#otherwise everyone was on their best behavior as far as i could tell

[jyndor]

when are non-Black people going to learn that they cannot say the n-word even if they are not white

[flowersandbigteeth]

Big orc with a small mate who is just so small and fragile they just cry sometimes scared they'll hurt them

This is a little on the darker side, but I hope it is a bit of schadenfreude.

General Plot: You meet and befriend an orc who has a penchant for finding tall bridges.

Orc (Orion) x female reader

also, just a note, when I say "small" in this I'm saying as compared to an orc, not any particular body size or shape

Word Count: just under 3k

W: as brief as i could while still getting the message across descriptions of sa and suicide, otherwise sfw soft yandere behavior

“Damn,” Orion’s friend and coworker Joss whistled, peering across the shitty dive bar they were posted in, “don’t think I’ve seen a prettier sight in my life.” 

Orion’s eyes flickered from his drink to where Joss was looking, a table of women, your heads huddled together as you worked on your answers for the trivia game you were playing. 

“I got it!” you shouted at the guy running the game, “the answer is Oregon!” 

Orion gulped on his drink and it went down like a lump of lead in his stomach. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his life, your eyes glowing and your cheeks warm from smiling. The women around you were all beautiful in different ways, but his eyes focused on you and he couldn’t look away. You were so small. It almost made his eyes prickle as he considered how you could possibly survive in this world being so delicate. 

As a mercenary Orion knew the darkest dregs of the world. He’d seen pretty, innocent things like you broken and bloody in the snow when his team had arrived too late. It broke his heart every time and looking at you…something in him was moved. 

“Let’s buy the ladies some drinks,” Joss grinned, already turning to the bartender to organize a pitcher of margaritas for your table. 

You glanced up at the waiter as he carried an armful of drinks over to you and your friends. You’d never done trivia before and you didn’t go to bars, but they’d convinced you to get out of the house for once and join them. So far it had been fun, though as the waiter spread the drinks out in front of you and your friends you frowned.

“No thanks,” you said politely, pushing the glass back across the table when he got to you, “don’t drink.” 

The waiter smiled, scooping up the cup before gesturing to the two orcs sitting at the bar. 

“Compliments of the gentlemen,” he explained and the rest of your friends raised their drinks and smiled at the handsome orcs. 

They were obviously military of some kind. You could tell not because they were dressed in fatigues, but because the hair that was traditionally worn longs for orcs was instead cropped close to their heads. 

The larger one seemed to be looking at you and you held up your soda and tipped it at him with a friendly smile, before turning your attention back to the game. For some reason you didn’t want him to think you didn’t appreciate his attempt at a gift, but this was why you didn’t go to bars. Everyone was trying to ply everyone else into sex with alcohol. It just wasn’t your scene anymore. You didn’t do hookups and you didn’t drink, so…what was the point? Trivia, was your best friend's answer. 

“I’ve got the brunette with the curls,” Joss said to Orion as he smirked at your table. 

Your friends were eating up the orcs' attention, casting them wily smiles and flipping their hair. You didn’t blame them. They were good looking, with large, shining tusks and bodies any human body builder would kill for. The larger one had an arm full of tattoos peeking out from the tight black shirt he was wearing. 

For your part, you huddled down into the hoodie you were wearing and took a sip of your soda. It wasn’t like the orcs were flirting with you anyway. They were probably looking at Emily, who had long blonde hair, or Tina, who had dark flawless skin and tight, shining curls.

You didn’t notice Orion’s gaze focusing solely on you. 

“She doesn’t like margaritas?” he asked the bartender, nervously, when he returned with your empty glass. 

“Doesn’t drink,” he murmured, already moving on to his next customer. 

That comforted him a little. At least you weren’t going to be wandering drunk through the streets on your way home, but the idea of you walking home all by yourself bit at him. Orion was feeling things he’d never felt before and he didn’t even know your name. 

He was a mercenary. He wasn’t a kind, warm orc; never had been. He was good at killing. Very, very good at killing and that’s what his life consisted of, death, blood, and lonely cold nights camping out waiting for orders. 

He had his fun with girls he ran into in the odd cities he found himself in. They had a way of finding military men with money, but he’d never had a girlfriend or any sort of real connection. He’d never expected to live long enough for it to matter…but there you were. You weren’t all made up like the other girls, dressed in a bulky hoodie that swallowed you, with your hair brushed away from your face. Yet, you were the most beautiful one sitting there, chewing your lip and wrinkling your brow as you tried to think up answers. 

“Come on,” Joss said to him, throwing back the rest of his beer, “I think the game is ending.” 

The winners were announced (not your team) and you were trying to figure out how to slide past your drunk friends to escape home when the orcs approached your table. 

“Evening ladies,” the shorter one said, flexing his biceps as he scraped his thick fingertips through his short hair to the delight of your friends. 

“Excuse me,” you murmured, wiggling past your starry eyed friends and almost completely ignoring the orcs. 

You bid them all goodnight, but they are busy batting their eyelashes and circling their fingers around the mouths of their glasses. Best leave them to it, you thought as you made your way to the front door, not noticing the taller orc abandoning his friend to follow you out.

Orion didn’t have a plan. He’d never stalked a woman before, but there he was, using his combat skills to make his huge form disappear in the urban environment.  

He got more and more uneasy as you left the nice part of town and turned on to a dark street. A siren blared, startling him for a second as a cop car flew past and he almost lost track of you before he caught sight of you again fidgeting with the loop of keys in your hand and stuffing one into the door of the first floor apartment you lived in. 

Orion frowned, sneaking as quietly as he could up to your side window. Your home was incredibly insecure, he noted. With his strength he could easily pop the rusted bars over your windows out to get to you and your door was a laughable piece of plywood. 

His eyes watered again imagining your pretty face twisted in fear from some unknown attacker. He had to stop for a moment to take a breath and gather himself. Feelings he’d never felt before were bubbling up in his stomach like a witch’s cauldron, but standing outside of your house like a creeper, he had no idea how to approach you. 

He ended up keeping vigil outside of your house all night and woke from a shallow doze when you started moving around inside. Peeking through your window he could see you smoothing your hair dressed only in your panties and a little t-shirt that rode up on your waist. Compared to him, you were just so incredibly small! It still confounded him that you could survive in this awful neighborhood and not be harassed daily. 

Since it was the weekend and you weren’t hung over like your friends, you went about your morning routine and donned your usual hoodie to hit up your favorite coffee shop. An iced latte was the perfect way to start a Saturday. 

In the light of day, Orion hung back as he followed you down the street, waiting a few moments before he entered the coffee shop after you. 

The shop was busy, but there was a loveseat open and after getting your latte you took a seat on one side to drink it. 

“Mind if I sit here?” Orion asked, after he’d gotten his own coffee. 

You smiled up at his looming figure and scooted a bit to the side so there was plenty of room for him. 

“You look familiar,” you mentioned, making light conversation as you sipped your drink. 

The orc gave you a small smile. 

“Name's Orion,” he said, pleased to have a reason to talk to you, “I think I saw you last night at the bar…you were with your friends…but you don’t drink…” 

You giggled. 

“Oh yeah, they dragged me out to that,” you said with a grin, “they think I’m a hopeless homebody because I don’t like to get drunk. I’m (Y/N).” 

He smiled back at you, taking in your pretty twinkling eyes and soft looking skin. He had to hold back his tears as he looked down at you, so little in the seat next to him and tucked cutely in your big hoodie. He wondered what you would look like dressed in his t-shirt and wondered how he could possibly hold you without hurting you with his big hands.  

“That’s not a bad quality to h-” he started to say, but was interrupted by a slightly nasally voice trying to get your attention. 

You winced as you looked up to find one of the last people you wanted to see and part of the reason you didn’t drink hanging over you. Dane, a man you’d met once at a bar was holding a coffee with his other hand stuck in his pocket. 

“(Y/N)!” he said grinning, “Great to see you! I’m surprised I didn’t hear from you after all the fun we had last time…did I put my number in your phone wrong or something?” 

He reached down to snatch your phone out of your hand, as if he were going to check it. 

You winced and shrank back. 

The reason you didn’t drink was the last time you went to a bar you might have had a bit too much and Dane offered to take you home. Though his idea of “take you home” meant assault you while you were too drunk to fight back and then leave you crying on your couch with a text in the morning that said, “had fun last night, can’t wait to do it again.” 

Of course, you hadn’t told anyone as you probably should have. You were too embarrassed and ashamed, so instead you tried to shake the experience away and swore to yourself you’d never drink again. 

To your surprise, however, before Dane could reach your phone, Orion’s hand intercepted his. He could see by looking at you, you were uncomfortable and though he couldn’t possibly have known what happened, he didn’t like the man. 

“Hi,” he said, scooping up Dane’s hand into a tight handshake, “I’m (Y/N)’s boyfriend Orion, I don’t think we’ve met before.” 

Dane sneered and looked Orion up and down. The look on his face said he didn’t take the orc seriously. 

“Boyfriend?” he laughed, “that must be new…(Y/N) and I had a good time just a couple of weeks ago, didn’t we?” 

He turned his attention to you, but your eyes were filling with tears, stressed and embarrassed that he would even say something like that after what he did. You would not describe it as “a good time.” Orion growled and squeezed Dane’s hand until the bones popped, wiping the smile from his face. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! You’re going to break my hand!” Dane howled, causing the whole restaurant to look at the scene he was causing. 

Fire flooded your cheeks and you tried to make an escape, pushing past Orion, but in another surprising move, he dropped Dane’s hand and put his arm around you. In any other circumstance, you would have been a little frightened, but at that moment a warm hug was just what you needed and you leaned into him without thinking. 

“Let’s get out of here, (Y/N),” he said, giving you a gentle smile, before giving Dane a pointed look, “this place is starting to smell like trash.” 

He hustled you out of the building and led you to a small park where there were some cozy benches tucked amongst the trees. Spaced out from your encounter, you let his strength lead you without a fuss. 

He sat you down and you just sat in silence for a few minutes coming back to your senses. Orion had seen enough victims of assault in his line of work to know what the look on your face meant, so he gave you a little space to collect yourself before speaking. 

“You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to…but I’m a good listener if you do,” he said quietly, brushing a loose hair out of your face. 

You looked so small and helpless in front of him and he focused all of his will into not scooping you up and carrying you off, keeping you locked up so tight no one could ever get to you again. He could snap you like a twig with just a flick of his wrist, no wonder some horrible man thought he could take advantage of you. 

Without meaning to you let out a sob and the whole story came spilling out. It took all of Orion’s mental fortitude not to respond with anger. That wasn’t what you needed right then. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin and rubbed soothing circles on your back while you cried. 

Despite his fear of smooshing you, he managed to squeeze you just gently enough to reassure you without hurting you.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, realizing why you didn’t drink, “men can be disgusting. No one should take advantage of someone while they are intoxicated…it’s just sick.” 

After you’d had a good cry, you exchanged numbers and Orion walked you home promising you everything would be okay. Even though you weren’t sure you quite believed him, something about him felt safe so you let yourself feel comforted and spent the rest of the day resting in your pajamas trying to keep your mind off of it. 

That only worked for a day, because the next morning as you were flipping channels you saw a familiar face on the television. It was Orion. He was being interviewed by a news reporter. You hurriedly turned the volume up to hear what he was saying. 

“I saw him climbing the railing,” he said evenly into the microphone the reporter had shoved in his face, “but I was just too late…I couldn’t get to him in time to save him.” 

His face was oddly blank considering the warmth he’d shown you the previous day. The camera centered back on the reporter. 

“Depression has taken yet another victim here on the St. Anne’s bridge. It seems the security cameras on the bridge were not functioning when the event occurred, so there is no video record. Officials are promising to put more cameras and safety measures in place to stop tragedies like this from occurring. If you are experiencing thoughts of harming yourself please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. Simply dial 988. Dane Andrews will be remembered as a…” 

You muted the television and blinked as images of the man who assaulted you flashed on screen. Dane is dead. You didn’t want to celebrate someone’s death but for some reason it put you at ease. You’d never accidentally run into him again. He’d never have another opportunity to taunt you. You couldn’t erase what had happened but it felt like you’d gained some closure. You were so focused on that, you didn’t even consider that it was a bit odd Orion was the last person to have seen him before he jumped off of the bridge. 

You hurriedly pulled out your phone and texted him. 

I saw you on the news…want to come over? 

It was only a few minutes before he responded. 

Be there in ten. 

You quickly put on some proper pants and brewed a pot of coffee while you waited for him to knock on the door. When it finally came you found yourself smoothing your hair and glancing in the mirror before answering it. For some reason you wanted to look some kind of way when he saw you. 

You opened the door to the Orion you remembered, not the cold emotionless one on TV. He gave you a big smile and to your surprise he had a bouquet of peonies in his hands. 

“For you,” he said, holding them out to you. 

Despite the somber mood of the morning, you smiled back, letting him inside and hurrying to the kitchen to find a vase for the pretty pink flowers. 

“It’s crazy what happened to Dane,” you said as you poured him a cup of coffee, “I guess even people like him have their own inner demons.” 

“Mmm,” Orion said, noncommittally as he sat at your kitchen table and took a sip, “I hope you feel a bit safer…” 

His eyes followed you as you got a cup and poured yourself some coffee. Of course, he had no intention of telling you, Dane did not kill himself. He had thrown Dane off the bridge after making sure he regretted ever laying a finger on you. He knew just what to do to make it look like the damage had been caused by his body banging on the rocks under the bridge, not Orion’s fists. 

You sighed. 

“You know I feel a little bad for saying this, but I really do feel safer,” you admitted, your gaze meeting his gold irises. 

He smiled. 

“Good,” he said, “you deserve to feel safe. Nothing like that is ever going to happen to you again.” 

Sitting down next to him at the table you fiddled with the handle of your mug. 

“You can’t be sure of that,” you murmured into your coffee, “things happen all the time.” 

He pulled your chin up to look at him, cupping your cheek gently. He knew he would have to be gentle with you always and he looked forward to holding you even closer.  

“While I’m around they won’t happen to you,” he stated.

You had no idea why, but for some reason you believed him. Your cheeks flushed just a little and your heart fluttered. 

“D-do you plan on sticking around?” you asked quietly. 

“I don’t ever plan on leaving you,” he said and you swallowed thickly.  

If it were anyone else those words would have been frightening, but Orion had cast some kind of magic spell on you with his kindness and you only felt safe and seen. 

You raised your much smaller hand to place it on his larger one against your cheek and looked up at him. 

“I think I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

[strawberrykaon]

I think autistic primarchs would present very differently than in a baseline human. Its so much easier to cover up or explain away.

Like if Mortarion goes semi- verbal, he still sounds normal. But very stilted for a primarch. Its different from when I can only maybe say three words at a time. Usually I can only go "I don't know" or "no", or "go away". For him it's still full length sentences, like "I think I just need to be alone now". That can easily be explained to be exhaustion. But in reality he can't vocalize anything more complex right now.

Guilliman has be scripting since a child but no one notices. He just has over 100 scripts memorized for any occasion. Any question or change in the conversation. He already has a script lined up. He's capable of memorizing it. Conversations happen so naturally, you can't even tell the difference.

Even the way they stim can be so different to a baseline. Probably in ways a baseline can't comprehend. Traits like increased pattern recognition are standard in a primarch. All primarchs are far more "higher functioning" than any baseline.

Being behind their brothers developmentally by a few weeks is nothing compared to a baseline. What's walking at two months when most humans are closer to a year old when they start. Sure the other primarchs were walking much sooner. Some right out of the pod. But they often reached adulthood far sooner than any human. What constitutes a development delay to a primarch. If an apothecary can't tell what's a high blood pressure level in Guilliman. How can you tell?

Exhaustion that so many autistic face is so off from a baseline. They need less sleep. They can go through periods without rest for far longer. I think in cases like Mortarion, he can just push through an autistic burnout. Sure he's a bit more irritable, among other things. But hey, the point of a shutdown won't hit him till a few decades later. So therefore he must have high energy levels then even his brothers. Despite the toll on his mental health. Plus their recovery times are far shorter. Guilliman needs just a few days to feel normal after a year long campaign after all. Doesn't matter how he was acting prior. Any strange behavior can be hand waved away.

Mental conditioning can be used to suppress sensory overload. No point in having your super solider curl up screaming because he has super hearing. And you threw him into an active warzone. Lets make sure you can't process that information in way that would harm you. (Plus I think as a rule primarchs have a tendency to be more sensory seeking than sensory avoidant.)

Hell even their positions in the imperial society could make it easier to mask. If Perturabo wants something done in a certain way, you are going to do it that way. You're just some 25 year old iron warrior or serf that needs to follow command. Plus you don't know best compared to a primarch.

Of course they mask in typical ways. Mortarion hasn't rocked when upset since he was young. Because Nacrae told him that he should avoid such weakling behavior. Or still show more obvious traits like Dorn's flatter speaking style. (IDK how true this is but everyone says this and I'm not too familiar with Dorn to say otherwise.)

Also I like to imagine that the Emperor intentionally placed Autism into some of his designer babies. Thinking he could "avoid all the negatives but only gain those traits that would benefit them greatly." Only for his patience to slowly be drained. Like Perturabo having a meltdown while Dorn is trying to get the two of them to work together. But he's lost the ability to mask what little he does. And is just going, "We are to conclude this activity in an hour. I have to calibrate the ships sensors in an hour and half. You have already wasted 10 minutes. We must refocus so we can conclude in an hour..."

The problem start when understanding what's going on under the surface. Or when you start comparing them to their brothers. But hey you're below understanding what a primarch is thinking. And all the primarchs are little off. They're demigods. What makes these one's so different. Doesn't help they themselves won't consider it themselves. Or even be insulted by the implication. I'm not an invalid. Don't be ridiculous.

(I used Perturabo, Dorn, and Guilliman here because they're the common ones head cannoned as autistic. I went with Mortarion as well because I decided to just go with it. I know him the best. Plus this is all just headcannon. Just to be clear. Reasoning being his kids tend to present with a flat personality anyways. Also heard Mortarion was always behind his brothers, so developmental delays?? Idk yet where they got that in lore yet. Trying to get through all the books is a lot. Plus his other strange behaviors. But it could just be poor socialization as a child mixed with mental illness. Could also just be all three too. But more than these four could be autistic is my point. Sorry if this post was rambling or unclear. Or if anyone has done this before. I just wanted to get my thoughts out on the subject.)

[butterbabyflapjack]

Brat

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

sexual content, sexual tension, dominant ghost, power dynamics, messy feelings, voice kink, mask kink, glove kink, dom/sub, indirect daddy kink, biting, rough sex, begging, brat breaking, voyeurism, just a dash of possessive choking, forced eye contact, oral fixation, tactical gear kink

You’ve been acting like a brat, and Ghost has had enough of it.

“You can consider this punishment. Can consider it me spoiling your bratty behavior. But you wanted my attention, and you’ve gotten it. So tell me now if you don’t want me to bend you over this desk and fuck you until it breaks, otherwise I’m taking what I want from you, and you’ll accept everything I give like the greedy fucking whore you’re pretending so hard not to be.”

He pauses, as if for your reply, though your tongue won’t move, your heart won’t beat; all of you tangled and drunken and warm; your stomach clenching almost painfully tight as you hear his hoarsened hum.

“I need an answer, love.”

“I…” you swallow, hard. Unable to deny that your panties are steadily soaking through for him, though still you somehow manage to sputter, “I’m not a whore you fucking asshole!”

You hear the smirk behind his mask. “You will be for me.”

Chapter 1

You don't know why you're doing it. It's childish. Stupid. Unprofessional. Reckless. And yet, despite all of this, your smart mouth persists.

You’re not usually so abrasive. You’re usually a fan favorite on the team. Someone your comrades like to be around, whose skill they can depend on. Like 141’s own lovable, murderous teddy bear, complete with her own fully functioning rifle. But maybe the other guys locked in this shady apartment with you – who’ve been locked up in here all week with you – are right. Maybe you do have a giant stick shoved far too deep up your ass.

For the past few days at least, you've had a fucking attitude problem. You'll admit it to yourself, even if you’ll deny it to anyone else who has the balls to mention it.

In those first few days of everyone being locked up in here, waiting on word for your mission’s next move and that eventual moment you’ll finally be allowed to leave, the rest of your team had more or less ignored your souring attitude. The snarky comebacks. The utter disrespect. The numerous started arguments and absolute cheek. The never saying ‘yes’ without first saying ‘no’ and ‘fuck you’ and whatever else a few dozen times beforehand. It’s a bunch of men locked up in here with you, and it only took a day of this before they started goading that you "must be on the rag, but would you mind chilling the fuck out, sweetheart?"

Lucky for you, it only took one bruised jaw at the edge of your irritated fist to keep that idea from spiraling, and you still don't know why Soap let that slide. He must like you a hell of a lot more than anyone who deserves being treated this way all week, because he could have easily retaliated. You may be the best sharpshooter in the room, but you're physically the smallest and weakest, and you damn well know it. But even this isn’t enough to curb your newly sharpened tongue, apparently.

Seriously, what is wrong with you? These guys aren't just your teammates, more than a few of them are your friends. People you know well, and who know you – who you’ve been through thick and thin with. So why are you treating them like their very existence annoys you?

You're overworked. That must be it. You’ve been running too many contracts, barely sleeping a single night in one corner of the world before shipping off for the next. In fact, the week this started, these past few days that you’ve been holed up with Ghost, Soap and a few others in this over-cramped Amsterdam apartment, all of you just killing time whilst waiting on word for your next move – this is the longest you’ve spent in one place in a long, long time. And something about that makes you antsy. Like you need to keep moving. Like you’re running from something. And damn, apparently you need therapy or something; someone to crawl inside your head and tear out all this pent up angst, the hurt, the annoyance, the sleepless nights plagued by every horrid thing your line of work brings. All that anxious rage, the never being able to turn off, to relax. 

You need an actual full night’s sleep. That would fix everything. You think. You hope. Or maybe, as Soap so lovingly put it, you need a swift, firm kick up the–

You're startled from your thoughts as a graveled voice calls your name from the doorway of the room you’re lounging in. And when you jolt and twist toward it, eyes wide upon being caught so off guard – because since when are you, one of 141’s stealthiest, caught off guard by anything? – you see your Lieutenant standing there. Ghost. His tall, imposing outline, black shadows with a skull’s face. Leaning one dense shoulder along the frame of the open doorway as he watches you, as if he’s been here watching you for a while now.

Shit – how long have you been trapped inside your own head? 

“Not gonna greet me with a friendly fuck you, then?” he wonders, eying you idly.

Your surprise eases itself into a lowered scowl. “Not a friendly one, no.”

You hear his raspy tsks of the tongue. See his head just barely shake in disapproval, his eyes still trained to you. And even though you know you’re being rude – and to Ghost, no less – it still manages to bother you. “You know I’ve saved your sorry ass more than a few times, don’t you?”

“Just like I’ve saved yours.”

“So, what then?” he asks, growlishly bemused. “I s’pose in your eyes that gives you permission to act like a sour fuckin’ tart?”

You don’t. You don’t think anything should make you act like this, but you still are, and you’re still irritated. Though he doesn’t exactly wait for your thoughts on the matter.

"Come with me," he says. No prelude.

"What for?" you wonder back, because of course you do - and even at this distance you see his lashes lower across his dark eyes.

"We need to have a little chat."

His tone, low and jagged, is amiable enough; though its undercurrent not to be trifled with. 

You trifle anyway.

“Kinda busy right now,” you point out, even though you’re not, and with how you’re lazing on a moth-eaten divan with perhaps the most boring reading material known to man - an outdated British arms manual - this is more than obvious. “We can chat later.” You flip to a random page, even though you feel annoyance fizzle off of him. Even though your gut clenches at your disobeying what isn’t exactly an order from your Lieutenant, but is certainly far from a suggestion. Somehow still having the gall to feel nervous, despite your brazen cheek, to so temp the ire of so dangerous a snake.  

You hear his heavy steps coming toward you, and suddenly your book’s torn from your fingers, tossed against the nearest wall, pages fluttering to the ground. And though you blink up in indignance at him, muttering out a petulant little ‘hey!’, that blunted look in his eyes otherwise silences your objections.

“We can chat now,” he says.

Though your eyes narrow, you don’t dare deny him a second time. “Fine, then. If I still had a book, I’d close it for you.”

“Well aren’t you just a doll.”

It takes a lot not to roll your eyes at his sandpaper-coarse sarcasm. “What do you want? Or did you come just to flatter me?”

“Not here.” 

He turns, his tactical vest shifting across the breadth of his sturdy chest, tugging at the fabric of his olive-green shirt, its sleeves rolled to half-length to reveal densely muscled forearms. Boots, gloves, mask; he’s ready to receive word that you’re all to head out at a moment’s notice – not that that moment seems likely to happen anytime soon.

When he doesn’t hear you scrambling up to follow him, he stops at the edge of the room, boots scuffing to a halt. Glancing back over one broad shoulder, eyes darkly held within the sockets of his mask. “Not a fan of repeating myself, sweetheart.”

You frown a bit at what feels to be his condescension, though you can’t deny the little thrill you get every time he calls you sweetheart, even if he just uses it to annoy you. From anyone else it’s annoying, but from him, it speeds your heart a bit, squeezes it.

You tell yourself you hate that.

“This apartment’s tiny,” you argue, unmoving. Nerves suddenly locking you in place, though you think you succeed in masking it. But that way he's watching you… It doesn’t bode well, not with your attitude. And yet you still can't seem to help yourself. “Here’s as good a place to talk as any.”

With one hand raised to shoulder height, he knocks the empty doorframe beside him with the blunted side of his fist. “No door. I don’t think you'll want anyone listening in on us. Not for this. But if you insist on being difficult…” He glances back, down the hall toward the living room, before turning back to you. “I can make due with an audience…”

Something about the way he says it has you jumping to your feet.

“Fine,” you mutter, shuffling toward him. Ignoring his throated hum that may as well be a chuckle – and you must look as rattled as you feel, to so easily amuse him.

“Well would'ja look at that,” he gruffs, “she actually listens. When she feels like it, that is." 

You want to protest that of course you listen to him – you’ve always listened to him. You may be having a tough go at it right now, but if he’s about to begin questioning your loyalty or commitment to the team, to him, you’ll punch him in the face just like you punched Soap – skull mask be damned. But you don’t punch him. You don’t even note on any of this. Because his dark eyes scanning across your face, as if silently assessing you; lingering for just a moment on your eyes, your lips… 

It's enough to inspire warmth creeping up your cheeks. To make you bite down all those arguments. 

Luckily, he doesn't appear to notice his unwanted effect on you; already turning away again. Because of course his little glances lead to nothing. They always lead to nothing, and you know deep down that’s a good thing, that it would undoubtedly make things messy, that any feelings you may have for him are stupid, so you try not to be disappointed by that.

"On me, then," he says, his every boot step echoing down the narrow hallway he leads you down, the commotion and conversation from the nearby living room growing more and more distant as you follow rigidly at his heel.

If he's ever noticed any of the times he's pulled a similar reaction from you throughout these past few years you’ve known each other – stealing your usual snark, tugging flustered heat up to the very tips of your ears – he's never made note of it. Not even to tease you, and you're pretty sure he would. Well… he’d either tease you, or maybe he'd just completely ignore what you fear is your highly unprofessional, inexplicable, stupid attraction to him, thus bypassing any need as your superior to address it…

Shit… maybe he has noticed…

Gritting your teeth, you silently swear to better hide any feelings you may have for him. Especially since you can barely even admit to having them to yourself. And you don’t – not really – have feelings, I mean. Because it would be unprofessional. 

Being locked up with anyone for this many days can make things a little foggy – that’s it.

Though… that doesn’t exactly explain why you’ve caught yourself thinking about him, far less than appropriately, before this mission… 

And it doesn’t account for why you’re sometimes, more often than you care to admit, kept awake on night’s that feel far too long by what his husky voice might sound like, warm against your skin, whispering filthy, horrible things inside your ear. Why it’s always him in your bed, if only just imagined. Teeth tugging at your earlobe, hot tongue tracing its shape. Breath growing more and more unsteady as he tells you how sweet you taste. As one calloused hand slips down, slowly down along your stomach, down between your thighs; his other hand forming a possessive shackle round your throat. 

