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waves-against-a-cliff · 4 months

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Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader

Ao3 Link

Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans

WC: 18k

Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.

Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?

"I don't have one."

"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.

"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.

"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.

"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.

"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.

"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.

"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."

Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.

"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.

"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.

"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.

"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.

"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.

"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.

"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.

"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.

"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.

"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.

"Told you so."

You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."

"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."

It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.

"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."

"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.

"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.

"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.

"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.

Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."

"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"

"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."

"What?"

"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."

Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.

"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.

"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.

"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.

"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"

"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.

"Yeah?"

"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.

"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."

A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.

You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.

"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.

"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.

"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"

"I'm not."

"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"

"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.

"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.

"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."

"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"

"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.

The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."

He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."

"Good."

"Simon?"

The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.

"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.

"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.

Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.

"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.

"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."

You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."

"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."

You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."

"And my dad?"

"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.

You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.

You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.

"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.

"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.

The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.

Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.

You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.

Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."

You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."

You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.

"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"

"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."

Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"

"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."

"That's not true."

"I think it is."

Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.

"Of course."

You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.

Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."

"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.

"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."

You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.

You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.

The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.

"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.

"Then lets go."

You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.

When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."

"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."

"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.

You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.

It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.

Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.

It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.

You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."

You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.

Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.

You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.

The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.

It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.

That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.

No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.

The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”

“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.

“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.

“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.

“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.

The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”

The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.

“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”

“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.

“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.

“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.

“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”

The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.

“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”

“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”

“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.

You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.

That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.

“I didn’t want to lose.”

“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”

“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?

“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.

“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”

“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.

You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”

“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.

At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.

He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”

“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.

Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.

“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”

“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”

“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”

“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”

“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”

“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.

“They gave him a hard time too.”

“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?

Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.

He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.

“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”

“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.

“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”

Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.

Who are you Ghost?

”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”

You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.

“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.

“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”

”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.

“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.

”What are you? My aunt?”

”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.

”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.

”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.

You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.

Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.

He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.

Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.

You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”

You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.

”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.

”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.

”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”

”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”

”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”

”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”

”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.

Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.

It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.

He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.

You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.

You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.

You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.

You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.

Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.

When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”

”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.

”Need to know.”

”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.

”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”

”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.

”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”

”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”

”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.

”What?”

”Forget about it.”

”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”

”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs

”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.

He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.

Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.

”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.

”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”

”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”

”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”

”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“

”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”

”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.

”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.

That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.

He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.

And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.

Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.

The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.

Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.

The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.

He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.

The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.

You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.

You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”

”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.

“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms

Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.

It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.

He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.

Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.

When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.

He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.

”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.

You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.

Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.

He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.

”Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.

He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.

His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.

”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.

He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.

Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.

“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.

You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.

”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.

It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.

It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.

He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.

He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.

“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.

You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.

”I love you.”

Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”

It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.

”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.

”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.

”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”

”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.

”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.

”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.

Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.

God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.

”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.

You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon

”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.

”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.

”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.

”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.

You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.

He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”

”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”

You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”

”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.

”I love you so much Simon Riley.”

His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #mw2 smut #ghost smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader smut #simon x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley call of duty #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley cod

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ghoul-bonez · 1 year

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~I Love You, I Trust You, I See You~

(Ao’nung x Fem! Deaf! Sully! Reader)

Summary: When the Sullys moved to Awa’atlu Ao’nung thought they were weird, knew they were weird. He took a particular hatred towards the older Sully kids, Neteyam was the perfect little follower, Lo’ak was constantly in trouble, Kiri was always off in her own world, and you. Just you. You seemed to always ignore him and never talk, but what he didn’t know was it’s because you couldn’t hear him.

Word count: 4.4k

Author’s note: This is the longest oneshot I’ve written at 4.4k words and 9 1/2 google docs pages… Sign language will be normal font, and bold & italics will be spoken, although I try my best to show which is going on.

~Masterlist~

I Love You, I Trust You, I See You

When people thought of the Sully family many thought of your siblings. They thought of Lo’ak who was always a troublemaker, causing chaos everywhere he went. They thought of Kiri who seemed so in tune with her surroundings that she might as well be Eywa herself. They thought of Tuk who was the youngest, still enamored by everyday life. They thought of Neteyam, a strong leader who would someday take on the role of Olo’eyktan after your father.

They never thought of you.

You who always seemed to be in your own little world. You who never had any friends. You who never talked. You who always seemed so attentive to the world around you, yet had no desire to join it.

When you were born after your twin Neteyam, a spike of fear had run through everyone in the room when you began to cry, but no sound came out. They feared you may not be breathing right, you may need your airways cleared. They feared something was wrong, and that was true.

When your parents or siblings thought about your family, they thought about you. They thought about how funny you were, always cracking jokes when there was a chance. They thought about how kind you were, taking a moment to check on everyone daily. They thought about how different you were than most.

They thought about you. You who couldn’t hear.

You always seemed to be in your own world, and that drew many away from you, they didn’t want to be friends with someone who they didn’t think was paying attention to them, and to be fair you weren’t paying attention to people most of the time. You preferred to direct your attention to the world around you, always keeping an eye out as you couldn’t hear danger coming.

When you had been caught by Quaritch and his men you had panicked, more than everyone else at least. You didn’t know what was going on, you didn’t know what they were saying, your lip reading was not dependable, and definitely not in english.

When your siblings arms were bound you couldn’t keep yourself calm, now you had no way of communicating, they couldn’t translate for you. Tears streamed down your face, eyes closed as tight as possible to try to calm yourself by blocking out the outside world.

When you felt your captor’s grip on your release your eyes shot open, looking around at the damage around you, multiple avatars dead on the ground. Then you ran, you ran faster than ever before in the first direction you saw.

You ran and ran, eyes trained on everything around you, and when you ran into someone and they grabbed you again it was like a shock. You let out a scream, the first noise anyone had ever heard you make. A noise nobody was aware you could make.

You turned to dead weight in an attempt to get out of their grasp, panic coursing through you again as your eyes couldn’t come into focus. However, the person dropped to the ground with you, pulling your face towards them and holding it still as you tried to thrash. Then they blew air into your face, and you realized you were safe.

When you were younger you would throw temper tantrums, as children do, where you would close your eyes to refuse to listen to your parents. Not being able to see them meant no sign language, which meant no having to listen to them. However your father found one thing always worked, blowing air on your face. Your eyes would shoot open, highly offended with your mouth dropped open, before you would sign at him, “Your breath is gross.” in retaliation.

You had never been more relieved for your dad’s stupid way of getting you to listen. Your eyes finally came into focus and you calmed down seeing his face, but that calm quickly turned into crying, sobbing. You couldn’t help but let out all of the pent up emotion inside of you, but eventually you calmed down and were able to stand back up, staggering your way home with the rest of your family.

Some time later when your parents had been arguing in your family kelku you hadn’t been paying attention as your siblings were, all huddled against the wall. You had been lost in your own world once again, not wanting to know what was being said as you were still processing what had happened earlier. You didn’t need anything on top of that as you feared it would make your careful stack of emotions you had constructed come tumbling down.

They had come tumbling down though as your parents announced you were moving, leaving. Leaving everything you had ever known, your home, your grandmother, the forest you loved so much. You couldn’t help it as you cried again, being held by your mother this time.

However as you thought about it you weren’t that sad. You had always liked the water, everyone not having to hear underwater made you feel more included, more like you belonged, and you had heard the Metkayina used sign language. Maybe this would be a chance to make friends for the first time in your life. Maybe you would be able to talk to people for once, nobody at home taking the time to learn American Sign Language, as your father had called it, like your family had.

One thing you hadn't taken into account was that they used a different version of sign language, but that had become very apparent when you first jumped into the water with Tsireya, Ao’nung, and Rotxo. They used signs you had never seen before, ones you didn’t recognize. You couldn’t help but feel a little beaten down at dinner, staying quieter than usual, not signing as much.

Afterwards your dad had asked you to step outside, waving a hand towards you as he exited the marui.

He sat down on the pathway, and you knew he expected you to join him, so you did. You sat next to him with your feet dangling in the water, looking out towards the horizon, refusing to look at him so you didn't have to have a conversation.

That didn’t last long though as he poked you in the arm, causing you to look at him offended, mouth open and eyebrows raised. He took this as his chance to speak, “You okay, kid?” He signed.

You sighed deeply, fidgeting with your hands before signing, “I’m okay, dad.”

You could tell he didn’t believe you, lips pressed together in a thin line and eyebrows furrowed, “You’re less talkative. What’s wrong?” He signed, proving he didn’t think you were telling the truth.

A frown came to your face, feeling like it was permanently there after the past few days or so, but you continued, “I’m disappointed.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise and confusion on his face, “About what?”

You looked away from his face, instead choosing to watch his hands, you didn’t want to see the pity on his face, “We don’t speak the same language. I can’t communicate. Everyone else can at least talk to each other.”

His face softened, but you didn’t see it, “It’ll be okay. You’re a fast learner, so you will learn their language quickly, then you can make friends. If anyone actually wants to be your friend.” He meant it playfully, and you saw him laugh, so jammed your elbow in his ribs.

Then the conversation was over, your mom poking her head out of the doorway and saying something to your dad. He just stood up and gave you a look like he was asking, “You good?” and you nodded, “Yes.” back in return.

After your father’s words of encouragement you decided to work harder, learn faster, determined to be able to communicate with the people around you, and a few weeks later you were excelling whereas your siblings were still struggling. They were caught up on the differences of Metkayina sign language versus ASL but you had grasped that there weren’t differences, or similarities, and you would just be learning from scratch.

Even though you were doing well at it, working your way towards being fluent, you were worried about talking to the people, mostly because of one person in particular, Ao’nung. It was as if Ao'nung was determined to ruin your siblings' lives, and yours, but you didn’t know that.

You had seen Ao’nung’s attempts to cause hell for your siblings, nagging at them, laughing at them, and even trying to start fights, with Lo’ak in particular. Him messing with your siblings made you frustrated, but you weren’t aware of the taunts meant to make you upset, and laughing that was meant to make you feel like a target coming towards you from a distance.

The bullying towards your siblings had become more and more frustrating and you had begun showing your anger at home, being rougher with things than usual, and not wanting to go outside of the shared family marui.

It had been peaceful while you and your mom had been working on dinner, but she noticed you seemed to be far off, handling the food with rougher hands, “Are you okay, (Y/n).” Neytiri signed as you placed another fish over the fire.

You rolled your eyes at her, upset she was even insinuating something was wrong. In reality there was, but you didn’t want to admit that, “Yes mama, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” She had asked back, concern on her face as she looked at you closely.

You signed, “Yes.” Trying to end the conversation, but you knew she would just keep pushing.

You saw your mom think for a moment, her face scrunching up in concentration, “Well I am not.”

You frowned more, once again feeling like it had always been there since you left the forest, “Not what?”

She was frowning too now, “I’m not sure you’re fine. I see you isolating yourself. Even from me and your father.” She grabbed your hands, squeezing them gently to show her love in a little way.

Tears welled in your eyes, frustrated tears, tears that came because with all the stress recently they were the only way your brain knew how to process, to cope.

You pulled your hands from hers to wipe at them, “I’m sorry.” was all you could say.

She wiped the tears falling down your face before saying, “Why?”

You sniffled, running your hands down your face before signing, “I see Lo’ak, Kiri, and Neteyam being picked on, and there is nothing I can do. I can’t stand up to the bullies. I can’t say anything.”

“Okay, well soon you will be able to say something. You are learning their sign language, yes? I’ve heard from your siblings you are out working them.” She smiled at you and you could really see how proud of you she was.

You couldn’t help but crack a little smile although tears still threatened to fall, “Yes, mama. I’m getting better, but I’m worried it will be too late though.”

“I’m sure you will do your best, my ‘ite.” She thought for a second, “Why don’t you go try to talk to these kids tomorrow?”

You sighed, you didn’t want to, but you knew your mom would nag you until you agreed, “Okay. Love you.”

She smiled lovingly at you, “Love you too.” before pulling you into a hug.

When tomorrow came you didn’t even want to leave your marui, but you found the strength to do so. You did some of the breathing exercises Tsireya had taught you to try to calm your nerves, and they worked for the most part, steadying you and clearing your head.

However as soon as you stepped outside your marui you regretted it, not wanting to do what you had promised to your mother, but you knew you had to eventually. Eventually, which meant you could fool around as long as you wanted beforehand, and so you decided to settle down for a quick nap on the beach.

When you laid down and closed your eyes you quickly and easily fell asleep. You were still tired from last night when you struggled to sleep from your anxious thoughts.

When the Sullys moved to Awa’atlu Ao’nung thought they were weird, knew they were weird. He took a particular hatred towards the older Sully kids, Neteyam was the perfect little follower, Lo’ak was constantly in trouble, Kiri was always off in her own world, and you. Just you. You seemed to always ignore him and never talk, but what he didn’t know was that it's because you couldn’t hear him.

Ao’nung tried to not let anything get to him, especially when it came to people he didn’t like, like the Sullys, but for some reason you, (Y/n) Sully, had peeved him more than anyone or anything else. He had grown tired of you ignoring him when he shouted or laughed at you, like you didn’t even notice he was there, tired of you flat out avoiding him sometimes as you scurried away when he tried to approach you.

