#x-com: enemy within | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grugruel · 1 year ago

Text

Little Bit

Pairings: roommate!bucky x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Moving in with your bestfriend always seems like a great idea, until something inevitably breaks you apart. . .

He grabs my jaw, 'I fucking hate you.' He breathes, and I smile against his lips.

'No you don't.' I whisper, 'You love me.'

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, forced proximity, angsty rom-com vibes, praise (reader calls bucky good boy once), I love you's, choking, creampie, rough sex, pinv sex, semi-public masturbation, swearing.

A soft blue light shone through the windows, the neon sign across from us coloring every reachable piece of the flat a hue of blue.

Sitting on our shared couch, moved in just a week ago. I lay my head in my hands, I too was colored blue.

'How do we fix this?' He asks, sitting in the armchair across from me.

'Us?' I move my hands from my face to look at him with a faint smile, that doesnt quite reach my eyes. The light hitting him somehow fusing into purple, I turned my attention outside, searching for any type of red light.

'How, do we get rid of the flat. . .' He corrects me, forcefully shoving his finger into the coffee table, punctuating the words.

A tinge of sadness sinks it's teeth in me, moving to gnaw on the edges of my mind. Just a few hours ago, he'd still been my best friend. Since childhood, in fact. And now?

'We can't, you know that. We already signed the contract.' I sigh, 'Besides, neither of us have anywhere else to go. Or do I have to remind you?' Crossing my legs, I lean against the back of the couch, Meticulously searching for that red. Perhaps it was just the anger swelling inside him, pushing outward, seeping into his skin and tinting it red. Mixing with the cool of the blue, however, unsuccesfull in calming him.

He clenches his jaw, 'You, don't have anywhere to go.' He points an accusing finger at me, 'I- On the other hand–'

'–Have nowhere to go.' I finish his sentence for him, exhaling it in a whisper, 'We only have eachother now, ironically enough.' I flash my eyebrows upward, the words tasting bittersweet on my tongue.

Reality seems to set in as he too, leans backward and looks out through the window. Now seeming more lost than angry. Nonetheless, he blames me, for. . . what happened. I reach out for him, gracing his knee with the tips of my fingers–

But he pulls back, yanking his knee out of reach for my touch and faces away from me completley. Turning his head over his shoulder, I feel him retracting within himself, tugging all previous feelings and memories with him. He closes his eyes and exhales a shaky breath, 'Dont, I don't know you.' His voice was cold, 'You're nothing more than a roommate, a stranger im forced to share a home with.' Completley devoid of emotion.

My eyes stung with tears, and I hurry past him. Rushing upstairs to the loft, shutting myself in my bedroom.

That was a few weeks ago, the anger and sadness had settled. But in its wake, annoyance and spite had developed.

It felt very much like living with a sibling you hated dearly, a nemesis, your rival. Yet still loved, because of your ties.

'Just get out already!' I groan, stomping my foot into the floor from pure frustration. I felt like a child throwing a tantrum, but he just brought it out of me.

'I'm. Using. It.' He shouted, voice slightly muffled.

'For fu-' I stopped myself, but closed my eyes instead. Reminding myself to be the better person, 'I. Need. It.' I threw his punctuation back at him, 'I have to shower, youre making me late!' I shouted back through the door.

We both had a date, at the same time. Bucky was occupying the shower, it felt like he delayed just to make me late.

Eventually, the door opened and steam poured out of the opening. A cloud of buckys scents wafted in her face, and from it he emerged, with only a towel around his hips. With his bare upperbody on full display.

It's not like I hadn't seen him without a shirt before, but that had been as friends. Buy now that we weren't friends anymore. . . Well, I couldn't help but feel a little something.

He smiled smugly, 'Your turn.'

Oh how I wanted to scream at him, how could someone be so self-satisfied? I frantically gesture with my hands for him to move past me, and the second he did, I threw myself inside.

Finally, the water flooded down my body, every drop doing its duty in soothing an unwelcome ache. Stress and worry washing off of me, sliding into the drain, everything was perfect in this short, shielded time.

It would be over in a moment, when I rejoined the chaos that was my life.

But for now, my hand slipped downward. Quickly finding the source of my ache, and releaved it, rubbing it away in massaging circles. Doing my best to stifle my moans– When involuntarily, an image of Bucky popped up in my mind.

His towel around his hips, the low "V" on full display, his muscles rippling, torso stretching, showcasing his body and toned abs in all their glory. But what if those big hands had grabbed my waist, and pulled me close. What if he sank inside me, how heavenly it must feel. I bit my lip, my fingers moving faster. Realising too late that I was only spurring myself on, I came quickly, doing my best to stifle my moans. Toppling over, I leaned against the shower wall as I caught my breath. Praying I had been quiet enough.

When done, I hurried and dried myself off, then stepped out the shower a wrapped a towel around my torso. I took a quick look in the mirror, making sure that my actions were in no way visible on my face, then opened the door and re-entered the apartment.

The sun was just beginning to set, it was late in the day and the neon light had yet to come on. Golden light filled the apartment as–

Bucky fell onto the couch. . .

Almost looking like he'd jumped over the back of it.

I looked at him strangely, myself acting like I hadn't just touched myself to thoughts of him. 'You ok?' I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He nodded, and grabbed a pillow, pressing it against his abdomen with an unreadable expression on his face, 'Mhm.' He hummed, 'Just fine, why would't I be?'

A violent urge to strangle him grabbed ahold of me, anger nipping at my skin, I was starting to tire of his passive-agressiveness. I inhaled through my nose, and exhaled through my mouth. Calming myself before I answered, 'You're right, how silly of me to ask. I don't even care.' and headed to my room.

What I did not see, was his eyes following me, lingering on my rosy cheeks and wet hair. Roaming over the bare parts of my skin, noting the way it was riddled with glistening water droplets. Nir had I seen, how he'd walked past the bathroom door earlier and somehow heard my moaning, or that he'd stayed and listened, intently. Sowly becoming more and more aroused. I did however, see a glimpse of him "smoothly" covering his tracks when I opened the door, the old run and jump maneuver. By some miracle, I didn't put the pieces together. Because I had not seen his erection either.

I put on my long, sleek, red satin dress.

It fell perfectly over my body, clinging to every curve. Paired with a pair of nude heels, my legs looked magnificent thorugh the slit too. I walked downstairs, expecting Bucky to make some snide remark, but he was nowhere to be found.

I figured I'd at least let him know im leaving. Presuming he was in his room, I approached it, and could indeed hear him inside.

But I wasnt to sure what to make of the sounds. My subconscious instics must've kicked in, because I reflexively took my heels off and snuck closer. Muffled grunts and slapping came from the other side of the door, they were, lewd almost, kind of like–

My jaw dropped. My name, I heard- I heard my name. He just moaned my name. Surely, this wasnt real, I scoffed internally. He was pranking me, right? Maybe it was an actress, or crush who shared my name? He was gonna open that door any second, jump out and tell me how stupid I was to think such a thing. Yet, something tightened inside me, a dull pulse flaring up.

There was a final groan, then the sound of a zipper. I blinked, frozen. Until I heard footsteps, and forced myself to snap out of it.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit! I quickly tiptoed over to the window, pretending to look outside. Realising I still had my heels in my hand, I had to alternate between putting them on and acting nonchalant.

The creaking sound of his door opening rang out behind me, and I yelped, my head whipping over my shoulder to look at him, taken completely off guard.

His eyes went wide as he met mine. His expression made it very clear that he'd expected me to be gone by now. 'Oh–' he clenched his jaw to keep it from falling. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he looked around nervously, 'Thought you'd gone.' He said, irritation lacing his tone, 'Since you were so stressed about being late and all.' He remarked, narrowing his eyes.

God, the gall on this man.

I put my other heel on, and turn around completley, 'Stress that you caused, you mean?' I pointed out, the final rays of sun warming my back as I looked at him, 'Dont worry, I'll leave you to it.' A giggle bubbled up in my throat. I had to suck on my bottom lip to stiffle it and hide my smile.

I turned on my heel and fled, not sticking around to see his reaction.

I couldn't keep him off my mind, surely it was not me he meant, I heard wrong. He hates me, for gods sake!

At that thought, my date picked me up, and the night was pretty uneventful from there. We had dinner and drinks, but something else was occupying my mind. I was just replaying the way my name sounded falling from Buckys lips, the way he breathed it, moaned it. My core ached at the memory.

My date no doubt thought me distant, but it couldnt be helped. I was desperate for the feeling of a man inside me, for bucky more specifically. So I laid my hand on top of my date's, 'How about we take this to my place?' I asked, smiling seductively.

Eagerly, he agrees.

Arriving back, we stumbled into the apartment. Kissing enthusiastically, as the colorful light had returned. Bathing us in a dark red light. Faintly, it illuminated our path upstairs as I grabbed his hand and pulled him to my room. We'd been too busy to notice Bucky, already standing in the kitchen.

Who hadn't had a very succesful date either, the only difference being that he did not bring her back to their place. He respected their home, but apparently she did not. A feeling of anger bubbled up inside him, but it felt different. Not like it had that first night of their fight, now, he almost felt threatened. He scoffed, surely not, noo–

The red switched to green, and his brain thought it before he himself came to the conclusion, was it. . . Jealousy? He furrowed his brows, disputing with his his mind. Never, he hates her gut. Hes been teasing and annoying her, because he hates her. Simple as that. Earlier, today was just a moment of weakness, a man doing his manly obligations. That was all, he told himself and looked outside, the green light poking fun at him. Calling him out in ways he did not appreciate, it was nauseating.

He had to talk to her, go up there and put a stop to it. This was his apartment too, he had a veto.

He marched firmly up the stairs, the green contrasting the red hot anger on his face as the sounds of laughing grew stronger. He reached for the door handle, when he heard their moaning.

Her moaning more specifially, the sound of skin against skin, of a creaking bed and the way it thumped against the wall. His mind blurred the sounds of the other guy, and instead focused on the sound of her, her labored breathing, her whimpering and mewling. Wishing he was that guy right now. He could've listened all day, but snapped out of it. Shaking his head as he realised the immorality of it. He couldnt just barge in on them, he'd tell the guy to fuck off the second they were done. He nodded, yeah. . . His hand fell to his side as he took a step back–

She moaned, so beautiful. Humming, 'Ooh, fuck, thats good bucky.' The words slipped from her lips befor she could stop them.

Buck froze, they all froze. Blinking, he did a dubbel take. Huh?. . . Huuuh?

'I'm, uhm–' She tried.

'What did you just call me?' The guy questioned, 'Is- is that your roommates name?' Dumnfounded, he pulled himself off of her.

Bucky couldnt believe what he was hearing, he snickered 'Holy f— shit.' Unable to controll himself, he burst into pure laughter as he ran down the stairs. Covering his mouth in the motion, spite pouring out of his ears. 'What a marvelous, marvelous day.' He declared openly, throwing himself on the couch, arms splayed over the back. Waiting for the next scene to unfold.

The man, clothes in hand came rushing down the stairs, and noticed Bucky watching him, 'You him?' He asked.

Nodding, 'Uh, huh.' Bucky hummed, confirming the mans suspicious as a cocky smile spread across his face.

