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mclennonlgbt · 1 month

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Paris in John and Paul’s life

30th September 1961:

“John and I went on a trip for his twenty-first birthday. John was from a very middle-class family, which really impressed me because everyone else was from working-class families. To us John was upper class. His relatives were teachers, dentists, even someone up in Edinburgh in the BBC. It’s ironic, he was always very ‘fuck you!’ and he wrote the song ‘Working Class Hero’ – in fact, he wasn’t at all working class. Anyway, one of John’s relatives gave him £100 for his birthday. A hundred smackers in your hand! That was a real windfall. None of us could believe it. To this day if you gave me £100 I would be impressed. And I was his mate, enough said? ‘Let’s go on holiday.’ – ‘You mean me too? With the hundred quid? Great! I’m part of this windfall.’” - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“We planned to hitchhike to Spain. I had done a spot of hitchhiking with George and we knew you had to have a gimmick; we had been turned down so often and we’d seen that guys that had a gimmick (like a Union Jack round them) had always got the lifts. So I said to John, ‘Let’s get a couple of bowler hats.’ It was showbiz creeping in. We still had our leather jackets and drainpipes – we were too proud of them not to wear them, in case we met a girl; and if we did meet a girl, off would come the bowlers. But for lifts we would put the bowlers on. Two guys in bowler hats – a lorry would stop! Sense of Humour. This, and the train, is how we got to Paris. - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“And Paul and I also did the same thing, once. We just cancelled. We’d made it, in Liverpool. We were making good money, for those days. I can’t remember what it was – maybe a couple of hundred dollars a week – but enough that you’d have a little extra. You’d have it in your back pocket. And Paul and I just— A relative of mine gave me a hundred pounds, for my birthday, which I’d never seen that much money in me life. Paul and I just canceled all the engagements, and left for Paris… And George was furious, because he needed the money – to work, you know. But that was another time when the group was in debate as whether it would exist or not.” - John Lennon, 1976, an interview with Elliot Mintz

“Last night I heard that John and Paul have gone to Paris to play together – in other words, the band has broken up! It sounds mad to me, I don’t believe it…” - Stuart Sutcliffe, Anthology

“We’d never been there before. We were a bit tired so we checked into a little hotel for the night, intending to go off hitchhiking the next morning. Of course, it was too nice a bed after having hitched so we said, ‘We’ll stay a little longer,’ then we thought, ‘God, Spain is a long way, and we’d have to work to get down there.’ We ended up staying the week in Paris – John was funding it all with his hundred quid.

We would walk miles from our hotel; you do in Paris. We’d go to a place near the Avenue des Anglais and we’d sit in the bars, looking good. I still have some classic photos from there. Linda loves one where I am sitting in a gendarme’s mac as a cape and John has got his glasses on askew and his trousers down revealing a bit of Y-front. The photographs are so beautiful, we’re really hamming it up. We’re looking at the camera like, ‘Hey, we are artsy guys, in a café: this is us in Paris,’ and we felt like that.

We went up to Montmartre because of all the artists, and the Folies Bergères, and we saw guys walking around in short leather jackets and very wide pantaloons. Talk about fashion! This was going to kill them when we got back. This was totally happening. They were tight to the knee and then they flared out; they must have been about fifty inches around the bottom and our drainpipe trousers were something like fifteen or sixteen inches. We saw these trousers and said, ‘Excusez-moi, Monsieur, où did you get them?’ It was a cheap little rack down the street so we bought a pair each, went back to the hotel, put them on, went out on the street – and we couldn’t handle it: ‘Do your feet feel like they are flapping? Feel more comfortable in me drainies, don’t you?’ So it was back to the hotel at a run, needle and cotton out and we took them in to a nice sixteen with which we were quite happy. And then we met Jürgen Vollmer on the street. He was still taking pictures." - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“Jürgen had a flattened-down hairstyle with a fringe in the front, which we rather took to. We went over to his place and there and then he cut – hacked would be a better word – our hair into the same style.” - John Lennon, 1963

Interviewer: I heard you took a trip to Spain before once, didn’t you? On Holiday? Paul: I didn’t go to Spain, no. I tried once to make Spain but… and John and I were gonna hitchhike. We hitchhiked down from Liverpool… We didn’t hitchhike. No, we got the train down from Liverpool ‘cause we thought we won’t hitchhike down the first bit. And we got the boat over to Paris. Then we got the train into Paris ‘cause we thought: “Well, it’ll be too hard to get a hitch here”. And we just stayed in Paris all week. And eventually… I mean, all the time trying to get out of Paris and make Spain! We never made it, we just flew home at the end. What a lazy hitchhiking Holiday!

“The thing was all the kissing and holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic just to be there and see them even though I was 21 and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing. And they weren’t not mauling at each other, they were just kissing.” - John Lennon

"John’s 21st birthday was a month away, and he knew he was getting money — 100 pounds cash, more than he or Paul had ever seen in their lives. (…) Bob Wooler was party to their planning, and fought with them:

They were bored, and decided they would go away for a month. I thought this was disastrous because they would be away from the scene too long and lose their fans, Fans were very capricious: they moved from one group to another. And anyway, what about the other two members, George Harrison and Pete Best?. What about them, what do they do? We argued a lot about this — we argued in the back room of the grapes pub to a large extent —- and they said ‘Well, we’ll go away for a fortnight only’

(…) Equally, the promoters who paid the Beatles over-the-odds to present them every week had to “lump it” (….). To a man, and woman, they were incensed by it - but John and Paul hadn’t a care. They didn’t mean to be rude about it but basically it was tough shit.

it was tough too on Dot and Cyn, Dot simply had to accept the situation, but Cyn had a greater case of grievance. John was heading off without her when he could so easily gave waited for the art school holidays. (…).

That John was taking Paul, no one else, accentuates the renewed closeness since Stu quit The Beatles. They were the Beatles force, an unstoppable and authentically powerful pair. “Lennon had the attitude”, Wooler said, “and taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were superior human beings”

"You’d always see them together, in the pub or walking along the street", says Johnny Gustafson of the Big Tree. "They were a duo, and seemed each other’s equal". Bernie Boyle, the young lad hanging around with them at every opportunity, says, "They were like brothers, with John as the elder and Paul’s mentor. They were so tight it was like there was a telepathy between them: on stage, they’d look at each other and know instinctively what the other was thinking"

They were brothers. They were the Nerk Twins, and now they were taking a break from The Beatles and gofin off to Spain.

Gustafson happened to bump into them the day they left, Saturday, September 30. “They both had bowler hats on, with the usual leather jackets and jeans. They said they were off to Paris, so I walked down to Lime Street station and watched them go. They were an incredible pair: always great fun, irreverent and so close. - Mark Lewinsohn, Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years (2013)

As was written in this post: That last picture is one Paul took of John sleeping in Paris. From what I remember of a performance he did of ‘Here Today’, and earlier comments, this picture hangs framed on a wall in Paul’s house.

Unconfirmed quote (may or may not be true):

"He must have been fond of me to spend that money. He let me have all the banana milkshakes I wanted.” - Paul McCartney

In January 1964, only a few scant weeks before the Beatles took America by storm, the band mates settled in for an extended stay in Paris. For the group, the Parisian visit proved to be a magical experience, with the Beatles playing 18 shows at the Olympia Theatre between Jan. 16 and Feb. 4 (source).

The photo Paul took of John (in the "Eyes Of The Storm" book):

1969:

Hoping to get married in France, John Lennon and Yoko Ono flew to Paris on this day [16th March].

The couple had decided to marry on 14 March 1969, two days after the wedding of Paul McCartney to Linda Eastman; whether it was in response to this event on some level is open to conjecture.

On McCartney’s wedding day Lennon and Ono were travelling to Poole in Dorset, where he introduced her to his Aunt Mimi. During the journey he asked his chauffeur Les Anthony to go to Southampton to enquire about the possibility of the wedding being held at sea, on the cross-channel ferry to France.

(source)

“On March 12, Paul married Linda Eastman at Marylebone Register Office in London, amid scenes of hysterical grief from his female fans. None of the other Beatles was present. The news reached John as he and Yoko were driving down to visit Aunt Mimi in Poole. Yoko’s divorce decree had become final a few weeks earlier, and, in a resurgence of Beatle copycat, John told her they, too, must get married as soon as possible” - Philip Norman, John Lennon: The Life (2008)

"We chose Gibraltar because it is quiet, British and friendly. We tried everywhere else first. I set out to get married on the car ferry and we would have arrived in France married, but they wouldn’t do it. We were no more successful with cruise ships. We tried embassies, but three weeks’ residence in Germany or two weeks’ in France were required." - John Lennon

1974:

“After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”

“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.””

— May Pang, Loving John (1983)

1978:

Wings album "London Town" is released. It includes the song "Cafe on the Left Bank", the lyrics of which clearly refer to John and Paul's trip to Paris.

Late 1970s (maybe 1978?): John is singing to Paul about Paris in a home recording. Longer version

1970s: John writes "Skywriting by Word of Mouth", a book that would be released in 1986. One story is about sex he had with a woman in Paris. Here it is. As anon noticed here: "...the woman is called Amie L'Nitrate and Amyl Nitrate is a reference to poppers. He talks about grabbing her 'pomme de frites.' Her potatoes? He uses the term 'tread lightly on some loafers' which is an old euphenism for being gay. Amie says they should have sex to God Only Knows. Then John says their relationship ended in a seething rage but he still thinks of 'her.'" @sgtsaltsband concluded in the same post: "so he writes a story about PARIS ( where he and paul went on a trip for his 21st bday and never stopped talking about it ) , in the HOTEL where the Beatles stayed later on , names the girl after POPPERS ( a drug commonly used by gay men during sex ) , the girl wants to have sex to PAULS fave song and he uses this PHRASE." Also: this is an excerpt of the story:

"Boogie" is a slang word for sex or dance (also, "Born to Boogie" is a 1972 movie starring Marc Bolan, Elton John and Ringo Starr). "Band on the Run" is a Paul McCartney and Wings' album which John loved. "Sue you sue me" can be a reference to to the Beatles' legal and business disputes and the fact that Paul sued John, George and Ringo in December 1970, and to "Sue Me, Sue You Blues", a song by George.

(thank you @menlove for uploading the story and pointing out interesting words!)

1994 - Paul inducting John to Rock and Roll Hall of Fame:

“And then on your 21st birthday you got £100 off one of your rich relatives up in Edinburgh, so we decided we’d go to Spain. So we hitch-hiked out of Liverpool. And we got as far as Paris, and decided to stop there for a week. And eventually got our haircut, by a fellow named Jürgen, and that ended up being the ‘Beatle haircut’.”

I also remember watching an interview with Paul about his album "Memory Almost Full" (2007). Thank you for adding, @ringompreg!

youtube

(it's like 7 minutes in) Interviewer: There is a very beautiful song called "The End Of The End", the way you talk about your whole ending, and the lyric goes: "It's a start of a journey to a much better place." You mean, better than England? Paul: It's basically a start of a journey to France. Or Spain through France. Yeah, that's what it is. It's a much better place, Paris.

Also worth mentoning:

"All You Need Is Love" begins with La Marseillaise.

"Picasso's Last Words (Drink To Me)" contains French-language speech by BBC broadcaster Pierre Le Sève.

#mclennon #mclennon is real #mclennon anthology #paris #frankly i miss paris #may pang #yoko ono #linda eastman #the beatles #gay #bisexual #france #insane #compilation #master post #Youtube

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abbyromanoff · 9 months

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MOTHER NATURES TEARS AND FEARS

PAIRINGS: Little!Wanda Maximoff x Mommy!reader

WORD COUNT: 1647

WARNINGS: angst, comfort, little spaces, usage of mommy/momma in a non sexual way, thunder, lightning, harsh rain, oral fixation, lactation (not really tho), think that’s all :)

This is inspired by the tornado warnings we keep having in my town sooooo :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!!

Sounds of thunder flashed through your ears along with the harsh rain, it didn’t scare you, but the woman in your arms disagreed. She didn’t like loud noises, it brought back memories she wished to never remember. You knew of her fear, even if she tried to hide it to her best ability.

She was embarrassed to say that she, a twenty-one-year-old woman, was scared of mother nature’s tears and screams. You weren’t, so why should she?

“You ready for bed, angel?” It was nearly fifteen minutes past her bedtime and, while you usually wouldn’t let her do such a thing, you knew having her cuddled up in your arms with her favorite movie playing calmed her down in such situations. Her eyes were locked on the window where she could see puddles forming along with strikes of bright light. She jumped, holding her stuffed bear closer to her chest.

“Wanda?” Your calling of her name caught her attention, causing her to whip her head in your direction.

“You ready for sleepy time?” You repeated, receiving a shy nod after moments of silence. She crawled to the end of the couch and raised her arms, giving you free roam to grasp onto her waist and lift her into your arms. Her legs simultaneously wrapped around your hips as she used one hand to hold your shoulder while the other loosely held onto the bear. You kept your hold on her bottom, securing her weight as she bounced ever-so-slight with each step you took.

“Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?” You asked when settling her back down on the ground, tossing through her sets of pajamas until she stopped you on one of them. It had little seahorses with a pink background, and the words spelling “Sea you in the AM”, never failed to make her giggle. The shorts were a light blue and also adorned the little creatures on them.

“No, I’m okay.” She bit her lix anxiously, only to replace it soon after with her thumb as she suckled on the skin. You took a few steps and found yourself towering over her, giving her a hand to help her off the floor.

“Hey, stop that. Let me get you your paci, okay?” She nodded and, when your vision wasn’t rested on her, she quivered with fear from the loud, rippling noise that felt as though they were bursting through the walls.

“Here you go, baby.” You gave her a warm smile as her lips wrapped around the object, watching as it bobbed back and forth in her mouth.

You removed her current clothes and replaced them with the colorful set before helping her brush her teeth, praising her every few minutes for the small act. The softness you gave her almost made her forget about the one thing that had been haunting her all day, that was until you were getting ready to leave.

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night with me?” You asked when tucking her in, the pink comforter hiding the soft blanket underneath.

“I’m a big girl, mommy, I’ll be okay.” You removed the pacifier to let her speak, smiling to yourself at her soft-spoken words. You handed her the same stuffed animal she had been holding onto all day, brushing the small bit of hair that was blocking her face and getting small giggles to erupt from her mouth.

“Oh, does that tickle, hm?” She thrashed around as you continued your actions, this time on other parts of her body. She tried pushing your hands away but failed due to your overpowering strength.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” You announced after a minute or two of this. She let out rushed breaths with an occasional chuckle still leaving her.

“Remember, I’m right next door if you get scared-”

“I’m not scared!”

“I know, I know, you’re a big girl, you don’t get scared. But, still, you’ll come to me if you need me?” You stuck out your pinky finger which she latched onto with her own, giving a toothy grin when you kissed your interlaced fingers.

“Alright then. Sweet dreams, my love, sleep well.” You traveled your peck to her forehead and did the same to her bear, Raspberry. It was a silly name, really, but Wanda loved it to death. She brought it everywhere, not caring for the judgemental stares in public.

“And goodnight, Raspberry, sweet dreams.” You turned on the night light that was plugged into the wall right next to her bedside table, causing little stars to shine on the ceiling. You turned off the lamp and exited with a blown kiss sent her way, she acted as though she caught it and brought it close to her heart. Then, she plummeted into darkness, the scary sounds from outdoors hadn’t stopped yet and weren’t going to for the next few hours.

“It’s okay, Raspberry, Mommy said it won’t get us, we’re safe.” She jumped once again when the noise seemed to get closer, her breath quickening as her heartbeat felt as though it was in a race. She gulped fearfully, pulling the blankets closer to her face as if it would block out the fear. But it failed to do so.

“It won’t get us from here, we’re safe.” She repeated the words you told her only hours ago. The more she was alone the more she found herself falling into a deep headspace. She felt cloudy, but it was as if the clouds were grey and had bolts of lighting coming from them. She curled her knees into her chest, forgetting the paci you left for her on the nightstand and sucking on her thumb. It was a bad habit of hers that she never seemed to let go of, one that you tried to ease her out of.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of sitting in her bed, crying and whimpering, hoping for it all to end, she gave in. She stood up on shaky legs, not caring to put on her fuzzy slippers as she rushed to your room, nearly tripping over herself before she knocked hurriedly on your door. She felt as though her chest was closing in on her, which only caused her to cry out more.

You were half asleep when you heard the noise, rushing out of bed as you instantly knew who it was. You opened the door right as she was about to knock again, your eyes locking with her sorrowful ones. She raced into your arms and you let her, rubbing her back softly as you shushed her softly.

“Shh, you’re okay, Mommy’s here.”

“M-Mommy?” She hiccuped, feeling your watchful gaze fall onto hers as you leaned back.

“That’s right, Mommy’s right here, you’re safe now.” She stuffed her head onto your shoulder, using her palm to wipe her tears as shame filled her.

“‘M sorry, Mommy, I thought I was a b-big girl.” You sat her down with you on the bed, letting her crawl onto your lap without complaint.

“Hey, don’t apologize, I understand. I’m not mad at you, okay?” She nodded, still not completely believing you.

“You’re such a brave and strong little girl, I’m so proud of you, baby.” You ran the pad of your thumb across her cheek soothingly, tears of your own starting to pool in your eyes as you listened to her whimpers.

“‘M so scared.” She mumbled, clawing at your back in order to keep you close. You kissed the side of her neck that was left uncovered, cooing softly as her hiccups continued. You patted her back as she bounced gently on your lap, causing a small yawn to tumble from her lips.

“I know, princess, I’m so sorry Mommy wasn’t there to protect you.” You knew she wanted to prove that she was able to do such things on her own and that she could keep herself safe, which was why you let her be and didn’t protest when she asked to sleep in her own bed. But you still felt a pang of roaming guilt, like you hadn’t done enough to keep her safe. All you ever wanted was to protect her from harm, yet you failed at doing so.

“C’mon, let’s get you into bed.” You laid her down softly, her body once again cuddling close into yours the moment you joined her.

“Please hold me, Momma.” You were already planning to do so before she asked. You placed one hand on her thigh that found itself resting over your waist, your free arm going to her back where you drew small shapes. Her stuffed animal was still clamped tightly in her hold, the fur pressing against your skin in feather-like touches.

Wanda played with the strap to your tank top, giving you a questioning look to which you nodded in response. She pulled down the clothing, your breasts freeing themselves and being hit by the cold air. She smiled giddily to herself before wrapping her lips around your hardened bud, feeling your fingertips that were placed on her back start to scratch softly at her scalp.

“Be careful with your teeth, baby.” You muttered when they brushed against your nipple, making a small gasp erupt out of you.

You noticed the tiredness in her eyes start to grow more as sounds drowned out, her only focus being on her caregiver. She felt blurry, and before she knew it, her eyes were closing for the last time that night. You grinned to yourself as she finally fell into a slumber, grabbing your phone as you played soft white sounds to cause calmness to float through her, even in her sleep.

“Goodnight, angel.” You kissed her forehead once more.

“Goodnight, Raspberry.” You kissed its forehead and sighed, letting your eyes close as you sunk into a deep resting state.

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toast-the-unknowing · 5 months

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on fanfic plagiarism

Almost five years ago, in January of 2019, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "Word on the Street," had been plagiarized.

