#the shot through the leaves was a happy accident and it's not the best shot but I was so enchanted by the idea of

[ahollowgrave]

-- room for two, pt ii.

[featuring @hazelkjt's lovely Hazel and Floof!]

[froggibus]

Vermillion Flames - Blackwatch! Genji

Pairing: Blackwatch! Genji Shimada x f! Reader (reader uses female pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: angst, smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Genji is the newest addition to Blackwatch, and while he seems to be angry at everything, his anger seems to be clouded over by something else—his feelings for you

CW: dubcon, dark! Genji, Blackwatch! Genji, dom! Genji, sub! reader, dacryphilia, masturbation, marking, choking, possessiveness, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, overstimulation, breeding? kinda, violence, reader gets shot, mutual pining, Genji is a lil obsessive

THIS IS NOT THE HAPPY, WELL-ADJUSTED GENJI WE KNOW AND LOVE. THIS IS A DARKER, BLACKWATCH GENJI WHO IS STILL COPING WITH HIS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS AFTER THE INCIDENT.

I’ve had this idea for a really long time and at one point was writing a full length fic about this, but I always lose motivation so here is the bite sized version lol. I kinda tried to keep his character here while also playing to the darker elements, especially his feelings towards himself and others after the accident. also I’m just super down bad for dark! Genji so enjoy <3

————

If there’s anything you’ve come to learn in your time as a Blackwatch agent, it’s how to know when you’re being watched. 

Despite stepping off of the jet into the cold Russian air, you feel the warm sting of eyes on your back. You glance over your shoulder—but the only people around are your teammates. 

Cole Cassidy isn’t even looking your way, his focus is on the holster attached to his belt and the Peacekeeper that sits inside of it. 

Gabriel Reyes has his holopad out, eyes narrowed at the schematics on his screen. He doesn’t seem aware of what’s going on around him, but you know Reyes—he’s always watching. 

Moira O’Deorain hasn’t even stepped off of the jet yet. Your best guess is she’s still gathering all of her equipment into a bag that she’ll force Cassidy to carry later on. 

So that leaves Genji. The mysterious cyborg is the newest addition to your team and he’s kept to himself the past few weeks. You’d be lying if you said he hadn’t caught your eye, but you knew better. Reyes and Cassidy had constantly reminded you that he was dangerous, unstable. Still, the dangerous air to him sends electricity arcing up your back.

You shrug it off. Maybe you’re just paranoid because you’re about to infiltrate a terrorist organization. You turn back to the terrain ahead. 

Genji Shimada can’t seem to tear his eyes off of you. Something about the sway of your hips, the swell of your ass, just captivates him. Dark eyes stare at you, shockwaves rushing through his system. 

It’s been so long since a woman has been able to capture his attention. Ever since he became the cyborg monstrosity he sees himself as, he hasn’t had time for women. Or more accurately, women don’t want a robot for a boyfriend. 

He suppresses a sigh. The group has already started trekking through the snow, and he has no choice but to follow. The cold air does wonders to suppress the heat rushing through him, and he’s grateful for his mask so that no one sees the red tinge to his face. He forces his eyes to look at the horizon, to look at the path ahead, to look anywhere but you.

The trek to the facility feels like an eternity, and you’re not sure if it’s from the eyes burning into you or the deep snow, or some combination of both. 

You shake it off. You can’t afford to be distracted on this mission, and Genji is off limits. 

—

Genji is less than enthused when Reyes pairs him off with you. He couldn’t help but notice the way you shrunk in on yourself when Reyes called his name. He hates how the sight sends blood rushing through him.

The two of you set out on sneaking through the vents of the facility, blindly feeling your way through the dark in hopes to find the lab. You can hear Genji breathing behind you and see the red glow of his armor reflected on the vents. Having him behind you now, nowhere to stare but you, only confirms what you thought earlier. He was looking at you. You’re not sure how to feel about that. 

You’re so distracted by his presence that you don’t realize the loose grate beneath you until you’re falling through it, tumbling towards the ground. You barely manage to brace yourself before you hit the rubber floor of the facility, using your momentum to roll. 

Unfortunately, your entrance was less than graceful and now the Talon agents in the room are staring at you. 

Genji groans, shaking his head at you. Great. He watches as one of the agents hits the panic button, and red lights and an alarm start blaring. He watches from the vent, waiting to see what you’ll do. 

The agents in the room flee, but they’re replaced by other agents in full body armor, carrying pulse rifles. You stand your ground, extending out your bo staff and spinning it in front of you with expert grace. 

If he wasn’t so pissed off at you, Genji would be impressed. 

He lets you fight off the first wave on your own, but as soon as the agents start to overwhelm you, he’s dropping out of the vent. He lands silently, the agents not even noticing him until he’s slicing through their ranks. 

You finish off the last of your agents and freeze, watching him fight. He’s a blur of silver and black and red, a gory mess but beautiful in the same sense a graveyard is. Watching him now, you see why Cass and Reyes had warned you about him—you can almost see the ghosts of his past following him through the fight. 

You’re so distracted, so infatuated, you don’t notice the stray bullet headed straight for you. 

Genji reacts before you do, diving in front of you and deflecting it into the straggling agent. The agent collapses to the ground, a hole burning in his chest armor. 

“T-thank you.”

Genji spins around, staring down at you. He’s not very tall, but he just seems so much bigger than you right now. You wait for him to say something, anything, but instead he just sighs. 

The two of you make your way through the facility as quietly as you can, blending into the shadows casted by the blinking red lights. Every once in a while, Genji grabs your wrist harshly to tug you along with him. You don’t need words to know he’s pissed at you. 

He’s so mad at you, so frustrated with your inability to focus. And yet a stupid part of him still wants to protect you.

The journey back to the jet feels like an eternity, made worse by Genji’s complete and utter silence. You try to make conversation with him, avoiding bringing up what just happened, but it only seems to make him more angry. He walks slightly ahead of you, refusing to let himself look at you. 

The emotions swelling in his chest are so confusing, he just wants to hit something. He’s so angry at you, and your stupid sunshine persona just keeps talking and talking. He’s half tempted to tell you to shut up, stop talking, but he knows he has to keep it together until you’re back to safety. And though he’s angry, another part of him isn’t.

It’s the first time in months he’s felt something that wasn’t riddled in angst and guilt, and he hates it. He hates that he wants to just look at you. Just stare at you for hours on end. He hates the way you make his heart race and the blood rush to his groin. 

Just before you make it to the jet, a few meters from where the ramp is down and you’re sure Reyes and Cass and Moira are waiting, you try to catch up with Genji.

You jog up to his side, trying to grab his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, I’m really sorry for—”

Genji spins around impossibly fast, catching your wrist in his metal palm. He squeezes it enough for it to hurt. You try to pull away but he keeps you there—a display of his strength, and the difference between the two of you. You hate the way it makes your heart speed up in spite of the pain. 

“Don’t.” He simply says, but he doesn’t let go of your wrist. 

His tone catches you by surprise. You’ve barely ever talked to him, and now he sounds so angry with you, it makes you shiver. 

You glare at him, waiting for him to say something else. He glares back, red eyes narrowing in on you. When your eyes meet, there’s that electricity again. You wonder if he feels it too. 

Then, as if nothing happened, he drops your wrist and boards the plane. You catch your aching wrist, rubbing at the sore skin, before following him onto the jet. 

—

You’re pulled into Morrison’s office almost as soon as you land back at HQ. Reyes follows you in, ready to both berate and defend you in front of his closest comrade. You stand the whole time, fingers fiddling with the foam head of the chair next to Reyes. 

You zone out while Jack yells, staring at the wall above his head, waiting for it to be over. Everything he’s saying is true—you were reckless, distracted, stupid. You could have gotten everybody killed, one more mistake like this and there won’t be a place for you within Blackwatch anymore. 

Genji listens from the other side of the door. He tried to stop himself, but the look on your face when Reyes started to guide you down the hall changed his mind. You looked so scared. He wasn’t going to let you face that alone. 

Everytime Jack raises his voice, Genji’s hand clenches the door handle, ready to burst into the room. Yet he doesn’t, because everytime, you just say ‘yes sir’ in that cute obedient voice that’s driving him crazy. 

At a particularly loud burst, he’s turning the handle when he hears the loud clicking of boots behind him. 

“Don’t,” Cassidy warns, “it ain’t worth it.”

He spins around, squinting at the cowboy. They’ve barely interacted, but when they have, it’s been brief. 

“Y/n made the mistake, y/n’s gotta pay for it. Simple.” 

Genji takes a deep breath. He knows he’s right, it’s none of Genji’s business. But something about being told to leave you alone, let you face this alone, makes him so angry. He can feel the blood rush to his ears. 

“I don’t know if I like you muckin’ about in their business, anyway.” He raises an eyebrow at the cyborg, “y/n’s a good person.” 

Though he doesn’t say it, the implication is loud and clear. You’re a good person, he’s not. Still, being told to stay away from you only makes him want to be with you more. He hates it. 

“Just,” the cowboy sighs, taking back his earlier judgment. “Don’t do anything stupid.” He turns on his heel and walks down the hallway, spurs clicking the whole way. 

They’ve been talking for so long that the meeting is almost over, and Genji only has a few seconds to dash down the hall before the door is swinging open. 

You tug on your hair in frustration, forcing yourself to keep your feelings in until you get to your room. You scream as soon as your door closes behind you, kicking a pile of clothes in frustration. 

You pull off your suit, toss it with the clothes, and collapse in a heap on your bed. You fucked up so bad, you really, really fucked up. And it’s all because of that stupid fucking cyborg and his stupid fucking attitude. 

You lay there in your underwear for god knows how long, sobbing out your frustrations for the day. 

Genji sits in his bed on the other side of the wall. He can hear you, and a part of him wants to comfort you. But another, darker part of him just wants to see you cry. He shakes his head—when did he get so fucked up?

Still, he can’t help but seethe. He’s the only one who should be making you cry like this, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be from him yelling at you. God. 

He tugs off his visor and slams it on his nightstand. He doesn’t even know how to deal with his feelings anymore. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything but this burning anger, and the combination of these emotions are driving him crazy. You’re driving him crazy. 

It’s like his attraction has dialed up to 11, and he doesn’t know how to cope. 

He can still hear your sobs from the other side of the wall, and he hates the way it makes his cock swell. It hurts—straining against the metal plate of his armor. 

He groans, part pain, part pleasure. He hates his body, he hates his stupid robot parts. And the fact that he can’t even get a hard on anymore without it hurting makes him hate everything even more. 

He strips out of his armor, peeling away the metal parts that he can, despising the ones he can’t. Still, he’s happy that his cock is free, the fresh air feeling amazing on his sensitive head. 

He spits in his hand, spreading out the moisture on the shaft of his cock. He focuses on the sound of your crying through the walls, shutting his eyes and rubbing himself while he listens to it. You sound so pretty, so weak. He loves it. 

He only wishes he was in there with you.

He speeds up his movements, thrusting into his hand. He can picture it so well—him pinning you to the bed, fucking you until you cry like that. Listening to you beg and whine and sob all night. 

He’s finishing in his hand before he can finish the fantasy, wiping off the cum with a tissue and tossing it in the trash. 

He lays back in bed. What the fuck is wrong with me? He was never like this before, never into stuff like this before. And he knows a part of him will never be the same since the accident, but he didn’t know it would be like this. 

He wants to protect you. He wants to avoid you. He wants to fuck you, he wants to make you cry. He wants to make you feel better, he wants to take care of you. It makes his head spin. He’s never been obsessed like this before. 

He shakes his head. He needs to stay away from you before this gets any worse. 

—

Genji avoids you like the plague after that. He always chooses to spar with Cass during training, he refuses to be your partner on missions, and when he is, he just ignores you the whole time. 

You’re not even sure what you did wrong. You know there was that weird, tense moment after you messed up that mission, but you didn’t think that was reason enough to hate you. The whole enigma of him makes your head spin, but it’s so alluring that you couldn’t hate him even if you wanted to. 

Sometimes you catch him staring at you, red eyes examining you like prey, but as soon as you notice it, it’s done. You’re not one to talk though—sometimes you catch yourself zoning out on him, watching his arms as he trains, watching his sweaty black hair falling in his face. 

The tension between you two is suffocating. 

So of course Reyes has to assign him to be your partner on an undercover mission in London. 

The mission starts off normal, but so did all of the other ones. Genji keeps a close eye on you, ready to make sure you don’t get distracted and fuck up again. Still, he’s the one that’s distracted. Ever since that day in his room when he got off on hearing you cry, his feelings towards you have only grown. 

He shakes his head and forces himself to focus. He can’t afford to get distracted here—not when either one of you could get hurt in the process. 

The rooftops of London are completely empty, and so are the streets, surprisingly. The two of you creep around, trying to make your way to the stakeout point so you can observe a secret meetup. The air smells of petrichor, the sky threatening to open up and pour down on you. You wouldn’t complain if it did. You need something to cool you off from the thoughts you’ve been having about Genji. 

You make it to the designated spot, setting up your stuff. You radio to Reyes that you’ve arrived at the vantage point and he radios back that the deal should be happening at any minute. 

Any minute, which is code for anytime in the next hour. You hope it’s sooner rather than later so you don’t have to deal with this awkward silence. You fiddle with your fingers, tapping them on your knees. 

Genji watches you closely. He watches the way you mess around with your fingers, watches your chest with every breath you take. That costume fits you perfectly, and he hates the idea that other people get to see you like this. 

The meeting happens only a few minutes after you arrive, a tall omnic dressed in a suit emerging from the shadows to deal with a scraggly looking man. Genji observes them closely while you take pictures, capturing everything they do. 

Something seems wrong, though. They’re not exchanging goods like the intel said they would be. In fact, it doesn’t seem like a secret meeting at all. Genji realizes it’s a trap a second too late, only managing to shove you down as a bullet rips across the landscape. 

It grazes your shoulder, a burning pain spreading through your body. You collapse to the ground with a whine, Genji landing on top of you. He presses his hand to your mouth to keep you quiet. 

You’re in so much pain—you’re not sure you’ve ever felt this way before. It burns and it aches and it feels as though you’ve been ripped apart. Genji presses down on the wound and a scream leaves your throat just as another bullet rips through the air. 

It just barely misses the top of Genji’s head. 

“Stay here,” he breathes heavily, suddenly pouncing to his feet. 

That’s the most he’s spoken to you in weeks, and it’s the first thing you’ve heard him say without that tone behind it. You watch as he stands up and draws his sword, challenging the sniper to shoot again. 

They do, and Genji is ready. He deflects it back perfectly, the clang of metal on metal replacing the sound of the shot. There’s a yelp from far away, and satisfied that he’s got them, Genji returns to your side. 

Only, you’ve lost so much blood that you’re barely coherent. “Fuck!” He taps your face, willing you to stay with him, but you drift off. 

—

You wake up in a hotel room, body aching in the clean linen sheets. Your shoulder burns, and then you remember what happened. You sit up quickly, tugging off your shirt to examine the wound. It’s been cleaned and bandaged, under a huge patch of blood stained gauze. 

You sigh in relief. You’re not dead—but you would be if it weren’t for Genji.

The hotel room is fairly clean, aside from your bloody uniform that’s laying on the ground next to the bed. You blink a few times. You were on a mission—where did you get a spare change of clothes? Did Genji go shopping?

As if on cue, Genji speaks from where he’s sitting near the closed curtains. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” you admit. 

He nods, clearly not in a joking mood. “They won’t be able to extract us until tomorrow morning. Reyes set up this room for us and sent the extra clothes.”

That makes sense. There’s no way they’d be able to get you two out of the streets without drawing attention, especially after shots were fired. 

You rub the seam of the gauze, trailing over the wound subconsciously. 

“We should change that.”

You follow him into the bathroom, awkwardly sitting on the counter while he pulls out a grocery bag of first aid supplies. You pull off your shirt, embarrassed at the prospect of him seeing you half naked. At least you were unconscious and didn’t have to deal with the humiliation last time. 

You don’t miss the way Genji’s eyes graze over your skin, tracing the outline of your collarbone. It makes you heat up, thoughts of him kissing you there flooding your mind. You shake them away—he’s just helping you out. It’s wrong to think of him this way. 

 He peels off the old gauze covering, discarding it in the trash, before dabbing alcohol across the wound. 

You watch him work, fingers knowing what to do without him even thinking about it. He traces the outline of the gauze after he places it on your skin, cold metal fingers settling the hotter parts of you. 

You shiver under his touch, looking up at him. Genji looks back, dark eyes meeting your softer ones. You offer him a gentle grin. 

His hand moves from your shoulder to your hip, squeezing it. He finds himself leaning in, and you find yourself getting closer. And then just before your lips touch, he pulls away like he’s been burned. 

“G-Genji?”

He shakes his head, storming out of the bathroom. You follow after him, not even bothering to tug your shirt back on. 

“Don’t come near me!”

You furrow your brows at his words. “What? What’s going on? Did I do something wrong? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks!”

He tugs on his hair, repeatedly shaking his head at you. You can see the way his muscles are tensing, see the way he’s trying to show restraint. But why? 

“Genji,” you step closer to him cautiously, like you’re approaching a wild animal. “What is it?”

He keeps shaking his head, eyes focused on the floor, ignoring you completely. You take another step, only inches from him now. 

“Genji.”

“I’m a fucking monster, okay?” His outburst makes you flinch but you hold your ground. “I’m not even human anymore, and I have all these sick fucking thoughts about what I want to do to you and—you should just stay away from me, okay?”

“What kind of sick thoughts?”

“You don’t want to know,” his eyes finally meet yours. 

You step an inch closer, standing on your toes so that your mouth hovers near his. “I think I do.”

“Y/n,” he warns. 

You ignore the warning. You ignore all of the red flags. You ignore the voice in your head that says maybe this isn’t the best idea. You jump into his arms, smashing your lips against his and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

He turns you around to slam you into the wall, being careful to avoid reopening your wound. He’s so hungry for you, so desperate. His lips nip at yours like a man starved, all he wants, all he needs right now is to have you. 

He carries you over to the bed, tossing you into it before climbing on top of you and ripping off your pants. You’re left naked, shivering in anticipation at what he’s going to do to you. 

You don’t know how deep his cybernetic parts run, you hardly know anything about him, but he’s all you want. You tug him to you by his hair, making him kiss you again. One of his metal thighs slips between your legs, giving you something to grind your wet pussy against while you make out. 

His lips move down to your neck, biting at the sensitive skin. Moans force their way out of your throat, the sting of his teeth breaking the skin making your eyes water. 

Genji pulls back, looking at your teary eyes. The thought of finally having you like this, so vulnerable underneath him, is enough to make him feral. 

His hand is slipping between your legs, shoving two fingers inside of you with ease. Your wet pussy gushes around him, begging him for more. You whine at his roughness—but it’s so fucking good. 

He shoves them in and out of you, curling them inside of you in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His mouth finds its way to your tits, biting your nipple hard enough to make you gasp. The sound has his cock swelling even more, straining against the metal. 

He slips a third finger in you, stretching you out in such a delicious, amazing way. You moan his name, trying to let him know you’re getting close, but Genji is too drunk on the feeling of you to listen. 

He keeps attacking your chest with his mouth, leaving bruises and bite marks across your skin. It’s his way of marking his territory, of showing everyone who you belong to. 

He’s wanted this for so long, and he’s going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you. 

You cum hard on his fingers, and Genji stops just to watch how pretty you look when you cum. He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking off the juices and moaning at the taste. 

The sight of him is enough to make you horny again, and suddenly you’re thrusting your hips in the air, desperate for any sort of contact. 

“So desperate,” he teases. 

“I-I—”

He mocks you, popping off the metal plate from his crotch and stroking his cock. He rubs his head through your folds, collecting up your slick on his shaft. You’re already ready for him, your first orgasm prepping you more than enough.

