#task force xx

[thisdoesnthaveend]

HARLEY QUINN in HQ (2021) #18 - 21: Task Force XX

[onlymyqueen]

[vividxpages]

"you, forever."

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

words: 2.6k

summary: Bucky thinks if he gives this whole congressman thing some more months, he’ll might be okay with this new kind of lifestyle. Everything for the mission, right? But he just can’t bring himself to accept the fact that he keeps missing out on the evenings with you.

a/n: I just love this man so damn much, the hyperfixation that started with watching my first ever Marvel movie (Civil War - I had no idea wtf was going on except for that this Bucky guy is super hot) is back in full force. Let me know what you think! ♡ and thank you for reading. ao3 version.

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On a Thursday night, Bucky spontaneously decided home was wherever your fluffy pink carpet slippers greeted him.

Just behind the doorstep they sat, perfectly chaotic and not where they belonged on the shoe rack right next to them, just as you liked it. He smiled down at the sight, careful not to trip over your bag on the floor as he closed the door behind himself and locked it for the night.

He had been up since six in the morning, attended seven meetings – felt useless in five of them – and ran on nothing but caffeine and pure stubbornness to get Val’s ass in the meantime. In the afternoon, he had not managed to get out of some talks and now it was dark outside and the day was close to being over.

Given his history, he had seen worse days.

Far worse.

But yet, the ache in his chest was close to being unbearable. 

He soundlessly kicked off his shoes, willing his shoulders to relax as he listened to the quietness of the apartment. Bucky longed for the one precious thing in his life he held onto after days like this one.

You.

He shuffled out of his jacket, too, abandoning it together with his leather bag and quietly made his way into the spacious kitchen. Evidence of your love for him waited just in sight on the counter and Bucky’s heart both clenched in pain and fluttered in adoration for you.

By the sink, he spotted a wine glass, the rim shiny and rosy from your lip gloss. Your empty plate stood in the sink, forgotten and doomed to be a task for another day. But right in front of him was the other half of dinner, meant for him and still waiting, a bowl full to the brim with a delicious greasy pasta and a red sticky note right next to it.

Eat up! :) I love you xx

The cherry on top was a glazed sugar cinnamon roll from the bakery you both loved so much.

Fuck, his heart was so fucking full of love for you, why did he still screw up like this? 

He had missed dinner. Bucky let out a sigh, exhausted and regretting yet another evening he had not been able to spend with you and impulsively grabbed the cinnamon roll, the sweetness exploding on his tongue. A picture of you flashed through his mind, sticking out your tongue at him when he had laughed about the sugar crumbs coating your nose. He would’ve loved to share this sweet treat with you, earlier and in the coziness of his and your home, together.

The frustration simmering just underneath his skin flared up and if it hadn’t been midnight and you probably weren’t in bed already, Bucky would’ve groaned.

When he had signed up for this, although his true reasons were slightly different from the official statement he gave to the press, he thought: normality – after so many years, he had finally reached it. (Sam had joked at some point that he needed a white picket fence now. Bucky had told him to fuck off.)

With a job like this, although he was still in kid’s shoes, he could be able to live an average life for a while. And a life with lots of time for the girl he loved.

Now, a few months later, he wasn’t so sure about it anymore.

He put down the cinnamon roll and decided to take a shower first before he’d heat up the pasta and finally crawl into bed to you. If he’d wake you now, he would not be able to forgive himself. Bucky’s thumb brushed over your handwriting once more before he slid into the dimly lit living room.

His heart, usually steeled when he went out of the door in the mornings, softened instantly at the sight presented to him.

You were curled up underneath a soft, knitted blanket, your chest rising and falling peacefully. You were still facing the hallway and Bucky couldn’t linger too long at the thought that you might’ve sat there and waited for hours for him to come home to you after your lonely dinner.

He first recognized one of his hoodies on you and your beautifully heated cheeks. Your naked legs were hidden beneath the comfy blanket, but he spotted your favorite pair of fuzzy socks on you and how you slept on his side of the couch, where the pillows smelled like him.

The TV was not running  - you were a books and boardgames kind of girl and over time had built an impressive collection Bucky oh so gladly sacrificed shelf space for. (Although today, no game box on the bookshelf was out of place. You didn’t own any games that could be played alone.)

For tonight, you had grabbed one of your books Bucky had gotten you on a bookshop date recently. Bucky had once glimpsed into it when you couldn’t stop squealing about it. It was filthy as fuck. He had been shocked that something with such a whimsical cover could be so dirty on the inside… But that author’s idea with the ties, the blindfold and the ice had been pretty fucking great.

Bucky stood very still, his eyes lovingly flickering over your calm features. Your rosy lips were slightly parted and a loose strand of hair had escaped and threatened to fall into your mouth. One of your hands was holding on to the collar of his sweater as if you had tried to fall asleep with his scent close to your senses.

There you were – his girl, his world, his everything.

He took a shuddering breath, snapping himself out of his brooding and silently stepping closer until he could bend down and carefully snake his arms around you. You let out a small sound in your sleep, not stirring unlike something else a little further down.

A protesting mrrrow! came from underneath the blanket and suddenly, a tiny white lightning shot out from the coziness and looked at him with outrage sparkling in her eyes.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth lifted.

At least Alpine was there for you… “Good girl.” He whispered to her and with it, the cat proudly snuggled up in his armchair and the girl in his arms sighed happily in her sleep.

God, he had missed you.

Somehow, although it was contradicting and should probably be mentioned to his therapist, this would be easier for him if you were furious with him. For missing dinner, for sometimes slipping only into bed late at night, for brooding over breakfast when his brain repeated a stupid thing he had said in front of cameras again and again and again.

But the thing was this. His girl was the gentlest person he knew. And never once had you been angry with him since he took up this job. Angry at stupid reporters? For sure. Angry at Valentina for being a lying cunt? (Your words, not his.) Definitely.

And even now, after another evening spent alone, your beautiful face was free from any frown. Bucky freed your legs from the blanket and effortlessly lifted you into his arms before he started to carry you towards your shared bedroom.

“Bucky?” You murmured sleepily just as he stepped over the threshold with you, his heart wanting to melt at your small voice thick with sleep.

“Shh, it’s just me, doll.” He replied quietly and pressed a light kiss to your temple. “Just got home. I’m putting you to bed, so you can be comfy, okay? Go back to sleep, it’s alright.”

You let out an unashamed yawn against his neck, the warm breath tickling his skin as your hand held on to the front of his shirt. Today at a short lunch, he had managed to spill sauce over it, but you didn’t seem to care much.

He reached the bed with you, holding you to his chest while he quickly drew back the covers with his other arm so he could gently place you down. He watched as your body melted into the bedding, the way you snuggled right into it similar to how Alpine looked when she cuddled with him. For the first time today, a real smile tugged at his lips.

“Did you eat?” You asked quietly, your cheek resting on his pillow as you rubbed your eyes.

His heart stung yet again. “I will, in a minute. Thank you for leaving me some. It looks amazing, I’m just going to change and-“

You let out a protesting whine when he tried to step back towards the attached bathroom, your hand quick to shoot out and grab his wrist. Bucky then saw something in your eyes you didn’t show often. Pleading.

“I’ll be right with you, I promise.” He said, lifting your hand to his lips to kiss every single knuckle of yours. Four silent promises. I’ll be better, I’ll be better, I’ll be… “I’ll keep the door open so you can see me, okay?”

That, you could tolerate.

Within the next few minutes, he somehow managed to slip into some new boxers and a sleep shirt while also eating your homemade pasta bowl, his clumsy multi-tasking all happening under your watchful eye. He smiled at you from time to time, his own exhaustion tugging at him and luring him into bed with you.

“It was delicious. You’re the best cook in the world, doll.” Bucky said and the bruising feeling in his heart intensified over how much he wished he would’ve been home earlier and able to say it over the dinner table to you. Maybe you would’ve slow-danced in the kitchen together after he’d done the dishes. Now, he’d never find out…

You beamed sleepily at his compliment, a satisfied smile on your face as you shifted and made space for him underneath the covers.

Something in him that always ran and never stopped came to a temporary halt as he found his place next to you. The sheets and your warmth were familiar to him as a quick grab to his gun holster, although altogether violently different.

You sighed happily as he put his arm around you and drew you to his chest, your body fitting perfectly against his side. He knew the hills and valleys of your body in and out, was a master at knowing what the smallest reaction from you meant and right now, everything about you was at ease. Finally.

Bucky silently kept track of your breath, noticing how it became more even as the time passed between you. He had tucked you in against him and your head rested on his chest, one warm hand splayed out on his stomach.

Mine, you seemed to say.

Yours, Bucky thought.

“I’m sorry for missing dinner.” He spoke regretfully into the dark space of the bedroom. You weren’t asleep yet, he could tell. He knew exactly how you breathed, how it hitched when you were thinking about something and how you sounded when he was kissing you, making love to you…and now, you were bedded on his chest, listening.

You moved, turning in his arms and needing the embrace to be closer. Rubbing your cheek against the soft fabric of his sleeping shirt, you murmured: “’s okay.”

“It’s not. You cooked.”

“I can cook again tomorrow.” It was between a statement and a question. Would he be here tomorrow?

“I would love that.” He whispered softly, his hand going in smooth and slow circles over your back. “But it’s not the point. I haven’t been a good boyfriend lately…”

You frowned at him. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true though.”

“No.”

“Doll-“

“It’s not true.”

“You deserve better-“

“Bucky.” The sudden sternness in your voice shut him up and your hand came to rest on his nape, drawing him down so his eyes could lock with yours. “No. You’re here now and that’s all that matters to me. You’re not less just because we’re not spending all twenty-four hours of the day together, although that literally sounds like heaven to me, okay? What you’re doing is important and I would never hold it against you.”

“You’re the most important to me.” He argued without force, sounding sad even to his own ears.

Something in you seemed to melt and you shuffled up so you could hold his cheek and kiss his forehead, then his lips, light as a butterfly. He chased your taste, a unique mix of your lip mask and the sweet treat of earlier, but you weren’t done yet.

“And you’re the most important one to me.” You replied gently, your smile so blinding with love for him, he almost would’ve looked away if he wasn’t so dependent on it, your happiness. “I’m not angry with you. So you shouldn’t be angry with yourself either. And as long as you come home to me at the end of the day, I’m the happiest you could make me, okay? It’s you, forever, Bucky.”

“Fuck, I love you so much.” He croaked, his strong arms wrapping themselves around your middle again to draw you impossibly close. You hummed in agreement, smiling against his neck as he buried his face in yours, breathing in the scent of your lingering perfume and body lotion. Your legs naturally tangled together with his and above the blankets it might’ve looked like you were melting together with him.

“I love you.” You whispered, like it was a cherished secret. “We’re okay. We’re always going to be okay together, yeah?”

“Yeah…” What good had he ever done to deserve the angel laying in his arms? “Okay, doll. Okay.”

You relaxed again, throwing one leg over his side and clinging to him like a lifeline. Behind your back, an oversized round plushie that usually took that job when he had to be out for the evening lay abandoned, or Alpine, who he could always rely on.

But god, was he happy that he was the one who got to hold you tonight.

Bucky listened to the sound of you slowly drifting towards a well-deserved sleep again, his thumb drawing smooth little circles into your shoulder, fingers occasionally slipping into your hair or softly scratching your scalp the way you liked it. He watched the shadows your lashes drew onto your cheeks, counted your freckles and the rise and fall of your chest until his eyes drooped for the first time.

“I don’t know if this job is for me…” He mumbled underneath his breath, tired and talking more to himself than you.

The blanket you shared rustled one more time as you lifted your chin and gently kissed his tense jaw, making it unclench. Your eyes were still closed when you said: “Then we’ll figure it out together, Buck.”

He let out a deep breath, the last bit of tension leaving his body at your simple affirmation and finally settling in for sleep with you.

Tomorrow, he’d cancel the meeting first thing. And he’d make a good and long breakfast for you with all the things you enjoyed. Maybe he’d take you to the quiet little park you both loved so much, hidden behind some old townhouses in Brooklyn. He’d go to the bookshops with you and carry your bags and in the evening, he’d make love to you for hours until your hearts beat in sync just like now.

Bucky knew you didn’t need him to, but he was going to make up for the time you’d been without him.

Your breath evened out and your hand in his became blissfully limp, protected and without a worry in the world with him close by. He kissed your temple one more time before he allowed his own eyes to close.

Bucky wasn’t sure about a lot of things in his life, but he was sure about you in it.

And he knew, however this life would look for him in the future, you would always be by his side, unflinching and fearless.

The love of his life and his forever.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾

[aeralux]

"Brother's Best Friend" - Cregan Stark

Modern!Cregan Stark x Jace's Sister!Reader

Summary: You simply wanted a ride home from your brother, Jace, after his hockey practice. But as usual, he takes a long time to get ready. Luckily, his best friend, Cregan Stark, comes to your rescue.

Warnings: SMUT; rough sex; anal; degradation; name calling; fingering; dirty fantasies of each other; Cregan is (lowkey) a pervert; oral (f!receiving); aftercare <3

Words: 7.9k

Notes: As always, no descriptive language of the reader is used. English is not my first language.

-- aera xx

Another day passed uneventfully, the steady hum of the library providing a comforting backdrop as you immersed yourself in your homework. The scent of aged paper and fresh ink filled the air, mingling with the muted whispers of other students absorbed in their tasks. You waited for your brother, Jace, to finish his practice, your mind wandering as you glanced occasionally at the clock, its ticking echoing the passage of time. Jace, already armed with a car and a license, rendered the thought of walking home laughable; there was no way you’d put in that effort when a free ride was merely a call away. After all, he was your brother—taking care of you was part of the deal.

The thought of watching their practice crossed your mind briefly, yet you found little motivation. Sure, all of Jace's teammates were undeniably attractive, with toned physiques and charming smiles. But the reality was that you soon grew weary of the spectacle. The image of muscular young men gliding across the ice, shouting playful taunts at one another as they executed rapid-fire plays in their crisp white jerseys, didn’t hold your interest for long. And the fact that they weren’t even topless made it feel like a missed opportunity; you couldn't help but think, what was the point?

Today was supposed to be your practice too—though the coach’s unexpected illness had dashed those plans. Instead of lacing up your cheerleading sneakers and perfecting routines, you were surrounded by textbooks and loose sheets of paper. You were a cheerleader, after all, well-known among your peers for your spirited enthusiasm and infectious energy, much like Jace was celebrated on the ice.

Every so often, you forced your attention back to your studies, but your thoughts drifted again. You glanced at your phone, its screen illuminating the cramped table, as you saw it was nearly time for Jace and his crew to wrap up. With a resigned sigh, you gathered your things, shoving your books and scattered notes into your bag. A sense of anticipation bubbled within you as you headed toward the ice arena, the cool air from the rink already beckoning as you walked.

Cregan felt utterly spent after practice. Each muscle throbbed from the exertion, and droplets of water trickled down his skin, remnants of a quick shower that had done little to wash away his fatigue. As he stepped out of the cool, tiled locker room, the scent of soap mingled with the lingering smell of sweat—a familiar yet comforting aroma. His dark hair hung in damp strands, framing his face and accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw. 

When he spotted you waiting by the entrance, his eyes widened in surprise. It was unusual for you to show up during practice. You had always preferred to stay away, opting for the comfort of your own space. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice a blend of confusion and curiosity. He took a few steps closer, the slight sheen of sweat on his skin glistening under the fluorescent lights. 

You hadn’t expected him to question your presence, but as you took in the scene before you, amusement bubbled up inside. Cregan looked different from the guy you usually saw—more vulnerable, more real. The way his hair clung to his forehead and the ruggedness in his features made your heart flutter unexpectedly. His musky, fresh scent wrapped around you like a warm blanket, causing a blush to creep across your cheeks.

“Did you need something from Jace? I think he's still in the shower,” he continued, slowly walking closer, his gaze drifting over you for a brief moment. There was an undeniable intensity in the way he looked at you, and for a second, you thought you caught a hint of admiration in his eyes. 

Cregan couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you looked, even in your casual outfit. You tried your best to maintain a relaxed demeanour, but he could sense the slight tremor in your voice and the way your eyes flashed, betraying the undisturbed facade you were attempting to uphold. At that moment, he hoped you hadn’t noticed the way he was drinking in the sight of you, drawn to your presence like a moth to a flame.

Cregan felt a twinge of guilt as he realised he had been staring. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling the heat rise to his face.

"Sorry, I'm just tired from practice." He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Cregan couldn't help but notice the way your low-cut top hugged your curves in all the right places. His eyes lingered on the tantalising swell of your cleavage for a moment too long before he forced himself to look away.

"So, uh...need a ride home?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "I can give you one if you want. Jace might be a while yet."

He hoped you would say yes. The thought of having you all to himself in his car was both thrilling and terrifying. Cregan knew he shouldn't be thinking such things about his best friend's sister, but he couldn't help himself around you.

You were just so fucking gorgeous. Cregan had jerked off imagining all the dirty things he wanted to do to you more times than he could count.

But you were off limits. Untouchable. Jace would probably kill him if he ever found out.

Still, Cregan couldn't stop himself from wanting you. From craving you like a drug. He ached to bury his face between your thighs and taste your sweet nectar. To pound into your tight little cunt until you screamed his name.

You looked up at Cregan, noticing his unusual nervous demeanor which made you smirk. "A ride home?" You asked teasingly, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "You think it's gonna take Jace that long?"

You paused for a moment to think, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Jace does take awfully long in the showers, doing a full curl routine every single time.

"You know what, why not," you said with a huff as you picked up your bag and stood up to face him. Your short skirt clung to your thighs as you moved, drawing attention to your legs. "That man takes ages in the shower."

You met Cregan's gaze, a coy smile playing on your full, pouty lips. "Besides, I wouldn't mind spending a little more time alone with you," you purred, running a delicate hand down his firm arm.

Cregan's heart raced as you agreed to let him drive you home. He tried to play it cool, but inside he was freaking out. This was his chance to finally make a move on you.

Cregan couldn't help but let his eyes roam over your body as you stood up, taking in the way your shirt hugged your ample breasts and your short skirt accentuated your ass. He felt his cock twitch in his pants and had to adjust himself discreetly.

"He really does," Cregan agreed, trying to sound casual despite the lust coursing through him. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Walking to the car in silence. As he opened the passenger door for you, Cregan couldn't help but stare at your ass as you bent over to get in. Your tiny skirt rode up, giving him a perfect view of your lacy panties.

He had to adjust himself discreetly as his cock twitched in his sweats. "After you." He said gallantly, hoping you wouldn't notice the way his hands trembled as he fought the urge to grab your ass.

"Thanks," you said with a smile as you slid into the seat. Cregan nodded, trying to keep his cool as he closed the door and walked to the driver's side.

Once you were settled, Cregan slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The rumble of the motor filled the tense silence between you. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So, how's cheerleading going?" He asked, desperate for anything to distract himself from the filthy thoughts running through his mind. He didn't trust himself to look at you, so he kept his eyes glued to the road.

As you drove, Cregan couldn't shake the image of you bent over in your tiny skirt, your perfect ass on display. He imagined flipping that skirt up and burying his face between your cheeks, tongue delving deep into your tight asshole as you moaned and begged for more.

Unaware of his dirty thoughts, you turned to him, a warm smile spreading across your face. "Really good, actually. Thanks for asking," you replied, your voice brightening the moment. You glanced out the window, seeing the grey clouds hanging low in the sky, but the outlook didn’t dampen your spirits. "Today was cancelled, which is a bummer," you continued, your brow slightly furrowing as you bit your lip in contemplation. "Our coach caught the flu, so…"

You trailed off, momentarily lost in thought about the practice you were looking forward to, but you quickly shifted the conversation. Your gaze locked onto his, your wide eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Jace mentioned you have a big game coming up, right? Against the Hightower team, if I remember correctly." You leaned in slightly, genuinely eager for his response.

Cregan's eyes flicked to you at the mention of the upcoming game. Pride swelled in his chest at your interest in his match.

"Yeah, next Friday. It's a big one," he confirmed, nodding. "Hightower's been our rivals for years. We're gonna kick their asses."

As he spoke, Cregan couldn't help but notice the way your plump lips glistened as you bit them. He imagined those lips wrapped around his throbbing cock, your warm mouth sucking him off as you looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

"We've been practising hard for it. Gotta put those rich fuckers in their place." Cregan said with a smirk. He loved talking shit about the rival team.

He shifted in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust his rapidly hardening erection. Fuck, he was getting too worked up. He needed to calm down before he embarrassed himself.

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips as you look at him. You can hardly believe how hard they’ve been pushing themselves in preparation for the upcoming match, your brother among them. 

You couldn't help but look at Cregan. The fabric of his fitted t-shirt clings to his muscular physique, accentuating the definition of his biceps and the broadness of his shoulders. Every movement he makes showcases the hard work and dedication he's put into his training. You can practically see the strength in his posture.

You bit your lip as you let your gaze travel over Cregan's strong, muscular form when he shifted his attention back to the road. Your eyes widened when they landed on the very prominent bulge straining against his grey sweats.

Fuck, he's huge. You always suspected Cregan would be packing based on his fit physique, but seeing the evidence of his impressive size makes your cunt clench with need. Suddenly you crave nothing more than to kneel between his legs and worship his thick cock with your mouth until he coats your face with his hot seed.

Burning with shame and arousal, you quickly avert your eyes, not wanting Cregan to catch you ogling his crotch. But you can't stop fantasizing about choking yourself on his fat dick, gagging and drooling around his length as he fucks your face. You squirm in your seat, rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache between th

Cregan shifted in his seat again, trying to hide his erection. He knew you had seen it, but he hoped you hadn't noticed how big he actually was. He didn't want you to think he was some pervert who got turned on by his best friend's little sister.

Even though he totally was.

"So, uh...how's school going?" Cregan asked, desperate for a distraction from the ache in his groin. He kept his eyes firmly on the road, not trusting himself to look at you right now.

Cregan couldn't stop thinking about the way your eyes widened when you saw his cock straining against his pants. He wondered if you were imagining what it would feel like inside you, stretching your tight little pussy open.

The thought nearly made him lose control of the car. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on the road and not the filthy fantasies running through his mind.

Your hands trembled slightly as you bit your lip, trying to maintain composure. The thought of Cregan's massive cock splitting you open sent a shiver down your spine.

"Good, mhm," you mumbled, nodding distractedly. The words came out as more of a whimper than intended.

Biting the sleeve of your jacket, I tried to subtly rub your thighs together. The action only served to heighten your arousal, wetness seeping through your panties and sticking to your sensitive folds. The discomfort was almost unbearable, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop. All you could think about was Cregan's thick cock.

Cregan's cock throbbed painfully in his sweats as he struggled to concentrate on the road. Your whimper sent a jolt of lust straight to his groin and he had to resist the urge to adjust himself again.

He could tell you were aroused too, the way you squirmed in your seat and bit your lip. It took every ounce of willpower not to cum in his pants.

What he wouldn't give to pull this car over and shove your head down onto his lap, making you choke on his cock until you gagged. He bet that pretty mouth would look amazing wrapped around his shaft, stretched obscenely wide.

His balls ached with the need to cum, but he gritted his teeth and focused on driving. If he blew his load now he'd have to explain why there was a wet spot on his pants.

And Jace would definitely know if he fucked his sister senseless in the car. As much as Cregan wanted to, he knew he couldn't risk it. Not yet anyway.

"Almost to your place," he grunted, the strain clear in his voice. He hoped you couldn't hear how worked up he was.

With a shaky exhale, he pulled into your driveway and killed the engine. Cregan's heart pounded as he watched you get ready to leave. Part of him wished you would stay, let him take you right here in the front seat. But the rational part of his brain knew that was a bad idea.

Reluctantly, he opened his door and stepped out, need still burning through his veins. Cregan walked around to open your door for you like a gentleman, even as his cock strained against his zipper.

You tried to compose yourself as you gathered your things, desperate for some relief from the ache between my thighs. But you couldn't let Cregan fuck you senseless in his car where anyone could see. Jace would definitely know if you came home with your brains fucked out by his best friend.

"Yeah, thanks..." you murmured softly as you stepped out of the vehicle. Opening the back door, you bent over to retrieve your bag from the backseat, putting your ass on full display for him. Your red lace thong did little to conceal how wet you were, the damp fabric clinging to your swollen folds.

You held the pose a moment longer than necessary, hoping the sight would push Cregan over the edge. Maybe he would finally make a move and finger you in his backseat as you sucked him off.

Cregan's breath caught in his throat as you bent over, giving him the perfect view of your dripping pussy. He could see your swollen lips peeking out from under your thong, glistening with arousal.

The urge to bury his face between your thighs was overwhelming. He wanted to rip your panties off and feast on your sweet cunt until you screamed his name.

He had to grip the door frame to keep himself upright, his knees threatening to buckle under the strain of his lust. Cregan's cock throbbed painfully, straining against the confines of his jeans.

"You, uh...you need help carrying anything inside?" He asked, his voice strained. He hoped you couldn't hear the desperation in it.

Cregan's hands twitched at his sides, aching to grab your hips and bury his face between your cheeks. He imagined the taste of your sweet pussy on his tongue, your juices coating his face as he ate you out.

But he couldn't. Not here, where anyone could see. He had to hold himself back, no matter how badly he wanted you.

"I can help," he offered again, hoping you would say no. Because if you said yes, he didn't know if he could control himself. He didn't trust himself not to pin you against the wall and fuck you senseless the second you were alone together.

You pouted in annoyance as Cregan maintained his composure, that annoying bulge in his sweats doing nothing to deter his gentlemanly demeanour. You had hoped the tantalizing glimpse of your barely-concealed pussy would make him lose control, but no such luck. Frustration bubbled up inside you.

Plastering on your most saccharine smile, you batted your lashes at him. "Oh, could you? They're so heavy," you simpered, even though you knew full well you could handle them yourself. But you needed Cregan to snap. To stop playing the part of the perfect gentleman and just take you already.

Your body throbbed with need, aching to be claimed by his strong hands. You shifted your hips, letting your short skirt ride up to reveal more of your soft thighs. Cregan's gaze flicked down briefly before darting away again, damn him.

"Please, Cregan," you purred, your voice dripping with false innocence. "I'd be so grateful."