I remember that the stolen fic was posted in k-pop fandom, though not what specific band it related to -- I'm not into k-pop, or really into pop music at all.

I remember that the person who messaged me told me that they had found my fic because the plagiarist had a reputation for stealing fic, so when they'd posted a new story, this person had known to do some digging.

I don't remember what the plagiarist's username was. I remember scanning the stolen story, trying both to read every detail and to avoiding taking any of it in, because looking at that right-but-wrong, not-quite-there, uncanny-valley-ness of it made me queasy.

I remember being darkly amused that the plagiarist had cut out the reference to the main character suffering physical abuse at the hands of his father -- I guess it didn't make sense in the context of the new character. It's almost like the story wasn't written for him. It's almost like someone wrote the story about Adam Parrish, instead.

I filed an AO3 complaint, on the grounds that this was a blatant and unarguable violation of their plagiarism policy. Within twenty-four hours, they got back to me, and the story was removed.

It was a weird, uncomfortable, gross feeling, knowing someone had taken words I'd written and passed them off as their own.

But at the same time -- "Word on the Street" was a silly thing I dashed off pretty quickly, during a period of my life when I was doing a lot of writing. It hurt to have it stolen. It was a violation. But…I had other words, that were more important to me. Maybe that was a buffer.

Last month, about six weeks ago, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "there's talk going 'round this town," had been plagiarized.

I was, bizarrely, amused.

I was less bizarrely furious. I was understandably, relatably, I would say rationally, furious. But in a way (and as always, when I say in a way, I am calling back to the scholars of overthinkingit.com for whom in a way is meant as the thing I have just said or am about to say is false) -- in a way, I was amused.

The plagiarist clearly did a 'find and replace' on the character names, to replace Adam and Ronan's names with those of k-pop characters. They did a bad job of it, since the name "Ronan" still appears in one paragraph and the name "Parrish" still appears in two paragraphs. The fic is here, in case anyone doesn't believe me, under the name "i do(n't remember)". At first when I complained about the fic on tumblr, I didn't mention the name, or which fic they'd stolen, because I was worried about anyone…I don't know, making a scene. I've stopped caring. AO3 user springguk is bad at find and replace and they should feel bad. About their computer skills, and also about their blatant plagiarism.

springguk also did some more edits to my fic, I have to give them credit for that. I wrote "there's talk going 'round this town" within a relatively short time span, for me. I tend to either finish things within one week, or else take several months. I believe this one took about five or six weeks completely to write -- I was very inspired.

(I was inspired, specifically, by the press coverage of Winona Ryder and Keanu Reeves 'discovering' they might be 'accidentally' married. I mention that in my author's notes. springguk doesn't mention what 'inspired' them in their author's notes. I wonder how they talk about it with friends. They do, in their author's notes, include a link to their ko-fi, and a request that people buy them a coffee.)

If I'd taken longer with this fic, I might have made some edits. Even at the time, I knew I was being self-indulgent in letting the scene with my teenage female OC talk at such length with Ronan about what his non-canonical film career had meant to her, a person the audience didn't care about. But I had fun. I liked Fox. I didn't want to cut her, and what the hell, it was fanfic. I decided to self-indulge.

I was darkly amused to find that springguk did cut out the scene with Fox from their plagiarized version. Maybe springguk is a more disciplined editor than I am. Maybe springguk just didn't have a good k-pop character to map Fox onto. Maybe springguk didn't even realize that Fox was an OC. Do you know anything about the fandom you steal fics from, springguk? I can't help but wonder. Have you read The Raven Cycle? Do you care about teenage OCs who steal cars because of fake films that are clearly meant to be stand-ins for The Fast and the Furious franchise?

Maybe springguk just didn't give a fuck, because none of their heart and soul was poured into this fic. I cared too much about Fox. springguk doesn't care about a single word in the fic they published. Why would they? They didn't write it.

I'm being a little mean in naming them so many times. But I'm able to, this time, because although I filed a plagiarism complaint with AO3 six weeks ago, springguk's stolen fic "i do(n't remember)," is still available to read on AO3 to this very day. I don't have to wrack my brains to remember what their username was, or which k-pop band they recast my work with. I can just look at their fic with its 24 comments and 151 kudos. Hell, maybe that fic is even better than mine, if you don't mind that by cutting the sequence with Fox they've sacrificed a fairly substantial development in the romantic relationship, and also if you don't care that at one point the characters names switch from Jeongguk and Taehyung to Ronan and Parrish, because seriously, for fuck's sake, if you're going to steal a fic at least do a goddamn ctrl+f at the end.

I was mad. I was amused. I made a complaint that the AO3, six weeks later, has still not acted on. I mostly moved on.

Tonight, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now," had been plagiarized.

I wanted to vomit.

I was supposed to be playing Dungeons and Dragons online with friends tonight; I spent the entire call unable to focus on anything anyone was saying. I had to keep reminding myself that I was on camera and my face wasn't supposed to look like that.

"while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now" is the first of a series of, currently, twelve fics. skytoseungmin, the person who stole it to pass it off as their own work, knew this. Their stolen version was published as part one of a series, though they hadn't published any of the sequels. Presumably, they wanted to wait long enough to make it plausible they'd gone and written the follow ups, instead of just finding them.

skytoseungmin likely didn't know that this fic and this series are intensely personal. They didn't know that the apartment that Adam -- Seungmin, in their ill-gotten version -- lives in, that was based in part off of the apartment I lived in for a year in Pico-Robertson with talldecafcappuccino. They didn't know that the 7-Eleven Adam buys coffee at is the same one I used to tease talldecafcappuccino for buying coffee at. They didn't know that the strip club where Adam and Ronan have their humorously ill-timed romantic revelation outside of, that was the strip club I used to use as a landmark when giving people directions for how to navigate the confusing as fuck freeway exit I lived near, which once caused me to accidentally tell my highly Catholic parents "just go past the strip club and you're good!"

skytoseungmin didn't know that the apartment Adam -- sorry, Seungmin, thoroughly, they were better with find and replace than springguk -- lived in, was also based off of my ex's apartment in Palms, where I as the mere visiting girlfriend was never allowed to park in the parking lot. Where I would sometimes have to spend twenty or thirty minutes circling the neighborhood before I could find parking, often a walk of several minutes away. skytoseungmin doesn't know that when Ronan's car get towed from a McDonald's parking lot, that that was a specific McDonald's on Venice Boulevards, the same one my ex's asshole roommate used to just roll his eyes and say that I should park at. skytoseungmin doesn't know that I once wished passionately that I had just parked in that McDonald's parking lot and risked getting towed, on the occasion that a man followed me several unlit blocks from my car. skytoseungmin doesn't know that when I talk about how helping someone park is the truest love language there is in Los Angeles, that that was what I meant. Has skytoseungmin ever had to circle to half an hour to find parking in Los Angeles? Has skytoseungmin ever loved someone enough to do that, instead of saying, fuck it, they can come to me or we're breaking up? Has skytoseungmin ever loved someone in Los Angeles enough, to do as my ex did, and come running as fast as humanly possibly when their girlfriend called them whispering and crying on the phone, someone's following me, please, I'm scared, I wish I just parked at the McDonald's?

"while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now" is a very personal fic.

It isn't half as personal as some of the fics that come after.

skytoseungmin marked their plagiarized version of the fic as part one of a series. Were they planning on stealing part two, where I, through an alternate universe characterization of Ronan Lynch, dig into my experience of grief and trauma surrounding my grandmother's dementia? Were they planning on stealing any of the explicit fics, where I play with kink and desire in ways I haven't even exposed to my actual sexual partners, but where I felt able to through the guise of fandom? What else was skytoseungmin planning on stealing, with charming little author's notes apologizing for how they missed the fandom-relevant date they were shooting for, because they were so busy with exams, tee-hee! Why the excuses, skytoseungmin? how long does it take you to ctrl+f, even if you are more thorough about it than springguk?

If I seem too accusatory and mean-spirited toward skytoseungmin, well, the LA verse is a very personal fic.

And it's also, it turns out, only one of eight different fics that they stole from me.

I didn't even notice at first, to be honest. I was too stunned. But my friend Jessie, my Lady Galahad, went to my defense and clicked through to the author's page, while I was still reeling at the horrible possibilities of part one of a series. It turned out, of eight fics on skytoseungmin's author's page…I had written every single one of them.

Some were short and pretty lighthearted, things I hadn't had to invest too much of myself into -- like I said, sometimes, I can write a fic in under a week.

Other things…

They stole the space western AU.

I don't think I can articulate to any human being how much that hurt me, to look at it, to see.

I wrote that as a thank you gift for someone who donated to Fandom Trumps Hate.

I spent nearly two years of my life on it -- two years during which, because of mental health issues and life situation changes, my words per year dropped precipitously. I still haven't recovered. I still think of what a failure I am for not writing more, currently, actively, and I remember how the space western AU was both a symptom of that and a defiance of it: yes, writing has become fucking hard, fucking NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE, but I'm still doing it, goddamn it, you can't stop me, even if all I produce is the tiniest trickle of words a month. it can still add up, somehow, if we just keep TRYING.

To see the space western AU, casually nestled amongst a half dozen other fics that were all apparently casually dashed off in the same month…I know it was theft, I know it was a lie, but it still felt like a slap in the face, why can't you write this fast?

Jessie, my Lady Galahad, went on a campaign of commenting on all of skytoseungmin's (my) fics, and I am so thankful. The k-pop fans who heard Jessie have been reaching out, to her, to me, to each other on Twitter, and I am so thankful for them too. skytoseungmin has deleted all of their (my) fics on AO3, and their entire AO3 account, and their entire twitter, apparently. Maybe they were hoping to get enough clicks to parlay them into some kind of book deal, and they'd now rather give up what was a low investment effort on their part than be associated with accusation of plagiarism.

I suppose they can always start over with a new user name and someone else's fics if they really want to.

I suppose they can always start over with a new username and my fics, if they really want to.

And after all, AO3 has still not reached out to me about springguk, and "i do(n't remember)" is still sitting there. Maybe springguk is also going for a book deal. Who knows?

Why complain about any of it?

In a way* (and remember what "in a way" means), isn't it a compliment, if someone loves the words I wrote, even if they don't know it was me that wrote them? toast-the-unknowing and shinealightonme, if they're the same name (and they are), then why not springguk or skytoseungmin, too?

Am I making too big of a deal out of this? Does everyone just have their work stolen from them, all of the time? Is that simply the cost of doing business in an era and an ecosystem where we all can copy and paste twenty-four thousand words with greater ease than our ancestors could transcribe a single phrase? Are more prolific, more famous, more successful fan authors looking at my piteous cries and thinking, bitch, you've only been ripped off by k-pop fans ten times, come back when you have real problems?

And yet in a month, a year, a whole life phase of not being able to write as much as I would like to, because of my health, because of my work, to have someone else just casually pass off the words I have managed to eke out, as though they have no value, as though it were no more than photo copying a shitty flier to stick under a windshield wiper…

I can't imagine springguk or skytoseungmin give a shit how I feel about any of this. At best, they roll their eyes; at worst they laugh to know they hurt me -- and what's the difference between the two? I'll never know either way.

I know that some of the people they duped do care, and are also upset. That helps. And also, it doesn't help.

I just fucking hate all of this, and if all I have are words, and if my words are valuable enough for someone to steal, then here, here are enough of them to choke on. I know I did.

#long post #fandom #plagiarism #that whole plagiarism thing

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the-modern-typewriter · 11 months

Text

The Art of Turning 30

“So, am I allowed to talk?” Annabelle gave an awkward little laugh, that she immediately wanted to stuff back into her mouth. “I’ve never done this before!”

“You can talk.” Julian flashed her a quick, reassuring smile. “At least until I tell you not to.”

They both laughed, then. Julian’s laugh was not awkward.

It was six months until her thirtieth birthday.

She had met him at her girlfriend Camille’s twenty-ninth birthday party, a few weeks ago, only to be surprised that they’d somehow never crossed paths before. London was big, but it wasn’t that big surely, and Julian was an artist.

Annabelle felt like she spent half her free time at artsy bohemian parties and amateur gallery openings, though maybe that was why. He wasn’t an amateur, was he?

She’d looked him up online after and seen several shining reviews of his first exhibition, and a rosy buzz of anticipation at what he’d do next.

She remembered that buzz. People used to get that buzz when they talked about her. Apparently, his work was ‘visceral’ and ‘felt startlingly alive’.

It seemed impossible that he wanted to paint her, of all people.

Annabelle shifted on the stool, glancing around Julian’s studio space as he finished setting up his easel and paints. Oils. He’d said he was using oils. That mattered in painting, didn’t it?

The studio was everything she’d always imagined a professional artist’s studio to be. It was quite large, with clean wooden floors and white walls crowded with stacks of sheet-covered canvases in progress.

There was only one that was ready and visible; a painting of a beautiful blond man, probably nearing thirty too, lounging on the same stool that Annabelle was perched upon. He gazed out at the viewer with a hungry sort of hope. Like they were the best thing he had ever seen.

The studio smelled like drying paint and the sandalwood diffuser wafting its calming scent from the window sill. Sunlight coated the room like honey, or gold.

“You’re not going to make me look ugly, are you?” she asked.

He smiled again, meeting her eyes. “I couldn’t possibly.”

He probably flirted with all of his models, but she still felt a blush of heat rise to her face.

He looked like he could be in a painting, or one of those classical sculptures still concerned with archetypal ideals of beauty. Of course, she was with Camille, so nothing would happen…but still. The attention made her heart pound. Camille was usually too tired from work to flirt with her anymore.

Annabelle wasn’t sure how good she’d be at seeing a painting of herself that she hated, and not letting it show on her face. She’d probably tear up. It would be embarrassing for both of them. She shifted on the stool once more, and tugged at the hem of her summer dress.

“This is for your next exhibition?”

“I think I’m going to call it ‘The Art of Turning 30’.”

“Explains why I’m your muse instead of some gorgeous twenty two year old ingenue.” She laughed again. He did not. She continued, even as she willed herself to stop babbling, because he wasn’t looking at her with the expectation that she do anything. He plucked up a pencil, beginning his work. “It’s like, when you’re a woman, after you turn thirty your life is over, right? It’s like with my acting. And then by the time you’re forty all of a sudden all you can possibly be is, like, a mother or a witch. Or, you know, the dead wife. It’s all downhill.”

“You wouldn’t want to be a witch?” He raised a brow. “They always seemed pretty powerful to me. I could see you as a witch.”

“But do you know what I mean?”

“Can you turn your head a little the left, please?”

“What? Oh. Yes.”

She turned her head to the side, towards the window, and hoped the sunshine made her seem younger rather than highlighting every growing crag and wrinkle.

She could only watch him out of her periphery vision now; a wistful muse, seemingly unaware that she was being observed. She tried to look deep and mysterious.

“Perfect,” he said. “Thanks. You’re just perfect.”

The canvas of the blond man fell to the floor with a soft thump.

Annabelle jumped.

“Sorry.” Julian shook his head, another easy laugh on his breath. “The landlord never lets me put proper hangings on the wall here. Says it wrecks them. I guess so long as they don’t do that at the exhibition?”

“I don’t know, you could probably play it off as a stunt…lean into the photorealism.”

“Now, there’s an idea. Genius.”

She probably didn’t look deep and mysterious. She probably just looked smitten.

***

She sat for Julian three times a week for the next several months.

It became a pocket of peace in her life, the hours when it was okay to finally stop and be for a while, because everything else seemed to be hurtling through her fingers faster than she could clutch hold of it.

She’d always imagined that she would be a successful, or at least up-and-coming, actress and screenwriter by the time she turned thirty.

Sure, women only made up around 30% of the directors or writers behind the camera, but back in school everyone always said that maybe she’d be the one to change that. She wasn’t entirely sure when they stopped saying it, but they had.

It was three months until her thirtieth birthday.

“Here.” Julian caught hold of her chin, featherlight, angling her back towards the sun. The days were getting shorter. Time was running out for them both. “You were like this.”

She had got in the habit of always sitting a little wrong, because he’d always adjust her, oh so careful and attentive, like she was his masterpiece.

She would have probably preferred to be her own masterpiece, but being his seemed like the second best option. She could practically feel the ghosts of forgotten, underappreciated female muses-past screaming at her that no, it was always better to be somebody than someone’s, but frankly she wasn’t sure she could be picky.

She’d been getting less and less call backs, and was starting to feel more like she was a part-time waitress dabbling at film than a part-time actress-filmmaker working hours in hospitality to make ends meet.

It was like a window was closing. Her window. That morning she’d found an honest to the devil grey hair on her head!

Camille told her that she was being ridiculous – that she’d become increasingly vain since Julian started painting her.

Annabelle had snapped back that vanity wasn’t vanity for an actress. Her looks were her currency.

It hadn’t always been so hard, had it?

All in all, it didn’t seem like a sin to let him touch her. It was nice to be touched. There was nothing untoward in that.

She peeked up at Julian, standing over her, his star ever on the rise. Their stares met again. He smiled that quick, reassuring smile of his.

“You look tired,” he said softly.

“Sorry.”

“No, no.” He widened his eyes. “I didn’t mean—” he huffed gently, and let go of her. “I haven’t got to your mouth yet. If you want to talk about it.”

Annabelle grinned back before she could stop herself.

It had become a standing joke. She sometimes felt she spent their whole time together talking about herself, but he always said it was interesting and made the hours fly. He was a very good listener.

More privately, she sometimes suspected that he was leaving her mouth for last just so they could continue chatting, but she wasn’t allowed to see the painting to check. The thought was thrilling though.

“It’s nothing,” she said, even if she already knew she’d probably tell him everything on her mind. “I don’t know.”

What would she do when the painting was done? She’d see him at his exhibition opening, probably, but there would hardly be a reason for them spend time together like they did when she was sitting for her portrait.

Maybe it was silly to consider him one of her friends. She’d miss it, though. She’d miss him.

Maybe he’d want to do another one of her, but who was she kidding? Maybe in ten years, when he did a gimmicky but charming follow up. The Art of Turning 40: Where Are They Now?

What did he know about turning thirty anyway? He couldn’t be more than twenty-five. He had loads of time.

“There’s an intimacy,” he murmured, “to painting someone. Especially like this, in the old fashioned way. A lot of people use photographs and quick studies because they’re more convenient and you don’t have to catch the right light, you know? But I love it.” The air filled with their breathing, and the soothing dab of his paint brushes on his palette, mixing up the colours of her. “You really get to know people this way. It adds soul to the work. It’s magic.”

She felt, more than saw, his gaze cut over her again. Her blood was electric beneath his scrutiny.

He continued, softly.

“I knew from the moment we met that I wanted you to be my centrepiece for this one.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true!” He laughed. “You have this great energy. I knew you were going to be interesting, and I was right. And you know how to model well. Because you’re an actress, right? You’re used to people looking at you.”

An actress, no ‘wannabe’ or ‘aspiring’ or ‘failed’ tacked on front. She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him as best she could without turning her head.

“My boss always says I should have more energy, then I’d wait tables faster.”

“What does Camille say?”

“Camille—” Annabelle blinked in surprise, then swallowed. Her hands curled in her lap. She resisted the urge to sigh.

“Uh-oh.”