He pushes his whole cock in, your walls straining to take him. He can’t quite get his whole length inside of you, so he pulls out and shoves it in again. He watches as he sinks in and out of you, the last two inches of his cock staying outside of the wetness he longs to be in. 

He’s bigger than you’re used to, and your pussy is already so sensitive. That doesn’t stop Genji, though. He keeps slamming his hips into yours, trying to force his cock inside of you. You whimper with every thrust, almost screaming when he hits that spot deep inside of you. 

Genji rolls his hips into yours, thrusting hard and deep. He grabs at your neck, strong hand gently squeezing. You gasp at the sudden feeling and the lack of oxygen, but the burning in your throat feels so good you don’t want him to stop. Everything starts to get fuzzy, and the feeling of Genji railing you starts to feel even better. 

You don’t even realize you’re cumming until he releases his grip on your throat and lets you breathe. The blood rushes to your ears. Your eyes have teared up from the choking, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. You go to wipe them away, but Genji pins your wrists above your head. 

The sight of you lying beneath him, whimpering and crying like he imagined has him going crazy. He keeps bullying his cock into your swollen pussy, thrusts getting sloppier by the second until he fully bottoms out and pumps his cum inside of you. 

“G-Genji,” you breathe. “Did—did you just—”

Genji’s too drunk on your pussy to listen, fucking his cum back inside of you. The hot mixture of his cum and your juices being fucked inside of you has you curling your toes. 

His pace is brutal, his mind only set on fucking you full and keeping you stuffed. He pushes your legs up into your stomach, fucking you into a mating press. 

Your vision blurs from the tears, your nerves overloading from the overstimulation and making you shiver. Genji fucks you through it, pounding into you, sure to get his entire length in every time. It’s not long before you’re cumming again, your body convulsing with your orgasm. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, but Genji holds them in place while he finishes fucking you. 

He reaches up to wipe the tears from your face, the sight of you sobbing only making him fuck you harder. God, he’s wanted this for so long and he’ll do anything to keep it. Anything as long as he gets to keep fucking you like this. 

“G-gonna finish inside of you,” he groans. “Gonna stuff you full. Y-you like that?”

You nod furiously, but you’re so fucked out that he could do anything to you at this point and you wouldn’t care. Genji cums with a string of moans and curses, cock twitching inside of you. 

He doesn’t pull out, instead, he lays on his side and tugs you so your back is pressed against his chest. He keeps his cock inside of you, holding his cum inside.

It’s not long before you’re falling asleep, Genji’s fingers tracing patterns on your stomach. For the first time in a long time, he feels like the anger and the darkness within him are sated, and for now, that’s more than enough.

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumptober 2023

No. 11 Animal trap | No. 19 “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Prison Era

Warnings: Injury (mild descriptions)

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“Watch yer step, I said. Traps ev’rywhere, I said.” Daryl continued to mutter in annoyance under his breath as you reached out to push the thin branches out of the way. Your eyes might be permanently rolled by the time the two of you made it back to the prison. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Daryl!” And you hadn’t. The trap was covered in leaves and sticks, not easily visible especially while you were skirting around another trap you had managed to spot. 

When it had snapped shut on your ankle, you could only remember the white hot agony that had taken control of your psyche. After that was a blur. Glimpses of Daryl’s panicked face, his mouth moving with urgency but no sound registering. The trap hitting a tree with enough force to shave off a large patch of bark. Upside down walkers reaching for you with their decaying hands. 

You woke up in Daryl’s arms, pressed tightly against his chest in a bridal carry, with him muttering curses and off handed comments about women never listening. Your leg throbbed. Not just your ankle but the entire limb felt swollen and heavy, tendrils of pain with every pulse of your heart. 

“I know ya didn’ do it on purpose!” He snapped, his hold tightening so he could jump across a small ditch. Even in his exasperation, he did his best to avoid jostling you or causing you any further discomfort. 

“Then why are you mad at me?” You shot back, quickly losing your patience. 

“I ain’t mad!” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” You mumbled, earning a growl that vibrated against you. 

“Shut it!” 

“So not mad. This is your happy face, right?” You were poking the bear. You knew that, but sometimes that man could be insufferable! 

“If ya’d jus’ listen fer five goddamn seconds!”

“I was listening!”

“Then why m’I haulin’ yer lame ass through the woods?” 

“I didn’t ask to be carried!” 

“Was I jus’ s’posed ta leave ya there fer them walkers then?” 

Your hands went to your hair, fingers tangling in the tresses like you were about to start ripping out chunks. “Put me down!” You shouted, past the point of caring whether or not your outburst would attract walkers. 

“Stop.”

“Daryl Dixon, put me down!” You gave him a moment to comply before you started throwing yourself around in his hold, nearly knocking him off balance. He lost his grip under your knees, but you were lucky enough to catch your weight on the uninjured foot, gathering your bearings before shoving away from him. “I’ll get myself back.”

“Y/N.” The archer stood back and watched you struggle, one hand instinctively reaching out each time you stumbled. “C’mon, Y/N, don’ be stupid.”

“No!” You pointed a finger at him, finding a twisted satisfaction in seeing him take a step back. “Stupid would be staying here with you while you belittle me for something that was clearly an accident!” A tree helped you remain upright while you looked through the available limbs on the ground. Grabbing one that appeared long and sturdy enough to hold you, you leaned in it. It didn’t allow you to take nearly enough weight off your throbbing ankle but you’d make do. “No, Daryl, I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

“Y/N, le’s jus’ go.”

“Go ahead. Don’t let me stand in your way.” With your trusty walking stick, you began the long trek back to the prison— and made it two agonizing steps before the stick snapped and you were flat on your face in a pile of dirty leaves and twigs. “Fuck!” Your anger ebbed away, morphing into pain and helplessness that left fat tears descending from your eyes. 

You could hear the leaves crunching under the archer’s boots as he approached, meaning he wanted you to know he was near. The man could move like a ghost when he wanted. You wiped your eyes and he was kneeling in front of you when you opened them. 

“Go away.” You sniffled. 

“Y’alrigh’?” He began plucking leaves and twigs from your disheveled hair, ending with his knuckles tracing down your jaw. 

“It hurts. Bad.” You sounded like a child but were beyond caring. You just wanted to get back to your cell, crawl onto your thin mattress, and hide under your itchy blanket until the world ended again. 

“I know it does.” Daryl checked the surroundings quickly before focusing on you once again. “M’sorry. I was bein’ a dick.”

You nodded. “You were.”

“Y’ain’t stupid neither. Stubborn as a mule but not stupid.” One corner of his mouth twitched up. “Ya let me carry ya now?”

“Promise you won’t bitch the entire way back?”

“Promise not ta bitch the entire way. Jus’ most of it.” 

You chuckled and shook your head, reaching for his hand. The archer pulled you upright and swept his arm beneath your knees to lift you to his chest. You allowed your head to rest against his shoulder, smiling to yourself. 

“Daryl?”

“Hmm?”

“How can I be stubborn as a mule when you’re the only jackass for miles?”

“Tha’s it, yer walkin’ back.”

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 6

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 4.8k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 

Chapter Synopsis: Kate calls you with some news about the mole. Ghost stops by your room a couple hours before you are all meant to leave in order to spend some more private time with you. When everyone leaves to board the early train to Paris, he is still adamant about sticking to your side. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

Dinner went smoothly. A little awkward for you, but fine. You mainly just listened to the conversations, not feeling comfortable enough to include yourself just yet. The 141 respected your boundary, only cracking jokes and discussing things that showed off their personalities. Kyle was the most mellow out of the group, despite being the youngest. Soap was definitely the loudest, a jokester. At least he was confident. Price was level-headed but sharp. He wasn’t afraid to tease his team when the opportunity was just right.

And Ghost? You got to see a new side of him. One that was more open around his teammates. Considerate, but snarky every now and then. Dry, blunt, caring. The side you were already familiar with though was still there at dinner. The entire time during dinner, he secured himself right beside you, close to you. He didn’t seem all that happy when Kyle sat next to you on your other side too. Every so often, Ghost’s leg would brush against yours, the exuding heat making you shiver. He really ran warm.

At some point, you caught on that he was brushing his leg against yours on purpose. He did it every time Gaz ended up bumping your shoulder during a fit of chuckles, completely by accident. It didn’t bother you too much, having grown more comfortable around the men as time passed during dinner. 

However, it completely bothered Ghost. He knew that Kyle didn’t mean any harm. He most likely wasn’t realizing that he was doing it. Yet, it still bothered him. He’s the only one that wanted the privilege of touching you. By accident or on purpose. It scared him a little, the sinking feeling he got every time Gaz’s shoulder brushed against yours. The feeling of jealousy. He didn’t know that he was the jealous type. 

Once dinner was over, everyone retreated back to their bedrooms to try to get some rest in. Ghost lied in his bed, Soap having taken over the shower as soon as they got back to the room. He closed his eyes, trying to see if he could actually rest up. 

Simon has always struggled with sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, he would see nightmares. Experiences that he has gone through that he wouldn’t even wish upon his enemies. The flashbacks were a bit more tolerable when his eyes were just resting. They were just images in his mind. It was when he actually fell asleep that his nightmares came to life. There have been plenty of moments where he would jump up in bed, clutching his chest and trying to get his panicked breathing under control. Sometimes his skin even twitched painful from where he would be stabbed, shot, or even bitten within his dreams. 

He’s always dreaded sleeping. However, this time, when he closed his eyes and took deep breaths, he didn’t see his past behind his eyelids. He saw you. You tossing him the book you’re letting him borrow, you starting the fire in the cabin, you listening intently to confidential conversations, you giving him a teasing smile with the sunset behind you. He even saw you on top of him, hips pressed against his and a knife to his chest. Before he knew it, he was imagining a replay of that entire situation, only this time, you were dressed in only your panties and t-shirt like the first day he met you. Your t-shirt would weigh down with gravity as you would straddle him. He would have been able to see your cleavage. The thin fabric of your underwear would drive him crazy too. It would make him want to just rip them to shreds just to see all of you without a barrier. 

All of these thoughts were involuntary, but Ghost was having a hard time trying to stop them once they started. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of the shower turning off that he opened his eyes back up to stop the dirty film in his mind. When he sat up and looked down, he cursed under his breath. Really? A fucking boner? Again? What were you doing to him? 

He got up and shifted his pants just as Soap came out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed and ready for some sleep. When he saw his lieutenant standing and putting on some boots, he raised his brow curiously. “You going somewhere, Lt?”

“Gonna walk around a little. Burn some extra energy.” He made up, hoping the excuse would be enough for Soap to drop it. Hopefully, Soap wouldn’t look too closely at him either. 

Johnny nodded and headed towards the room’s mini-fridge, helping himself to an ice cold water bottle. As Simon left, Soap didn’t notice the slight bulge in his pants. Although, he did notice the lieutenant walking a little differently. Not unlike the way most boys had to walk when they were trying to hide something they couldn’t control due to puberty. He held his breath to avoid laughing. Right up until the door was closed with a click. Soap never thought that he would see Ghost so down bad for anyone.

Simon headed up to the rooftops to get some alone time. He’s been meaning to find some more time to finish the book you lent him. Finding a comfortable spot leaning against the wall, he cracked open the book and began to read, a military-grade flashlight illuminating the words on the page.

~

The time ticked slowly through the night, having you wonder if time had actually stopped. There were still a couple of hours left before it was time to check-out, so you tried to fill the time as best as you could. You just stepped out of the shower, a long, warm one. You normally took quick showers that were lukewarm at best. When it was the hotel paying the hot water bill, however, you didn’t really care about how long your shower was or how hot the water rushed. 

It was heaven feeling the water pressure massage your tense muscles. The scent of clean steam and soap helped you relax as well. You weren’t one for the standard, generic soaps that most hotels provided. You preferred your own scents, your own soaps that you were accustomed to. The scents that helped you feel most comfortable in your own scarred skin.

By the time you turned off the shower, your fingertips had turned pruny and you were craving a cold beverage. Wrapping a towel around your frame, you stepped back out into the beverage to pick a fruit juice from the fridge. As you sipped, the phone on your desk started to vibrate. There was only one person in the world that could call you. If she was calling at this hour, it must’ve been important. 

“Kate.” You greeted nonchalantly. 

“Hex, how are you doing?” She started with small talk. She always started with some small talk with you before discussing the important matters. Usually it was because she had to butter you up so she could ask for a favor. 

Lucky for her, you didn’t mind it. “I’m fine. We’re making good progress with the mission. I’ve been getting to know the boys too. They’re not half bad.”

You could practically feel Kate beaming through the phone at your confession. She was incredibly excited for you. “That’s great to hear! I figured that you would get along with them better than anyone else. I told you they were good men.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. There’s still a lot to do and a lot I don’t know. I haven’t given them my complete seal of approval yet.” You teased, a small smile gracing your own face as you imagined how happy Kate was. You couldn’t remember the last time you witnessed her smile.

She gave a warm laugh before clearing her throat. “John has told me about what he thinks of you as well as how you’ve been interacting with the team. It was a rocky start, but he told me that you had dinner with them tonight. Really, Hex. I think this is good for you. They’re good for you.”

“Anyway, talking about this isn’t the only reason why I called. I wanted to give you an update on our potential mole situation.” She continued, her tone shifting to proud and carefree to serious and grave.

You took a seat on your bed, preparing to hear the report. “And?”

Laswell paused for a while before releasing a shaky breath. “At the original checkpoint where you were supposed to pick up an armored vehicle, there was an ambush waiting. Makarov’s men. The vehicle wasn’t stolen, so there is no way that they were just there to steal military property. Their only reason for being there was to apprehend the 141.”

“So we have a mole situation after all.” You groaned. When it came to things like this, you hated being proven right. It wasn’t like you liked these kinds of things happening, waiting to brag like a child. This was serious.

“Your hunch was right and you have proven it. The only people that knew where the 141 was going and where they were supposed to be were me and Shepherd. Shepherd doesn’t suspect that I have been turning in false paperwork, but he has questioned me on where you guys were. I think in his panic, he bought my lie. He seemed spooked.” She elaborated in detail.

“Have you told the boys yet?” You inquired. From her tone, it sounded like she hadn't.

“Negative. I figured that you should break the news. Besides, I don’t have anything concrete yet. If tried in court, Shepherd could brush it off as a mere coincidence. Legally, I have to be careful with who I tell and how I say things. I’m going to keep digging on my end, see about getting something on record. You guys just keep going. Take down Makarov.” She decided, her determination clear in her decision. Kate wasn’t one to let these kinds of things brush under the rug. Her sense of justice was too strong for that, even if Shepherd was her superior.

You trusted her to get the job done. She was really risking her job with this one. The least you could do was play a little secretary for her. “Got it. Thanks, Kate. And be careful. If Shepherd is willing to release confidential information to Makarov for his own gain, who knows what else he may do to ensure that no one finds out.”

“Thanks for the warning, Hex, but I don’t think I have anything to worry about. I have an assassin on my side after all. The best in the world.” She claimed, her tone light again.

She wished you good night and hung up, leaving you to process the turn of events. It was going to be tough breaking the news to the team. You could imagine that they were going to get very angry when they finally do know. 

You got up from your bed to finally get changed. Just as you were picking out some underwear, there was a knock on your door. Without thinking much of it, you yelled out. “Come in.”

Ghost unlocked the door and waltzed right in only to see you in nothing but a fluffy towel. He reacted to his surprise with anger. “What the fuck, Hex? Why would you invite me in if you were still naked?!”

“A good soldier shouldn’t get distracted by nudity.” You reminded him with a casual shrug.

“Hex.” He simply warned with your call sign, his eyes roaming your body. He could see more scars covering you than before, your full arms, shoulders, and some chest now exposed to him. God, he wanted to trace every scar you had with his tongue. At the same time, he wanted to strangle you.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, proceeding to prepare to finally get dressed. “If it really bothers you that much, then turn around for a minute. There are more important things to worry about right now.”

He grumbled curses under his breath. How dare you put him in such a dangerous situation! Either he turned around and admitted that it did bother him, or he watched you change. For him, it meant sacrificing some pride while the other meant sacrificing his cool. And he just recently calmed down his dirty thoughts of you too. 

To you, it really didn’t matter. He had already confessed that he cared about you as a teammate. He wanted you safe. What did you have to worry about in this situation? 

In the end, he opted to turn halfway around. He could still see you just out of the corner of his eye, but he tried to keep his gaze straight. Still though, he ached to see you. Even the blurry figure of you nude was such a fucking tease.

You dropped the towel and slipped on some underwear followed by a shirt with a different band on the front. Briefly, you looked over to Simon who stood with his arms crossed, clearly irritated. You contemplated putting on some pants for a moment before ultimately deciding against it. You preferred to be comfortable at night. When he heard you sitting down on the bed, he turned back around.

He didn’t know what drove him crazier. You completely nude, you in nothing but a towel, or you in pajamas that just left a little something to his imagination. How infuriatingly attractive.

“Might want to take a seat for what I’m about to tell you.” You gestured to the desk chair, waiting for him to take a seat. When he settled himself in, hands strategically placed in his lap, you began with your update.

“Kate just called. She said that Makarov’s men were planted at the original checkpoint, hoping to ambush you. Shepherd is definitely a mole given the circumstance, but she needs time to gather more evidence that would hold up in court.” You pulled the band-aid right off. Your bluntness was usually something that knocked people off their feet. Hence, the offer to sit.

Ghost sat in silence, feeling betrayed. He wasn’t surprised. Not in the slightest. Ever since Shepherd allowed Shadow Company to take over in Mexico, he’s never trusted him again. Soap and himself almost died from that incident. More than once too. When Shepherd disappeared afterward, Ghost thought he was a coward. Lucky though. If Shepherd stuck around, Simon would’ve most likely lost his shit on him if one of his teammates didn’t do it first. 

He clenched his fists, knuckles cracking menacingly. He could kill someone. Specifically Shepherd. All he could think about now was wrapping his hands around his neck and squeezing down as hard as he could. Hard enough to have his eyes pop out of his skull. “Fucking Shepherd. . .”

You weren’t surprised by his reaction. It was exactly how you expected to go. Anyone would be upset about this. Especially the 141. You’ve read those mission reports. You knew about what transpired in Mexico. However, you were worried that Simon was going to pop a blood vessel. You wanted to make sure that Laswell got back her down deposit on the hotel rooms too. 

Simon didn’t notice you getting up, his vision only seeing red. Once you softly touched his shoulder, though, all he could see was you. Your hair still damp, your eyes more warm, and your fresh scent flooding his senses. It calmed him down, his blood pressure going down. Yet, his heart didn’t slow. In fact, it seemed to quicken even more at your proximity to him. Your scars, your hint of cleavage, your thighs. You exposed so much on the surface. But he wanted to explore your depths.

He stood up from the chair, almost causing it to fall over from his force. Your quick step back wasn’t fast enough to escape Simon’s reach. In less than a second, he threw off his mask, grabbed your face, and smashed his lips against yours. He couldn’t fight his attraction to you anymore. He wanted everything from you and he wanted it now.

It startled to be kissed so suddenly. To be grabbed and pulled towards him. He should’ve known better by now. At first, you growled in protest, fight mode kicking in as your natural instinct. You haven’t yet registered what he exactly was doing. Hands gripped his firm shoulders tightly, prepared to push him away. Once your brain flashed with the image of his face, you finally melted. 

You only managed to see his face for a split second, but it was more than enough to know that he was devastatingly handsome. A strong jaw, light stubble, and a couple of scars that told a story. His lips were perfect too, just as you had imagined. Not only to see, but to kiss as well. Mostly soft, just a little rough, all sweet.

As soon as you relaxed, Simon wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest and letting his hand roam your back. Instead of easing up, he just dived deeper, his kisses getting more passionate with each second. It was making you lightheaded, moans threatening to escape as you began to feel your brain go numb. He barely gave you time to breathe as he continued to deepen the kiss, his own senses becoming heightened to how you felt on his lips.

