#i never considered taking gif requests but i guess i do now!

[natjennie]

bbc ghosts s3e5: something to share?

"father was very formal. he liked to be in charge and to be respected, but he was very kind of heart."

(requested by anonymous)

[subbmissivesuccubus]

No Nut November ~

a/n. A request by my Patron for the month of November! It was quite the fun one. If you'd like me to write a story for you, please consider joining my Patreon! (link in bio)

Contains : Toji X Fem reader. No nut November antics. Toji being horny. Reader being a tease.

"Fuck-" you cursed, panting heavily as you lied back on the bed, finally getting a break. Your partner, Toji, lied down next to you, half as tired but just as satisfied. He hummed as his muscled relaxed, hot and sweaty from the numerous rounds of sex, completely naked as he got comfortable enough to drift into sleep.

You couldn’t help but frown at him, a bit annoyed at his satisfied and content expression while your body was crying from the over-stimulation. He had taken you over and over and over again, his stamina seemingly never ending as he fucked you multiple times in multiple positions. Even when you complained that you couldn’t take it anymore, he claimed that he’d make you take it. And after he pumped you with several loads of cum, he finally called it a night.

"You- you're such a horndog." you said. The man chuckled, manhandling you to get closer to him, placing you on his chest before giving you a sweet kiss on your hair. “You love it.” He teased, giving your butt a greedy squeeze, making you flinch as he touched the bright red mark he had left on your cheek before. 

This was your routine. Toji and you would go to work, you'd come back home, have dinner together before he took you to the bedroom and gave you the most toe curling, back arching, pussy squirting pleasure you'd ever experienced. The man had a huge dick and a ton of stamina, not going soft unless he's cum multiple times.

And it's amazing it truly is.

But after a while...it becomes a lot. There's only so many times your pussy can take a pounding before she gets sore and it starts to hurt even when you sit down. There's only so many times your nipples can get suckled on before any friction, even from your bra, makes them ache. There's only so many times you can wear a turtleneck before people connect the dots. You tried to say so to Toji, letting him know of your trouble but he either laughed it off, took is as a compliment and continued to fuck you silly regardless.

His desire for you and his constant want to have his hands on you was a big ego boost, but you needed a break and you figured out the perfect way to do it.

“Have you heard of something called No Nut November?” Toji snorted, looking down at you amused, “Sounds stupid. I’m guessing it means you don’t cum in all of November?” “Exactly. It’s an internet challenge. Think you can do it?” He chuckled again, not taking it seriously, “I have a beautiful girlfriend who I can fuck on a daily basis- why would I give that up for a dumb internet challenge?” “Hmm, thought so.” You said, acting unimpressed as you poked his nose, “There's no way you can keep your hands off of me for a month. You don't have the self-control. Why am I not surprised?"

Now, Toji knew what you were doing. You were baiting him, plain and simple. And was he going to fall for it? Of course not... but he didn’t like your tone.

"Wanna bet on that?" he asked.

You tried not to grin, the man falling for your trap hook, line and sinker. There was no way a man as proud as him would not rise to the challenge just to prove you wrong.

“Fine. From tomorrow until the end of December, you can’t cum.” You said, “That means no sex and no jerking off. If you fail, I get to decide when we have sex for at least a month.”