Of course he knew why, he had the same intentions to bully you and make you feel unwanted in Awa’atlu as your siblings. Of course you didn’t want this so you spent most of your time avoiding him, but for some reason instead of him not caring about it, it made him want to get under your skin even more.

When the sun rose today he decided today was the day to act. Today he would confront you head on, face to face. He would make you notice him, and he would make you feel awful in the process. So he gathered his friends, his goons, and they set off to find you.

They first checked with Tsireya who was with the rest of your siblings, but you were nowhere to be found, they all insisted they hadn’t seen you. Then they combed the beach, going from one end to the other, and on the far end they found you peacefully asleep on the soft sand.

He couldn’t help but notice how cute you looked asleep and peaceful, but he quickly shook it off, shouting at you, “Wake up, freak!”

He was targeting your extra finger and the hair above your eyebrows, like he had your siblings because he knew that got to them, and hoped it would do the same to you.

When you didn’t stir he tried shouting again, assuming you were awake, but trying to act asleep to avoid him, “What is wrong with you? Do you not care or are you stupid avoiding me?”

His friends laughed at you when you still didn’t move, eyes not cracking open and your breathing staying the same, so he took the next step, trying something physical. He kicked sand up and over you and finally you stirred, sitting straight up and looking around for the source of the sand, and when you saw him your heart dropped, a lump forming in your throat.

“There we go, now you are paying attention.” He snickered.

You tried to read his lips, but he spoke too fast, and you just stayed silent. You cocked your head to the side, eyebrows drawn together in a look of confusion.

You hesitated for a second, but were about to sign something when he spoke again. “Do you not speak? A silent freak, interesting.” You still didn’t understand exactly what he was saying, but his friends all laughed at you, and although you couldn’t hear it it made you feel small.

“I’m sorry. I can not hear you.” You signed, using Metkayina sign language this time.

He scoffed, “I do not believe that. I think you just don’t want us to bother you, but here we are.” He laughed in your face.

“Please use your hands.” You tried to communicate, but they just wouldn’t listen to you.

“No.” He sneered, this you understood, one single word.

Your mouth dropped open, offense written all over it. You knew he was disrespectful, didn’t care about others feelings, but you would make him care, “I can not hear. I am deaf.”

He was about to retort against you again, but when he had been searching for you earlier that day Neteyam knew he meant trouble, so when he found you he stayed in the shadows, watching, but now Ao’nung had taken it too far.

He surged forwards, anger consuming him, “Step off bro. She can’t hear you.”

“Yeah that is what she just said.” He rolled his eyes, “I do not care though, it is better if she can not hear me. Means I can make fun of her without her knowing.” He signed the last part so you could understand.

You shrunk back, standing to hide behind Neteyam. You tugged on his arm, “It’s okay.” You signed.

“It’s not okay, (Y/n).” He rubbed a hand down his face, turning to Ao’nung, “You need to leave her alone.”

“Whatever.” Ao’nung scoffed before turning and walking away.

Now he knew why you seemed to ignore him, you just didn’t know he was talking to you. You were probably avoiding him because you didn’t know their sign language yet. He felt bad for some reason. He usually wouldn’t feel bad about his bullying but with you it felt different now knowing this.

He couldn’t show his feelings though, worried about his little group making fun of him, but he slowly started to back off of you, and your siblings some as well. Whenever one of his “friends” would ask why, he would reply something like “We can not make fun of a cripple.” and roll his eyes, still a jab at you, but less so.

At some point you became all that consumed his thoughts, on his mind at all times, and whenever he would see you with his sister, or your siblings, he would feel the need to insert himself into the conversation, but he always refrained. He wanted to talk to you, to apologize, but he feared judgment from his “friends” who are just as nasty as he was.

Eventually he couldn’t hold it in anymore, heading to your marui to ask to talk with you, in the way you would understand. When he knocked on the doorway of the family home Lo’ak was the first to notice him, glaring at him and nudging Neteyam in the side, directing his attention towards Ao’nung.

Neteyam stood before either of his parents even noticed the boy in the doorway, stalking over to him and dragging him down the pathway so they could talk, “What do you want?” He hissed out.

Ao’nung cleared his throat, but the words still came out small, nervous, “I came to apologize to (Y/n)...”

“No.” Was all Neteyam said before turning away and starting to walk back into the Sully family’s home.

Ao’nung grabbed his arm before he got too far away, “Please. Please let me talk to her.” He begged, something he didn’t like to do, but it was necessary.

Neteyam sighed, “Fine, but if you do anything I will chop your head off myself.” He threatened the boy, “I’ll go get her.”

It wasn’t long before you stepped out of the marui, a frown on your face and hands he could see shaking, “What do you want?” You signed, hands shaking with nerves.

“I came to say sorry.” He started off, “I’m sorry for bullying you, and your siblings. I promise I won’t do it any more.”

“And?” You asked, knowing there was more.

He looked nervous now, hands shaking as he signed, “I wanted to extend the offer of friendship.”

You looked shocked now, “You want to be friends with me?”

He nodded his head, smiling shyly, “Yes. Absolutely.”

You smiled this time, relieved he would be leaving your siblings alone, and excited to learn more about him, about what he was really like under the bad boy shell, “Okay, friend.”

He just nodded at you, “I have to go now. See you at lessons with Tsireya tomorrow?”

“Of course.” You responded.

When you entered the marui again everyone's eyes were on you, a light blush on your face, “I made a friend.” You smiled.

You could see your parents cheering and clapping for you, but your siblings' faces were unsure, you would have to reassure them later but for now you were all having a family night, playing games and handing out things you had made for each other with the new resources you were getting used to using. They were clunky and awkward, but you would get better, it reminded you of something, of someone.

As days passed into weeks you and Ao’nung had grown closer, him pretty much taking over your lessons, stealing you away from Tsireya who was sad to see you go, but happy for her brother for making a friend, a real friend, not one of his goons that tended to hover around him at all times. You had seemingly broken down his bad boy aesthetic and his goons had since left him, moving onto another leader to follow, still as nasty as ever.

You were grateful for him letting his walls down around you, allowing you to see him, and soon you did. You saw him as more than you ever had before. You couldn’t help but think about courting him, of trading little handmade gifts, and sharing little intimate moments of happiness throughout the day.

It seemed as if he wanted the same as he began bringing you gifts, starting as a little armband he made from you out of hard to find shells he had spent many hours trying to find, then it moved onto necklaces and bracelets. Each was more intricate than the last.

When this started you began to bring him things too, poorly made things because using dried seaweed and palm leaves were different from the materials of the jungle, but you managed. Even though they weren’t the best quality he proudly wore them, gladly accepting every gift you would give.

Everyone had noticed by now, the traded jewelry, the touches that lingered a little too long, and the longing looks when you weren’t together. What baffled people most however was not Ao’nung’s seemingly peaceful side coming out, but the fact that neither of you had officially come out and asked if you were courting.

You were courting, you both knew that, but Ao’nung wanted to put it into words, he wanted to make it official, but he felt the need to fix a couple things first, to get a couple blessings.

So he went to the person he thought would be easiest first, your mom. She had seen you two from afar and already had talked to you about it, encouraging you to pursue him and get what you wanted. She had said she was not Tsahík, but Eywa had shown her signs. So when Ao’nung asked she immediately gave him her blessing, knowing this was something not just he wanted, but something you wanted too.

Then he went to your dad. He was a fierce warrior who commanded respect, and Ao’nung tried his best to be respectful, carefully wording his proposal of courting his daughter. Of course Jake had been hesitant at first, but eventually he caved after Ao’nung had mentioned he already had Neytiri’s blessing.

Finally he went to Neteyam, your twin brother, your best friend since birth. Neteyam was adamantly against it, wanting nothing to do with Ao’nung, and wanting his sister to have nothing to do with him either. He was still on the edge of forgiving Ao’nung, swaying over a cliff where falling meant forgiving Ao’nung for his wrong doings, and when Ao’nung explained his love for you, his intentions to never hurt you and treat you with the respect you deserve Neteyam fell over the cliff, giving the Metkayina boy his blessing.

Once he had gotten their blessings he had invited you to the beach where he had first intentionally seeked you out. You were hesitant to go back there with him, but you gave in, trusting him wholeheartedly.

You love him. You trust him. You see him.

When you got there he pulled you to sit down with him, you both facing each other, and he signed, letting his heart out, letting his feelings show, “I am sorry for any times I have hurt you. I was an ass and a fool, and I wish I had never caused you upset or harm. I am sorry for bullying your siblings too, they did not deserve it, but I was scared by the new people and what they would bring. I now see I should have helped like my sister. I should have been making you feel at home here, not doing the opposite.”

“It’s okay. We’re past that.” You reassured him.

He nodded, continuing, “Now I see how special you are. I see how much you’ve changed me and my views on life. I am grateful for the person you have shaped me into. I am grateful I got the chance to make it up to you. I want to court you. Officially.”

You felt your heart swell, butterflies in your stomach, and you were sure it was showing on your face, “I would love that.”

You moved your hands carefully to cup his face, holding it there as you looked into his eyes, hoping he understood how grateful you were for him too, then you pulled him in, lips brushing against each other before they fully made contact. It was magical, unlike anything you had felt before, and you were happy it was him making you feel this way. So happy, so loved.

When you pulled apart he smiled widely at you, grabbing your hands and giving them a gentle but tight squeeze before using them to say, “I see you. I see you.”

You sign your thoughts from earlier, “I love you, I trust you, I see you.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just smiles, and pulls you back in for another kiss, and you feel at peace. You know he is yours, and you are his. You know he will never leave you, and you will never leave him. You know he loves you, and you love him. You know he sees you, and you see him.

Word Bank:

Olo’eyktan (Clan leader)

Kelku (Omatikaya homes)

Metkayina (Ocean Na’vi)

Marui (Metkayina homes)

‘Ite (Daughter)

Awa’atlu (Metkayina village)

Tsahík (Spiritual leader)

Eywa (Na’vi Goddess)

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britany1997 · 7 months

Note

Hey bestie

If the slot is still open can I have any form of Dwayne fluff. I’m back on my bullshit again and that bullshit is just the lost boys once more 🧡

Each Night Before You Go To Bed

(I really don’t do song based fics, this song just gives the vibes of what I’ve written, enjoy)

Of course I can write you some Dwayne Fluff! Hope you love this!

Dwayne x GN Reader

Warnings: some mentions of future child raising (but intentionally “raising” instead of “having” so reader could be whatever sex)

Dwayne’s arm hung around your shoulder, his finger laced loosely with yours. His thumb rubbed gently over your skin, a gesture so natural he barely realized he was even doing it anymore.

You spent every night together nowadays. Neither of you could stand being apart for very long. Dawn was agony, but you were thankful for every dusk that came with the promise of your lover gracing your doorstep. You’d never understood the “madly in love” cliche before Dwayne, but you got it now. Truly, madly, deeply.

As you walked along the boardwalk, intertwined, a thrift store caught your eye. You nudged your shoulder gently, prompting Dwayne to gaze down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Can we go in there?” You pointed with your free hand and Dwayne followed the path of your finger before nodding. “Sure baby.”

You smiled softly, tugging him along with you as you entered the store.

You’d been meaning to check out Artifact for ages on Marko’s recommendation, he’d always had great luck with the pieces here.

You squeezed Dwayne’s hand gently as you disentangled from his embrace, leaving him to browse as you flipped through the racks.

A couple minutes later, when you’d found some things to try out, you glanced around to check on your boyfriend.

Your eyes scanned the store, and once they settled on Dwayne, your face twisted in confusion. He was starring intently at something, you couldn’t quite see, on the shelves.

Curious, you crept around quietly to catch a glance of what he was so fixated on. When you peeked over his shoulder, your heart melted.

Dwayne had been starring at a pair of baby tennis shoes. He didn’t even notice you come to his side he was so lost in thought as he stared.

“Whatcha thinking about?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering in his ear.

He tensed for a second, then blushed. Actually blushed. You’d never seen him do that before.

“Nothing baby, just uh…got a little distracted,” he smiled sheepishly before taking the clothes from your hands. “Did you want to try these on?” He’d brushed off the subject but you weren’t quite ready to move on.

You gave him a knowing look before reaching around to pick up the shoes. “Let’s get these too,” you suggested.

His eyes widened as his cheeks flushed again, “what would we do with them?”

You grinned, “I don’t know, I just thought we might need ‘em someday.”

The corners of Dwayne’s lips turned up into a bright smile, causing you to smile as well. How had you never noticed he had dimples before? For a tall, dark and handsome creature of the night, he was adorable. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his nose, causing his cheeks to flush for the third time that night.

He grabbed the shoes almost reverently, smiling to himself and wrapping his arm around you.

“C‘ mon baby, I wanna see how these look on you,” he gestured to the pieces you’d picked, still held in his other hand, as he led you towards the fitting rooms.

After leaving the thrift store the two of you wandered to your favorite spot on the beach.

It was completely deserted, save the two of you. Just the way you liked it.

You leaned against his bare chest, his right arm snaked around your waist in a comforting embrace.