'Fantastic.' The stranger hissed, and muttered under his breath. '. . .Some competition. . .' Then fled the apartment, throwing his clothes on in a hurry.

Bucky laughed, 'So good,' and sighed with content, shaking his head in disbelief.

A second later, I came bounding down the stairs, a sheet pulled around my body. 'Did he leave already?' I asked, sprinting to the door.

Grinning, he answered, 'That he did.' Slanting his head in observation as he took her disheveled appearance in.

I run my hands through my hair in frustration, 'Shit!' My head then snapping to Bucky as he's just sitting there, snickering and looking at me smugly. 'What?' I ask, but he only shrugs, smiling stupidly. 'Wipe that smile of your face, you big idiot.' I shout, 'Where's your date, huh?'

Flinching, hes taken aback 'I didn't bring her home! Its called common curtesy!' He shouts back. Both incredibly sucessfull in riling the other up, immediately getting kn eachothers nerves.

'You jealous or something?' I throw my hands in the air, laughing incredulously.

'I don't need to be, I heard you, you know.' He smirked, 'Up there.' Nodding to my bedroom. And my blood runs cold, embarrassment prickling my face. But I clear my throat, trying to control my emotions, 'You were listening?' I quirk an eyebrow, the corner of my lip tugging.

'Wha– of course not! He protests.

'No? Well, I did.' And now it's my turn to grin, 'I heard you, too. Earlier today.'

His veins freeze, 'I don't know, what you mean. . .' Bucky begins–

'Yes you do.' I saunter toward him, getting right in his face. 'Just admit it.' I hiss, humouring myself.

Grabbing my jaw, he breathes 'I fucking hate you.' But I smile against his lips. The neon sign turning pink, painting us both in its lovely rose colour.

'No, you don't.' I whisper, 'You love me.' And drop my sheet, stark naked underneath.

In a hurry, he crawls back on top of me, lining himself up with my core. Teasing, he slides his member up and down my folds, 'Fuck' I moan, and he slides in. Immidietly setting a gruesome pace, hitting my cervix with every thrust.

He looks at me with awe in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing. He lools teribbly pained, 'I do, I do love you.' He whimpers, as if the sight of me and the the truth he'd refused to accept hurt him.

In a clash, his lips met mine. Feverishly our mouths clash together, tongues waisting no time in tasting the other. His hands glide down my sides, until they grab my ass and he lifts me into his arms. I gasp and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling on his hair, making him grunt. He walks us into his bedroom, and throws me onto the bed with a yelp, then crawls on top of me. Kissing his way up my body until our mouths found their way back to eachother. I unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his belt, hastily pulling them both off of him. He sits back, and zips down his pants, kicking them off. His size was more than enough.

He groans in my ear, snaking his hand up to my throat and as he leans on the other. Nuzzling my face softly, his hand toghtens around my throat, lightly choking me as his hips slam into mine hard into mine.

My hands roam his back, sinking my nails into his skin whenever a particularly rough thrust sends a spirit breaking ache through my body. His lips trace their way down my jaw, specking it with kisses, whispering 'I love you.' In muffled moans against my skin.

I grin, and run my hands through his hair 'Good boy.' I whisper–

He whimpers, 'Fuck.'

The snap of his hips falter as the both of us are reaching our orgasm. He kisses his way down my throat, meanwhile adjusting his hold around it. 'I love you.' He mutters between every kiss, when he finally falls over the edge. His seed spilling inside of me as he does his best to keep thrusting, helping me to reach my own climax. With the chole of his hand, member inside me and his muffled I love you's. The knot tightens in my stumache, and I topple over too. How could I not?

'I love you too.' I whisper, and I feel him smile against my throat as he squeezes it one last time. 'Good, it was too hard to stay mad at you.'

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catsteeth · 1 year ago

Text

Sugar & Violence

Podrick Payne x reader

+:✿ Chapter 1 ✿:+ : Lucky Boy

chapter 2

Summary: You’re a Mormont being held hostage by House Lannister. You are acting now as the Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell, whom you’ve grown quite close with. But it seems that a squire has caught your attention as you have caught his.

CW: afab reader, slow burn, mention violence, blood, mention of harassment, mention of NSFW themes.

A/N: I am not giving up on the leashed dog series yall I promise I have just been PINING for pod the rod recently… and tbh we need a little sweetness with everything happening in the other series okay. He is a rom com boy trapped in a medieval fantasy war and I feel so bad for him.

Word Count: 3348

It had been many days now being held by the Lannisters. You’d no real duties on Bear Island as it was such a small house. Your Aunt was a fierce leader and needed no guidance. You had chosen to venture off of Bear Island to celebrate your coming of age. You decided to travel all over the realm, you wished to see the world and experience all of it. However at a tavern near Kings Landing a man decided to grab at you. You hated it when men did that, so you took your cup of ale and smashed the whole cup into his nose.

It broke of course, and of course, like a child he wept. If a man had done such to another man no one would have batted an eye. But because it was a gold cloak you “assaulted”, and because you were you, a Mormont. An enemy house, you were arrested and brought to the Lannisters. They thought of killing you but instead decided to make use of you.

And they did make good use of you. With you there, Bear Island would be swayed away from ever siding with Stannis against them with you in your custody. Not only that but you were trained in healing, and not nearly as hardened looking as the other women of Bear Island. You were made Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell while she was inhabiting the city.

Margery had done her part in helping you fit in. She showed you how to style your hair, how to pick a dress that suited your figure, how to manipulate the men around you, keeping you out of any more unnecessary trouble. When she dressed you up, no one would be able to tell you could swing a sword just as well as any Kingsgaurd or sellsword could.

You see Margery had to pretend in front of everyone else, but with you, you weren’t loyal to the Lannisters and she knew this. Besides you two had bonded after many nights drinking wine late at night in her bedchambers. Like two little girls who had stolen their fathers ale. You’d spend the nights talking of your lives and your wishes.

Margery was the same again and again, to be the queen. And yours was always the same, to live life and experience all you could.

You and she also talked of men. You’d had experience, and so had she. Not many women would admit it but you two were close enough that you felt you could.

You and she attended many festive celebrations with one another, and to anyone else it would seem you were enjoying your time there. That was good, you did not want to attract any attention.

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Your station as a handmaiden made it easy to overhear and eavesdrop on many high born conversations. One that caught your attention the most was that Janos Slynt, the commander of the gold cloaks, the man who arrested you, was going to be dismissed from his duty.

You weren’t above pettiness. You wanted to hear him be dismissed with your own ears. You found a small room within the castle. Tyrion was hosting a small dinner with Slynt. This was going to be the dinner where he was going to be dismissed. You pressed your back against the wall beside the door listening in. The majority of the dinner was mindless small talk, until

“Damn it boy!” Slynt said loudly.

The shout was so loud you couldn’t help but turn and peer into the room, catching a glimpse of the man who arrested you, Lord Tyrion Lannister, and a squire. You saw that the squire had spilt wine all over the hand of Slynt. It made you smile, holding in amusement.

“My apologies my Lord.” The shorter brown haired squire said.

“You can pour your own wine.” Tyrion said in defense of the squire.

You looked back to Slynt and saw that you had been seen, Slynt raised a brow at you.

“You girl! You the Mormont?" Slynt said loudly,

‘Fuck’ you thought to yourself. Knowing you’d been caught.

“Indeed, My Lord.” You said, putting on a meek and sweet demeanor.

“Come in here,” Slynt commanded.

“What are you doing here, My Lady?” Tyrion questioned you gently.

“Looking for my Lady Tyrell, I seem to have lost my way, My Lord.” You said bowing your head. A convincing enough lie.

“I was responsible for your arrest, do you remember that, girl.” His face was confident and irritating.

“I do, Ser.” You said still attempting to keep a sweet and calm demeanor.

“I thought she was to be punished?” Slynt said to Tyrion.

“She is HandMaiden to Lady Margery Tyrell, and as I am told, a very skilled healer. She has proven to be quite useful.” Lord Tyrion said with a smile looking at you, you smiled back.

“A girl assaults a member of the gold cloaks and is given a position in your Kingdom?”

“A decision made by the King. If you wish to disagree with his decision-”

“Course not.” Slynt interrupted, “Wine,” he commanded, holding up his empty cup.

The same squire began to walk towards the man with the pitcher of wine.

“Not you, boy, the bear girl.” Slynt said looking at you, the irritation boiled inside of you. But you did your best to keep your cool.

You took the pitcher from the squires hands, you looked at him for a moment, his worried expression changed into a smile. It was a smile of total innocence you thought to yourself.

You took the pitcher and walked your way towards the table, as you began to pour wine into his cup he started to speak again.

“Tell me girl, are you enjoying the city?” His tone was one of an interrogator.

“Yes, My Lord.” You said pouring, with a cherubic smile.

“You don’t look like the women of Bear Island.” He said biting his lip, it made you feel ill.

“Indeed, My Lord.” Agree blindly, that’s what Margery taught you anyway

“Women there are beasts,” He said to Tyrion.

“Like you I assume?” Tyrion teased him, it made you smile.

“No, no, like her aunt Maege.” He said and your smile dwindled, but you kept it on.

You didn’t respond this time, biting your tongue, you felt the anger in you rising but said nothing. You wanted to pour the wine on his balding head, but still, did nothing.

“Tell me is it true, is it true she fucked a bear?”

“Lord Slyn-” Tyrion began

“What do you wish for me to say, my Lord?” You felt your temper slipping from between your fingertips. Your smile now gone.

“Do you think I wish for you to lie girl?” Slynt’s tone was harsh,

You stared at him for a moment, your smile snapping back into place.

“Whatever you’d command, my Lord.”

“Enough.” Tyrion tried to stop it.

“You’d do anything I commanded?”

“I said enough. Lady Mormont, you may see to your lady.” Tyrion commanded, saving you from whatever was to come next.

You smiled and curtseyed as you walked back to place the pitcher back on the table. With your back turned to the men your face dropped and you made eye contact with the same squire. He looked at you with pity in his eyes. You couldn’t stand it. You spit into the pitcher and smiled at the squire, he tried hard to hold back his amusement, only giving it away with a smirk as he looked down at his feet.

As you walked out of the room you made sure not to make the same mistake as before. You hid better, committed to hearing this man be removed from his position. And you did, and it was just as satisfying as you thought it would be. Especially when he was escorted by his own gold cloaks out of the tower, kicking and whining like a child.

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During the Battle of Blackwater you attended to many mens wounds.

It had taken most of the night, you were not concerned with the war that waged outside the castle walls. If they won, nothing changed for you. If they lost, you’d either be set free, or once again, nothing would change. Most likely it would be the latter.

You among a few other ladies attended to wounds and dying men while the Maester did as much as he could for those who were far gone.

Things had slowed down, beds were nearly full, but then knights rushed in holding Lord Tyrion. His face had been cut deeply. The cut had crossed his entire face. You could tell at first glance that it would scar, but he would live. It would have been extremely painful but thankfully he was unconscious.

They were all shouting at the Maester. To halt what he was doing and to attend to their lord. As he did a tall man, Bronn, the man who replaced Slynt. Dragged a shorter man with short dark hair towards the Maester.