Wow. And now you’re picturing all these sinful things whilst following the unfortunate object of your ardor, your fucking superior officer for christ’s sake, to wherever he wants to take you for his ‘little chat’. Likely about your recent attitude problems, if you had to guess – which you’ll argue you don’t have, even when you know you really do. So maybe you deserve to be chewed out right now about it, but that doesn't mean you’ll take anything he has to say lying down.

Seriously, what’s come over you this week…? You undoubtedly respect this man. No one here, and especially not him, has really done anything deserving of your ire. And he wasn’t wrong – he’s saved your life. Many times. He’s your friend. Your mentor. Your superior. You’re intimidated by him, too – and why wouldn’t you be? If anyone says they aren’t intimidated by Ghost, in even the smallest of ways, they’re a bold-faced fucking liar. 

He must be leading you to his office; which is a lenient term for it, seeing as how it’s just another cramped room inside this stuffy apartment that he’s set up camp in and brushed all the clutter off the desk of.

Maybe you should’ve just let him finish reprimanding you in the cramped study he found you in, but it’s a little late for that – he’s already striding into his office, leaving the door wide open for you to follow him in. Which you do, even though the room feels suddenly like a trap. Standing tall with indignant pride as you slip inside, despite also feeling like a mouse. Pausing just beyond the doorway, fingers curling and uncurling at your sides. Glancing from a few overstuffed bookcases lined against the walls, to the messy futon Ghost’s been sleeping on that’s stuffed in one corner, before your eyes slowly draw, magnetic, to him. Watching as he prowls around the desk, his desk, which he’s dragged to the center of the room; its formerly stacked boxes and useless knickknacks replaced with maps and various electronics and tactical equipment.

There’s no chair behind it. It seems he’s merely decided to stand there, behind his desk, just to make you feel smaller by staring up at him from the other side of it. His gloved fingertips lightly tracing across a few loose dossiers, attention flitting over them, before his kohl-rimmed eyes flicker up to meet yours.

“Shut the door.”

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

[zgvlt]

the trials and tribulations of a third wheel silver x reader (+ platonic! sebek x reader)

summary: sebek, your best friend, finds out that you have a crush on silver; he also finds out that silver has some interest in you. he does not know what he's signed up for when he ends up helping the both of you out

author's note: [see end for full notes] this is like half friendship fic, half romance, but fully written to just be filled with good vibes :> (no unrequited feelings here so no need to worry about that if it bothers you)

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, fluff, friendship and romance, friends to lovers, attempt at humor, multiple POV, 8.5k+ words, not beta read

you can also read this on AO3

I. YOU decide to spill a secret

You should have had the foresight to keep your hands slapped over Sebek’s mouth when you let him in on one of your secrets. Thankfully, it hadn’t been too late to do so and the boy was too surprised to even get mad about your insolence… or whatever fancy word he had in that big brain of his.

“Yeah, yeah, go get your screaming out right now,” you said in a placating manner, as if he was your kid or something, “I’ll let you talk in a bit when, you know, you won’t immediately spill my secrets to everyone outside of this room.”

“Excuse ME!” Sebek exclaimed—or, that was what it sounded like muffled—before getting tired of your behavior, pushing your hands away. To your credit, he could have totally pushed it off a minute ago, so he was at least indulging you… probably. “I’m FAR mature enough to not shout at you OR complain about your horrid taste in men—id est, Silver—to everyone else.”

“Horrid?!” you gasped despite not being surprised at all, “so we’re just gonna pretend you weren’t completely agreeing with everything I was saying about him?”

“That was because I THOUGHT you were talking about–” he stopped mid-hiss, lowering his volume before you could reprimand him yourself– “I thought you were talking about the Young Master! Or if not him, then Master Lilia.”

“I said princelike, not prince.”

“It’s not like he’s anything like the Young Master!... or even Leona Kingscholar, if we want to be generous with the descriptor.”

“And Lilia?”

“He’s majestic in his own right,” he claimed, which you supposed had some truth to it, though you personally saw the third year as someone more mischievous than majestic.

“Okay, fine, fine, my mistake for not clarifying immediately,” you said, not particularly sorry. General misunderstandings aside, there was something funny about watching your mint-haired friend do a spit take (fortunately with no actual drink to spit out). “So if I ended up being into one of them instead, what would you have said?” 

Because honestly, you couldn’t quite tell if he would smite you on the spot—friend or otherwise—or if he would have congratulated you for your efficient, working eyes.

Sebek frowned.

“It would have been weird and I wouldn’t offer to help you,” he admitted, “but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“And now that you know who I actually like?”

“Even weirder. It’s like… having my friend and a sibling date,” Sebek said, which was his way of telling you that you were giving him the icks, “there could be… there are worse choices, but because it’s you and it’s because it’s him… ugh.”

You wondered which one of you he saw as the sibling and which one was the friend. Knowing Sebek, he would loathe to admit either of you were either one unless he was feeling particularly vulnerable or in an insanely good mood.

After a moment of silence—Sevens, it was just like Sebek to take seriously things that weren’t that big of a deal—and a  minute of staring you down he sighed, sinking into his seat as he slouched for once in his life.

“I don’t know what to do with this information,” he finally said, “am I supposed to give you approval before you start courting him? It would be better to ask his fa– Master Lilia, you know.”

“Why would I ask either one of you for approval? I just like him, I shouldn’t have to ask permission to like someone,” you huffed, “I just felt like telling you is all. Impulse decision.”

“So you don’t have any plans on telling him?”

“Not any time soon, which means you better not say a WORD about this to him either,” you said, only a semi-serious warning. You didn’t think he would, definitely not on purpose, but the idea of Silver having a clue made you nervous. “I know you’re loud as hell, but I trust you.”

Whatever retort or snippy remark Sebek planned to say had been bitten back; he had been unable to hide his smile at the compliment.

“Hmph! My lips are not as loose as you think! I can keep a secret just fine, thank you very much! He won’t even get an inkling of the fact that you carry feelings for him!”

“Alright,” you readily accepted his claim. Honestly, it felt nice to finally tell someone about this crush of yours, even though you wouldn’t have thought Sebek of all people would be the first to know.

“By the way… Not that I need your approval, but do you approve?”

The boy in front of you looks contemplative one second and constipated in another, as if he was holding back from saying something nice, too early in the day to be particularly honest.

“There are worse men to fall in love with than Silver,” he settled with.

“Oh, like who? Like yourself?”

A pillow hit you in the face but you could only laugh at how obvious the lack of strength he put into the throw was.

“Flattering yourself, typical of you. There are few people above you in league and I would be one of them,” he said and you’re unsure if he’s even aware of the praise he just provided. Backhanded, but praise is praise regardless. “Worse as in… my fellow first years.”

“Hah! Traitor behavior! It’s like you’re asking to get told on!” You hit him back with the same pillow, sticking your tongue out as he caught it with one hand.

“Then I’ll go tell Silver right now about this crush of yours!” And just by looking at his grin, you knew the ever serious Sebek had simply been joking. 

He’d shield your secret as best as he could.

II. SEBEK answers a dumb question

In Sebek’s defense, he’s doing the best he can in, for a lack of a more eloquent way to phrase it, shutting the hell up about your crush on his rival. His rival of all people! 

You should get your eyes checked, really, and if his father were an ophthalmologist instead of a dentist he would have taken you with him to Briar Valley already.

So no, maybe he wasn’t actively cheering you on, but you’re one of the few people he can actually rely on and call a friend, so he supposed he wasn’t going to judge you too harshly, even if he thought you could do better (not that there was much better in NRC anyway, so he guessed you already picked your cream of choice from the crop).

Silver would just have to pick up his slack. 

Sure, you told him you needed no help whatsoever, he would at least do his part in making sure his rival would be good for you… or something. He’s not too sure what he’s supposed to even do, really, other than putting his 105% in training instead of the usual 100.

Sebek only has one prevalent issue, that being that he’s having a bit of a hard time not interrogating his sparring partner about you. It’s so DIFFICULT when your secret would loop in his head each greeting Silver gave him in the mornings or when they passed in the hallways.

Difficulty aside, he’s PROUD to say that he’s been very successful in not even uttering your name to the second year, so clearly his good restraint has kept him as trustworthy as usual.

Then a second problem rose out of nowhere, a wrench thrown in his well-kept secrecy.

He had not anticipated that Silver would be the one to bring you up himself. Even more surprising was the way he brought you up—well, it was odd for him to bring you up midst spar, but the way he worded it was the true unusual part.

“Repeat that.”

“Are the two of you in a relationship?”

Would Lord Malleus be angry if he whacked Silver with his own baton? Would you… oh, why was he even questioning it, of course you would, but you wouldn’t have the chance to be mad if he never told you, right? He could keep a second secret.

“Are you joking?!” he asked in spite of Silver’s usual expression. The boy never had a particularly obvious sense of humor.

“It’s a serious question,” Silver replied, narrowly dodging a jab from Sebek, “I’ve never seen you so close to somebody before.”

He scoffed. Was it that unbelievable? 

“WELL–” he had meant to retort that he only spent a perfectly normal amount of time with you (had he been implying he was abandoning his duties?!), promptly followed by calling the notion disgusting (he couldn’t find it in himself to say such a thing), but he instead said– 

“Why does it matter? I’m allowed to be around anyone I want for as long as they mean no harm to the Young Master!”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Sebek. You need to untense,” his rival sighed and the first year had half the mind to hit him in the face (and not with a pillow). HE was the exasperated one, so why was Silver doing the sighing?!

“I was just curious about your friend, that’s all.”

Sebek furrowed his brows. 

“Why?”

While there were no right answers there were certainly a few wrong ones, so he listened carefully, clenching his fists. One demeaning word and he would—

“I was wondering if–”

III. SEBEK reports back to you

“–I hate him? Silver thinks I hate him?!” 

“He was wondering, it wasn’t definitive!” Sebek corrected, catching the piece of popcorn you threw at him. He promptly ate it, never one to waste food. “Hey! I told him you didn’t, so it’s not a big deal anymore.”

“But for a time he thought I didn’t like him,” you argued, “that’s worse than him thinking we were dating!”

Sebek gasped.

“I resent that!” 

“Please, I’m sure you beating him in yesterday’s spar was more than just your skill talking—you were probably appalled at the accusation,” you retorted, “and don’t think I forgot! I heard him talk about a bruise forming!”

“It’ll heal! And he could have dodged it if he was paying attention—he usually does!” he said, though now that you mentioned it, it was odd for Silver to not pay attention to training—usually Sebek was the conversationalist between the both of them. “It’s not like you can see it, so you don’t have to worry about me ruining his face or anything.”

“I’m sure he’s pretty even when injured,” you sniffled, and Sebek gagged. He’d have left you to your own devices already (he already sees Silver everyday, why should he listen to you rave about him?) if you hadn’t offered a nice variety of snacks for him to partake in while you talked.

“Okay, wait, back to the topic—why does he think I hate him?”

“He said that you act differently around him,” he said, placing the word in air quotation marks, “which is Silver speech for you being a weirdo. Did you do something?”

“Huh? Weird?! There’s no way I act weirder around him than I do around you!”

“THAT’S WHAT I WAS SAYING!” he agreed wholeheartedly. Well, he didn’t call you weird to Silver’s face—but that was the gist of what he was thinking, and there was no need to pretend to be polite about it to you. 

Sure you were kind, that much he would admit, but a little… a lot. You were a lot, a lot of the time.

Still, even considering your lack of shame around him he doubted Silver would have seen or heard anything too odd from you. 

“Although there’s always the chance that I’ve just become desensitized considering my unfortunate choices of company.”

“So, so rude,” you huffed, “I swear I’m normal around Silver. I don’t get many chances to talk to him in the first place.”

Sebek blinked. 

“You don’t?”

“I mean, maybe a few times a week?” you replied, suddenly looking embarrassed at the estimate, “I don’t see him everyday, but even if I did I don’t think I could actually say anything more than hello.”

There was a saying, if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say it at all, but if he’d never abided by that saying, nobody would expect him to start following it any time soon.

“So you really had no plan to make him like you back, huh.”

“Is that your way of saying I have no game?”

“I wouldn’t word it that way, but you really don’t!” he ignored your look of offense (he’s not the best at reading faces, but he doubted you were actually offended) in favor of giving some actual advice. “Maybe he thinks you act differently around him because you won’t even talk to him!”

He was on to something, he was sure of it, and by the look you had on your face he was sure you agreed.

“You’re probably right… but I was totally going for that cool and cute and mysterious vibe, you know,” you grumbled, “people always notice those types. I mean, Silver is literally an example of it. 

“I feel like if I actually talk to him about something other than school, he’s going to realize I’m lame.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You are, but that hasn’t stopped me from talking to you,” Sebek said with a shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal or anything, “so if I don’t care, obviously Silver isn’t going to.”

And then he gave you a pat on the head, because he’s not really sure of what else to do. 

“Do you want me to do anything?” Sebek offered, “I won’t say anything to him, but if you want to know his favorite food, or birthday, or weekly class schedule–”

“I feel like you went from zero to one hundred real quick,” you said with a laugh, patting him on the back in return, “but I don't need you to do anything. Some things I should probably find out for myself.”

“If you say so.”

IV. SEBEK stresses out for you

While you were content to not do anything about your crush (said crush didn’t think you hated him anymore so you lost all sense of urgency), Silver himself seemed to want to do something.

And Sebek had to be on the receiving end again. Never again can you call him a bad friend.

“I’m not telling you anything,” he said with a sliver of annoyance, “there’s nothing you can’t figure out for yourself.”

“I tried, but a few minutes into the conversation… I was left behind.”

“Ah…” 

YOU RAN AWAY FROM HIM?!

He cursed you in his head. What were you doing?! Did he not teach you ANYTHING? Well, okay, he technically didn’t because the thought of him giving advice on how to catch Silver’s attention… yeah. Still, you have to face your problems, run up at them! Why were you running away from them like a coward instead?!

“Try harder then,” Sebek said, because that was all he could really say without giving away too much… which, at this point, he was very tempted to do just so you and Silver could stop dragging him into things. 

More Silver than you, really, considering you mostly enjoyed talking over acting… unlike Silver, who preferred acting over talking, and Sebek, who liked talking and acting.

“What are you trying to do anyway?” he asked inquisitively, subconsciously taking on the role of the investigators and detectives he’s read about in those mystery novels. Sebek did not want to be questioned about you, but he was very much interested in questioning Silver on the same topic. It was not hypocrisy, it was a matter of privilege.

Privilege equating to you being his friend, resulting in him knowing things about you that he wasn’t just going to easily shell out without proper reason.

“Since when were you so interested in my friend? This doesn’t feel like you just being curious anymore!” 

He did not bother hiding his suspicion, his head conjuring up all sorts of theories on Silver’s sudden interest. 

Sebek was neither purely optimistic nor purely pessimistic, neither was he a realist either (though he liked to think he was). Thus, his theories ranged from wait what if Silver thinking you hated him was a form of projection as he was the one who hated you to perhaps Silver overheard you talking about some way to stay awake and he wanted to talk to you about it to Silver is in love with you but he’s just as much of a coward when it comes to acting on it.

“It wouldn’t be good if anyone was uncomfortable with me,” the second year replied, “I want to do something to fix it.”

“Huh,” he said, more an expression of his disbelief than an actual question. Sure, Silver could be considered nice, but something about the explanation was off. He’s really not sure why, but he just knows it’s far more personal—that it had to do with that someone being you as opposed to you being just anyone.

“Well, FINE! I’ll give you my assistance just this once, so DON’T put it to waste, Silver!”

V. SILVER gets to talk to you, finally

“Since when were you so interested in my friend?”

Since Silver had seen you with Sebek, if he had to be honest. He hadn’t been sure if that was an acceptable thing to tell someone so he hadn’t admitted it to the younger boy, but that was the truth.

It wasn’t that he had only been aware of you then—he knew you existed, had seen you around more than a few times on campus—but noticing you was inevitable when you chose to stick to a presence as loud as Sebek Zigvolt.

As for why he had taken an interest in you… there were a few reasons. 

The first would probably be curiosity—what kind of person could not only withstand the half-fae’s volume, but could also manage to pull him away from constantly following Malleus (without having to be dismissed in annoyance!)

The second was somewhat Sebek related, but also quite a general reason—it was your general disposition. There was just something heartwarming about the way you interacted with your friends (Sebek in particular—it was hard not to be in awe). Yes, he never made a habit of watching you, but seeing you from the corner of his eye, goofing around and spitting out jokes, never failed to liven up his mood.

The third was… something he couldn’t quite place about your attitude towards him. 

At first he had assumed you hated him, but Sebek in all of his bluntness had expressed exasperation at the idea, so he supposed that wasn’t the case. Silver then figured he was the problem and, well… considering you seemed to have a hard time holding a conversation with him, perhaps that was the case.

It shouldn’t have mattered—people were entitled to dislike whoever they liked—but the idea of you specifically not liking his presence, especially when he enjoyed your presence  on campus… It was quite the upsetting thought. 

He wasn’t asking to be close to you, but it would have been nice to have a few conversations with you in between classes.

Whatever the problem was, Sebek said he would try to help decrease the awkward tension, but… was making himself your chaperone the ideal way to do such a thing?

“SEBEK…!” 

Maybe not, considering you were (angrily? fiercely?) whispering a flurry of things to the mint-haired boy, who was (far more loudly) whispering back. Still, the context clues were not enough for him to figure out what the two of you were conversing about—other than that it was about him.

“Don’t you dare…”

“...push…helping…

“I don’t…I told you already…”

“...assuming…for you…Silver.”

In any other circumstance, he would have pointed out that it was rude of Sebek to be talking about him to someone while he was literally in front of him, but he figured that you would just use it as an excuse to, well, excuse yourself from the situation, so he kept his mouth shut.

At some point the both of you remembered that he was in earshot distance, the two of you owlishly looking at him.

Sebek nudges you, you nudge him right back, and not for the first time Silver wonders if he could ever achieve that level of comfort with you… which was an odd thing to think about, considering he should probably be aiming to at least complete a full conversation first and foremost.

“Hi Silver!” you greeted, as though you had just noticed him, as though he hadn’t been standing there for at least five minutes. 

At least you’re not walking away from him this time around.

“So… what are… Do you need Sebek for something?”

Sebek rolled his eyes but didn’t say a word for once, clearly expecting you or Silver to do most of the talking. Considering his fellow guard was always the more talkative one of the two… that was asking for a lot more than Sebek might have realized.

Right… What now? If Sebek had informed him of this beforehand he might have thought of something to say

Silver looked down at his wrist before realizing he wasn’t wearing a watch, then looked at yours to see if you were—you hadn’t been. He then fished his phone out of his pocket, only to find out that he had forgotten to charge it last night (had he passed out before doing so?), so he turned to Sebek, who only looked mildly disappointed at the silence.

“What time is it?”

“Half past four.”

“Do either of you have any classes left today?”

“We’re both done,” you responded, “why?”

“Maybe we should all get something to eat or drink then,” Silver said, “there’s a lot of tea in Diasomnia, but Mostro should have coffee if you prefer that.”

He’s heard you laugh a dozen times before but you’ve never done it in front of him and sure, you try to stifle it within seconds, but the idea that something about him humored you had him smiling in return.

Even though he wasn’t quite sure what was funny.

“Coffee? You could have just said you wanted Sebek to go away—I’d understand, really.”

“For your information! I can drink coffee as long as there’s milk in it!”

“Yeah right. Coffee with milk? More like milk with coffee.”

The conversation had returned to mostly being led by you and Sebek once more, with Silver responding whenever he felt it suited. Still, all three of you were heading to the same place, so he supposed there was always later in the afternoon to get closer to you.

He feels Sebek pat him on the back during the few seconds you look away to greet someone in passing, and he says,

“You did okay, I guess… but don’t expect me to help you anymore after this.”

He thinks it might just be a compliment, or some form of approval.

VI. SEBEK gives decent advice

“You talked to him just fine yesterday! What do you mean you’re too shy to talk to him again?!”

Things had been going well, hadn’t it? He had watched you interact with Silver and you were actually forming words instead of foaming at the mouth over your crush. You were having a laugh with Silver and discussing your respective hobbies with him, even letting him have a taste of your order! 

Sebek had been all proud of you too, even with the shared jokes about him (which were haha funny, he was so getting back at you later)! What happened?!

“That’s because you were there! I’m too nervous to go up to him on my own!”

“I can’t just be there to babysit you all the time, now can I?!”

He didn’t want to invalidate your feelings or anything of the sort—some conversations in the past with you have led him to realize that—but it was difficult for a partial-bystander, partial-participant like him to not feel frustrated at the situation. 

You’re his friend, and Silver is… Silver is the only other person his age from his hometown, so while he understands that he doesn’t actually have to get involved, he also feels this need to make sure things go well for the both of you. Not necessarily romantically, but anywhere you (and he SUPPOSED Silver) would feel happy would be good in his books.

He gives the both of you a few minutes to just… sit, for him to think with his head and not the stress hormones in his body. The cortisol levels needed to die down just a bit else his blood pressure rise or his digestive system weakens.

“Sorry–”

“Stupid,” Sebek interrupted, “don’t say sorry about things you shouldn’t be sorry about. You said what you felt, I replied with what I thought about it, and that’s that. I’m not sorry that I’m kind of annoyed with you sometimes, but you’re not obligated to follow my recommendations either. Be annoyed with me back, if you want to!”

You blinked at him for a few moments, taking your sweet time in having the words sink in your skull, then laughed as you called him stupid back. You probably agreed, or so he would like to think.

“Even if I didn’t want to, you're always annoying, Sebek.”

He ignored your rudeness in favor of returning the conversation back to what it was initially, albeit with some more delicacy on his end.

“Why are you so nervous around him?” Sebek asked, realizing he had never seriously discussed it with you before. He’d poke fun at it, but never really stopped to question why you froze up so easily around your crush. 

Maybe it was because he thought it was the natural thing to do around someone you liked, at least based on the stories he’s heard and read, but there had to be, if not a logical reason, a personal reason behind it.

“I get that you like him and all but he’s just… a regular human.”

“Easy for you to say! Not only have you known him since childhood, but you’re also not a regular human!” you interjected. Despite the jab you did seem to want to answer properly, so he let you collect your thoughts for a minute, figure out how to explain yourself.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve always liked him from afar,” you admitted, “he was this… handsome and shining figure—quiet, but charming and diligent. He was just… so cool that I couldn’t help but admire him.”

Sebek would have pretended to gag at any other time, but upon listening to you he wondered what Silver would have felt had he heard the way you described him, how far it was from hatred.

“What do you think about him after talking to him yesterday?”

“He… he was so considerate even though I thought I was being a complete weirdo sometimes! So kind and helpful and occasionally funny. Was it possible for someone to be so…wow!” Despite the slew or praises leaving your lips, the irony of you sounding as if you were lamenting your feelings was not lost on him. 

“I think I like him more than I thought. It’s making me more nervous, just thinking about interacting with him and messing up somehow.”

It was then that Sebek had come to a realization, an actual finding as opposed to another hypothesis—the way you saw Silver, the way Silver saw you, the obstacles in your path that blocked you from being comfortable with the guy you liked so much.

“Silver’s just a guy.”

“He’s–”

“No, listen to me,” Sebek interrupted. He’s always had a voice that demanded to be listened to, booming like thunder, but when his voice was steady and firm it was like he was asking, maybe even begging. 

“I don’t mean it like it’s a bad thing. I’m just saying that no matter how perfect and amazing you think he is, he is just a normal guy,” he said, “so it’s okay if you mess up because he messes up too… a lot, actually.”

You wouldn’t say anything at first and he wondered if you perhaps didn’t believe him, or if he worded things a bit harshly. Should he try to lighten the mood? Should he double down and explain some more?

“I’m serious! I can list a whole bunch off the top of my head right this instant if you want!”

“No! No, not needed. I feel like I should hear that from Silver himself? Or Lilia? You spent your childhoods with him, right?”

Your laughter only stayed for a second or two, but the length didn’t matter much. As long as it was genuine.

“That… might actually be some really good advice,” you admitted; he was only able to detect a smidge of disbelief, “it’d be nice if you took… ah, nevermind.”

“You can say what you want to say.”

“I’ll save it for later,” you replied, shaking your head, “otherwise we’d be cooped up in my room until sunrise talking about all our issues.”

“You talk as if I haven’t been on the receiving end of that before.”

“Okay, point.”

A few minutes pass where neither of you do any talking and while it’s not uncomfortable Sebek does wonder if he should get up and leave, if you would prefer to be left to your own devices. Before he can do that, however, you ask one last question.

“Do you think I could ever be this comfortable with Silver? You know, where I can rant to him, or talk about any insecurities I have, or anything along those lines.”

He’s not really sure if the question was rhetorical, more you pondering and less expecting an answer out of him, but he replies with his thoughts anyway.

“Maybe start with your hobbies first, or his favorite food or something,” Sebek says, only half joking, “but if… once you get closer? I might have to start arguing with him about who knows you better!”

“Stupid…you already argue with him about everything anyway!”

VII. SILVER talks to you, the sequel

Sebek can’t chaperone you all the time. Friendship aside, he’s a busy first year with other people to follow around and other people to (excitedly) ask about their days, after all.

That’s what Sebek tells Silver, although the latter’s not sure why he’s suddenly become the replacement to keep you company, or why you need a replacement at all. 

The answer is probably that you don’t. You’ve escorted yourself from class to your room just fine before Sebek became your friend and it’s not like you’ve forgotten how to do it on your own. 

He’s well aware that Sebek’s trying to get him to do something and while he’s not sure what it could be, Silver had no plans to say no anyway. 

He’s been wanting to talk to you again—reasons difficult to describe but could at least be summed up as simply wanting to be around you—so for as long as his presence isn’t needed elsewhere he’ll take the chance to do so.

(Something in his gut tells him neither his father nor Sebek will try to call his cell phone anytime soon.)

He made his way from his last class to yours… but not before drinking the leftovers of his afternoon coffee—just in case. He’s sure you know of his predicament and he has no doubts you’ll be nice about it, but it’d be upsetting if a conversation with you was cut short.

You smile upon meeting his eyes and he can’t help himself from smiling back. It wasn’t that he was trying to stop himself from doing so, but more so that it was less a conscious choice and more a natural reaction. You actually seemed happy to see him this time, and the thought of you being happy because of that made him… glad. 

He’s not as verbose as… literally every fae (and half-fae, on that account) he knows, but the word seemed good enough to describe his present feelings.

“I feel like I should apologize on Sebek’s behalf,” you said, trailing after him as the both of you moved through the crowded hallways, “he’s… he means well, but he likes to meddle.”

He understands what you mean—Sebek at his very core is a well-meaning worrywart, but he doesn’t really get what that has to do with you. He simply assumed that this was Sebek going against his once-in-this-lifetime-assistance promise, but apparently you knew something about the first year’s motivations that he didn’t.

That or Sebek had ratted him out, which was just… awkward. Imagining himself explaining his thought process… He himself was having difficulties sorting it out, new reasons popping up one after another, so having to choose what reason to give you or worse, having to tell you everything… 

No thank you.

“That’s just how he is,” he shrugged, “but I don't mind. I enjoy talking to you.”

“Sorry?!” you sputtered, as though unable to fathom the thought of it. Before he could repeat himself or ask why you seemed shocked, you followed up with, “I… not that I don’t feel the same, but why?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he asked, eyebrows furrowed, “does there have to be a reason?”

He does have his reasons, but all the same those reasons stemmed from him simply feeling that way, not exactly anything logical he could explain.

“I guess not, but we’ve only had a proper conversation… like, last time? All the other times I, uh, cut it off short,” you looked a bit sheepish at the admission. “Sorry about that by the way. I didn’t hate you or anything.”

Oh. Unless you were particularly good at reading his thoughts, Sebek did relay back to you about some things he asked about you. 

While he’s not as competitive as the younger boy, he’ll try to get back at him next training.

“That’s good,” he said, a small sense of relief filling him. Not that he thought Sebek was lying, but it was still nice to hear it from you. “It would be bad if you did, since…”

He thought about your question again—what could he possibly say to get you to understand without being too upfront, or vague, or confusing?

“Since?”