Cregan's resolve crumbled as you batted your lashes at him, your voice dripping with false sweetness. He wanted to throw you over his shoulder and carry you off caveman style, but he settled for grabbing your bags instead.

"Lead the way then," he grunted, his voice rough with lust. As he followed you inside, Cregan couldn't take his eyes off your ass swaying in front of him. His cock throbbed with each step, pre-cum leaking and soaking through his boxers.

The second the front door shut behind you, Cregan dropped the bags and pulled you flush against him. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

"Fuck, I can't take it anymore," he growled against your skin. His hands roamed your body greedily, squeezing your ass and tugging at your clothes. "I need to be inside you. Now."

In a blink, Cregan had you spun around and pressed against the wall, his hips grinding against your ass. He dry-humped you roughly, his hard cock sliding between your cheeks.

"You want this, don't you?" He panted in your ear, one hand groping your breast while the other disappeared beneath your skirt to rub your clit through your soaked thong. "Want me to fuck this needy little cunt raw?"

Cregan slipped a finger under the fabric to stroke your slick folds, groaning at how wet you were. "Dirty girl, getting this turned on in front of your house. What if someone saw us?"

He nibbled your earlobe, his hand working faster between your thighs. "Would you like that? Getting caught with your panties off and my cock buried in your slutty hole?"

You gasped as Cregan suddenly spun you around, pinning you against the wall with his strong body. Your back arched instinctively, pressing your ass against his hard hips. Your head felt like it was spinning from his intense touch. You were utterly lost in a haze of desperate need, craving him inside you more than you ever had before.

Loud, high-pitched whines escaped your lips as you ground your hips shamelessly against his large hand. You were completely putty in his skilled fingers, unable to resist the pleasure he was giving me. Your pussy throbbed and clenched, aching to be filled by his thick cock.

"Mmmh..." You let out a slutty moan, mewling like a kitten as you rubbed yourself all over his big palm, shameless in your need. You could feel your juices soaking through your thin thong, making a mess of your inner thighs.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Cregan growled, feeling your juices drip down his fingers. "This cunt is fucking drenched. You're such a needy little slut, aren't you? Getting off on nearly getting caught."

He rubbed your clit harder, making you cry out and grind against his hand desperately. The wet sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the air.

"I bet you'd love to have Jace walk in right now and see his best friend fingerfucking his sister," Cregan said with a dark chuckle. "See how wet I make this slutty hole before I split it open on my cock."

He added a second finger, stretching you wider as he thrust deep. Your tight walls clenched around him, trying to suck him in further. Cregan could feel his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans, leaking pre-cum and making a sticky mess.

"Please," you whined, too far gone to care how desperate you sounded. You just needed more. More friction, more stretch, more everything.

Cregan obliged, curling his fingers to hit that special spot inside you. He rubbed it mercilessly, making your leg shake and toes curl. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, making you convulse and gush all over his hand, dripping all over the floor and soaking his hand.

"That's it, cum for me," Cregan commanded, working you through it until you collapsed bonelessly against the wall. "But we're not done yet. I'm going to fuck this pussy so hard you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

Your body trembled with anticipation as you watched Cregan lower his pants, revealing his massive cock. It sprang free, thick and hard, the tip glistening. You licked your lips, your pussy clenching at the thought of that huge dick stretching you out.

"Please, Cregan," you begged, your voice high and needy. Your hands pressed flat against the cold wall as you arched your back, presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. The rough texture of the wall scraped against your sensitive nipples, making them even harder.

You couldn't believe how desperate you were. How you were basically throwing yourself at your brother's best friend, begging to be used like a cheap slut. But you didn't care. All that mattered was feeling Cregan's cock splitting you open, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

"I'm yours," you moaned, looking back at him with hooded eyes. "Use me however you want."

Your hole wept with arousal, clear fluid dripping down your thighs. You ground your ass back against him, trying to take him inside you without his help. But he held you in place, denying what you needed most.

"P-please," you whimpered pathetically, your pride forgotten in the face of your overwhelming desire.

"You want this dick that bad?" Cregan growled, rubbing the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds. "Want me to wreck this tight little cunt?"

He pressed forward, the tip catching on your entrance. Your pussy stretched lewdly around him, struggling to accommodate his girth. Cregan groaned at the feeling of your slick walls clinging to him.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, pushing in inch by excruciating inch. "Gonna ruin this hole, make it fit my cock perfectly."

Then with one hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you. Your pussy clamped down on him like a vice, so tight he thought he might cum on the spot.

"Shit!" Cregan rasped, fighting the urge to blow his load right then and there. He pulled back slowly before slamming in again, setting a cruel pace that left you shaking and gasping.

The wet slap of skin-on-skin echoed through the entryway as he pounded into you, each thrust making your tits bounce. Cregan gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, using the leverage to fuck you even deeper.

"Take it," he commanded, punctuating with sharp snaps of his hips. "Fucking take it."

Cregan changed his angle slightly and you both cried out as he hit your G-spot dead on. Electric pleasure sparked up your spine, making your eyes roll back and tongue lolling out. "There it is," he panted, hammering that one perfect spot over and over.

Your nails scrape tracks into the wallpaper, each thrust jolting you forward like a rag doll. Whimpers spill from your lips, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. You've never felt so violently, deliciously used. His thick cock beats your tender flesh, each plunge sending shockwaves through your quivering body.

A desperate cry wrenches free as he suddenly withdraws. "No!" You sob at the emptiness. But his wicked grin tells you he has other plans.

"Not yet, princess," he rumbles darkly. "I'm going to claim every hole before I let you soak my cock."

Your legs tremble, barely holding you up as you try to process his threat. He wants to violate your other virgin hole? Oh gods, you don't know if you can take it. But the thought sends a forbidden thrill straight to your core.

You bite your lip, eyes pleading. "Please, Cregan," you pant. "I've never... I don't know if..."

Cregan's eyes darkened with hunger at your pleas. "That's right baby, you've never had a cock in this tight little ass before," he purred, trailing a finger teasingly over your puckered hole. "But don't worry, I'll open you up real good."

He spread your cheeks, exposing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze. "Gonna make you scream for it," Cregan promised, circling your entrance with his thumb. He pressed inside just slightly, breaking you for the first time.

Using the abundance of wetness from your soaked cunt, he worked his thumb deeper, scissoring and stretching you open gradually. He knew he had to prepare you carefully for his thick cock.

"Relax for me," he soothed, crooking his thumb to rub your inner walls. "Gonna feel so good when I split you open on my dick."

Cregan pumped his thumb faster, feeling you start to loosen up. He couldn't wait to bury himself in your virgin ass, to claim every inch of you.

"Beg for it," he growled, pulling his thumb out abruptly, leaving you empty once more. "I want to hear you beg me to ruin your tight little fuckhole."

You whimper desperately as Cregan teases your untouched entrance, spreading your most intimate area with his skilful fingers. Your knees quiver, barely supporting you, but you don't care about anything except having him fill you completely.

"Please Cregan," you beg, your voice high and needy.

As you plead, you find yourself arching back, presenting yourself shamelessly to the man who holds your heart in his hands. The thought of being claimed so thoroughly sends a forbidden thrill through your core, making your neglected slit weep with desire.

"Make me yours. I'll beg if you want me to."

"That's a good girl," he purred, giving your ass a sharp smack. The sting made you gasp and clench, your untouched hole flexing needily. He pressed two fingers now against your slick entrance, teasing at your rim.

The pressure increased as he started to work his fingers inside, stretching you open. Your untouched walls resisted at first, unused to the intrusion, but slowly your body began to yield to his insistent touch.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Cregan groaned, pumping his fingers deeper. "Gonna feel so good squeezing my cock."

He twisted and spread his fingers, opening you up as much as he could. Your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled, as your other hole was claimed by his digits.

"Ready for me yet?" He asked darkly, fingers still buried knuckles deep in your ass. "Or do you need more time to open up this hole?"

Your body trembles as Cregan's fingers stretch you open, invading your most sacred depths. It's so wrong, so dirty to let him claim you like this in the open hallway. Jace could come home any minute and catch his best friend fingering his sister's virgin rear.

The thought makes your neglected pussy clench and weep, dripping down your thighs. You're more aroused than you've ever been in your life, ready to let him take you in the most depraved way imaginable.

"Please," you whimper, too far gone to care about propriety or consequences. "I need your cock in my ass. Want you to fill me up like a dirty slut."

Your hole spasms needily around his fingers, trying to suck him in deeper. You arch your back, presenting yourself shamelessly, silently begging him to claim you.

His fingers slipped out of your ass with a wet sound that made you whimper needily. You felt so empty and abandoned, your virgin hole clenching desperately around nothing.

"You want my cock in this tight little ass so bad?" Cregan growled, spreading your cheeks to expose your gaping rim. It fluttered helplessly under his intense gaze. "Want me to stretch you open and ruin your slutty fuckhole?"

"Yes!" You cried out, tossing your head back in wanton desperation. You didn't care how depraved you sounded, begging to be sodomised by your brother's best friend. "Please Cregan, I need it. I'll do anything, just please. I want to be your filthy anal whore."

Cregan pressed the fat head of his cock insistently against your tiny, puckered entrance. You were terrified at the prospect of taking something so huge in your untouched passage. But your desperate, leaking cunt clenched at the thought of being utterly dominated and claimed by him.

With a slow thrust, Cregan buried himself balls deep in your ass. "Oh shit," he breathed, your walls clamping down on him like a vice. "Fucking hell, you're tight."

He gave you a moment to adjust to the sudden intrusion before starting to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. Wet squelching noises filled the air as he pounded your hole, the obscene sounds making your face burn with humiliation.

But it only turned you on more, knowing how depraved you were being. How you were letting your brother's best friend violate your most intimate place.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, your voice guttural and animalistic. Your legs shook violently, barely able to support your weight as Cregan filled you so completely. You threw your head back, eyes rolling back in their sockets as you submitted to the overwhelming pleasure. 

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, lost for words as his massive cock stretched your virgin hole to its limits. You had never felt so full, so deliciously stuffed. It was like he was splitting you open, claiming every inch of you in the most primal way possible.

You were utterly lost to the sensation, your mind blanking out as he pounded into your tight rear passage. All you could focus on was the delicious drag of his cock along your sensitive walls, the obscene wet sounds of his hips slapping against your ass.

Your untouched slit wept with arousal, wetness dripping down your thighs as your clit throbbed almost painfully. You were so close to coming just from having your ass violated, something you never would have thought possible.

"Take it all," Cregan grunted, gripping your hips tightly as he slammed into your ass. The wet, filthy sounds of skin smacking against skin reverberated through the room. "Fucking take every inch like a good slut."

He angled his hips, making sure to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you with every thrust. The electric jolts of pleasure made you see stars, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

"Gonna cum," you keened, eyes rolling back as your peak approached. "Gonna cum on your big cock wrecking my ass!"

"That's it, cum on my cock," he commanded roughly.

Cregan reached around to grab your bouncing tits, squeezing and twisting your nipples. The sharp sensation mixed with the overwhelming fullness in your ass, sending you hurtling towards orgasm.

"Do it," he ordered. "Cum for me like a dirty whore."

With a few more brutal thrusts, Cregan buried himself deep and exploded. His cock pulsed and throbbed inside you, pumping you full of his hot seed. The feeling of being marked so intimately pushed you over the edge.

"Fuck yes, that's it," he groaned as he felt you clench and spasm around him. Your hole spasmed desperately, milking his spurting cock for every last drop. "Good girl. Such a perfect little fucktoy."

Cregan held you steady as the aftershocks wracked your body, keeping you pinned on his softening cock. He reached down to rub your clit, drawing out your pleasure until you were a limp, mewling mess.

Only then did he pull out with a gush of cum, leaving you feeling empty and used. Cregan tapped your abused hole, admiring his work.

"Mine now," he stated possessively. "This ass belongs to me."

Your body shudders uncontrollably as you collapse to the floor, sobs tearing from your throat. Tears blur your vision, rolling down your flushed cheeks as you struggle to regain your breath. The lingering ache between your legs throbs painfully, a brutal reminder of the intense fucking you just took.

You can feel your combined releases leaking out of your ravaged holes, trickling down your inner thighs and pooling beneath your knees on the hardwood. The obscene wetness makes you flinch with shame even as your abused cunt clenches needily, craving more.

You must look like a complete wreck - hair mussed, makeup smeared, the very picture of impurity. Your thighs are slick with the evidence of your coupling, your swollen pussy still fluttering from the aftershocks. You know you should feel ashamed for letting Cregan use you so thoroughly, but all you can think about is the pleasure he gave you.

You look up at him with big eyes, eyebrows slightly raised as you wait for him to say something. Looking at him like a puppy would look at its master.

Cregan looked down at you sprawled out on the floor, your hair dishevelled and your legs splayed out obscenely, showing off the cum dripping out of you. His cock twitched at the sight, still semi-hard from the intense fucking.

He stepped closer, towering over your smaller frame. With a smirk, he reached down to wipe the tears from your cheek. Cregan brought his fingers to your mouth.

"Clean it up," he ordered gruffly, pushing his fingers past your lips. "My good little dove."

You obeyed immediately, sucking his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the digits, lapping up your salty tears eagerly. Cregan groaned at the erotic sight, his cock stiffening further.

"That's it, be a good girl," he praised, pulling his fingers out to caress your cheek softly. His demeanour entirely different after fucking you.

"Look at you," Cregan chuckled darkly, stepping back to admire the perverse picture you made. "So filthy. And all for me."

"Yeah," you sighed softly, your body completely spent from the extreme fucking Cregan had just given you. Every muscle ached deliciously, a testament to how thoroughly he had used you.

All you wanted now was to stumble to the bathroom, wash away the sticky remnants of your coupling, and collapse into bed. The adrenaline crash was hitting hard, exhaustion tugging at your eyelids.

You tried to push yourself up, but your trembling legs refused to cooperate. Cregan's seed continued to leak out of your abused holes, trickling down your thighs. The cool air felt good against your flushed skin, helping to ground you somewhat.

"C-can you help me to the shower?" You asked shyly, glancing up at Cregan through your lashes. Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming, your throat raw. You knew you looked utterly spent, hair matted with sweat, makeup smudged. But you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You just wanted to bask in the afterglow with the man who had claimed every inch of you so thoroughly.

"Think you can manage to stand on your own two feet?" he teased, offering you a hand.

You nodded, accepting his assistance. He pulled you up effortlessly, his large hands engulfing your smaller ones. Cregan kept an arm around your waist as he guided you down the hall, steadying you.

"I've got you, princess," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Cregan led you into the bathroom, his arm still securely around your waist. The cool tiles felt good against your overheated skin as he helped you into the shower.

"Lean against the wall," he instructed, turning the water on. Steam began to fill the room as he adjusted the temperature.

Obediently, you braced yourself against the wall, letting the warm spray cascade over your body. It felt heavenly, soothing your aching muscles. You could feel Cregan's gaze on you as he stepped in behind you, his hands joining you under the water.

"Let me," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble. He grabbed a washcloth and soap, lathering it up. Gently, he began to wash you, running the sudsy cloth over your arms, your breasts, your flat stomach.

His touch remained tender as he cleaned you, a stark contrast to the rough, dominant way he had fucked you. You couldn't help but lean into him, relishing the feeling of his strong body against your back.

Cregan moved lower, washing your thighs and calves thoroughly. When he reached your most intimate areas, you felt your face heat up with embarrassment. But you didn't protest as he carefully cleaned away the evidence of your coupling, his fingers brushing against your sensitive flesh.

"All clean," he declared as he rinsed you off. Cregan pressed a kiss to your shoulder before shutting off the water. He grabbed a fluffy towel, wrapping it around you and guiding you out of the shower.

"Bed," he said firmly, leading you out of the bathroom. "You need rest."

You smiled sleepily, leaning into Cregan's strong embrace as he walked you to your bedroom. As he waited on your bed while you changed, you couldn't help but voice your curiosity.

"Why were you so rough with me?" You asked softly, peering at him with shy eyes. "I mean, I liked it, but I was just wondering..."

Your voice trailed off and you bit your lip, feeling a bit nervous about bringing it up. You had known each other for a while now, and while you had always found him attractive, his sudden aggression caught you off guard. But it had been so intense, so passionate...

"Why now, after all this time?" You finished, your cheeks flushing pink. You couldn't deny the thrill his dominance sent through you, but you wanted to understand what changed.

Cregan's expression softened as he regarded you standing there in your pyjamas looking vulnerable and uncertain. He sighed softly before speaking.

"I've wanted you for a long time," he confessed, his deep voice husky with emotion. "Ever since I saw you at our practice waiting for your brother."

He stood up from the bed and came to stand in front of you, cupping your face gently. "But I never acted on it because of Jace. He's my best friend, and I respect his wishes."

Cregan's thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making you shiver. "But I couldn't hold back any longer. Seeing you today, I...."

His hand slid down to your neck, gripping lightly. "I wanted to mark you, claim you, show you that you belong to me now."

Cregan leaned in, his breath hot on your ear. "And the way you responded, the sounds you made... Fuck, it drove me wild. I lost control, couldn't be gentle with you even though I wanted to."

He pulled back slightly, gazing into your eyes. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, love. That wasn't my intention. I just needed you so badly, wanted to make you mine in every way possible."

You hummed softly as Cregan's words washed over you, your heart racing in your chest. He wanted me?

The knowledge sent a thrill through your body, pooling heat low in your belly. You gazed up at him through your lashes, feeling small under his intense stare.

"You like me?" You breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your cheeks flushed pink as you awaited his response, hardly daring to believe this was happening.

"Of course I like you," Cregan said softly, his gaze tender as he cupped your face gently. "I've liked you for a long time now. It's been torture keeping my feelings hidden."

His thumb stroked over your bottom lip, making you shiver. "You're beautiful, kind, clever... Everything I could ever want in a woman. And the way you took my cock earlier, the sounds you made... Gods, you drive me wild with desire."

Cregan leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning over your face. "I want to be with you properly. Take you on dates, make you mine in every way possible. Will you let me do that, princess? Will you be mine?"

You let out a small whine at his words, feeling desire washing over you again. "Yeah," you whimpered, pulling him into a soft kiss. You stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips met.

His strong arms encircled you, holding you close as the kiss deepened. You melted into him, your body moulding perfectly against his muscular frame. Cregan's scent surrounded you, masculine and intoxicating.

Cregan's large hands gripped your hips as he returned your kiss hungrily, his tongue delving into your mouth. He backed you up towards the bed until your legs hit the mattress, never breaking the passionate kiss.

When the back of your knees hit the bed, Cregan gently laid you on the bed. Your soft body shaped against his hard muscles as he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair.

"Fuck, I can't get enough of you," he groaned against your lips. Cregan nipped at your bottom lip before trailing kisses down your jaw and neck. He sucked hard on your pulse point, determined to mark you as his.

His hips rocked up, grinding his stiffening cock against your core through your thin pyjamas. You could feel the heat and hardness of him even with the layers between you.

He quickly stripped off his clothes. His impressive physique was on full display, muscles rippling as he joined you on the bed.

"I'm going to make you feel so good, baby," he promised darkly, kissing down your body. "Gonna worship this sexy little body all night long."

Cregan pushed your pyjama top up and latched onto your breast, sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh. His large hand palmed the other, kneading the soft mound. He lavished attention on your breasts, making you arch into his touch with needy whimpers.

You moan breathily, sounding like a coquettish little girlfriend as Cregan lavishes attention on your sensitive breasts. Your hands tangle in his hair, holding him close as he suckles and nips at the tender flesh. Each pull of his lips sends sparks of pleasure straight to your aching core.

Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction. The heat between your legs grows unbearable as Cregan worships your breasts with his skilled mouth and hands. You're docile in his grasp, completely under his spell as he reduces you to a writhing, needy mess.

"Please," you whimper, your voice high and desperate. "I need more."

Cregan smirked against your breast as you squirmed beneath him, your needy whimpers music to his ears. "Patience, princess," he murmured, giving your nipple a final nip before moving lower.

"I'm going to take my time with you," he promised darkly, kissing down your quivering stomach. "Worship every inch of this sexy body."

Cregan hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pyjama pants, tugging them down slowly. He exposed you to him inch by tantalizing inch until you were fully bared to his heated gaze.

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned appreciatively, drinking in the sight of you splayed out beneath him. "So goddamn beautiful."

He settled between your thighs, blowing a cool stream of air over your wet folds. Cregan grinned as you shuddered and clenched at the teasing touch.

"Fuck, you smell so sweet," he groaned. "Can't wait to taste this pretty pussy."

Cregan spread your legs wider, exposing your glistening sex to his hungry gaze. He licked his lips before diving in, his hot tongue dragging up your slit. You cried out at the intense sensation, your hips bucking upwards.

He lapped at you eagerly, savouring your sweet flavour. Cregan focused on your clit, flicking the sensitive bud rapidly with the tip of his tongue. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for his feasting mouth.

You bite your lip hard, trying to muffle your needy moans as Cregan's tongue works between your thighs. Your fingers grip the sheets, knuckles white as you fight the urge to rock your hips against his face.

His mouth feels too good, sending shockwaves of pleasure crashing through you with every teasing lick and suck. You're lost to the sensations, all thoughts fleeing as he devours your pussy like a man starved.

Tears of ecstasy prick at the corners of your eyes as he focuses on your aching clit, flicking the sensitive bud rapidly. The pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your belly, your walls fluttering around nothing.

"Cregan, fuck!" You whimper desperately, your voice high and needy.

He just hums against your sex in response, the vibrations making you see stars. His hands grip your thighs harder, pushing them wider as he feasts on you like a man possessed.

"You taste so fucking good," Cregan growled against your drenched folds, his words vibrating through you. "Can't get enough of this sweet cunt."

He sucked your clit into his mouth, flicking the sensitive nub rapidly with the tip of his tongue. His hands gripped your thighs bruisingly tight, holding you open for his feasting mouth.

Cregan slid a thick finger into your empty channel, groaning at how easily it sank into your sopping wet heat. He pumped it slowly, curling it to rub against your G-spot.

"Gonna make you cum on my tongue," he promised darkly before sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

Cregan added a second finger, stretching you open as he finger-fucked your fluttering walls. He scissored them inside you, spreading your tight heat wide.

"That's it, fuck my face," he encouraged, his deep voice muffled against your sex. "Ride my tongue, princess. Cum for me."

He could feel you getting close, your thighs starting to tremble around his head. Cregan doubled his efforts, pistoning his fingers faster as he lashed your clit with the flat of his tongue.

"Let go," he commanded, locking eyes with you. "Cum on my face, baby. Give it to me."

You were teetering right on the edge, your moans rising in pitch and volume as Cregan devoured you so skillfully. Your entire body was wound tight, ready to snap at any moment.

Just as you were about to let go and tumble into ecstasy, the sound of a slamming door made you jolt.

"Hey, I'm finally home-" Jace's voice boomed, cutting off abruptly. "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE?!"

[smoothlikealikeasnake]

Strong Coffee and Sweet Cakes

Chapter One ‘Introduction’

Genre - BTS FF, a/b/o dynamics, a/b/o BTS and MC, Ot7 x fem MC/reader, so fluffy, little angst, eventual smut

Warnings - MC has some appearance description to fit the story, not named however and this is written, a/b/o description and dynamics, slight reference to potential sexual assault, as always let me know if there’s anything to add xx

Summary - A new cafe near the Hybe building will change the 7 members of Bangtan’s lives forever, 7 alphas in a pack? A recipe for disaster. Until a sweet omega starts to stir up their world with a little bit more sugar and slowly their loneliness dissolves

Next Chapter

Author Notes - Hello my lovely readers, this is a new series I’m starting alongside strawberry princess because I’ve hit a serious stump with it right now and the ideas for this fic are just flowing so I really hope you enjoy xx

The last few months had made your dream come true, your cafe/bakery building was finished, staff hired and business had began to bloom like flowers of the spring.

As an omega, it’s instinctual to love to feed, provide, put a smile on others faces and that’s exactly what your baking and the environment you created does and it’s everything you’ve wanted. Sure, it’s less common for Omegas to work let alone own a business but you manage, maintaining a balance of working behind the scenes (baking) and occasionally up front to take orders, serve and make drinks.

Some days your timidness gets the best of you, forcing you to shy away from any sort of attention, that’s why always having other staff on the shift is essential to making your business work. Yuqi, Soyeon and Soojin aren’t only the staff that work with you but have become your best friends.

Yuqi is an alpha, witty personality and always quick to your defensive but she equally gets on with the customers with how easily her (joking) sarcasm and teasing attitude makes them feel comfortable and more relaxed.

Soyeon and Soojin are also alphas, Soyeon taking on a leadership role without you ever having to ask or show it, her just knowing when it’s one of those days by the way you’ll aggressively push your hair back from your face too often to be relaxed and she’ll instantly remind you of small tasks that you should do, in the kitchen or around the building in general, away from the often busy environment of the cafe.

Soojin never fails to tease and push as your limits to coax you out of your shell, gently prying you out of your own head and ruffling your hair when she succeeds. You especially adore Wednesdays where Shuhua (Soojin’s beta girlfriend) comes to spend lunch at the cafe and always asks about your new recipes, requesting to try until it became a routine for you to prepare your newest bake for her to try and rate, thinking about wether to add it to the menu or not.

The days where you aren’t in your own head are the best ones, being able to appreciate and float around the beautiful, peaceful environment you created, the amount of people (large or small) never being able to take away the calmness you put effort into creating with the decor, air quality (so no one is overwhelmed by any scents besides the bakes and coffee) and overall atmosphere you strove to create.

You love to hand out your bakes and make warming or refreshing drinks. Staying a beat longer than necessary sometimes to watch as the often sugary treats sweeten someone’s day even just a little, living for the brightness that builds in their eyes and words of appreciation sent your way that admittedly never fail to make you blush.

Your charm and demeanour is loved by your regulars, on your days in the kitchen your always informed by Soojin that they were wondering where you were, the baker of their favourite treats.

“I heard you were looking for me yesterday Mr. Kim, here’s your mint tea with a little spoon of honey” - You smiled as you approached the older man, his eyes closing with the bright smile he returns, gushing and mildly scolding you for not being there, both of you knowing he was only teasing.