When he’d told you he was a vampire, back before you’d started dating, you’d thought he’d be freezing. No blood circulation and all that.

But every time he held you, you never felt more warm. You leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, looking up at him fondly.

He smiled softly, leaning down to press his soft lips to yours.

“I love you you know?” he whispered.

You smiled brightly, “don’t get all soft on me because I’m gonna raise a kid with you one day.”

He frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he shook his head.

“I don’t love you because of that,” he started, “I’d love you no matter what you wanted.”

He moved his head to rest against yours, “I don’t love what you can do for me baby, I love you.” He sighed, his eyes closing blissfully, “I love you more than anything.”

Your eyes watered and you turned your head to kiss his cheek. “I love you just as much,” you assured him. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I wish I couldn’t,” he mused, his brow furrowing “had to wait a long time for you to come around.” He nudged you, “good thing you were worth it.”

You giggled, “no more lonely nights for either of us hmm?”

He nuzzles your nose with his, “never again,” he kissed your cheek, “what a privilege it is to be yours.”

You could feel your entire face flush bright red. “What’s with you tonight Mr. Romantic?” you teased.

He laughed softly, your favorite sound. “Just happy,” he told you.

You moved to loop your arms around him, “me too.”

Dawn was quick approaching as Dwayne dropped you off at your apartment. Your least favorite part of the night.

When the two of you reached the front door, his hands slid to your waist. He pulled your hips in gently as your hands snaked around his shoulders.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. You mewed into his mouth, one of your hands moving to tangle in his gorgeous hair.

You felt him smile against your lips as you stroked his hair. His hand moved up from your hip to your back, pulling you impossibly closer as his tongue slid into your mouth.

After awhile, you pulled away reluctantly. You wished you could keep going, but you’d hate to find yourself making out with a pile of ash.

You reached up to caress his cheek softly. He turned his head, his eyes closing as he kissed your hand.

“See you as soon as the sun goes down?” he asked.

You pressed one last chaste kiss to his lips, “and not a moment later.”

Taglist❤️ (comment to be added):

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acourtofthought · 5 months

Text

I find Lucien's story to be set up in such a tragically beautiful way.

Cassian, Rhys, Az. They are over centuries old and while they hadn't yet found their mates in all that time, while they weren't entirely sure they existed, I imagine they still had hope. They wondered if it would ever happen to them, if they'd find her and though they at times were probably left feeling as if they never would, there was a small part of them that believed it was still possible (something Cassian confirms when he says deep down he was holding out for a bond and Az who according to Rhys still wondered why a bond between he and Mor hadn't yet snapped).

But Lucien spent centuries thinking his chance at that kind of love was taken from him. He believed he had her and lost her to death and that was it, there would be no possible love for him that would be greater than marriage, a gift from the Mother. No way to love someone so much that even if one didn't snap immediately, he thought it was a real possibility that it someday would because he already knew he'd had that one chance and it slipped through his fingers.

Lucien has spent centuries without even that kernel of hope that the others had.

Then one day his mating bond did snap and with it a torrent of emotions. Guilt and a sense of betrayal to the memory of Jesminda but maybe, the first hope he's had in centuries of the ability to actually love again. To feel he might be allowed to open his heart to another because he knows mating bonds are a gift.

Only to be left hopeless once more upon the realization that Elain was in love with someone else, that she wanted to marry someone else. So he sets off on what is essentially a suicide mission because what else is there for him but to sacrifice himself for the greater good, to show that he believes in Elain's vision and will do what he can to help them win this war. Not because there's anything left for him to personally fight for, he has no home, he's once again left without love, his closest friendships are in a tenuous state.

Then that spark of hope is reignited at the end of ACOWAR when Elain chooses to walk with Feyre and him rather than staying behind. When she peers up at him and invites him to come to Velaris.

Only to .......... well, we know the rest.

I believe that SJM has written Lucien's arc this way because only the best things are in his future but his story so far is so unbearably tragic to me. This is a male who continues trying to move forward despite having lost all hope. Who, the moment he sees a flicker in the darkness has it suddenly taken away yet he keeps going. He helps those around him regardless of feeling it is of any benefit to him. He helps those in Spring despite them not truly being his people. He helps the NC despite them not truly being his people. He helps those in the human lands despite them not truly being his people.

To me, THIS is why Lucien is the King of Men of the ACOTAR series. Everything he does is to the benefit of others despite getting very little in return. He gives and takes nothing, expects nothing.

When an author writes them like that?? Yeah, Lucien is not going to be getting some second-rate love story. He's going to be part of Feyre's family as her brother-in-law (SJM isn't on record talking about the crazy chemistry of their friendship for nothing), he's going to be High Lord. And he's going to get the girl.

#pro elucien #elucien #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #lucien supremacy #high king lucien #lucien acotar

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victorbutnotreally · 3 months

Note

OMG I'M FINALLY FINDING A BLOG WHICH IS MY CUP OF TEA. YOU'RE AWESOMEEEEE

i have an idea but i can't write for shit, so i'll give it to my favorite tumblr writer (which is youuu)

smau where han messages the wrong number and it's some guy from like another country. and they become friends and then han comes to find out that his text pal is actually a celeb he fanboys over.

(bonus points if mn knows han as well)

OMG - Han Jisung x Male Reader

A/N: Love that!! Thank you sm for requesting <3 (I can't title things for the life of me, so you can ask for a different title in the replies and I'll change it) French music makes writing so much more fun.

warnings: slight swearing

blue {} - han purple {} - Mn

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

{Oh. How nice of this person to wish me a good practice session.

"Is he getting here anytime soon?" Minho's voice echoed through the practice room.

"I'll ask!"

When he opened his phone again to change the number, he saw a familiar figure in the random person's profile picture. Mn Ln. Finally, someone who he can rant about the Mn Ln. }

{ Great. Got my hopes up for nothing }

{ Naturally, Mn wouldn't want his personal number leaked. So he lied. He was surprised at how smooth that was, but hey, it's text. He wanted to know more, though. Is that narcissistic?

He set his coffee mug down on his nightstand and looked a lot more like a contortionist as he continued to text, the risk of spilling coffee being gone now. }

{ Being called the best vocalist ever was certainly not something he expected. He was great, sure, but the best? Not when Freddie Mercury has music out there. But he'll take that compliment.

He was impressed at the fan. 'Achilles, my love" was one of his more niche songs, having been written when he was only 15 when he got completely shattered after reading 'The Song of Achilles' and decided to pour his heart and soul into a song which he released years later.}

{They don't know Mn yet, but who wouldn't like him after listening to Achilles my love? The way Jisung made the members listen to Mn's music was like a little kid making their parents watch Frozen. But the members never complained, the music was really good. Would they roll their eyes when Jisung keeps sending Mn memes into the groupchat? Sure. Did they have certain parts of certain songs memorized because Jisung kept watching his edits on repeat? Oh yes. }

{Mn didn't want his identity leaked. He had to think of a name quick. Chris, as in Bang Chan from Stray Kids was what came to mind. }

At the Paris Fashion Week

{Jisung found a spot away from the cameras and was texting 'Chris'. After a few months of them being 'text pals', he was pretty fond of the random citizen. But despite the sheer amount of songs, pictures, and videos he's sent of Mn, 'Chris' was never as obsessed with him as Jisung was.}

{Holding a glass of champagne in his hand and dearly missing his coffee, Mn who was decked head to toe in Hermes, makes his way over to the figure he recognized as Han Jisung of Stray Kids. How he loved that band. He was listening to Han's song 'Volcano' on the way there. As he goes to talk to him, his eyes caught onto the rapper's phone screen. And by instinct, he accidentally read a few texts. Texts that were from him. He wanted to tell Jisung, but how?}

"Hi! Huge fan, Jisung.." Jisung's eyes widened as he shoved his phone into his pocket and extended his hand for a handshake. It was his first time seeing his favorite singer in real life.

"Oh my god...you..sorry, I'm just flustered all of a sudden. I'm your biggest fan, really."

"I appreciate it. We should collab someday." "Yes!!" Was that too loud? No, right?

Mn was endeared by the enthusiasm. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and unlocked it.

"Care for a selfie?"

"I'd love to.." Jisung tried keeping his voice from sounding too loud and excited as he smiled beautifully in the selfie he took with the singer. He took one on his phone as well, along with a photo of just Mn, not being able to resist the opportunity.

A/N: I'm ending so abruptly since I have really bad writer's block rn and I didn't even know how I posted this much. If you have any ideas on how Jisung finds out he's been texting Mn all this time, then let me know in the replies or send a DM.

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most-datable-datable-bracket · 6 months

Text

ROUND 5 MATCH 4

Derek propaganda:

“Extreme hot take but Derek is the best OL1 love interest. He has the best and sweetest confession in the game. You play video games together. He seems reserved until you actually start dating and find out that he's actually just a gentleman who didn't want to be overly forward with someone he's not in a relationship with. He's a family man. You get to blatantly abuse your 'dating' privileges in front of his brothers. He's just so insanely sweet and caring and makes me wanna cry whenever I play his DLC.”

“- Impossible to dislike

- No, like, literally impossible. OL1 will allow you to be indifferent to it's two other LIs, Cove and Baxter but you actually can't pick that option for Derek. Game decided that You Will Be (at least) Friends With Derek

- This boy is so good!!!! He's a sweetheart and has your back in the best way and he's constantly doing his best to make sure the people around him (especially you) are happy

- This is also a complex flaw of his because he feels like he needs to be the best that he can be and to be worth something

- This both manifests in how he treats others (he's exceedingly well-mannered and does everything for others because he secretly hopes that someday someone will do the same for him) and his career prospects (he takes on excessive practice to get good at football/soccer so that he can potentially get a scholarship and become famous all so he can potenially feel like he's worth something. This is actually a major conflict in his Step 4)

- His DLC also has some of the best moments in the game

- He also has a family and they're also really good and you get to see a lot of them

- His dad is hilarious, his mom is gorgeous and their relationship is very cute

- Meanwhile, Derek's brothers are great. I wanna gush about them because I love them but also play Derek's DLC yourself!!! See how good they are for yourself!!!!

- I will say that these three have a really good relationship dynamic and the development it takes in the 10 years between when you first meet Jorge and Nico as little kids to Step 4 where they're adults (and a teenager, Nico is 16 in Step 4) is genuinely very well written

- If you're into the steamy stuff, Derek also has the best make-out session out of all of the boys

- He's also just. Very funny. This boy will invite you to a waterpark and then ask you if its a date so he knows whether or not it's ok to check you out in your swimsuit

- Or, if you aren't dating by that point (but you do want to to date him), the narration will note how he's trying so so hard not to check you out, he's just trying so so so hard

- Puppy dog face. Look at it. Tell me you can look at that face and not want to smooch him

- His confession is also the best, did I mention it's the best? Because it's absolutely the best one in the entire game

- He has a whole thing about having to confess to you on a ferris wheel and he's so committed to it that he actually avoided ferris wheels for a long time before this confession because he promised himself he'd do it the next time he went on one

- And then he went on one...and he literally doesn't confess when he does it because he lost track of time and he had to get off

- so he asks you to go on the ferris wheel with him again so he can actually confess this time

Just. Just vote for him!!!!”

“He's sweet, polite, and out-going and is always willing to put you first (sometimes too willing).”

“polite responsible jock u r NOT immune to this”

Asra propaganda:

“He GIVES AWAY HALF HIS HEART TO REVIVE YOU okay but like. He's the MCs roommate and they were together for a few years before the MC caught a plague and died and he obsesses over a way to bring them back before succeeding by making a deal with a god to trade half his heart for MC and betraying the emperor. And then when MC comes back but without any of their memories, he takes care of them and teaches them how to live all over again and he never asks for anything in return. On all the routes where you don't choose him he's really supportive and helps you out despite your history and overall he's just really nice and supportive of the MC and is their rock no matter what route you go down. Also he has a pet snake named Faust and I love her she's so <33

Idk I just appreciate him so much”

"He gave you half his HEART!! He would literally go to hell and back for you!! He wants to take you on adventures all around the world—doesn’t matter where, as long as he’s by your side!! AND he’s nonbinary!!!"

#Derek Suarez #Our Life #our life: beginnings & always #OLBA #Asra Alnazar #The Arcana #The Arcana Game #Round 5 #MDDC 2

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fishsinsareacknowledged · 2 months

Note

hellooo!! i just firstly wanted to say i have binged every nikto post you've written and enjoyed them very much. you write that feral dog man very well.

i do have a self indulgent prompt idea that i'd love to see if it appeals to ya! what might a relationship with nikto look like if the reader was a chronically ill person? specifically if they often had dizzy of fainting spells/ joint pain?

Thanks for reading through all my bullshit bae, appreciated really. I'm very easy to amuse so i read every single one of my asks as long as it doesn't look like a bot especially the spam ones. I see you. I know. Ill write another someday.

Anyways Nikto with a chronically ill SO would be honestly better for him in the first stage of the relationship. Getting to know each other, and when he sees how weak you are he's going to relax. Mostly cause then he believes that you are of no threat to him, even moreso when he finds some hospital records of you when he was snooping.

Later stages of the relationship when he actually starts to care about you is when he starts getting worried and actually taking action. Oh you need to grab something from the top of the shelf. No. Just no. He's getting that for you, so sit the fuck down.