“And if I win, you are going to be my little sex doll I can fuck whenever I want with no complaints.” Toji challenged. You scoffed, more than confident that he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“Deal!”

~~~~~

One week had gone by and it was already hell. Toji had to will himself to not drag you into the bedroom every night, the condescending smirk on your face actually giving him motivation to keep going. Ever since he started dating you, sex was a common and daily occurrence so to have it taken away was difficult for him to navigate but he could do this. He was an adult with self-control and he wasn’t a horny teenager who needed to get their rocks off all the time.

But during week two, he wondered if he truly had the self-control he thought he did.

You were not making it easy for him, oh no. You were a naughty little minx and once Toji went by one week with no sex, you realised you needed to make him break. Whether it was make-out sessions with a bit more tongue than you normally use, or ‘forgetting’ to lock the door while you showered so he’d walk in on you naked, or going to bed in nothing but his oversized t-shirt, or asking him to give you a massage and letting out sweet, filthy little moans as he worked out the knots. These small things were piling up, riling the man up even more to the point where in a sweet kiss from you would make his dick hard. You were good. But he wasn’t giving up.

But neither were you. And you decided to ramp it up for week 3.

“…And what are you doing?” Toji asked, looking you up and down and undressing you with his eyes. You were standing by the bedroom door, looking absolutely stunning in a lingerie piece he hadn’t seen before. It was a beautiful lace red piece, the underwear framing your body deliciously. Your tits, your stomach, your ass and the heaven between your legs- all the blood instantly went to his cock just by looking at you.

“Tojiiii~” you cooed, walking over towards him, your hips swaying seductively as you reached him. He was sitting against the headboard of the bed, idly scrolling through his phone but the random video he was watching was all but forgotten as you crawled between his legs. Your tits were practically swinging in front of his face as you straddled him, the man unable to deny you as he placed a hand on your waist, running his fingers over the soft lace.

“I’m so horny, Toji~” you cooed, rubbing your hand up and down his covered chest, “I need you.”

“Nice try.” The man responded, snorting as he flicked your forehead with his other hand, making you gasp, “I know your game here, little minx. You’re not getting me to fuck you.”

“How mean.” You said, pouting adorably and showing off the lip gloss you had put on, “If you’re not interested, then this can probably go on past November-“ “Not a chance.” Toji growled, gripping your waist so tightly it made you gasp, “You know I’m owning that pussy once this month is up. So be a good girl and wait.” “Wait?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow, “Why do I have to wait? I’m not doing the stupid challenge.” You smiled at the way Toji’s eyes followed you as you got off of him, bending over in front of him as you reached for a familiar drawer in the bedside table.

“Just because you’re not going to fuck me doesn’t mean I can’t have fun~” you said, holding up your favorite wand vibrator as well as a thick, vibrating dildo. “It’s not as big as you, but it’s good enough~”

  What proceeded was the worst yet best night of Toji’s life. He watched as you pleasured yourself, your sweet moans echoing through the room as you fucked yourself with your toys. With the vibrator rubbing your clit and the dildo sliding in and out of your pussy, you practically gave him a private show. Your lingerie was still on your body but pulled aside to expose your breasts and your cunt, making you look so delicious he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He didn’t dare to touch himself as he helped you along with your session, growling dirty things into your ear as he took over and fucked your cunt with the dildo, working it way better than you could yourself, groaning in delight as he suckled on your nipples as he drove you over the edge.

His dick was so hard it felt like it would explode. But he wouldn’t budge. He wanted to- God he wanted to- but he was going to stay strong. The reward he’d get for sticking with this at the end of the month would feel way better than the momentary pleasure he’d get from rubbing one out. So he stayed strong. Days went by, feeling longer and longer and your antics growing more and more bold. Your masturbation sessions were happening often, you were walking around the house in skimpy clothing, he’d wake up and find that you had ‘accidentally somehow fallen asleep with your face close to his cock’ but try as you might, you couldn’t break him.

He increased the ice-cold showers. He took longer working hours to distract himself. He fingered you so he could remind you of how good he was going to take you once the month was up. Hell, he even took up meditation to try and ease the tension in his body. And finally. Finally. After all that hard work- he made it.

He did it. He actually did it.

He was on the last day of November.

A full month of no sex. No pleasure. No jacking off. His cock hurt and his balls ached so badly, dying for some release and he couldn't wait to get it. Tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, he was going to take you and pound the shit out of you- fucking you so hard you won't be able to walk for days. He made sure you knew it too. Throughout the day, he was whispering filth to you, growling in your ear and palming his cock in front of you, loving the blush on your face as he detailed all the bad and naughty things he was going to do to you tonight. There was no doubt you felt defeated and after this, he was going to break and punish you.

Just an hour. He could do this. He was going to do this!

He was lounging on the couch of the living room, not focusing on what was on the TV as his mind was occupied with lust when he saw you walk out of their bedroom and upto him.

"How do I look?" you asked, twirling around so he could see your outfit. It was a cute short dress with a pair of leggings and he hummed in approval.  

"You going out?" he asked.

"Yup!" you said, suddenly dragging a suitcase from behind you, "I’m going to my parents’ house."

Toji raised his eyebrows, his eyes widening. What?

What?

"Excuse me?" he asked, watching as you dragged your suitcase over to the door.

"Sorry, I forgot to mention it before." you said casually, clearly ignoring the expression on his face, "Last minute plan- you know how it is."

"Bullshit." the man snarled, walking upto you before slamming his hands on the wall behind you, caging you, "You're just trying to fuck with me, aren't you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" you asked, a curious tilt in your tone which told Toji all he needed to know, "I just miss home and I know you have a busy workday tomorrow so I didn’t think you’d want to come. That’s not a problem, is it? I’ll only be there for a week.”

“A week-“ Toji growled, nails digging into his fist as he still cornered you against the wall, “You’re not fucking serious.”

You shrugged, faking innocence, “I mean, is there any reason I shouldn’t go? I have a few days off from work and my mom has been begging me to come by someday. The train leaves in…” you checked your watch, ignoring Toji’s scoffs at your audacity, “thirty minutes. So I better get going-“

“You’re not going anywhere you little brat!” Toji snarled, his patience snapping. There was no way in hell he was going to let you leave and have you been gone for a week. He was confident you were just bluffing but he was not taking that change. With a growl, he bent down and threw you over his shoulder, making you yelp as you were suddenly held upside down. He gave you butt a sharp spank, a slap so hard it made you forget how to breathe for a second before he stormed towards the bedroom.

“Wh- what about the bet?” you asked once he threw you onto the bed, Toji immediately getting undressed as he practically ripped his shirt off.

“Fuck the bet.” He said, grabbing you by the ankles before he pulled you towards him, a feral look in his eyes as he fisted the fabric of your tights, “Fuck No Nut November. And fuck you.”

You gasped as he started tearing apart your tights, the fabric ripping away like paper as all he could think about was fucking you. You could see the imprint of his cock straining against his sweatpants, you man already hot and bothered and eager. Your heart was beating fast in your chest, the excitement over-riding the fact that you were going to win the bet. Once the tights were torn enough and before you could even get a second to complain, he flipped you onto your stomach.

He slid your panties to the side, so desperate for you that he couldn’t be bothered to properly undress you before he grabbed two greedy handfuls of your ass. You mewled under him as he squeezed, the man spreading your cheeks apart before he dove in, face first. You yelped as Toji took a long, rough lick of your pussy, the familiar sensation something you truly missed since the start of the bet. You gasped and moaned as he started feasting on your cunt, his thick tongue sliding into you and working you open, your pussy slowly getting wet for him.

Toji growled against you, the vibration making you feel even better as he got you hot and bothered. His cock was so hard it was genuinely hurting him, the sensation of your pussy against his tongue and the taste of your sweet nectar making him go into overdrive. But even your pussy wasn’t going to make him forget how you pissed him off.

“Mmph- this isn’t for you- got it?” he snarled, smacking your ass once to get your attention, “I’m getting this cunt wet enough to fuck my fat cock deep inside you. I don’t care if you feel good and I don’t give a shit if you cum or not- you’ve gotten enough of that this month.”

“Don’t be- ah- mean.” You protested, gasping as he suddenly pulled away from you and flipped you onto your back again. “Oh, I haven’t even gotten started.” Toji said as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it up harshly, also not caring to take it off completely. All he wanted was access to your tits and once he pulled your bra upto your chin, he got what he wanted. “You’ll see just how mean I can be.”

He took a nipple into his mouth before you could say anything, not wanting to hear anything out of your lips unless it was moans, cries or apologies. He slid his fingers into your panties, his thick digits sliding between your damp pussy lips, the slick sound of the contact echoing through the air. Despite the attitude, he knew you missed him too. Dildos just didn’t compare to him.

He slid a finger inside you, the glide easy due to your wetness as he slowly but thoroughly started stretching you out for his cock. Your fingers were in his hair, tugging at it harshly as he suckled on your nipple, his tongue twirling the sensitive bud around before he bit down, making you yelp from the pain. You rocked your hips against his fingers, arching your back as he slid a second one inside you before scissoring you open just how you like it.

“Fuck- good enough.” Toji said, separating from your nipple (which he indeed sucked raw) and gently taking his fingers out of you. He knelt between your legs after he gave you a quick peck on the lips, pushing his pants down to reveal his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, your pussy throbbing as you gazed at the member you practically hadn’t seen all month. It was rock hard and twitching, precum leaking out of the tip that was so red, you wondered if it would burn your tongue if you sucked on it. His balls were always big and heavy and you didn’t know if the time apart muddled your memory a bit but you swore, they were somehow bigger.

  “Spread those fucking legs- show me that pussy.” Toji said, gripping his cock before he started tapping it against your cunt, purposefully targeting your clit and making you tremble from each hit, “Look at that. So needy and dripping even though you fucked yourself on that dildo every other night.”

He spat on your pussy, making you gasp at the vile action but it made your cunt gush even more. He truly was using you like he owned you. His cockhead rubbed at the glob of saliva that was trailing down your cunt before he finally, finally pressed it against your entrance.

“I won’t last long, but I don’t care.” Toji said, rocking his hips lightly as he teased your hole, “You’re here to be my cum dump. You’re here for my pleasure, got it?”

You couldn’t help but he bratty even though every fibre of your being wanted to beg the man to just fuck you already: “Enjoy it since I’m winning this bet~” “Oh, are you sure about that?”

You frowned at his words before your eyes widened and you looked over at the clock to see that…it was midnight. November was officially over. And you had lost.

“That- ah!” you screamed loudly as Toji plunged his cock into you, his girth splitting apart your wet, velvet walls as he pushed into your cunt. He laughed as he got inside you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt your pussy wrap around him, that sweet, amazing feeling of your walls squeezing him greedily. He grabbed your legs by the back of your knees before pushing them upto your chest, catching you in a mating press, driving his cock deep, deep inside you.

“Fuck! Fuck- fuck!” you squealed, the whiplash from realizing you lost to the sensation of your cunt being stuffed full for the first time in a month making your head spin, “I thought- you- fuck!” “Nice try baby.” Toji snarled, body trembling as he got to feel your cunt again, his balls already threatening to spill his seed inside you, “But you’re going to have to try harder- fuck yes- if you wanna beat me~”

He lifted his hips up and thrust into you again, both of you moaning as he stuffed his cock deep inside your delicious cunt. He started picking up the pace, the nasty sound of his balls clapping against your ass was music to his ears as he started using you. This was for him.

“You’re my toy now, understand?” he asked, tightening his hold on your legs and keeping you nice and folded for him, “my sweet little fuck toy that I’m going to use to break every. Single. Fucking. Night!” he thrust harshly at each word, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his cock deliciously slide inside you, truly owning you. You hated to admit it, but you were secretly happy he won. As he pounded into you, you couldn’t help but remember how torturous this month was for you as well.

Sore pussy be damned, you were too addicted to Toji to give him up.

And while you swore you had more time before midnight struck, you were too cock drunk to think about it. Which was good for Toji as he thought ahead and might have changed the timing on the clock to make it a touch faster. But what you didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt you and by the time he was done with you, you’d forget how to count anyway.

[reverieblondie]

The Dare

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Spider-woman!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Some Plot, Stealing Stuff, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Degrading, Unprotected Penetrative Sex, Hair Pulling, Fingering, Reader is called Slut.

Summary: Hobie takes the dare game up a notch. Unexpected events ensue...

A/N: This is my first fanfiction ever so please be kind!  If I missed any warnings or my grammar and spelling sucks please just let me know. I thought this idea was funny so figured I would share! 

Word Count: 5,757 (still working on my editing skills so warning)

Hobie casually struts into view, wearing Peter's favorite pink robe. He has a smirk on his face. He obviously was successful in the dare.

You, Hobie, Gwen and Ben were passing time at HQ by having a friendly game of daring each other to do things, you all recently got done with a mission so it was perfect to kill time, Gwen had suggested truth or dare but Hobie said that dares only would make for a better game. It started innocently enough like reading the last text message you sent your crush, drinking a bottle of hot sauce but you can’t drink anything else for 10 minutes, and going to dance in the cafeteria to no music to see if anyone joins you, but it quickly diverted to more dangerous dares.  

“I can't believe you were able to get that” Ben laughs out as Hobie strikes poses while Gwen and you cheer him on 

“Oh this was nothing mate, I do believe that is your turn for a dare Miss Y/N” 

You look at Hobie with a smirk, if he was trying to scare you it wasn't going to work.  “I can handle whatever you throw at me Hobie, all these dares have been a cakewalk so far” 

Hobie smirks, “Why don't we get you something challenging then, hm?”

You shrug feeling confident “I'm not scared of any dare”

“Any dare?”

“Yep!”

“No backing out aye?”

“No backing out” you grin, feeling that he wouldn't be able to think of anything too crazy, but you forget this is Hobie, and he loves to push the limits.

Hobie thinks for a moment, his face contorted with thought, and then a wicked smirk flashes on his face, he looks at you and leans in knowing he had a perfect dare. 

“I dare you to steal a pair of Miguel's underwear” Gwen and Ben exchange shocked looks then look back at you, brows furrowed mouth agape you are equally as shocked by the request.

“What?!”

Hobie goes to repeat but is quickly cut off by you interrupting him “Eh…Please don't repeat it I heard you.” This causes Hobie to laugh

“So are you game?”

you think for a moment, that stealing Miguel’s underwear…this was definitely a challenge and a bit of a gamble on your life. But you would never hear the end of it from Hobie if you backed out now. Face riddled with concern you look up at Hobie, a fire in your eye blooms not wanting to be beaten. 

“I'm game!”

You and Hobie shake hands the dare is on, no backing out now. 

You first had to think about a game plan to get Miguel's underwear. It's not like you can just walk up and ask the guy, he was the big boss he could crush your head like a peanut. Plus it didn't help that you had a fat crush on him, and now you have to nab his underwear.

Taking a deep breath you headed to Miguel's room in HQ. You ducked around corners and made sure you were not being followed or looking too suspicious, though that wasn't easy to do considering you were sweating bullets. Miguel's room was known to be located at the top of HQ, being the leader and founder of the Spider Society means you get to have a penthouse suite at your job you guess. 

You had only ever been to the door of his room once, you had forgotten to give him your mission reports on time so you had to hand deliver them one night at Miguel's irritated request, you remember that night having to rush the paperwork over and banging on the door, for Miguel to reveal himself in sweatpants and an oversized shirt hair lose from a recent shower. Seeing him in such a casual state had worsened your crush.  Miguel just gave you the same furrowed expression he always seemed to have glued to his face, looking you up and down before he took your reports without uttering a word to you. 

After that night you couldn't help but fantasize about Miguel doing more casual mundane things, like grocery shopping or maybe telling jokes to you, the guy was in a consistent state of stress so thinking about him relaxed made you excited. People might think it would be weird but hey it's your fantasy, not theirs.

Finally making your way to the top you peek around a corner looking at his door. There is no one around from what you can tell, so you check your watch. Perfect it's still afternoon, Miguel, the workaholic he is, never leaves his office early so you still have plenty of time. Sneaking over to the door you try the handle, and to your surprise…it's unlocked? Huh? Miguel should lock his room. There are some real weirdos out there, the current weirdo being you. Then again what idiot would be dumb enough to sneak into Miguel's private space? Oh yeah thanks to the dare, you! 

Through the door you steadily walk in, the living room is huge, nicely lit, minimalist design, and very clean, a total opposite to Miguel's office which is dark with all kinds of clutter. A nice large sofa and a TV that hardly looks like it's ever been used decorate the space, attached to the vast living room, a kitchen with a sleek-looking island and very modern appliances, some you can't even recognize. As you go further and further in his suite, you tiptoe around looking at everything, if you didn't know this was Miguel's place you would have never thought that anyone lived here, so devoid of any kind of personality. Maybe he's just a minimalist? 

As you quietly walk through the impressive suite you hear a noise that stops you in your tracks. You look and see a door that is slightly cracked, you examine the door cautiously slowly making your approach. Another noise draws you in closer, a grunt?

 Thanks to your careful steps you manage to sneak to the door and peer inside without making a sound. Peering through the slit of the door you lean in to survey what caught your attention, your eyes widened at the sight and your breath instantly halts. 

There he is Miguel, your leader, your crush fully nude standing in his master bedroom, head thrown back eyes screwed shut, fangs fully extended, moaning in pleasure as he tightly fucks his cock with his hand. His hips are jutting forward slightly, his angry red tip leaking glistening precum that only aids in his feverish fucking. His muscles are tense and rippling, each moan makes his massive body shake. You are mesmerized by the sight, you're sure your jaw is on the floor. You are watching Miguel O’Hara fucking his hand chasing any kind of release.

 Continuing to watch his relentless pursuit, your excitement builds as you watch. Mouth dry and wanting to desperately attach yourself to his cock and lick and suck till your thirst is quenched from his release. Your thoughts run rampant, you shouldn’t be watching this, it's wrong, but you can’t take your eyes off him. His tanned skin glowing with the subtle sheen of sweat, his moans egging him on and equally you. 

The whole display has you tightening your thighs together, your arousal ls pooling in your panties. He starts to move with more sloppiness, slipping incoherent words in Spanish to the air and he gets close to his high. Then to your pleasure, sticky white ropes escape him and cover his large hand painting him white. He continues to pump for a few more moments, slightly shaking as he does. He then opens his eyes, grabs a towel resting on his bed and cleans himself, as he’s cleaning he gives a small sigh looking more relaxed during his come down and takes a deep inhale from his nose. Then he stops and his face contorts to confusion, taking another whiff of the air again he looks towards the slightly ajar door. 

You jump quickly backpedaling from the door, did he see you? Shit you need to hide, you quickly tiptoe to the next door finding yourself in what looks like a home office. You look around the room quickly scanning for a place to hide, a desk catches your attention, this will have to do. Quickly hiding below it you hear Miguel walking slowly into the room looking around. Heart beating rampant you place your hand over your mouth and steady your breathing, you can not get caught he will kick you out of society or worse kill you! 

Miguel scratches his head and gives a slight “huh” before leaving the room and going back to the bedroom. You wait a few moments before you poke your head out cautiously. Looks all clear, you quickly go to make your escape, but then you stop the dare…you got to get that underwear, it was just a stupid game but your pride was going to get the better of you and you didn’t want to be subjected to Hobies teasing of how you couldn’t hack it after all your big talk. You swallow down your fear and turn towards the bedroom door. 

You approach the door hesitantly and place your ear to it, you hear what sounds like a shower, Miguel must be doing some aftercare for himself. Taking all risks you gently open the door and peer inside your spider senses helping to guide you through feeling no immediate danger. Peering inside you see the room is empty. Walking in you look for a dresser but with no luck, the only thing you see is a large bed and nightstand, ever the minimalist huh Miguel? Your eyes go to the door on the side of the room where you hear the shower being used. 

This is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid! You're going to get seen! Thinking to yourself as you slowly crack open the door to the master bathroom. Looking through the crack you see a silhouette of Miguel in the shower, the glass is steamed over from the intestine heat of the water he is cleaning himself with. It’s so hot that as you carefully crawl in you feel the heat and humidity in the air thick and making it hard to breathe. 

Miguel is something else to take such scouring showers. You look around, eyes darting all over the floor for any chance of dirty clothes and then to the fogged-up shower making sure he is still blissfully unaware of the invasion of privacy. Your eyes catch what looks to be another door that you are betting to be his closest, you quickly crawl over and sneak into the closet carefully shutting the door behind you. 

Looking around the closet you see a variety of different clothes ranging from tee shirts and jens to luxury suits and jackets. Your attention falls to a leather jacket that you can’t help but touch, imagining how wonderful he must look in this jacket, what you wouldn’t give…you quietly slap your hands to your cheeks trying to refocus. you're on a mission here! 

Surveying around your eyes lands on what seems to be a dresser. Quickly rushing over you open the first small drawer, socks in various neutral colors. Okay, drawer number two, you open and bingo! There they are Miguel’s assortment of underwear, boxers or briefs? He’s a brief man.

Eyeing the underwear you feel a tinge of embarrassment and guilt looking at his underwear, this is pretty perverse, you already watched him masterbait now taking his underwear? Well, it's only because of the dare that makes it less perverse right? You did get excited from watching him, do you have a problem? Too horny maybe? You shrug that’s something you will ponder another day, today you have a mission. Plunging your hand in the drawer you take the first pair your hand falls to, navy blue. This will have to work!

Still hearing the shower you are thankful he seems to be taking his time. Going to make your escape you head for the door, then just your luck, the shower turns off, fuck. Quickly backtracking to the closet you hide yourself leaving a crack so you peer out to watch. 

Miguel wipes the fogged-up glass of the shower revealing his damp hair cascading down his forehead, the water rolling down his chiseled physique, you feel your heat dripping down as you watch. Note to self find an excuse to pour water on Miguel so you can see him dripping wet again. You watch with intrigue as he swiftly wraps his towel around his narrow waist drawing attention to his deep v.

It takes everything in you to not drool and melt away into a puddle on his floor. Every movement of his routine made you desire him more and more, you were down bad. Miguel brushes his hair back with his hands and that has you almost losing all sense, why is everything he does so sexy? You need to get a grip. Studying him you wait for an opportunity to make your escape without getting caught, just have to be patient now. He's looking at himself in the mirror looking at his jaw and inspecting his face, he then widens his lips to reveal his teeth and fangs on full display.

The sight of his fangs has you holding your breath. That’s right if you get caught he would have no problem using those things on you, actually, that’s not a terrible idea…no! Too horny, get out of here! 

Miguel opens a drawer at the sink and pulls out some floss, he tentatively pulls a long string out and begins to floss around his teeth making sure to go carefully around his fangs. Why is this oddly adorable? Scary Spider man adorably flossing, and very cute. Miguel gets done flossing and licks his teeth, then something you never thought you would ever see. He smiles to himself in the mirror before quickly going back to his permanent neutral state. Too bad he doesn't smile more often; you often try to make him smile when you get to interact with him at work. Telling jokes, funny stories, smiling and waving as you pass him but nothing has ever seemed to work out for you. 

Miguel sighs and shakes his head going away from the mirror to his bedroom. Okay, enough daydreaming you need to get out of here quickly. You decide the best way to sneak out is to crawl on the wall, you start scaling the wall crawling on the ceiling. He left the door to the room open so you peek your head in, and it’s all clear. You crawl through and go to exit his bedroom as you are about to get down to open the door. It swings open causing you to quickly flatten yourself to the ceiling. Miguel walks in with a bottle of water in hand still in a towel from the shower. As he is right under you he stops and sniffs, shit shit! Why does he keep doing that? Do you smell? You took a shower this morning, you should not be smelling. 

As Miguel whips his head side to side you quickly and quietly slip out the bedroom before he has a chance to get wise and look up. 

You quickly get down from the ceiling and start making your pursuit to the door. You did it! You made it, you got the underwear! Oh, the look on Hobie’s face is going to be priceless!

Suddenly, as you are about to reach out to the knob and make your escape, feeling the high of success you are pulled back and swiftly turned around to be met with a crimson-eyed Miguel, and he looks pissed. It’s in this moment you wish to see Miguel who was smiling but you're not getting that side of him you're getting Miguel burning with rage. “I thought I fucking smelled you…” okay wow, ouch? Do you smell bad? Before you can say anything his hand grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks “What are you doing in my room?” 

You stare at him, lips puckered and eyes wide, this is how you die…

Miguel squeezes you harder “Answer me…” he growls, he’s so close to you, you can feel the vibration in his chest, his heat burning your skin his smell invading your senses, it’s intoxicating being this close, he's not wearing a shirt and only in those familiar sweatpants, you can’t help but notice your panties getting soaked. However you can’t get lost in the fantasy right now, you’ve been caught and you need to focus on not losing your life. 

“I’m sorry” you mutter out as best you can. Miguel continues to stare daggers into you, he wants more of an answer than that. 

“I didn’t think you would be here”

Miguel releases your face and now keeps his hands on your arms pinning you to the nearest wall. “Why would you even come in here?” He looks you up and down for a moment and that’s when he sees what’s in your hands, his eyes widening in surprise “Is that…” 

“Wait! Miguel, I can explain! This isn't what it looks like!” 

Miguel tilts his head at you, “Yeah? Because it looks like you're a nasty little perv” 

His derogation sends shivers down your spine and makes your sex even more wet.

Miguel studies you seeing your flushed features, can he sense that you're getting turned on? The answer is yes, “I should have known you were here, your sweet scent tainting the air.” 

Okay, what the hell? You furrow your eyebrows at him “Do I smell? You keep saying that I smell?” 

Miguel lifts an eyebrow at your face still stern but not so much angry “I can smell your arousal pooling in your panties” he grips you tighter “I may not have that little danger alarm like the rest of you but that doesn’t mean my other senses are not heightened. And right now I can smell just how excited you are, was this your plan? Watch me, take my underwear, and get caught? Or is getting caught just a pleasant surprise for you?” 

Miguel lends down whispering in the shell of your ear, his warm breath causing your skin to tingle “And don’t try to deny it” 

Your breath hitches for a moment “I didn't mean to watch it was an accident”

“What about you getting so turned on?” He stares intensely at you, you feel your face flush with embarrassment and clench your thighs together. You are turned on, desperately so. His voice is so sultry, even him bullying you is causing you excitement. Looking into his red eyes his face seems less of rage and more of fascination. 

“I-I couldn't help myself.” 

His hands slowly slide down your arms to your waist, and he buries his head in your neck, smelling you taking you in. The feeling of his breath fanning over your skin makes you think you will instantly melt. Your eyes flutter, closed breath becomes heavy and he rubs his nose slowing up your neck. Finally, he moves away from your neck and looks at your blown-out eyes and flushed cheeks, he smirks, oh you're in danger. 

Miguel suddenly turns you around pressing your chest and face to the wall, his hand grazes your ass before roughly spanking you, causing your hips to buckle forward releasing a high-pitched yelp. His weight leans on you and his knee drives up into your wet cunt, the slight friction makes your head jerk back and clit to tingle. Miguel chuckles and he brings his face into your hair smelling you before reaching and grabbing a handful of hair, pulling slightly. His lips slightly graze your ear as he speaks. 

“You're a bad little slut aren't you?” 

“N-no'm not” 

Another spank smacks across your ass “Oh, I think you are though. Sneaking in here watching me and taking my stuff, good girls don't do that.” He purrs 

He leans more into you and you can feel just how big and hard he is. Miguel's hands find the zipper to your suit slowly zipping it down “Tell me to keep going, tell me how much you want it” 

Pushing yourself from the wall you nod your head, your mind hazy from the desire to be touched more. Forgetting all about pride, forgetting all about the dare, your only thoughts are your desires.

Miguel tsks at you and stops unzipping your suit “Use your words Cariño or I will stop” 

“Yes, I want it! Please!” You whine slightly rubbing yourself on his knee desperate for any kind of friction. 

“What are you bebé?” Releasing the zipper of your suit that now reveals your bare back to him, He swiftly brings a hand to tug your hair, he's going to make you beg and plead, isn't he? Biting your lip you feel him shove his knee further into you, his other hand going to your hip to help guide you as you rub yourself practically riding his knee like a bitch in heat as he continues his torment.  

“Your needly slut! Please just take me Miguel!” 

With that Miguel releases his grip from your hair and hip peeling down your suit revealing your naked body to him, he eyes you for a moment drinking in every curve and dip of your soft skin slowly running his hands down your sides whispering incoherent filth in your ear before he quickly turns you around and scoops you in his arms carrying you to his bedroom. 

He practically kicks his door in tossing you on the bed, before you can get your bearings his hands are on your ankles dragging you closer. He stares intensely at you like a predator about to devour its prey. 

Miguel crawls on top of you, his breath fanning over your lips, he carefully takes his thumb and swipes it over your bottom lip. “Soft…” is all he mutters before he kisses you, softly first then quickly heating up to a sloppy ravenous hunger to taste you. His hands paw all over your body squeezing all over and grabbing handfuls of you desperately. When you break away for air he can't help but  

lick wet stripes on your neck then give you slight nips, his fangs slightly grazing you careful not to break your skin.

He trails down peppering kisses down your heated body, your bra is quickly tossed off of you causing your breast to bounce before him letting out a yelp to the suddenness of his action. Miguel stares for a moment watching your nipples peak, He just smirks and massages them before latching himself to your peaked nipple, first lapping with his tongue before biting with a tug. You moan and whimper at his teasing, playfully biting and licking one as he pinches and pulls the other. 

He travels lower, his eyes staying on your face watching each reaction, he's studying you, he wants to note what every kiss, bite, lick, and tug does to you. When he finally reaches your heated sex he examines your panties, soft blue with a very noticeable dark spot, he rubs his middle finger across your wet panties taking in how your body shakes at his touch and you push yourself into him more. The hard-on in his sweatpants is aching to be released, but he wants to punish you for your perverted behavior.  

“Look at what you have done to your pretty panties princesa, acting like a dirty slut has ruined them” his finger rubs on your clothed clit digging into your folds and ruining your underwear further. You can only moan and plead for him to continue, your cunt aching to be filled with anything, getting impossibly wetter as he continues his teasing. Rocking your hips faster on his finger desperate for friction on your clit, you really are needy. 

 He slaps his hand down on your clothed cunt causing you to jump and moan at the bullying. “No, rushing me princesa” he's making sure to go painfully slow, he wants you to beg for it. 

He slips your panties off slowly, watching your sweetness leak out of you, your needy pussy is clenching around nothing desperate to be filled. You are a rambling mess of pleading and whimpering as Miguel tortures you with his slow lingering touches. Miguel slowly dives his face into your cunt and nose pushing your clit making your body jerk and moan, he takes in your smell getting drunk on your sweet secretion. He lifts his head and leads his head on your thigh “Such a sweet-smelling slut, you know how long you have been teasing me?” 

He starts to run his finger through your slick folds “walking around me all aroused, making me have to smell you without getting to taste you”

He Plunges his finger into you, his large finger going knuckle deep and curling slowly in you, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit making your vision blur from how deep he is. As you wetten he slips in another finger filling you up, your breathing becoming desperate, back starts to arch, and hands flying to your hair. He continues his pursuit moving his fingers around your gummy walls searching for that sweet spot of yours. When it's finally found you're seeing stars and clenching tightly on his fingers, your hands flying down to hold his wrist as he continues to make you ride his hand. Miguel just watches as you approach your high “Do you know what all that teasing does to a man?”

He suddenly pulls away as you are reaching your peak. His fingers are glazed with your wetness. Smiling down at you he puts his wet fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean, eyes never leaving yours. He takes them out of with mouth with a pop “Makes a man hungry Hermosa” 

 You have tears pooling in your eyes being robbed of your orgasm, you start begging him to continue whimpering and flustered as he just watches you beg. 

“You're such a needy little slut huh?” 

 Nodding feverishly you agree to everything that leaves his mouth

“You know? I think I know how to correct your bad behavior”

Standing from the bed he removes his sweatpants, his hard cock flicking up to hit his stomach leaving precum in its wake. Staring intently at you he starts pumping his massive cock throbbing for friction. All you can do is watch him wide-eyed sure you saw it earlier but now it's going to be inside of you. His length and girth are so big you don't even know if it would fit in your tight pussy, but you are aquiver to try, whimpering at his display. 

“We got to fuck it out of you Hermosa, you want that? You want me to fill up and teach you a lesson?” 

You nod and spread your legs wider for him. Miguel slips out a moan, eyeing your spread open sex. All for him, begging for him, he almost can't help himself from immediately thrusting into you.  

“Words?” he says, still pumping himself, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, yes I am bad, teach me a lesson! Fuck me, ah please Miguel!” 

Miguel Grabs your face and laughs at you “No need to beg, such a desperate thing” he shakes his head. Teasing still makes your skin tingle and nipples to perk evermore. Truth be told he loves your begging, he's getting drunk off your eagerness for him. 

He watches as your cunt clenches around nothing begging to be filled. He lines up and slowly rubs his length between your folds gathering your slick before slowly inching in his tip. His cock feels like fire as he slowly stretches you open, heating your soft slick walls. Your hands gripping his shoulders as you try to keep from clenching allowing him to slip in.  

“Mm, that’s right, fit it in Hermosa” 

The initial pain quickly becomes pleasure as he splits you open, heating you slowly going inch by inch stretching you deliciously. Your eyes start to roll in the back of your head and you close your eyes, letting the pleasure take over you. Suddenly Miguel slams his full length into you, filling you instantly and bullying into your cervix, the head of his cock nudging your g spot. The sensation causes your eyes to shoot open, you digging your nails into his shoulders and the air in your lungs to escape you.  

“Keep your eyes open and on me” 

Following his demands you watch him, eyes glaze over as you get cock drunk on his relentless rutting. Miguels just laughs as he rolls his hips back and slams into you again and again forcing you to stretch open and take him in. Usually, he would warm someone up a bit more before he starts fucking them so forcefully, but you've been a little pervert so you need to be taught what happens when you're bad. All you can do is moan and shake as he bullies your tight cunt making it form to his shape.

“That's it, baby, take it”

He continues to rut into you pulling back to the tip before slamming back in, thoroughly fucking you dumb. Eyes crossed and mouth hanging open muttering incoherently. Miguel leans down and kisses you sloppily still fucking you at a brutal pace, taking your jaw and making your mouth open wider he spits in your mouth. 

“Swallow” he demains 

Quickly following his demands you swallow and open your mouth again to show him how obedient you can be to him, you really are like a dog.. 