“No, no,” she said. “It’s fine. I just – she thinks if I’m not happy I should do something about it. She’s always telling me about other things I’d be really good at that have better pay, or more sociable hours.”

“So, give up on your dreams already.”

“Yeah.”

Annabelle deflated. She knew that Camille didn’t mean anything bad by it, but that was what it implied, right? She was never going to be a famous and successful actress or screenwriter, so she should settle for something manageable.

“Well, she’s not a creative, like us,” Julian said. “She doesn’t get it.”

Like us. Annabelle was a horrible girlfriend for feeling a swell of pleasure at that. It was true, though. Still.

“We’ve been together for a really long time, and she’s been really supportive. I think she’s just finding the whole ‘me turning thirty’ thing annoying. Mainly because I won’t shut up about it. Which I’m sure you sympathise with!”

Camille said that anyone who claimed life stopped at thirty was an idiot. There was no limit for potential, no one age where everyone had to have their life together and perfect by.

She was probably right, but Annabelle could still feel the panic of it clawing at her the closer her birthday got. Even if she was successful after thirty, she wouldn’t be one of those young geniuses that everyone had expected her to be. She wouldn’t be exceptional.

She would just be Annabelle. It didn’t feel like enough. Maybe if she could see herself like Julian apparently saw her, it would be better.

“Chin up,” Julian said.

Annabelle cleared her throat again. “Right, yeah.”

“No, I mean.” His voice was deadpan. “Your head. You’ve moved. Drooped.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder. The melancholy shoved itself down again in the pit of her stomach.

He tossed her a wink from behind the easel, to indicate he was joking. Only trying to cheer her up and lighten the mood.

“So, I still don’t get to see what else you’re working on, huh?” she asked.

“I’d have to kill you.” He switched to another, smaller brush in her periphery vision.

She snorted.

“It would be very inconvenient all around,” he said. “Rigor mortis sets in fast. I’d never get the painting done in time.”

“Well we can’t have that. After you’re finished with me then, I suppose.”

“Our art is a part of us, Annabelle.” He shot her another glance in turn, brush poised above his image of her, considering. “So how, then, could I ever truly be finished with you?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. She debated possible responses to that, and how he could have meant it. Her body felt warm and flushed.

He gestured that she angle her head left once more, not looking away for a second himself.

Annabelle turned.

The summer waned outside the window, but in the painting she would still be in her sundress, legs tanned and toes painted sky blue.

Thank god he kept his studio warm. The minutes ticked by, the air between them settling tranquil once more.

“Sometimes,” she said, softly, “I wish we could stay like this forever. Freeze the moment. Is that stupid?” It felt a confessional thing to say. Bold.

“No.” She could hear the equally soft smile in his voice. “It’s not stupid. Isn’t that how I got you to agree to do me this favour?”

She remembered the party; an adult version of what they all used to do, even if it still felt like they were all pretending to be grown-ups. Or at least, Annabelle felt like she was pretending. She didn’t feel twenty-nine.

She’d clutched her glass of wine and hovered near a somewhat strained conversation about mortgages and the state of the housing market, and how none of them were going to be on the property ladder before they were fifty, before she caught sight of Julian coming in.

She echoed his words, and didn’t have to fake her wistfulness that time.

“To be remembered in art is the closest any humans’ get to immortality.”

He echoed the next line back at her. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

And she’d said yes.

***

“I’ve got a date for the exhibition,” Julian said, from behind his easel. “A few weeks after your birthday. Short notice, I know. Soz.”

“Ugh, don’t mention the B word. But that’s exciting! Can I come?”

“Of course you can come,” he said. “It’s why I’m telling you. This wouldn’t be possible without you.”

“I mean, while sitting here is terribly difficult,” she said, “I do feel like you should get some of the credit. Just some.”

She heard him laugh.

She’d grown to love Julian’s laugh; he was so ready to do it, at least in their sessions.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Camille laugh at something she said. Then again, she wasn’t sure the last time she and Camille had spent all that much time together.

By the time Camille got back from a day of teaching, Annabelle was usually already out for the night shift at the pub she waited in. Yet another thing in her life that wasn’t working like it was supposed to!

Camille said that could be worked on if, hey, Annabelle was willing to actually prioritise their relationship.

It had been one of their worst arguments to date.

“There’ll be thirty paintings in total, I think,” he mused, more talkative than normal. “Yours being the main one, like I said.”

“I’m sure you will perfectly capture the raw turmoil of turning thirty.”

He laughed again. It had been one of the most notable reviews of his first exhibition – except the exact wording had been that his work perfectly captured ‘the raw turmoil of adolescence, as an emotional and nostalgic period of change and growth’.

He’d finally caved and showed her some of his previous pieces, other than the ones she’d managed to find online, as a compromise of his refusal to show her how his painting of her was coming along.

Most of the individual pieces from his first exhibit had been sold off, but he’d kept the main one.

His main piece – Girl On Swing – got the most praise, so it had apparently been a bit of a scandal that he hadn’t sold it. He’d had offers.

It was a triptych (Julian’s word) of a girl, unsurprisingly, on a swing.

In the first of three paintings she was a child, carefree and giggling. In the second, a young teenager, her face a storm of emotion. In the final one, she was a young adult, caught mid-leap flying off the swing she’d been sitting on for seemingly eighteen years. Her arms were painted halfway to transitioning to a bird’s wings. She was no longer looking back at the viewer but forward, to all that life had to offer.

Annabelle wondered what people would say about Julian’s version of her.

People liked to fantasise about how amazing being a teenager was when they were an adult, but she hadn’t met anyone who fantasied about turning thirty. It wasn’t nearly as glamorous.

She hoped he made her glamorous.

“Of course,” he was continuing, “with the date so near, we might need a few more sessions to get finished on time.”

She looked over at him again, then, even if she wasn’t supposed to be moving.

The golden light danced across his handsome features, and caught the edges of the canvases behind him. There were twenty nine of them waiting.

“I make a pretty good lasagne,” he said, biting his lip. “If I say so myself. Compensation. If you don’t mind finishing late. There’s also a nice wine I got for Christmas that I really couldn’t drink alone.”

“I don’t mind,” she heard herself saying, before she’d even thought about it. “I don’t mind at all.”

“It’s a good venue,” he said. “A really good venue. Everyone’s going to love you.”

With him, maybe, the window wouldn’t close.

***

“I’m done, except for the varnish.”

The words sent a bolt through her, stirring away the sleepy content that came with posing for an extended period of time. She felt seen. Now, though, she wanted to see. Finally.

It was the day before her thirtieth birthday, and Camille had a massive surprise party planned, that Annabelle was both pretending that she didn’t know about, and dreading like a punch to the gut.

It was sweet that Camille was doing it. But also, maybe, if she didn’t celebrate the date she could still, somehow, be in her twenties for another year. That was how it worked, right?

“You are?” She leapt off the stool, and felt her joints click. “Can I see? I feel like I should have a right to see before everyone else. I won’t tell anyone.”

“It is top secret.” He pretended to consider.

She took the opportunity to relish actually looking at him for once; there was a kiss of red on the cuff of his painting shirt that hadn’t yet dried. It was the exact colour of her lipstick. She smiled.

He really had left her mouth for last.

“Fine,” he said, and gestured her over, eyes bright with amusement. “But only because I know you won’t tell.”

In the short space of walking over, Annabelle had time to feel her stomach clench. Her old fears boiled nauseously to the surface.

What if it was awful?

What if it wasn’t what she wanted, as if that had ever been the point?

What if her immortality looked like the part-time waitress she didn’t want to be?

She would have to keep a straight face, and not hurt his feelings. He’d been working on it for so long. It would ruin everything if he knew she hated it. It would no doubt be technically very skilled. She should have researched painting techniques she could comment on.

She rounded the easel, a little dizzy.

His hand fell on the small of her back, thumb tracing the curve of her hip, idly almost.

She stared.

Her painted self was lovely. So alive, as if thirty couldn’t possibly contain her.

It was not as realistic as ‘Girl On Swing’ though.

She was caught in the motion of talking, hands gesturing animatedly in the air despite her best efforts of posing, and though her face was turned towards the light of the window it was as clear as confession that her eyes were always turning towards him, trying to steal a glimpse.

She looked at him, at the viewer, like he was the best thing she had ever seen.

Camille would see the painting too.

She had already said that she had to come to the opening, especially ‘after all the time her girlfriend had spent with this Julian fellow instead of her.’

Annabelle swallowed.

The perfect bubble burst.

She released a shaky breath, abruptly more aware of his hand through the thin material of her dress.

They hadn’t done anything.

Even the night when she ended up staying over at his, after lasagne and wine, they hadn’t done anything.

The painting made it look like they had, though. She wasn’t even sure she could accuse Julian of exactly making it up, either.

He had painted the truth. Raw. Even when it would have been politer to hide it.

“Oh,” she said. “Wow. Um. Julian—”

“Happy Birthday,” he murmured. “For tomorrow.”

His hand moved up to the back of her neck and all of the colours of the painting swirled and rushed forward to meet her.

“Oh, and Annabelle?” His voice sounded very far away. “This is the bit where you stop talking.”

***

Annabelle had been thirty for nearly a month. Well, not exactly.

They all said that she looked amazing. So realistic.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her body. But, she could watch, from her frame.

She’d watched as Julian approached her with a paintbrush dipped in varnish – to seal the work – and she’d watched with her world turned sideways as they carried her canvas from the studio to the gallery.

She’d watched as they hung her up on the wall and made comments about her like she wasn’t there at all.

She’d screamed, too, or tried to. They hadn’t been able to hear her.

Julian had approached her again when they were alone, hands in his pockets, perfectly relaxed and pleased with himself.

“It’s a good trick, isn’t it? I’ve always had the knack of turning people into portraits.” He’d flashed her the same quick, reassuring smile he always did as he peered up at her. “As I said, it’s all about getting to know the person. Getting them to pour their soul out to you.”

He’d laughed, like he so often did, only this time it was at his own joke instead of hers. Or maybe she had always been the joke.

“I did worry for a moment that I wouldn’t be finished in time. But, don’t worry. We made it. You’re twenty-nine forever! Just like you wanted. Just like I promised. I’m not that cruel.”

She’d wanted to tell him that this was not what she’d wanted. She wanted to ask a million questions. She wanted to punch him.

Instead, Annabelle watched as Camille stepped into the exhibition room, on opening night.

She watched Camille scan the crowd, feverishly, expecting her to be there.

She watched as Camille’s attention snagged on the vast painting of her across the room.

God, Camille.

Her girlfriend made a beeline over. It had been an age since Annabelle had last looked at her, properly looked at her, hadn’t it?

Camille’s face crumpled a little as she studied the portrait; a myriad of regret and fear and confusion. Hurt. Her eyes were red and swollen like she’d been crying. She raised one hand towards Annabelle’s life-sized face, as if to touch, but didn’t. Her fists curled at her sides instead.

Guilt twisted in Annabelle’s gut. Camille looked exactly like how one might when learning that their girlfriend had cheated on them.

She felt an absurd surge of hope, despite everything, that Camille might see her where no one other than Julian had. The portrait, for all of its intimacies, suggested a grand love affair. People didn’t vanish fairly from grand love affairs, they just didn’t! It was suspicious, right? He was the last person to see her. The proof was in the painting!

Camille stared at her for a moment longer, her jaw set with grim determination. Then she scrubbed a hand over her face. Her shoulders hunched against some unbearable, undefinable weight. Her dark hair was greasy with worry.

“I’ll find you,” Camille still whispered. “I swear, I’ll find you.”

Annabelle’s stomach sank.

“No, Camille—” Of course, the words didn't come out. Nothing did.

She’d had been such an idiot, hadn’t she?

She felt a fresh stab of longing for that surprise birthday party.

How long had they waited for her to arrive? Waited for her.

Had Camille reported her missing? There would be no body to find, no evidence. The painting, the wanting limited eyes she looked out of, felt like a mockery.

Maybe the life she had with Camille hadn’t been perfect, not by a long shot, but at least they’d been alive. At least they’d been real.

Camille began to turn away.

“Please.” Annabelle’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry. I’m here, please. Don’t leave me! Camille!”

More attendees bustled to claim prime spot in front of the painting, murmuring about how talented Julian was, speculating on if Annabelle was his lover. Camille flinched.

“It makes me feel,” one of gallery attendees said, “like I’m interrupting them in a private moment, you know? Of course, it’s so Julian that she’s not actually a nude—”

She couldn’t see Camille anymore.

She was never going to see Camille again, was she?

CAMILLE. CAMILLE. CAMILLE.

Annabelle screamed it with everything she had, every atom of her, with the absolute certainty that if her girlfriend walked out the gallery door that Annabelle would never escape the painting.

She would never get to say sorry, or kiss Camille, or tell her properly that nothing had happened or would ever have happened, despite what she may have let her foolish heart feel.

She’d just liked the way he looked at her.

She didn’t want to stop the clock.

She wanted her life back, to live.

The painting hit the floor of the exhibition with an almighty crash.

Everyone scattered back. Red wine spilled like a crime scene against the polished floor.

Camille whirled back around too, alone a few metres away, her eyes wide and startled.

Julian appeared, clutching a glass of champagne in one hand.

“Goddamn these hooks. Who set this up? It’s a hazard. Everyone alright?” He looked around at his adoring fans, and summoned up a rueful smile. “I should have just got eyes to follow you all around the room instead, huh?” He looked down at her, where she stared up, in the same narrow periphery vision he’d painted her with. “Really leaned into the photorealism.”

Past him, past his taunts, Camille looked between the two of them. Uncertain misery flashed across her features once more. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, before closing it.

Annabelle willed her painted self to move again too, to speak, to do anything. She willed Camille to question, to press, to not give up on them and on her. Not now.

“Camille!” Julian had caught sight of her too, and straightened. He gestured for one of the gallery employees to get Annabelle back into position. “I’m so glad you could make it! Is Annabelle not with you? She was so excited for the exhibition…”

“You haven’t seen her?” Camille’s voice broke. “I – I thought she’d be here, at least. With you.”

“With me?” Julian spoke mildly. Innocently. “No, no. I haven’t seen her. I thought she was with you. Is something wrong?” His tone gentled, as he walked towards Camille. “She mentioned you’d been having some problems…”

“No – it wasn’t like that – Camille—”

Crowds swarmed Annabelle’s painted self once more. She was lifted back on the wall, as if nothing had happened.

"Let me get you a drink," Julian said. "You can tell me everything."

She caught a glimpse of Julian's arm wrapped around Camille's waist. The way she leaned into him, looked up at him. His lips by her ear.

"Camille—"

By the time the room cleared, they were already gone.

#the last of these stories I swear #turning 30 #short story #horror #fiction #writing #creative writing #writeblr #getting rid of the archive just in case #idk what to tell you #art #magical realism

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 1 year

Text

#367

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? Seriously? You call me in on my day off. I cancel my afternoon with my Marine buddies at the lake. Ok fine, I’ll catch up with them later. I drive twenty minutes to get here. There’s hardly anybody else around. I come over and you want to talk about landscaping this back region, something that could have waited until Monday? Really? I thought considering what happened yesterday that you would be asking to give me a blowjob or something….

“…Oh for fuck’s sake! Do not fucking pretend that you and I weren’t at Ruby’s bookstore yesterday at the same time. You and I were in the last two booths on opposite sides of a good sized glory hole. You sucked my dick for fifteen minutes, edging me a couple times. You whispered, ‘Let me lick your ass.’ You did just that when I turned and offered my crack for your tongue. Then I flooded your mouth with my usual massive load. Now do you remember?

“Good. You can knock this coy shit off. You called me to come in, brought me to the back part of the property where no one ever goes, in hopes of doing what? Did you think that we would play strip parchesi?

“I get it. You want me to do this, to take the initiative. You want me to ask for a blow job? You don’t have the balls to ask yourself.

“For fuck’s sake. There’s no need for me to ask you. You are a fucking cock hound. Yeah, you may have a wife, three kids in a ten-bedroom house on twenty-four acres, with a detached five-car garage with a two bedroom mother-in-law suite above it, a vacation home in the Virgin Islands, a mid-seven-figure job, and yet you drive half an hour to the nasty industrial part of town to suck rank blue collar dick at a glory hole at Ruby’s bookstore.

“The thing is that you clearly have been doing it for a long time. That wasn’t a casual blow job you gave me. You knew how to manage my fat sausage, like an expert. Your tongue never stopped hitting my sensitive spot. You throated me with a mild struggle, but you didn’t give up. And then, you knew how to read my cock to sense when I was getting close in order to edge me properly.

“So how long have you been sucking dick?... Junior high? Wow. Let me guess. It was some blue-collar factory worker. Probably some big and beefy guy like me. Was it?... Thought so.

“Henry, the guy working the front counter who I have known for years—fucked him a few times—told me that you are a regular, and you pay him a hundred bucks to direct the big guys your way. That’s kinda bold. Hell, that’s how I wound up at your hole.

“I’m surprised I didn’t pick up your sperm burping vibes until now. When I came out of the booth yesterday, you threw open your door to see whose dick you had been sucking. Once we made eye contact, your face went from curious, to excited, and finally to panicked all in one second. You bolted out of there so fast.

“So here we are…. …Faggot? What do you want to do? Your silence is not going to get you my dick in your mouth. You want my dick? Tell me….

“…No, no, no. I know if I were to whip my cock out that you would be on your knees throating me down in no time flat. No, I am asking do you want my dick in your life?… To rule your life?

“Good. What about my ass? Your tongue liked the sweaty musk. You must be an ass eater too. You want to worship my shithole too?...

“Cunt, I better start hearing some ‘Sir’s’ after the yes’s and no’s you give. You understand?...

“That’s better. I have been using men for my own thing for decades. You ain’t the first closeted faggot I have come across. I have worked this situation before.

“Look I work for you whenever anyone else is around, but when we are alone together, I own you. I’m Sir to you, and you will be Cunt or Faggot. I will be calling the shots here. We’ll work out more later.

“When was the last time you had a man use your cunt?... That long? You may not be a virgin, but you will offer the same tightness. Get naked….

“…You don’t do anal? I don’t care. You need to be cunted. You’re gonna be cunted. Naked. Now!... Cunt, I expect you to do what I say, without hesitation. That’s better.

“You need to realize that I fully know how to work with a closet case. Yeah, we are here on a Saturday, when none of my guys are here, we are in the back of your property where no one goes, and most importantly Sarah’s SUV is gone. Considering you are back here about to be cunted, it’s safe to say that she has the kids. How long is she gone?...

“All day? Well hot damn! Walk with me. No, leave your clothes there. You need to be exposed for a bit…. In the middle of the field here.

“On your knees. Your goal is to put as much throat slime as you can on my dick. That’s the only lube I’m going to use. Reach up, unzip me, and take it out. Balls too.

“This is the cock that is going to rule you. I don’t care how many other dicks you suck, my dick is the one at the center of your universe. Suck.

“Ahh,… That’s the tongue I remember. Mmmm. This is the kind of a blowjob I like at the end of a hard day. One that I can unwind with. That’s why I stopped at Ruby’s last night. But today, I’m in control. Hands behind you and keep them there. All the way down to the root. All… the… way… down!