Efforts are made to know your regulars orders and their preferences in terms of time and location, for example you always had a teapot of chamomile tea ready to brew for Mrs. Han who came every evening after work and wanted to avoid coffee to wind down, always staying until closing and finishing the entire teapot. You’d ask her how her work was everyday, she’d give you a tired but relieved smile after her first sip of the hot soothing tea and give you a small brief, always praising you and thanking you for your consideration.

You like the connections you’ve made, the warmth you can bring to the people you serve and it satisfies something deep within you, makes you purr through the evening after the end of your day and go to sleep with your thick duvets, burrowed in your bed in the nest fit for one, often dozing off with a sweet smile.

There’s of course the days where your nest isn’t filled with happy purrs, instead it’s slightly ruffled as you try to comfort yourself after a particularly hard day or a day where you didn’t have the luckiest encounter with a customer. Some times it’s typical, rude customer, just in general or sometimes directing disbelief and degradation at you because you’re an omega. Other times you have gotten unlucky with a beta or alpha who thinks they have a right to suddenly be handsy and make sly comments simply because you are friendly. One of the girls will step in as soon as they catch a shift in your sweet scent, wavering with uncertainty because you never want to make a customer upset or take their intentions the wrong way but that leniancy also means they get a few extra seconds to try and be vulgar before one of the girls swoop in and swiftly replace you with them, pasive aggressive comments thrown towards whoever thought they had any right and in some, very bad cases, the culprit is forced out of the cafe. Those are the days when you need to recharge, often end up behind the scenes the follow day rather than front of hourse and your friends always understand, also ecnourage you to do just a little extra baking.

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Mondays are hard for everyone, you take extra effort to put out all the bakes, finish up any details and ensure everything is prepared for opening in the early morning before the first rush of customers enter, often for their coffees. Thats how this story begins.

its 6am, Namjoon is rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, a bad habit, but one that feels necessary considerig hes been awake all night, his thick glasses barely doing much to hide the tiredness in his eyes. He tried to look more alive before leaving the studio, running his hands through his hair and throwing on a fresh black hoodie to match the black trousers he wore but it didnt do much honestly and he knew that. It was an effort however, and thats what mattered.

His friends have been raving about this new cafe, with also the sweetest bakes and amazing coffee and although he hasnt had an opportunity to visit and try before, he had an opportunity, or rather, a excuse now. Monday morning, up all night, in desperate need of caffeine and the cafe was only a 10 minute walk from the company building. A nice change to the quick machine coffee he settles for in the studio every day. And he needs the fresh air, they all do honestly but now more than ever with a comeback creeping up and everyones tension rising.

Its only expected, it happens just before every comeback, tension is high because stress is put on everyone and in a pack purely of alphas? Its multiplied, try multipled 7 times. It gets worked out easily, always does and everyone knows it will only take one foot out of place at this sort of time for a argument to creep up and its easily resolved. Unavoidable, but easily resolved and thats what comforts everyone, knowing its shortlived and that the joy and success that follows during and after a comeback is always worth the exhaustion and hardships taken to create it.

Namjoon is stuck on one song, one gap in the album with a clock ticking in his head, driving him further and further into turmoil. No motivation, no muse, just exhaustion and stress. Nature has always been something to mentally rejuvinate the alpha, so the walk to the cafe is needed to try out this semi-famous cups of coffee and get physical rejuvination (glorious caffeine).

Hes pleasently surprised as the cafe comes into view, its fairly empty from what he can see on the outside considering the first rush of the day tends to be from 7:15 to 8:45 (noted in your one of your cafe note books). The outside is inviting, with your effort to maximise the comfort from aesthetics, a variety of plants and florals decorate the walls, windows, near the door, the earthy, fresh scent immediately clearing Namjoon's airways in a way he never knew he needed, it was literally a breathe of fresh air. Theres a couple small tables out front aswell, some wooden, some a pretty kind of white pattern, almost looking like you'd just followed your heart on every single set you liked the look of rather thna keeping to one theme (you had) and it worked. So well.

Walking to the door, Namjoon already felt lighter, the handwritten 'Open!' in a pretty but effortless cursive so welcoming. A little bell rang as he pushed open the door, a quiet jazz tune playing that he knew Taehyung would appreciate more than anyone and Namjoon just stood in pure awe taking in the place around him. He'd been hit with the scent of fresh baking and coffee, no too strong though, a common theme of plants all throughout the space and its clear how youd taken to making every second spent in and outside of the cafe enjoyable and comfortable. The lighting is dim and warm, not clinical or overwhelming like it is in the company building, homey and without realising, tension was already releasing from his body in waves, replaced with relaxation before he'd even gotten up to the till to order.

The interior is whimsical, instinctual and similar to the exterior, the walls muted colours, an array of different woods, comfortable, worn leather, patterns that could clash but were so expertly placed that they just didnt, no two pieces the same anywhere and it could be overwhelming but again, it just isnt. The other thing he noticed is the pure attention to detail in furntire placement, theres windows everywhere, natural sunlight on multiple tables and chairs of different sizes for different groups but theres also a few corners outside of the light for those who would prefer, a few extra lamps and dim lights placed in those areas to accomodate. Charging points for those who want to stay and study or work, Jugs of Fresh water on every table (all different jugs) with little pots of fresh citrus fruits to add should you want too and glasses to pour into, whimsical little trinkets placed on each table and around the edges and the walls decorated in carefully picked paintings. Its Namjoons heaven, and theres specific features inside that every single member would simply adore.

The last thing he notices is the pillows and blankets on every seat and area, attention to comfort and each were perfectly fluffed up, the indents on the sides suggesting it was done by hand (it was, part of your morning cafe routine), blankets of all kinds all around and across the room he could spot a few wicker baskets overflowing with even more, another hand written sign on the wall just above it, something he couldnt quite make out. And then he finally moves, approaches the pretty display of baked goods, everything he could imagine fully stocked with the exception of one or two bakes being gone from some of the trays where the first customers had come in.

Theres a fancy coffee machine, fresh fruit and juice station and on the shelves is all of the cups for sitting in and their matching - or mismatched - tea plates, he couldnt spot two of the same mug or cup and really it was meant to feel like home, more home than the studio, than the company, than his own large apartment, its a deep rooted kind of home and Namjoon held his breath for a moment without even noticing what he was doing.

No one behind the counter, he worried you werent open before remembering the sign on the door and then right in front of him, an answer. Another bell, small and with yet another hand written sign next to it 'Ring Me for Service!', the dotted 'i' in service slightly smudged and for some reason it made him smile so with a single finger, Namjoon gently tapped the bell, its gently 'ding!' summoning you, clumsily scurrying through the door to the kitchen with wide eyes and a slightly messy ponytail, your apron still on and Namjoon stopped breathing as your scent invades his nose, sugary sweet pastry, cream, warm cinnamon and a little hint of strawberry, just tart enough to make your mouth water but sweet enough to balance it. Namjoon quickly regained compsure, refusing to inhale deeply like he wanted to in fear it would make you uncomfortable and you, clumsily running out at the bell havent really got your two thoughts together just jumping right into your customer service routine before you glance up and realise this is a new customer, another member of the hybe building and groups but that doesnt phase you at all, its his beauty that does. Hes dragon-like, breathtaking, big, tan, ever so gentle but so clearly an alpha and hes scent is perfectly earthy, laced with some sort of deep exhaustion that upon closer look is evident in his eyebags, mess hair and tired eyes and instantly you feel a need to nurture it, to care for him and nurse him back to health in a stronger way than you feel for other customers, you dont know why its stronger with him but you wont let that sway you from your usual gentle approach to customers, you wont overstep any boundaries and neither would he.

'Good Morning! what can i get you today?' - Your positive, bubbly personality even at 6 in the morning warms Namjoon's heart and he finds a smile gracing his tired features instantly, almost forgetting to answer for a moment until you look up at him expectantly. Things started to make sense, hed heard an omega owns the cafe and this was you, so clearly an omega, small in size, cheeks tinted pink naturally, fingers slightly chubby as they hover the screen infront of you and it all came together, the attention to detail, clearly precise placing of furniture and decoration only achievable by an omega skilled in nesting, the blankets and pillows galore, you have his heart in an instant but he clears his throat, rather clumsily and gets back on his train of thought, looking up at the board of contents as if he would differ from his go to order.

'Ill just have an espresso please' - You nod enthusastically tapping a few buttons on your screen and then looking up again

'Do you have a preffered coffee blend?' - Hand reaching towards another handwritten sign with the list of roasts you offer and Namjoon faulters, some he has heard of, others he hasnt so he goes with a quicker, easier answer he really hopes doesnt bother you

'Whatever you reconmend' - The uncertainty in Namjoon's voice makes you soften even more and you once again nod, choosing what you deem a safe and seemingly fitting option, a mid ground.

'Would you like anything else today?' - Namjoon pauses for a moment, looking at the display of so many treats and sweets and considers them but with so much choice and not having thought it through, he settled for going without, even if a few did catch his eye and had him lingering on them a second too long which you instantly picked up and mentally noted for later.

'That's all thank you'

'And will that be to go or sit in?'

'To g- actually, ill sit in thank you' - A few minutes in this wonderful space wouldnt kill anyone right, hes trying to rejuvinate his mind and motivation and he certainly cant do that at the studio so a break was needed. He saw your eyes light up at his change of heart and he wanted to watch that again and again, something so small but so sweet. You nodded enthusastically

He pays via the card machine, leaving an extra tip you would have definitely deemed unnecessary but you didnt see as you quickly got to work on his espresso. Namjoon took his time choosing where to sit, your words encouraging him to do so 'You can take a seat anywhere youd like, ill bring it right over!' and after some contemplation, he chose a singular seat, leather armchair, comfortable and cushiony infront of the direct sunlight, the small space shared with a large plant on the floor and a small table with a few books he hadnt noticed before, a small cup with some sugar cubes and mini tongs right next to it and the entire set up just had him melting, eyes half closed and breathing slow. Now, his eyes are feeling heavy again but maybe its welcomed, a different kind of break that hes needed for days now, even if it isnt sleep, his eyes are barely open when you teeter over, so light on your feet he doesnt even hear besides the light chime as the cup is settled on the table.

Unbeknowest to him, you watch him fondly as you bring over the espresso, hoping he'd feel even a bit better after some time in the cafe and the drink he'd requested. He's loosely gripping the arms of the chair and his head is tilted back, your careful to very gently place the cup down but he seems to hear and you feel slightly bad for snapping him out of his own mind, he sits up again slightly and watches you step back, listening to your every word, its a simple statement but the way he catches every little tinge of your voice makes you feel giddy and you dont know why.

'Here you go, i hope you enjoy it' - You say not only as a reference to the drink in general but also specifically because you chose the blend he was about to try. You only stay for a moment before slowly walking away so that he can have his privacy.

'Thank you' - Namjoon instantly picks up the hot mug and takes a small sip but he has to hold back a loud groan of satisfaction as the espresso mellows on his tongue, its not bitter at all, smooth and somehow refreshing and lacks acidity which is perfect for him. He fails to hold it all back so in that moment a small humm of satisfaction leaves him and you keep your ears out for his reaction when your walking, smiling and blushing slightly, feeling warm and fulfilled when you hear him mumble about it being 'so good'.

Taking his time, Namjoon slowly sipped at the small drink, savouring every drop hitting his tongue with his eyes closed at every taste. You half watched in the distance, just glancing over every now and then between your tasks and tending to the few customers who came in and when you had a few minutes free, just teetering behind the counter you noticed Namjoon standing up and walking over, instantly setting yourself behind the small screen you use again.

'That was amazing, could i have another by any chance' - The fondness in Namjoons words and how hed blurted it out before you could even get a word in made you falter and your scent sweetened in an instant, a happy smile taking over your lips and head bouncing in a eager nod. Namjoon watched you with the same happiness, glad to be the reason your scent sweetened and mood lit up even more, he gently slides the cup over and pays on the machine, an unnecessarily large tip once again. He made his way back to his seat as he waited, the stress he was holding within just half an hour ago pretty much gone now, temporarily, he doesnt know how but he just feels so much better.

You moved over the machines with practiced ease, finishing up the espresso but with a quick thought, you realised he came in, has ordered two espressos and its 6 in the morning, you doubt hes had anything to eat, he'd denied anything else but you caught his eyes lingering on the apple and cinnamon pretzels with caramel drizzle, its a long shot what you want to do but you cant push away the dismay you have for drinking that much caffeine at this time on an supposedly empty stomach. Its a sugary, filling and sweet treat thatll be perfect with the strong espressos hes ordered so grabbing a small plate, you place one on and grab his espresso, making your way back over to him, his eyes reopening just as before when the ceramics touch the table. His eyes light up in delight, then curiosity as he sees the pretzel and you speak before he can say a word.

"You should'nt have this much caffeine on an empty stomach" - Fast, the words tumble out rather clumsily, now hesitant when you see his slightly parted lips still processing your words. You clarify its on the house and Namjoon stumbles on his own words for a few moments before you can feel the appreciation tumbling out of him in waves, his scent stronger but not in a discomforting way, its pleasant, maybe a little mind numbing but any hesitance you had melts in a single sigh and smile"

“Thats so sweet, thank you" - Namjoon instantly reaches to try to pretzel and the accumulation of flavours make his eyes widen comically, the sugars perfectly balanced, texture just perfect, flavour combination incredible and he looks at you incrediously.

"'Its incredible, i should of ordered it earlier-" - Its fond and in awe for he speaks and with a small sip of espresso it only seems to make it better and quietly Namjoon groans and melts in his seat, the warmth of it all re-energising his body just how he needed.

Your absolutely blushing, giggling before you can think at his reaction and feel proud of yourself, like youve done something right. Practically purring with accomplishment, you have to keep your own instinctual reactions in check but the rest of the day your light in your steps, all smiles and gidiness, you got this reaction so often but for some reason it feels different coming from this stranger.

"Oh im so glad!" - Is all you can manage with the sheer size of your smile, your eyes forced almost closed from it and you saunter away leaving him to enjoy, briefly hearing him mumble something about others having to try, not that you know what others hes talking about.

Leaving is harder than Namjoon originally imagined it would be when he finishes everything, quicker than before because its 6:45 and he should really be back for 7. Reluctantly, Namjoon stands and takes the plate and mug over to the counter, just to thank you again, your whizzing around refilling the trays ready for the morning rush and he patiently waits until you notice him, your nose twitching from his scent and you shoot up, back straightening and give him a big smile

"I just want to thank you for this, it was really amazing, so sweet of you too" - Namjoon got out rather shyly, adjusting his glasses on his nose and sending you his dazzling smile and you listened with wide eyes and a resurfacing blush from the praise/compliment. It makes you stutter over your words as you reply, taking the mug and plate over the counter with slightly shaking hands half because you get jittery right before rush times and half from his presence

"Im so happy you enjoyed, m-make sure you eat when your drinking your espressos" - You got the last bit out fast like it was a gamble and while you tried to say it teasingly it came out surprisingly assertive in your caring manner and Namjoon looked at you surprised for a moment before his smile came right back and he laughed gently

"I will do, take care"

"You too!" - You happily reply before he turns on his heel and makes his way out, visibly less tense and tired than before and that makes the pep in your step even more obvious, you hope he'll come back.

"Whats got you all happy sweets?" - Yuqi asks as she just clocked in, teasing but equally curious and you gently blush again

"Oh, nothingg-" - But the tone you say it in blatantly gives it away ad Yuqi just nudges you with her shoulder and a prying smile before getting to attend the first customers of the morning rush.

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Its been 6 months since BTS has been back together, everyone finishing military service and it was joyous and then it was hard. Friends all around of the same age are getting married, having children and none of BTS have been able to settle down with who hey think is forever. Of course theyve had their flings, relationships both long and short term but in the end, they are where they are now, no one in a relationship and it does take a toll. It can be lonely.

Especially with the stress of they're arguably most important comeback yet, everyones beyond exhausted, drained. Theyve changed in good ways since the military, more confident than ever, comfortable in themselves and everyones put on a lot of muscle but none of that changes that fact that something is missing, a small hole in each of their hearts, collectively a hole in their pack. They dont talk about it- about what would happen if one of them did settle down with someone forever, if their pack would split but collectively no one can see it happening, they go through everything together and any sort of split would feel like heartbreak.

Rejoining Yoongi and Hoseok in the studio, 7am sharp, Namjoon walks with a bounce, eyes no longer trying to close on themselves and hes brought back to life in a way the company's coffee definitely can't bring. The two older members are sitting in pure confusion at the easy energy Namjoon has just gained out of nowhere and they watch silently for a second at the small smile settled on his lips before they decide to actually ask.

"Where did you go to get all happy?" - Because surely he hadnt got laid in the hour that he left- thats not like Namjoon but the blush that graces his face at being called out makes them oh so curious as to what their leaders been up to.

"I just went and got some coffee and breakfast"

"From here?" - Hoseok said with disbelief because he knows it isnt good like that

"No uh- you know that cafe everyones been talking about?"

"Im sure ive heard of it in passing, that good huh?" - Yoongi thinks it must be glorious because wow Namjoon seems as happy as he did the day he got to go home from the military

"Ah yeah its really good- i only went there for a coffee to go but i didnt really want to leave, youve got to go and see what i mean"

"what, like the atmosphere or the coffee?"

"well both and- theres this really sweet omega"

"come on spit it out Joon"

"She made my espressos and they were so good but she bakes- i think shes the one who bakes atleast- and she brought me over a fresh pretzel telling me i shouldnt be drinking caffeine on an empty stomach and hyung she just cared-"

"Joon you sound like- lovestruck." - Yoongi added in a flat tone, really not understanding where he was going with this

"Yeah, it sounds more like she was lecturing you" - Hoseok adds hesitantly

"You just have to see, it was really sweet and it made my morning better alright?" - Namjoon sighed and the two elder members decided to lay off and just appreciate the energy he was bringing

"Come with me, later or tomorrow and we will go get coffee there, its really nice" - Yoongi hummed in agreement because he never said no to caffeine and Hoseok agreed because he wouldnt help but be jealous of the joy Namjoon was experiencing considering how they'd all been recently.

Namjoon couldnt wait to go back and get another apple and cinnamon pretzel.

Hi everyone! I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this new fic, please do let me know what you think, as always my asks are open!

Thank you so much for reading!

Mwah 💖

ཐི♡ཋྀ

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[girlsoutlate]

tf141 meet prices girl

part one

suggestive themes, alcohol consumption, loser simon, if you can see my favouritism for gaz no you bloody can't xx

the boys promised to be on their best behaviour to price but not to themselves. it's not everyday you get to meet your captains girl

today- well tonight was the night. you'd been psyching yourself up from wednesday, john springing the plans on you casually over breakfast. you expected it, just not so soon. all too quickly saturday night had rolled around and you were staring absentmindedly in to your wardrobe. your ever so loving boyfriend had been making fun of your hysterics all day until he became slightly concerned at your lack of appetite over dinner. you chose to nibble on two sides instead of whatever small meal you had originally planned. as you left the table and placed your plate on to the counter john grabbed you by your hips and hoisted you up "love, it's natural to be nervous but yer gettin' yerself worked up for nothin'". brushing a calloused thumb across your lips that were nibbled raw he felt you take a small breath in to talk "i know but what if something goes wrong? what if they think im too dumb for you? they won't like me". the last words out of your mouth were quiet and resolute but hung heavy in the air.

steely blue eyes never leaving yours, john spoke with reverence "sweethear' don't say tha' about yerself. i'm the lucky bastard tha' gets to be loved by you. wha' those muppets think about ya' doesn't matter, least of all to me". a small smile on your face wasn't missed as you looked down to johns hands splayed on your lap. he continued "they'll love ya', i promise- not as much as me though" a gravelly chuckle emanted from his chest. "you're beautiful, do i need to remind you again today? tha' lot will lap up any hint of kindness, so theres no reason a' all why they won't like ya". your arms wrapped around his bulking figure, pressing your face in to his defined chest you whispered "thankyou".

after finishing the rest of your food you jumped off the counter and scuttled upstairs to get ready. coming back downstairs you showed john your outfit, him grunting in appreciation whilst you did a spin, speaking about how you think you've perfected doing this hairstyle. after a silent journey you found yourself stepping out of a cab and standing in front of a pub you could only identify by name. at some point in the car ride your nerves turned to excitement and you were all to eager to meet the men your boyfriend trusted his life with. stepping in to the pub with johns large paw on the small of your back, a wave of warmth and chatter washed over you. warm lights reflecting off the red walls and oak ceiling basking you in a golden light as you scanned the pub. for a moment the hairs on the back of your neck stood as goosebumps rose across your arms; you shook off the feeling; john seemed to had spotted where his task force was, grunting in to your ear "just in tha' corner, doll" he guided you to the left.

with the soft tread of sticky carpet under your feet your eyes landed upon three men in the corner of the pub. a man with a mohawk caught your attention first, raucous laughter causing your steps to falter. lips fluttered against the shell of your ear "'m righ, behind ya", john gave a reassuring squeeze to the fat of your hip. your eyes flicked over to the man being spoken too. his brown eyes met yours, welcoming and soft yet calculating. he flashed you a dazzling smile, dimples appearing on his slim cheeks. by the time you had gotten to the table (nerves causing the journey to feel longer) all three men had their attention on you and john. "captain, nice to see you" the man with the brown eyes said, his velvety voice contrasting with johns gravelly "love, meet gaz, soap and ghost". giving a polite smile you looked them assessing, finally putting faces to what little you know. soaps eyes tracked up and down your body once, he couldn't help but take in your appearance. he knew your face was beautiful from the snooping he'd done, but god did your body live up to it. sharp blue met yours, twinkling with something. gaz pulled out a seat and gestured for you to sit down, price slipped your jacket off and put it on the back of your chair. as you settled while they greeted each other, your attention was drawn to ghost. you couldn't help but notice him.

a hulking figure in the corner of the booth, he blended in with the shadows despite the almost orange light of the pub. his balaclava was covering his whole face, bar dead eyes devoid of any emotion. as his gaze landed on you from across the table, you registered what that sudden nervous feeling was when you first stepped in to the pub. it was him. he'd watched you and john since you arrived, despite his companions remaining oblivious. you tried not to overthink it. just as you were about to tear your gaze away, his near black eyes caught yours. ghost gave you a curt not before gaz spoke to you. "its so nice to mee' you. you've been a well kept secret, eh soap?" nudging soap with his elbow, an impish grin on his face. you let out a small chuckle while soap jokes "ah dinnae know how cap' found ya", a soft rumble of a laugh reverberated from john. "yer a real bonnie lass-" soap let out a soft yelp. curiously you looked around the table and saw ghost staring at him. with a faint warmth to your cheeks you let out a small "thankyou". a voice even deeper than johns makes you slightly jump as ghost instructs "mactavish, go get tha' first round in".

after telling soap the drink of your choice you feel johns warm paw smooth up and down your leg "you alrigh', beautiful?" you nodded and replied "they're just like you said". gaz turns to you with that same dazzling smile "i'm guessing you know more about us than we do about you".

"i supposed so, john told me all about the phonecall incident". at that he turned away, hiding a bashful smile. a husky wheeze, which felt more like a vibration, came from ghost. john squeezed your thigh in hearing that. ghost remembered the day of the 'phonecall incident' well. his sergeant was practically running down the hallway, excitement coming off him in waves. as he told ghost and soap what he heard he wore a smug grinon his face- of course. for the rest of the day that's all ghost bloody heard from his sergeants, although he would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. the next day the captain spoke to them about meeting his girl, so gaz felt entirely responsible for solving the 'mystery' as well as getting to meet you. when soap came with the drinks, he started a line of enquiry surrounding yours and johns relationship. his warm hand brushed against yours as he passed you your drink, lingering to ensure you had a proper grip on it.

