constant struggle between giving in to the comforts of life and leaving everything behind, or preoccupying himself with his current line of work that seemed to be the only thing that kept his thoughts at bay. But starting a new life? That was something that was not cut out for him. His past was and will always be his present and his future. Society had no place for people like Simon Riley, and he it. I’m telling you, this man needs therapy, bad. And one hell of a vacation.

Never in a day of his miserable life did he know you would be thrown into the mix. You, a woman of better upbringing, a woman so delicate and blinded with hope, a woman who shared the warmth of her spirit with all whom she knew. And yet, here she was, wasting her time away in a place with the likes of them, where war consumed every living soul that ever crossed its path. God were you naïve, and completely fucking daft, he had thought to himself many times, a doctor like you leaving the hospital in the city for a place like this. Jesus. Either you were a complete fool or the military offered you a shit ton of money. Or perhaps it was your youth. After all, you were younger than the rest of them. He believed a woman of your degree should not be here amongst men like them. You were soft, tried too hard to see the good in people, and one day, one day, that might be your downfall.

Sometimes he’d find himself hoping you would transfer somewhere else. And the more he thought on the subject, the more he came to despise you being here, part of the reason why he avoided you in the first place. And yet, as the days went by, the man had developed a bit of a soft spot for you as they might say. But don’t tell him that or else he might just loose another one of his knives. Truth of the matter was, he had seen what war had done, even to the best of people. And with no disrespect, a young woman like you would get eaten up alive in a place like this.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he did not want to see you wound up in this chaos. So what would he do? He'd often times monitor your activity, and by that I mean he would on some occasions check up on you, in his own avoidant way of course, whether it be making sure you woke up by standing around the corner to see you trudge along to the coffee maker in your white coat, or catching you finish your shift when you left your office in the evening. By this time, you'd be surprised to know that he has grown familiar with part of your schedule, from when you leave your room and make yourself a cup of coffee in the morning before heading into your office, to what time you have your little lunch, down to the hour of the evening when you leave your office after your shift has ended. He calls it "running a constructive operation", but you and I both know what it is. Despite his cold, masked exterior, he's not completely heartless and does want to make sure you're safe, as with the rest of his teammates.

At the same time, your safety also depends on your environment, and there is only so much a few men can do. Perhaps it would be best if you were somehow convinced to go back to the states and leave, lest this place will end up devouring every last bit of vibrancy that radiated in you. And if that meant being callous towards you and making your time here a living hell, as if you did not belong, so be it. I know it sounds like he absolutely loathes you but I promise it only seems that way.

The man obviously has trouble sleeping, which was nothing new to him, a good nights rest was something of a rarity in his case. But now it was you he found inhabiting the walls of his mind, and frankly, he found it to be quite a nuisance. And as if to make matters worse, tonight it was your voice that haunted his thoughts, that siren-like voice that rung out softly underneath the pale moonlight as if he were a sailor awaiting to plummet to his death down into the abyss of the deep indigo waters below.

He needed sleep, desperately, and if he did not get it soon he might just go insane. That’s to say he isn’t already. And despite finding you to be the cause of the whole ordeal behind it, behind him not being able to shut his eyes and fall into a short-lived coma, you were still the only doctor here and just how was he supposed to go about that. Usually people go to doctors if they have trouble sleeping, but how the fuck was he supposed to go to you. He couldn’t just walk in your office and ask if you had anything strong enough to knock him out. Sure there was always alcohol but that meant dealing with a hangover and you most likely sending him a pamphlet about the dangers of alcoholism without even knowing like some kind of psychic. On the other hand, knowing how you were, if he were to mention his symptoms you would just ask him a bunch of questions. And then what was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t sleep because you tormented and occupied his thoughts??? Never. He decides it’s better to just deal with it.

And boy oh boy your singing did not help. You reminded him of the nightingales that used to nest in the tree outside his bedroom window in his childhood home. You and your guitar, singing your song out into the night for someone out there, whomever and wherever they were. The song and your voice an empty promise, a false hope for the things that never were and never might come. And yet, despite his slight demurral towards you, in the days to come, he came to find comfort in your voice, his feet finding their way to the rooftop to see if you would be there.

On the nights that you were there, he would sit against the wall away from your line of sight, hidden in the shadows and listening to your voice, the only thing that kept him sane and dare say, even bring him an ounce of peace. He would say it was to make sure you don’t pull anything stupid or draw unnecessary attention towards yourself. But truth was, though he could not see it within himself, maybe he was watching over you, making sure no harm came your way. Little would he know, that your voice and the serenity of your aura would soon come to remind him of home, of the days where it was just him and his mother and the nightingales perched on the tree outside his bedroom window, the sound of your voice lulling him to a much needed sleep that his body craved.

Now back to the current.

That next morning you had woken up from the sun shining down on your face, its rays hot against your cheeks as you squinted against the bright light, pulling your blanket over your head with a groan before bolting upright, eyes widened with alarm. Oh shit, what time was it? You look at the watch on your wrist, eyes widening even more to see that it was NOON????? It's fucking noon?

"Fucking shit." You let out a string of curses between your teeth, grabbing your things off the floor only to get up with a gasped groan from the sharp needle-like sensations that shot up your spine, your back hunched over like a shrimp with kyphosis. You wince, hissing as you attempt to straighten yourself out, letting out a couple ows from the cracking sound that came out from between your vertebrae. Boy were you an idiot. Never sleep on cement, now your hips and back feel like they were broken in by the Hulk and you're willing to bet there would be bruises.

You could have sworn you looked like one of those grandmas depicted in the cartoons, wincing almost each time you took a step. A frown pulled on your lips as you headed towards the door that led back to the building, opening it up and nearly whining at the sight of the stairs spanning out below you. "Fuck my life."

You make sure to take your time going down, not wanting to tumble down the steps and risk a broken limb or concussion only to have one of the men patch you up and risk getting an infection. It's not that you don't trust their handiwork......but you don’t. And the thought of having your prefrontal cortex accidentally removed shakes you to your core. Don't tell them that though, you'd probably hurt their feelings.

"Y/n." You hear someone calling your name in the distance, turning your head to see Price heading in your direction.

God damn it, out of all the people to see you in this state. Don't tell anyone but Price is your workplace crush. I mean if we're being honest the whole team is fine as hell. But you loved his snarky sense of humor, his kind eyes and smile, and the way his eyes seemed to disappear into these curved crescent-shaped lines whenever he smiled or laughed. And now as he stood in front of you, his bulky frame towering over yours. You're praying there aren’t any spots of snot on your face from the way you bawled your eyes out last night.

"Oh fuck me." You inaudibly curse under your breath, knowing damn well that to hope he doesn't notice how you literally look a sleep-deprived Quasimodo would be damn near impossible.

"Where've you been? I was beginning to get worried." Price asks, looking over your hunched state that oddly paired with your puffy eyes and face. "Jesus Mary Joseph. Are you alright?"

"Yup, it's just allergies." You nod your head with a strained smile. "Perfectly peachy."

"Do you need any help?"

"Nope! I'm fine." You hurry past him. "I'm going to take a shower so whoever is in there right now tell them to hurry up."

Price watches you go with furrowed brows, wondering whatever the hell happened to you before shaking his head with a shrug and heading towards the showers to make sure it was empty for you. During your time there, the team had sorted out to give you a designated time slot for when you preferred to bathe, wanting to ensure that you received your privacy because of there only being shared showers, something which was common with being in the military. They had even given your own designated shower head. But even then, you always went in and came out fully dressed with both your towels and your clothes, terrified with the idea of the men seeing you in nothing but a towel once you stepped out. Luckily for you, no one was in there when you had arrived. When you hurried in there with your fresh pair of clothes and towels bundled in your arms, that had to be the quickest shower you had ever taken, other than the times you almost slept through your alarms and missed your exams back in med school.

So by the time you step out of your room with your white coat, empty coffee mug in hand and your hair barely brushed through looking like Dr. Emmet Brown, you don't even bother to put on any makeup or concealer to hide the fact that you had been crying last night, you already had a late start to the day as it was.

Going over to the kitchen, you groggily place your mug on the counter, staring at the pasty tiles for a good minute to gather your thoughts and remember just what it was your were doing in the first place before turning on the coffee maker only to see that it isn't working. "You have got to be kidding me." Honest to god if I don't have coffee in the morning I will commit a felony.

"There's no use meddling with that." Price comes up beside you, watching the way you moved the small machine around and smacked the sides with your palms. "I'm afraid it's broken."

"Broken?" You turn to the older gentleman, trying your best to mask your annoyance at yet another misfortune to add to your list of shit that happened today so you don't get written up for having an attitude or whatever it is they do here for uncompliant personnel. "What do you mean it's broken?" What you mean to say is, how the hell are you going to get through the day without your daily dose of caffeine? You were not in the mood for a caffeine withdrawal, not now.

"You'll have to blame MacTavish for that." Damn this man just threw him under the bus no hesitation.

"Soap? How?”

"Bloke put the coffee grounds where the water is supposed to go."

"He put the.......what?" You squint with a scrunch of your nose, trying to picture the young Scotsman mixing up the steps for the coffee grounds and water before pinching the bridge of your nose with a shake of your head. It's too damn early for this. Bitch it's literally the afternoon.

“You look like shite.” Price teases you of your completely disheveled appearance. Honestly he thinks you look pretty cute in a I just had 15 shots of espresso and forgone a whole week’s worth of sleep kind of way. Price is the type of man to see you at your worst looking like a corpse from the grave and dig it, with some concern for your overall health and well-being of course.

“Gee thanks.”

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Happier than a kid at Disneyland.” You roll your eyes before slipping out a small groan, burying your head in your arms upon the counter and muttering something along the lines of how you’re going to euthanize yourself.

“Oi. There’ll be none of that, you hear?”

“Wait and see.” You mumble to yourself but Price hears it anyway.

“Cheer up. I got you something.” You hear Price say to you before hearing something being placed on the counter.

"Is it benzoylmethylecgonine?" You mumble out.

"What?"

"Benzoylmethylecgonine." Your voice is louder this time but still muffled from your arms.

"The fuck is that?"

".................cocaine."

"Jesus Mary Joseph." Price rolls his eyes. “You’re a character, you. Why don’t you give it a look eh?”

You slightly lift your head from your arms, peering over to see a cup next to you.

"For ya." Price smiles as he pushes the cup towards you, watching you stare at the thing with skepticism.

"Well. Go on."

"Is that-?"

"Coffee.”

"Yeah I know that but-“ you lift yourself up to stare at the thing with a tilt of your head. “where the hell did you get it?”

"From a small coffee shop down a couple blocks."

Right. "What kind is it?”

"Iced caramel macchiato. Heard you mentioning it the other day."

"Oh. You did?” You blink. "You didn't have to do all that."

"Eh it's nothin, my treat. The men and I needed our caffeine too, and well, since Soap broke the machine, we needed to get it one way or another.” All but Simon of course. Dude hates coffee.

“What, did you tell him he's buying?"

“No.” Price leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares off into the distance in thought. “Now that I think about it I should’ve, aye?”

"Poor Soap." You shake your head with a chuckle, grabbing the cup to take a sip. “Oh......oh that hit the spot.”

Okay remember when the boys were competing with giving you little gifts and I said that Price showed his appreciation for you in other ways? This is what I mean. He makes sure you’re taken care of and that your little needs and requests are met. Though rare as composed to Soap's little visits, he likes to stop in your office at times, peeking his head through your cracked door and asking if there is anything you need. This man’s love language is acts of service, I’m sure of it.

“Proper innit.” Price chuckles at your blissed expression.

“Hm. Chef’s kiss.” You take another sip of your coffee as you lean back against the counter, savoring in the cold, smokey, buttery liquid as it went down your throat.

“The hell is on your feet.” Price nods towards your shoes.

“They’re my crocs.” You give a hurt look, the ends of your lips pulled into a frown.

“They’re downright hideous.”

“They’re comfortable!!!” You defend. “I even put little buttons on it.” You lift one of your feet up to show him.

“Doesn’t make it any less hideous.”

"You should try looking in a mirror first before you come talking to me about what's hideous and what's not." You snark, a teasing tone in your voice that catches the older man off guard.

Price is stunned, mouth slightly agape as he is surprised to see such a statement come from a person as demure as you, and dare say even aroused, at being affronted by someone smaller than him. "You cheeky girl." Price shifts his weight, pressing his tongue against his molars before tightening his jaw. "You've got a sharp tongue on you."