“Lads hand is cut deep, needs help.” Bronn said

“I can’t attend to every cut and scrape when there's a dying lord in my presence.” The old Maester said, quite dramatically you thought. Tyrion was badly wounded but he would live. “Mormont, girl, you attend to the lad!” He shouted to you.

“Is she any good?” Bronn said, the other shorter man looked at you with what looked like embarrassment, “This lad saved that Lord's life.” You huffed at his comment, it annoyed you how he didn’t ask you but the Maester.

“If I’d a cock they’d call me a Maester.” You said walking closer to him til you were inches apart, it made him take a gasp of air puffing up his chest, and his lips formed a line. “Show me,” You said, much softer this time. He relaxed a bit and as you presented your hand, palm facing him. He placed his hand in yours. “Not so bad,” you said as you examined it.

“Hear that Podrick, not bad-” Bronn said to the shorter man.

“Not so bad. It is still bad.” You noticed his expression change to a more worried one. You, for some reason, felt the need to let your cold and hardened attitude slip for a moment. “But you won’t lose it. I’ll clean it, stitch it, and bandage it.” You placed your other hand over his, trying to comfort him. “Sit.”

He nodded and did so, laying his hand on the table. You began to clean it. Your eyes snapped from his wound to his face as he winced. “Is it true?” he looked at you and his eyes made your stomach feel like there were butterflies in it, so you looked back to his wound as you tended to it, “You saved him? Lord Tyrion?”

“I- I helped him, My Lady.” He said, stammering. Though you weren’t looking at him you could tell his eyes were on your face.

“You’re quite brave, Ser.” You said as you finished cleaning his wound.

“Thank you, My Lady, but I’m not-”

“He’s no Ser, that lads a squire.” Bronn interrupted, “I tell you what though Lass, you want a knight I’ll be happy to oblige.” He said stepping closer to you, your eyes returned to your work on the squires hand.

“Men like you amuse me, Ser. They believe they are still young, handsome, and desirable. No matter what they look like.” You said attempting to fain genuine amusement as if he’d told a joke.

As Bronn attempted to begin a retort, you heard a small laugh leave the unconscious Lord’s lips, still not fully conscious.

“See? I am a good healer.” You said as everyone looked at Tyrion's subtle laugh as you continued to work.

The squire looked back at you with a slight grin, as if he were trying to hide his amusement.

“Much braver for a squire to do such a thing.” You said softly just so he’d hear it.

He smiled at you in response, He was pretty you thought. Men on Bear Island were fearsome, rigid, and gruff. This one wasn’t, the opposite in fact. He’d had a natural goodness about him, a sweetness.

That's when you realized he was the same squire from the dinner between Ser Slynt and Lord Tyrion.

“I know you.” You said with narrow eyes and furrowed brows, finally realizing.

“Yes, my Lady.” His smile and innocent response made you smile involuntarily, you tried to hide it to no avail. You were flattered that he’d even remembered you. The feeling of flattery didn’t come naturally to you at all either.

“This part is going to hurt.” You said pulling the curved needle through his flesh, he winced and hissed. Your eyes went towards him, normally you never cared. A man should learn to handle pain, you always thought. But you hated to see him in any discomfort. “Bring him wine.” You called out to Bronn. Your words towards Bronn were no near as gentle and sweet sounding as they were towards Podrick.

He began to drink it, only sipping a little at first, but you pushed the cup up making him down more. “You’ll want to be numb to this.” You explained.

As he continued to drink you continued with your work. By the end of it you bandaged his hand, “Finished,” You said standing up, and he followed your actions.

“I can’t thank you enough, my lady.” He said clearly a little drunk from the wine.

“Alright,” Bronn said grabbing Podrick by the back of his neck and dragged him out of the chamber. You could hear Bronn outside say “You can fuck the she-bear later.” followed by some distant protesting by Podrick.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

A day had passed since the battle. You were in your chambers with Margery. You’d told her about all the handsome knights you’d seen that night.

She’d teased you about how lucky you were to have gotten your hands on so many. You had begun to describe the squire you’d met. How strange it was to have met a man so pleasant in such an awful place.

As the two of you laughed there was a knock at your door. Margery took it upon herself to answer it.

“Lady Tyrell, apologies for the interruption. I came to thank Lady Mormont.” You heard his voice and knew who it was immediately.

“Ah! I take it you were a knight she tended to during the battle?” Margery asked him, you wanted to laugh, but held it in.

“A squire, my Lady.” He said, his tone was somewhat sullen. As if he were embarrassed to say it.

“A squire…” Margery said with her signature smile as she turned to look at you, raising her eyebrows, then turning back to him “Well I shall leave you to express your gratitude.” She said as she left.

You stood from your chair and stepped forward.

“Lady Mormont?” He said walking towards you, as he did he pulled out a small but beautiful delicate yellow flower. It had only recently bloomed.

“A flower?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. On Bear Island people hardly said the word thank you much less showed appreciation through gifts, especially not such sweet ones as this.

“I don’t have much, my lady. But I- I wanted to show my gratitude.” He said with his token innocent wide eyed look. You took the flower and smiled slightly, which made him smile back.

“It was my duty, you don’t need to give me flowers for it.” He looked down, as if he was disappointed in himself. You smelt the flower, to show your hidden appreciation of the gesture. “Show me your hand.” You held your hands out, he hesitated not expecting you to command such a thing, but he did it as you asked. “Hurting at all?” You asked softly examining the cut.

“No, my lady.” His voice was gentle as always.

“It’s healing well.” You said running your finger tip along the length of the stitches, the sensation made him take his hand away, rubbing it against the side of his pants.

He grunted a little and cleared his throat, “All your doing, my Lady.”

You looked at him with a smirk, “How long have you been squiring for Lord Tyrion?”

“For a short time,”

“Well, you’ll need to learn to pour wine. You spill wine on every Lord in Westeros, sooner or later you’ll spill it on the wrong one.” You said walking towards a table, you grabbed a glass and a pitcher of wine.

“Pour me wine.” You said handing him a pitcher of wine.

You stepped closer towards him, making his swallow hard. But he took the pitcher nonetheless.

“hold the pitcher like this-“ You said moving his hands position with your own, “from the handle, and the bottom” You looked up into his eyes, noticing he was looking right at you “Keep your eyes on the glass.” You said, snapping him out of whatever trance he was in and going back to the task at hand.

“Like this?” He asked, his voice somewhat more confident.

“Mhmm.” The hum of your voice too close to him made him close his eyes for just a moment. He finished filling your cup, without spilling a drop, “Very good.” As you said it he and you looked at one another, his eyes were wide once again.

“What were you doing there, my lady?” He asked, with a genuine curiosity. “You said you were looking for your Lady, and forgive me for suspecting otherwise-”

“Eavesdropping.” You interrupted “I had heard they were sending Slynt away, and I wanted to hear it myself.”

“How did you hear of that?”

“Again, eavesdropping.” You smirked

“A-and what are you doing here, in Westeros? You were arrested?”

“It seems you were also eavesdropping.” You teased him.

“Uh well we were in the same room-” You ignored him,

“I left Bear Island to travel, during my travels a Gold cloak tried to force himself on me, so I defended myself.” You said in a matter of fact, you’d no regrets, and no pain towards the matter. However his big brown eyes looked saddened for you, pity, you couldn’t stand pity, “It’s alright, really.” You said trying to reassure him.

“Do you miss your home?” He asked, sweetly.

“I do,” You responded softly, strange how this man was able to gentle your harsh demeanor.

“What was it like?” When he asked it you were thrown off, no one had asked you anything about your home in a genuine way. No one had any interest in it beyond the same constant boring insults.

“Cold. Not just the temperature, the people. But it was beautiful there. Green, rivers, waterfalls.” You smiled softly thinking of it, and found yourself wondering about him, “What of you? You miss your home?”

“I didn’t have much of one, my Lady.” He lowered his head,

“How’d you get here?” Your eyes narrowed wanting to know more of him. Genuinely.

“I was the squire for a Ser Lorimer of the Westerlands army. One night he was drunk, and he stole a ham, he shared it with me. We were caught, and he was sentenced to hang for his crime but I was spared for my name.”

“Lucky boy.” You said with a smirk. One that made his stomach flip.

“You are different, with the men at the tables. You’re sweet and… simple- but you're not that.” He said, stammering, trying his best not to offend you.

Your smirk faded, “Men want sweet and simple. Men don’t beat things that are sweet and simple.”

“You’ve been beaten?” He asked as if it were a horrific discovery.

“Most girls have.” You said calmly in contrast

“I-I am sorry, My Lady.”

“That’s alright. "

“No, it’s not.”

“No, it’s not.” You smiled softly at him. “You’re a good man, for a southern man. Or just for a man.”

“Thank you, my lady.” He said with a slight grin.

“You don’t have to call me that. (Y/N), will do.”

“(Y/N)” he smiled to himself “(Y/N) Mormont… it is a pretty name.” His grin grew

“You never told me yours.”

“Ser Bronn told you-“

“But you never told me.” You interrupted.

“Podrick Payne, my- (Y/N)” He stumbled remembering to call you by your name.

“Well, goodnight then, my Podrick.” You said teasingly with a smirk.

Hearing you say those words, “my” followed by his name made a heat rush his face, a visible one. He licked his lips and bowed his head as he responded “Goodnight, (Y/N)” He said as he left you.

You smelt the flower once more before Margery barged in,

“A squire?”

NOTE: There is a serious drought of Podrick Payne fan fiction series on this app so I had to. And yes… as always my babygirls, we will be fucking. JUST HOLD ON… I don’t know dick about Slynt so his dialogue is probably off so i apologize if you love him or smth lmao. TAG LIST: This is a new series so if you want to be included comment or message me!

#podrick #podrick payne #podrick x reader #podrick x you #podrick x y/n #podrick payne x reader #podrick payne x you #podrick payne x y/n #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones #got fanfic #got fic #got #podrick headcanons

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concretejunglefm · 4 months ago

Text

I'm not ready to let you forget me (part 5 - finale)

*edit credit goes to the lovely @defuckingthrone-dot-com

You told your friends you want me dead And said that I did everythin' wrong And you're not wrong

An anon request for lovers to enemies -> playlist, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Summary: It’s been two years since Noah cheated on you, abruptly ending your relationship. However, the universe seems to have a peculiar sense of humor in its plan to reunite you.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: None really. Mentions of cheating, Noah can be an overall asshole and a tad bit of angst.

WC: 1.8k

AN: This is the final part in this fic. I hope all of those who've read it have enjoyed and thank you to the anon for requesting this idea, I hope that it met any of your expectations. I had so much fun playing with this trope.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Maybe it had all been a fluke. Perhaps the vulnerable side of Noah you had witnessed in his candidness had been a fleeting glimpse into something you would never encounter again.

As you retreat to the bar and adhere to your initial plan for the evening—wallowing in self-pity with a few cocktails—you find Noah seated there with his friends, his usual smug expression restored.

This time, it irks you more, especially when he briefly glances your way but chooses to ignore you. It shouldn't bother you as much as it does. You thought that you had somehow moved forward, yet it feels like you've taken several steps backward.

After ordering a drink, you seek a quiet corner, or as quiet as can be found in a bustling bar within a Vegas hotel, and settle down, sipping contentedly on your cocktail while your eyes slowly scan the room.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

You briefly glance up to find Noah standing over you, but he doesn't wait for a response before sliding himself into the booth beside you.