"so how did you an' price meet? ah cannae imagine him dancing on ye at a club" your boyfriend barked out a sharp laugh. you giggled at the image, deciding he would be reminiscent of an endearing if awkward dancing bear. at the melodic sound of your laugh you caught ghosts eyes, an unreadable stare. your ability of storytelling had the boys rapt, including john who never tired of hearing your view of events. you recounted that somehow your schedules matched up, and after he helped you in an awkward situation you began to talk whenever you saw each other. soap poked fun at his captain after learning that he had a habit of stumbling over his words when asking you anything important, like when he asked you for his own number. after you had finished your anecdote soap directed another question in your direction "wha's tha' captain like? bet he's ah lovesick puppy", guffaws rounded the table. more followed when you retorted "you'd be surprised, he's like a limpet some days".

slowly but surely you grew more comfortable in the conversation, bantering back and forth with soap and gaz, laughing when john interjects about some absolutely absurd guesses about him in your relationship. naturally they ask you about work, all three being pleasantly surprised finding out you don't work a boring office job. you explained that since being with john you can have a job you can enjoy, instead of burning out constantly just to live. gaz nodded in agreement, even though john had told you he had joined the army quite young. he commented "would've probably worked in my dads business if i hadn't joined the army". you hummed in response, filing that away for later analysation, noticing his slightly furrowed brows. soap piped up from the end of the table "ah cannae say ah enjoy gettin' shot at fer a livin, but-"

"tha's enough. remember wha i said" johns gravelly voice cut soap off. it was slightly raised, sending a small shock down your spine. he rarely raised his voice at you, let alone shout. it was strange seeing that authoritative side of him seep through, though some small part of you was interested. "sorry captain" soap quickly responded, "sorry love" he added. as gaz deftly redirected the conversation you quirked an eyebrow at john. "what did you say?" you quietly enquired, picking up your drink, condensation cool against your skin. you noticed john glancing away as he cleared his throat "you shouldn't know what.. what really 'appens when i'm gone." his large hand slides up your leg and down, a soothing action. whether its for you or himself is undecided.

warmth seeps from his hand to yours, adding to the slight flush you feel throughout your body. as you finish up your drink you push your chair back, lukewarm liquid sliding down your throat. "'m gonna go to the bathroom" you quietly mumble, hand on the table for support. you briefly wait for john to follow, used to him 'keeping an eye on you' whenever you went out for drinks. but before he can, gaz stands up. "i'll go with her sir, and get the next round in". price grunts in consideration, with a near empty pint in hand "love?". your eyes flick over to gaz, noticing the light being reflected in a small stud in his ear. "sure" you reply, grabbing your bag in case you needed to fix your makeup. placing his now empty glass on the table john grumbles "keep an eye on her".

gaz guided you over to the bathrooms, his large palm hovering over the small of your back. you could feel the heat radiating off him, an accidental brush feels burning hot even through your clothes. he wasn't as tall or broad as john, but that just made his proximity to you even more apparent, he was different than what you were used to. his physique was well above average, confirmed by the bulging bicep that pulled a chair out for you earlier. his lean torso was evident, even through his baggier top. something enticing radiated off gaz, drawing your attention to him when you first sat down. at the table you noticed his eyes upon you when you spoke, even if he wasn't replying. ever attentive not just to you, but to the rest of the task force. he caught what was said under someones breath, or what was said if someone was being talked over. reaching the door he muttered "i'll be right outside, no rush". entering the bathroom you feel rather giddy that everything is going so well. apparently soap shares the same sentiment.

the remaining three men at the table watched you walk away, john noticing the sway of your hips exaggerated by your tipsy state. ghost noted the details of your outfit, and thanked his mask when he realised his gaze had drifted further south than intended. soap was practically burning holes in to the back of gaz's head, annoyed he wasn't in his place. seems as though the 'competition' to know more about you hadn't ended yet. as soon as you were out of earshot soap turned to the table with a dramatic sigh. "lord 'ave mercy price, where did ye find her? yer one lucky man". ghosts body shook slightly with mirth at johnny's theatrics, yet agreed with him "he's right, captain". john sat in silence, a small smirk growing. hearing the bathroom door open, the table watched as you and gaz walked over to the bar.

he stood slightly behind you as he ordered the drinks. with interest, john watched as his sergeant lent down and whispered something in to his girls ear that made you giggle. the apples of your cheeks were dusted with warmth as you replied with an appreciative smile. unable to hear due to a particularly rowdy group of punters, gaz leant down, motioning for you to repeat yourself. resting a hand on his defined shoulder to balance yourself you did just that. johns eyes became incredibly focused once he saw his sergeant softly brushing your hair out of his face, whispy strands tickling him. pulling away gaz laughed heartily, your face lit up at garnering such a reaction.

soap was practically smoking, itching to talk to you more. ghost and john however, watched with interest, focus never wavering. the latter two shared a glance, something vaguein both their expressions. you and gaz both returned with two drinks each, placing them on the table. the group heard a snippet of your conversation "kyle that is absolutely not true". he laughed as you you turned around back to the bar to retrieve your drink. sitting back down with an oomph, gaz remarked "her sarcasm's worse than yours lt.", wide smile on his face. snatching up his drink soap snarkily said "on a first name basis are ye?". john had never seen someone drink a pint with so much attitude. gaz replied "what? you jealous mate?" with a shit eating grin on his face. before the squabble could continue ghost cut them off with a very pointed sigh.

as soap complained about gaz 'stealing of your attention' john watched you talk with a bartender. you lent lightly on the counter, back slightly arched as you sipped on your drink. with a comically soppy look on his face john reached for his cold pint. despite being nervous tonight you had found your place amongst his men. he couldn't be happier. you conversed with the bartender like she was an old friend, john had always admired your kindness and compassion. it was nice to be looked after, though he'd never admit it. his countenance hadn't been lost on his task force. here they were watching their captain look at his girl in a lovestruck daze, completely dead to the world. the boys would've laughed in shock if they weren't genuinely happy for him. it could be said that price more so than anyone deserved to be happy- oh and if they had the chance to be in johns position, all of them would totally look at you like that too. "i really am lucky to 'ave her" john mumbled to no one in particular, yet they all heard him.

returning to the table you pressed a small kiss on prices cheek, his beard scratching your face a little. a glossy, faintly red mark was left. "y' alrigh' doll?" you nodded in response, squeezing his hand under the table. sipping your drink you carried on with whatever point you had left the conversation at. soaps petty complaints continued, "s no fair he's taken all the credit fer us meetin' yeh, 'n now he's just takin' ya!". you let out a rather boisterous laugh "i promise you'll all get a go". as you turn to look at john after hearing his exasperated sigh you missed soaps wolfish grin towards gaz. you found the formers complaining highly amusing, and so did ghost apparently. he hadn't said much apart from a grunt in agreement and, well, disagreement. but when you poked fun at soap, saying that you "didn't know the army let five year olds be sergeants", that black mass in the corner added "five year olds wiv shit 'aircuts". unfortunately for soap you burst out laughing, insisting through a fit of giggles that you thought his mohawk was incredibly beautiful. much to johns disappointment it sent soap in to a tirade of defending his 'crowning glory'. ghost would be lying if he didn't feel an odd warm feeling flood his chest at producing such visceral reaction from you.

another hour or so passes by, conversation flowing from one topic to another. letting out a small grunt john slapped his thighs and stood up "m goin' out fer a smoke, wanna come for fresh air sweet'eart?". nodding, you slipped on your jacket "could you keep an eye on my bag please? i'll be back soon". pulling your chair in kyle replied "of course, i'll look after your drink too". smiling appreciatively you turned while john guided you out of the pub. as soon as your figures disappeared into the night soap exclaimed "steamin' jesus" and ran a hand down his face. gaz nodded in agreement while ghost stared at his drink.

the three men had met a good amount of women between them, all being some degree of beautiful. a fair amount had similar ease of banter and wit as you and some could rival you in intellect. a few even had the same interests as you. the men could recognise that, yet you seemed so different from any other woman. perhaps it was because you were with their captain, but this spark was apparent in relation to no one but you. they couldn't lie a finger on it yet but they had an inkling. your compassion and sincerity. any woman could be beautiful, alluring, funny, snarky or an airhead bimbo if they wanted to. but you were so unapologetically yourself, from the clothes you wore to how you carried yourself. in a life of secrets and covert operations it was refreshing to meet someone who took pride in being themselves no matter how people reacted. you were sincere, the task force could understand why john loved you for that.

it was even more enticing that you were kind to everyone, for example that young bartender dealing with a group of rowdy punters. you didn't have to be kind, but you were. one of the things price told them about you was your kindness, only elaborating to the point that some people used it against you so "they'd better not piss about and upset his doll". this aspect of you was evident as soon as you joined their table. you made sure to address everyone and listen to what they said, simply because you cared not because it was expected. they could easily see why john loved you, to such a far extent that a small part of them was jealous. jealous that the numerous bodies that woke up beside them in the morning were gone in an hour, no one in the kitchen to share breakfast with. dinner was the same unless they went out searching for someone. the home they returned to was empty, jealous that you weren't waiting for them. with that thought ghost broke the silence between them "m goin for a fag". he left soap and gaz with the same obscure look on their face.

the cold night air enveloped ghost as he stepped outside, a welcoming change from the stuffy pub. he spotted you leant against the wall, arms wrapped around yourself, as john stood next to you. he nodded for ghost to come over. as he rolled up his balaclava and lit his cigarette you averted your gaze. you understood he wouldn't do it unless he was comfortable, but you didn't want to push your luck. noticing this, ghosts husky voice said "s alrigh'". your eyes slightly widened and you nodded. fuck. simon wanted to make you feel at ease, even tried to soften his voice. he's always had the worst luck with women out of the task force- not that he was attempting to chat you up or anything. his rather disastrous train of thought was broken with price flicking the butt of his cigarette on the floor "m goin' back inside, y' joinin' me dove?". you shook your head, drawing you coat tighter "want my head to clear up a little more, i'll be in soon". he grunted in acknowledgement, pulling you in for a kiss, the taste of sour smoke still in his mouth. it was short and sweet, but simon noticed the way your eyes fluttered at johns hand on the nape of your neck. a sharp pang was felt in simons chest. it could be jealousy, but he was well acquainted with that feeling due to the bad hand he was dealt by the universe. this was different, and simon doesn't like change. john gave ghost a stern look before he returned inside, look after her.

you and ghost stood in silence, only interrupted by a passing car or the rustle of clothes when he took another drag of his cigarette. he glanced to you, expecting to see you awkwardly looking at him or the ground, instead you were gazing at the night sky. it was a dark velvet, remarkably clear with a small sprinkling of stars. a few moments passed before you softly said "the skys pretty tonight". poor simon didn't know what to say, you seem genuinely enraptured. before he gave you his usual reply of a grunt you spoke up again "john tells me about sky he sees when he's gone, said that sometimes theres more stars than sky". ghost had heard snatches of these sporadic phonecalls, always leaving to give his captain privacy. he noticed a difference in price after each one, relaxed brows and a straighter back with a lighter mood no matter the state of the mission. now simon knows it was you making that difference. whilst a plume of smoke left his scarred mouth he turned to face you. you did the same, meeting his eyes with a small smile. "price is lucky to 'ave ya'" he quietly admitted. he left out a thought that had been rolling inside his head since first hearing you speak i would be lucky to have you too.

your eyes sparkled, the first full sentence ghost had said to you was that of approval and praise. you knew he was a lonely man, the 141 was the only semblance of family he had, so his approval meant the world to you. you reached out and gently squeezed his forearm "thankyou ghost". he simply nodded, eyes fixed upon you as you returned inside. your touch was a surprise. ghost expected himself to recoil, yet he stood incredibly still. simon knew it was a simple touch- so why did his blood run incredibly warm under your hand? electricity jolted through his skin almost painfully, despite this he wanted to feel it again. wanted to have your attention, look at him with those pretty eyes and feel himself wilt under you. wanted you to touch him again. fuck. you were his captains girl. ghost shook his head violently, it would be comical if he didn't feel so guilty. flicking his cig to the ground with spite he stalked back inside.

the topic of conversation had turned to cooking. your nose wrinkled in disgust hearing some of the food at the mess hall, wondering what possessed people to make that. soap piped up "but ahve smelt prices lunch an' its bloody delicious, did ye make it?". a collective groan rounded the table as you described the last meal you made. traditional spaghetti bolognese with pasta you made yourself. "making the pasta was a little disastrous because someone can't follow instructions". you shuddered at the thought, who knew dough was so airborne? "aye so price don't listen to ye?" soap continued in a suggestive tone. you shook your head and replied "most of the time he takes orders well, but for some reason he assumed he could cook this better than me" your suggestive language and johns red face earned peals of laughter. gaz enquired "so, is it true sir?". ashamed, john mumbled "affirmative". in false shock you exclaimed "what? that you can cook better than me, or that you take orders well?". unfortunately johns protests couldn't be heard over the laughter. the image of the captain john price being bossed around by you was hilarious, probably saluting you before mopping the floors while you lounged on the sofa.

their thoughts wandered further, wondering if price took orders well in all aspects of your relationship. you seemed like a woman that knew exactly what she wanted from the man she loved, they liked that. before their thoughts got collectively dirtier john cut them off in an accusatory tone "i've caught these lot poking around my lunch more times than i can count, 'specialy after you gave me those brownies". you were particularly stressed that week, and baked a little too many. so you packed loads for john, instructing him to give some to his task force. for the rest of that week he was begged to bring in more despite his false admission there was none left.

back at the table gaz declared "your cookin' is the best i've had in a long time, any chance of getting some more?" he wiggled his eyebrows in a bad attempt to persuade you. you beamed at his praise and awful persuasion "i normally give john any leftovers from dinner the night before for lunch, but theres hardly any- he loves to eat". john nodded in agreement "don't want any of you greedy buggers takin' my food". soap had noticed the slightly light hair on johns beard near his mouth months ago, he could already tell john loved to eat. soap downed the rest of his drink in an effort to get his brain to shut up. he almost felt bad having such depraved thoughts of his captain eating out his girl bent over the kitchen counter while he was sitting opposite them in the pub.

noticing that the tips of soaps ears were slightly pink, kyle asked you with that dazzling smile "so how would i- hypothetically- go about getting more food". catching on to what he meant you replied "well you would have to ask the hypothetical man if you were allowed over for dinner. the decision lies solely in his hypothetical hands", a drunken giggle escaping at the silliness. price grunted, weighing up the odds of letting his task force over for dinner. it wouldn't be the first time them coming to his house, but you hadn't lived there then. from the corner, ghosts voice rumbled across the table "i'd like to visit too". you looked in his direction, nodding your head in appreciation. john glanced to you and saw a large cheesy smile plastered across your face, which was replicated by both his sergeants. what has he done. you and his task force had really taking a liking to each other. "i'll think abou' it" he said with finality. you clapped your hands and gave him a big kiss on the cheek "i'll take it". a dopey smile spread across his face at the kiss.

conversation carried on for another half an hour before you let out a yawn. stretching and standing up john sighed "come on dolly its time to get you home, before you turn in to a pumpkin". as john quickly booked a cab you finished the rest of your drink. busying yourself with getting your coat on john said goodbye to his friends. even though it wasn't clear you think you heard "m so happy fer ye mate", "she's gorgeous, treat her well" and "m proud of ye". you'll live in your cloud of plausible deniability quite happily.

"ghost, ahve called ah cab fer us three. it'll be here soon" soap called out, alcohol making him forget his inside voice. kyle replied "m proud of you mate, last time you were barely upright". the melodic sound of your laughter filled their ears for the final time that night. addressing kyle first you pulled him in to a hug "it was so lovely to finally meet you kyle". his lean arm wrapped around your waist, hand resting on the fat of your hip, you felt his breath on your ear "it was nice to meet you darling". kyle pulled away just before soap slightly barged past him. he swept you up in to an enthusiastic hug, chests flush together. you giggled in to his neck before a loud cough from behind you prompted him to hold you at arms length. "nice meetin' ye bonnie, when are ye next free?" before you could reply you felt a familiar arm corded with muscle hold you by the waist and pull you away. johns voice rumbled against your back as he said "mactavish you will know when we are free, if tha's alrigh' with the little lady". you nodded in agreement and replied "i'd like to see you all again, if thats okay with all of you?". the last part of your sentence was said in a mild manner.

for just a second the 141 saw a glimpse in to your second-guessing, price had told them to be extra nice to his birdie. before the sergeants could reassure you with grandeur, ghost resolutely said "of course". you beamed at all of them, teeth glinting and cheeks round, the widest and truest smile you'd worn all night. simon felt his heart swell slightly with pride, he did that. "cabs nearly here, you ready?" you nodded and waved a final time, john continued "good catchin' up with ya, see you horrible lot monday". the sergeants gave a very disorganised salute while ghost nodded his head.

stepping in to the night, a slight drizzle had started. despite that you abruptly stopped and pulled john in, cutting of his question with a kiss. you pressed your lips to his slightly harder and sloppier than you wanted in your drunk state, but john didn't seem to mind. his warm mouth opened more, bitter taste of beer on his tongue and slight scratch of his bed earning a soft moan from you. in return he gripped the fat of your hip pulling you impossibly closer, chests flush. at the whistles of onlookers you both pulled away, your eyes twinkled in the stars as a feeling of pure content filled both your bodies, "i'm so happy john". you both clumsily climbed in to cab that had pulled up beside you. your eyes were fixed upon the passing scenery outside the window and johns eyes were fixed on you. the reflection of streetlights on the droplets of the window looked like glitter, the perfect backdrop to the perfect view. sighing contently john replied "i'm 'appy too, doll".

in the other cab the rest of the 141 weren't happy, they were ecstatic. the mystery of their captains girl had finally been solved, the theories developed over their 'detective' period had been proven true or false. even ghost had joined in with the sergeants vigorous discussion about you, all singing your praises. although they had 'solved' the mystery, the new information had presented them with a new set of questions, a want to know more about yours and prices relationship. whilst discussing these questions passionately there was a thought none of them would vocalise, they wanted more of you. to spend more time around you, learn more about your likes and dislikes, get the recipe for your cooking and replicate it at home. they wanted to listen to your music and know about the memories related to each song. greedy hands grabbing at pictures of your latest holiday or your final day at school. they wanted more more more. they knew they were a bunch of greedy bastards, but john had let them at something so kind, so different, so sacred to any other woman they had met.

they knew this wasn't a normal reaction to meeting your superiors girlfriend. but years in the military caused disconnect between them and the world they couldn't quite explain. they know their eagerness is odd and unusual, but how else did price expect them to react. he had noticed the looks his task force had given each other, that had flew right over your head. not looks of malice, but something obscure and vague. like being drawn down a path despite not knowing where you may end up.

none of them knew that today had changed something within all of them, it just wasn't apparent. yet.

heloooo long awaited sequel, thankyou so much for being patient and thankyou even more for reading :)) i appreciate every single person who likes, comments, reblogs and follows!! any interaction is greatly appreciated <3

these big dumb stupid men living in my head have gotten me through my breakup. ive been feeling really bummed out so thankyou for being patient while i write this

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 13: Learning How to Stay

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: Sorry about the delay y’all! It was a rough week. I saw a bunch of immigrants being round up and bussed off, and it threw me off pretty badly. Chapter is kinda short because I literally couldn’t snap out of it. Anywho, I’m gonna look at your suggestions tomorrow before I start writing Chapter 14. I really wish it was better, but I know Chapter 14 will be lol!! I hope y’all enjoy!! xx Elle

Warnings: Nightmares, low self-worth, PTSD symptoms, anxiety (mild)

Word Count: 3.5k words

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Azzi arrived at Penthouse 8 bright and early on Tuesday morning. She was intentional about her outfit; she didn’t want to be the reason Soleil looked like she wouldn’t fit in on her first day at Four Oaks. The flowy, cream and green pants paired perfectly with the tight, cream tank top. Brown sandals and gold jewelry were the perfect accents.

“Good morning, Azzi. How are we doing today?” Paige questioned, facing the stove.

Azzi sat at one of the bar stools, noting the lack of sunny energy in the room. “Good morning. I was up a few times. He was in a few dreams, freaked me out a little. Where’s Soleil.”

Paige looked at her watch. “Sleep. I’m gonna get her up in a couple minutes, once I finish cooking. Wanna talk about it?” Glance tossed over her shoulder.

“Uh, sure.” She began. “Do you have anything you need help with?”

“You can cut some apples and oranges if you want?” Paige offered.

Azzi was grateful for the task, standing to gather the fruit and supplies. “For the first one, I was in my apartment with Soleil. We were working on homework, I think. He just popped up, saying mean things. I woke up when he said something to Soleil.”

Paige nodded, letting her continue.

“Second one I was there by myself. He was there when I got home, and he started hitting me. And I don’t even know why that happened in the dream; he’s only hit me once.”

“Azzi,” Paige started, covering her hand, “He shouldn’t have hit you at all, and it’s okay if you’re having nightmares about it.”

The brunette nodded, focusing on cutting up the fruit. This is why she was beginning to like the morning meeting. She could air out her feelings and be validated.

“The last one was the worst. Everyone was out somewhere, I don’t even know where. Soleil went missing. Nobody could find her, and he made me leave you guys as a trade.” Azzi finished.

Paige’s hand came to cup the nape of her neck this time, “Azzi, can you look at me?”

Azzi shook her head, hands shaking as she cut the last apple slice.

“Okay. Nothing’s going to happen to Soleil, I promise. She’s always got somebody who would die before they would let anything happen to her. Nika, Ice, Jana, KK, me, you. She’ll be okay.” The blonde’s free hand went to Azzi’s chin, forcing her to look at her. “You are safe with me, Az. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright?”

Azzi didn’t say anything, just stared into Paige’s eyes, but she was gone. Physically with her, but mind away.

“Azzi,” Paige called, squeezing the back of her neck a little.

The woman blinked quickly, clearing out whatever was going on in her mind.

“Did you hear me?” The blonde questioned. “Nothing is going to happen to you or Soleil. I won’t let him hurt you, not again.”

Azzi nodded, trying to believe what Paige was telling her. “It’s just hard to remember that when it’s the middle of the night.” She said with a cynical laugh.

“You can always come up here if you need. If you don’t feel safe, or if you just want to talk, you can always come here. I know Soleil would love a sleepover, so our door is always open.”

Pale thumbs rubbed at Azzi’s jaw, reminding her to unclench her teeth. “I’ll remember that. Thanks, Paige.”

The blonde leaves her in the kitchen and Soleil is left with her thoughts.

Would Paige really want to talk about her abuser at 3 a.m.? Did she really want her to come over whenever?

Her brows were furrowed when Paige came back with Soleil in tow. “Rule number two, Azzi.” She said, casually.

She thought back to the rules listed in her journal – she could ask if she didn’t know what to do, didn’t understand what was expected of her.

“Maybe after Soleil gets to school?” Her shoulders relaxed at Paige’s nod.

Soleil sat quietly at the island, something very unusual when she was at home.

“What’s wrong, Sunny Girl.” Azzi said, moving closer.

The girl shook her head and stuck her thumb in her mouth, pout deepening at the question.

“She doesn’t want to go to school. I think she might be a little nervous.” Paige spoke lowly.

Azzi had figured that, as her last experience with a new school wasn’t great. “That’s okay, Lei. We can–”

“We stay here and do school?” Soleil’s eyes had lit up with excitement and hope.

The brunette’s heart dropped to her stomach, knowing she’d be crushing the girl’s dreams. “Well, you’re only going to go to school for the morning, then me and Mo are gonna come get you for lunch, and we’ll come home and finish school! And then your mommy’s gonna pick you up after we finish! Does that sound okay?” Azzi tried to sound joyful with the plan, hoping the anxiety in her voice wasn’t audible.

Big blue eyes locked onto the kitchen counter, face pensive, “If you do my hair, I agwee.”

A tanned hand shot out, “You’re a good negotiator.” A quick handshake and a smile and the deal was on.

Two plates of French toast, chicken sausage, eggs, and fruit appeared before them. “Okay, we have 45 minutes until we need to be on the way to school, so I can go in and meet your teacher, Lei.” Paige walked around to sit on the other side of Soleil. “So, no games or tv this morning, alright?”

Soleil nodded, grabbing both women’s hands. “Dear God,” She started, head bowed. “Thank you fow my yummy bweakfast. Thank you fow my mommy. Please let hew have a gweat day! Thank you fow my Azzi. Please help us have a fun time aftew school.” She paused, voice dropping a bit. “Please help me like my new school and have nice fwiends. In Jesus name, amen.”

It wasn’t everyday Azzi her a child that young pray so well, “Soleil, that was a great job, Sweetheart.” She ruffled the girl’s hair before digging in.

Plates were empty in ten minutes. Paige went to clean up and get dressed while Azzi followed Soleil to her room to help her get ready.

Her heart warmed seeing Soleil in her uniform. “Why can’t I wear my unicorn dress today?” Soleil pouted.

“Because Four Oaks has uniforms. Everyone matches so no one feels left out.” Azzi answered gently. “Do you want me to do something with purple butterfly clips to match your shirt?”

“Yes, please. I want lots of bwaids in the fwont!” She smiled brightly. “What awe we gonna do aftew we get home?”

Azzi scrunched her face like she was deep in thought. “Maybe we can learn about volcanoes and make our own.” She said, parting the front half of Soleil’s hair.

“I wanna make a volcano!” She exclaimed loudly.

Soleil rambled about how they could make the rainbow pretty and paint it pink and add purple glitter since it’s mommy’s favorite. She seemed excited for their after school adventure, energy rubbing off on Azzi.

A knock sounded at Soleil’s bedroom door. “You guys ready?” Paige questioned.

Azzi’s mouth went dry.

Paige was still oh so fine. She wore a neutral outfit. Simple. Loose khakis and a cream linen shirt hung on her frame nicely. Her hair was down today; natural waves framed her face beautifully.

“Yeah, mommy! I’m weady.” Soleil’s voice broke Azzi’s Paige-induced trance. She walked to her mom, putting her had in the larger outstretched one. “If I do a good job, we can have a movie dinner and night.”

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Drop off went well. Soleil skipped to her classroom, holding her mom’s hand. She showed Paige her desk, cubby, and the book nook while Azzi talked to Mrs. Russell about what happened at St. Paul’s. The teacher reassured Azzi that nothing like that would be permitted at Four Oaks. Mrs. Russell walked her to the door, gentle hint very clear.

Azzi signaled to Paige that they would need to leave. She smiled as the tall blonde knelt, tugged Soleil close to her chest, and whispered something in her ear.

As they walked back out to the car, Paige looked back several times.

“Relax, P. I really think this will be a good fit for her.” Azzi said, laying a hand on her back.

Paige nodded, “I know, I’m just worried.” She sighed. “I know she’ll probably love it, and it’ll be great, but I thought that about St. Paul’s too.”

“Yeah, but this is a new place. They know all about you and your orientation, and they are accepting of it.”

Paige opened the passenger door for Azzi, “I just don’t want this to fuck up her childhood.”

“That school is good. The classrooms have pride flags. And if you don’t like it, pull her out, and I’ll be a private tutor or something. But you have to let her settle, see how the school really is.”

The blonde nodded. Azzi was making sense. She just needed to calm down and see how everything went. Soleil had a lot of people looking out for her, making sure she was okay.

“Alright.” She said. She reached into her back pocket, pulling out a sheet of folded paper. “I have your list for today. But we need to talk about what had you confused this morning.”

“Well, I don’t need an explanation, more like clarification.” Azzi started. “Do you really want me to come up here if I can’t sleep or are you being nice?”

Paige smirked, “I’m trying to date you, Azzi, so of course I’m being nice. But even if I wasn’t interested, we’re friends too. I want to help you, and if that means coming upstairs for a few nights, that’s fine with me.” She cocked a brow slightly. “Was there anything else?”

“Yeah. Do I have to talk about it like we did this morning?” She questioned.

“Not if you don’t want to. It may help though. We could even get you a therapist if you want.” Paige said, handing her the list.

Work on setting up apartment

At least 3 glasses of water before you pick up Soleil

Sunlight for 10 mins

Make list of materials for Soleil’s afterschool

Journal prompt: perfect day

Before they long, they were back at the apartment.

“Have a good day. Morgan will be here at 11 to take you to pick up Soleil. Let me know if you need anything.”

Azzi rode the elevator to her floor, cataloguing all the things she could get done in the next two and a half hours. There was a thin figure waiting outside her door.

Nika.

“Hey girl,” Croatian accent light. “I brought coffee so we could have a little boost while we work.”

Azzi took the cup and brought it to her lips. “Thanks, Nika. I’m happy you’re here, so I don’t have to do everything myself.”

She unlocked her front door, ushering the other woman in.

“Oh, Ice should be here soon, since she was your interior designer.”

“It’s mainly just sorted into boxes for each room, but if we can get the couch, the table for Soleil’s room, and the bean bags set up, I think we’ll be in pretty solid position.”

Nika nodded, “Good, good. While we’re putting the couch together, I can ask you a few questions. “She added casually.