“Good girl” He rewards you by snaking his hand to your clit and rubbing it in circular motions. 

You are quickly approaching your high toes curling, legs wrapping around Miguel's waist, and hands clawing into his back leaving scratch marks painting all the way down his back. Your walls start to clamp down on him.

“Ah, Mig ah Miguel I'm close, please!” 

 His massive cock abusing your sensitive spot has you seeing stars and pussy creaming all over him, leaving a white ring around his cock finally cumming around him. He continues chasing his release as he helps you ride out your orgasm. His cock continues to fill you pulsating as he reaches his orgasm. The sounds of your wet pussy and the slapping of skin fill the room. His rhythm becomes sloppy and pounding harder into you 

“You hear that? Ah, such a needy pussy. Where do you want it huh? When does my dirty slut want my cum? Her stomach? Ah, Face? Mm inside?” 

“Inside!” You beg, approaching your second high. 

“Oh? Do you want me to fill you up? Such a greedy slut aren't you?”

You begin to see white, his relentless pace making your head empty.

“I said, Aren't you!” he pounds harder, making everything shake and you scream in pleasure. 

“Yes! Im so fucking greedy!” you're practically sobbing at the pace he's set. You think you're going to break as he takes your legs and pushes your knees to your face, making him slip what you thought was impossibly deeper. Miguel angles himself that has you clamping down on him squirting out on his cock.  

With that Miguel stops moving, hips completely flushed with you, his body shakes as he releases his hot thick cum inside of you giving out a moan that vibrates through his wide chest. His hot load warms your insides, mixing in with your release causing you to shudder. Miguel looks down at you and smiles still staying in you, he leans his massive body over you and kisses you while pulling out. The emptiness makes you whine and he quickly goes to look at his handy work. 

He holds your ankles out so you have to be stretched before him, your abused clit red and sensitive, your hole filled with his sperm leaking out. Quickly taking his thumb to the escaping mess he pushes it back into your hole causing you to shake with overstimulation. 

“Mm, Such a pretty mess baby.” 

Miguel gets up and heads to his door, he turns to look at your tired body glowing with sweat. 

“I'm going to get you some water, when I get back you better prepare yourself, I'm not done punishing you.” 

You close your thighs together, his words sending a shiver of anticipation back through you as you bite your lip watching him leave.

 You will have to thank Hobie later for picking this dare. 

---

Miguel laughs, “So you came here to steal my underwear for a dare?” You look over at him with a smirk admiring his nude body in such a relaxed state and giving that smile you have been so desperately dreaming for. 

Eventually, you told him all about the dare game and how you ended up here. You're searching all over the floor for your underwear in the mess of bedding that found its way to the floor in a messy heap. 

 “Look I am not going to back down from a dare, now where are…”.

Miguel whistles and you look up at him as he's holding up your underwear; you reach to grab them from him but he pulls them back causing you to crash down on his bare chest. His other hand instantly curled around you to hold you to him. Once red eyes now dulling down to a brown as he just holds and smiles at you.

 “Take mine, do what you need to do and I will keep these” He balls up your underwear and holds them in a fist behind his head. 

You give him a suspicious look “Why do you want to hang on to them?” 

Miguel chuckles and looks back at you “To make sure you'll come back”

---

Later you find Hobie, Quin, and Ben sitting down chatting, you march up to the table and throw the navy blue underwear down on the table. They all look at you stunned at the item of clothing in front of them. Your hair was disheveled, lips red and swollen from being kissed, and cheeks still painted with a bit of blush. Hobie raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down noting your appearance, then he smirks. 

“And what took you so long?”

[unoislazy]

Hello ! Sorry for my bad English, it's not my first language I do my best

First of all, I love how you write <3

Second, my request would be Hiccup getting jealous and confessing to fem!reader by accident

That's all !

Thanks for writing so well, I send you a little kiss

Hello!

Congrats you’re my first request!

I hope I could do your request justice, enjoy

Just Talk To Me!

Hiccup x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k words

Summary: You and Eret have gotten pretty close due to your constant fighting practice. Of course, a certain chief isn’t too happy about it but he has a bit of trouble trying to tell you why.

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“You’re getting better at this!” Eret praised, ducking under your fist as you swung at him. He continued to dodge your strikes as you smiled.

You both had begun sparring together a few months ago, after the whole Dragon War fiasco. You realized that without your dragon, you weren’t as strong or as agile as the other Vikings, so you asked Eret to help you train.

You swept your foot under him, finally taking him down and putting your foot on his chest, signifying that you had one the fight.

“Have I gotten better, or have you just gotten worse?” You asked teasingly, taking your foot off of him as he smiled up at you.

You held out your hand to help him up. He obliged, taking it as he stood up once again, wiping off his clothes from that dust that truly didn’t even seem to be there.

“You’ve certainly made improvements since day one. I can tell you that.” He said, stretching a bit. “You could definitely do well even without your dragon, if you’d ever need to.” He continued, looking back at both of your dragons who were simply chilling off to the side, as they often did when you two fought.

“Hopefully there never comes a time.” You said in a lighthearted tone, but you truly hoped there would never be a time where you’d have to fair without your dragon.

“I second that. It’s funny, I never thought I’d ever change my ways when it came to dragons. Yet here I am, looking after this beast.” Eret joked, patting Skull Crushers head lightly causing the dragon to groan and slightly shake its head in response.

“Well I’m glad you had it in you to change, who knows maybe I would’ve taken you down myself.” You gloated sarcastically, walking towards the pair as Eret smiled back at you, acknowledging your joke.

“Yeah you wouldn’t have made it even close.” He let out a chuckle as he watched your teasing smirk turn to a pout. You knew his teasing was all in good fun but realistically if it had come to it you would’ve taken him out if you needed to.

“Just cause I’ve gotten better doesn’t mean I wasn’t skilled to begin with.” You reminded.

“Fair. Now how about best two out of three?” Eret asked, getting into a fighting stance which you very quickly mimicked. Just as you both were about to start fighting you had heard a very familiar growl come from above. Your head shot up towards the noise and you spotted none other than Hiccup Haddock, the chief of Berk, flying above you.

“Guess not.” You joked, no longer standing in a ready position as you turned to face the aforementioned chief who had landed not too far away from the both of you. Hiccup hopped off of Toothless with ease, slipping his helmet off in the process, and walked over to the two of you with Toothless close behind.

“Morning you two.” Hiccup greated, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the both of you. “What are you guys doing all the way out here?” He asked but you noticed it wasn’t in the sense of his usual curiosity. There was an underlying tone that you could quite put your finger on so you figured you were just simply thinking too much into it.

You hadn’t really thought about it but you suppose you and Eret were more or less in the middle of nowhere in the woods. It was the most quiet place the two of you could find to practice in peace without going to the Arena.

“Eret and I have been sparring, I figured I should eventually learn how, considering most of my strength comes from them.” You said, gesturing to your dragon who was sleeping peacefully only to be startled awake by Toothless patting them on the head. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, Toothless always reminded you of a cat in a way, you found it adorable.

“Alone?” Hiccup asked, which honestly surprised the both of you. You looked towards hiccup in confusion only to see the shock he had on his own face. Clearly he didn’t mean to let it slip out but it was too late to take it back now.

“Well no… our dragons are here with us?” You stated but you were so confused about the reasoning behind Hiccups question that you couldn’t seem to phrase it as anything other than a question. You all fell silent as Hiccup swayed his arms in an awkward fashion, something he only does when he’s trying to avoid talking about something.

Eret looked between the two of you, realizing he had no part in the conversation he simply cleared his throat.

“I’ll just leave you two be, I have some… things to take care of..” He excused himself, quickly hopping onto Skullcrusher and exiting the awkward situation as quickly as possible. Once Eret had flown away you quickly turned back to Hiccup who was clearly avoiding even looking in your general direction.

“Spill it.” You said bluntly causing Hiccup to finally make eye contact with you. His face held a confused look but you both knew what you were talking about.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Hiccup said, again clearly avoiding the topic as he walked over to Toothless. “Have you seen the new addition I added to Toothless’s tail?” It was clear he was trying to think of anything to change the subject because obviously there was nothing different about Toothless’s tail and you both knew that.

You crossed your arms as you stared at the brunette before you, your face holding an expression that clearly said ‘seriously?’. He dropped Toothless’s tail with a sigh before getting up and walking towards you. Silence quickly swept over the two of you as you continued to wait for Hiccup to say something. You raised an eyebrow at him before he blurted out,

“Have you seen the new scale armor?”, giving one more quick shot to derail the conversation.

“Hiccup.” You said quite sternly. “Spill it.” You repeated, your arms still crossed over your chest as you watched the man nervously fidget. He may be the chief but he still held some of his nervous quirks. Sure he had the ability to look powerful and calm when his people needed their chief, but when he wasn’t the ‘Chief of Berk’ he was just Hiccup.

Just Hiccup.

And you’d be damned if you said you didn’t love him. Ever since you met hiccup you knew he always tried to meet everyone’s expectations only to have a long history of falling short. Hiccup as he was was always overlooked, everyone looked to him to be ‘the Chiefs son’ the ‘next chief of Berk’ and the one he really struggled with, was ‘Stoick’s son’. No one ever truly looked at him as just Hiccup.

Well everyone except you.

You liked him from the very beginning when he was just a scrawny boy obsessed with earning his fathers approval. Did you have the courage to say anything about the way you felt? No of course not, why would you? As much as you loved to see him as ‘Just Hiccup’ you couldn’t deny the fact that he was still pretty far out of your league, especially given his title of ‘The Dragon Master’. What title did you have? Nothing.

Well you had the title of being one of his closest friends so you stuck with that as being enough for you.

“I just don’t think you and Eret should be so far away while training.” He finally spoke up. It was clear he was still keeping something from you but at least he gave you something to work with.

“Why?” You asked, trying to nudge more out of him. He put his hands on his hips. As he began to pace slowly in a circle.

“I don’t know, I just think it would be safer if you-“ Hiccup began only for you to cut him off.

“Hiccup we have two dragons here, one of them being Skull Crusher. I’d say it’s pretty safe to say nothings going to attack us out here.” You argued, now mimicking his pose with your hands on your hips.

“Well still I just don’t like the idea of you guys being alone.” He said, looking up at you. You rolled your eyes in response,

“Hiccup I already said, we’re here with the dragons. We’re not alone.” You stated as if it wasn’t getting through his head. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was trying to hint at a different concern and you were missing the point entirely.

Your response only caused Hiccup to groan as his hand shot up to his face. He dragged his hands down his face as he turned around, now facing Toothless who simply looked at his friend in utter confusion. The dragon looked from you, then to Hiccup, then back to you. You simply shook your head with a shrug of your shoulders before Toothless walked away, deeming him your problem.

“Hiccup I don't understand why this is such a big issue to you, we used to be in the woods alone all the time together. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.” You stated quite bluntly.

“That was different!” He shouted. His face had ever so slightly turned the faintest hint of red, but it was still enough for you to notice. He seemed almost exasperated as you continued to swim around the very vague point that he was failing to get at.

“How was it any different than what me and Eret are doing? If anything it’s safer now because we’re both adults. Granted we did have a Night Fury with us back then…” You began to mumble to yourself, accidentally going off topic. Hiccup sighed, walking up to you and grabbing you by your shoulders. He was stern but still managed to be gentle as he forced you to look at him.

“I can’t control what you do or who you spend your time with, but I just don’t like that you and Eret spend so much time together, so far outside of the village, alone…” Hiccup said, practically laying it all out for you.

“Hiccup?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not alone.”

Hiccup merely stared at you, eyes wide in shock as he tried to calculate your intelligence in that split second. He practically spelled it out for you and you still weren’t getting it.

What hadn’t occurred to him however, was that you had already caught on, you were just trying to get him to admit it himself. Granted, you had just caught on maybe seconds before, but you still thought it might be fun to mess with him a little. Besides, who were you to make the assumption that the Chief of Berk himself was jealous that you were spending time with another man. It could be considered a reach… Unless he just said it himself.

“Why don’t you want me to be alone with him so badly?” You asked, figuring you should try and at least break the loop that you two seemed to be stuck in.

“Because…” Hiccup began, trying to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to say. You waited patiently, just looking at him and occasionally switching your gaze over to the dragons who were chasing each other around.

“Because?” You repeated, waiting for his response. His green eyes staring back into yours. They looked almost as if they were trembling as they bounced between the features on your face.

“Why is it so hard to talk to you?” He shouted abruptly, quickly letting go of your shoulders and flung his arms into the air with an exasperated groan.

“If it was easier for you to tell me about the dragon you were keeping hidden from a village filled with bloodthirsty, war hungry Vikings, I’ m almost afraid of whatever this could possibly be.” You joked, trying to lighten his mood.

“It’s not the same thing.” He muttered in response as you laughed.

“How could anything you have to tell me be worse than that?” Hiccup sighed in response as he went back to pacing. Clearly it was his way of thinking about what to do next. It wasn’t a trait he often exhibited but you knew once he started pacing, whatever he was thinking about was pretty serious.

“It’s not about what I have to tell you, it’s about your response.” He finally said, you rolled your eyes lightheartedly. You’ve known this man for years, and in those years you’ve learned countless embarrassing facts about him that he had less of a problem about you knowing than ‘whatever he had to tell you’.

“What does my response have to do with anything? Hiccup, anything you have to tell me won't change anything.” You stated with a laugh as you tried to comfort him. You almost started to second guess what you thought he was going to tell you. If he was truly this worried about what he was going to say maybe it was actually a very serious matter?

“Ha, yeah you say that now.” He laughed sarcastically, quickly looking up at you before returning to his pacing.

“Hiccup, I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

If there’s one thing about Hiccup it was his stubbornness. Anyone would just shrug that off as a Viking thing but you knew if anything, it came from his father. As much as Hiccup would deny being able to compare to his father, he shared many similar traits with him. You knew it, his mother knew it, even Gobber knew it, but he frequently denied it.

Stubborn.

“Why are you so concerned about me and Eret in the first place?” You decided to bring up the last topic, because if he wasn’t going to get to the point, you were.

“Because…” He muttered quietly in response as if he was holding something back.

“Because what hiccup? Seriously, I know you have an issue with communication sometimes but you can't just keep dancing around the issue here-“ You rambled a bit but before you could continue, Hiccup interrupted you.

“Because I have feelings for you!” He blurted out suddenly.

You both froze. He turned away from you as you simply stared at him. He finally said it, he actually really said it.

“Hiccup…” You muttered quietly.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. The last thing he wanted right now was to turn around and have to face the potential of rejection.

“Hiccup.” You called out again, walking towards him and lightly placing your hand on his shoulder. He finally turned towards you slightly, but he still refused to face you all the way. “You’re serious?” You asked, to which he simply looked at you with confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“At least one of us finally admitted to it.” You joked. For some reason Hiccup had registered that you were making a joke, but not necessarily what you were joking about.

“Yeah okay, go on, laugh it out- wait.” Hiccup quickly turned back to you. You nodded with a smile, confirming his suspicion as he clearly thought he had misheard you.

“Wait but- for how long?” He asked excitedly, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Oh this is great! I thought you were going to hate me for even saying anything about it, but you’re not! You feel the same-“ He cheered, slightly beginning to ramble as all of his previous anxiety seemed to just melt away.

You smiled as you watched him celebrate before quickly planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

The man froze before you, clearly not expecting even such a small act of affection. You never knew him to be entirely bold, you always saw him as a very awkward man, but you watched as the awkwardness practically jumped out a window for a split second or so as Hiccup grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him.

He was the last person you’d expect such a smooth act to come from, and honestly you didn’t mind it. His eyes drifted from yours to your lips in a matter of seconds as if he was silently asking for your approval, to which you nodded.

Before you knew it you were kissing the literal man of your dreams.

It was wonderful.

It was a very soft kiss, the perfect kind to be shared for the first time.

Once you pulled away you looked to hiccup before dramatically gasping.

“What? What is it?” Hiccup asked, panicking that he had done something wrong.

“Does that mean… you were jealous of Eret?” You asked with a joking smile.

“Oh come on- really?” Hiccup said, jokingly pushing you away with a laugh.

Safe to say you never let him live this moment down, and much to his dismay you had excitedly told your friends about it not too long after.

[thewulf]

Not Just Pals || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello darling! I have a request for you if you don't mind... It's a hangman x fem! Reader pen pals to friends to lovers kind of thing. Like maybe when he was in the academy someone put his name in this program to write to college students but joke on them because he got paired with reader and they hit it off almost instantly... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew! This one was for whatever reason really tough to write! I changed it up a little bit but I hope you guys still enjoy it. :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.9k +

T/W : Self-doubt

October 9th, 2014

Hi There Y/N,

I’m not sure how you’re really supposed to start one of these things? How are you supposed to go about talking to somebody you’ve literally never met before? Although the Navy/Army pen pal thing could be interesting. I’ll be honest, my buddy signed me up and I didn’t think I’d actually write anything down but then I got the email with your name on it, Cadet Y/N Y/L/N. Consider myself intrigued.

What’s it like up in New York? Is it cold? Do you get a lot of snow? It gets awfully cold down here in Maryland, so I have to imagine how cold it gets up there. I’m from Texas so I’m still adjusting to this weather… four years later. It’s not easy. I think it’s the hardest part of living in the northeast. I’d rather run a marathon with a thirty-pound pack on than sit outside in the snow for more than twenty minutes. I hope to get stationed somewhere warm when this is all set and done.

Your ‘about me’ says you’re going into the Air Defense Artillery after West Point… which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing. Consider myself doubly intrigued Cadet. What do you do? Fire missiles and rockets at jets? That can’t possibly be as much fun as firing them when you’re in the air. It’s cool just not nearly as cool as what I do, know what I mean? Maybe a close second though.

Have you even been in a jet before? I bet you’d like it. I obviously don’t know you, but I haven’t met many people who didn’t like it. There’s something so freeing about flying 1,000 miles per hour in a tiny silver tube. You should try it sometime. If this whole thing works out maybe I’ll even take you up one day, who knows?

I guess that was my attempt at 20 questions. Hopefully you didn’t find it too annoying. Hope to hear back from you soon!

Jake Seresin

November 23rd ,2014

Hello Future Lieutenant Jake Seresin,

I’m thrilled you actually decided to write. I’m glad my name was all you needed to pick up that pen. I have to admit you made me giggle a few times. You seem effortlessly funny Mr. Seresin. Even for a soon-to-be Pilot.

I find it comical you’re asking me about the weather of all things, Midshipmen. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on an awkward first date? But to answer your question, yes it’s cold as all get out up here. But I’m from Indiana so I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t wish West Point wasn’t in Georgia or something. Why’d they have to put all the Military schools in the north?

What was it like growing up in Texas? Did you ever see snow? One of my favorite memories from this place is watching my roommate (who’s from Florida) see and play in snow for the first time. She froze her ass off but had the day of her life. She also hates snow now. So, it looks like you warm people have that in common.

To sum it up I guess you can say we fire rockets and missiles. My professors always say, ‘If it sounds like rocket science, it is’. Basically, we need to protect the ground troops from the flying bastards aka you. Although we do love our American flying bastards. So, I guess that doesn’t knock you down too many pegs in my book. Do you think they matched us up because our jobs are the antithesis of the other? If so, somebody had a hilarious sense of humor.

I’ve never been in a jet, and I have no plans to either. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if we’re being honest. You’re talking to the girl who gets sea-sick on cruises and had to take a motion pill if we’re going to an amusement park. My lil brain can’t handle the motion. A character flaw as they say. I also have a sense that you wouldn’t go to easy on me, being Army and all. I’ll stick to my calculations and rockets.

Don’t tell anybody I wrote this, but I do think what you guys do is so badass. I work with a bunch of jealous Cadets who couldn’t make it into the Army Aviation division, they’re just bitter. When I was little my dad used to take me to the Blue Angels shows in Chicago whenever they made their way across the States. Kind of the reason why I wanted to be in the military in the first place. But only my dad knows that. And well, I guess you now too. So, keep my secret safe Mr. Seresin.

I know the weather is less than desirable, but I do hope you’re finding things you love in Annapolis! There are some of the best crab cakes I’ve ever had there.

Thanks for the smiles after a long week!

Your New Friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

February 16th, 2015

Future Second Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,

That has a right to it doesn’t it? Your name sounds good with a Second Lieutenant in front of it. Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote. Getting busy with graduation coming up and practical’s and all. It’s a lame excuse I know, but it’s all I got. I hope you know how big I smiled reading your letter to me. I read it about fifty times before I could write a decent response to you. You have a way with words that I haven’t read in a long, long time.

Was your father in the military? None of my family was. I also loved the Blue Angels when they came down to Houston for the air shows. I’d always beg and plead and finally my mom or sister would give in and take me. They’re also the reason I’m here. So, I guess we should thank them that we got to meet. Neither you nor I would be in these academies without them. Your secret is locked away in the drawer and safe in my head too. It’s super safe with me.

I’ll be honest, the food here is so damn good. I sure do miss my Texas barbeque, but the spread is better up over here. Plus, the snacks? I didn’t know there was different brands sold across the states and you guys have better girl scout cookies! That’s just not fair. I could’ve gone my whole life knowing that there were two versions of girl scout cookies and I got the worse version. I’ve enjoyed the move far more than I’ve regretted it. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll be a pilot, but it means I’m one step closer to getting there.

What all schooling do you have to do after you graduate this spring? Are you up for deployment soon? I’ve got a lot left to go. If I get picked after I’ve got a few years of flight school ahead of me. Then I’ll really be off. Wish me luck I make it!

With Love,

Jake

March 13th, 2015

Mr. Seresin,

I was getting worried! I thought it was something I had wrote. I’m glad it’s your negligence and not mine for the lack of communication. I forgive you though. It’s been stressful up here in New York as well. I luckily don’t have any practical’s I need to worry about. Just a few nuclear engineering classes are standing in between me and graduation.

I just have a year of Officer School (if I get selected that is) after this is all set and done come June. We have to apply this April so I’m getting a little anxious about the whole thing. I don’t really have a backup plan that I’d actually like to do so I really, really hope I get selected. Enough about me though, let’s talk about you. You’re going to get picked! Don’t let any bad thoughts get in between you and your goal. I think you’ll make a fine pilot Jake. You seem to have your wits about you which is the first step a lot of people miss.

My dad was in the Navy, like you. Don’t gloat though, it’ll ruin the finely crafted image I have of you. He was a deck hand or something like that. I wish I could ask him some more about it, but he passed when I was just thirteen. I just remember he loved being in the Navy. He loved everything about it. He made it seem like anything was possible with a passion.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the food and the girl scout cookies. It took me by surprise when I got Peanut Butter Patties instead of Tagalongs when I was down south for a winter. I’m so glad I grew up where the real GSC are sold.

I hope this letter brought you as much joy as yours brought me.

With the Same Love,

Y/N

(P.S. – Here’s my number if you’d like to text instead of write. No pressure!)

It had only been a week since you sent the last letter. Sure, you hadn’t really known the guy all too well but there was something so exciting about sending written mail. You felt like a little kid on Christmas waiting for a response from him. Who knew throwing your name in something so silly for your class would bring you so much joy.

You sat down on your desk setting your computer out front of you to study. Jake was right. It was an awfully busy time of the year. Applying for your future. Studying for you exams. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you truly didn’t think much of it. It was only hours later when you finally closed the laptop shut that you went to check it that your face scrunched in confusion. You didn’t recognize the area code. It was then that it clicked that it could be him.

No pressure at all text! Hi there (it’s Jake).

You grinned reading it over and over again. That was quick! Maybe you made an impression? You sure hoped so. You hardly even knew what the guy looked like. You might’ve gone digging a little when you got his name. He was cute. Handsome even. But he seemed like that type. That arrogant pilot type. But even in just the two letters you received from him you got the hint that he wasn’t that type of guy at all.

I didn’t think you’d actually text me. It’s good to hear from you.

The messages between the two of you were infrequent at best as the semester ended. But he never failed to put a smile on your face. When you needed a pick me up you went through and read the messages that popped up.

On your graduation day you sent him a picture of you and a few friends in a cap and gown with the text: Beat you! You’re also looking at your newest Officer Candidate too!

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Your face only grew with glee seeing his response: Congrats Second Lieutenant. And future Captain. Knew you’d do it. You look beautiful as always.

Typing a quick reply, you hid your smile away just knowing your friends would make a stupid comment about the mystery man that always had you so smiley: You’re making me blush all the way up here in New York. I better get a picture next weekend when you do the same, future Lieutenant.

He came through on your request. When you got the text you could only smile. You spotted him in the picture immediately, your eyes drawn to him. He was so damned handsome. How lucky were you to get paired with a guy like that? Your smile grew further when you read the message: Lieutenant (and future pilot) Jake Seresin reporting for picture duty.

The messages occurred naturally between through the years as you were deployed, and he was in school. Some months you texted more and some you didn’t hear from him at all. It never bothered you. The silly little thing called life happened for both of you.

Still, the two of you often made time for phone calls when the time was right. The first time you talked on the phone you thought you were going to quite literally throw up you were so nervous. But in typical Jake Seresin fashion he made you feel cool as a cucumber. You talked and talked and talked into the morning. It felt so normal. Like you were catching up with an old friend. Jake Seresin. Who was this man that was making it hard to date? He was quite literally everything you wanted and needed in a partner. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

It had been six long years since you received that first letter from him. He was off on a mission now. A dangerous one he couldn’t tell you much about. But he wanted you at his arrival back home in San Diego and you promised him you’d be there. Assured him. That’s how you ended up in here pacing in the hotel room contemplating whether you should really go or not. It felt too intimate, like you were intruding. But he did say none of his family would be there, they had other things going on as the mission was a bit of a surprise to everybody. The pilots were all instructed to keep it as quiet as possible.

Your hands were shaking as you parked your car in the overcrowded lot. Gripping the steering wheel, you took a long breath in. You could do this. You had to do this. For him, for you. You stepped out of the car and made you way to the dock. The aircraft carrier was already docked by the time you got to the meeting site. You stood back and waited. Watched and waited. It felt like an eternity then finally the men and women started pouring out in their Navy Whites. You’d always thought they looked the sharpest of the bunch, but you’d never tell Jake that. He’d make fun of your Army uniforms or something like that.

It felt like both an eternity and seconds later that you spotted him amongst the crowd of sailors exiting the ship searching high and low for you. You promised you’d be there. And here you were. He either felt your eyes on him or had an uncanny sense of timing as his eyes locked with your own. His smile had melted you right there on the spot. You felt helpless as you willed your brain to move but it wouldn’t. You only began to panic a little as he moved with ease through the crowd making his way right to you.

He stood in front of you. Jake Seresin stood in front of you, much taller than you thought, “I knew I recognized you. First Lieutenant Y/L/N.” His eyebrows raised as you gaped at him with wide eyes as if he wasn’t really there. Closing your mouth, you knew you needed to pull it together but that sounded much easier said than done. Jake freaking Seresin, your pen pal was really standing in front of you in real life. He was more of enigma in your mind at this point. Somebody you could have deep life conversations with so easily but never having actually met the man it was hard for you to grasp he was really real. And standing in front of you.

“Jake.” You smiled hoping it sounded somewhat normal. He was so much more handsome than the photos he sent through the years. How was that possible? Wasn’t it supposed to go the other way? You continued once your head finally could form coherent sentences, “Well it’s actually Captain now. Got promoted a couple weeks ago.”

He turned his head to the side just slightly, “You didn’t tell me that.” Almost looking offended you hadn’t told him.

“Never felt like the right time to divulge. With this mission and all. Had to keep you locked in.” You looked up to him now studying his face as you gained more courage talking to him. He was something your dreams couldn’t make up.

He nodded not daring to take his eyes off you. He too thought you were even prettier than he could have envisioned. You’d sent pictures and he’d followed your social media, but nothing could’ve prepared him. Especially in your civilian clothes, he was a sucker already. Deep down Jake knew you were the reason he was so non-committal before. He was looking for somebody just like you and couldn’t find her. Yet here you stood in front of him. You were so funny and witty and smart, and yet he couldn’t put it all into words. You are the whole package and so much more.

“You still could’ve told me. We talked enough before I left.” He grinned seeing that the tension was already easing from your shoulders.

You shook your head, “Wasn’t about me Seresin. I just wanted you to stay focused and safe. And thank goodness you did.” You admitted a little more than you wanted, but he just made you feel so gushy. Like you were a sweeter version of yourself you could hardly recognize. And the words just kept flowing out when he gave you that look with those green eyes.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged you a bit sensing that you were starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him already, “Didn’t think you’d be so relieved darlin’.”

Ignoring the sweet term of endearment you shook your head, “And waste six years of my life on nothing? Jake that’s so inefficient. Of course, I want you safe.” The words came fast, and they were snarkier than you intended. But you truly couldn’t help it.  He had you relaxed within the first five minutes of talking to him. You felt like you could just be you.

He threw his head back in laughter. That same weight had lifted right off his shoulders when you snapped back at him like he was waiting on it, “There she is. My favorite mouthy girl.”

He said it so nonchalantly you thought your heart was going to combust on the spot. Your cheeks surely gave way to your reaction to his words. His favorite mouthy girl? Christ. He was trying to send you into a coma or something! Your brain quite literally short circuited as it failed to form any coherent sentence. He only chuckled in response seeing your cheeks heat up in a blazing blush.

“It’s so nice to actually see you in person. You know I’ve always told you this, but it rings even truer even now. You’re quite a stunner, Captain.” His eyes met yours before you looked away quickly feeling as though you were going to faint at those words. You weren’t sure how this interaction was going to go initially. But you really didn’t think he’d come right out and say that he found you stunning. The occasional letter and texts in between had grown flirtier the longer you had known him, but it never crossed your mind he’d be so outright with it.

You turned away out of sheer bashfulness. Never had a man been so bold with you before. It was foreign. Not uncomfortable, no. Nothing could be with him. He made it easier than seemed possible.

“You flatter me Jake.” You grinned up at him hoping your makeup would hide the darkening of your cheeks, “I should say the same for you. Handsome as ever.”

“Now you’re making me blush, Cap.” Sure as hell the faintest pink dusted his cheek, but he seemed much stronger than you. He kept the eye contact going.

You shook your head trying to bite back the big smile you had on your face, but it showed through anyway. How was he doing this? Making you feel so giddy just by looking at him. You knew this man but for the first time it actually felt like you might actually love him. You’d had the deepest conversations with him. When you needed a laugh you texted him. When you craved advice you called him. He was the guy you turned to. And it dawned on you that he never failed to answer you. He wanted to take your calls and answer your texts. He looked forward to it. He too had fallen for a woman he’d never met before.

You needed the change the subject and fast or more words would be tumbling out, “How was the mission? Everyone make it out okay?” You asked having no idea what you were getting yourself into. Jake hadn’t told you much about what they were doing, couldn’t tell you much. But now that it was over he couldn’t wait to tell you every nitty gritty little detail.

“I’ll tell you if you let me buy you a drink?” He gave you a smirk that sent nerves racing throughout your body. Jesus. This man was something else.

Giving him a curious once over you nodded, “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you a drink sailor? You coming home and all?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll never let you buy me a drink darlin’.”

Gosh, Jake was actually going to be the death of you. He was so good making his words come off so easily. You felt terribly high strung next to him, “And why not?”

“Because I’m trying to woo you sweetheart. When I get you to go on a date with me I have to impress you. Inevitably that’ll work and you’ll become my girlfriend. And I can’t have my girlfriend paying for my drinks, no. And it’ll only get worse when I get the pleasure of marrying you. If my wife thinks she’ll pay for a thing she had another thing coming.” He gleamed at you as if he didn’t just say all of that.

You gulped before a stupid smile grew on your face. Of course, you knew he was forward but again, he just took you on an entirely new adventure with that statement, “That’s quite a bold statement Jake.”

He shrugged, “I thought I should make my intentions perfectly clear. I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. And you’re perfectly you. Sharp as tack. Funnier than ever. You’re you. And I really like you.”

You let out a breath not sure if you really believed all of that, “So not just pals, huh?” It was all you could think of quickly but that did it for him. Sealed the deal. He knew he was going to marry you right then and there. You’d complete him in every way he needed you and vice versa.

He shook his head taking his arm in yours, “Not just pals.” Leaning into his gentle embrace you led him to your car where he would not let you drive. He insisted that it was a gentleman’s job even if he was only running off four hours of sleep. You’d appeased the man who was on his very best behavior. Not that you minded. Nope, not at all. You were thrilled that Jake was exactly who he seemed to be. Your Jake. Not just pals indeed.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy

[ghostaholics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader (established relationship) ➸ WARNING(S): [ 18+ ] body shots; oral (receiving); ruined orgasm; basically PWP with slight BDSM (disciplinary action) ➸ SUMMARY: Simon teaches you a very important lesson about holding still – extended version of this. ➸ A/N: Thank you to @mvtthewmurdvck who lets me bitch about anything and everything including this and offered kind words when I certainly lost faith in the whole thing. ➸ WORD COUNT: 2.2k

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄. Pilfered from his not-so-secret stash and running low with about a quarter left; the contents slosh around in their bottle-shaped confinement as he stalks into the room with a heavy hand swallowing around the widest circumference of the glass.

