#pearl your wife will still be there when you get back

[autogeneratedkahootnickname]

I love how Side Order confirms in text that Agent 4's soulless husk is being used by Order to try and destroy you whilst they're trapped helplessly within their mind, and then like...nothing is done about this?

Like even after you're chill with Smollusk like. Parallel Canon is still there. Every time. Like bestie free my boy.

[wyvernest]

hammock by the sea

pairing - miguel o'hara x wife!f!reader

warnings - fluff, established relationship, suggestive

summary - you and miguel enjoy a sunny july afternoon on your honeymoon in a hammock

translations: lo sé - i know / así me gusta - that's how i like it

part 2! part3!

The air is hot, but fresh with a salty sea breeze. The waves roll rhythmically against the white shores, echoing through the gardens of the resort you're spending your honeymoon at.

Everything is so quiet, so serene, and incontestably intimate.

The hammock hangs low between two palms, heavy with your weight added on top of his. Miguel sits cosily in the linen cocoon, arms hanging out on each side. You're seated on his lap, straddling him. Sunlight grazes his features in interrupted stripes, filtered through the sharp palm leaves. 

His eyes are closed, eyebrows relaxed. Your gaze lingers over his sculpted face, the shape of his eyes, his cheekbones, the line of his nose and his soft lips; then up to his dark hair, sun-kissed dark silk. 

You're startled when you feel his hand take ahold of your wrist gently, pulling you with a little force into his embrace. Eyes still closed, he's silently asking you to lay back on top of him, to let him capture you back into his arms. 

You remain straight for the single purpose of looking at him for a little longer. It's not often that you see him so relaxed, so defenceless and vulnerable. Your attention follows his jaw, adorned with the remnants of what used to be a stubble; then the line of his neck, and you hold back a primal impulse to bend down and start kissing it, just to hear him giggle lowly before groaning in need.

Your hands follow your vision, flowing down his broad shoulders, and over his strong pecs, reaching the firm muscles of his torso. You feel him tense up, flexing his abdomen under your touch and puffing out a giggled breath. 

"You don't have to do that to impress me, you know." you keep your hands on his abdomen, struggling to mask the loving and lustful awe in your eyes. 

"Lo sé. I just love to see you all red in the face." He smirks at you, pearl-white fangs peeking from the smile, opening his eyes enough just to witness the sight before him. You hadn't realised you were getting so flustered. Maybe it's the heat outside.

Or maybe it's just him, looking like a greek sculpture, completely enamoured by you and at your disposal. All sleepy, messy hair and smile teasing. 

You cave in, laying yourself on top of him, head on his chest, hiding the blush in your cheeks. His arms encompass your body, holding you against him. You feel one of his legs drop out of the hammock, slowly swaying you both into a lulling cradle. 

You snuggle into him, pressing your face closer to hear his heartbeat. With a deep sigh, you melt into him. He brings a hand to your hair, laying soft caresses over the expanse of your back.

But you don't want to fall asleep just yet. There's only so many things you could do. Getting up, you come face to face with him, starting to kiss him all over his face. He smiles, eyes still closed. You kiss him on his forehead, on his temples, all over his cheeks, and when you get close enough to the corner of his mouth, he catches you and deepens the kiss. His lips are soft and tender against yours, tongues dancing in tandem as you make out under the July sun.

His hands arrive at your sides, grasping at your waist before starting to tickle violently. You break away from the kiss, erupting in uncontrolled laughter. He doesn't stop. He keeps tickling until you're backing up on the opposite end of the hammock, seeking shelter from the attack.

He takes the chance and gets up from his place, repositioning himself so that he's laying on you, face up. The hammock swings abruptly from side to side and you nearly fall out of it. You scream and laugh but he doesn't stop until he's seated comfortably, head on your chest.

"There we go." He sighs, placing a quick peck on your breast, making you even more flustered, before once again shutting his eyes.

"You could've told me you wanted to switch." 

"Wouldn't have been as fun."

You tangle your fingers in his hair, massaging lightly.

"Ah, así me gusta" he moans and relaxes further into your embrace. 

"You're so handsome." you mumble to yourself, gazing at him with all the love you could bestow upon someone.

He opens his eyes instantly, staring at you like you just told him the craziest thing he could've heard.

"Mi vida", he pauses, weighing his words for half a second, "coming from an angel like you, it means a lot."

You smile, knowing he means it. He's not the type to throw in compliments and sweet talk just for the sake of it, and you love him for that.

Your attention is suddenly intercepted by the sight of the fruit bowl you brought with you, next to the hammock. You pick it up and start with a strawberry. He looks up at you, eyes pleading silently. Raising your eyebrows smugly, you feed him a tangerine slice. 

You analyse the picture before you, wishing you could freeze it in time. Miguel, comfortably seated on top of you, head on your soft chest, looking up at you like he's nothing less than a god and you're his paradisiacal muse, feeding him fruits. 

However, the air suddenly shifts as your eyes river down his frame, and over to the hardening outline of his bulge, curved against his shorts. Your gaze returns to his, recognizing the familiar want beneath the relaxed façade.

"Let's take care of that, love", you suggest, pointing in the direction of your room with your eyes.

He doesn't waste a second before he stands up and scoops you from the hammock, hoisting you over his shoulder and giving your exposed ass a playful smack.

a/n - i'll make a part 2 if anyone is interested:)

EDIT: part 2

[delirious-donna]

Dawn Chorus [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: I woke up with Higuruma on the brain (I love him your honour). It was only going to be a few hundred words, but here we are… the man needs to sleep so he can love you thoroughly.

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: some somno, established relationship, pussy drunk Hiromi, oral sex, creampie

Masterlist

Higuruma Hiromi is a passionate man. He cares about his work, about his contribution to society, and about his relationship with you. Higuruma is also a tired man, often awake at ungodly hours to meet deadlines or review cases that he is working on pro bono. You love your husband and the dedication he tries to infuse into every day, but sometimes he just needs to sleep.

On the evenings where you are able to tempt him into just another glass of red wine, another piece of creamy Gorgonzola atop a cracker and just one more kiss, you feel like you’re winning against all the odds. It’s always far more enjoyable to go to bed together rather than having Hiromi kiss you goodnight on his way to the study.

Cuddled up against his back, you laugh at his faux resignation at being the little spoon… again. In truth, he likes it. He adores being held and the little kisses you pepper across his cheeks when you lean over to wish him sweet dreams. He toys with your fingers, pulling your palm so it lays flush over his heart until slumber drags you both under its warmth.

Of course, you were right.

Higuruma needed sleep and after a full eight hours, his eyes spring apart rather than sluggishly creak open like broken shutters. For once, he can appreciate the warmth of the sun and the tangle of the sheets instead of cursing his need to get up and go. Most of all, he can appreciate you, his beautiful wife, still fast asleep and no longer clinging to him like a koala.

So pretty, he thinks whilst his lips caress the sleep-soaked crook of your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent with gusto. Patient and honest, he admits when he peels back the thin cotton sheet to nose at your breasts. He continues to nuzzle until your nipples peak, a slow smile curving his lips and he can’t help but lower your top so he can taste you. Utterly perfect, he assures in silence, you are the salve to all of his wounds.

The morning dose of testosterone, that he would usually either quickly dispel by hand or with the aid of a cold shower, has him impatient and aching. His cock twitches inside his loose pyjama pants, but he ignores it in favour of taking his time. Flicking his tongue across your pert bud, he whines in his throat when you arch in sleep, straining to press yourself further into his mouth and he takes the invitation to suckle until you wake with a gasp.

Your eyes snap wide, belly aching with some unknown pressure that continues to build without faltering. A head of black hair decorates your chest, wet little suckling noises matched by the sensation of pulling tugged deliciously behind your navel.

“Hiro… mm, someone’s hungry this morning.”

Hiromi’s eyes roll over at the sleep affecting your voice, arms stretching overhead before lacing through his hair to tug at the roots. Instead of replying, he presses his pelvis against your hip, the hard length of his cock evidence enough that you are absolutely correct.

“Take what you want, love, I’m yours,” you coo softly, wriggling your hips in suggestion.

It’s one he doesn’t need clarifying, Higuruma has you bare and spread within seconds of your invitation. Amazed at the sheen of arousal already decorating your folds, he laps eagerly at the residue until all he can taste is you. He thumbs at your clit, using those slender fingers to peel you open like a flower in bloom only for his tongue to wet along your pussy.

You keen for him, driven on by his enthusiasm and the telltale rut of his hips into the mattress below. The hook of his nose replaces his thumb, dragging side to side over your pearl as it hardens from the friction and arousal. Grabbing great tufts of his hair, you grind yourself against his face and in turn his hold on your thighs shift to the meat of your backside. Hiromi palms your cheeks, pulling them apart until you feel more exposed than you thought possible.

“Fuck… Hiro!”

He can’t hear you through the muffle of your thighs by his ears and the wild beating pulse inside his head. With feverish need he bathes you in his spit, not content until your dripping down to the sheets. The tip of his tongue digs into your entrance, giving a strangled grunt at the squeeze you give around the wet muscle, and he pulls back to look up at you.

“Sweeter than ambrosia. I swear you would be more divine than any God,” he mumbles breathlessly, eyes hooded but not with fatigue for once.

Words fail you, becoming stuck in your throat at such conviction in his praise. All you can do is reach out and cup his cheek, skin soaked in your essence and his saliva but you hardly care. You watch as he fumbles with the drawstring of his pants, lowering the band to reveal his cock, purple and angry from lack of attention. Oozing pearls of translucent precum leak from his slit, and you’re ready to be filled but he lays flat once more.

Hiromi tongues at your sweet clit, teeth gently biting and tugging at your puffy folds while he wets his fingers and pushes two into you, right to the knuckle. You cry out at the sensation, more than ready for the stretch but not expecting this. His wrist rotates, fingers curling in a come-hither motion and when his fingertips pass over that deep mass of engorged tissue, your thighs tremble.

“Sing for me, darling. Be my morning chorus.”

If this was going to be the result of Higuruma getting better sleep, then you would drag his ass to bed every night if you had to. He humps the bed, strangled noises mingled with sharp little whimpers when you push his face deeper into the apex of your thighs. You could feel the wetness pooling between your cheeks and dripping to the sheets, Hiromi’s mouth making out with your pussy in a rhythm that matches his adventuring digits.

He was breaking you apart, masterfully unpicking every thread that made you whole and waiting with endless patience until you unravel into his palm. The heat between your hips grows too much all at once, the friction on your clit and the relentless thrumming of his fingers against your sweet spot blinding you without warning.

“Oh, I’m… fuck! Hiro—I can’t h-hold back!” Your voice warbles like a songbird, crescendoing into a shriek of bliss that could shatter glass.

Higuruma delights in your orgasm—revelling in it—stilling his fingers to feel your velvet walls clench and spasm around him and slowing the lap of his tongue to soft kitten licks. He massages your waist lovingly, stroking featherlight fingers across your quivering and soft stomach until you float back to earth.

It was all he could do to stave off his own release, his balls heavy with need and drawn tight to the base of his cock. He knew the moment he sat on his haunches there would precum staining the sheets, but he cared little considering the mess he’d already made from loving you so thoroughly.

Gingerly, he sits back and hisses at the slap of his cock against his stomach. You moan, squirming on the bed and he catches your eye. Your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, pupils blown wide and that’s all he needs to pump himself with wild abandon. His wife wants him. His wife is attracted to him. His wife always does the best by him.

His strokes were long but frantic, the slick sound of his foreskin rolling back to reveal his cockhead so sinful that he punctures his lip with his teeth. White hot heat drips from the small of his back, hips and backside tightening with the impending release.

“W-where?” He asks with a stutter, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.

“Inside, Hiromi, please?”

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He lunges forward, bracing on one forearm whilst he notches at your still softly pulsing entrance and pushes inside. Your arms wind around his neck in urgency, kissing his face, his neck, his shoulder and anchoring your legs around his lean waist.

No sooner was he buried to the hilt, than his orgasm hit like a force of nature. His arms tremble, spine bowing and flexing under the pressure whilst he paints your most inner walls with thick, creamy seed. He collapses into your loving embrace, settling his warm cheek at your collarbone and damn near purring at the gentle stroke of your fingers through his hair and down his back, smiling dazedly.

Higuruma Hiromi is a passionate man, especially when he’s had a full night's sleep.

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) john price knew he would marry you the first time he saw you.

john price met you in the rain.

the memory of the encounter remains etched in his mind like a timeless portrait. as the years pass and his recollections fade, the moment of your first meeting remains vivid and unblemished.

the sky, a somber shade of ashen blue, was adorned with brooding clouds of a dark and furious pearl grey. thunder roared in the distance, while lightning ominously streaked across the sky. the rain, a gentle drizzle, tapped rhythmically on his freshly trimmed lawn and his parked truck. seated on his porch, cradling a cup of tea, john's loyal english mastiff, simply known as 'dog', slumbered beneath his chair.

he'd only had a few more days left until he was back in the field, and despite having needed a couple of days to rest, john was ready to get back to the familiarity of work- especially when there wasn't anyone waiting for him when he got home. ( well, besides 'dog' )

john had always been content with his own company, finding relief in the quiet moments spent with his loyal dog. the peacefulness that came with his aloneness had become a sanctuary, a place where he could escape from the disorder of the world and his position; and find solace in his thoughts. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months and then further, john's heart began to yearn for something more.

the familiarity of being alone, once a source of comfort, now felt like a hefty weight on his shoulders. the emptiness that had once brought him peace now seemed suffocating, as if the walls of his home were closing in on him. he craved for a wife who would eagerly anticipate his return home from his weeks away, someone to hold close and shower with affection.

the stillness that had once brought him solace now echoed with a deep longing for intimacy. the sound of his footsteps seemed hollow, and the absence of life within the house filled the empty spaces of his home with a haunting void. john couldn't help but yearn for the day when his despondent home would be replaced with the joy of shared moments and the love of another.

he craved for the warmth of another's touch, the feeling of intertwined fingers and loving touches. he craved the sound of laughter filling the air, the kind that could only come from shared jokes and inside stories. john imagined the simple pleasures of cooking together, of sharing meals and conversations that stretched long into the night.

and despite himself, despite not wanting to feel anything. his heart ached for the intimacy of whispered secrets and stolen kisses, for the comfort of knowing that someone was there to catch him when he stumbled, unconditionally. he yearned for the simple pleasure of waking up next to someone, their presence a constant reminder that he was not alone anymore.

john price, for the first time in what felt like decades; craved for something more.

john's focus is abruptly interrupted by a thunderous slam, causing his weary eyes to shift from his tepid cup of tea. his piercing blue gaze fixates on the source of the commotion across the street. as he observes, his attention is captivated by you, and while being lost in his own melancholic thoughts, he realizes that the rain has intensified, pouring down relentlessly.

there you stand on your porch, engaged in a heated argument with a man. your gestures are animated, your lips downturned in a pained frown, and your brows knitted together in irritation.

the rain's melody drowns out all other sounds, leaving john in a world of silence from the conversation. yet, even amidst this deafening quiet, he cannot tear his gaze away from you, your eyes widening in disbelief as the man retreats into the house, slamming the door shut. price watches as you fish out a pair of car keys from your pocket, walking briskly down the porch stairs and to a car that sits in the driveway. you're immediately drenched in rain from head to toe and john finds that you still look breathtaking regardless.

inexplicably, the two of you lock eyes, and your lips pull into a thin line, your words barely audible over the pouring rain but he catches them nonetheless. "what the hell are you lookin' at?!" then you slip into the car and speed down the street before he can even process what he's heard. slowly a smirk pulls at his lips, the crowsfeet around his eyes deepening.

john price, wanted you.

[theminecraftbee]

Joel turns around. Martyn is standing there. His eyes are a burning red that gives Joel the heebie-jeebies. If anyone would know to be scared, it's Joel! He would! He'd recognize a mad dog if he saw one anywhere!

Anyway, all of that is to say that his high-pitched scream had been totally justified. "Oh my word Martyn what are you doing here?" he says, clutching his hand over his heart, several feet further back than he'd been thirty seconds ago.

Martyn snorts. "Is the sign not for me? Figured there was no one else it could be for."

"The what?"

"The sign."

Joel turns around. Outside his base, the other Mounders have hung a helpful banner: "SORRY EVERYONE YOU LOVE IS DEAD <3".

He'd told them it was kind of rude, hanging that up. Sort of made light of the whole thing, really. His wife and Mumbo and Jimmy had died, guys, don't be idiots about it. Bdubs had loudly told him that he was TRYING to be helpful, Joel, geez, why don't you appreciate his efforts? Pearl had shrugged and said they don't exactly make cards for this kind of thing. Joel's pretty sure they do, actually but...

Sorry everyone you love is dead. Hah.

"My wife is dead, Martyn," Joel says.

"Who, Lizzie or Jimmy?" Martyn says, weirdly dark. "Anyway, my husband's dead, so--"

"Your what?"

"Mumbo and I got married one time. Everyone forgets that for some reason."

Joel has to think about it a while. "Huh."

"Yeah. Anyway, you've still got the other Mounders, huh? Don't know what you're crying about. Thought the sign had to be for me. Thought I'd show up. Get cake. Kill some people. You know how it is."

"If there's a TNT minecart in my base, the first thing I do after I turn red is kill you," Joel says.

"That's not really how it works this time," Martyn says.

"Yeah, well, screw you," Joel says. "Also, they didn't make me any cake. I should ask them for that next. Hah. A cake."

"You know, maybe don't ask for that? Parties tend to go wrong in this game."

"And who's fault is that, huh?"

"Hey, don't look at me! Or, do. Since I'm going to kill everyone, on account of everyone I love being dead and all. Really convenient excuse for murder, that. I should use it more often, if it didn't involve the crippling grief," Martyn says.

"Oh, please. At least you tend to have people to love in the first place," Joel snaps.

"Oh, right, that is your curse, isn't it?" Martyn says. "Sorta broke it last time, but you do tend to get isolated and a bit crazy. Hey, I wonder if we're the ones who traded, actually what with the whole wolf thing."

Joel blinks. "What?"

"Oh, we're all cursed," Martyn says. "After all, They like it better that way. Hey, do you think Jimmy's curse transferred to Lizzie, got cancelled out by the fact Lizzie tends to die stupidly, or got broken? Personally, I'm thinking random fluke, when it comes to canary nonsense."

Joel stares at Martyn. His throat is dry. "What?"

Martyn stares back. "Hey, I'm the mad dog this time," Martyn says. "You probably shouldn't be the one growling."

"Well then, you should stop saying stupid shit," Joel says.

"Stupid? Please. It's obvious everyone is cursed. Nothing to be done about it but to play into the--"

"NO ONE IS BLUMIN' CURSED," Joel shouts, his vision suddenly red and blurry in a way it shouldn't be when he's still on yellow. "NO ONE IS BLUMIN' CURSED. THERE'S NO SUCH THING! YOU'RE JUST, JUST MAKIN' UP REASONS IT ISN'T ALL A TRAGEDY THAT EVERYONE I LOVE IS FUCKING DEAD, MAKING UP REASONS THAT IT--NO ONE IS CURSED! IT JUST HAPPENS! IT JUST HAPPENS! IT JUST FUCKING HAPPENS! AND WOULDN'T IT BE BLUMIN' NICE IF THERE WERE A HIGHER POWER BUT THERE ISN'T SO SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT CURSES!"

He's panting. Martyn is staring at him. He stares back, a snarl on his teeth, the echoes of wolves and of grief, grief, grief, grief playing at the back of his throat.

"Joel?" Martyn says, hesitant.

"My wife is fucking dead. My best friend is fucking dead. One of my new possible best friends is fucking dead. Sorry about your husband, I guess? Get out."

"Bold thing to say to the guy who can kill--"

"I SAID GET OUT!"

Martyn stares at Joel a moment longer, and Joel finds he's not scared of the madness in his eyes at all.

Martyn leaves.

Joel realizes he's crying. The tears turn into giant, ugly sobs. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry everyone you love is dead.

"I blumin' hate caring about people," he says to no one at all through choked breaths, and he kicks a rock at the banner for good measure. It pokes a little hole through it and bounces off the dick-shaped tower behind it.

"Someone really should have made both of us a blumin' cake, they should," he says next, and he sits down until Pearl runs over, having heard the shouting. His face is red and his vision is still swimming. She stares at him, gathers him in her arms, and cries with him, and for the life of him, he doesn't know if that's any better.

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me - part two

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; percy and beckendorf's plan to set you up with luke is in motion, but you're extremely resistant to any advances (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3462

➻ warnings: swearing, ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos

➻ thank u so much for all the love on part 1 I am such a happy gal!!!!! also, have my first day at uni tomorrow (so pls wish me luck) and sorry if updates slow down!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It turned out that getting you to go out with Luke was harder than he’d originally anticipated. Eager for the whole ordeal to be over and for him to be 50 dollars richer, he’d hopped down from his spot on a fallen log and hurried to meet you by the volleyball courts when your match ended. You, unaware of Luke’s agenda, were fanning your face to combat some of the sweat that had accumulated, quickly tightening the messy ponytail you’d tied. Luke watched you in your own world, unbothered by anybody watching you, unlike the rest of your siblings. Sucking in a quick breath for confidence he approached you.

“Hey there, girly,” He smiled, “How’re you doing?” You looked up at him, inquisitive for a moment but ultimately unimpressed.

“Sweating like a pig actually, and yourself?” You were barely looking at him, skulling an impressive amount of your water bottle quickly. He stared at you, not expecting to be dismissed so easily. He recovered smoothly, not prepared to give up so soon.

“You really know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?”

“My mission in life,” You shot him a cloying smile, now giving him your full attention, unable to help being slightly interested by his boldness. “But obviously I’ve struck your fancy, so you see it worked. The world makes sense again.” You‘d figured out his motives now and had no interest, so began the walk back to your cabin. He followed, much to your dismay. Couldn’t men ever take the hint?

“So I’ll pick you up Friday then?”

“Oh right, Friday, uh huh.” You kept your eyes ahead, dodging a few younger kids as Luke trailed after you, annoyingly optimistic still.

“The night I take you places you’ve never been before,” He said, and you looked at him in disbelief. The ego on this kid!

“Right, like the makeout clearing in the forest? Do you even know my name, Castellan?” Luke could tell that you were mocking him, but he still had high hopes.