"Don't insult my crocs." You lift your chin with a raised brow, a smug expression on your face as you lift your coffee cup to your lips.

As Price and you talked, Ghost had appeared in the far corner, his eyes lowered to the ground and not a single thought behind them before hearing the sound of Price's voice. Stopping in his tracks, he peers around the corner, not wanting to look conspicuous but also curious to see who it was the captain was speaking to, looking over to see the two of you together engaged in a conversation looking a bit too comfy.

The soldier froze, tensing at the sound of you laughing and Price……flirting? Was the man flirting with you? Ghost watched the way Price leaned in ever so slightly in your direction, a slight yet noticeable shift in his demeanor as he told you a joke, the way your cheeks swelled as you snorted, your smile hidden behind the cup held in your hands in an attempt to hold back a laugh, and the way he reached a hand out to adjust the collar of your white coat. He is not jealous he is not jealous he his not jealous. Once again, HE IS NOT JEALOUS. Looking away from the scene, he turned back around and headed back to where he came. He had no reason to feel threatened by the situation, it’s not like he felt anything towards you or if you meant anything to him. And yet, why did it irk him to see you laughing with Price like that.

That was the first he had heard you laugh, though as light and brief as it was. He could tell it wasn’t your true full-hearted laugh, the ones that left you gasping for air as tears welled up at the corner of your eyes. He had seen those laughs many times at the pub from the groups of friends that gathered together after a long day of work or when they had just left from a futbol match, times when he craved a glass of whisky. The laugh you had let out right now wasn’t one of those full chested laughs, this one was different, more timid, like fresh rain in the middle of spring, where fog blanketed and seeped through the meadows and trees, where dewdrops patterned themselves like mosaics upon the blades of grass and the petals of roses. This laugh was light and airy, crisp to his ears, and it had sent a slight shiver down the stone-hearted soldier that he had never once felt before.

He convinces himself that what he saw between the two of you was none of his concern and that who you fancy is none of his business, and yet why did he find your little interaction with Price to bother him? Better yet, why does he find himself wishing he had made you laugh instead?

It should also be mentioned that Ghost did not fulfill the task he had promised himself when he said he would throw away the Dum Dum lollipops you had given him last night, thinking your little form of bribery to be quite inane. What did you take him for, a child? Regardless of the many times he stared at those two pieces of candy with your little note next to them, your graceful and sophisticated handwriting a strange polarity to the bright and colorful wrapped candy often meant for children, curiosity had gotten the best of him, as well as midnight cravings.

And alas, with numerous stealing glances toward the lollipops and his mouth watering for just a quick sample, the man had given in. And let’s just say, he’s addicted. I mean, I was not lying when I said this man has the sweet tooth of Augustus Gloop. Also, he may or may not have snuck into your office the next morning to steal a lollipop or two, or three, before rushing out the door. So you should probably hide the those things before you walk in on an empty tray one day.

"Also, I wanted to let you know that Alejandro, Ghost, and Soap and I will be heading out on a mission later today. Gaz will be staying behind just to make sure nothing happens here while we're away." Price informs you.

"What time will you be back?"

"Not till late. If everything runs smoothly, there's no need to wait up for us."

“Geez. Will it be dangerous?” Your brows furrow at the center. You knew what their job entailed, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Well that’s part of our job now innit.” Price smirks.

"Just………make sure to come back in one piece alright. I'm not trying to perform any amputations today." You scrunch your nose in a teasing manner, though your words mean more than what your voice gives away.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours. We'll be back like before aye.” Price gives you a comforting smile, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb and forefinger against the bottom of your chin before dropping it back down at his side. Though the action was small and brief, an informal unveiling of the captain’s fondness towards you, that didn’t stop your face from heating up faster than a hot pocket in the microwave. You were sure one would burn their hands if they grazed your cheek.

The others had soon cluttered into the area where you were, chatting amongst themselves before turning towards you and price, the sudden group of movement causing you to clear your throat and step just the slightest inch away.

"Hey doc." The men greeted you, their faces brightening upon seeing you before glancing down at your bright crocs.

"The fuck are those?"

"Oh my god. Don't tell me you guys have never seen crocs before." You exhale, your voice coming out in a scoff.

"Why are they called crocs?" Soap questions, brows furrowed with confusion. You and me both Soap, I don't have a clue either.

"Looks like something my abuela would wear." Alejandro comments, a mischievous glint in his eyes at teasing you.

“Que te folle un pez (get fucked by a fish).”

Alejandra is stunned from the words that just came out from your lips, cocking his head back and tilting it as he looked at you with surprised amusement. He never knew you spoke Spanish. Maybe it came with being a doctor and being around people all the time. On top of that, was this the first time he had heard you curse? Was that a stroke of confidence he heard from your mouth? Was he offended? Was he turned on? He couldn’t tell.

But as Alejandro still stood there, silent against your remark, the others begin to wonder just what it was that you said that had him like this.

“Uh what’d she say?” Soap leans over to whisper to Alejandro, his eyes darting between the two of you as did the other men.

“Ahora, ¿dónde aprendiste una cosa así, eh? (Now where did you learn such a thing, huh?)” Alejandro nods his head towards you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Conoces gente de todo tipo cuando eres médico. Y además, el idioma era parte de mi plan de estudios de todos modos. (You meet all kinds of people when you're a doctor. And besides, language was part of my curriculum anyway.)” You shrug your shoulders, taking a sip of your coffee as your eyes meet Alejandro’s dark ones over the lid of your cup.

Alejandro chuckles, pointing at you with a smirk. “Bueno, será mejor que tengas cuidado cariño. Palabras como esa pueden meterte en problemas. (Well, you'd better be careful, sweetheart. Words like that can get you in trouble.)”

“No te preocupes por mí. Soy una niña grande Me licencié y todo. (Do not worry about me. I'm a big girl. I’ve got a degree and all.)”

“What are they saying?” Soap asks again, this time to Gaz.

“How would I know?” Gaz hisses, obviously annoyed with not knowing what the two of you were conversing about. Were the two of you planning a date? Were you plotting a scheme? Were you making fun of the rest of the team? The boys definitely didn't like being left out from a conversation, especially from you.

“I didn’t know you can speak Spanish.” Soap turns to you.

“Well it seems here that our little doctora is full of surprises.” Alejandro comments, making you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Right.” Gaz squints at you in a jest, adding on to the men poking fun at you. “Now really doc, what the fuck is on your feet?”

"Oh screw y'all, they're comfy for my feet alright." You roll your eyes at the way they tease you about your choice of footwear, though in all honesty, you're not able to hide the smile that tugs at the ends of your lips, that is until a certain someone appears.

Ghost is the last one to show up, hoping to have avoided your presence. But when he sees you still there leaning against the counter, his eyes lock with yours before looking away as if you had never even existed in the first place.

You're almost sure he hates you, chewing on the inside of your cheek from the way he looked you over like a speck of dirt on his boot before completely ignoring your being. You have no clue why he is the way he is around you, wondering if he had seen the note you left on his door. He has to have seen it right? He’s got to. And then it hits you, at least you think. Maybe your little detail of adding the lollipops had offended him, and you’re almost terrified to think what he thought of them. On top of that, he still had never bothered to show up for his blood results. So he truly was avoiding you on purpose, wasn’t he. You wish you knew the reason behind his avoidant behavior. Did he find you disgusting? Was that a possible reason? Had you somehow at some point offended him? Were you going to end up on his hit list? Maybe. Were you going to die some mysterious death by his hands tonight? Sounds likely.

“Alright you lot. Let’s get moving.” Price gestures the men to follow him before turning back to you. “We won’t be long. Gaz, you know the rules.”

“Yessir.” Gaz nods his head before stepping over to you, looking down at you drinking your coffee with a soft smile on his face. “I’m sure this day will go by smoothly.”

“Oof. Don’t jinx it.”

You wish he had not said those last words.

You had spent most of the day relaxing as Price had suggested when the men left, their gear strapped to their forms and their guns locked and loaded. A strange scene I might add, if one were to walk into the area of the building and see a group of bulky hardened soldiers and then you, a young woman in a white coat and scrubs and her special decorated crocs along with her vintage Donald Duck watch. You almost looked out of place with the war-ridden atmosphere.

When you had stepped into your office the first time that day, you were surprised to see a slight change in your usual environment, the lack of an apple at your desk. This absence, though small and what one might call insignificant, had saddened you to a certain degree. Though at first you found the little act to be annoying, of finding the red fruit there every morning placed upon your desk, as time went by, you had grown accustomed to it a bit. So when you noticed the absence of the apple after expecting to see it just like the days before, it had lowered your spirits. Though you did not know the meaning or intention behind the gesture or the person directly involved behind it, it had come to bring you a sense of security, a slight token of someone’s watchful eye over you. Or at least that’s what you believed it to be. Little did you it was just a simple act involving the confusion of idioms.

But imagine your confusion when in place of the lack of an apple, you instead find your tray of lollipops looking a little less full than it was yesterday. Had someone broken into your office or were you just loosing your mind. And as you inspect the little tray, you're even more surprised to find a distinct black, powdery substance smeared against the side of it, right on the edge. Using your thumb, you wipe it off the side of the tray, raising your hand to further inspect the foreign substance to see that it looks a lot like eyeshadow.

"Huh. That's strange."

Ooooooo someone just got caught.

With the men gone, all except Gaz of course, you went about reading more chapters of your book, lounging about on the couch in the common area before your nerves got the better of you and you decided to do some cleaning around the area, to which Gaz had offered some help, with much eagerness in his end. Gaz of course had kept watch, letting you lead the conversations as the two of you made small talk every once in a while before going back to your little tasks, you with your paperwork and inventory of medical supplies and Gaz with his patrol.

During the moments where the two of you did talk, you began to unravel little details about each other, details mostly involving Gaz since you still preferred to keep your walls up. You called it being professional, but those who were close to you would call it a fear to let others in. Perhaps they were right. After your father’s death, you had rarely let anyone in, sometimes not even your own self. And Gaz, being the sweet soul that he was, never pressured you to reveal anything you did not want to. He wouldn’t ask about your personal life or your past unless you offered to.

The more the two of you talked, the more you learned little things about the soldier that you never knew, like his love of the ocean and how he had wanted to become a marine biologist when he was a little boy, as well as how his favorite sea creatures were, and still are, sea otters and sea turtles. He had even mentioned how his favorite movie was Nemo growing up, with Crush being his favorite character. In fact, the movie was what inspired him to study in that field in the first place. He was extremely almost embarrassed to release that bit of info to you, scared that you might pass it on to the team and that he’d never hear the end of it. When that little bit of information slipped from his tongue, he practically begged you not to tell the others. So imagine his relief when you stick your pinky out in an offer to make a pinky promise on it. You honestly find it kind of cute.

As time dragged on and when the day had become night, when the sun had long passed the horizon to lay to rest, you had grown quite weary waiting for the men to return, and oh was there a sight waiting for them to behold once they did. Your little act of cleaning around the house had drained a good amount of your energy, eventually causing you to crash out on the couch with your head resting against Gaz’s shoulder. Your legs were curled up on the cushion of the sofa, your book placed open on your lap after Gaz had asked if you could read to him, curious about the story within the binding. But the late hour combined with the cleaning around had pulled a yawn from your chest as you read the pages out loud, your voice low and muzzy and your words drawling out as your eyes scanned the printed letters before another yawn escaped your lips, and another, then another, before everything became blurry and you slowly drifted off to a deep sleep.

Even Gaz, who was supposed to stay watch, had fallen asleep beside you, his head thrown back on the back of the couch and his mouth slightly parted as soft little snores escaped it. He was never one to fall asleep on duty, known for his control over his mental fortitude. But the poor soldier had soon followed suit, infected by by your fatigue as he too yawned after each time you did. In that time, he smiled down softly as he watched you grow tired next to him, resting your head unconsciously on his shoulder and chuckling at the sight of the thin line of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth.

He almost felt relieved, and comforted to see this side of you, after having seen you do nothing but shove your nose into paperwork and files on top of staying on guard to take care of them and make sure no serious injury happens on your watch. And as he watched you, making sure to stay as still as possible as to not wake you, your soft breathing and the warmth radiating off your body had finally pulled him in, until eventually, his state of alertness fell limp, his head rolling back as he too drifted off shortly after you.