Without warning, his hands slipped underneath your shirt to feel your bare back, causing you to gasp and shiver. Simon took advantage of your shock and slipped his tongue into your mouth, his heart going wild with the sweetness of your warm taste. You let out an involuntary moan as he took over your mouth which was more than just music to Ghost’s ears. It was the sound of heaven on earth. And he wanted to replay it like a skipping record.

Your legs were getting weak with each swipe of his tongue, the fear of having your knees buckle taking over. While you tried to grab his attention by tapping his shoulders, he just ignored you. That, or he didn’t notice. He was too busy exploring every inch of your mouth. Licking, sucking, and even biting. You were trembling with pure pleasure at this point, something that he absolutely relished with all his being. He loved feeling each shudder go through you. He loved being able to trace it up your spine to only cause more quivering. It didn’t take much longer for you to begin feeling your panties get damp with your wetness. You were practically dripping already.

It wasn’t like Simon wasn’t affected either. Pressed up against you was his rock-hard erection. One that was impossible to hide or make excuses for. 

As soon as he bit your lip in a heated impulse, you pushed him back to catch your breath. Your chest heaved, trying to fill your lungs with air. He left you breathless. “Fucking hell, Simon! You’re gonna suffocate me! You gotta let a girl have some air.”

Jesus, you needed to sit down. Your legs were shaking like a newborn deer. If you didn’t take a seat, you may very well fall to the floor. While you caught your breath on the bed, Simon went to turn the lights off. While he didn’t mind showing you his face for a moment, he wanted to return to some of his comfort zone. He had a feeling that you would prefer the comfort of the dark too for what he was about to do to you.

As the lights went out, your eyes strained to adjust to the dark. Your stomach was flooded with butterflies, your heart raced, and your skin tingled. You could hear the rustle of clothing, Simon deciding that his shirt was no longer necessary. Through the dark with adjusted vision, you could see Simon approaching you once again. His whole torso was covered in scars as well. The tattoos covering his whole forearm probably camouflage even more. Besides that, his muscles were defined, his chest and abs revealed in all their glory. This wasn’t just the body of a man. This was the body of a soldier. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little scared of what was most likely going to happen. It has been a very, very long time since you’ve been with anyone. Not since fooling around in high school and a little bit right after. “W-Wait, Simon-”

“I’m not waiting and I’m not sorry.” He cut you off, his voice gruff, unapologetic. His voice was closer than you thought, the deep vibration of his vocal chords going right through you. Before you could protest further, he pushed you down on the bed, towering over you with his ripped 6’3” frame. 

Instead of your lips, he went straight for your neck, quickly finding out just how sensitive you were there as he aggressively kissed it. Your back arched, torso pressing against his as he fulfilled his desires. You bit your lip, trying to mute any moan that may escape past your lips. When his hands went up your shirt to grope your breasts, you whimpered, voice shuttering. You weren’t used to this. This lack of control. This feeling of being consumed. But Christ, did it feel so good. Especially with Ghost. Regardless, you needed his attention in order to let him know what to expect if you were to go further. “S-Simon!”

The sound of you whimpering his name made him freeze. He daydreamed about that sound. Hearing it in real life had him reeling. It had his cock twitch in anticipation too. You really fucking turned him on, whether you knew it or not. As much as he wanted to keep going, he finally gave you a chance to speak up. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take long. “Hex?”

Ghost’s own breathlessness when he said your name made your heart skip a beat. You clenched your thighs together, feeling some slickness that ended up dripping from your weeping pussy. You needed to say your piece before it’s too late. “I. . . I haven’t done something like this in forever. . .”

You trailed off, wanting to say more but you couldn’t organize the thoughts that were scrambled in your head. He made you weak. Excited. As much as you wanted desperately to keep going, there was a small part of you that couldn’t ignore the fact that you were scared. You were scared to be so vulnerable again. More than you were now. You were just beginning to open up about your personality after all.

Simon swallowed hard, noticing your apprehension. He wanted to punch himself for rushing you. For pouncing on you like a wild animal in heat. He wasn’t sorry before, but he was definitely sorry now. It made his heart ache. “You don’t want to continue, do you?”

“It’s not that simple. If I’m being honest, I want more. Fuck, I want it all. I haven’t felt this fucking excited in years. I just. . . There’s something stopping me from giving all of myself away so suddenly. . .” You tried to explain, each word out of your mouth strained. Why couldn’t it be more simple? Why couldn’t you just say “fuck it” and have the night of your life?

Ghost was amazing. Sure, you two have fought. Your fights could cause earthquakes with how intense they got. At the same time, he was strong, confident, handsome, and alluring. He hasn’t minded that you have pressed a knife against him twice already. He hasn’t cared about you biting at him with each attempt of getting close to you. He’s been stubborn and patient with you. Most people would have been scared away by now. Most people would’ve left by now. 

Yet, you still didn’t trust him completely yet due to your fears. What was that fear though? Besides being afraid of being vulnerable, what else did you fear?

His hand landed on your cheek with much more gentleness than before. He helped guide your eyes to look at him. In the depths of the dark, you could still see his blues. Vibrant like a midnight blue full of stars. His gaze has softened too. 

Your breath caught in your throat as he looked at you with such tenderness. Such remorse for what he has done to you. His small smile, though, conveyed optimism. 

Jesus, you could cry. You were starting to fall for him. 

“It’s okay, Hex. I’m sorry for pushing for something you clearly weren’t ready for. I let my emotions get the better of me. The truth is, I find you irresistible. I didn’t kiss you because I needed relief from my anger over Shepherd. I kissed you because I’ve wanted to for a while now.” He explained with full transparency, something you deserved. He wasn’t ready to admit any deeper feelings that were growing within his heart. He couldn’t make complete sense of it yet. For now, we would keep those confusing feelings hidden, but he won’t hide his attraction any longer.

He got up off of you and rubbed the back of his neck, just now feeling slightly embarrassed for his actions. He couldn’t get the kiss out of his head just yet. Nor the sound of your moans or the softness of your breasts. Simon wouldn’t be able to forget any of that any time soon.

Slowly, you sat up, adjusting your shirt that was hiked up pretty high. “Thanks for understanding. I just need more time.”

Your hand was taken up in his, a little squeeze grabbing your attention again. “I promised you that we would take things slow. I broke that promise just now. Not again.”

Relief washed over you like a tidal wave. Finally, you could breathe easier. Being with him still did things to your head and heart. Something that you would address in solitude later. Right now, you still wanted him to be with you. “What did you originally knock on my door for?”

His shoulders fell as you slowly turned back into your calm state. He loved driving you crazy in more ways than one. However, he liked you calm too. It was something he fed off of along with your other emotions. “I finished the book you recommended. I came to talk about it.”

“Well, we still have time before we have to head out. Wanna talk about it now?”

~

The train station platform was deserted. Most people were still sleeping comfortably in their beds. 

Not the 141. Not Makarov’s weapon guys either. 

They haven’t noticed any of you as you dressed in civilian clothes. Even Simon switched his balaclava for a simpler face mask, complete with a lower skull print as part of his brand. The military luggage was swapped out for regular travel luggage as well. Truly, you all looked like tourists. Maybe even residents.

You had told the rest of them about your call with Kate discreetly during check-out. Now more than ever, they wanted to take Makarov down. It would most likely lead to Shepherd’s arrest as well. They were willing to do whatever it takes, even if it meant taking your fashion advice when it was time to wear civilian clothes. You guys were in Italy. American-styled casuals weren’t going to cut it.

Makarov’s men sat in the boxcar two up from yours. Price planned on sneaking into the luggage cart to find their shipment to place trackers on later during breakfast service.You would be on the lookout when he does. Ghost would be the one to place the trackers on the men. Gaz, and Soap would check to see if they worked through their laptops within the safety of their seats. 

As of now, you all sat in a car together, waiting patiently for your opportunities. You took the window seat, looking out at the platform that eventually began to slowly pass once the train started. Ghost was sat right next to you, ensuring that you could feel the warmth of his side against you. He would make sure that this would be his spot for the rest of the ride. 

-

Taglist: @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @dory-98 @cum-tea-and-towels @completelymarveltrash @watersquirtpewpewboomm @thychuvaluswife @sweetheart-im-the-boss @anotherrickinthewall @bluewinter39 @fortunatelydecadentstudent @transparentsheepsheep @rhaenryawhore @randomlyblues @issssawrap @lachimolalaa3 @callsign-pyro @corruptcrybaby @kdadss @lexuria @dookiedanish

[ghostofthemost141]

Glass Eyes

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader, First POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 1,862

Themes: Angst and more Angst

About: You and Ghost are happily married, except you don't remember that. After a mission accident, you are having amnesia and Ghost wants you to remember the life you have.

Notes: Inspired by a TikTok I saw and decided to put it into word format. Nickname for this one is Birdie. And I have Ghost's thoughts jumbled in here so anything that is like this are his internal thoughts. Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate it! Enjoyy!

“Lieutenant.” 

“Yes?” Ghost called to me with a sour tone. 

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask. 

No, my Birdie. You did not. 

Ghost’s piercing blue eyes stared into my soul. When he came into our meeting room, he didn’t have his usual mask that obscured his entire face. I had never even realized his eyes were blue until he came in today with just a black jacket, his skull balaclava mask that revealed the upper part of his face, gray jeans, and blue converse shoes. Ever since I woke up from my injury, Ghost always looks at me with so much sadness. I don’t understand why he does that. 

“No.” He mumbled. 

I did not understand were this was all coming from. Everytime I ask, Soap, Gaz or Price, they just give me a ‘He is going through a lot right now’ but won’t tell me what. It was all confusing especially since he is giving me kind of the cold shoulder. 

If only you would understand, Birdie. Better yet, remember. 

I could look at Ghost and could see he was thinking, while staring at me. I feel like I should have a talk with him, especially when I haven’t done a damn thing wrong and yet he is treating me like this. He should know that I am one of the best fighters here besides him. Nevertheless, I need to continue this meeting as usual. 

“How is your head?” Gaz asked me. 

“Hurts, but manageable. I have been through worse.” I answer. 

It’s true. You were nearly shot to death when you first started and you still fought with the last bit of bloody strength you had in ya. You’re a fighter. A damn good fighter. 

“I feel like I know what’s coming.” I say. 

“Yeah, we are sending you home temporarily. You’ll be able to come back once your brain is healed.” Price informed me. 

Fuck. 

What a relief. 

“I’ll miss y’all, but orders are orders.” I announce, turning to the guys. 

They were all smiling at me except for Ghost who, once again, had his eyes turned away from me. What the hell? 

“I guess I better go pack my things. Y’all don’t have too much fun in the field without me.” I joke, making the guys laugh. 

“Do you want some help, Birdie?” Soap offered. 

I wanted to accept his offer, but I also wanted to leave the door open for Ghost so I could talk with him. 

“I got it, but thank you Johnny.” I smiled at him and he did it back. 

Even though Ghost has a mysterious charm to him, Soap has always been so kind and friendly to me. He’s also quite the handsome devil. I wonder if he is single, I am just not the one to ask someone about their love life. Disbanding the meeting, I turned and walked to my room, getting ready to pack my belongings. Despite my love for being out in the field, I was lowkey happy to be sent home on temporary leave. Gaz told me that if I were to hit my head again, I could be rendered a vegetable so it’s best for me to be sent home so I can heal and be able to be back on the field. I stepped into my room, feeling a small wave of sadness. 

“I’m gonna miss ya.” I say to myself in my room. 

“You’re never coming back here.” 

“AHH! JESUS!!” I cried out, getting startled by Ghost’s sudden appearance. 

“Ghost, you scared me.” 

“Sorry.” He mumbled. 

As I was catching my breath, I had just realized what he said.

“You’re never coming back here.” 

“What did you mean by that?” 

“By what?” 

“You said I was never coming back here. What did you mean by that?” I ask, seeing he is beating around the bush. 

Ghost’s eyes pierced at me, as if I was his enemy. 

“You won’t be comin’ back here. They are just lettin’ you down easy. A head injury is basically a death sentence for being in the force.” Ghost told me. 

I felt my heart drop, hearing Ghost tell me that. 

“I..I don’t understand.” I mumbled. 

“Of course you don’t.” 

No fucking way. I shot my head up at him and walked up to him. 

“What’s your problem? Ever since I came out of my coma you’ve done nothing but give me the cold shoulder and as far as I know I haven’t done a damn thing to you! So what gives?” I exclaimed in near hysterics. 

“It’s nothin’.” Ghost sneered. 

“No it is, tell me now Lieutenant.” I sternly said. 

“No.” 

“Tell me now.” 

“Birdie, don’t.” 

“It’s something alright, just tell me.” 

I swear to God I am going to scream and I don’t want to do that to you, my love. 

“Tell me.” 

“Tell me.” 

“Tell me.” 

“Tell me.”

“Tell me now.” 

“Tell me now.” 

“Tell me now.” 

“Tell me now.” 

“Tell me now.” 

“Tell me now.” 

“Tell me now.” 

“Tell me-” 

“YOU ARE MY WIFE!!” 

…

…

…

What? What did he just say? Ghost’s eyes were wide..I couldn’t even tell what it was. Was it anger? Was it sadness? Was it denial? I couldn’t tell.  

“What? What do you mean?” I asked Ghost, trying to reach for him but he just flinched away from me. 

“You..” Ghost paused as he tried to gather his words up, “you hit your head, Birdie. During a mission, someone snuck up behind you, and hit you in the head with the butt of their gun. Despite you passing out, you managed to kill the bloody bastard. But by the time I reached you, you were unconscious. We took you to the medic and we put you in a medical coma to give your brain time to heal. You were lucky to have no bleeding up in there, but they said the possibility of you having amnesia was high. I didn’t want to believe it..” 

“Lieutenant?” 

What? Why did she call me that? She always calls me Simon. Birdie looked down to see me holding her hand. 

“I didn’t think you’d be so worried about me.” She joked with a smile. 

Does she not..

“Of course I would be, love.” 

“Love? Aw you don’t have to pretend you care so much, Ghost, it’s not like we are dating or anything.” 

Oh…

Oh. 

Bloody fucking hell. This is not happening. I was about to speak when I saw the old geyser Price doing a frantic head shaking motion at me. What? What does that mean? 

“I was just..worried is all, Birdie. I’m glad you’re okay.” I say, letting go of her hand despite feeling heartbreak for the first time ever. 

“..until you said that. ‘It’s not like we are dating or anything’. That told me right there you don’t remember.” 

I could feel a heavy weight in my chest. This..this was all too much.  Why, why would Ghost be telling me this? I don’t understand. 

“Why would you be telling me this now?” I questioned. 

“Because I want you to remember.” 

For a split second, I swear I could hear Ghost’s voice breaking, as if he was going to cry. I have never heard Ghost cry, ever. But within that split second, he got his composure back. 

“You..you make me so happy, Birdie. I just want you to remember.” 

I thought about it. I mentally dug into my brain, to try and remember anything, something, any little thing that would indicate that Ghost and I were..together. But nothing came up. No memory or nothing. Just blackness. 

“I’m..I’m sorry Ghost. I don’t remember-” 

“Just pack your shiet and leave.” Ghost growled. 

“Ghost, I’m sorry I-” 

“Just..go. Now.” 

I have never heard Ghost get this intense nor scary. I didn’t know what to say. I felt bad for him that he supposedly had a life with me, but I just can’t remember it. I wanted to say something else, but I felt like anything I said would upset him. 

“Yes, sir.” I mumbled. 

Upon me saying that. Ghost immediately turned and walked out of my room. I wish I could remember. I have always had an infatuation for Ghost and the fact that he told me we are married, is an absolute shock to me. And I wish I could remember. 

Goodbye, my Birdie. 

One month later

My head didn’t hurt as much as usual today, which made me happy. Even though Price did eventually tell me I wouldn’t be able to come back to the field due to my head injury, he was happy to visit me once they got to go back home. Same with Gaz and Soap. The only one I haven’t heard from was Ghost. I wanted to reach out to him, but considering the last time we talked was a month ago and he ordered me to ‘pack my shiet and leave now.’ I get that he was upset, but I also wish he understood my point of view. I want to remember, trust me, but no matter how much I rack my brain, I can’t remember. I only remember me getting recruited and the day of my injury. Every once in a while, I will have a small flashback to a small thing that happened during my time on the field, but they are never about Ghost and I being together. None of this makes sense, but there is nothing I can do about it. I was at my dining table, stirring my coffee mug about to sip it and eat the french toast I made. 

*KnockKnock*

Who could that be? I am not expecting anyone and Price didn’t tell me they would be coming home anytime soon. I got up, went up to the front door, and opened it, nearly fainting in response. 

“Hey, Birdie.” 

Ghost stood there at my doorway holding a bouquet of..

“Ghost, I uh..didn't expect you.” I admitted, considering how angry he was with me. 

“I know.” 

“Would you like to come in? I can make you some tea.” I offer. 

“I’m fine, I just wanted to come by and bring you these. They were your favorite. And to also apologize for how I treated you when you left. It wasn’t right. I’m sorry.” Ghost apologized. 

I don’t think I have ever heard Ghost apologize before and it was definitely genuine. 

“It’s okay, sir. I understand.” 

I understood where he was coming from. 

“Please, just Simon is alright.” He said. 

Simon? Simon..

Ghost then handed me the bouquet of sunflowers. They smelled so nice, so heavenly, so…

“Simon.. Do you really feel that way about me?” 

“I do, I love you, Birdie…” 

~

“How are we going to tell Price about us?” 

“I’ll figure something out, love. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about nothing…” 

~

“Si.” 

“I love you so much, Birdie..You complete me.” 

~

“Birdie, will you marry me?” 

“Simon..yes. Yes I will.” 

~

I..I remember now. 

“Si?’ 

Simon’s eyes beamed up and were once again full of life again, hearing me utter his nickname I had for him. 

“Birdie..” 

You’re back, my love. You’re finally back. 

END 

[morallyinept]

Naughty Or Spice? - A Marcus Pike Christmas One Shot 🎄

Written for @hellishjoel 's 12 Days of Pedro. Thank you for inviting me to participate, lovely! Thanks to @undercoverpena for the 12 Days of Pedro banner. 🖤

Character: Marcus Pike

Prompt: Holiday Meal

Read the other amazing fics here 👇🏻

🎄Hellishjoel's 12 Days of Pedro Masterlist🎄

Summary: You and your husband Marcus are preparing a Christmas feast for your relatives, when you both give in to a hunger of your own.

Pairing: Husband!Marcus Pike x WifeF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. Image used for aesthetic purposes only, no reference to Reader.)

Word Count: 4.3k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/69

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Really enjoyed writing this and being a part of this amazing group of writers for 12 Days of Pedro, & I hope you enjoy reading it too! 🎄

MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🖤

The heady aromas of brandy and honey glaze can be smelt wafting around him, creeping up his nostrils, making his stomach rumble and mouth water in anticipation of the festive banquet. 

The kitchen, the epicentre of your shared world in your cosy home together as newlyweds, is alive with the fervour of holiday feast preparations, embracing a melange of scents that paint the air with vivid notes of fragrance.

The pièce de résistance, the roast turkey, emits an enticing aroma; a melody of savoury richness that speaks of crisp, golden skin and succulent, juicy meat, infused with the earthy blend of rosemary and thyme.

A harmonious mix of umami and sweetness mingles in the air. The citrusy notes of orange and lemon zest adds a bright, effervescent zing, cutting through the savoury with a refreshing counterpoint that teases the palate.

Marcus wanders back into the kitchen after discarding his shoes; a sprig of fresh garden herbs contributing their own verdant movement to the olfactory composition, as he brings them to his nose to smell sage flooding down his trachea in abundance. 

"I got the sage, baby." He says.