“I know a lot more than you think.” He smiled then, a lopsided thing that would have been somewhat charming if you’d actually bothered to look. Instead you were already walking away, calling out a “Doubtful. Very doubtful,” over your shoulder as you picked up into a run, presumably to go tell Clarisse about the bizarre experience you just had. Luke watched you go, dumbstruck in the middle of camp.

Percy and Beckendorf watched the exchange from the porch of the Hephaestus cabin, the latter putting his head in his hands dramatically.

“We’re screwed,” He groaned and Percy winced slightly.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, dude. Luke has faced a lot worse than a teenage girl.”

When you sat at dinner that night, desperately avoiding the eye contact Luke seemed desperate on initiating, you almost told Silena about your bizarre day. You’d opened your mouth to start the story when you realised that she’d only be encouraged by Luke’s antics, pressuring you into going out with him for her own benefit and quickly shut it. She’d noticed your odd behaviour and searched for meaning in your face. Panicking for something to replace the conversation, you zeroed in on the necklace sitting nicely on top of her camp one.

“Where’d you get the pearls?” You asked, already dreading the answer. Silena only confirmed your fears, claiming them as your grandmother’s with a coy smile.

“So what? You’ve just been hiding them the last three years?” You were always closest with your grandmother, and you were sure she wouldn’t leave her favourite pearls for Silena over you.

“Daddy found them in a drawer just before summer.” Silena shrugged as if you weren’t sitting across from her, cheeks a blotchy red in your upset. “Besides, they look good on me.” Your hands itched to hit her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, knowing exactly how much she was pissing you off.

“Trust me, they don’t,” You spat, quietly glad when Silena stalked off in a huff, amongst the first to leave the meal. You didn’t know how much longer you could argue with her before starting to cry, which you really didn’t want to do in front of the whole camp. You thought you were safe for the rest of the meal when Drew began speaking instead.

“You could try being nice sometimes, you know, people wouldn’t know what to think.” You rolled your eyes aggressively.

“You forget, I don’t care what people think,” You replied, taking in a spoonful of food.

“Yes you do. Everyone does. You know, with a new look you could have some serious potential.” You ignored her last statement.

“No, I don’t,” You emphasised, “You don’t always have to be who they want you to be.” You knew that wouldn’t impact Drew in the slightest, but you hoped it might resonate with some of your younger siblings — encourage them to nurture their internal beauty rather than accept the vain stereotype Aphrodite children were forced into. You pushed yourself out of the bench you were sitting on, needing a break from your insufferable siblings. As you dumped your dishes where they needed to be you saw Luke beginning to follow you and turned to make dead eye contact. Knowing you’d only scream at him (or worse) you gave him a dangerous look, accompanied with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. Not enough for anyone else to know you’d even acknowledged him, but enough to tell Luke to back off. He was smarter than you thought, as he held up his hands in a show of surrender, redirecting his action to innocently collect up his own dishes.

You may not have had any interest in knowing the boy, but you did appreciate that he knew when to back off. Or so you thought.

You were proven not-so-free from Luke Castellan the very next morning. It was the Aphrodite cabin’s day to check all the storerooms, and you’d volunteered to do the one which held all the weapons and armour near the sword fighting arena. You knew none of your siblings would come near if they could help it, mostly against weapons and the violence that surrounded the area, so you’d get a whole morning alone. It was peaceful attending to the chore, and you were allowed to use some of your Aphrodite eye for beauty. Of course, stacks of swords and assorted weapons could only be made so pretty, but you enjoyed organising them into neat rows, making it look as nice as possible — not that you would admit that to Silena or you’d be in her vanity chair receiving an unwelcome makeover in seconds.

You were just admiring your own sword, which you’d taken the time to polish while you were taking care of the others, when you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t react, assuming it was just some camper coming for a weapon, until he spoke.

“Nice sword, vintage hilt?” You tensed as Luke’s voice infiltrated your peace.

“Are you following me?” You disregarded his statement, an unimpressed frown present on your lips.

“I was training in the arena and needed to polish my sword. I saw you come in a while ago and not leave, I came to say hi,” He explained, and you raised an eyebrow. You weren’t friends, why would he come for a chat?

“Hi.” You promptly turned back to your task, shoving the cloth into the intricate designs of the hilt.

“Not a big talker, huh?” He persisted.

“Depends on the topic. My sword doesn’t exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy.” That wasn’t strictly true — the sword was a gift from your mother, with gold twisting around a blood red ruby in the centre of the hilt. After you’d made it clear that you weren’t going to just sit around during your time at camp she gifted you the sword, her way of saying that if you were going to fight, you should at least look good doing it. You’d had several conversations with Clarisse gushing over the intricacy of it, and profusely thanked Aphrodite for the gift in your offerings. You didn’t quite care to share this with Luke, being a relative stranger.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asked, and you were somewhat taken aback by the earnest tone of his voice.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?” You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that crept into your sentence.

“Most people are.” He gestured subtly towards his scar — gnarled and twisted against his otherwise tanned skin. You put a hand on your hip, resigned to conversation now.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Ok, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” You were pretty sure Luke was going for smooth or charming, but you thought in this moment he was entirely lame. The wink didn’t help his case.

“Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” You put on your best Drew impression, nasally and whiny, before handing him the cloth he needed to polish his own sword and turning to leave. There, quickly approaching the door, was Ethan. Seeing you he put on a disgusting smirk and blocked the doorway, effectively caging you into the storeroom.

“Gods, what is it, asshole day?” You asked, not caring that both boys could very clearly hear you. “Do you mind?” You gestured to his blocking the exit. He simply looked down at you, clearly doing his best to appear sexy (and failing miserably).

“Not at all.” His stupid smirk was going to kill you, and not in the good way. You scoffed, giving him a last chance to get the fuck out of your way. Then, sparing a fraction of a glance back to Luke pretending to mind his own business, you slammed the hilt of your sword into his foot, wishing it was the blade instead. You watched him crumble to the ground, holding his foot with both hands.

“You bitch!” He yelled, voice cracking pathetically in the middle. You forced your smile to stay contained.

“Oops,” You feigned innocence, one hands covering your mouth strategically. “You might need some ambrosia for that…” With that you side-stepped him, eager to leave the situation. If you’d have looked back, you would have seen the gleeful, disbelieving smile on Luke’s face, probably the biggest one he’d worn in a while. Although he didn’t get the date he’d entered for, he was beginning to think you were a little more interesting than you let on.

“Did you just cripple Ethan?” Silena shrieked as you entered your cabin to grab your things. “He’s a model, you can’t do that! Has it escaped your notice that you’re completely psychotic?” You pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly.

“Guess your long walks on the beach are gonna have to wait,” You sighed dramatically, leaving Silena to wallow in her pity alone. It wasn’t like it was really your fault — if Ethan had learned how to respond to words or learn the meaning of ‘move’ he wouldn’t have gotten himself into that situation in the first place.

Meanwhile, Ethan and Luke were having a similarly emotional conversation after Luke had — very reluctantly — helped Ethan over to the infirmary to get his foot checked out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results.” Luke sighed, could this boy get any whinier?

“Yeah, I’m on it,” He said through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to hurt him.

“Watching that bitch obliterate my foot doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get any, I don’t get any, so let’s get some,” Ethan said, running a hand through his ridiculously styled hair. Luke couldn’t believe his nerve. First of all, obliterated? He would be left with a bruise for a few days, if anything. Secondly, this whole things was Ethan’s idea, Luke had never given any indication wanting to ‘get some’, especially not with someone so clearly resisting his advances. Just as Ethan left, giving the Apollo girl treating him a douchebag smile, Luke hardened his resolve.

“I just upped my price,” He said, loving the way Ethan’s eyes widened like a cartoon character. “A hundred bucks a date, in advance.”

“Forget it,” Ethan grumbled, moving to leave again.

“Forget her sister then.” The two boys stared at each other, one significantly more amused than the other. Luke knew he had the upper hand in the dynamic, something he revelled in. Then, after the intimidation tactic clearly wasn’t having any effect, Ethan reached for his wallet, Luke admiring the crisp fifty he was handed.

“You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Castellan.” Luke just watched him go, confident tilt of his head conveying his outlook on the situation.

Luke had taken his usual spot overseeing combat training, but his usual thoughts were long gone. Instead, he was entirely preoccupied with you. He didn’t know how to get you to go out with him when you could barely entertain a conversation, and he twirled his cigarette between his fingers as he pondered.

Percy and Beckendorf saw his internal conflicts, slowly moving closer to him under the guise of a very chaotic fight between the two. Finally Luke gave them attention, knowing Percy’s skills would never have him running all over the place like that. He raised an eyebrow, a sign for them to get on with whatever they were angling at.

“We know what you’re trying to do, for Beauregard,” Percy said, and Luke appeared almost startled.

“And we want to help,” Added Beckendorf helpfully, shying away when Luke’s eyes bore into his.

“And why would you do that?”

“Beckendorf here has a major crush on Silena—”

“Gods, what is it with this girl? Does she sweat nectar?” Beckendorf opened his mouth to protest when Percy spoke over him, knowing it would be more beneficial to let Luke lead.

“Look, I think we can both tell that Charlie’s love is pure, well-intentioned, better than, say, Ethan White?” Luke sighed, catching on.

“I’m in this for the cash, that’s it. Who Ethan wants to bang is of no interest to me.”

“There will be no banging!” Beckendorf cried as Percy pushed him behind. He was no use in a delicate situation like this.

“Ok, Luke, it’s just that we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing. We set it up so Beckendorf can get the girl — Ethan’s just a pawn.” Luke paid closer attention suddenly, intrigued by the chess match he’d been pulled into.

“So you two are gonna help me win her over?”

“We’ll do research, find out what she likes. We can be your guys on the inside.”

“In a strictly non-mission type of way,” Beckendorf added helpfully, nervous of the legends he’d heard about Luke’s failed quest. Luke chose to simply ignore that comment, and Percy filled the silence before he could get angry about it.

“Let’s just start here: the Apollo cabin is throwing a party on Friday night, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“I’ll think about it,” Was all Luke said, a clear signal the conversation was over. Percy and Beckendorf returned to fighting, slightly more regulated now they had gotten what they’d wanted, and Luke brought the cigarette back up to his lips, new thoughts clouding his mind.

Meanwhile, Ethan had found Silena where she was known to hang out by the rocks near the lake. He was hovering next to her, providing snatches of shade as he performed pose after pose, claiming he had a modelling job lined up when he left for the year.

“So which do you like better?” He asked, moving his hands fractionally to the left of his chin.

“The second,” Silena giggled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “It’s more… pensive.”

“Damn,” Ethan kicked the sand softly. “I was going for thoughtful. So, you going to the Apollo party on Friday?”

“Maybe.” She produced her best coy smile, looking up at him from behind her lashes.

“Good, ‘cause you know I’ll only bother if you’re there.” Silena smiled, getting up from her spot on the rock.

“Bye.” Her voice was airy in the way she knew drove boys mad. She walked away leaving Ethan wanting more, her specialty. You scoffed, catching the end of the exchange. You and Silena made momentary eye contact, tension thick between the two of you.

As Beckendorf approached Silena, fishing for more information about you, Ethan had caught you in his sights and wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

“You sister is so cute,” His voice infiltrated your bubble in a way that made you want to hit him so desperately. “Doesn’t have your bite though, a feisty woman is so sexy.” You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you, but it was so close to working.

“Come any closer and I’ll show you just how feisty I can get,” You snapped, braid almost whacking him in the face as you turned to face him. You could have sworn Ethan looked afraid for a second before he covered it with bravado.

“One day you’re gonna realise that all of this hostility is just your sexual repression. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be waiting with open arms… And legs.” You almost threw up.

“Gods, can’t you just leave me alone, asshole?” You yelled, trying to push past him to get anywhere else.

“C’mon, don’t be a prude,” He whined, and you were really close to taking him to the ground — not in the way he wanted.

“You heard the girl,” A voice called from behind you, and instantly Ethan took a step back. “She wants you to leave her alone.” Luke appeared behind you, a respectful distance away whilst still making his intentions clear. Ethan shrunk back into himself, making a lame excuse as to why he had to leave, hurriedly fleeing the beach. Reluctantly, you turned to face Luke.

“I’m not going out with you just for that,” You said plainly, daring him to try again.

“You think that low of me?” He laughed, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. You forced yourself not to notice. “I don’t have to want something from you to know that Ethan White isn’t worth your time.” It was your turn to be embarrassed at that, feeling slightly narcissistic for assuming that was the purpose of the conversation (it was, but Luke sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin his chances because you were in a mood, justified or otherwise).

“Oh.” You stared at his shoes. “Well, thanks, I guess.” You moved to leave but Luke stopped you, hand not quite touching your arm, unwilling to have it bitten off.

“So you do have a heart!” He joked, signature grin on his face. You wondered why you were seeing so much of it lately when he’d been so dour since his quest.

“Ha! You wish.”

“Don’t try to hide it, Beauregard, you’re warming up to me.”

“I’d sooner fuck Mister D,” You replied, actually taking your leave.

Luke watched you go, chewing his lip between his teeth. There was more to you than you let on, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t say it was any fondness, but he was starting to have a curiosity attaching itself to this scheme, and he knew that going out with you would satisfy it. He should have known having any personal stakes involved — sentimental or otherwise — would get dangerous.

Your own thoughts had barely budged on Luke. He was still a pain in your side and you figured you knew what kind of guy he was — not the type you had any interest in. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were appreciative he’d saved you from Ethan (and the inevitable washing up duty you’d be punished with when you beat him up), so maybe he wasn’t quite as despicable as you’d initially judged him to be. Close, though.

part three

[shotmrmiller]

dbf!price takes you during his wife's birthday party :)

tw: implied age gap, infidelity, explicit smut.

1.6k words of nonsense because dbf!price lives rent free in my head at the moment.

His wife is busy catering to the guests, and you're lucky that your dad Simon only dropped you off and didn’t stay for the birthday party.

You’re standing in the corner of the living room when you hear a whistle.

It's a high-pitched sibilance, unmistakable.

You disappear into the crowd of people, keeping your gaze on the ground to not be stopped by anyone when you're jerkily pulled into a dark room, and instantly hear the lock click.

You don't have to ask who he is.

John eagerly cradles your face with his large hands and slots his lips over yours— his facial hair already irritating your skin but it's all forgotten when he slides his warm tongue into your mouth.

His kiss is hungry, it’s consuming, and only pulls away to let you catch your breath, since he has a nasty habit of stealing it.

He trails a path of prickly open-mouthed kisses down from your lips to your neck, suckling on our thrumming pulse, and nipping at the thin skin over your clavicle.

"John..." you mewl.

He shushes you. "Don't wanna get caught, love. Keep quiet and I'll reward you by stuffing you full of my cum."

When he goes under the waistband of your knickers, and his fingers graze over your trimmed, soaked curls, and in between your folds, you cup a hand over your mouth.

There is no staying quiet when John touches you better than you ever could yourself.

He slides two fingers up and down your slit, slightly pushing into your entrance before dragging it up to rub your slippery pearl under the pad of his slick thumb. 

The precise, tight circles he draws on your clit are quickly hurtling you toward your precipice. 

John then shamelessly traces the shell of your ear with his tongue, then bites down on the tip of it, and your dripping cunt clenches around nothing.

He must've heard your muffled gasp because he lets out a gravelly chuckle. "Liked tha', did you?" A muted yes is his reply.

"I can feel you gettin' wetter f’me, love. You close?" he asks.

The rough wall scrapes the back of your head when you nod.

"No. You will speak when spoken to."

His tone is unyielding, a stern command that leaves no room for argument.

Your palm is slick with drool as you move it from your face.

A whine falls from your lips before you answer.

"Yes, yes I'm so close— so close, please."

John presses a chaste kiss to your flushed skin.

"That's not what you're to call me if you want to come."

Fuck. John can be so cruel.

You swallow thickly. "Please, Daddy, let me come. let me come I promise I'll be so good for you."

He covers your mouth with his free hand and circles your swollen, achy clit with vigor until lights flash behind your eyes. After a tense second, your body gives, finally curling forward as you climax, wave after agonizing wave of ecstasy slamming into you.

The tips of your fingers and toes tingle like ants crawling under your skin from the intensity of your orgasm.

"Good thing I covered your mouth, sweetheart, otherwise the people outside would've already been breaking down the door."

Oh.

You can't be bothered to care, still coming down from your high when you feel yourself being turned around, face against the wall.

John's warm breath tickles your ear as he whispers, "You promised to be good f’me, right? Then I'll hold you to tha’."

There's a clink of a belt buckle and then he's holding his belt right by your mouth.

"Open."

You open.

"Bite down."

You do.

"Good girl." John bunches your skirt up at your hips, tears your knickers off, and kicks the inside of your shoes with his boot, widening your stance. "Brace yourself."

You feel the tip of him for a split second before he pushes in.

Oh, he pushes in, and in, and in. It doesn't stop— it feels like his length is never-ending until it finally does.

His thick, heavy cock is wrenching your walls apart, forcibly splitting open to make room for the invader. The line between pleasure and pain is deliciously blurred, and the corners of your eyes sting with tears.

"Fuck, I'll never get over how tight you are around me like a silken fist squeezing me for all I'm worth. god, I would stay in this sweet pussy for the rest of my life if I could."

You whimper and bite down harder on his belt lest the secrets in your heart spill from your lips.

Please stay in me forever, stay with me forever.

Thoughts fade— along with the pain— when he starts to thrust, his strokes languid.

With every rock of his hips, he bottoms out— the little pudge of his belly pressing against the cleft of your arse.

His flared head touches the deepest part of you, kissing the plug of your womb with a lewd squelch that has your pedicured toes curling in your shoes.

"I can feel you clamping down on my cock, love. I feel that good, do I?" he purrs. "Bet you love me filling you to the brim."

God, yes you do.

"I bet no one's ever fucked you like I do."

Not even remotely close.

"Tell me you love me inside of you, tell me you love me taking what's mine." You can't stop the dry sob that escapes your lips.

I love you, John.

The tightened coil in your stomach unspools then, and your body feels like it's being swept away by a current of bliss to drown in an ocean of euphoria.

The world tilts on its axis, up is down, and down is up, and you've temporarily lost your sense of self, but John grounds you with a strong bite to the crook of your neck.

"You alrigh', love?" he sounds concerned.

No, you're not alright.

You spit his belt out and flex your aching jaw before answering yes.

"Good. I'm gonna move you to the floor now." Who are you to say no to John Price?

You quickly find yourself with your thighs pressed to your ribs, and in a show of flexibility, you raise your hands to wrap around your ankles and pull— knees by your shoulders.

John pins you with his weight, his large hands covering the expanse of the underside of your thighs, and leans forward until your breath rushes from your lungs.

He teases your swollen entrance with his heavy cock and glides up until he catches your sensitive clit with it, then gently pushes in, sinking to the hilt in one liquid stroke.

From this angle, he feels too much. It is too much and John must pick up on your discomfort because he reaches up to swat your hands away, making you release the hold around your ankles, and instead placing your legs over his round shoulders, heels of your shoes resting on his broad back.

His arms loop underneath your back, hands hooking on your shoulders as he lowers his mouth onto yours- a kiss that for once doesn't take, but gives.

Tears that had beaded up on the corners of your eyes from the ache spill, but luckily the room is too dark for John to notice.

"Ready?" he murmurs against your swollen lips.

"Always,” you breathe.

And he starts to move.

His pace is measured, but the force behind them is jarring.

Every slam of his hips sends you sliding back a little, and you can feel the beginning of a rug burn happening.

He's so deep inside of you it hurts, a delicious pinch in your lower belly that has you gnawing on your tongue to suppress your blissful keens.

"I'm almost done, love, I'm-" he rumbles out a low growl, "fuck, you feel so good." John's panting harshly, his warm breath fanning across your sweaty face.

"Tell me what I wanna hear, and I'll give you what you want."

You place your hands on his wide waist and dig your nails into his soft flesh.

"Come in me, daddy..."

It's like a trigger, his rhythm turns sloppy, and with a hissed 'fuck' he comes.

His cock twitches inside of you as he fills you with his spend— thick and hot.

The air is damp and heavy, heady with the smell of sin— or more specifically, adultery.

That thought has you chuckling bitterly under your breath.

"Somethin' funny, love?"

Your taste in men. Hysterical.

"Your beard is tickling me, is all. Say, what room are we in? God forbid we debauched the dog's room or something."

John doesn't answer and gently slips out of you instead.

Amidst the darkness, you can just make out his silhouette as he hastily redresses— bending over to pick up his forgotten belt.

You sit upright, taking a moment to readjust your skirt down from where it bunched up on your hips. "John?" 

"This was supposed to be a nursery," he professes.

Jesus fucking christ.

If there is a hell, you hope it's hot and terrible.

"I'll step out first, and in about 5 minutes you follow, alright? I'll make sure it's clear."

John cracks open the door, and the voices of way too many people chatting nonsense spill into the room.

"I fuckin' hate these people," he mumbles under his breath then turns to you. "Remember. 5. And don't worry 'bout the dental floss you called knickers, I've got them in my pocket," and quickly slips out the door, closing it shut behind him.

[dragon-ascent]

Hello, how are you ? Since you have open request I’d like to ask something : How do you think our favorite dragon Zhongli will react to his wife being accused of lying because they have corrected an historian on a false fact about Morax ?

Since English isn’t my first language I’m afraid this is not clear, I’m sorry.

Ooh, I like it, here's what I've come up with <3

-----

The tension is palpable and certainly not what you were hoping to land yourself in when you accepted Zhongli's request to be his plus-one aboard the Pearl Galley.

"Forgive me, Mr. Changying, but that's where I'll have to correct you," you tell the stocky man before you. The food and drinks on the table are long-untouched. "Rex Lapis didn't take on such a grand ten-headed and eight-armed form to exterminate those sea creatures. In fact, he personally went door to door to trap them in little Geo contraptions, even having a bit of trouble with the.... particularly wrigglier ones."

Changying's eyes practically roll into the back of his head. "Do you truly believe that rubbish just because that is what's commonly peddled? That the Geo archon, who could raise the mountains and calm the tides without breaking a sweat, found the task of getting rid of tiny sea creatures tedious and challenging?"