Oh you want to take a long shower but you're scared you're going to fall because you have random fainting spells? Yeah he's joining you and watching your every move. Grabbing you by the sides of your chest and pulling you against him, making you lean on him at the first signs of any weakness.

"Better?", he asks after you start to get back on your feet. Or at least trying to.

"Worse", and he's just going to rinse you with water, making sure youre atleast somewhat clean and carrying you back to bed.

"A bit", and he's going to very carefully. Very reluctantly, set you back down. Hands hovering over the sides of your chest as a precaution before letting go of you and finishing up the shower.

A simple "Mhm", and he's just going to hold you there for a few more. Slowly and lightly patting your back as his hand goes higher, gently running through your hair and massaging your scalp.

You know you've got to get out of the shower someday but ah. He'll wait for you, even if his fingers get pruney from the water.

A hand grabbing your elbow as you get out of the shower. A simple reflex by now, almost an instinct to hold you from anything anywhere. A simple measure to make sure you don't fall.

If you have joint pain hes probably going to make you exercise lightly. Mostly there just to accompany him but also look, theres a new machine, do you want to try lyubov'?

Supportive bf nikto who just holds up a thumbs up whenever you do something right is real TO ME OKAY.

Some light walks with him and he's going to hold your arm the whole way through, making sure you're not even an inch from him throughout. Though his now clingy habits backfire on him the first time he gets back on missions after meeting you, finding the loss of presence almost infuriating.

And the first thing he does when hes back is do it all over again. Just a failsafe he says. And is somehow even more clingy, holding you especially when you stand up after a long time of lying around with him.

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

Masterlist

#cod #call of duty #hcs #nikto #asks #cod nikto #nikto cod #call of duty nikto #nikto x reader

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normspellsman · 2 years

Text

Truly & Honestly

part one | part two | part three | part four (wip)

pairing: ao’nung x fem!sully!reader, lo’ak x twin sister!reader, & jake sully x daughter!reader

genre: angsty, comfort (from jake to reader), fluff, ao’nung being a simp for the reader, & the twins make up (yay!)

word count: 3.9k+

warning(s): jake feeling like he’s not an adequate father, lo’ak still in his self loathing era, lo’ak missing his twin :(, ao’nung growling, the sully twins crying, kissing, & reader + ao’nung being cute af

word bank: kehe — no, skxawng — moron; idiot, sempul — father, sempu — daddy (term of endearment), eywa / great mother — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, paysyul — water lily, & sayrìp — handsome

taglist: @aonungsmate @dearstell @optimisticblazetrash @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @goodiesinthecloset21 @universal-s1ut @amortencjja @liyahsocorro @minkyungseokie @chshshhshshshshshshshs

note: kinda rushed the end bc i struggled with figuring out what lo’ak should say & the reader should respond with & this is what i came up with. hope i did it justice & well enough. i swear i never read or written the words gently & softly so many times in my life holy shit 🧍🏻. anyway, the long awaited part three is finally here! yayyy! enjoy lovelies <3

It had been days since the last time you talked to Lo’ak, ignoring him everywhere you went.

At first, he avoided you too, trying to gather his thoughts and think of a way to apologize to you. He tried a couple of things that worked back when you both were children. He made you a new armband that matched his, but he didn’t see you wearing it the next day. He then made you a small trinket to add to your ever growing collection of random shit you found, but it was right where he left it the next day. He then tried to talk to you but all he received in return was your silence and Ao’nung’s small growls in warning for him to step away. Lo’ak felt like he was going to circles. He felt utterly hopeless.

It wasn’t long until both of your parents and remaining siblings realized your avoidance towards each other. Neteyam had failed to tell Jake and Neytiri about what happened that fateful night, in turn disregarding telling Kiri and Tuk. He wanted Lo’ak to tell them for himself or at least have you confront them about it and receive comfort from them. But he knew the both of you were too stubborn to ask help from your parents, so one night he asks no one in particular if they knew why you were, yet again, staying over in Tsireya and Ao’nung’s marui pod.

His question made Lo’ak freeze and nearly choke on the food that was halfway down his throat, harshly swallowing in discomfort.

Neytiri was deeply disturbed by your absence. She missed you dearly. She asked you many times as to why you were never around and you never gave her the truth, wanting Lo’ak to do it on his own. You’d always give her an answer of Tsireya is offering me extra breathing lessons, it’s just easier if I stay over for dinner tonight or Tsireya and I wanted a sleep over. Neytiri always frowned at your answers, knowing that you weren’t telling her the truth. But she never pried. She knew that you would tell her the true reason someday so she let you stay with Tsireya as long as you needed.

Jake didn’t realize your distance until nearly a week after the fight. He had been too caught up in his training with Tonowari and making sure that Quaritch was nowhere near Awa’atlu to comprehend your absence from the family for one too many nights. But once he did, he felt uneasy. He knew you like the back of his hand. He had to. You’re his first born daughter, it was expected of him to. He was always the first person you’d run to whenever you had any kind of problem, confiding in him for a solution or aid. It warmed his heart that he was the first person you came to in time of need, made him feel wanted and loved. So when he saw you barely glance at Lo’ak or even say goodbye to them before heading off to wherever you had in mind, he felt unease settle itself on to his chest. He knew something was wrong and wanted to know what it was, but didn’t want to pry it out of you. It wouldn’t work. He felt helpless and wanted to figure out whatever was wrong so you’d stop distancing yourself from the family. He just wanted his little girl back.

The night Neteyam had asked that question, made Neytiri and Jake pop up in interest and repeat the question to their circle of children.

Lo’ak wanted to tear his older brothers head off right then and there. He didn’t need his parents meddling in both of your business. This was something between him and you, not your parents.

Kiri and Tuk had also realized your absence but didn’t give it too much thought. You always hung out with them at your guys spot and interacted with them. Yeah they found it odd that you rarely slept in the family pod and if you did, you were the first person awake and out of the house. So Neteyam’s question piqued their interest.

It took a lot of prying on Neteyam’s part to finally get the truth out of Lo’ak, but once he did, shit hit the fan.

“Kehe!” Neytiri gasped out, truly surprised at her sons words, “You did not!”.

She thought she raised both of her sons to respect all women, especially the ones in their lives. She couldn’t believe that her own son called his own twin a slut. And for what? Seeing the Olo’eyktan’s son and not telling a single soul about it? Neytiri was flabbergasted at the news.

“Boy,” Jake growled, beyond pissed at his sons previous actions and lack of communication about what occurred. He didn’t even need to ask Lo’ak about whether what he said was true or not, it was written on his face that he was guilty.

He found himself disappointed in his son, perhaps even more so than he usually was whenever he heard or caught Lo’ak doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. Jake had made sure to instill how he and Neteyam should treat every woman they came into contact with, continuously reminding them to behave accordingly and treat them with respect no matter what. So to hear that his son had called you, his sister, a slut for seeing a boy, made his blood boil. I’d ought to show that boy how humans would treat him, he thought in response.

“I know,” Lo’ak croaked out, on the verge of tears. His guilt was eating at him everyday, practically being the only emotion he felt for nearly the past two weeks. “I know what I said was completely out of line. I was angry and that isn’t an excuse for what I said. I am desperately trying to make it up to (Y/N), but nothing’s working. I’m going in circles trying to,” he finished, tears running down his cheeks.

Lo’ak knows that he shouldn’t be crying. That he doesn’t deserve to. That he doesn’t deserve anyone's pity for what he did. But the guilt ate away at him and he couldn’t help but cry. He just wanted you to forgive him and be his twin again, his other half. He felt incomplete without you by his side. It physically hurt to have you avoid him and not have you next to him.

Tuk had wiggled her way into Lo’ak’s lap in order to comfort him, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck as he cried into her shoulder.

Every Sully member could see just how much Lo’ak regretted saying what he did. They felt bad that he was feeling the way he did but they also knew that he deserved your avoidance and distance. It was the only way that would allow Lo’ak to see the impact of his words.

———

You were laying on the soft, warm sand below you when a shadow covered the suns soft rays, blocking them and covering you in its coolness.

You quickly opened your eyes to see who it was and to shoo them away, not in the mood. But your mouth quickly shut itself once you saw your Sempul hover over your relaxed figure, a small smile on his face.

“Sun bathing?” He asked, sitting next to you as you sat yourself up.

You only shrugged in response, wrapping your arms around your legs and pulling them up to your chest.

You felt bad for essentially ignoring all of your family members, but it was the only way to get it through Lo’ak’s thick skull the kind of impact his words had on you.

Your Father hums and looks out to the water line, silence overtaking the moment for a few beats. Until he finally speaks.

“Lo’ak told me,” he starts, “About what happened that night. Don’t worry. I gave him a stern talking to,” he continued, giving you a small smirk at his words.

Jake’s stern talking to’s almost always involved him dragging one of his children somewhere, yelling at them for Eywa knows what they did, and giving them some sort of punishment that will go on for however long Jake deems necessary. You found yourself wondering what punishment your brother got for his actions.

“I figured,” you chuckled, still looking out towards the water line in front of you.

“I’m sorry, babygirl. I know that it shouldn’t be me apologizing, but,” Jake says, tip of his tail swishing back and forth a bit before resting by your siding, curling itself around you gently for comfort, “Your brother is a complete skxawng. And I’m sorry for…not instilling it in Lo’ak’s brain enough to not call anyone, you that.”.

Your head whips towards your Fathers direction at his words.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for, sempu,” you replied, eyebrows furrowed together, “Lo’ak is a skxawng and said something he shouldn’t have. He knew what he was doing and none of that reflects your teachings.”.

Jake could almost scoff at how wise you sounded. Since when did you become so wise?

Your Father only hummed in response. He wanted the best for his little girls, for you. And to hear that his own son had insulted his daughter and took his words to heart made him feel as if he wasn't adequate enough as a Father. He spent so many years craving for a family of his own before he was sent to Pandora, knowing that it wasn’t possible in his human condition. And once he finally got it, he felt over the moon. He wanted his children to love and respect each other, something that was a struggle for him and Tommy growing up. So being in this current predicament and having you and Lo’ak avoiding each other like the plague, made him feel as if he wasn’t successful in emphasizing how important family was to his children.

“I think you should hear him out,” Jake whispers to you, turning his head to face you, smiling gently down at you, “You don’t have to now. But, soon. Whenever you feel like it,” he reassured.

Your lips pierced together into a thin line, head nodding at his words.

You know that you should give Lo’ak some benefit of the doubt and at least listen to what he has to say, but it’s hard. The last thing your brother said to you were words that caused severe distress to your psyche. To be honest, you were terrified to see what he had to say. To see if he truly meant it or not.

“I’ll try,” you replied.

Your Father continued to look down at you as he smiled, bringing you into his side as he placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head. You laid your head on his shoulder in response.

“So, Ao’nung, huh?” Jake snorts out, teasing you.

“Dad!” You groaned out, covering your face with your hands as you lightly shoved him away, earning a loud cackle from your Father.

———

You were with Ao’nung when Lo’ak approached you for the first time in nearly two weeks.

Ao’nung had taken you out on a date around the island, as he usually did just to show how much he adored you. It almost always consisted of Ao’nung taking you to one of the many jewelry stands the Metkayina jewelers had out, telling you to pick whichever necklace, bracelet, or armband your heart desired and gently putting it on you once you budged, walking with you hand in hand around the island, twirling you around as you two danced to his light humming and singing, and finally going for a swim to wrap up your time together. Even though the dates were repetitive and always the same, they never failed to make you smile from ear to ear and warm your heart. It was something that you and Ao’nung did together to enjoy each other’s company. It was nice.

The both of you were spinning and dancing around in the warm sand as your boyfriend softly sang a song his Sa’nok used to sing to him when he had trouble sleeping, the melody being gentle and delicate, a perfect song just to waltz or sway to.

Ao’nung pulled you into his chest, slightly leaning down to grasp your hands against his lean chest, dipping his head down so you were face to face. He continued to sing the song as he smiled, rough hands slowly moving from your hands on his chest to your shoulders down towards your back before resting against your hips, pulling you in even closer.

You giggled at the ticklish sensation Ao’nung’s hands left on your skin as they just barely grazed it, moving your arms to wrap them around the back of his neck, fingers making their way into his curly hair. Your fingers gently run through the loose ends of his bun before messaging the scalp underneath his usual hairstyle, elevating some of the pressure from the tightness of it.

The Metkayina boy shivered at your soft and slow touch, nuzzling his forehead against yours as the two of you swayed in the gentle breeze.

“You look so pretty, my paysyul,” Ao’nung whispered out, blue eyes deeply gazing into your amber ones. He loved calling you new pet names, enjoying the soft blush that spread itself across your cheeks and neck once you processed what he called you. You loved the nicknames he gave you as well, making your stomach churn in excitement and never failed to make you smile in adoration. He truly did love you and he expresses that in many different ways, pet names being at the top of the list.

A light purple hue painted itself across your cheeks and down your neck in response to your lovers nickname. “And you look so sayrìp, Ma’Nung,” you whispered back, smiling up at the boy.

The teen boy purred out at your response, softly rubbing his face into the side of your head, kissing the arch of your eyebrow.