He soon discards the leafy bunch on the counter top when he sees you standing precariously on a chair with your arms rummaging deep into the cupboard. 

You wobble a little unbalanced, and he rushes to you, supporting your butt in his giant hands, and grabbing a hold of your waist to stop you falling and cracking open your skull on the wooden floor that heats his socked feet pleasantly underneath.

It’s only a matter of time really - he can’t leave you alone for more than five minutes before some casualty will undoubtedly ensue.

But then, when Marcus isn’t having a panic attack about you accidently slicing off your thumb when you chop the vegetables - real fast with warp speed, and simultaneously skimming the iPad screen for the best honey types to roast them in - he kinda finds your inelegance endearing.

He married a clumsy one, and he couldn't be more pleased about that as you smile warmly at him coming to your rescue. You still take his breath away as he feels his lungs struggle, smiling warmly up at you.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asks, as you shove a stack of bowls down into his big hands. 

He places them on the counter top and stays close to you with his arms ready to catch you like the swoon-worthy hero he is.

“I’m looking for that big glass dish, you know, for the bread rolls.” You explain, your voice echoing around the inside of the cupboard stacked high with dishes and plates of all variety and size.

“Out the way, honey,” he lifts you down off the chair, kissing you on the cheek as you slide down his warm body. 

“Mmm,” you smile at him as he blushes a little. 

And your husband has never looked more appealing, with freshly washed hair styled in neat waves; a spicy scent of his cologne tickling your nostrils, and dressed in a smart, yet relaxed, cream sweatshirt teamed with jeans.

He pushes the chair aside to the sink whilst he looks for it, reaching up into the cupboard without needing a chair, or to stand on his tip toes.

You clock his sweatshirt riding up to reveal golden tanned hips with his jeans resting low on his svelte waist, tantalising you further.

“This one?” Marcus asks, pulling out a frosted glass serving platter a few seconds later. 

“Yes, thank you,” You glance up as you sprinkle flour over the freshly baked bread rolls that have cooled enough on the rack. 

He plonks it down beside you as you start arranging the bread buns on it, stopping only to tap his hand away as he reaches for one cheekily, and to blow the flour off your hands. You absentmindedly wipe your dusty fingers on your jeans, leaving white patches. 

The best cooks are also the messy ones, Marcus thinks, smiling as he watches you happily thrive in your environment that’s piled with dishes to be washed, spoons stirred in various pans simmering on the hob, and pastry rolled out ready with festive cookie cutters that you'll press in.

He smirks, seeing you have a faint flour handprint on your butt as you lift the dish off the counter top and walk it out into the dining room.

He steals another kiss as you pass, pulling you gently by the elbow, making you giggle softly. And it’s a sound he’ll never tire of. 

The table is heaving with enough food to feed the five thousand, and yet it still doesn’t seem like quite enough.

The grand Christmas tree in the background twinkles with golden lights, carefully arranged like shimmering stars, casting a warm and inviting glow over the tree's boughs. Ornaments of various shapes and colours adorn the branches, each telling its own magical story.

Shimmering globes catch the light, scattering it in a dazzling display of red and green reflections. Delicate icicles dangle from the tips of the branches, capturing the essence of winter's frosty beauty. 

The whole room reminds you of something out of an old fashioned Christmas card - just how you’d envisioned it when Marcus and you spent a day putting it meticulously together - and you’re proud of Marcus for his decorating efforts, if but a little obsessive. 

You make space for the dish of bread rolls on the table, groaning and creaking with more added weight. You pull your phone out of your back pocket and check the time. They’ll all be arriving soon.

“I think we need more chairs...” You groan coming back into the kitchen. You look up at Marcus, who has a spoon in his mouth and freezes on the spot. 

“Caught red handed, Agent!” You playfully scold. 

“I can’t help it, it tastes so good.” He smirks, pulling the spoon from his mouth and you zone in on it, smirking through those pink, wet lips of his. “Is there chestnut in this?”

You nod, smiling. 

“Damn…” He praises with a keen grin, resting casually against the counter top. The blend of tart cranberries and smoky bacon makes his cheeks tingle as he licks around his teeth. 

“You have to share this recipe with me.”

You shake your head reaching for the sage. “No way. My grandma would turn in her grave if I gave away her secrets.” 

“Here, taste it…” Marcus holds out the spoon to you with a nub of the cranberry stuffing.

“I know how it tastes, I made it.” You smirk as you brush past him to turn off the hob. "Besides, it still needs the sage, it's not done yet."

He slips it into his mouth instead groaning in delight. "Honey," he begins, his voice a warm blend of appreciation, "you've truly outdone yourself.” As he points around the kitchen with the spoon.

You scoff. 

“I mean it. Although, I’m probably going to gain at least twenty pounds.” 

“You will if you eat that whole thing.” You giggle. “You married a feeder. Your fault.” You take the bowl of stuffing from him and place it on the counter top. You turn back to glance at him as he watches you with twinkly eyes. 

“What are you looking at?” You ask, admiring him curiously, as his smile widens across his sculpted cheekbones. 

“You,” he reaches forward and pulls you towards him.

His hand starts wiping down your butt as he cradles you close to his chest. “You look so hot in the kitchen; did I ever tell you that?”

“Excuse me, Mr Backwards century!” You say to him wrinkling your nose through a smile.

“You know what I mean. You’re a great cook. What’s not sexy about that, hmm?” Marcus asks with hooded, dark eyes. 

You know that look, know that when his eyes are swallowed up by the lust of his pupils like this, that you’re helpless to resist. He looks at you with a quiet, brewing hunger; a hunger that will last for hours as he devours you and leaves no morsel left.  

You feel his large hands squeeze at your ass lavishly, but you scarper out of his grip giggling. There’s still so much to do and not enough time to do it. 

"Stop distracting me."

"But I'm so good at it." Marcus responds with a wink.

“Mhm, can you get the potatoes out for me?” You ask him, and smile sweetly. 

You toss him a dish cloth, quashing all his wily charm, and he catches it before it lands on his head.

Marcus spins on his heels and pulls open the oven door; the blast of heat in the face makes him squint. He can smell the flavoursome scents from the herbs, making him salivate as he reaches in. 

“Watch out, it’s hot!” He can feel the heat from the tray biting into his skin even with the cloth. He drops the tray down quickly and feels the sear of the burn cooking him. “Ah, shit!” 

He snatches his hand back as the tray clatters on the drainer, hissing as he puts his hand straight to his mouth, sucking on the fleshy piece of skin between his thumb and forefinger with a frown.

“Let me see,” you say, coming up beside him and running the faucet.

“It’s just a little scald. I’ll be fine,” Marcus assures, holding his hand out under the cool flow. He can feel the rawness of its sting, even under the water.

You dab it gently with a dry, clean cloth and inspect it. It’s a little pink, but no signs of a bad blister brewing.

You look up at him and kiss it gently. “All better.”

“You’re so sweet to me.” Marcus smiles, and runs his hand through the frazzled wisps of your hair coming loose.

He pulls you in for a kiss and you kiss him back, only refuting it when it mutates into a swamping, dizzy smooch that begins to make your head spin.

Reluctantly breaking away from the kiss, you share a moment of breathless laughter; the gritty reality of the kitchen chaos juxtaposing with the sweet and savoury notes of the holiday feast filling your nostrils.

“Stop it, I need to uh...” Your voice trails off, distracted by his kisses that now run over your cheek and to your neck, where he knows it will make you melt like butter in a hot pan.

His wandering hands are sliding up the outside of your thighs and groping your ass again.

“Yes, you have to do what?” Marcus prompts through breathy puckers. You feel his tongue, hot and wet, licking carnage on your skin. Instead of dousing the fire, it inflames it.

“The food… Marcus, I-I need to... fuck...” You whine as his lips graze across your throat. 

“You taste so good,” Marcus purrs, nipping at your skin and completely forgetting about the soreness of his burn. The feel of your ass inside his hands probably has something to do with that as he kneads and massages away.

Hands become reacquainted with body parts as yours run up his chest over his sweatshirt, whilst his runs the gauntlet up your back, leaving tingles and shudders.

Damnit, he smells so good.

You can feel his hardness press into your lower belly, foreheads together, panting a little, as you both watch your hand start sliding down over the bulge inside his jeans and groping it.

You hear him groan into your eyelashes; that wanting, little whimper making you buzz between your legs.

“We should stop... they’ll be here soon.” You whisper, not wanting to stop at all, not now he has you right where he intends to keep you.

“We’ve got time for a little fun,” Marcus breathes through swollen, cherry lips as he watches you unzip his flies. "I want you... I wanna fuck my really hot, chef wife on the kitchen floor."

“Mm, God.” You whine as he beguiles you into utter sedition. 

“Get it out, honey,” he urges in a devilish whisper as you undo his top button and pull the prize of his cock out from his jeans. "See how hard you make me?"

He lets out a groggy gasp as you squeeze his cock gently, gasping in want as you slide your thumb over the tacky stickiness he leaks.

You run your hand around it, feeling him pulsate and twitch a few times before kissing him again, swallowing and gorging on his moans.

"You're so hard for me..." You praise. He’s rock solid; stiff and heavy, and seeping from his thick head into your palm as you pump him slowly. 

"Always," He smiles, bashfully.

You kneel down, running your tongue over the tip before taking him inside your mouth. 

“Shit,” he breathes out. Marcus pushes the denim down his hips, scooping the hem of his sweatshirt out of the way so he can get a better view of you.

Looking up at him, you let out little murmurs of satisfaction as you mouth on him; running your lips over his warm, pulsing skin and licking your tongue around his fantastic length.

He looks down at you, eyes filled with that swaying lust turning them black, biting down on his bottom lip as he grunts. 

“Baby…” He whines like he can’t produce coherent words. The basics of sentence structure lost to him. 

You pump him as you suck the swollen head; back and forth, sucking on him that bit harder. Tasting all the notes of him on your tongue.

Marcus rests his hands against the countertop, his hips sticking out at you as you take him deep. You run your tongue over him, shiny and down his shaft before you lick back up again and suck deeper, making his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

“Oh my God.” You hear him pelt into the ceiling. 

As you pull him back out, crystally strings of your saliva coat him and dangle from your mouth; that yummy mushroom head of his cock popping in and out driving him crazy. 

“I need you to sit on my face,” Marcus whines as he helps you up to your feet and kisses you harshly.

He licks all around your mouth desperately; the wet and stickiness from your saliva mashes into his, and he can taste the faint salt of his cock on your tongue.

His hands strip you of your jeans and panties quicker than you realise, and he pulls you down clumsily onto the kitchen floor with him, laughing and giggling in a tangled heap of knotted limbs. 

You perch over his head, knees pressed against his broad shoulders, facing away from him and lean forward; his cock back in the vicinity of your mouth. 

You suck him in to your mouth as Marcus starts licking away and sucking on your clit; that barely-there, ragged graze of his shaved stubble giving you a pleasant scratch against the inside of your thighs.

“Mmm...” You coo around his cock as you feel him tickle and tease your lips. 

He pushes his face right up into your slit, his nose ghosting around your ass and thrashes his tongue around with adept precision. The swollen folds of your pussy are pressed flush to his lips; he kisses, mouthing and smooching gently.

Tongue probing, exploring as he licks long, laborious stripes up the length of your cunt, teasing and prolonging the agony. 

A scrumptious sixty-nine taking place on the kitchen floor that’s warm on his butt cheeks, whilst the oven continues to cook the food ready for his family gathering, who could all turn up at any given moment for their Christmas Smörgåsbord of festive treats.

But right now, neither of you care, gorging on your own feast of each other stuffed full and succulent in your mouths.

You groan and moan hungrily around his cock as he licks and sucks in tandem with you, devouring one another’s naughty bits and getting a good fill of them; a pre-course starter, as it were.

Marcus’ hips buck gently up into your mouth, getting in deeper and making you gag a little, but you don’t quit, if anything it makes you suck harder around him because you know he loves it when you choke a little on his impressive cock. You love it too.

“Ah yeah!” Marcus breathes out into your pussy as you massage his plump balls while sucking. You can feel him swell and pulse around your fingers as you roll them, squeezing and pulling gently.

But then you stop sucking, his cock slipping out of your mouth and whine out; unable to concentrate on him where he’s doing an absolute number on your clit with his own mouth.

“Oh God! Yeah!” You pant, whipping your head up and turning to glance him over your shoulder, but can’t see him - face buried deep into your cunt. “Shit! Marcus! Don't stop!” You cry, head lolling forward as your thighs quiver and tighten. 

It feels amazing, his tongue, fuck...

He strokes his finger in, smearing and running your slick outwards, clearing the sticky tracks with his tongue. Groping your ass affectionately as he tastes you. Tonguing your hole; slipping in and out, and in and out, then in again as he feels you jostle and jerk above him. 

Your own mouth becomes full of him again; that wet, delicious suction around his cock makes him groan into your folds. 

“Baby, that’s so good,” he pants. He can feel you tease around his head, swallow him down deep and then pop him out to lick his length. 

You start rocking, grinding on his face a little as the wet sucks around his mouth intensify.

His fingers grip into the warm flesh of your ass cheeks; unspoken encouragement for you to ride his face as he subtly pulls you back and forth onto it with the movement of your hips.  

“Mmm, Marcus… fuck.” You moan. You can feel it all tingly and pulling tighter on your clit.

He sticks his tongue out, as far as it will go as you grind and bounce against it. 

He slips his finger fully in your hole, index to the hilt, pushing and rubbing against that fleshy engorged spot inside. Working you up deliciously.

“Mm-hmm,” he enthuses, as your pussy slides up and down on his tongue with more uncouth abandon. 

You groan around his cock, your mouth full of him as you start to soar. Heating up, reaching maximum temperature before you start to boil over.  

“Yeah, mm-hmm… mm-hmm, like that, baby. God, you taste so good.” He mutters. 

Your raspy pants tell him you're near; the way in which you get louder, throatier. The way your body starts to tense, to shiver against him. How you rock with more desperation and need. How your tight hole clenches around his finger, spasming wildly, as it builds within you.

Tight and binding until you finally snap and release.

“Uh-huh,” he groans around his tongue flicking at your clit. He can feel the tremors on his cock from your voice ribbing around it as you shudder and shake. 

Marcus groans in delight as you come, flooding his mouth with the saccharine taste of you; basting him with your own sweet glaze. 

And Marcus could die right now, happily pass on to the next life with his face buried under your pussy that’s gushing for him all in his mouth. 

“Marcus!” You wail, gasping hard and burning up. 

He kisses you through it; making out with your sopping pussy with heated strokes of his tongue and groping at your hips.

His hands slowly stroke over your smooth skin; your back, your hips, your ass cheeks as he feasts. Mouth open and tongue flicking across your pussy as you writhe and grind against him. 

He can hear it, the way your own mouth sloshes around his cock more feverishly; sucking, drooling and God it feels so wet. He can feel how drenched his dick is, soaked in your saliva as you suck him harder and deeper.

He thrusts his hips up and little, sinking himself further into your mouth and soon he can’t bear it anymore.

“I need to fuck you,” Marcus pants, the strain in his voice palatable when comes up for air. “I need to be inside you, baby.”

“Do we have time?” You groan, trying not to dribble as your clit thunders and your legs buckle. 

“There’s always time for pussy,” Marcus smirks, hungrily. You wipe at his chin, sticky and glistening with your slick, as he nuzzles into you.  

He takes your remaining clothes off in the middle of the kitchen, unclipping your bra and groping at your breasts, pinching your nipples gently before he turns you around. 

“Bend over, gorgeous.” Marcus croons over your shoulder in a wicked, enticing voice.

He places your knee up on the counter top; the bowls of food ready to serve up and congested all over it are shunted out of the way a little too harshly.

You feel the swollen head of his cock push gently, feel yourself opening up around him and sucking him into you. 

“Fuck, you’re so hard, so big,” you mewl out to him as he slides in.

“Love it when you tell me I’m big...” Marcus smirks inside your ear. 

“That’s because you are. Shit!” You gasp as he’s fully sheathed inside you, pussy stretching around him and feeling wonderfully tight. "I will never get tired of this."

"Good, because I'm going to keep doing this to you."

Your hands are flat on the counter top as he pulls your hips back onto him each time he rocks into you. You push back onto him willingly, hips doing the work; dancing on the end of his cock as you groan for him.

His big hands grip tight around your waist, holding you steady and in place so he can really go some.

He fucks you harder, upping the pace; his breath pelting your shoulder as he breathes out. 

“God… you feel so good,” Marcus pants.

You turn over your shoulder to kiss him, clutching at the back of his head desperately as he fills you up with each shunt of his hips; twisting his hair inside your fingers as you cry out. 

You push back more, his thighs slapping against your ass cheeks as he builds you up to another glittering crescendo. 

“Marcus! Oh shit, I'm coming!” You call out as you contract and cream around him again. 

"I can feel it, baby." He praises, mouthing into your shoulder blade. "I can feel you coming all over my cock. Shit, like that!"

Smirking after you've come again, he sits you on the counter top, hooking his arm under your leg as you hang off of it; pussy draped all over his cock as he thrusts, bouncing up into you. 

Deep slaps of your skin with each pound echo around the kitchen as he whimpers through ragged breaths.

You cling on with one arm around his bronzed neck, your hand slipping on the counter top behind you and threatening to knock off one of the bowls at any given second, until crash!

“Shit!” He sighs with a breathy smile. 

You both giggle, glancing down at the contents splashed all over the floor whilst you still fuck. 

“Not the cranberry stuffing!” He sighs, and genuinely looks forlorn for a second, until you turn his jaw and focus back to you. You squeeze around his cock with your pussy and he grunts.

“There’s more, don’t worry.” You sway him back to your lips.

“Of course there is.” Marcus takes you upright in his arms, carrying you practically as he fucks harder up into you; bouncing on his cock like a space hopper in his arms as he stands upright.

Your hand is still behind you, pushing against the edge of the counter top now as you wrap your legs around his waist tighter. 

He works you up and down his cock, rolling you around on it and panting wildly, groaning with you.

“I’m gonna come soon,” Marcus gasps into your face; his cheeks are glowing red on the apples, sweat glistening around his collarbone that you long to taste.

You nod encouragingly at him. “Come inside my mouth,” you urge as he starts to wind up into you again.

"Oh, baby!" He growls.

Marcus reaches blindly behind him and tugs at the chair you’d previously stood on and sits down with you riding in his lap.

He kisses over your clavicle, running his tongue around the skin until he gets to your nipple and sucks it, looking up at you.

“Oh, shit… baby. I’m close.” He groans, his eyes closing for a few seconds as you can see the strain on his face. His brown eyes hold wildly dilating pupils when he opens them, and you know he’s almost there. 

You hop off his lap and drop to your knees and start sucking his cock again, tasting yourself all over it.

He places his hands gently on your head and pushes you down further onto him until he can feel your throat tightening around him.

"Yeah, like that... Oh, shit!"  

You suck in air heavily through your nose, and feel him pulse and shudder. Seconds later, the blast hits the back of your throat as it gushes out of him. 

“Ah, shit-shit!” Marcus drones as he comes, his socked toes curling inwards before relaxing as he empties out. 

You come up for air, swallowing him down and smiling at him as you lick your lips.

“Mm, you taste really good.” You sigh contentedly. You plant delicate kisses on and around his stomach.

“Not as good as you,” he smiles with sparkly peepers. 

The oven beeper goes off moments later as you’re rubbing at his thighs, scratching gently in the downy hairs at the top of them, and you glance over your shoulder at it. 

“Good timing!” You giggle, as he growls and snorts into your neck as he envelopes you in a swamping cuddle, refusing to let you go. 

Fighting him off, you grab a dish cloth and open the oven; the blast warms your bare nipples as Marcus stretches in the chair and watches you pull out the tray, full of the turkey, sniffing at it eagerly as you set it down on the counter top where he’d fucked you only minutes ago. 