"Can I help you?" You can't help but let your attitude slip through, as you felt slighted by earlier and him choosing to walk away.

"Retract those claws, kitten. I'm here to apologize." Somehow, you don't believe him, but you choose to relax slightly and offer him a genuine smile.

"Go ahead." You encourage him.

"You realize that you're the only woman who's ever made me get down on my knees and apologize, right?" You catch a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth, as if he's suppressing the enjoyment he derived from that.

"And I would do it again." You retort, maintaining a composed face and concealing any indication of your own thoughts behind it, by taking another sip of your drink.

"I don't doubt that." He scoffs, settling back against the seat, and you feel his arm brush against yours. "I genuinely mean it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked away earlier. It was just… a lot to process."

"And you've never been good with big boy emotions?" You quip, closing your mouth around the straw in your glass after apologizing, allowing him to continue.

He chuckles, despite the brief glare he had given you prior. "I suppose you're right. I've never really been good at expressing my feelings. But I also didn't know about your trip and whatever the guys had planned."

Your head perks up, and your brow furrows slightly as you pull your drink away. "Yeah, what was all that about? You said you knew I was coming?"

"Listen, all I knew was we had a show in Vegas. Apparently, Jolly, Sloan, and Nick had been planning this trip ever since. I only found out you were coming the week before we left. Apparently, Sloan asked what flight we were on."

Suddenly, everything began to make sense; the last-minute trip, the separate seats, and the fact that you were conveniently sat next to each other.

If you were a betting person, you would bet that she had also arranged the hotel rooms, given that this entire trip had been paid for using her hotel points through her work. "That mother—"

You grumble before Noah cuts you off. "I can't say it was the best idea, but I can't deny that I'm not happy it happened."

"Why? You realize that all this has only made us fight more than ever before."

"Yeah, but you're kind of hot when you're all fired up like that." Noah smirks, and you feel his eyes rake over you in a way that makes you squirm.

You hadn't expected that response from him. He was naturally flirty and charming, but there was some level of sincerity to his words, like he wasn't just trying to woo you.

"I still hate you." You clarify, and there's that smirk, wider than before, as he leans in close to you.

His mouth against your ear, he whispers, "I hear that hate-fucking is the best kind of sex."

His breath, hot against your ear, sends a shiver down your spine, between his words and the unexpected closeness of him.

Before you can respond, Folio's voice calls for him, and Noah swiftly slips away, giving you a wink in return.

There he is again, the same old cocky guy you've always known. Despite the frustration, it's strangely comforting, knowing that beneath it all, he remains the same.

"I come in peace." Sloan says as she approaches you at the bar.

"Why are you acting like that?" You laugh and reach out for her hand, pulling her towards you.

"Because." she pouts. One glance into her eyes reveals the slight glassiness from a few too many drinks this evening. "Noah mentioned he told you about the whole plan. I thought you would be mad."

You shake your head and sigh. "I'm not mad."

"Just disappointed?" Her pout deepens, and you can't help but laugh.

"No! I mean, a bit, but I should've expected it from you. Meddling in my life is your second favorite pastime, after breaking boys' hearts."

"I do really well at the first one, don't I?" Losing her pout, Sloan stands up straight, as if proud of her accomplishment in your eyes and flips her hair over her shoulder. "But I don't want to break this one." She confesses, shuffling closer to you before her head turns, and you follow her gaze towards Jolly and the rest of the guys.

"Then don't. Let yourself actually be happy with a guy for a change." You gently nudge your hip against her, and she looks back to you, nodding in agreement.

"And you should let yourself get a guy."

"Like who? Noah?"

She instantly shakes her head and scoffs, dismissing the idea with a wave of her hand. "No. But I did see that cute waiter from the other night over there." She points to another table where a group of guys are sitting together. To your surprise, she's right. The waiter from the other night is sitting on the edge of the couch, talking to his friends.

With a nod and a quick pep talk from Sloan, you head over to his table, holding your head high as you try to think of anything flirty enough to catch his attention.

"Fancy seeing you here." you purr down at him. The guys' eyes shoot up to you, and surprise quickly turns to delight.

"What a nice surprise." he flashes you a smile and shuffles over, patting down for you to join him and his friends.

"Stare any harder, and you might just set him on fire." Jolly quips, passing Noah and patting him on the back with a chuckle.

Noah's eyes have been fixed on you ever since you approached the waiter from the other night and sat down. "What on earth is she doing talking to him?" he struggles to hide his annoyance at the thought of you entertaining someone else.

He doesn't notice the look shared between his friends, who are all watching him. Instead, he remains fixed on you with a heavily possessive stare.

Noah's jaw clenches with every giggle, every arm touch, and every movement that brings you closer to the guy you're with. He quickly looks away whenever he catches your head turning in his direction, afraid that you might see him staring.

"What are you going to do? Stop her from leaving with him?" Nick asks.

"If I have to." Noah replies.

At that moment, he notices you moving from the seat, your hand still holding onto the waiter from the other night, and watches you move through the crowd of people.

He tries to follow after you, but he doesn't know what he'll do if he catches up. Will he tell you not to go with him? Will he ask you to leave him with him instead?

He has no real plan of action, except for a determination to rush over and stop the lift after he sees you both stepping inside.

The doors close just a second too soon as he finally reaches it. "Fuck!" he grumbles under his breath and looks towards the doors leading to the stairs. Quickly, he runs over to them, pushing through the door and taking two steps at a time, determined to catch up with you.

David, as you learn the waiter's name to be, is a pleasant guy. Despite the fun and flirty nature of your conversation, Noah's words remain heavily on your mind.

Between his apology and his comment about hate-fucking being the best type of sex, your eyes constantly wander to the bar until you spot him.

Convinced you've caught him staring, you can't resist the urge to tease him and decidedly invite David to join you for a nightcap in your room, slipping away with him.

It only takes a quick glance back at Noah's direction to see him already making his way through the crowd towards you.

You've got him right where you want him.

As you reach the lifts, you pull David inside, pressing the button for your floor. When you catch Noah heading in your direction, your hands move to the front of David's shirt, grasping him tightly and pulling him closer as the doors close.

Once alone with him, you push him back and reach for the buttons, pressing for the next floor. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have invited you up. I was just trying to make someone jealous." You confess, feeling a pang of guilt as you meet his gaze.

"Is it the guy from the other night by any chance?" He asks, and you remain silent, making him chuckle as he steps out of the lift on the next floor.

"I think you don't have to worry about trying to make him jealous. I think he's already there." You catch the way his eyes move across the hall, and you peek out of the lift to see Noah standing at the door to the stairwell.

As David passes Noah and enters the stairwell, you watch him approach you, and step back into the lift, him following, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "So, you were trying to make me jealous?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

He backs you into the corner of the lift, and your back presses against the cool, mirrored wall as you gaze up at him. "I hate you." You growl, Noah taking a step closer and closing the gap between you.

"I know, you've said." he says with a smug grin, trapping you between his body and the lift wall. His arm stretches out, and his hand rests just above you.

For a fleeting moment, your eyes meet, and you catch a glimpse of the heat in his own eyes. They unmistakably flicker down to your mouth.

"Kiss me then." you can't help but smirk as you watch him lean in towards you.

Your lips meet in a passionate exchange as the lift doors finally close, sealing you together on the ride back up to your shared floor.

If you truly hate him as much as you claim to, then why do you find yourself waking up in his bed the next morning?

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @annthepenguin @samanthasgone @littlebear423 @aprosiacperson @flowery-mess @nyriastark @blackgirlmagicforever, @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady

#bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #lovers to enemies fic #concretejunglefm fics

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calchalator · 3 months ago

Text

the tears that fell from the ghost hounds eyes

Pairing: Calcharo x Reader

“I thought I was protecting them.”

“From me?”

Warning: rating 18+ for accidental pregnancy, references of s*x, maybe ooc?

-It had been very sudden, something neither of you were expecting.

-You were terrified to tell him, as most people were even to scared to approach him in general.

-Except for you, when three drinks too many you ended up tangled between his arms in his bed.

-Thus you ultimately decide that you’re actually a chicken and opt out of saying anything until it started to become more and more obvious you had been hiding something big.

-He could sense the change in the tides rather swiftly, picking up on all your habits, the standoffishness you had been exhibiting, the way you had become secretive, how he could sense something was different. You looked different, and though it had been months since he last touched you, he could feel a difference.

-He couldn’t figure what he had done to make you change so much in such a short amount of time, he partially wondered if you had another lover, if you were getting attention elsewhere. That could be the change, someone who is fulfilling your needs better then he ever could.

-You however, were panicking with each incoming day as your bump grew larger and larger, your hips widening, your breasts also larger and far more tender. Your body was constantly changing, and with that came the worst case of morning sickness Baizhi had seen in a long time. She tried her best to give you some natural remedies that wouldn’t hurt you or the baby in your womb but to no avail nothing helped except to hideaway and sleep off the nausea off.

-Calcharo was beginning to worry, something the man hadn’t thought he was capable of in so long, the coldness that enshrouded him, he never thought someone as warm as you would find a way to melt through.

“This is the third com they’ve sent within the last few months that they are still away on an expedition. I think they might have defected sir,” One of his men say to him. He says nothing in return, his eyes cold and calculating. He wonders about the timing, wonders if you had enough of one night with him. Fine. Let it be that way.

-About 20 weeks go by, your bump is out and you’ve been in hiding for far to long. Guilt consumed you, knowing that your child deserved a father, but the question was simple, would he be a good one? He was cold, men and women of all kinds feared him, his enemies loathed him, a target on his head at all times. What kind of life would that be for your child?

-And you would protect your unborn child, in whatever way was necessary.

-And then he finds you, in passing, at the market. In fact, he sees you before you see him, and he struck in awe, your belly swollen, hands cradling the bump hidden beneath the fabric of your dress.

-This is what you had been hiding? You were with child? Was it his? Was it someone else’s? How far along were you? Why did you hide it? Why did you hide? His thoughts races a million miles an hour, his body paralyzed in place as he watches you converse with the townspeople. An old granny, putting her hand on your stomach, a smile emitting from your lips.

-However all he can think about is how he had been shut out, how he had been given no choice, how he didn’t know, how much he had missed. It hurt him to admit but he was mad, and not because you had done any of these things, but because he already knew why without having to ask.

-His position, his work, his source of income. The dangers he brought just by existing in the same space as you, he knew why.

-But he is a stubborn man, and views his responsibility of raising his unborn child as a higher priority then the Ghost Hounds. So his feet begin to travel in wide strides, strait towards you, pushing through the crowd of people in the heart of Jinzhou.

“Y/N.” His voice is quiet but startles you in whipping around, arms flying to your bump. To hide it maybe? Your not sure, it feels like the right thing to do. His presence is overwhelming, his scent familiar, but when you look into his eyes to see nothing but pure hurt you’ve understood you’ve made the wrong choice in not telling him. Your eyes well with tears faster then you can comprehend, your emotions on heightened hormonal train wreck.