“Talking to you is a good way to relax after class,” Silver said, admittedly just saying the first reason he could think of, which was what he thought to be a decently-worded depiction of the truth. 

“Well, when you put it like that, I totally get what you–”

“Seeing you soothes me.”

Maybe Silver shouldn’t have said that last portion. However, what’s done is already done, and while you keep walking with him, you neither look at him nor speak to him. He wished he could understand what you were thinking, or that he could ask someone for advice at this moment without you knowing.

Realistically the silence lasts only for a minute or two, but by the time that you break it it feels like ten at the last, and it’s to the point that he inwardly sighs in relief that you don’t seem particularly upset or perturbed.

“I feel the same,” you replied, “similarly, I mean… maybe not the exact same, there’s probably some differences, but, you know.”

“Right,” he agreed, simply happy that his current feelings towards you were not seen as anything odd, that it was mutual. 

“So… Do you have to go back to your room immediately?” Silver asked, “I was wondering if you wanted to grab something to drink or eat again today.”

VIII. SEBEK tries to give love advice

“Silver, why are you in my room?!” 

That was the first question Sebek had asked Silver. The second was,

“Why are you asking me? Go ask Master Lilia!”

Normally Sebek would try to answer any question thrown at him, mostly because he found himself knowledgeable enough to at least be able to answer anything academic, but Silver’s questions were so far removed from the academic curriculum. It wasn’t even training or physical fitness related!

Books and (unsolicited) advice from his parents (and Silver’s father) aside, he’s NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP! NEVER BEEN, NO PLANS TO BE FOR A LONG TIME (note: while in Night Raven College), so just why did Silver think HE was the person to go for things like this!

He only put up with it because you’re a friend! What’s Silver’s excuse?

“But the two of you are best friends? So it would be better to ask you for advice, right?”

… Okay, maybe Silver had him there.

“Okay, FINE!” Sebek sighed, pulling out a chair—for himself, of course. The intruder could stand there all he wanted. “What’s the issue now?”

Seriously! It’s been, what, a month or two of the both of you talking normally (meaning without his help) and hanging out (again, finally without him trailing after to make sure neither one of you messed up somehow, or checking up on you every so often through text to make sure Silver hasn’t said anything to break your heart or whatever), but somehow neither one of you have made a move! What is going on?!

Again, he was too busy with academics and it’d be nice if everyone followed suit with that mentality, but if the feelings are already there? Might as well act on it! As long as Silver didn’t slack off in training, as long as you wouldn’t be too distracted with love to focus on your classes, wasn’t it alright?

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but I think I… no, I’m sure that I like…” Silver paused, as if rethinking his decision to tell Sebek after all. Honestly, Sebek already anticipated the question, so he really didn’t need to continue. Still, he admired his lack of cowardice and ability to actually speak your name.

“As you should,” he replied instantly, thanking the Great Seven that progress was finally being made! “I would be surprised if you didn’t.”

“Sebek, just to clarify, I don’t mean it in a purely platonic manner.”

If he was talking to you, he probably would find a more delicate, but still very much genuinely him way to word his upcoming statement. It’s Silver, though, so he speaks his truth unabashedly.

“Silver, I KNOW!” Sebek huffed, with neither the grace nor sensitivity he believed people typically wanted in situations like these. “Imagine! Someone tells you they think your friend’s laughter reminds them of the chirping of birds, that their smile is like the coming of springtime. Do you think me incapable of connecting the dots, Silver?”

Really, he was getting used to hearing the compliments from you, but hearing them from Silver made him want to grab one of the horses from the stable and simply get as far away as possible. It reminded him of his parents and their sickly sweet words to each other, except this was obviously worse because his parents were together, the both of you were not… yet!

“Hold on,” Silver said, and Sebek doesn’t get why he wouldn’t just spit it out already. Hold on to what? His patience? He was trying because you deserved a good confession straight from the source and not from a third party (otherwise known as him)!

“If you know, and you’ve known for a while now, then–”

“No, of course not! Do you think I possess the audacity to tell on you?” he huffed, honestly taking offense at the implication. Sure, he’s told on Silver here and there, and maybe a few other times once or twice because he deserved it, but CERTAINLY not with something as important as feelings!

“If anything, I’m upset that you’ve told me first! Should you not be acting on your feelings instead?”

“I came here to ask for advice, remember?”

Sebek frowned. Why do humans have to make things complicated?

“You don’t need advice! Just don’t break my friend’s heart and don’t confess half-heartedly! Is that not simple?”

Silver looked stunned by something for once, which honestly? Good! At least that meant the information was being absorbed into that brain of his.

“Huh. That might actually be decent advice, coming from you.”

Déjà vu aside, he huffed in reply.

“Don’t be surprised, of course I can give decent advice,” he said, “even if I don’t want to give any. So don’t ask me again.” Just please get together already so I can sleep peacefully at night without having to worry about this for once! 

Silver only smiles and says thank you, as though he knew Sebek would not be able to stop himself from providing his assistance anyway if either you or him needed it.

IX. YOU and SILVER finally talk about that 

Unbeknownst to each other, the both of you have thought about being the one to confess first. It’s partially motivated by Sebek, who genuinely seems to be positive that nothing will go wrong and that it is merely nervousness keeping the both of you from reaching some storybook happily ever after. Realistically the both of you know that reality can often be different from expectations, but his optimism is quite infectious.

The other motivator is simply the both of you not being able to help yourselves from spilling out phrases of praise for the other, not merely to Sebek but to your fellow peers as well. 

And, well, the idea that even if the feelings were not returned, the receiving party would at least be gentle with the rejection.

Plans aside, neither of you actually thought today would be the day, but Sebek had excused himself early (something to do with his Young Master Malleus, who Silver knew wasn’t actually requesting for his presence at all) and it did not look like he was coming back anytime soon.

“He’s been doing that lately,” you said, as used to it as Silver is, “leaving the both of us together.”

“So you’ve noticed it as well,” he replied, though it would be surprising if you hadn’t, “that time at the library–”

“And that time in the greenhouse–”

“When we left campus as well to roam around town, then he simply left us to join some of the other first years.”

There were so many chances even when your mutual friend wasn’t making them out of his own volition, but none of those times seemed particularly right to say anything, moreso just a chance to spend more time with each other, a chance both of you were eager to take. 

Something about this afternoon—or evening, or the time in between the both of them—was different from all the afternoons you’ve spent together, though.

Maybe it was because of the sky—the explosion of pinks and purples and blues as the dusk began to settle, a sky that reminded you of Silver’s eyes, not necessarily in hue but in its salience, a call to attention. 

Maybe it was because it was a quiet, peaceful time—a fair weather that Silver found himself prone to falling asleep to, and yet he felt no sense of drowsiness or tiredness whatsoever, merely contentment to be seated next to you.

“You know, I asked Sebek once, a few months ago, if he thought I could ever become close to you,” you admitted, with just enough courage to stare him straight in the face. “I know I already said sorry, but sorry about all those times I ran away from you. You made me nervous sometimes.”

“I asked him about something similar before, too.” Sort of, although he was far more straightforward when it came to questioning him about you. He can admit now that he’s glad that the boy kept his lips sealed quite tightly, a certain delight in learning things about you through you yourself.

“Is there a reason to be nervous around me, though? I’m having a tough time envisioning anything I’ve done to warrant that…”

You laughed, a tinge of embarrassment slipping out—perhaps directed at your past, perhaps because of the present, or how your next choice of words could affect the future. 

“Because I liked you.”

It’s silent for a few moments, the loudest sounds being that of the rustling leaves and the critters of a nearby forest, but strangely enough it’s not as scary as you thought it would be. At the very least, that’s what you will keep telling yourself—your affections are a secret begging to be spilled.

“Even though I never talked to you that much, I just enjoyed seeing you go about your day out of the corner of my eye. I like the way you carry yourself—you’re so cool and laidback and devoted that I thought I would embarrass myself if I even spoke a word to you,” you said, shaking your head at the memories, “I used to think you were so perfect compared to me.”

“I’m not–”

“I realized that eventually,” you intercepted. As brave as you found yourself at this moment, you were scared that if you were not to say your peace immediately, the conversation could be derailed, or that you would lose the courage to confess completely. “I’m glad I did. I don’t think I would have gotten to spend time with you like this otherwise.”

“Then… I’m glad you did, too,” Silver said in agreement, “because I was in a similar situation.”

“You were?!”

“Somewhat. It’s more in the sense that… Do you remember when I told you I thought your presence was soothing?” He waited for a second, continuing when you nodded your head. “That wasn’t a lie, but it was also a bit of an understatement. 

“For the longest time I’ve always enjoyed your presence, and it came to a point where I wanted to be around you more often and to get to know you instead of just being at the same time and place as you,” Silver said, “I think we just had different approaches to our feelings.”

“That sounds about right,” you replied, finding some humor in the situation, “I guess it’s a good thing that we found our way to becoming friends somehow.”

“It was.”

Neither you nor Silver follow up on that right away. It’s not that it’s not possible to say what either one of you have been leading up to anymore, but more so figuring out how to lead up to it. Was there a particular way the other wanted to hear it, and how could they combine that with their own words and feelings?

“You said you liked me,” Silver said, giving pause as if to allow you some time to correct him, or to clarify that you meant one way and not the other. 

The idea of you liking him had never occurred to him.

Well, no, that wouldn’t be right—he’s thought of it before, but it was always attached with the plan of him having to take you out on a date or two first, or at the very least asking to be given a chance to win you over. 

Still, he can’t find it in himself to mourn that he had not realized sooner. There was always a proper timing to these things, and if now was the perfect moment to strike, to act on it, then so be it.

“Do you still like me?”

“...That’s not a very fair question,” you said. It’s a half-hearted complaint at best, more of a request on your behalf than anything, but Silver heeded it regardless.

“Sorry, you’re right,” he replied, “then let me be the one to tell you first.”

Silver takes a deep breath, shakes off any nerves that could still be on him, and, for as much as you would allow, looks you straight in the eye as he conveys his confession.

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a while now, I hope it’s okay with you that I feel this way,” he says. He’s as serious as ever, but he says it in such a gentle, tender manner that the already tranquil mood lightens even further. 

Subconsciously, the both of you realize it then—if there were any odds against him, against you, none of them existed now. There could only be a happy ending written for the both of you.

“Being around you calms me, and yet I find myself staying awake for as long as possible just so I can listen to you. Even when I end up falling asleep I know I can trust you to wake me up, and when I do wake up, I find myself more rejuvenated than usual because your face is the first thing I see.

“I thank you for always gracing me with your presence, but all the same I want something more with you,” Silver trails off after, letting out a small huff of laughter as a sheepish grin settles on his face. “Is that too forward? I’ve been told that I could be quite…”

“Not at all.”

The tips of your fingers tap against his knuckles before enveloping his clenched fist with your hand. Any vulnerabilities, words and feelings never spoken until today, will be held carefully by you—and when he relaxes his body, his palm glides against yours, and he promises that he will carry your affections just as gently as you do his own.

X. SEBEK receives his well-deserved peace, somewhat (OUTTAKE)

Sebek was well-aware of his role in your relationship, so he was not the least bit surprised that you and Silver would (separately, and then once more together) not only make sure he was the first to find out, but to thank him for his services as well.

He alternated between rolling his eyes and pretending his help was no big deal and demanding that he be recognized for his efforts, all before eventually not being able to help himself from bursting into a grin and congratulating the both of you.

Mostly you, but he wasn’t sure he was able to hide his approval properly from Silver.

Sebek was genuinely happy for the both of you, of course, but he would not deny that a part of his delight stemmed from no longer having to be on the receiving end of whatever will-they-won’t-they trope the both of you were applying. Even when he wasn’t losing his mind listening to the both of you, he was losing it by watching the both of you interact (at a distance. What was he, a stalker? He had more important things to do than pay attention to a budding romance!)

For the most part, peace was achieved. You still invited him out frequently, sometimes with Silver and sometimes without, and nothing really changed between him and Silver either other than having another mutual person to protect.

What Sebek did not anticipate was to be on the receiving end of questions from the two he respected the most—one who was upset to be told of the recent developments later than he would have wanted, and another who was ready to pry any details his foster son neglected to tell him.

This was Silver’s fault, so why was he on the receiving end of the complaints all of a sudden?! Was this what he got for keeping his mouth shut?!

“Silver…!”

His rival better prepare—even if he was your significant other, he won’t be exempt from his wrath tomorrow morning.

end notes | masterlist of all my works

[1] The initial idea for the fic was pure humor and fluff with a bunch of clichés and Silver being jealous of protective BFF Sebek and reader. I kept the Sebek BFF dynamic because I love him, though his protectiveness is actually toned down to something more "I have my eye on you but you're free to get to know my friend just treat them well" than pure "Silver you are on my DNI list".

[2] I also mostly discarded the jealous Silver idea. Silver is less "I'm jealous that Sebek is your s/o even though he actually isn't" (made sure to have Sebek clarify it right away) and more "I'm jealous that he was able to form this genuine connection with you, and that other people can be in your presence. I want to be one of the people in your circle too." I don't mind the first type of jealousy, I think it's cute when played for laughs + good drama if executed well, but it's not what I was going for.

[3] I also tried to get the idea across immediately that Sebek does not have romantic feelings for the reader. I didn't want to use that trope. I don't want him to be sad. In the platonic sense, he loves reader and Silver (would rather die than admit it), so he's in this spot where he thinks it's "ew gross" but also "you're both good people so you should both be happy and i want to be supportive but why are both of you taking so long why are u stupid oh seven let this go well i will scream if this doesn't"

[4] Chemistry is one of the subjects I was weaker in back in high school so excuse my bare minimum research but Sebek feels like the type to go "MY CORTISOL CIRCULATION IS IN HIGH LEVELS RIGHT NOW DO NOT APPROACH OR I WILL YELL AT YOU" instead of "wow im fucking stressed!" like any other normie would lol

[5] Another thing I was a bit delicate with is Sebek's pushing, and that while he has his frustrations he doesn't completely diminish reader's insecurities or difficulty in talking with Silver specifically. I imagine that it happened in the past, but he's probably working to be more understanding of others, reader in particular bc friendship and favoritism lol.

[6] I was really stuck on what I think Silver would appreciate the most in a person and how he would fall in love with them. Of course all dynamics are fun and I want to use different personalities and types of readers in the future, but for this one I decided to have reader remind Silver of the pleasant and peaceful things in life. I liked the idea that they've both admired each other from a far, like a "this person really heals me…" but while Silver wants to get closer and tries to act on it, Reader instinctively wants to run away bc they like him so much. The pure romance trope, basically.

[7] I decided to not explore the whole "falling in love" process, like dates and stuff, mostly to allow the reader some flexibility in imagining what activities or conversations or whatnot Silver and reader have had. Compared to my other fics, that's not really the purpose of this one.

[ghost-of-a-system]

hi, we are autistic and also have aphantasia and alexithymia.

and we where wondering what you guys do when you don't know who's fronting, like that limbo of bodily autopilot where nothings going on inside the head and we all just blend together into an incoherent mess

we can't tell if someone new is fronting or if we think we are faking it again.

thanks

hey, thanks for reaching out! im not sure if we have alexithymia; we dont know much about it. but we do have aphantasia and autism, so ill try my best.

i think its an autism thing, but we mask a whole heck of a lot around basically... everyone but each other. if you or someone else is unsure what i mean by "masking", its basically just altering (no pun intended...) your behavior in order to outwardly appear "normal" to other people. pretty sure it can be both manually done or subconsciously. its usually subconscious for us personally. but for us, this "persona" we mask as is kinda hard and unnecessary to describe, but the point would be that it isnt really similar to any of our alters. we also do a lot of mirroring others, as in, involuntarily copying their personalities, speech patterns, etc., which plays into our masking.

when we are blurry or more "on autopilot" as you described, we tend to revert to this even more. since there isnt a distinct enough alter around to, at the very least, hog our train of thought, our brain just defaults to that masking persona. but this still happens a lot when we do know whos fronting; they subconsciously mask/mirror so much so that their identity becomes indistinguishable to even them. in all honesty, this usually doesnt go away until we either are alone again or something triggers someone specific out (sorta snapping us out of the masking for a bit). sometimes the someone specific is even who was fronting before good ol masking took over; it just kind of grounds them to their actual self instead.

overall it just makes it impossible for us to tell when we are just genuinely blurry or just masking to the max. we usually just default to assuming that were blurry until enough clarity kicks in to say otherwise.

as far as the "thinking it could be a new alter" thing, we definitely relate to that too. we kinda have a whole, system in place (no pun intended...?) to help with that. when it comes to masking, particularly mirroring, we typically mirror other people/characters/etc. to the point that we genuinely feel like a new person. oftentimes to the point that we feel like we are them. many times in the past its so intense that it puts us under the impression that theres a new person to add to the bunch.

i think one of us has talked about it in the past here, but im too lazy to go fishing for it. basically, we might log it, like in our simply plural, usually. keeping the profile on private and just logging that this potential new guy is fronting. we usually give it a week or two to see if they ever front again or if we can still 'feel their presence' later on, in simple terms. for us, majority of the time theyre gone, 'cause they never existed to begin with. but thats just because we mirror so much and so intensely, not sure if thats something other systems can relate to. we also just arent a large system, and while it isnt uncommon for us to split, its even less common that they stick around past a week or two.

its a weird cycle. but it doesnt mean youre faking or anything. just one of the weird ways things mix, especially being a system and having something like autism. they dont always function separately, at least in our experience.

[aritsukemo]

hii !! can i request a sunny x reader where reader is like vyn richter from tears of themis? here's a brief description if u don't know abt him!

vyn richter has a calm and elegant vibe and nothing seems to be of challenge to him, he's good at observing people's emotions and is very, if not, too sharp at observations, (he's a psychiatrist which explains it), those around him feel at ease and naturally open up to him, displaying their truest self

that's all, thank you!

Sunny with a Vyn Richter!reader

Warnings: This post contains not so vague spoilers for one of the endings of Omori! If you haven't seen the full game yet, I wouldn't suggest reading unless you want to be spoiled! ⚠️

A/N: So I guess this means I'm opening requests now? 😅 I've heard hearsay about this game but have never actually played it. Maybe this is life telling me I should give it a try, hehe~ ( I apologize in advance for how ooc both the reader and Sunny is! )

↪ When you moved to Faraway Town two years after the incident happened, Sunny didn't think much of it. Heck, being as far gone as he was at the time, he probably didn't even notice having completely cut himself off from the outside world

↪ It wasn't until another two years later when Kel finally managed to get Sunny out of the house that he was able to meet you. By that time, you had long become a well known figure in town and made many friends, Kel included, which is how you inevitably met one of his best friends, Sunny

↪ At first, you hadn't made the most lasting impression on him. Yes, you were kind to him, but nothing about you really stuck with him. If anything, he found you a little intimidating since everyone seemed to hold you in such high regards whenever you were brought up. That being said, his first hangout with you was from a distance and Kel did all of the talking for him

↪ At the end of the day, you had opted to walk Sunny home since Kel had to run some errands for his mom. Sunny wasn't fond of the idea but, of course, didn't verbalize his thoughts. Kel wasn't planning on leaving you two alone either, but since you managed to persuade him otherwise, he ended up leaving Sunny in your care, much to the boy's dismay

↪ As you walked side by side, you maintained a one-sided conversation, not at all bothered or discouraged by the fact that Sunny made no effort to answer your surface level questions or say anything at all. Instead, you continued speaking and shifted the conversation to focus on yourself so that he could get to know you better and hopefully give him the incentive to talk about himself..which didn't happen

↪ When you finally made it to his home, Sunny was relieved. It's not that you were overbearing or anything, but he wasn't very fond of walking with strangers..

↪ "I had a wonderful time with you today, Sunny. Remember, if there's anything bothering you, I'm only a few blocks away."

↪ Over the course of a few mere months, you had managed to become a staple in Sunny's life. Everyday you had made it a habit to check up on him and although he didn't answer the door at first, he eventually did and got used to your daily visits. You always brought food, made conversation, and occasionally subtly questioned him about things regarding his health. Usually, Sunny would be put off by this behavior or even a little annoyed by it, but things felt different with you. He doesn't know how to explain it, but something about you just made him feel so safe and comfortable..

↪ That behavior eventually led him to adding a counterpart of you in the false world in his head and even then, they acted exactly like you to the point where his own counterpart feared you'd find out the truth..which you inevitably did

↪ It was a tough, tough battle. In his daydreams, you had always managed to weasel your way into Omori's friend group no matter how many times he reset/changed things. Additionally, he always had the reoccurring dreams of you somehow finding out the truth which inevitably led to Omori having to kill you over and over and over again in order to protect Sunny

↪ But after a while even his counterpart, who was created to fight tooth and nail to keep the truth hidden, fell victim to your comfort and could no longer hide anything from you which led to Sunny becoming rather..distressed. It was even worse that you noticed his distress irl

↪ That day was the first time in a long time Sunny ever let someone in completely. He told you everything. What happened, his daydreams, all of it. He fully expected a negative reaction from you, I mean, he looked and sounded crazy, but.. You gave him a smile and kept a steady grip on his hand instead..

↪ "I figured something like this was the case.. Oh, don't get me wrong. I had no idea of how deep this went, but from what I heard from the others I was able to piece most things together on my own.. Either way, I can understand why you would keep things under wraps. Such a traumatizing situation like that must have been hard on both you and Basil..hm. Regardless of everything, please know that I'll always be here for you, Sunny."

↪ And that was the day you sold every ounce of your future free time to him lmao-

↪ After you made it clear that you don't think differently of him for what happened, Sunny has been glued to your side. He comes to you for just about everything and he'll pretty much do anything if it meant he can be in your presence. Going outside and hanging out with you and Kel, running errands with you, and more!

↪ Little by little, you helped him however you could in order to hopefully better his mental health. You could somehow always tell how he felt despite his neutral face so he could never hide anything from you. He became just a tad bit more talkative ( Not to anyone else, he was pretty much the same towards them ) and thanks to your help, got little better at conveying how he felt. It wasn't great, but it was progress and that's all that mattered to you

↪ When everything hit the fan, you were away on a family vacation and when you came back, you were informed that Sunny and Basil were sent to the hospital and immediately payed them a visit. You were just a little worried, moreso for Basil than Sunny since Basil wasn't as willing to open up to you despite your many efforts, but that slight unease soon went away when you visited Sunny

↪ He didn't tell you what happened or why his eye was covered in bandages, but he did let you know that he told Kel and the others what really happened to Mari. You were so proud of him and made sure to let him know of how proud you were that he was able to overcome everything on his own. You weren't expecting him to crack a smile

↪ You were truly the best thing that could've ever happened to him, he thinks

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[delayed-affection]

Kiss me goodbye

Navigation Oneshots

Ethan Edwards x reader

Warnings: takes place near the end of sophomore year, pet name used like twice (Honey, Baby)

Word Count: 0.7k

When Ethan was drafted into the Devils it was the happiest you’ve ever seen him and yet he chose to stay and play at Michigan.

And you knew that one day he would have to leave to go fulfill his dream of being a hockey player but you never thought it would happen so soon.

Yet here you are, pacing in your dorm room wishing for time to stop. Ethan said that he would be stopping by before he had leave.

You’re honestly glad you didn’t have any classes today, unsure if you could even last the day without crying.

You’re fully aware that he’s not dying or anything, but you have two years left of school and you won’t be able finish it with him.

You stop pacing when there’s a knock on the door, opening it you Ethan on the side. He immediately pulls you into a hug.

"Sorry I’m late." he whispers into your ear, his voice cracking with emotion.

You can feel his body trembling against yours, and you know that he's been crying. You wrap your arms around him, offering the comfort he so desperately needs.

You guide him inside and close the door, leading him to your bed where you both sit down.

Sitting turns into laying and laying turns into cuddling.

You nuzzle your head into his chest, “I don’t want you to leave.”

He rubs your back, “I know, honey. But hey we’ll see each other in the summer.”

“That’s so far from now.” You whine

He chuckles finding you missing him cute, “It’s like three months from now.”

You pick your head up to look at him, “And when summers over?”

“Why not think about seeing me in the summer?” He questions

You put you head back on his chest, “Because I know we won’t be seeing each other after that.”

“Honey, Baby, look at me.” He tells you, “Do you know who I’m still going to be annoying the shit out of everyday?”

You give him a confused look.

“You. And do you know who I’m going to be texting before and after every game? Or calling when I can’t fall asleep?” He asks

“Me, I hope.” You joke

He kisses your forehead and laughs, “Exactly. Everything I do now, I’ll do when I’m out there. The only difference is that I’ll be blowing up your phone to the point that you’re sick of me.”

“Well I’ll be blowing your phone up as soon as you leave.” You claim

“When aren’t you blowing up my phone?” He teases

“I rarely do.” You argue

“My tiktok notifications say otherwise.”

~

The two of you now stand by the door knowing that he has leave.

He gives you a sad smiles and says, "I love you."

You don't say anything in return. But the hot tears begin to run down your face. He holds your face in his hands, looking at you. His eyes are glazed over.

"You can't cry cause then I’ll cry." he says sniffling.

He wipes away your tears, “And we both know I’m an ugly crier.”

You let out a choked laugh.

He wipes away a tear before it could fall, “Don’t laugh, not everyone was blessed to be a pretty crier.”

“Please you’re the prettiest person I know.” You quip

He smiles and shakes his head, “Thank you but you didn’t say I was the prettiest crier.”

You shrug, “It was implied.”

“It was implied.” He mocks

You smile at his childish behavior, “You’re a pretty crier.”

He gives you a quick peck on the lips, “Thank you but there’s no need to lie.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re so funny, Edwards.”

He gives you a smug look, “I know it’s one of my best traits.”

He looks at his watch, and you can see the time, it is nearly five.

He sighs, “I have to get going.”

“Take me with you.” You tell him

“I would if I could, baby.” He replies

You pull him into a tight hug, holding back tears, “Kiss me one last time before you go.”

His lips were so soft, so sweet, his touch was everything to you. Your body trembles, and your eyes begin to water over.

“I'm not sure what I’m going do without you.” you whisper

He leans in, kissing you softly, gently, before pulling away to look at you. You looked so beautiful. So beautiful yet so fragile.

[rainybraindays]

Seeing people call book Colin abusive and being like "he had no reason to be so mad about Whistledown )):" and like...yeah he kinda did?

Whistledown may notbe as bad in the books but she is in everyones business still, shes spreading gossip, and people do have a desire to find her. Hes afraid of what happens when they do. Because hes right, Cressida, to most people is the more pleasing option because shes popular but not liked and conventionally attractive and people will more easily shrug it off. They'll still be mad but they'll consider it par for the course with her and move on. Some may not even believe her, like Lady Danbury but if no one else comes forward they've no reason to think otherwise.

Penelope, short, chubby, unimportant to most everyone Penelope? That will piss them off. She doesn't have the social capital to keep herself from being ostracized, people will be pissed this person they look down on, a spinster, someone who never even talks, had such control over their lives.

Colins worried, he says it himself, about this, about he risks shes been taking for over a decade. Hes jealous she's found something thats her and he feels like he hasn't done the sames. Hes mad hes been lied to, feels like hes been made fun of with his Eloise theory, but most of all hes in love and hes frightened by the prospect of what could have happened to her. By what still could happen to her if she was found out.

The other scene also often quoted as Colin being abusive is him grabbing her arm at their engagement ball.

Do you remember what happened in that scene?

An issue of Whistledown is distributed midball, the one that ends up giving Cressida enough to blackmail her mind you, the one Colin had asked her not to publish and thought she had agreed not to. Penelopes inner dialog tells us this wasn't planned. She'd planned it for a different ball, so she can enjoy hers, she knows Colins going to be mad, and I bet you she doesn't want to argue on their happy day. Colin grabbing her, while done in anger, has always read to me less as some rage fueled behavior with no thought, but as a way to keep her from trying to sip away. He knows she doesn’t wana have this argument again. He likely doesn't even want to have this argument, but he knows they have to.

People often view this scenes as Colin being physically aggressive and this unbelievabley abusive person. They look at this, and have been yowling about how he treats her so unfairly. This fandon is horrible about not looking at the entire scene. The carriage scene has them arguing, Penelope bites back at him just as much as he snaps at her. Their engament ball fight leads to their first night together. This is them seeing each other at their worst. And in the end they still choose wach other

His anger isn't entirely jealous like some try to paint it. Theres genuine worry, hes afraid for her he says so himself. People keep saying how Penelope is afraid of him but shes not thats made clear several times. She's more afraid of them arguing because she thinks that it'll be enough to make him not choose her.