He smirks, rubbing at his arm and elbow as you catch his gaze.

“What?” You ask him. “I’ll die before I serve dry turkey to anyone.”

He starts laughing and reaches for his jeans. "Always a perfectionist."

"You love it."

"I do, I do." He agrees.

After you've both dressed and cleaned up the escaped broken bowl pieces and stuffing splattered across the floor, you’re in the middle of a deep, mesmerising clinch in the centre of the kitchen.

“Hell of a cook,” Marcus mutters to you, glancing at all the food. “I can’t wait to dig in.”

“I believe you’ve already had quite a fill.” You say, nuzzling into his nose and he chuckles. 

“Not nearly enough.” He says, cupping your ass again. “I’ll be coming back for seconds, later. Maybe even thirds…”

“Mm, I’ll get the Pepto ready.” You breathe dreamily, licking into his succulent mouth. 

“I wasn’t talking about the food,” Marcus chuckles.

“I know.” You smirk.   

“Although, I'm definitely going to have to loosen my belt later.” He glances at all the food on the counter top and you watch as he licks his lips at it all. 

The doorbell rings, startling you both, and you watch Marcus pull away from you reluctantly with a heated grin.

He opens the front door to be swamped by the many faces of his boisterous family members piling in. 

You smile, fixing your hair as you go to greet them. 

Good timing indeed.

12 DAYS OF PEDRO MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

[multiplefandomwritings]

Yellow

pairing: Mick Schumacher x reader

warnings: none really

summary: yellow is the color of sunflowers, sunshine, lemons, joy and happiness and of all the things Mick associates with you.

notes: the schumacher accident never happened in this one. feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. likes and reblogs are always appreciated! also, feel free to send in requests! this one shot is part of the "love in different colors" series. also, the poem in the beginning was written by me.

disclaimer: english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes 😊

word count: 4.8k

Wildflowers

Need 

Sun

Wildflowers 

Need

Water

You 

Are

My

Sun

Shining

On

The 

Wildflowers

Your

Love 

Is 

Their

Water

They 

Are 

Blooming

Rapidly

Growing

Fast

And 

Beautiful

2007

He runs as fast as his little legs can carry him. It is summertime, and he is barefoot. He doesn’t need shoes where he is going, you live down the street from his home. He believes he hears his mother’s voice scolding him, but he does not care. He knows that she isn’t serious. He laughs and he hears his mother laughing before he runs through the little garden door and onto the sidewalk.

Only a couple more houses. He greets the neighbors, who only see his fair colored hair running by. They know exactly where he is off too. He comes to a halt in front of your house, which is a lot smaller than his. He looks at the beautiful yellow sunflowers growing in front of the property. He has to put his head back to admire the flower heads because the stems excel his little body. He catches his breath and skips onto the walk that leads to your front door. Jumping up the stairs, he is about to ring the bell when the door is ripped open, and you hurl your body at Mick.

Few minutes later you sit on the swings of the playground close by. “And we went to the beach almost every day, Mick! The sand was almost white, not yellow at all, like I always imagined. Mama bought me a yellow dress and it is so pretty, I must show you next time, I will wear it on the first day of school!” You always talk that much, and even more when you are excited like you are right now. Mick doesn’t mind. He can spend all day listen to you, every day.

Two weeks later, when school starts again, Mick picks you up to walk together. You walk out of the door; the sunflowers are still blooming, and you wear the yellow dress. And somehow this day changes everything for him, he just doesn’t know it yet. It is in this moment that Mick thinks for the first time that he might loves you. It is innocent, it is playful and still so very, very real. After school, when you are still wearing the yellow dress and he waits for you outside the school so that the two of you can walk together, he decides to be brave. When you skip down the stairs of the school building, he smiles at you, you smile back. One of your milk teeth is missing, but it makes your smile just more adorable.

Micks heart beats fast in his chest when your little hand grabs his. On the way home you stop by one of the many fields surrounding your hometown and he picks a yellow dandelion for you. “You know, one day I am going to marry you!”, he says, and you take the flower from his hand and put it behind your ear. “You better!”, you answer him and stand on your tippy toes to blow just the hint of a kiss on his cheek. Then you laugh loud and free and start to run towards home. Mick laughs and he follows you.

2013

Six years later, Mick is still your best friends. You don’t see each other than much anymore because he goes karting a lot now. He is on track almost every day. Sometimes you tag alone, sitting on the bleachers, doing your homework, and watching him racing by. Today is one of these days. It is late spring, the sunshine starts to warm up with every day passing, and you look forward to the summer, because Mick usually has more time then. It is too warm to go carting, and you would have his undivided attention once again. You wear a yellow sweatshirt, and you wave at Mick when he steps out of his cart.

He smiles, waves back and comes over to you. “Hey”, you greet him with a wide smile. “Hey back”, he says and sits down next to you. He pulls you in a short side hug. “You really missed something today at school”, you tell him, “Lukas asked Susanne to be his girlfriend!” “No way!”, Mick exclaims, more excited by your excitement. He doesn’t really care about what happens at school.  Life is very different for the two of you nowadays, while you go to school, meet your friends after and on the weekends, he is always busy. Some days he doesn’t show up at school at all. You don’t like these days. School is better with your best friend.

You are just teenagers now, but it doesn’t feel like that. You still play with barbies, and Mick is too busy to go around in circles in a little car and adolescence hasn’t quite reached the two of you yet. Some of your friends start to date, if you can really call it that, but that is still a bit weird to you and Mick. For other people it is not, and they start to ask if you are a couple, and both of you always say no. Sometimes Mick wishes that you would say yes but that would mean that he would have to kiss you and he thinks that is gross.

“Mick? You are not listening!”, you accuse him. He utters a quite apology. “What were you thinking about?”, you ask, and he becomes bright red. He doesn’t know what to answer you, and he is grateful when his father waves the two of you over. You get up first, the conversation quickly forgotten when Michael tells the two of you that you would go and get ice cream.

You cheer, your arms wrapping around the neck of his father. Mick wishes that was him in that moment. You climb into the car and Mick gets in as well, and you are already talking again, this time telling Michael about your day at school. At the ice cream place, you get lemon ice cream in a cone, like always. It is your favorite; you always tell Mick that. Like he would ever forget. You happily hold your cone in your hand, your tongue licking up the yellow delicacy. Mick watches you closely and for a moment a thought comes to his mind. Maybe kissing wouldn’t be as gross if it was you and if you just ate lemon ice cream, because you would taste like lemons and his ears turn red just a tiny bit.

2016

You are as kind as summer, that much Mick knows. The sunshine that hits his face right now reminds him of the glow of your soul. He is really happy with his life right now, but he is even happier when he gets to spend time with you. He is excited for next year because he would finally start in Formula Three and it is a new chapter. The both of you are older now, proper teenagers now, awkward and shy and there is a little shift in your friendship. It is in lingering touches and testing the waters yet none of you makes the first step, because this friendship you have is worth more than anything else. Also, Mick is older now and he doesn’t think kissing is gross anymore. But he finds out that most of the time when he kisses a girl – which is rare, you know, since he is usually surrounded by boys – he thinks about lemon ice cream and how you would taste.

You still talk a lot, like you always used to do, and it is reassuring to Mick, because even though is life is fast and exciting, it shows him at some things stay the same. It is the comforting notion of consistency that he associates with you. Generally, you haven’t changed that much, Mick thinks as he observes you while you are talking. You are more grown now, obviously, but while his face breaks out with pimples every once in a while, yours seems to be graced by the absence of puberty acne. Or maybe he just never looked closely enough, so he decides to do that now. You shave your legs now; he realizes and for a moment he asks himself whether that is because of a boy. But, he tells himself, you would tell him if you have a crush on someone.

Then, on the other hand, he isn’t really there anymore. He makes an effort to see you though, he likes to tell himself. But mostly the two of you hang out these days when your parents meet up and you tag along. Just like today, when your father had cooked saffron risotto and you had lemon ice cream for dessert. The two of you sit on the old swings of a long-abandoned playground and sway back and forth just a bit. You look more beautiful now, Mick realizes as he continues to watch you, more grown-up. “You never really listen anymore!”, you complain, and he is ripped from his thought. “Even when you are here, you are never really here!”, you accuse before you get up and stomp through the grass and the dandelions towards the house. Micks wants to tell you that he wasn’t thinking about racing but that he was thinking about you, but he doesn’t know how to, so he rather doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks back to the house as well and pays the tall sunflowers next to garden gate no attention.

2017

He hasn’t seen you for a while. He is just so busy with racing, that he rarely comes over anymore. It makes him sad. You still text, but it became rather occasionally. You have your friends in your hometown, you are settled in school. He doesn’t want to take that away from you by pushing his non-existing presence on you. Truth is, he misses you. He misses your friendship. You are still friends, obviously, and he knows that he can call you and you will pick up and listen to him no matter what. But you don’t call him for this kind of stuff anymore. You are not best friends anymore, friends more for the fact that you had grown up together rather than anything else.

But today he wants to change that. He wants to reconnect with you, breath life back into the relationship that is slowly fading away. He is back home for two or three weeks, so he decides to just go over to your house like he used to. Suddenly he feels like he is 6 or 8 or 12 again. He opens the familiar garden door and slips though. The sunflowers stand as tall as ever, but he doesn’t need to look up anymore. Your parents’ car is not there, so he assumes that you are home alone. He rings the doorbell, but nothing happens. No one comes, and he is about to leave, when he hears you calling from upstairs. “I will be right there!” He hears you run down the steps. And then you rip open the door. You wear a yellow summer dress, and your cheeks are flustered. “Mick!”, you exclaim, “What are you doing here?”

You seem happy to see him, but it is not like it used to be. You don’t move in for a hug, you don’t grin widely. A small smile graces your face. “Hey”, Mick scratches the back of his head, “I was back in town, so I wanted to check in and see how you are doing.” You are about to answer when you get interrupted by another person emerging from behind. “Oh hey, babe. Mick was just coming by to say hi”, you smile up to the guy standing behind you. An arm snakes around your waste. “Hey Mick, I am Felix. Y/n has told me a lot about you!”, he extends his hand and Mick takes it to shake it. “Do you want to come in? We have some freshly made lemonade”, you ask him, but he shakes his head.

He forces a wry grin on his face. “No, thank you. I just remember that I need to help my mum with something. But you two have a good day!” Felix waves him goodbye and disappears into the house. Mick turns around and when he is almost through the garden door, he hears you calling after him. “It was nice seeing you again, Mick.” He smiles at you, and this time it is sincere. “You, too.” He leaves your property and returns home.

He doesn’t know exactly why it pained him to see you with another guy. It was not like what you had was exclusive. If he was honest with himself, there was nothing between you at all. All he can think about is that you must taste like lemon when Felix kisses you because you made lemonade, and he finds that this isn’t really fair.

2019

It is a warm summer day, the sun shining. You cover your eyes with your hands, looking up into the sky. You smile. It is a beautiful day. You laugh when a finger pokes in your side. “Mick, stop!”, you laugh and stick your tongue out at the boy next to you. Both of you have found your way home for the summer break, and despite not having seen each other for a while, it feels just like 2008, 2012, 2015, all over again.

You didn’t really talk to each other for a few years when Mick was always away and busy and your lives were really different. You were teenagers, and it felt impossible to bring your different lives in harmony, so you separated paths for a while, both you doing your own thing. You outgrew your teenager years at some point, however. Mick still remembers the day you reached out to him again, a delicate try to revive a friendship that had been lost between the passing years. He was so happy when you called him that evening when he laid under the yellow light of just another hotel somewhere. The pillows were bright yellow, so bright they almost hurt his eyes. You call and he almost tells you. “I thought of you when I entered the room because the pillows are yellow and so are you to me”, but he doesn’t. He is just happy to hear your voice and he listens to you talking, and he spends hours on the phone with you.

Now, you are laying on the grass by the local lake. Dandelions sprouts, poking out in between the green patches of the meadow, and you want to stay here forever. You lay on your towel; you feel like you are surrounded by a yellow ocean of flowers. The skin of your arms tingles – you forgot to use sunscreen. Possibly you would have a little sunburn later, but you couldn’t care less. Micks’ blonde hair is almost golden in the sun, you are blinded when you look at it. You feel hot. You don’t know whether it is the sun or something else. You decide not to think about it for now.

The blonde boy next to you wears a yellow cap. “Yellow is not your color!”, you tease, and he mocks offense. Then he laughs and puts the cap on your head. You smile and stick your tongue out. “Yellow is very much your color, though!”, he says so casually the compliment almost escapes your grasp. Then you realize and a little blush forms on your cheeks. You turn away from him, embarrassed by the effect he has on you.

“Let’s go for a swim”, you say to change the topic and get up. You are wearing a white bathing suit that has sunflowers all over it. You take of the cap and throw it on your towel, where it almost disappears because your towel is yellow as well. For a moment you think about that, the fact that yellow seemed to have seeped into the relationship Mick and you have had for all these years.

Mick agrees, and you both make your way to the water. The coolness of the lake water is a welcome relief from the heat of the sun. You splash around, laughing and joking with each other, like nothing has changed since you were little kids. The years of barely talking are long forgotten. As you swim, you can't help but steal glances at Mick. He has always been handsome, but something about him has changed since the last time you saw him. Maybe it's the way he carries himself, or maybe it's just that you're seeing him in a new light now that you're older. After a while, you both swim back to shore and lay back down on your towels. You feel the warmth of the sun drying your skin and the coolness of the grass beneath you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, enjoying the peaceful moment.

You must have fallen asleep, and you are awakened by something tickling you on your back. Slowly, you open your eyes. You spot Micks body next to you, and the close proximity makes your breath hitch in your throat for a moment. “Don’t move”, Mick whispers and you do as he says. When he is done with whatever he was doing, he grabs your yellow polaroid camera from besides you and stands up. You can hear the shutter click two times and then Mick sits down next to you. He wipes something off your back. His gentle touches give you goosebumps on your arms and leave you feeling warm inside your chest.

“All done”, he says a few seconds later and you sit up. Around you, you can spot the yellow dandelions laying on your towel. “What did you do?”, you ask with suspicion in your voice. “I created art!”, he says and holds on of the polaroid pictures in your peripheral vision. You can only steal a quick glance before he tugs it away under the cap, shielding from the sun and giving it time to develop. “Whatever you say!”, you say, and he looks at you intensely for a moment. It freaks you out a bit, so you stick out your tongue at him and he laughs. He turns away and looks over at the other side of the lake where a handful of people surround the little hut that sold ice cream and fries and everything you needed for a day by the lake. “Ice cream?”, he asks you and you nod. “Lemon?”, you nod again and want to get up, but he gently pushes you down on the towel. “My treat”, he says and before you can argue he gets up and disappears.

When Mick returns, he is already fighting for his dear life. The ice cream is melting and dripping everywhere, and you cannot help but chuckle a little bit. Mick throws you a playful glance and you lose it when his eyes cream falls, just beside his towel. “Shit!”, mutters Mick and sits down. He hands you the ice cream, looking a bit like a puppy. “We can share”, you offer and hold the cone out to him. He takes a big lick and both of you have to laugh.

2020

You arrive in Sakhir on a Wednesday and Mick personally picks you up at the airport. He is nervous, he doesn’t really know why, but he maybe because this race could be the one that decides about his championship. Or maybe he is nervous because he is picking you up and he again hasn’t seen you for a few months and he missed you so much.

You step out of the airport in sweatpants and a pale yellow shirt and Mick thinks you might be the most gorgeous person he has ever seen. You look confused, a bit lost, until you see him. Your face lights up and Micks heart drops when he realizes that you are so excited that you are running towards him. Before you reach him, you drop your suitcase and jump into his arms. He catches you; he holds you close, and he takes in your scent – you smell like lemons and sunflowers and happiness. You smell like yellow, and Mick cannot remember that he has ever smelled something more delicious before.

He lets go of you eventually and takes your suitcase and your backpack from you, whatever he can to help you out. He brings you to his rental car, which weirdly enough is an ugly yellow and he holds the door open for you. He drives you to the hotel while you excitedly tell him about your flight and what movies you watched and what your favorite song is at the moment. You also tell him stories he already heard because you call almost every day, but he doesn’t mind.

Sometimes, when he makes a comment or throws in a joke, you laugh and place a hand on his bicep he swears he melts like the lemon ice he shared with you last summer by the lake. You arrive by the hotel, and he again carries your stuff up to your shared room. It is big, bigger than any hotel room you had ever stayed in and the first thing you do is to step out onto the balcony into the warm sun and close your eyes. Mick joins you soon after, and as the sun is starting to go under, a golden husk is painting your face in a shining yellow. You look like the sun, Mick thinks, and you feel like he it too, he thinks when you look at him and smile.

A bit later, you meet with the Schumacher’s for dinner in a place close by. It is the perfect mix of a restaurant and a bar, looking almost like some American diner. You order burger and fries, and lemonade and Mick steals a sip. You complain, playfully and take a sip of his beer as retaliation. Life is good right now, it is happy and joyful and yellow, Mick thinks. His family knows you, and while you talk Mick cannot help himself but watch. The two of you sit so close, squeezed into the booth. Your hand lays next to your thighs, and Mick can almost touch it. He forgets about that fact for a moment when you talk to him, and he is pulled into a conversation about your childhood memories. He takes a sip from his beer and lets his hand fall on the bench. It touches yours for a second, and he doesn’t know what to do. Does he pull away? But then you link your pinky with his like some kind of promise and Mick leaves his hand there, tied to you by your pinkies and the longing in his heart.

You walk away with Gina next to you, over to the little stage to find the perfect karaoke song and Mick cannot help but watch after you. He is enchanted by you, and he wonders how you haven’t realized yet. When he finally tears his eyes away from you and that yellow summer dress, his parents grin at him. “So, what is going on between you and her?”, his father asks her, and Mick shakes his head. “She is still my best friend, dad. That’s never changed.” “Yes”, his mother says, “The only thing that changed are your feelings for her, am I right?” Mick doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know what to say. He knows that his mother is right, but he doesn’t know what to say to his dad. He doesn’t know what, if there is anything between the two of you, but he hopes there is. He looks up and your eyes are on him, and you smile and for a moment he is almost sure that there is something and he breaks out in a silly smile. His parents exchange a look and intertwine their fingers with one another.

Mick wins Formula Two on a bright, sunny Sunday in Sakhir. But you outshine the sun on this day, he thinks. Your smile is so bright Mick is sure your cheeks will hurt by the hand of the day. His right ear hurts a bit because you yelled into it, but he doesn’t mind. Winning Formula Two feels even better than winning Formula Three, especially because you are there this time. The occasion calls for celebration, everyone knows that. The team somehow manages to find a location where all of you fit. They buy drinks and snacks, and it is not something professional, but Mick think it is perfect the way it is. It is perfect because you are here, and you are laughing, and dancing and Mick could just spend the entire night watching you.

He is the star of the show, of today, but he feels like that should be you. He has won because you have inspired him to do better every single day since 2019, if he is honest maybe since the day, he met you for the first time. He talks to his dad and his mum and some other people when he sees that you are leaving for the balcony of the venue, so he excuses himself. His mother and his father are exchanging a knowing glance but spare him with a comment. He makes his way through the crowd, needing longer than he anticipates because people stop him to congratulate him. Eventually, he is able to join you on the otherwise empty balcony.

He just watches your back for a moment, and how the yellow dress you are wearing once again is gently swaying in the wind. He wants to go and talk to you, but the view is too pretty to pass up on. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me like a creep, or are you going to come here and give me a hug?” He laughs, slight embarrassment peeking through in the sound. When he walks over to you, he doesn’t need to see your face to know the wide grin you are currently wearing on your lips. He steps closer you and wraps his arms around your hips from behind. It is different than the other hugs you have shared all your life, it is more intimate, more real somehow. His heart is beating fast in his chest, and he is almost sure that you can feel it.