“Okay,” Azzi was more focused on opening one of the eight boxes for the couch.

“How are you liking it here? Like seriously.” Nika went to another box, cutting the cardboard off smoothly.

“I’m doing okay. I’m trying to work through being accepted. And there not being a trap door with every decision I make.” She said.

Nika was quiet, making sure Azzi didn’t have any more to get out. “I know that can be tough. You’re almost rewiring your brain to think a completely different way. You have to teach your brain and your body that you are in a safe space with safe people.”

Azzi’s eyes were wide with surprise. She’d just analyzed everything Azzi had said in thirty seconds.

“Oh, I was a psychology major, Azzi. Know all about how easy it is for words to fuck someone up.” The woman smirked. “You’re already been accepted; you’re our family. Paige let you in. She doesn’t do soft. Not easily. She’s been carved into corners for Soleil. But you? You’re the only one who got past her walls just by… being.”

The last sentence bounded around in Azzi’s head. Paige had really let me into their life and accepted me into the fold.

The two women worked in relative silence. They screwed the little feet on the bottom and sat each piece up. Azzi was happy she picked a couch with a low difficulty, or she’d probably doing homework

“Okay, Fudd. I’ve let you stew long enough for me to ask you the real questions.” Nika said, smirking after. “You happy?” she asked, turning back to Azzi.

Azzi blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Azzi let out a soft breath, smiled faintly. “Yeah. I think so.”

Nika crossed her arms and tilted her head. She didn’t move.

Azzi’s smile faded a little. “That’s what’s scary.”

Nika sat on the arm of the couch. “Explain.”

Azzi settled onto the floor again, legs folded under her, her iced coffee balanced on the nearest box. “I keep waiting to feel like I’m faking it. Like I don’t belong here — with Soleil, with Paige, in this building. But I don’t. That’s what’s terrifying. Because if this is real, then I could lose it.”

“You think she’d leave you?” Nika asked gently.

Azzi shook her head. “Not like that. I just – I’ve never been this safe. It makes me want to self-destruct a little.”

Nika nodded slowly. “You want to know something about Paige?”

Azzi glanced up.

“She doesn’t do soft. Never has. Not with people. Not even with her parents. But Soleil cracked her open. And you? You slipped in so quiet we almost didn’t notice. And now she’s soft around you, too.”

Azzi’s throat tightened.

“I know you care about her. And Soleil,” Nika said, quieter now. “I know you’d never hurt them on purpose. But I need to know you won’t run when it gets too real.”

Azzi stared at the floor. “I’m not scared I’ll break her. I’m scared I’ll break me.”

The silence stretched between them. Nika didn’t fill it.

“When I was with Grant, I didn’t have anything for myself,” Azzi murmured. “Not a toothbrush, not a key to the apartment, not even a drawer. Nothing that said I mattered. Being here — being wanted here — it’s like holding something fragile. And I don’t trust myself not to drop it.”

Nika knelt down beside her, her voice firm but kind. “Then let us help you hold it.”

Before Azzi could respond, another knock sounded — louder this time. A beat later, the door swung open.

“Please tell me someone’s wearing real pants,” Ice called as she walked in, balancing a tray of pastries and a canvas bag bursting with snacks and what looked like an electric screwdriver. She stopped short. “Oh good. Emotional breakdown first. Building shit after. Love that for us.”

Azzi snorted despite herself. Nika rolled her eyes.

Ice kicked off her boots and dropped the bag beside the bookshelf. “I brought cinnamon rolls and batteries. I’m the handyman of your dreams.”

“God help us,” Nika muttered.

“Exactly,” Ice said, pulling a cinnamon roll from the tray and tossing it to Azzi like a softball. “Fuel up. We’ve got a bed to build and a shelf that needs redemption.”

They got to work, spreading the unassembled pieces of Soleil’s twin bed across the living room. Ice found the instructions, skimmed them for a total of five seconds, and declared them “useless garbage” before tossing them aside.

Azzi tried to follow the manual anyway. Nika refused to hold anything without criticizing its symmetry. Ice ended up on the floor with a power drill and half a cinnamon roll in her mouth, narrating the process like a podcast.

It was chaotic. It was messy. It was joyful.

They argued over whether butterfly decals were juvenile (Nika: yes, Ice: absolutely not), laughed until they cried when the bookshelf collapsed sideways, and somehow managed to string twinkle lights above the bed without anyone falling off the chair.

When the last screw went in and the mattress was lowered into place, Azzi stood back and stared at it.

The room felt different now.

Permanent.

“She’s gonna freak out,” Ice said, wiping her hands on her jeans. “This is a straight-up fairy room. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Azzi nodded, arms crossed loosely over her chest. “She deserves it.”

“You all do,” Nika said. Her voice was quieter now. “This? All of it? It’s good, Azzi. You’re good.”

Azzi blinked fast, not quite trusting her voice.

Ice crossed the room and handed her a small, silly pillow she’d tucked in her bag — pale pink, embroidered with STAY SOFT in sparkly thread.

“For the bed,” she said. “Or your couch. Whatever.”

Azzi took it with a shaky laugh.

“Welcome to the family,” Ice said. “You’re stuck with us now.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The apartment was quiet again. Too quiet. Ice and Nika left five minutes earlier. They had real jobs to do.

Azzi stood in the center of the living room, hands on her hips, eyes skimming over what they'd accomplished. The couch was assembled, the rug was nestled under the furniture, and the coffee table was perfectly coordinated with the rest of the space.

Soleil’s room was complete — a soft glow spilling from under the door where the string lights hummed against the wall. The butterfly decals looked a little lopsided. Ice would say they gave the room character.

Ice did an amazing job.

The silence pressed in.

She crossed to the kitchen counter and picked up Paige’s folded list, smoothing it open on the marble.

To Do:

Work on setting up apartment

At least 3 glasses of water before you pick up Soleil

Sunlight for 10 mins

Make list of materials for Soleil’s afterschool

Journal prompt: perfect day

A flutter of guilt rose. Looking back at the list, her eyes snagged on the first item. The house isn’t finished, and it’s nowhere.

She should be doing more. The closet was still half-full of things she hadn’t unpacked. She hadn’t touched the bag of maternity clothes Paige had bought “just in case.” The hall closet looked like a graveyard of scattered shoes. The crib still needed decorations. She hadn't made any actual lesson plans for Soleil’s electives — today would be mostly improvising.

Grant’s voice rose, uninvited, like oil on water:

“You can’t even finish what you start.”

“You think being good for five minutes erases years of being useless?”

“Everyone loves you until they realize you’re work.”

She shut her eyes. Tried to breathe. Counted backward from five.

It didn’t work.

Azzi moved slowly to the bathroom, flicked on the light. Cool tile under bare feet. Steam still clung to the corners of the mirror from this morning.

She looked at her reflection. Puffy eyes. Paint on her forearm. A small tear in her t-shirt sleeve. She looked… loved.

Her heart was racing anyway.

“You’re messy. You’re needy. No one stays for that.”

She opened the medicine cabinet. No pills, no old bottles. Just sunscreen, a lavender roller, a half-used tube of concealer, and a folded index card she’d taped to the inside of the mirror last week.

She read it out loud.

“You are allowed to take up space.

You are safe now.

You are not too much.

You are learning how to stay.

You are loved.

You are loving.

She touched each sentence as she said it, grounding herself in the repetition.

Azzi closed her eyes and pictured Soleil’s face when she saw the new bed. Paige’s voice saying, “Wear something fun.” Ice handing her that ridiculous STAY SOFT pillow like it was a badge of honor.

“People don’t want a project. They want a prize.”

She stared hard at herself in the mirror. “You’re not a prize,” she said quietly. “You’re not a project. You’re a person. And they love you anyway.”

It didn’t fix everything. But it helped.

She stood there for a minute longer, breathing slow and deep. Her reflection didn’t look so panicked anymore. Just tired. But steady.

In the next room, her phone alarm buzzed.

Pick up Soleil @ 12:00.

She shut the alarm off and smiled. Time for volcanoes.

[joonieskinks]

I just read your blurb where reader wakes up and she’s married to Sergeant Soap and not Captain Soap but I feel like what if it’s reversed. What if she’s this young bonnie thing with a young husband and then she wakes up to be married to older, slightly more mature, Captain MacTavish.

uh- HELLO?? I love it. Sorry it took so long but here you go, hope I did it justice xx

warning: age gap so shoo if ur not into it

You sat up slowly in the bed, stilling orientating yourself and emerging from sleep. You had thought the sheets felt a little different, but assumed that maybe you were still dreaming. It was only when your eyes opened did you realize you weren’t at home anymore.

You were on base in the early morning, in a room that looked an awful like your husband’s when you would come to see him and stay with him for a couple nights. Well, that was what you did until his passing.

Johnny and you were a young love. He got down on one knee before he was even 23, and got to the altar before 24. You only got a couple months with him as husband and wife- a young widow they now called you. Everyday is hard, but that horrible day you received the news plays over and over in your mind all the time like a nightmare you just can’t shake.

John, Simon and Kyle all came to your door to tell you personally. They cried with you and stayed with you, they promised they would help take care of you, always. It’s what Johnny would have wanted.

The panic finally began to sink in as you could not remember how you got here. Everything was different but also incredibly familiar. This was the base alright, but the layout seemed altered, the paint a different colour. Looking around, you turned on the nightstand light, eyes briefly glancing at the framed photo beside.

It was like your blood turned cold.

There was your Johnny.

That’s your Johnny with his boys, with John, Simon, Kyle. But older, so much older. But he was alive, he was smiling, he’s so handsome and he’s there-

You shot out of bed, running into the hallway, searching for anyone, any familiar face. For your husband. Is he your husband? If he’s older? But how is he alive? Is he still alive?

The questions running around your head, threatening to ignite tears from your eyes. You turn a sharp corner, bumping straight into a hefty figure.

“Sorry” you stumbled out, trying to regain your balance.

“‘S alright.” The man started, looking down at the small, young girl who’s a frantic mess before him.

“Hey, hold on,” he starts again, and you glance up. Coming face to face with John Price. Much older, a thicker beard adorning his face, but that same damn hat. It was him.

“Slow down there a sec and-“

“John?”

The recognition in your voice stops him in his tracks, he looks you over for a couple seconds and shakes his head.

“Think you might be mistaken, love.” He smiles gently, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Johnathon Price- Captain. You, Kyle, Simon and my Johnny were all on Taskforce 141 when we met. You even came to our wedding, you were one of the groomsmen for crying out loud. I-“

“Stop right there.” John orders, his hands coming to grip your shoulders. “How could you possibly know about all that?”

“John, I know you. Now, what’s going on? How did I get here and why’re you older?” You asked, utterly confused and exhausted, you needed answers and you needed them now.

He glanced around the room before making his decision.

“Alright, come with me. We’ve gotta talk.”

-

John sat you down in a private room with a two-way mirror where you told him all about himself, how you woke up here and your marriage. Your Johnny MacTavish, your young husband who went by Soap. Everything, you laid it all on the table, the task force, the mission, the death. Everything.

And John believed you, as crazy as it sounded, from wherever you came from and however you got here- because how else could you know all this?

As he listened, he kept looking to your ring finger, the gold band adorning that you refused to ever take off. He admired your devotion.

John sat, silent when you finished, glancing towards the mirror every now again. Thinking and planning his next move.

“Wait here.” He stood up from his chair and left out the door, leaving you with your own thoughts. But only the same questions were on repeat.

Where am I? What was that photo? Why is he older? Is he still alive? Does he know who I am? Would he think I’m crazy? What now?

You almost didn’t register the sound of Price opening the door again until his figure reappeared. He could only stare at you, empathy in his eyes. Although this was a weird situation, he could tell you were genuine and wanted to help, so he trusted you. Anything for his boys, Johnny included.

“He’s been listening.” John starts and you draw in a breath, you didn’t even know you were holding it.

He? As in your Johnny?

“He would like to meet you, if you’d like to see him-“

“Yes.” You reply without thinking.

Eager for anything, anything at all that could bring you a glimpse Johnny. The love of your life taken so young, life was so cruel and unfair. Taking him just as you were happiest. He was alive but was this still your Johnny? From the photo he was older, he’s different. He probably doesn’t even know who you are, for all you know he could be married, have his own kids. Who the hell are you to interrupt all of that?

“Then I’ll take my leave.” John huffs, interrupting your thoughts. He eyes you up and down one last time before exiting once again.

You sit up from your chair instinctively, playing with your ring. It’s only now that the doubt hits you like a truck.

Would he believe you? Would he laugh you off? Would he even like what he sees?

The thoughts raced until he opened up the door, revealing himself to you. You could only stare in shock.

That was your Johnny.

Older, yes. But that was him. Banged up with more scars, he looks tired yet wears his age well, you just wish you could’ve seen him grow older alongside you… But that’s your Johnny alright.

His eyes drag from the floor to meet yours and he offers you a small, nervous smile. It’s enough to shoot the air back into your lungs and for your heart to beat again. The tears start to leave your eyes and your hands move to wipe them away.

Johnny takes a good look at you and particularly that golden wedding band that he supposedly gave you. It’s still always been his dream to marry a pretty girl like you, in some odd way he feels proud that in another life he got you. A gorgeous, caring and devoted wife that he could love up and spoil. Johnny knows himself and in any life, he would do the same: wife up a woman like you. Looks like he did. Looks like he still could.

“I ‘eard what ye said.” He softly speaks. You close your eyes at the sound. It feels so good to hear him again. A little different, but it’s still him.

“Bonnie, ye don’t have to cry.”

He steps forward to cup your face, wiping your tears away with his fingers. You place your own hands over his, keeping him there. Having him touch you again, it’s better than anything you could have ever prayed for. This is all you think about and to finally have it all come true. Even if it’s just for a second, you’d trade it all away.

“My wife, eh?” Johnny jokes to try and lighten the mood. You look up into his eyes and laugh with a smile despite the tears still leaking. He doesn’t mind, he wipes them still anyway.

“It’s so good to see you again.” You confess, a hand leaving his to touch his scarred face. From his cheeks, a thumb over his chin and his lips. He’s so hard to look away from, how handsome he grew up to be. His gaze and attention makes you bite your lip out of habit. A blush flooding your cheeks- he still has the same effect on you. Damn.

The feeling goes straight to your core, and you react before you can think and bring your face to his. Foreheads resting against each others while your hands explore his back and shoulders, his neck and through his hair. Something he used to love, and it makes you whine a little when he moans at the feeling. He loves your touch just as much.

“Lass, yer doin’ somethin’ wild to me.” Johnny stumbles out, his hands coming to rest on your waist, pulling you in until you’re flush with his body. He feels so good, so toned under his clothes and solid. You didn’t want him to stop, your mind starting to spin.

He runs his hands up your sides, gliding your shirt up to touch the bare skin underneath. The slightest touch has you moaning his name out and he can’t help but swell with pride as he sees this gorgeous, young girl before him come apart, desperate for more of him. His ego has never felt so big until this moment.

“Johnny…”

“What do y’a need?” He mumbles out against your lips, brushing them with just enough touch to set your skin on fire, begging for more.

“Kiss me.” You lean further into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. It’s all too much, and yet you want more. God, you knew that if he were to take you right here in this room, you’d come undone within a minute. Easily. Happily.

“Please.”

“Well- what the wife wants, the wife gets.” He chuckles as he clashes his lips to yours, his large frame utterly engulfing your small one. The way he uses your title so easily, wife- you can’t help but need more of him everywhere, all over like a wife deserves from her husband. Your own hands itching for more of him to touch, your mouths moving together, tongues finding each other as he hums against you.

Johnny guides you and gently backs you up against the wall, a hand protecting your head as your body meets it. You try to pull him even closer to you, grabbing at his clothes when you realize you need him completely bare. It’s been so long since you’ve felt good, only ever wanting your husband. And now here he is just for you. You wonder if he’s even better now with his age... Hard to tell without a test drive.

But it’s only when you need to part for air that some of reality comes back to you.

Guilt.

“Wait, Johnny.” The alarm bells go off in his head and he looks at you worriedly.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing his eyebrows crease you immediately try to calm him. Another kiss to his lips and he eases up a bit. Just like he used to.

“I need to know. Do you- do you already have someone? A wife?”

Your nerves hit once more. He could still have someone in this universe or wherever you are. And even like this, you couldn’t be that woman that ruins a marriage. Even if he does feel rightfully yours.

Johnny smiles a bit at the question before glancing downward, almost as if he’s shy or embarrassed.

“Nay, never did.” He starts before taking your cheeks back into his hands, looking into your eyes.

“Just you.”

The biggest smile breaks out on your face, your hands tugging at his shirt to bring his lips back down to yours. He feels good, warm, right. Yours. Still yours. Always yours.

“I know I’m a little young, but that doesn’t bother you, does it?” You ask with a slight smirk against his lips.

Johnny just laughs, his hands working their way down your body to cup your ass almost possessively.

“Certainly not.” His eyes looking all over your face, taking you all in. Gods, you’re gorgeous and all his? He could still hardly believe it, but he’ll be damned if he didn’t at least get to know you and try to make it all work with you. He owes that much to himself.

“Does it bother you?”

“Hmm? You being older?” You ask innocently.

Johnny only nods, still admiring your beautiful face, his girl.

You shake your head no, not daring to look away from his gaze.

“I think it’s sexy, Sergeant John MacTavish.” You quip teasingly.

A groan escapes his lips, his pants straining against him almost painfully at this point. He needed you now or he might combust.

“This room or mine?” Johnny whispers, bringing his knee in between your legs and his mouth to your ear.

“And it’s Captain now, bonnie. Make a decision quick or I’ll make one for ya. Put on a show.” He glances to the two-way mirror and a nervous giggle leaves your lips.

Your husband most certainly would do such a thing.

-

Johnny was sure to make you use his proper title as he properly had you in bed, as well as used yours.

And with your volume and his reach, everyone on the base now knew he had a wife.

Things were complicated, sure, but you two would figure it out. He knew you both wanted to give it a try and were both willing despite it all.

And after a few weeks, he decides that all there’s left to do is buy a ring of his own that’ll match yours.

[i-dont-even-know-anymore976]

my spine split from carrying us up the hill (i’m just getting colour back into my face)

a buddie relationship breakdown fic | 21.8k

tags: buck pov, buck centric, established relationship, break up, cheating, sad buck, emotional/psychological abuse, unhealthy relationship, eddie diaz bashing, 118 bashing, (tho i think it’s more critical but for the filters), season 7 au, in an au where buddie got together after the shooting, Relationship Breakdown, Buck & Ravi Friendship, anti buddie, No Beta We Die Like Bobby Nash, (doesn’t in this fic)

It took Buck a moment to process what he saw before him.  Eddie — his arms wrapped around some woman. His face buried in her neck and his fingers brushing her skin.  The other man’s eyes widening, his face going pale as he realised they’d been caught.  Buck barely heard Eddie gasp Chris’s name — the boy motionless next to him as they stared at a ghost.  At Shannon.  At Chris’s mother — who Buck knew was dead.  Had been to the funeral and seen them both through the messy aftermath. Had helped this child mourn once and already knew he’d have to do it again.  Or: What if it was Buck instead of Marisol

in a surprise to everyone — and most of all me — i’ve actually written something ?? for the first time in like three years ?? wild

tbh i think that scene in 8.17 just reaffirmed everything i'd been slowly realising about buddie and why they could never work and it somehow manifested itself as this 😅

anyway - a lil excerpt for you all xx

He regretted it as soon as the dial tone sounded. Had let his thumb hover of the name — debating — for more than a few seconds before giving in to the urge to press call.

And yet — as soon as it actually started ringing — he knew he shouldn’t have done it.

That he was fine. That he was being dramatic, once again.

But he also knew he couldn’t just hang up. That it would create a panic — force them to call back — to ask questions.

“Doctor Copeland’s office,” it was a new receptionist. Her voice melodically neutral as she answered the phone, “May I ask who’s calling.”

Buck stumbled over his words for a second, before rushing to explain, “Uh — don’t worry. It was an accident.”

“Are you sure… Mr Buckley?” She drew out the question as if reading the name off a screen and Buck cursed whatever Caller ID system the psychologist’s office employed that still recognised his number.

Her tone more concerned as she asked again, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah — yeah, of course.” He felt almost breathless as the lies left his lips, “Just a wrong number. Pressed the wrong person by mistake. Sorry for any trouble.”

“Okay — then,” she sounded doubtful. “Well, we’re here if you ever need us, Mr Buckley. Don’t hesitate to ring back now. Okay? I know Doctor Copeland would be more than happy to fit you in.”

“Yeah—” he agreed half-heartedly. Desperate to get off the phone before he did something stupid like actually ask for an appointment.

Knowing it was pointless. That he was fine.

“Have a nice day then.”

He finally freed himself from the conversation. Heart racing like it usually only did when he’s had to run up six flights of stairs in full turn outs.

He forced himself to drop his phone onto the counter — hands shaking as he thought about reaching for it again — and made himself walk away instead.

Looked around the kitchen desperately for something to do and was relieved to spot the small stack of dishes from the night before.

They usually did them together. Buck drying as Eddie washed — accused of almost flooding the kitchen one too many times before Eddie had finally relegated him to the less dangerous of the tasks.

They’d been too tired the night before. Exhaustion dragging them towards bed and leaving the dishes to wait until the morning.

It had been happening more and more lately. Truthfully Buck couldn’t remember the last time they’d shared their little ritual. Meals eaten in a rush as they raced out the door to work — whoever drew the short straw and got home first left to do the tidy up.

At least if Buck didn’t end up eating alone. Eddie always out these days — the friendship he'd struck up with Tommy keeping him gone until late whenever they had the day off.

Chris, even more sociable than his father. Forever at a friend’s house, or out with the girl that he swore to Buck wasn’t a budding romance. Swindling invites for sleepovers through charm and good humour that a young Buck could never have dreamed of emulating.

Always clinging just a little too tight for people to ever really settle in his presence.

It left him alone most nights. At least the ones he didn’t spend at the firehouse, revelling in the thrum of activity. Instructions from Bobby as they cooked, Chim and Hen’s quiet rivalry as they wrestled for control of the TV remote.

Eddie sitting next to him in the engine — their legs brushing they were sat so close. Sometimes it felt like the most intimate they ever were anymore.

Never mind the way they’d clung to each other having rescued Bobby and Athena. Buck pressing into bruises to leave them there a little longer. To remind himself that Eddie had chosen him, that he loved him.

Not that he needed the reminder.

Buck knew that. Intrinsically. He did.

Read on AO3

[messenger-of-babel]

Hi! Idk if you’re taking requests (I like to call those suggestions), but I’m OBSESSED with your writing. I absolutely loved the voicemail fic. But it’s got me thinking about the other side! What would happen if Leon got that voicemail from the reader? I’d be so curious to see how you wrote it. Keep up the awesome work!

Attachments

Summary: When you get in over your head, the last thing you can bring yourself to do is say goodbye. (Death Island! Leon x reader)

based as an alternate universe from this fic: here!

Word Count: 2.2K

Notes: my dear dear anon, thank you for posting this and I extend that hope that you are around to see this. Sorry for the wait! I actually had this just sitting here despite finishing it earlier today, I just forgot to proof read it. Warning for description of injuries, angst, mentions of death. I was inspired by Mia from resi 7, so that's the scenario I played with for this fic.

But regardless, thank you so much for your words anon I can't even describe how giddy I am that people like my work that much, and I reread everyone's comments when I need motivation.

Thanks for everyone sticking around with my wild posting, I promise I still exist here. <3

RiRi xx

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You and Leon had a pact.

You weren't the same agents that you both once were, running through an infested rural town in Spain. Especially after everything that had happened in China, and the strain that threatened to break you two apart when Ada reappeared. It took counselling and effort, long nights and early morning arguments with one of you hitting their head against the wall.

But you did it.

The dauntless task had been completed, and you had successfully managed to leave that life behind you. Well Leon had at least. There had been nothing more rewarding than seeing the hard lines of your husband soften, the crinkles in his eyes smooth out like the worry lines on his forehead. He'd filled out a little bit too, softening up now that there wasn't a team of trainers hounding him to stay in peak physical performance. Now he used the home gym when he wanted to and dedicated his time heavy lifting in the garden or fixing his bike in the back shed. Two years since being an agent, and domestic life was looking good on him.

You, however, were a liar.

You went for weeklong 'business meetings' in the next town over, claiming that the numbers on your laptop were finance spreadsheets when in reality they were government secrets. You had urged and begged Leon to quit, without leaving the force yourself, and now you were paying the consequences.

You hiss as you drag yourself to the laptop, a hand pressed to your side as you feel the gooey mess there. The ship you're on groans and tilts to the side, the emptiness eerie for a vessel of this size. Sweat beads your forehead and it's hard to breathe, fingers shaky and smearing black ooze across the keycaps as you type in your password. You fat finger in Leon's email address, before pressing the button, record, in the upper left.

"Hey, honey." you grit out, trying to smile at the white light at the top of the computer. "Hope you remembered to take the bins out on Friday."

You're aware that you look a mess, skin ashy and lips cracked. There's a gash on your forehead sticking your hair to your scalp, and you do your best to wipe it away with the back of your hand.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," you breathe out shakily. "And before you say anything, I'm sorry." It seems harder to get the words out, throat closing up. "I'm so, so sorry."

You take a deep breath and lean forward, a wave of dizziness making you rest your head on the edge of the table. Right now, you felt like the biggest idiot in the world, but it was hard to focus on your self-pity and fear of impending death when your blood was on fire. "I shouldn't have lied to you." you grit out, eyes desperately searching the camera as if you would be able to see Leon looking back at you.

You could almost image what he would look like staring back at you, and the image of it is enough to make you grateful this wasn't live. The sad, quiet heartbreak that would ripple across those blue eyes, he downturn of his mouth and the way he took that half breath in when he was surprised. The pain would be held in the way he clenched his fists, the way that his throat bobbed when he was angry, till the person left was the old shell of his rookie self-losing yet another person he cared about.

"I know I should have told you, but this was going to be the last job I swear." you choke out, eyes burning behind your eyelids. the pain in your side grows worse, a sickening squirming sensation growing. "I was going to quit for real. I didn't quit because I wanted some more retirement money for us, buy us a place in the countryside where you can ride your bike on the backroads." your hands shake as you try to wipe your face, smearing black across your cheek. "This was supposed to be easy, just escort the cargo but-" you cut yourself off with a defeated sob. "It went sideways. it went wrong, it's all gone wrong, I just wish-" you sniffle, staring into the tiny computer camera. "I just wish I could take it all back. I just want to come home." you roughly scratch at your eyes, taking a deep breath.