These arguments are necessary. They help Colin see her as a whole person, it helps him solidify that his feelings are as deep as he thinks. It helps Penelope see him as a whole person as well not just the man shes been crushing on her whole life, which she mentions in the book. It shows that they can get through the big issues in their relationship without falling apart.

And remember Cressida blackmails Penelope. Very much one of the things Colin was afraid of. The only reason he can do the big reveal is because its after they're married, and he tells Anthony and Simon whats happening beforehand. She has far more social capital as a Bridgerton wife than she ever did as a Featherington daughter

Should Colin have grabbed her? Maybe not, but I don't think thats enough to label him as an abusive asshole unworthy of love. You don’t always make the best decision, but one slip, especially one so minor as grabbing your partner so they can't slip away before you get to talk to them about a issue you know they won't like talking about, does not make you horribly abusive like some of you suggest.

And another related side note, a huge thing i see ALL the time, is how Colin's anger comes out of nowhere.

"ooooh in the other books colin doesn't have an angry bone in his body, hes so nice and relaxed, how could Quinn write him as such an ass in his own."

A temper not often showing is not the same as it not existing. When he says he wouldn't marry Penelope in the books? Very much an angry scene. Hes being teased after having her pushed on him by his mother, and hes tired of it and snaps aggressively to make it stop. Colin has always had a temper, it just wasn't nearly as important to the other books thus not explored. I know he says in the book how he doesn't think he has one, but we also tend to push away traits we view as negative when thinking on ourselves.

Anyway, please remember that Show Colin is going to have the worst reaction to the Whistledown reveal, as said by the cast themselves, and I'm kinda living for it.

[blakeswritingimagines]

She Calls Me Back

Summary: Smart Sunshine and Dumb Grump

Word count: 5.3k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Gran Turismo characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Nicolas Capa woke up each morning with a scowl, ready to face the day with his signature rude attitude. He seemed to revel in being a jerk, particularly towards his co-workers, and especially towards one person in particular: the new girl, whose name he often twisted into a derogatory nickname. Despite your cheerful and friendly disposition, Nicolas could not bring himself to extend any kindness or even basic respect. As the new person around the grid, you approached each day with cheerful optimism, determined to see the best in people, including your rude co-worker, Nicolas. Despite his repeated cruel jabs and rude behavior towards you, you held onto your warm nature, believing that everyone had good in them somewhere. You tried your best to engage him in friendly conversation and treat him kindly, but it was always met with a sneer or a sharp remark.

Nicolas's morning routine at the office began with a glare as soon as he arrived. Seeing you sitting at your desk with a warm smile on your face irritated him greatly. He hated your sunny disposition, especially first thing in the morning. He sauntered over to the desk, a mocking smirk on his face. "Well, if it isn't the sunny little ray of sunshine," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You looked up from your computer, a genuine smile still on your lips. Despite the rudeness, you refused to let him dull your spirits. "Good morning, Nicolas," you replied in a friendly tone. "How are you today?" Nicolas scoffed and rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by your relentless friendliness. "Just peachy," he retorted sarcastically, leaning against your desk and crossing his arms. "I just love coming in every morning only to find sunshine personified sitting at her desk, all smiles and rainbows." You chuckled lightly at his comment, not offended in the slightest. Despite his grumpy demeanor, you chose to see the humor in it. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?" You teased playfully, your eyes sparkling with amusement. Nicolas glowered at you, his annoyance growing as you continued to be unfazed by his snarky remarks. He hated how unaffected you were by his rude attitude. "Oh, I slept just fine," he retorted sharply. "The problem is having to deal with you and your incessant cheerfulness first thing in the morning. One of these days, your smile is going to break my grumpy mood, and that's simply unacceptable."

Your smile widened at his comment, finding his grumpy demeanor more amusing than anything else. You decided to play along and see how far you could push him. "Oh, really?" you said, pretending to look concerned. "Well, we can't have your grumpy mood being disturbed by something as harmless as a smile, can we? That would be a tragedy." Nicolas growled under his breath, growing even more annoyed by your playful banter. He crossed his arms tighter, looking down at you with narrowed eyes. "You think you're so funny, don't you?" he snapped. "But trust me, one day, your relentless cheerfulness is going to grate on my nerves and drive me up the damn wall." You feigned a look of disappointment, your playful demeanor unwavering. "Aw, and here I thought I was bringing a little bit of sunshine to your otherwise dreary day," you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. "But I guess I underestimated how much you enjoy being grumpy all the time." Nicolas rolled his eyes again, clearly getting more irritated the more you teased him. "Oh, don't give me that innocent act," he retorted. "You know exactly what you're doing, don't you? Trying to get under my skin with your cheerful attitude. Well, let me tell you something: it's not going to work. I'm immune to your sunshine persona."

Nicolas huffed in feigned annoyance, trying to maintain his grumpy facade. Yet, secretly, he did find the banter somewhat entertaining. He was so used to his usual grumpy routine that this lighthearted interaction with you was a refreshing change. He pushed himself away from your desk and stepped back. "Fine then," he grumbled. "I've got better things to do than waste my time with your ridiculous cheerfulness." With a dismissive wave, he turned on his heel and sauntered towards his driver's room. You chuckled to yourself as you watched him storm off to his driver's room, entertained by the little banter. You found his grumpy demeanor endearing in its own way, and you couldn't help but find it amusing that he was so stubborn in maintaining his grumpy facade. As the day went on, you couldn't help but notice that despite his constant grumbling, he continued to find excuses to come by your desk. Nicolas found himself drawn to you throughout the day, making up flimsy excuses to pass by and continue your bantering. He would saunter up to you, pretending to have a question or two, or just to complain about something trivial, like the weather or a messy coffee machine. Each time, he would try to maintain his grumpy demeanor, grumbling under his breath and rolling his eyes, yet a hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

As the day wore on, Nicolas found himself wandering over to you more often than he cared to admit. Whether it was to ask for a pen or some files, he always managed to find an excuse to be near you. Each time he approached you. "Hey," he said. "Do you happen to have a… uh… ruler or something?" You smiled knowingly, seeing straight through his excuses to come talk to you. You played along, pretending not to notice his obvious excuses. "A ruler, huh?" you replied, rummaging through your desk drawer. "Let me check." You deliberately took your time searching through the drawer, pretending to look for the ruler, even though you knew exactly where it was. You knew he was just trying to find another excuse to talk to you, and you found it adorable. Nicolas leaned against the desk, his arms crossed, trying to act nonchalant. Despite his best efforts to appear disinterested, he couldn't help but watch you rummage through your drawer. He knew that you knew he was using flimsy excuses to come see you, but he couldn't exactly come out and admit that he actually enjoyed the bantering. So, he kept up his grumpy facade as he waited for you to "find" the ruler. As he watched you rummage through the drawers, he couldn't help but appreciate how cute you looked when you were focused like that. "Are there really that many rulers in those drawers?" he asked, feigning annoyance. After a few moments that felt like an eternity, you finally retrieved the ruler from the drawer and handed it to him. He took it, his fingers brushing against yours briefly, causing a subtle shiver down his spine.

As your fingers brushed against each other, you couldn't help but notice his subtle shiver and a small smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth. "You know, if you wanted to come over and chat, you could have just said so," you teased, your eyes sparkling with playful amusement. "You didn't have to invent all these excuses to see me." Nicolas' cheeks flushed slightly at your remark, and he quickly averted his gaze. "Please," he retorted, crossing his arms in a defensive gesture. "If I wanted to talk to you, I'd just come over and say so. I don't need to make up excuses." But his words sounded hollow, even to his own ears. He knew he was lying, and he could tell that his attempts to appear indifferent were failing miserably. You chuckled softly, amused by his obvious denial. You enjoyed seeing him struggle to maintain his grumpy facade while trying to hide his true feelings. "Oh, really?" you asked, feigning surprise. "So you're telling me you didn't come all the way over here just to ask for a ruler that you probably didn't even need?"

Nicolas huffed in frustration, feeling caught in his own lie. He knew he had been busted, and there was no point in continuing to deny it. "Alright, fine," he reluctantly admitted. "So maybe I didn't really need that ruler. But it's not like I came over here for your company or anything." He tried to sound nonchalant, but the flicker of embarrassment in his eyes betrayed him. You chuckled softly at his reluctant admission, your amusement only growing more apparent. You found his attempts to brush off his obvious interest in you absolutely adorable. "Of course not," you agreed, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "You just happened to stumble upon my desk and thought to yourself, 'Hey, I wonder if she has a ruler I can borrow.' Completely unrelated to me, obviously, especially since you're a driver who won't need it." Nicolas huffed, feeling defeated by your ability to read through his false pretense. He knew he was being a fool, but he couldn't help himself. With a grumble, he pushed himself away from you. "Fine, I have better things to do anyways," he muttered, feigning indifference as he turned to leave.

Just as he was about to walk away, almost begrudgingly, you reached out and gently grasped his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Your touch was gentle but firm, and your tone shifted from teasing to a bit more serious. "Hey, wait just a moment," you said, your voice softer now. "You know you don't have to keep up this grumpy facade all the time, right? We could actually have a genuinely nice conversation, you know." Nicolas froze as your fingers grasped his arm, his heart skipping a beat at your touch. He hadn't expected you to stop him like that, and your sudden shift in tone caught him off guard. He stood there for a moment, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he wanted to maintain his grumpy persona, yet he found himself strangely compelled to give in to your kind words. After a few seconds of hesitation, he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about," he retorted weakly, avoiding your gaze and continuing walking after shrugging you off. Before he could take more than a few steps away, you stood up and quickly stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his path. You looked up at him with a mixture of determination and understanding in your eyes. "Nicolas," you said, your voice gentle yet firm. "I know you like to act tough and grumpy all the time, but you don't always have to be like that. You can let your guard down sometimes, you know? Especially around me."

Nicolas stopped in his tracks as you blocked his path, feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment at your determination. Your words struck a nerve, and he couldn't help but feel like you had seen right through his facade. "I don't know what you mean," he muttered, crossing his arms defensively. "I'm not 'acting' tough. This is just who I am. Why should I let my guard down around you or anyone else?" You remained standing in front of him, your gaze unwavering. You knew that underneath his grumpy exterior, there was a part of him that craved connection and vulnerability. "Because sometimes, being tough all the time can get exhausting, don't you think?" you suggested gently. "And you might find that once you let your guard down a little, you feel better. You don't always have to put up this wall of grouchiness. It's okay to show your softer side, even if only to me." Frustration bubbled up inside of Nicolas, fueled by his inability to handle emotions in a healthy way. He snapped at you, his patience wearing thin. "Oh, shut up," he growled, his voice harsh and abrasive. "I'm tired of all this talk about letting my guard down and showing my softer side. I don't want to be vulnerable or open up to you or anyone else. I'm fine the way I am, grumpy and guarded."

Despite his harsh words and abrasive tone, you remained unfazed. You knew it was just a defense mechanism and that under his grumpy exterior, there was a fragile person who was afraid to show his true feelings. "You know," you replied calmly, your tone still gentle but firm. "Saying that you're fine being grumpy and guarded is just another way of telling me that you're not fine. Bottling up all your feelings and putting up this tough guy act is not healthy." Nicolas felt a pang of guilt at your words. He knew you were right, but he didn't want to admit it. Your ability to remain calm and composed in the face of his grumpy outbursts was both frustrating and admirable. He huffed in frustration, but the heat behind his words had faded. "I don't need you to tell me what's healthy or not," he muttered, his voice lacking its usual edge. "I've been doing just fine on my own for years. Why do I need to change now?" Despite his protest, you could tell that your words affected him, even if he was stubborn enough to admit it. You knew that beneath his grumpy facade, there was a deeper layer of vulnerability that he refused to acknowledge. "You don't have to change if you don't want to," you replied softly, your tone still gentle but firm. "But being alone and closing yourself off from others isn't really 'just fine.' It's a lonely way to go through life, and I think deep down, you know that."

Nicolas huffed, feeling frustrated by how accurately you seemed to understand him. He hated that you could read him so easily, and he hated how your words kept hitting too close to home. He clenched his fists, his eyes averted and avoiding your gaze. "I don't… I don't need anyone," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can take care of myself just fine. I don't need friends… or relationships. I have my racing career, and that's all that matters." The hint of vulnerability in his voice didn't go unnoticed by you. You could hear the pain behind his words, the loneliness that he tried so hard to hide. You took a small step closer to him, your eyes filled with empathy. "Maybe you can take care of yourself fine on your own," you said softly. "But life isn't just about taking care of yourself. It's about connections, about having people who care about you and having people you care about. Racing may be important to you, but is it the only thing that matters?" Nicolas felt his walls start to crack as you stepped closer, your soft voice and empathetic eyes making it harder to maintain his tough exterior. Your words echoed in his mind, stirring up feelings he had pushed deep down for years. He swallowed hard, his fists still clenched by his sides. "Racing is my life," he said, his voice faltering slightly. "It's all I've ever known. My whole existence revolves around it. There's no room for anything else, not even… friends or relationships."

Feeling overwhelmed by his own emotions and your persistence, Nicolas decided to fall back on his default defense mechanism - withdrawing. The vulnerability and honesty he had shown for a brief moment vanished as he steeled himself, building his grumpy facade back up higher than ever. With a final huff, he mumbled, "Whatever. I have better things to do than stand here and listen to you lecture me." Though he tried to put up his grumpy facade once more, you could see through it, sensing the layers of hurt and vulnerability that lay beneath. But you didn't press him further. You saw the emotional toll the conversation was taking on him and decided to give him some space. "Fine," you replied softly, your tone slightly dejected but still gentle. "Just… think about what I said, okay? You don't have to be grumpy all the time."

The day of the race arrived, and Nicolas was in his normal grouchy mood, silently psyching himself up for the competition. As he went through his pre-race routine of getting into his race gear and mentally preparing himself for the upcoming event, he tried to push any thoughts of you or anyone else out of his head. He had one goal in mind - winning. The sun shone brightly over the race track, a bustling hive of activity as teams and their drivers prepared for yet another race. Nicolas Capa, with his signature grumpy demeanor, was making his way to his designated spot, his mind focused on the upcoming competition. As he walked, he couldn't help but notice the familiar figure of yours, diligently checking the brakes of his car. He felt a pang of annoyance at your presence, your calm composure and unwavering professionalism only serving to grate on his grumpy nerves. You noticed Nicolas's grumpy demeanor as he made his way to his spot, but you didn't let it deter you from your duties. You continued inspecting the car, your focus on ensuring that everything was in top condition. While his grumpy attitude wasn't the most pleasant, you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for his dedication and determination, even if he didn't always show it kindly.

As Nicolas approached his car, his eyes flicked over to where you were working. He hated to admit it, but there was a part of him that found your focus and dedication mildly impressive. Even the most annoying people could have their positive attributes. He huffed slightly as he approached you, his grumpy demeanor still in place. "Do you need to check everything three times?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation. You looked up from your work and met his grumpy gaze with a small smile. Despite his snarky remark, you were not intimidated by his grumpy demeanor. You continued working, your movements efficient and precise. "Attention to detail is important," you replied calmly, a hint of amusement in your voice. "I'd rather make sure everything is perfect and avoid any potential accidents during the race. Better safe than sorry, right?" Nicolas rolled his eyes at your calm reply, but he couldn't help but silently agree with your logic. He knew that attention to detail was crucial in their line of work, and he appreciated the fact that you took your job seriously. Despite his grumpy exterior, he couldn't find any real reason to get angry at you. He leaned against his car, his arms crossed, watching you work. After a few moments of silence, he reluctantly spoke up. "You know, you're annoyingly good at your job."

As you continued your work on the car, oblivious to anything happening around you, the sound of a loud, sneering voice filled the air. One of the mechanics on the team, a tall, muscular man with a perpetually grumpy expression, approached them, a sneer on his face. "Hey there, princess," the mechanic sneered, towering over you. "Think you're smart doing all that checking and re-checking, huh?" As the mechanic approached you both, you bristled at the condescending tone he used. You stood your ground, meeting his gaze with a steely determination. "I'm doing my job," you retorted, your voice firm. "Accurate checks and re-checks are necessary to ensure the car's safety. If you were paying attention to your own work instead of bothering me, maybe you'd understand that." Nicolas had been watching the exchange between you and the mechanic with growing irritation. He hated how the man was speaking to you, treating you with such disrespect. It stirred up something within him, a mix of protectiveness and indignation. He pushed away from the car he was leaning against and stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. "Hey," he interjected, his voice firm. "Watch how you talk to her."

The mechanic looked over at Nicolas, a slightly surprised expression on his face. He chuckled dismissively. "Oh, look who's playing the knight in shining armor," he said snidely. "Why do you care how I talk to her? Got a soft spot for the princess, do you?" Nicolas's jaw clenched his annoyance with the mechanic's condescending tone growing. "She's part of the team," he retorted, his voice tight. "And she's good at her job. More skilled than some people around here who should focus on their own work instead of wasting time mocking their colleagues." The mechanic huffed at Nicolas's words, his expression turning annoyed. He didn't like being called out like that, especially in front of others. "Oh, so now you're some kind of expert on who's good at their job?" he sniped back. "If she's so good, why does she need to double-check everything? Shouldn't she know what she's doing by now?" Nicolas's temper flared at the mechanic's dismissive comment about your work. He took a step closer, almost standing between you and the mechanic now. "She checks everything for a reason," he shot back. "It's called being thorough, making sure everything is in order. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of running your mouth."

The mechanic puffed his chest, his irritation growing. He stepped forward as well, meeting Nicolas's defiant stance. "Oh, so now you're gonna play the tough guy, huh?" he taunted. "Defending your precious princess? I didn't know you were so protective of her." Nicolas's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing further. The comment about protecting you hit a nerve, and he couldn't help but feel his irritation escalate. "You got a problem with that?" he retorted, his voice low and dangerous. "Maybe you're just mad because you know she's better than you and you can't handle it." The mechanic chuckled scornfully, trying to maintain his facade of superiority. "Oh, please. Better than me?" he mocked. "She's just a pretty face. Probably only got this job because of her looks." The words hit Nicolas like a punch, igniting his anger even further. He clenched his fists, struggling to keep his temper in check. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he growled. "She's more than just a pretty face. She's skilled, dedicated, and damn good at her job. I'd take her over you any day, any race." The mechanic, still trying to maintain the upper hand, smirked smugly. "Oh, look at that. The grumpy driver is all riled up because of the princess," he teased. "You've got it bad for her, don't you? Bet she has you wrapped around her little finger."

Nicolas's eyes flashed with anger, his lips curling into a tight snarl. He stepped closer, now invading the mechanic's personal space. "Shut your damn mouth," he hissed, his voice filled with barely-contained rage. "You don't know anything about her or me. Keep running your mouth, and I'll show you just how 'wrapped around her little finger' I am." The mechanic, sensing that he had pushed Nicolas to his breaking point, decided to back off a little. He held up his hands in a mock surrender. "Easy there, tough guy," he said, trying to downplay the situation. "No need to get so riled up. I was just messing around. You don't need to go all alpha male on me just because I talked about your precious princess." The mechanic's attempt at de-escalating the situation only served to irritate Nicolas further. He clenched his jaw, restraining himself from lashing out. "She's not 'my precious princess,'" he retorted, his voice tight. "And she doesn't need your snarky comments or your mocking. She's a valuable member of this team, and she deserves respect which you'll be showing her right now." The mechanic rolled his eyes, still trying to act nonchalant. "Fine, fine," he grumbled. "No more mocking the princess, got it. But honestly, you're making a big deal out of nothing. It's not like she can't take care of herself."

Nicolas felt a pang of protectiveness at the mechanic's careless attitude. "That's not the point," he snapped. "It's about respect, something you clearly know nothing about. She should be able to do her job without having to put up with your snarky comments or your mocking. And it's not about her being able to take care of herself. It's about you staying in your damn lane and treating people with a modicum of decency." Nicolas fixed his fierce gaze on the mechanic, his irritation growing even more as the man continued to act like a jerk. "Apologize," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding. "Right now. Apologize to her for your disrespectful comments and your mocking attitude." The mechanic's smug expression faltered slightly as Nicolas's demand echoed with authority. His initial defiance slowly faded into reluctance, and he reluctantly turned his gaze towards you, standing silently nearby. After a moment of hesitation, he muttered a half-hearted apology. "Sorry, princess," he mumbled half under his breath. "Didn't mean to offend you or anything." As you stood there listening to Nicolas and the mechanic exchange their heated words, your emotions were conflicted. You felt the warmth and flutter in your heart as Nicolas fervently defended you and stood up to the mechanic's demeaning comments. But at the same time, you also felt a pang of frustration that the situation had escalated in the first place. It was a part of the job you disliked, having to constantly fight for respect and deal with belittling attitudes.

However, you also couldn't ignore the way your heart fluttered when Nicolas so passionately came to your defense. You wondered if he realized how much his support meant to you. You had been silently observing the entire exchange between Nicolas and the mechanic, your expression remaining calm and neutral. Despite your composed exterior, you had felt a mix of gratitude and surprise at Nicolas's forceful defense of you. You watched as the mechanic finally offered a half-hearted apology, and you crossed your arms, regarding him with a cool look. "Thank you for the apology," you said calmly, your tone tinged with a hint of sarcasm. "Although it could have been a bit more sincere." After the intense argument, the mechanic mumbled another reluctant apology, though it was clear he didn't mean it. He cast a last mocking glance at you before walking away, his smug attitude still intact. Nicolas stood there, his eyes still filled with irritation and lingering anger. He watched the mechanic walk away, his fists clenched at his sides. He then turned towards you, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

You observed the mechanic walking away, a slight flicker of annoyance in your eyes at his insincere apology. Once he was out of earshot, you turned your attention back to Nicolas, who was still visibly upset. You noticed his clenched fists and the anger still lingering in his eyes, though his gaze grew softer as it landed on you. You gave Nicolas a small, reassuring smile before your expression turned more serious. "You didn't have to do that, you know," you said softly, your voice laced with a hint of gratitude. "I'm used to dealing with annoying mechanics like him. I can handle myself." Nicolas's expression softened further upon hearing your words. He took a deep breath, his anger slowly ebbing away as he met your gaze. "I know you can handle yourself," he replied, his voice still holding a hint of irritation. "But I couldn't just stand there and watch him talk to you like that. It… it just pissed me off, seeing him treat you with such disrespect." You chuckled softly, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day when the grumpy driver would get all worked up over something as simple as someone making a snarky comment," you teased lightly. "It's kind of adorable, in a weirdly grumpy way."

Nicolas's initial irritation faded completely, a hint of amusement replacing it at your teasing remark. He rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh, shut up," he retorted, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I am not adorable." Your eyes gleamed with mirth as you smirked at his response. "Oh, yes you are," you teased, your tone filled with lighthearted banter. "Admit it. You're secretly a big softie underneath that grumpy exterior. And you just proved it by defending me against that annoying mechanic." Nicolas grumbled, his cheeks turning slightly pink as you continued to tease him. "I am not a softie," he protested, trying to maintain his grumpy facade, but failing to hide the hint of amusement in his voice. "I just…" he trailed off, not wanting to admit that she had a point. "I just hate it when people treat you with disrespect. That's all." A soft chuckle escaped Blake's lips as she saw the hint of pink in Nicolas's cheeks, enjoying the sight of him flustered and struggling to maintain his grumpy facade. "Uh-huh," she teased, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Sure, you're not a softie. You just get all riled up and protective when someone is disrespectful to me. That totally sounds like something a grumpy, non-softie person would do."

Nicolas felt a mix of irritation and amusement as he realized he was caught and couldn't deny it. He let out a huff, crossing his arms defensively. "Oh, shut up," he mumbled, his grumpy facade faltering even more. "I just… I just don't like seeing you treated with disrespect, that's all. It's not because I'm a softie or anything." You couldn't help but find his grumpy denial endearing. You enjoyed seeing this softer side of him, the part of him that he usually tried so hard to hide. "Sure, sure," you teased, your grin growing wider. "You keep telling yourself that. But we both know the truth, grumpy. You're a softie deep down." You smiled warmly, your gaze softening as you looked at Nicolas. You took a step closer, standing just a few inches away from him. With a playful glint in your eyes, you leaned in slightly and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Pulling back, you gave him a gentle but genuine smile. "Good luck out there," you said softly. "You got this." As you stepped closer and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, Nicolas felt a rush of surprise and… something else, something he couldn't quite put a finger on. He felt his cheeks heat up even more, his grumpy facade completely crumbling. He stood there for a moment, his mind reeling as he struggled to process the unexpected affection. He opened his mouth, intending to say something in response, but the words died on his tongue. Finally, he managed to find his voice. "I… uh, thanks," he mumbled, his usually confident demeanor replaced by a flustered expression.

After a moment of flustered silence, Nicolas gathered his thoughts and found his voice once more. He cleared his throat nervously, still feeling the lingering warmth of your kiss on his cheek. With a hint of hesitation, he finally spoke up. "Hey, uh, after the race… could we maybe talk for a bit?" he asked, his usual confidence having abandoned him for the moment. Your smile softened even more at his flustered silence and hesitance. You could see the effect your kiss had on him, and it brought a sense of pleasure to you. "Of course," you replied, your voice gentle. "We can talk after the race. I'll wait for you here until you finish. Take your time and do your best out there." Nicolas felt a mixture of relief and anticipation at your words. Your gentle reassurance brought a sense of comfort to him, helping his usual confidence start to return. He gave you a small, thankful smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he caught himself and cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, his voice regaining its usual confidence. "I'll… I'll do my best. See you after the race then."

[maelstroumwaterfall]

Arbormagic Syndrome Chapter 11 | Hogwarts Mystery Infection AU

Chapter 11 | The Cave

(Hello!💝 Here's a small remark that will help you with reading this chapter, the "------" line before the paragraph indicates a change of the side the story is being told from, and °° indicates about the part characters hear or know. Hope I didn't make ypu confused😔 I wanted to choice the best way to tell the story but I'm afraid it might be too confusing in this case.. Anyways hope you enjoy this chapter💖)

It was all quiet in the castle as the students, Madam Pince and Minerva walked through the corridors, illuminating the stone walls with the bright light of Lumos. It could indicate that Maelstrom was the only threat but it was too early to loose the guard and let the students go back to their dormitories.

When they were in the Great Hall among the crowd of other students it felt much more safe. As soon as Bill spotted Charlie amongst the other students he immediately went towards him while Ismelda, Merula and Rowan moved towards the nearest seats at the table. They all felt that significant tension after what happened, nobody wanted to start talking, though nobody knew what to say either.

Surprisingly, Rowan was the first one to speak up. He looked doubted, conflicted and worried, yet he definitely had something to say. It was all noisy there, everyone was talking and discussing the happening, not understanding what is going on at all. Rowan looked up at Snyde and Murk, before gesturing them to move a little away from the main crowd.

They stopped in the corner where there were less people, though it was quite close to the exit that meant if someone or something dangerous goes inside, they'll be the first ones to face it.

-I have something to tell you.. I didn't consider it that important before, but now I think it could have something to do with all that mess. - he started, immediately catching the attention of both Merula and Ismelda.

-What? You knew something about it and didn't tell us? - Snyde asked, not understanding why would he try to hide something in that situation. It was clear that the situation was becoming dangerous even a few days ago when Maelstrom's abnormal behavior became more than obvious.

-I said I thought it wasn't something important! Like.. Not related to whatever is happening now. Just listen, please. - he repeated before he looked behind him to check if there was something happening in the Great Hall as the headmaster was probably going to have a speech for students if it's needed to warn them about something or calm them down.

-A week or maybe.. three weeks ago? I don't remember.. Well.. Maelstrom has told me that he probably found the next Cursed Vault.

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

......Three weeks ago......

°It was a day after Waterfall and Merula went to the Forbidden Forest to try and find any signs of the next Cursed Vault. They told Rakepick try didn't find anything, but in truth Maelstrom has spotted something interesting not far away from the place where they were searching. He wasn't going to tell anyone untill he investigates it himself°, there was no reason for him to share the treasures if he finds the final vault first.