Ao’nung halted his singing and humming for a moment, basking in the silence and blissful peace that settled itself into the moment. Everything in his life was so quiet and peaceful the minute you arrived on Awa’atlu. He didn’t know he could feel such peace with a singular person and he was glad that he felt it with you.

But, unfortunately, much like the event that occurred days prior, Lo’ak had to ruin it with the loud clearing of his throat.

A cold chill ran up and down your spine at the sound, stopping all movement you and Ao’nung were doing. A small growl emitted itself from the Metkayina’s throat, grip on your hips getting tighter as he pulled you closer into his embrace. It was a clear warning to Lo’ak to stay away from you and leave the two of you alone.

“Can I talk to you, (Y/N)?” Your brother asked, standing a good couple of feet away from the both of you.

Lo’ak had worked up a lot of nerve to approach your figures once he caught sight of the two of you dancing. He didn’t want to ruin the moment the both of you were sharing but he knew that if he didn’t go to you and try to talk to you now, he never would. So, he gathered up all the courage he could muster and made his way to you, hyping himself up on the way.

“Leave, Lo’ak,” Ao’nung hissed out, angling you away from your twin, “She doesn’t want to speak with you.”.

“I wasn’t speaking to you, fish lips,” Lo’ak argued, growling out. Your boyfriend shouldn’t be speaking for you when he wasn’t the one who decided things for you.

Another growl left Ao’nung’s lips as he glared at the Omatikaya boy, anger creeping up his throat. Your brother shouldn’t be speaking to you if you didn’t want him to, especially after what he said to you.

“Ao’nung,” you mumbled out, hands now on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

Much like your brother, you knew that if you didn’t talk to him at this moment, you most likely never will. You needed to nip this thing in the butt sooner than later.

You nodded at your boyfriend, telling him to stand down and give you and your brother some space, that it was okay to leave you alone with him.

Ao’nung only huffed in response, eyes narrowing at Lo’ak behind you. Before he parted ways with you, he captured your lips into a kiss, running the tip of his tongue across your bottom lip before pulling back, not giving you time to respond to his light teasing.

“Our spot after? Twenty after eclipse?” He softly asked, thumb running over your cheekbone as he grasped your face in his hands. He wasn’t very happy that your brother interrupted your alone time and didn’t want to leave you alone with the one that deeply hurt you, but he trusted your opinion and respected your wishes, no questions asked.

You hummed as a response to Ao’nung’s request. There was no way that you weren’t going to tell your boyfriend how this conversation was going to go. Albeit the tension only being between you and your brother, Ao’nung was very much involved as you were.

Once Ao’nung became only a speck in your eyesight, you finally turned around to face your brother.

“Yes?” You asked, arms folding over your chest in an attempt to protect and hold yourself together. You had no idea where this conversation was going to go and that made you anxious.

Lo’ak took a deep breath in before he breathed it out, quickly gathering and preparing himself before he opened his mouth to speak.

“I know apologizing, no matter how many times I do it, isn’t going to change what I said and the way it affected you. But, I am deeply sorry about what I said to you, about you. There is no excuse. I have no excuse,” he started, tears stinging his waterline, “I was so angry at that moment that common sense was thrown out of the window. I don’t even know why I called you that. I was just so angry that you were with Ao’nung, someone who made it quite clear that we were freaks and were not welcomed here. I know that he had been different after leaving me at the reef, which I could assume is around the time you two got together.”.

You nodded at his guess, confirming.

“But I still didn’t trust him. I thought he somehow managed to manipulate you into falling for him. That he was forcing you. It was the first thought that popped into my head when I saw you two that night. I couldn’t comprehend that someone like you, my sweet and caring sister, could fall for someone like Ao’nung, a mean bully who took pleasure in causing pain to others. Confusion and anger clouded my vision. I just…” he paused, a couple of tears had already dropped down his face, “I know that I am shitty at apologies and can never accurately get out my thoughts, but I am sorry for causing you so much pain from my words. I am such a shit brother and you shouldn’t accept my apology. This past week has been awful. I felt incomplete without you. You felt miles away when in reality, you were only feet away. There was this…emptiness inside of me whenever you weren’t by my side. Everything felt wrong without you there to experience it with me.”.

“I desperately missed you. So much. It physically hurt me to not have you by my side. It made me realize that my words and actions do have consequences and that I wasn’t going to escape this situation scott free. Dad gave me the worst scolding that I’ve ever gotten. He told me that I was really fucking stupid and ignorant with my words. That he and Mom raised me better,” a chuckle escaped from your lips at that sentence, only imagining the type of scolds and hisses Lo’ak received from both of your parents.

“Yeah, you were really stupid to say that,” you replied, arms still crossed against your chest but a small smirk on your lips this time. It was nice to hear from him that he was punished by your Father, solidifying what he had told you earlier. But you still felt somewhat bad for him, knowing how angry and intense your Father can get when dishing out punishments.

Lo’ak chuckled at your acknowledgment, wiping away a couple of tears that continued to run down his face. He wanted for days to hear your voice and for you to acknowledge him. He felt relieved that you were talking to him and actually were listening to what he had to say, even if he didn’t deserve to be heard.

“I’m so sorry. You are not what I said you were. You are not slut. There is no excuse for what I did and I know that I can’t take it back or make it up to you in any way that will undo the damage I did. But I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will do anything,” he finished, eyes never leaving yours.

The smirk fell off your face after he was done and silence overcame the two of you for a couple of beats.

“What you said really hurt me, Lo’ak,” you started, arms uncrossing from your chest, “It really fucked me up for a while. The intensity of your words made me truly believe your words. I know now that you didn’t mean them but in the moment, it felt like you did. I avoided you to teach you a lesson. To teach you that what you said was not okay. I am sorry for making you feel that kind of pain from my absence. I felt the same too. There were too many times where I wanted to just give up and go and just sit by you to ease it, but I knew that would defeat the purpose of what I was trying to get through your insanely thick skull.”.

The both of you laughed at your childish insult, more tears running down the both of your cheeks.

“But,” you continued, “I forgave you the minute it happened, Lo. I forgive you. I just needed to teach you a lesson and make sure it actually stuck and made an impact,” you finished, hands grasping your brothers.

Lo’ak smiled down at you from his height, lips quivering as he did so. To hear that you forgave him immediately after it happened was relieving but also made him regret his words even more. You were so kind and forgiving to him when he felt like he didn’t even deserve it.

“I love you, sister,” he whispers, bringing you into his warm embrace, one hand going behind your head to pull it into his chest while the other one went around your waist.

“I love you too, brother,” you replied back, accepting his hug and wrapping your arms around his back.

The two of you stayed like that for a couple minutes, hugging as the waves softly lapped against the shore.

It felt good to have your brother back and to finally hug him again after all this time, the emptiness the both of you felt from each other’s absences now replaced with warmth and comfort.

You couldn’t wait to meet up with Ao’nung later and tell him all about your conversation.

#atwow imagines #avatar #avatar imagine #avatar: the way of water #atwow #atwow x reader #atwow x you #avatar x reader #angst #fluff #ao’nung x you #ao’nung x female reader #ao’nung x y/n #ao’nung x sully!reader #ao’nung x reader #ao’nung #lo’ak x sister!reader #lo’ak x twin #lo’ak x twin!sister

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laviefantasie · 4 months

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“… know how this works”

Thump. Thump.

“Pretty sure you’ll break it like that”

“Oh, shut up, Shoko!”

A groan. A male laughter.

“Have you checked if it’s on?”

“Of course I have! How stupid do you think I am?”

Silence.

“I need new friends”

Laughter. Three in total.

“ Y/N, look on the bright side, you’re smarter than Satoru!”

“Hey!” Calls out another voice, “I’ll let you know I’m ver—”

“AHA!”

The blackness fades from view, everything becoming a blur because of the sudden light. Then the focus is on a video game console in someone’s hands, a Digimon game being played on it.

‘G A M E O V E R’ is written on big red letters on the screen.

“Did you just record me losing?!” An indignant voice exclaims at a close distance.

“Hey! It’s not my fault I finally figured out how this thing works” the voice, your voice, behind the recording device calls out, “It’s not like you ever really win anyways”

“HEY!”

The camera is grabbed abruptly and moved towards the source of the sound, a shriek leaving your lips from the sudden motion.

A white haired handsome (really tall) teenage boy with pale skin and dark circular glasses comes to view.

“To whoever sees this in the future: I ALWAYS WIN”

“Oh, get over yourself, Satoru”

An arm settles itself on Satoru’s shoulders, a tall handsome teenage boy with dark hair styled in a bun and purple eyes joins the panorama.

The pair of boys that sorta remind people of the yin and yang, personality and physical characteristics wise, start to bicker with one another making you sigh.

You decide to turn the camera around in your hands so you can come into view, making sure to turn the screen towards you so you can see yourself as you record. You sigh with a slight roll of your eyes and a small smile.

“Ignore them” you voice, “Once they start there is no stopping them”

The volume of their voices growing seems to support your argument.

“Anyways, I’m Y/L/N Y/N. If things go out well then you probably are my future children, but you never really know as a Jujutsu sorcerer so…” you shrug your shoulders, “I bought this videocamera to record our daily lives so that someday we can look back and laugh once more at Satoru!”

“HEY!”

You hadn’t even noticed the bickering had stopped making you jumped in your place at Gojo’s loud voice.

A female laughter is heard close and soon a beautiful short haired brunette with a beauty mark on her left cheek comes to view, a small smirk adorning her features.

“Please make sure you gift me a copy of all his stupidest moments for my birthday”

“HEY!” Satoru calls once again.

Ignored once again too.

“Of course, Shoko” you smile at her before looking once more at the camera, “This is Ieiri Shoko, my best friend EVER”

The black haired boy joins your other side, smiling with mischief.

“Well, well, Y/N, now you’re breaking my heart” he sighs faking sadness, “I haven’t even been properly given some screen time by you yet”

You laugh, “Now, ladies, get ready to be mesmerized! Or horrified… This is the better half of the pair of idiots I also call my best friends, Geto Suguru”

“Ouch. Not sure if i should be offended or… forget it, I’m offended”

You roll your eyes but soon let out a shriek as you stumble forward, not falling because of the pair of arms holding your waist tightly from behind.

“I WANT AN INTRODUCTION TOO”

A sigh.

“Gojo Satoru, better known as the other half of the pair of idiots I call my best friends”

“Ajem” he fake coughs.

You ignore it.

“Ajem” you ignore it, “Ajem! AJEM”

Shoko and Suguru try to stifle their laughters as much as they can.

“What, Satoru?”

“You didn’t introduce me well!” He whines, “You had to mention how I’m the strongest sorcerer and how you’re madly in love with me!”

“EXCUSE ME?!”

The camera’s view changes dramatically as it is lowered abruptly, showing only the white converse with Digimon characters on the side and the black combat boots.

Until Shoko grabs the videocamera and focuses it on Suguru and her for a second, signaling for silence with their fingers to their mouths, before turning it to focus once again on you and Satoru.

You who’s reprimanding the white-haired sorcerer, and him who’s looking at you with an adorable smile on his face.

It would sure be a series of interesting recordings.

#jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo x oc #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff

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sagaduwyrm · 4 months

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I've been thinking about Pharaoh Tucker/Duulaman and I really wish it was longer than a single episode. Like, that is such a brilliant story line? Finding out you were a powerful sorcerer in your last life should be the start of a trilogy, not a one-off gimmick.

Imagine this:

You are a king. You are a god. You are a sorcerer.

You will kill yourself to protect your home.

You know it's going to happen. You have always been willing to tear yourself to pieces to protect your people, and you long ago lost the arrogance that made you think being Pharaoh was a reward rather than responsibility. You look forward to it, almost.

But you don't die fighting, no, you perish with a traitor's blade in your back and the chains of a curse wrapped round your soul. And you hate.

And then, thousands of years later, when the people and the land you fought to preserve, earning your title as the greatest sorcerer in the world, are gone, you are born again.

And the two are nothing alike, except in all the ways you're exactly the same. But you are a new person, with no memories of your past, and you live and thrive without the weight of the throne on your back.

Just like you were once an innovator of magic, now you create new tech that touches the afterlife in ways never seen before. Just like you were once a protector, now you fight to protect your new home, this time with friends by your side.

And you are happy. Happier even. It's not an easy, perfect life but you are free from the responsibilities that dictated your last with people you trust. You love it.

And then, well...

You should have known you couldn't touch the infinite afterlife without consequences.

It starts in your dreams. You remember the sands under your feet, the magic in your hands, the sun in your face. In mirrors you see a face that is yours but older, more worn in ways you don't recognize. In battle you find yourself reaching for a bow rather than a gun, and your code is written in a language none but you now speak.

And you can maybe deal with it, maybe. It's not easy, reconciling two lives that were lived so differently, but if your friend can reconcile death and life then surely you can do the same.

But then. The traitor. Comes. Back.

You are easy to manipulate now, is the thing. The lack of a crown may have been good for your social development, but it didn't lead to the same paranoia and sense of responsibility that protected you in your last life. He turns you against your friends, but they help you fight him back anyway, yet how can you trust yourself now? Your last life was terrible, he was cruel and selfish, the traitor said so, and the one moment the person that is not you but is almost you came to the surface he hurt your family.