You place your hand on his arms, relaxing against his chest, snuggling impossible closer. “Are you enjoying your party, my champion?”, you say, and your words give him goosebumps – the good kind. My champion. He never wants you to call him anything else again if he is being honest. “Hm”, he hums in agreement, chin resting on your shoulder, “Even more because you are here.” The words he speaks are not above a whisper, because he is a bit afraid to say them out loud. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Mick. Since I first met you, I knew that you were destined for great things.”

Mick cannot help but laugh, and you turn around in his embrace. His arms are still around your waist, your arms are now behind his neck. He is close to you, has he ever been this close to you before? His laughter dies down, but he still grins from ear to ear. “I think the first time we met, we were like two years old, and you hit me on the head with a shovel.” You scoff, but Mick knows it is all playful. “I don’t remember that, but I am sure you deserved that”, you grin up at him, “Anyway, that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Because it is”, Mick says and rubs gentle circles on the fabric above your hipbones, “But most of my best memories are with you. Like that summer last year? I don’t think I have ever felt better than during that time with you.” You smile up at him, and Mick feels like you are impossibly closer now. “Do you remember? When we were eight?”, you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper, “You gave me a dandelion and you said that you will marry me one day, and to be honest… I always hoped that you wouldn’t break that promise.” Mick smiles, and it is soft. He looks down into your eyes and you take his breath away. “One day, I will keep true to that promise”, he says.

He kisses you now, and as he does, he realizes something. Firstly, you really do taste like lemons. And like sunshine and happiness and much, much more. Secondly, he realizes that in a world of billions of people, a life full of thousands who he almost definitely hadn’t met yet, you were his one person, and he was going to make sure that counted for something.

[enbyenvy666]

happy birthday?

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

a little birthday fluff for the great explosion murder god <3

CONTENT WARNINGS - aged up!Bakugo x GN!Reader, cooking accidents (cutting and hitting hand with a meat tenderizer, almost setting kitchen on fire), minor flooding, no beta we die like men w/c - 1.1k

Katsuki wasn’t a fan of his birthday, he just didn’t care for it. Growing up, his parents would force him to go out to dinner with his family, seeing aunts and uncles he didn’t like, bratty little cousins that screamed through dinner and wiping his grandma’s gaudy lipstick off his cheek. He hated pretending to appreciate the presents they gave him, even though the gifts made it clear his family knew nothing about him. Kamui Woods socks, really Pop?

“I just want a night in with my partner, a’right?” He said when you asked him what he wanted to do this year. You were going to make it the best night in ever then. Spicy chicken katsudon for dinner (his favourite), purin for dessert (another favourite), and while you were making it all, he would be relaxing in the bath you had made for him, and after you had eaten, you were going to cuddle on the couch watching his favourite movies. It was going to be perfect.

But you were held back at work, taking away crucial hours needed to cook. Compromising by buying the purin instead of making it, you were stuck behind an older woman who insisted on paying for her groceries with loose change, counting them out loud as she placed each coin on the counter. Then you were caught in stand-still traffic after finally getting out of the store. While debating slamming your head through the windshield, hoping it would wake you up from this nightmare, your phone rang. 

“Happy Birthday Kats!” you called cheerily as if you weren’t experiencing living hell at that moment. 

“Thanks, baby,” he replied, sounding despondent. Your brow furrowed, staring down at your phone with concern as if the picture of him on the screen could see you.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah just… rough day. I’ll be home early ‘kay? Can’t stand another second reading through paperwork,” he grumbled, and you could almost hear his deep scowl. Your stomach dropped when you realised that meant you had even less time to prepare for his magical evening, but traffic was starting to clear, giving you a glimmer of hope. 

“Of course baby, I’ll see you soon!” You legally raced home, barely giving yourself a moment before rushing to the bathroom and turning on the water. Running to the kitchen next, you tied an apron over your work clothes and began cooking. Your decision to make everything from scratch was, at the time, fueled by love, but now you were regretting it. Even the garlic had to be crushed by hand. Of course, more things had to go wrong though, a slip with a knife and a mash with the tenderizer, leaving your hand bleeding and bruised. Slapping the cutlet into the pan, you sighed- oh shit! The bath!

Running upstairs, you saw the water creeping into the hallway. Turning the water off and fetching a mop, you quickly started soaking up the mess. You filled up a whole bucket but not even half of the water was soaked up. Tipping the water into the now empty tub, the scent of smoke peaked over the damp smell of the bathroom. Sprinting downstairs, your wet socks made you slip as you rounded a corner, elbow smacking into the hard floor. Tingles shot up into your fingers as you hit your funny bone, but you had to ignore it along with the ache that accompanied it as you scrambled to your feet again. 

The kitchen wasn’t ablaze, thankfully, but a concerning amount of smoke was rising from the pan. Sliding it off the burner didn’t do much, so you flipped the cutlet to get some heat off of it, to reveal not only the charred chicken breast but more smoke quickly rose from it. At the worst possible moment, the smoking alarm began blaring, the ringing piercing your eardrums. With shouts of frustration and calls for the device to shut up, you grabbed a teatowel and waved it in the air around the alarm. You were too short to reach the button to turn it off, but maybe if you got a broom or a mop- the bathroom! 

In your panic of trying to decide whether to clear the smoke or to continue to mop the bathroom and hope the fire alarm would eventually tire itself out, the front door opened. With a clear look into the kitchen, Katsuki stood in the doorway, a briefcase containing his hero costume in one hand, grenade gauntlets in the other, watching you run around while waving a towel over your head. Your work clothes were unkempt, your hair a mess, a bandage on your hand and your soaked socks were leaving wet footprints on the floor.

When your gaze finally caught his, your shoulders slumped in defeat and the alarm stopped ringing as the opened door allowed smoke to escape. He dropped his stuff to the floor, taking slow steps towards the kitchen. You didn’t notice him cracking a smile as you looked at the disaster around you. Not wanting him to see your failure throughout the kitchen, you met him halfway. 

“I’m so sorry Katsuki, I tried making katsudon but I burnt the chicken because I flooded the bathroom, and I had to buy the purin from the store because I didn’t have time to make it, and I know the gelatin one isn’t your favourite but it was all they had-” your ramble ceased when you heard the blonde hero begin to chuckle. Maybe it was because of the tears that brimmed your eyes, but his smile had him glowing. It was a sight you rarely got to see, his genuine laugh something you rarely heard, but both were beautiful. He reached for you, his strong hands on your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he tried to hold back his laughter. 

“It’s okay, idiot,” he snickered as he pulled you into a hug. Your arms quickly wrapped around him, squeezing him close, almost sobbing into his chest.  “‘m just happy to come home t’ you.”

“I didn’t ruin your birthday, did I?” You asked quietly with a sniffle, almost afraid of the answer. 

“Of course not,” he tsked, pulling back to look down at you as he still held you in his arms. Your palms lay flat on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steadily under your palm. 

“Let’s order in instead, how’s Italian sound?” 

“Great,” you sighed in relief. Katsuki’s soft palm cupped your cheek, thumb soothingly stroking the stressed bag under your eye. After a soft but quick kiss, he took your hand, squeezing it as his gorgeous smile morphed into his usual handsome smirk. 

“Let’s go clean up that bathroom. And how about we leave the cooking to me from now on eh?”

[elizabethemerald]

Summoning the Cat: Part 4

Jazz paced idly around Ms. Kyle- Selina’s penthouse. She and Danny were out jumping across the rooftops of Gotham. It was apparently part of Selina’s Cat Burglar 101 course. At least in Gotham the most efficient way to navigate the city was by the rooftops. While Danny could fly without effort there was too large of a risk of his use of his ghost powers attracting the attention of either the Fentons or the GIW. So as part of their desire for him to balance his abilities, Selina is teaching him to traverse the city using as little of his powers as possible, just enough flight to make an extra long jump, just enough intangibility to pass through a hanging wire, just enough invisibility to blink out of sight on the cameras that patrolled the city. 

Honestly she loved the plan the three of them had come up with for Danny’s training in the past week. It was the perfect mix of ghost skills and master thief skills. He would eventually be able to leave just the right amount of a trace that no one would suspect his abilities but never enough to follow back to him. 

With Danny finally having someone in his life who cared about him and wanted him to be happy and succeed in life, Jazz wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She had spent years caring for Danny. Being the only person to care for Danny. She had gone to all of his Parent-Teacher conferences since middle school. She was the one who tried to make sure he ate enough, even going hungry herself to do so. After she found out about his accident she was the one who patched him up after his ghost fights and each time their parents shot at him. With Selina in Danny’s life, he didn’t need her any more. 

She guessed the best option would be to get her diploma from Gotham Academy, then apply to Gotham University. She could probably maintain a high enough grade to qualify for her scholarships and work at the same time, though she wasn’t certain that she would be able to afford even a one bedroom apartment outside of Crime Alley. Hopefully in between learning from Selina and his own classes Danny could visit her, though she wasn’t certain it would be the safest for him. 

Jazz tilted her head, knocked out of her spiraling thoughts by a sound outside the front door of the penthouse. Danny and Selina had left off the balcony only a few minutes ago. There was no reason they would be back already or coming back through the door. Jazz jumped over the kitchen island, grabbed one of Selina’s nice knives from the knife block and tucked into a forward roll. She came up, Fenton Blaster in one hand, knife in the other, just as the door to the Penthouse burst open. 

“Girls Nigh- Oh.” Standing in the doorway, hands in the air still holding a glass bottle in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. “Ooh. Good reaction time, Jazzy. But it’s just your aunties! Aunt Harley and Aunt Ivy!” 

Jazz didn’t lower her blaster, though she did take a small step back so she was out of range of a potential kick from Harley. 

“Can you both prove you are who you say you are?” Jazz asked, her voice harsh. While Selina had mentioned that the rest of the Sirens would be visiting at some point she didn’t want to trust just anyone who showed up at the door.

Harley lowered her hands and put one finger on her chin as she thought for a moment. Then she bent backwards into a perfect bridge, setting down the groceries as she did so. She lifted her legs into the air, slowly and methodically until she was standing on her hands. Just in case that wasn’t enough she balanced on one hand so she could wave at Jazz. 

Ivy had given her a raised eyebrow at her demand but after Harley’s display she crooked her finger towards one of the plants in the corner making the tendrils grow and wave in the air causing all the cats in the penthouse to go wild trying to chase the vines. 

“Do you know many people who can control plants with a thought?” Ivy asked, her voice low. 

“Actually, yes.” Jazz said, though she still lowered her blaster. “I know a few different people who can control plants. Harley’s was more convincing.” 

“Oh? I’d love to meet these others at some point.” Ivy said with almost a purr in her voice as she and Harley entered the penthouse and made themselves at home on Selina’s furniture. 

“Well, one of them is a ghost who used plants to control people so hopefully we don’t see him any time soon, the other is one of the girl’s he controlled and some of his plant control stayed with her. It shouldn’t be too hard to introduce you to Sam, she’s a big fan of yours.” 

“Lovely.” 

The two women lounged on the furniture while Jazz stood awkwardly nearby, unsure if she should offer them drinks or anything like that. 

“Uh, not to be rude, but why are you here now?”

“Girls Night!” Harley shouted again. “Selina always invites us for girls night and we have fun, drink, bitch about the bat, all the usual things people do during girls nights!”

“Oh. Sorry, you just missed Ms. Kyle and Danny. I’m sure I can give them a call, but I think they had more training they wanted to do today.”

“Nah, we’re not here for them, we’re here for you!” Harley said with a cheer. 

Jazz twisted slightly as she heard the shuffle of plants around her and she was soon lifted off her feet and dropped onto one of Selina’s comfortable couches. When Ivy’s plants withdrew, Jazz glanced over to the balcony a moment before there was a thump of someone landing outside the sliding glass doors. A much quieter thump followed the first. 

She raised her eyebrows as Spoiler and Black Bat opened the sliding door and entered the penthouse, the latter much quieter than the former, but still detectable to the senses of a liminal. The two heroes shed their costumes rapidly, Spoiler pulling a set of comfortable pajamas from… somewhere. 

“You guys didn’t start without us did you?” She asked, Black Bat leaning around her to wave to Jazz. 

“Not at all! We just got here! Go change and get comfortable!” 

Jazz could only watch in confusion as the two of them darted off. 

“Uh, if you’d like to have a party, I think Danny might be upset if he misses out?” 

“Nah, kiddo. We’re here for you.” Harley said with a smile. 

“That’s true, he asked Selina to call us over when he knew he would be having a training session today.” Ivy said. 

“What? Why?” 

“Because Danny’s worried about you.” Stephanie emerged from the back rooms followed by Cassandra who was keeping a close eye on Jazz. The two girls plopped down onto a couch and cuddled up close. 

 “Why is he worried about me? I’m not in any danger?” 

Harley sat forward and gave her a kind smile. 

“I hear you’re big into psychology, is that right?” She asked and when Jazz nodded, Harley continued. “I used to be something of a psychologist myself, I don’t have the license any more but I still remember the things I learned. So tell me, what happens when someone is under a lot of stress for a long time?”

“Your body releases cortisol which can cause numerous problems over time.” Jazz answered immediately. 

“That’s right. And Danny was in a real stressful situation for a really long time.” Jazz nodded, she completely agreed. “And it was probably stressful for you having to watch over your little brother when those things happened, right?”

Jazz hesitated and started running her nails up and down her legs. 

“It’s fine. I’m older than Danny is. I’ll be ok.” She said, not looking at any of them. 

“Come on Jazz. You know that’s not how it works. We’re not here to confront you, this isn’t an intervention. Danny just wants you to have friends and if your friends just happen to be a former criminal clown, an eco terrorist and two themed vigilanties, then that just means you don’t have to explain any of your weirdness. What do you say?” 

Jazz held herself back for a moment longer, but she couldn’t deny their logic. So she nodded and let herself relax. She changed into her own pjs and shared drinks and snacks and stories with the others for hours. 

It felt… good. She had been so afraid for so long. Afraid of losing her brother or having to see him after he was tortured by their parents again. Afraid of someone in their town getting hurt. Afraid more than anything that Danny would hate her for not saving him from the Portal the first time. 

When Danny and Selina eventually landed on the balcony and came in to join the party, Jazz immediately rose and pulled her brother into a tight hug. She held him as tightly as she could and Danny floated the two of them off the ground a little in their hug. 

“I love you so much Danny. Thanks for thinking of me.” She whispered in his ear. “Of course Jazz. You’re the best. I wouldn’t have made it through everything that happened if it weren’t for you.”

“Now that you’ve found a new family, you won’t leave me behind will you?” Jazz asked, hesitantly giving voice to her biggest fear. 

“Never. You’re always going to be my sister. No matter what.” 

She smiled and wiped her tears from her face. When Danny returned her back to the ground she just as hesitantly opened her arms to ask for a hug from Selina. The cat burglar immediately held her tight and pulled Danny into the hug too. Harley took that as an invitation for a group hug and Ivy, Cass and Steph all joined the hug. 

Once they eventually broke apart they all settled onto the couches to enjoy some silly movies, some snacks, some nail painting, and most especially some shitting on Batman for being the biggest party pooper in the world.

[gloomyswritings]

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings : depression, life altering injuries, jealousy

notes : unrequited love geto and reader, reader gender isn't explicitly describe, word count 947

synopsis : suguru had been by your side ever since you were children so why didn't you love him? why were you in love with satoru gojo who didn't even love you back? suguru blamed himself for his loneliness

♡⋆｡ °✩♪

Satoru this. Satoru that. Ever since the accident it was him who had been by your side not Gojo. Him. It was him who brought you gifts everyday. It was him who saved your life not Gojo. But for some reason Suguru didn't mind though, seeing your face light up was enough for him. Just seeing you alive was enough. "Oh you're back! ______, is in her room as always. She's up and walking though today." The nurse at the front desk chimed when she spotted the dark haired man. Suguru flashed her a smile and waved, "That's great news to here. Thank you for all your hard work." He bowed before getting into the elevator to make his way up to your room. At this point all the nurses and doctors were familiar with him. He was the one who always was here the minute visitation hours opened all the way until they closed. He carried a paper bag full of treats and the blind boxes of trinkets you loved so much. "Hello! You just be Gojo! ______, has been so excited to see you today to show you her progress." A male nurse said as he stepped out of your room.

Suguru swore a vein had burst, his eyes twitched as he smiled politely at the man. "No I'm Suguru...Geto." He said through gritted teeth. The man's face flushed in embarrassment, "Oh sorry I must of misheard the name. We'll have a good day sir!" The man bowed his head before rushing off. Sighing he opened the door where he saw you walking back and forth albeit with a limp. "Satoru!" You chimed as you turned to face the door when you saw Suguru you still smiled warmly, "Oh hey Suguru! I was wondering if you were going to come today." You said excitedly making your way towards him.

It made him happy to see you walking about, after your accident against an over powered cursed spirit he was afraid he'd never see you walk again. "Of course I come everyday ______." He smiled warmly, Unlike Satoru. setting down the paper bag; he hadn't realized how tightly he had been holding it until he relaxed his fingers. You rummaged through the bag excitedly pulling out the blind boxes he had gotten you. Suguru watched with adoration as you opened each box. You looked so cute and happy; why couldn't you look at him like that? As you two spoke about your day you then asked the same question you always did, "Why doesn't Satoru come visit?" You asked frowning.

A pang shot through him, "Satoru's been very busy is all he hasn't had a free moment. But I'm here, isn't that good enough?" He gave you a pained smile. You hummed, "Mhm of course it is. I love you Suguru you're my best friend." You said happily as you have him a side hug, squeezing his arm. When you had said those three words it made him the happiest man on earth but once he came down from his euphoria he became saddened knowing it was only platonic. Once the visitation hours had ended Suguru gave you a hug goodbye and left you for the night—god it hurt to leave your side.

This had been his routine for a couple months now visiting you buying you gifts so when he received a call that you had fallen ill and it wasn't looking good; he left everything and instantly went to your side. He ran through the hospital's long corridors until he eventually was at your room. He slammed open the door, doctors at your side. So many needles stuck into your delicate skin. His breathing was heavy he no doubt looked like a mad man. A doctor turned to face him, a grim expression on his old face. "You're the boy who visits her every day right? Geto? She's given us permission to talk about her medical issues so let's step into the hall and talk." The man said and Geto followed.

He nearly fainted when he heard the news; an infection they claimed was impossible to catch until it was too late it had spread. It was only a matter of time until you passed away and it seemed like you were giving up. The doctor urged him to go see you before you fell asleep once again. So he did, he held your hand at your side rubbing his thumb gently over the IV needle that had been stuck into your hand. You had looked completely different—so sickly and tired. "S...Suguru." You said weakly. "Y-yes ______." He stammered, eyes wide.

You smiled weakly at him, your expression was soft yet he sensed a guilt behind your eyes. "I was so lucky to have you by my side. I feel so stupid for not seeing it earlier...I didn't deserve to have you. I realize now it was always you. I'm sorry for causing you pain...Sug." You said weakly giving his hand a squeeze. He shook his head, "It's okay don't apologize ______." He said softly. You hummed in reply closing your eyes, "I just wish Satoru would visit me..." you mumbled.

     That was the last time Suguru ever heard your voice, you'd fallen into a coma. He continued visiting until one day he couldn't.

[peach-and-bugs]

Could you write an adult Shauna Shipman x f!reader one-shot with quote 6 "I feel like you've got a hand on me at all times" "Maybe that's because I'm irrationally afraid that you'll disappear on me if I let go"

Ir could be something like, one day f!reader gets into an accident and almost d*es and after that Shauna doesn't let f!reader out of her sight because she's afraid that she'll loose her like she lost Jackie all those years ago

Thank you if you'll do it <3

💙Slipping Like Satin - Shauna Sadecki x fem!Reader💙

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: During the scuffle to try and catch the blackmailer, y/n is injured and Shauna hasn't left her alone since.