The granny stands quietly behind you, a pillar in your current pregnancy when you had come back into Jinzhou for check ups with Baizhi. She had offered you a bowl of ramen from her shop telling you that it was okay you couldn’t afford it, you had another mouth to feed. Once you had stabilized another job within the city you had been constantly visiting her to pay back your due to her kindness. She knew of the man standing in front of you, you had only spent most of your time talking about him.

“Why don’t we take this inside children, its rather busy in the market today,” Her wizened words pull Calcharo from his stupor, his hand reaching to you to guide you into the grandmothers ramen shop.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounds almost desperate as soon as you’ve walked into the silence of the shop, he doesn’t care, “You just left. You lied.”

“I thought I was protecting them,” Your lips trembled, he had every reason to be mad, even if you didn’t think the leader of the ghost hounds would want anything to do with family or raising one of his own.

“From me?” He whispers.

You stay silent, guilt raising the bile in your throat, your stomach flipping. With shaky hands you feel the walls of your throat closing up, a gagging motion coming from your gut as you turn to beeline for the bathroom. In an instant your on your knees in front of the toilet, holding onto your stomach and the rim of the toilet bowl as this mornings breakfast makes it way out of your body.

-(Baby Calchalator isn’t a fan of cheesy eggs on toast apparently)

-You can’t hear anything, your body is reverent with chills, shaking violently with each outburst.

-You almost don’t recognize his touch because he is so gentle.

-His hands slip around the strands of your fallen hair, pulling it back as his other hand rubs soothing circles along your back. He was on his knees, one on each side of your body, holding you tightly in place.

-Once you’ve finally calmed, his hands reach under each arm to help you to your feet, a task that usually had been taking the wind out of you and a task he did effortlessly.

“I’m sorry I left.” You whisper after a few moments of silence.

His eyes were defeated, head hanging low as his eyes trained on the tips of his shoes, “If you don’t want me to be here I’ll leave, I’ll do whatever you think is best for you and our child.”

-And-oh god-

-He wants it, and your hearts racing because he wants your child, he wants to be there, to raise them on his principles, to take their hand and guide them through life, and he wants to be there doing that with you.

-He’s stern now, feeling fear for the answer to come from your lips. On one hand he knew he would bring danger, in was in his nature and nothing good ever followed once he collected of his debts from his line of work. He knew he was rigid, bound by a staggering fate that he would cycle through each contract till one eventually took his life. Would he leave his child without a father out of fate or because of a decision of the one person who made him change his mind on everything? Because on the other hand, he never knew how quickly he’d embrace the idea of having his own kid. He could already feel the twinge of hope taking root inside of him, hope that you would let him stay, hope that he would get to hold that little baby in his arms, hope that would be his reason to shape into a man his child would be proud to call their father.

You don’t hesitate, “Stay.”

-His eyes snap to your eyes, checking for honesty, he’s in disbelief. Stay? Stay.

“You’ll still have me? Despite everything?” He’s cautious, will they just leave him again? Will they change their mind? His fear is masked with a stoic thin line of his lips pressed together, emotions securely hidden behind his eyes. They tell you nothing, you don’t know what he’s thinking, but you can feel his pain, the hurt, the betrayal.

“You’ve proved me wrong,” You say, looking at him, “I don’t think there is anybody else who deserves this more then you do, and I am so sorry that I almost took that from you.”

-It was the most honest apology he’d ever received, and in no time you were in his arms, in the confines of the bathroom where no one, not even granny, could see the tears that fell from the ghost hounds eyes. His heart had been beating so fast, his hands felt frozen solid and yet he grappled you in, his hands finding solace on the growing bump.

(AN: This was 100% self indulgent. Should I make this a series?)

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isaidonyourknees · 1 year ago

Text

The Stakeout

Crosshair x f!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Prompt: “you’ve gone to far this time”

Summary: Sent to gather information on a potential separatist spy, you’re partnered with Crosshair to watch your target from above. Pairing you with Crosshair made sense at first, but after spending two weeks in a small room with him, you’re just about ready to snap.

Warnings: NSFW! Minors DNI. Smut, fingering, unprotected p in v, swearing.

A/N: hi! Another story for the @cloneficgiftexchange I decided to try something new by writing some smut. I’ve never written anything like this before so hopefully it’s alright. I was also aiming for enemies to lovers but it turned into something a lot softer. I wrote this for @heavenseed76 I really hope you enjoy it!

At first the pairings made perfect sense. The mission was to gather intel on a potential separatist spy from afar. So you had split into three teams of two.

With Hunter’s tracking abilities and Wreckers need for action, they were best suited for following your target from the ground - listening into conversations, watching what was bought and sold.

Tech and Echo were to remain on the marauder, which was parked just outside of the small beach town, tasked with monitoring comm channels and keeping in contact with command. If a quick getaway was needed then you also wanted Tech in the pilots seat.

And with Crosshair’s eyesight and sniper skills, and your patience and attention to detail, it made sense that the two of you were paired together to watch from above, monitoring your targets larger movements around the town.

Two weeks into sharing a single room with Crosshair was starting to make you wish you two didn’t make such a good pairing. The man was insufferable. He didn’t pick up after himself, leaving clothes and wrappers littered around the room. He was always grumbling under his breath about one thing or another. And his stupid toothpicks. It made you furious every time he used the stupid things to point at you as he talked.

But the real reason you were struggling with this mission was because despite all the ways he got on your nerves, Crosshair held all your affections. You cared for him more deeply than you should. And being caged in a single room with him for the past two weeks was wearing you thin. With each minute that passed your feelings were getting harder and harder to control.

Each time he silently handed you a ration bar, reminding you to eat, each time he quietly joked with you as you watched the marketplace below you while sharing snacks he had stolen from the vending machine in the hallway, each time you fell asleep by the window and woke up tucked in bed, each time he showed the quiet way he cares has your heart racing and a warm feeling spreading within your chest. He seemed cold and cruel on the surface, but if you knew where to look, Crosshair was a big softie and it had you melting for him.

With each day that passed, you were getting closer and closer to doing something stupid, something that will certainly leave your heart shattered.

Something like grabbing his stupidly handsome face and kissing him. Which is exactly what you did.

•~•~•

It was approaching two weeks of your stakeout. Two weeks of sharing the small, crappy room with Crosshair.

The marketplace below you was quiet, the afternoon rush having come and gone. The vendors were in their final few hours of their shifts before they would be shutting up for the night. Your forehead is pressed to the glass. You know that the target isn’t here. Hunter and Wrecker had commed you earlier, updating you that they had followed the target back to the room she was renting and it appeared that she wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. It was completely pointless for you to be staring out of the window but you and Crosshair were instructed to keep round the clock surveillance in case Hunter and Wrecker miss anything. You hum a mindless tune to keep your mind occupied as you watch an elderly woman purchase her groceries.

“Stop humming” Crosshair huffs.

“No.” Your response is dry and you continue humming just a little bit louder than before.

“Stop. Focus on the task.”

“I am focusing. What do you think I’m doing?” You snap. He always had something to complain about.

“I think you’re watching that woman buy her dinner instead of the hotel across the square.”

You feel your face flush slightly at being caught. Curse his stupid enhanced eyesight.

“What woman?” You grumble, but it’s halfhearted and not very convincing. He sighs loudly and shuffles off the bed he was resting on. He drags the second chair over and positions it next to you. You unstick your forehead from the window to look at him, ignoring the fact that there’s probably a red mark on your head, to give him a questioning look.

“If you’re bored you won’t focus properly,” is all he says in explanation. You nod along.

“So what do you propose?” You ask. He doesn’t respond and your annoyance begins to creep in again. You huff and scan the small crowd of shoppers and vendors below you.

“See that blue twi-lek?” You ask, pointing the man out. Crosshair leans forward slightly, studying the man closely.

“What about him?”

“And see that vendor there? The guy with the glasses and pink hair?”

“Yes.”

“Well the twi-lek man definitely has feelings for the vendor. He’s there just about once a day and he always selects an object at random, not studying the produce like other shoppers. He also stays to talk with the vendor longer than anyone else,” you explain.

“Stop loosing focus” Crosshair snaps.

“I’m not! I’m taking in the square as a whole and therefore I notice the other people in it as well” you defend. Crosshair is silent for a moment.

“How do you know?” He asks. You shrug.

“I don’t. Obviously. I’m taking what I’m seeing and making something up to go with it. You have a go.”

Crosshair doesn’t say anything, but that doesn’t surprise you.

“I think the vendor is interested in the twi-lek as well. But he’s got a kid and he’s worried that it’ll scare the twi-lek away. It won’t” you continue your story. You go quiet for a moment, studying the crowd.

“That little girl keeps stealing from that particular fruit vendor” you say, pointing the two out. Crosshair doesn’t respond but he follows your gaze to see who you’re talking about and you smile to yourself. “She only does it because the vendors little sister makes fun of her at school.”

“That man by the herbal store,” Crosshair points out. You seek out the man he’s talking about and find a neatly dressed man’s pacing and muttering. You hum your acknowledgment and you feel Crosshairs gaze flicker to you for a moment.

“He’s going to propose tonight.”

You turn to look at him and give him a surprised look.

“I didn’t pick you for a romantic Cross,” you tease.

“I’m not,” he scoffs. “I saw him buy the ring when we first arrived.”

“Well who’s he proposing too?” You ask.

“How should I know” he huffs in annoyance.

“Make something up” you prompt. He’s quiet for a long moment. You’re just about to come up with a new story yourself when he finally speaks up.

“The girl who grew up next door from him. Their parents are friends so they’ve known each other since they were little, but he didn’t really notice her until she helped him get over his first heartbreak when they were fifteen.”

You turn to look at him again, studying his face, but he keeps it in his neutral scowl. You know that he can feel your gaze on him, but he ignores you. The story is sweet and romantic and a compete surprise coming from Crosshair. You can feel your heart beat pick up slightly. Crosshair could be romantic when he wanted and it only deepens your already overflowing feelings for him. He finally spares you a glance and you realise you’ve been staring at him. You clear your throat.

“Which holo-novel did you get that one from?” You gently knock his shoulder with yours in your attempt at teasing him, but it feels awkward and you internally cringe.

“Fine then I won’t play your little game.”

You pout at him playfully but it softens into a smile.

“You just surprised me is all. Didn’t think you had it in you Cross.” You hesitate before you continue, not wanting to risk overstepping. “I like you like this.”

He turns away from the window and looks at you. You’re already watching him. The two of you spend a moment just studying each other. Crosshair breaks it first, leaning forward to gently run his thumb over the still lingering mark on your forehead from leaning on the window earlier. He smooths his thumb across your skin, as if he’s trying to wipe away the faint redness. It’s soothing and soft and oh so tender.

His face is so close to yours, your breaths mingling together. He makes eye contact with you, his hand still on your face, and there’s a gorgeous warmth in his eyes and you just can’t control your emotions anymore.

You bring your hands up to his face and lean in, closing the gap between the two of you. The kiss you give him is sweet and tender, mirroring his previous actions. His hand on your face moves to the back of your head as he kisses you back. A glorious warmth fills your chest.

It’s quickly erased a moment later, however. Crosshair pulls back sharply, leaning as far back in his chair, as if to get away from you.

That sweet warmth turns into burning embarrassment. You’ve ruined everything now.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve asked. I’ve overstepped and-“

“Don’t.”