You don’t know long you had been asleep, nor did you know you had your face smushed up against Gaz’s shoulder, your lips parted slightly and your drool pooling into a wet spot on the fabric of his jacket. If you did, you don’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye from how embarrassed you’d be. Not only did you most likely cause his arm to cramp up and fall asleep under your weight, but you had also marked his shoulder with your saliva. And if the others were to see this, they would have a kick out of it, with Soap taking multiple pictures at unflattering angles and teasing the two of you for the days to follow. And in a short matter of time, they would have seen it, stumbling upon the scene if they had not burst through the front door like a team of SWAT.

The sound of the door slamming open and their shouts had startled you awake, their voices echoing through the front of the building and making you sit up in your seat.

“What the-“ you mutter out groggily, squinting against the dryness of your eyes and not even paying mind to how you had completely crashed out. Where they back?

“Sounds like trouble.” Gaz had also woken up next to you, quickly getting up from the sofa and rushing towards the commotion as you followed closely behind.

You almost froze at the scene, watching the men come into the area with their faces worn out and beaded with sweat and spots of blood. You knew what they were getting into, what their job required of them, yet seeing them return from the mission first hand had in some way unsettled you. Sure, you had worked in the ER during your residency. You had seen conditions far worse than this, patients suffering from injuries ranging of a varying degree as they were wheeled around, gruesome wounds that still at times scarred your memories till this day. And yet, why did this seem to daunt you far worse than anything you had seen in the emergency department. It's almost as if you forgot these men were killers, and you didn't quite know how to feel about that.

Alejandro had been the first to step into the area, carrying an injured Soap under his arm and helping the Scot walk next to him as he muttered some words of encouragement in Spanish.

“What-what happened?”

“Nada serio querida. No te preocupes. (Nothing serious love. Don't worry.)” Alejandro answers simply, groaning under Soap's weight and from his own injuries.

“Nada serio querida.” Soap copies what Alejandro had said with a limp in each of his steps, his face pale from the loss of blood from his wound as he gives you a smile to assure you that everything was in fact fine, though we all know this isn’t the case.

“Well it sure as damn well looks serious to me Alejandro.” You remark as you hurry over to help the man set Soap down carefully on a chair, your voice slipping the hint of your father’s accent, a small habit that revealed itself whenever you got upset over something. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to tread carefully around me, I'm not made of glass you know."

Alejandro fell quiet as he watched you try to examine Soap, taken aback by this more....authoritative side of you, not that he had any reason to be surprised, you were a physician after all and this sort of conduct was necessary especially since people's lives were in your hands. He had not intended to alarm or offend you, the reason why he said those words in the first place, but the situation itself had managed to speak much louder than his words could ever manage. And in this moment, maybe it's best to let you be in charge.

Your eyes scattered about the area as the others soon came through, focusing on each and every one of them to try to gauge both their mental and physical state. Ghost was the next to enter right after Price, his blackened eyes from behind his mask meeting your concerned ones for a brief and fleeting moment before looking away. The skull-masked soldier was supporting another man, another masked soldier you had not seen before, one whose stature towered over everyone around him, even Simon Riley himself, whom you have thought to be tall enough already. Y'all already know who it is.

“Sir-“ you spoke up to the troubled-looking captain as he walked up to you, your eyes studying the wounded and bloodied scene behind him. You don't know what the hell happened back there, but you didn't need to hear the details to know it wasn't good. “Is everything alright? The hell happened?”

“Y/n.” Price finally stood in front of you, his hand placed on your shoulder as means of reassurance, or even a way to steady his exhausted body as he turned back to his men, running his fingers through his beard before looking you in the eye. “We were ambushed. Suffered a few injuries but we got the most of em.”

“You sure? Y’all look like you took quite the beating.” You state lightheartedly but more so from a place of worry and sympathy. “Listen Captain, if you don't mind, I need to take a look at these men."

“Right. Right.” Price nods his head, breathless from the mission. His countenance was masked behind an aura of composure as he looked over his injured soldiers, but one look at his eyes told you otherwise. He was tense, nonetheless, and you could clearly see the restlessness behind them from the way he held responsibility over the lives of his men, believing himself to be accountable if any harm should come to them.

“Do you have any wounds I need to take a look at sir? Any trauma to the head? Any lacerations or punctures?"

“No. No, I’m fine.”

"It'll be alright." You give the man a comforting smile, placing a hand on his arm to provide the only means of consolation you can give him in a moment like this.

“Thank you.” Price returns your smile, placing his hand over yours and giving it a soft squeeze. Though he felt contrite for throwing such a burden on your shoulders, he knew that you were the only person qualified enough around here given the circumstances, and he could not be more grateful for your presence. "Just....let me know if you need any help."

"Of course."

The men were badly beaten from what you observed as you examined them. A few fresh bruises marked their bodies, nothing terribly serious, but Soap, Alejandro, and the new guy were the only ones who had sustained more serious injuries. MacTavish had taken a bullet to the thigh, but luckily for him, the bullet had missed his femoral artery as well as any major nerves in the area. The poor Scotsman had felt bad for disturbing you at such a late hour such as this. But you had reassured him time and time again that this was part of your job, and that you had read over the part of the contract that said you would mostly be on-call when you signed your name at the bottom.

Soap doesn't know why he was so on edge as you operated on him. He’s nervous, extremely nervous. And what does Soap do when he’s nervous? He talks, like a lot, like a lot a lot and I don’t mean that lightly. I mean this man just talks your ear off while you’re wiping away any excess blood on his thigh and practically knuckles deep into his bullet wound. This man had been shot before so why should this be any different. Was it the local anesthetic you had injected into him? Or was it because you were a practicing physician and therefore would be able to pinpoint the finer details and eventually break some kind of devastating news to him like "I hate to break this to you Soap but I'm afraid I'm going to need to perform an amputation." Also I genuinely believe this man is afraid of needles. Don't ask me how I know. I just know.

"Y/n." Soap speaks up, gulping from the question that is about to spill from his lips as he watches you disinfect his wound.

"Hm?" You hum, focused on cleaning the area where the bullet had lodged itself.

"Am I gonna loose my leg?"

"What?" You stop, raising your head to give him a weird look. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Don' know. Ye look pretty serious..........................ya sure I'm not gonna loose my leg?" He asks again, the panic in his voice more evident this time as an image is generated in his mind of him having a wooden pegleg like some kind of pirate.

"No. No you're not going to loose your leg Soap. You're just fine.” You go back to mending his bullet wound. “If anything, you're just going to get a few stitches. I am going to have to leave the bullet in place though, so don’t fret.”

"Yer leavin the bullet in there?" Soap's face pales after hearing your statement, eyes wide as he stares at you like you’re some kind of lunatic.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can feel you staring at me like I’m crazy. The reason I’m leaving the bullet in your leg is because it’s not in a fatal area that needs removal, and it's going to do more damage than good if I take it out. And besides, your body will build a sort of......wall of scar tissue around it so you'll be fine.” You try to explain to him in a way he can understand.

“I will?”

"I promise. Now once I’m done here I'm going to prescribe you some antibiotics and pain relievers as well as an ointment to help with the healing process and keeping away infections. Just make sure to get some rest and go easy on that leg of yours and you'll be up and running in no time."

"Oh.....okay."

Poor Soap is still nervous, despite your words of consolation. So in order to ease the tension he decides to crack a few jokes, a trait that has become familiar with his teammates, much to their annoyance, whenever he's out on the field. Whether it's for his own welfare or yours, we may never know. Perhaps it’s for both, but let's just say it’s more so for his own sanity. And the way he jumps from one joke to another only makes you question how the previous medics ever sat through it.

"Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?"

"No."

"Great food. No atmosphere."

"Jesus."

"..............Hey y/n."

"Yes Soap?" You’re pretty sure this is the 45th joke he’s told you so far and now you’re just concerned for his mental well-being. But you also want to know where the hell he got all of these jokes in the first place.

"Why do seagulls fly over the ocean?"

Oh god. "Why?" You ask, bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next.

"Because if they flew over the bay, we'd call them bagels."

Jesus fucking christ. At this point you're positive your eyes are going to pop out from your sockets from how hard you are trying to stop yourself from rolling them. "Soap-"

"Yeah?"

"Please hold still."

Alejandro on the other hand was especially quiet while you tended to his wound, a gash on the proximal part of his arm on the lateral end, just below the acromial region, left from the bullet that grazed it. If he did speak, it would be small little words of motivation, sprinkled with terms of endearment in Spanish as he told you how good of a job you were doing, which you thought to be a risky thing to do considering you were sticking a needle in his flesh to sew his wound shut. He'd even tell you short little stories about his life before here, some of which may have elicited a soft chuckle from your frowning lips, a stern look that always unconsciously formed on your face whenever you were focused on something. He finds your little look of concentration quite cute honestly, the way you'd sometimes pout and squint your eyes. But most of all, he admired how calm and collected you were at such a task, as if you were doing something as simple as stitching the seams of fabric together.

He tried his best to soothe you, seeing the strained look on your face and imagining the stress you must be under, knowing when it would be best to offer you silence so that you may focus on the work at hand. And when you were done suturing his wound and wrapping fresh gauze around his arm, he pulls you in to give you a warm hug, which catches you off guard since you’re still wearing nitrile surgical gloves spotted with his blood and practically reek of alcohol-based solutions and the bleach-like scent of antiseptics. Regardless of how you look and smell like chemicals, the man only pulls you in tighter, wrapping his uninjured arm around the top of your back with his hand squeezing the back of your shoulder as he thanks you in his native tongue.

The two of you stand there for a moment in this sort of half-embrace, Alejandro with just a single arm around you and you with your hands held out behind him with your face pressed up against his chest. Next thing you know he presses a kiss to the side of your head, which takes you even more by surprise. This man really does not care how you look or smell. You could be covered in saline solution and antibiotic ointment and he’d still think you were the most stunning woman to walk the earth.

Also, speaking of smell, Alejandro smells really good, despite the hint of gunpowder from the mission he just returned from. But to say you are obsessed with his cologne is an understatement. This man smells AMAZING. His scent is woodsy, and spicy, like tequila mixed in with cardamom and bergamot, with sharp hints of clove and peppers balancing over velvety floral notes. He smells like something out one of those cheesy racy romance novels where the romantic interest climbs up your balcony during a hot summer night to hand you a single rose before whisking you away under the stars for a night of passionate-cough cough-you know what I mean. It's almost sinful, erotic, luring you in to perform acts that would make Satan and the Pope seek counsel with each other. This sudden emotion causes this stir in the pit of your stomach, lighting your whole body in flames and you almost feel ashamed for wanting him to stay a while longer just so you can get another and longer whiff of him.

“You know chica, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a really good machaca." Alejandro pulls away from the embrace, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

“Why don’t you go get one?”

“Only if you agree to come along.”

You’re stunned, caught off guard, and you better come quick with a witty response or else you’re just going to look like a fool standing there blinking at him. "Are you asking me out on a date Vargas?" Wow. I haven’t heard that one before.

"Mm, maybe. There'll be good food."

Speak no more. I am bringing the church and a marriage license. “You know, now that you've mentioned it, I suppose I have been craving some spicy food for a while."

The new guy, who’s name you found to be König, was surprisingly polite, despite his intimidating size and aura. He was a bit reserved around you at first, the blues of his eyes from behind the loose fabric of his mask studying your features to try to get a sense of your character as a person. He had heard quite a lot about you from the others, mostly the way you were gentle and kind in nature. Yet he had trouble understanding how a person could be capable of providing peace, as the others explained it, but one word from your lips and a benevolent smile in his direction was enough to convince him.

Telling from his body language, you made sure to inform him about every measure you were going to perform for the procedure, wanting to ensure he was as relaxed as possible with what you were doing, something you took seriously with every one of the patients you ever had. And the more you spoke, asking him simple questions like beginning with his name and asking where he was from and what his hometown was like and how he was currently feeling, he eventually warmed up to you, partly because he thought you were really pretty, but also because you made him feel comfortable in a place he usually did not find comfort in. I mean this man is still a killing machine despite his social anxiety. Not to mention, this was the first time he had met you. So the fact that you look out for his own wellness first really puts him at ease.

The tall Austrian had suffered a gunshot wound to his abdomen, an area that would usually require more serious care. But thanks to his bulletproof vest, the bullet was prevented from puncturing any organs or cavities or any major blood vessels or nerves, passing through his layers of skin and reaching the adipose tissue and barely imbedding into the muscle of his abdomen. You of course were able to extract the piece of metal, injecting some anesthetic for the pain and disinfecting the area beforehand before using a pair of forceps to carefully pull the bullet out.