Good memories, usually. Like the first time he’d brandished his titanium pocket flask for you to take a sip. You’d scrunched your nose, feigning disapproval of the drink. And he'd said – cheeky as always – with a low-timbered response:

"Don't worry. The taste of your cunt's still my favourite."

But now, there’s no trace of that Simon anywhere to be seen. His face is entirely devoid of the amusement he already so rarely expressed. Stone-rigid. Unimpressed. Disappointed – seems like – and certainly not in the mood for any games.

❝ 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇? ❞

It's a red-hot brand searing the edges of your memory (charred, ash-coated, lined by the cinders of a poor attempt on your part that had gone up into flickering embers).

See, the brain remembers it well.

Your cunt, too: the walls hugging his cock, full of his cum – excessively so, nearly bursting with it after he'd buried himself to the hilt and stayed inside just to plug your snug little hole, ensuring that none of it would dribble out after he’d fucked you senseless. He’d given you plenty, more than enough. And it’d been generous of Simon. A gift, really, considering the enormity of the initial request.

Make me yours?

He’d only had one thing to say, just a simple favour in return for doing this, for indulging you. His voice had been hoarse, sandpaper-rough from overuse – your fault entirely – eroded away after being subjected to a whole night's worth of groaning against the shell of your ear and telling you just how fucking good you felt before you'd milked him for everything he was worth with your greedy, pulsing self.

Keep it all in then.

You’d done your best not to clench, but stretched taut around the girth of his cock like that, you'd just wanted to readjust. Not a lot. But the position you'd been in wasn't the most conducive one for this. And you’d shifted – barely, practically inconsequential (or so you’d thought) – to where you wouldn’t have even thought it’d matter except—

It had.

Pushed some of it out, that is. A stream of cum trickling down onto an area of the duvet, staining it – the unfortunate aftermath of your decision to move.

Thas’ a shame. Thought you wanted it. Guess I was wrong.

Simon comes to a stop at the foot of the bed where you're sitting; he towers over you – an intimidating, subduing presence without even having to try. "Had to wash the sheets because you couldn't keep it all in.”

You blink in surprise as your mouth parts slightly in what you're sure must be a dumbfounded expression. Of course, this is nothing new. You were there. Responsible for the incident, apparently. And though it wasn't necessarily your fault, you still feel the need to explain that it was due to factors beyond your control. “There was so much—” (As if it'll help your case.)

But he's never cared much for excuses.

“How ‘m I supposed to finish inside you knowing that you’re just going to waste it?” he asks. It's a rhetorical question, not one that actually requires an answer.

Your chin tips down in a silent apology. There's something heavy sitting in your chest; remorse, you think.

He grips your jaw in his hand, forces you to look at him. “Yeah, love. We’ll fix that. Gonna teach you how to be grateful, how to understand the value in the things I give to you."

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒.

He makes you tell him your colors.

You do.

He asks if you know what you’re supposed to get out of this.

You answer that he’s probably going to have to wash the sheets again before you can learn whatever lesson he’s trying to impose on you.

Yeah, that earns you a sharp pinch to the hip.

That massive body of his sinks to the floor, one leg bending down before the other joins it, rough carpet cutting into his knees, undoubtedly. Then, his fingers curl around your legs, blunt digits sinking in – ten identical divots pressed into the flesh. He leaves light indentations with his palms spanning along the sides of your thighs to spread you open while his elbows anchor into the mattress.

Heat blooms across your skin, every surface that he touches and even in the places that he doesn't – white-hot, intentional (and he never does anything without purpose); it sparks a fever that fans out, unfurls. There's no part of you left unaffected. You're growing warmer by a few degrees. Doesn't sound like much, but it's enough to make a noticeable difference if the beads of sweat gathering at the back of your neck are any indication.

And Simon lets out a soft scoff. Cocky. Like he knew what was waiting for him—

You're soaked, absolutely drenched. Cotton panties, sticky –saturated beyond belief. If you looked there yourself, you wouldn't be surprised to find a damp patch on the fabric steadily growing in size.

He's such a sight, too: the contour of his muscles shifting and rippling, all brawn and power – his presence speaking volumes about just who holds the cards right now, undeniably the one in control here; the visual of his stature and build emphasize that. And authority bleeding from the width of his shoulders if not spelled out by his words alone.

"Haven't even touched you, and you're already dripping," he murmurs. "Why?"

Your mouth trips and stutters over your own words the same way your heart trips and stutters over his. "Because you—y-you're..."

His thumbs hook into your panties, slowly peels them away – not an easy feat, damn things are clinging to your cunt – before dragging them down your legs. "Say it, sweetheart. What do you think I'm gonna do to you?"

And your mind is racing, jumping too many steps ahead. "You're going to eat me out?"

Simon stuffs his panties in his back pocket for safekeeping. A souvenir, since there won't be much use for them now. "I'm gonna eat you out," he affirms.

"Mhm, yeah. Want your mouth on me."

"Whether or not you come depends entirely on if I feel like letting you."

"Oh—"

"Spill a single drop, and you don't come tonight," he says, never one to draw out the details. His instructions are concise, uncomplicated. Then, further inquiry. "We clear?"

"Yeah..." you say with a shaky breath before trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Yes."

"Good girl," he purrs low, almost a growl – though you're not quite certain that you deserve the praise yet.

He’s answering to a shrine, beckoned forward by the invitation of a wet cunt and the promise of a taste of your slick. He pauses, takes a brief moment to admire it in his own way, almost reverent as he takes in how your arousal’s smeared everywhere from your folds to your inner thighs (all for him, because of him – isn’t that right?).

But make no mistake, there’s absolutely nothing respectful about the act that comes next. Simon leans, forces his shoulders to hold you open, before he bows his head and he licks; it’s a hungry tongue lapping at the slit, everything terribly hot and wet – the sensation makes you jolt upon first contact because it's too much. So, so much.

And at the same time, not enough.

The feeling spikes along the circuit running from your head to your toes – empty thoughts save for the white static that buzzes in the hollow of your skull, a tingling, prickling paresthesia-sort-of-thing that usually accompanies the high of an orgasm. Except, the irony’s not lost on you in this instance; he’s hardly even begun to wreak havoc on your cunt yet.

Currents zip down your spine, down, further down, everything else collateral damage. No part of you is spared by the overwhelming fervor responsible for it – the initial onslaught of his mouth laying waste at the spread of your entrance.

Every single nerve-ending is on-edge, trigger-sensitive as he sucks, and kisses, and fuck are his groans heavy, bone-deep, the rumble of a thunderstorm gathering in his chest. They radiate from the point of origin where your core’s suffering, reverberating tremors that diffuse out to the rest of you. It makes your skin thrum like a live wire. There’s no hope of staying in a fixed position if he keeps this up. How could you? The odds are zero to none. It isn’t feasible.

You forget your place, can't help but squirm within his iron grip.

Then, Simon; a severe reprimand— "Watch it," he rasps. It’s a lull amidst the incursion, an unplanned interlude. Temporary reprieve (barely) so he can scold you for your inability to follow his instructions.

A low whimper leaves your throat. That's completely out of the question, beyond what you're currently capable of. Easier said than done. "I'm trying—"

"Then try harder."

Despite how weighed down your eyelids feel, you manage to guide your laden gaze south, let it roam over your stomach. The dark, amber liquid in your navel sways; it rocks, sloshes with the tide, a consequence born from the pull and heave of your jarring movements. Exercise caution. This is delicate work – a balancing act. Those thoughts are cloudy.

Your mind is fuzzy, thick, a drunken haze. Buzzed, lightheaded. And everything's off-kilter. But you haven't had a single drop of alcohol. None at all. Couldn’t, because everything's still sitting in your navel right there like it’s supposed to.

Simon dips his head back between your legs, continues to seal his mouth over you, flattening his tongue to lick thick stripes from your entrance to your clit. He doesn't let up, only bringing his face closer, following that same path again and again and again – agonizing – until you're trembling. The noises he’s making, something debauched and bottomless – one wet groan after the other. This isn't for you. It's for him, that much is clear.

You plead anyways, hoping he'll grant you an amnesty that you haven't earned in the least bit, "Need you inside. Anything, just—"

"Sure you can handle it?"

Breathless when you say, "Ah, yeah..."

"We'll see about that," Simon murmurs.

He doesn't believe you.

To be fair, you’re not so sure you do either.

But he's courteous, slips one finger in and lets you clamp around him. And your cunt flutters, welcomes the feeling.

You release a soft moan. “Want more, Si. Feels good."

His face turns to the side, wet nose and chin grazing along your thigh to spread the slick in more places that haven't been drenched yet. Then he bites. Gentle. An admonishment. Nothing serious about it though: scraping, the light pressure of teeth sinking into the skin as he pulls with his mouth.

You jerk suddenly before catching yourself.

"Don't be fuckin' greedy. You'll take what I give you, and you'll thank me for it." He's curt, perfunctory. No delay as he offers up his two fingers to your mouth. The expectation is clear. “Suck.” And he's waiting.

You wrap your lips around them, swallowing him down, not one to squander an opportunity sitting in front of you, right? You understand that now.

“So tell me how good you taste.”

"I-um, taste good—"

"Yeah, you fuckin' do."

"Thank you."

“Mhm.”

You can't see it, but you can hear it: the low clinking of a belt being unbuckled, the sound of a zipper being undone. Clinking metal and rustling denim being tampered with somewhere below your line of sight as he reaches down, almost like he— is he… oh.

Most of his body's obscured by the edge of the bed, but everything from the chest up is still visible. Simon's shoulder is bobbing slightly, arm pumping back and forth in a rhythmic motion and fuck, he's getting himself off to this.

That sends another spark of arousal to your core, makes you gush. It adds to the mess coating his jaw, his chin, his lips. You whimper out something – broken syllables – his name, maybe. You’re not entirely sure.

God, you’re almost there. So close. Wound up tight, hips rolling against his mouth, chasing his tongue—

Until he stops entirely. No contact. Simon pulls away in such a rush that you gasp, startled.

"Look at that." Accusatory.

It's a trail of liquor dribbling over the curve of your stomach, down your side in small rivulets. There are streaks pooling onto the sheets underneath you. Tragic.

(Couldn't help yourself, huh?)

Guilty as charged.

Shit.

"What'd I say – told you to hold still, yeah?"

And even though you had a feeling it would happen, you still have the nerve to act surprised at the result. "Fuck," you whine pathetically. "Was so close—"

"We're starting over. Don't care if it takes us all night, we're gonna keep at this 'til you get it right or you use up the rest of the whiskey," he says, readying himself to deposit another pour of alcohol into your navel. Simon lifts his shoulder in a light shrug like he can't be bothered about the final outcome. "Better pray that it works out before the bottle’s empty. Won't let you finish otherwise, sweetheart. Understand?"

[scenteddelusion5]

Hello there! I do hope you are doing well! I was wondering if I could request a Hazbin Hotel imagine with Alastor x reader? Maybe the reader works at the Hotel and has for some time but is missing her life back with the living, so she heads to the kitchen to make some comfort food. Reader is from the South like Louisiana or Mississippi and makes Jambalaya. As she is cooking and dancing around the kitchen, Alastor is drawn in by the familiar smells and sit down and lots of fluff ensues? Maybe they get together at the end? Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night! :)

One O'Clock Dinner

Alastor x homesick fem reader

Note: I decided to just have Y/n be from New Orleans as I'm not too familiar with United States' topography. Not my greatest work but still enjoyable!

Word count: 2174

Alastor definitely wasn't your ordinary demon. He was a ruthless overlord that concurred hell when he just arrived. His terrifying broadcasts were planted in almost everyone's memory, well except those that died when he had mysteriously disappeared. One of them was a certain demon from Louisiana.

Y/n had lived in New Orleans since she was a baby and never knew a different home until the day she died and was cast down to hell. She knew she wasn't the best person during her life but she wouldn't really consider herself so bad to be cast down to hell for eternity, a decade in purgatory maybe. Alas purgatory did not exist, so she was stuck there.

Until half a year after she arrived, she saw a news broadcast of Charlie Morningstar and her redemption program. Everyone had laughed at the princess but Y/n saw this as her chance. She made her way over and signed into the Happy Hotel.

Th Radio Demon knocked on the door only a few minutes after she had checked in.

"Alastor, darling, pleasure to be meeting you! Quite the pleasure!"

Y/n had heard whispers about him but nothing that went into detail, so she eavesdropping on Vaggie telling the story to Angel. The man seemed very dangerous. Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea after all.

"So we're is your hotel staff?"

Charlie had agreed to take Alastor's help and now he was going around the room seeing what everyone could do.

"What about you, dear?" He had seemingly teleported right in front of Y/n, startling her.

"I-" She stumbled over her words as the Radio Demon's big red eyes were right staring at her. "-I can cook, I guess."

"Wonderful! As for the rest, I suppose I can cash in a few favours." He proceeded to summon a cat, bat like demon who became the bartender and front desk personnel, and a small cyclops demon who would take care of all the cleaning.

As much as she started to enjoy being around these people, Y/n quickly became tired as she had never been able to rest easily after landing in hell.

Before she could leave, however, the wall was blown up. A zappelin floated high on the sky. The demon inside it challenged Alastor but was easily defeated by the overlord.

She stared at the left over rubble. "I'm going to bed." Y/n swiftly left and made her way upstairs to her room.

A week went by and everywhere she went, Y/n felled someone staring at her in the shadows. She wasn't sure who nor why they were interested in her. It was making her squeezy, so much so that every time someone tried to talk to her, she jumped.

"Sorry Angel, didn't see you there!"

"Nifty! Where did you come from?"

"Oh! Husk, right just Husk."

The worst time it happened she was walking up the stairs, looking over her shoulder to search for whomever was following her. Y/n walked right into someone and almost fell from the stairs. Luckily that person caught her.

"You ought to look where you're going darling!" The Radio Demon helped her up the rest of the staircase. "Can't have our staff get hurt, you would be difficult to replace!"

"I'm sure there are other demons in hell who can cook. Besides didn’t you cook the other day?" She asked.

"Well yes, but they wouldn't be half as interesting as you!" Alastor smiled.

When Alastor had first arrived he saw her sitting there. The demon didn't seem to recognize him, sitting in her own little world. He had to admit that the girl was attractive but that wasn't what irked him, no, there was something about her.

From that day on he started observing Y/n, trying to figure out what was so special about her. He had found out she just died half a year ago. He learned about her skills and hobby's, he also had to admit that her cooking was amazing. Maybe even better than his, maybe.

The only reason the Radio Demon had kept his cooking in higher regard was because hadn't tasted any of her southern Louisianan dishes.

Alastor was watching her form the other side of the room. Y/n looked around while walking up the stairs, when she slipped. He quickly moved through the shadows and caught the girl. Her wide eyes were looking up at him. The Radio Demon couldn't get enough of them. How he wished to steal those eyes... He swiftly said his goodbye and disappeared into his room.

Why did he do that? There was no reason to intervene, but he did like the feeling of holding them... Alastor started to scold himself. Perhaps he is just hungry? He hadn't eaten demon for quite some time.

That night he went out and hunted down his victim. The first floor was empty, everyone was asleep. Alastor brought his bag of 'groceries' to the kitchen. He grabbed the left-overs of that night's dinner and mixed in the fresh meat. The mixture of his favourite food and Y/n's cooking was heavenly.

Even when his hunger was satiated, Alastor couldn't stop thinking about her. Something was definitely wrong with him. He kept think about her, her stupid smile and her jokes. The Radio Demon hadn't actually held many conversations with the girl but he had stalked observed her enough to know what kind of person she is.

Alastor knew her and yet, he craved for more. To not only be around her but to make her smile, genuinely smile, and to understand her.

Another two weeks went by and the horrible feeling of being watched only got worse. Now the spectator was even following Y/n into her room. She became more and more reserved, didn't even introduce herself when sir Pentious joined the hotel. Y/n started crying herself to sleep at night, she wished she was still alive with her family. She missed them.

Unconsciously she made her way to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. She was craving the food from her home and by chance she had just the right ingredients. Y/n put on her apron.

The Radio Demon was pacing around the room. Y/n hadn't been her usual charming self for the past week. She was quiet and always looking around. It made his gut wrench, what could she be so hung up about that she was crying herself to sleep?

Alastor's curiosity had grown to an obsession and he knew it. He didn't just want her to be happy, he needed her to be happy. When she wasn't, he was restless.

As the Radio Demon was weighing his options, a familiar scent attacked his nostrils. It gave him a moment of peace. He made his way down the stairs, following the smell like he was in a trance.

Someone was singing in the kitchen. He opened the door to find Y/n cooking and swaying to her own tune. For the first time in two weeks, Y/n had a smile on her face.

"And what are you cooking up at one in the morning?" Alastor looked over her shoulder. "You should be getting your beaty sleep, darling."

"I was just really craving it," Y/n explained after she got over the scare of him standing there all of a sudden. "I wasn't able to sleep."

"What are you making?"

"Just some Jambalaya." She lifted up the lid to show him. "I'm also preparing beignet's."

Alastor looked at the dough, which were waiting for the oil to heat up. "Louisianan?"

"Yeah, I'm from New Orleans." She lifted up one of the beignets and dropped it in the pan. "Learned from the best chefs in the city." The dough slowly turned a darker brown.

"That's such a coincidence! I grew up in Orleans too!" He took another whiff of the Jambalaya. "Mind if I join you?"

"If you set the table."

"It's a deal, my dear!" Alastor joked, even getting a chuckle out of the girl. The sound shot straight to his heart. Oh, how he wished his microphone had recorded it.

When the Jambalaya and the beignets were ready, the two sat down and ate VERY late dinner, or rather early breakfast. It was a surprisingly domestic scene. The two went along well.

"Yeah, I grew up in the big city too. Back then it looked a lot different though. It was overrun by secret speakeasies those were the days." He mused over the past.

"I wouldn't be able to imagine for those being illegal! Hey, what did you do to get send to hell?" Y/n so daringly asked. "I heard you were pretty powerful ever since you first got here."

"Oh well," Alastor blushed like a high school girl telling someone about their embarrassing crush, "I was a serial killer. Ate up my victims and threw their leftovers in the bayou."

Y/n spat out her drink. "Wait!" She screamed while coughing. "You are THAT Alastor. They teach about you in history classes!"

"Do they now? I suppose I was quite the man."

"I wouldn't say that," Y/n mumbled, "But it is impressive how you climbed up the ranks here in hell. I almost feel safe sitting around you." She looked at Alastor's widening smile again. "Almost."

"Why wouldn't you feel safe my dear?" Alastor questioned. "The Hazbin Hotel had both me and the princess of hell protecting it."

"I might sound... Crazy, but I feel like someone has been watching me." She looked down, even though she didn't feel the eyes on her right now. "I haven't been doing too well because of it."

The reason she hadn't been her usual self was because he was freaking her out. It all clicked now for the Radio Demon.

"Well then I have to apologise." Alastor used his shadows to move right behind her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You see, I have been keeping an eye on you. It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable."

"You have been stalking me?"

"No, no my dear. Just... Observing," the Alastor corrected her.

"Tomato tomato." Y/n looked up into his terrifying, red eyes. "And why has the infamous Radio Demon been stalking me?"

"Observing!"

"Just answer the question."

"..." He sighed, "I'm not too sure either. The only way I could describe it is you interest me."

"Well, next time you can just knock on my door. I prefer not to be watched during my cry sessions."

"Oh, but I loved hearing you sing when you thought no one was there."

The two started laughing, treating the stalkerish behaviours of Alastor as a joke.

"No but really, stop. It's creepy!"

"If the lady demands it."

The night went on long after the dinner was over. In a moment of confidence, Y/n implied that she was interested in seeing his radio tower and Alastor happily brought her there. She shuttered walking up the stairs into the little booth.

"Take a seat." Alastor pulled back the chair and when she sat down, scooted it up to the desk.

He started to explain what all the buttons and switches where for and how the antenna's send out radio waves or whatever. Y/n was only listening to half of it. The other half of her attention on Alastor's face. She had never realised how handsome the deer demon truly was. And his voice was incredibly soothing, at least for those who weren't scared of him.

His big eyes were beautiful and his wide smile was incredibly charming. Y/n's eyes drifted up to his head. His ears looked soft and fluffy, she wondered if she would ever get the chance to touch them. The antlers sticking out of his hair gave him a more manly appearance, contrasting the cute ears.

Y/n started leaning into him, getting incredibly close to his face.

"And these make sure tha-" Alastor immediately stopped talking when he turned his head and realised how close the two really were.

His nose was touching hers and he could feel her breath. Alastor's heart started pounding harder and harder, a slightly red blush decorated his face matching his attire and his eyes stared right into hers. He could only think about how beautiful she was.

Unconsciously he moved closer and closer and so did she. Until their lips touched. Y/n took this chance to deepen the kiss.

It lasted only a minute but to the two of them it felt like forever. They wished to keep going, however, they were unable to keep in their breath for that long.

As they pulled apart from one another, the realisation dawned on them. It was quiet.

They went back to their own room, neither of them dared to say a word. Perhaps it was just a fluke or perhaps this would grow out into more. Whatever Y/n was going to do about it could wait for tomorrow, it was 3 am after all and she was tired.

For the first time in weeks, Y/n fell asleep with a smile.

Masterlist/request guidelines

[angelltheninth]

I haven’t seen you write for Naruto characters in a minute, so I would like to humbly request being doubled teamed with Kakashi and his clone he created by doing the shadow clone jutsu

Yes, god yes, any day, yes. Can you tell I like this idea?

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, blowjob, clit stimulation, teasing, double penetration, cunnilingue, praise, double creampie

A/N: I wrote some Kakashi fluff before but I must now write smut to keep the balance.

Kakashi joked that he would only share you with himself. At least it started as a joke, until one day you were both bored and he summoned his clone. Clone!Kakashi wasted no time with you, his cock immediately shoved down your throat while Kakashi got himself hard for you. Surpassingly easy to get hard when he's watching you get fuck by his clone. A real shame he never considered using his clones in this way before.

He doesn't want to interrupt clone!Kakashi when he's fucking your mouth so he lifts you up enough to slide his cock into your pussy. You got this wet from being watched didn't you? All this time Kakashi was under the impression that he was the pervy one but guess you're equally as dirty minded. You can't talk with your mouth getting fucked like that, with both of them fucking you at the same time, but your noises are enough to let them know you're having a good time too.

When clone!Kakashi gets ready to come he pulls out of your mouth and pushes you back so Kakashi catches you, already knowing what the other is thinking and leaning back onto the bed, one hand keeping your thighs apart, the other rubbing your pretty clit in tight, close circles. Fuck, you're doing so well right now, pussy already full of cock but it's pulsing so eagerly, wanting another, wanting to be stretched and full. Even though your mouth is now free you can't form many words over the overstimulation and the constant attention Kakashi and clone!Kakashi are paying to your clit.

The only respite you get is when they come, both men pushing balls deep into you so their cum reaches deep into your cunt. You don't know which one of them came first and it doesn't matter because he is not done with you yet. You feel yourself pulled towards Kakashi, his mask finally pushed down so his tongue can scoop all that creamy cum from your pussy while the other one pulls you into a deep kiss before taking his leave.

[mikobeautifulheart]

hey sweetie!! its meee again!! (the one who requested the drunk megumi fic lmaoo)

ummm can you do megumi again??

so basically after a super tiring day, the reader and Megumi decided to chill in megumi's room. they get cozy and then they get intimate…. (no smut please!, JUST A STEAMY HOT MAKE OUT SESSION like before (with tongue [this is embarrassing now…]) AARRGHH!!.. and can you like, drag the make out session?? i mean, make it longer.) ummmmm then, gojo happens to pass by his room. he hears noises 👀👀(of smooches ofc)… he dramatically sighs like a proud dad considering how much megumi has grown and changed over time. (since he raised him). he then teleports into his room and takes a photo of them without them knowing(??) (idk the photo part, write whatever feels good!) he then teases megumi about it!!

and ofc do it only if it feels comfy for you!!

thanks a lot in advance!!!!!!!! <3333333333

Tehehe I almost jumped when I saw ur request anon, ASK AND YOU SHALL RECIVE.

Megumi and you getting caught up in the moment.

(And on Gojos phone)

TW: THERE WILL BE A MAKEOUT SESSION BUT NOT SMUT. and probably second hand embarrassment.

Maybe 800-900 wordsssish

UNNNNNNNEDDDITEDDD

You went over to Megumis dorm after training to study for your up coming tests. Why do you even have tests anyway your a sorcerer. Whatever any excuse is good enough of you get to hang with Megumi. You guys did actually study for a bit until the sun went down. That's when Megumi started to wrap things up. Even though it had been a few hours you were still hot and bothered from training, and Megumi knew that.

"My shower room is next to my bed room if you want to clean up." He said as he got up to put his study matierials back on his shelf. The best thing out having a small amount of students at Jujutsu High is how good the dorms get.

"If you don't mind."You said going to walk to the room. You paused

"Uh maybe not I didn't bring any clothes and my dorm is across campus..." You mumbled

"You can borrow some of mine" Megumi said hearing everything.

"Oh thanks" you said. Just thinking about being in his clothes makes you heat up.

You opened the bathroom door, spotless, as expected of Megumi. You suddenly felt him behind you making you turn around only to look right up at him.

"Sorry...but here the clothes" he said handing you a shirt and pants.

"Towels are in the corner over there" he mumbled before walking away.

"Thank you" you said going into the room and closing the door behind you.

What was he doing? He knew he wasn't supposed to have anyone in his dorm after 9:00 pm, let alone you. If he gets caught he would be doomed. He flung himself onto his bed, face in pillow and sighing loudly. The tips of his ears were red. He knows he's breaking the rules but...you...you were in his bathroom right now and you'll step out wearing HIS clothes. The image in his mind makes him groan. What was he going to do? You definitely weren't going back to your dorm, not that he wanted you to. And even if you tried to then you would get caught and he would just feel guilty.

Megumi would be lying if he said he never wanted this. He just hoped you did to. Just as he almost suffocated himself in his pillow he heard the bathroom door open. Footsteps filled his mind as you finally came into his view. He sat up and looked at you speechless. The way his clothes nearly slowed you whole made his heart explode. You rubbed the towel against your hair trying to get it as dry as possible before you set the towel aside and joined him on his bed.

There was an akward silence as it was taking everything in Megumi to keep his composure.

"Have you ever had a crush on anyone before Megumi" you asked out of the blue.

It obviously caught him off guard as he moved over to the other side of his bed to give you more space.

"Well...yeah I guess." He said rubbing the back of his neck starting straight at the wall infront of him. He could feel your eyes on him.

"What dose it feel like? Because I think I like someone right now." You said cheek flushed pink. You were nervous. You've been crushing on megimi for a while now but you didn't know how to take it out of the 'friend zone' so you figured that you should just go for it.

"Well it's like your having a heart attack." He starts.

"Then it makes you feel like you want to gently play with their hair" He says reaching out and taking a strand of your hair in-between his fingers.

"And then it makes you feel all hot and embarrassed but it dosent really matter when their so pretty."

You blush harded meeting Megumis gaze and refusing to look away.

"But when you reay like someone, it's love. And love makes you want to do this." He said hand letting go of your hair only to go behind your head and pull you into his lips.

You kiss. You kissed?

He pulled away for a moment letting out a hot breath.

"And it makes you tell them how much you need them and how you would die with out them."

He gose back into the kiss, but this time he slowly put his other arm around your back and lowered you gently onto the bed as the kiss deepened.

You part for a second and said

"Megumi I've never done this before, but I think I like it and I like you"

"I think I like you to" he said

He kissed you again but on your neck, making you groan.

Meanwhile when you guys were at the hight of your night a white haired menace walked by. He has 6 eyes there's nothing you can keep from him, that's why he was disappointed in Megumi because he thought he would have known that by now.

He decided to give Megumi a pass thinking it was iust Him and Yuji haning out until he heard a higher pitched groan. He opened the door slightly and looked into the room to see MEGUMI??? ON TOP OF Y/N???? A thousand thoughts went through his mind. Is he a womaniser? Is that the only thing Megumi learned while he was raised by Gojo? But he's only a kid! So are you...But your not kids anymore...but THATS HIS SON! And he was proud? A grin spread across his face as he closed the door and teleported beside Megumis book shelf, that was facing away from you guys.

"Y/N... I...I need you" Megumi said

"Megumi-" you said, your lips parting perfectly, almost irresistibly. So he went in again, this time he slipped his toung in making you gasp.

Gojo was mortified on one hand, he raised his son well, on the other hand he didn't know if Megumi should even be doing this... Eventually he settled on the 'do now consequence later' method. Before he left he snapped a picture and quickly teleported away.

"Hm. What's wrong Megumi?" You asked as he pulled away and looked around his room.

"It was nothing, I just thought I heard something" He said before going back down.

AUTHOURS NOTE: Thank youieee for the request my most loyal anon and I hope this time I did better (Romance wise) i mean be honest with me, I want to write what you people actually want so your going to have to be honest. Anyways im going to sleep now Gn. and thanks for reading.

You guys were heating up so much that the window started to gain condensation. Megumi deepened the kiss even more taking your breath away. You to were impossibly close together but craved to be closer. You put your arms up and wrapped them around Megumis neck making him go deeper into the kiss again.

One of your hands couldn't help but wander into his hair, playing with it while being high off love. He trailed kisses down your neck leaving a hicky here and there, tounge swiping over each one giving you chills.

"Megumiii~ " you groaned voice sounding like heaven to him.

"Mmm" He said in-between his bites

"What if someone sees them?" You say.

Honestly he could careless about who ever saw them, right now he only wanted you.

"Let them." He said before lifting is face above yours.

" I don't care who sees. Do you?" He asked

You shook your head as a 'not before he smirked and crashed into your lips again.

The next day after traning Gojo took Mefumi aside to talk.

"Look son-im so proud of you, you've grown so much from the mini Megumi I knew" Gojo said pretending to wipe a fake tear from his eye

"Son?"

"Yeah, well word of advice form an expert, I get you'll die without her but you gotta be quieter and don't have your make out sessions when IM on night watch at YOUR dorms okay?"

"What the hell are you talking abou-"

Gojo pulls up the picture of Megumis face hovering above yours.

"YOU CREEP WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN MY DORM" He yelled trying to take the phone off Gojo.

"MORE LIKE WHAT WAS SHE DOING IN YOUR DORM!"

"DELET THAT!" Megumi yelled

"No, It's going in your photo album" Gojo said turning on his infinity so Megumi was no match.

"And maybe for her birthday you should get her a scarf to cover those 'bed bug bites'"

"SHUT UP YOU PERVET, IM CALLING C.P.C ON YOU!"

Across the field you saw Megumi yelling at Gojo, throwing things at his infinity when Yuji suddenly snapped you out of your distraction.

"Hey Y/N maybe you should get a new Marree, those bed bug bites on your neck look really bad." He said out of genuine concern.

"Uh YEAH ILL DO THAT" you squeaked turning read and pulling your collar up to hide the red marks on your neck.

"You and Fushiguro sure got the bed bugs bad" Nobora smirked looking at you knowing that no way in hell was that a bed bugs work.

THANKS FOR READING ♡

[teyums]

Contagious ✽ Lo’ak Sully

wc: 8.4k

pairing: lo’ak x fem! na’vi reader (characters are aged up for plot purposes)

contains: angst, slight enemies to lovers trope, some language, and fluff of course <3

warnings: none, slight hinting of intimate feelings if you squint

a/n: Requested? No. THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER WRITTEN. also testing out different spacing with my works so lmk if you guys like this spacing better!

“Absolutely not.”

“Hard pass.”

You both spoke in unison, immediately denying the ridiculous suggestion that came from the mouths of your mothers before you could even think about it. There was no way on Pandora you were going to spend more than five minutes, let alone three whole days alone with this man in the woods.

You refused, you wouldn’t stand for this. Your mother sighed, the shortness of her breath indicating that the decision wasn’t up for debate. “You should be open to the idea, [Y/n]. Lo’ak is a fine warrior and a skilled hunter. I think he could teach you a lot. So the two of you need to set aside your differences and work it out, just for a few days.” She said, Neytiri’s voice chiming in behind her in agreement.

You were never very interested in hunting. You harbored the skill, of course, but you much preferred weaving or crafting over shooting unsuspecting animals with poisonous arrows.

Lo’ak huffed out a humorless laugh, gesturing over to you with his hand while he addressed his mother. “Why me, Ma? Why can’t one of the others help her? Even Tuk knows how to shoot an arrow!”

“Enough, Lo’ak. It is decided.” Neytiri said, and the look in her eyes confirmed that she was not budging.

He kissed his teeth, dragging a hand down his face and covering his mouth before he could say something that would get him in trouble. As if that was the only way he could control his tongue. You glanced over at him, furrowing your brows while he only stared straight ahead at the wall of the hut— now completely detached from the conversation with a locked jaw.

You looked to your mom as a silent plea, only to receive a pointing stare back that caused you to quietly hiss in distaste. You were the first to exit the elders’ tent upon dismissal, the lanky Sully boy unwillingly trailing behind you.

Once you were far enough to make sure you were out of earshot, you turned around to face him. Trying to lighten the mood. “I guess three days isn’t so bad, right? At least we already know each other. It’s not like I’m a stranger or anything.”

“If I had a choice between three days with you, or getting yelled at by my mom, I think we both know I would’ve chosen the latter.” He grumbled, pushing past you and bumping into your shoulder in the process.

You caught your footing before you could stumble back, spinning on your heels to face him again. “Jeez, Lo’ak! Do you have to be such an asshole all the time?”

He ignored you, like usual, and continued along the path to wherever he was headed. You felt your eye twitch with a vengeance, pursing your lips and taking a sharp breath inwards to quiet the urge you had to send the wood of your bow flying into the back of his head.

It hadn’t always been like this between you two, and honestly you couldn’t understand where it all went wrong. You and Lo’ak grew up as pretty good friends, considering your mothers were the best of them. They expected you and Lo’ak to grow up and be each other’s mates. Often pairing the both of you together to complete simple tasks around the village that could easily use one person, which only helped in solidifying the strength of your bond. And honestly, you were never opposed to the idea of it, and even found yourself starting to like him.

You often explored the forest together, even when you were young. Allowing him to show you all his secret spots and hiding places he ran to when the heat at home was too much for him to handle. In actuality, you were his escape.

“Come on, [Y/n]! Try to keep up!” A young Lo’ak yelled from a branch above, laughing and dodging your attempt to grab at his tail.

“Wait for me, Lo’ak! You’re too fast!” You groaned, jumping up to grab a branch with your hands and pulling yourself up the rest of the way. You watched him hop onto a cliff and you followed, hands resting on your knees while you tried to catch your breath.

“Catch me if you can, slowpoke!” The young sully teased, darting through the vast foliage and hopping over fallen trunks.

You weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not from Lo’ak. Whenever the two of you would play games with each other and he’d win, he would hold it against you for weeks and rub it in your face. You lifted your head, seeing his tail be the last of him to disappear into the trees “You’re on, Sully!” You took one last deep breath, pushing off your feet and starting to run in the same direction he had.

You memorized his movements so you could go faster, ducking where he had and shoving giant leaves from your view. However, you miscalculated a step, the front of your foot hooking under a mossy log and sending you tumbling forward into the dirt below you.

Hearing your footsteps closing in, Lo’ak picked up speed so you wouldn’t be able to catch him. But as he readied himself to climb another tree, he heard a thud. He paused, turning around to look behind him and brows pinching when he didn’t seen you. “[Y/n]?” He called out, eyes widening when he heard a series of whines sound out in response instead of your usual cheery voice. “Oh shoot,” He mumbled, sprinting back to where he had last left you.