“When I put my hand on your head, I’m in control of the blowjob. You dedicate that airway to me. Gag motherfucker. Gagging only puts more throat lube on my dick. I’m going to give you a minute to really lube me up.

“…Struggle with that fat cock. I would have expected a more experienced deeper throat. We’ll get that trained right. Blowjobs when the man is in control are a lot different, hunh?

“…Ok turn around. On your knees…. Don’t worry while we are out in the open, no one is here. Knees spread. Shoulders on the ground. Arms at your side. Palms by your knees and face up.

“This is how to present a cunt for a cunting. And what a pretty pussy it is. So pretty, that I think you earned an extra glob of spit. There.

“Scream fucker. I always go right to the root. No fucking countdown. No time to accommodate. Oh, fuck you are tight. Man. This cunt is mine now. I decide what to do with it. We are going to have some fun.

“You like blue collar men? Cunt, I am going to whore you out to some nasty big brutes. I know places where cunts are used and tossed aside. There are a few rest stops on the interstate, some truck stop with old school showers, there’s even a mechanic shop I know with a nasty bathroom around back. I can’t wait to transform this cunt a perpetual sloppy mess.

“Remember I told you I was going to the lake with my Marine buds? We are all hard-working men who enjoy using cunt fags. That’s why we go to the lake, to use them hard. If you think you can get away from the family for an overnight, we’ll go up there later today.

“Oh there you go. Now keep that cunt relaxed. Tightness is hot in the beginning, but ultimately, I like it sloppy. Oh man. I’m getting close. Fucking close. This cunt was made for my dick. Here it cums! Here it fucking cums! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!

“Goddamn. Cunt, you may give great blowjobs, but this cunt is gold.

“When I pull out, your mouth will move to clean me up. If you want to jack off while doing it, go for it.

“…Oh look, there’s a little blood mixed in with my load. A tiny skid mark. It all goes in your mouth…. Fuck! Does that feel good.

“Ok Cunt. This is what’s going to happen. I will rule your cunt, your dick, your mouth, basically you. I don’t care if you still go to Ruby’s to suck on more blue collar dick. I’m not that kind of possessive. But when I want your holes, I want them now. I understand there is the wife thing. I can work around that.

“I want to know all details of all the loads you take. If you spend an afternoon at the glory holes, I want to know how many cocks did you suck, and how many loads did you swallow. You’ll have a tracker on your phone so I know where you are at all times.

“Getting away to service me is going to require some changes from you. The one that pops into mind is get Sarah’s goddamned yoga studio out from over the garage. I’m going to move in there. It makes sense to have me on grounds in general, but now I will have a room nearby for my cock to enjoy some nearby cunt.

“I will also accept a raise. If I’m going to be fucking you, it will cost extra. Yeah that makes me a whore, but I’m fine with that.

“Now we get to the part of the conversation where you realize just how much you are owned by me. You know Ruby’s has hidden cameras throughout their booths? No? Not many are aware. Henry showed me a few very clear videos of you going to town on some rather big dicks. I have copies on my phone….

“No, no, keep cleaning the mess you left on my cock. I can show the videos to you later. My buds at the lake will definitely appreciate seeing them. You know, having it on my phone, I can show them to anyone.

“If you think that our relationship is going to be all fucking and sucking, I’ve only just begun. I keep telling you that I own you; I really do fucking own you.

“OMG are you cumming?... Fuck yeah!... You are a sick faggot!”

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thefallennightmare · 1 month

Note

I’d love to see a best friends to lovers/idiots in love with Noah. If you haven’t done it already

Everyone knew that you and Noah had feelings for each other; besides the two of you.

You thought Noah wouldn't cross the 'best friend little sister' line.

Noah thought you would never see him more than 'Nicholas' best friend.'

The two of you have known each other since he was twelve and you were ten.

As you grew older, the scrawny teenager became a strong musician. But on the inside, he was still the Noah you knew.

Your heart had always been his, whether he knew it or not.

He didn't but his own heart was forever yours.

"He doesn't like me. Not the way I like him." you told Jolly.

He rolled his eyes. "Y/N, you can't be that blind. He hasn't stopped staring at you all night. You two have been in love since you were kids."

You were at Noah's place for a get-together and while you sat on the couch with Jolly, Noah was hanging in the adjacent kitchen talking with Michael and Jesse.

"He's probably staring at some girl behind me. I'll never be more than Nicholas' little sister."

There was no one standing behind you.

"Y/N doesn't like me. I'm the last person she loves like that," Noah muttered to Jesse.

He pinched his eyes shut. "Dude, you can't be that blind. Whenever you walk into the room. Her eyes always find you. You've loved her since you were a teenager. You're twenty-seven now, you can't keep hiding it."

"I can't do that to Nicholas. His sister is off limits," Noah shook his head.

That was the farthest thing from the truth. Nicholas was rooting for you two to be together. So much so he set something up so you and Noah had no choice but to be alone with each other.

While you thought you were meeting everyone for lunch the next day, you were shocked to see just Noah sitting at a table for two. He was also as shocked as you were.

"Hey, am I late?" You asked while tentatively sitting down next to him.

He adjusted the sunglasses over his eyes, the auburn hair peppering his upper lip and chin. "You're right on time. I think we were set up to be here just the two of us."

You'd known Noah for so long but you can't remember the last time you two hung out alone.

At some point during the lunch while you two conversed as friends, some fans came over to ask Noah for some pictures and autographs. You sat off to the side, quietly watching. You didn't like how one of the girls got a little too close to Noah.

You couldn't say anything because he wasn't yours, even when she asked him for his number.

Not wanting to see if he ended up giving it to her, you left some money on the table for your lunch and were halfway back to your car when you heard him following close behind you.

"Angel, where are you going?"

His nickname for you made you halt in your steps, slowly looking back at him.

"I don't want to get in the way of you getting a date," you responded dryly.

Something twinkled in his eyes. "Are you jealous?"

"Did you give her your number?" You ignored his question with one of your own.

"No, I told her I was interested in someone else."

Your heart sank low and prepared yourself for heartbreak.

"I bet she's lovely."

"She is," Noah nodded while stepping closer to me. "Especially when she's jealous."

You scoffed. "I am not jealous!"

It then clicked what was going on and you couldn't hide the smile.

"You're talking about me," you said slowly.

Noah brought you into his arms and nodded. "I didn't think you felt the same until now."

"I didn't think you'd felt the same way either, angel."

"So what happens now?" You asked, hopping on your heels.

"I'd like to kiss you if that's alright," he breathed over your lips.

Your answer was you closing the distance, tasting his drink and lunch on his lips.

#tina talks #the fallen nightmare headcannons #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens headcannons

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hqbaby · 9 months

Text

twenty — more than

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.5k content. swearing, mentions of sex

Suna doesn’t know where the time went. One moment, he seems to have you in the palm of his hand, the next, he barely sees you at all. You’re just gone from his life, gone in the way that matters most.

It’s been two months since you and Atsumu started dating officially. He doesn’t talk to you anymore and he avoids the subject as much as he can around Atsumu, but from what he can tell, the two of you are doing great. You’re happy together, perfect even. Atsumu’s exactly what you need.

And that makes him feel terrible.

“Rin,” the girl in his bed calls, “are you okay?”

He looks up from the corner he’s decided to sit in and shrugs at her. “Dunno.”

This probably looks really bad. He’s just spent the last two hours fucking her and now he can’t even go near her. At least he’s managed to remember her name. Ayame. He never calls her that when he comes though. He just can’t.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says. “You can take the bed, I’ll stay on the couch.”

“You don’t need to do that—”

“It’s fine. I don’t really sleep in my bed anymore.”

Ayame looks at him sadly. She pities him, he knows she does. At this point, everyone knows that you and Atsumu are together. When the basketball team found out, it became a whole thing that ended with the entire campus basically getting a PSA that you are off-limits now.

She shifts a little. “Can I ask you a question?”

He nods at her weakly. “Sure.”

“Do you love her?”

Suna feels that burning in his chest again. It happens every time someone mentions you, every time he thinks about you, every time he sees your yellow Winnie the Pooh toothbrush beside his (he can’t bring himself to get rid of it).

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “If it isn’t love, I don’t know what it is.”

Ayame offers him a sad smile. “At least you know what love is,” she tells him. “Not a lot of people actually get to experience it. They think they do, but they don’t. At least you know it’s real.”

He chuckles bitterly. “What good is that?”

She sighs. “I don’t know,” she tells him. “But it’s something, right?”

“I can come with ya,” Atsumu offers, placing a bag of detergent in the cart. “Ya can tell ‘em I’m yer assistant or somethin’.”

You grab a bottle of fabric softener and tick it off your list. “My parents aren’t going to believe I have an assistant.”

“And why not? Ya can rule the whole world at this point.”

“‘Tsumu…”

“Y/N…”

You crane your neck and peck his jaw. “I would take you, I really would,” you tell him, turning back to your list. “But my whole family’s gonna be there. I don’t want the first time you meet my parents to be the same day you get harassed to death by my aunts.”

“They’d love me!” he insists.

“I’m not saying they wouldn’t,” you tell him. “I’m just saying that my family is crazy and I don’t wanna drag you down with me.”

He whines. “But how am I gonna survive without ya?”

“It’s three days!”

“That’s a lot of days!”

You groan. “If you stop complaining, I’ll take you to that new sushi place when I get back.”

He furrows his brows. “The one with the good tuna?”

“The one with the good tuna.”

Suddenly all smiles, Atsumu plants a wet kiss on your cheek as he hums the intro to that one anime he’s been obsessed with. “I have the best girlfriend in the world.”

You push the cart to the next aisle as he skips ahead of you. “You’re impossible.”

“I know! And ya still put up with me! Best girlfriend, I’m tellin’ ya.”

You roll your eyes and smile, the two of you working together to get the rest of the groceries you need.

The past two months have been the most interesting time. At first, it was a bit of an adjustment having an actual boyfriend. You went out with guys before but you never really stuck around long enough to find out what being with someone was like. It took you a while to even wrap your head around the word.

Boyfriend.

It just seemed so official. So real.

You don’t think you ever had anything real before.

But there was something about Atsumu that just made the whole thing feel natural. The two of you fell into place perfectly, finding your roles in the relationship together and figuring it out along the way.

One thing you always liked about Atsumu was his honesty. The way you always knew that what you saw was what you got. That part of him helped a lot when the two of you needed to make things clear with each other. You never felt like he was hiding what he thought or felt. What you saw was what you got.

The worst fight you had so far had to do with volleyball. You’d expected that.

Oikawa was right when he said Atsumu was extremely anal about the sport, he would stop at nothing to get things exactly right.

He had forgotten to pick you up one afternoon and, with the rain and the flooding near your residence hall, you ended up stuck in the cafeteria until late. When the two of you finally sat down to talk about it, he acted all self-righteous, saying that he was practicing and how could he have known it was going to rain?

“Ya knew I was gonna be busy!” he said, stomping around the living room. “Ya can’t just expect me to drop everythin’ for ya!”

You put your head in your hands and let out a frustrated sigh. “For fuck’s sake, Atsumu, do I not matter to you at all?”

That seemed to change something in his mind. Like it all clicked. Like he realized that he was being stupid. Of course you matter to him. He’s pretty sure you’re the only thing that does.

The two of you never had the same argument again.

He isn’t perfect, but he sees you for who you are to him. He knows your worth and he knows he never wants to lose you, nothing would be worth as much as you.

Life has worked out for the two of you. And you’ve worked out for each other. You have to admit you could get used to this feeling—this happiness, this warmth, this security—maybe you already have.

“Why don’t you throw a party?” you ask, sticking a lollipop into your mouth as he loads the groceries into his car.

Atsumu makes a face. “But why?”

“Oh, come on,” you say, “you haven’t thrown one in so long.”

“Yeah because hostin’ parties sucks ass.”

“I bet it’s not that bad.”

“Ya just say that ‘cause yer a partygoer, not a party-thrower.”

You pull the lollipop out of your mouth and jump into the passenger seat. “Alright, fine,” you say as he gets in the driver’s seat. “What about just a little night in with the team? You guys haven’t drank together in a while.”

“I don’t like drinking,” he reminds you. “Messes with my system.”

“You can party without drinking.”

“Why do ya want me to have a party so bad?”

“I don’t really want you to have a party,” you tell him. “I just think you spend a lot of time with me and… I don’t know, I kinda feel guilty that you don’t get to do that many things on your own anymore.”

He laughs at that. “I like spendin’ time with ya. Yer so much better than the team.”

“But still.”

“I get it.” He nods. “Yeah, maybe I’ll invite the boys over. It’ll be good for them. Omi especially.”

“You know, I’m always worried he’s gonna steal you away from me.”

Atsumu chokes on his own spit. “Why would ya say that?”

You shrug, a teasing smirk on your lips. “I mean, you talk about him a lot. You know what his dick looks like. Oh! And you have that weird obsession with his—”

He pulls your face to his as the car stops at a red light, kissing you to both shut you up and remind you that there’s no one else in the world that can make him feel this way.

It’s always you.

It’s always going to be you.

“—his vinyl collection,” you finish your sentence as soon as he pulls away.

He pecks your lips one last time, shaking his head with a smile as he starts driving again. “Yer impossible, woman.”

“Ugh, I know right? Maybe you should buy me that cake I like.”

Atsumu shakes his head, chuckling. “Impossible.”

“You love it though.”

“Do I?”

You nod, connecting your phone to the car’s speakers and putting your playlist on. “‘Course you do.”

He glances over at you and finds you grinning at him, all bright and cheery. “Guess I do,” he says, reaching over to put a hand on your thigh. “Probably love it more than I should.”

notes. soooooooooo are we ready to party or what?????

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic

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maelstrom-of-emotions · 1 month

Note

Could you recommend some SasuNaru fics?

SASUNARU FIC RECS

Alright, so here's a collection of some of my favorite, re-read worthy SasuNaru fics of all time. The list is bound to expand, but for now, we have these gems.

i'll let it grow wild in my veins by thunderpoint

Summary:

“That’s good, right?” He feels somewhat out of his mind. It's a rush he's not used to, something he doesn't particularly like, and it leaves him wondering if this is what he should have felt when this whole thing first started. “When your future brother-in-law says shit like that it means that he approves of you, right? Fuck, I’m getting married to Uchiha Itachi’s little brother, Shika. What the fuck-” Shikamaru’s face twists, “Naruto-” The kitchen door bursts open, and Temari steps into the living room, gaping at them both. “Naruto’s getting married?"

Status: Currently Ongoing, 10/?

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn.

Thoughts: One of the best arranged marriage fics ever, the writing is amazing and out of this world, and if you haven't read this masterpiece what are you even doing with your life?

(You can also find the author on tumblr @thunder-point.)

2. everybody knows that you cradle the sun by Lyxxie

Summary:

“Y’know—before mom passed—she used to tell me about my dad. She'd tell me the kind of person you wanted to end up with, someone you kept around. She'd tell me about opposites, about calming the other one down and bringing them back up, about how they'd do the same for you. She'd say that you wanted someone who remembered things about you, not just the big stuff. Mundane shit that doesn't need to be remembered, but they do anyway. She'd say 'keep those who chronicle your life because it's theirs, too'." OR: Naruto challenges Sasuke to a game of “who knows the other person better.” Sasuke panics when he realizes that he might be the winner because what in the actual fuck does that mean? He doesn’t know. Naruto tells him.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Roomates, College/University. Humor. Domestic. Explicit Sexual Content.

Thoughts: A fic I would sell my soul for. You haven't lived if you haven't read this fic.

3. Waiting for an Answer by KinomiAkai

Summary:

After eight years of struggling, Naruto finally caves and confesses to Sasuke. But it's okay; nothing is going to change between them. Everything will be the same. ...The moment Sasuke stops bringing it up every twenty seconds, it'll be the same.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Roomates. Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love.

Thoughts: Sasuke is an Asshole and I am here for it.

(You can find them on tumblr @kinomiakai)

4. It's All In The Kiss (And Bondage) by Dhampir (Dhampire)

Summary:

Sasuke never looked at Naruto as anything more than an annoyance like all his other peers, but a kiss, and a little bondage, is about to change all that. Reddit Crack Fic Idea: After getting kissed in the academy and then attacked and tied up by Naruto, Sasuke realizes he has followed all the steps of the traditional Uchiha ninja courtship(An old process inspired by the kidnapping of a rival clan kunoichi). Sasuke feels really touched and starts acting like a Yandere, being really nice to Naruto in his withdrawn way and getting really mad whenever someone says something bad about Naruto.

Tags: Accidental Engagements, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Humor. Tsundere to Yandere.

Status: Completed, 11/11

Thoughts: Anything by this author is an absolute masterpiece, so do check out their other works! They manage to perfectly balance humor and fluff!

5. you and me, that's my whole world by cloudyheaven

Summary:

“If you wanted me to be your Valentine this bad, you could’ve just said so,” Naruto said. The cheeky grin he was giving him made Sasuke want to kiss him again just to wipe it off his face. However, he wasn’t one to waste a good opportunity. “That’s exactly what I want,” he said, matter-of-factly. The grin fell off Naruto’s face. “Shit, are you serious?” The one where Naruto and Sasuke have been in an unofficial friends-with-benefits arrangement for months, completely unaware of their feelings for each other.

Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Jealous Uchiha Sasuke, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentines Day, Love Confessions.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: A perfect fluffy fic for grey days. Always makes me smile whenever I read it.

6. wear my heart on your sleeve by cloudyheaven

Summary:

Sasuke coughed into his hand and simply looked down at his ass. Naruto followed his gaze and found another uchiwa sown on his left buttcheek. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” he said. “Wait, is this why people have been looking at my ass so much lately?!” He turned to look at his boyfriend again. “Is this why you have been staring at it more than normal?!” Sasuke simply avoided his gaze again. “Not like I need an excuse to look at your ass.” Or, how possessive boyfriend Uchiha Sasuke found a way to mark Naruto and make it sociably acceptable.

Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Chapter 699, Fluff and Humor, Fluff Without Plot, Soft Uchiha Sasuke.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Perfectly balanced fluff and humor fic by the godsend cloudyheaven.

7. all the small wild things by GreatLoversLieInHell

Summary:

Naruto doesn't like to be touched. Sasuke asks him why. (To be loved is to be changed)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Child Abuse, Touch-Starved Naruto.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: A fic that makes my soul ache. The author is simply amazing.

(You can also find them on Tumblr @greatloverslieinhell)

8. the vines that grow by GreatLoversLieInHell

Summary:

After getting discharged from the hospital, Naruto returns to a home that’s no longer standing. Sasuke, who doesn’t do well in cages, flees the first chance he gets. Unmoored, unsettled, Naruto looks to his motherland for answers. Uzushio calls her son home. The road to Uzushiogakure is long, but Sasuke walks it with him. Sasuke, who looks at him, hungry. Sasuke, who sees him, wherever the light gets in.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-War, Uzumaki Naruto-Centric, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending, Uzushiogakure | Hidden Eddy Village.

Status: Completed, 14/14.

Thoughts: I shall create a shrine for this fic one day, for the adoration is not nearly enough as it deserves.

(You can also find them on Tumblr @greatloverslieinhell)

9. A Thousand Summers More by bluelikeskies

Summary:

Sasuke has seen a million sunrises, a thousand summers, but he has never seen anything like the way Naruto smiles at him, brighter than all those sunrises and summers combined.