Warnings: Swearing, guns, blood, general angst

Word Count: 1,663

A/N: Hello Loves! I'm trying out a new header for my next couple of fics! I might tweak it to get the style to be something I like more, but I'm excited about the new aesthetic. But this has been a request that I've been saving till I knew exactly how I wanted it to go, and while it's still not exactly what I wanted, I'm pretty happy with it, so I hope you enjoy! As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!

Shauna Shipman/Sadecki Tag List:

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💙-

“God damn it, Natalie, I knew this was a terrible idea!” You heard Shauna scream, her voice growing shrill as her throat squeezed with upset. It had hardly registered yet, but you began to feel a hot pain on the skin of your upper bicep. Your hand was squeezing the spot, and when you moved it away, you could see a glistening red sticky on your fingers in the orange light.

“Fuck. We’re completely fucked!” Natalie barked back, running her hands through her hair as she began to pace in a circle. Only then did you notice the gun in her hand. You bit your lip, swallowing thickly as you looked back down at your fingertips. That is till Shauna moved in front of you, taking your hand in hers.

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re alright,” she murmured in a hushed voice. You began to nod but didn’t say a word. Getting shot didn’t actually hurt as much as you might have anticipated prior, you now realized. “Can I have a look?” Shauna asked though she was already moving your arm gently with her shaking hands. Anxiety knit her brow as she tried her best to keep her breathing steady.

“Tai, can you come look?” She asked, gently adjusting your sleeve to get a look at the wound. Taissa moved beside her, pulling out her phone to turn the flashlight on. They both examined the area with furrowed brows and frowning lips.

“It looks like it only grazed her,”

“Should we get her to a doctor?” Shauna’s voice was low and hushed like she was trying to keep the thought of a doctor out of your head. Or maybe it was Natalie’s. The brunette still seemed quite upset with the whole ordeal. Taissa took another look before she shook her head.

“No. If we clean and bandage it good she should be alright,” she brushed at the wound with her finger just too close and you took in a hissed breath through your teeth, your nose scrunching at the sting. You heard Shauna gasp, her eyes widening ever so slightly as her grip tightened. Taissa retracted her hand but you managed a smile with a small chuckle.

“Let’s just get this patched up, ok? I’ll be completely fine,” your eyes wavered to Shauna for the last bit. You might have been attempting to assure her more than yourself, but you weren’t too sure.

If you were being honest, you didn’t remember the whole affair all that well. Mostly there was confetti, or maybe it had been glitter? It was something colorful and it got in your eyes, that’s all that mattered. It was followed by more of a foot chase before you burst out into a parking lot in time to watch the blackmailer driving off. You thought that had been the end of it, till you heard the sound of a gunshot, followed by a clank of metal. Most of what you could remember was just recounting what the others had said, but you wouldn't admit that. You knew Shauna would freak about the whole thing more if she knew.

She had been showing up on your doorstep nearly every day after that night. She argued it was to check on your injury, though you could handle it yourself. She’d been insistently clingy recently. She doesn’t talk to you for just under a decade then all of the sudden she’s showing up at your door with food and various banned goods like clockwork. She might as well move into your apartment with how often she was dropping in, keeping tabs on your every move. It was likely from her sixteen years as a mom, and you appreciated a little help every now and then, but it was becoming a little much. You thought of all of this while on the toilet, anticipating Shauna might be waiting outside the door.

She didn’t turn up right outside the door as you thought, but walking back into your apartment's main room, you found her scurrying around your kitchen, as though she was attempting to appear as though she’d been busy in your absence. She’d pulled carrots out of the fridge and some other vegetables she was now prepping.

“What are you doing now?” you tried your best not to sound irritated, though it might have been hinted under your tongue. Shauna’ pressed her lips in a line and shrugged, seemingly trying to look casual as she shrugged.

“I thought I’d make a soup,”

“You don’t need to do that, I can make food,” She nodded but didn’t look up from her carrots. You stood still, simply watching her without a word, trying to configure what could be going on in that head of hers. Yes, you’d been in an accident. Technically you'd been shot, but not really. It was scary for everyone involved. But it wasn’t a big deal! You were clearly doing fine. You’d been cleared by your doctor, though they only thought it was grazing from a bad fall. Why was she suffocatingly all over you? Your brow creased and you frowned, looking away.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” You didn’t wait for her to look up before turning around and going back to your bedroom. You leaned your back and head against your shut door, now safe in the seclusion of your room. You didn’t mean to be, well, mean. But this sudden attention was unfortunately discomfiting. You felt fragile under your care. You hadn’t felt fragile in years. Probably not since ‘96. You shivered at the thought of what happened back then. Shaking the thought away, you rubbed your eyes with your fingers. Sleep. That’s what you needed right now. Sleep would make those thoughts go away.

-💙-

You woke up to a thumping sound somewhere in your apartment. The sound itself didn’t wake you, but it didn’t help any chances of falling asleep again. You sat up with a long yawn, dragging yourself out of bed only to notice it was now dark outside. You sniffed, leaving your room and padding out into your main living space. A warm aroma met your nose and you recalled Shauna’s soup. You were also reminded that Shauna was likely still here.

Sure enough, there she stood by your desk, your back turned to you. Her shoulders shook as you got a better look at her. Your brow furrowed and you bit your lip.

“Shauna?” Your voice was rough with sleep. Her name pulled her out of her head and she turned with a shameful look in her eye. She frantically wiped away tears that strew down her cheek. It wasn’t till you noticed what was in her hands and on the deck that you understood. She began to weakly apologize but you shook your head, silently approaching her. Her body was tense as you moved forward. She couldn’t realize it till you tenderly took the photos from her hands, fingers brushing over hers. She watched as you stroked the cheeks of the smiling girls, captured in a time capsule of Polaroid.

“I can’t believe you kept these,” Shauna murmured, her eyes wandering back down to the unearthed box sitting on the desk. You shrugged, smiling sadly.

“It felt wrong not to,” you mused with a hollow sigh. “I don’t look at them often,” Shauna chuckled when a thought came to mind.

“You were so excited to get that camera,” you nodded, letting out a soft laugh of your own.

“My parents rarely gave us holiday gifts early. They told me I should ‘capture the highlight of my teen soccer career,’” Your smile wavered sadly as you flipped through the photos. “Who knew that camera would only capture the worst few months of our lives,”

“We didn’t have it for the worst part,” Shauna corrected. You felt yourself tear up and forced a sarcastic laugh.

“Thank god I ran out of film,” you took in a long, sad sniff of air. Shauna’s eyes softened, growing wide as she began to cry again. Her arms found their way around her shoulders she pulled you in. Given the unexpected contact, you dropped the photos in your hands, sending them fluttering to the ground below you. You gave into her, going limp in her arms with your hands hung wilm at your sides. She held onto you so tight as you cried together. In so many ways it felt like mourning. You still mourned those you lost, the things you'd done, and the girlhood that had been so swiftly taken away.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed into her neck over and over as she told you to hush and save your words, but you couldn’t help it. You needed her to know “But I’ve been so mean to you this past week, and I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve felt like you’ve had a hand on me at all times and it scares me,” you cried, finally wrapping your arms around her back, hands squeezing desperately to the back of her cardigan. She let out a watery laugh and nodded her cheek against your forehead.

“Maybe that’s because I’m irrationally afraid that you’ll disappear on me if I let go,” She smiled as she said it, eyes shut tight. You knew just by the way her voice broke that it wasn’t a smile of joy, but one that held onto all the grief she forced herself to carry with her. You felt it too as you let out your own pitiful laugh of melancholy. You shook your head against her neck.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, ok,” you pulled away from her just enough to see her face, holding her cheeks between your hands. “I’m right here,” there was an urgency in your voice as your lip quaked, tears still spilling. She took a long break, sniffling heavily as she shakily nodded. You smiled and nodded again, running your hand over her hair.

“I’m right here,”

[thebramblewood]

What advice would you give to a simmer just starting out writing stories with their sims? How do you build engagement with your posts? How do you write such addictive stories?

Wow! Okay. Buckle in because this will be a long one. I think the most important thing is writing for yourself first and foremost. Don't let your passion be driven solely by engagement (though it's impossible not to be motivated by it a little bit!) but by your own desire to see your project through. I've been a creative writer forever, and 75% of that writing has been written for an audience of one. But sometimes a character or concept will grab me by the throat and refuse to let go, and that's what keeps me invested. I unfortunately can't tell you how that happens. It usually feels like a happy accident. But when it does, it comes through, and readers will want in on it too. That being said, here are some tips for actual presentation:

Engaging visuals. I don't think Reshade or fancy editing is a requirement, but I can't pretend I didn't see a huge uptick in engagement when I started using it. Now, that may also be because I started thinking more about the composition of a shot. Diversify your angles and perspectives, and don't be afraid to zoom way in or out! Move that camera around as much as possible! I know very little about the technicalities of film and photography, but I think the more you practice, the better your eye becomes for what looks dynamic.

Legible captions. I'll be brutally honest: when I'm scrolling the dash, I'm less likely to stop for story posts if the text on the images is not immediately readable. I've by no means perfected this, but I've tweaked my own text over time to make it larger, and I find that very light colors with a black border is almost always the best option. I also try to visualize leaving space for the text to fit as I'm taking shots (though I sometimes forget).

Text-only transcript. My controversial opinion is that I don't like reading transcripts because it's easier for me to engage and follow along if I can see the images and words interacting. BUT I still think it's important to include them, so I always have one under the cut. If you'd rather not do captions on images at all, I personally find it more engaging for the text to be broken up throughout rather than in a big chunk at the end. This is especially helpful if you're writing more descriptive prose, as most people (including me) unfortunately have very short attention spans.

Adaptability! It's helpful to have an outline (whether it's in your head or written) of where you want to end up and how you're going to get there, but the most fulfilling part of writing for me is in giving myself license to follow new ideas or let old ones evolve, even if that means going a bit off-track. Also, it's tempting to establish a formula and lock yourself into an aesthetic from the start, but if you feel like something isn't working, don't be afraid to change it up! You'll be unhappy if you stick with it just for consistency's sake, and you'll rob yourself of opportunities to experiment and have fun. I think readers also appreciate a shake-up so that things never start to feel stale.

That's a lot, I know, but hopefully some of it helps. I've only been doing this here for a few months, and I'm also still figuring things out!

[froggibus]

I've had this idea and I just want to give it to you as a request, I hope you're not too overworked with all the work you've been putting out for all of us! Maybe a one-shot with Hanzo or Genji (whichever you prefer to write the most!) where after a one night stand, you get pregnant and don't tell him in order not to burden them, etc and they find out via someone else or by picking up on small changes on your body, personality? Angst with a fluffy ending, but completely up to you if you want to make it all angst, etc!

Happy Little Accident - Genji Shimada

Pairing: Genji Shimada x reader

Genre: angst -> fluff

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: you get pregnant with your mission partner’s child after a one night stand, and now you’re not sure what to do

CW: pregnancy, reader is AFAB!, morning sickness, nausea, vomiting, angst, mentions of abortion (??), lots of crying, genji is relentless, ghosting

Happy Halloween!! I love this idea so much! thank you anon! also took a bit of a break cause I was SUPER tired after my first day of work, plus just wanted to play obey me in bed <3 enjoy lol

————

“Shit!” You scream, banging your head on the tile wall of your bathroom. 

The little stick you’re holding in your hand stares at you, two little pink lines on display. In your anger, you snap the stick in half and toss it across the room. It clatters, sound echoing through the room. 

Hot tears clouded your vision. How could you let this happen? With him of all people? It was one night. Just one. And now you were dealing with the consequences of your actions. 

Genji and you had just come back from a rough, three day mission, and you had one night to spend in London before the extraction team came. The two of you had never been close outside of work—only seeing each other when you had to. 

Yet you had always harboured a bit of a crush on him. The quiet man was good at what he does, and he was hot too. Spending a night in a cramped hotel room together didn’t help, either. 

One thing led to another and suddenly he was on top of you, muttering your name like a prayer and giving you the best night of your life. 

He hadn’t tried to reach out to you since, and to avoid an uncomfortable interaction, you decided to use up your vacation days. For the first week or so, you had a good time. You spent time at the beach and sipped mimosas. 

The second week is when it started to go to shit. You woke up every day feeling devastatingly nauseous. You thought you might have gotten food poisoning or something, but when it lasted longer than a few days, you knew what it was. 

Which brought you to this devastating moment where you’re staring at the shattered pieces of a pregnancy test, realizing you’re carrying Genji Shimada’s child. 

You place your head in your hands and tug on your hair in sheer frustration. 

—

You can’t help but lift up your shirt and look at yourself in the mirror. There’s no visible bulge, no significant change in your appearance. The only evidence of your situation is the pile of positive pregnancy tests in your trash can. 

There’s a ding from your phone, forcing you to drop your shirt and leave the bathroom to check it. 

Shimada: heard you’re not on assignment this week

You don’t answer, slamming your phone face down on the counter. God, how were you supposed to tell Genji? Not only could this end your career as an agent of Overwatch—it could end his, too. 

Another ding, another message. 

Shimada: sucks :( they’re putting me on assignment with Cass instead 

You take a deep breath before typing back. 

You: that sucks :(

You see the three dots show up, indicating that he’s typing and turn your phone off. You don’t want to deal with this right now, and instead settle on grabbing a pint of ice cream from the freezer and flopping into your bed. 

The world (and Genji) can wait a while longer. 

When you check your phone again, there are three messages. 

Shimada: is everything ok with you? 

Shimada: feels like youre avoiding me after the mission 

Shimada: i promise it won’t be awkward 

You check the messages but you have no desire to answer them. What do you even say? You can’t tell him the truth, it’ll just be a burden on him. 

You end up leaving him on read, turning your phone off again and going to bed. 

—

You go back to work after another week. Countless mission assignments wait for you, not to mention the incredibly annoyed cyborg ninja. 

“Y/n!” Genji practically ambushes when you make it to the hangar. 

“What’s up, Shimada?” 

You try not to look in his eyes but the man makes it impossible, purposely walking directly in front of you. 

“Are you avoiding me? You haven’t answered my texts.”

“I—“ you sigh, “listen, I was just out of work for a week. I’m supposed to be going on a mission with Lena, we’ll talk when I’m back, okay?”

It was the truth, mostly. Although you didn’t plan to tell him what was really bothering you, knowing it would only burden him. 

“Yeah, I know. I swapped with Lena,” your face went white at his words, “you’re going on the mission with me.”

“You swapped? Why?”

It was impossible to hide the panic in your voice. The two of you were going to be stuck, together, in a hotel for at least a night. There’s no way you’ll be able to avoid this conversation with him. 

“Because something is obviously going on and you’re going to tell me.”

“Just leave it alone, Genji.” You groan, “can’t I have any damn privacy?”

“Not when you’re hiding something from me!”

Morrison enters the room just in time to see the two of you mid argument. “Jesus!” He shouts, “the two of you are behaving like fucking children! Just get on the damn plane.”

You and Genji mumble out variations of ‘yes sir’ and slowly climb aboard the plane. You sit in the back row, as far away from him as possible. 

He gives you a sad look and sighs, taking his seat at the front near the pilot. The events of the morning, you could feel exhaustion overtaking you and before you know it, you’re drifting off into sleep. 

—

When you wake up, you’re laying down across the back row. The air in the jet is cold, but you’re surprisingly warm. When you sit up, a grey sweatshirt slips off your shoulders. 

You squint suspiciously at the fabric before realizing it’s Genji’s. The owner of the sweater is sitting in the row in front of you now, clearly asleep. 

You sigh and cuddle it closer. It smells like him. You miss being close to him, but you know it’ll only be a matter of time before he finds out and leaves for good. You settle in and try to swallow down the nausea, waiting for the jet ride to be over. 

By the time the two of you are at the hotel you’re meant to be staying in, you’re almost overwhelmed by the nausea. You barely manage to swipe the keycard and make it through the door before you’re skidding to your knees in the bathroom. 

Your stomach heaves with every wave of nausea, your arm propping your forehead up on the toilet seat. You don’t even hear Genji come in until he’s sitting next to you, rubbing your back. 

“Y-you don’t have to be here,” you mumble, tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“You’re sick, y/n. What else am I supposed to do?”

You bang your head on your arm, “not sick.” You moan miserably, “not sick…”

You raise your head from the toilet and suddenly Genji is wiping your face with a cold cloth, looking at you seriously. 

“But if you’re not sick—“ his eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

You sob, more tears coming. He’s going to figure it out. You let your head drop down and cover your face with your hands. 

“Y/n,” his voice is shaky. “Are you…are you pregnant?”

You cry harder at the word, nodding your head pathetically. Genji is taken aback, he has no clue what to do here. You’re pregnant, and you’ve been avoiding him—which can only mean:

“It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod again. “I-I’m so sorry G-Genji!”

You expect him to be angry or annoyed—to be mad at you for ruining his career. Instead, strong arms wrap around you and press you closer to his chest. 

One hand rubs your back while the other rubs your hair. You’re limp in his arms at first, but eventually you give in to the hug and let him hold you. 

“Shhh, no more tears,” he says. “It’s okay, y/n. I-I’m not mad, it’s okay. Everything is gonna be okay.”

“B-but—“

“But what?”

You cry, “I’m ruining your career! I had to-to go and get pregnant and now—now I’m just a burden!”

You can’t make it through your sentence without crying even harder, Genji desperately trying to keep you from spiraling into a panic attack. 

“How could I be mad about that? Y/n, you’re carrying my baby…I-I’m gonna be a dad,” he sniffles until your hair. “Unless you’re not planning on—“

“I’m gonna be a mom,” you realize, cutting him off. 

He pulls back so he can look you in the eyes and presses a messy, desperate kiss to your lips. “I didn’t even know I could have kids,” he cups your cheek, “I’m so happy right now.”

He pulls you back in for a kiss, and for a minute, everything feels alright. 

masterlist

[small-sinclair]

Hayyyy I just found your blog and love your work 💕

I was hoping to request bo with a future s/o that also doesn’t like being touched and is sad they might not get to experience love because there to scared to be touched

Ps: I hope your having a good day and your feeling well 🥺👉👈

-❤️‍🔥

Hello, Fire Heart Anon! Thank y'all for this request.

This is based off true events from when I was a kid. Younger, I didn't like holding hands, so my grandma made a short silk rope for me to hold when my family went out. If I wanted to hold hands or need to hold hands, they would slip the silk over my wrist and they tied the other end to their wrist. It was never too tight or loose, and it felt like I was holding their hand because I felt their strength at the end. They did this until I got comfortable with hand holding on my own time.

*******************

End of the Rope

Growing up, you hated touching or hand holding, and it made it hard to show how much you loved your family and friends. Saying 'I love you' was a good thing, yes, but you felt like it wasn't enough. So, when you went on this road trip to take photos, ending up living with the Sinclairs, somehow catching feelings with Bo, you didn't know what to do with yourself. Every wildflower you placed in his shop, little rocks in his truck, and small smiles you shot at him... it never felt like enough. Every time your felt read to hold his hand or just touch his sleeve, you felt the static at the end of your fingers and pushed away from it.

Bo is a hand-held man, he made that clear from the moment you met him. His hands were strong and scarred, but there were soft when his hand would brush your skin by accident. They were worn and roughed from work and growing up. His hand demand blood, demand work and oil, demand to be near yours but never once dared to touch you. He never understood why you didn't like to be touch, but he was more than happy to let you take your time. Yes, he was pride and held himself higher, but he wasn't a monster to you.

Bo yearned for the day to feel your touch, imaging how soft your hand would feel in his. Yet, he would look down at his hands and recoil at the sight. The scars from fights and scars that littered his wrist wasn't a pretty sight, and he did his best to hide them from you. Sometimes, you saw them, and it hurt Bo know you saw them. He would snap and tell you not to look, but he secretly wanted to feel your fingers over them to touch them as if he was glass.