Though the man was slightly anxious around you, he didn’t want to pry to much on your behalf and end up offending you in any manner, especially with how quiet you were, minus the little questions you’d ask him of course. Instead, he is fascinated by your steady hands and your precision, wondering how hands as small and delicate as yours were capable of performing such complex labor as he asks questions about every step that you take into the procedure and every tool that you have laid out on your table. By the end, he is completely starstruck by just how much you know. He even may have slipped a little compliment on how wise and pretty your eyes were. You’ve never heard anyone compliment your eyes as being wise, but you like it, not being able to hold back the small smile that pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Thank you for your help……..liebling.”

“It’s no problem.” You smile. You had heard that German term once before, a word once exchanged between an elderly couple that were once under your care. And the fact of knowing the meaning behind it warms your heart.

“Du hast sehr schöne kluge augen. (You have very beautiful, intelligent eyes)." The soldier mutters under his breath, nearly catching himself at the end of the sentence and praying you had not heard nor understood what he said.

“Sorry?”

“Oh um…….." König gulps, thinking of how to respond and deciding whether he should just lie or tell the truth to behind the meaning of his words. "It means you have really pretty wise eyes.”

“Oh……..why thank you. That's really sweet."

After handing König a bag containing his antibiotics, pain killers, and a tube of ointment, you also hand him a couple Dum-Dum lollipops to go with it. The Austrian doesn’t know how to react at first. Did you just give him a candy? Was this a common practice of doctors in your country? When he finally realizes this was just your way of showing kindness, he is more than delighted and thanks you for them in German, grasping both of your hands as he does so. Don’t ask me why or how but I just feel like he likes to hold both of your hands whenever he thanks you for something. Also the more eager he is, the more he shakes your hands in his.

This man’s crush on you has just went to the next level. König likes to collect whatever catches his attention, something he had done since he was a child from time mostly spent by himself. And it’s almost as if he has an eye for these things, picking out whatever has unique colors or patterns. So when you find some wildflowers or interesting looking leaves or a variety of colorful bird feathers or butterfly wings that had fallen to the dirt on your desk one day, just know he picked them out for you whenever he goes on a mission.

Believe it or not, the Austrian also has a secret talent of wood carving and is actually very skilled at it. During the days where his anxiety seems to overwhelm and suffocate him, he likes to sit outside in the grass surrounded by nature, covered in wood shavings with a knife in hand as he makes little wooden figurines of animals that he sees, whether it be birds, deer, foxes, bunnies, squirrels or skunks. It’s the only thing that he can fixate on that brings him total serenity and nirvana, sitting amongst the grass with his back up against the trunk of a tree, where there isn’t a single soul in sight except for himself and the ones that belong in the woods, where the only things that can judge him are the tall ancient trees and the creatures that walk it. But I won’t get further into this till later. Just know that he’s working on one especially for you.

Now, moving on.

By the time you were finished patching the three men up, you cleaned up the area and your tools, taking off your bloody gloves and throwing them into the biohazard container until you see Ghost stumble by in the corner of your eye. Little did you know he had been watching you from afar, not in a creepy way but in a ‘just want to make sure my teammates are alright’ kind of way. Not that he doubts your expertise of course. The lieutenant had not expected the mission to go sideways as it did, even though it was somewhat accomplished in the end. And seeing his team get wounded had unlocked this new fear in him that, to some degree, had always been there.

So when he stood there in the corner, leaning against the wall and hidden in the shadows like typical old Ghost, he found a sense of relief in watching how quickly and proficiently you moved about and just how composed you were, especially under the pace and pressure. Maybe it’s how quiet you are when you get really focused on something, maybe it’s how calm you are throughout it, or maybe it’s the amount of caution and supervision you take towards making sure the others are treated with the utmost care. Truth be told, you are like a remedy to Ghost, to the Simon Riley underneath, to the troubles and trauma that mold the broken man beneath the mask. If only the big dummy were to realize this instead of treating you like as if you were the plague itself.

When you lift your head towards the sound of slight shuffling in the corner, you catch him moving out of the shadows and sneaking away from the area. Usually you wouldn’t think anything of it, thinking he was just overseeing your work like a supervisor. But as you watch him walk off, you notice that something is off about him, something not quite right, and this intuition only builds this deep and heavy bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Ghost?”

Ghost stops abruptly at the sound of your voice, his head ever so slightly tilted to the side as he was not expecting you to have seen him, much less even say something.

“Is everything alright?”

Goddamn you and your manners. The masked soldier moves away with the slightest huff, not wanting to answer your question but you call out once more.

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“Negative.” He begins to walk off, not even looking in your direction to acknowledge you.

“Lieutenant, could I please see you for a minute?”

“Another time.”

“I insist.” Your voice is more firm this time and it catches him by surprise.

He had not heard this tone from you before, and yet, he can sense the shakiness behind it, the uncertainty. The more there is silence on his end, the more you are sure that you have reached the expiration date of your life, terrified that you had officially provoked the stone-cold soldier and that he is about to march over here and stab you in the neck with your own scalpel any second now. And as he stands there, debating on whether he should just leave, he hears your voice once again, a faint ‘please’. Heaving out a heavy sigh, the man shuts his eyes for a brief moment before turning back around and heading in your direction.

You’re not sure if you should freeze up like the fresh-caught fish on a bed of ice at the supermarket or run in the opposite direction as this man walks towards you, his mask not helping in making him look any less more pissed off than usual. When he finally stands in front of you, his bulky form towering over yours, you can only do the first thing that comes to mind, freeze up. At first the masked soldier glares down at you, the irises of his eyes only darkened by the grooves of his mask as he waits for you to speak, wishing you were the first to say something, anything, but instead you’re staring at him like a deer caught in front of headlights. Don’t worry babes, I would too.

“Well? Whadya want?”

“I just want to check to make sure you’re not injured-“

“I feel fine.” Ghost narrows his eyes at you, slowly becoming irked by your constant need to monitor his well-being and wishing you would just take his word and leave. But he knows better than to argue with someone that was literally tasked by the government to manage the sanity and wellness of task force 141. Was your etiquette a part of the job requirements as well?

“You don’t look fine.” You snark.

“Yeh?” Ghost sneers. “And who the hell are you to say that?”

“I’m a doctor.” You blink. “Or if you wanna be more specific, I'm technically your doctor. It’s my job. And telling from the dampness of the blood on your mask there that still has not dried since the moment you stepped trough the doors and god knows how long since before,” you point to the area near the bottom of the left side of his neck, more so near his shoulder. “I’m guessing it’s yours and not someone else’s.”

“The fuck are you on about? Listen here princess, there’s no-“ Ghost pulls his hand up to his neck only to feel the exact same dampness you had just mentioned. Fuck. He had been so caught up with everything around him that he had not even been aware that he had been injured. When he finally pressed his fingers to the area there, tensing from the pain, that was when he was finally able to register through that thick and stubborn skull of his that he had in fact been injured this whole time. This man probably takes the phrase ‘mind over matter’ quite literally.

“Now can I please take a look at you?” You quirk a brow up at him, waiting for a response and knowing better than to expect a quick answer. But if there’s one thing you know, if you just slightly annoy and pester him enough, he might just eventually cave in, that is if he doesn't add you to his hit list. “Look, if you wait any longer you might pass out and go into hemorrhagic shock. And depending on the class, you can suffer from organ damage and even death. So unless you want that to happen-“

Well when you put it like that- “Fine. Get on with it.” Ghost growls as he sits himself down on the chair. Bloody fucking hell you talk way more than he had ever expected from you. But you sure can keep your ground, he'll give you that. He’s just glad that none of the others are here to see him being bossed around by someone almost half his size and about a foot shorter than him.

"Thank you for cooperating." You give a short and quick smile. You may or may not have exaggerated about the last part to get him to comply. Well…….that is.........depending on the exact location of injury and the amount of blood loss of course.

Thank you for cooperating. Ghost scoffs at your statement.

“You know……I wish you wouldn’t avoid me like I were a crackhead outside your local 7-eleven.”

A what? Ghost gives you a weird look, wondering if he had heard you correctly as you go over to the sink, rolling the white sleeves of your lab coat up and turning on the faucet. The shit that comes out of your mouth, he swears makes him question your license. Then again, he’s not sure how to respond to what you had just said. It's no lie that he has indeed been going out of his way to avoid you at all costs. But the idea of you even noticing his absence had never even crossed his mind, much so that you would come to be offended by it. Noticing your lack of pressing further on the matter, he shifts in his seat, watching you wash your hands in a methodical series of steps until he notices a small marking on your inner right wrist, a small and delicate tattoo of a heartagram. It can't be.......can it? He had never listened to much of their music but.......were you a HIM fan? If so, this is certainly a detail he had never expected from you and he almost doesn't know what to think of it. What other tattoos do you have?

Once he sees you turn off the faucet, he quickly returns to his original position on the chair, not wanting to make it seem like he was watching you.

"Now I’m just going to take a quick look here." You head over to where he sat, pulling the nitrile gloves over your hands as you look down at him, reaching out towards the bottom of his balaclava before feeling him swat your hand away.

“Hey!” You yelp, more so from being startled than the actual impact. “The hell was that for?” No way in hell he just did that.

“…………….”

"I promise I won't sneak a peak at your face if that's what you're afraid of."

“……………………..”

“Listen lieutenant. I can’t check to see if you’re okay if you won’t let me.” You sigh, reaching out once more, but this time you feel his hand grab yours, his gloved fingers wrapping around the bare skin of your wrist as he eyes the ground at his feet. The loud beating in your chest reaches your ears, deafening you as you stare at the soldier who could practically fracture your wrist if he tightened his grip. At this point most would be petrified, bracing themselves for the number of possibilities that can take place just from under his control. Most would either try not to glance over at the scalpel that lays out on the table just beside within arms reach, not wanting to instigate anything further in fear of the soldier catching the movement of their eyes, or some would dare to do so anyways as part of their fight or flight response.

Maybe you should be scared of him, of this soldier who has more blood on his hands than you can count. And yet, somehow, as you finally regain control of your thoughts after being startled from the sudden motion, you can’t seem to find yourself to. If he wanted to kill you, you’d already have been dead, you tell yourself, because here you are, well and unharmed. Despite the calloused disposition of the man notorious for his ruthlessness and merciless on the field and just the sheer size of his hand around your wrist, you’re surprised at the gentleness he handles you with, the carefulness of his hold a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his gloves that rub against the sensitive skin there.

Ghost can feel you tremble ever so slightly under his grasp, feeling your racing pulse through his gloves from under his palm, not to mention the peculiar coldness of your limb, but he can also feel the severity behind your eyes as you stare him down, as if you were just waiting for him to meet them. For a flicker of a moment, you have him wondering just how much more there is to you than the Dr. Y/n y/l/n that you put on stage only for others to see. Just what else lies beyond the pristine white lab coat, those neatly pressed scrubs and your observant orbs.

“Ghost-“ Your voice is firm but heedful. “Please let go of my wri-“

"I'll do it."

“What-“

“I said I’ll do it. You’re not touching the mask.”

“Alrigh-”

“I mean it.” He lets go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it.

"Okay." You throw your hands up in defeat, taking a step back to give him some room. "Fine by me."

Ghost can't help but huff at your behavior, hesitating for a moment before finally lifting the bottom of his balaclava, peeling away the fabric that had become sticky with blood to expose his neck. Damn you.

"Let's see here." You lean in closer to inspect the area before cursing under your breath. “Jesus fucking christ.”

Ghost side-eyes you with a raised brow at the words that came out of your mouth. Did he just hear you cuss? Better yet, just what the hell did you see to make you say those words. You almost don’t even have to hear him say anything to know what he is thinking.

“See this is why it’s important you come to me.” There’s that same strictness in your voice, and yet, this one is different. Is that a slight hint of genuine concern he hears? Realizing how you might have sounded to a man who has probably dealt with far worse, you straighten up, clearing your throat as you did so and fluttering your eyes away from his forbidding gaze. Pushing away whatever emotions that managed to rile you up like that, you clear your throat once more. “So, looks like there’s a laceration, along the inferior portion of your neck here, proximal to your acromial region. But lucky for you, your brachial plexus is still intact. The bullet, or whatever the hell you've been hit by, narrowly missed your suprascapular artery and nerve. Though I will have to perform some sutures to reconstruct your trapezius muscle."

"English, for fucks sake." Ghost grumbles at your rapid speech involving words he finds incoherent. But you and I both know it’s only because he finds it to be a turn on. That's why he let you ramble on in the first place.