Sighing, you say, "Even the gods are subject to being less-than-perfect in their methods. And besides, the damn things were inside people's houses - brute strength would not have been handy at all. Rex Lapis needed to be careful and meticulous so that none of his people were harmed. Hence the Geo cages."

Despite how neatly you'd presented your counterpoint, Changying merely scoffs as he adjusts his glasses. He jabs a finger at you accusingly. "You're lying, just like everyone else," he growls, "and you clearly have no respect for our late archon! Do you even like him?"

Your breath nearly hitches in your throat as you gaze up at him in shock. "Ex...excuse me?"

The man pulls no punches as he continues his rant against you. "How can you so blindly believe what the masses think? Maybe if you were a real Rex Lapis follower like me, you would learn some critical thinking skills and draw more accurate conclusions!"

"I'm afraid I am on the side of my partner here, Mr. Changying," cuts in Zhongli, placing an arm on your shoulder. Relief floods your veins as you let out the breath you'd been holding. "They are correct in explaining that Rex Lapis had to go the simplistic route when dealing with Liyue's sea creature infestation."

Changying's eyes grow wide. "Forgive me, Mr. Zhongli," he murmurs, and you're not ignorant to the way his tone mellows out and becomes more respectful as he continues to speak. "I didn't know you were also in agreement of that story. But let me explain why he likely-"

"It is alright for you to have your own interpretations of events, especially for a being with an expansive history that is always being debated over," says Zhongli calmly, poised as always, "but when these interpretations are unrealistic and you still try to present them as fact...while belittling other people, no less...the line must be drawn somewhere, yes?"

Changying blanches, stammering, "Er, but don't you think Rex Lapis would appreciate deviating thought processes more, especially when..."

Zhongli's eyes narrow ever so slightly, his visage still calm as a pond. "Perhaps so, but what he would not appreciate is his people trying to one-up others in an attempt to prove they are his most loyal followers." Your husband glances at you. "I know my partner well, and they love Rex Lapis dearly. Not only do you accuse them of lying, you also undermine the love they hold for the deity."

His hand brushes against yours and he interlaces his fingers with you, giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You smile softly.

Changying scrambles for words, useless excuses and explanations that hardly justify him being on his high horse.

Zhongli, unamused, fires his parting shot. "Far be it for an ordinary man like myself to tell you what to do, but here is some advice: gather reliable citations for your claims, provide succinct evidence, and be respectful of those with opposing views, and perhaps then Rex Lapis would consider you a favorite of his."

With that, Zhongli escorts you away from the scene, knowing full well you will always be his favorite by far - the approving smile he gives you conveys that perfectly.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

He'll Follow me Down Every Street, No Matter my Crime

PAIRING: John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You had an affinity for shiny objects. This time, a sting of pearls locked away in a mansion calls your name through the crowd of a party - only trouble? You have a hunch the man you help at the front door isn't all who he says he is.

WORDCOUNT: 11.9k

WARNINGS: Guns, blood, death, gore, heists, theft, suggestive mentions, mentions of sex, heavy flirting because reader's a tease, propositions of sex, drugs, the reader is loosely based on Cat Woman from DC, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wouldn’t call yourself a good person.

Life had given you the short end of the stick early on, taking what little you had in your grubby hands and shoving it into the ground, making you watch as they stomped on it until all that remained was a remnant of hope. Like a shard of glass, you held it even as it cut your palms open. But there was only so much that you could hold until you longed for more of it—until you wanted to take the broken bits and try and form a mosaic out of them. 

It started as petty crime—the theft. 

You got good at it. Very good.

You remember the first time you tried to pick a man’s pockets; aged fifteen with a switchblade in your pocket that you had never used before, bought off a man in exchange for cigarettes. When you’d been caught, the man—looking quite like Albert Einstein, mind you—had snapped your wrist so far back you heard it snap in two places. It still aches on cold days. 

In that moment, a firm resolve had taken over you. A rabid understanding.

No one was ever going to do anything for you, and if you can’t rely on your skills to get you through, then you only had yourself to blame when it all went bad. 

As you said, it started with petty crime. Then it got a bit more serious. 

You dabbled with blackmail and multi-level schemes that involved all sorts of money and luxurious items. Extortion.

You considered yourself quite the salesperson, admittingly.

But personality-wise: arrogant, prideful, and vain. The list went on and with no near end in sight. It was life, was it not? You were finally able to live it lavishly even from the time you’d just gone past the border of the drinking age.

But the best part about it was that you were entirely alone. Alone in every sense—not even a cat or dog to your name, much less a person to care for or about. It was perfect. 

Years of this went on, and you mean years. This was a job to you, and as you slipped into the hugging form of a deadly red dress, and rubbed your lips with the exact same shade—#4A0000 Oxblood—it was enough to make your pulse thump with excitement. The thrill of this made you want to never let it go; adrenaline junkie down to the jitters in your fingers when you first got the invitation. 

‘On behalf of Victor Lawson, you are formally invited to his mid-autumn get-together at his estate. Enjoy such finery as a five-course dinner, open access to his ballroom and gardens, and the pleasure of the host himself who’s eager to have you over. This invitation is viable to bring a plus one. We look forward to having you. ’

It was perfect. Perfect.

Chuckling under your breath, you think of the items that Victor had in that mansion of his—the jewelry and the raw cut gems. Your particular interest was a set of pearls that his mistress wore, well, wife now. Affairs are such messy things.

Slipping into black heels and looking into the full-length mirror, you smirk slowly at yourself, glancing up and down. You were the picture of elegant perfection—like a woman born and bred into money. Your penthouse was layered with the remnants of your spoils, stories on every counter or vanity; engraved into the pieces of fine metal and stone you wear on your wrists and neck. Bleeding wealth. Everything you have you had lied for, but did lies not take more practice than truths? 

You consider yourself an artist. 

“Perfect,” you clip the heavy earrings to your lobes, seeing the skin droop at the weight of rubies. Brushing down your dress, you hum, clicking your tongue at the thought of how pearls would better compliment the outfit. “No,” you grumble, frowning in disgust. “Nearly perfect.” 

Walking out of the fabric curtain you have to block off your room, your heels click against the marble floors, creating a large echo over the vaulted ceiling; the place had a coldness to it, really. A separation. 

Not that you cared.

Grasping the modest wool dress coat from the coat rack, you slip it on with a huff and fix the collar; hand moving into the pockets to take out your silk gloves and move your fingers into them. Last was the purse—a small black leather handbag that you let hang off of its strap on your right shoulder like another limb. The invitation was kept safe inside of the wool.

One last breath to try and keep your cool and stop the constant smirk that tries to force its way onto your face, and you call the elevator to your floor before stepping into it. 

“The pearls are in the office,” you say, inserting your key and pressing the button for the lobby. “His wife leaves them in the glass display case if that maid’s words are anything to go off of. And tonight,” you hum, finger grasping your phone from your purse and pressing into the front to unlock it. A social media profile pops up and you stare, eyes half narrowed in lustful pleasure. “She’ll be wearing her sapphires.”  

Victor’s wife is pictured in blues and silvers, and you had to admit, it wasn’t the correct color scheme for a mid-autumn ball. But you supposed she wanted to be the center of attention anyway, so her plan if that was the case would pan out perfectly. No one wears a blue that shade this late into the season. 

You drop your phone into your coat pocket and shrug, blinking slowly as the small waft of the elevator music is interrupted by the ding of the doors; that sudden lightness to your head shows that it has come to a stop. Stepping through the opening, you wave to the doorman and plaster a sickly sweet smile on your lips. 

“I’ll be back soon,” you explain. “Don’t miss me too much, then.”

He grins like an idiot. “Yes, Ma’am! Here,” the man scrambles, “I’ll get the door for you.”

“Oh, lovely, thank you, Dear.” Outside is a nice chilled breeze, leaves moving over the street only a small distance of concrete away—your driver is waiting patiently outside of it, the tinted windows up and the engine already running. 

Your body moves to it. 

“Ma’am,” he nods.

“Hello there, Buck,” you blink slowly at him, politely reaching out an arm and squeezing. “So good to see you again—and the Misses?”

“At home resting, thanks to you.” You hum, dismissing the comment as the man pulls at the car handle and moves to the side.

“It was the least I could do. Such a horrible feeling,” your lips mutter, “getting sick. If I only have to throw some of my money to get people to listen to their patients, it’s money well thrown. Do tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

“Wonderful.” Sitting down on the seat, you carefully tend to your dress so it won’t wrinkle, picking at loose bits of wool from your jacket and gazing at your reflection in the glass. Such a vain little creature you’d grown into. Your eyes trail down your nose, lips, down the swell of your neck, and the bones of your face; running a finger over your cheek and trying to stop itching at the makeup you already long to take off.  

But beauty takes time. 

You’d look better with those pearls. 

Buck gets into the car and locks the doors, and soon the entire vehicle is speeding off into the darkening sky. Your skin tingles with anticipation. 

You enjoyed making those who’d broken the backs of others see a bit of your power when they realized you’d won, but the instances when you could go in and leave without a trace made you feel on top of the world. A woman with such a desirable position; an unforgettable ease of mastering a conversation. 

It was addictive to watch them fumble around like idiots. Go crying to authorities about things they could easily buy again and again. It makes you want to never stop talking. Your fingers twitch at it—your heart pounds. 

A sly fox’s smile comes to your lips, and you hum under your breath as the car brings you into the lion's den.

—

“Well,” Johnny grumbles, voice gruff. “I don’t understand why it needs to be me. Gaz looks better in a suit and everyone knows it.”

“Damn right I do,” the man in question replies, tossing a belt the Scot’s way, to which Johnny catches with no problem, slipping it into the loops of his dress pants with a heavy hand. “Don’t forget it.” 

MacTavish's throat echoes with an unimpressed grunt, side-eyeing Kyle as he smirks. Grabbing the fly of his pants, the man runs it up, moving his feet to make sure he’s not stepping on any of the fabric. 

“Garrick needs to be nearby in case of trouble. He’s your oversight.” Captain Price leans against the far table of the hotel room, glancing at his watch. “Five minutes, Sergeant.” 

“Five bloody minutes,” Johnny groans, blinking as he tightens his belt. “Couldn’t at least have bought a bigger dress shirt? Suffocating over here, Sir.”

Ghost glances at him from where he stares out the window, arms crossed and fingers tapping his bicep. “You can blame Laswell for that.”

“Just make sure you don’t rip it in the middle of the party,” Gaz pats his shoulder, and Johnny glares, sighing out aggressively at the pull of fabric. The fellow Sergeant is smug and amused. “Can’t go in and bring you another.”

“Ah,” the Scot grunts. “Don’t worry, it’s just a little public embarrassment. Nothing I haven’t gone through before.” 

“Story for us?” Simon utters, raising a brow.

“Not one I’m willing to tell.

John interrupts the banter session easily with a sharp command. “Alright, you can trade stories all you want later, we’re short on time and the driver’ll be here any minute. Soap,” Johnny blinks over, buttoning up his waistcoat and pushing the blue tie under it. Price stares, raising a brow, but his lips pause for a minute. “...Why are you wearing a bloody blue tie, Son?”

“What?” Johnny’s face pulls in, stubble shifting the scar on his chin. The sides of his eyes crinkle in. “Why’s that matter?”

John’s eyelids close for a moment before he takes a long breath and looks to the side, shaking his head. “No time,” he utters before coming back to it. “Go through it again, Sergeant. Slowly.”

“Target is Victor Lawson’s computer—located in his office at the back of the mansion. Three rights and a left is the fastest way there, barring breaking down the walls.”

“Good,” John grunts, seeing Johnny’s smirk at his joke. The Scot goes and grabs his suit jacket. “And?”

“One gun and a knife, hidden in the back garden with a silencer near the fountain,” the man licks his lips. Gaz passes over an earpiece which he hooks into his shell, clear and nearly invisible against his skin. “M9 with only one magazine. Fifteen rounds.” 

“You don’t have to use it,” Simon weighs in. “In situations like these, opt for a knife. Less mess to clean up if you do it right.”

“Don’t want to think about the types of parties you go to, Lt,” Soap sends a sly smile the Lieutenant's way. “Think I’d shit my pants if I saw you at one. Mask or no.”

“I like parties,” Ghost says blandly back, blinking at him slowly. “They don’t skimp out on the appetizers.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Johnny mutters, moving back and hurriedly flattening out his suit. “Right! Time to get this over with, boys. I’m goin’ in—don’t miss me too much while I’m away.”

Price’s hand goes to rest on his shoulder, moving him out of the door as Kyle calls his good luck to him. The Captain moves a hand in emphasis on the words he ends up speaking. 

“In the inside pocket, you have a USB,” he says, and Johnny’s blue eyes stare at him, serious with his lips flat. “We don’t need the entire system—just plug it into the box and let it do the work.”  

“Rog.” Soap asks, “Anything I need to expect from this Lawson fellow?” 

John grunts. “Negative. Man’s a drunk who likes to flaunt wealth, he’s in the background of his practice; has others do the dirty work for him. But we need his intel.”

“Then I’ll get it,” the Scot assures firmly, steel determination in his gut. “M’not so easily distracted, Price. It’ll be like takin’ a walk through the park.” 

—

“I’ll be back soon, Ma’am,” Buck comments as he opens the door for you, sticking a hand out to assist you out to the red-carpeted grounds. “Call if you need to.”

“Thank you, Buck, I will,” you chuckle, nodding. 

Walking past you run your hands over your jewelry, slipping your fingers up the inside of your wrist until you grasp the sleeve of your coat and pull it down more. It was growing colder out, and it was best to get inside the party as soon as possible. Already the air was thick with the noise of music and small talk, properly illuminated by lights that spilled out like water from a river. 

Around you, the front entrance was guarded by the tall sentinels of rose bushes; decorations in the form of strung lights and pumpkins placed and carved to immaculate detail. The mansion itself was the biggest on the tree-strangled street, and cars were coming and going quickly; lights moving through the dark trunks. 

Looking and walking slowly down the red carpet to the front entrance, your shoulder is lightly grasped. 

“Ma’am?” You startle, head whipping around to the sound of a deep Scottish accent. 

Your eyes lock with cobalt blues, a large man behind your form holding a piece of paper in his hand. You look at it quickly, the calloused and firm fingers extending the item.  

He was in a black suit, and while you fight to raise your brow at the deep shade of blue for a tie, you find that the outfit suited his stocky build quite well. You could see the size of his biceps easily, and in the light, your face nearly went slack at them. 

Not even mentioning the thighs.

“Apologies,” the stranger breathes, backing up a step and releasing you with a soft smile on his lips. “Saw this fall out of your pocket. I’d hate for you to lose it so close to the door.”

Staying silent for a moment, you quickly fall back on your natural charm. 

“My pocket?” Your hand extends, brushing against the man’s own before lightly taking up the familiar shade of the invitation. You flip it over in your hands, eyebrows raising in slight shock. Your other hand pats down your coat pocket, finding no firmness besides the body of your phone. 

“I didn’t even notice,” you chuckle lightly, focusing on the man ahead of you. A small flutter of upset moves in your veins. “Thank you very much, Sir. That would have been embarrassing.”

“Ah,” he shrugs his wide shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. And Johnny’s just fine, Dearie.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Johnny,” you move up and lean forward, lips shifting to leave a delicate kiss on the side of his cheek. Hearing a slight hitch in his breath, you hide your smirk, leaning back fully to stare into Johnny’s slightly widened eyes and the reddish sheen to his cheeks. He clears his throat, mohawked hair shifting in the breeze as he turns his head to the side for a moment. “You’re a lifesaver.”

You tilt your head. 

“So, here for Victor’s party then?” 

“Ah,” the man recovers quickly, nodding as you turn and begin a slow pace. The both of you stay near each other as the stairs to the front door get closer. “Yes, Ma’am. Have you…been to one before?”

You humph, shaking your head. “No way, I only ever go to these things once. Waste of time, in my opinion.” Your eyes send Johnny a glance to find him blinking at you in confusion. “What? You thought I would be all snobby about it? Most of the people here can’t even take back a shot correctly.” 

A shocked chuckle exits the Scot’s lips, eyebrows raising on his face. A far more casual smile now takes form on his part. 

“What are you even here for then,” he asks cheekily. “If you don’t mind me asking?”

You smirk. “The spoils of war, of course.” 

“You’re strange, you are,” Johnny utters, but finds he can’t wipe the grin on his face for the life of him. In his ear, Price’s voice grinds through like iron. 

“Soap, stay on schedule.”

He grunts, rolling his shoulders. Johnny’s thumbs go to rest in his belt, looping the brown leather.

“War’s a big word, Bonnie,” his blues glint.

“Would you prefer quarrel,” you dart back, and your spirits seem to enjoy this conversation some. The man was…new, so to speak. There was something different about him that you couldn’t place; he felt more layered than the normal people at these events usually came. Like you could speak to him for hours and only crack the surface. But, even by just his eyes, you could tell that he was intelligent. Very much so. 

“That might be more your speed,” you end with a tilt of your head, jewelry lightly clinking against one another. 

“I think you’d be surprised.” Your chuckle is smooth and easy to listen to. 

“Perhaps.”

Johnny hums, smirking as he pulls ahead a tiny bit. “And what do I call you, exactly?”

“My name?” You find a hand in front of you when you make it to the stairs, and you mildly get thrown off by it. Blinking quickly for a moment, you recover and delicately place your hand into the Scot’s, smiling as he helps you walk up. 

His flesh is warm, and you can feel it even through your gloves as it bleeds into you. A warmth that pushes back the chill of autumn, sending winter scampering like a dog with a tail between its legs. You ignore how your breath hitches at that action.

“You can just call me Cerise.” Is what you say as the doorman draws near and as Johnny stares with an intrigued furrow on his brow. Before the Scot can speak, you’ve already walked away, heels clicking and your purse swinging; hand whispering out of his like it was never there. 

Blue eyes watch, but they quickly snap out of whatever trance was there beforehand. 

There were things to accomplish—adrenaline was already taking hold in Soap’s bloodstream, making his focus hone in. While your conversation had been…interesting, and you were quite the beautiful woman, of course, he had a job to do. 

But first, he had to get through the door.

As you were speaking with the doorman, easily handing over your invitation, the man slips his hand into his pants pocket to get it ready; voices from other guests all around.

But his hand touches nothing. 

Immediately, Johnny feels his stomach drop.

“Where’s the fuckin’ invitation,” he hisses under his breath down the line, trying to keep his voice low. Soap’s eyes darted about on the ground, thinking that maybe he’d done the same as you and just dropped it. But no, nothing.

John’s hurried voice moves through the earpiece.

“Sergeant, don’t tell me you lost the fucking invitation.”

“It was in my pants!” He growls. “Bastard things that are making my thighs go numb.”

You’re none the wiser to the conversation in the man’s ear, only pausing when you hear the implication of something not going right. As the doorman takes your invitation and looks it over, you turn your head to the side and watch for a moment in confusion as Johnny pats his thighs and backside, hands over the pockets and his body turning in a circle.

“Johnny?” You call, walking towards him. The man freezes, eyes snapping back to you. You grab onto the tips of your gloves and begin taking them off, stuffing them into your coat. “Are you alright over there?”

His jaw is clenched, eyes simmering with annoyance. “Just fine, Hen, no need to ask,” your eyes narrow, slowly dropping to where the obvious lack of an invitation sits in his hands. “Just…uh, seems I’ve gone and lost something o’ mine.”

He goes back to whispering under his breath, throat bobbing with irritation that could rival even yours on a bad day. Even his cheeks gained a sheen of red to them, and not from the wind. 

You blink, sighing under your breath. 

You weren’t a good person, but you weren’t heartless either. The man had been good company, the least you could do was repay him. A good conversation is so hard to come by these days. 

“Oh,” you play off with a chuckle, turning back around and speaking loudly. The doorman looks up at you quickly. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to tell you about my boyfriend, Johnny.”

The air halts, and wide blue eyes snap to the back of your skull.

“It must have slipped my mind in all the excitement, you can understand how such a magnificent property just takes all of my attention.” You chuckle, pushing an embarrassed sheen to your eyes and body—hunching your shoulders in, gripping by the elbows, even bending your spine lightly forward to lean closer to the man. “It’s so beautiful here, I was so caught up in the decorations. He’ll be my plus one for the night.”

The doorman chuckles with you, glancing at the Scot who quickly clears his throat; taking this blessing for what it is and ascending the last steps in record time. 

A hand hovers over the small of your back, a bulky body slotting beside your own. Your nose twitches to the scent of hair gel and…you pause, swallowing down saliva. Was that the tang of gunpowder?

“It’s just fine, Miss,” you blink back to the present. The invitation is put to the side. “You’re both welcome inside. Please, enjoy your time in Mr. Lawson’s estate.”

“We will,” Johnny grunts, nodding. “You have a good night, Mate.” 

You smile politely, the two of you walking through the open doors. A pair of lips moves to your ear, the words said with low reverence.

“I owe you, Bonnie,” he pauses. “Big time. Nearly scuffed the entire thing.”

“We can’t have that,” you ease, voice like water. “Quickly, what’s your last name?”

You both walk side by side, yourself only stopping for a moment to shimmy out of your coat. Hands move to the back of the collar, helping. 

“Last name?” Johnny asks, confused at the instant question. “Why?”

“They’re going to introduce us when we walk in—I need to know so I can tell the announcer.”

The Scot stares, holding your coat as you take your phone out and put it into your purse. He passes off the item to a man near a side door, who asks your name and scurries off when he has it.

“MacTavish, full first name, John.” He grunts, admitting, “There’s a lot more to this than I expected.”

“It’s all for show, Mr. MacTavish,” your hand moves to his arm, lightly taking him along with you and restraining the want to squeeze the muscle under your fingernails. The man was as built as an Ox—what did he eat? 

“There’s always more to things like this,” you chuckle. 

A small silence falls, but it’s broken when Johnny’s curious nature betrays him. The way you had lied to the doorman…it had been so natural for you it had made him pause now that he had the time to think it over. Hell, he’d half-believed you himself.

Price had even been silent in his ear since then, only a shocked grunt moving across the line. As you shift a hand-held mirror out from your purse and bring it up, looking into it, he speaks up.