But he'll wait for the say you're ready.

An idea came to him when he watched you picking flowers in the fields near the station, picking each daisy and forget-me-not with meaning and care. But, as he looked at you, something brought a smile to his lips, curling up slightly enough to make the Louisiana rivers jealous. He pushing himself off the door frame and went inside the shop, digging around in the old boxes. If it's not here, he'll go bother Vincent about it, but he had a new goal.

Outside, you picked flowers, taking each flower in your hands and fingers, rubbing the steams and smiling. You found your own happy place among the wax and spare parts. You stood and dusted off the dirt and grim. These flowers for Bo would look cute in his curls, and, maybe, he'll let you placed them. As you walked back to the station, you saw Bo standing over a box on the counter, his hands digging through fabric, tossing the once that felt nice out and leaving the bad ones in. You said nothing as you watched him confused, biting your lower lip and lifting a brow.

When he looked up at you, he glanced down at the box then the fabric. His face heats up in a soft red as he kept digging in the box.

"You okay, Bo?" You asked hesitantly.

"I have an idea," he murmurs, but he doesn't look up at you as he pushed the box towards you. "But 's a dumb one."

"Yeah?" You asked, walking in. You put the wildflowers on the seat next to the door as you looked over the box of fabrics. "Try me, though."

He wipes his mouth after licking his lips. "I remember ya don' like it when people touch ya." He wiped his hands over his pants. "So, I figured, well," he seemed to failing to find words to tell you but the words came back. "I got a box wit' fabric. So, pick somethin' ya like."

"Bo?"

"Please, trust me, darlin'?" When his eyes met yours, they looked desperate and pleading. He's been trying so hard to find something, and this was his finding: a box of fabric. "Pick somethin' ya like. Any will do in t'box."

You looked down and started feeling the fabrics. There was soft cotton ones, but you didn't like how they felt against your arms. There was felt, but your fingertips didn't like how they wiggled under your grasp. Then a light green silk fabric caught your eye. There were little red roses over the green on vines and little bushes. It felt perfect against your wrist, cool then warm, and your hands enjoyed how soft and smooth it felt. You held it up for Bo to see and he smiled at it.

"Okay," he whispered. He takes the fabric and step around the counter to be standing in front of you as he started to speak. "Vincent hated holdin' hands when we were youngin's. And I hated long shirts fer a bit, but Mama had us hold hands whenever we left home." He made a slip knot at one end and started on the other end. "So, Vin and I figured somethin' out. We used a short rope," he slipped his hand through the other end of the silk and held the other towards you, "somethin' soft lik' 'is an' we held hands lik' 's until Vincent and I got used to touching skin."

He was gentle when he took your wrist and placed it in the slip knot. The silk wasn't too tight or too loose; if felt like you were wearing a bracelet. You could feel his strength in the other end, your hand a respectful two feet away from his. You felt his hand wrap around his end, tugging lightly at your skin. Breathless, you looked up at him and felt butterflies circling around your body. It's like he's holding your hand without you touching or feeling his skin.

He gave a trying grin. "See? Doesn't feel too tight?"

You shook your head as you looked at the fabric again.

"Bo," you said as you pushed back tears. "Why... why are you doing this?"

He blushed again, looking down at the rope. "I-I know ya don' like touching, so... maybe this is good? For hand holdin'?"

"Are," you placed your words carefully as your fingers rubbed over the silk, your fingers inches away from his, "are you saying you... you want to hold my hand?"

"Don't you?" He asked, his head snapping at you. He felt dumb. Of course you didn't want to hold his hand! Stupid, Bo! This was so dumb!

You looked down at the rope as a soft smile formed. "This is the nicest thing anyone's done for me."

His eyes grew wide. "No, it ain't."

"I know, but..." you couldn't stop smiling. "I've always waned to hold your hand, too, but I hate skin touching me. I hate the way it feels. It's like static and needles poking at the skin. It feels like it burns." You met his eyes and smile widely, "But this? This is nice! I can feel your strength and warm through the silk and... and it's nice." You look down at his tied hand, large and strong. "This... this is nice. Thank you, Bo."

He caught your smile and something inside him swelled. Something screamed him to kiss you and call you his. Call you by his name at the end of his days and nights. It mixed over his eyes like a lore around fish and its scales. There something beautiful hidden behind your voice, behind your smile that made him want more. When you're ready, the day he feels your hand his his, arms around him as he holds your tightly, kissing your hair and your soft lips, he'll be there.

Was this love? It's something he wonders, and he'll hold that closely to his chest.

"Whenever ya want t' hold my hand," he said, clearing his throat, "just show me 'is an' I'll hold th' otha end." He he brought his end up, which brought your hand up with it, and kissed the center of the silk rope as if he was kissing your hand. "Deal?"

You smiled as he watched your fingers linger over his ghost kiss on the silk. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Outside, butterflies fluttered and landed on the bright flowers, fluttering around the petals as they watched you two. Seeing you two bloom in love would be the sweetest flower ever to cross the flowers of Ambrose.

[youngstarfishphilosopher]

Smoke and Mirrors

Yandere Two-Face X Oblivious Spouse Reader

(This one shot is based off the song Smoke and Mirrors. Warning: Mentions of kidnapping, being held at gunpoint, implied murder, extremely unhealthy behavior. )

You had always been known to see the good in everyone. It was one of the many things that Harvey loved about you.

Even from a young age, you had always had a good heart and always thought the best of the world,which is hard when you live in the hellhole known a Gotham City.

Although Gotham had taken away some of the innocent ways you view the world, the city never completely got rid of your optimistic and loving personality.And Harvey loved it.

The older you and Harvey got, the more he was certain he wanted to marry you. The first time he ever asked you out he was a nervous wreak. But he was overjoyed when you said yes.

After a while of dating, you decided to make your relationship official and go married two years later. Although life wasn't perfect, the two of you were happy with each other.

You worked as a kindergarten teacher while Harvey was pretty big on politics,mayors,law, and all the really random boring stuff you didn't have any interest in. But it made Harvey happy, so you were more than accepting of his interests.

Everything felt perfect. . . until it wasn't.

That one fateful day were everything in your life changed. You had been just finishing up with your shift when you got a call from the hospital.

"Hello?" You asked raising the phone up to your ear.

"Hello, Is this Y/N Dent?"

"Yes, this is. Can I help you."

You were still in the middle of your shift. So you assume that the person on the phone was one of the children's gaurdian.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"I'm one of the doctors from ________ hospital. I am calling to inform you that you husband has been in an accident."

You froze all in hearing those words. An accident? What kind of accident? Is he hurt? Is he DEAD?

"Hello?"

You snapped out of your shock when you heard the woman speak again. "Are you still there?"

"Y-yeah." You respond, your voice full of worry. "I'm still here."

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

Harvey hated how he looked now. He had never been the same since that mob boss splashed acid on his face. He thought that once you saw his face, you would leave him forever, disgusted by the man you had once married.

But you... Oh sweet and kind you, stayed.

Even when Twoface came along, even with the switching and colliding personalities, even with the violent outbursts, you never gave up on him.

They both started growing obsessed, possessive,unstable. They made sure to keep there criminal activities out of your knowledge and leave you oblivious to the fact that they had been making the other people closest to you drop like flies.

This included Twoface. In all honesty, you didn't actually know about Twoface. Harvey just always played it off as him just having a really bad day whenever Twoface came through.

Neither of them could stand how some people, especially your co-workers, would look at you. How you were oblivious to the fact that so many of them wanted you for themselves.

They Despised it. How you never knew how much you had been hurting them. How you always gave those good for nothing meat sacks your attention.

Just who do you think you are to go and do something like that? Don't you know that you belong to them? Your THEIR spouse!

They would always come home annoyed and angry at those co-workers of yours. And at you sometimes as well.But you would always start acting all innocent and concerned,so they couldn't really stay mad at you for long. Harvey would just brush you off and say he had a rough day.

Twoface wanted to confront you head on. Show you a little murder or two and put it into your sweet little head that you can't go around doing something like that.

Harvey was opposed to the idea at first. Until one day he couldn't take it anymore. Two-face's idea had begun to sound extremely appeasing.

Especially because of one co-worker you had seemed to become attached to. They decided that they would be the perfect person for your punishment.

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

Your head spun in a daze as you opened your eyes. You awoke finding yourself tied to a chair in a room you were unfamiliar with. As your eyesight started to clear up, you noticed two other figures in the room.

You soon recognized them. One of them was your husband, and the other one was your co-worker. The co-worker that was like a best friend to you.

You starred in horror as you watch your friend , who was bound, blindfolded and gagged immediately receive a slap across their face by your husband.

"Stop struggling!"

"H-harv..."

You were terrified as you watched the man you loved hurt your best friend. He had never acted this way before. It was almost as if he wasn't your husband at all.

He immediately turned to you with a scowl on his face once he heard the sound of your voice . "Well, Well, Well. look who finally decided to wake up frome their beauty rest."

Your fear soon turned into anger one you had came back to your senses.

"W-what... Just what the hell is wrong with you?! What on earth did you do to them!?"

"Harvey's" eyes darkened at your outburst. As he walked up to you , regret seeped through you.

"Harvey" roughly grabbed you by your shoulders and lifted you and the chair you were tied to slightly off the ground to reach his face, making you let out a small wimper.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me Y/N!" He snapped, holding your shoulders so hard that you started to think he was going to break them.

"Harv! S-stop it, your hurting me!" You wined. You then let out a small yelp as he immediately dropped you and almost made you fall over in your chair in the process.

"Hate to break it to ya sweetheart, but I ain't Harvey." Twoface said as he pulled out a pistol from its holder. That immediately shut you up. He took immediate notice of this.

Straddling himself onto your lap he raised the pistol to your chin and forced you to look up at him. Although his eyes were dark and bloodthirsty, they had a glint of amusement in them as well.

"Listen up darling." Twoface whispered into your ear. "Me and you are going to play a little game. And maybe, just maybe, I'll let that little home wreaker go free. How does that sound?"

You look past him to your friend. What other choice did you have? You couldn't just let your friend die.

Giving a satisfied smirk when you slowly nodded, Twoface put his pistol back into the holster. Now resting his arms on the top back of the chair, he sat there looking down on you.

"First things first, I want you to tell me that you love us."

"W-what?" You asked confused. "I don't un-"

"I know you heard me!" Twoface snaped. "Look me in my eyes and tell me that you love us!"

Flinching slightly from his out burst you took took a small pause before mumbling "I love you."

Twoface was getting aggravated at this point. "You and I both know that you can do better then that Y/N." He said now leaning even closer to you which made you extremely uncomfortable. "Lets try that again sweetheart, and this time, act like you mean it."

Taking a deep breath look looked up into the man's eyes and calmly stated the words that he so desperately wanted to hear. "I love you darling."

Twoface let out a small chuckle. "See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"

You didn't say anything.

"The next thing I want you to do." He states, getting even closer to your face."Is give us a kiss."

Wanting to get this whole game of his over with you immediately smashed your lips into his. Twoface responded by kissing back even harder as he roughly grabbed the sides of your head to bring you in closer.

He made sure that the kisses happened for as long as possible.

It soon got to the point were he would move away from your lips ,for your neck, and then move back to your lips again.

Once he was satisfied with all the hickeys he had given you, he pulled away slowly, leaving a taste of blood and copper on your lips.

He was able to quickly compose himself before going to the last part in his little "game".

Getting off your lap, Twoface reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny metal coin.

" You should know that this last little part of my game darling, is a game I like to call Heads or Tails."

Your heart sank into your chest. You had a feeling that you knew exactly where this was going.

"Here is how this is going to work. If The coin lands on the clean side, then I'll let your so-called friend go. If lands on the scratched side, then I pump them full of lead."

"W-wha-"

Before you could get a word in, he threw the coin into the air. As it gently fell back into his palm, he slapped the coin onto his other hand and reviled it to be . . .

Scratched.

Ignoring all of your begging and pleading, Twoface immediately pulled the pistol back out from its holster, and headed towards his hostage.

Ripping the gag off their mouth, you could hear small relived breaths.

Tears started to stream from your eyes as you kept on pleading to no avail. You then watched Twoface raise the gun to their forehead.

Then . . .

The sound of a gunshot fires.

You just sat there in shock. You tried to speak, but no words seemed to come out.

Harvey had now taken over as the two of them walked back over to you.

Sitting back onto your lap, he placked his head comfortably onto your shoulder.

You wanted to yell at him. Punch him. Kick him. Run away. But for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

"Please don't be sad love." Harvey lovingly whispered into your ear. "We just couldn't take it anymore."

Sitting back upright, Harvey gently wiped the tear that had trickled down your face.

" Their not in the way anymore s-so just. . . " His voice now sounded desperate. "Please say that you'll stay with us. . . We love you so so much, darling. "

[someone1348]

Hey friend could you write a ler reader and lee turtles fic where’s the reader Ian normally shy burn decides to show them how much they care about the boys with tickles?

Bringing out my ler side I see, excellent choice! /lh /pos

Thank you for the request my friend I hope you enjoy!

People in this: Ler!Reader, Lee!Turtles

Tw: maybe some intense teases, depending on how you look at it, other than that none!these are adorable, but these are tickle fics for future warning if you're not comfortable with it I wouldn't recommend my page :] /pos

Another note: all of my reader fics are gender natural pronouns unless it's a specific request! But yeah :]

With all of that being said let's get these turtles giggling! >:]

____________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~_____________

Leo!:

-This man is both over the moon and afraid when you get the chance to tickle him

-He's only afraid because of how his body reacts to it, he quite literally loses all control when he's tickled and he's worried about accidently hurting you

-but other than that he is so over joyed! Especially if it's a way of affection/to show you care, he can't stop smiling or giggling like a little kid

-don't underestimate him though, as much as he loves it he will always get revenge >:]

-But I mean come on, LEE is in his name! Leeo! I'm just sayinggg haha

-And I'm pretty sure they've called him Lee before as a nickname (kinda off topic but still!)

-He's more than happy to be tickled by you! No complaints here! He'll never admit it though! Sooo have fun with that

"Wa-hUh?! HEHeY! COhome OHon!" He squealed in surprise and giggled as he felt ten tickly didgets skitter up and down his sides.

"What's wrong? Too ticklish to take what you dish out LEEon?~" you smirked playfully as you made your way up to his ribs.

His body spazed out of control as he tried to escape the tickly feeling on his ribs "WAHAHAHAIT! (Y/N) NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!"

"Aww but your laugh is too adorable for me to quit now Leo! Plus you seem to be enjoying yourself anyways, Coochie Coochie Coo~"

His face turned a bright red as he stuttered through his laughter "ASDHAHA! OKAHAHAY OKAHAHAY!"

You stopped and rubbed away the ghost tickles, gently pinching his cheeks "Like I said, adorable"

"Thahats it" he smiled brightly "Cohome here you-"

Donnie!:

-He sits like THIS ^^ and you expect me NOT to tickle him I mean come onnnn /lh /pos

-This gif screams lee mood energy (Even though I know he's a ler lean, it's just so perfect!)

-He's not the best with physical contact so you definitely have to ease into tickles with him but if you guys are close (which you are) He's honored to be tickled by you if it is another way you show you care

-Just know when he says stop he means it :]

-He'd much rather be tickling you but he's not gonna complain if it happens (he secretly likes it, juuust a little bit! Hehe)

-Oh and if you're ever worried about the contact thing there's a feather in his tech bo, wink wonk hehe!

As you entered the living room of the lair you spotted Donnie relaxing in his chair with his arms behind his head. You smirked as your ler instincts took over and carefully snuck up behind the chair to tickle under his arms.

They quickly shot down with a squeal and high pitched giggles as you continued to wiggle your fingers into his hallows

He giggled out your name with a smile as he wiggled in his chair "Gehet oHohout of thehere! I wahas relaxihihing!"

"Sorry D! That's what you get for leaving a tickle spot wide open in my sights!" You smirked as you moved down to his stomach

"Is tummytello ticklish? Let's find out~"

"Noho he's nOHoT!" He giggled as he tried to lightly push at your hands, not actually minding what was happening. That was until you squeezed his thighs

"WAHAHAHAIT (Y/N)-" He threw his head back onto the chair laughing

"Tickletickletickletickle~"

His face turned red as he grabbed your hands gently "STAHAHAP!" you immediately stopped and rubbed away the ghost tickles

"Too much?"

"Juhuhust right" he smiled back at you, giving you the reassurance "ihi'll get you back, after I finish relaxing"

You giggled at his statement before going to get a drink from the fridge.

Raph!:

-Deserves all the tickles in the world I'm just saying!

-He's at first a little nervous too, like Leo is because he doesn't want his spikes to hurt you on accident or anything else to hurt you but after you reassure him that everything is all good he will melt to your tickles

-Absolutely taking in every second, he will admit to you that he enjoyed it but he won't say a word in front of his brothers

-He's so happy though that you do it as a way to show that you care, it really means a lot to him

-He will get revenge though, if he feels like it, soooo, good luck getting away from the tickle monster

"Hey Raphhh~" you called out for him with a song in your voice as you entered his room.

He raised an eyebrow at your antics as you approached closer to his bed; "Helloo (Y/n)" he giggled "whahats going on?" He asked suspiciously as you sat in front of him

"Oh nothinggg just a vist,,, from the TICKLE MONSTER!" You giggled as you began to squeeze his sides

"WAhaIt! WhAhAhat?! NoHoHo! TiHihickle mOhoNsTeher!" He giggled lightly pushing at your hands

"Oh come on Raphie, you fight and take down all kinds of villains every day but can't handle the tickle monster" you smirked as your scribbled along his spikes.

"I soho cAhAHAN! WAHAHAHAIT NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!"

"Someone's got ticklish spikess~"

He whined your name through his giggles as he tried his best not to squirm so he wouldn't hurt you

"IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES!"

"Okahay okahay! All done you big giggle bug"

He pulled you into a hug "Ihihi love it, buttt you're forgetting somthing" he smirked at you "you forgot that Raph's the biggest tickle monster around!-"

Mikey!:

-Cutie pie! He is literally so happy when you tickle him and is never ashamed to admit it!

-He's the baby of the family so using tickles as a way to show that you care is his specialty! It's what he's used to and he wouldn't ask for anything better than that!

-So yeah he is 100% on board if you tickle him

-No worries or complaints here!

-Just a lot of giggles! :]

Mikey was mixing ingredients together when you spotted him from a far, he was turned around and his side was showing, you couldn't help but wonder behind him and give it a tiny squeeze

"EEP!- (Y/n)!" He giggled out your name as he turned to see who had squeezed his side. Your smirk and wiggling fingers only grew as he set the bowl down onto the counter

You pulled him to the ground gently and sat on his shell so you could have full access to the back of his knees

"(Y/n)- wAhait! I promise I'll let you lick the spoon full of batter!" He giggled trying to talk his way around it

"Deal! I'll take that batter,,, after I tickle you!" You giggled as you skittered your ten tickly fingers under his knees

He snorted and tried to curl up as best as he could, leaning into your fingers as you continued "NOHOHOHOT THEHEHERE!"

"Aww and why not giggles?~" You smiled evilly as you continued

"IHIHIHIT'S MY TIHIHICKLE SPOHOHOT!" He said through his laughter as he continued to try and get away

"Really? Huh, I wouldn't have guessed that" You said sarcastically as you continued "Tickle tickle tickleee~ Mikeyyy~"

"OKAHAY PLEAHAHAHASE"

You stopped and got off of him, rubbing away the ghost tickles before taking the bowl of leftover batter "I'll be taking this!"

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THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO MAKE! Thank you for the request my friend!

I hope you all enjoyedd and I hope you have the best day ever because you truly deserve it, Take care of yourself, know that you are loved and valued and that I am so incredibly proud of you for existing and for everything you do daily! /p /gen /pos

-K <3