"What I meant was, good news is, your nerves and blood vessels are okay. Bad news is, your trapezius muscle, which is the muscle that runs along the curve of your neck here and a portion of your back has a slight gash here at the top. So you are going to need stitches. And a lot of rest afterwards of course, to make sure it's properly healed."

"Fuckin hell." Ghost mutters under his breath.

"Now if you'll let me-"

"Yeh yeh. Just make it quick."

What had been a short amount of time had instead felt like hours for the masked soldier, for Ghost, for the wounded Simon Riley beneath all those layers as he remained in his seat like a statue, ensuring that he stayed as still as possible while you worked on him. He had not uttered a single word during the whole duration, not even the slightest grunt. And if it hadn't been for his steady breathing, you would have presumed him to be dead. He had to be the quietest patient you have ever dealt with, not to mention the most stubborn, and you found yourself wishing he would say something, anything. But to expect such from a man such as him would be a fool's errand, a fruitless endeavor.

And even if he chose to speak, what the hell would he even talk about? His fucking trauma?The man wouldn't even look at you, his eyes wandering everywhere but your face. In spite of his grievances towards you, his reluctance to ever establish any form of association with you, he'd find himself slowly stealing glances in your direction from time to time when you weren't looking directly at him. He'd find himself studying your features as he once did the first time he met you. You were wearing that same perfume, that deep woodsy and floral perfume that reminded him of an old bookstore, of one of those metaphysical shops scattered with different fragrances of the smokey incense, the unmistakable scent of you that had been ingrained in his mind ever since.

"So, what kind of a name is Ghost anyways?"

".................."

"Right. I forget you don't speak."

Ghost gives you a quick and sharp glare before staring straight ahead. Damn that sharp tongue of yours.

"You seem tired." You remark, picking on him just a tad bit to make a reference to when he commented on your dark circles, but also because he actually did genuinely seem tired.

"............."

A cock-up, no thanks to you, Ghost thinks to himself, knowing damn well the only reason he could not sleep was because of you, though he senses the only reason you said that was because he had mentioned to you how you looked tired.

More minutes pass, and he has yet to even snide at you. You'd almost prefer a huff of irritation directed at you over nothing.

"You know," you utter, "I went to medical school with an incredibly ambitious guy who was obsessed with collecting skulls. He'd do anything to get a head."

You what? Ghost looks at you just the slightest with a single blink. What the bloody fuck are you talking about? Oh wait.

“What is a sleeping brain’s favorite rock band?”

“……………….”

Oh no. It looks like Soap’s habit has taken hold of you.

“REM.”

“……………….”

Okay maybe that was a bad idea. The look that Ghost just gave you makes you want to never say another joke again. He actually thinks the first one wasn't too bad.

“You know, you’re lucky the bullet grazed you where it did.” You lean in a bit closer as you suture his wound. “Any more to the left and you would’ve have been in some serious shit.”

Your little movement manages to catch Ghost’s attention, and if you weren’t shoving a needle through his flesh he would have moved away. Instead he glances just the slightest over in your direction, his breath hitching in his throat at the close proximity between you both. His eyes trace over the details of your face as if he were studying a map, going over every one of the little characteristics that make you you. If only you could see the way he looked at you, you would have been able to see the subtlest change, the tiniest, sliver of a crack in the hardened shell that surrounded Simon Riley, of that shell that is Ghost.

There is a moment when your thigh brushes against the side of his as you turn away to move on to the next step after stitching his wound, a moment that goes by unnoticed to you, but not to him. The small contact, though brief, had managed to send a jolt of warmth through the soldier’s body, a feeling that is completely foreign to him, prompting him to tense up and bury whatever it is that has him reacting this way. It isn’t until you sense him shift beside you that you turn back to him, gauze and ointment in hand just as you catch him transfer his line of focus somewhere else. The faint alter of movement had you raising your brow, knowing well what you saw but unsure of the motive behind it.

While you went over to him, studying whatever you could gather from his body language and just his eyes due to the obstruction of his face, you noticed that his eyes were quite expressive for a man known for lacking any basic human emotion. While dressing his wound, you picked out the way his blonde lashes fluttered against his deep mahogany irises as they focused on anything but you, the black color smeared around the exposed area of his balaclava accentuating the blondes of his hairs. This had to be the first time you had actually taken a good look at him.

You would have complimented him on his eyes and lashes, but you thought against it, not wanting to embarrass yourself, or more importantly, the last thing you needed was to dig yourself deeper on his bad side and end up as a dusty file to be brushed under the rug. Speaking of. Now that you mention it, the stuff he wore around his eyes looked awfully similar to the stuff you found on your candy tray. Couldn’t be him could it? No, it can’t possibly be. The man avoids you way too much to even think about taking something that is even associated with you. Maybe you’re just overthinking like you always do and what you found was just from your own eyeshadow palette. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve accidentally smeared remnants of eyeshadow from your fingers to other things. If only you could ask him, but this man hates you enough as it is. You could casually bring it up one day, although now definitely isn’t the time.

When you were finally finished tending to him, getting up to gather some pain relievers, antibiotics, and some ointment for him to take with him, Ghost had noticed something that he had not spotted before, a small pitted and circular mark that sat at the left side of your neck. As he stared at it, trying to decipher just what it could be, it looked to be a scar of some sort, though a bit faded with time, it’s shade slightly darker than your skin tone. Where had he seen a mark like that before? And then it hit him.

“There you go.” You came back around to hand him his treatments in a brown paper bag, your voice causing him to quickly avert his gaze. “You’re all set.”

Taking the brown paper bag from your hands, Ghost couldn’t stop thinking about what it is that he saw marking the skin of your neck. Something in the back of his mind knew just exactly what that scar belonged to, what it meant. But Ghost, or Simon Riley, knew better than to delve into something that wasn’t his business, knowing well the cost. He could just be over-analyzing it all, mistaking it for something completely different. But why was he even bothering to do so in the first place. He had better things to do, duties that were assigned specifically to him, and trying to figure out that mark on your neck wasn’t one of them.

Ghost is quick to get up from his seat as he ushers you a quick thanks, the hardened wall once again building up to the masked soldier who had dared to even let it down just the slightest around you.

“Ghost wait.” You call out to him as he walks away, watching him stop in his tracks. “……before you go………next time you’re injured………promise you’ll at least come to me.”

“….I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Look,” you sigh, “I get it if you think I’m annoying……..or if you hate my guts, whatever, I don’t care. Just….at least let me help you.”

“Don' bother.” Ghost tightens his jaw as he tilts his head towards you, the brusque in his deep voice evident before he regains his steps, disappearing from your line of sight.

“What an asshole.” You breathe out with a shake of your head. You swear this man has you testing your Hippocratic Oath. You don’t know what it is that makes him despise you. Maybe it’s just him and that’s just the way he is, something you might have to ask the others about. Usually words like that would have you lying in bed awake thinking what you did wrong, but you are much too tired for that.

As Ghost went back to his room, shutting the door behind him, he opened up the paper bag you had given him, spilling out the pill bottles and ointment tube onto the table until he heard something roll off the edge of the table and fall onto the floor. Furrowing his brows, the soldier looked at the ground at his feet to where the mysterious item had fallen only to see a single Dum-Dum lollipop, sour apple flavor. Bloody fuckin hell.

Part 4

Tag List: @swissy23 @sualocin @kristalhi @deakyspuff @sometimes-i-write-good @hamilfanyu @princessranch @ig-you-idiot @obitoshotaf @cavern-creature @at0mschutzbunker @eddiesbixch696 @souls-rain @euovennia @i-wish-we-could-stay @depressedacidtest @gh0stm3g @thequeenofbigmacs @k1llerch4n @abbiesxox @feraltiddies @wand-erer5 @1redheaded3dragon @anisa269 @jocecymoo @mango-corner @classickook @trueee33 @sockertop @lupskelly @chxbits @kuwizo @sluxm3ozt @tobybestupid @anarchygoose @lez-zuha @thatoneautor0123 @aloudplace @ella-error505 @awkward-0 @ariessux @kermitdefroghere @urloverx @alldaysdreamers @rat-elbows @watersquirtpewpewboomm @izzyisstuff @notabotiswear @thecraziestcrayon @lilwingedwolfy @sprkthere @shyyxzi @bookmark-anon @simplecole18 @itsourkisses-blog @here4thespice @sunndust @josephquinnswhore @spooniscute @xghostyx666 @nikolai-m-s @he4rtbloss0m @classifiedtoe @killergoddessmm @sm8th0p @lunarayx @iwannabeazoldyck @butterflypillows @lobeliaaaaaa @mxtokko

[skyahri]

Remember Part Four |SatoSugu X Reader| HC Series

Part Three

A/N: Y'all, I'm so sorry it's so late. My mind has been buzzing in a different direction.

- - - - -

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"Satoru..."

He'd been begging to join you on your unofficial outing for the better part of an hour. He'd been following you around, making empty promises to behave and offering you random things in return if you'd just allow him to accompany you. But you knew better, and after nearly thirteen years of knowing the man, it was safe to assume he'd only cause a headache.

"I'm serious. Let me go with you. You don't have to do everything by yourself, you know."

"Satoru..."

Your patience is wearing thin at this point. There's a silent warning that follows the hiss of his name, but he ignores it all the same.

"Just let us in. Let us help."

"You don't know what you're asking."

"I know it has something to do with Suguru."

You froze, staring blankly in front of you for only a moment before turning around to face him. His expression was hard, something that you've seen many times over the years, but never one you'd expect from pre-tragedy Gojo- someone still high on the spoils of his upbringing and blind to the heartache of the real world.

He'd said it with all the confidence in the world, like it was a fact and not some half-assed conclusion he (and presumably Geto, too) had come to. Your lack of response and obvious shock must have been all the confirmation he needed- to say everything that's been on his mind since that encounter in the bathroom two weeks ago. To hell with Suguru's endless warnings about coming on too strong. He was tired of waiting for you to come around.

"You're struggling..." his voice was uncharacteristically soft, like he was worried he'd spook you, "You don't sleep. You skip meals. You disappear without so much as a goodbye. We know you're doing all of this for the greater good, or whatever, but it's hard watching you kill yourself in the process. I just want to take some of the weight off of you, but you won't let me."

You can only stare up at him. He'd tipped his glasses down to the tip of his nose, allowing you to look into his pretty blue eyes. (That asshole knows your weaknesses). It's easy to get a read on him, the seriousness of his words reflecting perfectly on his face. But even if he does mean it, you can't bring yourself to drag him into your never-ending pit of hopelessness.

"I appreciate it, Satoru, but I can't take that kind of risk. This could very well be my only shot and I can't risk losing him just because I can't handle a little pressure-"

"It's not a little pressure and we both know it."

"You just don't understand-"

"Then make me understand!"

"He leaves, Satoru!"

Maybe he's more in tune with your brain than you are, or maybe he just knows all the right buttons to push, because the stress simmering in your mind seems to bubble over in that moment. You inhale sharply and let it all out.

"Things happen, terrible things, and it changes him, and he just... leaves. I can't tell you because I can't risk fucking up our only chance to save him. I just-" a heavy sob breaks through your sentence, but it doesn't deter you, "I love you and you love me, but we love him. We need him, Satoru, and he isn't around. We're not the same. We're sad and empty and it's lonely."

It spills out like word vomit. You can't control what you're saying and you can barely process the actual syllables, but you don't stop.

"I can't spend another decade wearing his shirts that you've spritzed with his cologne and wishing he were there. I can't spend another Sunday looking at the extra chair we keep at the dining table just in case he comes back. I avoid your nightstand because I know you keep a ring in there for him. You and I still text in the group chat even though he's been inactive since that night!"

Satoru is quiet for once in his life. He's been completely stunned into silence, not daring to interrupt your ranting. Your eerily calm pleading turned into shouting at some point and he's grateful for the privacy of an empty school on a particularly busy day.

He hates the tears in your eyes, even more so when they start to drip down your flushed cheeks. He wishes that he had better listened to all of Suguru's annoying lectures about sympathy and empathy (or whatever it's called) because he's grossly ill-prepared for this conversation.

He settles on pulling you into a hug, because while words aren't his strong suit, actions certainly are. He lets you cry into his chest without complaint. You grip the fabric of his school-issued white button-up and let go of all the pent-up grief from the past twelve years.

"So,"

He waits for you to become slightly more composed.

"What are we gonna do about it?"

You chuckle at how unapologetically comfortable he is with himself. You don't remove yourself from his embrace, choosing instead to hide the incoming tension.

"We stop him."

"From?"