“You were good at that,” the Sergeant mutters, looking around at the paintings and decorations in the hallway, hearing more people entering from behind. The noise echoes from ahead as well, the party in full swing. “It was quick-thinking on your part, any reason as to why you’d help me?”

A smirk flicks over your lips as you snap your hand-held closed, moving it back into your purse. “You’re asking if I want to get into your pants?”

Johnny nearly chokes. “N-no! Not at all.”

Your head tilts, side-eyeing him, heels hitting the floor and carrying your snake-like stride. Not once do you blink at him, studying; taking him apart. Johnny’s enamored by the way you do it. 

He suddenly knew to be far more cautious around you than he had been previously. His fingers twitch at his sides, and he goes to push back his mohawk with a run of his palm over his hair. He licks his lips and turns his face forward with a heat writhing under the skin.

“It’s alright,” you explain. “I wouldn’t be opposed, but, unfortunately, tonight I have other things to fuck than you, Mr. MacTavish. Perhaps at a later date.” 

The man is at a total loss, jaw as slack as a piece of paper in the wind.

But what shocked response he could give you is lost as you move into a far more open room, you both at the top of an overhang—pillars and a large chandelier, shining bright. Marble with real vines wrapped around banisters; tables full of food in such quantity it seemed excessive. But the people. Hundreds of them, all dressed their very best at the bottom of these double stairs. 

Soap’s eyes went over all of them, studying faces in an instant and memorizing them for later. No Victor from what he could see…he just needed an excuse to slip away when everyone was occupied. He had to get to the garden first; get that knife and his gun that had been stashed. If it all came to worse, he couldn’t afford to get caught without one of them. 

Gaz can only do so much as overwatch from outside.

You move to a woman at the left, smiling as you move to whisper into her ear your title and Johnny’s.

“Miss Cerise and her plus one, John MacTavish.” 

The woman nods, and no later does she call into the crowd, moving her voice above the bob and flow of the conversation waves. Many of the men in the crowd choke on their drinks—eyes snapping up—at the mention of your moniker.

“The Miss Cerise and her plus one, John MacTavish.”

“Johnny,” you call, and the man blinks, seeing and immediately moving out his elbow so you can loop your arm through his. “I am curious about one thing,” you say as the scent of gunpowder returns. 

“Yeah?” Soap asks, scanning the faces that now pause their speeches and look at the pair of you. He grows uncomfortable at the attention, but you seem to soak it up—particularly the glares from a few faces that you seem to be acquainted with. “What’s that then?”

“You’re not here for the party, are you?”

Bloody fucking Christ, who is this woman?

“What makes you say that, Bonnie?” He forces out, his muscles winding up; jaw working itself in a tight clench. The Scot’s stubble writhes with the force of it. Has he been compromised that quickly? Not possible. Johnny’s mind starts running, and Price gets into his ear to call a firm order to move away from you immediately. 

But that would make your unblinking eyes worse, and Soap didn’t want that. The hair on his arms starts to rise, spine straightens like a stick. You felt it, feet going down the stairs without having to look at them, your head is stuck gazing at him. 

“No offense, of course,” your voice even results in his feet wanting to disobey him, to turn your way. The way you spoke was hypnotic. A siren. Some womanly beast from long lost history, coming to haunt him when he had a job to do on a limited schedule. 

You continue. “But you’re not right. You don’t fit into this crowd.”

“What?” Soap tries to push a flat joke. “Did my hair give it away?”

You study him, smirking. “No.” There’s no other explanation beyond that.

This was supposed to be simple.

Give him a gun and he’d be the most experienced shooter in this room; a jumble of cables? He’d have a homemade explosive in minutes. 

But why the hell would they put him in a suit?

“Listen, Cerise, Hen,” Johnny levels, “I’d love to stay and talk, really, but I need to fuck off and find some of my friends. Thank you very much for the save at the door, but there are some things I need to take care of.”

“And here I thought I’d get to keep my fake boyfriend,” you pout, leaning into his side. He watches you tensely. 

Your lips move in a laugh like a ringing bell. “But, yes, you’re right. I also have to take care of my entertainment for the night.” You move up to his cheek again, placing a kiss on his stubble as you both reach the bottom of the stairs. You whisper into his ear. “It was very nice meeting you, Johnny. Do tell me if you’ll ever take me up on the offer I gave you.”

Disappearing into the crowd, it’s like you were never there.

—

Johnny grunts as he tries to bend down, the fabric around his thighs and arms pulling tight enough to stop the blood in his veins. 

“If someone doesn’t get me properly fitted,” he growls down the line, “you can find a new demolitions expert, Price.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sergeant.”

“It was short notice, Johnny,” a Manchester accent follows.

Blue eyes glared at the bag hidden beneath foliage, a hand snatching out and grabbing it quickly.

“Ghost,” Soap huffs. “Good of you to join us with our late-night heist.”

“Figured you could use the support.”

“Oh,” Johnny scowls, “always. ‘Specially when I have to get myself surgically removed from this piece of utter shite.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” With a shake of his head and a growing smirk, the Scot takes out the M9 and the combat knife. Moving to attach the silencer to the gun. Blue eyes scan the garden rapidly; on the lookout for any guests or guards walking near the fountain at his back. 

“Alright, I’ve got the gun.”

“Knife?” Ghost asks. 

“Affirmative, Lt.” 

“You’ll be smart to use it away from any prying eyes. Neck leaves too much of a spray—go for the gut and cover the mouth until they stop moving.”

There’s a moment of rustling fabric as Soap shifts the gun into the small of his back, the back of his suit enough to cover the grip but restricting the ability for a fast draw. Simon was right—the knife was the best option for him. 

“You are stone cold, Simon,” the Sergeant smirks, eyes gazing over grass and gravel as the knife finds a home up his right sleeve, resting against his forearm. “Price, has Gaz checked in?”

“Affirmative,” the Captain comes back on as Johnny stands, re-hiding the bag into the bush. “Says he has eyes on from the neighboring mansion’s roof. He’ll lose you when you go inside, but if you need any guards terminated, lead them outside and he’ll take care of ‘em.”

Soap nods, head swiveling and brushing down his front. “Copy. I’ll keep it in mind.” 

But as he’s walking, the Sergeant pauses, dress shoes getting brushed by the grass. A bead of silence lingers on him like a needle into fabric, a nagging feeling like an itch at the base of his skull. 

“Price?”

“What is it?”

“I need you to look into someone else at the party, calls herself ‘Cerise’.” Johnny can practically hear the confusion over the line and he moves on to explain as he walks farther into the garden. “See if there are any files with that name. I have a bad feeling, and I can’t place it.”

“The woman?” Simon’s voice enters his ear.

“Aye, her. The things she said…they’re stickin’ with me.”

“Hate to tell you, Soap,” Price sounds slightly amused in his dim monotone way. “But the things she says stick to most men.”

He growls, face going heated as his chest tightens. “I’m not speaking ‘bout any of that.” Johnny’s head swivels up to the balcony of the ballroom, trying to pinpoint his location from the maps he’d memorized prior. “I’m talkin’ about how she—”

Speech halts in a fast instant of a choked-off sentence. 

A flash of red catches his eye. 

“Johnny?” Simon asks over the earpiece, confusion in his tone. But with a slack jaw, Johnny can only watch in awe and shock at the woman currently breaking into one of the locked balcony doors. And he knew they were locked. The informant had said they would be. 

It was you. 

Red dress and moonlight over your flesh, you look around the balcony before bending and opening up your purse, fiddling for a moment with the contents inside. 

“Johnny, sit-rep.”

Unblinking, Soap watches as you take something out, moving closer to the door and inserting it into the door lock. 

“She’s fucking picking the lock,” Johnny breathes, his breath making a cloud on the air. 

“Who, Sergeant?” Price asks.

“Cerise,” Soap huffs, his jaw closes slowly, blinking as a hand comes up to rub at the back of his head. Only a minute or so later, you move back from the door swiftly, stuffing your items back into your purse and standing. Hand going to the handle, you push into it…and it opens with no trouble at all. 

Walking through, Soap gapes as the door closes silently behind you.

“She got in,” he relays, and he hears Price order for Simon to contact Laswell—possible hostile inside of the mansion. “How do I go about this, then?”

“We need that intel—neutralize her if she interferes.”

Something swirls in Soap’s chest, but as he hurries to the stairs up to the balcony after you, gravel stuck into the grips of his shoes. With a grunt, he says, “Copy, Sir.”

Reaching the very same door you’d just gone into, the man slips inside without a whisper, clicking off his earpiece.

—

You trail a hand along the wall at your side, keeping to the barrier and resisting the temptation to fill your purse with expensive pewter statues and whatever other bits you can fit. But you can’t fight off the feeling for long, and before you take a fast right on the way to the office, your noiseless hand snatches at a small statue of a knight and stuffs it into your bag. A low chuckle breeds in your throat. 

As you pass mirrors, you gaze at your neck, trying to imagine the glint of pearl and the way they’ll feel over your flesh; sitting heavy with wealth and dripping perfection down to the golden clasp. 

“Three rights and a left,” you go off the words from the maid, pausing when you hear the sounds of staff or security. Heels muffled on the thin carpet, your body slinks along like a cat, red dress trailing with all its dangerous intentions. 

You’re only one last turn to the hallway of the office when you’re unceremoniously grabbed by the scruff of your neck. 

Eyes snapping wide, a sharp inhale is muffled on your lips as a hand settles over your mouth, ripped back along the carpet and shoved into the wall with a rattle of picture frames. 

Ignoring the sting of your spine and the fingers that find purchase around your flesh, you blink away the sheen of panic and lock eyes into familiar cobalt blues. 

“Johnny?” Your voice is muffled behind skin, and your hand snaps up to his wrist when pressure is set over your windpipe. Shock flies to every other emotion available, confusion taking precedence. 

His face is rabid with anger.

“Who the fuck are you?” The words are snarled on his accented tone—lower than the bottom of a canyon. 

Physical interactions, in this sense, were never your strong suit, of course. You specialized in getting out before anything like this ever happened, not when a hand was around your throat and starting to put pressure. In fact, now that you thought about it, the man ahead of you would have absolutely no trouble snapping your neck in a second. Despite all of your pride, a bead of fear moved up your back. 

Yet, you still glare with all the venom you can muster over the barrier of Johnny’s hand. The weight at your neck stays, but the one over your mouth moves to lean into the wall beside your head. 

“Get your hands off of me, you brute,” your words are tight, nails digging into his skin and making indents. 

The man can feel your pulse under his hand, the thump of your blood as he looms, glaring heavily. He wanted answers. 

“I asked you a question, Bonnie,” his jaw clenches, eyes unblinking. “I think it’s in your best interest to answer it truthfully, eh?” 

“And what about you then?” You force out, “I guess my hunch was correct, you’re not here for the party.”

“I have a job to do,” Soap snaps under his breath, eyes moving the hallway as your free hand delves into your purse slowly. “I have a feeling you’re lacking in that department, Cerise, whatever the hell that name bloody means.”

“It’s French,” you snarl, teeth bared, and feeling insulted. “It’s elegant.”

“It’s a load of bullshit. That’s not even your real name, you minx.” His hand tightens even more, and your eyes gain a sheen of panic as your throat closes—his hold was unbreakable just as is, a trained and dangerous thing. Trained? Who was he? What did he want with Victor’s estate? 

Was he a thief like you, or hired security? 

“Answer me!” His face moves forward, nose nearly brushing yours and breath puffing your face. “Who do you work for?”

“Work?” Your voice raises, confused and angry. “I fucking work for myself, asshat! Do you think I’d waste my time doing this for someone else? Those pearls belong with me.” 

His eyebrows pull in, face tight.

You lash out with the pewter statue in hand, aiming for his head. Halfway there, the man’s limb beside your skull flashes out and you find your wrist captured, shoved back into the wall, and outstretched beside you. 

Gasping at the pain that ricochets your bones, your hand drops the item in an instant. Your brows go tight with old wounds, the memory of your first attempt at pickpocketing sparking up along with the pinch of marrow. 

“Not very bright, Hen,” Johnny’s voice is graveled, glancing at the statue as it bounces along the floor. His lips twist, expression shifting as he takes in your prior confession one word at a time. The attack hadn’t even phased him. The scar at his chin roaves, as he huffs out as the hold on your neck loosens, “Now what did mean pearls—?”

Your knee reems itself upward and connects with his crotch.

Balking back, Johnny’s spine bends, curling in as a long and loud groan enters the hallway—a curse hurled out soon after. Not planning on lingering, you bolt off, jewelry jingling, and lungs heavy in your chest. 

“What the hell,” you gasp, taking that last left and staring at the large wooden door at the end of the lineup; fancy gold handle. Fingers shaking and neck aching, you hear the sharp call from behind you as your body gets to the barrier.

Yet, there’s no time to pick the lock. A curt bark moves along the walls.

“Cerise!” 

“Fuck,” you draw the word out, quivering hand moving through your purse to find your picks. 

Johnny rushes the corner, one hand still on his aching lower body and the other pointing down the hall. 

“Get over here,” he snaps. 

“Fuck you!” You snap, glaring. “Stop acting like there was anything down there for it to hurt!” 

“I am five seconds away,” the man hisses, “from dragging you out of here by your arm and throwing you to the fuckin’ security. You’re a damn thief.” He says it with utter surety, knowing as he puts all the pieces together. 

“I am a businesswoman,” you back up a step as he moves even closer, the bulk of his body intimidating now that you know what it could do to you. “And, apparently, you think it’s acceptable to toss one around like you’re trying to have sex with it,” your eyes flare, back going flat to the window behind you. Johnny looms once more, arms caging you in as they go beside your head and the fingers curl. Both of you bark at one another with, at present, no bite.

“I’m not opposed to fun, Mr. MacTavish,” your smirk is venomous. “But I prefer to do it when I’m not on the job.” 

“Stop talking,” he snaps, eyes darting to your lips as your gut spikes with adrenaline. His front is nearly flush with yours. “This isn’t worth it—you’re wasting my time. I need to get into that office”

“Then let me go,” your lips are near his, brushing with every word. Now your silver tongue has something to latch onto. He wants to get into that office just as much as you do. “We can help one another.”

“You?” Johnny scoffs, tilting his head as footsteps echo down one of the nearest halls. “Help me? Sorry, Dearie, but after that stunt of kickin’ my fucking balls in, you’ll have to wait for ‘em to re-drop before I put any sliver of trust into you.” 

“Tempting,” you huff, both of your teeth bared like dogs—not once do either of you blink away. “But you can’t get that door to move without me.”

Johnny raises a disbelieving brow, and you elaborate.

“If the pins aren’t all moved in under ten seconds, and the door opened, an alarm goes off,” the man stills above you, and you smile in pleasure. “All security in the area will come rushing down on you and your horribly styled hair,” he snarls, eyes flashing, but you continue, face triumphant. “And I hate to say it, Mr. MacTavish, really I do, but I doubt you can pick a lock better than me.” 

Johnny glares still, and this time, it’s far more sharp. Something moves behind his blues; consideration or exasperation, you don’t know. Hell, you still don’t know what he’s going to do when he gets into the office. But this is an alliance between wild animals.

The man is about to open his mouth, jaw already loosening, when a loud, questioning, voice moves from the end of the hall. 

Both of you freeze, pupils going tiny from where they stare into one another's. Even the blood in your veins slows to a near stop; shock so potent it renders you speechless. Someone was coming down the hallway.

“Is anybody down there?” A voice calls, echoing off the ceiling. There wasn’t anywhere to hide. 

Johnny moves back immediately, a hand going to the back of his suit to try and grasp at something as you hurriedly blurt out, “Kiss me!” 

The man flinches, anxious eyes narrowed. He blinks rapidly. “What?”

“You heard me,” you snap. Footsteps get closer and the Scot looks at you like you’ve gone mad. 

“I am not fuckin’ kissing you, Bonnie,” he says bluntly, a chuckle on his lips. “No way on God’s green earth.”

“Do you want to get caught or do you want to play it off as a mistake?” Your hand moves forward and grabs at his tie, yanking him back to you. He barely budges, raising an unimpressed brow. “I swear to God, MacTavish, do not ruin this for me.”

The man glares, snapping, “I’m not the one that decided to kick a man in the dic—”

“Hurry up and kiss me!” No time.

Someone’s shadow cusps the visible part of the hallway, and you stare with a pleading expression, Johnny glances over his shoulder before he moves his hand away from the M9. With a deep grunt of disapproval, he leans forward swiftly and slams his lips to yours.

Gasping at the intensity of it, your face is smushed as the Scot’s hand comes up, grasping under your jaw and keeping you attached to him, the other stuck at your hip where it creases the fabric. 

For a moment you even forget why he did it, and your body melts slightly as he huffs through his nose—your fingers finding his waist. He shivers as they dig in, and he pushes you into the wall, making the dichotomy of warm flesh and a chilled window leave your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. 

When your tongue brushes his lips, soft smacking meeting your ears, he hums, leaning into you harder. Neither of you fight it when your lips meet again and again, this time making your hand go to the back of his head, greedy mouth opening when he growls into your flesh. It’s nearly feral with clacking teeth and a massacre of senses. His fingers knead at your jaw slowly.

“E-excuse me,” Johnny rips himself from you, whipping around with a red face. Keeping you in front of him, his pounding heart makes his eyes blur for a moment, attempting to focus. You peek over his shoulder, face burning like a million suns, but a smirk forcing itself forward.

The man behind the mysterious Scot is older, and not part of Victor’s security at all. Just a partygoer who had gotten lost along his way. How he even got back here through the main way without being spotted was something of an achievement, you supposed.  

He stutters into the heated air. “Sorry to…erm, interrupt, but I don’t suppose you two know the way to Mr. Lawson’s garden?” 

The both of you are brainless for a second, Johnny’s hand still on your hip. 

“Two lefts and a right,” you utter on swollen lips, eyes smug. “Door’s already open.”

He hurries off, without a glance behind him, and silence falls again. 

You blink at the man now suddenly unable to meet your gaze, backing off of you like you’re made of red fire. Your head tiles even as molten heat rages in your bloodstream, pounding in the base of your throat. 

“My, my, Johnny,” you draw out, leaning closer as he sends sharp glances. “I’m impressed, who knew you had that in you?”

“Stop it,” he ends the subject, voice fast and firm.

“And here I thought you’d be a bad kisser. Very attentive to a woman’s needs.” You smirk, slinking past him and muttering in his ear, “Gold star for you, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Get the door open before I change my mind!” He snaps, but you aren’t put off by the darkness of his eyes.

You raise your hands, tossing a look over your shoulder.

“How did I know you’d be so pushy?” The man’s jaw moves as it clenches, nose twitching. He runs a hand over the back of his neck and glares.

You kneel, opening your purse and snickering as you grasp the picks and twirl them between your fingers. They were metal—long and bent to be inserted into the lock and manipulated until you found the correct sequence of pins inside of the mechanism. Inserting the first pick, you take and turn the knob slightly to the left, keeping it like that as you hurriedly insert the second.

“Ten seconds,” Johnny utters, watching closely as his anger simmers down to annoyance with you. Yet, he can’t deny that he liked that kiss, either. “Bastard has a lot to hide.”

You hum under your breath, face close to the door and ear twitching with each click. “Not for long.”

White pearls glimmer in your mind. 

Feeling around, the pressure from one pin to another is easily definable to you—years of practice moving from brain to brawn flooding out. With every bit of loose metal identified, the handle is moved by the first pin to keep them from slipping back down. 

“Five seconds,” the man behind you forces out, looking back from you to the hallway, anxious about getting caught. 

“Do shut up,” you sigh harshly, head tilting. “Stop breathing down my neck and make yourself useful.”

“Doing what,” he grunts, blues getting stuck at the back of your scalp.

“Hand near the door,” your voice is easily forced to sound hurried. “You need to push it open, shoulder and all.”

“When?” He barks, already rushing to hover his large limb over your head. You finally get the small snap of all of the pins in place, a click of achievement. 

Your heart skips a beat, yet you say casually, “Now.” 

He nearly barrels it down, and your eyes widen as he moves through with the force of a bull, your left-behind form kneeling as the man’s shadow dashes. You blink a few times, brows pulling in with distaste.

While you should have been happy, all you do is stare with a raised brow at Johnny as he stops the inside handle from making a dent in the wall, head on a swivel.

“I said to push it open, MacTavish,” you grunt, standing. “Not bring it down, you idiot.”

He turns as you fix your clothes, taking out your compact mirror once more and running your hands along your neck; slinking into the office. Johnny huffs, rolling his eyes. 

“Forgive me, Cerise, if I didn’t want the entire bloody party comin’ to me.”

You wondered if now was a good time to tell him you lied about the alarm but decided it was better to hold off until you had your prize. The less he knew, the better.

“Yes, yes,” your voice is low, “are you going to tell me what you want with this place or am I going to be left in a well of intrigue?”

“You’re not gettin’ a peep out of me, Dearie,” he levels looking around slowly—always keeping an eye on you. Johnny doesn’t trust you, but, hell, you don’t trust him.

Shrouded in mystery. 

You shut the door behind you, gazing with glee at the expensive decor and knick-knacks. Was that a gold statue of a deer, you spied? Oh, that would fit just perfectly on your foyer’s side table. Pity you can’t just carry it out of here. 

“Such a tease,” you hum, sauntering like a fox over the hardwood. “But I have to admit, John, I don’t care a large deal. You’re not important to me.”

“Likewise, Thief,” he grumbles, eyeing the way your hips sway with every step. 

There’s the click of a safety going off, and before your fingers can card along the glass case set into the side wall, keeping velvet boxes in their clutch, you freeze. The door’s lock is reinstated. 

Eyes still, you stare at Johnny’s reflection in the glass, heart slightly pounding faster. His face is staring, lips pulling into a smirk. 

“As much as I’m just loving our little session, Ma’am, I just need you to understand something, yeah?” 

You don’t speak, don’t blink. You hate to admit it, but you feel a droplet of unease as it enters your bloodstream. Had he had a gun this entire time? Your eyes find it now, an M9 hanging from his right hand. It’s black body and the long silencer, an image of death if you’ve ever seen one. You’re not new to guns—no, no, not with how you’ve chosen to live your life; the world you’ve taken by the throat and throttled. But getting threatened with one never became easier.