“Ow ow ow!” You cried profusely, pushing yourself off the ground so you could sit up. You winced and pulled your bruised knee to your chest, lip trembling at the sight of blood appearing from a small gash in your skin.

“Oh no,” Lo’ak’s eyes widened at the sight of you covered in dirt, dropping down next to you with a worried look on his face. “Are you okay? What happened?” His voice was soft, both of his hands cautiously holding your leg while he studied how deep the wound was.

“I tripped over a log and fell…” You whined, using the back of your hand to wipe your tears.

He instantly looked up when he heard you sniffle. “No no no, please don’t cry…” His face was tense as he appeared to be in deep thought. He exhaled in preparation, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss to the side of your knee, away from your broken skin. “There,” He backed up, cheeks flushing to match yours. “That’s what my mommy does when I get hurt, and it usually helps me feel better… Did it work?”

A small smile spread on your lips and your tears dried up, face rosy when you nodded your head. “Y-yeah. I guess it does feel a little better. Thanks, Lo’ak.”

He flashed a toothy grin, excited that you were feeling better and rising to his feet. A small, four-fingered hand extended out to help you up, and you slid your tiny palm into his. Brushing the dirt off your legs with the other. “We don’t have to play anymore if you don’t wanna-” He said, the rest of his sentence cut off when you shoved past him, into his shoulder and darted along the path.

“Catch me if you can, penis face!” You giggled, squealing when he yelled your name and began to chase after you.

Life as best friends with Lo’ak was never boring. In fact he was the one who introduced you to having fun in the first place. You knew him to be snarky, painfully sarcastic. But never cold.

There was a sweet side to him that he would let you take a glance at here and there, behind all the name calling. Could he be aggravating at times, and maybe a little mean with the teasing? Yes, but never cold. So when he suddenly stopped treating you like a friend one day and instead no more than a stranger— saying you were confused would be putting it lightly. All you could chalk it down to was puberty. Maybe the new influx of hormones had made him… less social?

You were hurt, you couldn’t deny it. There was something different about him, something he wasn’t letting you in on, like a switch you didn’t know existed had flipped in his mind. Coincidentally as soon as you hit the age where men began to court you, he fell off the face of the planet entirely.

Losing him pained you deeply, he had always been there to help you with any issues you had. Eager to give you advice on any situation you needed another perspective on, or just cheer you up with his rambunctious attitude. There were so many times you wanted to stop and ask him what happened, if you had done something wrong. But you knew he’d look straight through you like he always did nowadays.

The walk home was silent. You were definitely not looking forward to this three day trip you had no choice but to partake in. You wouldn’t have minded if your mom chose one of the other warriors, because being around Lo’ak only became increasingly more awkward as time went on.

For someone who previously had so much to talk to you about in the past, he was awfully closed off in your presence. You shook yourself out of your daydreaming and began searching through your tent. Packing just a few things. Some extra clothes, a quiver of arrows, and spare string for your bow just in case. You grabbed the strap and slung it over your shoulder, next lifting a woven pouch over your head and crossing it over your body.

Pushing past the flaps that served as an entrance to your home. You felt the daytime breeze hit your face and a wave of peace washed over you. Until you turned your head to the side to see a particular male leaned against the outside wall of your hut, arms crossed over his chest.

“Took you long enough.”

“Oh my-” You jumped, startled by his voice and bringing a hand up to clutch your chest to make sure your heart hadn’t jumped through your ribcage. “Jesus, Lo’ak! Were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Nah,” He snorted at your reaction, pushing himself off and walking ahead without you. “I think you’re just a wuss.” You swore you heard the smirk oozing out of his tone. Rolling your eyes and starting off after him, having to do a slight jog to catch up as his strides were much longer than yours due to the length of his legs.

One condition to the three day trip included not being able to use your Ikrans. Your mothers insisted you hiked on foot, saying it would be a good refresher of the land. You walked next to him in silence, keeping your stare straight ahead and grumbling to yourself when the strap of your quiver began to slip off your shoulder for the third time.

He turned to look at you curiously, eyes falling to the case of arrows you were carrying. “Gimme that,” Before you could answer his hand was over your shoulders, grasping the strap in his hands and pulling it off your arm. He tilted his head to the side to swish his braids out of the way, throwing your arrows over his shoulder that was already carrying his own.

You stared at him with a confused expression, having to remind yourself to keep your feet moving. “I was perfectly fine carrying that on my own, you know.”

“Was just being nice.” He sighed, not even bothering to meet your gaze while he spoke.

“Yeah, that’s rich coming from you.” You muttered under your breath with folded arms, not missing the way his ear twitched, jaw tensing at your words. You thought you said it quiet enough, but by the look on his face, he definitely heard you. You figured you’d keep the banter to a minimum for the rest of the way to your campsite.

After about thirty minutes you arrived at a secluded part of the forest where not many animals came through. Fauna dressed with various shades of greens and browns that encased the area, the forest floor mossy and soft against the soles of your feet.

You took a deep breath and looked around, inhaling the air that seemed much fresher around you from all the vegetation. Lo’ak had already gotten busy setting up, crouching down to set your equipment against the base of a tree trunk. You plopped down into a sitting position and sighed in relief. He walked so fast that you damn near had to sprint the entire way here.

Two bows in hand, he silently walked past where you were sitting and started on his way back into the trees. Invested in the colorful wildflowers surrounding your feet, you hadn’t noticed he was no longer in front of you until you looked up to see your bows gone, as well as him. “Lo’ak?” You whipped your head around with a hint of fear in your voice, trying to figure out which direction he had went.

“Come on, hurry up!” He yelled out, your ears perking up once you realized he hadn’t travelled far. You sighed and forced yourself to stand, quickly skipping through the forest to catch up with him.

His behavior was so odd, it was only making you more agitated by the second. You angrily stared at his back, having to look away shortly after once your mind unexpectedly jumped from how annoying he was to how his muscles flexed when he walked.

It really had been long since the two of you were alone, because you hadn’t remembered his shoulders being this broad, or his legs this toned. Training with Neteyam and his father was clearly paying off.

You pointed your chin up when he turned around to hand you your bow, rolling your lips into themselves and trying not to blush at the fact that he almost caught you staring.

“Here,” He pushed it in your direction, not letting go until your hand wrapped around the curve of the wood and took it from his grasp.

You followed closely behind him, looking up to see lemurs swinging from branch to branch while the wild life croaked and screeched around you. He suddenly slowed in pace, causing you to almost stumble into his back while his knees bent slightly, taking long strides while keeping his eyes pinned on the ground below him. His head low.

You peered around curiously, trying to get a look at his face. “What are you doing?”

“Shh, tracking.” He muttered.

You paused. “Why?”

“You want to eat, don’t you?” He responded, irritated.

“I was just asking a question, no need to get your panties in a bunch.” Grumbling, you ducked your head under a low-hanging branch after he did.

“I don’t wear panties.” He huffed, swiftly equipping an arrow to the string of his bow and preparing to pull it back. He must have spotted something you hadn’t.

“Could’ve fooled me, cause for the last four months you’ve kinda been acting like a bitch-“ Your eyes darted in the direction where leaves rustled, sighing when you saw the small hexapede he was planning on piercing with an arrow skit past the two of you. Disappearing into the trees due of the volume of your voice.

“God, ugh!” He dropped his bow to his side, head snapping around to look at you with the most agitated expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “Do you ever stop talking? Like, genuinely asking here. If you had just shut up with the questions we wouldn’t have lost our dinner.”

You swallowed the spit pooling in your mouth and bit the inside of your cheek, only looking down at your feet and mumbling a nearly non-existent ‘sorry’. Had you stayed looking up, you wouldn’t have missed the look of regret that flashed across his face. You felt your heart pinch at the venom in his tone and decided against speaking up again.

Eclipse had fallen over the sky about an hour later, the both of you trudging to the campsite with a couple fish skewered onto your arrows. The journey back was excruciatingly silent. You hadn’t dared to make a peep after seeing how much you pissed him off earlier. He attempted to make some side comments during the hike to spark up a conversation, but you were so tuned out from the present situation that his words fell on deaf ears.

You now sat with your back against the bark of a burly tree, keeping yourself busy by continuing to weave a top you had previously been working on back at home. You were glad you thought to bring it with you, not knowing you would need something to occupy you from looking up and catching the pair of eyes that were boring holes into your forehead like lasers.

He sighed as he watched you, guilt burning in the pit of his stomach as if he were in hell. You forgot that he knew you, forgot that he knew you would distract yourself with random tasks just to avoid speaking on something that bothered you. He hadn’t meant to snap like that, and honestly you weren’t even the reason for his irritability. He just took it out on you on accident.

“You hungry?” He held up a freshly roasted fish, beckoning it towards you and assuming you could see him even though your gaze was downcast into your work.

“Nope.” You muttered.

“Why?”

“Big lunch.” Your movements became slightly jagged at his questioning.

“That’s bullshit. You never eat lunch.” He scoffed.

You threw the top you were working on down in front of you and huffed in frustration. Why was he acting like he still knew you as if this entire time it hadn’t been his mission to become strangers again?

“You wanna know what’s bullshit, Lo’ak? Us being friends since childhood, spending almost everyday together and then suddenly you stop talking to me at all. You treat me like a complete stranger and I don’t even understand why.” His eyes left yours and settled on the fish in front of him, as if this was suddenly his first time seeing one. He was quiet for a beat, making you huff out an aggravated breath and throw your hands up at the futile attempt to get him to speak.

“I’m sorry.” He finally mumbled.

You blinked, waiting for him to continue, eyebrows raising in disbelief when he didn’t. “That’s it? You’ve been treating me like I’m the bane of your existence for months now and all you can say is sorry? You missed my Uniltaron when you promised you’d be there for me, and now all you can say is sorry?” You laughed bitterly, standing up before he could form an answer to your rhetorical question. Eyes pinning him in place as you watched his body shift to stand. “Don’t follow me.” You held a hand up to stop him, stalking away before you could blow a fuse. You weren’t planning to go far, you just needed to be away from him for a bit.

Lo’ak sat in that same spot the entire time you were gone, his appetite dissipating while he stared down at his hands in shame. He didn’t know what he expected, but all he knew was he felt bad for hurting your feelings to this point. It was one of the things he hated about himself the most, his irrational decisions that never considered the other party’s feelings.

Honestly, he thought so little of himself that he assumed you wouldn’t be bothered by his absence. But now that he was rehashing the details over in his mind he felt like an idiot. Of course it bothered you, the two of you were attached at the hip and best friends who did almost everything together, until he let the discouraging words of others get into his head.

His previously slumped body sat up as he saw you re-emerge from the trees, guilt rushing over him once more because your avoidant eyes still refused to meet his.

He looked up at the moon, realizing it was getting late and starting to put the fire out. You lowered yourself to the mossy grass, sliding down until the soft blades tickled your back. You discreetly watched Lo’ak do the same, along with putting a few feet of space between the two of you as he could nearly feel the anger radiating off your body.

With the fire now put out, the draft that travelled through the air made small goosebumps prick at your skin. And with shut eyes you curled your body into itself to capture as much heat as you could. Lo’ak laid next to you with his back flat against the grass, hands resting on his middle and gaze glued to the twinkling stars above. He allowed his eyes to come to a close but just a few moments after they did, they snapped back open and looked in your direction at the sound of you shuffling around.

“You’re cold.” He stated. The words coming out as an observation and not a question.

“I am not.” How fast you answered made it easy for him to know you weren’t telling the truth.

“You’re a terrible liar, and I can hear your teeth chattering from over here.” He sighed, propping himself up on an elbow and talking to your back. “You know you catch colds easily, [Y/n]. So c’mere.”

Your eyes opened at his suggestion and your body tensed, but not from the brisk air blowing against your skin. “And what’s that gonna do?” Cringing at how pathetic your voice sounded. You had planned on coming off assertive and uninterested.

“Warm you up?” He looked around as if the answer were obvious, and it was. But for some reason you felt… shy. You and him were once friends, so close to the point where hugging or holding hands had became normal. You’d even sat in his lap a few times. So now that you were sure the two of you no longer favored each other, why would this feel any different?

“Come on, my mom will skin me if I bring you home sick. It’s not a big deal.” He tacked that on for good measure, clearing his throat to push down the weird fuzzy feeling that was traveling up the column of his neck when you slowly sat up. Only half convinced at his reasoning, you reluctantly scooted over towards him, daring not make eye contact.

His lips almost curling up into his usual sideways smile was a sight you tried your best to ignore, witnessing it from the corner of your eye as you moved. Having the intense urge to smack it off his face but gently laying your body down next to his in order to control yourself. He cautiously wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer and inviting your head to lay on his chest.

You inhaled through your nose, unknowingly holding your breath when his warm hand came in contact with your skin, while he respectfully rested it just below your shoulders. You kept your arms tucked into yourself, legs laid out straight and your cheek pressed against the azure barrier between you and his beating heart.

You instinctively snuggled in closer, silently grateful for the comforting warmth radiating off his body and he could feel it when you relaxed in his hold, just like you used to. You had forgotten what it felt like to be this close to him. Soaking in the lullaby of his soft breaths and you hated how much you missed it.

The ear pressed to his chest picked up on a slight increase in his heart rate, and you threw a remark out just to keep the energy from shifting into weird grounds. “This doesn’t change anything, by the way. I’m still mad at you. I just hate being sick.”

He stared down at your body in close proximity to his, nose nuzzled into your soft hair as discreetly as possible while he mentally kicked himself for being dumb enough to ruin something like this for himself. Giving you the cold shoulder in the past just to quell his own feelings had been one of his stupidest decisions yet. “Yeah, I know.” He swallowed, his hand hesitantly reaching to stroke up and down your arm. “I am sorry though, [Y/n]. Really.” His apology was layered.

You bit your lip, feeling the urge to respond but not having it in you to set aside your pride. There was no way he was getting back in this easily, not after he had you questioning everything you knew due to his closed off behavior. “Just go to sleep, Lo’ak.” You sighed. He agreed by closing his eyes.

Fleeting sounds of chirping birds and leaves ruffling from the lemurs above your head rustled you from your slumber, eyelids slowly peeling apart to see the world sideways. You rubbed your eyes to clear your vision. You were on your other side now, and Lo’ak wasn’t in front of you.

You went to stretch, your limbs feeling a bit cramped from sleeping on the hard forest floor for hours on end. Regardless of your slightly achy joints and the lack of your hammock netting beneath you, this was surprisingly the best night’s sleep you’d had in a while. Weird.

Extending your legs outwards, you went to do the same for your back when you felt a pair of tightly wrapped arms around your middle halt your efforts. Your body stilled when you realized the hard surface against your upper back belonged to the man you were trying to make yourself despise.

Sometime during the brisk night you turned over onto your other side, and Lo’ak had pulled your slender body back into his and tucked himself into you. He was holding you as if this had been what he wanted to do for years, his light snoring indicating that he felt comfortable enough to sleep so deeply.

And as soon as you came to the revelation, all of your senses began to kick back in at an overwhelming rate. The feeling of his head snuggled into the small of your neck. His soft, parted lips just grazing the surface of your skin. His light breaths leaving temporary traces of heat on your collarbone made your ears flick with a feeling you didn’t want to put a name to. The backside of your body fit into his like a puzzle piece, flush with no room between as if he were scared you’d disappear in the middle of the night.

You felt your heart quicken in pace, cheeks flushing at how you had gone from not speaking, to being cuddled up with one another in just a day. Though the two of you interacted like you couldn’t stand each other, your bodies naturally knew you craved affection only the other could provide and they betrayed the front you tried to put on.

Would the two of you had fallen into each other so intimately, so accepting in the comfort of an embrace during the night, if you truly weren’t supposed to be like this?

You were too stubborn to care, and maybe a bit in denial, too. All you knew was that you needed it to stop because your brain was turning to mush the longer each rise of his chest moved your body in sync.

“Lo’ak!” You smacked the back of his hand and hissed his name, the action pulling him out of his deep sleep.

“Huh?” He grumbled, sharply inhaling with sudden consciousness and opening his eyes.

“Move. Your arms.” You spoke through gritted teeth, eyes flicking down to the limbs that had you caged.

He raised a brow, not understanding what you were talking about until he peered over your shoulder. “Oh shit,“ He instantly retracted his arms, allowing you to scramble away from him while he sat up and nervously watched you readjust your garments. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable in the slightest, he didn’t even realize he was holding you in such a way until you woke him up— and right about now you looked like you wanted nothing to do with him.

Little did he know.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I- I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, not being able to meet your gaze and hoping you’d finish his thought for him, so he wouldn’t have to say it aloud.

You were too flustered to even think about eye contact, shaking your head and interjecting before he could continue speaking. “It’s fine. Let’s just, pretend it didn’t happen.” You mumbled, not missing the way he looked at you as if he wanted to disagree, his mouth opening just to close a second later.

All he did was nod, clearing his throat and rising to his feet while you tried to busy yourself by brushing imaginary dirt off your body.

You tried your best to make the rest of the day as normal as possible, to no avail, of course.

For some strange reason, you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off him. After a while of him ignoring you, it had became pretty easy to do the same to him. Before this morning, at least.

You cursed your sharp, all seeing eyes. The way they caught every muscle that tensed in his strong legs when he took a step forward, or how his defined shoulders pulled apart to send an arrow plunging through the air.

Every time he turned towards you to speak, you had to force yourself to look away. The fact that you couldn’t seem to control the thoughts invading your mind without your permission was starting to piss you off. And the way his chiseled abs cut directly into a ridiculously evident v-line above the hem of his loincloth, with the rest of it hidden and succeeding in peaking your interest, was not helping you in the slightest.

What was wrong with you? How was it that you felt even more drawn to him now that he was more detached than ever? He seemed to notice your discomfort, eyes narrowing at your focused expression cast upon a boring tree trunk when you didn’t answer to your name.

“Huh?” You snapped your eyes back in his direction when he called your name again, gulping at his oddly knowing expression.

“You seem awfully distracted. Are you alright?” He said.

“Yeah, like you’d care.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, eager to keep up your tough and uninterested front.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He folded his toned arms in front of him and you kept your eyes locked on the scowl he wore. It was a double edged sword, either you looked away which would solidify his suspicion that something was in fact going on with you, or you continued to make eye contact with the searing orbs that were making your heartbeat bang against your eardrums. Somehow the second option seemed like the better one.

“It means exactly what you think it means. We stopped being friends a while ago, Lo’ak. That was what you wanted, and you made it very obvious.” You grabbed an arrow from your quiver and pulled it against the string of your bow, extending your arm out and aiming for the makeshift target he had carved into the tree bark with his knife a little ways in front of you.

His brows knit together, features screwing up as if you had just made some outlandish claim. “What do you mean? We never stopped being friends. I still care about you, [Y/n].”

Your heart jumped at the unexpected words that left his mouth, fingers slipping when you released the arrow. It missed the target by a long shot, landing outside and below the circle.

You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head and the feeling that was creeping up your throat, out and away. “Well you sure as hell don’t act like it. And I’m pretty sure friends are supposed to speak to each other.” You mumbled, digging your toes into the dirt, the soil moist along your sole while you prepped another arrow.

“I-“ He sighed, mind searching for the right words. “I promise it wasn’t personal. There was just a lot going on, and I got busy.” He moved to stand close behind you, gently raising your elbow upwards with the tips of his fingers. He pressed a hand to your stomach and pushed it against your core, a silent instruction to strengthen your stance.

Oh right. He was supposed to be coaching you on your form. So why did it feel like more than that?

You sucked a breath in through your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut to try and put out the fire his hand ignited. Your core tightened, much to his approval. But not for the reason he assumed. You cleared your throat and stared daggers into the target in front of you, the shakiness of your voice paired with your hands giving away just how flustered he was making you.

“Oh sure. Busy trying to keep me out of your life, right?” You spat, releasing your grasp and hitting millimeters from the bullseye.

You felt the heat of his firm chest against the skin of your back, a small gasp leaving your lips when his lips brushed against the tip of your ear as he leaned down. “Busy trying to keep my mind off you.” He responded, voice so low you could’ve missed it had you not been paying attention.

“What?” You turned around to face him, your faces much closer than you expected and you quickly took a step back.

“I said,” He took one closer. “I was busy trying to keep my mind, off you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop playing games with me, Lo’ak. You’ve confused me enough already.” This morning made sure of that.

He reached for your hands, the speed in which you dropped your bow to the ground almost comical and you allowed him to slip his fingers into your palms. “I would never say something like that if I didn’t mean it, [Y/n]. There wasn’t a single moment I wasn’t thinking about you. There never has been, and there never will be. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much space I put between us, I just can’t shake you.” He said, the pads of his thumbs smoothing along the backs of your hands.

You blinked at him in disbelief, eyes widened as you stared at him in shock. You always thought there had been mutual feelings there. The way he acted with you in the past versus the other girls in the village confirmed that. Which was why the sudden rejection of your company and his absence in your life had pained you so much. You not only lost your bestfriend, but the man you hadn’t gotten the chance to love.

“I know, I know. It’s a lot,” He sighed, gnawing at his lip as your apprehension began to mirror onto him. “And I know, I was an asshole-“

“Are an asshole.” You corrected, watching him immediately nod in agreement.

“Alright, I’m an asshole. It was stupid to distance myself from you, and I regret it more than you know, I swear of it. I just didn’t know how to sort through my feelings, and I let everyone get in my head and tell me you’d be better off and… I guess I agreed with them? But I knew there was no way you would listen, so I tried my hardest to make you hate me.” He spoke cautiously, nearly wincing at how bad it sounded now that he was saying it out loud.

Your hand came up before you could control it, palm landing across his cheek and the force of it making his head turn to the side. You glared at him with a tense jaw, the tears pricking your waterline indicating something other than anger.

Lo’ak nodded to himself, licking his bottom lip and grazing his fingers over the sting your hand had left on his cheek. “Yeah, I deserved that.” He breathed out a humorous laugh.

You waited forever to have a moment like this with him, and now that you finally had, it wasn’t anything like what you expected it to be. Confessions bringing up stifled emotions and painful memories you thought you buried ages ago. And now the only thing you could think about was all the time that had been wasted due to miscommunication.

“So let me get this straight, you genuinely thought that destroying the bond we had was better than just letting me love you? Couldn’t you have given me a choice, to decide what I thought was best for me? I loved you, Lo’ak. And you broke my heart.” The rise of your chest stuttered and made your voice crack, the sound of it making his eyes soften with remorse.

“Loved?” He parroted, amber eyes searching yours for any remnants of the feeling he hoped remained.

You snatched your hands away, not even realizing what you had said until he repeated it back to you. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” You muttered.

“The hell it doesn’t! Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

You rubbed your forehead in annoyance, feeling a headache coming on and his response only made it worse. “Do you even listen to your mom when she talks to you? Have you not noticed how they put us together in almost every situation possible?” You gesticulated your hands angrily. “They’ve been asking us why we don’t speak anymore, and this trip was a way to make that happen.”

He cursed himself under his breath, because you were right. He doesn’t listen to his mom when she talks— most of the time he’s tuning her out in case it’s just the usual scolding because he did something stupid.

“You don’t get to ask the questions, Lo’ak. I’ve been sitting here for months, trying to talk to you and all you did was push me away, like I was contagious with a fucking disease. How could you?” Your hands balled into fists. You couldn’t fathom how he had found it in his heart to treat you this way.

And you were— contagious, in a way. No matter how hard he tried to push the feelings down, to rid his body of the fluttering sensation you gave him, being around you would only bring it back even stronger than it was before it left. The truth was, Lo’ak had never been as happy as he was with you and it scared him. Scared him so much that he let others make him believe he wasn’t deserving of it. Wasn’t deserving of you.

“You wouldn’t even look at me, not once! I went to our spot everyday, hoping you would show up and you never did. So I gave up.” You said, voice growing smaller with each word and wavering. He raised his hand to wipe the tears you hadn’t realized rolled down your cheeks, his expression so contrite when you leaned away from his touch that it hurt you to watch.

“Don’t say that, please don’t say that.” He pleaded in a whisper, both hands coming up now to cup your flushed face in his hands. “Please don’t give up on us when I’ve just figured it out. I know it took a while and I know I’m an idiot for it, but please don’t tell me that I’m too late.”

You wanted so badly to say yes. Your heart ached to throw yourself into his arms and forget about the way he had treated you, but you couldn’t. The damage had been done, and you were terrified. Terrified that if you let him in again, the past would repeat itself and you knew you couldn’t handle getting your heart stomped on for a second time.

Your hands found their way to his wrists, hiccuping at the thought of pulling them away. You shook your head, eyes locking on his to give him your final answer. “I’m sorry, Lo’ak. I can’t.”

You decided to end your trip early.

You couldn’t bare to be around Lo’ak anymore. Wanting to be with him just as much as he did you, but the doubts in your mind overwrote your heart any time you so much of thought about giving him a chance.

It was a constant battle and it was taking more of a toll on you than you expected. The feeling of his eyes burning into your back was unbearable, his jaw tensing because you just wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He was in agreement. He had finally been confident enough to challenge what the others swore would happen and came to terms with his feelings, but he was too late. The fact that you were so close that he could reach out and touch you was torturous, the only thing stopping him was the wedge he had plunged between you. He wanted to scream. To go back in time and yell in the face of his past self, to tell him that this was the stupidest decision he would ever make if he went through with it. He’d never forgive himself.

As soon as you were out the forest, you went your separate ways with no words spoken. Leaving Lo’ak alone where he stood, his arm moving to reach out to you but missing your fingers just by a mere inch. He prayed you would turn around, ‘come on, come on, turn around’ aimlessly repeating the words to himself. You didn’t.

He threw his bow to the ground, balling his fists up in frustration and bringing his arms up and over his head. “Fuck!” He growled, kicking at the ground and bringing up a cloud of dirt in the process.

You sat on the floor of your hut across from your mother, poking the steamed meat and vegetables around in your bowl with a lack of interest. Your elbow against the table and your chin propped into the palm of your hand, you couldn’t find it in you to take a bite. You had no appetite and feeding yourself was the last thing on your mind right now.

“Maite?” Your mother’s voice tore you from your endless rumination, and you looked up to see her expression as one of concern.

You hummed a mindless response. "Hm?"

“You’ve barely touched your food at all. You love when I make sturmbeest for you…” Her eyes motioned down to where your finger had been poking and prodding. “Is something wrong?” She asked.

You knew your mom, and she knew you. Chances are when she was asking you a question, there was no point in lying because she already had the answer. She just wanted to see what you’d say first. Nevertheless, you decided to try anyway.

You shook your head, pushing a small chunk of food into your mouth as to not be wasteful. “Just thinking.” You mumbled.

“Mm,” She nodded, her eyes never leaving where they were pinned on you. “Why don’t you go talk to him? Sitting here playing with your food won’t change anything.”

Her question nearly had you choking on your food, coughing a bit and forcing yourself to swallow with flared eyes. “H-huh? How did you…” You gulped, your rapid blinking and now straightened posture confirming her inference.

“Well you haven’t said one word of how the trip went since you got back. Not to mention, you came home early. And you haven’t been very present at dinner time lately, so I can only assume that something happened. Yes?” She quirked a brow at you.

You sighed, nodding and pushing your bowl out in front of you. There was no use in lying, you had to tell your mom the truth. You wanted to. “Yes he… He told me how he feels, finally. But I just don’t know what to do, and I don’t know if I can trust him again. I just don’t think it’s meant to be us, mom.” Shoulders drooping at your own revelation, you wanted nothing more than it to be him.

She tsked and shook her head at you, almost annoyed at your inability to see what was right in front of you. “Eywa does not make mistakes, my child. Since the two of you were little, there were signs. You should give him a chance to redeem himself. I am certain you won’t regret it.”

You trusted your mother more than anything. Her advice had never once led you astray, and you felt something wriggle it’s way through the cracks in your wall of uncertainty. Hope.

“You think so?” You asked quietly, fingers twiddling in anticipation. You felt newfound giddiness crawling up your spine and couldn’t find it in yourself to push it back down.

“I know so. The boy has been in love with you since the day you carved your first bows together.” She laughed and your hand shot up to cover an incoming smile. “Now go, find him and tell him how you feel. Don’t make him wait any longer.” She shooed, hastily waving her hands to bring you out of your lovesick trance.

You were up and out of your hut in seconds, bidding your mother a ‘see you later’ while your legs carried you faster than you could handle. You bundled your way past greeting villagers, responding quickly so you wouldn’t have to pause your trekking. They stared at you curiously, wondering where you were off to in such a hurry, away from your home and into the forest.

The heavy padding of your steps left illuminated patches of moss in your wake. The forest coming alive around you and the beating of your heart increasing with every duck under a leaf and leap over a log, knowing you were nearing your destination.

You eventually made your way uphill and onto a clearing, scenting him before you saw him. Poking your head around a low hanging branch, you felt nervousness pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of Lo’ak’s slightly hunched form seated on the cliff. You stared at the back of his head, trying to gain the courage to approach him and preparing yourself for the conversation to come.

It wasn’t long before he caught a whiff of your scent as well, his ears unconsciously perking up. He could never mistake the intoxicating aroma of episoth petals and healing rose, a sigh escaping him when he remembered how lovely it had been to be around you those short two days. How being close to you after months apart scratched the itch he could never reach.

You walked over, slowly lowering yourself to sit next to him. Mimicking his position and draping your legs over the cliffside. “I thought you didn’t come here anymore.” Your gentle voice broke the silence, eyes focused on the stars gleaming in the distance.

“I never stopped, I was always here when you were. Even your Uniltaron, I was there. And I wanted to talk to you, to tell you I was sorry for the way I was acting. I just didn’t know how.” He said, voice low as if he were afraid to speak. Scared that he’d make another mistake.

You turned to look at him, taking in his glum state and drooped posture. A frown forming on your lips at his confession. You spent months upset with him, trying to hate him. Thinking he discarded your friendship to the side with malice, only to find out he had suffered just as much as you did. Blaming himself for a mistake he didn’t know how to undo. You cast your gaze down at your hands, taking a breath in before your fingers went to overlap his. His head snapped in your direction, his demeanor suddenly hopeful just at the mere touch.

“Lo’ak,” you started, weakly. “I’m scared.” Your eyes stapled shut, and he quickly grabbed your hand and pulled it close to him.

His features solemn, he silently begged you to open your eyes, holding your hand in both of his. “Why?” He whispered.

You sighed shakily, swallowing around nothing. “If I give myself to you, you can’t-“ Your voice shuddered and Lo’ak lifted your hand up, rubbing his cheek against the back of it as encouragement for you to continue. “Please don’t break me again.”

“Had I known I had your heart, I would’ve never done it. I want nothing more than to be loved by you, [Y/n]. To have the privilege to love you, to call you my own. If you’ll have me.” He voiced, bringing your knuckles to his lips and placing a light kiss upon them, golden irises never leaving the ones that were starting to water in front of him. “I love you too much to put you through that again.”

You had never seen Lo’ak so vulnerable, the look in his eyes one of such sincerity that your own emotions quickly overtook you. Ridding your mind of any reluctancy as you threw yourself into his arms. He exhaled heavily, taking not another moment to wrap his arms around you and bury his face into the space where your neck met your shoulder. Inhaling the scent he missed so much. He sighed in relief, hands splayed across your back to hold you as close to him as possible.

You pulled away, to his surprise as he instantly searched your face for any indication of something wrong. You held his face in your hands, barely able to tear your focus from his parted lips as you spoke. “I love you too, ma Lo’ak.” You whispered, his eyes softening at the term of endearment. You melted into his embrace when he closed the gap between you, pressing your lips together without a regard for air. Breathing him in would just have to be enough.

Your head tilted as you deepened the kiss. He chased your lips and followed suit, not wanting to be apart from you even for a second if he could help it. The kiss was desperate and delicate, hasty and lacking of grace as the both of you quenched the thirst water would not quell.

He broke away from you unwillingly, the need for air trumping his intense desire to continue. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He grinned, voice breathless and fangs peeking out while his warm hands travelled up and down the small of your back. Allowing a swarm of butterflies to take home in your belly.

You giggled and clambered your way into his lap, his immediate acceptance revealed in the way his hands dropped down to hold your hips without a second thought. You draped your arms over his shoulders before you pressed your forehead to his, your fingers grazing along the skin of his back to leave goosebumps in your wake. “Just shut up and kiss me again.” You cooed, watching him lick his lips.

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

He gladly leaned in, but not completely— his top lip just faintly brushing against yours. Languidly lingering there with his mouth slightly agape as he relished in the feeling of your warmth, breathing in your air. “Lo’ak…” Your gaze settled on his half-lidded one for a moment and you almost whimpered at the tease. Your hand finding the back of his neck and pulling him into you, eager to pick up right where you left off.

His lips pressed to yours and they moved gently but fervently. The feeling of your weight in his lap making him hum into your mouth as his arms pressed your body flush against his. The desire that remained from all the months apart bled through his soft touches and washed onto you, hands traveling desperately over his heated, striped skin as if you would run out of time.

This was something you could get used to.

Reblogs + Likes + Comments are much appreciated! 💗

[lexischococoveredblueberries]

Can you make a veneer x reader where reader is supposedly assistant but actually a super famous model/popstar? Velvet and Veneer only realize that their assistant was no ordinary person, (Veneer notices it first) but a celebrity more popular than them (Velvet only realizes when they go to reader's concert that Veneer begged Velvet to go with him) :3 (also reader took the job because they wanted to try having "a normal job" for once and for the possibility of making friends with other popstars) and can we choose our stage names ourselves?