He didn't have any intensions on finding his brother, he didn't want to have that traitor by his side anymore. They agreed on looking for the Vaults together after Maelstrom attends to Hogwarts, but Jacob ran away without him like a pathetic coward. At least Rowan believed his true intentions were to find his probably dead brother, no matter how much Merula was trying to prove otherwise. He would most likely not be willing to risk his life for a bunch of gold just like others. If there was only a way to get rid of this annoying, ugly pig Snyde, things would be much easier for him. Though, maybe there is a way. He just needs to wait for that opportunity.

°He was studying Disillusionment Spell for a while now, he understood there will definitely be a use of invisibility even since the third year. He sneaked out of the castle, not worrying about taking a broom or something else.° He already imagined how he finds the last vault and breaks the curse alone, getting all the laurels and proving his parents he's not that spoiled, lazy and worthless failure he used to be called.

°The place he found was a kind of a cave, he wouldn't pay any attention to it if he didn't notice that slight gleaming of light somewhere there. The entrance was very thin and he would have to crawl to get inside and he's lucky if he will not end up stuck between between the firm, stone walls without anyone knowing he's there. He carefully bent down and started slowly moving through the cramped stone walls.°

°He was about to stop when he just started, feeling a pure disgust at the cadaveric odor coming from the cave°, but decided to risk if it means getting unimaginable wealth himself. His parents spent all their life achieving the wealth they have now, and he will achieve the same in his teenage years, without a need to spend his days working on some brats for a few gallions.

The light was becoming brighter and he was already expecting to see mountains of gold that will provide him with an unimaginable wealth for his whole life. He didn't even think what else could be there, even since the disgusting odor was become even more and more significant over time. °He squeezed through the rock walls and ended up on the icy surface.°

°The whole space was illuminated by the magical, bright light coming from whatever was underneath. It was a beautiful and hypnotizing picture, and he stood right above that, something mysterious and unknown. He leaned closer and wiped the icy cover a little, before he instantly flinched back and the beauty and charms of the place disappeared in his eyes after he saw what was beneath.°

°It was a half-rotten, distorted dead body, covered in a wooden like bark. He saw something creeping under the ice, it looked like small white-blue snakes and after a moment he could see they were a reason of the bright light inside. He couldn't quite see everything because of these, they were everywhere there, like there were thousands if not millions of these snakes that made it impossible to concentrate through the incredibly bright light.°

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

-You said he saw snakes? - Ismelda asked, already understanding why Rowan thought it has to do something with the current situation.

Rowan simply nodded, understanding that it's already clear that the things Maelstrom thought were snakes are most likely the parasites they've discovered.

-I'm starting to feel less and less pity for him, not like I did at all. - she said, rolling her eyes. She could figure out Maelstrom was hiding something but she couldn't imagine this coward trying to go there alone. She even smirked a little, knowing that happened to him after he to trick everyone, especially her. She even remembered how Waterfall was the one joking about her death, though it was happening quite too often.

It got to the point where it she couldn't ignore it and just laugh at his pathetic behavior, it started making her feel extremely annoyed and disgusted. She still regrets the Devil's Snare didn't manage to end his pathetic existence at the first year, things would be much easier for everyone without this pathetic brat roaming around.

Rowan frowned and gave her a strict glance, feeling hurt by her words and the way she's so casual about it. - Just let me tell everything. - he said in a sharper tone, though one could say he simply wanted to make her shut up because he couldn't bear seeing her so easy on his friend's death.

Merula was taken aback by Rowan's sudden outburst, even though he didn't show that much of aggression towards her. It wasn't like him, but she probably also went too far, after all, Maelstrom was a very important person for him and seeing someone smirking at his death was definitely not pleasant. She started feeling guilty, though it didn't make her feel any pity for Waterfall even in the slightest, but she felt like wanting to say sorry to Rowan, but already started continuing telling.

She decided to not say anything and just listen quietly. He was a person that over time made her feel like she doesn't want to see him feeling bad even in the slightest, even though she was harsh with him at first. She was even becoming less impulsive and rude by his side, though the side of Maelstrom near was always making her explode. It looked like Maelstrom managed to get on everyone's nerves, she was even noticing how Penny and Tonks were becoming less and less willing to stay by his side.

Rowan sighed and then continued telling, sometimes glancing at the dark corridor near them, expecting to see something slowly crawling towards them in the shadows in any second.

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

°He couldn't believe what he saw and couldn't even suppose what it was as he's never heard of something like this before. He looked around, spotting an another entrance, leading to another part of the cave. He made a few steps closer and managed to take a better look at the insides. It looked like an old room, with a table, faded notes and even small table lamps that of course weren't working anymore.°

°He also noticed something growing from under the ice, it looked like trees but the benches seemed to grow absolutely randomly. As he walked further he noticed more dead bodies under the ice, he wondered if there really were so many people that tried to break the curse.° He also wondered if his brother there, even though it didn't matter for him like that anymore. He ensured himself he'll not end up like them, he definitely is much smarter and stronger than that.

°He made a next step before he head a loud, cracking sound beneath his feets. His heart felt like it stopped while the soumd echoed along the cave system. He watched how the fissure slowly spread along the ice and then stopped as if waiting for the next opportunity to worsen the situation. He took a moment to regain his breath, thinking of what he should do next. If he goes and reaches the 'room', there will be no chance left for him to come back.°

°He made a short step back and gritted his teeth at the side of the ice that is barely firm enough to bear a standing person, again having a crevasse spreading along. He only now noticed how the creatures beneath started cycling fast around him and that's where he didn't wait any longer before rushing back to the cleft that was the only entrance and exit of the cave.°

° -No! - he yelled, running as fast as he could and feeling a pure terror by the only thought of ending up like the ones he saw under ice. He was in a meter before the cleft when the ice underneath him broke and he fell down in the icy cold water. He didn't risk to open his eyes but he could felt how the parasites were touching and leaving burns on his skin. He managed to move his head out of the water and had to wipe the like it seemed hundreds of these disgusting creatures.°

°He was trying to grab the edge of the cleft, trying to get off the water like a trapped beast. His heart was beating wildly as he finally managed to reach the edge and cling on the rock surface. He pulled up, trying to wipe away the disgusting creatures that covered his clothes and body, before he hurried to crawl out of the cave. As soon as his feets finally touched the ground he rushed away, not daring to look back or slow down.

°He looked at his hands, looking at the slowly disappearing burns on his skin before reaching for his wand to use Lumos. He was lucky he didn't catch the attention of any other dangerous creature in the forest or it would be the last time he was seen near the castle grounds.°

°He wasn't sure if he should tell Rakepick and others about that place, the only thing he was sure about is that he wouldn't let him find out that he was there. After he sneaked back to his dorm room, Rowan was the only one he told about that place. They were going to make a research and even tell others so it'll be safer as they wouldn't have to go there alone, but after a few days Maelstrom suddenly denied that idea and said he found out it was just an old cave lake and they didn't need to go there.°

°When Khanna asked why he thinks so, Waterfall only said he found something about it in the book, yet didn't show it to him saying why can't he just believe him. It was strange but they had more problems than that and that's why Rowan didn't pay that much attention 'till now when the situation became critical.°

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-I wanted to tell you when we all were in the library but I really wasn't sure about that all. The only thing that could be a proof for this was Maelstrom's strange behavior after that happened. - Rowan said, letting out a heavy sigh, feeling guilty that he didn't come up with it earlier. Maybe things would be better if he did that in time and warned everyone. Maybe Maelstrom wouldn't be dead now if he did at least something.

-We must tell Professor Dumbledore, if someone knows what is this it must be him. - Ismelda suggested and other seemed to agree with it, especially since even McGonagall said she didn't know what it was.

-I don't think it's the right time. Everyone's in panic, we need to wait 'till the situation with Maelstrom is solved. They definitely have more things to do now than to listen to our suggestions. We'll approach him right after they announce that it's safe. - Merula said, seeing how the teachers are discussing something. Their worried and doubted expression made her feel hesitant and concerned too, just like everyone else in the room.

-If they even will. It's not clear if Maelstrom was the only one.. like this.. We can still be in danger. - Murk glaced at the entrance of the Great Hall, barely lit and threatening to hide dangers in it's darkness. Rowan nodded but as soon as he wanted to say something in response the floor was shattered with the powerful explosion from somewhere beneath their floor. They leaned to the wall to not fall. Everyone started panicking again. Some of the teachers rushed away from the Great Hall, probably to the place where the explosion was caused.

There was another strange thing, when Merula entered the Great Hall first to warn the teachers about Maelstrom she didn't see most of the teachers there because they were looking for the cause of the threat around the castle, but when she came back with others almost every Professor was already there, except of Professor Snape.

(Thank you for reading💖💝💖 It was a while since I've posted the last chapter because I got an artblock and felt like a zombie during the whole week.. I'm really sorry for this😔 But I'm really happy there are people who like the story and appreciate all of you!😽 Hope you're having a good day, love you💖😻)

[bunji-enthusiast]

I’m so happy I’ve found a blog that does writes about 7ds because it seems the fandom died a bit😭😭

So I was wondering if you could please write something about the reader being jealous because she has the biggest crush on Escanor while he has eyes only for Merlin (her best friend).

Thanks in advance and have a nice week💙

Absolutely! Much love in return!

Sucks there aren’t anymore people or not as active for 7DS… you just gotta really look now ★

It goes without saying, everyone could tell of your not so hidden crush on the Lion Sin of Pride himself. Diane could somewhat sympathize with you, for Escanor only has eyes for Merlin, your best friend whom you share many great banters with. You tried so hard to keep a neutral facade when the two of them were in the same room together, but his obvious romanticism towards Merlin made it difficult. Only in your dreams could Escanor actually see you, not just you, but really you.

Sometimes you wondered if you had ever missed your chance with the prideful sin, alas, despite your jealousy you were content with only being friends with him if there was no chance of furthering your bonds with him. There were times it was far too much for you to handle, excusing yourself from the room and even just disappearing for long periods of time.

Escanor's poems were sincernely good, you envied Merlin because of him. His wonderful words, his protectiveness over the mage, that was all something you were far so jealous of. Sure, he cared about you as he would for the rest of the sins - but it would surely never be in the way you were hopelessly dreaming about.

Maybe one day, or even in another life would the two of you only ever be a reality.

Escanor often spares you glances of worry, noting your change in behavior at times and even asking Merlin why your behavior was strange, since he knew that you and Merlin were best friends. Merlin had only told him to let you have some private time, everyone and the sins need some privacy from time to time after all, it is quite normal. Escanor relents in agreement, but he still can't help but worry why you were behaving so differently when he is around with you and Merlin.

There wasn't anything he could think of that could help him come up with a plausible answer, Escanor is left wondering for the longevity in the time he's come to know you. He really cares about you greatly, you are a precious and dear friend of his after all.

The tension somewhat thickens as time passes, but you pay it no mind, even with your suppressed jealousy of Escanor and Merlin. You just wished it could all stop, even for a little while. How odd it is to have feelings, you think. The other sins at times could tell, even Merlin herself, that you are radiating with jealousy that Escanor only sees Merlin (otherwise romantically).

The atmosphere was thick with slight tension, there but unnoticeable if you aren't really bothering to notice it. You sat at the bar with a grievous sigh, body worn out from the constant gathering to stock up on materials amongst other things. A rather familiar hum pulls you out of your thoughts.

"You and Escanor?" The owner of the voice says, "How mysterious."

You looked up, turning your head to see who had said such an obvious thing. "Merlin?" You asked, almost dumbly blinking at the mage. No wonder she'd notice though, to someone like her romantic endeavors are rather time-consuming and get in the way of her strange experiments.

Merlin smiles, offered only just for you. You scoff with a smirk, closing your eyes as you propped your chin up against the indent of your palm. "Yeah, he's great and all..." You groaned, almost trembling with anger at his indifference toward you when it came to both you and Merlin. "But he seriously needs to get more than his eyes checked."

The mage took a few steps towards your spot, taking the empty chair next to you. "Have you considered that he is worried about you, my love?"

'My love', she only ever says that when she really is worried about her own best friend. Some would say that term of endearment is meant to be used romantically, but it can be used as other ways to address someone you care about. Merlin in this case showcases such an example, but you wonder why she's going through such the lengths for something she would consider bothersome to her time.

Maybe she wasn't busy, perhaps.

You looked at her directly, carefully considering your next words and her own. You nodded your head, "No, not really I guess." She nods in return, as if those words alone had her in consideration of the thoughts running rampant in her head.

Merlin teleports an item into her hand, a bottle of Vanya Ale. At most, she wasn't an alcoholic, but she liked to indulge in the liquids from time to time. She liked to humor herself in such thoughts with some much needed liquid, she was more preferable to wine from time to time. But she wasn't against the times where she had ale as well. "Would you like some?"

She offers a glass to you, pouring the famous red liquid followed by a 'slosh'. Merlin holds it up for you to other reject or accept the Vanya Ale. "You are awfully mysterious yourself sometimes Merlin." You mention, taking the glass of Vanya Ale from her offering hand. She only merely smiles once more, then relaxed her position in the wooden but cushioned chair. For a few moments, silence ensues, Merlin hasn't said anything and neither have you to break the silence in question.

You weren't really sure if you wanted to be confronted about your crush on Escanor, sure, you wouldn't mind talking about him in particular. But of your crush on him?

Hell no.

No way.

Especially not with Merlin.

You could only hope she would merely imply it with her words, as she usually has a cryptic way of speaking about things sometimes. You could hope that is only the way she would go about this, otherwise, you would feel shut down and simply just hide away. These kinds of things were sincerely not things you were good at anyway, maybe just maybe you'd be spared this talk.

"You have feelings for him no?" She says finally, and you wince. Your head falling face first onto the countertop wooden table, the question was finally brought up and you had no idea how to answer it.

Only mumbling - you replied with a muffled groan escaping your throat, "Yes." Merlin closes her eyes with a huff as she heard your answer, she could only smile with an ounce of sympathy as she patted your back to reassure you silently.

"Give him time, you two could realize it quicker then you think."

[powerfultenderness]

Be Mine

Pairing: Reader (F)/Adrian Chase

Rated: Explicit 18+

Summary: When you tell Adrian that you’ve never had a Valentine before, he decides to give you the best Valentine’s Day ever! 

Warnings: Dub-Con (drunken sex). RAPE/Non-Con (coerced sex). 

Stalking/obsessive behavior.

breath play. knife play  

Word Count:  13245

A/N: A super late Valentine’s Day fic.

I hate writing multi chapter fics, so here is what definitely should be multiple chapters as one long fic.

[Masterlist]

[[Meet Cute]]

Adrian smiled at you as he stood in line at a coffee shop with you and one of your friends. He’d much rather it just be the two of you, but the relationship was still new and the both of you were trying to figure out how to incorporate into each other's lives. Besides, he liked seeing you with your friends. It showed him just how similar the two of you were. Just like Peacemaker couldn’t function without him, your friends couldn’t function without you. 

Your scoffed laughter drew him out of his thoughts as you responded to something your friend said.

“Psh! Noo. I’ve never had a Valentine before.” 

“Wait. You mean you’ve never had a Valentine’s Day date?” 

You shook your head and shrugged, turning away from him like you were embarrassed to be admitting this out loud. “Not a date. Or a single flower or a box of chocolates. The last Valentine's Day gift that I got was in elementary school, and you know, everyone had to pass out little cards to the whole class.” 

“What? How?” 

Adrian could understand why your friend was so flabbergasted. As far as he was concerned, you were amazing and it made no sense that someone wouldn’t want to be your Valentine. 

You shrugged just as he opened his mouth to chime in and answered before he could say what he wanted to say.

“I dunno. You know how it is when a relationship is too new to do something on Valentine’s Day.” You tried to explain, but the more honest answer was that you really hadn’t been in many relationships, so you were always alone on what people dubbed to be the most romantic day of the year. 

“Well, this year it’ll be different! I bet you’ll get enough gifts to make up for all those Valentine’s Days that you missed!”

“Yea, ok. Sure.” You shook your head. It was already the middle of January, a little late for that. 

Adrian nodded and was once again cut off before he could say anything, this time by the cashier calling out the next person in line, which happened to be you.

As you placed your order, Adrian was suddenly hit with an idea. Your friend was right! Sure he hadn’t known you very long, but he was pretty sure he already loved you, so he was going to make sure you had the best Valentine’s Day ever!

(December 31st) 

This was starting to remind him of the parties that Gut used to have at the house when their parents were away. Back then, Adrian, nearly a decade younger than Gut, didn’t realize his age was the reason why so many of Gut’s friends (and Gut himself!) shunned him. But now? Why were people giving him the same look now?

“Dude!” Peacemaker shook his head and rolled his eyes at Adrian, again.

“What? That’s funny!” Adrian defended himself, but the combined voices of his friends (the 11th Street Kids all came back to Evergreen for this party) told him to shut up. So he downed the rest of the beer and used the excuse of a refill to walk around.

This was some fancy venue that he otherwise would never get to see, so he might as well have a look around. He stopped by a large window overlooking a balcony. Cool! And no one was out there (no one wanted to be out in the cold, actually). 

Adrian was an observant person. His vision might be shit, but he still saw more than most people. Like now. Past all the decorative fountains and hardy plants he saw a woman laying down on an easy to overlook bench. 

And it was cold out. Very cold. And she wasn’t moving!

Without thinking he set his beer down and stepped out to the balcony, a rush of cold air sent a shiver through his body, but he ignored it as he hopped down. It was two stories up, but there were plenty of hand and footholds to make the climb down quick and easy. 

As he got near to the bench he realized that she wasn’t dead or even unconscious. She was humming. Something he wasn’t familiar with, but he took it as a good sign anyways. “Hey, uh, lady, are you ok?”

You startled and craned your head to look at the stranger. What a cutie! Even at night you could see his big bright eyes, all round and curious, maybe he was concerned? Or maybe it was just his large framed glasses that made his eyes look so big. The lights from the party illuminated him from behind and his curly hair made him look almost angelic. It made you smile. 

“Who are you?” You slurred out, and it became clear that it must have been a drunken decision to come out here without a coat.

“I’m Adrian. I just came out here to make sure you were ok.” He answered as he moved closer to the bench you were half laying down on.

“Oh.” Then you pointed to the sky. “I’mmm waitin’ for the ffirewurks!” 

Adrian looked at the sky then back at you as you flopped back onto your side, your legs were hanging off the bench, so there was still room for him to sit down.

“It’s only eleven.” He told you as he leaned down to get a better look at you, to make sure you hadn’t just passed out on him.

“Then I won’t miss them!” 

Well, you had a point. 

“Aren’t you cold?” 

You sat up again and owlishly blinked at him. “Uhmm…No. Maybe.” 

Then you leaned down and grabbed a glass of champagne that was resting near your side of the bench. No wonder you weren’t cold, you probably couldn’t feel anything at all! 

You took a sip from your glass and attempted, yet somehow missed, to wipe off the little bit of the bubbly liquid that dribbled down your chin. “I’m always cold. Because I’m anemic.” You let out a loud and annoyed sigh. “I knoooow! Don’t tell me! People always tell me: “eat more red meat!” But, ugh, I hate steak! It’s so gross and chewy and blegh!” You stuck your tongue out as you made a fake gagging sound.

“You could eat more spinach?” 

“I do!” You threw your hands up, the last bit of liquid sloshing around in your glass. “I eat it everyday! But, like a normal person and not fucking Popeye! It’s not even bad anemia. I just get a little chilly. And sometimes dizzy.” 

You finished off the last of your drink. “That could be the champers though.” You tried to carefully set the glass on the ground, but you wobbled as much as the empty glass as you tried to straighten up. 

“Hey. Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’mm finnne!” You dropped your head back on the bench at an odd angle that made his neck hurt just looking at you.

“Here.” Adrian took off his jacket, he didn’t like it anyways, and held it out for you.

Even when you were drunk, you were polite enough to mumble out a thank you as you struggled with the large coat. Adrian ended up helping you a bit, until you started to giggle. You had a cute laugh. He smiled as he tilted his head slightly. “What are you laughing at?”

“Look! Your jacket is longer than my dress!” 

You stood up to show him and he had to grab you by the arms to make sure you didn’t fall over. “See!” You were holding the jacket closed over your body, indeed making it look like it was the only thing you were wearing.

“Yea. Very funny. Why don’t you sit down again?” 

“Ok.” 

Adrian sat down with you, you were a much easier drunk to deal with than Peacemaker. It was especially hard to try to take care of Peacemaker when he was also drunk, so the way you were so pliable let him relax and enjoy himself too. 

“Hey,” you slurred, grabbing his attention again.

“What?”

“What’s your name?”

“I already told you. I’m Adrian.”

You let out a quiet “oh,” as you giggled and gave him your name. “You’re nice. For giving me your jacket.”

“Thanks. My fifth best friend says I’m a good man.”

You once again giggled, this time at the way he smiled and raised his eyebrows as he mentioned being a good man. “Oh, that’s good! It’d be weird to be hanging out with a bad guy.”

“What do you count as a bad guy?”

“I dunno.” You shrugged, “if they’re like, a murderer or something?”

Adrian went stiff and wished he had another beer. “Well, what if someone only killed bad guys?”

“Oh shit!” You gasped and reached out to grip his arm. “You’re right!”

“I am?”

“Yea!” You nodded vigorously, swaying a bit, “like that vigilante!”

“Vigilante?”

“No!” You scrunched up your face and shook your head. “I mean Batman!”

“Batman doesn’t kill people.”

You gasped again and stared at him all wide eyed in shock. “He doesn’t?!”

“Nope.” He shook his head.

“Wha-What a ffuckin bitch!”

Adrian chuckled, “yea! Right! You know, Vigilante kills bad guys.” 

You made another face, though Adrian wasn’t sure what it meant this time. “You mean Peacemaker’s sidekick? Does. Does he even count?” 

Adrian jerked back and raised his hands in front of him and shook his head. “Whoa! Hey! Vigilante is not Peacemaker’s sidekick!”

“Uhm. Are you sure?” 

“Yea! They work together sometimes, but that’s just because they’re best friends!” 

You snorted out a laugh and shrugged. “If you say so.” 

“I do! Who do you think took care of the bad guys while Peacemaker was in prison?” 

“Psh. I dunno. The cops?” 

Now Adrian found himself scrunching up his face. “You can’t be serious right now.” 

He saw you smiling first, then your shoulders started to shake, before you let out a hearty laugh as you leaned into him, one hand gripping his thigh. “Noo!!! Hahahaha! The cops suck!”  

You were already leaning into him, it just felt natural to wrap an arm around you as he laughed with you. “Yea, they do!” 

You relaxed in his arms as your laughter faded and for a moment he thought you fell asleep. “Hey, you good?” He asked as he gently shook you.

You muttered something unintelligible, practically falling limp against him. 

“Ok. Maybe you should drink some water.” He then shifted you in his arms and started to lay you back down on the bench, afraid that if he just let go you’d fall down and hit your head. “Stay here for a minute.” 

As he gently cradled the back of your head and started to pull his hand back, you gasped and looked up at him, like you were just jolted awake. It was only then that he realized what it must have looked like, with him hovering over you so closely like that. 

“Are you. Trying to kiss me?” You asked before he could assure you of his intentions.

He shook his head, “no!” But his eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second, because the thought was tempting. 

By the time he looked back up at your eyes, you had a small smirk on your face. “Are you sure?” 

“Ok. I want to, but-” 

You pushed yourself up and attempted to kiss him. But he was faster and pulled away, your breath barely fanning against his lips and sending an exciting rush through his blood. 

“You’re really drunk.” He finished with a wince. 

You opened your eyes and smiled at him, softly reaching out to play with a strand of his hair. “Your friend was right.” 

He didn’t pull away from your touch. The way you pushed some of his hair back and gently ran your hand down his face was nice. He wanted more. So much more. “What?” 

You relaxed and laid back down, your hand dragging from his face down to the collar of his shirt, a black button down that Adebayo said looked good on him. You popped the top button (which was actually the second button as he’d left the first one undone) and grinned at him. Adrian’s breath caught in his throat as his hand gently caught your wrist to stop you from touching him even more. 

“Your friend said you’re a good man.” You answered as your eyes drifted from his neck to his hand around your wrist, then back up to his face. “You’re really pretty.” 

“I.” Adrian licked his lips, heart pounding loudly in his ears, and swallowed thickly. “You are too.” 

Oh how he wished he wasn’t a good man! The way you were looking up at him made him just want to take you, devour you, to make you his. Instead he let go of your wrist. “I should get you some water.” 

“Ok.” 

He sat up and made sure you were safely centered on the bench. “Just wait here a minute.” 

“Ok.” 

Fuck. His blood rushed even more as he stood up and quickly made his way back into the party. The way you so easily accepted taking orders from him sent a hundred scenarios through his mind. 

Back inside, Adrian practically ignored his friends, who were trying to get him to join them again. He just waved at them and went straight to the snack table he saw earlier. The little finger foods he loaded up onto a plate and the water he grabbed should help sober you up. He desperately wanted you to sober up. 

He didn’t know why, but he half expected you to be gone when he returned. Maybe because he had to take the long way out this time, his hands were too full for him to just hop down the balcony again. But as he made his way through the garden to your spot, he slowed down as he saw you pointing a finger right up at the sky. He glanced up for a second, wondering if someone was setting fireworks off early but saw nothing of the sort. 

“What’re you doing?” He asked once he was close enough.

You jumped and quickly pulled yourself up. “Adrian! You’re back!” 

You remembered his name this time. He smiled and raised the plate in his hand, “and I brought snacks!” 

You gave an excited little cheer and made sure there was room for him to sit and set the plate down on the bench too.

“I got a little bit of everything.” Because he wasn't sure what you did and didn’t like. He pointed to a few of the treats, “these ones are vegan. Here.” He then handed you a bottle of water. 

“So, what were you doing?” He asked once you’d taken a few bites of the food.

“Oh! I was looking at the stars. Trying to find some constellations.” You pointed up at the sky again, and he looked up to where you were pointing. “Look, that’s Orion's Belt.”

“How do you know?” 

“Because it’s three stars in a row.” 

He pointed at another row of stars. “What about those ones?”

“Uh…” You squinted at the sky, as if that would somehow give you the right answer. “That’s Orion’s other belt.” 

Adrian let out a loud laugh, “there’s more than one?” 

You were laughing too, but you still sounded so confident as you answered him. “Yea! How many belts do you have?” 

He shrugged, “a few?”

“Well, so does Orion!” 

He occasionally urged you to drink or eat, but the wait for midnight was filled with fun conversation and laughter. And when the plate was cleared, you quickly found your way pressed back into his side, his arm wrapped around you. 

[[I ❤ U]]

(Tuesday, February 7th)

Everything was perfectly planned and ready and Adrian couldn't be more excited. He knew you didn't want to do anything for Valentine’s Day, or at least nothing big, so he kept his plan simple. He just wished he could stick around to see your face when you saw your gift. But it would ruin the surprise if you spotted him, so he'd have to settle for talking to you later.

As you returned from your lunch break, one of your coworkers grinned at you. "You've got a rose on your desk!" 

"Huh? From who?" Sure enough sitting on your desk was a single red rose with a little note attached and a small box of candy hearts.

The note was simple: “I hope you like the candy!

-❤” 

No name or anything or anything else to identify them. 

You blinked, "a secret admirer? Isn’t it a little early for Valentine’s Day?" 

Your coworker beamed at you, "they're romantic!" 

A small smile tugged at your lips as you looked around.  No one seemed to be watching you, so maybe they already left? Oh well. You sat down and got ready to work again. But first! You opened the box of candy and poured a few of the hearts into your hand. They all said the same thing: UR A STAR

(Wednesday, February 8th) 

The next day went similarly. You went away for lunch and when you returned there was a rose on your desk. This time it was a very beautiful blue! You smiled as you picked it up and found the note attached to the stem. The same handwriting, sloppy but at least it was legible, gave little hint to who was leaving these flowers. 

“The lady at the flower shop said roses have different meanings depending on the color! How cool is that? 

-❤” 

You hummed in thought before pulling out your phone to search for what a blue rose could possibly mean. Red was easy, red was love. But your search told you that a blue rose symbolizes mystery and should be gifted to a person you see as unique and wonderful. 