You stop talking and look at him, waiting to see what else he has to say. But he doesn’t say anything. Typical.

“Cross-“

“Just don’t do it again.”

Kriff.

You can feel your heart shatter. You’ve read it all wrong. He doesn’t feel the same.

“I’m sorry. I thought you liked me. I misread the situation and I should have asked. I’m sorry Crosshair.” You’re rambling, but you don’t know what else to do. You feel bad. You’ve put him in a situation he probably never thought he’d be in.

“I do like you.” He says it simply, like it’s glaringly obvious. Like he didn’t just tell you to never kiss him again.

“What?” Your brain is taking too long to catch up. “Then why…” you trail off.

“It’s you that doesn’t like me” he states plainly. You’re still confused, but it melts into annoyance and a bit of anger.

“Crosshair- what?” You question. “Of course I like you! I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t like you.” He shakes his head.

“Stop it. You don’t.” He tells you. Your anger really starts to simmer. Who was he to tell you how you felt.

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap at him. “Don’t tell me that I don’t like you as if I didn’t just risk our entire relationship to kiss you. Like I haven’t pined after you for months. Like you didn’t catch my attention as soon as I joined this team.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You’re both furious and flabbergasted. Your mouth is opening and closing like a fish as you struggle to find the words to express your fury. Crosshair speaks before you can find them.

“You don’t actually like me. I’m just your chance to prove you were a little rebellious. That you slept with someone other than the vanilla partner you’ll end up with. You’ll tell the story of the daring few months you spent with me at your girls night to gain a few gasps. Ultimately, I’m just a quick fling to get it out of your system before you settle down for a quiet, boring life.”

He says it all plainly, his voice dry and lacking any real emotion. He says it as if he’s describing the weather.

You finally find your voice again and you just snap.

“You’ve gone too far this time, alright! This isn’t just a fling to - to ‘get it out my system’. This isn’t some attention seeking rebellious act or a story to laugh about with some boring date or partner in the future. What I feel for you is real. Do you want to know how I know this?”

“Pray tell.”

“Because I hate it! I hate the way you make me feel! I hate your stupid voice and your stupid comments. I hate your toothpicks and I hate the way you glare at me. I hate that you’re so charming without even trying and I hate the quiet ways you care for me. I hate you!”

You pant as you try to catch your breath. You stare at him but he gives no indication that he’s going to say anything. You hate how he speaks when you don’t want him to and is silent when you desperately need him to speak. You huff in annoyance, but all the fight has left you.

“I hate you so much and yet… here I am, yearning for you.”

He moves so quickly, you almost don’t register it until he’s in front of you. He grabs your face in both hands, and he kisses you. Fiercely. It’s deep and passionate and desperate. It takes you a moment to respond, but when you do you kiss him back just as hard.

He starts walking you backwards, his lips never leaving yours, until you feel your back press against a wall. It’s no longer just his lips and hands on you as he presses his body onto yours. You can feel all of him - his hard chest, his hips, his strong thighs - and yet it’s not enough. You need more.

He breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t move away from you. He studies your face for a moment before he speaks.

“I’m yours whenever you need me,” he murmurs in your ear, his lips brushing your earlobe before he begins tracing a path of soft kisses down your neck. Your breath stutters as you try to speak.

“I need you now Crosshair. I always need you.” You let out a small moan as his teeth run over your pulse point. He focuses on this spot, sucking and nipping until he’s satisfied with the mark he’s left behind.

“Tell me what you want, doll” he says, pulling away from your neck to look at you. You whine and turn your face away from him. He makes a disappointed sound as he gently grabs your chin to turn your face back towards him. “None of that now. Prove you can handle me. Look at me as you tell me what you want.”

He’s wearing that insufferable smirk. The one that makes you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. It’s the stupid smirk that makes you push him off you and backwards until the back of his knees is hitting the bed. You push him down before straddling his lap. He doesn’t believe you can take him, but you are more than happy to prove him wrong.

“First, I want this off” you say as you begin mouthing at his neck, your fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, lightly tugging the material upwards. He leans back slightly to allow you to slide his shirt further up his body and you take your time as you graze your fingers over his newly exposed skin. You drop the shirt carelessly on the ground, unable to tear your eyes or hands away from his gorgeous golden skin for very long. You trace your fingers over his chest and abdomen.

“See something you like?” His voice has a teasing lilt to it. You lift your gaze back up to his dark eyes. You can’t help your cheeky smile.

“It’ll do.” You add a small shrug to add effect.

“Well in that case-“ he moves you off him and gets up, walking away from you, giving you a wondrous view of his back.

“Crosshair don’t you dare!” You whine.

“That’s what I thought” he smirks. He stands in front of you and he hooks his fingers under your shirt. He stills though, silently asking for your permission. Something in your chest melts a little before you nod. You expect him to rip the fabric from you, instead he takes his time, brown eyes taking in every inch of your skin that’s exposed to him. Your heart races in your chest as he takes you in.

Once the offending garment is finally on the floor somewhere you reach up and grab his face, pulling him down to you in a searing kiss. Your emotions bubble under your skin and you need him. He runs his hands over your waist as you kiss, taking in the feel of you under him. Wanting more, you unclasp your bra, tugging it off without breaking the kiss. Crosshair groans into the kiss and you drink up the sound, wanting to hear it over and over again.

Crosshair pulls away, his eyes fixating on your chest. He brushes a finger over a nipple and your breath catches in your throat.

“Kriff look at you” he mutters as if he’s speaking to himself. Then he’s leaning down and wrapping his mouth around your nipple, his fingers lightly tugging at your other one.

“Cross” you keen, arching your back to press your chest further into his warm mouth. You feel the low groan he makes.

“Say my name like that again” he murmurs into your skin, and you oblige him as he switches sides. He moves, sucking a mark onto your chest, before he presses a sweet kiss to it. Your breath hitches and you feel your heart skip a beat. Here he is marking you as his before he’s switching to become soft and gentle.

He doesn’t remain at your chest for very long. He continues to trail down your body, licking and sucking gently as he goes, until he’s hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants.

“Are you alright with this?” He asks, looking up at you from between your thighs. The sight of him sends heat burning through you.

“Crosshair please” you whine. You sound absolutely desperate, but you don’t care. Whatever it takes to get him to finally undress you.

His eyes darken at your words and he’s tugging your pants and underwear down in one swoop, shoving them on the floor so he can finally get a look at you. You feel a little self conscious under his gaze for a moment but he takes it all away when he looks back up at you again.

“You’re stunning” he rasps, moving back up your body to kiss you deeply again, his tongue exploring your mouth expertly. You run your hands over his back, taking him in, but they quickly move to grip his shoulders when his fingers swipe through your folds. You gasp into his mouth and he pulls away so he can hear the noise you make as he presses a single long finger into you.

“Look at you,” he groans, “so wet and tight and making the prettiest noises for me.” You moan at his words, but also the rough sound of his voice as he starts thrusting his finger, searching for the little spot that’ll have you seeing stars. You let out a cry when he brushes over it, clenching tightly around his finger. He smirks at your reaction before inserting a second finger.

“You feel so good” you groan, loving the stretch from his fingers alone. He picks up his pace, fingers moving rapidly, leaving you moaning and squirming beneath him. You can feel your release building and building. You’re almost there, you just need a little more to get you there.

“Crosshair” you plead, not quite able to find the words to convey how close you are. He can tell though, the way you squeeze and flutter around his fingers is indication enough. He presses his thumb to your neglected clit, tracing short tight circles over it as he leans down, mouth brushing at your ear.

“Come on doll, show me how gorgeous you look coming around my fingers.”

His simple command muttered in his rough voice sends you flying over the edge. You grip at his shoulders desperately as you clench around his fingers. He continues his movements, working you through your orgasm until your grip on him loosens. He places sweet kisses along your neck as he removes his fingers and lets you come down from your high.

You pant a little as you catch your breath, but as Crosshair shifts above you, you feel his length brush over your thigh and you feel your arousal and need growing again. As he continues to lather your neck with kisses, your hands move to his pants, quickly unbuttoning them. Just as you go to push them down you pause, looking up at the man above you.

“Can I touch you?” You ask. Crosshair lets out a groan, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

“Please” he murmurs. You push his pants down enough to get them out of the way before you take his hard length into your hand. He’s long and oh so pretty. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. You want nothing more than to flip him over and to taste him.

“Next time doll,” Crosshair says as if he can read your mind. “As nice as having your mouth on me would be, I need to be in you. Now.”

You pump his length a few times, which earns you a groan through gritted teeth and a warning look from him. You smile up at him sweetly which he chuckles darkly at.

“Looks like I underestimated you, doll. Looks like you can handle me just fine.” He grabs your hands, pinning them above your head with one hand, the other making quick work of shoving his pants off before lining the head of his cock up to your entrance.

His movements were so swift and effortless it leaves you breathless and speechless for a moment. He doesn’t give you long to gather your wits before he is pushing into you with a smooth thrust. It completely knocks your breath out of you. You try to move your hands, needing desperately to grab hold of something, anything to ground yourself, but his grip on your wrists remains firm. You gasp as you clench around him, trying to adjust to his size.

“Fuck Crosshair! You’re so big. You’re s’good” you slur. He gives you his insufferable smirk, but you can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment.

“My babydoll is drunk on my cock and I haven’t even moved yet” Crosshair teases, pride written across his features. This sobers you up a little.

“Just shut up and move” you grumble. Crosshair kisses you, remaining annoyingly still inside you. You whine into the kiss. When he pulls away, he begins to pull out.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he says before he thrusts back into you, beginning a steady pace. You cry out at his deep thrusts and his quick pace right off the bat.

“That’s right. Let all the neighbours hear just how good I’m making you feel.” He changes his angle slightly as he says this, hitting your sweet spot deliciously, causing you to moan loudly as you clench around him.

“Only you make me feel this way Cross,” you manage to stutter out, brain going hazy with the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Such a good girl for me. So wet and tight, all for me.” You whine at the praise, feeling the pressure of your release starting to build. He pushes into you harder, feeling your walls flutter around him. He presses his thumb to your clit, circling it intently.

“You’re close, I can feel it. Feel you clenching and fluttering around me. You feel divine doll. Now show me what you look like as you come on my cock. Let me hear all the pretty little sounds you’ll make.”

His words murmured in his husky voice send you over the edge. He lets go of your hands and they grip at his shoulders desperately, nails digging into his skin as you cry out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure he is giving you. Just as you’re beginning to come down from your high his hips begin to stutter.

“So good for me. You’re so good for me. Where-?” He asks hurriedly.

“Inside. Please” you beg. He groans deeply as he gives a few more thrust before you can feel the warmth of him spilling into you. He collapses onto you for a moment while the two of you catch your breaths. The weight of him is comforting and you can feel his heart beating against your chest. A content warmth settles in your chest as you draw aimless shapes across his back. The gesture seems to bring him back to his body. He pulls out of you and rolls off you, causing you to whine at the loss. He chuckles as he pulls you into him, wrapping you up in his arms.

“Don’t worry doll, I’m not going anywhere.”

He brings the blanket up over the both of you and you feel so safe and warm. You bask in the feeling for a moment.

“I meant everything I said you know.” Your voice is quiet, laced with sleepiness. “I really do want you. If you’ll have me.” Crosshair doesn’t respond, but his grip around you tightens.