my first request, thank u!!! i love this plot omg…, absolutely >o<

F/S/N : first stage name

L/S/N : last stage name

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　° ┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　° ┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚

• falling for fame •

veneer x FEM!reader

• one shot

• fluff

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .・。

“goodnight, Velvet and Veneer.”

you closed the door to their dressing room and

dashed down the hall. you had just finished helping

Velvet and Veneer get un-ready from their

performance, which was absolutely spectacular.

every time you watch them perform you’re taken

away by how they control an audience and how their

aura beams across the room. being their assistant ,

you kind of have to say things like that for appeal, but

you really meant it 99% of the time.

the other the majority of that percentage was from

what you took by watching Venner, though.

whenever you watched him dance and sing and

seem so relaxed, you can’t help but feel the urge to

start moving too.

maybe he was your inspiration when you decided to become your own star.

now out of the building, you hurried down a small

trail behind the overly large structure which led to an

underground neighbourhood that was lightened up

by old bulbs hanging from trees and cheap

streetlights. this place didn’t really have any

meaning , well, of course until you showed up.

you had finally made it to another building , where

you dragged yourself to your own dressing room.

after running up many stairs, you let your huge work

tote bag down and started undressing, throwing your

robe on as you waited for someone.

knock knock

there she was.

“come in,” you called and the door opened. Georgia,

your own assistant , came through holding clothes in

her arms and lots of small bags. she smiles brightly

at you.

“oh, y/n, thank goodness. i almost thought you

ditched on all of us.” she jokes, putting the outfit

down on your mini sofa beside your vanity which you

sat at. Georgia was a sweet woman, who was a

mother to a small boy, Finn, you had met one or

twice. she was a dream assistant to anyone who

wanted one that didn’t bark or bitch.

“i would never abandon you, Gia. the siblings were

busy today, Velvet wanted extra touch ups and such.”

you explained while Georgia set up curling irons and

laid out makeup brushes. you seen her smile slyly at

you.

“oh, really? it wasn’t because you got caught up

staring holes in the back of her brothers head? huh,

how strange.” she teased you, and you fought back a

huge smile that threatened to take up your whole

face.

“sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” you

murmur, trying to hide the embarrassment in your

voice, but obviously failing.

you sort of wished Veneer would show up, if only he

knew. you weren’t sure WHY he didn’t know,

Velvet either, considering you were popular enough

for plenty of people to know about.

you tried to shrug it off, but you still felt weird about

it. you guessed they had better things to worry

about, that wasn’t you.

( performance ref pictures for anyone that wants them, if not then imagine to your hearts content )

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ ┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ ┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚

Meanwhile…

“goodnight, Velvet and Veneer.”

you closed the door, and Veneer bit the inside of his

cheek.

“i wonder where she goes after her shifts.” he

wonders out loud, crossing his arms. Velvet looks at

him like he said something out of pocket, and she

scoffed.

“hm, well, i don’t really give a shit. she can do what

she wants, can’t she?” she said in a snarky tone,

gathering her things together and throwing her now

free hair into a loose ponytail. you did an amazing job

with being able to get all of the product out of their

hair , and Veneer only noticed how flawless it was

now.

Velvet headed towards the door and looked back at

Veneer.

“i’m heading home, Ven. you following ?” she asked,

raising an eyebrow. Veneer was still staring at the

door from when you walked out, but he looked at

Velvet and smiled.

“yeah, eventually. go on, i’ll get a ride later.” he

replied. Velvet kind of gave a side eye to a fake

camera and shrugged. “mkay.. ciao.” she closed the

door on her way out.

Veneer waited a second. two. three.

he scrambled, threw on a pullover hoodie and bolted

out the door, following after you.

he panicked half the time, hoping that he looked like

a janitor on his way home from his shift , and frankly

he did. he followed you out of the building and down

the strange path that he didn’t even knew existed,

but he tried not to question it.

he made sure not to get too close , but also not too

far away, not because he was afraid of losing sight of

you, but also to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt.

now he saw what he walked into, a beautiful

underground neighborhood that almost looked like a

child’s dream treehouse. he was so taken aback that

he lost sight of you and began to panic. you

vanished in thin air, and he almost turned around to

run. but then he started hearing music, from a stage

from the middle of the grounds.

“what…” he whispered. he began walking towards it.

it took him a few minutes to get there, and when he

did, loads of people started flooding the ground, and

he became afraid of people recognizing him. he

pulled the hood further up but made sure to keep his

eyes on the stage. but it just got worse from there.

he could’ve swore the ENTIRE neighborhood was

flooded with people; 3x the crowd that Veneer and

Velvet get. Veneer began to over think.

‘Vel wouldn’t be happy about this…’ he thought to

himself, and he was about to leave again, when all

the lights on stage went off. people began cheering

and screaming as the sound of footsteps tapped on

the stage. the lights came back on, and Veneer seen

a tall lady standing at the front of the stage in a suit

holding a microphone

“you’ve all been waiting long enough! please welcome our loved, F/S/N L/S/N to the stage!”

more cheering commenced and Veneer was getting

confused. he certainly didn’t know that name. that

was until the lady left the stage and someone else

took the lead behind her.

Veneer froze.

“oh my god.” he said out loud. you appeared at the

front of the stage, backup dancers behind you. you

posed with confidence and gazed the crowd like you

owned it. he stood and stared like that’s what he was

born to do.

it was a magnificent performance.

As much as he adored Velvet and everything

she did was better than what anyone else

could do, he couldn’t say the same thing

right now.

he gazed and was lost in a trance; at the

way you danced, sung like you were holding

in a voice of gold since you were born and

controlled the audience with every striking

belt. this was probably the best show

Veneer has ever seen, and his heart

squeezed, wondering how this girl he swore

he knew ended up being someone

completely different.

after your performance, Veneer felt as if something

apart of him bloomed. that was all he needed to see

to feel complete. his supposedly normal assistant

was actually a pop star that he casually never knew

about ?

he wanted to go see you. he wanted to run backstage

and ask a million questions, but he knew he couldn’t.

not right now. instead, he ran off somewhere where

people weren’t and pulled out his phone and dialled

Velvet. she picked up after a few rings.

“what Veneer.”

“hi sis, uhm, were you AWARE that y/n, our

ASSISTANT, is a pop star???”

there was silence.

“…what the hell are you talking about? also where are

you??”

“listen, vel, i….i followed y/n here. i was curious of

her outside life and i accidentally discovered that

she’s super famous , and i kid you not that she’s

almost as famous as WE ARE. i’m bringing you here

tomorrow.”

“uhm. sure.” she sounded unsure.

“okay. i’m coming home.” he hung up and looked at

the stage one last time before leaving.

the next day…

after a long day of Veneer struggling to hide the face

that he knew about your “secret” , the time finally

came for Veneer to bring Velvet to your show. he

stood anxiously in their dressing room, picking at his

hands and clearing his throat repetitively. Velvet

noticed this as she was packing her things.

“uhm, what’s up with that? you’re the one that

wanted to bring me to her in the first place.” she

questioned, putting a hand on her hip as she

examined her brothers anxious gestures.

Veneer looked at her and suddenly stopped, running

his fingers through his hair.

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about. let’s go?”

he tried to change the conversation. Velvet would’ve

protested but she kind of wanted to get this over

with, but of course she had to throw in a remark.

“you like her.”

Veneers heart pumped furiously as the thought was

put in his head.

“no. well.. no! velvet.” he became embarrassed by her

comment and suddenly wanted to disappear. she

laughed.

“you’re really bad at hiding your feelings. i’m your

sister, i would know.” she smirked and opened the

door. “move it.”

he shook his head and went out the door, Velvet

closing it behind him.

Veneer guided his sister to the underground tunnel-

ish place and she grimaced with her voice.

“oh my god, it’s like, damp in here. ew.” she

complained, pulling at the sweater that she wore.

Veneer wasn’t really listening. he was eagerly looking

around, wondering if he would spot you out and

about, hoping to have a conversation before you

performed.

they made themselves to the pit of the arena,

ushering off to the side so people wouldn’t look at them.

“it’s off putting that no one has noticed us yet.

almost upsetting,” Velvet said.

“maybe it’s the fact we don’t have three tubs of gel in

our hair right now?” Veneer replied, not meaning to

sound like a hard-ass but coming off as it anyway.

Velvet scoffed. “shut it.”

that’s when the people started flooding in, and

Velvets face went shocked.

“holy shit,” she whispered , looking around

frantically.

“there’s no way this is for y/n. she has ten times more

people than we do! ugh!” she became upset and

veneer blew air in his cheeks.

“that’s..what i told you.” he whispered to himself and

looked to the stage.

when the hundreds of people finally stopped coming,

Veneer knew this was the time. he could barely wait.

he was basically shaking in his boots, eager to see

you. to see you dance and steal the shine of the

stars. he couldn’t help but see you as the moon.

then, the lights went off,and Veneer nearly shrieked.

he felt like a fanboy to his own assistant; and he

didn’t know how to feel about that.

the announcer came on again, and that’s when the

lights came back on and he could see you, there,

with a gorgeous outfit and stunning makeup that

made you seem intimidating. he could’ve cried at

how beautiful you were, his heart throbbed in his

chest as he just wanted to climb on stage and join

you; steal your own show but make you the main

attraction.

Veneer was getting caught up with his thoughts the

entire performance, and the look on his sister’s face

was priceless. he couldn’t really tell if it was jealousy,

admiration or a combination of both. but in this

moment, he didn’t care what she thought , all he

wanted to do was watch and admire you.

there was a split moment when you were near the

edge of the stage, singing effortlessly like you always

do, and made direct eye contact with veneer.

the whole world stopped for both of you. Veneer was

lost in your eyes, you were clueless of why he was

here, but that butterfly feeling started in the pit of

your chest. you kept singing , didn’t miss a single

word, and carried on.

Veneer felt his face flush as he continued to stare like

a fool.

after another ground breaking performance, the

applause roared across the entire plot and you gave a

bow, giving Veneer a final look and thanking

everyone in your mic. heading backstage , Veneer

held the urge to run back as well, but he looked to

Velvet.

she was already looking at him, and her expression

was…soft.

“go, Ven.” she said, motioning her head towards the

backstage entrance.

he smiled at her. “thank you vel.”

he ran to the backstage, being able to sneak past the

guards and past the red curtains.

he stopped to look around and saw you stepping off

the stage stairs. you looked at each other.

‘she’s so beautiful in the dark.’ he thought to

himself, walking towards you and your mouth parted.

“veneer,” you started, trying to get words out of your

mouth while shaking your head. “you..you knew?

how? you brought velvet ?? why…why?” so many

thoughts came blurting out and Veneer took your

hand.

“i always knew. i knew you pursued something,

you’re the type of girl to do that.” he looked at you

with kind eyes, and you swallowed with a dry mouth.

“i..” you stopped, taking a deep breath, looking away

and looking back. “thank you, for showing up. that meant more than you really know. i didn’t tell in fear of trying to out run you and Vel. i’m sorry,” you explained, a slight panic in your voice, but Veneer sealed your worries with a gentle kiss to your hand.

“let me support you y/n. i want this for both of us.”

his words had an effect on your heart and you smiled

warmly. you brought his and your hand to your heart.

“ yeah. just you and me. oh, well, Velvet too.” both of

you shared a laugh.

FLASH

a bright light came from the backstage entrance ,

and paparazzi and kid ritz stood there with shocked

expressions on their faces.

“oh.” you both said in unison.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦

a/n: AHHH IDK IF THIS WAS TOO LONG OR NOT IM CHARACTER FOR VENEER HELP 😞 i apologize if this sucks lol but i had fun making it 💗 tysm for the support lately i love all of you + my dms are always open if any of u need a friend ! requests are open always unless said otherwise <3

[fluentmoviequoter]

i was wondering if you can do like a secret admirer / friends to lovers thing with tim bradford? like reader or tim are sending each other notes and get them something that they’ve mentioned before but never had time or the resources to get. sorry if that sounds confusing

I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted; if it's not, let me know and I'd be happy to try again! Thanks for the great request and please feel free to let me know what you think!🤍

Secret Admirers

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, friends to lovers, obliviousness, brief LA Rams slander

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“How am I supposed to consider you a friend when you say things like that?” you ask.

Tim shakes his head. “You’re just mad because I’m right.”

“There are other things to do besides football,” you argue.

“I thought it was my night to pick.”

“You always pick football.”

“The Rams are playing.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning against Tim’s shoulder. “Fine, turn on the game, let me lose a few more IQ points.”

Tim’s shoulder moves below you, the only sign that he’s laughing at your actions. If you didn’t want to watch football, he wouldn’t make you, because he’s a good friend. No one knows; you only got close to him because of your relentless pursuit of getting to know him. And now you’re inseparable.

“You know you’re my closest friend?” you ask.

“Then you should get out more,” he deadpans.

“You love me.”

“Whatever you need to hear.”

“Tell me I’m your best friend and I’ll tell you the Rams are making it to the Super Bowl.” You lower your voice to add, “For once.”

Tim’s eyes narrow as he moves to look at you. “You have to mean it.”

Nodding, you put on your most serious expression.

“You are my best friend,” Tim says.

You smile brightly, and Tim presses his lips together to hide his smile.

“The Rams are going to the Super Bowl. Guaranteed,” you tell him.

“Well now they are. You’re our luck,” Tim mumbles, leaning back against the couch again.

“Heard that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You haven’t seen Tim in almost a week. After the game ended, a win for the Rams, he got called into work and has barely been home since. Just long enough to sleep and eat each night before he’s gone again. Los Angeles has been dealing with numerous crime sprees, like a miniature version of the Purge that the Mid-Wilshire Division faces singlehandedly.

Your stomach rumbles around lunchtime, and as you reach for your bag, you realize Tim probably hasn’t had a good meal this week. Dialing the number of his favorite restaurant, you place a huge order to be delivered to the station, not even thinking about letting Tim know who it’s from.

Knowing Tim has food he’ll enjoy, you rest a little easier and continue your day with a small smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey,” Tim sighs, letting you inside. “Sorry I’ve been so busy this week.”

“No problem, glad you’re home.”

“You’ll never guess what happened,” he says. “Someone sent a ton of food from my favorite restaurant yesterday afternoon. The timing was perfect; we were all exhausted and starving. And… it’s been so long since someone just did something nice for me like that.”

Tim smiles as he shakes his head gently.

“I wish I knew who it was from so I could thank them properly.”

You consider telling him, but first, you ask, “Think it’s a secret admirer?”

Tim barks out a single laugh. “Yeah, because this is going to become a regular thing.”

That’s all the answer you need. Keeping your mouth closed, you nod and become Tim Bradford’s secret admirer. He deserves everything and more, and it’s up to you to show him.

You’ve always felt something for Tim, and as you start taking note of little things he likes or wants, you avoid confronting what these feelings could really be.

✯✯✯✯✯

“More to come,” you say as you finish writing the letter.

After a few days of giving Tim small gifts and becoming more attuned to his wants and likes, you add handwritten notes to your deliveries to add a personal level. He hasn’t seen your writing enough to determine you are his secret admirer, so you give him the acknowledgment and words of affirmation he craves, often without knowing.

Securing the note to the top of the box, a new Rams jersey, you smile. Being Tim’s secret admirer makes you happy, but more than that, it makes Tim happy, which is the one thing you want in the world.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim opens the box before the letter, his eyes widening at the brand-new, once-worn Rams jersey. Closing it quickly, he reaches for the letter before stopping. Tim feels strange accepting the gifts, especially one that is so expensive. But, if whoever this is wants to do something so kind, the least he can do is accept them. It’s not just about the money, though, Tim realizes. His thoughts often drift to you, and he can’t place why, but he still wonders if accepting something from others will create a rift in his relationship with you.

First, it’s not too expensive. You deserve so much more than you would ever be willing to get for yourself. So, accept it and enjoy it.

Tim shakes his head; whoever wrote this knows him better than he thought. They’re probably close.

Happiness isn’t something you have to earn or prove you are worthy of.

Closing the card and tucking it underneath the jersey, Tim prepares to leave for the day. After stowing the thoughtful gift from his secret admirer in his backseat, he drives to a nearby store to pick up a few things for dinner.

While shopping, Tim sees something you have always wanted but have never been able to afford. After receiving so many kind gifts and hearing the exact words he unknowingly craves, he feels a strong urge to give you something you want and deserve, too.

It's after dark when he leaves the store, so Tim decides to put it on your porch in the morning as a surprise. You’ll know his writing, so he prints a note that you deserve nice things, even when you don’t feel like you do.

Once it’s safely on your porch before sunrise, and Tim is driving to the station, he realizes that he doesn’t like having a secret admirer. Not because he doesn’t like the gifts or the money spent on him, but because he doesn’t want to lose you if the secret admirer wants more.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tears gather in your eyes when you see the gift on your porch. After years of daydreaming about spending that kind of money on something you love and then talking yourself out of it with an argument that you don’t deserve it, you don’t know what to do. The note attached to it silences each of the thoughts racing through your mind.

Being a secret admirer and having one are very different things, and you’re not sure you like this.

✯✯✯✯✯

Each gift Tim receives over the next week deepens his frown, even as he reads the kind notes attached. He wants to know who it is, so he can explain that he’s grateful, but it needs to stop. You’ve stayed at his side through each letter, glad that someone is being kind. Tim’s contention comes from the fact that when he gets something, he wants to call you and share it with you, but that may not be fair to you. Yes, he’s your secret admirer, but he doesn’t want to lose you because of his. It’s probably an irrational fear, but if someone is doing this and expecting to move forward into a real relationship with Tim, he can’t. He won’t.

On Friday, the end of his first week as your secret admirer, he sends you a bouquet, not made of flowers, but of things that constitute your favorite hobby. It’s incredibly thoughtful, and the note comes straight from his heart. He mentions something specific about your past, smiling as he pictures your excited smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you accept the large arrangement, your eyes widen as you reach for the card first. The last line mentions something you’ve only talked about once. The one time you confided about it to someone was to Tim Bradford.

Your jaw drops as you realize that Tim is the only person who could have been doing this over the last week. That means he probably knows that you’re his secret admirer, too. Grabbing your car keys, you drive straight to the station, ready to tell Tim it’s been you and you meant every word you said.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Who dropped it off?” Tim demands.

“Sergeant,” the woman begins.

“Don’t tell me that it was a delivery, they have to give a name. I need to know who is giving me this stuff because I can’t accept it!”

You stop in the hallway, listening to Tim’s raised voice as he refuses to accept a gift. 

“I can look into it.”

“Please do,” Tim says, quieter.

Stepping out of the hall and walking toward the bullpen, Tim sees you, and his shoulders drop in relief. He walks to your side and leads you somewhere private to talk.

“You don’t want a secret admirer anymore?” you ask softly, your fingers brushing the edge of the envelope hidden behind your back.

“No.”

“Why not?”

 Tim sighs, rubbing his hand on his jaw before answering, “Because I’m in love with someone else.”

Even though you were sure the letter was from him, you drop your eyes and begin second-guessing yourself. Maybe you mentioned it to someone else, or they just found out. Tim notices your change and steps closer.

“What’s going on?” he asks gently.

“Nothing, I just- I should go.”

You rush out, and Tim can’t chase you because he has to work. He calls and texts you throughout the rest of the afternoon, growing grumpier with each ignored message and ring.

When he finally gets off work, he drives straight to you and knocks on your door, determined to get answers.

“I thought it was you,” you admit, opening the door and not letting him speak. “I was getting letters too and I thought they were from you.”

Tim’s anger dissipates nearly immediately with your soft voice and downcast eyes. “They were. The letters were from me.”

“Then-“

“That’s why I can’t let whoever is sending me such thoughtful gifts continue,” Tim interrupts. “Because I have feelings for you.”

You pull Tim inside, leaning against the door as you say, “But it's all been from me.”

Tim’s eyes widen, and his mouth gapes open as you pass him an envelope. He opens it, nearly choking on air as he sees two tickets to the next Rams game.

“Why didn’t you just tell me at the station?” he asks, looking between you and the tickets before moving toward you.

“You said you were in love with someone else,” you answer with a shrug.

Tim chuckles, letting you see his smile as he bends to look into your eyes. “Because I didn’t know it was you.”

“I was going to tell you. At the game, if you’d let me go.” You fiddle with your fingers until he slides his hand between yours.

“I have a better idea.”

“What?”

Tim sets the tickets on the table behind him. Turning toward you, he takes your face between his hands and kisses you. His slow, languid movements reinforce everything he has expressed through his actions and written words over the past week.

You gasp when his lips meet yours, clutching his shirt in your grasp as you kiss him, letting your actions speak yet again.

“Will you go out with me?” Tim asks, breathless as he pulls back, his hands dropping to your waist. “Some walking angel gave me a few Rams tickets, and I’d love to take you.”

“Depends,” you answer with a hum. “What are your thoughts on secret admirers?”

Tim squeezes your waist gently. “I love mine.”

[vampiretendencies]

come out and haunt me, i know you want me — jj maybank࿐

summary; putting words in jj’s mouth after an unexpected pregnancy has you uneasy about the future of your relationship along with a gnawing emptiness of what jj will think. warnings; pregnancy, one mention of throwing up, suggestive, talks of sex, fluff, all of my characters are always aged up but they had to be in school for this so i set them in high school, as seniors, making them 18. this takes place somewhat in season 3, except JJ’s house never got the eviction notice and they went back to school. also mention of luke. did it this way cause i felt like i was i need of a new setting other the chateau (rip it will be missed :/) pairing; jj maybank x fem!pregnant!reader authors note; decided to put this one out, as i have gotten a lot of requests about dad!jj and i’m giving them a separate masterlist of their own. i figured they needed to be in order lol. so i guess in a way this can be considered the first of dad!jj series. cred to gif owner !

You’re spiraling over the life forming inside of you and JJ—oddly enough is fretting about his class project final. Something that would usually be of no concern to JJ, but he actually wants to pass senior year.

Building an ancient, time-consuming model of some old landscape and having an actual child were two completely different things. From opposite worlds and of varying natures.

Spontaneous cravings all the way down to a late period.

It’s instinct really, to skip school and confirm your suspicions— though, it’s pretty much certain. JJ caught on half way throughout the school day, so wrapped up in this project that he hadn’t noticed you slipping away. Sneaking out of the exit door after throwing up rancid lunch. If he was aware, there’s not a doubt that he would have followed. He was the one that showed you that escape route from the hell site on a monday long ago when school was too much to bare— that was when the two were freshmen, for now they are seniors carrying the weight of the future on their shoulders, including the plus one in your belly.

You’d sobbed profusely into your knees, they were pulled all the way up to your chest on that tiled floor. The detrimental pregnancy test, with two lines, is sat atop JJ’s bathroom counter, taunting you in a manner of ‘now you have to face me.’ Debating whether or not to take this as life altering or life shattering. You knew JJ like every crevice in the palm of his hand, but you could never be set on his reaction for something like this. Always prominent in his ways about 'being in this for the long run', could having a baby change that?

You had to tell him, there was no other way around it. For it's always been a do tell promise that nothing goes unsaid in the relationship.

"What the fuck am I gonna' do?" Is all that curses past your lips repeatedly through choked tears.

The tears are not for the tiny being inside you; its fear. The fear of the unknown, or the uncertainty. So young, so much ahead. A small sliver of a thought that maybe you'd have to do this alone.

Your heart almost falls to the heals of your feet at the doors opening and closing, and the throwing down of book bags. Shakily pressing your finger to the phone that's beside you, the time reading 2:30 PM, meaning school was over and you'd have to get your act together to face JJ. Whom, had left you several missed calls and text messages concerning your whereabouts. Even so, it would be of no surprise to JJ that you were here; basically, here every day and home when you had to be, that's how the story goes. It's imaginable that you'll be sticking around as often as you'd be able to, because telling your parents would indefinitely make them disown you. Having a baby with the Luke Maybank's son and the towns 'well-known kleptomaniac' wouldn't exactly be music to their ears. The only positive in that picture is that Luke's not around, you and JJ have been slumming it in his childhood home since. You'd helped him fix it up so that it would be 'livable', and he adored that someone would cherish him that much to do such things. He'll have another form of adoration, soon enough though.

"JJ, a beer is not gonna' help you get this shit done."

You could hear John B mumble at JJ, and as it would to most curiosity strikes. Taking in the push and pull of the standard refrigerator, not far away, the bathroom, kitchen, and living room all but feet away from each other. Easy access to eavesdrop and hear whatever words were to slither out of someone's mouth. God, you swore the walls were bound to cave in and topple atop of you. You picture John B's mouth agape and disgusted at JJ's lack of focus.

"Get's my brain goin', y'know."

His voice that you'd usually get giddy everywhere from hearing, is now taunting you; making your insides turn to mush. Quick to your feet, you clamp your ear to the chipped door whilst fixing your disheveled hair in the mirror, by tucking it behind your ear and wiping away the salty tears with pad of your thumb. Something JJ would do impulsively. As well as, the little pink and white stick that's knocking the breath from your lungs and tucking it in the back pocket of your printed shorts.

"You ready to start?" John B sighs exasperatedly. Aware that his best friend is never prepared for anything. You aren't sure of what they are 'starting' but you can't help but wonder if JJ's caught on, if he's noticed the tendencies you've acquired since becoming pregnant. Already being hesitant on telling him of the stick you peed on, or that this is going to dictate the course of the rest of his life. Is the new formation of hormones within you causing you to twist words or is it plain truth?

One could only hope.

"M'not even ready yet, need to do so much stuff before I'm ready."

It stings; like multiple daggers had been chided at your heart or a million bee's attacking. This only makes since that he's referring to not wanting to be a father, right? What else could he possibly not be ready for? It's assuming, it's jumping to conclusions, but right now it makes a hell of a lot more sense than anything else. JJ's capable of eons of things, being stuck with you and a baby for the rest of his life may not be in his peripheral. He's confirming it right now, you just heard it with your own two ears.

Unbeknownst to you it was a about a damn silly school project and that he would've stretched time and space to keep his profound little family in one piece. If only he'd known. If only you'd told him.

There were no supplies, no class instructions, to justify that it was only a monumental historic copy for Mr. Sunn's class. Just conversation.

You physically can't allow the words to come out of your mouth, for it will be in the form of word vomit after his resonating and everlasting statement. You can't face him, no, not about the life he helped form. Too soon, and too much. Selfishly, he's not ready but you want to hang onto him a little longer. With JJ is where you reside, and you desire to bury the love he's giving you and harvest it deep down; enough for two. He's not prepared, and all you're hearing is this is this the end of all you've ever known.

World record for misunderstandings.

John B was on the verge of speaking, yet he doesn't when the bathroom door creeks open. You appear in frame, a shell of the person you were moments ago, unevident that you'd shed enough tears for a small river. The hiding is beginning, you decide to swallow it down and keep it there. Dreaming up all the ways you'd have to conceal as huge a secret as this.

Trepidation; of JJ, and for yourself and the baby; blistering, mirroring that of an open scar.

"Is that my girl?!"

You're met with John B sprawled out on the vacant leather couch, another thing Luke destroyed alike with JJ. And, JJ's practically jumping from the recliner and swarming you in a hug that makes you form a half enticing grin whilst smothering you into his large chest. His sleeveless arms bulking in size at this gesture.

"Great, now we really aren't gonna' get anything done," John B grabs at his temples in annoyance. The partnered project supposed to be the focus of today. Conscious of the fact that anytime you are around JJ loses all logic because you become the center of attention. As if half his brain flies out the window he's so invested in you, rather than anything else. He gives up on any aspiration that this replica will be finished. You still saunter on about what exactly they 'have to get done', but they are almost always up to something. JJ's out of context words were what gave need be, and you were fixed on that.

"What happened today? Been thinkin' about you like crazy."

"Nurse sent me home."

You fib so harshly that is burns past your lips, the lie is so loud you're amazed he didn't see through it. You mumble into his chest has him releasing you, only to cup your cheeks in a squishing manner. He’s disastrously anguished to maul you with affection, but he decided to spare John B the show.

"Everything alright?"

And he tries to read your wandering eyes, but still taut eye contact is there so he thinks nothing of it. It is when you won't look at him that he's concerned, however you still do.

An 'act normal' practically engraved in your thoughts. When you really want to break away from his hold and run for the hills.

"Just a bad lunch."

"Yeah, that school meatloaf'll get you, baby."

Blonde fluffed out tresses catch glance and your mixed up mind is pondering on what color hair the baby will have. Will the small child be a constant reminder that their dad 'wasn't ready?" Stood together in the open space of his connecting hallway, you'll look back on this in utter agony.

"She told me to rest."

You mutter it softly whilst JJ has a stupid lovesick grin plastered on his face, peering down at you like you are his lifeline. And you're peering up at him, with a small glint and awareness that he'd be gone with the wind when you reveal the surreptitious unknown.

"Want me to come with you? I'll have this wrapped up in like ... five minutes," he's eager that you'll say yes, mustering a middle finger at John B who is sighing in vexation. What he would give to pass senior year, John B fully know's he'll have to beg Pope to do this for the both of them.

It's an immediate no, he's 'not ready', therefore a cuddle is the last thing that needs to happen. Maybe if you wouldn't have eavesdropped you could've just lived in ignorance bliss.

Though it was never the truth.

"No!," you somewhat interject, keeping the cause of all this in mind. "No J, m'really tired, finish what you were doing yeah?"

His grin immediately falls to a pout, he can't force you if you won't let him. Instead he says nothing, shaking his head 'yes' with knitted eyebrows. Pulling your cupped cheeks in closer to feather multiple light pecks to your hairline, each one more eternal that the last.

With recollection that you'd be gulping down this hard to swallow pill on your own.

Coping; all you can manage to do.

Between punching multiple hard to find holes in your bedroom walls and covering them up with posters to gut-wrenching, pillow-screaming whimpers.

How does one ever truly 'get ready' for bringing a new life into this sought out world?

You'd been wallowing in the despair of having to be both a mother and a father, with JJ saying such things— it's nearly certain he'll be out of the picture.

Alike with you, avoiding him on any given occasion.

Saturdays were date night and he consistently topped the last date, because even if schedules weren't aligning throughout the week he'd have that day to make it up to you, how ever he saw fit.

You ditched.

Texting something about, 'parents are on my ass, can't come tonght.'

On all occasions you found a way despite your parents thoughts, so JJ's suspicion is growing like immovable fire.

With that being said, a day later, he was secure in providing you with a loving semi-guilt trip, along the lines of 'if you don't come over tonight you are confirming that you don't love me anymore,' with a dauting smiley face.

Such a baby, unfortunate that he's not prepared for one because they would've gotten along just fine.

The reasoning behind why you are hopelessly distant from JJ in his twin sized bed. He's grumbling and mumbling after you pushed him away with a 'm'too hot right now.' Blankets thrown about in such a dimly lit room, his vivdly colored TV played a miscellaneous movie whilst his bedside table lamp joined in with its yellow toned rays.

His arms behind his head, colliding with the headboard in such a sensous way, shirtless figure scanning yours in yearning. Jesus, he just wanted to delve into your skin.

How could he ever resist you.

If he can't consume you with his fondling embrace, he will caress what's in reach.

Touching hard on his thoughts, whilst the likelihood of raising a baby on your own is arising in yours.

It's roaring loudly, along with the reality that you hid it from him.

What would've been the right thing to do?

A wash of panic prods, with JJ's lingering touch now against your skin. His digits dance like clockwork, ghosting your inner thigh. Before you can even retch out a 'stop' he's beneath the material of your old Bait Shop t-shirt that he lended you. Palming the skin expertly, and while he's at it he inches closer with his breath thick against your ear. Your mouth ran dry, lying still and flat in awkwardness, prying your focus on the random film. The small twin bed not giving you enough time or space to come up with another excuse.

"Missed you so much."

His voice is raspy against your ear, igniting every filament of your body that belonged to him. The hold he had on you, sickening and you are conversant with what's about to leave his mouth.

The more he keeps circling, and clinging to the small mound of your stomach, the more his mind goes blank. It had this particular bludge to it and he can writhe it beneath his fingertips. Horror fills your irises, whilst a bewildering form of fascination filled his.

There's no right way to ask as woman if their stomach has gotten bigger or if they've been eating more. That's like asking to get beat with a bat. You just don't.

JJ has foraged every unreachable portion that molds you and that ... that wasn't there.

That undeniable little Goddamn baby bump wasn’t there.

He’s studied you inside and out, and that just wasn’t there.

It’s freshly shaped and growing with glee.

His repeated motions are coming to a halt and they pause directly in the middle. Feeling for what he deemed this to be.

What the fuck? It runs rampant in his mind— not negatively he just doesn’t know what to think, how to say it, or how to not come off as a complete dick by asking what he’s about to ask.

“Your belly is more round than usual.”

Merely thought out, and not too harsh. Just stating the obvious at the rounded baby bump that’s colliding with his calloused ring-clad fingers. The entirety of his large hand sprawled out in separated fingers. He sits straight up, hairs on the nape of his neck screeched outwardly.

“M’ a bit bloated.”

You don’t take his words to heart as it’s obviously not from that. You smile, lying through your teeth once again. And JJ senses it, this is as pregnant a stomach if he’s ever touched one. His hands fall backward, beaming down at you in longing that you’ll change your answer.

“Bloated baby? That’s— that’s not … bloated.”

There’s no interest in continuing on with this facade he’s felt it, he’s not a complete idiot. What informed John B of chants wickedly and is beckoning you not tell him. You’ve found you way back to his room with reason, so what’s the use in hiding it anymore. The bump would’ve become more noticeable anyway, you couldn’t have gotten away with it forever.

“M’pregnant J.”

You are seated upward now, facing him whilst reaching for his large hands to take them into your smaller ones. Shared hands, facing eachother in criss crossed stances on that same old twin mattress. He shakes his head back in forth in disbelief— how is this real?

“W-what?! When did you find out? How?— shit. I mean I know how … there was the time in the bathroom at the Wreck … and that one time in the twinkie … and-and let’s not forget about the time in the kitchen-“

“J, that’s not important right now, focus.”

You remind in interruption, nagging off his antics about the shared sexual rendezvous. The only only thing … the only fucking thing JJ feels right now is sheer euphoria at the moment he gets to meet the little baby.

Always envisioning of being a father and giving his children all the love he had stored away from the beckoning of Luke. The love he got from his father was convenient love, and after every fight his dreams of the future family he could have grew tenfold.

“We’re having a fuckin’ baby?!”

The fact the you didn’t tell him beforehand is in the back of his mind, but he’s overlooking it in sheer elation. Joy for what’s to come. For even that promise to tell each other everything is not enough to ruin this moment for him.

“Yes, J.”

“Let me see!”