Tags: Pining Sasuke, Soft, Prose, Mythical Beings and Creatures.

Status: Complete, 1/1.

Thoughts: Beautiful. Simply and utterly beautiful.

10. syzygy by glassedplanets

Summary:

In which Sasuke comes home, an errand needs to be run, several people tell him things, and he realizes just what home really is, for him.

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Reunions, Homecoming, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 6/6.

Thoughts: Ethereal, I adore the writing style of this author.

11. kiss me (under the moonlight glow) by ashmes

Summary:

“You count what happened in the Academy as a kiss?” Naruto’s gaze snaps towards him so quick when he asks, “You don’t?”

Tags: Post-Canon, Post-War, Post Chapter 699, Soft.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: I would sacrifice anything for this fanfic. It is utterly amazing.

(You can also find them on tumblr at @sapphicvevo.)

12. Let me help you (this time) by Here_to_procrastinate

Summary:

Sasuke really kind of loves his boyfriend and wishes the idiot would start looking after himself at least a little bit. ~ After the war Naruto can't stop helping everybody and is slowely but surely running himself into the ground. With a bit of help from others Sasuke tries to finally be what Naruto needs.

Tags: Whipped Sasuke, Jealous Sasuke, Everybody Loves Naruto, Fluff, Humor, A Bit of Angst, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Protective Shikamaru & Sakura.

Status: 1/1, Complete.

Thoughts: Perfect feel good fic.

13. Overcoming Distance by Athqh16

Summary:

It starts with a bento box. Black with a white cover and a red strap to keep it together. There was nothing actually pernicious about it except for the fact that the person who'd suddenly placed it in the middle of Naruto's lonely cafeteria table was his one and only rival, Sasuke motherfucking Uchiha

Status: 7/7, Completed.

Tags: Modern Au, Angst, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Friends To Lovers.

Thoughts: An absolute classic, I adore this!

(You can also find the author on tumblr @atqh16)

14. homeward by mnee

Summary:

Sasuke returns to Konoha. Or, more accurately, to Naruto.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Chapter 699, Soft, Boys in Love.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Utterly divine, it's so soft I want to cry.

15. a public display of affection by fiveandnocents

Summary:

In the three hours since their arrival, Gaara has stumbled across them kissing no less than seven times. Considering that they are all ninja, he is very aware that this is no coincidence. Or, five times Naruto and Sasuke get caught (plus the first time no one was around).

Tags: 5+1 Things, Possessive Sasuke, Kissing, Post-Canon, Not Boruto Canon.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: This story could not be any more perfect.

16. The Way To A Man's Heart by littledust

Summary:

Sasuke has no idea how to woo Naruto.

Tags: Fluff, Humor.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Perfect fic for a pick-me-up. Makes me smile everytime.

17. the time traveler's husband by blind_io

Summary:

Throughout his life, Naruto travels to different moments in Sasuke’s timeline. It changes them both.

Tags: Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe, Inspired by The Time Traveler's Wife.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Brilliant. Simply and utterly brilliant.

18. The sun is too bright, it hurts by waywardfacegarden

Summary:

The first time Sasuke sees Naruto, they are six years old. Sasuke is not stupid, he learns fast, and there are three basic things about Naruto you can know after being five seconds in the same room as him: first, he’s noisy. Second, he talks a lot. Third, he’s annoying. Years later, Sasuke thinks the same, but Naruto is much more than that to him.

Tags: Childhood Friends, Enemies To Friends To Lovers, Everyone is Alive, Modern AU.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: chefs kiss Magnifique. Deserves all the kudos in the world.

19. i want you to want me (i'd love you to love me) by Aethelar

Summary:

Five times Naruto kissed Sasuke and he left, plus one time Sasuke kissed Naruto and stayed.

Tags: 5+1, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: This fic is something to live for. It is just so beautiful.

20. Red or Blue? by ReleasedFromHisCage

Summary:

Naruto took over his godfather's store so he could retire and creates a safe space for his regulars and one-time customers alike, mostly his regulars though. Sasuke Uchiha is one of these regulars.

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Mild Hurt/Comfort.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: It's everything I've ever wanted in a fic.

21. don't stay away for too long by kintou

Summary:

With Naruto living there Sasuke's apartement has finally turned into a home. So what he doesn't quite get is that Naruto is here, in his pyjama's, telling him he's going to move out.

Tags: Modern Au, Roomates, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Breakfast.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: And they were roommates. Oh my god they were roommates. I am a puddle on the floor. This is simply too precious. It's not good for my heart.

(You can also find them on Tumblr @soft-fics)

22. Killing it by dawnstruck

Summary:

A year after Jiraiya's death, a new Icha Icha volume gets published. Self-declared Number One Fan, Hatake Kakashi, grows suspicious, but keeps buying them anyway.

Tags: Humor, Mid Crack, Mind Angst, Kakashi POV.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: From the summary to the last line this fic had me hooked. Witty and charming and just the best.

23. The Color Of Your Heart by RedRemember

Summary:

The Uchiha were blessed ninjas who possessed demon-like abilities and demon blood. Their race had been wiped out almost to extinction, but a survivor sat in Kakashi’s midst. Kakashi felt apprehensive about training such a child, not wanting to train a bloodthirsty creature how to be a better hunter. & “You’re experiencing your first heat.”, and “You’re an omega.” These were phrases his caretaker kept saying to him. Naruto felt extremely weak, but he understood one thing, and that was he would never be an alpha like Sasuke.

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Naruto, Alpha Sasuke, Personal Growth, Blood and Violence, Mating Bond.

Status: Ongoing, 7/12

Thoughts: When I tell you I hit that subscribe button so fast. Simply perfect. All my hopes wrapped into a beautiful fic.

24. Bouquet of hate by FoolishFortuna

Summary:

Sasuke confesses his feelings with an unusual bunch of flowers. Humorous fluff!

Tags: Fluff, Flowers, Humor, Getting Together, Confessions, First Kiss, Sasuke's a Dick but he's adorable.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Hilarious, sweet and amazing - a perfect fic to cheer you up on bad days, sad days or just any day in general.

25. Bare by KinomiAkai

Summary:

He's too bare. Too awake. Too used to the night and too desperate to leave it. Naruto's hand is a lifeline.

Tags: Sasuke POV, Love, Poetic, Romance, Ficlet.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Simply gorgeous, ethereal, beautiful. Short and Sweet. It's perfection to the very T.

26. Just kiss me, you idiot. by yes_iamafrog

Summary:

Ino decided to have the annual New Year's Eve party at her house. Or: Naruto and Sasuke kiss at midnight on January 1st.

Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pining, Idiots in Love, Domestic Fluff, New Year's Kiss.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: The sweetest way I have ever been destroyed.

27. i love chaos, i love toxic by minttens

Summary:

Sasuke cannot handle the gossip that Naruto is in love with someone, and he makes it his mission to find out who.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Post-War, Jealous Sasuke.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: I'm gonna be honest, I cried. This fic is absolute perfection, someone please build a temple in it's name.

(Also, you need an AO3 account to read this fic!)

28. unforgivable by eloquentstars

Summary:

Lesson one in Dating Uzumaki Naruto 101 is: Never get between a man and his food.

Tags: Fluff Without Plot, Modern Au, Cute, Tooth-Rotting Fluff.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Sobbing for the tragic ending of Naruto/Pizza, but Sasuke/Naruto are too cute for me to mourn too long.

29. Blue Oceans and Summer Suns by orphan_account

Summary:

“Stop fucking lying to me.” He knows he isn’t, but it’s difficult for him to accept that it’s Naruto’s genuine feelings. “It isn’t a lie,” Naruto insists, leaning in once more to peck his lips as if to prove a point. He’s half on top of Sasuke now, who lays flat on his back staring up at him. “You should see yourself right now. You look as if you’re looking at something worth more than your own life.”

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Sleepy Cuddles, Smitten Sasuke.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: I’m, like, one hundred percent super duper unbelievably in love with this fic.

30. Inevitablity by Sanauria_Maldhun

Summary:

Naruto's stressed and pining after a man who views him only as a friend. Deciding to get married to Ino isn't the best decision he's made (ever), given that they had been absolutely drunk while making such a declaration, but it's... a decision. Besides, what does he have to lose?

Tags: Background Sakura/Ino, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Angst, Jealous Sasuke, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 4/4.

Thoughts: It's like a cup of coffee/tea that perfectly hits the spot. I love this fic, I've re-read this so many times and it always make me feel. I love Ino & Naruto's friendship.

31. Armistice by surveycorpsjean

Summary:

Sasuke is still here. Or maybe; love hasn't passed them yet.

Tags: Fix-It, Getting Together, Pining, Takes Place Three Years After The Boruto Movie, Where Naruto Gets Divorced and Sasuke never gets married.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Best of the best. Like, the best.

32. speak now or forever hold your peace by frogsterz

Summary:

Will the ceremony be over by the time Sasuke makes it back? Is the news even accurate? Maybe Naruto’s not getting married, he’s getting…carried, somewhere. On a palanquin. Or he’s getting buried. No, that’s worse. (Sasuke is convinced by a passing rumour that the love of his life, Uzumaki Naruto, is about to throw the biggest and most extravagant wedding ceremony in Konoha's history...but he's not the groom. How could such a disaster have happened to him?)

Tags: Misunderstandings, Idiots in Love, Sasuke Has The Emotional Intelligence of a Wet Loaf of Bread, Post-Canon, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: These idiots, I love 'em to death.

33. symbol of the uchiha by humdrum_hummingbird

Summary:

Sasuke can't sleep, which, even after the war, is pretty typical. Instead, he stays up and watches Naruto sleep, and tonight, like most nights, Naruto is wearing a shirt with the Uchiha fan emblazoned on the back. You can't really blame Sasuke for being a little possessive after everything they've been through.

Tags: Sasuke Returns To Konoha, Possessive Sasuke, Naruto is a Ray of Sunshine, Comfort No Hurt, Soft Fluff, Boys in Love.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: This is so soft and gentle and tender I'm crying.

34. Final Destination by chaosxxx

Summary:

“The future is never set in stone. Even the smallest decision can alter its course. One action, be it accidental or intentional, can result in you meeting the love of your life! Or it can leave you alone and miserable… or dead. What I have here in front of you are the cards that show what lies at the end of each broad road.” There's a festival in Konoha, and Sasuke and Sakura visit a fortune telling booth. They just wanted a bad palm reading, not this disturbingly accurate nonsense! (SasuNaru fic. Pre-timeskip. Happy Ending)

Tags: Fortune Telling, Humor, Romance, Happy Ending, Confused Naruto, Pining Sasuke, Flirting, Cute.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Everyone needs this fortune teller. Where can I meet her? Simply amazing and precious. Confused Naruto is just so adorable.

35. You Taste Like Coffee by itadakimasu

Summary:

All Sasuke really wanted was his nightly caffeine fix. How did it turn into this?

Tags: Coffee AU, Barista!Naruto, Confident!Sasuke, Oneshot, Sexual Content, Cute, Fluff.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Perfect, like a good cup of coffee. Kicking my feet giggling throughout the entire thing.

36. Curiosity killed a cat by LydiaClairvoyanne

Summary:

Naruto realizes Sasuke behaves like a cat, and in his last attempt to make friends with the Uchiha, he tries to treat him like he would a scared, lone, traumatized, stray kitten. (I wonder what can go wrong with a plan like this.) (Nothing, the answer is. Nothing, because the plan works.)

Tags: Sasuke Behaves Like A Cat, Naruto Notices This And Treats Him Like One, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, Sleepy Cuddles, Traumatized Boys, Soft Boys.

Status: Completed, 13/13

Thoughts: One of the best fics, it manages to give such a good character study without even trying. I love this fic, I would like to marry it.

37. in his arms by loverofgaydragons

Summary:

Naruto was there the night Sasuke left Konoha.

Tags: Angst, No Happy Ending, Hurt No Comfort.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: I sobbed so hard while reading this. It's just so beautiful, it's so beautifully written, it make me choke on sobs, I had to clean my glasses due to the tears, it's amazing. A heartbreak that hurts so good I will let it continue.

38. Time to Smile by hinata22

Summary:

Sasuke is on the verge of leaving the village forever. Naruto has other ideas.

Tags: Boys Kissing, Confession, Happy Ending.

Status: Complete, 1/1/

Thoughts: If you thought the last one was sad, here's a happier version. I read this fic back when I didn't have an AO3 account and would desperately keep the tab open as to not lose it. This fic is heartbreaking in it's beauty and lifting in it's sweet moments. A blessing, this fic is a true blessing.

39. The Master Plan of An Uchiha Husband-To-Be by Watermelonsmellinfellon

Summary:

Uchiha Sasuke is determined to marry his new best friend Naruto so he can share his family with the blond boy. He'll be the best husband ever and Naruto won't want for anything ever again!

Tags: Humor, First Crush, Pre-Relationship, No Uchiha Massacre, Fluff.

Status: Complete, 2/2.

Thoughts: Simply adorable, from start to finish.

40. Unrequited: sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't by KizuKatana

Summary:

Naruto hates to hurt people's feelings. So when Hinata puts him on the spot about dating her, he doesn't want to come straight out and tell her he doesn't like her that way. Instead, he comes up with a poorly thought out idea to tell her he is dating someone already. All he needs to do to convince her is to show her a photo of the guy. He just needs to get a picture of someone so ridiculously hot she will know it's hopeless. He actually has someone in mind, a guy he'd had a one-sided thing for from his gym. Although, the guy is sort of an ass and probably wouldn't agree to posing for a picture. Naruto decides to ask him anyway. What's he got to lose?

Tags: Fluff, Unrequited Love Or Is It?, Humor, Cute.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Absolute blast, had a lot of fun reading this!

Aight, that's it for now.

#sasunaru #naruto x sasuke #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #sasuke x naruto #sasunaru fic recs #SasuNaru #SasuNaru fic recs #ao3 fanfics #ao3 fanfiction #fic recommendation #fic rec #fanfic reccomendation

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byizoyas · 10 months

Note

omfg request time because i cannot stop thinking about how this would go

but could you please write an alhaitham fic with the prompt "who did this to you?" with the whole showing up at his doorstep late in the night thing? no pressure and doesn't have to be long at all!!

~ nessa ♡

genshin impact ; requests

2023/byizoyas. — pls do not plagiarize or repost and claim as yours ! thank you very much :)

✘ sfw. modern au. coming to his apartment late at night, crying. bonus ‘who did this to you’ trope for nessa ✘ alhaitham x gn!reader

incessant sobbing and a sad song was all one could hear from your room at this moment.

you were not usually that dramatic but you didn’t remember someone hurting your feelings so hard before and since it came from your family, you had a hard time calming yourself.

words are meaningless they said; but if they saw you now, would they say the same ? your eyes were all red and swollen from the tears and your body wouldn’t stop shaking, putting you in an even more uncomfortable state.

you looked around yourself. you were alone. but loneliness was most likely the very last thing you needed now. you craved an embrace, not just by anyone; by a friend.

you scrolled down your contacts to find the person that would perhaps be awake as it was pretty late at night.

‘kaveh’ you said to yourself, typing as fast as you could as if your phone would disappear from your hands from a minute to another.

r you home ? need someone rn :(

your text was delivered and as you kept staring at the screen, waiting to see it changed to a read status, your leg started shaking by itself.

the music had stopped by now, and as your tears kept on falling down by themselves, you at least stopped being so loud. you didn’t know if it felt better to cry your heart out, almost screaming on the pillow or not but at least you could breathe in and out more easily now.

you only had to wait a few more minutes before kaveh replied.

come to my place

that was his only text and you needed no more to simply put on your shoes and leave your house.

their words were repeating in your brain, and as you started to think about how you would never forget it, the tears came back. you looked around quickly, making sure no one saw you in this miserable situation.

no one was around. now you started to think the world was sending you a message. you didn’t live in a little city at all, you were in a pretty big one actually. and as it was friday night, there usually was a few people hanging around.

but tonight, on the night you needed to see people, you were left all alone with your thoughts and tears.

you shook your head, throwing all the negative thought away when after a few twenty minutes of walking, you arrived near kaveh’s address. it wasn’t lightened so you started asking yourself whether he was still up.

you didn’t take long to come you thought. perhaps he was in his room then; so you knocked on the door several times.

your phone displayed 3 am. you really went through the city so late at night only to vent to your friend; but the longer you were standing waiting by the door, the more you started to regret your choice. perhaps you were annoying him; perhaps he had things to do, other than listening to you.

you turned around after overthinking it, ready to leave and go back to your house when you heard the door opening, quickly followed by the familiar voice of alhaitham.

‘y/n ? what are you doing here ?’ his voice was monotonous and obviously he had just woken up.

‘a-alhaitham, hi. i wanted to see kaveh but i guess he’s not there.’

you looked away, avoiding his eyes that seemed to read right through you.

‘indeed he went out tonight.’

you looked at your feet now, before looking back at him. ‘oh. i will take my leave then, sorry for disturbing.’ you waved at him and tried to leave for the second time tonight when he took your wrist.

‘wait. are you okay ?’

of course his observant eyes were not going to miss the obvious pain written all over your face. he, who usually remained stoic, seemed quite worried now.

could it be that he worried about you ? or was it just you that needed something to change your mind ? in any case it did make you feel at ease and way better than before.

‘yeah!’ you lied. you always did, but as much as you were close to kaveh, you were never that close to alhaitham. you only exchanged banalities most of the time, and a few jokes around.

yet he didn’t seem to believe you; as if he knew you better than that and in the end, perhaps he did.

‘liar. come in and wait for kaveh.’ he almost ordered. ‘it’s late, i wouldn’t want to have it on my conscience if something bad happened to you.’

now he was the one looking away.

you quickly followed him inside the apartment since he kind of insisted. the excuse of not wanting to have something bad on this conscience was only hiding his genuine worry about you.

you guys went on the couch, watching tv but it was only on to fill the silence. none of you spoke. and none of you were paying attention to the series playing on the plasma screen.

alhaitham wasn’t so good with comforting people. a part of him wished he could just hug you and speak nice words that would ease your pain but nothing came.

meanwhile you were still overthinking your night. you calmed down but somehow it felt like a giant wave was about to drown you when the words echoed again.

you apologized to the man who was sitting next to you and went to the bathroom to refresh yourself with some cold water.

now you looked real messy. your hair half wet half dry, your face fully drowned in tears and your eyes swollen like before.

you despised the way you looked and you despised even more the way you didn’t manage to cry quietly because you heard alhaitham knocking on the door.

‘y/n open the door.’ he asked. but the door wasn’t closed anyway and after some seconds, alhaitham didn’t have the patience to hear your crying and not to anything about it so he opened the door only to find you sitting down, head on your arms.

you looked up at him. alhaitham gulped at the sight. you were often laughing, always the one joking around with both he and kaveh and he couldn’t believe that you were the one crying on his floor now.

‘who did this to you ?’ he asked, his brows frowning; betraying both his annoyance and anger. he hated to see you like that and he wished to never see you that way again.

he kneeled in front of you and took you into his arms. you couldn’t find strength to say anything so you kept on sobbing against his body, tightening the hug.

his embrace felt good, it really did and you were so grateful for that. you intended on kaveh to be there for you but alhaitham was doing good too.

you managed to stop crying, and alhaitham helped wiping away your tears with both his fingers and a tissue he got from the cupboard.

just at this moment did the two of you heard the front door opening.