“I think I understand just fine,” you say, smoother than you feel. Shifting your head, you look over your shoulder, raising a brow. “I have business to attend to, MacTavish. I suggest you do the same.”

“I can’t have witnesses,” you laugh, shrugging. Your hands go to the clasp of the glass cabinet, flicking it to the side with a slide of cold metal.

“And I can’t go without these pearls, do you expect me to care about what you can or can’t have? My needs outweigh yours.”

A low rumble. Johnny’s hips shift weight, and that gun still hasn’t risen from the side. He wasn’t going to shoot you, though you recognize that it may be a bit of a shock to him as well as to yourself. 

“I very much doubt that,” enters the air with an accented drawl.

“Doubt it, then,” your bluntness is cold and precise, attention already taken as you move to grasp one of the jewelry boxes, pushing the top open with a squeak of the tiny hinge. A silver sigil ring meets you, and your lips twitch at its shimmering material. “Just stay out of my way.” 

“Bloody fuckin’ bastard,” the Scot utters under his breath, shaking his head harshly before his feet take him to the desk set near the back. He allows you to stuff your purse to your fancy, even as his mind screams at him to just put a bullet in you and end this—there wasn’t time for games. Certainly not ones played with a damn fox like you. 

The memory of the kiss still sears the man’s brain, until Johnny thinks of every interaction you two had had over this fast-paced and stressful night. 

But now it was time to hone in. Clean-up later. 

“Price, I’m in the office,” Soap mumbles through the line, clicking his earpiece back.

“Good,” the reply is swift. Johnny ignores your small intrigued look, not commenting on the amount of valuables you suddenly have bulging out of your purse. Like a kid in a candy store. The sight is almost enough to make him smirk at you. “Insert the USB and let it do its work. Should take a few minutes—hunker down and assess the exits. There are three floor-length windows behind the curtains; if it comes to it, break through and drop into the pool below.”

“Swimming lesson?” Soap jokes, patting his inner jacket pocket and producing a small black USB stick. 

“Eager, are you, Sergeant?”

“Not particularly, Sir.” 

“Coulda fooled me,” Ghost joins on, dry response adding to the choir of strange humor.

Johnny’s fingers move to plug the USB into the port, hearing the click of it inserting and stepping back as lines of code jump across the now illuminated screen—files pop up and disappear just as quickly, and the blinking light on the stick tells him all he needs to know about if it’s working or not.

“Johnny,” Simon pipes back in, and the man shifts his body to the side, hand coming up to his earpiece on reflex. 

“What is it, Lt?”

Across the way, your eyes glint.

Lieutenant? So the man’s military? Jesus, that changes things. I thought he was just some guy trying to get dirt on someone he disliked. Business partner, maybe. But military?

Your shoulders get a bit more tense, but it doesn’t stop your fingers from brushing your real prize—the last box inside of the case; red leather. It was all but calling your name like a veiled ghost of lust.

“Got a hit for a file with an Unknown, alias ‘Cerise.’ Laswell dug through the records.”

“Do you?” Johnny licks his lips, feet backing up a step and swinging his weapon. “Lay it on me, then.”

“Not much to relay—multi-year investigation, borders on some of their top classified cases for untouched HVTs. Don’t even have a description. String of high-caliber thefts, blackmail, extortions, and suspected of multiple murders to end it all off. Woman’s been busy.”

“Well,” Soap draws, tilting his head with raised brows. “Isn’t that just lovely?”

But the last part stuck with the Sergeant—murders? Call him naive, but you didn’t seem the type for that.

Blue eyes linger on you, slipping up and down with a twitch in their lids. He sees your face light up as you pop open a jewelry case; lips peeling in a violent smile as the round bodies of elegant and expensive pearls meet the light. Hell, Soap nearly hears you squeal. 

Murder? But he knows that looks are deceiving. 

He addresses Price, peeling his eyes away and taking a long breath. “Any advice, Captain?”

“She’s not the mission. Get what we need and get out.” It wasn’t shocking. 

“And Gaz?” 

“Still on overwatch—getting antsy. Says there are more security patrols in the gardens but they haven’t done anything more than speak to an old man.” 

Johnny blinks. “Say again, Sir?”

“Old man,” Price repeats. “Have him out by the gardens, moving about; asking questions.” A pause. “Why?”

“We might have a problem,” Soap growls, and not a second later there’s news being relayed. 

“They’re moving up the stairs into the mansion, Soap.”

“Fuck me,” the Sergeant snaps, rushing to pull at the curtains behind him, seeing the pool far below—it would take a bit of a jump to land a safe distance from the concrete, but there were limited options. 

Making out in a hallway pretending to be horny partygoers wouldn’t fix this.

You glance over at the ruckus, in the middle of clipping your prized necklace over your flesh, feeling the weight of it against your collarbone. The sensation of pleasure was so overwhelming your gut swirled with achievement like a storm at sea. 

It was perfect. 

Staring long at yourself in the glass reflection, your smile is wide and sharp—uncaring to the Scot’s sudden anxieties. You had your pearls and a few extra treasures, that was all that mattered to you. All that was left was your escape. Taking your phone out of your stuffed purse, you text Buck and tell him you’re ready for a pick-up and to park a little way down the street.

‘Need to walk the drinks off a little bit,’ is what you type, before hitting a firm send with a smirk.

Moving backward, Johnny still speaks hurriedly into the earpiece you had deduced that he has, and has probably had since the evening began. Fast-clipped sentences, and glances to the whirring computer, the USB stick you see inserted into its body. Your curiosity has always been your downfall, but you weren’t about to mess with whatever heist this was; especially involving the military and their forces. 

That was a cat you didn’t want to drag out of the bag. 

Making your way to the door, your hand is just about to grasp at it when you full-stop. Blinking slowly, your head tilts, your ear twitching to hear the muttering from beyond the barrier. With a moment of understanding brewing, a hand lands on the back of your neck and yanks you back, dragging you like a toddler for the second time tonight

Before you can shout at the brutish man, a hand is once more over your mouth, and a voice in your ear. Was this really the only way he could figure out how to keep you quiet?

“No speaking—you’ll just give away our position.”

You glare, unimpressed, until he releases you—blue eyes firmly leveled on your face in order. 

“Keep it shut,” he harshly whispers. As your mouth opens, he raises a finger and clicks his tongue, moving away quickly as you stare past in insult. Jaw loose, your eyes glint with hatred, growl in your throat as you turn after him. 

“I’m not fucking three, you asshat!” You exclaim under your breath. “I bet I’ve gotten out of more situations like this than you have. And would you quit dragging me everywhere?!”

The handle across the way is jiggled, Johnny glancing at the computer screen in desperation. It wasn’t done yet. He scoffs, face twisting. 

“Debatable.” You vehemently roll your eyes, looking around the room. This wasn’t exactly good—but it wasn’t unsalvageable. Looking at the woodgrain of the door like a plotting snake, you decide you could always play it off as one of Vicor’s multiple affair partners. He had scores, no way the man could remember them all. Tell security that he’d invited you here to discuss child support or hush money; that had to be fair play. 

You hum under your breath, sighing. How would you explain Johnny? A lover? Bodyguard? Your mind runs through scenario after scenario, until a large knife is shoved right in front of your face. You balk back with a choking sound, startled like a bird on a line.

“Take this before I change my mind,” Johnny grunts, grasping at his gun firmly. 

Your eyes stare with a sneer at the combat knife, which wiggles as the man’s hand shakes it impatiently. 

“I’m not taking that—are you mad?” 

Soap’s face is as stubborn as stone. “I’m not leaving without my intel, and neither are you.” A look is thrown up and down your body which makes you straighten, heels situating themselves below you. “You wanted to be here, Dearie, so you can’t back out now, can you?” 

“If I was here alone, none of this would have gone wrong,” you get into his face, eyes deadly. The door shakes as someone runs a shoulder into it—loud shouting from the hallway. 

“You’re a vain little minx that plays mind games because she thinks it’s fun,” Johnny hisses, breath atop of yours and eyes unblinking. “Mind yourself, you hear? This is bigger than a necklace, you vain creature.”

You huff. “It’s funny you think I care.”

��Little—” The computer beeps, and Johnny’s head whips back around as the frame of the door begins to crack.

The USB’s light glints a steady green, and then goes off, just as the computer screen blackens.

“Price!” Soap barks. “USB is done uploading, I need intel from Gaz, now!”

“Everything below the window is clear, Sergeant—get out!

“I need something to protect the damn thing from the water,” the man is already moving back, gun clattering to the desk as he opens drawer after drawer for anything—even just a little bag of—

“Holy shit,” you laugh, picking up something that had fallen to the floor in Johnny’s rabid search. “Victor was getting up to it.”

Cocaine baggie—the Sergeant snatches it from you. 

“Woah,” you huff. “Wasn’t aware you had an affinity.”

“I am beggin’ you to keep your trap shut.”

“Ooo,” you smirk, eyes shimmering. “I like that.”

Johnny seethes like a dog, looking at you as he dumps out the drug and rips the USB out, shoving it inside as white powder hits his dress shoes. From there, the thing gets shoved into his pocket with a heavy hand.

“Come here,” he takes you by the arm, pulling. With his other, he grasps his M9 once more. Your annoyingly smooth voice in his ear is a constant knife right to his brain. 

“Of course, Handsome.”

“Sergeant, for the love of God, tell me that Cerise isn’t in that room with you.” Price’s voice interrupts the two dogs at each other's throats, baring their fangs with sharp intentions.

Soap tilts his head harshly, moving to the window with you beside him. For whatever reason, he fights his senses to leave you here to be caught. 

“Then I won’t tell you, Sir.”

“Fucking hell, Soap.” The Scot huffs, smirk at his lips. 

“In a worse way because of it, too.” His hand tightens on your arm and you only chuckle, fingers to your mouth as heat moves up Johnny’s neck. He clears his throat, looking away, muttering to his Captain. “Won’t bloody leave me alone.”

“Awe,” your free hand captures his bicep, running up the fabric of his suit jacket. “I’d never leave you alone, Baby.” 

Soap suppresses a whole-body shiver, your heated kiss still strangling him every second he gets a whiff of your perfume. His feelings towards you were strange; potent like a snake to a mouse. 

The worst part was that he didn’t know who was who in this equation.

Releasing you, your body jostles at the sudden lack of a brace, but you recover with a laugh and a raise of your brow. 

Johnny takes his gun and sends four rounds into the glass.

Yelping, your hands go to your head, covering your ears and slightly ducking. 

“Time to go, Sunshine!” Your waist is gripped, legs jerked up with a grunt. All at once your eyes widen, your brain understanding the total lunacy that’s about to take place.

“Wait!” You shout just as the front door is busted down. “I’m wearing tangerine quartz—i-it can’t get wet!”

He’s already in mid-air, a smirk on his face, peeling back the stubble on his cheeks as his body crashes through the broken glass.

There’s the sensation of flying, briefly experiencing what a bird lives before gravity takes over, stealing you just as it does your stomach. You yell sharply, but that’s all you get above Johnny’s heavy chuckle before water enshrouds you both. It sloshes over your head, and takes you down into its depths; chlorine makes your eyes burn before you snap them shut.

You’re taken by the first thing that strikes you as your waist is pulled back to the surface—Johnny hiking you upward with your back to his chest. 

Who keeps water in the pool this late into autumn?

Gasping as your head breaks out of the water again, your nails dig into Soap’s wrist, loud commotion from far above, and the screaming of orders. 

A bullet whizzes past your face. 

“I’m going to need Gaz on this!” Johnny shouts, unwilling to let you go as his legs begin kicking, water running through his hair and flowing off of his nose.

There’s a muffled call before one of the security guards from the office window is struck in the head, a spray of red popping from the burst container of his skull—body slumping out of the hole. He hits the ground with a slapping crunch as you pant on fast breaths. 

Getting forced back along with Johnny, you curse in the open air at the sight, eyes wide as your dress is utterly ruined by the pool. 

You’re tossed upward, body grunting and skidding along the concrete as your palms slap the ground. Scrambling up, Johnny pivots with you behind him, taking his M9 and leveling it up, firing off a few rounds before the sound of your rushing heels strikes him. 

Soap calls to you, but you’re already speeding away to the tree line, water leaving a long trail as you sprint to the best of your ability. The pearls around your neck glimmer, slapping against your flesh.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, heart rushing like a lion. “What the fuck!”

Grass moves near your feet, the estate slashing by—gunshots still echo, those loud booms moving over the night; you even hear the loud panic of the party, beginning to understand what they’re hearing. 

Stumbling on a rock, your palms skin themselves along the ground, but you don’t wait to think about the sting. You push back up and keep running.

“Cerise!” Soap barks, running after, looking over his shoulder as his earpiece is full of loud orders. 

A hand swipes at the back of your arm and misses as you pivot and grasp your purse strap, swinging it around until it slams into Johnny’s head. 

“Fucking hell!” He snarls, hand raising to shield himself as you do it again. 

“You’re crazy!” You yell, mind stuck on blood and bursting heads. Your purse is in the air, swinging from your raised hand; feet still backing up from the bulky form. 

Blue eyes blink at you, occupied with both looking behind for pursuers and shots as you both move into the trees rapidly, circling one another even while escaping. “You’re shooting people?!”

“It’s my mission!” Johnny shoves out, jerking out a hand. “We need to leave—now!” 

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” You yell, looking him up and down, backing up, and bringing your purse close to your chest. 

Both of your eyes lock in a battle. 

“Bonnie,” the man levels, “You’re not staying here with them—they’ve seen your face.”

“I like my chances better when I’m alone,” you swallow down your tone, evening it out to emanate the confidence that you always try to carry like a sword. You’re not going with Johnny—not now. Now you had to go through aliases; move again—run like a petty criminal. You had to hide your valuables and get your finances together.

Staring, you pant, water dripping from your nose. 

You needed to disappear again. 

“Don’t be a bloody fool,” Johnny hisses, moving closer. “C’mon, we need to leave.”

“You’re right we do—go, then.” It’s final. “I’m not following you anywhere,” your eyes darted his form, remembering how his weight had pressed you into your wall. “Enjoy your intel, Mr. MacTavish, but I have my own affairs to deal with.” 

You slip your purse strap over your body and unclip your heels, dangling them by your finger as you stand back to full height with a deep breath. You’re scared now—nervous. Being around guns was one thing, but watching someone get shot was another. 

No one was supposed to die tonight; you’re shaken.

“Cerise,” Soap opens his mouth, annoyance in his veins. But he looks into your eyes and pauses, seeing the fidgeting, the flightiness. The man stills, glancing at your visible heartbeat, gobsmacked. 

You were afraid. The woman who’d smirked when he’d pushed her into a wall—the woman who had no terror of getting caught. Afraid of him.

He backs up a step raising his hand. 

“Hey,” Johnny eases, lowering his tone. You don’t change your attitude.

“No, MacTavish,” you clench your jaw. “This is where our game ends. For good.”

Eyes lock; stare. They dig and they stay still, night aflame with chaos. The game had been fun, but, Soap knew the truth about this as well as you did. It was felt in the very air along the vibrations. He can’t drag you along back to the Exfil point—it would bring nothing of it but wasted time and energy. There wasn’t any time, and even as his instincts told him to level the barrel of his weapon with your skull…he couldn't do that.

He had to let you go.

There aren’t any words spoken; none said in parting or goodbye—in all accounts, the two of you don’t even know if you like one another. Both of you would aggressively deny any such thing, even if the pair of you were absorbed in how one another feels rubbing your hands along clothes. That dig; that pull.

In the end, you turn, and you disappear into the trees, rushing to circle back to the front of the property where Buck will be waiting down the road. Your heart patters, your jewelry bouncing, and your purse full of your stolen quarry.

In the end, blue eyes watch you for a long moment.

And then Johnny backs into the shadows of night, and neither of you seemed to have ever existed at all.

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[dilfl0v3rss]

can u do a continuation of ‘mini me’ where omari is gone and u and ony finally get to have some alone time 💛

weekend of freedom

continuation of mini me

cw: smut

word count: 4.2k words

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

~friday night~

“you got everything? his ps5, his books, his snacks, his-” “they got it all mama calm down. and even if they didn’t have something i’m sure my little man gon be able to make due wit what he got.” your parents laughed at the small interaction between you and your husband. you’ve had to have brought omari here for at least a hundred weekends since he was born and you still did the same thing. getting all worried as if your parents weren’t doing this for way longer than you.

“i’m a big boy momma. i can handle myself, right dad?” your son looked up at his father for approval which he happily gave. “of course you can peanut your momma jus be overthinkin.” ony chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “we not gon take any more of your time. see y’all sunday night.” the two of you gave your parents hugs before making your way back to the car. as ony drove home you felt his hand slowly begin to creep up your thigh.

the comfortably silent air was quickly being filled with lust as your husband began rubbing your pussy through your leggings. "you so needy papa. we just dropped our son off." you sighed as ony's ministrations became rougher. "m'always needy when it comes to my fine ass wife. you gon let me play wit you tonight?" the steadiness of your breathing was breaking as you watched his hand slide into your waistband, thick fingers caressing your clit through your underwear.

moans began flying from your mouth, egging your husband on as he continued driving the two of you home. "y'hear me ma? you gon let daddy tear that pussy up when we get to the house?" you choked on your tongue as ony's fingers breached your entrance. fucking you deep as you began to grind your hips down on them. "mm...mhmm" "nah lemme her you speak. repeat what i said baby" his fingers stagnant inside of you. making you whine before letting go of the breath you didn't know you were even holding.

"ima...ima let daddy t-tear this p-pussy up shittt" ony smiled at your obedience. "good fuckin girl" his thick fingers moved quickly, digging deep into you as his thumb caressed your pink pearl. you didn't even notice you were home since your eyes were squeezed shut. all of your focus stuck to the pending orgasm that you were trying to obtain. "cmon baby. i feel it just let it g-....fuckkk there you go mama." ony talked you through your orgasm as you began wetting up his hand as well as the passenger seat with your release.

you shook in overstimulation as his thick fingers continued their movements on your sensitive pussy before he felt that it was time to give you a break. removing his hand from your pants before licking his fingers clean of your juices. brown eyes locked with yours as you watching his pink muscle outstretch under his fingers. arousal already started to pool into your underwear as you listened to the groans that came deep from your husbands chest.

the taste of you causing a tent to form in his hands as he moved his fingers towards your mouth now. watching your small tongue lick and suck what was left of you off of him. "this gon be a long weekend mama."

~the next morning~

you were woken by the smell of french toast. getting out of bed in nothing but ony's tee shirt before slipping on some fuzzy slides and starting your short journey to the kitchen. your husband was focused on cooking, to busy singing lauryn hill to notice you leaning on the kitchen island while staring at the scratches on his broad back. "no matter how i think we grow you always seem to let me know. it aint workinnnnn! it aint wor- FUCK y/n! scared the shit outta me."

you giggled as ony caught his breath, fists up in a fighting stance as he inhaled and exhaled quickly to calm himself down. "sorry boo. you seemed into it and ian wanna mess up your flow." you smiled and he mirrored you. both of you giving each other looks of love before ony turned around to lower to heat on the stove. he turned back to you and slid his hands on your waist.

his hands massaged the fat of your hips while he spoke. "good morning beautiful. you slept good?" morning voice still apparent as he looked down at your curvaceous figure in his tee shirt. "mhmm. slept like a baby, you?" ony ignored you. large hands suddenly gripping your waist before lifting you to sit on the island. you were used to this type of behavior. smiling as he brought his lips to yours. his tongue lightly caressed yours as his hands roamed your back.

the kiss got sloppier the longer the two of you stayed connected. making wetness pool in your panties. at the same time you felt ony's erection begin poking your thigh. before his hands could move, you hopped down from the table. bending to your knees as you pulled his pajama pants down just enough so his dick can spring free. it bobbed up and down, precum dribbling from the tip before you flattened your tongue and licked it up.

"mmm damn girl" a shiver ran down ony's spine as he watched you work. pink tongue swirling around his tip, small hand gripping the base as you repeatedly slapped his dick on your tongue. "you so nasty baby fuck" you took him into your mouth, working your way down until your nose touched his stubble. you continued the action over and over again. sucking him all over before paying more attention to his tip. head bopping as your hands worked his shaft.

"ohmygoddd" ony's grip on the edge of the table was tight, knuckles almost turning white as he tried to refrain from bucking into your mouth. he was trying to be good for you, but once he felt your fingers being caressing the flesh of his balls he lost it. "w-where you want it mama. f-fuck ima cum. im boutta fucking cum." your eyes shot up to his face. brows furrowed as his eyes were rolling in pleasure. his arms were flexing so hard that you could see his veins protruding from his bicep.

you kept sucking. head bobbing faster as you sucked even harder on his tip. your other hand gave his balls an occasional squeeze as ony moaned professions of love to you from above. "ooouuu fuck y/n i love you so much....make me wanna give you another baby....make me wanna...fuck ion even know i just wanna give you everything." you felt him twitch in your mouth, signaling to you he was going to cum. you released his dick with a pop as you stroked him quickly with one hand.

"don't want nun but your cum right now daddy. can you give me that?" his head nodded quickly, eyes still squeezed shut as ony threw his head back. "look at me baby. wanna see you." you moaned, hungry to see his reaction. the two of you locked eyes as you began squeezing him tighter. pink tongue lolled out of your mouth as you waited for his release. ony watched as his cum coated your cheeks, painting your face before you angled him just right. letting his kids slide down your tongue before disappearing down your throat.

"thank you daddy" you looked like a beautiful mess. cum sliding down your cheeks as you ony lifted you off the ground. hands on your ass as he kissed you deeply on the lips. "you always make me feel so good." a moan flew from your mouth as you felt his still hard dick slide fully into your soaked pussy. "my turn now mama.”

~that night~

"my jumper so tuff these niggas really can't guard me" ony yelled into his mic as he played 2k with connie. this was not how your night was supposed to be going. it was your last night of freedom before your beautiful bundle of joy came back tomorrow night and your husband was wasting it on a video game. "he's shitty look at his handlessss. con why you always got me online wit trashh?" you heard connies chuckles through his not so quiet headset.

"man fuck these bums where my nephew at?" ony massaged your feet as they laid on his lap. "he wit his nana and pop pop. me and the misses needed some time alone." you rolled your eyes. he talking about needing time alone with you, but on the game with connie. how that work? you started rubbing your feet on his lap, lightly grazing his print a couple of times before your movements were halted by his strong hand.