He’s anxiously lifting the bottom of the shirt up, revealing a plump baby bump purging outwordly. And a toothy shit eating grin is plastered on his sweet lips, awe is evident and he’s stricken with amazement. You couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, a better lover. Breezing past the part of him not being ready, because clearly you read into things too deeply if this is his truthful response. And it is, it’s so genuine you feel it in your bones. As he’s colliding his hands with your stomach once more, and connecting his lips with yours in celebration. Molding and mixing them together with ease, an effortless depiction of besot.

If only he could frame this and let it drift on for eternity.

“Carrying our baby so perfect, pretty girl.”

Letting this little heavenscent angel inside of you be a reminder that misunderstandings are a bitch.

reblog to support your favorite writers | © 2023 IDCNTLIKEDARNKNESS

[vioartemis]

I love her so much...

(Jenna Ortega x fem! reader)

Summary: After she comes home late in the night, Jenna and you have a fight Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 2 [au] Request is here :)) Warnings: angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

You had been Jenna's girlfriend for almost two years, but lately, your relationship wasn't at its best. Rather at its worse actually. She had been ignoring you lately, and it was starting to be difficult to deal with.

You were alone at your shared appartement, in tears, when the doorbell rang. You got up shakily and made your way to the door, opening it for the girl behind it.

"Hey..." she said

"Hey..." you replied

You stepped to the side so she could enter, but quickly broke down in her arms.

"I don't know what to do Emma... I can't... I can't do this anymore..."

The girl held you close and rubbed your back, before leading you to the couch where you could both sit.

"I know, I understand... Maybe..." she bit her lip

"What...?"

"If you wait for her to come home you could talk, get things straight..."

"I don't even know if she will come home tonight..."

"It's okay, I'm sure she will... I'll stay with you until then if you want..."

"Yes please..."

Time passed by, and quickly it was 2am.

As you were still crying in Emma's arms, you heard the door of your appartement open, followed by footsteps. Jenna was home. Finally.

She entered the room, putting her keys back in her bag, and froze and she saw you.

"Where the fuck where you?" you asked

"Are you cheating on me?"

You couldn't believe your ears. Did she really asked that?

"I should probably go..." Emma said, getting up

"No, stay" you tell her, before turning to your girlfriend "You're seriously asking me if I am cheating on you?"

To everyone's surprise, you let out a laugh.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. You've been ignoring me for weeks, and I am the one who's cheating? You get up so early and come back so late I don't even see you anymore! And when you don't you spend all your time with Percy! "

"I'm sick of your jealousy Y/n! I told you there's nothing between Percy and I-"

"I know!" you cut her off "But you spend all your time with him! It's like I don't exist anymore! Do you even care about me? About us?"

"Of course I do!"

"Okay then. What day is it?"

"What? I don't know the... the 4th of July?"

"And?"

"And what?"

"What. Day. Is. It?" you repeated, throat tight

She stayed silent. You could tell she was thinking hard. Which hurt you even more.

"I- I don't know, Y/n."

You chuckled, whipping the tears in your eyes with shaky hands. You wanted to believe she would remember. You wanted to believe you were important to her. She just crushed all your hopes.

"It's our anniversary, Jenna. Was our anniversary, considering that it's 2am now. You really do care a lot, huh?"

You watched as realization hit her. Maybe she did care a little after all.

"So you spent our anniversary with Emma?"

Or not.

"Don't try to turn the situation around. I spent all day waiting for you. I had everything planned. I thought we would finally be able to be together and talk about us." you felt your anger rising "I called you 27 times. 27 fucking times Jenna. You never picked up, not once. I texted you too. Still no answer. So yes, I called Emma. It was already past midnight. I called her once, and guess what? She answered and came, even at that time."

You had to take a deep breath to prevent tears from rolling down your cheeks.

"Y/n I'm sorry I was-"

"With Percy? Figured that out."

"No it's not-"

"Jesus, Jenna! Stop trying to find excuses! Stop pretending that you care about us! You didn't even remember it was our anniversary!"

"Of course I care I- there's just... a lot going on right now... But I love you Y/n..."

You couldn't help another chuckle to escape your throat.

"No, you don't love me! You ignore my calls, my texts, you don't kiss me anymore, you don't talk to me anymore, you don't even look at me anymore! How can you say you love me when you do all that...?"

"I do! I- I love you I-"

"If you really loved me you would've picked up. Read my texts. Answered me in any way. But you didn't, Jenna. You left me alone on the day of our anniversary, crying all the tears in my body when I understood you wouldn't come."

"But I didn't know! If I knew you were crying I would've-"

"Of course you didn't know. How would you know, considering you barely say hello to me these days? And what would you have done? Taking me in your arms, telling me everything would be okay, even though we both know it's not true?"

"N-no I- I would've... I would've..."

She too had tears in her eyes now. She was hurt, and it only made things worst for you. But you had to. You couldn't continue living like this.

"It's too late, Jenna. I- I can't..."

"What...?"

"I can't keep up doing this." you took another deep breath, fist clenched hard "It's over, Jenna."

It hurt you to do this, but she didn't leave you any other choice. This relationship had become toxic, and for your own good, you had to end it.

"What...?" she repeated "N-no Y/n wait..."

You took a little box out of your pocket and threw it at her. She caught it, confused.

"Here, your anniversary gift."

You then walked past her, to the door.

"What are you doing...?" the brunette asked, her voice trembling

"I'm leaving." you had to make an insane effort not to cry "I'll be back tomorrow to pack my things."

You didn't wait for an answer and got out of the appartement, Emma following you.

Deep down, you hoped she would burst out of the flat and follow you, try to hold you back, do anything that could prove she still loved you. But she didn't.

You arrived on the sidewalk without anyone to stop you. That did it for you.

You broke down again, in the middle of the street, letting all the tears flood down your cheeks, all the sadness, the pain, out. Your heart was in million pieces.

And again, Emma took you in her arms, patting your back gently.

Jenna didn't move from her previous position, in the middle of your living room. She was devastated, tears rolling down her cheeks. She never meant to push you away. She felt like she had ruined everything. And it was the truth. She did.

She wanted to run after you, tell you she was sorry, tell you she would try to be better, to be more here, anything that could make you come back. But her legs weren't working. No matter how hard she tried to move, she couldn't.

Her own incapacity to do anything only made her cry more. With a cry, she finally managed to move and stumbled to the window.

And what she saw really broke her.

You, in Emma's arms, again. You were crying, again, because of her.

She loved you, she really did. But all she did was hurting you lately. She didn't deserve you. You didn't deserve to be with someone like her.

Maybe it was better if she didn't try to hold you back...

You wanted to run back to her, hold her tight, kiss her, tell her you didn't mean it, tell her you loved her... But you couldn't. It was simply not good for you.

Your cries only intensified at the thought.

"Y/n..."

"I love her so much..." you cried out, voice hoarse from crying

"I know... I know..."

[Next part] || [Next part [au]]

[fishsticksloser]

Crush Pt 2

Donnie x gn!reader

Warnings: angst (once again just Donnie's feelings), comfort, fluff, human!reader inferred, swearing, NO TCEST

A/N: The requested part 2. I have so many Donnie requests right now, trying to space them out... I'm gonna go watch the FNAF movie today!!!

Previous | Next

Donnie sits in his lab, fingers strumming against the desk. He stares at the pile of parts you'd managed to find for him. The newest one made his head spin, it could only be found in the Hidden City, this meant you went down to find it for him. You probably had to go to a bunch of places to get one in such good condition.

But you couldn't possibly have a crush on him. His brothers were imagining it.

Leo pointed out that you started wearing purple. Which of course Donnie noticed, but he tried to say that maybe you just liked it. Raph followed up with saying that you hardly ever wore purple before now.

"Its a sign" So Mikey and Leo said.

Donnie wasn't buying it.

Mikey pointed out that you were wearing lighter purples which are associated with with light-hearted, romantic feelings. He also brought attention to the fact that Donnie also started wearing lighter purples. Which Donnie quickly turned attention away from.

⋆｡ ﾟ｡☁︎👾｡ ﾟ｡⋆

"Why won't you even consider that they might actually have a crush on you?" Leo asks as he lounges in Donnie's lab while he works.

"It's simply out of the question." Donnie answers, as it that was a good enough answer. He looked at his twin for a moment, seeing the look on Leo's face. "I have hardly any redeeming qualities. The ones I do... Probably shouldn't be considered."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Leo sits up and frowns at Donnie. He rolls his chair over to Donnie, ready to give him a talking to. "You realize that you're actually likeable, right? We just joke around about each other."

"Sure, sure." Donnie rolls his eyes and turns back to his work. Unfortunately, Leo managed to keep him from turning, making Donnie face him. Donnie huffs and glares at Leo. "Just like the time you made sure I was taken by bats so I 'didn't ruin another mission'? Or reprogramming Shelldon to prove that my inventions suck?"

"Okay, that last one I admit was a bit far..." Leo sighs, looking at his twin with pleading eyes. "But you're my best friend, my twin. I wouldn't be sitting silently in your lab if I didn't like you, you know how hard it is for me to sit still and be quiet." Donnie smiles a little at Leo's last statement, letting out a weak snort, which makes Leo continue more passionately. "You're the opposite of me. In almost every way, but that's what makes us work. Sure I'm charismatic and insanely attractive... But you're mysterious, stoic, and fucking genius."

"And those are redeeming qualities?" Donnie asks, genuinely wanting to know. Did those things pull you to be attracted to him? Were those qualities really attractive?

"Absolutely!" Leo says, shaking Donnie a little. But then Leo stops to think for a second. "Well... They might think you hate them now."

"What?" Donnie replies, eyes wide. "Why? Did I do something?" He's panicking now. He had to fix this. He had to finally admit that you might maybe have a crush on him.

"You have been pretty... Guarded lately. You've been kind of blunt and mean to them, we've-"

Donnie stands up and rushes out of the lab quickly to resolve the issue. He quickly went to your place, not even knocking. He slipped in through the window, seeing you cooking dinner.

"You think I hate you?" Donnie asks softly, making you jump.

"I should really put a lock on the window..." You laugh anxiously. Donnie frowns at you for avoiding his question. "I didn't think it was out of the question."

"I'm sorry, that was never my intention." He murmurs, moving closer to you. You stare at him, a little shocked. He's apologizing? And sounds sincere? "I've been... Fighting my emotions. I guess I didn't realize I was taking it out on you."

"I don't understand..." You reply, brows furrowed as you look up at him. The look in his eyes is much different, softer than they had been recently.

"My brothers say you have a crush on me?" Donnie asks like he's wanting reassurance, wanting confirmation that these rumors where in fact true. You nod, even more confused. "I've been... Fighting with believing that... And with understanding how I feel about you."

You stare at him still, finally the pieces click. "Oh..." You whisper in realization, adverting your gaze for a moment to collect yourself. "So that's what Leo's text meant..." Donnie cocked his head a little before you showed the text.

Mayday! Donnie is about to explode emotionally!

Donnie rolls his eyes at his brother's text, but then looks at you. "So... What does this mean for us?" He questions quietly.

"I would like to... Figure this out with you, if that's something you'd be interested in."

"Sounds intriguing... I'm in."

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi!

I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all of your COD fics! Your Price fics made me fall in love with him (I saw a recommendation for See No Evil on TikTok and just went down the rabbit hole from there (it’s also my comfort fic)) and Laughing Poets made me buy Ghosts for Keegan. Your writing is so beautiful and poetic and has inspired me to start writing again after a really bad writing’s block!

I also did want to put in a request for Ghost (because I love him so much) but given his hype, I understand if you don’t want to write for him or if it may be hard. But I was hoping that this hasn’t been done before (much) and that I could read it in your words since you are so amazing!

I was thinking of the reader being a CIA agent that was working undercover to get classified information and 141 was sent in to extract her after she was compromised. And her and Ghost don’t really get along at first, like they don’t hate each other but they could just care less about one another. But then they get separated and one of them is injured and the other fights tooth and nail to get to them, realizing how much they care. I was thinking that her callsign could be ‘Reaper’ but it can be anything else if it fits better. It can be angsty (because that’s the absolute best genre), fluffy, nsfw, whatever you want to do with it.

I know this is asking a bit much and I’m sorry for that. Feel free to change it as you see fit and do whatever you want with it, if you want to do it. I really appreciate and love your work!! Thank you!!

'Til it Hurts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: This duology will be 18+ and contain the following: intense gore, blood, violence, vulgar language, angst, fluff, suggestive content, (smut, p in v sex, virgin!reader (relevant to plot) all in part 2), abuse of power in the past, toxic working environment in the past, copious flashbacks, soft!simon because I love him like that (I guess considered ooc), banter, etc...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted tomorrow after I edit it and the link will be added to this part as well for ease of access. But, anna, that's wild that people post about my work on tiktok, lmfao. I'm so glad I helped you out of that writer's block, though! Enjoy part 1, Love (I did change it around a bit)!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You often think of the friends you had when you were six. The neighborhood you grew up in was full of other kids your age, and there was practically a horde of young boys and girls outside at any given moment. Early mornings were ripe for adventures – ears perking up from your pillows at the sound of bird songs and lawnmowers like an instinctual call to cause mischief. Days would run long and nights would end late with games of tag. 

It was inevitable, at this point in your life, to not think about where your friends would be now. Were they happy? Starting families and getting married on island resorts; white sand underfoot and a gentle lapping of ocean water? You’d lost contact a long, long, time ago – never bothered to get back in touch, though you know things might be better if you had. 

God, you’d never have friends like that again. 

Selfless. Genuine. Without competition or a need to stab each other in the back. Friendships built on a childlike innocence that was never meant to stay or grow with the brutal stretch of years. People mature. They harden, sharpen. 

They break themselves to fit a mold of what they want to be without even realizing…Or maybe that was just how you grew up. 

Your feet pound against the cobblestone streets of Bergamo, Italy, as you make your way through the packed road of the Upper Old District. Under your chin, your fingers go up to grasp the scarf around your neck and pull the thick navy fabric up farther. Fast eyes flicker over faces as a fake plastered smile splays over your lips, and your jaw holds a tension that seeps into your shoulders.

Keep the act up, you have to remind yourself, fingers heavy at your hips, don’t let the facade slip, or else it’s over before it begins.

At your sides, past the unending sea of loudly speaking humans and loyal animals alike, the broad expanse of ancient architecture calls to the history of this city; red-terracotta roofing, extravagant greenery, and pillars as tall as the buildings themselves. A picturesque land filled with mysteries lost to time, stories never told beyond the scratch of a pen and moth-eaten parchment. 

A city now filled with killers. 

“Sitrep,” you grunt into the open channel, the earpiece fizzling as it sits in the clutch of your canal. No one answers and, slipping past a family of tourists, you glare at the ground; heart going so fast you feel like it could jump-start a car. “Damnit!”

The seconds draw on and as you pick up the pace, now shoving your way through the crowd, you feel eyes on you. Slithering over your skin like oil. 

Not good. 

Shit. Karver, where did you go!? 

Karver ‘Rigs’ Massarini was an informant – someone who’d been giving you everything that you needed to know about the cell in this area; along with a grouping of eyewitnesses to a stash of ICBMs. A stash that could do some serious damage if they stayed here with the wrong people. Intel suggests that those very missiles were going to be shipped off to Mexico in only a few days, smuggled across the border into United States territory with the intent of doing some pretty awful stuff and framing the US. 

If you and Rigs weren’t quick with this, so many innocents would suffer.

You’d already gotten into contact with Mexican Special Forces yourself, warning Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra of a possible breach and to watch for any unregistered shipments on the docks or coming in from the air. 

But now Rigs was missing, and you had a funny feeling you were being trailed. 

Back alley. You take a quick right, boots slamming to the ground and heart hammering. Get away from the civvies in case someone decides to go trigger-happy. 

This cell was known for being deadly, Mr. Massarini had sent the file over to CIA headquarters before you were shipped out; Laswell had set you on it right away without even taking the time to read it entirely.

“Extremely high Kinetic; I’m giving you full Execute Authority on this, Reaper. We’re running out of time. Find those missiles.” 

Torture, kidnappings, mutilations, the list went on for this group and how far they would go to keep secrets. No one had gotten any clear insight as to what their motives were – just that they needed to be put down in exactly the ways they had been doing to others. Ruthlessly, before they grew bigger or spread their influence beyond borders, and created a group that could rival what Al-Qatala had been. 

So that was where you came in. 

God, you wished Farah and Alex were here with you – at the very least you could rely on them to help, even if you sectioned yourself off from others more than a dying cat. There was a reason you preferred being sent in alone with only your wits.  

Mostly because of situations like this.

“Rigs, sitrep. Where are you,” you try again, the close walls shrouding in your shadows. Throwing looks over your shoulders, you take down deep breaths, a growl gradually digging itself a hole in your esophagus. Desperately, you say, “I’m heading back to the safe house ASAP. Wait for me there.” 

Your right hand gravitates to your pocket, slipping through the fabric and pushing aside the ripped seam at the bottom. The sheath at your thigh pinches you with every step, but you’ve endured it for years, calluses breeding where the leather had chaffed the flesh to toughness. To an ingrained perfection. Flinching when your fingers bump against the handle, the metal adornments feel cool to the touch despite the sweat dripping down your spine; temperature and nerves leaving your palms sweaty. 

None of this was going to plan.

You caress the small Dirk blade strapped to you, and when the first footsteps enter the alleyway behind you, your hand clenched into a loose fist around it. Your eyebrows pull tight with annoyance.

Taking a slow breath as the trailing stranger begins to move faster, you take a corner, halting the second you were out of sight. You nonchalantly turn on your heel and lean into the wall, feeling your body conform to the building and the stone dig into your back. 

The material is cold, and as you raise your Dirk up, you flip the blade parallel to your forearm, wrist lax, and fingers still. A slow breath flows from your barely-parted lips. 

3 seconds. You don’t blink, only gazing out across the space and noticing the dark shadow gaining ground. 2…1…

Your body jerks forward, free hand snapping out and grasping the fabric of a shirt. Twisting your hips, you plant your feet and wrench the stranger around the corner, breath coming out in a loud snarl. Without a shout, you have the person’s back shoved to the building in an instant, blade held above an Adam’s Apple. 

A man, then.

“I’m going to give you one full minute.” Your Italian was only surface level – far better at understanding others than speaking full sentences. But you think whoever this man is comes to a conclusion well enough. “Before I cut you open and watch the life spill from your eyes.”

You don’t recognize this person, his sharp face or dark, sly, eyes, and with a quick assessment of his large stature you figure out he’s the basic definition of a man sent to complete a job. One that would have left you dead if you were anything less than a contracted CIA Agent on a job. You had been trained among the best from your time in the Marines – years on Special Ops forces; taking point. Even if they were the worst times of your life, you still learned a great deal from them, particularly, how to know when to cut your losses. 

With one look into his smug face, you know that this stranger would tell you nothing. 

Your lips formed a grimace, teeth flashing under flesh at the rod-straight form of the man under you. He was smirking with eyes seeming to be laughing at you. Arrogant. Self-assured. 

“You’ll get nothing out of me, Reaper. We are already on your trail.” Your head tilts, a numb huff escaping your throat and pushing the individual's hair back as a breeze would. There was a small pause; tiny shiftings of your feet as your blade digs ever deeper. 

A thin trail of blood falls from the placement, and your muscles writhe under the epidermis. There’s no thought behind the laugh that enters the air, that cold, dark, thing that’s more of a bark from a hellhound. It was just a realization that no matter where you went, there could never be anything unique anymore. Everyone was always the same. 

“You’ll never get it out of me-”

“Break my bones; rip my flesh, you will never make me talk-”

“If you want to see me beg, you’ll be disappointed-”

There were countless memories you could bring to the precipice of your mind and re-live; moments ingrained into your psyche like a tattoo is to skin. So you can only smile and nod, scarf swishing around your neck. The man looks confused now, if not slightly nervous. That self-assured attitude leaking to the ground. Eyes as dark as obsidian beginning to snap back and forth – looking for a saving grace in the make-up of ancient stone that wasn’t going to come. 

You wondered how many people had died in this city throughout history. The stories lost to time. Have these alleys seen war? Famine?

Have they seen murder? 

But you are a woman of your word. A minute passes in tense silence, your eyes never leaving his own and ears carefully in tune, twitching like an antenna, to the joyous shouts and laughter just a street over. Here you wait like a rat in a trap, though you like to believe yourself more of the metal Hammer than the unknowing participant in a dance of death and wits.

You tighten your grip on your Dirk, shrugging up at the man. Your face is nonchalant as an understanding smile grows. As simple as a server at a restaurant.

“I believe you.” And you run the knife’s edge across his flesh like a match to a striker before he can scream.

Stepping back, you’re suddenly thankful for the scarf over your sweat-slick neck because as the spray of blood splatters over your nose bridge and forehead, you swipe it away with one of the ends of the thick fabric. You let the body drop, watching large hands snap to the gushing wound like that alone would stop the cold grip of death. 

Your mark has been met. 

The External Carotid Artery was easy enough to cut, though you had to dig deep for it, and it seemed the man had moved mid-slice. Frowning while the man gasps and gurgles; flails as a fish would, you study your work as you flick the blade clear of blood. Your brows furrow. 

“Nicked the Thyroid Cartilage, hm.” Sighing and shaking your head, you sheathe the Dirk and twist on your feet, still intent on making your way back to the hotel safe house and trying to find a lead on Rigs. The slumping of a body reverberates a moment later, a grandiose death rattle, and still, only a street over you hear animated conversations – the bustle of traveling feet, and the sound of the breeze. 

You often think about the friends you had when you were six. But, now, instead of being the one who fought off the monsters at the ends of the beds, you had become it. The monster. The boogeyman. 

The Reaper. 

Oh, what would they think of you now? 

You swipe at the blood along your fingertips, seeing the red bleed under your nails with such a numb feeling that it scares you more than anything. Taking down a gathering of saliva that feels more like a slug in your throat, you wonder when you lost the ability to value human life. Of course, the answer was slated in those early years in Special Ops, but you don’t dwell on those times. 

In fact, it was better if you never thought of them at all. 

Taking a left, you hum a tune under your breath and listen to the birds sing as the blood dries. 

—

The meeting room wasn’t even a room, just a vacant air-craft hangar that had been fitted out with two rows of metal fold-out chairs and a projector. Shadows danced over the floor, long streaks of darkness over concrete. 

“...I’ll be giving you full Execute Authority – but this mission is completely Black. Host weapons only. No Evac team.” Laswell’s voice echoes off the ceiling, and Ghost’s eyes flow over the projected intel, memorizing the faces and locations with nothing more than a blink of his blue eyes. Fluttering eyelashes caress the hard material of his mask before settling. 

Task Force 141 was being sent off on another deployment again, deep into Belarus and near the Russian border.

“Time frame?” The Captain asks, standing a small distance away and leaning against a crate of ammunition. His arms are crossed; jaw is loosely set. 

Kate looks at him, above the heads of Gaz and Soap, and nods her head before she comments, “one week.”

Gaz huffs from ahead of the hulking form of Ghost, and the silent man shifts his attention back to the group. 

“One week, Kate? No offense, but we don’t even know if the bastard’s in Belarus.”

“‘fraid to get dirty there, Garrick? Ah, we’re good enough for it.” Soap elbows the male at his side, and the masked man releases a puff of breath one row back. The Scot twists in his seat, mohawk tendrils falling over his forehead, and smirks. “C’mon Lt. back me up here. We’ve got this in the bag already.”

“Bit confident, Johnny?” Ghost grunts out, accented voice low and muffled from under the black fabric over his lips. His hips shift over the chair, legs splayed and arms crossed as he reclines back; letting the bulk of his gear weigh heavy. “Just wait until you’ve got us sitting on a pile of dry leads and rotting corpses.”

“Eh, nothin’ we haven’t dealt with before.”

“Focus, you three.” Kate interrupts as Gaz rolls his eyes to himself, fixing his ball cap over his head with a fast flick of his wrist at the antics of the other two. “You’re going to be shipped out at 2000–”

An easily recognizable ringtone starts to play. 

Blinking in surprise, Laswell takes a glance at the table that had been long forgotten and spies her phone buzzing over the metal. Her light brown hair, kept securely tied back, swished at the nape of her neck. She wastes no time.

Briskly walking over, the rest of the men in the room watched intently, heads perked up. Ghost couldn’t stop the pique of interest at the strange behavior, though his form remains still, only making a noise under his breath in contemplation. In the hold of his crossed arms, his fingers tighten.

“Not the person I’d imagine keeps her phone on for just anyone…” Gaz makes a slow comment, and John slides up beside him, hands hooking onto the sides of his combat vest. Watching. 

“Hm,” their command affirms.  

 Kate picks up her phone and immediately answers, brows furrowed. She shifts her weight as an inhalation reverberates. The conversation on the other side was too muffled, a small droaning the only signal that someone was on the opposite.

Unconsciously, Ghost straightens in his chair as the rolled-back sleeves of his undershirt leave his black ink tattoos on display. A deep intrigue spilled in his chest but otherwise, he was still focused on the previous instructions for the next Op. This was just another cog in the wheel, perhaps a location change for their safe house, or an accelerated timeline. No matter, they would get it done regardless–

“Reaper?” Laswell speaks, and blue eyes slide to stare at the Captain, whose legs had tensed. “What’s happened–” 

The Lieutenant knows something was wrong just by the simple fact that he’d never seen their Station Chief talk on her personal phone with that look on her face before – he’d seen it mirrored on the Captain and he’d clocked it from her just as simply. The wrinkled skin at the side of her eyes, and stiff-set lips peeled back in a frown. She’d always been serious, but the air was different. 

Reaper? He runs through the database of his mind and ignores Gaz’s and Johnny’s muttered words and glances. 

“Now who do you think that is, then?” Soap grunts out. Ghost doesn’t answer.

Brows furrow. 

Sounds familiar, the man can’t help but admit. 

“Patch me through. Now.” Kate slips to the computer a few steps away and opens a fresh tab, sorting through files and months of intel as if it mattered just as much as a bug under her heel.

“Kate?” Price prompts. The woman only holds up a finger and keeps the phone in between her shoulder and cheek, hands fast across the keys. 

Soon enough, a feed pops up on the projector, and the three previously sitting all rise to their feet in an instant. 

An open wound is in the process of being stitched and displays itself over the entire available space, violent red internal flesh puckering over the edges of…Ghost narrows his eyes, unphased.

Was that a fabric needle and thread being used for sutures? Resourceful, he admits.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” The manchester man levels thought the blandness of the tone contradicts itself. “Where’s this feed from, Laswell?”

“What the fuck…?” Soap growls out, and the Scot blinks at the screen in shock as the Brit beside him lets off a sound of disgust akin to a sick cat. 

“Reaper, sitrep.” Kate doesn’t flinch, rushing off into procedure as steady hands delve back into flesh, blood falling from their fingers like water to splatter to a rundown wooden table. The world-away computer was most likely getting a rain of crimson all over the keys at this rate. 

Price grunts under his breath. 

“Shit,” a distinctly feminine voice wafts out, a harsh sigh held back, though the annoyed tone was noticed immediately, “can’t a girl stitch herself up in peace? Besides, Watcher-1 answer me this, huh?” The computer is jerked, its screen going staticky as Ghost watches with roving eyes to take in the background when the visibility returns. A bed, nightstand, and sitting by the floor of the front door, copious amounts of weapons. The man takes stock – an M13 assault rifle, X12 handgun, and Arctic .50 sniper rifle. Ammunition lines the floor in a way that leaves Ghost’s lips thinning under the mask. 

Someone’s in a hurry. But from what?

“…what goddamn hotel doesn’t have mirrors in it?” Kate’s sigh can be heard a mile away. “No, I’m being serious here, Watcher – how the hell does that happen?” 

Watching you take a step back, Ghost as well as the other three all blink in surprise when you come into view. Your top was off, only a sports bra covering your flesh, as your focus stays on the digging needle you send into yourself over and over. 

Yet again a feeling of intense familiarity strikes the Brit in the chest. Your soft face, your hair, your voice. It was infuriating.

Who are you? The inability to call forth a memory leaves the fists at his sides gradually clenching under his gloves. 

“Reaper.” Seriousness grows in the Agent’s voice, and Price lets out a slow chuckle that leaves Gaz turning to him in confusion. 

“Sir?” But the inquiry is ignored.

“Still as stubborn as ever, then, Reap?” Everyone sees your hurried stitches stop, head snapping up as they clock a veiled panic behind the iris’. 

Your eyes tell all the story they need, and Ghost’s body freezes as the color evokes a physical twitching of his hand. 

“Holy hell,” he utters under his breath so silently no one even realizes he spoke; eyelids pulling back before settling like nothing had even happened.

“You know, you're the first person who’s been nice to me out here.”

“...Then I’d tell you to get better friends, Sergeant. I’m not sticking around.”

“I never said they were my friends, Ghost, and I never expected you to stay, anyways. That’s not how this works.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Bravo-06?” You ask, voice sometimes cutting out over the line. A laugh breaks out, and a small smirk twitches the corners of your lips, “Hey, Old Man, how’s it going over there? Been a while.”

“What have you got yourself into now?” Price asks, chuckling under his breath with a groaned continuation, “and how do you need me to get you out of it?”

The spectral man now watches with a newfound fervency, blue eyes boiling so violently that if anyone had seen, they would have thought he was about to attack. Like a split second of eye contact with a wolf before it rushes. The build of his shoulders was still loose, however, and the only indication of shock was his optics; the mask shrouded all. 

But there was a subtle movement of his hips, feet transferring over the floor to stand shoulder-length apart.

“Oh, this,” you point to your injury with a free finger, tying off a knot on the last line of sutures. “Nah, it’s nothing. A couple of assholes tried to get the jump on me a block back, one had a knife on ‘em.” Your hand tosses the needle and thread to the table, a muttered, thunk, sounding off. Looking down at your work with a raised brow, everyone watches. “Took care of it – they gave me a name, too, but with the trail of bodies I left today, I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t pan out.” 

A pause before you turn your head back up, face now completely serious as you focus on Laswell. 

“But we have a bigger problem, Watcher. Rigs is gone; I think my position’s compromised. I’m going black.” Your form leans to the side, and a wrinkled t-shirt is thrown over your head. From your mouth, a stifled groan releases. Ghost blinks in surprise.

The Captain’s lips thin, and he looks at a tight-wound Kate. 

“I have a contact in the lower levels, Reaper, meet up with her and she can have you out of the city by tonight. I’ll send over her info.”

“No can do, Watcher.” You sigh, and Ghost simply stares, following your figure as you back up, heading to the X12 and shimmying it into the back of your pants before looking over your shoulder. Kate hums under her breath. “If they’ve got Rigs,” Walking quickly back over to the computer, one of your hands grasps the top of the frame, thumb poking out from the corner. You tilt your head. “I ain't leaving without him right behind me. I’ll be in contact in a month – if I’m not, then I’m dead already.” 

Your chuckle strikes a cord through the room and Soap snorts in answer. 

“Glass-half-empty kind of person, then?” 

“I’d say,” Gaz mutters.

Continuing, you’re about to say something else – lips already partially parted and breath sucked in  – before your eyes lock onto Ghost. The atmosphere of the room flips like the page of a book. 

You stare at him with what seems to be a million emotions flying past the glossiness of your optics; lids already peeled back and whites showing in a display that showed more than told. The man could only begin to imagine what you were thinking – how long had it been since he’d seen you last? You’d obviously gotten out of your Marines Special Ops unit. 

Not quite how I remember you. It wasn’t hard to recall that small branch of the MRR – Marine Raider Regiment – and how they treated you. But that wasn’t any of his business. He’d been there to do a job, and he’d accomplished it. Quite thoroughly, if anyone would have checked the file after it was all over. 

Ghost’s life was counted in the sands of an hourglass, small, molecular, bits hitting the bottom one after the other; rarely was that time wasted on pointless squabbles and words but at that moment, he was conflicted. 

The Brit had never expected to see you again, and the sand briefly halted when you spoke. Hm. 

Yes, he remembered that voice… he’d just never heard you this confident before. 

“Ghost.” He watches the emotions on your face settle, and he was thankful for the mask covering his visage because he knows he would have left at least a small twitch of his lips slip. “Long time no see.”

“Mutt.” The Lieutenant nods in a monotone greeting but notices a slight jerk of your shoulders at the name. His eyebrows furrow, but mentions nothing as his pulse slows. 

Your neck moves as you swallow, looking to the side as a dark curiosity fills the space in Ghost’s lungs; head nanoscopically tilting to the side like a vulture. 

“Nice seeing you, Bravo-06,” You tilt your head toward the Captain before clearing your throat and addressing Laswell. “I’ll be around.” 

It wasn’t hard to tell that the title had made you freak, a kind of bad cloud suddenly springing to life above your head. 

Seems to bother her more than being in a Hot Zone, Ghost tells himself, the deep well of dark water in his gut still. That didn’t make any sense. He watches your hand slaps over the computer and the feed goes dark in an instant. 

The room is more silent than Ghost is. 

“Kate, she’ll need our help.” Price shakes his head from side to side; body moving to the front of the room. “I’m not asking.” 

The two talk it over as Ghost’s mind trails, head tilting down more towards his chest as his eyelids narrow. 

“Hm,” He grunts, arms tensing as his grip shifts. Soap turns around as Gaz goes to join the conversation between the Captain and the agent.

“What? Know ‘er or something, Lt?” The Scot asks, slapping a hand on the taller man’s arm. Ghost eyes lock on the grip before he blinks, looking back up and leveling the Sergeant with a dead stare. Johnny laughs awkwardly and moves his limb back to his side. “Just…didn’t peg you for the type to start relationships.”

The Lieutenant turns down the aisle of chairs and lets out a bland, “negative. Leave it, Sergeant.” 

Why did you react badly to the namesake you’d gone by for the entire time you’d been in Special Ops? Mutt was when everyone had called you when he had been around for that short time. 

He felt no great concern for you – no hatred or care – you were just another Agent that would probably end up dead like everyone else. Another time, maybe, he’d have gone in a heartbeat, and if the team decided to go after you, he’d follow. A mission was a mission, it wasn’t like it largely mattered. 

But there was something in the back of his mind. Intrigue? Yes, perhaps. The blue-eyed Lieutenant wasn’t one to dwell on these types of things, but a colleague was still a colleague. 

Whatever the outcome, he’d do his job with all the ruthlessness and tact he always did.

Ghost’s hand goes up to fix the position of his mask and glances at the blank projector stream, eyes boring into it as they darken. A moment later, he was leaning against the ammunition crate that Price had previously been on, arms crossed and ears twitching at the ongoing battle of wills; isolated to himself as his intimidating form towers ever upwards. Spine straight. Bones stiff. Eyes grim. 

You’d been nice to him – a person that, for the limited time he’d interacted with, had left an impression that was only just starting to come back full force. Smart and resourceful; not too bad on the eyes. 

He takes down a sigh. Stubborn…but undoubtedly loyal. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, and you look up at him as if he wasn’t the one in a mask – as if his entire being was laid bare before you. He swipes away the trail of blood with one firm press. The gentleness of your skin is known even through his glove.

“You’ll live, Sergeant.” He utters, teasing in his monotone voice, “now, where the hell are we goin’? Gun’s itchin’ to lay a few out.” 

Ghost would have smirked at the way your eyes dilated if he had the ability, but in the end, he brushes past. Because if he hadn’t, you would have seen his own do the same.

‘Reaper,’ he frowns, feeling the ammunition crate dig further into his hip, they never called you that one.

Perhaps the real battle of wills was happening inside of him – not five feet away between his Captain and his Station Chief.

—

You remember every interaction like it was yesterday, and although he might not, you can’t help the memories from flooding as you gather your gear. Stuffing guns into duffel bags and intel into crossbody sacks that weigh you down like boulders. 