"This is my fault, not yours." you say after a few heaving breaths, tone level. "So don't blame yourself. I made you quit the force; I chose to stay. This would have happened whether you stayed an agent or not. So don't blame yourself, okay?" your voice breaks. the ship groans, tilting heavily to the side and you grip the table to try and stay steady.

"I know you still blame yourself about Marvin." you croak out, tears now making it down your cheeks. "Don’t blame yourself for me too."

God, you missed Leon. Your body shook, wanting nothing for this to be a bad dream. That you weren't giving him a front row seat to what was your inevitable death, the decay and rot that was crawling over your skin like a film. You knew you should turn off the camera, to save him the pain, but you couldn’t.

You were scared, and right now all you wanted was your husband.

"God, baby I'm so sorry." you sob into your hands, unable to keep it together the more you thought it through. The way he looked in his suit at the wedding, the twinkle in his eye at the altar. The grin he wore when you accepted his proposal, the peaceful look on his face as he slept on your honeymoon, stress free. The warmth of his hands when he took the dry dishes from you, the check in texts he'd send you when you went away for work.

"I'm so sorry. I want to come home. I want to come home, I don't want to be here." you cry, the pain wracking your body making it hard to think straight and not devolve into panic. "But don't come here." you choke out. "Do not come here. If you get this, stay away." you plead, voice a wheeze as you grip the sides of the computer screen.

"I love you," you say shakily as the ship groans, throwing you off balance. "I love you forever, just like I promised back in Spain. No matter what. Third drawer in the closet, there's a binder with all my information, it's got my will there. There's a trust there with enough money for you to move, a-and there's receipts for that bike you always wanted. It was going to arrive for your birthday." you smile through your tears, rushing out all the information you can.

"I'm getting so tired Leon," you sigh out, fat tears flicking off your eyelashes as they flutter. "I think I'm going to have to end this here, honey. Stay away, stay home, stay safe." you plead, voice breaking. "Stay the man I love with all my heart. You're so, so strong Leon. You've survived so much, I'm sorry I couldn't come back home." you whisper, black creeping into your vision.

On another thought, that could just be the rot.

"I want lilies for my flowers." you whisper out, legs buckling. "And an open tab. throw a party for me, won't you?" you manage a weak, shaky smile at the camera, pinprick of light flashing at you.

"I'll say hi to Luis for you when I see him."

with trembling fingers and hazy vision, you type in the subject line, not caring about mistakes. it take a few seconds for the video to upload but as soon as the blue circle is complete you click send, the computer whooshing softly. the effort of keeping yourself upright on the rotting ship is too much now that you had done your job, sending you crashing to the floor, eyes closing before you could see the message pop up:

email sent.

Leon groaned hearing the laptop chime from the other side of the living room. He had been out with Chris the night before, the older man requiring his help and thoughts on a particular situation. He knew that you'd kill him if you knew that he went out not for drinks but to talk bioterrorism with the head of the BSAA. Their discussion had drawn deep into the night as Chris laid it out.

Genetic altering had resulted in a new type of bioweapon, which did little to surprise Leon. 'Where there's a will, there's a way' he thought often, and when it came to bioterrorists and ego inflated scientists it always seemed to ring true. The BSAA was attempting to track it down, after it went dark on the radar during transportation.

"Not interested." he had waved it off, when Chris had dared to offer him a place on the team. "Told my spouse I was done with that." he said, and Chris had reluctantly backed off. It didn't mean he couldn’t help provide his two cents on it, so he spent the next few hours talking it over with Chris. Collapsing on the couch he had fallen asleep, unmoving until the chime just then. He groans, swinging his legs off the couch and rubbing his hands on his sweats, padding over to the computer.

He closes the tabs displaying bills and the calendar for when you were supposed to be getting back from New York. There, sitting in his inbox amongst the clutter of unread spam mail and pizza coupons, was an email from you. He frowns reading the subject line, eyebrows furrowing.

'Urfent plese readgt' - (1) attachment.

You were never one to make a spelling mistake, making his concern grow. There was no message, just a three-minute video attached. It took him a moment to open, but as soon as the media player launched, he felt his blood freeze. He was suddenly startling awake, like he had been thrown in an ice bath and electric shocked right after. The big pause symbol took up part of your face, but he studied you, the face he knew so well.

Your cheeks were sunken, eyes tired and frantic. Your hair was drenched like you'd been thrown in the ocean, sticking to you along the hair line.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he hit play.

Your voice was shaky and hoarse, eyes darting from the camera to behind you, like you were worried. It was too dark to tell where you were, only that the lights were off, and it looked abandoned. He felt like being sick the long the video went on, eyeing how a black webbish structure slowly crept across your skin. If you could feel it or had even taken notice, he couldn't tell.

Tears came to his own eyes as you sobbed your apology, and he wished he could reach through the screen and pulled you home when he saw you shaking. His fists were screwed up tightly on his legs, and the pressure in his chest felt like it was going to burst. With heavy breath he stared into the eyes of your recording, a shattering pain exploding through his chest.

This wasn't happening.

But it was.

When your voice crackled through the speaker, "I'll say hi to Luis when I see him," something inside him screamed. His head rang, and after a moment he realised he had been screaming, head in his hands. He felt like when he lost Marvin, when he lost Luis. It was a burning that sat in his chest and in his throat, and no matter how much he took in a deep breath he couldn't stop himself from making that sound. The pain rippled outwards from his chest, making it hard to breathe and his head dizzy.

Finally, after a few deep breaths he managed to stagger from the chair, stumbling for the stairs. He got his bearings back slowly, his feet feeling disconnected from his brain. Over and over again he played back each painful second of the video, stuck in his mind like a haunted loop. Leon must have been an evil, evil person in his past life if this is how he was being punished.

When he finally reached the banister, he began pulling himself up, legs shaky with adrenaline. Leon cursed himself. He should never have left the force. Never have stopped being your partner, should have made sure that you handed in that badge and gun to the DSO. He scaled the stairs two at a time to get to the bedroom, throwing open the closet drawer and digging into the built in on his side, instead of the drawer you had instructed him to. He hauls thick winter wear onto the floor, hands finding purchase on what he was looking for.

He pulls the box out and flips the lid, hand sliding back onto the pistol grip naturally and pulling it out. His jaw tightens as the image of your face in that video flickers in his mind's eye again, and he cocks the gun he had hidden from you, a little harder than he meant to.

It was a damn good thing he never actually left the force.

[moongreenlight]

More childhood best friend!Gaz headcanons because I cannot stop thinking about him

He’s your valentine every single year. Started as his dad trying to teach him proper etiquette when he was young and just never stopped. A bouquet of flowers on your stoop and a cheap card he scratches a note into. Never signs his name. Just ends ‘xx.’

He chaperoned your first real date in high school because your dad paid for his tank of gas. The guy you were keen on never called you back after. It took you until you were seventeen to realize that it was probably because Kyle was sitting on the same side of the booth as you and spoon feeding you bites of dinner.

He also ruined your first real relationship when he beat your boyfriend to asking you to formal (a full two months early). You tried to explain that it didn’t mean anything, but he just couldn’t understand. Kyle said it was for the better while you sobbed into his shoulder. “Tosser can’t cope with the fact he’ll always be second place. Better not to waste your time.”

His basic training was 26 weeks away from home. He went immediately after picking up his diploma. It was the most miserable summer of your entire life. Spent primarily waiting by the mailbox for the postman to deliver your daily letters back and forth. He’s started signing off “Garrick. x.”

Both of your families went to his graduation, but his mother insisted you were the one to tap him out. You barely recognized him, like the summer where his family took a month long vacation and he came back a full four inches taller. He’s bigger now, his shoulders permanently rolled back, but he still carries himself with that same cool ease.

He barely stays long enough to say his hello’s to everyone until he takes you back to the car and lays you out in the backseat. Griping the whole way about how “you’d be in a hurry, too. Couldn’t even get away with a wank in the shower.” And “s’your duty to the country. You wanna thank me for my service, don’t you?” You swear the two of you fit easier six months ago, but now he’s cramped between the seats. Caged in tight. His head bumps the window each time he snaps his hips into you.

You seriously considered moving close to base when you found out he was being permanently relocated after joining the task force, but he wouldn’t hear a word about it.

So you settle on sending each other disposable cameras back and forth. You’ve got a picture of him on a mission in Amsterdam framed up in your hall. He’s got a cigarette hanging out of his big, toothy smile, posing like an overexcited tourist in front of a lingerie shop with a display window that made your ears hot when you first saw it.

He called you a few days after his incident with the helo in Urzikstan. Boasted his adventure with only a whispering tremble on the soft underside of his tough facade. Carried on until you wretched dryly into the receiver. Working yourself up into sick with worry even though he promised he was fine, just sticking to the ground for a bit.

Even though you’re seeing him less nowadays, he’s still somehow coming between you and any romantic pursuits you make. You chalk it up to coincidence most of the time, but a blind eye can only be turned so far.

He seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re on a date or a one night stand. Sending texts and pictures that could be misconstrued as flirty to someone who didn’t know the dynamic at just the wrong moment every time. And there was the one time where he sent flowers to your desk at work just a few days after you’d said something about a coworker getting sweet on you.

It happened so often that you eventually decided that the dating scene just wasn’t for you. Resigned to focus on work and friends. Adopting a new mantra of “if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

You’ve got no idea why Kyle is so pleased to hear about the conclusion you’ve come to. Or why he’s suddenly coming back home for a few weeks.

[cowboydisaster]

Dark Red

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader word count: 5.6k summary: The Task Force 141 goes out drinking, and you wind up on your stomach in Ghost's bed. If you knew it would only take a few rounds of drinks, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. (eventual smut, lots of family 141 interactions beforehand) a/n: This is my first COD fic and also the first thing I've written since May, so go easy on me if it's ooc pls xx. If you like this fic please give a follow or a reblog, I'm fixing up my blog and I'll be writing a lot more Simon. beta read by @margowritesthings warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (smut, fingering, size difference, doggy)

masterlist

Your dress is wrapped tightly around your frame, held up by tiny golden chains that drape over your shoulders. It's dark green, and just barely covers your ass. It's definitely not the tactical gear that you’re used to wearing. You swallow thickly, pulling it down over your thighs as much as possible as you glance over yourself in the mirror. You barely recognize the reflection in front of you. No eye black, no tac-vest or combat boots. Tonight you’re not a soldier, you’re a civilian.

Price had arranged a night out to celebrate the 141’s latest win. He invited the Task Force alongside some allies for drinks at a club of all places, figuring everyone deserved to unwind. You were hesitant at first, but the boys all reassured you it would be just a few drinks. 

Once all the little details of your outfit are in place, you give yourself a onceover before pushing open Price’s bathroom door. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price are all leaning over the kitchen counter, speaking quietly about the mission. They smile, oblivious to you as you exit the bathroom, feeling a bit self conscious about the dress Kate insisted you wear. That is until Ghost catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye and quietens. He turns, and you watch his back straighten, hands in the pockets of his jeans as his eyes slowly run up and down your body. Something about that stare… you wonder if Ghost would ever see you the way you see him. It's been years now of you pining after him. You could never tell him. He’s your lieutenant, and besides, you’ve heard what happens to the recruits who make a move on Ghost. Every single one of them was harshly rejected and dropped from the program. You can't compromise your job, especially not for someone who doesn’t want you back. 

 Ghost stares, and the other three men turn to you in sync. A fierce blush blooms across your face as four pairs of eyes land on you. Ghost is wearing that familiar balaclava, the one he wears out in public or around the base. It hides everything but his eyes, and you stare into their swirling depths for a moment before the eye contact becomes too much. You clear your throat, glancing down over your dress. 

“Too much…?” You whisper, questioning your choice of fashion and makeup. 

“No…Not too mu–” Ghost is cut off as Soap lunges forward with a smile bigger than Texas and slaps you on the arm.

“Lookin’ good, bonnie lass!” Soap laughs. He looks nice himself. You’ve only seen him in sweats around the base, but tonight all four of your teammates are dressed to the nines. 

“Not so bad yourself, Johnny.” You smile, clutching a small purse to your hip. 

“We ready then, Cap?” Gaz asks, glancing up from his phone for a moment, “Laswell just got there, said she brought König.” 

“Yes.” Price smiles at you, checking his watch, “I've ordered two Ubers. Should both be here.” 

You follow them outside, smiling and nodding to Ghost as he holds the door open for you. The Captain and Gaz take the first car while you file into the second with Ghost and Soap. Soap sits in the front, leaving you in the back with Ghost. Your lieutenant is quiet most of the ride over, letting Johnny fill the silence, which he does. But it's hard to focus on Soap talking. You’re hyper aware of the eyes on you and how exposed you are. Your breasts are practically pushed up into your face, and the dress suddenly feels all too tight. You’re used to fighting, not celebrating, not partying. You take a few deep breaths, knowing that once you get a few drinks in your system you’ll feel better. 

“You alright?” 

Your eyes flick up. It’s Ghost, just barely over a whisper. His eyes are fixated on something out of the window, but he still must have noticed your anxiety. You nod.

“Just nervous.” You admit, “I’m not used to all this.” You whisper, gesturing down to your dress and matching strappy heels, then to the car that is driving you through the nightlife. Ghost smirks under his mask. 

“Me neither. Bourbon helps.” He says. 

“You drink bourbon?” You ask, glancing over. Soap hasn’t noticed your little conversation and continues to chat up the driver. You hadn’t taken Ghost as a bourbon man, he’s piqued your curiosity. 

“I fancy Kentucky.” He remarks. You chuckle. 

“Don’t let him know that.” You nod your head in Soap’s direction. 

“Never.” Ghost smirks, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Your eyes fixate on the tattoos lining his left arm, just briefly exposed. You force your eyes away, knowing if you stare too long you’ll get caught up in the intricate pattern. The thought of running your fingers over those tattoos lingers in your head, soothing you enough to make the ride. 

—

The club is nice. Colored lights stream from the ceiling, a steady thrum of music vibrates lowly through the walls. You take in your surroundings, watching people drink, and dance with one another. It's a bit dark, hard to make out faces. You take note of all the exits while following behind Gaz and Price, both leading you all towards a closed off section of the club. Laswell is already there waiting along with her wife and König. The man must have already had a few drinks because he’s more relaxed than you've ever seen him. König’s eyes immediately land on you, and flutter down to the short cut off of your dress. You gasp as a burly figure pushes past you, separating you from König’s eyes. Ghost. He stands between the two of you and starts unclipping the velvet rope that separates you from the VIP section, much to the bouncer’s frustration. You blush, looking back to König whose eyes are sheepishly staring at the floor. Ghost must have pulled out his famous deadly glare. Your cheeks burn red. 

“There you are!” Laswell exclaims, motioning for the bouncer to lift the velvet rope that secures her area. No one seems to have noticed the little interaction between Ghost and König, thankfully. 

“VIP?” You chuckle. “Was that some CIA shit?” You ask, passing into the nicer, more secluded area of the club. A couch wraps around the corner wall, a table sitting in front of it. 

“Afraid not.” She smiles, wrapping an arm around her wife’s shoulders. You take a seat on the couch, watching as Ghost motions for Price to follow him towards the bar.

“We’ll be back.” He mumbles. Price pats Ghost on the shoulder as you watch them leave. 

“So, König?” Soap asks as he sits down, nodding towards the masked man. You take note that a beanie rests atop his head in place of his usual tac helmet. 

“Hmm?” König asks, suddenly alert. His eyes dart until they land on Soap. 

“How many drinks is it gonna take for you to shed the mask?” The scot asks. König grows quiet, tightly gripping his beer bottle by the neck. 

“Nein, I do not–” König begins before Soap jumps up, fist down on the table. 

“Nine?!” Soap laughs, “Keep em comin’, Ghost!” Soap hollers towards the bar. König shakes his head profusely.  

“No, that is not what I meant.” König tries to clear the situation up, but is drowned out by noise as Gaz and Soap laugh together. Laswell shoots you a knowing glance. You feel for her, being the only woman to watch these children.  

“You went with the dress I suggested.” Laswell notes, a proud smile gracing her lips. 

“I did.” You remark, blushing, “It's a bit tighter than what I’m used to.” You admit, sitting up straighter as a few from the table look back to you. 

“That's the point.” Laswell laughs, shooting you a quick wink. 

Before you can ask what she means by that, Ghost and Price return with two trays of shots. Half the shots are a golden, bronze color and the others are crystal clear. You raise an eyebrow as Ghost sits down beside you. 

“Get your bourbon?” You ask. 

“Had three down at the bar. You’ve got some catching up to do, yeah?” 

As everyone plucks shots from the trays, Ghost slides three in front of you with his knuckles. Two bourbons and one of the clear liquor. 

“What's this?” You ask, picking up the shot and holding it under your nose. It burns your nostrils, stealing the air from your lungs and replacing it with a sharp sting. 

“Patrón.” Ghost replies with a smirk. Your eyes follow as he grabs a clear shot from the tray with one hand, and pulls his mask up over his lips with the other. You’ve never seen his lips before. He brings the small glass to his lips, and you try to memorize the shape of his them, the jut of his jaw. It's gone in a flash as he downs the shot like it’s water before pulling his balaclava down over his chin. 

“Your turn.” He smirks, giant hand pushing the shot glass towards you. 

You follow suit, throwing your head back and letting the alcohol slide down your throat. You grimace at its strength, making a sour face. 

“Fuckin hell.” You cough. 

“You’ve got a bit of catching up to do.” Laswell points out, nodding down the table. You notice as Gaz takes the last shot from the first tray and your eyes boggle. 

— 

An hour later

Steady music thumps through the building. It feels slow, sensual. Maybe it’s because you’re wasted, but your confidence is through the roof as you make your way across the dance floor. Your eyes are locked onto your group, specifically searching for Ghost. The more alcohol that enters your system, the more you find yourself staring at him, noticing his every movement, every breath. You’d never allow yourself these thoughts while sober– the thought of wanting your Lieutenant is out of the question when your mind is clear, but right now it’s not. Your eyes search for him as you make your way back to the VIP section. 

“Lt?” You ask, sliding back onto the velvet sofa. 

“Went for a piss.” Soap exclaims.

“Why don’t you go meet him in the bathroom, maybe he could finally bend ya ov–” Johnny starts. 

“Soap!” Price cuts him off harshly. Soap only laughs, looking down the table to Gaz and the Captain. You look between the two of them, absolutely oblivious to the jokes that have been passed around the table all night.

“Oh, come on, Captain! He wants her and everyone knows it. We all see that shriveled up, cold, dead heart meltin’ at the sight of this bonnie.” Soap points to you. 

“Bloody hell, we bet on it!” Gaz chuckles, adjusting his cap.

“I must admit, I do see it.” König adds in. You squint down the table at him, and he immediately looks away. Price looks down at the boys like he’s schooling children. Your mouth falls open, taking in all the new information. 

“Remember that's your lieutenant you’re talking about. Leave his private life alone. You know how Simon is.” Price interjects, stopping the conversation before it gets out of hand. You blush fiercely, taken aback by their words. You don’t even think about what they’ve said, you can’t. Price looks to you apologetically. 

“What?” You ask, looking between them. “Ghost?” You double check, making sure that your hearing hasn’t totally left you. 

“He’s gone on you, mate.” Gaz adds, tone more serious than you would have expected.

“Christ, just pass me another drink.” You say, extending your hand out as König slides a shot down the table.

—

Thirty minutes later

You can feel his eyes on you. They’re burning through the thin fabric of your dress, where your breasts rest perfectly inside the silk, where the curve of your ass swells just above the hem of the dress. Your cheeks blush, whether from his eyes or the alcohol you’re not sure. Ghost doesn’t even try to hide his gaze, openly staring at you across the floor. His bourbon is held tightly in his hand as he watches you twirl on the dance floor between Soap and König. The lights aren't nearly as bright as your smile, and the night isn’t nearly as dark as the glint in your eyes. 

Ghost had watched men approach you on several occasions, and each time Soap shoved them away from you. You hadn’t given any of them the time of day. But Ghost? You’re taunting him, testing his self control to the point that he’s about to break. Every swing of your hips accompanies a purposeful glint in your eyes, a subtle bite of your lip. You’re teasing him, and he can’t take it. 

He deserves it. This is payback. He’s been apparently wanting you for months, and everyone in the damn Task Force knew about it but you. You’ve had enough of it. You extend your drink out for Soap to hold, accidentally bumping it against his chest and spilling a bit down his shirt. He takes the glass with furrowed eyebrows, looking down at your tipsy frame.

“Where ya headin’ to?” He yells over the music. 

“Have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, j-just watch my drink.” You stumble over your words, eyes never leaving Ghost’s. Soap nods, taking your cocktail and continuing his conversation with König. 

Ghost inhales deeply from across the room, eyes fixated on the taunting little “come hither” motion of your finger. You turn away from him, making your way towards the VIP bathrooms. You walk slow enough that he can follow after you, not that you’re even capable of walking too fast, lest you lose your balance and fall over. You push past a few other people, your heart beating quickly as you go. The music is loud and the lights are low, which you’re grateful for. Hopefully no one notices Ghost trailing behind you. A warm buzz radiates in your chest, pulsing down your bones as the liquor you’ve been downing boosts your confidence and slows your movements. 

You push the door open, stepping into the dimly lit bathroom. It’s clean and orderly, perks of the VIP section. Immediately, you walk in front of the oval mirror, checking over your outfit and fixing your hair. You reapply a quick layer of red lipstick, tucking it back into your purse just as you hear the lock click. 

Before you can turn around, a solid warmth presses against your back. Ghost. The sink digs into your hip bones as he sandwiches you in, one hand pushing your hair over your shoulder. His skin on yours is more intoxicating than any drinks you've had tonight. He's never touched you, not like this. You giggle, tipsy as ever as he rolls his balaclava over his nose. 

"Ghost–" You whine, fingers clenching around the sink as he gently nips at the skin of your neck. He inhales your perfume, exhaling in a deep growl that rumbles through you. 

"Simon." He corrects, hands wrapping around your hips. For just a moment, you sober up. He wants you to use his real name? 

Your coherent thoughts fall away as he turns you around, hands nearly bruising your waist. He kisses you. It's sloppy and drunk, but it's everything. All the months of wondering, and hoping– he's kissing you. If you'd known it would only take a few rounds of drinks for the courage, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. Painted fingernails dig into his shoulders as you lean up for more. His tongue delves into your mouth, and you whine. He tastes like his favorite bourbon, smells like expensive cologne– his signature scent that you could recognize anywhere. Eventually, you pull away for the oxygen that he's so easily stolen from you. 

"Everyone said…" You take a deep breath, glassy eyes flicking from his scarred lips and chin up to his eyes. He waits for a response, but sees hesitation.

"Hmmm, what did they say, love?" 

"They said you wanted me." 

"How couldn't I?" Ghost growls. 

You yelp as he grabs underneath your thighs and lifts you up onto the sink. His hands are massive, maneuvering you as if he was trained to do so. Your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against the pressure in his jeans.

"Fuckin hell, I've wanted you since you first joined the Task Force." Ghost growls in between kisses and bites to your pulsepoint.

You think back to all that time ago. It seems like ages since you met the cool headed, brooding, terrifying Simon "Ghost" Riley. You remember thinking how easily he could break you. Now?– Oh, how you want him to. 

Hearing him say it out loud sends a wave of need straight to your core. Your hands shoot for his black leather belt, but he shakes his head, stopping you before you can unclasp it.

"Not here, love." He shakes his head, gripping your chin to press one slow, sweet kiss to your plump lips. Your eyes slip shut, and you pout as he pulls away from you and slides his balaclava back down over his chin. Disappointment pools over you as you search for an explanation.

"Flat's not far." Is all he says before he grabs your wrist and pulls you off the sink. He unlocks the bathroom door and begins pulling you back towards the crowd. "Here. Order us an Uber, yeah?" Simon asks you, slipping his phone into your free hand. 

It's too much for your drunken mind to take in as he leads you through the crowd of people. Colored lights strobe, making it hard for you to make out faces, but eventually you spot your group across the club. Soap is still holding your drink, but now he's looking around. Price and Laswell are with him, eyebrows drawn together in worry.

Remembering your task, you look down to Ghost’s phone. It's already opened up to the app, but messages are coming in and you can't swipe them away quick enough. The light bothers your eyes, and you attempt to read the messages as they flutter across the blurry screen.

Cpt. Price:

-Is y/n with you at the table? We seem to have lost her. Very worried.

You swipe the message away, and quickly order an Uber to Ghost’s saved home address. It's difficult, and you have to squint to make out all the swirling numbers and bright lights. But eventually, even in your state, you manage to get a confirmation code and receipt. An unsaved number pops up, more than one notification at a time lighting up the screen:

-LT, where'd you end up?

-Y/n asked me to hold her drink, disappeared on me. 

-OH SHIT

-LT!

-YOU HOUND!

-HAHA! Getting a pump, eh, LT? No worries, lad. I'll tell the Cap what's going on.

Several erotic emojis pop up on the screen and you blush fiercely.  Then you giggle. Soap, of course. You shake your head to rid yourself of the idea. The last thing you want is for Soap to blab about this. 

Simon pulls you through the exit and into the cold night. The breeze causes a shiver to run up your spine, and your dress helps none. As he leads you towards the road, you check the address once more and slip Simon’s phone back into his blazer pocket. 

"I d-didn't know you lived in Manchester." You whisper as he leads you out into the cold night. 

"Manny, born and raised.” You can hear Ghost huff through his mask, as if something humors him, “But no one knows where I live." He mutters, leading you down towards the busy street. 

No one except for you.

Cars pass by, and scantily clad men and women rush down the sidewalks searching for the same pleasure that you’re seeking. You bite your lip, feeling a bit nervous now that this is actually happening. Simon squeezes your hand. 

A steady trickle of rain begins to sprinkle down from the dark night sky, and goosebumps trail down your bare arms and legs. As soon as you tense, Simon is pulling his blazer off. 

“Simon, that's not necessary, really–” You begin to protest, but he is already wrapping the expensive jacket around your shoulders. 