‘wow wow. stealing away my role tonight alhaitham ?’ kaveh asked when he stepped in on the two of you, very close to each other, and alhaitham caressing your hair and comforting you as best as he could.

‘perhaps i will steal it for a longer time.’ alhaitham replied to tease kaveh. and it did work since the two of them started arguing again over everything and anything but it got quite fun to you.

although as much as you and kaveh laughed, alhaitham seemed very serious with his sentence; almost making it sound like a promise.

but you didn’t mind; after all he was the one who comforted you tonight and who made you feel better despite the horrible things you had heard just before.

you could easily get used to such a sweet alhaitham, and if this softness in him was something that made you like him even more; he, had liked you all this time.

and the fact he could be the one to bring up a smile on your face tonight made him feel kinda victorious.

#byizoyas.#alhaitham #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham drabble #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham fluff #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin scenarios #genshin drabbles

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raainberry · 6 months

Text

Blue Hour

“The blue hour is the idea that everything is about to end or, on the contrary, that everything is about to start again.”

Jihyo x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - it was only supposed to be a fling

wordcount - 1.9K

T/W - Blood (mentioned (1) once)

A/N - missing the killing me good era😔 i actually don’t know how to feel about this one but i miss my girl so

Twenty to thirty minutes.

That’s how long it takes for the sun to fully rise. To show itself in the morning.

It takes the same amount of time to fully disappear. To hide itself in the evening.

In each case, the moon isn’t too far away. You remember seeing it every time before she showed up.

And every time after she left.

Nature’s schedule is strict. So was her’s, leading the two of you to only meet at night: in between two blue hours.

“It’s a little cloudy today.”

The sound of her voice broke your staring contest with the moon, finding the glow in her eyes to be more interesting. The latter shone brighter than yesterday, you noticed as she leaned against the railing beside you.

Your own smile pulled a little more at your lips as well, excited to see hers again. You’d only part for half a day’s worth every time, yet it always felt like it stretched as each day passed.

“I didn’t get to see much of the sunset on my way home.” She pouted. “Did you?”

She hoped the rooftop of her apartment building had offered a better end to your day than it did hers. After all, the sunrise and sunsets she’d witnessed from here so far were nicer.

You shook your head in response, though, making her frown. “Just a glimpse.”

“Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow.” She said, still hopeful.

Her optimism made you smile. The sun could stop shining for all you cared, she would do its job better anyway. She was one little sunshine, a true ray of light you wouldn’t have dared to approach if she hadn’t done so first.

“I doubt it. Fall is coming soon.” You reminded, but she shrugged, looking at the darkening horizon with the same spark in her eyes.

“The sun still sets during Fall, don’t be so depressing.”

“But it’s not as pretty.” You pointed out, pulling her eyes to you.

Maybe that’s what you were looking for, she realised, giggling at the sight of a familiar smirk on your lips.

“And what if I’m there?” She asked, grinning and posing with a hand under her chin for you.

She fluttered her eyelids, giving further into her own banter; her grin warm, playful and inviting as she urged you to join her point of view.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, giving in to the harmless corruption with a soft kiss on her happy lips. She managed to steal a few more from your own, smiling into each one despite having to chase them.

When you managed to pull away, she pointed fun at your flushed cheeks, something you expected by now. You sported the shade proudly, her teasing never bothered you, but sometimes you did wonder how she managed to turn you into such a mess.

Maybe it was because things were still recent between the two of you. Or maybe you were just too far gone and—in all honesty—too down bad for her.

Either way made sense, so you never bothered to look further.

“Why do you still blush like that, we’ve been doing this for weeks, you should be used to it.” She teased, but her words landed in a different tone on your ears.

They made you think.

For weeks, you repeated…

“I am, that’s the problem.” You slipped out just under your breath. It was too late to retain the words, so you tried to keep them out of her ears.

It’d been weighing on your mind for a bit, how uncertain your relationship with Jihyo has been.

Whatever was going on between the two of you, it wasn’t exactly conventional anymore.

It was, only until about three weeks ago, when it was all supposed to end. You should not have seen her face past August 31st. That’s how flings worked. How summer flings worked at least. Or how you thought they worked?

You weren’t really sure of anything regarding love and affection. Relationships had taken a whole new meaning the second she laid her lips on yours that one night at the bar.

The feelings, the thoughts, the moments… It was all new.

She was new.

Maybe infatuation was the right word at the time. Now it just felt weak. Unqualified. Wrong.

You couldn’t tie the bond you’d developed down to such an ephemeral idea.

Not when your feelings for her settled in your heart with intentions so far out of field.

“The problem?” She repeated after a while.

Way to ruin the mood, you mentally congratulated yourself.

“What exactly is the problem, Y/N?” She asked, holding onto your sleeve with a couple fingers.

A timid and discreet gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. Your eyes fell down to her hand, and you couldn’t help but feel some of that hope she’d showcased minutes before.

Meeting her eyes again, you noticed the spark was gone, replaced by a clouded gaze similar to the blue sky above. It seemed heavy. Not as dark, only busy.

Was she worried?

“I just… Don’t know where this is going. That’s all.” You tried to shrug it off, pulling your hand away to get the sleeve out of her grip.

The busy streets below kept an awkward silence away from the two of you, allowing you to feign interest about their noise and random happenings.

The distraction could have been sweet if only it weren’t from your own mind.

It was hard not to think it all over. It was hard to focus on the rational part of it. The one telling you to leave tonight before getting hurt more than you already were.

It was hard because of how loud the other part was.

The one happy with just a glance from the woman beside you. Happy with just standing next to her. Seeing her smile, hearing her laugh. Satisfied with her kiss, her touch… As long as you learned more about her.

More than you should.

You sighed into the night, feeling your rationality push through.

“Would it make you feel better if I said I don’t know either?” She broke the silence.

Your eyes found her again, catching her smiling down at her own hands. That smile seemed heavy as well, as if she was forcing it out to avoid any other reaction.

“Not at all.” You said truthfully, causing a chuckle to escape her lips.

You didn’t understand why, especially when her eyes started watering instead of just… crinkling in joy.

Her teeth suddenly pulled on her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as she tried to find words. The right ones. Ones that would make you stay even longer.

Her lips alone weren’t enough for that anymore.

“But… Don’t you want to figure that out together?”

A breath caught in your throat. Then another, after a second. It felt as though you didn’t know how to breathe anymore. Like her question shook much more than your heart.

You looked at Jihyo once more, hoping it would fix it like it did everything else, but her focus remained on her own fingers.

“I know I want to.” She said, picking at her nails, a giveaway of her nerves. “I just thought it was obvious.”

Her eyes finally raised to meet yours, sadness written all over the smile she tried to send you.

“Do you actually?”

Your voice came out a whisper, and it didn’t surprise you. You weren’t sure you wanted to know her answer to that question. You gave her a chance not to hear it. To get away and break the rules with no consequences for a little longer.

Truth was you’d let her.

“I think I like you.”

There it went again; your breathing.

“You think?” You chuckled, but only to fight the tears suddenly pooling in your eyes. “Jihyo, I can’t do this anymore.”

You stared out ahead, your gaze landing on nothing and everything all at the same time. So many lights, buildings, so many trees and people… Yet nothing registered.

All you could process, all you could feel… It emaned from right next to you.

The skies above reminded you of it. The familiar blue drowned its details as time deepened its shade. You watched it happen so many times with her you could blindly tell the time.

08:10pm.

That’s when she decided to take your hand in hers, pulling you away from the overwhelming sights.

That’s when you felt the warmth of her hands against your cheeks as she made you look into her eyes instead.

You focused on the lights reflecting in them instead, trying to avoid her thoughts. They could hurt.

“Tell me something, Y/N…” She trailed off, her eyes desperate for even a sign of your focus on her. “Do you regret any of what happened between us?”

“Yes.”

You watched silently as the effects of your answer painted her features.

They tensed up. Eyebrows lowered, lips narrowed, yet eyes watered, holding a sense of hopelessness you witnessed for the first time… It was messy. As if even she didn’t know how to feel.

You, however, could tell.

She wasn’t angry. She was exasperated. Frustrated.

“Can you feel it too now? Do you see why I regret it?”

You should have known she wouldn’t answer the way you wanted her to.

You knew she was stubborn.

You should have expected her lips on yours.

Just like you knew you’d melt into them with a single kiss despite yourself.

Your will never mattered when it came to her. You always ended up folding to hers, giving into a second kiss before intiating the third one.

And you rarely pulled away first.

“Why?” You practically begged through breaths she’d stolen from you.

The gentle brush of her thumb against your skin, the warmth and care she seemed to hold in her eyes for you, the silent words you could make out in them… It almost made you break down right then and there.

It all suddenly became so obvious.

“Because I like you.” She smiled.

It was bright again. It made you believe her a little more, although you still weren’t convinced.

Maybe she sensed that, as she wasted no time to argue her point.

“That’s why I’ve been making excuses to keep seeing you.”

“My flight back was delayed, can I stay at your place?”

“The company’s letting me choose the flight date and I don’t actually have to go back to work for another week…”

“Can we stay friends? I’d love to just hang out with you. Maybe come see me in Seoul some time?”

“It just happened, let’s just put this on reunion excitment.”

“Yes, friends don’t kiss each other. But friends with benefits do. So no, it’s not weird.”

Maybe they were not all excuses. Some you definitely had a hand in. Yet you remained clueless for some reason.

Love really makes you dumb.

“I thought you were playing me.” You mumbled.

“Then you don’t know me at all.” She said, amused.

“That would be because I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Yet you learned to, didn’t you?”

You nodded, looking down in embarrassment. You couldn’t help but feel ashamed of the drama you’d caused.

You scolded her for not being honest, but you were just as guilty.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled again. “This is all new to me, I guess I freaked out a little.”

Your confession caused a few giggles to escape her lips, to your delight. The sound made you smile as you admired the happiness radiating from her features again.

The intensity of your emotions made it feel as though it had been months since you last had the chance to.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. My intentions could have been a little clearer.” She admitted. “I want to date you.”

You chuckled at her small clarification, finding the moon in the dark blue sky again.

It shined a little more. The blue was turning into its darkest shade yet, as the day finally left room for the night.

The blue hour was over, and it made you smile.

You had all night to spend with Jihyo. The woman holding your smiley cheeks so softly in between her hands.

For the first time since you met her, you couldn’t wait until the next one.

Because this time you won’t have to forget about her once the sun comes out of hiding.

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #jihyo x reader #park jihyo #twice jihyo #jihyo

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rottenblur · 9 months

Text

My modern Romeo |J.MILLER| part two.

Summary: The one year anniversary of meeting joel is your favourite memory, almost getting caught, him confessing his love. Your first kiss with him, only if a year of desire could be cured with just one kiss..

Warnings: fluff, you and joel playing truth or dare like cmon fluffiest shit ever, alcohol you and joel, kissing, making out, grinding on joel???? Semi smut. Joel says a naughty thing y’all. Almost getting caught

It’s one whole year since you met the grumpy old man that lights up your Friday without fail, looking at your watch it reads 2:20am. On your last trade you and joel both decided to meet before four, as every time it ends up dawn before either of you want to go back.

It’s starting to get risky, not that Joel wasn’t trusted to be out till daylight. It’s the fact suspicions of what he was doing out that long, started to rise.

You on the other hand, you weren’t aloud to be out at night, upon request of your parents. Anyone on watch was told to snitch on you, if they saw you out past 8pm.

A whole adult and you were still being treated like you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You take off your grey shorts, slip on your tight black jeans and take a peek in the mirror.

You catch your gaze falling on how your ass looks. God the fuck is wrong with me. Never once have you caught him looking at you in that way, yet you still want him to.

Taking off your loose hoodie to reveal a tight tank top, the heat giving you an excuse to show more skin, you pull on a tight crew neck sweater. Maybe a little too small for you, the bottom of your tank top showing when you lift your arms.

You always dressed up for joel, wanting him to think you were put together. Even though he always showed up in the same worn out blue jeans, he probably had a closet full of them.

You thought about what he might be doing, is he reading one of the many books you had given him, talking with family? Did he have family, you’ll have to remind yourself to ask.

Was he getting ready thinking about what you would think? Probably not, he had confidence. Alot more than you could ever dream of having.

Three am hits, you put on your holster, slipping your gun into it and taking one last glance into the mirror. Okay, you look fine, he probably doesn’t care anyways.

Walking to the meeting spot, a field surrounded by large rocks about a twenty five commute for the both of you. Your heart is in your throat, it always was when you walked to see Joel.

He had an affect on you. Scared of him not showing up, or him actually showing up just share some news that, its getting to risky, he has to stop seeing you.

Your feet hit the familiar grass, it’s worn down into a path from the common commute. You can see a figure sitting in the grass, wearing that same god damn tan jacket. You never got tired of seeing it, seeing him.

A smile that refuses to give rises to your face. “A bit too warm for a jacket don’t you think? Do you have another jacket, poor thing gets too much use.”

He turns his head and a smirk comes to his face, you sit down next to him. “Ya trying to get me outta my clothes? Actually I do you smartass, I just like it.”

Yes. Yes you were trying to get him out of his clothes, even in this god damn felid. You could never say that though.

“So, i know you said we weren’t trading today, but you said something about a walkman last time. I couldn’t forget that, as im incredibly jealous, i got you something.” You pick a cassette out of your pocket and hold it out to him.

He smiles and takes it out of your hand, reading the worn lettering. “Radio head? I actually brought something too..”

You look at him. “What is it?”

He opens his bag and pulls out a bottle of whiskey.

Oh fuck. This, drunk you, is definitely gonna ruin this friendship.

“You ever try this kind before? It’s okay, found it on a supply run. Wanted to save it for a special occasion.” He holds up the bottle for you to see.

He remembered. He remembered!

He opens the bottle takes a swig effortlessly downing it. “To the anniversary of you almost shooting me” He laughs at his own joke, then passes you the bottle.

“Oh fuck you.” You shove him, then take a gulp, coughing as it burns down your throat. He tries to hold a laugh in.

“First time?”

You clear your throat and try to play it cool. “Just been a while”

He shakes his head and takes the bottle back. “No point in lyin’ darlin’. Gonna be a long night, you’re not leaving without getting shitfaced.”

Thirty minutes has passed of you and him passing the bottle back in forth, you’re clearly way more gone than he is, you’re already saying your every last thought.

“You know, i never really got a proper teenage experience like in books.” Taking a sip out of half gone bottle.

“Well I can’t exactly say i know the teenage girl experience, but books are kinda over dramatic.” He looks at you with glossy eyes, maybe he was drunker than you thought.

“Like truth or dare. Never played it before, not alot of kids in the group.” You huff and pass him the bottle.

He laughs, pinching his nose bridge. “I’ll play with ya sweetie.” Tliting his head.

Was he flirting? Was joel fucking miller flirting with me.

“Truth or dare?”

He smiles at the stupid childish game he was playing. “Truth”

You let out a “hmm” then come up with a question. “Do you have family?”

He lets out a groan, takes a sip then passes you the bottle. “I do. A brother, back at jackson, tommy he’s younger.”

A brother, you wondered what their relationship was before the apocalypse. If they got along growing up, if they got along to this day.

You take a swig, slowly growing to the strong burn, a blush spreading to your cheeks.

You two go back and forth for another twenty minutes, the liquor disappearing till the last shot is left, all yours he says.

Its his turn to ask you a question. You’re not sure if you could give him a straight answer, nor talk without giggling. Everything was slowed, the gust of wind didn’t bother you anymore, your body was on fire. You understood why people drank now.

“Truth or dare hun.” The petnames were littered in every sentence now, if you didn’t think he was drunk earlier, he was now. You take the last swig, throwing it across the felid, it shattering on impact.

“Dare.” Little did you know that one word would change everything between you to.

“Kiss me. I dare you to kiss me.”

Fuck. You were in no state to say no, your feelings were overwhelming, the confidence you had was overwhelming.

You were wrong, wrong all this time. Maybe he was checking you out when you weren’t looking. Thinking he was staring at eyes, but he was admiring your plush lips all along.

You swear the blush from the alcohol, mixing with your blush from the words, had turned dark crimson, his desire burned your body.

You lean forward, he looks surprised you’re actually doing it, unknown to him you’ve had a intense crush from the first time you saw him. A year of pining and teasing was finally rewarded.

The space between your face and his disappears, he leans towards you pushing your lips together. He places his hand on your jaw, the other in the crook of your neck. He kisses with hunger, like he wanted to consume you. You kiss him back, he deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, exploring.

It was too late to tell him this was your second kiss, your first real makeout sesh.

You grip his hair and straddle yourself on him, this pulls a groan out of him.

He moves his hands down to your hips, pulling them down onto his. You’re so close to him, you can’t breathe. His jeans rubbing into yours, your chest pressed tight against his, his hands engulfing your hips.

He pulls away for air, panting practically, you can see the blush covering his cheeks. “Is- is this okay- do you want-“ You cut him off pulling him back in for more.

Your hips unknowingly start to grind on him, the more pressure you put on him the more he moans in your mouth. The kisses getting more sloppy, more teeth and spit.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his jeans uncomfortably tight. Your panties soaked, your jeans creating the perfect amount of friction, all you wanted to was undress him, see all of him, have all of him.

Its getting hot, the harsh weather due to the lack of sun meant nothing. Between the alcohol and the fire that was burning in your core it was unbearable, you rip your sweater off. He pulls away, looking you up and down, his eyes holding a tight gaze on your chest.

You both are out of breath, he moves a hand up to grope your chest, squeezing and holding. Your hips pick up a faster pace, a rougher pace.

The sounds of his groans, your whimpers fill the air. No other sounds are heard in the dead of the night, other than your wet lips fighting for more and the sound of your jeans brushing on his.

He mutters something into your mouth, you pull away.

“What?” You’re out of breath and flustered.

He looks at you, those god damn glossy brown eyes could make you cum alone.

“Fuck, i dont know what to do with you. I can’t stop thinking about you darlin’.”

You whimper. “Neither can i”

He kisses you one last time and pulls you off his lap, adjusting himself and sighing. You spot a stain of precum soaking a spot in his jeans, god that make you tremble.

“I- uh we gotta stop. I won’t be able to control myself other wise.”

Fuck. That make your knees weaker than the alcohol did, you drank a shit ton of alcohol, yet he had a bigger affect on you.

“Fuck, i hate it has to be this way, i want you. All of you.” You say, letting out the biggest sigh you could muster.

He practically growls at that.

“I can’t believe i waited so long to do that.” He shakes his head.

“Are you serious? You’ve liked me that long? I’ve been thinking you didn’t even think i was pretty.” You almost shove him.

“Darlin’, what if you didn’t feel that way ‘bout me? I’d feel like a shitty person, especially since you know, you’re young..” He sounds sad, but jesus he’s fucking hot, how could he ever think you weren’t head over heals for him.

“..For the record, i think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Wish i could get you out of my head, thinking the dirtiest things ‘bout you when i get home from seeing ya.”

Fuck. It was unbearable how he was making you feel, you push your thighs together.