You don't touch magic, even when you find yourself reaching for it. You drop the bow and pick up a gun that never feels quite right in your hands. You don't let yourself reach for the eyeliner that reminds you of kohl, even though you miss how sharp it made your eyes look.

Because you won't hurt them again. You won't.

But maybe someday things can be better. Maybe someday you'll back up your friends with summoned sandstorms and clever illusions and no one will ever be able to hack your tech because of the magic woven into the wires.

Maybe someday you will step into the sands of your home, preserved in the infinite green of the afterlife, and you will learn yourself again. Maybe you'll meet old friends and loved ones, and maybe things will be different now that you are a child in need of guidance rather than a leader they depend on.

Maybe.

But a character arc like that would certainly take more than a single episode.

#fandom #danny phantom #fandom stuff #tucker foley #pharaoh tucker #Duulaman #tucker deserved better #also he should get to explore the conflicting cultural forces from his two lives

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kotias · 10 months

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We Are in Our Eden - Until Our Stars No Longer Shine

A little reprieve from the angst war @opscuritas

Fluff story written with @daneecastle

Word count: 1492 words

Crowley was out for the day, and had stopped by a cliff close to Aberdeen, with the grandest view to the ocean he could experience in the country. The wind was strong, almost pushing him away, and he laughed. What a view! The waves crashing against the rocks beneath him, the smell of iodine taking into his nostrils, and most of all, the view of the sun setting on the infinite horizon, spreading its yellows and reds and purples onto this side of the world. But it was only when he lifted his head and watched above that he noticed- He took his phone out of his pocket and called home. “Angel! Come here! Cruden Bay, the highest cliff you can find!" He knew he had an unexpected squeal in the middle of that call- well, it was guaranteed to give his angel some form of curiosity, at least. He looked up again, a bright smile on his face.

“Cruden Bay? But why? It's almost time to eat!" he heard over the phone, and didn’t say a word. Just the next second, he heard the familiar flutter of white wings behind him. “Crowley, what is it?”

He instantly caught his hand, dragged him a little further up, feeling like a teenage girl eager to spend time with her crush. He was jittery, smiling, squealing- "Look!" He pointed to the stars. Shooting stars in the sky, crossing the ozone layer, lighting up like fireworks. He could barely stay put, looking at them with the wonder of a child- and he knew it was an unreasonable reaction- he knew! But this was the first time he had the opportunity to watch them with Aziraphale. Pressing his fingers around the angel’s, he looked back at him, caught the adoration in his eyes, the immensity of his love for him, trapped behind those perfect eyes, changing with his emotions, and the slight blush he was showing. Crowley was over the moon- it mattered not whether the angel had really looked at what he was trying to show him. And the stars- the stars! So close to his reach!

An idea came- he raised Aziraphale's hand and kissed it, before letting go of him and coming to the very edge of the cliff. Raising his left hand and snapping his fingers, he said "Here, boy!" And one of the shooting stars changed directions entirely, flinging in their direction and stopping right at his feet for him to collect two good pieces of it. He tapped it like a good dog and snapped his fingers again, leaving it to go back to its path. The rocks between his fingers were hot, almost crisp in his hand. And they smelled... so unique. He turned to Aziraphale again and showed them to him. "There's something I love about those shooting stars," he said, looking at the rocks like he would a child.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked with a sweet, enamoured voice, never looking away from him. “I would love to know.”

He let out a small giggle. "It's a piece of Heaven, wrapped in the fires we find in Hell... falling on Earth. It feels like home. And also-" He turned to the shooting stars again. "My eyes aren't the best at seeing far. I miss a lot of the star lights that you describe to me. But the shooting stars? I can see them."

Aziraphale stepped closer to him, his deep blue eyes draping themselves in an emerald shroud. "Maybe…” He lightly touched his arms, caressing them with his thumbs. “Someday we could ask God to have your eyes changed back, so you could see the splendour of the world you helped create." He kissed Crowley's forehead. "I'm sure, after all you've done, She wouldn't mind."

Crowley shook his head slightly, losing his train of thought as Aziraphale’s slight sadness in his voice was gnawing at his euphoria. "Ah, yes, well- I think you'd miss the yellow in my eyes, wouldn't you?"

"I would, I won't deny it, but-" He kissed him one, twice, and reverted back to his little star babies in his hand. "Here, hold this-" He handed him one of the two rocks and cradled the other between his two hands. "Let see if I can still-" His eyes lit up as he felt his power surge into it. "Yes!" When he uncovered it, it was glowing like a little sun, and he beamed at his angel, who couldn’t take his eyes from it, shining in unison with it. For a moment, he paused, only looking at him and how beautiful of a sight his amazement was, everytime he showed him something different from what he knew.

He cleared his throat. “Okay, now-" He held the little star up, pointing it to the darkening skies. “What do you want to be called, little one?" It was like an old music sheet had been rediscovered. The little star glowed, surrounded his hand in affection. He smiled. “Ah, I see. How about-" The little star extended to his forearm. “Oh!" He gave a glance at Aziraphale. “Naming it would mean giving it to the sky. I believe it doesn't want that, it's clutching onto me right now." He pulled his hand back to their levels as the angel chuckled. “Perfect little thing, why would you insist on staying with me?" he asked, like one would to a small child.

“What wouldn't want to be with you?" he heard Aziraphale answer with a dreamy sigh, and he chortled.

“You’re barely objective, angel, we’ve known each other for-” A little power coursed from the star to his chest. “Oh-" Tenderly, he passed his fingers on the edges of the little thing. “Okay then- Angel, could you give me the second one? Thanks," he said as he received it, and kissed his nose. “Okay little star, do you want to help me, then?” He weighed the rock and the star; then, pressing the rock a little harder, he parted it in halves. The little star lightened excitedly. "Yes? That what you want?" He approached his two hands until they touched, and the little star crossed them to engulf the two new little rocks. He smiled and looked at Aziraphale. "It wants to stay with us, you see- so it's preparing a nest. I hope- I think you'll like the result."

The little star melted into the rocks, and the rocks melted into the star. Glowing brightly into Crowley's hands, they were exuding a homey warmth, and he let the three elements figure out what they wanted first, before guiding them gently into a form. For a second, his eyes darted to Aziraphale's hands, and he got back to work. They were shining so beautifully, he thought, as they let themselves be moulded by his attentions. After about a minute of working together, he blew on them, revealing two rings; one obsidian, textured like the meteorites coming from space and speckled with little twinkles all over it; the other perfectly white, gleaming like a happy little star, with a thin, tiny little black snake coursing its way all around it. He looked into his angel’s bright eyes, asking the question silently. Would you like me to put it on your finger? To make you mine for eternity?

Aziraphale gasped as he watched the rings come into existence, shining like their very own little stars, tethered to the world that they had called their own. He felt stunned, overjoyed and excited, on the verge of tears as he realised what they were meant for, what Crowley had done to them, bearing the promise of their eternal loyalty to one another. For quite a long time, he was staring at the rings, far from Crowley’s expectant eyes, until he shook himself off; they knew, the both of them, and many years had passed since they had truly needed the words to express this intense sentiment they felt for one another, or the promise of an everliving love for one another. Yet, he gave a vocal answer. “Oh, you silly demon… Of course I would.”

His smile warmed him like a fireplace during the winter, his fingers wrapping around his hand made his heart flutter, and his kiss felt like a cloud.

The white ring slid perfectly on his finger, and he felt its otherworldly warmth on his skin, draping around him and offering just a bit of Crowley’s essence to mix into his own, his final oath in this union they were making for themselves.

The demon slid his own, dark ring on his finger, then passed his hand into Aziraphale’s hair and sealed their lips and their Vows together with a kiss. Together like they had been since the beginning, and never intending to part, they were an us, like God most certainly had intended.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #good omens season 2 #aziracrow #good omens 2 #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #fluff #fanfic #writing #creative writing #collaborative writing

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missglaskin · 2 years

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Do you Love Me?

Note- Once again, it’s 3Am as I finish this. So I apologize for the many grammar mistakes. Also, this was greatly inspired by The great (hulu), come on Aegon gives off Peter vibes

Pairing: Soft dark!Aegon II Targaryen x reader x fem!reader

Tags: EXPLICIT/SMUT, Arranged marriage, character deaths, strangely some fluff, lots of angst, pregnant!reader, Aegon is a terrible husband at first, squint of Jace/reader, love confessions, manipulation, jealousy, implied painful first time

You worshiped the prince. And how could you not? He was young, handsome, and, as mentioned, a prince. Every girl in the seven kingdoms dreamed of him. But he was yours by oath. And when you finally saw him on your wedding day, it was the happiest moment of your life.

Your arms were linked with your father’s. Feeling your heart pound in your chest. Stomach churned with excitement. When you finally reached the altar, your father handed you to the Prince. And the second his hand touched yours, the butterflies in your stomach violently clashed with one another.

In the sight of gods and men. The prince will become yours. And you will be his. Your eyes didn’t look away from his violet ones, wanting to drown yourself in them. They are so alluring that the Septon’s words are muddled in your ears. But you didn’t need to hear them. Memorizing the vows by heart. As you recited them to the mirror every other day. One heart, one flesh, one soul.

After the vows were said, you and the prince sat side by side. The servant on his side poured wine into his cup throughout the entire night. He didn’t speak to you. He didn’t even ask you to dance. Watching all the other lords and ladies surrounding you laugh and dance with one another.

His face turns to you on occasion and you smile at him every time. He didn’t return them. Maybe he was nervous. You hoped he was so you wouldn’t feel that slight pang. To distract yourself, your eyes roamed the remaining table, seeing his family. His grandfather, his mother, his sister, his brothers were all there. You couldn’t help but notice the shared look they gave you. In return, you continued smiling, even when you sensed it slowly faltering.

Soon it was the wedding night. And the excitement bubbled once more. You remembered your times at the library back home. You were a lady, and it was a scandalous thing to do, but you indulged your curiosities. Reading such shameful books that your Septa would’ve certainly had you flocked if she ever heard of it.

The pleasure, the desire, the yearning, the burning, the ecstasy all written in such detail. And the men in the stories. They were so selfless and giving. Meeting her every need, making her see the stars and the moon. The thought of doing all of those things with the prince crossed your mind more times than you can count. It made you ashamed, but should you be, knowing he’ll be yours someday.

But on that night, he tarnished your dreams.

The prince, your newly husband; Aegon crawled to you. Stinking of wine. There was no preparing, no reassurement, no kisses, no praises. Laying there as he thrusted sloppily into you. Your body moved back and forth from the force. Your eyes on the ceiling, tears welling up. He wouldn’t even look at you.

Aegon lies beside you now, passed out. All that drinking finally got to him. Your eyes are still on the ceiling, unable to grasp the reality you’re in. There was no pleasure, no ecstasy, and you surely did not see the stars. You doubted if it even happened, if not for the aching in your legs and the cum stains on your inner thighs.

Finally, you move to get yourself clean. Maybe you were to blame. You had all these whimsical dreams and such lofty expectations. It was known that first times are always awkward, so maybe it will get better the next time. And besides, you have a lifetime together. He’s just drunk. The following morning, he will treat you much better and finally show you the love and affection you have so desperately craved.

The following morning he did not, in fact, treat you better. He wasn’t even there. The breakfast that you had the servants prepare was left mostly cold, with you being the only one at the table. His presence during the evening was nowhere in your ‘shared’ chambers. And when he finally showed himself, it was him drunk either collapsing on the bed or going on top of you to do what he must do.

Is that what your life is to be every day. Where were the embraces, the kisses in the morning, the heartfelt confessions, the gifts, the loving gazes. He treated you as if you were some common whore, rather than his wife. But it wasn’t his constant drunkenness that pushed you over the edge, nor was it him ignoring your mere existence.

It was the sight of him with another woman that did. He didn’t even notice your presence as you turned to leave. He finally did it. He broke you. As sobs wreck your body. You finally understood the looks his family gave you, the court, the servants, even the guards. It was a look of pity. Foolish girl, they must think. So hopeful, so naïve, so stupid.

The morning after, he showed up at the breakfast table. The day before, it would have made you giddy in your seat. Batting your eyelashes and listening intently to every word he said. But now you have seen what you need to see. Your head down while you eat in silence.

You just couldn’t understand. He didn’t show you an ounce of kindness even when you greeted him with open arms. Even when you were ready with a heart full of love.

With all of that, you shouldn’t have taken pity on him. He came drunk as he always did, but this time it was in such a state that it almost seemed as though something had happened to make him seem so miserable. Aegon puked, filling the space with the foul stench. It seeped through his shirt.

You genuinely despise your tendered heart as you move to assist him. Having him lean on you as you shout for the servants to run the bath. They also assisted you in taking off his clothes and getting him into the bath. During all of this, Aegon was still somewhat conscious.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a servant reach for the sponge to wash his body with. But you stop her, taking it from her hand. You command for them all to leave. Call it jealousy if you will.

As you scrubbed his body, half-lidded eyes watched you the entire time. When you were finished, it took all your strength to get him out of the bath, his wet body soaking through your nightgown. You grabbed the towel to go dry him off only for your nightgown to be tugged by his fingers.