"A year and a half from now, Suguru goes on a solo mission to a small village, where he will kill a hundred and twelve villagers. He takes over a cult, whose new goal is to kill all non-sorcerers in an attempt to end curses forever."

Satoru swallow hard. Honestly, what the hell was he supposed to say to that?

"... seriously?"

Well, apparently not that.

You push off of him and punch him square in the chest. It's playful, kind of, lightening the atmosphere a bit.

"Okay, okay. I just mean, like, if Suguru were to switch sides, that's definitely the prerogative he'd take. So, what now?"

- - - - -

You sat across from him on the city bus to your destination, an envelope in his hands.

"This is it?"

There are three newspaper clippings inside. Obituaries, spaced years apart, and non-specific. Names, dates, and kind words, but nothing more.

"Yeah... that's it."

Satoru slumps back in his seat, his blue and white kimono fanning out across the seat. He sighs and slides further down, pouting like a child who didn't get his way.

"Why not wait until we have more information, then? Seems like a waste to me."

"They host a harvest festival twice a year to bring in money, but other than that, it's pretty closed off. This is the only time I can gather information without raising suspicion."

"What are we looking for?"

"Suguru spares two little girls. I only met them once and I didn't have the opportunity to ever ask him about it, so my knowledge is limited. I know they're sorcerers and that they adored Suguru, but nothing else. I was hoping to check out their home situation, if possible. The request the elders send in is very... hostile to say the least, so I was wondering if there was some build-up to the event."

"You think maybe they're being mistreated? Suguru would definitely snap over something like that."

"I think that something happened right around the time the girls would've acquired their cursed techniques. Villages like this tend to be irrationally superstitious. Three unexplained deaths and two girls who can see monsters probably won't go over very well."

Satoru let his head fall onto the window with a loud thunk. His brain was starting to hurt. Is this really what you're up to when you sneak off? Coming up with an elaborate hypothesis based on nothing but (only possibly relevent) future knowledge and guesswork? He'd only been on the case for two hours and he was already drained.

"So what are we gonna do?"

"Depends. I brought some talismans to hide around the area at the very least. If we see anything concrete, we'll return to the school and submit an official request to Yaga."

"I don't understand why we're sneaking around. Isn't future vision a good enough reason to investigate?"

"I'd like to keep this whole thing away from the elders if possible. Yaga and I have an understanding of sorts, but the geezers aren't as amicable."

You knew Satoru could at least understand that much. While he doesn't have the extensive experience you have with them yet, he's still vividly aware of just how scrutinizing they can be.

You can see the restlessness settle onto his face. He hates the back road way of things, preferring to charge in head first and think about consequences later- a big reason (among many) that you didn't initially plan to key him into any of this.

"We can't just, I don't know, ask Suguru to chill out or something?"

You lean over him and flick his forehead. He flinches back and starts to complain, but is cut off by the screeching of the bus's brakes.

The two of you exit the vehicle and make your way down the dirt path that leads to the village. You expected to feel something, anything really, but even once you're past the torii there's nothing. No cursed energy, residuals, or any sign of abnormality.

Satoru must not see anything either, because his brows are pulled together and there's a slight frown on his face.

Even without seeing anything off about the place, it's still weird. The only time you've ever been here before was directly after the massacre. Now, not only are all of the villagers alive, but the whole area is bustling with tourists.

You only have a moment to glance over the sea of people before Satoru is pulling you over towards the food stands. He heads straight for the Takoyaki stand and stuffs a handful of yen into the vendor's hand. He practically shoves one of the trays in your face and takes one for himself before pulling you off again.

"Satoru, stop! What are you doing? We aren't here to dick around!"

Two minutes. It's only been two minutes and yet he's already lost sight of the goalpost.

He doesn't show any signs that he's heard you, instead opting to maneuver through people until you're parked next to a giant oak tree on a small hill. He drops the wrist he had taken and turns around. He's wearing that shit-eating grin, the one that clearly says he's up to no good and doesn't feel all that sorry about it.

"We can do both. Enjoy the sights, eat some food, grab some fresh produce, and gather information. Consider it a win-win situation."

"This is exactly why I didn't want you to come. You never take anything seriously."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing two things at once, princess. Besides-"

He grabs your tray and sets both down on the ground. He turns you around rather aggressively and pushes on your shoulders until you're both sat on the grass, his long legs awkwardlybent on either side of you. He leans forward so his head is over your shoulder and his hands slide down to rest on your elbows.

"Look."

You're rolling your eyes at his not-so-subtle flirting, about to lecture him, but then you see it- two little girls, a blonde and a brunette.

They're with two people who you can only assume are their parents. They seem fine. Happy. Healthy. Smiles on their face, sweet pastries in their hands, and powdered sugar on their cheeks.

You glance around from your elevated space and notice that everyone you can confidently assume belongs to this village looks fine. Vendors are laughing with their customers and farmers are helping kids pick berries off the remaining bushes.

"I don't understand..."

"It's just too early to intervene. We'll come back in the summer and go from there, okay?"

You relax your body and lean back into him.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Now,

He hands you the tray kindly this time and leans back just enough so he can enjoy his own while still invading your personal space.

"How about we eat our Takoyaki, browse around a bit, hang up some talismans, and then head back home? Suguru should be back tonight."

He'd successfully worn you down. You couldn't argue with him even if you wanted to. He'd gone with you to the (apparently useless) event, found exactly what you were looking for, and solidified that nothing could be done quite yet.

So what else is there to do besides having to his demands?

"... alright."

Nothing.

He smiled at you.

"Good girl."

Taglist: @wannapizzamymindposts @sadunicorns11 @reiluvr

Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist

[yandere-loveer]

⋎﹒🃏﹒✾，Yandere shadow milk cookie scenario

✶﹒┊Warnings: Obsession, kidnapping, forced companionship, yandere, rape, kisses without consent, mental and physical abuse towards reader, shadow milk a little OOC, reader!fem.

✶﹒┊Summary: Shadow Milk Cookie met you when he was not corrupted by the power given to him by his creators. The jester cookie that you wanted so much changed a lot and here comes hell...

✶﹒┊If you are a sensitive person, I recommend not reading this or if you have a bad experience with some of the topics mentioned above, I also recommend not reading this for your mental health! ♡

﹒𓇼﹒﹒Shadow Milk Cookie with her friends were created with the sole purpose of taking care of their world and the other defenseless cookies.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒The jester appreciated cookies and always put on shows for everyone, so they could feel safe. His personality was calm and he maintained a joking side to the cookies he swore to protect with his friends.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒You met him there when you were a simple town girl, I simply made you curious that so many cookies spoke of the happiness and confidence that the jester called shadow milk cookie brought.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒You couldn't deny that you were delighted with what he did and he could make a lot of cookies happy, especially that you loved that he also did small shows for children. He always brought a smile to everyone and you too...

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ You caught his attention and you didn't know how, but it was the best. All the time that you were luckily able to talk to him, you could only praise and thank him for his efforts to keep everyone well. Which he couldn't help but feel very excited about.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ Aww... Now always when he did shows he brought you so you could shine on stage along with him for everyone. In those small moments they both felt like they were the only ones who existed and no one else.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ He visited you a lot in your humble house and he surprised you by entering your window, you were always surprised by his unexpected views, but he embarrassed you with your way of living. He never cared about that. You loved the moments you spent with him and even shadow milk expressed to his friends how great it was to spend time with you.

"Reader cookie, she's wonderful. I just hope I can do shows with her forever..." He was so lost in his thoughts about you that his friends just laughed and some rolled their eyes at it.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ But all good things can end without realizing it, the only thing you could say was that you had noticed Shadow Milk very strange and sometimes he had a smile that scared everyone. One that was very sinister and dark...

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ You noticed that everything he said sometimes were pure lies and created conflicts between the cookies, which scared them all and they never smiled because of the anguish they felt at that time.

﹒𓇼﹒﹒The way he clung to you was very sticky and suffocating, he made very possessive comments and how he was going to keep you with him always.

"I'm going to keep you in a cage so you don't leave, HA HA HA! I'm kidding... or maybe not" he could only whisper the last thing, but you could hear it. You just turned a blind eye to it, he always told the truth and made you feel safe. But why isn't it like that now...?

﹒𓇼﹒﹒Before you could realize everything was chaos, many cookies were dying due to the cruel actions of the heroes who were now beasts... Now you were in a cage next to shadow milk cookie who said romantic things to you. way and you wore almost their shades of clothing to match. They were a real couple, cheer up!

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ The witches, with nothing else to do, put an end to the evil actions of their creations. You felt like you were going to be free until you saw how your lover grabbed your little legs so you could stay with him...

"Y-You can't leave me!" He sounded desperate as he watched him being locked up along with his friends who were upset by what was happening.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ You saw how you were locked up along with shadow milk cookie and the witches couldn't do anything about the cruel fate you were facing. Living next to a beast. He was really happy that at least he was able to take you and stay with you.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ You were just asking for help from any cookie or creator, anyone! But no one could hear you, only your loved one who looked confused at your reaction to the confinement. You closed your eyes and felt tears coming out, but your eyes widened when you felt Shadow Milk Cookie's disgusting hands that were behind you. It seems like it would take forever to force you to do things you didn't want to do. During that time, only your cries and prayers were heard...

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ At that moment you were now with shadow milk sitting on the dark floor that surrounded them in that dark prison. He was hugging you from behind and you alone couldn't even make the effort to think or react to what had happened before. You couldn't hear what shadow milk was saying, everything was blurry, you were in a state of shock. You could only squeeze one of your hands that was close to your private area, at that moment you felt dirty and the sinister smile of that beast was getting bigger...

[siffrinsfrozendreams]

This is my second time trying to make this post. it will probably be as much of a mess as the first draft but oh well.

Rant? Appreciation post? Character analysis? yeah idk what this is but spoilers for Act 5 and Twohats/secret ending ahead

Act 5 Siffrin lives in my head rent free. His break was SO good, and this post is me going off about them. Specifically, this post was brought on by how Siffrin tried to destroy the world, rather than themself.

It is very interesting to me how Siffrin bends and breaks reality and the world in this final loop.

How Loop, in their giving up, took it out on themself, but Siffrin takes it out on the world.

His last loop, their last attempt at breaking out of this eternal hell, because he can't do it again. They're hopeless. They're grasping at any sliver of hope they can, but at this point he can't deny how stupid it is. How pointless this is. How all this effort will likely amount to nothing, and that he's trapped here forever. That nothing will break them out of this.

"I know its stupid, I know its a long shot, but it has to be this!"

This quote from Siff's argument with Loop towards the beginning of Act 5 always stuck with me. Siffrin, this whole time, has always told himself that things are fine. As long as they have a path to follow, they'll be fine. Slowly, we see them struggle with keeping this up, but he always comes back to it.

Not this time.

This time, its all too much. He knows his plan is stupid. They know this won't work. Why would it? But also... what else can he do? What other choices does he have? Being honest with themselves and admitting that this won't work is the same as admitting that he's trapped here forever. That reality is seeping in, but he's still struggling for whatever shreds of hope they can manage. Whatever flicker of light they can see, they'll take it, even if they know the light will go out as soon as he does. Even if he knows it will amount to nothing. He has to.

Then he realizes that Loop knew there was no escape.

Siffrin can't take it. He can't take it, because it means Loop knew this whole time that Siffrin was stuck here forever, that they knew there was no way out of this, and that they were just stinging Siffrin along this entire time.

Siffrin's guide, his helper, the only person/being who knew about the loops, the only reason Siffrin wasn't completely alone this entire time... lied to him. Strung them along. Gave them false hope that they could see a new tomorrow. And it fucking breaks him.

Already grasping for whatever shreds of hope they can, now forced to face the reality that he'll be stuck here forever. Loop lied to him. They can't trust them. So he leaves, and never contacts them again.

Then they return to the Clocktower, only to hear his family talking about him. To hear Odile say that they can't trust him, and none of the others disagree with her.

Siffrin. Is. Alone.

(Which, funnily enough, is the exact opposite of what they wished for.)

The only person who knew about the loops, Siffrin's guide, is a liar and untrustworthy. Siffrin's family doesn't trust them anymore, and are planning to leave him behind.

Siffrin is tired. They're also out of options. So, what else are they supposed to do, aside from the only thing they can at this point? The only thing they've ever known...

They enter the House.

He has to take down the King himself.

His last shred of hope. The last flicker of light before they're plunged into an abyss of despair. Their final attempt at ending this loop, no matter the cost.

Alone.

What else is he supposed to do, who else are they supposed to lash out at, aside from the world itself?