“I-“ You get cut off by the sound of hooves pittering on the ground, matched with a deep voice yelling echoes off the mountain’s rocks.

Your heart jumps to your throat, you check your watch, fuck. It’s five, its been three hours since he had left.

His face drops, he signals you to go hide in a cluster of bushes a couple feet away. You run over trying to be quiet, before you become one with the bushes, he holds up three fingers. Got it three am, next Friday.

“This” wasn’t over, he was willing to risk everything for you.

You try to peek through the bush to see whats going on. Joel pulls out his gun, the man approaches on his horse, dismounting it and pushing joel.

“God damn it joel, the fuck are you doing, you were supposed to be home for patrol.” The man looks around. “What are you even doing here?”

You squint your eyes trying to get a better look at him, the sun aiding you. He looked like joel, longer hair, shorter and younger. Tommy. His brother, it must be.

“Chill tommy, i went for a walk, heard a clicker. I’m fine though, thanks for askin’.

It was almost attractive how easy he could lie, especially when it was to protect you.

They walk off, all you could here is mumbles. Till those mumbles turned to the sound of horse hooves hitting the ground, the sound slowly disappearing.

That was the first time you almost got caught, yet it is your favourite memory.

You replayed the night over and over walking back. Sneaking back in praying you wouldn’t get caught. Even if you did, you would die happy, joel likes you, he kissed you.

Part one here

Part three here

My masterlist

AN: PART TWOO!!! Even though this series isn’t getting much attention i very much like it!! Answering a question no one asked study break part three is coming soon don’t get your panties in a bunch unless joel put em in your mouth, then go right ahead ;)this is kinda a slow burn cause like they aren’t supposed to see eachother

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starphasedd · 2 years

Text

Egon

(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader)

Rating: 18 + for violence and explicit smut.

Synopsis: A small confession leads to something completely unexpected.

Notes: As promised!! I'm super proud of this guys! I think I captured Simon quite nicely. I am new to the fandom, and still reading lore. Feel free to correct me on anything you see wrong. Egon is actually the codename for my OC Ema 'Egon' Swann. This fic started with her, but as to not be selfish, I made it more inclusive by changing it to the reader perspective! I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 8k+

AO3

Egon.

German, by nature. Meaning "strong with the wind"

That was the nickname the men of task force 141 gave you.

They had many reasons for this name. You were fast–agile on your feet. Small and clean. It was hard for any enemy to catch you, or even see you coming. You were strong too, for a woman of your size. You could easily take down a man twice your size with the techniques you studied and used over the years. But their main reason for giving you this nickname was for your sharpshooter skills. No matter the conditions, you always made your shot. Rain, thunder, wind. You never missed. No outlying factor kept you from doing your job.

That's what gained you the respect of task force 141.

You've known these men for a while, having been asked to join the team just over two years ago. In that time, you got to learn the boys well. All of them respected you and treated you as their equal–something you worked so hard for. Being a woman in this field of work is challenging, even for some of the strongest ladies you know. That didn't stop you from doing your job–which impressed Price when he worked with you on a mission before he asked you to join the team.

It was a mission in New York City, where you were a part of the NYPD task force. The lead was mafia related and Price's team was called in to assist. Your captain at the time knew it was a risky job, and he needed devoted and dangerous men to help him take their leader down. You along with a couple of your own comrades fought side-by-side task force 141 and pushed through a successful mission.

Everything after that is history. You left with Price and his team, never looking back.

These men are your family now, and you love every single one of them in your own way. Price and Gaz keep to themselves most of the time– Soap is the one you'd definitely call 'brother'. You and him have the best dynamic. He's goofy and chill, and you adore that about him. Inherently with him comes his Lieutenant, Ghost. A man you haven't really been able to get a read on since you met him those couple years ago. Yes, of course, it's mainly to do with the fact that he wears that damn mask twenty-four-seven. But he also isn't the most personable guy. He speaks when he needs to, and fights when he has to--but he hasn't really gone out of his way to get to know you–even though you and Soap are practically attached at the hip.

Being close to Soap means he typically picks you to go along with him and Ghost on missions. Which you don't mind. When the three of you get split up, the commlink keeps you all close, figuratively.

One of the things you and Soap bonded over was your mutual adoration of music. You didn't have the best childhood, and music was your escape. It appeared Soap used music to his comfort as well. So, when you're on missions but split apart, Soap keeps in your ear either spatting off random lyrics of songs, or requesting you sing to him. Much to Ghost's dismay–who has to listen to you two banter about why you don't like country music, or why Soap can remember so many random lyrics. Ghost keeps quiet, and you wonder if you get on his nerves. He's the type of guy to speak his mind and the fact that he hasn't said anything yet suggests he may…be okay with it? Who knows with that man.

Ghost keeps close, but far away at the same time. He treated you like an equal, and always made sure he had your six. The same thing goes for you. Granted, the giant, pure muscle of a man never really needed your help. You were always there for him. Over time, he seemed to soften on you. He would use your real name on occasion. He got worried sometimes when you didn't answer his comms right away and would scold you once you were all back together.

'Fuck woman, answer the bloody comms when your superior asks for your status.' He would gruff in that deep British baritone.

You would never admit it, but something about that man set your body on fire. His size, his voice, his attitude. Fuck, his attitude alone. He exudes confidence and experience without being cocky. There's nothing quite like a confident man–a man who knows what he wants and can take it whenever he wants….but doesn’t. He was always looming over your shoulder, watching you intently through the holes in his mask. Soap would comment on it every now and then, making fun of the Lieutenant for not being able to keep his eyes off you for a moment. You didn't think it was that serious–you convinced yourself he was just watching you for your own safety. As any good teammate would.

But then the subtle touches started. You would feel his large hand splaying over your lower back as he walked beside you up the copter ramp, almost as if he was guiding you. Of course it never happened if someone was around to see it—he made sure of it. But it would happen more frequently. They were genuine, and gentle touches. And completely innocent. Being a woman, you had an intuition for men's intentions–since you dealt with them your entire life. Ghost never set any alarms off. You always felt safe with him.

You trusted him with your life, and you hoped he felt the same about you.

He was cold and calculating—mysterious and quiet. Though he showed those small, intimate minstations to you and you alone, you tried not to think too much into it. Ridding yourself of the disappointment before it reared its ugly head. You often thought about what he looked like under that mask. You've seen his eyes countless times. They were brown like freshly ground coffee. He had blonde eyelashes that stuck out amongst the black paint he smeared right there. He had a strong, chiseled jawline. Sometimes you can see a few prominent veins through his mask when he tightens it. His neck is strong and thick, no doubt riddled with scars from his many years slaughtering men.

You imagined what his body looked like too. He's a big man, standing almost an entire foot taller than you. He had thick, broad shoulders and a puffy, muscular chest. Even when he wore one hundred pounds of gear, you could still see how fit he was. His waist was thin and strong, he had a certain swagger when he walked that always caught your eye. His forearms almost looked fat, they were so fucking thick with muscle. He was covered in huge protruding veins on both arms–they were even visible on the arm that was covered in tattoos. And his hands always made you blush. They were twice the size of yours, and you spent many occasions watching his big fingers work the trigger on his guns like a thread. He was nimble, and agile there.

You wondered what they would feel like–if they would grip your throat with delicacy or fierceness. If they would roam down your neck and swallow your breasts in a warm squeeze. If they would trail your curves all the way down to your ass and nead the soft, pillowy flesh there. If they would tease you–circling around that sensitive bundle of nerves until you were weeping for him. If they would pump you, fill and stretch you out until you were ready for his cock. Or would he even give you that decency and instead, take you unprepared in a hot, lustful frenzy?

It's all human nature, you suppose. It's natural for a woman to be sexually attracted to a protector like Ghost. It goes back thousands of years–it's all instinct. That's what you tell yourself after you cum on your hand thinking about your Lieutenant. When that wave of unfiltered shame and guilt rushes over you following your high.

_______

"Egon, how copy?" Comes that familiar gruffy voice.

You jump slightly, shuddering out of your thoughts as you neel against the abandoned brick building. Your rifle in your left hand, fingers tight on the trigger.

"Jesus, Lieutenant–awaiting target. No eyes yet." You grunt out, face heating up in embarrassment. He always knew when to catch you off guard.

"Eyes on the prize, sergeant. Stay focused."

You scoff, eyes rolling as you adjust your stance slightly. It's dark, the only light you have to use coming from old, orange colored lamps hanging from the buildings. To top that off, it's been raining all day so it's doubly hard to see far in the distance. Even with a scope.

"Easy for you to say, Lieutenant. I'm out here freezing my ass off and you're inside a nice warm building." You mumble into the mic.

"Punishment for not listening to your superior."

"Bite me." You retort.

No response. You grin. Any opportunity you get to fight back at the Lieutenant scolding you, you'll take.

A few minutes in silence go by as you wait patiently for your target to come into view. You have a black mask covering the bottom half of your face, leaving only your eyes and forehead exposed. A heavy leather hood covers your hair. Soft pelts of rain dropping keep you focused in the moment. Your tactical boots are worn and wet, holes from misuse letting water in to soak your socks. The harness tied around your waist and thighs is digging into your pants, which are rubbing and chafing your skin. Your back hurts from being on your feet all day, and your head is pounding. You usually get headaches when it rains. You are so fucking ready for this day to be over.

You stay steadfast nonetheless. Eyes focused on the door the target will be coming out of.

A few more minutes go by in silence when you hear the comm start to buzz, indicating someone was about to speak.

"Why can't orphans play baseball?"

You can't help the cheeky grin that creeps its way upon your face.

"Why?" You ask.

"They don't know where home is."

"Ghost," You say with a huff, attempting to hide the laugh trying to claw its way out of your throat. "Shut the fuck up."

"It's inappropriate to speak to your superior that way."

"Sorry, let me rephrase. Shut the fuck up, sir."

"Better."

You grin, holding the butt of your rifle up to your cheek in anticipation. Your finger reaches up and you adjust the scope. You close your left eye and squint your right as you look through the glass. You hadn't realized you never turned off your mic when Ghost crimes in again.

"Control your breathing, Sergeant. It'll help you focus better."

Your breath catches in your throat the moment is deep voice comes through the ear piece. Was the bastard really listening to you breath this whole time? Your tongue slides over your bottom lip, moistening the smooth skin there. You let a long breath come out before slowly breathing back in, reducing your heart rate. With your breath now cool and even, you sink back into the task at hand.

"Atta girl." Ghost whispers in that english accent, his voice sending a wave of chills down your spine.

Your chest pulls tight at his encouraging words, and if you hadn't been so focused on the door in front of you, you may have retorted something flirty back. But just as you were about the touch the communicator, the door in your sights swings open. You pause and hunch down impossibly lower as a tall man, accompanied by three other men stumble out of the building. You're so low now your chest could practically touch your boots. Your back is arched and steady, fingers itching to pull the trigger as you search for the man you have a description of.

The rain is starting to pick up now, thunder rocketing through the air as lightning snaps to the ground in the distance. Your breathing is steady and firm, flowing visible streams in front of your face as the chill in the air makes you shiver.

You're so focused on identifying the target in front of you that you don't hear the footsteps approach you from behind. They're quiet, trained and quick. You lock eyes on the target. A tall, skinny man. He has long, curly blonde hair that flows just past his shoulders. The identifying marker is a scar on the left side of his face. It's long–stretching from the bottom of his jaw all the way up and over his eye. It stops just above his eyebrow.

Rain is starting to smear over the scope lense, making it increasingly difficult to see the taget. After a moment, you lick your lips away, your pointer finger hones down on the trigger and starts to stretch it down. The man across the way reaches down for the door handle on the SVU next to him. You take one final breath in and hold, steady and true. Your finger pulls down, emitting a loud pop in your ear. It's quick, and the target immediately falls to the ground. Not a word, not a sound. Silence as his body hits the cold, wet concrete. The men around him start to panic and pull their guns out, rapidly stomping around in circles to try and spot where the bullet came from.

One turns in your direction. He doesn't see you, but starts running in your direction. You cock back and lift on your feet. You stand to almost your full height, knees slightly bent. You pull the trigger again. The second victim drops to the ground with a loud and painful grunt. At this point, you've given yourself away. Blood rushes through your ears as the two other men start sprinting in your direction. You slowly start to back up, cocking back yet again to let another bullet fly. Bullseye–a direct hit to another man's head. Your focus now remains on the last man standing who has gone into a hiding stance. You stand up fully and start to turn. When you do, you hear the sound of another rifle going off. Blood splatters across your face as a man–whom you had no idea was directly behind you–falls against the brick wall and his lifeless body slides down.

You gasp softly at the sight–having had absolutely no clue the man was behind you getting ready to attack. You look around quickly, trying to locate where the shot came from when Ghost's voice comes through the headset.

"Thought you knew better, sergeant."

Your breathing is heavy as you look up at the building across the street. On the fourth floor, Ghost moves forward to reveal himself through the window. The bone part of his mask almost lights up as he positions his rifle and shoots the last of the men on the street. He looks down at you as he lowers his rifle. His massive body towering in the window. His eyes lock with yours as your chest heaves up and down. The hood on your jacket has fallen now, and rain is starting to soak your hair. It sticks to your cheeks and neck. The water soaks your face.

"Were you watching me?" You ask, slight irritation in your tone.

"Had I not been, you'd be dead."

You scoff, clenching your jaw and rolling your tongue in your mouth as you keep eye contact with him.

"Get down here. Let's go."

Embarrassment was evident in your tone, but you couldn't hide that from Ghost. You couldn't hide anything from a man with his experience. So you gave in and let it out.

Ghost was down in your area within a minute or so, and he approached you slowly.

It was still raining as you and Ghost started walking towards the safe house. It was a small cottage on the outskirts of this shitty little town. Price said there was a shower, and that's all you could ask for. You walk silently next to your superior, who hasn't looked at or spoken to you since he came down from the building. You keep your eyes forward and alert as your heavy boots slush through the wet streets.

"Have you heard from Soap?" You ask softly.

"Affirmative. He's on the other side of the city with Price and Gaz. They're at the other safehouse." He responded in that deep tone.

He's safe. A gentle sigh of relief left your lips as you continued your walk to the safehouse.

The walk there stays silent. With Ghost keeping close to your rear, he almost hovers over you but he's slow. Which is unusual for him. On occasion, you could have sworn you could hear his breathing. It was loud and sounded labored. You raised your voice a little at one point to ask if he was alright and grunted back at you. Something seemed off.

After a couple hours carefully trekking through the nearly flooded city, you made it to the safe house. It was pitch black, away from any city lights to give you away. It was a small, one room cottage. When you opened the door, you cleared the room with your rifle. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to house the two of you until the morning. There was a small, two person bed, a run-down kitchen and a small, detached bathroom with holes in the door. It was filthy, but you were thankful to be out of the rain. You noticed a small fireplace that seemed clean enough to use.

You turn to Ghost, who is towering behind you. "I'll start a fire. You should try and get a hold of Price and let him know we're okay."

The large man grunted, and turned slowly in the direction on the bed. You watched his feet almost drag the floor. And when he sat down on the edge of the bed, you noticed him trying to conceal the hand that was holding his side.

You watch him for a few moments before turning your attention to the fire. It was starting to get cold. Worry about Ghost later so the both of you don't freeze to death here. Gathering what little kindling and firewood you could find, you begin to light the fire. First you pile in some pieces of wood you found here and there, and then you line the tower with what kindling you could find. Reaching into your soaked chest pocket, you pulled out the lighter you hoped wasn't flooded. And by some miracle, it wasn't. You easily ignited a small fire in the run-down fireplace.

Turning around, you glance over to see Ghost still sitting with his hand on his side. His hulking figure dips the mattress by a good bit.

"Fucking awful communicators." He grunts out before he rips the mic off his head.

"Not able to get a hold of Price, huh?" You say with a soft smile.

He shakes his head slowly. A grunt being his only response, again.

You stand from where you sit, starting to pull your weapons and gear off. Your weapons come first. You gently set the rifle up against the wall, and place your handguns beside them. Knives get stuck in a pile next to the handguns. You reach around to unstrap your vest, pulling it off your shoulders. It drops to the floor with a thud, which grabs Ghost's attention. Once your vest is off, you move to take your harness off. Ghost watches you through half lidded eyes. You prop one leg up on a grate for better access to the straps that trail from your waist, all the way down to your feet. Starting with the foot strap, you unclip the buckle. Your hands slide up your calves to your thighs, where the second set of straps dig into the skin there.

You quickly make way with those buckles and pull them down your legs. The last strap around your waist is easy. You stand and unclip the last buckle and let that strap fall to your feet. A relieved sigh leaves your lips as you turn to walk towards Ghost. He was still watching you, his hand holding his side. He hasn't moved–still sitting there uncomfortably, no doubt, in his full gear. You approach him slowly, hands hugging your hips as you test these waters.

"Let me see." You say gently as you stop directly in front of him. He's so big that he's still eye height with you, even sitting down.

"I'm fine." He grunts.

"Sir–"

"I said I'm fine. Tend to your own." He says.

"I just want to help, sir. "

He glances up at you through his mask. You're standing close–so close he can feel the heat radiating off your body. His eyes meet your face, his hand still hovering over the wound on his side.

"Do you trust me?" You ask gently.

He seems hesitant, no doubt unsure what he wants to do. But after a few moments of watching you, he lets the hand on his side slowly drop to his thigh. He breathes out slowly.

"Yes."

You take this moment to be bold for the first time with him. You suck a breath in and hold, slowly reaching forward and gliding your hands over his shoulders. They fall down his back to unstrap the back of his weapons vest. Your eyes bounce back and forth between his as your chest presses softly to the pack on the front of his body. You pull the straps up over his shoulders and let the best slide down his front, pulling it off and gently setting it down on the floor by his feet. Next, your nimble fingers work at the zipper on his jacket–pulling down until it unclips at the bottom. You run your hands over his shoulders again to pull the rain jacket off–setting it on the mattress next to him.

He looks bigger this way, which should be impossible. You just took eighty pounds of gear off his body but even now, in just his black pull-over hoodie and rain jacket, he looks bigger. His muscles are more defined. You can see the bulge of his strong pecs, the roundness of his arms.

You stand up to look at him once again.

"May I?" You ask softly.

He doesn't speak, but nods slowly.

You mind his permission and slowly grab the bottom of his hoodie, pulling it up and over his chest. What reveals is a nasty stab wound–about three inches long. Blood trails all the way down to his jeans. Most of it is dry, but some warm blood indicates it's still bleeding.

"Jesus wept. You were going to leave this unattended?" You ask, glancing up to meet his gaze.

He brings his hand up to hold his hoodie for you. You remove your hand and reach into the first aid kit attached to his utility belt. Pulling it open and starting to look through the supplies.

"I've had worse." He retorts with a snort.

You can't help but smile gently, looking at him through the corner of your eye as you rummage through his bandage pack.

"You're an idiot."

"I'll be sure to remember that when I'm doing your performance review."

"In that case, be sure to remember this. I want a raise." You say with a small laugh as you set some bandages down on his thigh.

"A raise? You can barely do what you're told now. Only good employees get raises." He retorts, you swear you can hear the grin on his mouth.

"I've never been one to respect authority." You say, a cheeky grin meeting his gaze as your hand brings a sanitary wipe to his wound.