You’re fast asleep when he finally does respond, his words a gentle whisper into your hair.

“I am yours entirely.”

#star wars #the bad batch #Crosshair #tbb Crosshair #Crosshair x reader #clone fic gift exchange

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hcuyk · 1 year ago

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[ 18+ ] . . . . . . . . OUR INFERNO MASTERLIST

⧉ OUR INFERNO // elaborates the complexities within a relationship—the spark, the blaze, the pain. your love with haechan is a never ending fire; it's something so strong, so beautiful and powerful, that it suffocates you both into believing that your relationship would last, only for it to go down in flames ( ☄︎ )

╰ · · ALT. VER OF OUR INFERNO — HYUNJAE VER.

› 〉 PAIRING // nonidol!haechan x fem!reader

› 〉 GENRE // varies every chapter : includes but is not limited to — high school au, college au, single dad au, enemies to fwbs to lovers to strangers to fwbs to ????, potential bad ending, smut, fluff, angst

› 〉 WARNINGS // varies every chapter : 18+ MDNI : includes but is not limited to — excessive profanity, cheating, toxic relationship(s), underaged drinking, these two are corruption itself : NSFW TAGS will vary and be stated in every chapter

˖⋆ STATUS ☆ ONGOING

˖⋆ STARTED ☆ 042124

⋮≡ [ OUR INFERNO EXCLUSIVE ] @flwoie @jaeims @n-jules @dnylwoo @milkyway-vxm @smwhrinthehaze @rjtulips @snflwrhaerecs4u @tmtxtf @kimsarah06 @chiieee @bbulbblemee @dreawinko @httpxelysian11 @sehunniepotrecs — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

˖⋆ LAST UPDATED ☆ 042124

˖⋆ WORD COUNT ☆ 19k

⋮≡ [ PERMANENT TAGLIST ] @armysantiny @nyujjan @the-kpop-simp @sunwoosberrie @cosmiicdream @maeves632 @hyuckluvr-com @galacticseonghwa — lmk if you're a minor/uncomfortable with nsfw and i'll remove you from the taglist for this series! also lmk if you'd prefer to be tagged for inferno!jae or hyuck (or both)! — fill out the form or comment/send an ask/dm to be added!

||| ⧉ . . PART ONE: CHASING THE SPARK (THE FIRE TETRAHEDRON)

— —|— — i. FUEL, OXYGEN, AND HEAT

(일 ✧ 0001) — 4/21 — 19k

despite being your greatest archnemesis/rival/enemy/frenemy/whateverthefuck he was, haechan had always been by your side. that changed when your boyfriend was brought up, creating a newfound rift in your whateverthefuck relationship with haechan

— —|— — ii. THE FOURTH COMPONENT

— —|— — iii. CORRUPTION’S AFTERMATH

||| ⧉ . . PART TWO: LETHAL INCARCERATION (THE REIGNITION)

— —|— — i. SMOKE INHALATION

— —|— — ii. ASPHYXIA

— —|— — iii. VICIOUS TEMPTATION

NAVIGATION | NCT DREAM MASTERLIST

╰ · · AUTHOR'S NOTE: i hope you all enjoy this alternative of the original! | lovely credits to my beta readers like always — @drunkdrazed @winterchimez @stealanity @simpforsunwoo

#OUR INFERNO | lee haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan #haechan series #haechan fluff #haechan smut #haechan angst #nct dream #nct 127 #nct u #haechan masterlist #haechan fanfiction #haechan hard hours #haechan au

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fanficsandcodposts · 4 days ago

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Soap X Reader (F)

Why does it take a bullet to get you to confess your feeling for your handsome Sergeant, Johnny? (TW-Blood, War, Violence, Emergency Wound Staples)

The mission took a turn for the worse in the dry, arid, desolate city ruins of Iran. Enemy forces were advancing quickly, and everyone was going to have to survive through a deadly firefight if they were going to make it to the extraction point. You did have one solace, though; you were side by side with your favorite handsome Sergeant, Johnny. It was quite a sight, seeing you two sweep through entire buildings, 'cleaning house' so effortlessly. This is what you two lived for, of course: the thrill of the fight and the satisfaction of the kill. As you both swept through yet another building, successfully clearing it, you stole glances at Johnny. He carried himself with raw confidence and authority. When he rushed into a room, the very walls seemed to expand to accommodate his powerful presence. It was frightening yet incredibly sexy. It's possible you had a love-struck expression, even if you didn't Johnny was always such a tease. Either way, when he caught you staring, he winked at you and flashed his signature cocky grin before he began to advance again. You rolled your eyes and gave an amused huff as you followed closely behind.

You had been pining after him for months, desperate to tell him how much you adored him and his beautiful baby-blue eyes. You loved his silly little mohawk, and God, could you listen to him talk for hours, completely fixated on his thick Scottish accent. Unfortunately, you had not told him yet how much you liked him. You were scared he wouldn't feel the same as you. Now, sadly, you may never get the chance.

As you and Johnny fought through a decently well-preserved building, bee-lining for extraction, a stray bullet struck you on the right side close to your navel. The sheer white-hot, burning pain caused you to fall to your knees with a sharp wail of agony. Once Johnny shot and killed the group of three hostiles, he turned to you, eyes wide with panic.

Johnny dragged you deeper within the building, where he found a spot that somehow had all four walls and a semi-in-tack door that kept hostile eyes from spotting the two of you inside. You tried desperately to muffle your cries so as not to alert any more enemies to your location, but the pain only worsened with every passing second. Johnny laid you down on your back to assess the extent of the bullet wound. "Ah, Christ! Alright, bonnie, stay with me; I need to rip yer shirt to see how bad those bastards gotcha." With a quick jerk and ripping of wet fabric, Johnny was able to examine the bullet wound clearly. Luckily for you, the bullet only grazed your side. It wasn't as bad as Johnny imagined it would be, but still, by all means, it wasn't pretty and bleeding like crazy. Johnny knows if he can't stop the blood loss, he will lose you forever.

Johnny quickly pulled off your med pack and went through the items you kept on you for emergencies. He opened a clean rag and pressed it down hard on the wound. You yelled out in pain at the sudden, intense pressure, but quickly, your cries were muffled by Johnny's now bloodied hand over your mouth.

"Shhh, m'sorry bonnie, please, got to be quiet." Johnny whispered softly; his gaze was pleading, begging you to be strong for him. Johnny called out on the coms, "Ghost, we need backup. Got a lass down; m'doin my best to stabilize the wound." "Fuckin' hell, I'm on my way, but these bastards are everywhere. Stay there and stay alive; that's an order!" Ghost's gravelly voice rang out through the coms. "You got it, LT. Please hurry." Johnny's voice cracked slightly, letting his mask of confidence slip. You knew immediately he was extremely worried.

Even though you were lying still on your back, the ceiling began to sway above you. The sound of bullets ricocheting off nearby buildings started to quiet. You clamped your eyes shut as you suddenly felt cold, unable to stop yourself from shaking. "Ah-Ah, bonnie nun of that aye? Focus on ole Johnny, m'not gonna lose you like this." Johnny took one of his strong hands off your wound to go through your med bag. He let out a soft "Jeysus" when he pulled out your emergency surgical skin stapler. "Alright, bonnie, deep breaths." After four staples were clamped into your side, your wound stopped leaking fresh red blood significantly. Johnny didn't notice, but after the first staple, you had passed out from shock. "No, no, no!" Johnny frantically picked you up to hold you in his arms. He slapped at your face, not violently but with enough force to try to get you to wake up. Finally, your eyes began to move, and you opened them to see Johnny's desperate baby blues peering into your own as relief washed over him. "There ya are, don' fuckin scare me like that." He said with a strained chuckle.

After you took some painkillers from your med pack, you were able to sit up with your back against the dusty concrete wall of the room. The sound of gunfire was now more distant, but at any moment, the situation could take a turn for the worse. Johnny sat in front of you, observing you, seemingly worried if he took his eyes off of you for even a second, you'd vanish.

"Do you think everyone else is doing okay out there?" You spoke softly, taking a sip of warm water from your canteen. "Aye, Ghost should be here any minute." "Yeah. That was scary back there. Imagine if I died and I never got to see what Ghost's face looks like." You attempted to chuckle at your joke, but the pain held you back. "Ya, forgive me, but I will not be imagining that, bonnie. Y'now I've seen Ghost's face, and honestly, he's not even close to being as handsome as me." Johnny answered in an amused tone, but you picked up on the hint of jealousy. "I never imagined he would be as handsome as you, Johnny. That would be a tall order to fulfill." You spoke sweetly to him, flashing him a reassuring smile. Johnny looked over at you with a grin of satisfaction. "Yer just saying that because I saved yer bacon." "No, I mean it, truly. I guess I've just been so afraid to tell you how much I like you because I didn't know if you saw me more as a friend." Johnny stared at you as his expression shifted to confusion. After he rewired the part of his brain that short-circuited, he spoke bluntly. "I thought ya had a thing for Ghost?"

"Ghost?" You blurted out, now you were just as confused as Johnny. "Why did you think I had a thing for Ghost?" "Well, it just seems like wherever he is, you follow. You ask me questions abou' him, and I don' know." You let out a soft chuckle of air, staring into Johnny's gorgeous baby blues. "I'm always around Ghost because you are always around him, dummy. He's your best friend, right? I just needed a reason to talk to you." Johnny stared back in awe; your confession hit him like a cold ocean wave. All that time wasted by being jealous of Ghost when it was him you were so desperate to be around. "M' a bloody idiot." Johnny blurted out while gently shrugging his shoulders. "Wish you had told me sooner, bonnie." "Well, I told you now, Johnny." Your voice was clear and sweet.

Johnny still sat dumbstruck, watching your every movement. "Why did you give me the nickname Bonnie, by the way? It's cute, but I never understood it." "Bonnie means beautiful." Johnny grinned as he reached his hand over to caress his thumb over your cheek. "You've always been my bonnie lass."

You peered into Johnny's baby blues and then looked down at his plush lips. "Now I wish I told you sooner if this is the thanks I'd get."

As your heart raced, Johnny chuckled and pulled you closer for a kiss. Your lips found each other in a sweet melding of souls. You could taste the faintest hint of gunpowder and iron. It was slow and needy, but it satisfied the desire for more, if only for a short time. You pulled away from his mouth first, breathing in a soft breath. You held on tightly to his tactical vest, waiting to see if he'd offer you another taste.

Suddenly, loud footsteps were heard racing down the hallway towards your location. Johnny's eyes widened with fear as he turned to see hostiles rush into the room, guns pointed at the two of you. Luckily, Ghost was right behind them, and with two clean headshots, the enemies went down. Ghost immediately got to work to help Johnny partially carry you to the extraction point. Everyone made it safely home on that mission, and you were so thankful the bullet didn't take your life.

Now, as you sat on your med-bay bed with fresh bandages over your healing wound, you opened the note that was attached to a fresh bouquet of red roses and smiled at the message.

"I'm taking ya out on a proper date as soon as you're all better. It's killin me not being able to be with you. Apparently, 'I'm too loud and bothering the other patients.' What a bunch of shite! Ah well, soon there will be plenty of time for us to be together. Hopefully, in more ways than one ;). Get well soon, bonnie lass. Xoxo Johnny."