There is nothing left for them here. No one to go back to. Their family hates him, and Loop is untrustworthy. They can't even remember his own blinding country, can't read or speak the language, and can't remember anything about it. Everything he could be holding onto is gone now.

So, he takes his anger and despair out on the world itself. On the House, his eternal prison. On the sky, with stars they don't recognize. On a world, that will forget him and abandon him just like everything else has.

Because, either he breaks out of the loop this time, or there won't be a world to come back to to loop again. Because they can't do it again. Not anymore. They've had enough. What's the point of going on any further? Whats the point of trying to open a door that doesn't even exist?

Its either this, or nothing.

Loop had no one from the very beginning. They were alone for it all. When they gave up, they took it out on themselves. Who else was to blame for their suffering, after all?

Siffrin, however, had Loop. They weren't alone for any of it. As hopeless as they felt, Loop was there to help him. That is, until now, and Siffrin can't handle it. Can't handle the only person whose been supporting him through this knowing that he was trapped here forever from the start.

Of course he'd take out his anger on a Universe that betrayed him. What else would they do?

[lutawolf]

“My Stand In” Episode 7 opinion and commentary.

esinegerp asked:

Lovely Luta, I just got caught up on My Stand In … I do love some tortured tears from a toxic boy who is now learning a painful lesson.  Please bless me with some commentary on the latest episode.

So here I am!

I would like to start by emphasizing that Ming is not a good person. Now, that doesn't imply a lack of affection towards him. I am merely highlighting the obvious to ensure that everyone is aware that I am not blind to his shortcomings. He exhibits sporadic instances of kindness; however, please note that this does not make him a considerate individual. He is not a nice person, but a person who can be kind.

This makes him an almost villainous love interest, which I appreciate. I genuinely appreciate that he is not our typical main lead. He is a selfish asshole, who does what he wants without regard to feelings. Unless he cares about you, which is rare. There are few who can get past his trust issues for him to care. Which is why he is in the conundrum that he is in. He doesn't trust people and likes even fewer. Ming’s instincts are telling him to trust Joe, but his typical distrust is getting in the way. 

Let's start this episode off by discussing the agreement between Joe and Ming. Ming is required to buy Joe's mother a house and pay her medical expenses. Does that include a housekeeper/caretaker? Cause that is who Joe and his mother are greeted by when they arrive at the new home. Is that stipulated in the agreement? I have my doubts, yet here she is. Allow me to explain. It could be inferred that Joe is responsible for obtaining her. However, it is worth noting that he is not the same Joe who possessed some wealth. And he likely expended the majority of the funds he had earned on the initial hospital payment that he had to make prior to Ming's arrival.

Now to the next scene. That kindness and assholishness is being shown right off the bat because Ming immediately.  The question, “Have you eaten?” is the kindness. But then, knowing his character, you can imagine that he is asking why he cares while he is nodding in reply to Joe. Which is why he so rudely throws the towel and tells him to take a shower.

I want you to look at the body language and expressions here. One conveys dissatisfaction, whereas the other expresses regret. When I say that Ming is so confused, this right here shows it. He feels immediate regret for hurting Joe, but he doesn't know why. This further agitates him. That's the thing to not forget, he can feel Joe in there, but his brain is telling him it's not true. Wouldn't you second guess yourself on that, too? Plus, he's being told that Joe is alive. So here he is in a pull and push game. Pulling him near because he can feel Joe in there but pushing him away because Joe is alive and this can't possibly be his Joe. Ming is going batshit crazy inside himself, and to be fair, he wasn't exactly sane to begin with.

That robe keeps taking me out of the scene. That is the tackiest wardrobe pick.

Oh, this scene kills me, but I think it expresses what I've been trying to say. Both of them are going through hell, but we tend to sympathize with Joe because he's not an asshole, and we know what happened. We also get to see his perspective, whereas we are left piecing it together with Ming.

Ming is an asshole, but the boy has been alone for two years, wallowing in guilt. He is clearly lonely and touched starved. Before, he was affectionate to the people he cared about, but now we've observed that he's really kept the people at arms length now. Not nearly as handsy with Tong as previous. He might not know to hate or blame Tong yet, but he knows that he was a source of discomfort for his Joe. He's living out the ideology that his Joe will come back, so he is trying to set everything in place for that. Furthermore, he is now in showbiz when he never wanted to be before. He is doing that so wherever Joe is, he'll eventually see him and recognize him. He does the watch commercial featuring the watch his Joe got him, just in case Joe might see it from wherever he is and know that Ming is waiting.

Everything Ming has shown thus far is that he truly believes that Joe is alive and will eventually come back to him. So why is he pulling this Joe close when it goes against what he believes? He doesn't have the answer to that either.

Ming is clearly disappointed to be waking to an empty bed.

Let us revisit the agreement once more as we watch Ming watch Joe make breakfast. Currently, Joe is intended to serve as a substitute boyfriend for a duration of one year. There is no mention of making breakfast in the agreement I heard. Yet here is Joe, making Ming breakfast. Until told otherwise, I'm working under the assumption that Joe felt the need to make Ming breakfast. If so, that speaks volumes, now, doesn't it?

Ming tells Joe to hurry back, that he'll wait for him. There is almost a softening to him here. All the flashbacks getting to him, or does he feel Joe more at this moment?

Sol makes Joe a main character. Does Sol finally feel Joe, or is he just finally moving on and he has a type? I would like to remind everyone that Ming immediately felt Joe, while Sol didn't. So right now I'm working under the assumption that Sol is moving on, and he has a type. Which isn't a bad thing, in the real world we would want someone to move on and find happiness.

Oh, no! Sol recognized his back!

Joe is trying to put that distance up. Is it for himself? Or is it for Ming? Both maybe? He can't possibly miss that he is basically reliving his past at this point.

Shit, suspicious Sol. Joe, you are a terrible liar, and you are also suspicious. “Even in death, misfortune still finds him.”

Sol is now asking himself, how you knew Joe had misfortune in life.

Allow me to point out that Joe is polite to Ming, but not to Sol. When he answered his phone, he didn't say, “Please excuse me.” As he does with Ming.

Sol taking the phone from Joe… That was strictly to antagonize Ming, who he holds responsible for Joe's death. He is seeing the past repeat itself as well. Sol is taking this all in.

The way Joe so quickly takes the phone away to make the conversation private. Barely puts up an argument. Now we could say this is due to Ming paying for his mother and that would be true. However, Joe could at least be a little bit of an asshole, but not once is he. He put a little argument in there, but quickly caved and stayed respectful the whole time. He is trying to put distance by using Mr. Ming, but it isn't working well.

Ahh, look at Joe puzzling it out. “A new life… but why do I feel like everything... Is going back the way it was?”

I love Wut and their friendship.

Hahahahahahahah! Serves the dick right for not being recognized. I can only imagine this is the friend that mom doesn't like. I love Joe's witty remarks back. It appears that both men, named Joe, don't have great taste in men, but at least Ming loves Joe. If he had known it was him laying in the hospital, he would have been there every day. Tharn doesn't give one shit about Joe.

Mom and Joe's relationship is everything. He is really soaking up the motherly love he'd missed out on. Aww… She's so cute. She's just happy to have her son back, but she still feels the need to protect him. I get that on cellular level. Until you are a parent yourself to an older child, you don't realize how hard parenting is. This is when you start desperately looking around for an instruction book, and then you realize there isn't one. Even me with my counseling knowledge am clueless and have messed up, but I try. I tell my kids, I'm giving this parenting thing my all, but ultimately, they'll still have to see a therapist for something I did.

I love, love, the empathy of Joe. He feels so bad for the Joe2 that there are tears in his eyes. He feels for his new mom and the pain of what Joe2 went through.

“Right now, the only person I love is sitting right here with me.” I'm not crying, you're crying. He really is such a lovely human being.

Ming questing Joe about the accident and if he dreamed of anyone. He knows the two men are connected, but he isn't sure how.

Joe packing for Ming. Is that part of the agreement? Is Joe just Ming's to be ordered any way he wants. Let's say that's true, Joe could still push back, but he doesn't. Just because of the situation with his mother doesn't mean he couldn't at least give attitude, but he quickly agrees.

What do you mean, Luta…? Just look at this scene. He sees the watch and he is taken back. Ming comes in and tells him to go away, but Joe puts up a fuss. He might have still left, but he initially gave attitude at being told to leave and not finish packing. Are you guys picking up on that?

Now look. Joe expresses his feelings and opinion on sleeping with the crew and Ming, while not happy about it, doesn't argue. Are you guys catching what I'm saying? Ming is most definitely the Dominant one in this relationship; however, Joe isn't an unwilling submissive. He isn't just going along with things because he has to.

Haha! Face it, Tong, you just aren't as important as you once were. Sorry, not sorry, Joe is more significant. Tong's shock at Ming just getting up and leaving him is lovely. Oh, how I hate Tong.

Everybody is hating Ming, and I'm over here hating Tong. We are not the same.

Jealous, jealous, boy. Look at Ming being his usual jelly self. He wants to know who that boy was.

See! See Joe standing up for himself and what he wants. Their agreement doesn't mean that Ming owns Joe, and Joe doesn't have say. Which means Joe is doing things for Ming of his own free will.

Dude, how has Joe not gotten caught yet!

Lonely, Ming doesn't know how to say he is lonely.

I adore how rude Joe is being to Tharn. Have I mentioned that I hate Tharn?

Um... How does such a short ass boy overpower such a muscular man. I mean it can happen but not in this way. This scene really wasn't executed well.

Okay, so now they're fighting, but it's like Joe really gets Ming. He knows Ming's jealousy now, so he is trying to come in with calmness and sense. Unlike previously, but Ming triggers him. Because Tong is Joe's trigger. He triggers Ming with his words, and it does trigger Ming. Because he knows this is something his Joe would have felt. Ming does what he has always done when triggered with unfamiliar emotions he can't understand, which is to angrily lash out and say the most hateful things. “I bought you so you could wag your tail for me. Not bite me like this.” But in that hate is a confession. Ming is saying that those words hurt him. He is being more communicative than he typically is with anyone, even previous Joe.

Joe is pissed off for not being heard and then being dismissed as a sex toy. He is spewing anger. He is pissed off, but he never once fights Ming. Now in real life this wouldn't fly, and active participation is required to have consent. However, we aren't talking about real life but art and with that, we have to read between the lines.

At one point, Joe clutches Ming's arm. Clutching, not pushing him away. Remember, we've seen what Joe looks like when he doesn't want to have sex. Just previously, he was fighting Tharn. We aren't seeing that here. Now his face says he isn't happy, but this feels more like angry fucked up sex to me. And yes, that is a thing.

And here comes Tong, to add his annoying voice to the mix and not letting us see how they would resolve their anger.

Joe is pissed off that Tong is interrupting. Look, play back the scene. We can see Joe is not happy, and he is grappling with his feelings in the midst of this fucked up sex session, but the minute we hear Tong's voice, there is pain and sorrow. Then when Ming stops and answers the door, and says it's nothing. His anger snaps, but his negative feelings towards Ming are nothing compared to his rage at Tong. I repeated this scene five times and yeah, that is what I saw each time. Notice, though, as he says excuse me, he does not look at Tong as he is leaving. He is forcibly not looking at Tong.

That little smile of self deprecation on Ming's lips and the way he shoves away from the door.

OMG, but I love that Joe throws Tharn out. Just loses his shit and tosses him out in the hallway.

You mean you would like him to hang all over you again, Tong. Look at how Ming is putting up that wall and distance. Finally! Give it to Tong, Ming!

Oh, these two broken men.

“Make me a coffee, too.” And Joe does, no questions. There is hesitation, some grappling with his feelings. Yet, he makes Ming coffee and with care too, the way he knows he likes. Remember, we've established this isn't a part of the agreement, so he doesn't have to. He could have said, no, make it yourself and walked away. Instead, he makes it and then walks away. He made a point with that polite excuse me and walk away.

So Tong took the credit and didn't let Joe have it last time. That explains why Ming was such an idiot about not knowing, that of course, that was Joe's back. It wasn't just Tong saying he did it, he actually took credit for it in on the show credits. Have I mentioned that I hate Tong?

Now Ming knows. Let the devastation begin.

The way that everyone just watches Ming have a mental breakdown. Are they used to it now? And the way Joe just stood there and listened. He ate that shit up, but the boy has such low self-esteem that I'm sure later he'll make an excuse for this.

Ahhh, I need the next episode now.

Well, that's the end of my commentary. I hope you enjoyed it!