"one more game mama" he mouthed to you for the umpteenth time tonight. you believed it the first couple of times, but at this point you new it was complete bullshit. if you wanted attention you were going to have to take it. you quietly walked to your room, smiling to yourself as you looked in your closet for the purple lingerie set he bought you last week. it was about time you put that cart to good use. after you slipped the purple fabric on your brown skin you went towards ony's dresser.

his top drawer was designated for the 'supplies' you sometimes used during sex. you instantly reached for the black fuzzy cuffs before looking at some of the other new items delivered from your cart. "ill save em for another day." you thought before hopping into bed and grabbing your phone. you snapped picture after picture. posing in different positions that you knew he'd love while also taking some that'll leave him begging for more.

the last one being of you sitting on your knees. camera only showing you from the neck down as the cuffs laid in between your thick thighs. you sent all of the pictures, giving him a little message at the end. meanwhile, ony was still on the game. cursing and laughing with connie until he seen your name pop of on his screen.

baby muva💍

attachment: 5 images

your husband mindlessly opened your message, jaw dropping as he looked at each of the seductive pictures. "god damn" he mumbled, not noticing that his mic was still on while he kept talking about how beautiful your body looked. "look at that ass" before he could speak again, another message popped up from you.

baby muva💍

come play💜

ony ignored the sentences of confusion connie was throwing his way, cutting his game short so he can get to you. "man if you over there fucking while we supposed to be playing the game ima throw the fuck u-" "man i gotta go" "wha-" and with that your husband turned off his playstation completely before quickly making his way to the room. dick already hard and throbbing in his sweats as he opened the door to see you laying in the bed in all your glory.

ass on full display as you laid facing away from him while quietly playing with the fur of the cuffs in your hands. before his hand could caress the flesh of your ass you slowly began to turn around. sitting on your knees at the edge of the bed as you looked up at your man. "this what you want mama?" his deep voice caused a shiver to run down your spine as your pussy pooled with slick. you nodded your head, lifting the cuffs in your hands for him to take.

"unt uh pretty talk t'me. is this what you want?" the confidence from earlier seeping out of you as you looked down at your knees. "y-yea" ony smiled at your shyness. no matter how bold you are in the messages or how long the two of you have been together, he can always bring you back to the shy girl you were when he first met you. "okay...lay on your back f'me" your body moved instantly, following his command as if it was second nature. on instinct, your legs were spread as you watched ony remove his sweatpants.

he was already fully hard from your pictures and the sight of his thick print raised your arousal towards him. his briefs were stretched at the crotch due to his girthy dick fighting the restraining fabric. he bent down, face so close to your core that you could feel every breath he took. "gimme your hands baby" he had his hands open at your sides, but you didn't notice this while you put your hands in between your legs, eager to be bound by the cuffs. ony chuckled at your excitement, moving each of your hands to your hips where he held them in his.

"not yet you little freak" your eyes wandered to the ceiling as embarrassment made it's way into your mind. the feeling quickly being pushed out by pleasure as his long tongue licked a stripe up your pussy through your panties. your arms moved on instinct to rub his head at the pleasure, but they were stuck to the bed by ony's much longer ones. "hold still f'me mama. let daddy make you feel good" with that he began sloppily making out with your pussy through your panties.

the roughness of the fabric stimulated your clit as ony nodded his head up and down. "aaaughh fuck fuckkk" you cursed into the air as your back arched off the bed. you husband became impatient, quickly letting go of your hands before ripping your brand new lingerie at the crotch. you looked at him in annoyance, but his next words shut you up completely. "i bought it. i can rip it if i want." with that he quickly attached his lips to your clit. sucking on the bud as he fingered you with two of his this fingers.

middle and index fingers digging deep into you as his tongue danced over your clit. your hands flew two his head. caressing him through his suede durag as you bucked your hips up into his mouth. you were so needy for him and it only fueled him to lick you faster, fingers hitting that spongy spot inside of you. "o-ohh....oh my god baby pleaseee" you began to grind your pussy onto his handsome face. hands moving his head deeper onto your clit as you rubbed up and down his face.

ony let you use him, watching you through his lashed as your head flew back. you were going to cum soon, but he wanted you to wait. he wanted you to be a good girl and only cum on his dick tonight. so he did what any other good husband would do when their wife was on the edge of release, he moved. pretty brow eyes slowly opening as you whined at his behavior. "n-nooo m'close daddy. so close" you moaned, but your pleading fell on deaf ears. his hand outstretched onto your hip before turning you on your stomach.

you immediately got into your arch as you waited for the sting go his dick. "hands mama" you held your hands behind your back, letting your husband bound your wrists with the cuffs before giving your ass a light slap. "you ready?" you wiggled your ass, juices dripping from your pussy to the bed as you gave him a show. "yeaaa. you ready" ony pulled his dick from his briefs, slowly sinking his tip into your tight entrance. you mewled at the girth of him as he kept sliding into you until his hips met your ass. he grinded his hips in circles inside of you, making your hands open as you outstretched your arm to push him out.

his hands quickly grabbed the chain of the cuffs, pinning your hands to your back as he began pounding you into the mattress. "you can take it. my good girl always takes it, right?" the air was filled with moans from your mouth and wet slaps from your reconnecting bodies. the sting quickly being replaced with pleasure as you poked your ass out for you to take more of him. ony smirked as he figured now would be the good time to pull a little out. he fucked you with half of his dick, purposely stopping right in front of your g spot so you couldn't get the stimulation you desired.

"d-daddy pleaseee. i want ittt" you whined as you tried to fuck your hips back onto him, yearning for the much needed release. "you want it ma?" you continued to move your hips onto him, but he just kept moving further and further away from where you needed him most. "mhmm want it s-so bad" ony loved when you whined for him. he could almost feel your tears falling onto the sheets as you continued your desperate movements. he continued his teasing for a couple more minutes before giving you one big thrust.

dick kissing your cervix as he stayed stagnant inside of you. the moan that flew from your mouth was pornographic as ony started roughly thrusting into you. using his grip on your cuffs to keep pulling you back onto his dick. he fed you deep strokes as he watched you constantly clench and unclench your fists. "aauughhh o-o-ohhh daddy yesss" you screamed as you felt ony angle his hips downwards. dick deep in your tummy as you continued throwing it back for him. meeting his hips on every thrust to make him feel just as good as you.

"such a good girl. takin this dick like i know you can" his praise went straight to your core, making you gush all over his dick. your added wetness pushed your husband closer to his orgasm as he watched your ass constantly bounce on his abdomen. "feel so good papa. wanna have your baby." a smirk crept onto his face at your words. "want daddy t'give you another baby? want another little rugrat running around in here? maybe this time ill give you that daughter you been dreaming about huh?"

ony continued speaking of the family he knew you wanted. a bunch of kids running around while the two of you lived happily ever after. just the thought of it made him want to cum deep inside of you even more. "daddy gon give you that baby...jus try to take it okay?" you nodded your head in compliance, not really knowing what you were getting yourself into. ony held both of your cuffed hands in one of his. "just squeeze my hand mama"

you didn't get the chance to speak before he took is other hand and pushed your back down, thrusting into you so deep that you felt a the bulge in your stomach lightly brush against your sheets. he put so much strength behind his thrust that your body would've been inching up the bed from the force if he weren't holding your hands. "ohmygod ohmygod ohmygo-oddd" your hands held a death grip onto his much larger one. trying your best to keep yourself from screaming from the top of your lungs.

"throw dat shit back mama. work for dis nut" you tried your best to obey his command as he still had his hand pushed down on your back. you gave his palm a tight squeeze before you tried fucking him back. loud slaps ricocheted off the walls are the two of you worked together for your orgasms. ony felt your walls begin to clench tighter around him, signaling to him that you were about to cum. "uhh huh. i feel it...let daddy have it baby." you shook under him as your orgasm rolled through you, thick cream surrounding his base as you tried to slump your body on the bed.

"ian finish yet pretty. just a little more and we done aight?" you were too in a daze to understand, but the feeling of his dick pulling out against your sensitive walls made you whine into the mattress. "it's t-to much da" "no no no no. s'never too much for my baby. you can take just a little more, can't you ma?....for me?" every time ony used his soft voice with you, any defiance you had would drift away. and that is exactly what was happening now. he smiled as he watched you kept your arch for him.

hands squeezed around his tightly as you put your pussy on full display for him to finish. "d-dont be too r-rough okay?" your husband took your plea into consideration before sitting with his back against the headboard. he helped you maneuver yourself on top of him, pretty brown eyes facing his chest before he slipped himself back inside of you. "cmon mama. ride this dick f'me" he kept on hand on your cuffs behind you to keep you from falling forward, before bouncing you on to him a couple times with his other hand. "just a little more baby. help daddy feel good"

you eventually took control and started bouncing on your own, snatching groans from him as you matched him with whiney moans. "so sexy mama" ony watched your perky brown breasts move with every bounce, his fingers running along your tattooed chest. pretty red ink being smoothly caressed by the name it spelled. you were a sight, but so was he. much more inked chest breathing heavily as you looked at the different pieces of art that represented you and your little family. your name on his left pec as your sons name sat on his shoulder. "i love you" you mindlessly moaned out.

ony chuckled at your fucked out state, watching your eyes lose focus every once in awhile while you fucked yourself dumb on his big dick. "and i love you, my beautiful wife" your release was on the tip of your tongue. ass bouncing with more energy as you chased your pending orgasm. ony fucked you back from below, feeling that same edge you do as he latched his mouth onto your nipple. groaning at the taste of you as he held your hip and grinded you down onto his dick. "o-oh fuck m'cumin daddy" your release poured out of you, cream trickling down your husbands dick as you threw your head back in ecstasy. drool pooling past your lips as it dribbled down onto the sheets. your cum worked as an extra lubricant as ony's dick slid in and out of you at a quick pace.

"m'here mama. fuck m'cumin." his orgasm came quickly, hot spurts of cum shooting deep into your walls as he gave you one final hard thrust. your mouth opened in a silent moan as you felt his warm seed travel through you before spilling out after he pulled out. ony removed the cuffs from your wrists before lightly laying you on the bed. he knew you didn't have any energy to move, so he removed your lingerie for you and replaced it with his shirt before tucking you into bed. "gon head to sleep pretty i’ll clean all this up." and with that you dozed off to sleep.

~sunday~

when you woke up you immediately felt your lower half screaming as you got up to go pee. the limp in your walk made ony snicker from the couch, book in hand as his glasses hung low on his nose. your eyes shot to his face, giving him a mean mug that caused him to quickly turn back to his book. you finished your business in the restroom before limping your way to the couch. plopping next to your husband before leaning your head onto his lap. "slept good?" he mumbled. "like a baby" you replied. the two of you sat in a comfortable silence until his phone began to ring.

"hello?....good morning momma everything good over there?...yea of course i can get em a little early...mhmm....aight im getting ready now." ony wasted no time lifting you up and brining you back to bed before going to the closet for a hoodie to throw on. "gotta get my mini me from your moms crib. said he miss his mommy." you went to take the blanket off of you so you can get dressed, but ony stopped you. "rest mama. daddy got it." his deep voice sat you right back down before he gave you a sloppy kiss on the lips.

hand lightly squeezing your neck before he disconnected his lips from yours. "behave in here while m'gone. don't want you leaving this bed until you've properly rested, you heard?" you nodded your head before your husband gave you another quick kiss before heading out the door.

it didn't take long for him to return with your son. the both of them walking into your room together. "mommyyyy!!" omari's face lit up before he ran towards your side of the bed and gave you a tight hug. "missed you momma" he mumbled into your chest as you rubbed the back of his durag covered head. why did this boy act so much like his dad? "missed you more baby m'glad you're finally home." ony gave you a kiss on the forehead before omari started talking again. "dad told me about how you hurt your leg so i don't want you to get out of bed either okay?"

you give your husband a pointed look, his eyes wandering around to the room as he rubbed the back of his neck. guilty. "okay baby. how about you go unpack your bag and get yourself situated." omari nodded before exiting the room. leaving you there to lecture your loud mouthed lover. "now why-" "because ion want you leaving the bed, and now neither do he. now gimme a kiss so i can go play video games wit my son." his lips puckered in front of yours, eyes closed like a child as he waited for you to kiss him back.

you rolled your eyes, eventually giving in and giving your husband a loving kiss before he turned around to go check on his twin. "love you mama, check your drawer" and with that he left the room. confusion showed on your face as you raised your eyebrows at your bedside drawer. what could be in there? as you opened it you were shocked to see two things. a plan b pill and a pregnancy test. each covered with a sticky note. one reading 'maybe later on' while the other read 'im ready to try'.

you sat in your bed holding both boxes before putting one back in the drawer. you knew you had to wait a couple weeks before you could truly know, but something in your gut told you that this was the right decision. you were ready to try.

[xoxoholix]

𝓝𝓼𝓯𝔀 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓚𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓰(▰˘◡˘▰)❦

He’s big and he knows it

-𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈~ Who is a rough man that will make you feel every inch of his frustrations once he gets home from deployment. Being the generous man he is, he makes sure to give you exactly what you’ve been craving, His thick cock fucking into your cunt 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚. He won’t stop..oh no he can’t especially once he sees those pretty tears trailing down your cheeks. Lips parting into a o shape as your cunt twitches and spasms around him. -

-𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈~ Who stuffs every drop of his cum inside of his little wife not wasting a single bit just before pulling out of you and wrapping his lips around your swollen pearl eating you out for hours as a reward for taking him so well. Your sore weeping cunny wrapped around his thrusting fingers as he curls them sending you into your 5th orgasm of the night.

-𝑲𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈~ Who will overstimulate you for hours on end if you even make eye contact with any man in front of him or when you’re by yourself (𝐻𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔). After that He will fuck you so good you’ll forget your own name. Your legs will be reduced to jelly once he’s done with you. “ Konig…Please” Your muffled whispers fell onto deaf ears as his forceful thrusts shoved you farther into the pillow you hid your face in. Sounds of skin slapping and your slutty moans and slurred babbling could be heard through the whole neighborhood with how loud you both were. “ Sei still. Das ist es, worum du gebeten hast, oder? Du dachtest, ich würde nicht herausfinden, dass du mit diesem erbärmlichen Stück Scheiße redest?” He growled his hands digging into your hips as he pounded into your cervix, walls squeezing and quivering around him. “I-oh fuck baby I’m sorry!” You squealed your eyes rolling back into your skull as he rammed inside of you turning your brain into mush. “I’ll be good! I’ll be—mm fuck daddy I’ll be good!~” You screamed to which he snatched you by your hair pulling you up to face the mirror in front of you. “Nimm es, Baby~, ich muss dich für das bestrafen, was du getan hast.” He groaned into your ear kissing your neck as he rubbed your clit sending you over the edge for the millionth time.

-𝑲𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈~ Who will bully you during sex only to be sweet to you afterwards.

“You’re such a slut, flirting with him as if I wasn’t there” He spat teeth gritting from the how tight your pussy was squeezing him as he pounded into your sweet spot fingers pinching at your sensitive nipples only to rub them gently. Your fucked out expression only made him go faster just to see you go cross eyed and roll your tongue out, your sweet moans only made him go harder and faster. “Look at me Meine Süße” He ordered grabbing onto your neck and forcing your gaze onto him. “I want you to scream my name while you cum, and if you don’t” he paused his thrusts while slowly pumping his throbbing cock in and out only to speed up once again “Ich werde dich leiden lassen” He growled as bit down onto your neck which gave him the perfect angle to jackhammer into your pussy. “KONIG!”You screamed as loud as you could your nails digging into his back as you arched yourself into his mouth. His tongue flicked over the forming bruise as he rubbed fast circles over your clit. Only moments later The tight coil snapping your pussy clamping down onto him as you squirted your juices onto his stomach and thighs. His end came undone right after yours as his balls emptied all of his cum out. You were on the verge of passing out until you felt his lips pressing a sweet kiss against yours.

“𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝑴𝒆𝒊𝒏 𝑺𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒛”

𝑯𝒆’𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒐𝒚⁂

Translations

Be quiet..This is what you were asking for huh? You thought I wouldn’t find out you were talking to that pathetic piece of shit?

(Sei still. Das ist es, worum du gebeten hast, oder? Du dachtest, ich würde nicht herausfinden, dass du mit diesem erbärmlichen Stück Scheiße redest?)

Nimm es, Baby~, ich muss dich für das bestrafen, was du getan hast.

(Take it baby~, I have to punish you for what you’ve done.)

Meine Süße

(My sweet)

Ich werde dich leiden lassen

(I’ll make you suffer)

Mein Schatz

(My Dear)

[astralnymphh]

ROBINS EGG BLUE

⤹ . moments with domestic!ellie x pregnant!reader

WC; 1.07k

⤹ . content; fluff, lovey–dovey, may cause baby fever or heartwarmed tears to swell, reader discretion is advised ౨ৎ

pregnancy is infuriating as not being able to comb your hair thoroughly. there is always a fat fucking knot to stem the fluid moment thereof– just as there lies a fat, fleshy boulder fastened to your stomach for a gruelingly long nine months. the bulge of your belly button has witnessed most of three seasons, and you weren't buoyantly idling around for the fourth to appear. this baby– this little devil, needs to get the hell out of dodge.

from the chagrin of a pair of jeans failing to button at the hips, straining the seams as you pull that fly parallel to your mother yanking the poor hairs from your scalp with a paddle brush– to the fleeting aggro nearby popping a blood vessel you feel when arguing with your wife, ellie, about some nonsensical, fruitless or futile dispute about what wallpaper pattern best suits the small dimensions of the nursey– pink and pearl striped with roses or robins egg blue and beige striped with roses, ellie continuously states "they're basically the same baby, i don't see what all the fuss is about." or whether ellie should throw in a batch of dino nuggets or regular nuggets cause the taste totally isn't the same, the shape definitely impacts how salty it is to your tongue, illogical banters.

but ellie will still be your loving, selfless, fond, and doting wife. your number one. apple of your eye. stupid auburn–haired heartthrob. you name it. through thick and thin of your expanding belly, she will always be the first palm to greet your baby in the morning, plastering her blanket–hot hand just beneath your navel and pressing her sweat damp fingerprints dimpling into your stomach, bending her index lightly into the petunia purple stretchmarks that vertically dip into your hips, waiting for minutes in the virgin sun morning for your baby to kick. literally, she has abandoned her old forenoon routine just to feel that first thump on her hand. and when it finally does happen, a little pounce vibrating beneath her palm lines– her fingers twitch lightly and a smile immediately crafts upon her rose lips, purring excitedly upon the fringe of your ear, words that only your snoozing brain with hark, "huh, see? he knows who his mama is– told ya."

but, ahh, stretchmarks.

she adores those little lightning marks lacing your belly– you on the other hand, thought the contrary, to which that husky fry would remind you, "ts' cause y'gotta baby growing in there, yeah? ours." flowing past the pouty berry lips so adamant on plowing kisses to the span of your scruff, ghosting them dry over the fine threadlike hairs with a pitched promise to never let you– or your belly go.

or, goddess, that one time ellie insisted you sit on the couch while she played her acoustic guitar, denting her fingertips with the strings as she plucks, subtly leaning the bay oak instrument closer to your belly so the baby would pick up those hollowed notes vibrating through the air. the fattest smirk would mushroom those cheeks to hug her nose– grooving those nasal lines to encase the thin curve of a smile, deepening at the corners. you even recall the dorkiest shit ever, how it carried to your ears out of the blue and left you pinching brow lines of amusement, "gonna' play this lil' guy guitar everyday– hey, d'ya think if i do that, he'll come out already knowing how to play?" spoken on a smokey chord, glancing up at you through lashes slightly downturned due to her facing the belly, directly. you told her with a sigh, "ellie, that is not how it works." dumbly smirking back, and she replied, "what? c'mon, maybe if i play electric, he'll be born a rockstar!" squeezing her voice with silly enthusiasm. a roll of your head cracks your neck, dangling back to barb, "you are ten times the idiot than you were yesterday." cause, well, she's constantly spewing the dopiest ideas. next thing you knew, she was rasping, "m'your fuckin' idiot." that cheesy motherfucker, slinking her guitar off the round of her thigh and stowing it at the sofa's footing, lurking forward on all fours to tackle your belly with bespattering kisses, moist and fiendish as ever.

infuriating was the task of putting socks on. fucking socks. the effortless effort that would usually clock you under ten seconds, moreso felt like ten eons. "ughh!" you would grunt from the depths of your compact lungs, extending two zombie arms over the blockage of your portly belly, perking the ears of ellie who was just in the abutting room, walls thin enough to bombard with sound. she whips around the door trim, leaning her lank weight away from it and cocking her head, distinguishing the predicament you had landed two feet in. a dry chuckle sounds from yonder the room, trailed by her honeyed resound, "need sum' help babe?" which, to her, falls to strike as a question– au contraire, soft, padded footsteps of feet who already had socks on, lucky them, carries ellie over and at your side, crouching with her knees splayed apart like bird's wings, raising hands to politely creep fingers under yours, prying the cottony ball from your grasp and craning it to her chest, sidling in her squat so that she would be an eyeshot vis–à–vis to you, at your beckon practically.

you remained silent, doused in the soft moment before you, yet a little embarrassed you couldn't do it yourself. a raspy, "here's one.." croaks from her throat prior to a hand cupping the ribbed underside of your ankle, tamping it gently into her chest so she could unfurl the sock and roll it up your foot, hedging your toes first with the linty fabric and laying it up the heel, letting the band snap in place– and her fingertips lingered at the ankle, caressing the nub for only a twinkle in time. "and the second one.." she scoops up the other foot, repeating the same tedious tenderness she gave to your other, gliding her hand from your ankle to your knee as she stood up, plating a pressure to the top of your thigh as she leans in, lips first, uttering, "there you go," smacking a puckered kiss to your stagnant lips, whispering upon them, "m'comin' to the bathroom with you. wanna hold him for a bit."

not even wild wolves could tear ellie from your baby, her baby.