Well that’s sweet, you thought. If your secret admirer was talking to the florist about the meaning behind the color of the flowers, then they thought you were unique and wonderful. You don’t think there are many people who would think so highly of you, so that narrowed it down…maybe a little too much! You sighed and got back to work, still with no clue as to who your secret admirer was!

Adrian, dressed in his Vigilante gear, except for the mask, smiled as he watched you shimmy around the kitchen to a song you had playing on your phone while you made dinner. 

He couldn’t stay for dinner though, sadly, because Vigilante was a busy guy and he already told Peacemaker that they’d cruise some crime together (but no more bitches for Vig! He is a taken man now!)  

“I’ll be back later.” He promised before leaving.

That was one of the things he loved about you. You never got mad at him for keeping promises to his friends, so you completely understood that he had to go out with Peacemaker tonight. 

(Thursday, February 9th)

Adrian wanted to give you a white rose next, but the flower lady convinced him not to. She said red, blue and white would look too patriotic, like a 4th of July theme instead of a Valentine's Day theme. She was probably right, so he went with a yellow rose. You were now the most important person in his life anyways, his new BFF, even if he hadn’t quite told Peacemaker and Eagly that they got bumped down. 

Just like the last two days, you returned from lunch to see a new flower on your desk, a yellow rose. This time, however, it is sitting in a vase of water with the note tied around the vase instead of the rose. It was the shortest note yet, it simply read: 

“#1 

-❤” 

“What?” You mumble to yourself as you popped the other two flowers out of the water bottle you’d been keeping them in and moved them over the vase. It was a nice little addition from your admirer, if they were going to be leaving you flowers every day for a week it was nice to have a proper vase for them. 

“Yellow flowers symbolize friendship,” you read off the little list you found online, then glance back at the note. #1. This person considered you their #1 friend. Their best friend? 

You gasp as you realize you may have narrowed the pool down too much by accident! You assumed that your admirer was a guy, but maybe it was a woman! 

Hmm! What a mystery! 

It’s nearly two in the morning when Adrian returned home, or rather, he supposed his second home? Your place certainly felt more like home to him now than his own home. Well, almost. It didn’t have all of his weapons and movies and games or his DnD sets. But, as attached to all those things as he was, he’d give it all up to be with you. So yea, his second home was wherever you were.

He’d just got done with a little Vigilante patrol and after kicking some drug dealer ass, he wanted nothing more than to be with you, but as he crept through the darkened halls he realized it was way too late!

He found you already in bed and asleep. 

Sometimes when you were stressed, usually because of work, you would toss and turn a lot in your sleep. It must have been a stressful day for you, because your blankets were all over the place and your arms were tucked closer to your body to try to keep yourself warm.

He sighed, he had wanted to talk to you, it felt like such a long week because of how incompatible your schedules had been lately! Still, it was a good thing he stopped by. He carefully pulled your blankets up and tucked you in. Once he was satisfied that you’d be sleeping warm and comfortable, he gently placed a kiss on your temple. “Sweet dreams, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Then he made sure all of the doors and windows were locked and went home, to the one that felt lonely. 

(Friday, February 10th) 

You stayed up all night thinking about who your secret admirer could be, you were so curious it definitely affected your sleep. You snoozed your alarm three times before finally jumping out of bed and rushing through your morning routine just so you could get to work on time. No time for breakfast, or more importantly, coffee. You could already tell today was going to be a long day. The only thing you were looking forward to was finding out who your secret admirer was. You were going to skip lunch today (probably not a good idea since you skipped breakfast) and catch them when they came around to drop off today’s flower.

At least, that was your plan. You saw a new pop of blue-green before you even reached your desk. Your admirer already beat you to work! 

Not only was there a new rose sitting in the middle of your desk, though, there was a cup of coffee in a to-go cup, still hot, and a breakfast bar. 

You picked up the little note next to the flower and flipped it over. 

“The lady at the flower shop said she could make teal roses! Teal roses don’t happen in nature, so that makes them special! Just like you! 

-❤”

No mention of how they knew you skipped breakfast, or how they knew you would need a cup of coffee. 

You sighed, the note was sweet, like always, and the breakfast was certainly welcomed. And now that you wouldn’t have a chance to catch this person at lunch meant that you wouldn’t have to skip lunch too. All good things. It’s just too bad that you no longer have a chance to catch your admirer in the act!

Usually Adrian didn’t mind the late shift, but ever since he met you, he was starting to resent it. You worked a normal nine to five, which meant that he’d get less time with you when he worked the late shifts. His break coincided with one of the servers, Blake, so while they were both off the floor, he caught her before she took off.

“Hey, how long do you think I should wait before asking my girlfriend to move in with me?” 

Blake shook her head as she looked at him in shock. “You have a girlfriend?” 

Adrian smiled, thinking of you always spread a dopey smile across his face. “Yea. She’s awesome.” Then he sighed, “but we don’t get to see each other a lot when I work this late.” 

Blake nodded, she understood that. “How long have you been together?”

“Like, a month and a half.” 

“What! Adrian!” 

“What?” 

She shook her head, “that is way too soon!” 

“Well, that’s why I asked you!” Adrian gestured to her with one hand before placing his hands on hips. “When do you think it’s appropriate to ask then? Three months? Because that’s when I was planning on asking her to marry me.” 

Blake nearly choked on air! She shook her head, “that’s also too soon!”

“For what? To ask her to move in or to marry her?”

She sighed. She really should have expected that Adrian would be this intense in a relationship. She just hoped that the poor girl he convinced to go out with him could handle that kind of intensity. “You know what, it depends. The best thing to do is talk to her yourself. And don’t get upset when, if, she says ‘no’.” 

Adrian thought about Blake’s advice for the rest of the night. By the time he left work and made it to your place, it was already past midnight. He could see from the front window that your lights were still on, so he might be able to catch you before you went to sleep!

He quickly jogged up to the front door and used his key (ok technically it was your spare key, but you showed him where it was for a reason!) and let himself in. The entrance led directly into your living room, so as he turned around ready to announce himself, his words died in his throat.

The TV was on, as well as a side lamp, but you were fast asleep on the couch. He sighed, he missed you again! 

From the way Blake sounded when she told him he had to talk to you, he figured it was a serious conversation. Not one to be had while you were groggy from just waking up. 

“Ok,” he started softly as he made his way to the couch. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

So carefully, so as not to wake you, he carried you to your bedroom, where he just as carefully tucked you in. 

“We’ll talk later.” He promised you even as you slept and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Then he crept out of your room and cleaned up the dishes you had leftover on the coffee table, turned off the TV and all the lights. Finally he did his usual check of your locks then made his way back to his car.

Once inside the Sebring he called Peacemaker. “Hey, Peacemaker! What’s up, man, what’re you doing?” 

Peacemaker must have been tired too! He sighed into the phone before asking, “what do you want, Adrian?”

“My girlfriend fell asleep early tonight, and I don’t want to wake her up. I mean she’s cute when she’s sleepy but she’s been stressed at work this week and I-”

“Wait. What girlfriend? Since when do you have a girlfriend? Who?” 

“Dude! I told you about her! From the New Year’s Eve party!”

(Saturday, February 11th)

Thankfully you don’t have to work weekends, meaning you get about an extra hour of sleep on Saturdays. For the sake of keeping a normal sleep schedule you don’t let yourself stay in bed much longer than that. Besides, you were due to go grocery shopping. 

As you headed out the door, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. The little potted flower plant that you kept your spare key hidden in had moved just enough to leave a ring of dirt to the left of it. Odd, you think, but after making sure the key is still there (it is), you think nothing more of it. 

You are only half surprised to see a small bouquet of flowers sitting on your porch when you return home. The bouquet is quite beautiful, with five roses of different shades of pink with a spattering of white baby's breath tucked between the greenery. 

Once you get everything inside you take a look at the note that came with the flowers. It's empty. All the other notes were personalized, but this one is blank with just the heart signature. 

As odd as it was that the note wasn’t personalized, you did remember that this person was giving you roses with specific meanings behind the colors. You weren’t quite sure you got each respective shade right, but the list of words that popped out were: Sweet, excitement, gratitude, and desire. Rather…intense. You contemplate the meanings behind the colors as you arrange the flowers in a vase.

Before you could fall too deep into thought, you got an alert on your phone. 

"Wanna meet up for lunch? Fennel Fields?"

You smiled, that actually sounded good, and sent an affirmative reply. Maybe getting a different perspective on this whole secret admirer thing could help you figure out who it is.

Adrian was ecstatic when he saw you walk into Fennel Fields, he almost ran over to give you a giant hug. In fact he would have, if his boss hadn’t caught him about to abandon the tub of dirty dishes he was carrying. Still he couldn’t help but point you out to Blake as you sat down at a table across from a friend.

“Oh, she’s cute.” Blake complemented, to which Adrian nodded enthusiastically, “right!”

But neither of them had time for more than that, as both were working and lunch time on the weekends was pretty busy.

By the time Adrian had an excuse to swing by your table, you were already deep in conversation with your friend.

“-I have no clue who is sending them! I just wanna know!” 

He heard you say as he approached your table. “Hey guys,” he greeted with a bright smile. “Refill?” 

You smiled and thanked him (maybe your friend did too, but all his attention was on you). “Not that I was eavesdropping or anything, but you were talking when I got here and I just think, isn’t the fun part about having a secret admirer not knowing?” He nearly overfilled your water and caught it just in time while he was talking. 

“I guess,” you could only offer an embarrassed laugh and a sheepish smile. “I’m just really curious!”

Just seeing you already had him smiling, but hearing your voice and cute little laugh? It all just sent a heart racing blush across his face. “You just have to wait ‘till Valentine’s Day!”  

You gave him another cute chuckle that was music to his ears and glanced away from him. He was going to say more but he caught his boss looking at him, making sure he wasn't slacking off really, and smiled at you. "I'll check on you later." Then he hurried off to do his job, your shy "thanks," echoing in his mind.

Adrian managed to get your server to apply his employee discount to your bill, since you were his girlfriend and all. Your happy smile when you saw the discount was enough to keep him lighter than air for the rest of the night. He made you smile like that.

(Sunday, February 12th)

Your Sunday was almost entirely normal for you. Except for the lunch time flower delivery. This time you thought you caught the man responsible for the roses, but after your "aha!" You blinked and stared at the man clearly in a uniform, with a prominent delivery service logo on his shirt. 

"Oh. Uh, sorry. I don't suppose you have the name of whoever sent these, do you?" 

The man shook his head and shrugged, "sorry I'm just the delivery guy." 

You sighed and thanked him, of course. 

Well, you looked at the bundle of six white roses and found the note tucked between the flowers. White, you were starting to remember the symbolism chart by now, either meant loyalty or everlasting love. A quick glance at your phone as you placed the flowers in the same vase with the pink roses confirmed that both meanings were applicable. 

Much like yesterday there was nothing written, it was simply signed with a printed heart. 

Did that mean that all the other notes with messages were hand delivered? So, your secret admirer was at your work…but couldn't stop by your house on the weekend? Who are they???

Over two dozen specialty roses was admittedly a little on the expensive side, especially since only one of his jobs paid, and it was minimum wage at that. So Adrian picked up a few double shifts and was ready to fill in whenever anyone called out. Which unfortunately meant that he didn’t get to spend any time with you today!

“Why are you even going through all this trouble?” Peacemaker shook his head after Adrain explained why he had to change into the Vigilante suit at the trailer.

“Uh, because I love her.” It was so obvious. “And she said she never had a Valentine before. And I want to make her happy.” 

Peacemaker had to do a double take. “You love her? What the fuck? Didn't you just meet her on New Year’s?”

Adrian couldn’t help the wide grin on his face, Peacemaker was finally letting him talk about you without demanding he change the subject! “Yea but she’s special, different! That’s why we love each other!” 

“Psh. She loves you?”

“Uh yea, dude, of course she does!”

“I doubt it.” 

“Dude, she told me!” 

(December 31st)

"Five! Four! Three!" Even over the fireworks, and despite being outside, you could hear the countdown to midnight. “Two! One!” 

"Happy New Year!" You cheered, raising both hands in the air as you looked up at the night sky, completely in awe of the thunderous explosions of color. 

You hadn’t even realized how much you were smiling, not until you felt Adrian’s hand, so large and warm, land on the bare skin of your thigh. You shifted your attention from the sky to him, your face relaxing as you looked at your new friend. 

"Happy New year." His smile was beautiful, framed with dimples, and soft, and inviting. 

"Happy New Year." You repeated softly, leaning forward as your gaze dropped briefly to his lips. 

He already refused to kiss you once, and if you hadn't still had liquid courage in you then you would have shyly looked away. But you were much more bold when you had alcohol in you. 

"Can I kiss you?" 

In response, he moved his hand from your thigh to your chin as he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours. It was short and sweet and even after you pulled away, his eyes were still closed as if he were savoring the moment. Not that you could blame him. You already wanted to kiss him again. 

It was definitely a feeling worth chasing, because as soon as your eyes met, you were leaning back in for another kiss. The second and third kiss are much the same, maybe a little rougher, until you're straddling him with your tongue sliding against his in a much more heated kiss. 

He let out a shuddered breath when you fully pulled away, though you kept your face close to his, noses touching. You took a breath and looked down at his hands, where he was clutching at your hips almost too tightly. 

“Sorry.” He muttered quietly and let go, wiggling his fingers a little like he didn't know what to do with his hands now.

You smirk, you know exactly what he can do with his hands. You caught his right hand and held it against your thigh as you kissed him again. He didn’t seem to mind at all, melting into the kiss with enthusiasm. Then you slowly drag his hand from the top of your thigh to the inside. He knows what you’re doing and moans into the kiss as you push his hand up your skirt. 

It’s Adrian who breaks the kiss next, his lips are a little swollen (you like nipping at them, and he actually seems to enjoy it). The knuckles of his fingers brush against you and you nearly whimper. “Are you sure?” His question is a whisper, his eyes, the most beautiful shade of green you think you’ve ever seen, are wide with both concern and excitement. 

“Touch me.” You breath out against his lips, rolling your hips forward and bumping his hand against your clothed mound. 

He hummed into the kiss, tongue hot against your lips before slipping inside only for a moment. You whine. You want him. Need him. And he keeps pulling away. 

“Show me how you like it, baby.” 

Your pussy twitched at just the tone of his voice, low and raspy, demanding. You break, you don’t want to be teased, so you grab his hand and firmly press his thumb against your clit, your fingers dragging his thumb just right over that sensitive spot. Your breath quickens, chest starting to heave against his as you grind yourself against his hand. The pressure his hand offers as he cups your sex, especially as you can feel his bulge growing beneath you, makes you clench your muscles achingly around nothing. 

His other hand climbs up your body to your chest. The low cut top you wear makes it easy for him to grope your breast. He grunts and maneuvers your body so that he drags his mouth from your neck, down your clavicle so he can lick and suck and nip at your breasts. The new position, you're leaning back now, the only thing keeping you from falling is his large hand that is now splayed across your back, allowing him to slip his fingers inside your panties. He’s pushed your hand away from your own pussy, and now you cling to his broad shoulders and try not to cry out in pleasure as his thumb drags up from your entrance to your clit. He rubs small circles around your clit then drags his thumb back down, coating his fingers in your slick and repeating the process until your whimpering, forehead dropped to his shoulder, breath hot and ragged against his neck and you’re pleading, you don’t even hear yourself, you just need him.

“Shh,” he tries to quiet you, right before he pushes his thumb inside you.

You bite down on his shoulder, he grunts as he feels you clench around his finger. He pulls his thumb out, you cry and cry again when it goes back to rocking back and forth on your clit. His middle finger easily slips inside your now soaping pussy. His fingers are thick and long and curl just right and his thumb stills against your clit, careful to not overstimulate you too quickly. When he inserts another finger, your walls begin to flutter, you rock your hips faster, grind down on him harder, chasing the feeling of his hands on you and of the fullness his bulge promises. 

He tries to insert a third finger, but he barely gets to the first knuckle when you cry out, pussy convulsing around his fingers, clit throbbing and your legs shaking so much that you have to wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold yourself up. 

You whimper, or maybe cry, you can’t hear anything over the thunderous beating or your heart, as he pulls his fingers out. You fall limp against him, you pussy still pulsing and your hips still rocking softly into his. 

“Fuck.” You hear him mummer, followed by the distinct sound of him licking his fingers clean, and moaning quietly to himself.

“Adrian?” You look up at him just as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth.

“Yea, baby?” 

You kiss him. He tastes just the slightest bit different this time, you twitch knowing that difference is your own cum in his mouth. 

He’s got the dopiest, cutest, smile on his face when you look at him again, like he wasn’t uncomfortably rock hard beneath you. You can’t remember the last time anyone has looked at you like that, and you don’t know how to respond, so you quickly drop your hands to his belt. “Need you.” 

He’s quick to help you and shucks his pants down enough to free his hardened cock. You touch him through his boxers, his head falling back as he moans when you grip his length. 

"Shit! Fuck, fuck! Wait!" He grabbed your wrists and held them against your thighs.

"What?" 

"I don't have any condoms. Do you?"

"No." You shook your head and looked up at him through your lashes. 

"Fuck, baby. Don't look at me like that!" He hissed as he resisted the urge to roll his hips into you.  

"Maybe Peacemaker has one." He mumbled to himself as he turned his head and looked back at the building. 

"You know Peacemaker?" 

"Huh? Yea, he’s my best friend." 

You chuckled, quietly at first, but eventually you had to cover your mouth to stop from laughing. 

"What?" 

You moved your hand away from your mouth, resting it on his shoulder. "I'm already trying to fuck you. You don't have to lie to impress me." 

"I'm not lying! He really is my best friend!" 

"I thought Peacemaker's best friend was Vigilante?" 

"Uh, yea! I am Vigilante!" 

You froze. 

He froze. 

Shit. He must have been more drunk than he realized if he was just blurting that out. (And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was thinking with his dick and not his head).

You broke the silence first, licking your lips as you ran your eyes down to his chest, where his shirt was partially open. "You?" 

"No! I meant! Uh. I know Vigilante! But I don't know know him, you know? Like, he could be anyone! Might even be a she!"

"Oh." You started to fiddle with the next button on his shirt, your fingers occasionally touching the skin beneath. "That's kinda too bad, then." 

He swallowed and looked into your eyes. "Too bad?" 

"Yea. It would have been hot as fuck if you were Vigilante." You let out a little sigh and shook your head, your eyes leaving his and looking up as you thought of Vigilante. “The things I’d do to him. The things I’d let him do to me.”

Then you looked down at him again and smiled sweetly. “But since you’re not Vigilante,” your eyes dropped back down to his chest, and he looked down too, as you started to button up his shirt.

“No! No! I lied! I lied!” He shook his head and stopped you from buttoning his shirt even more. He then glanced around to make sure no one else was around and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I am Vigilante.” 

You smiled at him again, and he found himself mirroring your smile as you leaned down and gently pressed your lips to his. His eyes slid shut as he savored the sensation, your lips warm and soft, with just the faintest hint of alcohol on your breath. His tongue ran across your bottom lip, attempting to deepen the kiss, but you pulled away, grinning as he followed you. 

“You’re too nice to be Vigilante.” You whispered against his lips before sitting up straight to climb off of his lap.

His hands shot down to your hips, pulling you back down and making him groan at the friction of your warmth against his hardened cock. “N-no. No I’m not!” 

You gasped, and whined, and giggled, and god, he loved the noises you made. “You’re a good man, you told me.” 

“Well, I’m not that good!” He had you giggling again, with the way his eyebrows arched up as he tried to assure you that he is Vigilante.

“Oh, really?” Your hands dragged down his chest to play with the band of his boxers, your fingers dipping inside the band and teasing him.

“I. I’ve killed so many people.” He panted out, leaning forward to try to capture your mouth in another kiss. 

Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say, because you stilled once again. “Uh. I mean. I.” He stuttered out, brain racing to find a way to keep you close to him.

Your eyes, narrowed as you process the words that slipped past his mouth, meet his and a slow, challenging, grin pulls at your lips. You don’t quite believe him, so you ask, “how?” And you give him what he wants, your lips against his, your tongue in his mouth. 

He starts to mumble an answer as you drag your mouth down his jaw to his neck. You’d been staring at his neck all night, when you weren’t distracted by fireworks, and you wanted so much to sink your teeth in the taut muscles. “All kinds of ways. Shooting.” He hissed when your teeth started to drag across the skin on his neck. “Uh. I’m good with a sword.” The way you hummed against his skin and grind your hips into his, his erection sliding against your pussy, had him squeezing his eyes shut and digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs.

He’s not sure if your whine is from pain or pleasure, but either way he releases his death grip and runs his hands up your thighs, under your skirt and settles his hands on your ass. “Sometimes I choke people out.” 

There’s a loud smacking sound as you pull away from his neck, leaving a reddening mark on his pale skin. “You should have choked me.” You whisper against his lips before kissing him again. 

“You’d really like that?” He sounded shocked, his hips stopped their constant movement and he even pulled away a bit to look at you, to make sure he heard you right. 

“Mmhmm.” You smirk and pull him into another sloppy kiss. 

Adrian moans into the kiss, his jaw falling open as you finally sink a hand into his boxers and gently wrap your fingers around his cock. 

“God!” He managed to pant out, “where have you been all my life?” 

You smiled at that, but had to bite down on your lip as he continued to ramble and groan and buck into your hand.

“Well, not all my life.” He whined as your thumb swiped across the tip of his cock, collecting pre cum and spreading it down his length. “I didn’t hit puberty.” He gasped and groaned as you pumped your hand faster. “Until my mid-twenties.” Your hand, initially cold against cock, was now warm and sticky with his precum, drawing him closer with every pump. “Not that I wouldn’t have noticed-” 

You rolled your eyes at how much he could talk while you were giving him a handjob. You pulled your hand away from his cock, his hips jerking up and probably would have bounced you off of his lap if his hands weren’t glued to your ass. “Fuck!” He hissed, “please don’t-mmhh!” 

You shoved three fingers, hand still coated in his precum, into his mouth, stopping him from rambling anymore. “Suck.” You ordered sharply. 

Adrian’s eyes rolled back, hips bucking wildly, as he did as he was told. Mouth clamping down on your fingers, almost biting you, tongue lapping at his own spend. 

You hum as Adrian obscenely sucks on your fingers, hips still rocking up but you sit back on his lap and refuse him the pleasure he seeks. Your other hand softly runs through his hair, a heady juxtaposition to the way you nearly gag him with your fingers. “Good boy.” You mutter, and he moans loudly at your praise. You wiggled your fingers in his mouth a bit, before your other hand grips his hair at the roots tightly and pulls. “Enough.” 

He groans as your fingers lewdly pop out of his mouth, strings of saliva dripping down your hand. Adrian is practically gasping, lost in the nearly overwhelming sensation of you. “I.” He wanted to ask you, beg you really, to keep touching him, but you swat his hands off of your body and hop off of his lap. He’s not proud of the cry that left him but it was an honest reaction when, for a split second, he thought you were going to leave him wanting, so close to coming. 

Instead you kneel down between his thighs, impossibly well balanced on heels, and yank his boxers, and pants, down enough to fully expose his cock, springing free and leaking precum, to the cold outside air. He hisses when you wrap one hand around his cock, the spit on your hand both feels good as it helps slip your hand up and down, but leaves cold trails behind searing pumps.

He isn’t cold for long, as you drop your head and guide his cock into your warm, wet, mouth. He’s moaning, fucking crying out, as your tongue circles the tip of his cock while your hand continues slide in tandem with the bobbing of your mouth as you take as much of him as you can in your mouth, your hand twists around his thick girth, thumb rubbing against the veiny underside of his cock. 

Adrian shudders, either his eyes are closed or his vision is failing him, the only sense left to him is the feeling of your mouth around his cock. He looks down at the sight of you, cheeks puffed out, saliva and precum dribbling out the side of your mouth. The gag you make as you push his cock further down your throat draws his right hand to the back of your head and pushes you back down on his dick, even as his hips thrust up. You breathe loudly through your nose, tickled when you meet with the cushion of his pubic hair.

It’s all too much for him and he roars out his orgasm, cock convulsing and filling your mouth with cum. His eyes rolled back and squeezed shut as he fell limp against the bench he’s sitting on. He’s not even sure if you swallowed or spit, but he reaches a shaky hand out to you as you sit back on the bench with him.

He’s also not aware of you pulling his shirt down or boxers up, covering him both from the cold and just in case anyone happens by. All he can do is reach a shaky hand out to cradle your face, his thumb wiping away some of his cum that still covered your chin and smile, all wide and sweet. “I think I love you.” He muttered and pulled you in for a lazy kiss.

You giggled against his mouth but returned the sentiment. “I think I love you too.” 

(Monday, February 13th)

Your coworker, who seemed just as invested in finding out who your secret admirer was as you were, greeted you as you walked into work Monday. "So, did you get any more flowers this weekend?"

"Five pink roses on Saturday and six white on Sunday."

They whistled and laughed, “I think you’ve got a sugar daddy on your hands!” 

“Hard to know when I can’t even figure out who they are!” You laughed as you made your way to your desk. 

The flowers from last week were a little droopy but otherwise still looked nice. 

Although you decided to stay in for lunch, you still needed to head to the breakroom to grab your lunch from the fridge. And you got caught up in conversation before you remembered why you wanted to eat at your desk today.

Sure enough by the time you got back to your desk there was another unique rose waiting for you. Dang it! Missed them again! 

You didn’t dwell so much on who left the flower today as the flower itself was startlingly beautiful. You picked it up and touched the petals, checking to see if you’d received a fake flower today. But no, the multicolored rose was real. The petals were vibrantly colored, dark blue, hot pink, bright yellow, and deep red. 

The note attached fluttered to your desk before you grabbed it and turned it over.

“Look! They can even make rainbow roses! (But I still think the teal rose is the best!) 

-❤”

Of course by the time you were looking around for your secret admirer, they were already gone.

Adrian, once again, made sure everything was locked as he left your place after dinner. It had been so difficult to keep his excitement in check all night, but he couldn’t give it away! He couldn’t wait to see your face tomorrow! 

(Tuesday, February 14th)

“Hey, no new flower today?”  Your coworker noticed you holding the small vase with the collection of flowers from over the week as you were heading home for the day.

You shrugged. “Maybe they got their dates confused? The rainbow flower is extravagant enough to be a final flower.” 

“A little underwhelming, don't you think?” 

“What’s underwhelming is I still don’t know who left them!” 

The two of you shared a laugh before going your separate ways in the parking lot. Alright, maybe you didn't want to admit to your friend that you wanted another flower, but you were kind of expecting another one. 

You sighed as you headed home. Oh well. An uneventful Valentine’s Day was nothing unexpected. 

Adrian let out a little frustrated groan as he tried to fix the cowlick in his hair that just wouldn’t stay down! He wanted everything to be perfect for today!

Even though it was a Tuesday, Valentine’s Day was sure to be busy at the restaurant. But he managed to secure the rest of the day off.  He worked the lunch shift and told his manager that he had to be off by 3. Of course it was nearly 4 by the time he actually clocked out, which meant that he had less time to prepare for his date with you. He didn’t dry his hair properly and now it was working against him! 

He sighed, maybe you wouldn’t notice it. 

Everything else had gone according to plan though. He caught his reflection in the mirrors as he stepped out of the car. The teal turtle neck and black slacks cut a “classic” figure. At least, that’s what the sales lady at the store said. Not that it mattered too much to him, if things went according to plan, then he (and you!) wouldn’t be dressed much longer anyways! 

The thought alone had him giddy as he walked up to your door, a bouquet of mixed roses and a Valentine’s Day themed box of your favorite candy in hand. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” He cheered with a smile on his face as you opened the door.

You blinked as you stared at a giant bouquet of roses before you looked at him. “Uh, wh-what?”

He grinned. Your confused expression was so cute! “Surprised you, didn’t I? It was me the whole time!” 

He glanced over your shoulder where he saw two vases filled with flowers, the flowers he’d given you, sitting in the middle of the coffee table. 

You shook your head, “what? What are you..? Wh-”

Adrian held his gifts out to you, as you hadn’t reached out for them or even stepped aside to let him in. “I was your secret admirer the whole time!” 