Fuck, you open the back window and shimmy out into the back streets, knowing that your position is compromised and not waiting any longer to test your luck. Your side burns something awful; horrible stitches peeling back skin as you groan in pain. What the fuck was Ghost doing with Price? I didn’t know they knew each other. And the two other men in the room…eh. Not the problem right now! 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you pant, swinging your legs out of the window frame and sharply inhaling when a suture tears. “I’m never in the loop.” 

In all honesty, you don’t want to be – too complicated. It’s better to just stick around and be told what to do. 

Glaring down at the ground with glazed eyes, you only take a breath of hesitation and let off a curse before dropping. 

Your knees take the brunt of the force, and the ricochets of landing on cobblestones travel up your ankles and leave your legs shaking. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you would have come up with a dirty joke to mutter to yourself. 

The discomfort can only last so long, you tell yourself, and ignore the spreading liquid on your side, only thinking of Rigs and the mission. 

And Ghost. 

Gritting your teeth, eyes vulnerable, you turn down the backroad and stay away from others, drowning in memories more deadly than blood. It had been a while since you had thought of it – the lockbox in the back of your mind keeping all under tight watch; guard dogs with metal teeth and chained necks. 

But that title; that namesake you’d scrubbed your skin raw over. Mutt and all the others said in cruel breaths. Oh…but Mutt. 

Mutt was the worst of them.

Your hands were vibrating, the tremors traveling up your wrists and arms – past elbows and bruised flesh under skin; bloodied nose and quivering lips. Why did they always yell at you? But worse, why did they always make you do the dirty work? 

The Captain, everyone just called him Alke, was standing in front of you, berating your accuracy on the last round of target practice. Fortunately, this deep into the Unit itself, you’d found a way to let it go in one ear and out the next, eyes as blank as a starless sky. 

You could see the spittle flying from the man’s lips and some even splashes across your cheeks like acid, but there was something artful to the way you didn't react. A culmination of crafted numbness that bleeds like trauma. It was a constant, everlasting, void.  

What they were making you into was not what you wanted, but what possible other option was there? Resign? No, this was nearly an unimaginable position to be in at such an age. You deserve to be here. Should you report the blatant unprofessionalism and favoritism in the ranks? And be blacklisted by these people's friends so that you never ascend the line?

Your ears twitch. 

“...You’re not sleeping until your marks are perfect – else we’re overthinking your position in this Unit. Can’t have a Mutt in our ranks, can we?” The last sentence is punctuated with a ruffling of your hair almost like a brother would; teasing, but you know that isn’t what it symbolizes. Harsh laughs and mocking remarks from the bystanders. “Least of all one that’s gonna get us killed. Tch.” When you don’t answer, staring off in a daze at his nose in a perfect image of formation, the Captain raises an eyebrow. “Affirmative,” he smirks, “Mutt?”

“Sir!” Your mouth shouts, though the action is more instinctual as your back straightens.  He frowns at that, perhaps wanting to torment you more, but huffs and files out, ordering the rest to follow with one last call.

“I expect you to be up for morning drills an hour early. I’ll be checking your shots myself.” 

“Sir!” 

After everyone’s gone, you blink back to reality. There’s a second of confusion, creases forming in your forehead at the sound of birds and blowing glass. Head turning side to side, your lips thin at the absence of others as if only realizing how spaced out you’d actually been. 

Flashing teeth and heated eyes flash through your mind before you blink them away. Signing away the tense nature of your chest, you clear your throat and relax your legs. Your vision slides to the corners of the concrete dugout, snapping past sectioned-off areas for privacy to search if there was someone who might have stayed back. 

Not finding anyone, your hands, clenched behind your back, loosen and fall limp to your sides like bags of rock. One weakly goes to swipe at the trail of blood from your nose, wrecking your already wrinkled sleeve with crimson; but soon an identical trail drips off your chin regardless. Licking your lips and tasting copper, you take a shaky breath and nod to yourself. 

You knew what shooting all night would bring on – lesions under the firing pad covering your shoulder; deep-rooted pain leading to nerve damage later on. Blisters that leak puss and blood onto your bedsheets. Not to mention the mental strain, the bags under your eyes burn from lack of rest. 

Gritting your teeth, you walk over the tossed rifle on the floor and pick it up with shaky fingers, the tips flinching back from the cool metal before encompassing it tightly. 

Silently, you get on your stomach and set the weapon in the crook of your already pain-laced shoulder. Your blood splatters the stock.

—

It had been two weeks with no luck in finding Rigs, and you were starting to get paranoid.

Staring at the dead body tied to the wooden chair, you growl and tear your Dirk from the woman’s chest angrily. 

There had been increased police patrols from all the corpses you were leaving, so you’d compromised and limited the chance of being caught at the same time. 

Bergamo, Italy, was an ancient place, and the underground was what you were now both metaphorically, and physically, exploiting. Sewer systems. Catacombs. You’d lost track of the paths you’d taken a million times over, and had started to hate the constant darkness only kept back by the small hand lamp you’d stolen. 

But there were ups to this constant downward slope. 

It made interrogations increasingly easier to pull off with multiple feet of stone all around you. The screams don’t meet the surface.

“Catello Tullio,” you mutter, caressing your sensitive side with your free hand and placing your blade on a turned-over piece of rock. The area reeks of blood and gore, a stack of bodies chucked carelessly in the corner beginning to reek something awful; even as you have another to add to the count. It wouldn’t be long before the rats came in droves.

Another given name, another score. But this one was new. Apparently, the title of the one that took Rigs while he was out getting more rations in the market. 

You point a finger at the slumped body, “you better hope I don’t find you in hell if you gave me the wrong damn name.” 

Grabbing your light, you stalk off down one side of the tunnel back to your camp, dodging drag lines that strike your eyes with their crimson streaks. 

The raggedy blanket and gun-sack you’d been using for a pillow take form in the dark, and somewhere in the corridor a rat squeals; feet pitter-pattering until it disappears altogether. You didn’t even want to think of the spiders living down here. Files and notes are strewn along the floor, perfect hiding places for eight-legged monsters. 

You couldn’t do anything until nightfall. It was just too risky. 

Massaging your side as you bend down, you grimace at the partially healed wound and scoop up your pistol before plopping to the ground with a grunt. With the deadly object held in your lap, you take a moment to breathe and try to push away a growing headache in the back of your skull. 

“This has to be one of the worst Ops on record, huh?” your small voice speaks back to you in bouncing waves of echoes as you begin to fiddle over the gun's small grooves and dents. “How did you manage this, Reap?”

Smiling blandly, the overwhelming quiet and nothingness all around you is like a curse. And in those pockets of a void, your mind always trails to him – or at least it had been for your time on the run. Ghost. That dark and brooding mass of horribly bleak humor and…well…you couldn’t call him mean. 

Your eyebrows furrow.

He was never mean to me. 

There were soft instances where you would question yourself as to if the Brit had possibly had some affection for you. It wasn’t a long shared history of course, but you had sworn that there was something about the way he looked at you…something that you remember so vividly…

You shake your head and stand after a small while, stretching your feet. Placing your pistol in the back of your belt, the weight brings you dull comfort.

 Shining your light on the hand-held radio on the ground in passing, you rove back to it after you scan the perimeter. Its black metal mocks you.

No one’s coming to help ‘cept you. One voice says, and another grunts out, get it together, Mutt. 

You turn on your heel to go and take a breather to disperse your dark thoughts but only make it three steps before your eyes widen, lips parting in awe. Nearly falling flat over yourself, you whirl around in an instant. 

A static enters the air as if the gods above were laughing at you - toying with your fate like it was a rock tossed to the sky. The familiar British drawl causes your chest to tighten, though the sentence is broken and barely understandable.

Someone’s here for me! A smile slashes your face – fierce hope lighting your eyes. You hadn’t wanted anyone to explicitly come for you, but this was a welcome discovery. Someone to talk to!

“--eper…Copy?” Darting like a cat, you move so fast that you stumble over rocks on the way there. “Lead…cafe…red cloth…Out.”

By the time you snatch the small black object, the garbled and firm tone has already shut itself up. Your mouth parts.

“Shit!” You yell, shaking the thing in your hand with an iron grip, hissing like a snake. You look above you at the cracked ceiling of stone and a growled accusation.“I’m too deep…Fuck. Gotta get up there if I want to be able to respond.”

But it hadn’t all been fruitless. Lead. Cafe. Red cloth. You clip the radio to your belt and make sure your shirt covers your weapon; pat your thigh and tell yourself to stop forgetting your Dirk everywhere before setting off in a jog. The light flashes over dead eyes and stiff bodies.

You snatch the blade off of the stone as you pass it, slipping it into your cut pocket and hearing the satisfying clink of it sheathing.

“Let’s just hope I don’t smell too bad…” You say aloud, chuckling, and listening as the sound echoes off the stone. If no other company, you still had the sound of your own voice. 

You couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. But, you were getting side-tracked. 

A Cafe with red cloth, then. Not exactly the place you’d go for an intel swap, but if someone had been trying to contact you for more than a week, you’d imagine they were getting desperate at this point. 

If I had known…you frown. 

Thinking over the multiple blueprints and pictures of the city in your files, you go through your internal cabinet of knowledge for color schemes - not what you’d have thought you’d be using it for, but, oh well. A lead was a lead.

“Golositá!” You laugh, sudden glee on your face as you dodge a pile of large stones; lips peeling back as you take a fast corner. “Gluttony! Of course, that’s the place.” 

The bustling business on the upper side of Bergamo with red table cloths as well as red awnings extending into the street. Anyone would be a fool to miss it. 

Like blood lining the street. 

You force yourself to run faster.

—

You met him last, despite being a Sergeant. The Captain had you up late last night yet again – running the forest trail this time rather than shooting. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it surprised him when you were still up early with the others; from the looks that he was giving you, you just decided that, yes, he was. Or he was just pissed he didn’t have an excuse to get rid of you. 

Blinking away fatigue, you keep your stance relaxed as a gargantuan shadow comes to loom ahead of you. 

The man everyone had whispered about called himself ‘Ghost’ and, if nothing more, was certainly intimidating. Shoulders wider than a bench, arms as rounded and as strong as boulders; not to mention the tattoos that made him look like he took cross-country motorcycle rides in his spare time. Tan tactical gear and dark patches for the SAS, the red and white British flag. Gloves covered his large hands, straps carried knives on his biceps and thigh. Something akin to a tan cape that was loose around his hidden neck.

But the mask was what really caught your attention; your head tilting with an innocence that no longer lives in you.

Skeletal. Half a visage of a dead and gone intimidation of humanity. Sewn into a hood of black cloth from which only the eye sockets were open…But the eyes there were no different than if the holes had been empty in the first place; as if the person inside was as dead as sun-bleached bone. Was a corpse piloting this suit?

Ice blue. Freezing blue. Harsh. Colder than a grip of a phantom, you thought as you blinked up at him, colder than the nights you would stay awake working yourself to death. You watched this Ghost’s chest move in a steady inhalation and you stuck out a busted-knuckle hand. Foolish, maybe, but there were worse things to be afraid of than a mask. Then of those eyes that made your spine shiver. 

But you didn’t look away.

“Pleasure, Sir.” There was a moment of tense silence where your Captain, at Ghost’s side, was frowning at you silently. The man could say nothing as long as this SAS member was here to assist in your next Op overseas. At your sides, your colleagues on the tarmac shuffle on their feet like nervous penguins. 

Ghost glances at your hand, and you try not to show how fast your pulse is running when his eyes leave a cold trail as they grace your split knuckles and torn nails. He ends with a slow look at your name patch. 

“Sergeant.” He says and slips past without another word. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you inhale smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. Snickers bounce off air particles, striking your ears as an embarrassed heat rises to your cheeks, but that scent stays in your nostrils for days. 

Your Captain scurries after. 

“Erm, forgive, Mutt. She’s a helluva strange woman, that one.” You keep your sneer hidden, a hiss lodged in your throat and a twitching finger. But your anger isn’t directed at the masked beast that stalks away. That yapping bully of a Captain would hold all of it as long as you were here.

At that point, you were sure you’d seen the last of Ghost until the Op – not really getting the feeling he’s a people person so much as a ‘give orders and follow them’ type. 

But that was fine by you, it didn’t change anything. You’d been told to go back to the firing range tonight for opening your mouth and ‘making an embarrassment of the Unit’....whatever that meant. All you did was welcome the guy with the barest hint of a good attitude. 

You supposed manners were a foreign concept around here.

The world ahead of you was blurring, red circles in your eyes that gloss over with water every minute you force yourself to stay awake. The stars were out, sky dark, and the area was only lit by large lights situated around the base. In some sort of strange way, you enjoyed the sound of crickets and the cold breeze over your bare arms as if the only sense of peace you got was when you were half-passed out, nailing shots from a rifle. 

The stock was where it always is, your cheek pressed to the side; staring down the scope at the multiple holes in the paper targets. Dots surrounded by multiple other dots like a slice of cheese. You suppose that made you the hungry mouse in that case. 

‘A mouse with a fucking day before she drops.’ You frown, blink, and pull the trigger as the trees rustle. The force lands directly on your shoulder – the kickback is usually not one to bother you, but seeing as your appendage was one bad day away from being dislocated and forever damaged – you took it with a grit of your teeth. 

And you took it because you knew you could. Just as you knew that you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your neck. Freezing, you remove your finger from the trigger and loosen your grip. Turning your head to the side, a free hand goes up and shifts the ear mufflers from your head to your neck in a single movement. 

You swear your heart jumps to your throat when you see a skeleton’s icy blues numbly watching you; arms crossed while a nice-looking SA-B 50 Marksman Rifle sits against the wall at his side. How…long had he been there? Watching?

“What’re you doing, Sergeant?” Ghost asks sternly, that Manchester accent making him sound harsh. Grating like a rock being run against concrete. “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be thrilled at a scene like this, eh?” 

Blinking, you remind yourself to breathe before answering – voice tough and hoarse.

“I have my orders, Sir. You’re free to join me.” 

You turn back as a grunted huff falls from behind muted cloth. Ghost walks up to your laying form, standing on your left side and picking up the binoculars from the hanging hook in your station. As you look back through your scope you don’t know why, but you hold your breath; waiting for something.

“...Not a bad shot. You’re prone to firing more to the right, judging from the grouping. I’d fix that, less you miss a moving target runnin’ the opposite.” He lowers the object - staring from the side of his eye. From your position, your neck cranes to see his fingers twitch. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” For someone you’d expected to be quite harsh – though you had no doubt he still was – Ghost was more sarcastic in his mannerisms. 

Backhanded comments that wound sting if you got on the other end of them.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.” Shifting your grip, you move the stock farther up your shoulder, feeling an immediate release of tension, though the expansive trauma still leaves needles in your tissue.

“Hm, pay attention and you just might learn something.” You feel yourself quirk a lip for the first time in months; your mouth doesn’t stop to think.

“You mentor a lot of people in the middle of the night, then?” 

“Only the ones stupid enough to be awake.” He takes a step back, going to grab his own rifle as his footsteps don’t even make a sound.

‘Quiet for a guy with thighs that could choke me out.’ 

Your brows furrow at the heated thought, taking a slow breath and flexing your hands as the shadow disappears from over you. Why were your hands sweaty?

Were you…afraid? That…that wasn’t it.

“You’re up too, you know, Sir. Bit hypocritical.” This was the first time you’d had a full conversation with someone since you’d gotten in with this Unit. A mildly pleasant one, at least…you wouldn't really call this bonding.

“I can always leave ya’ to it, Sergeant.” Deadpanning the words, you clear your throat and fall silent at the threat. 

‘No,’ you wanted to comment, ‘no, I want the company so badly it hurts.’ 

You swallow saliva and reposition your ear mufflers back over your head, heart bruising your ribs, as you bring down a calming breath of air to still your nerves. 

The two of you don’t speak again, and you don’t ask why he takes the shooting cubby right next to yours, the nose of his rifle peeking out from the concrete wall. You certainly don’t ask why he’s up, either.

And in return, he doesn’t ask you the same.

—

When you find Golositá you’ve managed to sneak through the city unseen, taking every backroad and alley you could as the heat of the day increases to near sweltering. Panting, you stick to the thin shadows of the path across the street, eyes dancing over red cloth and flicking to faces; studying visages as one would a medical report. 

Your chest hurts, and you run a hand over your side, feeling the raised skin under your shirt before digging into the aching ribs. All this running around and little food to help keep your normal strength was troublesome, and it would only get worse if this Op from hell continued. 

I need new intel. Badly.

About to retreat, not finding anyone you recognize off the bat, a black-shrouded figure kisses the side of your vision as if a phantom. 

On the outside table, the farthest removed, a man sits stiffly with an untouched teacup in front of him. Smirking, you can’t help but scoff at the thought of Ghost using the thing – you’d think his thumb and forefinger would break the delicate porcelain in an instant. Like a spine over his thigh.

Your cheeks heat. 

He looked almost identical to what you remember – minus the gear, obviously – and your stomach twisted at the thought. Was a simple look enough to bring you to the breaking point? Why were your lungs tight?

As if feeling your stuck eyes, those icy blues shift from people-watching to lock onto yours immediately. As hollow as they always were, it seemed. He blinks and the blonde eyebrows on his sliver of visible forehead move.

Shit. Your hips trade weight. Look at you.

Loose shoulders under a rugged buttoned-down and painted balaclava make your breath go thin, not able to resist sneaking a glance at those tattoos you remember so vividly. Yes, that was still Ghost.

Jesus, is this how it felt to see someone you barely even remembered suddenly appear? Was it elation or caution that was making your heart race? 

Ghost doesn’t look surprised. His eyes don’t widen; don’t soften or light up. They blankly watch you as you shake away the shock and raise a brow in return. A sarcastic finger goes to your head, and you mock salute. 

What are you doing? You seem to ask, a mischievous expression growing as you start forward when he dismissively narrows his eyes. You look ridiculous. Are you asking to be spotted? 

The man leans into the too-small chair he sits in, one hand going to hang off the back and the other resting on the tabletop. Gloved fingers tapping morse in slow measures.

Clear. Come here. He follows you with his gaze, head stationary, as you enter the flow of traffic, smiling at people at your sides and letting off polite greetings when you could. Steadily striding, you weave through groups and individuals like water, legs steady even as your ears pick up every little sound. 

A comfortable middle point of visible excitement and strict business. Why were you so…happy?

When you approach Ghost’s table, you slip up beside him with a sly chuckle, pulling out the chair to his right. You, softy, lower yourself down into it, not turning to him but instead simply making sure no one had followed you with a quick scan. His heat only adds to the warmth of the day like a walk through damnation.

“Well, well, well,” you smile, addressing the SAS member with his shadow hanging over you once more; such a heavy thing, though you don’t mind. Your expression mellows to have it above you again. There was a safety to it, you had to admit. The cold comfort of death. “Trip to Italy, Sir? Take a little vacation?”

“Came to bail out a bird from my past,” You smell that scent again – smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. “And if I ever went on a vacation, I sure as hell wouldn’t pick this place. ‘Bout to burst into flames; traumatize a few kids and their mums.” 

Hadn’t he changed even a little bit? 

“Now that’s dark.” 

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Of course he hasn’t, you answer your own question, feet shifting and skin pliable, why would he? He isn’t like me – didn’t have to reinvent himself based on atoms and in the wake of silent nights. 

There was a piece of you that believed that Ghost had always been this way, though you knew it was false. Nobody in this profession was just born like this, they were led to it. Whoever it was under the mask or balaclava didn’t matter anymore. 

They had died a long time ago.

“Not a fan of the history, Brit?” You tease, bringing up a hand to itch at your undereye, finally taking a peak at the form that nearly swallows you. 

Your lids try not to peel back, but you didn’t realize how close you’d sat next to Ghost – any closer and you would be in the crook of his arm; the relaxed spread of his knee bumping into yours and arm over the back of your seat. Trying to act nonchalant, you ignore the strange swirling in your gut with a hum and a twitching of your leg.

Stop that.

“Don’t care a smidge, just not a fan of the damn heat.” The gruff man responds with his inked arm on the table flexing, as though he was tenser than he showed. Ghost clears his throat, “needs a good downpour, eh?” 

“Try living underground for two weeks. Literally. Sun’ll feel like a blessing.”

“Fuckin’ hell…That’s why the radio wasn’t working, then.” While this was all cute – re-learning each other like a shaken puzzle – there were dangers to being this open. The Brit would be fine, but if you got spotted, well, there would be worse things to worry about than an achy side and a pile of bodies in a tunnel.

“You got something for me, or are we here just to stand out like bullet holes in a forehead?” Feeling his head tilt to you, snaking down your form, your body leans forward, palms sweaty as they lock on the table. “Price with you? The other two I saw on the feed?”

“Negative. Op in Belarus. Sent me in alone.” Your knees brush, delicately; like a touch of down feathers. You refrain from taking in a shallow breath, knowing he’s analyzing every movement with a hidden mouth and gentle huffs of air that rises his sculpted chest. Through a grunted sigh, Ghost tells, “The Old Man insisted. Laswell thought you’d be alright by yourself, regardless,” and falls silent.

What was he doing? Why was he talking with that rasp in his tone? Your heart swells at the comment about Kate, but a confusing feeling settles in your lower body. Why did the air feel thick?

The warmth of the sun was making your skin perspire, leaving a sheen of sweat over your arms. But the thought of heat stroke fled as you became hyper-aware of the man beside you, keeping careful not to touch you, though his gaze still bore into the side of your face like prodding fingers anyways.

He can’t quite figure you out, he admits to himself. So much of you was different – and he couldn’t tell how. 

She’s lighter, he tightens his face, not the same as when I left. 

But there had been an utter satisfaction when he’d seen you in that alleyway, even if you were different in a million ways, that would never change. Ghost’s body had loosened, his clenched jaw let go, and snappy answers to servers stopped entirely. 

Because those were still the same colored eyes that he remembered. He takes a long breath. 

Through the haze under your creased skin, a red alarm starts to sound off. Not because of the confusing way you felt the chilled form of Ghost on a near internal level, but because of the hooded individual across the street.

When your eyes lock, they back up three paces and bolt down the adjacent street, vanishing into the crowd. Your expression darkens, and Ghost shifts his attention from your face to the streets. 

His eyes blankly follow where you were looking.

“Come on,” you get to your feet, hand snatching at the SAS member's sleeve, dragging him with you as a mother would a toddler. It was ironic – if he resisted, you wouldn’t be able to force him to move, not in a million years, but he slid off his chair with fluid muscles. 

He doesn’t question you when he’s brought into an offshoot of the road, vacant of tourists or locals besides a stray cat and a few scavenger birds. Flies jump off garbage cans, buzzing through the air above your heads as you level Ghost with a serious stare. 

You nearly stumble over your words when you get to look at those long blonde eyelashes that you remember heatedly, but push through as they move to half-lid his blank eyes. Your heart skips beats as you spare looks up and down the space.

What the fuck is going on with me? Focus. This is serious. 

But, Jesus, he should really stop looking at you like that.

“You said you had a lead over the radio – anything on someone called Catello Tullio by chance?” You ask, voice like stone.

“Tullio?” Ghost hums in the back of his throat, all business, hips moving under him as he goes to glance at the street. His balaclava moves as he speaks. “Someone made a mention of it. ‘Fore I put a knife in ‘em, ‘o course.” Nodding, he huffs out, “On me.” 

Turning on long legs, he starts to walk farther down the path, and you follow at his side, peering up and eager to gain more intel. “You’ve caused quite a panic around here, Sunshine. Cell’s terrified of the ‘Reaper.’ I’m nearly impressed.”

He briefly flashes an optic to you, heart betraying him as he remains locked on your lips. Rotating his jaw, he turns back forward.

“Oh, my,” smirking slowly, you roll your eyes, “whatever will I do without your approval, great Ghost.”

“Dunno – kick the bucket probably.” Shaking your head in false annoyance, the slow, mocking, stain in the man’s tone leaks into your very DNA; coating it with honey. Like a warm sunrise, you clock a small hitch in his chest and equate it to muted chuckles when you laugh. 

“Don’t go placing bets, now. I’m not so easily broken.”

“Oh, wouldn’t think of it, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t be my handiwork if it happened,” his tone goes light, “don’t wanna take credit away from you.”

“Brit.” You spit with fake venom.

“American.” He grumbles back, but you clock the small spark in his iris, cold blue bouncing silver light like snow. 

He sounded…entertained? Snide in a sarcastic way. 

Your mouth rises in a stupid, dopey, grin as you stare from the side of your vision, chest jumping in easy comedy. What a strange pair you two were, but you find you liked his company even more, this time around. 

Or maybe he had changed slightly. Or maybe it was just you.

At the end of the day, you were relieved that it was easy to talk to him. Conversations with corpses are a bit one sided, after all.

Ghost’s lips had to be at least quirked under that dark fabric to achieve mischief like what he was spitting out, you leveled with yourself. At the minimum, the man wasn’t annoyed he’d been forced out of his own primary mission because of you. 

You remember he wasn’t averse to cracking jokes – particularly dark ones – but it had…it had never felt like his before.

Strange, you admit with a raised brow and a cocked head, cheeks burning for no apparent reason. You’d gotten him to chuckle? Holy hell, you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for that. I’d think he would be pretty pissed about being sent here. He’s never been one to fuck around. 

You both continue in easy silence until you decide to speak once more, intent on asking where you were being led. 

Ghost’s head had perked up in what you assumed to be soldier-like attention, but then his head had whipped behind the two of you. Oblivious to his shift in mood, like a dark cloud, you open your mouth.

“Well, where are we–” 

“--Get down!” Hands slap on the back of your arm and jerk you to the opposite wall as a loud echo rings out. Whizzing over your head so close that you feel the breeze of it. 

Gasping, the air is expelled from your lungs in one fell swoop; your spine grating over the rough stone as your legs scramble to keep upright. Wiping away the shock quicker than an eraser over a whiteboard, your neck snaps to the problem; brain already hardwired to get over being shot at and the adrenaline that floods your veins immediately after. 

Across the way, Ghost’s fast hand was reaching to the back of his outfit – without a doubt going to grab a concealed weapon. Eyes fiery and arms tight. And as though you were seeing it happen in slow motion, you lock onto the hostile in the middle of the alley back the way you both came. And then onto the hooded silhouette ahead of you. 

Boxed in. 

Hyperfocused, all of it happens in only three seconds, two trained professionals protecting each other without even realizing it. 

One, you realize how this will have to play out if you don’t act immediately. You don’t know how you can trust Ghost to take the other hostile while you focus on the one ahead, but you don’t question it. Two, your gun lays heavy in your hand as your legs pivot. Three, you fire double shots with a loose finger and hear mirrored gunfire from the man beside you. 

You don’t bother watching him drop.

Snapping your head backward with a rageful expression to see Ghost’s corpse hit the floor with a cracking of a skull, shouts start to ring over the city. When you lower your weapon, you turn to notice the Birt examining your own downed hostile with a satisfied stare. If you hadn’t had his back, he would have been shot in it. 

But what you didn’t know was that he was thinking the same thing about you. 

Turning to stare at each other, your widened eyes lock; fingers twitching along the cool X12’s metal as those stormy iris’ only seem to darken further when they dart to your lips. Like staring into a wild animal’s gaze and pretending you’re not in a trance because of it – stuck in that moment of infinity and nothingness with not a single muscle moving. Waiting for either a mouthful of fangs around your supple neck or for the beast to turn away with grace and practiced steps. 

You swore Ghost’s mouth parted under that damned balaclava, but whatever he was going to say was lost when the world came back in a violent storm of screams. Panicking, you gape at the entrance – seeing multiple shadows shoving through the crowd to get to you.

“On me!” Keeping your pistol in one hand, you bolt, hearing heavy footsteps pounding behind you as your mind begins to run.

Ghost trails without a single doubt in his mind as to why he’s following you, and it makes him cautious. 

Catacombs, you decide, get under the city and backtrack to the outskirts. Survey and have Ghost tell me his intel before making a move…yeah! 

“Where are we headin'?!” Ghost shouts, keeping right your heels as you turn corners. Gunshots ring over your heads as you jump up small groupings of tile steps, blood pounding in your ears. You try to remember the maps you had stored in your files underground. Left…no, two rights. Shit! I need to be higher – see the streets like a bird would! “Reaper?!”

“Do you trust me?!” You call over your shoulder, and though it seems deranged, a smile forms over your lips. “I’ll need an answer in the next few minutes, yeah? I’m on a time crunch!” 

“What are you on, Girl?” The adrenaline speaks to you, propelling your legs faster and faster. You vault over a fallen trash bin and take the shock to your ankles as it travels to your thighs. Snickering, you feel the brooding man’s presence like you always could – just beside you like a loyal hound. His focus excites you as you put your gun away in the small of your back. “Bloody hell! Not giving me a choice?”

“Not if you don’t want to get shot in the ass!” Taking one more right, you find yourself rapidly approaching a dead end, tall walls, a balcony, and a large dumpster – the flap already closed overtop. Not answering the man as he barks out a comment, you throw yourself atop it with a puff of breath and spasming lungs. 

Laughing, your hands don’t falter. Reaching up with eager fingers, you grab at the black metal front of the balcony a small distance above and suck down a hot breath. Your arms strain, sickly sweet sweat on the top of your lip, and eyes wide with glee despite the gaining footfalls rising like a battlefield cry. Jerking your body up with only your upper-body strength, you slide your abdomen over the railing with barely a second passing. Once your feet are firmly on someone's property, you twist around and slap your hands to the metal with a twinkle in your vision; face wrinkled with all the animated amusement. 

A wide grin is stuck on you.

Ghost stares up with slightly widened eyes from the ground, arms poised on the garbage bin.

Oh, hell, when she smiles like that…

“But I can’t judge, can I?” Teasing, you extend a helping grip with a smirk. “Everyone has their fetishes, hm, Ghost? Maybe yours is just having a gun pointed at you.” 

He blinks at that, but knowing the urgency in the back of your throat, he pushes himself up with a grunt. You try not to watch his muscles strain, but spy the way the veins in his forearms grow larger as his alluring hips flex. They situate themselves under him as he crunches before straightening in an instant. 

Fuck, don’t drool, you scold, lips lightly parted like seven devils were flying in the back of your mind. Jesus, imagine the weight those things can carry…shit. Wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to that. 

A leather-coated hand slaps into your awaiting one. You snap back to a screaming reality and stare down into hypnotic sheens of ice and…wait…did Ghost have fucking green flecks near his pupils?

“You sure it isn’t yours, Sunshine?” He harshly comments, and his balaclava moves with a rising of his eyebrow. 

Clearing your throat, you murmur a weak reply as your face begins to feel like a blazing fire, squeezing his limb before pulling. He chuffs. Grunting violently, you know he does most of the work in helping himself up, though the Brit still slaps your shoulder in comradery when he’s stable. Kneeling down, he forces himself into the wall behind the two of you, fingers weaving to create a cuff over his knee. 

Tossing his head up, he motions with urgency.  

“C’mon. Be quick ‘bout it.”

Catching one foot in the basin of his clutch, you force down your illicit thoughts about Ghost and jump, pushing off with your opposite leg on his shoulder and his added boost. Scaling the wall, you arch and scramble - with a growing bite in your side – to the terracotta-shingle roof.

Following after and checking your six, the beast of a man joins just in time. 

Shadows dart around the corner far on the ground, and the both of you are speeding animals over the rooftops in the meantime. Against better judgment, boots pounding the tiles, you release loud bouts of genuine laughter. 

How long had it been since you’d had such fun? Enjoyed someone else's company like this? Running across homes, you look at your side, only to find Ghost’s eyes already digging into you. Unrelenting. Unmovable. Panting, you smile brightly, giggles making your sides hurt something awful but your pace doesn't slow for an instant. 

All it took was a glance at the streets – you know where you are now. 

“Enjoying yourself, Reaper?” He asks, arms pumping and barely winded, and you wonder for a moment how he breathes under that covering of his – it had to smell horrible by the end of the day.

“For…the first time in ages, Ghost.” He chuckles at that, and it is a betrayal of his nature. How could someone so violent, so cloaked in oceans of blood, produce such a soft sound? A genuine sound that makes your stomach flip? 

His bewitched eyes rove back in front of him, and he can’t deny the simplicity of speaking to you. It wasn’t a chore, just a conversation with a person who he wouldn’t mind having on 141 at his side. 

There were few people worthy of that.

You swallow thickly and take point, leading the shadow of death to your home underground so you can re-evaluate. 

You can only wonder why you don’t feel nervous as he watches over you, skin marked with horrors but his hand had fit so well in your own. And you also wonder how you can come to care for someone you haven’t seen in ages so quickly, as if you’d both been around each other for years. 

Had you really ever forgotten him? Or just tried to push the affection, both emotional and physical, for him out? But that was the problem, you tell yourself with a clenched jaw, that physical attraction. All of that was just…tied into a million knots. Complicated. 

You’d never had sex before.

And, Ghost questioned himself as he watched your legs move, did he forget you out of necessity? Because those eyes of yours won’t leave him alone, and he so very much enjoyed looming over you.

He sighs heavily and follows in silence.

—

When you first joined them, they all created rumors. This was long before you were permitted solo Ops, long before half of your file was filled and bleeding with black ink that would shame a warlord. When everyone just thought you were signed up because you were some unhinged kid, brimming with unchecked problems and willing to throw everything away just for the chance to prove yourself. Who got into it for kicks. 

They would say you enjoyed it, killing. Reveled in it, really. That it got you off when you were covered in blood and crimson guts as they pooled at your feet. 

You suppose that was what turned you away from sex in general – those heavy comments said with no remorse that stuck with you. It was fear almost, a genuine twisting of your mind to make it your fault. It wasn’t your fault, you knew that; you could sleep with anyone you wanted and the comments weren’t a brand on your skin.

You could forget about it. You should. 

But the words were so mean. Just cruel for the sense of being cruel. And it stuck with you.

If that was all anyone would see, why try and force them to look away? You kept to yourself, never spoke unless spoken to, and shoved all of it down like a kill switch. No sex, no relationships. Nothing to make you think about the rumors. 

Getting off on death? You were horrified at the concept, horrified that people would play around like that with you – with your life!

You just ended up telling yourself you wouldn’t feel it until it hurt too bad. In a way, you were right…but you can only force emotions down for a while until they break forward like a fist to the mouth. 

Besides Mutt, they had many names for you – titles and backhanded monikers. Rabid. Demon. Devil. Monster. Sometimes, beast.

But they all had the same meaning. Inhuman. Wrong. 

It shouldn’t have bothered you that much. It…It shouldn’t have made you stay up at night still thinking about the way they would laugh and pinch your arms as you were left shaking; drowning in gore not your own because they sent you into the heart of the Hot Zone for a few jokes. Teasing you about how you probably touched yourself because of it.

But it was just an excuse to make you too scared to leave. Your reputation…

“There’s that Devil for ya’, always ready to slit some more throats for us. You think you could do the next few, Mutt? You’ll love it, I know you will. I’ll give you a good report if you do it without alerting the guards – see there… ‘Course you will. Fucking freak.”

Your eyes stare forward blankly, Dirk leaving a dotted fluid trail over the dusty ground.

Why did they do this to you? 

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