[palioom]

stripes of a tiger

summary: pregnant with your first child, you cannot help but criticize your changing body. oberyn knows just how to help, not allowing any ill thoughts about yourself.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader word count: 3.9k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but nicknames); body worship; oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected p in v; pregancy; mention of self esteem issues; some biting; husband oberyn being the sweetest

• masterlist •

A deep and heavy sigh was the first thing Oberyn heard when he entered their shared bedchambers. Long, drawn out and loaded with a variety of emotions he wished to explore, wished to know the cause of.

It made him wonder what ailed her today, his beautiful, pregnant wife. Round with his child for the first time, looking more stunning with each passing day, but also growing meaner by the hour.

He knew about the sudden bouts of changing moods by now, becoming more irritated and more emotional by the day.

Testing his limits anew and anew.

But he loved her either way, all these little things making him chuckle, excited to be on this journey with her.

“My sun.” He said with a wide smile as he found her, hands on her round belly, standing in front of the large mirror in the corner.

Dressed in a thin, orange dress, adorned with hundreds of jewels and pearls, glittering as she turned from side to side.

Stunning, so gorgeous and beautiful and-

His smile faded when he saw the expression on her face.

Furrowed brows, teeth worrying her bottom lip. 

Tears in her eyes.

“My sun.” His voice was softer now, gentle. 

Body sliding against hers, chest flush with her back, his broad hands sliding over her beautiful belly. 

Dark eyes following her gaze, landing on said belly through the mirror.

“What is wrong, my love?” Oberyn asked, soft and gentle. Lips finding her exposed shoulder and pressing a kiss to it.

Eyes trying to find hers.

“Why is my gorgeous wife looking at her round stomach full of our child with such sadness and contempt?” 

Her eyes snapped up to his now, a few tears falling, leaving wet streaks across her cheeks.

How was she to tell him why?

His body felt comforting against hers, his hands warm on her belly. 

That belly that was the cause for all of this.

Could she tell him about her sorrows without him being mad?

When she didn’t answer, he tried again.

“What is bothering you so, my sun?” Still soothing and gentle. The way he only ever was with her. “What is darkening your light? Your Prince demands that you tell him.”

That made her chuckle, the sound mixing into a small sob, bottom lip quivering.

These damn mood swings.

“Will you promise not to be mad?” She asked, her hands splaying over his on her stomach.

He nodded.

Whatever could bother her that made her think he could get mad at her?

As if he could get mad at her for anything.

She was his everything, his world, the stars in the sky, his sun.

“You still love me like this, don’t you?” 

The question took him by surprise, brows furrowing for a moment.

Why would she ask him such a thing? Wasn’t it obvious, the way he doted on her?

Whatever she wished for, she received, nothing was too expensive or too demanding when it came to her.

He told her how much he loved her every night, tried to make her feel his love when he was buried deep inside of her.

If she wanted fruit only found in Essos, she would get them. Necklaces, earrings, gowns.

There wasn't a thing Oberyn wouldn't do for his beloved wife.

Apparently, it wasn’t enough.

“Of course, my love. How couldn’t I?” He replied, kissing her neck but still holding her gaze through the mirror. “What makes you say such things?”

She looked onto the floor, taking a deep breath.

“I simply feel unwell with my body, my viper.” Voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear her. “The scars from my skin tearing, my back aches and… I have become huge. Huge and fat and unbecoming.”

The words tore at his heart, pulling her against himself tighter.

His beautiful wife, carrying his child inside of her, radiant and glowing and so unbelievably stunning.

And she hated herself so much, her body which was providing life, which let them have a family of their own.

He sighed deeply, hands wandering under the thin fabric to feel her skin, the small grooves which adorned her body.

Like a tiger’s stripes.

“My lovely sun.” Oberyn said, calm and soft, like he was speaking to something so delicate and sweet that a single misstep would make it crumble and wither. “Look at me, please, my love.”

She hesitated, tears dripping off her nose and onto her stomach. Didn’t want to see him disappointed or mad at her.

Of all the things, she never wanted her viper’s anger, even though he had promised to never let his fangs sink into her, only those who wished to harm them.

“Look at me, my dove.”

She did, raising her gaze, finding his face.

Towering over her, eyes sharp and dark and so soft still. Only for her.

How had she gotten so lucky with him?

“You have become huge, because you carry our child within you.” His hands rubbed over her belly again, soft and slow. “A sign of something good, something wonderful. With each passing day that you grow bigger, my love for you grows as well, my dear.”

Tears welled up in her eyes at his words, his face becoming blurry.

“I know you do not believe me, you stubborn woman never do. You are far from unbecoming, even with a little plumpness to your likeness.”

She smiled just a little, even if she did not entirely believe him, like he said.

The talk she had overheard from other Lords who called their wives the most awful things when pregnant with their children had made her expectant of similar talk from her future husband.

That she would be too huge, too unattractive for her husband to even look at her in such a state. Skin ripping, too heavy, the extra weight settling on her chin and in her legs.

Oberyn wasn’t like this, but she couldn’t shake this feeling that deep down, he was recoiled by her appearance, rather seeking out other people.

“Your glow intensifies with every day, and I could never feel disgusted by you. I have married the most exquisite woman in all of Westeros and Essos combined, and you have only become more beautiful ever since your belly started growing.”

He placed kisses against her neck, onto her shoulder, feeling the shiver that ran down her spine.

His touch wandered, away from her belly and over her hips, fingers running over her thick thighs.

“I enjoy your thighs around my head, when they snap shut while you’re in the throes of pleasure.” A kiss just below her ear made her knees wobble. “Any man would be happy to find death between them, suffocating just to feel the warmth of them.”

Then, his hands wandered back up to her ass, unable to escape the urge of grabbing a handful, hearing her inhale sharply.

“Your bottom, moving so enticingly when you walk in front of me, teasing me without meaning to.” His lips were on her ear now, voice low. “When I could still have you on all fours, seeing it shake with every thrust, every time I buried myself deep inside of you.”

It was like her skin was on fire when his hands wandered up, over her sides to her full breasts, sensitive and aching.

“Your breasts, so soft and beautiful, have grown heavier. The sight of them practically spilling out of your gowns is one I never wish to lose.” When he licked over the shell of her ear, the softest whimper escaped her. “Full and begging for my hands and my mouth. How they move when you’re spread open on your back for me.”

She felt the wetness between her legs as he groped at her, the throbbing. That low pressure in her abdomen, like a fire that was just waiting to lose control inside her.

“Let me show you just how much I love you, whatever shape your body may assume.”

Oberyn slowly spun her around in his arms, cupping her cheeks in his large palms and kissed her, passionate but gentle.

He couldn’t let her believe that she was anything other than the most magnificent woman he had ever seen and that her body was not deserving of the scrutiny she directed at herself.

She hummed into the kiss, eyes closed and her hands came to rest at his waist, steadying herself.

Tasting like berries and the sweetest wine, making her crave both as his tongue slipped into her mouth, a welcome taste.

Always so sweet, despite his name.

The Red Viper.

Slowly he guided her over to their bed, and she was glad when she felt the soft mattress hitting the back of her legs, her feet hurting from standing for too long.

When she sat down on it, he never broke the kiss, moving down with her and then further, finding his place between her spread legs on his knees, her hands now in his dark hair.

She wanted him so desperately, so sensitive and aching already. 

“My viper, I want you.” She moaned when his lips trailed over her jaw and down to her neck.

He smirked against her skin, a soft laugh leaving Oberyn and his hands found their way to the straps of her dress, toying with them and feeling the expensive fabric.

“I know you do, my dove.” Pushing one strap down agonisingly slow, breath hot on her skin, adding to the heat in her body. “I assume you’re wetter and warmer than the Narrow Sea.”

She whined when he bit her neck, gently so there was the faintest mark of his teeth embedded into it.

“But I will not make it easy for you, my sun. My wife has to learn just how beautiful she is first, then she can have me.”

He always knew how to torture, fan the fires inside of her until they could burn her alive before taming them in a way only he could.

The other strap was pushed off her shoulder as well, sliding them down her arms and making the orange fabric pool in her lap, still covering her round belly but exposing her breasts.

“Just look at them.” He said, leaning back so he could cup them with his hands, just barely spilling over at this point. The glint in his eyes as he looked at them, squeezing slightly, made her feel warm.

When he looked up at her, he raised a brow.

“Look at them.”

She did, letting her eyes fall down, seeing how his hands couldn’t contain them fully.

But all she could really see were the tears in her skin, dark and ragged. Not something she could find joy or beauty in.

He saw the emotions flash over her face and it made him mad. Mad and upset, but not at her.

Never at her.

He ducked forward, placing kisses over her breasts, his fingers pinching her hard nipples and making her moan.

“Do you wish to know what I think?” He said, looking up at her. His tongue traced over the grooves of her stretch marks, biting and sucking at the soft skin.

She watched him, mesmerized by how much care he put into this, so attentive.

“These scars remind me of a tiger’s stripes, a beautiful and unique pattern adorning your skin, my sun.” The words made her feel warm, it was something she had never thought about before. “And you will be a mother with just as much fierceness as that of a tiger once our child is born. Still strong and gracious.”

Her heart beat fast in her chest, thrumming against her ribcage with such a force that she was certain it could simply break through.

It was a nice thought, her marks like that of a tiger.

A beautiful animal, she felt honoured he thought of her that way.

One of his hands made room for his mouth, his soft, wet tongue finding her nipple and flicking over it while his hand wandered lower, pushing up her skirts.

She felt him inch up her inner thigh from her knee, fingertips rough, tracing the same tears there as it went higher.

Her legs spread wider, feeling him smile against her skin, mouth still on her breast as his fingers found her middle.

Wet and waiting, hips jerking just from the faintest touch to her lips.

“Oberyn.” She threw her head back as she whined, fingers curling into her hair and tugging. “Please.”

He let two fingers glide through her folds, barely nudging against her swollen clit, ready for him.

“You’re dripping for me, my love.” His lips found hers again, swallowing her gasp as he pressed his fingers against her, moving them in small motions. “Like a waterfall of the sweetest nectar anyone could ever wish for.”

Removing them again, he brought his fingers to his lips, licking her wetness off of one with a deep hum and a wicked smile, then presenting the other finger to her.

“Taste yourself, how could anyone dislike this?” 

And he watched as she wrapped her lips around his thick finger, tongue cleaning up her slick with a hum not unlike his.

Looking so needy and desperate as she sucked on his finger, his dick twitching in his breeches at the sight.

But this was about her, only her, her body and her pleasure.

Removing them and one again finding her clit, she held his gaze as he pressed down harder, watched her eyes flutter but not look away.

“How did it taste?” One eyebrow raised, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Tell me, isn’t it the sweetest thing you have ever tasted?”

She couldn’t deny that there was something about the way she tasted that was… good. Never better than Dornish wine or the berries she was brought every day.

But good in a depraved way.

She nodded, biting her lip as he sped up his movements just a little, wishing he would push his fingers inside of her instead.

“Speak up, love. Tell me.”

“Yes.” She breathed out, whimpering when she felt him speed up again for a second, then moving down to her aching hole. Desperate for him, fluttering around nothing. “It tastes good, my viper.”

Oberyn hummed, pleased with her answer.

Pushing two fingers inside her, she leaned back, bracing herself on her hands. 

She couldn’t see his fingers, moving slowly in and out of her, spreading her open. Thick and long, curling up into that spot that made her unravel every time.

“Always so wet and warm and tight for me.” He grinned, kissing all over her breasts again, letting his tongue run over the grooves. “So beautiful and full.”

The sounds that left her were music to his ears, soft whimpers and throaty moans and he really wanted to undress her and take her. Her new curves only made him more excited, the wet sounds from her beautiful cunt only adding to it.

Wetting his fingers, squeezing them tight.

“Full with my child, my sun. Pretty and round, still swallowing my fingers like the greedy thing you are.”

She was close, hips rolling weakly against his hand.

“Please, Oberyn- You fuck me so well.”

Her voice was soft and breathy, turning into a small whine that hitched in her throat as he bit her nipple.

Suddenly, his mouth was gone from her breast and his fingers gone from inside her, leaving her feeling empty and a sound of protest bubbled in her throat.

Then she felt it, his tongue on her, eagerly licking up her folds while his hands kept tracing the tears on her skin.

Warm and talented on her clit, making her whine louder.

Talented in more ways than one, sharp like the spear he wielded, like the dagger in its sheath on his hip, but also so gentle and soft, like the velvet of her favourite gowns.

When he sucked on the sensitive bud, the fire inside her burned bright, engulfing her as it spread through her veins, her legs closing around his head, hearing his muffled sounds and feeling the vibrations of his voice.

He lapped up all she gave him eagerly, hand wrapping around her trembling thighs as she moaned his name, loud, uncaring if anyone heard outside.

Slowly bringing her down, at some point opening her thighs forcefully when he felt the need to breathe again, he sat back, looking up at her.

Mouth and chin wet, devilish smirk on his face.

“Sweeter than any wine.” He whispered before pressing his lips against hers, tugging her dress down over her belly so it sat at her hips. 

Hand smoothing over them, finding the grooves stretched tightly.

“Maybe I should call you my Tiger now. You are ferocious enough for the title."

His chuckle deep and voice smooth.

She joined in on the laughter, mind dazed and chasing his lips when he pulled away to stand.

“I like Sun more, Oberyn.”

Nodding his head towards the middle of their huge bed, he helped her get there, taking off her dress as he did.

“You can carry many titles, my dove.” His hands opened the belt hanging over his hips, letting it fall to the floor with a loud jingle before he shrugged his bright yellow tunic off of his shoulders, baring his muscular chest.

Oberyn watched her sit there, in all her naked glory as her eyes travelled over his body. Still as infatuated and hungry for him as on their first night together so many, many moons ago.

Finding the dark trail of hair that vanished under his breeches.

She did feel a bit self-conscious next to him like this, rubbing her belly as she watched him open his trousers, revealing his hard cock, already leaking for her.

Again, he saw the emotions on her face, the slight furrow of her brow, the way her eyes just became a little bit sad.

“I suppose it takes more to convince you stubborn woman.” He chuckled, moving over to her, helping her lay down on her side.

Oberyn grabbed a pillow to put under her head and some more to put under her belly, making her sigh as she got more comfortable.

“I can not understand how you could hate your body this much.” 

Trailing kisses down her neck to her shoulder, he let his teeth graze over her skin, wandering lower and lower.

Cupping one of her breasts and giving it some attention amidst her soft gasps.

She watched him, focused on his task as he reached her belly, her hand in his hair as he let his lips wander over every inch of her.

“Your stunning, round belly. Holding life for our family, our child.” 

Wandering to her side, to her hips.

“I can not wait to see you grow again, and again, my sun. You are stunning, so magnificent.”

Kissing further down, biting her ass softly and making her moan and writhe below him.

“Oberyn, my love, please, I need you.”

His nose dragged over her back as he kissed up her spine, settling behind her, shifting closer until he was flush with her, his erection pressing against her ass.

“You have me, my dove, you will always have me.”

Taking himself in hand, he guided himself against her, groaning against the back of her neck when he slowly pushed in.

Her moan mingled with his sound, reaching behind her to grab his hip, needing to hold onto something that weren’t the sheets. 

Slowly moving his hips, she leaned back into him, moans wanton as he dragged his cock in and out of her, hand on her belly.

“My beautiful wife.” He groaned, feeling her squeeze him tight, trying to rock back into him. “Round with my child, so gorgeous and glowing.”

Even he lost his sanity once inside her, her cunt intoxicating and her sounds music to his ears, kissing and nipping at the back of her neck.

“You feel so good, my viper, please.” 

He did make her feel good, with his words and with his body.

She felt desirable with the way he fucked into her, the way he held her, grunting against her neck and biting her skin.

“Your pretty, tight cunt is so wet for me, my sun.” Oberyn rasped, pulling her against him tighter, thrusts harsh and rough. “Like you want me to fill you again, when you’re still round but you already wish for my seed again, don’t you?”

The way she clenched around him told him all he needed to know, her high pitched whine falling from her lips.

“I can not wait to fuck another baby into you, watch your beautiful body swell with my seed again, my dove. You would like that as well, right?”

More nodding, mind hazy as that fire inside of her grew once more, fanned by his words, by his body.

“Yes, Oberyn, please!”

His hand went between her legs to find her clit, her leg lifting to help him and he rubbed tight circles into it.

“Let me feel you, my tiger, strangle my cock with your tight cunt.”

She came with a dragged out moan, trembling and soaking his cock, the fire burning her up from the inside again while he kept rutting into her, praising her over and over and over.

“Like that, my pregnant, beautiful wife, my sun.”

Then he stilled against her, coming with a deep groan and she felt him twitch inside her, spilling himself.

Kissing her shoulder as he calmed down, still rubbing her belly, her thigh, still buried inside her.

Just enjoying her heavy breaths for a few more moments, her warmth.

Until he finally pulled out, carefully.

“Do you believe me now, my tiger?” He said, leaning on one elbow and gently pulled on her shoulder so she could face him. Slotting his lips against her own.

She hummed into it, her hand cupping his cheek.

“A little more, yes.” 

His eyes were loving as he looked down at her, but also mischievous, as always.

“But perhaps I need a little more convincing.” She giggled, watching him break into a wide grin, laughing with her.

“I will convince you as many times as I need to, my tiger.” He replied, his knuckles brushing over her cheek. “Until you believe me that there is nothing to hate about your changing body, for all that is changing now is to bring us our child, every tear in your skin a sign of your love and devotion.”

Tears welled in her eyes at his words, feeling too emotional in the afterglow, but still smiled.

“Our viperling.” 

“Our viperling, yes.”

He kissed her again, his hand moving to her stomach. 

Right now she looked like one of the Gods themselves, with that gentle smile that tugged at her lips and her lidded eyes as she looked at him. Hair tousled and her skin flushed a dark crimson still.

“I do not wish to find you sunken in doubt ever again, my sun. You will find me first and I will help you forget about whatever plagues your mind.” His eyes were still gentle but with a certain seriousness in them. “Do you promise me? You are like one of the Gods, sculpted so magnificently that I allow no doubts about this.”

She sighed but nodded, drawing him in for another kiss.

“I promise, Oberyn. I love you.”

Kissing her forehead, he settled back behind her, nose buried in her hair as he pulled her against him.

“And I love you, my sun, my tiger.”

Hand on her belly, feeling the faint movements.

“No matter how big or how small, you will always be my beautiful wife.”

[maryangelex]

Please, please, please.

I am requesting an Ex!husband John price/ Fem!reader, where they divorce and he’s absolutely devastated by it, grovels and upset that he lost the love of his life, and then years later by circumstances are in force proximity with each other and have to deal with communicating all their grievances and then bam heated smut and pent up frustrations at each other, and then get back together.

Thank you so much and I really appreciate you! But it’s also okay if you skip my request :)

a/n: anon how could i possibly leave this delectable prompt unanswered!!?!?!?! i have literally been saving this one for almost last because i need to use 110% of my prune brain its so amazing. one thing about me is...im a whore for ex-husband!price *clutches pearls* im sorry for making ya wait, i hope you love it!!!

this is gonna be a long one!

c/w: ex-husband!price, make-up sex, forced proximity, quickie, against a wall, p in v, creampie, john price yearns for his pretty wife

It hadn't been easy, no divorce is easy, really. Much less when it was something you didn't really want to do, but more so saw yourself as needing to do. The nights without John had gotten too lonely, his side of the bed had gotten too cold. You thought the times he was back would make up for the times he wasn't. When John came back from deployment it felt like a coin toss: sometimes it was your honeymoon all over again, but other times he was cold and distant.

You had two kids in tow; two kids that needed their father. You were a wife that needed her husband just as much. You don't blame him for not being there of course. After all, you owed it all to him; all you ever wanted he got for you, he provided you a house to raise your children in, to grow old in. He gave you nothing but unconditional love. That's what made everything harder when you decided you couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't keep hoping he'd come home to be his normal self every time just to be met with the shell of the man you fell in love with.

You knew it wasn't his fault, you knew his line of work. But having to be alone the majority of the year plus having to still be alone when he was around had gotten to you, it had become too much. And John knew this. When you told him through sobs and wails that you couldn't do this anymore, that you felt hopeless and alone and like this was the only remedy, he understood. He had packed his things and left without a fuss, leaving you the house and renting an apartment barely a drive away. He tried to make it as simple as possible, arranging to stay with the kids every weekend and more if you needed time for yourself. His silence and compliance to separate felt like more of a dagger in your chest than the reason to separate to begin with. You wished he had fought for you, that he had yelled at you and argued with you to stay and fix this.

Little did you know that when he found himself in the empty single-bedroom apartment he rented himself he did nothing but cry like a neglected child for hours until his eyes stung and couldn't physically push out any more tears. John Price was a man made of stone and yet he found himself clutching his chest as he sobbed for his wife nearly every night and every lonesome morning. He kicked himself for not fighting for you, as well. He blamed himself for having to come to this in the first place, for leaving you alone and not knowing how to cope well enough to be the very best of himself when he came back from grueling missions. For not being able to look you in the eyes after losing a man, for not being able to open up to you and cry like this in front of you when he needed to let it out of his chest, for not making love to you like a tending husband should at his wife's every whim.

He felt like the consequences of choosing his career had finally caught up to him, and losing you was his penance.

The two of you finalized your divorce quietly and without struggle, feeling like it only drove the knife deeper into your chest. You settled on the kids seeing John every other weekend and he'd be more than welcome back home to be present as their father. Because that was the thing about John: he may have not seen himself as a good man (not good enough for you, for sure) but you both knew he was the best father your kids (and you) could ever ask for.

It's been a year since your divorce; John had been living in his separate flat whilst you and the kids stayed home. He'd come every week, and take the kids every other weekend. Now your oldest's birthday was a few days away and who were you to deprive him of coming? After he had been doing such a good job at not crossing your boundaries, at being a loving father and giving you every bit of warmth and kindness and love that he gave you when you were still together...the more you listed these things the more your heart ached and you doubted yourself. The more you realized you still loved him.

On the day of your kid's birthday, he made sure to get there extra early to help you set up the place. He bought the necessary supplies, picked up the cake from the bakery, and set up the chairs and balloons. Hell, you barely lifted a finger. And of course, he was more than happy to do everything and anything for you with that cheek-pulling smile of his. As the party went on and the house filled with guests and wild kids running about, you scrambled around the house to make sure no one needed anything. That's when John intervened.