You turned, stepping back to do so, and followed his line of sight. He took this as a sign to come in. 

“Whoa! Hey! Hey! Wait! Wait!” You panicked, and rushed in front of him, which actually let him in even more.

“What?”

“You can’t just walk into my house!”

You were standing on the other side of the couch now, arms up as if that could put more distance between the two of you. “Who are you?” You screeched, looking between him and the now closed front door.

Adrian laughed, doubled over and held his stomach. “Good one! You’re so funny, babe!”

You shook your head, your breathing starting to come quicker. “What? No. I. Who are you?!” You repeated, taking another step back.

“Huh? What do you mean?” At this point he was so far in the living room he placed the new flowers and candy on the coffee table.

Adrian’s laughter faded and he tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Ok. I’m gonna be honest. I don’t get the joke.” You were still giving him that confused look, so he clarified, thinking you wanted to hear him actually say that he was your boyfriend.  “It’s me, Adrian. Your boyfriend.” 

You quickly shook your head and pointed to the door. “Get out! I don’t know you! Get out!” 

“What do you mean? We’ve been dating for almost two months!” 

“WHAT?!” 

He winced slightly. Your voice could get really high pitched. “Yea, you know. Since New Year's?” 

You froze. New year’s? A sinking pit formed in your stomach as you remembered something. 

“What about that guy you hooked up with on New Year’s?” Your friend asked as you thought about who could be leaving you roses. 

“I hooked up with someone on New Year’s??” You gasped. 

She laughed. “Well, I don’t know that you guys actually hooked up. But you spent all night with him.” 

“Dude!” You snorted out a bewildered laugh. “I have NO memory of New Year's!” 

“What?” 

“Yea, total black out.” 

“What? Seriously?” 

You shrugged. “I swear. I remember dancing. And the next thing I know I’m waking up the next day. At home. Majorly hung over, but perfectly fine.” 

Your eyes snapped up as the guy moved around the couch, you stepped back again in response until your back hit the wall. “I know you…”

“Uh, duh. Dude, are you mad at me or something? Look, I’m sorry, I know you said it was too soon for us to do anything on Valentine’s Day-”

“You work at Fennel Fields.” You whispered, as you realized where you’d seen his face before. You joked with your friend that you wished someone as cute as him was your secret admirer. Careful what you wish for.

“Yea, as my day job.” He said, a confused lilt in his voice. How could you not remember that? You were just there a few days ago!

You were starting to shake at this point, you wanted to run, but your legs wouldn’t listen to you. Your heart was beating so fast, so loud, maybe your own body couldn’t hear you. 

“Hey, you ok?” He asked, one hand reaching out and touching your shoulder.

You flinched and pressed yourself harder against the wall, though the action did nothing to get you away from his touch. “What do you want?” You spoke softly, afraid to hear the answer, but you had to know.

“I just wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with you. I took an early shift today and I told Peacemaker that I couldn’t go out on patrol tonight.” 

“Patrol…with Peacemaker?” 

For some reason, you were very curious about Vigilante after New Year’s. You thought it was something on the news, the murderous madman segment, that triggered the new fascination but… “You’re Vigilante.” 

Adrian furrowed his brow as he was trying to understand why you were acting weird. “I swear I’m extra careful, no one knows about my secret identity, except you and Peacemaker and the rest of the team, so no one knows that you’re with me!” 

Your chest tightened as you listened to him ramble. 

No one knows.

“Hey,” you hadn’t realized you had been looking down at the floor until you felt him gently nudge your chin to instead look at him. Everything about him was gentle, his voice, his demeanor. But his words sent ice through your veins. “No one will ever know, I promise.” 

You were silent. All you could do was stare into his eyes, but all you saw was your distorted reflection off his glasses. 

“By the way,” he smirked and dragged his eyes slowly down your body. “You look very cute today, are you sure you didn’t know I was coming over?” 

Your stomach flipped and you looked down at yourself too. You were wearing a cute Valentine’s Day themed pajama set: a simple red tank top with a pink heart over your left breast, and black, very comfortable, shorts printed with smaller versions of the same heart. 

You just loved comfortable clothing. You’d get home from work and immediately change. Pajama sets like the ones you were wearing were not only comfortable, but cheap, especially when you got them on sale because they were almost out of season.  

He made this guttural sound that made you freeze, your heart squeezing in your chest and your breath stuck in your lungs. You didn’t move, couldn’t move. His mouth was on yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip and tongue thrusting into your mouth with no resistance from you.

“I missed you so much,” he muttered before kissing you again, his right hand holding your face and his left resting on your hip. 

It’s not until you feel his hardening erection against your inner thigh that you gasp. His hips jerk forward, driving the hard bulge of his cock against your crotch. The hand he had cradling your face moves down to your breasts where he gropes the perfectly placed heart. You whimper and clutch at his sweater, somehow your mind registers how soft the material is, cashmere? 

“I think about you when we’re not together.” He playfully, with an excited grin, pinches at your already hardened nipple and groans. He hunches down slightly to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you.” 

A panicked squeak manages to escape your throat. You’re hot, too hot. All you can smell is him, his cologne is faint, mingled with some kind of soap, and yet suffocating. All you can feel is him, his hands on your body are hot. His breath on your lips is hot. The trail of saliva he leaves on your skin as he sucks a hickey onto your neck is hot. He is hot. A furnace and you’re much too close. 

Adrian moans, all your squirming has him excited, he knew you missed him too. He can’t believe he was able to go so long without touching you again. You're so soft. Your tits, now bared to him as you weren't wearing a bra under your shirt, are soft and alluring. He bites and squeezes and thrusts against your soft thighs. And your lips are soft as you pant and whimper and moan into his neck.

You're lost the moment he shoves his hands down your panties. His two middle fingers immediately find your clit and he alternates rubbing circles in just the right direction and dragging his fingers down to your entrance. As hard as you're both breathing, and as loud as your heart is pounding, you can still hear the lewd squelch of his hand, covered in your cum, working your clit expertly, just the way you like.

He groans as his left hand gropes your breasts, his face buried in your neck, sucking rough kisses on your skin. When he bites you harder than is pleasurable, your fingers dig into the thick muscles underneath that pretty sweater, reminding you of who he is. 

His teeth bite down on the juncture of your neck, you cry out, from pain or fear. 

"Fuck," he mumbled into your skin, his tongue now lapping at the sensitive spot. "I'm sorry." 

His hips thrust forward as he pulled his face away from your neck. He looks at you, chest heaving, mouth agape and lips swollen from his kisses, beautiful eyes glazed over and he sinks one finger into you. 

You moan and squeeze your eyes shut, bucking your hips into his hand as the heel of his palm rubs against your clit. Your pussy clenches around his finger as he slowly drags it out. 

"Mm, fuck." He grunts, "You're even tighter than last time. I'm gonna need you to relax for me, baby." 

You whine and your forehead dropped to his shoulder, he and the wall are bearing your weight now. You can see his hand in your shorts, the flimsy material a poor cover up of the obscenity of his actions, of the fact that you enjoy his actions. The edge of your vision blurs into two colors, black and teal.

He's panting above you as he dips the tip of another finger into you. Your thighs clamp down around his hand but it does nothing to stop him from pushing his fingers knuckle deep into your pussy. His fingers are so thick and they stretch your pussy deliciously. It only takes a few pumps, with his palm continuously rubbing your clit, for your legs start to shake. 

Then he pulls his hand away from your pussy, and you cry at the sudden emptiness. You mouth a word he can't hear, but he sees the way you squeeze your thighs together, the way your eyes are shut tightly and your chest heaving.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath before he looks at you almost bashfully, batting his long lashes at you. 

“I didn’t get to eat your pussy last time.” 

The statement startles you out of your daze. “What?” You no longer have a voice, just a whisper. 

His hands now rest on either side of your hip, playing with the material of your shorts. “Can I?” 

He then kneels down in front of you, pushing your shirt up enough to plant gentle kisses on your stomach as he starts to pull your shorts and panties down. 

“Wait!” There’s your voice. You drop a hand to his hair and pull his face away from your waist. He grunts when you pull his hair, but there is a wild look of ecstasy in his eyes when he looks up at you. 

“I.” You swallow, now’s your chance to get him to stop. “I’ve never... I mean, no one’s ever.” Why can’t you bring yourself to say ‘no’? 

Adrian at least grasps the meaning behind your stuttered words. “You’ve never been eaten out?” He practically gasps, bewildered eyes darting around your face as he looks up at you.

You shake your head and everything is still for a moment. At least you can finally breathe. 

"It's just," you bite your lip as you rack your brain for words. "It's a trust thing." 

He blinks and purses his lips together as he processes your words.   

You start to shake again as he says nothing. You're cold now, your tits are still out, your panties and shorts are drenched in cum, some of it leaking down your thigh is a sticky reminder of what happened.

"Alright." 

You sighed, he-

He pulled your shorts and panties down with one tug, eliciting a yelp from you. You don't have a chance to protest as he stands back up and spins you around, pushing you face first into the wall. 

He plants his left hand on the wall next to your face, and his right snakes around you to play with your clit again. You gasp as you feel his breath hit the side of your face. "If you don't want me to eat you out, then you need to take three fingers in this tight little pussy of yours." 

You mewl into the wall as he quickly draws his fingers across your clit, rubs circles around your clit, left to right up and down. His middle finger dips into your entrance once, twice, and slides back up to your clit. His hard cock, though still restrained in his pants, rubs against your ass. He's grunting in your ear as his left hand comes down from the wall to paw at your breast, roughly tweaking an already hardened nipple. 

You try not to moan at the onslaught of sensations, but Adrian hears your muffled little grunts and plunges two fingers into your pussy. Given how wet you've quickly become, his fingers easily slide in and out of you, and every time he pulls his fingers all the way out, only to slam them back in, his palm slapping against your clit, you lose what little control you have left of you. 

There is nothing slow or gentle when he pushes a third finger into you. You’re already so wet and close that the added girth feels nothing less than amazing, your pussy convulsing around his fingers, and you moan, loudly. “Ahh! Ffuck!” You cry, hiding your face in your hands that are planted firmly on the wall as you rock your hips forward, chasing the pleasure his hand offers and back, chasing the promise that the hard fat bulge of his cock offers. 

You’re so close, your body is shaking. The only relief from the heat that’s searing through your blood is his spit on your shoulder and neck, he licks and bites and leaves cooling wetness where his mouth was. 

Your hips move erratically, you arch your back, your tits now pressed into the wall (another source of coolness for your heated body) and he pulls his hand away from you and your wail turns into a surprised yelp when he firmly slaps his hand on your clit. You were so close to coming, and judging by his amused chuckle, he knew what he stopped.

“Not yet, baby.” He growls as his left hand slides up your chest and grips your chin, forcing you to look right. He holds his right hand up for you to see. “Look how fucking good you did.”

Your pussy clenches, you rock your ass against his crotch, at the sight of his hand soaked in your juices. He spreads his fingers and strings of cum connect all four, break and reform again when he flexes his hand. He sticks two fingers into his mouth and the moan he lets out is so deep and guttural that you feel it in his chest. His fingers pop out of his mouth and he sighs, “fuck, I wish you’d let me eat you.” 

He chuckles again when he feels you rock against his dick again. His hand comes down swiftly on your hip with a slap, which he soothingly rubs before sliding his hand around to rest on your lower belly. You pant and whimper and he pushes you into the wall while he thrusts his hips forward. “You want it, baby?” 

His hands leave your body for a moment and he can feel him shuffling behind you. His sweater, and a white undershirt that peeks out from it, fall to the ground by your feet. There’s more shuffling and he steps back from you entirely, leaving you hanging on the wall for support. His pants and boxers fall onto the pile of clothes next. 

“Look, I brought condoms this time!” He cheers in a goofy voice and waves a row of condoms in front of your face. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you want to laugh at the way his demeanor changed, but the perplexing relief is short-lived when you hear the ‘shing’ of a pocket knife opening. He leans over you again, his cock now covered in a condom, pushes between your thighs and glides over your slit. You whimper when the head of his cock rubs against your clit, but your body is stiff still, as you can feel the cold sharp blade of a knife on your back. 

“You don’t need this anymore.” His voice still has that silly lilt to it while he slices through your tank top, the edge of the blade lightly scratching your back as he drags it down. 

The tattered pieces of your shirt fall soundlessly to the ground, covering his pile of clothes. He closes the pocket knife and tosses it on the ground, it thuds as it lands on top of the pile, silver glinting against red rags.

“Look at me,” he orders as he turns you around, and hikes one of your legs over his hip. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper as he teases you, sliding his cock past your clit and ghosting at your entrance. His left hand firmly grips your chin, his other is holding onto your raised thigh, and he forces you to look at him.  

A deep blush stains his face and neck pink and there’s a sheen of sweat covering his body. His hair is starting to mat down from sweat, but it only makes his hair curlier. And his eyes, you stare past smudged lenses, and see how dark and wild his eyes are. He grins, with dimples pretty enough to lower your guard, and slides his cock over your slit again. You whine and try to move your hips forward, but he has a firm hold on your body and stops you. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

He laughs, actually laughs, when he circles the fat head of his cock on your clit and your head falls back, tears spring from your eyes, and moan. “What do you want?”

Your body is burning up inside, he is somehow hotter and yet you know the only relief you’ll get, that you need, is from him. You gasp, something in you snapping, and you run your hands quickly over his chest and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. He grunts a little as you pull him down and smash your mouth against his, your tongue seeking his. He pushes forward and plants his left arm against the wall, caging you.

You break from the kiss, lips still close to his, “fuck me.” You breathe quietly against his lips. You kiss him again, “fuck me.” Your voice is a little louder this time. You kiss him again, “I need you, Adrian.” 

He moans into your last kiss and lifts you off of the floor, your back flush against the wall, and wraps both of your legs around his waist. He wastes no time in teasing you again, driving his cock, thick and long and hard, into your aching pussy. You cry out, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders as he pistons in and out of you.

He’s loud and vocal, all grunts and growls and praises. “Fuck. Fuck.” He pants as he forehead pressed against yours. “So fucking good!” He grunts. “Tight. Fucking. Little. Pussy.” He thrusts into you again and again, eyes tightly shut as he chases his orgasm.

You cry, voice breaking and tears falling freely from your eyes, as he overwhelms your senses. You bury your face in his neck, biting down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder to muffle your moans. Your pussy spasms, rocking your entire body against his. He moans as he feels your muscles clench rapidly around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down. “Fuck, yea! Baby, come on my fucking cock!” 

There’s no build up to your second orgasm, but Adrian nearing his own orgasm, hips bucking wildly into yours, slams you into the wall and wraps a hand around your throat. He groans, hot breath fanning over your face and squeezes his hand just enough to send your already racing heart into overdrive. You gasp, drawing air just as you come, and his hand falls from your throat and your vision is all stars, your body shuddering against him as his hips slow down. His cock twitches inside you, the last vestiges of his, and your, orgasm slipping out of you. 

You’re both still for a moment, wrapped around each other, stuck to each other, until he takes a steady breath. He sets you on the floor gently and slides off the condom and tosses it in a nearby wastebasket. 

You have never felt so weak, your legs shake and threaten to give out under you, your arms are too heavy and you’re still panting for breath. Adrian, all smiles now, catches you before you slide all the way to the floor. “Let’s lay down.”

You try to step forward, but he stops you and carries you instead. You don’t question how he knows where your bedroom is, you push even the thought of questioning it to the back of your mind. Instead you let him maneuver you on your own bed. 

He crawls over you, slotting himself between your legs, and places a gentle kiss on your lips. You sigh into the kiss, too exhausted to respond enthusiastically. 

“Hey,” his hand gently cradles your face as he rests his forehead against yours. You look at him and he smiles, it's soft and dopey and makes your heart race and stomach flip. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

A short, weak, chuckle escapes you, before he kisses you again. You whine, raising a knee up, when his semi-hard dick brushes against your pussy. He moans and trails his mouth down your jaw to your neck. You arch against him and he smiles into your skin.

“Can I eat you out now?” 

You freeze when you register his question. But he doesn’t let you dwell on it too long, as his mouth has reached your breasts and he takes one sensitive nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while he gently gropes the other. He switches breasts, massaging you and getting you all worked up again.

“Please?”

He pleaded as his hips jut into the bed, looking up at you with wide eyes through smudged glasses. Your body is still reacting to him. Your heart beating loudly and fast in your chest, your breath shallow. He leaves trails of goosebumps across your skin, hot and sticky with sweat and saliva and tears. Your clit aches and throbs as his lips and tongue slide down your body. 

Even in his heated state he remembered why you denied him in the first place. "It's a trust thing," you said. 

"I love you. You can trust me, I swear." His mouth drops lower, lips falling to your hip bone, where he sucks a gentle kiss. "Please, baby." He starts to beg again, "can taste your pussy? I'll make you feel good, I promise." 

You're still numb on the inside, but one thought does cross your mind as you stare into those terrifyingly soft green eyes. You reach down and find your hand tangled in his hair, gripping an out of place curl and gently tug. “I,” you start quietly, the words are foreign in your mind, but familiar on your tongue. “Think I love you.” 

A brilliant smile crosses his face, he might have even let out an excited squeal. You don’t know, you’re already lost in the sensation of his mouth on your pussy, lost in the sensation of him. 

[hyenahunt]

Obbligato: In Praise of Folly - 2

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring, two years ago

Characters: Hiyori, Ibara, Nagisa

Translation: Peace & hyenahunt

Proofreading: Remi + 310mc (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Nagisa: ... He became a great beast that no individual could oppose alone — or perhaps something godlike.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Hiyori: Yes. It is for that reason as well that I'd like all the more to be better informed. It's essential to get a good feel for the situation upon one's debut to a new social scene.

At the same time, one ought to learn right away just who calls the shots in such a place.

And from where I stand, it appears to me that it would be you, Ibara Saegusa-kun. CosPro manages Reimei Academy and the like, and its true leader in all but name is you, is it not?

That's what I've gathered after doing all the research that I did, and that's why I judged your offer to be worth taking.

Indeed we wished for a new land for ourselves, but we did not simply latch onto just any old hand extended to us.

But of course, to an outsider, that's exactly what it must look like we're doing.

Ibara: Forgive me for taking advantage of your weakened hearts. However, allow me to rescind my words and agree that your decision was right beyond a doubt.

I truly believe we’ll be able to build a good rapport among each other, Tomoe and Ran.

Hiyori: You may have no choice but to say those words, but I'll have you know I'm still only half-convinced.

I want to play no part in cleaning up after others again, so the very instant things seem like they're heading south, we shall take our leave.

Ibara: If that is what you'd like to do, I certainly wouldn't stop you. After all, we haven’t signed any written contract, as the two of you were uncomfortable by the offer for some reason…

The two of you are in no way obligated to follow me.

And that is why, so that I may gain your trust, I’ve been explaining everything without sparing a single detail.

How could I ever ask you to bare your hearts to me if I won't show my own first?

And, at the very least, one must lay down understandable guidelines if they'd like those around them to act in the way they ask.

Hiyori: It's easy to understand where you're coming from. You're a businessman through and through, and you aim to increase both the amount of successful companies you have under your belt, and of course, their profits.

Or rather, you're simply full of ambition, aren't you? You're very keen to push this straightforward image of yourself, donning your business suits as you hand out your business cards.

You conduct yourself so thoroughly as to ensure your behavior will never compromise this image you've built up. This role of a young prodigal businessman is one you certainly play well.

Being a manager would obviously mean that you have a hand in management. You strive to ensure that your companies are successful. In other words, it's easy for anyone to guess that your goal is for profit — financial or otherwise.

Ibara: That's right. While our generation of adolescents are those who'd like to be seen for who they really are, and have others understand them...

It's far more important to have a character that's easy for others to grasp.

Everyone wants money. I am the personification of that desire, one which everyone can sympathize with.

And so, I won't deviate from that "easily understood" category.

The moment I step over that line is when I become no different than those "incomprehensible monsters" of Yumenosaki Academy — the Five Eccentrics.

Nagisa: ......

Ibara: I've implied this more than once, however... That is where Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya misstepped.

As I explained along the way, he established a somewhat... unique "idol association" within Reimei Academy.

By managing and utilizing the assets he gained from it, he was able to continuously accomplish feats that someone on their own couldn't.

Though I'm certainly preaching to the choir when I tell the two of you this, it's certainly symbolic of the current flow of the world, isn’t it?

No matter how prodigious someone may be, so long as they remain alone, they have no hope of winning against the ordinary who collude with one another.

Nagisa: ... I see. Whether it be deliberate or not, Tatsumi Kazehaya has created a sizable "unit" of which he is the beacon.

... It is similar to how we, fine, had formed. It was for the sake of the ordinary majority — so that we could defeat each one of the Five Eccentrics.

... As others flocked to Tatsumi Kazehaya as their leader, he surpassed that which is human.

... He became a great beast that no individual could oppose alone — or perhaps something godlike.

Ibara: Indeed. However, while the man in question simply likened what he headed as a “company”...

From my own point of view, as someone who is a real manager, what Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya is leading is nothing more than a shady secret society.

No, it's better described as a cultish society.

One could even say that he's established his very own dubious, if powerful, religion.

His ideals do have plenty of good intentions behind them, that much is for certain, and he ought to be praised for them...

A world in which no one is unhappy. A kind world where no one is hurt. An idealistic world where all are equal, and are treated fairly without exception.

However, therein lies the grandest of contradictions to the same ideals Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya held so highly from the very beginning.

[ ☆ ]

✦✦✦✦✦

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[butterbabyflapjack]

BRAT

Ghost x fem!reader x Soap

[ Badjhur NSFW audio of chapter 2 ]

You’ve been acting like a brat, and Ghost has had enough of it.

“You can consider this punishment. Can consider it me spoiling your bratty behavior. But you wanted my attention, and you’ve gotten it. So tell me now if you don’t want me to bend you over this desk and fuck you until it breaks, otherwise I’m taking what I want from you, and you’ll accept everything I give like the greedy fucking whore you’re pretending so hard not to be.”

ೃ[ TAGS ] sexual content, sexual tension, dominant Ghost, cheeky Soap, power dynamics, messy feelings, voice kink, mask kink, glove kink, dom/sub, indirect daddy kink, biting, rough sex, begging, brat breaking, voyeurism, just a dash of possessive choking, forced eye contact, oral fixation, tactical gear kink, desk sex, possessive Ghost, love triangle, jealousy

ೃ[ TAGLIST ] @ahoycaptainautumn @your-highnessmarvel @wolfgalsniper @confuseddipshit @prettynalilgay @merzkihstuff @alfie2401 @emberwolfgames @willowbrookesblog @meujias @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @magicgal @verios @flrwpwr @jewelsisurmom @imjusthereforghostsmutt @circuskatt @darkstars-14 @maxksc-blog @lillianastuff @assia123-green @collarwhiskers @divergent-llamas-03 @voidinfernal

ೃ[ CHAPTERS ] chapter.1 - chapter.2 - chapter.3 - chapter.4

::chapter 4::

[ SUMMARY ] You try your best to avoid temptation, but Soap has other plans, ones your lieutenant might not appreciate.

[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] If you started reading this when it first came out, there’s a nsfw audio of it now that’s super steamy thanks to badjhur and @urfavsunkissedleo~♡ it was a lot of fun to hear my work in a different format (not to mention badjhur’s voice is ummmmmmkhlkgjhj) and if you want to you should check it out! (with headphones!! trust me on this one)

Also, ♡!dubcon warning!♡ Also also, sorry about my poetry loving ass I could not help myself.

Also (it’s my last also I swear), I maybe forgot to say what your teammates look like, so here are their muses in case you’re interested.

You stare on in rising horror at the sexy little number Ghost is holding out on one far-too-casual, fully gloved finger; a stark contrast to just how overdressed he is yet how underdressed he wants you to be. Fighting not to feel the weight of everyone’s attention passing between it – that champagne-hued monstrosity – and you; the woman expected to wear it.

You.

You’re supposed to wear that.

For a mission.

This is not a joke. There is no punchline. Where’s a fucking punchline when you need one?!

And ‘dress’ really is a generous term for whatever that silky, clingy thing is he’s offering you in front of everyone, with all the silent expectance that you walk right over and take it.

And you should. You should just follow orders, especially since everyone is watching you.

“I am not wearing that,” you tell him firmly, instead; digging your heels in from across the room.

Even smeared black and shadowed by his hood, you can see the subtle flex in how he barely raises a single brow. And even from across the room, a room full of people staring at you, the darkened depths of Ghost’s eyes has its way of making you forget about everyone but him.

“It isn’t a request,” is his response, like gravel in his throat. Gruff. Succinct. “So stop being a brat. Come over here, and take it.”

But alright, we are jumping ahead of ourselves a little bit here. So let’s rewind about twenty minutes, to before your morning was ruined by shrink-wrap disguised as a dress. Back to when the only thing sabotaging your morning was one Johnny “Soap” MacTavish; and he was sabotaging it, and you, and everything.

The morning started out tolerably enough, about twenty minutes prior; heavy on the ‘started’.

Your eyes blink open, and though your cramped little room doesn’t have a window, you still get the sense that it’s dawn. And you sit up, rubbing your eyes awake upon the haphazard bed you’re still half-tangled in.

Getting the sense that its dawn is part of the reason you don’t like hanging out in your hovel of a room, even with its safety of a door to hide from the rest of your team behind. For all its supposed privacy, its lack of windows makes it feel like a cave with a lamp left perpetually on (because you don’t ever feel quite safe on missions, especially not in windowless dark, and especially not on this mission). Yet even with the lack of sunlight to tell you that it's dawn, to make you feel more human for a single second, life is good. Life is warm. Because when you first wake up, you don't remember anything.

And then that second passes.

And then you remember all the stupid things you’ve done.

Like letting your lieutenant fuck you over his desk, more-or-less in front of an audience.

And like you – vividly imagining sucking off Johnny’s calloused, spaghetti-sauced fingers at the exact same moment you’re batting eyelashes at him in the kitchen – also in front of an audience.

You really like making a fool of yourself on stage, don’t you?

Lord, what is this safehouse doing to you? To any of you? Nothing was this complicated before you all got trapped in this shoebox, before this mission began, and you blame this shoebox-sized apartment for everything.

So, yeah.

The morning started off tolerably, but this is where it starts to fall apart.

But don’t worry, it gets better – and by ‘better’ I of course mean worse. (And we're not even talking about the dress yet, but we’ll get to that. Believe it or not, there are worse things than that horrid little dress).

Lost in your frustration for this apartment and whatever mind games it's playing with you, a gruff knock at your door makes you jump so sharply you reel back in bed, thwacking your head against the headboard.

“Living room in twenty, Hush.”

It's Soap. You can tell by that husky voice you're beginning to loathe, because like Pavlov's dog, you salivate when you hear it.

Rubbing the ache from the back of your skull, you exhale a stifled groan, which apparently these paper-thin walls allow Johnny in on.

“You all good in there, lass?” he asks, sounding a bit too amused for your liking.

“M’fine,” you call back through your teeth, glad he can’t see you wincing, and maybe you should hide out in here all day even if it’s as suffocating as a submarine.

“Sounds like you took a tumble.”

You frown at your door, at where Soap must stand behind it, hand dropping. “Mind your own business, Soap.”

You hear his chuckle, like a rockslide breathed against the door, and suddenly you're blinking far too quickly at how the mere sound of laughter sinks like honey in your veins.

“Right now you are my business…” he murmurs, and why does something so seemingly innocuous make your gut clench?

You shake the flustering sensation away, forcing a scowl at the door. “Just – go! I’ll be out in a minute!”

Again, his lowered, breathy laugh does horrible things to you.

It’s the apartment – this stupid fucking apartment – it’s messing with you.

“If you say so, Hush,” Soap muses, before the heavy sound of his boot steps carries him further away down the hall.

Crisis averted.

For now.

It’s hard to be relieved when you know you’ll just come face-to-face with him again almost instantly, such is the size of this place. And when you do, who knows what you'll end up doing - it's like you and everyone else has lost their heads in here. And though you’re tempted to lock yourself away in your room, you refuse to hide in bed all day over two guys and a hundred possible bad decisions you’ve yet to make.