“Hush.” He warns, and you obey. It's instinct. He’s your lieutenant after all.

You can see the tug of a smirk under his mask, blonde eyelashes fluttering as his brown orbs flick down over your body. You frown lightly, feeling bad that he’s given up his jacket for your sake. 

“Don’t worry, love. I'll be taking it all off soon, yeah?”

The alcohol buzzing through your system, making everything fuzzy, only intensifies the burning desire in between your legs. You don’t know how much longer you can wait. If you had it your way, he would have already taken you, bent you over the sink and had his way. The thought alone causes butterflies to fall in your stomach. Cold fingers wrap around Simon’s phone, still resting in the coat you’re now wearing. His recent notifications are all from Soap, and you scroll through them until a new one pops up on the screen.

“Car’s here.” You whisper, half lidded eyes searching until you find the sleek, black Volvo as it pulls against the curb. He takes your hand again, pulling you towards the car. 

“Simon, how long is this ride gonna be? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.” You admit, wanting nothing more than to tear your damn dress to shreds and throw yourself at the man beside you. He only huffs, showing a self restraint that you could only dream of. 

“Patience.” Is all he says as he opens the car door for you. You step inside the nice car, scooting towards the other side to make room for Simon to sit in the back with you. You see the momentary panic in the driver’s eyes as a 6’4 masked man climbs into his backseat, but Simon only places his hand on your thigh and politely confirms the details with the man. 

Simon grips your thigh, the large pads of his fingers leaving imprints on your soft flesh. You shake your ankle, distracting yourself from the desire growing in your abdomen.

“Drive fast, yeah?” Simon mumbles, sliding twenty quid to the driver.

—

The door lock clicks. Simon checks it twice. 

His hands are on you in an instant, picking you up by your thighs and pushing you up against the wall. He didn’t turn the lights on, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark as Simon’s lips run over your jaw in sloppy kisses. You moan, hands wrapping around his neck and resting on the back of his balaclava. 

“Simon, please–” You whine, throwing your head back as he nips your earlobe. 

“Just a second, darling.” Ghost growls, holding you against him. He carries you through the dark flat, maneuvering drunkenly down an even darker hall. He approaches a door, and kicks it open like a human battering ram. You’re slowing him down, your lips pressing against him everywhere that they can reach, leaving love bites that he’ll still have in the morning. You kick your heels off before he even sets you down, your hands tearing off the blazer from your limbs. It hits the ground, Simon’s phone buzzing silently in the pocket. He’ll find several missed calls from the boys in the morning. You don’t even want to think about the notifications your phone is receiving. Luckily, you dropped your purse as soon as you entered the front door, so it can be a problem for tomorrow. 

Simon gently tosses you down on his king sized bed, and you fall onto the plush black blankets. They’re warm and soft and they smell like him. It’s all too intoxicating. You lean forward and unclasp Simon’s belt buckle as quickly as your intoxicated hands can manage as he pulls his shirt over his head, not bothering to unbutton it. You’re taken aback as you notice a sizable scar on his ribs. It's a messy, deep, pink scar that indents into his otherwise pale skin. Your eyebrows wrinkle, fingertips brushing near the flesh before he snatches your hand away, squeezing it too tight to the point that it hurts.

“Don’t.” Is all he says. It’s a warning, and you blush a deep crimson out of embarrassment. 

“Sorry.” You mutter, quietly. Simon brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles. 

Ghost leans forward, hand gripping the side of your neck as he kisses you again. His balaclava tickles your nose as you deepen the kiss, leaning more into him. Any embarrassment or awkwardness from your last interaction falls away as he pushes his jeans down over his legs, lips still interlocked with yours. Simon steps out of his jeans and boxers, and your jaw falls slack. 

“Simon–” You stutter, eyes fixated on the length between his legs. Your eyes flick back up to his face, seeing the proud smirk he wears, even through the mask.. He simply won’t fit. It’s just not possible– He’s too big.

“I can’t-” You shake your head.

“I’ll be gentle, love.” He reassures, climbing overtop of you on the bed. Nervously, you nod. You trust him. Big hands grab you by the waist and flip you onto your stomach. You whine, clutching the sheets below you. He shushes you, and you gasp as golden beads and zipper teeth fly across the room, bouncing off of the floor and the glass window overlooking the city. A loud tear rings out as Ghost shreds your dress from the seams.

“Fuck, Simon! That was expensive!” You yelp as he pulls the ruined fabric from your body, discarding it on the floor. Laswell’s gonna kill you.

“I’ll  buy you a new one.” He growls, warm hand running down your bare back. His finger loops under the black lace thong you’re wearing. Simon smirks, “All for me?” He asks, releasing the lace so it smacks back down onto your skin. 

“Yes– all for you, only you, Simon.” You mumble, pushing your ass back up in hopes that he’ll touch you.

“That’s my girl.” 

You moan at his words, hands moving to your hips to shove the lace down off your legs, but he brushes your hands away, stopping you.

“Leave it on.” Simon rumbles at your back. You nod your head against the pillow, bringing your hands to rest under your head. Ghost pulls your thong string to the side, letting it rest just out of the way.

“Fuckin ‘ell, love.” Simon takes a breath, trying to keep the control that you’re so close to snapping as his fingers trail over your dripping folds. 

“Fuck, Simon. Stop teasing.” You beg, hips pushing back against his hand. He chuckles, dipping two fingers into your throbbing cunt. 

“O-Oh!” You whine, gripping the sheets as he hooks his thick fingers, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Simon kisses your back, nudging your legs with his less busy hand so that they’re folded under your stomach and spread apart. He positions you low enough that your stomach touches the bed. He curls his fingers, scissoring them occasionally as you throb and whine for him. He groans at the noises you make, working you open until you’re ready. 

“Perfect.” He grumbles, sliding his fingers out of you. You whine in confusion until you feel the tip of his length teasing at your entrance. 

“Ready, love?” Ghost asks. You moan, biting your lip and nodding your head. 

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Im ready, just– please Simon, fuck!” You stutter. 

Simon slowly pushes in, and you gasp for air as he parts you like the fucking red sea. It hurts a little, and your nose wrinkles as you exhale. Simon notices the hitch in your breath, carefully examining your reaction to make sure you’re comfortable. It only takes a few moments for you to acclimate, and then he feels incredible. His size stretches you, reaching depths you didn't think possible. He hits every sweet spot as he spears into you. 

Simon’s chest presses against your back as he pushes into you. His scarred lips lock onto your neck, biting you as he fucks you from behind. He grips the headboard to steady himself, nearly leaving indents in the wood as he thrusts.

It's rough, drunk and sloppy as he drills into you. He starts out at a slow and steady pace, grinding into you rhythmically so as to not hurt you. Your exhales become sharp huffs, swirling together with the puffs of air he exhales next to your ear. If only you could turn around and kiss him again. You crave his lips against yours, satisfying the craving you’ve been ignoring for so long. But you know Simon might not be ready for that level of intimacy yet. You’ve heard stories, connected the dots. 

All too soon, you find yourself teetering on the edge from his movements. You gasp and moan under him, whimpering out his name so loudly that you’re sure the entire building can hear. The headboard rocks against the wall with every thrust, loudly slamming and leaving dents in the drywall. Neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to even realize. 

Your neck is bruised from Simon’s lips, adding to the pleasure that’s pushing you over the edge. You fight it, but lose as pulsing heat tears through your core. Stars explode in your vision, eyes shut tight enough that they wrinkle. 

“F-uck, Simon!” You scream, nails digging into the sheets as your whole body trembles with the weight of your orgasm. Your walls squeeze Simon’s length in time with his thrusts, turning him into a groaning mess. 

“Bloody fuckin ‘ell." Simon groans, accent thicker than usual. His warm breath tickles your ear, and you gasp as he bottoms out, hitting your cervix. 

“You- You on the pill?” Simon manages to stutter out between deep grunts. He can’t risk pregnancy, can’t be a father. But you feel so fucking good and he can’t bring himself to unbury himself from your perfect, dripping cunt. 

“Got the patch– you’re good. Just fucking fill me up, please.” You beg, rocking your hips against him. He nearly curses at your words. You have a foul mouth in bed, something he wouldn’t have guessed. You whimper his name, and that’s all it takes. 

Simon grunts deep and guttural, and with one an iron grip on your hips, he fills you up with his spend. You moan, taking it all until you can’t, and it comes dripping out around him before he’s even finished. 

“That’s it, fffuck– y/n.” He grunts as the last of his seed spills out.

You press your forehead against the sheets, wincing as he pulls out of you and collapses beside you on the bed. A sheen of sweat lines both your bodies, but as much as you’d like a shower, you’re exhausted. A digital clock rests on the table beside Simon’s bed, and you sit up, squinting to look at it. 0300. Damn. 

You look back towards Simon. He’s half sitting up against the headboard, half laying down. You notice the thousand yard stare that he’s putting off, and you gently cup his chin, pulling his gaze towards you. 

“You okay?” You ask, rolling up his balaclava with your dainty fingers. You uncover the subtle smile on his lips. You smile in retur, half lidded eyes focusing on the shape of his lips. Your thumb traces over them gently.

“Better now.” He whispers. You press a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet before pulling away. 

“Get some sleep, love.” He says, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. Much to his surprise, you tuck yourself into the crook of his side, wrapping your arms around his torso. Sleep overcomes you almost immediately. He’s too warm, too perfect. It’d be impossible for you to stay awake next to the comforting, human heater that he is. 

Simon hesitates. It’s been a long time since anyone has been this close to him. The bourbon gave him confidence enough to bring you home, but this is a very new territory, and not even the alcohol can guide him through this one. Sex is one thing, but intimacy? Emotional vulnerability? Simon burned those handbooks long ago.

“Love?” He asks, awkwardly looking to see if you’re awake. You don’t respond, asleep he confirms. Simon’s not sure what to do. He doesn’t want to move you. Are you comfortable? Is he too close? Too warm? 

He sighs, looking down at your arms tightly wound around him. No one’s shown him this type of affection, not ever. He’s not sure how to reciprocate it, but he wants to. One day at a time. Simon pulls the blanket up over your waist, checking twice to make sure that it's covering you. Carefully, he places a hand over your back, feeling your soft skin against his. 

He doesn’t sleep at all, opting to stay awake and watch the small rise and fall of your back on his lap. He doesn’t deserve you, he's sure. But you’re here, and that’s something.

[m-ayo-o]

Naoya Zenin: one of his girls

-> 18+ thoughts !! he wants to make his slut his wife; TOXIC DARK CONTENT degradation, bruises, unprotected sex, implied forced marriage, just trying to write Naoya being his nasty self xx

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who has too many dumb girls fawning over him he can barely choose. So he doesn't, making an active decision to fuck as many of you as he can.

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who takes his anger out on you, plunging his cock into your body, using you as a personal stress reliever. He barely preps you because 'you're tighter like this'.

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who leaves you full of his cum, despite you not being on birth control- with his handprints on your ass and bruises on your wrists.

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who is actively searching for the perfect wife. Unbeknownst to you, he has already chosen, and hasn't been fucking his precious load into the other girls like he has been with you.

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who makes you stutter and fidget when he makes eye contact, telling you that he's dropping his single status to become a husband, and that you will accept his hand in marriage.

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who is all about looks- once he pulled a strand of your hair out because it was in the wrong place. He is a strict and possessive husband and accepts nothing less than a perfect, needy little girl. It's no easy task, but you're sure you could get used to it.

[karlachismylife]

i told myself i'll take a break in my failing attempts to write a couple things on Karlach x Soap in english and go back to writing a couple other things in my first language for the upcoming fandom combat deadline

so here's a thing i wrote instead and it's neither of those :D

Very much inspired by my precious friend that is obsessed with some datesim I know nothing about and talks my ear off about her sexy chinese dudes while I make her listen to me simping for my dead scottish ADHD meow meow. We don't know shit about each other's fandoms but we're so excited for each other... Also excuse me if this idea has already been done (I swear I thought of it on my own, but I will tag anyone who's done this before if you send me a link) + my English writing still sucks.

I also encourage you to check out these smaus, they're brilliant and I somewhat looked at them when wrote Kyle's text messages and this wonderful thing about Ghost and Animal Crossing that also inspired me to look into these silly military men and mobile/video games.

Task force 141 and their reaction to their S/O playing dating simulator games

CW: gn!civilian!reader (if I slipped into one or the other gender somewhere, please tell me & I'll correct), mostly fluff with a bit of spice, pet names, mild cursing, unserious jealousy and banter, long-distance (Gaz), describing nudes and mild sexting (Gaz), soft Ghost, mentioned spanking (Price), mild dom!Price, alluded reader recieveing fingerng and oral (Soap)

Word count: ~5k

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

That silly app you downloaded because its (very compelling) ads were repeatedly shoved in your face became surprisingly convenient when Gaz got deployed and wasn't within reach for weeks. A slightly clay-looking guy on your screen didn't hold up in comparison to the smoothest bastard sergeant with the tightest grip on your heart, but a cute feature with app notifications stylized as loving text messages from the virtual boyfriend somehow helped cope with the radio silence from Kyle. You knew he would be fine, how could he not? You gave him a very proper goodbye kiss (and goodbye sex that was a bit more improper) for luck, and he was too damn good at his job to fail. You weren't going insane from worry, at least not more than usually.

But the loneliness, the fucking loneliness was a little bit more bearable when you still got your "good morning beautiful xx" and "thinking about you before bed" even though the font was wacky and some phrases were clearly poorly google translated. To unlock these little snippets you opened the app every day, usually tapping mindlessly on all the required interactions before going to sleep and eyeing some of the ingame wardrobe options that wouldn't work too bad on your man. In fact, you even took a screenshot of a nice suit - if tailored right, Kyle would look in it sharper than the tactical knife he knew so well. You just needed an opportunity to show it to him.

And the opportunity barged in with a sudden surge of texts right when you were already getting ready for some shut-eye.

Three weeks of muffled unease wiped out and replaced with that never-tiring giddy feeling bubbling inside as soon as you saw Kyle's name pop up on top of your screen.

"hi baby"

"finally can text, miss you terribly 😘"

"what are you up to angel?"

You could feel your own cheeks strain with the stupid smile plastered on your face. No doubt, Kyle texted you at the first opportunity - he was there, he was okay and he missed you. All sleepiness in your body withered away, leaving you energized at eleven pm, squirming in your bed as you rolled over to start vigorously typing back. You never knew how much time you both have to chat, unstable signal or simply never-ending duty could interrupt you at any given moment, so you had to get your fill of premium class Garrick right there and then - no matter how drowsy it would make you the next morning.

Eventually you sent him the screenshot you took without second thoughts:

"btw thought you'd look good in smth like this baby, what do you think?"

Instead of a normal reply on the topic, though, you recieved an immediate jab followed by short pause:

"the fuck is that baby? 🤣"

"wait i think i know"

"replacing me with a vr boyfriend already? jesus fuck angel i haven't been away even for a month"

"i'm wounded, truly. he doesn't even look that good and can't spell correctly. what a downgrade 😔"

If only you could communicate the muscle-straining eyeroll you had through text. Chuckling and snorting, you immediately came to defence of your pixel prince charming, simply for the sake of it.

"how dare you. he's not a mere replacement, this is true love, garrick 💕🥰❤️✨"

"look at the top, we're already level 29 intimacy"

"gonna get him to send me nudes soon, they unlock at lvl 30"

Gaz could probably hear your bratty giggles on the other side of the globe, sheets rustling as you wiggled in your bed, absolutely proud of your impeccably fine-tuned wit and properly excited for the upcoming smartass comeback, since Kyle would rather die than let you have a win. But you've already calmed down with your cheeks mildly flushed, and the messages were still left on read.

Weird. It wasn't the first time your chatting ended abruptly, but usually Kyle had time at least to tell you he had to go - maybe even exchange little "ily"s. Did the signal cut off? But it was good enough for him to download a picture even, surely he'd notice if it started lagging and tell you. Did something bad happen? An emergency? An ambush?

A slight frown etched in your face as you started unwillingly thinking of the worst. Then - in a moment - that little green circle signaling Gaz was online came back. And still no answer.

Did he... get actually upset? Over a fucking datesim app?

It was hard to believe. Impossible, even. Kyle was never prone to jealosy fits, smug bastard definitely knew how secure you two were. But maybe... maybe it was the fact that you were seeking comfort he couldn't provide? Being told you needed a whole ass app simply to tell you goodnight while he was god knows where, unable to hold you and cuddle you to sleep - that could sting.

Shit, you shouldn't have started this. Gaz wouldn't outright admit he felt even the slightest bit insecure over an unblinking 3D monstrosity with a sexy Korean voice. He'd think it was stupid - and he would be right, frankly, but in this case this wasn't completely unreasonable.

Already anxious, you put your thumbs back on the phone to type out a careful question, but before you could even think of a right way to formulate it the chat chirped and loaded in a bunch of attachments.

Absolutely scandalous. Hastly unndone uniform, sweaty shirt pulled up and - you knew it even if it was outside the frame - clutched in his teeth, bared in a self-assured smirk, belt unbuckled and hanging from the loops of pants pulled down just a bit; just enough for his hand to slip inside and gather into a delicious grasp around the bulge you knew was straining against his boxers. Fucking tease, pulling the elastic band with his thumb to let you see just the base of his cock - you had to swipe several mouth-watering closeups on his chest, v-line beautifully adorned with dark hair and that bloody hand you already ached to feel on your thigh, before you finally got your reward. Hard just from the thought of you, tip glistening with the pre-cum he definitely smeared all over specifically for that picture.

"wanted to ask if your pixel bf can beat these"

"but i think your silence already says enough 😏"

You groaned, belly warm with the familiar longing. What an angel of a man, finding time to somehow snap packs of perfect nudes in the middle of wherever he was. Already turning over to slide your hand down your body, you sent a very sulking "hate you garrick. first made me worried and now horny, shameless bastard" and got an obligatory "sure you do. i'll fuck that attitude outta you as soon as i get back angel".

Somehow all the need in a virtual replacement vanished after this chat. Not only did Kyle text you more regularly - sensing a competition maybe, huh? - but you also got yourself enough material to be comforted before sleep. Sure, you'd rather have your man there in person, but no perfect-looking anime prince could offer a view better than Kyle's flexed arms or a cheeky sneak peek of his plump ass and a smooth back arch snapped over his shoulder.

No wonder you two threw yourselves at each other when Gaz finally showed up home, tired and a little roghed up, but very much alive and pent up for you. Once you were done relieving some of that frustration and cuddled up after a nice, hot shower, though, Kyle nipped your earlobe teasingly.

"No such level to unlock this experience, huh, angel? Something your app boytoy can't provide."

He caught your arm before you could elbow him playfully and grasped you tighter aroung your waist, using his free hand to get his phone and hold it in front of your face.

"Besides, I think he likes me more."

"How the fuck did you get to level sixty, Garrick?!"

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Twilight was peaking how many years ago? And they still have this stupid choice everywhere."

Simon, the unmoving domestic shadow spread in a comfortable sitting position on your couch for the daily quiet together time, turned his head lazily and gently squeezed your thigh, careful not to disturb your legs thrown over his lap as he leaned a bit closer with a mildly interested "Hm?"

"It's this dating game. They're making me choose between a vampire and a werewolf. Can't think of another conflict for the last decade, really? Why not elves versus orcs? They never make stories about sexy orcs. But there's a market for it! Why stick to the same broken record all the time? Or, I don't know, invent beef between fairies and mermaids!" You huffed in exasperation, waving your phone in a vague gesture meant to express your disdain for the lack of creativity in the supernatural romance visual novels department. Ghost's usual intense stare boring into your face could mean anything - from him silently judging you for lacking respect for the culturally impactful vampries-werewolves feud to a wordless question whether you were in the sexy orc enjoyers market.

But when he finally spoke, scarred lips slightly curled upwards in a hint of an amused smile and eyebrows raised, he asked what seemed to catch his attention much more than what fantasy creature you would like to bang.

"A dating game?" His smirk became more prominent, eyes narrowing as an indicator of him looking for a way to quip in the most unbearable way possible. "What's all that about, love?"

The fact that he didn't know wasn't that surprising, you'd be much more astonished if Ghost did know what a dating simulator game was, but the need to explain still caught you off guard, forcing you to pause with the expressive phone gesturing and actually try and describe the phenomenon.

"Well, it's a mobile game, where you, like... have to play through a story with the main thing being befriending and romancing characters. It's mostly reading a story, really, but you get dialogue options to unlock special scenes with your chosen romantic interest or you can give them gifts..." A stolen glance at Simon told you that he was surprsingly paying attention. "But there's often a plot too. The one I started recently is about, well, vampires and werewolves... a Twilight ripoff, basically, but the player gets to be Bella." You paused, gauging his reaction, but other than his calloused fingers kneading the meat of your thigh Ghost didn't even move, leaving you to look at him with suspicion mixed with amusement. "Want me to show you?.."

Finally, his hand stopped its methodical massaging, only to pat your thigh approvingly and help you sit up, cozily snuggled up to the man whose hoodie you shamelessly stole just to wear around him. Wrapping his muscular arm around you, Ghost leaned his head against yours and prepared for the highly educational lecture on the world full of opportunities to get turned down because of having too low approval with the character.

You showed him the exact story that got you so riled up, explained the quite primitive mechanics behind gaining attraction points with the characters and rehashed the entire plot up to the point where you were stuck now - the one where it was obvious the game wanted you to pick a side. Simon listened carefully, gruff chuckles at some of your grumbling and a lot of very insightful commentary on each and every character ("that one's got Johnny's fucking mighty schnotz" and " 'course he's a fucking twat, look at his bloody necktie, a hemp one would be an improvement on 'im"), inculding your own avatar that you spent considerable time making to look like you wanted.

"That supposed to be you, love?" He didn't even try to mask the snarky tone, and you definitely prepared to be offended. You put so much thought into the character looks! So what if they didn't match your real ones fully? It's the game limitations, not your fault. "Hmph. Maybe good enough for these two muppets to fight over. But I reckon I like my version better. Comes with high-quality visuals."

His arm tightened around your shoulders, pulling you up for a short and sweet kiss, rough thumb stroking your jawline tenderly and pressing up under your chin when Ghost pulled away with a crooked smirk, shattered with scars into an artful mosaic.

"Trying to get your approval higher, sir?" You teased, eyes darting between his smiling - what a view, honestly - eyes and ready to be kissed again lips. His response was predictable. "It's working, innit, love? Think there's enough for a special bonus scene yet?"

Despite you clearly pretending to think and count his imaginary attraction points, Simon already started pulling you up into his lap, holding you securely and running his fingers along the curve of your back. "Might need a little more convincing, gamer. You didn't even bring a special gift to this date." Ghost's half-lidded eyes sparkled with hidden competitevness and his chest rumbled with a deep chuckle as he reached out to take your phone out of your hand softly.

"Gave you the hoodie. It counts." Ignoring your not very convincing protests ("It's mine already, of course it doesn't count!"), he tapped something on your screen and then put the phone away, wrapping his arms back around your form and slowly leaning into a tangled cuddlepile in an almost lying position. All your squirming successfully restrained with a bearhug, you huffed and placed your chin on Ghost's chest, looking up at him. He was there, with you, but deep in his gaze you noticed a certain swrling cloud of thoughts. Reading Simon's eyes was a must with him, he knew you could and didn't ever hide them from you.

"What are you thinking about?" You carefully inquired, running your hands over his shoulders and squeezing gently, a habit helping both of you to ease some tension. Simon blinked, tilting his head slightly, and let out a small sigh, seeking the right words. "You're not playing that game because I'm not doing enough, are you, lovie? 'Cos if you are, I'd rather you tell me what's wrong."

Always straight to the point. At least, when he finally decides to speak up. The big, scary dog worried about a silly mobile game as his competition? Cute. But the seriousness in his eyes called for a proper answer, not a teasing joke or a simple "aww, don't worry".

"You're doing more than enough, Simon, and you know it. It's a game, just living out my fantasies as the main character. But I can delete it if it makes you uncomfortable, it's no big deal, you know?" The tiniest bit of tension you felt underneath your fingertips disappeared, leaving Ghost sinking even further into the couch with you properly wrapped in his protective embrace.

"Nah, gorgeous, you keep playin' whatever shite you wanna be playin'. Just promise to keep me updated on the bloke so I can upstage him in every way." His voice got muffled since he buried his face in your chest, eyes closed peacefully and pure bliss written in all the relaxed features. Cradling his head, you hummed in agreement, but then perked up again.

"Wait, what bloke? You picked one of them for me?" - "Mhm." - "Oh come on, Simon, what happened to the freedom of choice!" You could feel his smile get more prominent despite being hidden in the softness of your chest covered with the thick hoodie material. "Which one did you choose? The vampire 'cause he's wearing all black?"

"Nuh-uh. The other one. The mutt."

You giggled at his choice of words and let out a quiet "oi" when Simon pinched you for disturbing his calm enjoyment of a "bonus scene" with the chosen romance option, that being you.

"Why? You're a Wolf Man fan or something?"

"'f course I am, love. He's British."

Captain John Price

When you saw the notification that the game you got sucked into with the active help of your friends got a "sound update", you knew what that meant - they finally added English voiceover lines for every single hunk of a man you had in your virtual harem, and you couldn't wait to hear what voices they gave your favourites. Given the nature of the game, you decided to put your earbuds on and started listening through the whole voicelines library, busying your hands with mundane tasks like folding laundry. John was sitting in the kitchen, fully immersed into his reading - potentially work-related. Or at least enthralling enough for him to miss your flushed cheeks or periodical giggling.

But no matter how important his reading was, what he couldn't miss was the sultry male voice coming out of your phone with a whispered "Wouldn't you love that, bunny?". Of course the parinig connection between your phone and the wireless earbuds had to get interrupted exactly when you were pouring yourself a cuppa and couldn't even drop the kettle in order to shush the suggestive purring of your digital fave.

You could feel Price staring at you. You could practically hear his bushy eyebrows slowly rising as he patiently waited for you to say something first. You were fully contemplating brewing yourself some poison instead of tea to avoid getting confronted by your man who just heard someone call you bunny on the phone.

So when you didn't start first, John, more amused than anything - he knew you too well to read through all your tiny microreactions and conclude that this wasn't hardcore evidence of an affair, but something much more suitable for future teasing (were you listening to porn or something? a naughty audiobook? oh so many golden opportunities to make you squirm under the steel gaze of the captain) - asked very nonchalantly: "What was that, darling?"