"Everythin' alright, hon? Been runnin' round the house like mad," his voice was sweet like honey as he entered the garage, where you were taking out can after can of soda from the spare fridge and into the cooler with ice you brought with you. You didn't turn to look at him as you sighed in exasperation, but you could feel John just a few steps behind you.

"Just making sure everyone's got something to drink...the sodas've run out in the cooler outside and--"

"Everyone's havin' a good time, love," John cut off your rambling with a light chuckle, the rumbling of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He interjected by taking the cooler from your hands "Let me get that for you," he said, lifting the heavy plastic for you. You sighed again and brought the back of your hand to rub your forehead. You finally looked up to meet his eyes, which were gazing at you with so much adoration it made your stomach twist.

"John..." you started, and he responded with a furrow of his brows and a silent question. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like you still love me," you blurted, and the beat your heart skipped let you know you physically regretted saying that, instantly.

John's lips pressed into a thin line as he paused for a moment in silence.

"I do still love you," he confessed. You shook your head in disbelief and scoffed.

"John, please, it's our kid's birthday," you dismissed as you turned on your heel and made your way to the door except-

Right, you now remembered why it was a rule in your house this past year to not close the garage door: the lock was busted. You gripped the knob firmly and gave it one, two, three harsh tugs, hoping to somehow force the door open. You banged the door with your fist in frustration, hoping maybe someone heard it on the other side but all you heard was the music playing on the other side.

"Let me have a go," John said, placing the cooler down and tugging just as harshly, even slamming his shoulder against it to see if it would budge, but nothing. You and John were trapped in your garage. You let out a groan and a quiet curse as you pinched the bridge of your nose with a hand on your hip.

John placed a hand on your bicep. They were cold from the ice but the squeeze and rubbing of his thumb on your skin was filled with warmth.

"S'alright, take a breather, hon," he said tenderly, "they'll miss us soon enough to come lookin' in here."

You nodded as you stepped away from his touch. You never stopped John from still using terms of endearment for you, it never felt like a big deal. You were frustrated from the party, the perfectionist in you wanting nothing but to give your kids the best party, and now you were locked up in the garage. To make matters worse, you were locked up in here with your ex-husband who just said he still loves you.

"I meant what I said, love," his voice was barely a whisper but it still brought you out of your thoughts.

"John..." you warned.

"No, I mean it," his tone rose, firmer this time, "I still fuckin' love you, baby."

"Well, it's too late for that now, isn't it? You're gonna make an effort now, John, a year later?"

John was silent, pleading blue eyes gazing at you, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

"You didn't fight for us, John. You didn't fight for me." your finger pointed to your chest firmly as you looked back at him with tear-filled eyes.

"I know, baby, I know," his voice shook in his throat, "I should've fought for us... I should've been a better husband to you, better dad for the kids I-- I should've just been there."

You were quiet as you choked on a quiet sob, the tears escaping down your cheeks.

"I haven't stopped loving you for a second, my only regret in life is not having fought harder for you, having let go of you so easily - fuck," you watched the tears prick his eyes as he stepped closer to you. His palm came to cup your cheek and his thumb wiped away the tear staining your cheeks.

"I failed you. I just...please, baby, I just want one more chance to be a better man for you... I just want my girl back." His tone was soft as if he was reciting a prayer kneeling at a pew. His other hand came to the other side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear before it cupped your other cheek alike.

You sobbed and brought your hands up to his wrists, shaking your head lightly, knowing all you really wanted was to forgive him despite your denial.

His forehead pressed against you as he whispered once more, "Please, baby..."

"John..." you tried

The tip of his nose rubbed against yours, "Please," he repeated, "be my pretty wife again...be mine again, yeah?" His lips brushed against yours and his hands were firm on your cheeks. You sobbed one more time before his lips pressed against yours, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. And fuck, you melted as your lips met.

His lips against yours just felt so right; they were your husband's lips, after all. They were made for yours and yours were made for his, that's why you knew you were so perfect for each other. The way he kissed you made your chest break into a million pieces because you just missed him so much.

The hold on his wrists became limp and you didn't resist - you couldn't resist his kiss because you wanted it so desperately, you've wanted it for this entire past year.

Your mouth moved with his, lips clashing and caressing against each other, teeth clicking together with the force of your desperate kisses, your tongues hungrily pressing their way into each others' mouths. John's hand slid to the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair and raking through your scalp. You hummed into his mouth at the feeling.

Your hands slid up his back, balling into fists over his shoulder blades and gripping the fabric of his shirt as if you'd lose him again if you didn't hold him firm enough. You held him impossibly close to you as he did the same, your bodies familiarly molded to each other.

You felt John step forward as he still kissed you, backing you up into the nearest wall and it made the heat in your core ignite like a bonfire. When you felt the cold wall against your body, you pried your mouth away from his to gasp a breath but it wasn't half a second later before he captured your lips again. His hands slid down the frame of your body, pawing at your chest and curves before eagerly bunching up the skirt of your dress around your hips. You scrambled to his belt, clumsily and hurriedly doing your best to unbuckle it and undo his pants.

He scoured under your dress to tug your underwear down your thighs with messy urgency. His lips sloppily and wetly trailed up and down your chest and neck before finding their way back to your mouth.

Your hand palmed his hardened length through his boxers and he groaned into your mouth. One of his hands took hold of yours and stuffed it in his boxers to stroke his aching cock as you both panted between kisses.

"All yours, darling," he groaned as he guided your hand stroking his cock, "forever fuckin' will be yours."

And you whined at his words, or maybe at the way his other hand snaked between your legs, fingers wetting themselves with the slick pooled between your folds before pressing into your hole. He pumped his fingers in and out, making you reminisce on how those thick digits have made you feel so good in the past.

You moaned his name like a prayer, pleading for him to fuck you because you needed him. You've needed him for a fucking year and couldn't wait a second longer.

John would give you anything and everything, he always has. So he wasted no time in removing his fingers from your pussy, coating his cock in the slick they collected, and using his other hand to hike your leg up around his waist.

You braced yourself against the wall and with your hands against his shoulders as he practically lifted you off your feet and insert his girthy, swollen cock inside of you. You moaned unabashedly at the way he split you open as he bottomed out.

"So perfect...my perfect wife," he breathed, "made just for me, baby." His fingers dug into the flesh of your thigh and you were sure it would bruise the same way your nails clawing through his shirt were sure to leave crescents on his skin.

John pumped his cock in and out of you slowly but firmly for a few strokes before picking up the pace. His rhythm was relentless as he fucked up into you, pistoning his hips and making your skin clap against each other.

You threw your head back as you whined and moaned at the feeling of the head of his cock bullying against your cervix. Thank god for the music outside.

John hiked up your other leg, wrapping both around his waist as he fucked you against the wall hard and needy. His eyes looked deep into your teary ones, not breaking away to not miss the gorgeous sight of his pretty wife getting fucked by him after so long. He moaned at just the look on your face, at the way your walls gripped him like a vice.

"Look at you... never lettin' go of somethin' so beautiful," he practically slurred, his rhythm becoming sloppy and desperate as he chased his high, and he knew you were close too.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and took his mouth into another starved kiss. Your hands tugged at the hair on the back of his head and you let him fuck you with the same longing and desire as the first time.

You chanted his name between breathy moans as you climbed up to your climax. John was a mumbling mess of endearments and sweet nothings as he kept thrusting hard and sloppy into your squelching pussy.

"I love you, John," you choked out through tears, not knowing if it was from the pleasure he was giving you or from the overwhelming emotion being with your husband again was making you feel.

"I fuckin' love you more, dove," he accentuated his words with thrusts until he felt your walls clamp around his length and watched as you wailed and sobbed out more moans, sending him into his own climax with just a few more pumps shortly after. You were sure you'd bear him a third child with the way his cum seeped out of you.

He rested his sweat-coated forehead against yours as you both panted. You were a flushed mess against the wall, limbs liquefied and throat raw. John slowly let you down with the utmost care in the world, gently holding you up on your feet like you were a delicate porcelain doll.

You held each other close as he peppered soft kisses on your face, the same way he'd always done after sex when you were married. John Price, always the gentleman.

You basked in the afterglow as you gazed at each other, love filling John's wide dark pupils. It was hard for you to hide the smile that tugged at your lips and it made John chuckle, thumb rubbing your cheek lovingly.

Then, you heard the rattling of the door and you quickly stood up straight and collected yourself up on your feet the best you could. Kyle, or Uncle Gaz as your kids coined him, and the other two men had burst through the lodged garage door.

"Oi, how long you two been locked here?" he questioned.

"Aye, we been callin' youse for half 'n hour," the Scott quipped behind him.

John scolded them for not acting quicker if they were so worried, and scowled at the way the younger two had shit-eating grins plastered on their faces. He dismissed them as he picked up the cooler, which was now more full of water than ice, and shot you a look.

You chided at his smirk with your bright red cheeks.

"This mean I can move back in?" he teased.

"We'll see, John" you fought back a smile.

[harrysfolklore]

harry leaving bubba for tour

who missed some boy dad!harry? i hope you like this !

gif credits to @londonharry <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Harry loved performing and being on the road, it was his favorite part of his job.

However, ever since his son was born going on tour came with something that he absolutely hated: being away from his bubba.

That’s why this time around he opted for residencies on some cities instead of traveling across the US to play shows, that way his wife and baby could be close to him without having to move around and the stuff that came with it. However, residencies were now over and it was time for him to travel to Australia to play the long awaited shows there, and his sadness to leave his loves was evident.

Don’t get him wrong, he was ecstatic to go back to Australia and perform for those crowds he dearly missed, but he just didn’t want to ever leave his baby.

“It’s going to be fine love, It’s just going to be a month and we will FaceTime ever day.” you tried to cheer him up as you stood in your front porch, waiting for his manager to pick him up to head to the airport.

“But I’m going to miss him so much, he’s still little he might forget about me, and I’m going to miss you too.” he dramatically said, nuzzling his head on your shoulder making you wrap your arms around his broad frame.

“He’s almost two, H. He’s not going to forget about you, we’ll be fine baby.” you caressed his hair for a bit, then he moved to pick your son up and place multiple kisses on his face.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy, bubba. Daddy loves you so much, don’t forget about him, okay?” you rolled your eyes with affection as you listened to him, melting at how much he adored your son.

“Love daddy” your little boy said what had become his favorite sentence in the world and you could tell that Harry had little tears threatening to come out, he was his favorite person in the world.

“Love you with my entire heart too, baby.” and he attacked his face with kisses again, making him giggle and squeal.

“You know I’m just a phone call away, right? You just got the say the word and I’ll drop everything and come home.” he turned to look at you, your boy still on his arms and playing with his pearl necklace.

“I know, darling. But we’re going to be okay, you need to focus on delivering your best performance, your fans over there have been waiting for you.” you let him wrap his free arm around your waist and bring you in for a side hug, kissing the crown of your head softly.

“I’m so excited,” he said with a fond look on his face, and your heart melt for him once again, “When this one is a bit older, both of you are coming with me, I can’t wait for that.”

You were interrupted by the sound of his manager’s car approaching your house, and it was time to say goodbye for good.

“I love you so much, okay? Always listen to mummy, eat your veggies and don’t forget to be…?” Harry waited for his baby to give him the reply he had been teaching him

“Kind!” the little boy finished the sentence for him and you both couldn’t help but smile, proud of how you were raising your son.

“Exactly baby, kind. I love you” he kissed your boy one final time and passed him to you, knowing that if he held him for longer he was going to drop everything and never leave your house.

“And I love you, so much.” he grabbed your face and kissed your lips, making butterflies appear on your tummy like the very first time you kissed.

“I love you too, now go make us proud.” with one final peck to your lips and to your son’s forehead, he made his way to his manager car.

He hated leaving both of you, but he would do anything to make you proud.

taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @noitsmebecky @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @eviesaurusrex @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @harrybabyyyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry @lomlolivia @itsgigikay @goldensstateofgrace @missmielyhoran @fdl305 @lightsoutstyles

[cozygold]

Mystery of Lilia's ring

Pt.I Pt.II

Lilia x reader

Warnings: angst/fluff, fem reader, general Lilia, possible spoilers for book 7, young Lilia and Sebek clutching their pearls because woman

Intro: Lilia wears a wedding ring under his gloves. However when asked he doges the question or makes up some silly excuse

Malleus is aware that he had wife. Lilia confirmed it a while ago but did not elborate further

It was only during the Malleus overblot incident that Diasnomia family found out about her and who she was

Tags: @koneko-dreams

"Hey! Rehabilitanion is necessery if you want to be able to move that leg not just drag it around"

(it takes place after Malleus have put everyone to sleep Silver/Sebek/Yuu watch Lilia dream play in front of them like movie)

"AUGH! HUMAN! I'm starting to doubt your validity as medic and suspecting you to be a professional torturer!"

Its been 2 months since Lilia was saved by a strange human. After agreeing to cooprate more his condition was quickly improving.

Most of the injuries healed however more serious ones still needed to be checked once a few days

(y/n) worked hard to help him recover feeling the pressure of time on her shoulders. It was only a matter of time as his soldiers come looking for him

Being gone for so long and finding him with a human will only cause trouble. They both knew that

"We have to get that leg moving"

"Aren't you doing that already?"

"Well, kind of. Its more of a warm up for you to stand on your own"

(y/n) backed away from the bed, examing him for a minute. She reached out her hands towards him

"Take my hand, try to stand up"

His eyes drifted between her and her palm, scowl making its way on his face. He ignored her hand, pushing himself of the bed with his own strenght

"I don't need your assistance with something as trivial as-"

His sentance was cut short when his legs gave up under his weight

"Lilia!"

(y/n) jumped forward, catching him in her arms

"I thought we went over this already! Quit-. Wait you're actually pretty light. That's great news! That armour of your made you waaay heavier!"

She rambled on as if unaware of the situation. Lilia was the opposite. His face was red, his pride hurt and head snuggled against human's chest

He sat there frozen. This warmth was comforting. He could stay here a bit-... No. What the hell is thinking! As if burned he tried to wiggle away from her grasp

"Unhand me, human temptress! What are trying to do?"

"Temptress? Well i'm flattered but you're the one who's fallen into my arms because of your arrogance. If you listined for once we wouldnt be in this situation in the first place"

Suddenly (y/n) felt a light bub light up over her head

"Lilia! If we're already in this position lets take advantage of it!"

She grabbed his hands placing them on her waist. The bat fae gave her look of utter shock and mild disgust

"I knew it! Shameless woman! Let go!"

"You're the one making this weird. I was just about to suggest a dance"

"A dance? Why-"

"Oh just let me finish. It clear that you're unable to stand alone. During the dance you can hold onto me while i guide you through the steps.

I will need you try to keep up with the rythm the best you can. This way i can monitor how well you're able to move"

Lilia hesitated. Dancing is something intimate to bat fae but she probably didn't mean anything by it. His recovery was going smoothly thanks to her care. There should be no harm to just go play along with it, right?

"...Fine"

"Great! Hold on me tight and follow my steps"

He gripped her waist tighter while she held his shoulders. She started softly singing to give him some music to dance to

There's a fire in my brain, and I'm burning up

Oh my, oh my

Keep running for the sink, but the well is dry

Oh my, oh my

Meanwhile Sebek, Silver and Yuu observing the dream

"I know this song! I think i caught father singing it a few times but he stopped as soon as he saw me"

"I heard Lilia singing it too while he walked around Ramshackle. It was a first time i saw him so...sad"

Silver and Yuu train of thoughts was broken by Sebek

"Master Lilia was right! What this woman is doing is completly inappropriate! Does she even know what action mean to bat fae?"

"She mentioned it was her first time treating a fae so she's probably not very in touch with their culture"

"Huh? What are you guys talking about"

Right. Yuu's a human too. They probably don't know the implications either

"For bat fae dancing and singing is a courting ritual. Father accpeting the dance offer pretty much agreed to be courted"

Yuu stared a them with wide eyes

"Hah! This human should feel honored"

Back to the dream

Its month of (y/n)s and Lilias daily dance sessions. The fae was now able to walk properly and felt as good as new. (Y/n) was amazed at his quick recovery, finally deciding to "discharge" him

And today was the day he finally left the cottage. He watched as (y/n) ran around the house like a chicken with its head cut off, gathering all the things she was going to give him on his trip back to the castle

"Here's your medicine! Remember to take it 2 times a day! Before breakfest and after dinner! If you fell like your leg is acting there's some pain meds in this pouch"

"(y/n)..."

"There's some food i prepared for journey. I made sure that it won't spoil for a long while. However just in case-"

"Oi, (y/n)!"

"Your clothes, spare bandages are in the green bag! You should be able to attach this water bottle to your belt but if you lose it there-"

Lilia grabbed her shoulder cutting her off and making her look at him in suprise. It was a first time he initiated any touch

"Did you just call me by my actual name?"

Lilia sighed ignoring her question

"I will be okay. Don't worry i will make sure your afforts won't be wasted"

(y/n) took a deep breath calming her rapid heartbeat

"Okay. Just remember. If you ever need a check up, you can count one me. I will try to fix this cottage up so you'll know where to find me"

She smiled walking him to the front door. It was dark outside. Lilia insisted that on going out late at night to decrease the risk of running into humans

"Human"

He turned his head towards you

"Despite my mistrust, i am indebted to you. If you need any favors just ask"

(y/n) huffed

"I already explained that i'm just doing my duty. I don't have anything to ask of you"

"I insist"

"But-"

"I insist"

"Ugh-fine then!"

Her cheeks flushed red while she thought about the right words to use for the request

"C-can we spend some time together sometimes? Not like patient and a doctor anymore but like....friends?"

Lilia looked at her with wide eyes. This was the last thing he was expecting. Human asking a fae war general to be their friend? To think he live enough to hear such a thing

He burst out laughing

Its been years since he laughted so genuinely. This preposterous request and this whole situation now looked like big joke

"REALLY?! When i tell you what i want you just laugh at me?! You know what forg-"

"Fine"

"Huh"

"I will see you again, human. You're amusing and proven to pose no threat"

Lilia leaned closer to her face, smirking

"Make sure to keep yourself alive untill i come back"

Another month gone by

(y/n) spent it travelling around possible battle scenes, looking for any victims that might need assistance.

She tried to fix up the cottage as well as she could with her limited recources. It still looked ran down but at least it wasn't leaking anymore. And it actually sheilded her from wind. Mostly

It was a peacefull spring evening. Its a busy season for her. Many herbs bloom and grow only during that time

She spent her whole day roaming around the forest gathering them. The sun slowly dissapearing behind horizon, its rays coating the forest in warm glow

As beautiful as it was she knew that she has to hurry home. During the night time fae were the most active

She heard rustling of bushes behind her. A shiver went up her spine. She slowly turned around

There was nothing there

She let out a nervous giggle

"Haha, i'm must be getting paranoid"

"Good evening, human"

A voice spoke next to her. She let out a yelp and jumped back. Just about when she was about to throw a rock at the offender she reconized the pair of familiar red eyes

Now hanging upside down from the tree

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?! I WAS ABOUT TO BASH YOUR BRAINS IN WITH THAT ROCK?!"

"That pebble and your twig arms would have done nothing to me"

"Why you-"

She was about to berate him futher before she noticed. His legs were hooked around the branch

"For you to hang like this... It means your leg is doing great"

"Of course it is. I'm not as weak as your mortal brethren"

"Same as always, i see. I'm glad to have you kept your word. Come on, come on! I will brew us something delicous and nutritious"

As soon as they reached the house (y/n) got to work. Lilia shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know the exact reason but he felt nervous. Its been a while since he just hanged out with someone outside his work

"I-its umm. Looks like you did some renovations. I don't feel as much wind on my back as i used when i first stayed here"

"I'm glad you noticed! I was tired of being woken up by droplets of water dripping on my forhead. But its still not completly cold or wind proofed. I'm lucky its spring otherwise i would be freezing to death here"

She giggled making a joke of situation. Do all humans treat their fragility with such humor. For some reason he didnt find it as funny as she did.

"We talked enough about me when we met. What about you Lilia? How have you been doing?"

"The queen seemed to buy my lie about escaping after being caught by a opposing army. There should not be any more issues"

"That's great! What about the Maleanora? You seemed worried about her"

Lilia crossed his arms leaning against the chair

"I was. She is reckless and has quite the temper. I know she can handle herself very well but at the time you found me, she was carring her egg"

"Egg?"

The bat groaned, annoyed at her ignorance

"How you can stay so deep in Briar Valley's territory, yet know nothing about the royal family?"

She shrugged

"I try to keep a low profile. Information about Draconias is of no use for me"

"Let me help you be a little less ignorant then. The draconias are dragon faes meaning they hatch from eggs. The Princess recently had hers"

"Oh that wonderful news for the faes right? Their royal family is going to have heir"

"It may be but that's also more work for me. The Princess is easier to anger than ever"

She giggled, stirring the stew boiling in the pot

"Are you prehaps not good with dealing with woman? This way you're going stay unwed forever"

"I was not planing on having a family anyways. I'm way to busy and find children crying unbearable"

"Haha, i'm not the least suprised you feel that way"

"What about you? Are you not afraid that you're going to rot into forest moss before you find someone you can marry? You seem to hardly ever leave this forest"

"Hey! I found you so theres still hope right?"

Lilia felt his cheeks burn, he quickly avoided her gaze

"Me? As if! Fae and human marriage will never be officiated"

"I just meant that if i found you in this forest, it means there's a chance i can find another. You're interpreting my words wrong~"

She took up the opportunity to tease him. Enjoying the sight of scary general stumbling on his words

"You're the one making everything suggestive! I swear you play innocent but its all on purpose!"

"Oh the food is done"

Her attention shifted the stew. She took a big spoon, pouring them both a portion.

"Eat up~"

" ... thank you"

Lilia mubled and took a sip of stew. Taste of fresh mushrooms, potatoes and meat floading his mouth. Human cooking was diffrent from faes.

But it wasn't bad. Comforting. Not just the food but her presence. As much as he hated to admit it, she completly made him lower his guard

He felt like shedding his armor to bask in her presence like a cat in the sun. He knew its all temporary. The longer he will stay the more anguish it will bring him in the future

He knows it

He should turn back while he still can. Run away before the flame envelops him completly

But he didnt