Mistakes have definitely been made during your unfortunate stint in this shoebox-sized purgatory, but that doesn’t mean you’ll entertain any more dumb ideas. And you’re fully resolved not to, just as you’re hellbent on pretending that nothing at all has happened already, that nothing at all has changed – not between you and Ghost, not between you and Soap, and definitely not between all three of you.

…

All three of you?

What’s that phenomenon called? That one where you tell yourself not to think about something, and then you just think about it ten times harder even more than you would have?

Cause that’s what’s happening now.

You and Ghost and Soap. It slips across your mind, and, oh, god, that’s officially the last thing you need right now, but like a viscid bad dream, you can't wake up, can’t scrape the image once it’s there.

And you have a vivid fucking imagination.

You can see it. Can feel it. A fever-wall of heat on either side of you, yourself a meal torn between two wolves; rough, greedy. Twin lips mapping your skin, your chest, your nape, your neck, marking every inch of you until everything is theirs. Gruff hands, wanting hands, possessive, tearing through your clothes, charting the smoothness of your skin. Calloused, wood-hewn hands that mold to you, mold you to them, between them, till every exhale is their groans or your gasps and you don’t know where you end and they begin.

And in this dream, this fever, Ghost’s mouth finds your ear from behind, rough voice warm against your skin.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, like he already knows. “Greedy fucking thing.” Grabbing your waist, jerking your ass back into him; a puzzle piece that fits so snugly between himself and Soap.

You try to gasp something, maybe to deny it, but he only laughs; a purring, deadly cadence.

“Your little shivers don’t lie.”

We have officially lost cabin pressure.

And for a moment, you forget you're even awake. That fever-dream of them consuming you. But then you fall back into orbit, blinking hard enough to realize what you're actually imagining right now, and nearly hit your head against the headboard again just to make it fucking stop.

What are you– Jesus, get your head on straight, you are not – and I repeat, not – anywhere even close to the realm of fucking…

Even thinking their names makes your mind spin, or maybe that's something else.

This mission…!

Just… focus on the mission!

And let us reiterate: this tiny awful place is just fucking with all of your heads (especially yours, apparently). Making smoke of boundaries, muddying whatever lines should exist. That’s all. That’s it. And as soon as you’re out of here everything will go back to normal, it'll all be mercifully the same. Ghost and Soap won't hold these invisible strings around your heart and mind anymore, you won't still envision horrible things about them as you lie still-awake in bed.

But for now, with all of you locked up in here…

You just have to focus and avoid them.

Just. Don’t. Think. About. Them. Either of them.

The mission. Focus on the mission. (Of which you currently have little detail, as apparently you’re on the short end of a need-to-know basis, but god do you hope it ends soon).

Your morning, horny fever-dreams aside, starts with a goal as simple as that. Just don’t think about them, and for the love of god avoid being alone with either of them. Even when some part of you knows it won't be that simple, but hey, denial is a thing, a great thing, so you cling to denial and keep on chugging.

You avoid leaving your fish-tank of a room for as long as anxiety allows, only vaguely aware of how you’re chipping away at the ‘living room in twenty’ wake-up call Soap gave you, before eventually sleuthing your way out into the narrow hall, relieved to see Johnny isn't still there, as if waiting to ambush you, even though you knew he wasn't there, you can usually hear that man like a muscle-dense freight train from at least a mile away, but this place is making you more paranoid than you should be.

Still, you're relieved to find the hallway empty, and you sneak your way with all the stealth 141 has ingrained into your every sinew toward the kitchen, as if getting there in silence is a matter of life or death. Peeking your little head in to ensure neither of your gravel-toned, fever-dream apparitions are in there, before slinking in to pour cereal like a mad-woman and shovel it in your face at Mach 10 speed, and damn you should probably slow down before you chip a tooth or something.

Ash gives you a weird look, being the only person in the immediate vicinity of your apparent starvation.

"'Mornin'," he says, though his eyes question your sanity – to which you mumble something around a mouthful that might have been "hello," flashing a 'nervous?-I'm-not-nervous', chipmunk-cheeked smile (read: grimace) and stuffing your mouth even fuller to avoid speaking.

And hey, you haven't seen Ghost, you haven't actually seen Soap, and you haven't choked on your cereal – somehow. So as far as your plan of avoiding them goes, you're doing great so far! Just keep this up and this mission will be over in no time (ha!).

Tossing back the rest of your cereal, you leave your bowl in the sink as Ash nags after you to wash your dishes and you insist back that you will, later (under the safe cover of night, preferably), but right now you need to hide (the brave kind of hiding – you’re not a coward, I swear). Not in your submarine cave, because you're like a plant, you crave the sunlight. Your room is a last resort. Right now, you head toward the next best thing – your usual reading nook. You know, the one Ghost found you in yesterday, before… well, we won’t get into that. The point is, it’s the perfect place to waste hours at a time spilling over whatever old books and dog-eared magazines the one-shelf excuse of a library has to offer.

But it's here that your feet grind to a sudden halt, rooting you to the ground. Here, just outside the doorway of said reading nook. Because it's here that you see Soap.

Soap, lounging lackadaisically, without a seeming care in the world. Dark tee and dark jeans that somehow cling to his ridges in all the right places. Dust-wrapped boots already kicked up on the arm of the room's moth-bitten armchair, as he dangles a book before his face, obstructing all but his scruffy, chiseled jawline and corded neck from view.

He’s just lounging around on that armchair.

Your armchair.

Because you've been reading in here since day one, the day you all got trapped here; you saw it first.

So what is he doing in here?

He’s never in here.

And what is he reading? Does he even know how to read? He’s never reading.

You’re caught in fight-or-flight, still puzzling when alarm bells in your head start ringing – warning, warning, abort, abort, this is not a drill get the hell out of there – and you haven’t made it this far in your career not listening to your instincts when you're sound enough to have them.

You turn, you bolt, you scatter, before Soap can even glance around whatever book he’s dangling across that stupidly handsome face of his. And no, it's not exactly a graceful exit, but if you don’t heed your instincts now you may not get to later. Soap's roguish, sapphire gaze has a way of drowning out instinct and reason, as you’ve learned the hard way last night, and right now reason's telling you not to stick around and find out why the hell he's lying around pretending to read on your futon.

Nu-uh.

Nope.

Not dumb enough to slide into that one.

Best to avoid it.

Okay. So. No reading nook, then (thanks for nothing, Soap). And though you briefly consider foregoing sunlight altogether and just hiding away in your room, you instead scurry back down the hall, toward the charmingly constricted living room/kitchenette combo, supposing you'll find safety in numbers by using the safer members of your task force as a shield against those two others that plague you.

Ash, Fuze, and Blight are all crowded around the tiny box TV in the living room that only gets clear reception on three stations, like three gorillas sprawled on a toy couch, one that barely fits three guys the size of linebackers (you might’ve poked fun at how cozy they look were you not so currently twisted). And seeing that Ghost's not in the room solidifies this as your current safe haven, your preferred hiding place (or, hiding in plain sight behind a shield of tv-glued gorillas place).

And speaking of Ghost…

You clear your throat of any lingering nerves, attempting nonchalance as you make your way toward the bay window at the furthest edge of the room, a ways behind where the group of guys are sitting; settling in to sit upon its windowsill, your back against the wall.

“Where’s L.T.?” you ask with all that supposed nonchalance.

None of your team bother to glance back, too enthralled with whatever nonsense is on screen, though you know they heard you.

“Out,” Blight says. And okay, thanks for all the detail, Blight.

Still, that one word's enough to leave your brows slowly furrowing. Its potential, unstated meaning sinking in.

“He left the safehouse?” you ask, staring at the back of Blight’s head. "As in…” Dare you cling to hope? “We might be getting actual orders that get us out of here?"

Ash speaks up before Blight does.

“Hopefully,” he says, eyes still glued to the screen. “But at least some wheels are turning.”

“What kind of wheels?” you ask, not sure why you’re brushed by a fleeting edge of nerves.

“Dunno,” Ash says. “Him’n Gaz were pretty tight-lipped about it, but they’re due back in ten, hopefully with good news.”

“And a few six-packs,” Blight adds, without much enthusiasm.

"And a fucking steak would be nice," Fuze supplies, one arm sprawled along the back of the couch from where he sits, locked onto the screen. "I'm pretty sure Gaz's trying to kill us with what he thinks is cooking – I've eaten better stranded and starved on rations."

As the other boys weigh in about what a shit chef Gaz is (and they're not exactly wrong, though you don't chime in), you turn away from the group of them, staring down at the far-below streets of Amsterdam beside you, though in actuality you hardly see a thing, caught in your mind as you suddenly are.

You feel like you should be far more relieved by this than you actually end up being. And it makes no sense how this news – good news – that you might finally be unshackled from this shoebox purgatory… how it doesn’t alleviate some ache inside you, doesn’t fill you with some sweetly warm ease.

Maybe this place has given you Stockholm, because something about leaving now eats at you, like there’s something started and unfinished, and though you’re not sure what that something is you’re somehow raked by nervous claws, torn by wanting to know and never wanting to find out.

You’re being silly. You’re relieved, you’ve just forgotten what relief feels like. You’re more than ready to leave this place, you’re praying every second while trapped within this hellscape that you’ll finally be released.

This is a good thing. Finally, you’ll all be free, and you’ll never take a mission in Amsterdam again.

Whatever that annoying, gnawing feeling near your ribs is, you shove it away. And for some reason you think of Ghost, you think of Soap, and that ache comes back again.

How are you so tangled up in them?

Sure, you’re all close, closer than close, with everything you’ve been through. It’s impossible not to feel attached, not to feel somewhat vulnerable around people who’ve brushed by hell and back with you. The things you’ve all done, what you’ve all seen – it strips away layers of you, all of you, and what’s behind, what’s bared…

There’s nothing like it. It’s indescribable, what you share. You care about them more than you’d ever admit.

But that doesn’t excuse how you’re suddenly, perpetually haunted, unable to peel them from your head.

You care about all of your team, not just them – it's not supposed to be so personal, yet somehow it is. It’s tangled and raw and messy and you nearly have to laugh at that, because at least you know that Soap’s name is really Johnny – you don't even know Ghost's name, haven’t even seen his face, and yet somehow you can't stop thinking about him, like he's carved himself inside your mind, taken residence there, claiming a piece of you that you can’t get back, a piece you don’t want back, a piece that's only his.

How did your feelings evolve into whatever nightmare this is?

And speaking of nightmares.

"You're not as stealthy as you usually are this morning, love.”

A husky, familiar voice wavers in through your tangled thoughts from somewhere right in front of you, and you blink, suddenly seeing as it cheekily adds, "You might wanna work on that."

For the second time today, Soap has you startling back into hitting your head, skull thunking against the wall of the windowsill you’re perched upon, almost like he wants you to suffer a head-wound whenever he shows up out of the blue. And he definitely looks amused at whatever your face is doing right now as your owlish eyes shoot up to him.

He regards you from just beside the window, dense arms folded across the expanse of his chest. And he exhales his watchful amusement as all you can seem to do for a moment is gawk up at his magical appearance out of nowhere – ta da! – leaning one heavy shoulder against the wall the longer you go on about it.

“Someone’s jumpy,” he observes with a subtly curling grin, azure glints beneath his lashes. One corner of his lips edging wider the longer you fail to say anything, all while you resist the dire urge to just push off the windowsill and run from the potential danger of yourself around him.

"You gonna say hello, or…?" he wonders, idly. Smile too devilish to be charming, and yet he still looks charming and you hate him for it. “Ah, I see,” he muses after a time, with a sage expression of knowing. “Tongue-tied. I tend to have that effect on people. I'll give you a minute."

If anything, your dour expression only further fuels his amusement.

"What do you want, Soap?” you ask at last, doing your best not to showcase the uncomfortable flare you feel in your gut just by looking at him.

“To bother you,” he says, hiking a mischievous brow. "Is it working?"

The part of you that enjoys what were your usual back-and-forths wants to crack a smile, while all the rest of you holds back, knowing he’s bad news in a place like this, that maybe you can’t trust yourself, that the last thing you need is to encourage him.

“Yup," you say, dully. "It’s working.”

He grins. “Great,” he says, his infuriating nonchalance unaffected; gaze a slash of blue as you muster up a scowl at him.

"Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you're in a bad mood?” he asks, eyes creasing as you once again resist the temptation to bolt. “You can't really blame me for wanting to bother you. It’s hard not to play with fire when the burn’s so appealing.”

That cheeky fucking smile of his lengthens at whatever your contorted, silent reaction to that is.

“Aye – there it is. That’s the look,” he muses, smirking as annoyance fizzles off your back. “Adorable. You look like you might wanna slap me.”

“I kinda do, actually,” you say – only half-joking. "Though maybe I'll just punch you in the face again like I did the last time you annoyed me."

“Zero to ten, just like that?” he wonders with his charming, crooked grin. “I haven’t even said ‘hello’ yet.”

You feel yourself smile before you can stop it – quickly biting your lips flat whilst turning away, staring hard out the window in the decided effort to ignore his presence.

“So say ‘hello’ and leave, then,” you mutter at the glass. “I’m kinda busy.”

"Huh. You don’t look all that busy."

"I'm people watching, not that it's any of your business."

"And that's more interesting than talking to me?"

"Is that rhetorical, or…?"

His little chuff teases warmth down your neck.

“Ah,” he lowly broods, as if in discovery of something. And you can’t help from glancing up at him again, seeing one dark brow archly lifted. “So you are avoiding me…”

You blink, thickly – trying to stem your panic, because you do not need him knowing that. If he thinks you’re avoiding him – which you very much are but that’s beside the point – he might ask the seemingly innocuous question of “why?”, and you are not answering that right now, especially when you're not even sure you know the answer yourself.

And thus, you panic (discreetly), you balk (in your head), insisting, “I’m not avoiding you.”

He doesn't necessarily look convinced.

“That’s odd,” he says, Scottish accent threaded in his words. “I could’ve sworn you tip-toed past that little reading nook you like so much just a few minutes ago.” His brow’s further lifted, that insufferable half-smirk still scrawled across his scruffy face. “Are you telling me that had nothing to do with avoiding?”

You bite your lower lip into a scowl, avoiding even his questions. “What were you doing in there, anyway? That’s my reading nook.”

“I know it is.” His blue gaze sheens. “What do you think I was doing in there?”

Your eyebrows tug into a crease, as slowly your eyes narrow up at him – all those instinctual alarm bells from earlier starting to make a helluva lot more sense.

“So you were lying in wait for me…” you accuse as much aloud.

He shrugs; boyish, adorable. “Had to get you all to myself somehow.”

His eyes warm like heated sea glass, seeming to sense that flush creeping up your neck as, for a moment, you can't seem to look away from him. And before you can look away, or make up some excuse to leave or actually slap him, he’s already pushing off from his casual, one-shouldered slouch against the wall, settling down upon the windowsill beside you.

“Guess you have a thing for audiences, though,” he murmurs, with a glance at the gorillas on the couch, glued to their screen.

When he looks back at you, he's far too close for his eyes not to capture yours.

Those alarm bells make a desperate reappearance in your head again, but you can hardly think with him watching you like that, let alone heed them. Some flicker of heat teased low in the base of your spine as his playful gaze dances over yours.

“Maybe my utter lack of enthusiasm wasn’t obvious enough,” you murmur, distracted; trying not to let the gorillas overhear whatever's happening between the two of you, especially since you don’t need their gossip playing telephone back to Ghost about something that’s actually nothing– ”but me telling you I’m busy was my unsubtle queue for you to leave.”

“Oh, I got it,” he says; attention skating across your features. Your lashes, your jaw, your eyes, your lips. “Crystal fuckin’ clear.”

And okay, maybe he actually is a little bit charming underneath how insufferably annoying he can be, because you certainly feel charmed, like you can’t look away from him.

"So you can pick up on subtle nuances,” you muse.

He smiles. "I can pick up on lots of things."

Your pulse catches as his words feel to dig inside a place you won't acknowledge, won't allow him or anyone to see, and you’re forced to swallow against a sudden knot within your throat.

"So is there a reason you're still over here harassing me then?" you wonder, folding your arms against him. “Besides you wanting me to slap you, that is? Because I’m not much in the mood for fueling your kinky fantasies this morning, though I see your last bruise’s healed nicely.”

He exhales a bearish laugh, though his mirth is slowly fading. Something more serious, like a shadow, creeping in to take its place. Timber-carved, reserved, unlike him.

“Maybe you can indulge my fantasy of you not avoiding me, then,” he suggests, gaze passing over yours, as though searching. “At least for, let's say… five minutes? Think you can handle that?"

Why do you actually gulp – god you hope he didn’t actually hear that.

"Do you always have to challenge women into spending time with you?"

One corner of his lips curls; a fox with sapphire heat for eyes. “Only the ones I’m interested in, apparently.”

It’s like he somehow strips away more and more of that now tiny voice warning you away – like he can see it happening. And he leans in just a fraction more close, his voice by your cheek, his words a gruff murmur that lures you closer just to hear them, those words meant just for you.

“I get it,” he says. “Why you’re so abrasive right now. Why you’re twisted up, lashing out. Avoiding.”

He’s so close the warmth of his body radiates into yours, like the tease of a touch you inexplicably long for.

At least, until he keeps talking.

“Whatever happened between you and L.T.–”

And just like that – the mere mention of Ghost’s name and all your feelings tied to it – the spells broken, torn from whatever trance he’s somehow spun you into.

"I don't – you don't know what–" you start to stammer, though his hand as it wraps around your forearm stills you, succeeds in pulling your anxiety-bitten gaze back to his for at least a moment more.

His touch is gentle, as if to ease you from fleeing, and yet he still seems unable not to tease you about it all the same.

"The details of which shall remain, at the lady's insistence, a badly kept secret,” he softly smirks. Chuckling as your face threatens to expel actual, embarrassed steam.

When you turn away, you’re not sure if it’s in readiment to get the hell away from him or in trying to ensure that anyone else in the room isn’t listening, though his thumb and forefinger finding your chin wipes whatever your intentions away, a warm jolt springing down your middle as he turns your uncertain gaze back to him.

“Whatever happened,” he breathes, a graveled hush as his eyes reclaim yours, “it’s got you twisted.”

A subtle smirk plays his lips at how utterly he seems to hold your attention, at how his touch makes you glass, makes you fragile before him. And even now he teases.

“And for good reason, too. L.T.’s not exactly the kinda guy I’d wanna get locked in a room with.”

You're forced to bite the inside of your cheek not to call him every insult you’ve ever heard of, so loudly everyone in the room starts tuning in.

“Please, God, make this conversation end,” you mutter instead, to which his jeweled-eyes sparkle, an added coil to his grin.

For a man his size, he somehow moves like fluid – shifting still closer, so close you’re boxed in against the wall of the windowsill behind you. So close that unthinking panic has your head dully thumping in a wavering bid to create distance, and you’re really starting to think he’s inspiring head-wounds on purpose.

His only reaction is the low laugh tucked inside his chest, one you feel vibrating through him, skittering across your bones, making your gut clench. And you can feel his voice, right beside you. You could push him away, though you don't. Somehow frozen against his warmth. Frozen, but for the shiver that travels through your spine as his whispered words graze against your ear.

“But here’s the thing, sweetheart,” he breathes, his rockslide warmth dragging all those sticky little knots inside you up into your throat. “Whatever’s twisted you up, whatever games L.T. might be playing… I’m not playing. I'm not twisted up in anything.”

The bridge of his nose skims across the delicate curve of your ear; a hum catching low in his throat as he seems to drink down the scent of you, the warmth of your nearness, those unwanted shivers he sends trickling down your nape as he murmurs, “I know exactly what I want…”

You’re not entirely sure what kind of stifled little sound wants to claw its way out of you as you hear him breathe you in again, as his hand finds your knee, but you’re not sure you want to find out; managing to bite back on it; biting still more harshly as his hand circles around your knee, squeezing, an iron grip that travels possessively upward, up along your thigh, firm fingers digging at your plushness, like he can’t contain some animal that longs to tear you open, to slip inside. And so much for your plans to avoid him, when now it feels there's nowhere you could hide.

You should say something, anything, but you can’t – especially as his fingers bite into you more harshly, as you feel a shudder travel through him, hear him stifle a coarsened breath.

“Hearing you moan someone else's name through these paper-fucking-walls…” His words sink to a growl that scrapes across your skin, pulls your insides tight, so constricted you can barely breathe. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?” he wonders, satin sawtooth heat against your ear. “What you do to me?”

You’re not sure if he’s actually asking – your throat constricting with the lack of knowing what to say.

“Johnny…”

He hums his approval, the sound like thunder in him, exhaled against your ear as his lips brush your skin.

“Aye, lass,” he says, his hand smoothing up around your waist, taking hold as though you belong to him; calloused thumb spilling up beneath your shirt, down below the waistband of your jeans, tracing along the ridge of your hip. “That’s the only name I want on your lips.”

You fail to choke back a gasp as his tongue finds your earlobe, sucking it in between his hungry teeth, and it's both exquisite and torturous how the heat of his mouth spears straight down between your legs, lapping between how tightly your thighs twist together, as though your body’s betraying how much you need him there; a white-hot ache that pulls a whimper from your throat, crackling across all your glass-hewn pieces.

“S-Soap,” you stammer, as if his codename will save you where his given name could not – somehow still present enough not to waver above a trembled hush, even with his tongue and teeth against your skin, traveling down your throat, marking and making a meal of you. And though you grab his wrist as if to push him away, you don't succeed in actually tearing his touch from you, even as you choke out desperately, “Stop…!”

He doesn’t listen. Instead taking the back of your neck, dragging you in to kiss him.

Rough fingers coil in your hair, twisting, tangled in you as you exhale a small, startled noise against his lips, before, before…

Everything’s hot. Everything’s melting. You can’t think.

He licks inside your mouth, and with another breathy sound against his lips, you kiss him back, desperate for his warmth, his taste; as though lost in a storm that rises and consumes, that would see you torn to pieces but for the anchor of him you cling to.

You’re lost, and you're hopeless, and you're senseless and you need him.

You grab his shirt as he swallows down that little sound you make, tongue sinking inside your warmth, and suddenly you’re his. His to possess, his to do what he wants with.

Your heart nearly shatters through your ribs at the granite-coarse sound he makes against your tongue, before he’s kissing you more fiercely, gruff fingers twisting at your roots.

He pauses only long enough to tease you, because of course he does.

“Stop, she says,” he murmurs at your lips. “Slap me, and maybe I will.” Not waiting before his tongue draws yours back out to play, to belong to him.

And some vicious part of you wants to slap him, if only to disrupt how fucking cocky he is, but the wet, eager heat of his mouth erases all your thoughts until it feels like you can’t even breathe unless you’re breathing him.

This is when the front door of this dingy little Amsterdam apartment unlocks; a distant, metallic scratching.

This is when the front door of this dingy little Amsterdam apartment opens; itself thrown casually ajar.

Right now. With your and Johnny’s tongues wrapped halfway down each other’s throats. Because of course it does – you love an audience, right?

Twenty minutes are up.

“Fucking finally…!”

You somehow hear Blight's voice clamor through the fog surrounding your thoughts, like a ship horn far from shore; carving through the mist, growing louder, more clear, more jarring as he adds, “Please tell me we’re getting out of here, Ghost – I'm one Gaz-cooked meal away from blowing my own brains out.”

And then it hits you – reality punching you in the chest, all your nerves upended, and still it takes a single second – a single, time-defying second – to actually register, to react, to realize what the fuck you’re actually doing right now, making out with Soap in the fucking living room what the hell are you thinking–!

A single second. And then you tear yourself away, twist your kiss-plushed lips from Soap’s – jerking back, shooting to your feet, edging out a shaky step against the wall as though you’ll crumble without it supporting you. Eyes overwide as apprehension tears your heart out, and even then some ache pushes through your chest, pushing through your ribs, like it wants to climb right out of you, climb anywhere where it might at last be tended, at last be soothed, and you shove it violently away, just as you do all those tangled feelings inside you.

You see Blight shifting up off the couch, sauntering toward the door just a few feet ahead of him. And you don’t know why you’re panicking, but you're panicking, it seizes through you like a ricocheting round as you see Ghost and Gaz standing there. Gaz’s lips moving, saying something you can’t even hear as he shuts the door behind them.

Blight’s talking too, you think. Saying something to Ghost. And it feels like it’s been so long since you’ve actually seen your lieutenant, even when it’s only been a day.

Ghost isn’t looking at Blight.

He’s a shadow-carved monolith. A black smudge against a silver eclipse. A hooded omen with kohl-bruised eyes and a skull’s broad, pallid jawline sewn to the lower half of his face.

Tall. Imposing.

Rigid.

He’s a mountain of unknown intention. And he’s looking right at you.

Something about him snares you from all the way across the room. Grips your very bones, snatching them and you into his possession. There is no escape from the way he’s watching you. His eyes are chasmic, labyrinthian; dark, unreadable voids above his skeletal mask.

Those eyes suck you in, fill your chest and heart and lungs with their darkness. They slide against your marrow, inscribing words you’ll never see unless you tear yourself open.

And then those eyes fall to Johnny.

Ghost can transcend humanity when he wants to. You’ve seen it before, in the field. A rare and dangerous occurrence where he’s more beast than man. But you never thought whatever monster lie in him would ever direct itself at Soap. Would ever watch him like he’s watching him right now.

It’s a look that could bend iron around you. Could hollow your insides out, leave you a rib-caged cavity. A jackal look. A beast that bares its blood-stained teeth as the other jackals stalk near.

That look could stop your very heart from beating, and for a moment you swear it does, even when it’s not directed at you. Just being in its presence is stifling. Those eyes of Ghost’s a noose, a cattle-gun, a guillotine.

If people are still talking, you can no longer hear anything beyond the thud of your own heart restarting. Can no longer see anything else at all in that room. All you can see is Ghost, and all you can feel is that darkness radiating off him.

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

[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] I think Ghost might be mildly pissed off.

Thanks for reading!

[soundlessdragon]

I rip out hair on my arms, sometimes the corners of my eyelashes, and pick at ingrown hairs on my face and arms… and I’ve realized that when I’m feeling really out of control/stressed/anxious or depressed, that I do it more. I saw your reblog and I was too embarrassed to reblog and give my true answer but, I’m relieved to know I’m not the only one. I wish I could stop though, but the more I try to stop the more I do it. I just feel these hairs on my face and I have to get rid of them😫 like it’s an overwhelming urge. I blame the ‘scars’ on acne from the mask days but I think everyone knows it’s not from that anymore😔 When people ask I never know what to say… I just get embarrassed and shut down.

I don’t know why I have such a hard time surrendering my need to control to the Lord😔

No worries! It definitely feels vulnerable to talk about at first. I've read that hair pulling is under the umbrella category of "Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors" (BFRB) which are actually more common than people think. The most well-known one is nail-biting, but it also includes skin-picking, lip-biting, etc. I started pulling my eyelashes at 7 and haven't been able to shake it since. I haven't been able to keep a full set of eyelashes and eyebrows since I was around 12, and pulled a few patches on my scalp during high school but thankfully have been able to mostly avoid my scalp since.

I also have experienced that the more i pay attention and try to stop, the worse it gets. The best thing for me is to focus on something else and just try to keep my hands busy, but also not be too hard on myself for failures. A lot of times though, I will get obsessed with one spot and if one particular hair feels weird I will tweezer it, otherwise if I just worry at it with my fingers usually a larger area will start to get affected and then most of the time I eventually end up pulling out the whole area. Like you said, it is indeed overwhelming, and many psychological classifications actually link it with OCD-disorders due to the obsessive-compulsive nature of the urges.

I'm sorry people ask you 😬 It's already hard enough just to worry that people are noticing. The few people that have asked me I chose to just tell the truth, mostly because I believe that the more people who learn and can be understanding, the better, and I also like explaining things and teaching people.

I have grown to be at peace with it (it helped to find out people don't think I'm an ugly monster for it and my husband even prefers my face without my eyeliner/browliner disguise), and it doesn't impact my daily life in a significant negative way right now. If it does one day progress back to my scalp, I may seek professional help for it, but so far I am doing okay. I'll pray you find a place of peace with it too, or even better that you find success in shaking the behavior altogether 😊. I have heard of many people being able to stop eventually, if they find a system that works for them.