[rattkachuk]

Hello! Hope you are having a good day.

So I have a question for you, just ignore when you don't feel like answering.

I came to Mattdrai via the enemies/rivals to lovers tag and then got sucked into hockey. I really like the fanon take on Leon, fav character, fanon Matthew was fine but way too woobified and infantilized in so many fics. So my surprise when I started to watch games, interviews etc. Public Matthew is so confident, so loving, awesome family to back him up, especially Brady, hot as hell, sexy way of playing hockey, amazing public persona. Loved and respected by his team, beyond hockey.

Then Leon. His only trait seems to be that he's pissy which I can appreciate but it seems that he's just a downright mean, arrogant guy with a superiority complex (see that interview when he puts Silovs down.) I don't find him stoic at all but he's just seems boring and bland and yeah, pissy. It doesn't seem like he has fun or likes his team a lot or is liked by them (Connor aside and his skills aside.) His friendship with Connor seems the only endearing or likeable thing. He even looks good in a bland way and his hockey is while it's so skillful it's not hot and also I wonder why his dirty plays aren't called out more often.

So what do I miss? Where does great fanon Leon come from? Why is he written mostly so superior to Matthew and where comes the "his team likes Leon so much but Matthew is an outcast in his own team come from?) It's so far from what I gather from old and new interviews or games and I have watched a lot, also German interviews. I really would like to like Leon, shipping them had been more fun when I didn't find his public self so jarring. What do I not see what everyone else seems to get?

Sorry for the long ask! Have a great day and thank you

first off thank you for such a thought out ask! i don't get to dive into things like this a lot outside of writing fic and it got my brain gears going.

to get right into the bulk of this ask: i get what you are saying about leon. that can be the way he comes off for sure, and look everything i'm gonna say? i'm talking out of my ass here. i don't claim to know anything about him as a person besides what's publicly presented, and i don't have much right to theorize about why he is the way that he is, but i'd be lying if i said i didn't think about it. how would i write rpf otherwise, right 💀

i think he cares a lot. and i think sometimes he gets so wrapped up in things, how things should be, how he should be performing, etc, and when it doesn't go a certain way he gets frustrated and snarky (eg, pissy comments and such). but i don't see that being bad necessarily, especially when it's seems to come from such a team oriented state of mind. which, i dont think he dislikes his team at all? i think if anything, he has a sort of blind faith in his team, and that's the only context i could see a 'superiority complex' making sense in. and yah maybe a little misplaced at times, but ultimately i think it comes from believing so fully in his team and not seeing that come to fruition. he really does not seem to care about his individual performance much at all, so how self obsessed can he be? when i think about leon i just see someone that is ultimately very passionate and committed to the game he plays. i'm also curious to know where you get the vibe that his team doesn't like him? simply because i never got that impression from any of the other oilers, they all seem like they're obsessed with him.

beyond hockey, i see a caring, sweet, kindhearted individual. anytime i see a picture or vid of him interacting with bowie, or even the things his girlfriend posts about him, the comments he leaves for people on ig, and yah of course in the way he talks/acts around connor, i see fragments of someone soooo different than the little two minute post game interviews (which, can we judge any hockey player on those? i think they all hate them dfkjgsd). it's not always something i actively go digging for or have examples of the top of my head, but i do see it, and it definitely goes into creating the version of leon that i have in my mind.

hey, and, he's a silly guy!!! please, i know the reputation is pissy and humourless, ESPECIALLY in fic, but that man is so funny. so many random offhanded comments that make me pause and then laugh. a different sense of humour but it's so there. i love the sandcastle vid from the asg last year and feel like it's a good example of that, all sunburnt and happy. also hey, big man in tune with his fear of the ocean? love that. that little vid of him dancing on the ice earlier this season, those halloween photos where he's dressed as a monkey, every time he talks to a kid. hell, seeing him in warmups and watching the way he takes time to interact fans?? loveee watching warmups but i'd never had a player actually acknowledge my existence before leon!

also i really enjoy his personality on the ice, i like the rat behaviour and the sassy comments that he makes to other players/refs, i like the bitch moves, and i like his hockey too. i think his game is dependable and like you said skillful, and while maybe not the most creative, the sureness and the technical aspect it is hot to me. so my thoughts on everything are probably skewed in that regard.

anyways this was just a whole lot of rambling about why i find him interesting, endearing even, but i understand the perception you have. i don't like some players that other people love, just cause i cant see what they see. and honestly that's sometimes just the way it is! if you don't like leon, maybe u just don't like him and thats fine.

disclaimer that i have only been on hockeyblr for a couple years, and really didn't spare many thoughts for leon til the beginning of the 22/23 season. truthfully i'm hardly the person to ask about leon imo, but of course i have thoughts anyways! if someone else with more knowledge reads my bit of rambling here, please feel free to chime in and add your voice to this!

and side note, ofc, i have to touch on this bc who would i be if i'm not one to talk about matthew; in the way of m.tkachuk, i think that in the early days of mattdrai it was maybe a fair take away during his time with the flames (minus the woobifying). even though he was loved so much here and had some fucking times, and i think the team was mostly good to him (player wise if not regarding management, that is), i see such a stark difference now that he's on the panthers. he seems much happier and more confident, and obviously he's clicking with the cats on another level, and i do see a shift in how he's been portrayed in fics since tbh.

[soupandsorcery]

Day 13 - Talisman, 763 words

They move to the couch again, keeping a distance from each other. Jamie would have this conversation curled up in Roy's lap if he could, but he can tell Roy needs some space right now, and that's okay.

He can give him that if it means he's going to tell Jamie what's going on in that beard-y head of his.

Wearing Roy's shirt still helps. It smells like him, and it's comfortable. Jamie lets his fingers stroke over the fabric, soft from being worn often, and it's a sort of talisman against the nerves still squirming in his gut.

"You ain't getting any younger, granddad," he teases, gently urging Roy on.

Roy grunts in response, his lips turning up at the corners. "I'm sorry," he says in that low, rumbling voice of his. "I know I'm being a prick. I keep trying to make decisions for you because— Fuck. Because you've got all this fucking potential, and there was no one around when I was your age to tell me not to run myself into fucking the ground or to stop and fucking think sometimes. I guess I got it in my head that I needed to do that for you."

Jamie's quiet for a moment, suddenly overcome with even more fondness for this prickly twat. Always wanting the best for Jamie, but somehow blind to the fact that he's on the list.

"I appreciate it, you know that, yeah? Everything you've done for me, all the ways you push me. Even when you're not letting me have any fun. I know you're doing it because you care."

"I do," Roy agrees softly. "I fucking care about you a lot. Probably too much."

"No such thing, Roy."

"There is," Roy insists. "Trust me. Me and Keeley...It was too much. I cared too much. Wanted to be around her all the time. She didn't like that." He turns his face away, and it's clear how much that still fucks with Roy's head.

"I'm not Keeley, though? I mean, I love her—not like that," Jamie rushes to say. "But she's...dunno. She's got her whole independent boss bitch thing going on, right? She wants to spread her wings and take the world by storm."

"And you don't?" Roy asks.

Jamie hums. Considers. "I do, yeah. I want to keep winning and keep showing off and keep being fucking amazing at what I do, but...I don't wanna do it alone, Roy. I want you to be there for all of it. You ever notice that we already spend basically all day together anyway?"

Roy snorts. "I've fucking noticed. You're always underfoot somewhere."

"Fuck off, you love it. And at the end of the day, I still wanna follow you home.

"You mean that." It's not phrased like a question, but Jamie can still hear the wonder in Roy's tone.

"Yeah, mate," he replies gently. "I wasn't kidding when I said I'm pretty gone on you. That's just...what that looks like for me. You make me feel good. Safe, like. I fucking love how intense you are about shit that matters. Makes me feel like I matter."

Roy exhales in a messy rush, but he finally looks at Jamie again. "You do matter," he says seriously. And then, "I do want you, Jamie. A whole fucking lot. I want you to follow me home, and I want to make you dinner. I want to be able to show you how fucking proud I am of you sometimes, when you're such a brilliant little prick out there on the pitch. I want to fuck you into my mattress again, and make good on your dream of me fucking you over the couch. Hell, I want to fuck you in every fucking room of my house. On every fucking surface."

"Fucking hell, Roy," Jamie breathes, smacked in the face by another wave of need.

"Too much?"

"Fuck no. Not complaining. You're just fucking getting me hot, and I'm gonna be properly pissed off if you're about to try to let me down easy."

"No. No, I want—I want to fucking do this. If you can put up with me being a miserable prick all the time."

He's quoting Jamie with that, and being so fucking open and honest that it takes Jamie's breath away. The worry of the last few days is melting away, and Jamie feels lighter than ever. They're going to work, the two of them, and it's going to be fucking mint.

"Nah," he says, grinning. "Gonna make you a whole lot less miserable instead."

[mai-irumi]

Chapter 2 appreciation post

I swear I'm not planning on doing this with all chapters (maybe I will) bit I can't help it if EVERYTHING IS THAT GOOD

I just love how here we can see that Iruma, even being the Pusillanimous boy that he is, he's totally conscient of the bizarre situation he is in

Yet can't dare to say no

I mean, I bet this is the most loved he's ever been, and it's not good love, as much as I love Sullivan for giving all those opportunities, he is not a good parent, he only got Iruma out of a whim and didn't really care that much for hoe he felt, at least at the early episodes.

Once again, Asmodeus blinding us all with his pretty face and already obsessive behavior to Iruma, but who would be Asmodeus without obsession?

THEY HAD NO RIGHT TO MAKE HIM LOOK THIS FINE WHILE BEING MAD

Like GODS, now I get y'all Naberius' fans, the anime did not do any justice TO THIS

I wouldn't mind being scolded by him (Lie, I'd burst into tears of pure fear)

Okay, but is it me or the snake is cute?

Like look at those googly eyes that look like they may just pop out of the skull at any moment, makes me wanna squish it

Also we can see here very clearly that Asmodeus type of body is pear shaped 🍐, in case anyone had curiosity

Sweethearts, if you two only knew you wanted the same, you wouldn't have gone through all of that.

Like let's be honest both of you wanted Iruma out of the school, easy job

I LOOOVE how Iruma resembles Sullivan even without being related to him, like that's so cute, family soulmates maybe?

Now, I don't remember well, but I do know that in the present on the manga has already been a year, but I do think Kalego is still his familiar, correct me if I'm wrong

ALSO I was thinking about, and all of this boys are 14, like dude, I'm older than them (was younger when I first saw the series, I suddenly feel old 😭) THERE'S NO REASON TO MAKE THEM GO THROUGH ALL OF THAT

Have you guys ever seen those jobs where they ask for young people with plus 10 years of experience? They want Iruma, that's what they've been looking for, too sad he's in hell

<-_->

[0strawberrysorbet0]

𝐼𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛. 𝑃𝑡 2

𝐻𝑜𝑏𝑖𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

This is rlly short and shitty but I just wanted to get it out.

@xiaoshits @prettygirleli these are the people who asked for part 2

sorry if it's not as good as you expected :(

Please do not use/steal my work on this site or any other! Reblogs and likes are appreciated greatly!!

Part 1 here!

Summary: Everything was perfect now. Until it wasn't. But it would be okay. He'd find another version of you.

Warnings: blood, death, creepy Hobie, Hobie doesn't act like this at all but fuck it, really shitty, done quickly so lots of mistakes

It had been three years since he had found the other version of you, his wife.

Of course, he still cared for his universe as Spiderman but now he also cared for your universe, the one he was now constantly in.

It had taken him a while to catch up to everything that the other he had done with you, but most of it was the same as when he had the old you.

He had now married you, well more like made you a ring and eloped. But that was more than enough for him.

Now here he was, he had just returned from the spider society and was outside their apartment. The door knob turned and made a sharp click, and there you were.

"Babe!" She said softly, running up to him as he picked her up "Sup love" he said stroking through your hair.

"Missed you.. " she whispered, her face pressed into his chest. "I missed you too"

Everything was perfect. Well until it wasn't.

He had just gotten back from his universe and entered yours.. ... something wasn't right..

He quickly noticed the fires licking across the buildings. Shit.

He ran. He could only see red, blinding his vision as he went to the apartment.

There she was. The building burburned she lay stretched across the floor, rivulets of blood pouring down her skin.

"No no no no babe?.. Luv?.. Doll wake the hell up!!" He screamed, shaking her limb body.

It was fine. He was fine. He was perfectly fine.

He'd just find another one of you afterall.

He'd never ever live without you. He couldn't.

He wouldn't.