With his words slurred together, he murmurs "take it off". Even in this state, he was still thinking of what’s between his legs. As you finally glance down, you realize his sudden arousal. As the wetness made the white night-gown a see-through.

You could easily deny him. Slap his hand away. Push him to the bed and tuck him in. His condition left him in no position to fight. He has always gotten his wishes. And will it fill you with some satisfaction to finally deprive him of his wants. Absolutely.

But what of your wishes, your wants, your needs. Perhaps it was driven by a sense of entitlement, but you wanted to experience the burning desire you had always heard of. Not the sloppy drunken fucks he gives you, all just to release his seed and pass out later on your side.

Hands reaching the bottom of the nightgown. Lifting the drenched fabric over your head. Drawing the violet eyes to your bare body. His lips arc into a contented smirk. You smack the hand trying to grab you. Wiping that smirk off his face when you push his chest.

Resting your full weight on him. Palms placed on either side of his head; caging him. Feeling the soft strands of silver hair between your fingers. Through his haze, he can mostly see your face. And that's what you want. For him to focus on you and nothing else. For the rest of the world to be nothing more than a shroud.

You reached down to grab his cock, brushing it against your pussy lips. Rubbing his cockhead in between your folds. Breathing heavily, coating the tip with your witness as the pressure builds in your stomach. This all becomes too much for you to endure. To him, the said can be said as silent pleas escaped his lips.

A hiss is let out between clenched teeth as you slowly sat down on him. He groans at the feeling of his length gradually filling you up. Your movements are halted while you inhale and exhale with the dull pain from the stretch. It wasn’t long before the said pain fades away and it morphs into the pleasure you yearned for.

As his hardened cock seeps through your pussy walls. You began to slowly grind yourself against him, slowly circling your hips. Aegon's hand slides through your body all the while he moans loudly, with no shame in the slightest. You can feel every vein on his shift. The squelch of flesh fills the air. Rolling your hips in a way that his cock brushes every inch of your inner walls.

It twitches inside you. With your body arched and head thrown back in pleasure-you are unable to contain the noises that you let out. The aroma of sex fills the spacious chambers. He tries to keep up with you, to try thrusting his hips, but all he could manage is to roam your body from your hips to your tits. Another moan escapes you as he gropes them.

You lean forward. The change of the slight position makes his cock reach further into your core. Your hands grab his shoulders and dig your nails into his skin. The sloppy sounds of you two fucking echo off the walls. Feeling your insides clench around him causes him to groan louder.

Kiss me. You whispered it, breath touching his face. And he obeyed your command. Lips clashing against yours. A kiss filled with passion and desperation. His tongue invades your mouth, entwining and twisting it with yours. He presses you against him, your nipples briefly brushing against his chest.

It leaves you breathless, not in how he seems to inhale your breath, but in the way his arms are tightly wrapped around you as if you were to vanish at any moment. His mouth muffles your gasp as the head of his cock touches that special spot inside of you. And you felt him cry into your mouth, feeling your insides wrap even tighter around him.

Both your lips swollen when you pulled back for a gasp of air. A salvia string between your mouths. Just for Aegon to close the distance once more, a hand on the back of your neck. By now, you are both a moaning mess as you continue riding him much faster than before. The sound of skin slapping against skin identifies each second, your bounces becoming more abrupt.

In an almost scream, you struggle to keep your eyes open with the overwhelming pleasure that washed over you from head to toe. He followed you right after. His body shivering and twitching underneath you. His swollen lips parted in broken moans.

It seems like another bath is needed.

The morning came and instead of the breakfast you thought you’d share with Aegon; it was instead shared with your mother-in-law; the queen. “Has my son been treating you well,” were the first that greeted you as you sipped your tea. You merely nod, setting the said cup of tea on the table. Alicent sighs, "Good." She then makes a brief pause before speaking, "Has he been doing his duty?"

In other words, are you with child. That was the question she wanted to ask. But perhaps it was too forward. As the heat spreads to your skin, you nod again. In all your preparation for marriage, discussing your sex life with your mother-in-law was not one of them.

Then, the door opens. You turn to face the other way. Seeing Aegon. His raised brows and slight widening of the eyes tell you that he didn't anticipate his mother’s presence. His mother asks of his arrival before you do. His eyes remained on your face even when he answered her, “You weren’t at the breakfast table.”

He was waiting for you. You briefly blinked. Aegon was waiting for you. In all your days, it was you who did all the waiting. Every morning. Sometimes he didn’t arrive, and you were left to eat the cold food. Pitying the rest that will be thrown away.

The butterflies flutter in your stomach, but you keep them at bay. Turning your back to him. You had no intention of keeping your hopes up. One night of an intimate moment and a considerate gesture in the morning won’t easily sway you to forget it all. Your heart was in his hand and he threw it to the ground then stumped on it. It still aches from that night of the wedding and seeing him with that damn woman who you were certain was one of the servants.

But he was making it all the harder for you. Gods, have you mentioned how much you hate your tendered heart.

"I have a gift for you." When your eyes caught sight of the necklace in his hands, you couldn't help your awe. Fingers gracing the emerald stones before it’s swept away from your touch. “Let me.” He intends to put it in you, you realize. So you turned as he placed it around your neck. Back in his line of sight, you gave him a smile. Detesting the way your chest tightens when he returns it.

Wearing nothing but the emerald necklace. The prince and you are bathing together. You truly have no idea how the two of you got into this predicament. Though at the moment you are in no mood to fuck, but have you ever known Aegon not to. Pushing against his shoulders. “So what do you want me to do then,” he asks in exasperation, and you couldn't help but raise a brow. Has he ever done anything remotely affectionate for another other than fucking.

Relax, you told him. Just relax. All you got was a blank stare. Heaving a sigh, you turn around, leaning your back against his chest. You sensed his surprise at the act, but he welcomes it. His chin rests on the top of your head, and your lips almost curve upward as his arms awkwardly embrace you. You close your eyes to enjoy the peaceful silence that now permeates the space.

But in the end, Aegon always got what he wanted. Your wet bodies entangled on the sheets soaking it. It feels refreshing not to taste the wine on his tongue. Aegon was rough as he always was. But this time there was something different.

He fucked you like he didn’t just want you. But like he needed you. And when he came. He didn’t move to sleep on the side as he did all those times before. Resting his cheek on your chest with his cock still inside you. Your fingers combed through the strands of his silver hair, receiving a hum that made your skin tingle.

Despite all of your self-talk to the contrary, you held the optimistic belief that the relationship changed. That he changed.

And how could you not, given that Aegon's hand never left yours. Everything you wished at the altar that day finally came to you. The embraces. The kisses not only given in the morning but all throughout the day. A never-ending stream of gifts.

Not to mention his insatiable lust for you. It doesn’t matter the time or if there were others in the room. When Aegon wanted you, there was no stopping him. Even if you were his wife, it was still a scandal. The many scoldings and fights it caused. You promised his mother it will never happen again, only for Aegon to have you break it the same day by having you in the gardens.

There was something you did notice in Aegon. Such as when you tug his hair back and hear a moan. Or how he never moves the hand that wraps itself around his throat. How he hangs on to your every word. But you dare not to mention it.

It was no surprise then when you visited the maester and were informed of your condition. Strangely, his family showed more excitement for your pregnancy than Aegon did. Even his grandfather was oddly proud at the announcement.

But another announcement was heard. The arrival of the princess Rhaenyra and the rest of her family. You only heard rumors. But it seemed they have some semblance, given that Aegon doesn’t seem the slightest bit happy by the news.

It wasn't until suppertime that you got to meet them. As you couldn’t attend the petition. Alicent demanded you must rest for the time being. Aegon tried to insist on staying by your side, but he was compelled to leave, kissing you goodbye before he did. And thank the gods you weren’t permitted to attend as Vaemond’s fate filtered through the castle. Such a sight would not have been something you can stomach.

At suppertime though, you are utterly furious with Aegon. No matter how many times you nudge his feet or whisper for him to stop. He continues his inappropriate remarks to Baela and Jace. You offer an apologetic smile and even move to stand to raise a glass to their upcoming union.

But you assume he got his own taste of medicine when the music began and a hand reached out to you. Looking up to see it's Prince Jacaerys. As soon as you took his hand, you felt a tug on the other. It’s Aegon; giving you a silent command. To refuse. But you simply ignore him, moving to stand.

Jace says a few words, but you can feel Aegon's watchful eyes never leave the two of you, sending blood rushing to your ears. It wasn't until you were a little distance from the table that you gave yourself permission to enjoy the moment.

With your round belly, unfortunately, you were unable to jump, but Jace only gave you a reassuring smile and opted to link your arms together instead.

You have only known him for a brief period of time, but you felt at ease in his presence. He seems to share your love for dancing, which you weren’t able to do as much even at your own wedding. With him, you allowed yourself to smile. To giggle when he whispers a jest in your ear.

But when Aemond gave his speech, that moment of tranquility was tarnished. When Jace goes to punch Aemond and Aegon pushes Luke onto the table. The guards pass you by, moving you aside and your hand protectively reaches for your stomach.

Before Alicent could usher any of you to bed, Aegon has already grabbed your arm, dragging you along. The fury on his face tells you of what to expect later at night. And as rough as he wanted to be, there was the concern of ‘hurting the baby’.

But the following morning, your husband was nowhere to be found.

Matters were made worse when the news of the king’s death was told to you. Standing in front of the green council, it was they who informed you of his passing. Being watched by them, with most of the focus on your round stomach, made you feel uneasy.

When you heard Otto's words, you did not try to conceal your shock. Aegon will become king. But they all swore allegiance to Rhaenyra. She was the king's chosen heir. However, you dared to keep those thoughts to yourself. You knew what it meant. That you'll be made a queen consort. And the child, who the council is already referring to as 'he' will be the heir.

A servant greeted you as soon as you returned to your chambers. But she seemed nervous, her hands clasped together with clothes that appear too big for her. She didn't perform any of her duties; just standing in the center of the room as if she were waiting for you.

Asking of her name, you make your way to sit on the bed. "Mauriel," she responds, voice trembling in unison with her body. Before you can blink, she goes down on her knees. Head pressed to the ground just inches from your feet, choking sobs pierced your ears.

You are at a loss for what to do as you hear her pleas. But at the mention of your husband, your body tenses. Finally, her familiarity dawns on you when she lifts her head. That day when you saw Aegon on top of another woman. It was her. She was indeed a servant.

It was hard to hear her words over her hiccups and sobs. You then saw her hand reach for the bottom of her clothing. And you prayed. Prayed it wasn't what you assumed it to be. But the gods were cruel when you are met at the sight of her round belly.

A hand over your mouth, taking deep breaths to keep your composure. Tears and snot ran down her face. "I tried so hard hiding it my lady, but it gets bigger every day," she cried out. You can only nod along. “I don’t ask much, my lady, only for some money to help me leave”.

As much as you were boiling over with resentment and jealousy. You found it in your heart to pity her.

Before you could even respond, the doors were thrown open. Alicent is there with guards on her side. Maurel's face is seen to be filled with horror. As if she expected them. Despite your protests, they drag her away. I will deal with it, Alicent assures you. “But-” “I will deal with it,” she repeats sternly this time. In no position to fight, you are forced to back down.

You decide to change the topic. "Where is Aegon?" She doesn't respond, and you ask her again. "We're looking for him," was all you got from her before she left. The rest of the guards follow after. Strangely, Ser Cole was not in sight.

When the doors close once more. You are back on the bed. Face covered in your hands, trying to process every overwhelming thing. The worst fucking thing is Aegon was nowhere to be seen. He left you. Abandoned you. You're not sure why it startled you. From the beginning, you vowed to stop yourself from keeping your hopes up, from loving him.

Then again, you don’t know if you wish to see Aegon again. You can still see her. Mauriel on her knees, tears rolling down her cheeks. A sick part of you was relieved that she wanted to leave rather than stay or, worse yet, ask Aegon to be involved in the child's life. As if that will happen. There was also this horrible thought in that you wish Alicent had given her moon tea. It will be a blessing. She is in no position to care for a child.

You were well aware of the rumors before you were wed. The bastards that were in the street of silk. But you assumed they were simply rumors. That he was an honorable prince and such revolting behaviors were not a part of his character.

But you soon come to understand that 'the you' prior to the marriage was not in love with Aegon, but the idea of him. That he was just like all the princes you have read of in your books. He was far from them though, hell even Aemond fit the image better, and that said something. All those thoughts of the many women he has slept with and all the bastards that roamed King's Landing are racing through your mind.

It made you livid, green with envy. And you let it be known when he returned.

Upon his forced return, you weren't allowed to see him. And when you did, he was standing at the opposite end of the Dragon pit's. His family positioned behind you. You stay close by as Ser Cole places the crown, Aegon the conqueror’s crown on his head. Then, in front of him, stands his mother. Kissing him on the forehead.

She then turns to face you. A steward comes from your side bearing another crown on the red cushion. The golden crown carved with rubies—fit for a queen—is taken by Alicent. She places it in your head before giving you a polite kiss on the cheek.