"Fuckin' Americans."

You laugh out loud this time, hand gently gliding over his wound–cleaning it with the sanitary wipe. You take notice of his build. He's strong, thick and muscular. He has some chest hair, and some hairs that trail under his jeans. He's incredibly built as well–of course he is. You knew that. He was a huge man, and incredibly strong. There was no doubt in your mind he was sculpted to the heavens. His skin is littered with scars. Some range from as small as your fingernails, to the size of your fist. You wish you could touch them all, to ask their stories. How did he get this one? That one?

The little shack is quiet for a few more minutes as you finish cleaning and treating his wound. You take it slow so as to not cause him any discomfort. Something tells you he really doesn't care, but you do. His eyes watch you through the hole in the skull of his mask. The black eye paint makes his blue hues glow in the moonlight. Rain patters softly against the metal roof. Your hand glides smoothly over the patch you're placing over the stab wound. You flatten your palm to smooth it out as much as possible. His breathing is steady as it fans against your cheek. Your proximity to him right now may have been alarming if you didn't know him well.

He stays still, watching you as he holds the hoodie up over his chest. His gaze brings goosebumps to the back of your neck, making your hairs stand up. You feel the need to break this awkward silence.

"This scar looks like it was painful." You say ever so softly, your free hand coming down to the four inch scar on his abdomen. Your palm flattens and your thumb grazes it gently.

"They were all painful." He says, a hint of tease in his tone. His voice has softened considerably.

"Yeah? I wouldn't have guessed, sir." You say, eyes flashing up to meet his as your mouth pulls into a sweet smile again.

"Simon. No need to be formal when we're alone." He says, followed by your name. It rolled off his tongue with ease–like it was the most natural thing for him to say.

"Right. Simon–" you say softly. You're not pulling apart the last part of the bandage to stick it on top. "--how did you get this one?" You ask, pointing to another scar on one of his pecs.

"In the Military. My first deployment. This was one of the first." He says.

"I remember those days. I was eighteen when I joined the Marine Corp. Got a few scars myself. Though, they're more mental than anything." You say, bringing a hand up to tap the side of your head and smile. "Yours have more meaning behind them, I think."

"Rightfully ugly things." He says, his eyes now following your hands as they work to cover the rest of his wound.

"Not at all–" you say as you stop your movements. Your eyes meet his when he takes notice and lifts his head to see you. "--I find them endearing."

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you–indicating he's unsure of the meaning behind your statement.

"I mean, they show your growth…as a man. You had to overcome each one of these–" you say as you move to continue wrapping his wound. "--they're all testaments to how strong you are. Mentally and physically. I don't find them ugly in the slightest."

Your hand stops moving as you've finally finished patching his wound. Standing up straight, you bring your eyes back to his. He slowly releases his hoodie to let it drop back down, but his eyes never once leave yours. He almost seems dumbfounded–at a loss for words. He just stares at you for a few moments before speaking.

"I don't understand." He says, almost a whisper.

"What's not to understand?" You ask.

His hands are laying on his thighs, but his fists are clenching and unclenching. He doesn't speak, so you take this chance to elaborate.

"Simon, I don't know much of your past. Well, anything about your past, really–" you say gently, your hands slowly glide up and test the waters, laying on top of his strong shoulders. "--I don't need to. I know the man you are now. Neither of us are perfect. But I do know that you're a good man, who will always have my back. That's all that matters."

His eyes never leave yours as your hands slowly glide over from his shoulders, and up his neck to rest holding his strong jaw.

"And I will always have yours. That's what being a team is all about."

You're holding his jaw gently; you can feel it clenching as he watches you through the skull mask. You're close to him now, closer than you have been. Your hips are slotted between his legs. His fingers reach out and softly graze the outside hem on your jeans–silently asking for permission. You glance down to his hands, before back up to his face and slowly nod.

His large hands come out to flatten against the outside of your thighs, softly squeezing the flesh there as they glide up and over your hips. They rest there, just above your ass. His warmth sends chills down your spine as he pulls you closer, your chest almost touching his. His palms spread against your curves and his thumbs dig into your belly.

"What's on your mind, sergeant?" Ghost asks, his voice barely above a whisper as your face inches closer to his.

You continue holding his jaw, keeping him attentive to you and you alone. Your breath fans over his covered lips. Your thumbs start to rub small circles over the sharp bones under them.

"I often think…" you trail off as your right thumb moves towards the center of his face--finding his bottom lip under the mask and pressing down. "...think about what your smile looks like. I reckon you're quite handsome."

"Is that right?" His voice is low, now laced with something akin to longing.

His hands give your hips a good squeeze, shuffling your lower half closer to his. His thighs trap you in their strength.

"Mhm." You hum softly.

You find yourself being bold again, thumbs leaving his lips to trail down his neck again. You locate the bottom of his mask and slip both thumbs under the hem. You stop momentarily, giving him ample time to stop you. Only, he doesn't. You can feel the moment his muscles tense and you hear his breath hitch. But his eyes never leave you, and neither do his hands. They squeeze you and pull you harder.

As to not betray his trust, your eyes slowly flutter closed. Your thumbs slip under his mask completely and gingerly begin pulling up. You pull it up and over his lips. Along the way, you can feel the defined muscles of his neck–the large veins. His chin and jaw are prickly, most likely from a recent shave. You pull it up to sit just in the tip of his nose. Eager fingers return to his chin, thumb coming back to slide over his lower lip. It's full, and warm. Feels slightly damp, like he had just licked it. His breath is warm on your hand as you continue to feel him here.

Your other fingers stretch to try and feel the back of his head, wanting to know if he has thick or coarse hair. Is it curly or straight? Blonde like his eyelashes or brown?

His hands become impatient and begin sliding up your sides. In the process, he pulls the skin-tight undershirt out from under your pants. Cold air rushes through and touches the little part of your belly exposed. As his digits continue sliding up, they eventually curve out and up both of your arms until they meet at the base of your neck. His fingers dig into the skin there and start to gently pull you forward.

In the shuffle, your hands slide down his chest and come to a rest on top of his biceps. The muscles flex under his hoodie as he pulls you forward. Your eyes stay closed as you feel his breath getting closer and closer to your face.

"Tell me to stop." He whispers. It was hoarse, and deep. Laced with lust.

You breathe out slowly, shaky and anxious.

And when you don't, he kisses you.

To say he just kisses you is a gross understatement to what the both of you start to share. Your entire body lights up, chills shooting down your spine like fireworks as he twists his head to the side and slowly licks your bottom lip. His lips are soft and giving. They flatten when they meet yours to cover as much ground as they can. You open your mouth, giving him full access to that wet cavern. Your mouth meets his again, more heated this time. His tongue slides inside your mouth with ease, shooting to fight and tackle yours in a fight for dominance.

Your fingers start to dig into his biceps, and that elicits a grunt moan from the man kissing you. He continues kissing you, tongue exploring your mouth as his large hands start to slide down your body again. His right hand slides behind you to trace your back, and his left opts to take the front. He stops at your breast–giving it a firm squeeze when he gets it in his grasp. Your nipple hardens under his firm touch, a small whimper getting lost in his mouth as he explores your body. The hand on your back pulls you impossibly closer, pressing your much smaller body tight to his.

He continues his assault on your breast for another minute or so, all while continuing to kiss you with a certain ferocity. His tongue leaves your mouth to lap up the saliva surrounding your lips and you erupt in shivers when the hand squeezing your breast starts to trail lower. He traces your curves until he reaches the metal of your belt buckle. His digits slowly begin to work at the buckle, setting the button on your jeans free once he's worked it open. He kisses you as he pulls the button open, his fingers grabbing hold of the zipper and slowly pulling it down. It feels like it takes him an eternity to work your jeans open, but your body buzzes with excitement when you hear the zipper coming down.

He stops for a moment, continuing to kiss you as his hand rests there on the buckle of your jeans. You slide your hand back up to his shoulders and softly rub the muscles there, pulling a quiet whimper from his lips. Yes, a whimper. From Ghost.

Fuck. If that doesn't get you wet, nothing will. But it does. In that moment, you feel the arousal start to ooze out of your cunt. You may have thought you started your period if you weren't sure it was because of him. You can't help but rub your thighs together when the pressure starts to become uncomfortable. Ghost takes notice of this and pulls away from you. His fingers begin to dance with the hem of your underwear.

"Tell me to stop." He repeats against your lips, still barely above a whisper. You can feel his eyes burning into you, but yours are still closed.

The cool leather of his glove meets with your sensitive skin when you don't answer him. Slowly, achingly slowly, his fingers sink under your underwear to find what he wants so desperately right now.

You whine when the leather touches your sensitive skin there, his fingers sink down through your folds to truly feel where you're warmest. His fingers glide easily through your arousal; the texture of his clove adds a bit more feeling to it.

"Fuck." he curses against your lips as he continues to rub around your needy hole.

He uses his fingers to collect your wetness and drags it up to that swollen bundle of nerves. He uses your own arousal to prepare you. His thumb begins to rub firm circles over your clit, causing you shudder and whimper in his arms. Your eyes squeeze shut harder, face heating up and turning red. Something you never thought he'd see—the freckles on your cheeks being revealed by the change in color on your face. Your fingers dig hard into his shoulders, holding on for what feels like dear life.

It's been a decade since you've been with a man. It's not something you were particularly proud of, because nothing could quite scratch that itch like the touch of a man. But your job kept you busy, and you felt just fine pleasuring yourself. You were always an independent woman. But fuck. Fuck. His touch felt like fire. Like pure bliss. The way he continued to draw tight circles over your clit while his palm flattened on your cunt and two large fingers sunk into your wet heat. They were so big, so strong while they pumped you full. It wasn't long before he found that spot too–the spongy piece of heaven deep inside your core.

Your head tumbles back on your shoulders, mouth falling open silently as his fingers work magic inside you. He leans forward, bringing his lips to your chest where it's open from the u-neck undershirt– peppering kisses on the warm skin there. Your hand involuntarily comes up to caress the back of his head. Such a sweet sentiment he does, while absolutely ruining your brief innocence with his fingers. You whimper and cry for him as he pumps and pumps and pumps.

You let out one harsh breath, followed by a quiet but sweet whimper– and out tumbles his name.

Simon.

That's all it takes to break him. He huffs a hard breath against your chest and kisses the skin one more time before pulling back, taking the hand out of your pants with him.

You gasp at the lack of contact. You almost open your eyes in the shuffle but as if he knew what was going to happen, his hand comes up to cover your eyes.

"Lay down. Now." He orders.

He guides you back a few steps, hand still over your eyes. You feel him stand, and he brings a hand to your shoulder to guide you back towards the mattress. Your legs hit the edge and cause you to fall to your back. His hand leaves your face, but you obediently keep them closed for him. He shuffles a bit before his hands are on you again, slipping your combat boots off one at a time. Then his hands are on your waist, pulling your jeans and underwear down in one swoop. Involuntarily, your hands shoot down to cover your core and you hear him grunt.

"Don't hide from me, sergeant." He says in the deep english tone.

His hands meet yours and wrap around them, slowly pulling them off your weeping cunt. A breath leaves his mouth harshly when you're revealed to him. He kneels instantly, large hands flattening against the inside of your thighs, at the apex of your legs and waist. On each side of where he just had his fingers deep. His hot breath fans against your sex.

"Fucking perfect." He says as he fits himself between your legs. His hands slide from the top, all the way to your calves to pull them up and over his shoulders.

You shudder in anticipation, back arching slightly in presentation. Ghost takes notice.

"Dirty girl." He praises

That's the last thing he says before he dives in. His mouth closes over your swollen clit, tongue circling you in a delicious dance. Your back immediately arches even more, muscles tensing down below. His tongue is smooth as it glides so elegantly over that center of pleasure. He moans into you, drinking the taste of you in. The top half of his face is still covered, only letting the bottom half of his face free so he can eat you out like this.

Your hands desperately search for purchase. They start by clenching the bedsheets, before twitching hard and moving to lay on your tummy. His hands find yours quickly and he presses down, anchoring your much smaller hands under his to your tummy. His fingers thread through yours and give a reassuring squeeze. It's odd. You'd never think of him as the gentle type. But he always seemed to surprise you.

Your hands start to close on his head, holding him still right where you want him. Anxious fingers gripping the mask and holding him down. He moans again, the vile wet sounds of his dirty act echoing through the room as he pulls you closer to an orgasm. His hands hold you steady as he pushes his face in deeper, completely enveloping his face in you. His cock grows achingly hard in his jeans, throbbing to be set free. One of his hands leaves yours to come down and insert two large fingers in yet again.

Something white and hot starts to stir in your lower belly. Like a thread being pulled tight on each end, ready to snap at any given moment. Your cunt starts to clench impossibly tight around Ghost's fingers and he moans into you yet again.

"Atta girl. I can feel it. Give me a good one." He encourages through licks.

Fuck, his voice. The tone and the accent–they do something to you. His voice repeats in the back of your mind as your muscles tense all at once. A hoarse whimper leaves your lips as he nibbles down on your little clit, cunt pulling tight and hot as the thread finally snaps and he gets what he asked for. You cum all over his face, body convulsing from the over stimulation as he continues to suck on you through the pulses. Your fingers lock dead in his mask–you think you can feel his hair. It's thick.

He groans into you, his voice vibrating your lower body as he slows his pace and inevitably decides to take pity on you and stop.

You feel his mouth leave your cunt as you struggle to catch your breath. His hands leave you too. Slightly concerned, you start to sit up. Your eyes are still closed. His hands stop you from standing up.

"Bloody delicious you are, sweet girl."

His hand caresses your jaw, and you hear him fumbling with his belt buckle, followed by the sound of his zipper coming down.

"Open."

Your eyes flutter open and you glance up at him standing tall over you. His mask is pulled back down to conceal his mouth. You lock eyes with him and stare him down as he begins to pull his cock out of his jeans. You keep your eyes on him until he breaks contact for a moment. He glances down towards his cock and then back at you. You take the hint and slowly lower your gaze until you meet his cock in all its glory. He's big–covered in veins. His tip is red and smeared with pre-cum. Gods, you got him this wound up?

"You want this?" He asks.

You don't have to answer him. The lustful look in your eyes as you glance back up at him is enough to make his cock jump. He growls low in his throat.

"Turn around. Bend over."

Not having to be told twice, you do as you're told. You stand and turn so your back is facing him. You bend down, revealing your cunt from behind as you find your place bent over the bed for him. His massive form stalks behind you–like you're his prey. Just waiting to be captured. His macho, mean, attitude has always sent chills down your spine. This situation was no different.

His hand finds your waist, gripping on your side as his other holds his heavy cock up to position it at your entrance. While he rubs the head of his cock through your slick to prepare it, the hand holding your waist moves to the center of your lower back and his palm flattens. He pushes down, forcing you to arch in presentation for him. He curses under his breath. Fucking perfect. Beautiful little cunt.

His heavy boots shuffle closer as the head of his cock begins to breach your tight hole. Your breath catches at the sudden intrusion. The hand on your lower back holds you steady as he starts pushing forward until he's fully sheathed inside you. You let a moan slip when the hand on your back starts to rub up and down you slowly, almost in a comforting manner.

"Fuck." He groans out when he bottoms out.

He starts with deep thrusts, getting your cervix used to the invasion. Your knees begin to buckle. No need to worry though. His hands both move to either side of your waist to hold you up as he begins to thrust a little faster–pulling out farther and re-sheathing himself. His back straightens and his head falls back in pleasure as soft groans come from under the mask. Your moans join him as the wet sounds of your combined arousal fills the room.

You moan sweetly–which teases him. A strong, capable woman like yourself reduced to a whimpering mess under her Lieutenant. It spurs him on and makes him needy.

He starts thrusting at a more harsh pace now. His hips collide with yours as the bed rattles on its old, dilapidated frame. The metal digging into the wooden floor. His hands squeeze your hips tight and he pulls you back onto him in time with his own thrusts.

"Insatiable woman. Drive me mad with this body." He grunts as his hips slam into yours.

"Simon–" you whimper out, cut off by a particularly sharp thrust.

"You--you know what you do to me, woman?" He starts between harsh breaths as he pounds into you. "Can't keep my eyes off you. You're a goddamn distraction–" he continues to moan loudly, not caring if anyone may hear. "--walk around in those tight ass jeans….n'that low cut shirt. You do it on purpose, don't you?"

"M's-sorry sir–" you manage to whimper as he continues to pound into you.

"The fuck you are." He says before another hard thrust. His grunts, leaning forward to grab a fistful of your hair and pull your head back.

The same sensation from earlier starts to boil over again. The thread is pulled tight once more, ready to snap at any given moment as he continues to hammer into the sensitive spot inside you. His breathing is heavy, grunting loudly in your ear as pounds down into you. You start to tighten around him once more and once again, he takes notice right away.

"Already, sweet girl? Can you give me another good one?"

You whimper his name.

"Words."

"Yes." You moan.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Simon."

"Good fucking girl."

He relases your hair and stands up straight, anchoring down on your hips and letting absolutely fucking loose. He starts pounding into you ruthlessly. His hips jackhammering into yours and rendering you speechless. His harsh thrusts steal the air from your lungs. All you can do is lay there, drool like a dog and take his cock the way he needs to give it to you.

Your orgasm snaps through you and burns like wildfire. Your body rocks violently back against his and he groans when you start to clench around him.

This was unlike any experience you've ever had. It was hard for any of your past partners to get you off, period. Ghost just made you cum twice. And violently.

"Fuck. Where do you want it?" He asks.

It takes you a few hard thrusts to try and speak–trying to gain your composure and suck some air back in your lungs to speak.

"In-inside–please–" you manage to moan.

For the first time this evening, his movements falter. He seems unsure as he tries to regain his rhythm.

"That's–no, no I can't….you'll…" he grunts as he continues to rut into you.

"Safe. I-I promise." You whimper out. "Wanna feel you."

"Fuuuuck." He groans out, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his release. His hands come up to grab your shoulders, anchoring down as he continues fucking your raw.

"Don't move. Don't fucking move, sweet girl. Gonna--gonna fill you up, make you mine."

"Simon--" you whimper out.

That last whimper is what seems to take him over edge. He groans your name one last time before his hips bottom out again and come to a screeching hault. You feel his cock start to throb before the warmth of his cum begins filling you. He shoots what feel like endless streams of his while juices inside until it starts overflowing and running down your thighs. You lay there on your stomach trying to catch your breath. Not long after, you hear the heaving mess of a man who just rearranged you collapse to his knees behind you. You hear him turn to sit on hid ass, shifting to lean up against the bed.

You lay there exhausted, listening to the sounds of his labored breathing. You're too worn out to move, so you opt to stay where you are. Not even caring what a mess you look like.

After a few minutes you feel yourself beginning to drift off to sleep. The exhaustion is taking over. It gets quiet after a few more minutes and you feel completely relaxed. You're so out of it, you don't notice Ghost getting up from his spot on the floor.

You don't feel him softly cleaning you with one of his extra shirts.

You don't feel him start to re-dress you.

And you don't feel him lay you down on the bed, when he climbs in behind you and wraps his arms around you.

And in the morning, it suprises you when he asks you about your time in the United States Marine Corps.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #smut #Egon

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