"What?" There was no point in pretending you didn't know what he's talking about, but you still tried. If anything, it allowed you to stall while you very hesitantly turned around and saw John and his smile, not even a hint of sterness in the round plumpness of bearded cheeks and little crow's feet in the corners of his eyes. "What was what, honey? You want some tea too?"

A futile attempt at deflecting and bribery rolled into one. You were lucky you were not his subordinate. You were unlucky the voice of some other man, dripping with mirth, came back into your ear once the next voiceline loaded in and the connection with your earbuds got restored. This was equal to admitting your crimes in front of the judges, but you slowly took your phone out of your pocket and hit pause.

"Does the tea come with an explnation who's the bloke whispering in your pretty ears, bunny? 'Cos if so, I'll take a cuppa, thank you very much."

He was beaming. Leaned back in his chair, knees wide apart and burly arms folded on his chest, Price wanted to have a wee little pause in his serious reading, and watching you squirm was the best distraction and brain-reloading he could ever get.

"I-it's not like that, I promise." Was that a bead of sweat running down your nape? John grunted, cocking an eyebrow and pushing his chin into his chest to stare at you from an angle that best conveyed that "I am not convinced, love" look. "It's just a little game, John, promise. Not a real man, just a made-up character."

Those piercing eyes narrowed even more, silently measuring you up for potentially bullshitting him, and then a heavy hand patted the broad thigh. An order, not an invitation (an order you could always disobey, though...)

"Show me."

Forgetting the option to disobey with little consequences, you hung your head down and dragged yourself and your fresh cuppa over to John, settling in his lap. The tea didn't even make it to the table, he snatched it from your fingers, careful enough not to spill, and sipped loudly, patting your side condescendingly. Any more stalling could result in various stages of burning buttocks, so you complied with the demand without Price repeating himself and opened the app, disconnecting your earbuds in the process.

He clearly wanted to hear that embarassing shit.

Your explanations of what a datesim was seemed to amuse John greatly - knowing his love for farming games, you made sure to mention all the best ones mixing the two genres, clearly trying to sweeten the deal.

"So wha', sum muppet in your phone callin' you bunny and you like 't? Maybe I should start too, huh?" You had to close your eyes to stop the internal screaming, and John's gruff chuckle hit your burning ear with a gentle puff. "But these, erm..." - "Companions." - "Riiight, these companions, they ain't whispering something... naughtier, are they?"

There was a hint of seriousness in his question, so you opened your eyes again and turned to look at him. His face was still smiling calmly, but the expectation was that of an honest and direct answer.

"Well, they do have more explicit scenarios and voicelines..." - "They talkin' dirty to you, eh? Guess I should step up my game." He flexed his jaw and leaned even closer, brushing his slightly chapped lips over the tender shell of your ear, soft beard tickling you and leaving you helpless. "Can't have my sweetheart wooed by sum app game fockers, can I? C'mere you little bunny, Imma show you sumthin' to hop on."

He stood up suddenly, lifting you with a soft grunt and dragging you away from the forgotten phone and empty cup. No amount of "John!" squeaked out could save you from that bear of a man groping your ass before throwing you onto bed and climbing on top. His weight squeezed the air out of your lungs as he roamed his big palmes all over your sweet body, even more enthusiastic about the impromptu break in his work.

"Ugh, fine, Johnathan Price, I won't be listening to the spicy dialogues! Just let me finish my-" Absolutely futile, your plea to get back to housework you had planned got cut short by a deep kiss, John's tongue sliding in your mouth as the most efficient (okay, maybe, second most) gag he could use on you. Your hands, previously pressed against his furry chest in an attempt to push him off, relaxed and buried themselves in his thick hair, ruffliing it and tugging him closer by the strands. A low grunt let you know what you already knew and felt much lower - John fully approved both that and your promise to keep away from the horny digital harem.

"Why even bother with 'em bloody games when you can 'ave the real thing, huh?"

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Whit are ye smiling at there, bonnie?"

Before you could even process the question and come up with any answer (excuse) about the silliest giddy smile that a cutscene in your chosen romance route got out of you, your massive - the only way to not be thrown off by Johny "Can't Sleep Still" MacTavish - bed creaked underneath the impressive weight of a fine Scottish specimen. Like a curious pup, Soap squeezed his head through the loop of your arm, earning himself a choking cuddle in the process, and stared into your screen.

"No, Johnny, piss off! It's personal!" You scrambled to turn your phone away from him and held it to your chest, a traitorous warmth in your cheeks threatening to give away what kind of personal it was. Of course, Soap caught on immediately, playful glint in his eyes as he simply yanked the phone out of your grip and turned over onto his back, shamelessly using you as a pillow while he unlocked your screen (why the fuck were you two so trusting and shared passwords!) and looked at the animated cutscene.

And why did it have to be the first spicy one you finally unlocked?

"What's tha'? Didnae peg ye fur a hentai type, bonnie." Soap watched the looped animation for a few more seconds while you wrestled against his heavy fucking carcass helplessly. With a single tap he closed the cutscene and let out an amused hum when met with the continuation of your unlocked chapter. "Och, so ye're reading smut too? Naughty."

You squirmed visciously, fighting for your dignity as he started reading aloud through the desciption of what didn't make the cutscene. The experience was downright horrible, humiliating and arousing at the same time as Johnny's thick brogue and mocking tone killed every ounce of spice in the steamy scene and somehow added new ones. Along with his stuttering. This lad... you even tried to grab his arm and chew on the meaty muscle in hopes of distracting him, but he didn't even flinch, simply pulling his limb out of your grasp and putting it behind his head comfortably. Outraging.

"Slender aristocratic fingers squeezing supple..." he smacked his lips so loudly that you groaned, "...flesh nae hard enough tae leave marks, but enough tae el... elicit pleasure, his breath hot in yer ear, whispering... Hauld yer horses- how come is yer name 'ere, bonnie? Who's writing this fur ye?" You nearly bounced off the bed when Soap suddenly sat up straight, relieving you from his (quite welcome, to be fair) burden, and frowned at your phone, scrolling through the erotc piece as if he could figure out who was the author just from reading it carefully enough. The pout he turned to you with was nothing short of absolutely heartbreaking. "Who's tha' "Laird Sebastian" prick writing a' kinds of nasty shite he wants tae dae tae ma' leannan? Am ah nae enough fur ye, bonnie? Dae ye wanntae leave me fur some posh bastard wi' a stick so far up his arse tha' it pokes outta his yapper?"

It was so obvious that Soap was just taking the piss, but his bottomless puppy eyes with the longest lashes fluttering as if on the verge of tears were working their dark magic, crashing your train of thought like a whole gang of outlaws from the Wild West and coercing you into making an apologetic expression and reaching your arms pleadingly for a hug. "Aw, come on, Johnny, it's just a-"

"Ah dinnae think tis a good idea, love. Ah dinnae have slender aristocratic fingers, wha' if a'm awful lot o' a commoner tae yer tastes..." Soap tilted his chin up, a perfect depiction of dignity suffering horrible offence, and turned away defiently, immediately peeking back at you from the corner of his twinkling blue eye. You knew those little smiling creases too well to miss them forming despite him holding a pout quite successfully, so you scoffed, still slightly flushed from being caught red-handed, and rolled your eyes, snuggling up to Johnny from behind and starting to kiss behind his ear.

"I'm so, so sorry, love of my life. No posh bastards come nowhere near you, you're my favourite commoner. Fuck Lord Sebastian-" You realized you chose the wrong wording when Soap couldn't hold back a snort. "Aye, well, seems lik' ye were planning on doing exactly tha-" - "Oh shut the fuck up, MacTavish!"

Shut the fuck up he did, turning back to face you abruptly and tackling you into the sheets, lavishing kisses with his searing hot lips all over your face. A real mutt pouncing the handler he has no respect and all the love for. There was no choice left for you other than wrap all your limbs around Soap and writhe underneath him, nearly missing that very inconspicuous way he reached his arm out and dropped your phone on the nightstand before cradling your head for much deeper, sloppier kisses.

"Gonna show tha' laird sod how tae fuck mah bonnie real good, aye? Mak' ye come wi' thae fingers right 'ere, nae aristocrat bullshit." Lapping up your neck with his wet tongue, Soap planted a greedy kiss right underneath your jaw and sucked at the soft skin until it showed a little pinkish hue. The bastard was set on making you sing for him, big rough palms grabbing handfuls of your flesh, squeezing and massaging while Johnny kept decending down your body with clear determination. "C'mon, leannan, let me hear ye. Say yer ol' Johnny's better than tha' bawbag Sebastian."

Sliding your hands over his broad shoulders, you held his nape before tugging on his slightly outgrown mohawk, your own head falling backwards in an exhausted yet adoring sigh.

"You know it's just a game, right, loverboy? A dating simulator, not a real thing? Oi, watch it!" A sharp gasp escaped your lips as Soap chomped on your side and immediately nuzzled into your stomach to blow raspberries into the soft plush, catching you once you started squirming and giggling. No intention of letting you catch your breath until he heard what he wanted. "Fine! Fine, Johnny, you are so, so much better than Lord Sebastian."

Satisfied, he loosened his grasp on you and lifted his head, grinning like he's just won you over from somene actually threatening in terms of romance. Hooked his fingers into your housewear bottoms, slowly tugged them down and started trailing hot-mouthed kisses down from your solar plexus, sky blue eyes glazing over with the never-satiated hunger for your taste on his greedy tongue.

You held your breath. A joke was itching inside your mouth, begging to be let out, dancing on the tip of your tongue...

"You're lucky I didn't choose Duke Aaron's route. That's some serious competion."

"Och, away 'n bile yer heid, bonnie!"

Thank you for reading! I appreciate all interactions, likes, reblogs, comments and requests (send in anything for now! I can filter them myself, but I am open to smut, including rare kinks and some dark themes. Keep in mind though that I am limited by my skill & overall prefer sugary fluff. I will write for any of the task force 141 and baldur's gate characters, including parings, poly, x reader and x OC), I will write drabbles, headcanons and whatever else formats you can think of.

Also any corrections are welcome as long as you're not being mean! Thank you <3

[gilverrwrites]

hi! I think requests are open, if not just ignore this!

I love your writing and I would love just headcanons and thoughts for Barry Allen. I don’t care if they’re nsfw or not. :)

thank you! Xx

They were open at the time you sent this, and you're welcome! I hope you like them. Barry (especially comic books wise) is so under used in the reader insert stratosphere and I don't get it? Anyway, he's some fluffy Barry HCs!

Barry’s love language is physical touch. Don’t get me wrong, he’ll always try his best to complete any task you request of him, he loves to soak up as much time with you as his hectic schedule will allow, and he’s the type to buy you flowers and chocolate ‘just because’, but Barry feels most loving, and most loved when your hands are on each other.

Doesn’t have to be sexual, he melts when you scratch his scalp, or kiss his cheek. The moment he sees your hand reaching for his amongst a crowd he’s reaching right back. He’ll keep squeezing, rubbing your thumbs together, tapping his tips on your knuckles until you remind him that you need it to eat/shop/drive etc.

He is simultaneously the best and worst when it comes to texting. As a speedster, it practically feels like he has all the time in the world, so if the message popping up on his screen isn’t urgent (League or case business) he’s liable to forgetting to ‘deal with that later’. He does however make up for taking forever to text back by sending you so, so, SO many messages when he finally gets around to it. It only takes him 0.30 seconds to send 3 apologies, 6 replies per each missed message, another apology, 5 messages of his own correlation, a promise to be better, and to ask if you can have pasta for dinner tonight.   

Not only is he okay with wearing matching clothes, but he actively encourages it. Not blatant, and all the time, but like, matching his tie to your accessories, or converse in the same colour, jackets of different styles, but in the same colour – right down to the seams.

His exception on blatant is during the holidays. He’s planning your matching Valentine’s day sweaters months in advance. If you want a say in it, you should probably start talking about it 366 days prior.

Speaking of the holidays, Barry always gets you gag cards. Not pranky ones, there no glitter bombs or singing cats, but they ALWAYS have puns.

Is definitely the first to say ‘I love you’, and it’s completely unexpected on both sides. Probably after some form of stressor. Over the phone, warning you about something dangerous happening in the city. A quick “Okay, stay safe, I love you, bye.” Before he zooms off to save the day. It’s not until Weather Wizard is in custody, and he’s halfway to your side before he realises what he said, and is staring at you with eyes the size of saucers as he arrives beside you.

Loves to cook for you, if only ovens and microwaves were as fast as him. The amount of times he’s run off to fight crime and had to come back to turn the grill off because Grodd isn’t going down as fast as he’d planned, is more than you might expect.

Chronic dry lip from all that running, not to mention the nervous lip biting. But his kisses are soft, and cola flavoured, cause he’s always applying coca cola flavoured lip balm when he has a second.

He also drinks far more sugary drinks than he probably should, but whose gonna physically stop him, huh? Let the guy a vice.

It’s not often that Barry gets sick, or needs a wound tended too, due to his speed force accelerated healing factor, but on the rare occasion he does need you to nurse him back to health, he fucking loves it. He won’t admit it, and he doesn’t enjoy seeing you worried, but he likes it when you’re checking and doting on him. He’s always the one running after everybody else. Being sick sucks, but he likes to be looked after every once in a while, and he can think of nobody else he’s rather have at his bedside. He will unironically ask you for multiple song baths however.  

[parkersbliss]

Okay after the last request I am official kinda obsessed with the American! reader one shots! I was wondering if you could one where the boys learn that reader knew Graves somehow from back home? Like they find pictures of them together and reader is like “Oh that’s my ex!/friend” and we see the boys reaction? I love your writings sm!!🫶🏽🫶🏽

babe I am SO sorry for the wait. college was kicking my ass. but like oh my god I love this request. I love it so much I wrote 2,000 words! thank you so much!! xx

TO THE GRAVE(S)

PAIRING: task force 141 x female!american!reader WARNINGS: phillip graves, implied ex relationship with ghost / price, mentions of death and violence, frat boy graves thoughts A/N: I got SO carried away with some of the au's of reader and graves. sorry gang he's my baby girl

Masterlist | Taglist | Requesting (open for cod!)

Gaz:

The space you shared with Gaz was empty, to say the least. You had recently moved in, so it made sense. You couldn’t stand it. You had been sitting for hours with your boyfriend on the couch, ordering various pieces of furniture. You were lucky you even had a bed. 

Thus was the process of moving in, especially with a sergeant who had to try and time it for when he was home. You wouldn’t trade it for anything, though. 

Sure, the space was blank, a few things from your previous place, but nothing that screamed The Garrick’s (or soon to be). 

This leads you to sit on the couch you took from Kyle’s, box in your hand as you search for some photos to frame and hang up. Something to signify people lived here. 

Kyle is sitting next to you, arm slung over your shoulder as he continues browsing for furniture. He listens to you talk when you find a photo that triggers a memory, loving the excited gleam in your eye as you talk about your high school days. 

That was until you pulled out a certain photo. 

He nearly does a double take as you hold it up, head tilting to the side as you examine it. “Who’s that?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible. You could hear the strain in his voice though and raise a brow. You turn back to the photo of you and Phillip side by side, leaning against each other and flashing a four on your fingers like some frat boys. 

“Phillip,” You said. “He was a good friend.” 

“Was he?” Kyle snorts, unable to hide the obvious disdain for the man. How dare someone as vile, putrid, and untrustworthy as he ever lay hands on his girl. You, his sweet, beautiful girlfriend. 

You roll your eyes, setting the photo on the table. “He was just a friend, babe. Seriously. I only knew him because I was sophomore class president, and he was senior.”

Kyle grabs the photo from the table. “You look a little more than friends.”

“I have actual exes, you know.” 

“None as bad as him.” 

You furrow your brows, plucking the photo from his hands. “You don’t even know him. He was smart, funny, charis—” 

“Okay!” Kyle huffs, cutting you off and you blink in surprise. He was never this harsh with you, and certainly not over things in the past. 

“What is this about?” 

Kyle sighs, leaning back on the sofa with crossed arms. He tried to keep you out of his work life. Hidden away in your flat in London, a quiet corner of the world where he was Kyle and not Gaz. Knowing Graves had experienced some semblance of the peace you brought irked him. It shouldn’t bother him, because, like you said, it was a while ago. Still, the burn from his betrayal is charred. 

“You remember that day I called you panicking over Soap and Ghost?” He asked. “They were in Mexico.” 

“Yeah.” 

“They were being hunted by an opposing military team,” He starts, gently grabbing your hand. “Shadow company.” He can see the confusion in your eyes. The wariness as you’re unsure where he’s going with this. “Graves runs that company.” 

There’s a heavy beat of silence. You weren’t really attached to him. Again, just class presidency stuff. You would’ve probably never thought about him again if you hadn’t seen the photo. “You know,” You finally said, voice bouncing off the empty walls. “I always did think he was a little power crazy.” 

Kyle nearly cries in relief, grabbing you in his arms as he buries his face in your neck, and you giggle. “You have no idea.” 

Ghost:

Simon prided himself on being a good partner to you. His entire existence was tethered to you and the smile on your face. He did his best to make sure it stayed there. He was always gentle with you when he was upset, never yelling. There was a certain softness you brought out in him, and he adored it. Now, Simon was still a jealous man. He hated to see others looking at you with nothing but lust in their eyes. But when you would turn around to face him, eyes brimming with love only for him, it didn’t matter. 

Except for this time. 

You’re lying in bed with him, flipping through your yearbook from high school. Your friend had texted you earlier in the day about how one of your old friends had just had a baby with someone you least expected. Thus prompting you to scour the yearbook for this “guy.” And then you just fell down the rabbit hole of past memories. 

You’re tucked into Simon’s side, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and head leaning against yours as you point out various pictures. 

His breath halts when your finger traces over a certain one, a small frown tugging at the corner of your lips. 

He would recognize the face of Graves anywhere. Even if it was your yearbook from a youth spent in the South. What are the odds? 

Simon’s free hand balls into a fist as he takes in the photo and its implications. Graves is in a football uniform, giant 01 on his jersey. He’s younger, with no stubble or scar on his cheek but otherwise the same cocky smile. The same one Simon had mistaken as friendship and later realized it was all deception. Grave’s has got you sitting on his shoulder, bright smile and arm raised with a pom-pom as you cheer. 

“That’s Phillip,” You said. Of course, when you talked about your ex Phillip, you meant that Phillip. 

Simon clicks his tongue in response, voice gruff. “You look happy.” 

You sigh, moving the yearbook to rest on the bed. “I was.” 

Simon’s calm on the outside, but truly, he was a tea kettle boiling over. Every glance at that damned photo sent him a little more towards the edge. He had wanted to throttle Graves not so long ago, and now? It was worse knowing he was that Phillip. The ex that left you torn apart. 

“He was good for a while,” You admit. “It was all rainbows and unicorns. He was the kind of player that runs up and kisses you after a touchdown.” Simon’s lip twitches. “Then he left for the Marines, and he was never the same.” You lean more into Simon, unaware of the rage churning inside him. “I think the war changed him, Si. He was so angry after and I realized he just wasn’t the same.” 

Should he tell you? The man that broke your heart was, in fact, also his enemy? That they’d come face to face, and Soap had killed him? That war had changed Phillip into a power-crazy, lap dog, sociopath? 

“I just hope wherever he is now, he’s okay.”

Well, that settles it. Simon watches as you close your yearbook, still frowning, and he knows telling you would be worse. 

“I’m sure he is,” Simon said, squeezing your shoulder. “I’m sure he got everything he ever wanted.” There’s a double meaning there, but you don’t catch it. You have no idea that your ex has been presumed dead. Ironically, Simon doesn’t know he’s alive. 

You kiss your boyfriend on the cheek. “I’m always so grateful you come from deployment the same. You’re too good to me.” 

That’s simply not true. Simon could always be a better man — for you. His hand cups your face, and he places a kiss on your lips. 

Soap:

Johnny’s hands shake as he holds his phone. There was no way, no fucking way he was seeing this right. He’d been putting off a visit to the eye doctor for a while, but it couldn’t be this bad. He must be imagining things. Otherwise, how else do you explain that his girlfriend is clearly posing in a photo with his mortal enemy? 

He had lost it. The head injuries had finally caught up with him. 

He repeats that like a mantra even after he zooms in and out on the Instagram post and stalks your best friend's page for clues. 

Cue Johnny’s with about an inch of space between his sight and the phone when you walk in. 

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, and you’re leaning against the doorframe, brow raised. “Whatcha got there, bubs?” 

Johnny’s head snaps in your direction, phone slamming down on the table. “What?” His accent is thick. 

“What’s on your phone?” You walk over towards him, plucking the device out of his hand and examining the photo of you, your best friend, and Phillip. It must be some school event because all three of you are in blue tutus, green and blue face paint, and more accessories of the same color. “Oh my god,” You laugh. “I haven’t seen this photo in years.” 

Johnny’s brows furrow. “Why—,” He coughs. “What is it?” 

“It was our homecoming game,” You said, still looking over the photo fondly. “The student section where we stood had like leaders that would direct chants and stuff. Phillip was one, and this was his last game doing it so we went all out.”

You said it so casually. The name of the man who had put his head on a bounty. He wasn’t mad at you, of course. Clearly, this was a time before the present Graves. Still, the coincidence — the idea — irked him. He never told you about Mexico. Johnny didn’t want to worry you about it. Besides, when he was home, he’d rather listen to you talk about happier things. And Graves was dead now. 

“Haven’t seen him in years, though. He’s some CEO now of a private company. Jenna doesn’t really talk to him much anymore. Says he’s like really busy.” 

“Jenna?” Johnny questioned, referring to your best friend. “She’s still… in contact?” 

You give him a funny look, setting the phone down on the table. “Yeah? It’s her brother, after all.”

Johnny’s eyes doubled in size, spluttering. “What? That’s Jenna’s brother?” He was aware your best friend had a brother, older, a good friend of yours. But he never gave it much thought than that. She was married, so her last name had changed. If that was the case… she couldn’t be in contact with him. He was dead. Johnny would know. He killed him. “Bloody fucking hell, babe,” Johnny mumbles. 

“What’s going on?”

Johnny shakes his head. “She doesn’t know what he does?” 

“I don’t know! He doesn’t talk about his work. Who cares?”

Your boyfriend grabs your hands, pulling you into the seat across from him. “When was the last time she talked to him?” 

“What is happening?” 

“Love.” 

You’ve never seen your boyfriend look so panicked. Sweat was beading on his forehead, hands shaking in yours, and his accent much harder to understand. “The holidays.” 

“Fuck!” He drops your hands, standing up and running a hand through his mohawk. He wasn’t dead. 

“Can you just tell—” 

“Phillip Graves owns a private military company that tried to kill me in Mexico.” 

Silence as you stand there dumbfounded. Your best friend's brother was… he was bad. 

You eventually approach your boyfriend, grabbing the hand that was running through his hair. “I didn’t know.” 

Johnny embraces you tightly, pushing your head into his chest. “I’m not mad at you, love. Just got some unfinished business now.” 

He kisses your forehead, swaying you side to side, a plan forming deep in his cortex. One to kill him once and for all. 

Price:

There was a reason John Price was called a captain. He was a natural leader, someone who commanded the attention of those around him. Still, that wasn’t enough to warrant running his own team. To be responsible for others' lives took more skills. He was a good decision-maker under pressure. He could control his emotions better than others. He wasn’t rash when it came to the lives of others. That’s what made him a good leader. 

It’s also what made him a great husband. He was a gentle giant with you. Every decision you make, from the color of the walls to the couch in your living room, was made with thorough consideration. 

It’s what you loved most about John. Being around him made you calm. You can't even think about a moment in your relationship when you’d seen him harsh and yelling.

You were both sitting on the couch, some sports game playing on the TV in the back. You’re leaning against him, flipping through a photo book. You had gotten a few prints back from your wedding photographer and had filled them into your wedding book and then got distracted but the others. You and John were sentimental people, and you took it upon yourself to create memory books to show your kids one day. 

John hadn’t really seen yours since they ended up getting made by you and stuck on a shelf. So, here you were, lecturing him on all the years of your life he hasn’t been present. Truthfully, he knew most of the stories, but he enjoyed listening to you talk and the small facts you’d sneak in. 

“And then we lost this meet horribly. I think Layla got injured and went out.” You flip the page, various photos of you and your teammates on the mat. 

John hums, leaning over you to look at the photos. “That must suck.” 

You shake your head. “Depends if you got the cute athletic trainee that day or not. I think a lot of girls faked injuries to see him.” 

Your husband laughs, a deep rumble you feel next to him. “You got a picture?” 

You flip through a couple pages until you find him. You snort at the photo. You’re sat on the floor of the gym, leg extended and bandaged from whatever injury you had sustained. A young boy is next to you, kneeling with his arms wrapped around your upper half and leaning his head against yours. John’s brow twitches slightly as he sees the widesmile on your face, and small hands clasping the arm of your… ex. 

What’s even more concerning is the recognition brewing in the back of his head. He uses a hand to gesture for you to hand him the book. You do, and he holds it up to his eyes, scanning for why this guy was so familiar. Ashy blonde hair, baby blue eyes, and a grin that he wants to wipe off. It’s only when he catches a glimpse of the name on the upper corner of his jacket does it hits him. 

“Graves.” 

“How’d you know his name?” You asked with surprise. 

“Saw it on the jacket,” John answered with ease. His fingers itch to rip the photo to shreds. 

You hum, sliding the book back from him. “He was really popular. Took the athletic training class for fun his senior year and then had to do the internships at games.” 

John huffs. “You dated?” 

You shrug, offering no real sort of attachment to him. “Sort of. Was more like a few weeks, couple games, Valentine’s Day.” 

“Seems like a good lad.” 

“I guess. There was something kind of off about him, though. But everyone at school loved him.” 

John quirks a brow at that, pressing his head to yours as he glances at the photo again. “What do you think he’s up to now?”

You tap your chin in thought, pushing the book to the side. “Probably some power-crazy CEO.” 

John laughs, threading a hand through your hair. If only you knew. He wouldn’t tell you. He saw you didn’t really care for him. Probably hasn’t thought about him in years. Your husband plans to do the same. “I bet he is.” 

--

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