At first, there was no noise from the crowd, but as they began to cheer, it quickly gained momentum and echoed in the pit. As your husband raises the sword to the sky, you watch him soak in all the cheer and praise. Then his hand grabs yours, raising it as the applause continues, but this time for their 'queen'.

Your hands briefly entwined with his before you wrenched it away and forced it back to your side. A clear frown could be seen on his face in response. His daring to wonder of your treatment of him only served to inflame your rage.

When just the two of you were in the chambers. You let him have it. Screaming at him, using every foul word in the book, letting all your frustration seep out of your mouth. The stress finally caught up to you, feeling yourself stop when you began to feel an ache in your stomach.

Apologies were uttered over and over. You wanted to shove the hands that wrapped themselves around you, the face that buried itself in your neck. You had to use all your strength to push him off, and when you did, you weren't prepared to see his heartbroken face.

Heading to leave, your fingers stopped just as they touched the door handle after hearing it. I love you. The words reverberated throughout the chambers. You hated how your body ached for you to turn to him. How those words made your stomach flutter. How long had you been waiting to hear those words. But after what he did, do they really mean anything.

"I love you," he says it again. And this time, you come to face him. Only for him to be standing so close to you. You tried not to falter. Not to show the effect of his words. "You love me?" You ask of it, knowing he'll just repeat it again.

“Then beg,” the words shocked you as much as they did to him. But there was no turning back now. Your face stiffens, taking a bravery gulp before opening your mouth. “Then go down on your knees and beg for my forgiveness.”

At the moment, time seemed to freeze around you. Truthfully, you are unsure of his reaction. But to your amazement, he does it. Eyes never leaving yours as he bends down on his knees, holding you by the waist.

He puts his pride aside as he begs for your forgiveness. As he begs you not to leave him.

You blink for a moment, almost left speechless. And before you were able to realize what you are doing. Your fingers stroked his hair. He now looks at you with such longing and desperation. The fingers then moved to stroke his cheek only for his hand to cover yours. Watching as he places your palm over his mouth, giving it a few quick kisses.

And before you know it. You are pushing his silver locks to devour your aching cunt. Moans carelessly slipping from your lips. His tongue eagerly, lapping against your dripping folds. Eager to satisfy your lust and prove his love. Making such a mess of you as he drinks in your juice, your nectar.

Even with the pleasure enveloping your senses, you are able to speak out the words. “Do you love me?” You ask him yet again. Yes. He spoke it softly. You whimper at the vibration it causes on your sex. “How much,” you say, looking down at him. "More than anything.” There was no hesitation in his words.

More than the crown, you ask. Yes, he answers. More than your family? Yes. More than the wine? Yes. Each time, his response was the same. Even when you ask him this. “More than your whores?” Yes.

Your mind flashes back to Mauriel. Clenching your fists and scowling at the memory of her. So you said the words, without thinking of the repercussions that will follow. “Then be rid of them,” you demand. You groan at the loss of the feeling of his tongue as his face is revealed, your juice seen dripping down his chin.

You took a deep breath, daring to take the risk. "I want every whore you've ever been with to be gone, whether she sucked your cock or had it in her." Just the thought of them seeing his bare boy was enough to make you envious. When your words reach his ears, worry coils in your stomach. Fearing his response.

Much to your relief, with a muttered promise to do so, he returns to dive in between your legs.

Waking up in the morning, your husband was not there. Even more, taken back when Ser Cole appeared at your door. “The king demands your presence,” is all he says before giving you a moment to dress. As you follow him, you ask Ser Cole where the two of you are heading, but he doesn’t respond.

Moving through the hallways, you start to notice the eyes that watched you from every corner. At first, you thought it was your new position. Being the queen of the seven kingdoms. But these weren't the looks of admiration or curiosity. But ones filled with fear, judgment, and even anger.

Seeing Alicent stopped in your tracks. She didn't greet or smile at you, making you feel more uneasy. “Your husband made such a commotion today,” she claims, “his first act as king all done under your name”. You can only stare at her. Utterly unclear as to what she meant. And when she said her final words to you, you were left more bewildered and even hurt. “And to think I once pitied you.”

Then it's as if the prior mentioning of his name summoned his presence. "My wife," Aegon proudly announces, beaming as he rushed to you. Embracing you as his lips met yours. You hear Alicent sigh at the display. The second he pulls away, Aegon drags you along, forcing you to follow him. With Ser Cole not far behind.

Unsure why the two of you are outside the castle. The chilly air has you shivering, wrapping arms around yourself for some warmth. It's when you look near the gates, do you nearly scream in horror.

Wishing for it is one thing. Speaking of it was one thing. But to see it. To have it be fulfilled was another.

Several bodies lay in front of you. Every one of them hanged. Your eyes can see the darkening bruises on their necks, as it’s bent in an inhuman manner. Every one of them was a woman. Their faces unrecognizable. Against your better judgment, you allowed your eyes to wonder until they came across her. A face that you are familiar with. Mauriel.

“I was planning on bringing you their heads, but that would be too much work, wouldn’t it.” You didn’t respond. No matter how much your body cried out for you to turn away from the horrifying scene, your eyes were powerless to do so. You jumped when Aegon drew you close to him, forcing you to look into his face.

“Do you like it?” Gazing into his eyes, you see it-the ferocity-the love they had for you. But you can also make out the madness whirling around. “Yes,” you uttered, so low and shaky. Sure he must not have heard it, but he did. A smile on his face. You let out a faint gasp when feeling him tug the emerald necklace to pull you in for a kiss.

“Let’s have breakfast, shall we? I had them make your favorite.” You could only nod. Doing all you could do not to break down.

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #hotd smut #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon #yandere x reader #asoiaf x reader #yandere asoiaf #x reader #reader insert #yandere smut #smut

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sunflowervoltwentyeight · 11 months

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Hello! This is a fic rec of my all-time favorite fics. These fics have really stuck with me over the years, and I've read many of them multiple times. This is an ongoing fic rec, that I will continue to update. These fics are organized by word count from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Of Mates and Men by bananaheathen / @bananaheathen (630k)

In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of.

Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance.

Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

Hiding Place by orphan_account (365k)

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

You Can Hear It In The Silence by imogenelee / @imogenleefic (234k)

When Harry Styles was accepted into a post-grad degree, he knew he could no longer afford his flat, leaving him with three options: 1) Move back into student halls. 2) Become homeless. 3) Move in with his best (and only) friend, Niall, and three of Niall's other mates. He went with the third option. But it was a close race. Shame one of his roommates reminded him why he only has one friend. If there is one thing Louis Tomlinson can't stand, it's pretentious tossers, having grown up around enough of them. If there is one thing he can't live without, it would be his friends. So he was proper thrilled to move in with his best mates and a couple of other lads. That was until he discovered one of them was the archetype for a pretentious tosser.

In the interest of seeing out the twelve-month lease without killing each other, they both try (debatable) to get along despite believing they are opposite in almost every conceivable way, each having the communication skills of a cucumber, and secrets that have no business be kept secret.

One More Time Again by orphan_account (232k)

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Stranger Stars by shaylea (212k)

Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

Given A Chance by fabby / @fabby1d (173k)

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right?

Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

(or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

The Wonderlands by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (150k)

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

As You Are by Zarah5 (139k)

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It's also against his contract.

The only reason Harry auditions for The X Factor is because his best mate signed the two of them up as some kind of joke. Harry doesn't get the big deal—not until he's faced with this season's judges and realises that one of them used to be his desperate, impossible teenage crush.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry / @isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Empty Skies by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay by embro (134k)

A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis' life upside down.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (134k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

Wild Love bypurpledaisy / @harrydaisy (130k)

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It’s supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

After All These Years byLifeInAColorWheel (127k)

It’s been seven years since One Direction went on hiatus and it’s been eight years since Louis and Harry broke up. They’ve been strangers to one another since then.

But, over the course of a weeklong boys’ trip, history between Harry and Louis resurfaces.

Or,

The one when Louis and Harry don’t talk, connect again years later, and reflect on why their love collapsed.

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (123k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

I'll Fly Away by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (122k)

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

Bitter Tangerine by purpledaisy / @daisyharry (119k)

Maybe it’s Niall, he reasons to calm his storming heart. Maybe he’s not actually gone for the holidays yet, maybe Harry got the dates confused. Slowly, he holds his breath and pushes the kitchen door open. The first thing he sees make him jump, a wooden spoon held out like a sword. Once his brain processes the sight in front of him, it’s less the sword that gets him than who is attached to the wooden spoon.

“Harry,” the swordsmen speaks before Harry can, his voice low and steady though confusion laces each word.

Harry’s breath catches. Every string around his heart, all the protection he spent nine months building, rips out and tears open all at once as he says, “Hi Louis.”

AU: Nine months after they break up, a twist of fate brings Harry and Louis back together at Christmas.

Never Be by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet (117k)

Monica: You've got to see her again.Ross: And why do you care so much?Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy!Ross: You had fantasies about Emily?Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Burn to Ash by bethaboo (116k)

Harry is sitting there, so fucking casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.

He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the asshole Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry.

Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.

Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.

Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo / @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn’t intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

Tired Tired Sea by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (113k)

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Babydoll Blues by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain (111k)

Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by certainsadness (103k)

“There’s something so great about watching you interact with art,” Harry said quietly. “Like, when you were giving the tour, you were just so you, and so happy and excited and funny and engrossing. But then when you’re looking at the art, when it’s, like, just for you, you get so quiet and observant.” He pressed a kiss to Louis’s shoulder. “But you still seem so you, and so happy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you as happy as you’ve been tonight.” He kissed his shoulder again. “As you are right now.” A shiver went up Louis’s back. “I’m happy when I’m with you,” he said.

Or, Louis loved art and Harry was a masterpiece.

Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships (92K)

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

Behavioural Ecology by turtlekz / @turtlekz (81k)

Louis Tomlinson is a primatologist working with the Jane Goodall Institute for primate conservation; and Harry Styles is the photojournalist sent from National Geographic to write a piece promoting awareness about the endangered species. They meet, and love is never, ever simple, as we know.

Featuring Eli the chimpanzee, bickering humans, storytelling, and five men who come to gain an understanding of what it means to be human; all stationed in the Republic of the Congo.

Do Not Go Gentle by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie (70k)

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (68k)

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

A Yuzu Grows in Brooklyn by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (66k)

Harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.

The Dark and the Dentist by sunshiner / @theprizeofcoolness (66k)

“I know this song,” Louis whispers, and Harry has to lean his ear toward him to pick up what he’s saying. “It was written for people to dance to it. We should be dancing.” We can’t, Harry almost spits, but it’d be stupid of him. Louis knows they can’t. Even if he looks like any regular Parisian in their twenties, and Harry looks like any hipster Parisian in their twenties, they can’t anyway. To be fair, they probably wouldn’t do it even if they were out. But if they were two uni students, both in Paris for an exchange, meeting over fallen books at the library, or because of mutual friends, or watching Monet’s Water Lilies? “How would we dance?” Harry murmurs, mouth almost pressed to Louis’ cheek, so close he can feel his warmth. What a picture they must make, two millionaires freezing in a park and dreaming of a different life.

An account of the events of November 2014. Canon-compliant.

Time Passed by coffinofachimera (66k)

Louis struggles with their relationship as Harry grows into his identity.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast by dancesongsoul, lookatyourchoices (60k)

“Tommo and Harry are gonna do it. I don’t know when, but they’re gonna do it. They’ve got the mattress, the pillows, everything’s in place, and they’re gonna do it. I really wish those two the best of luck.” –Taylor Swift, "Chapera"

Or a Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Featuring Harry's yellow swim shorts, Louis in snapbacks, and OT5 shenanigans.

No One Does It Better by nodibs (49k)

Harry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

Sail Away With Me by star_henderson / @star-henderson (47k)

“It’s inhumane putting four blokes in one cabin.” Louis stripped off and climbed up into his top bunk. “And why did we get the smelliest twat on the whole ship and bore of the century?”

Harry shrugged. “We clearly pissed someone off along the way.”

Louis snorted softly. “Who do I have to bend over for to get us an upgrade?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “If only it were that simple.” He rolled his eyes wistfully at Louis.

“The only way I’m going to get a two berth is to throw Payno overboard and be next in line for the deputy cruise director's job.” Louis leaned up on one elbow to look over at Harry. “Would you help me weigh his body down so I don’t go to jail?”

“Only If I can share your cabin.” Harry shuffled about, tucking the duvet between his legs, sweeping his hair up into a bun and securing it in a band. “I’m not being an accessory to murder and then still having to share with them two, no fucking way.”

Louis and Harry are part of the entertainment team on board a luxury cruise liner. They hate sharing their four berth cabin with two other guys and would do anything to get a cabin of their own. One drunken night the solution was simple. They'd just get married...

Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy (34k)

In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.

Have You Coming Back Again by whoknows (31k)

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

Loved By Your Mother by superglass / @gaymoustache (31k)

Harry stretches out like Venus with her lover, growing sleepy in the late afternoon light with a baby growing inside her. Perhaps not literally, not physically. Not exactly.

Harry struggles to come to terms with wanting to have children, and what that means for their relationship. Canon compliant, set a few years into the future

#read #favorite fics #ficrec #larry fic rec #hlcreators #1dficvillage

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