#call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #john soap mactavish #call of duty fic #call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #cod soap #johnny soap mctavish x you #call of duty x reader

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thelastofhyde · 1 year ago

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ii. santorini.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. tensions are high as you and joel spend your first day together exploring the popular island of santorini. back on the boat, joel gets a glimpse at more than he bargained for. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much ) <3 chapter warnings. mild smut ( female masturbation, mentions of oral sex + piv sex ), bickering, alcohol, mild angst, so much cheese it'll turn you lactose intolerant!! btw joel hates santorini and he makes that known, but none of his opinions reflect my own ( please don't be mean to me over things characters say <33 ) word count. 7.9k hyde’s input. the majority of this chapter was written with a mixture of medicine flowing through my veins, it's a miracle it's even intelligible. apologies for the wait, the holidays and health issues got in the way <3 as always, i hope you enjoy, comments an dreblogs are always appreciated !! previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

It is a known fact that your name and late rarely exist within the same sentence.

The mere thought of being late fills you with a sickness you cannot cure. The extremes you’ll go to avoid it know no bounds. From arriving four hours before a flight, to waiting in your car a whole hour before entering a lecture hall, adulthood is a phase in which you’d sworn to repair the damage of a childhood worth of not arriving late.

Late to school, late to birthday parties, late to dentist appointments.

It wasn’t that you were a particularly difficult child, running rampant around the house as your mother tried to dress you, or your father tried to feed you. Quite the contrary, really. Often, it was little-you who chased around after them, and who waited by the door, school bag in hand, tapping your foot with every second that ticked by on the clock. You were too young and hadn’t the ability nor the empathy to understand that your parents were held up with sorting through things directly influenced by your existence, like cleaning up the messes you left at the breakfast table, or fixing the doorknob you and your sister broke in an intense game of hide and seek.

Nowadays, you can count on one hand the times you’ve been late.

First, you were late to your own surprise birthday party, but that was down to you getting stuck an extra hour at work. It was out of your control.

Then, there’d been your graduation ceremony. Your father missed an exit and ended up taking you on a mystery tour of the city, trying to find the next turn that led to your campus. Again, out of your control.

The third time is the one you remember panicking over the most, knee bouncing uncontrollably with nerves as you sat squeezed between two strangers on a plane. Your sister, barely halfway through her third trimester, had gone into labour, and where were you? Stumbling around drunk on a private beach in Cancún, mumbling along to the lyrics of some early 2000s classic you forget the name of. Your niece, all 4 and a half pounds of her, had decided now was her time to shine and there was nothing, not even the 4 weeks she had yet to grow in utero, that was going to stop her. By the time you arrived, mascara smudged eyes and with the stench of tequila still on your skin, she was laying peacefully in her incubator, the tiniest little fingers clenched into fists and a name tag around her wrist. This too was out of your control.

But the fourth time you’re late, as you stride urgently across the wooden decking of the ship, weaving in and out of lounge chairs and polo-neck wearing crew members, it’s completely within your control.

Yet, it’s not entirely your fault.

An alarm that never went off. A game of hide-and-seek with your purse. An unfortunate slip on bathroom tiles adding another bruise to your knees. An elevator that refused to travel faster than the speed of a snail. It’s as though Lady Luck had set out in favour of being against you, doing her utmost to ensure you arrive exactly seven minutes past your deadline. His deadline.

Best be on the deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’m dockin’ without ya.

Your head whips from one side to another, eyes finding a familiar figure amongst the few passengers meeting their own private guides. It’s the same man from yesterday, out on the balcony, the memory of him cheering his champagne and shooting a tipsy smile your way replaying. Only now he’s clad in plaid, with a frown etched into his forehead as he stares at his watch. There’s another man, hanging off his arm, fusing with the collar of his shirt.

“She’s late,” you overhear him say, voice firm and leaking with annoyance.

“Maybe she just slept in!” The man next to him is cheerier, tired eyes full of optimism, even as he turns his head and stifles a yawn. “Give her a few minutes.”

“What kind of shitty tour guide sleeps in?” Balcony-Man huffs, and you can’t help but think of your niece and her pouty face whenever she fails to get her own way. “Does she think I’d not rather be asleep too? Lazy c-”

“See? This is why I told you to eat that damn croissant before we left.” The taller of them seems to snap, rolling his eyes. “Brighten up, Bill, or so help me God you’ll be leaving this boat a divorcee.”

Trying to tune their voices out, as the guilt of prying crawls its way into your bones, your gaze points down at your feet. The very same heels you’d worn last night, pretty as they may leave you, have you cursing at the Sun and the Moon. If you’d have just worn your sneakers, maybe you could have ran up the stairs instead of taking the snail-evator.

Joel, tour guide, Signore Miller’s voice- though your imagination can’t quite reach his level of arrogance- rears its irritating head through your mind, recalling his words from last night. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. That had been enough to awaken that stubborn mule inside of you, hell-bent on proving him wrong.

But now, late, and with him nowhere in sight, your heels seem to have had the opposite effect. They’ve proved him right.

Which leaves you here, moping so pathetically you’re incapable of appreciating the shine of a rising sun over the horizon of aqua blue water.

Five minutes, you decide. That’s how long you’ll allow yourself to dwell in self-pity. Then, you’ll trek your way over to the Excelsior lounge, hit up the breakfast buffet, and await the general disembarking time.

Who knows, maybe you’ll get a call to say there’s a miraculous spot opened up on one of the tour groups.

If not, you’ll be fine! You’ve travelled alone before, you’ve got an all-inclusive data plan on your phone and you’re pretty well-acquainted with the less-than-accommodating features of Google Maps. You don’t need help, or a tour guide, much less one as blood-boiling, skin-prickling, irritating as Joel Mil-

“Wasn’t sure how ya like your coffee, but you look like a milk, two sugars kind of girl to me.”

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Or, in this case, think of him.

Turning a little too fast, you stumble a step or two back, and, sure enough, there he is. A tight fitting, dark grey t-shirt stretched over the swell of his biceps, a pair of washed-out denims, and two well-worn running shoes, one on each foot. Trailing up the swell of his tanned neck, you count the freckles up to his eyes, and find there’s bags under them. The growth of hair on his face is just as unkempt as yesterday, yet already it seems to have grown longer, making the litter of greys stand out more. The hair that sits atop his head is damp, and the strands that have managed to dry are being messed around by the morning air. He’s still got that ever-present frown stamped into his forehead, yet his mouth doesn’t seem to curl into a snarl as he calls your name.

You must stare a moment or two past his comfort level, for he clears his throat and nods down at his hand. Two to-go cups, the smallest streams of steam floating out the hole in each lid.

He’s extending one out- the one in his right hand- towards you. “If you’d rather black, you can take min-”

“No!” You snap back into your own body, all too quickly and all too volatile. Clear your throat, and then try again, this time with a little less of that im being held at gunpoint shake in your voice. “No… Thank you. It’s fine- Milk is fine.”

It’s more than fine.

In fact, he’s gotten it spot on. Down to the number of sugars you take.

But, still stubborn, you yearn to not give him the satisfaction of being right so early in the day, and instead settle for accepting the coffee out his hand. You welcome the golden warmth eagerly, eyes unable to resist slipping shut as you take your first sip. When they reopen, you find Joel watching you, intently. Purposefully, as though you’re something to be studied.

Clearing your throat, you glance to the side and spot Balcony-Man and his partner greeting an apologetic woman.

“Thanks for the, uh,” his stare is intimidating your nerves, setting you on edge of something you’re all to eager to jump off. “Coffee. Yeah. You didn’t have to… I mean, I actually thought you’d, you know, uh-”

“You thought I left without ya.” He states. All you can do is nod. “I could’ve. I did warn you not to be late.”

“You did.”

“I also told you to wear somethin’ other than them heels.”

“I know.”

“Yet here you are, late and in heels. You’re not very good at following orders.” He exhales something akin to a chuckle, as devoid of humour as it may be, and you swear he’s suddenly closer than you remember, knuckles brushing against your own as he bumps his paper cup against yours. “Just what am I gonna do with ya, huh?”

For a moment, you swear your heart has leaped from your chest and up to your throat, threatening to choke you with the beat of it. There’s no sense you can make of it, this reaction he rouses, a heat you can’t control creeping down your loins as you drag in a whiff of some manly cologne, the kind you’d usually turn your nose up at for being too overbearing. Yet, on him, it’s not. On him it’s just right, like he was born with pine soaked skin, and a tobacco stained kiss, and-

Before you can think of pulling in another breath, Joel’s stepped back, allowing a cool breeze to pass between you and get a hold of your senses.

“C’mon, we’re slotted in for the first tender that leaves for shore.”

“Oh my God.”

You’re half certain Joel’s growing sick of hearing those three words roll off your tongue. He’s likely felt this way since it first left your mouth, feet struggling to safely step out onto the dock as your mind became enchanted by the picturesque view in front of you. Only the burn of his hand meeting your lower back, nudging you ahead to make space for himself and the other passengers to step off the tender boat, was capable of dragging you back into your own body, the wanderlust that had gripped your soul yearning to be free to explore every building that sits carved into rock, every water-taxi that flows idly on cristaline water, every step that winds up and up and up the island’s cliff where, at the top, civilisation seems to lie.

The port you’ve docked on is rather small, with naught more than two docking strips and a walkway of shops and confection stands, with boats that find no space along the docking strips tying themselves to any safety they may find over the expanse of the walkway. It is no wonder the cruise floats safely out in deeper waters, alongside several other cruise lines, with no space for such large vessels. And, yet, the port is alive with something. The ground seems to pulse, like a beat of a heart, and the air, as fresh as the grass after heavy rainfall, almost dances its way down your lungs. Voices swim all around you, tourists scrambling past each other, fighting in a race towards something you’ve yet to identify.

“So this is Gialos, also known as the Old Port of Fira.” Somewhere, behind you perhaps, Joel’s voice pipes up, a speech so rehearsed and robotic, a part of your wonders how many times he’s recited it, how many people he’s recited it to. The other part of you, however, is much too fixated on the stairs ahead to pay him true attention, eyes following as two men and several donkeys descend. “That, up there, is Fira, the capital of Santorini. We’re going to need to take a cable- Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes!” You’re quick to react, a defensive rise in your voice. He meets it with a deadpan look and the crossing of his arms over his chest, which quickly becomes something you wish he wouldn’t do as you watch the tight fabric of his shirt stretch itself thin over the bulge of his arms. “No. Sorry, I’m just… Wow.”

You hope he appreciates the restraint you show towards repeating those three dreaded words again.

“You have all day to stare,” his words trip over his own irritated scoff, and you bite back a question of why he’s a guide if he seems to hate it so much, fearful he’s too honest to not tell you a truth that may hurt your fragile feelings. A truth where it is not so much his job he dislikes, but rather, your presence and all that it brings. “Right now, we need to move. Don’t wanna spend all day waitin’ in line now, do ya?”

This need for speed that hooks the other tourists seems to filter over into your guide, who’s forcing you forward, that heat of his palm now hovering inches away from your lower back. It’s enough to lead you where he pleases. As a pair, you weave in and out small clusters of people, till the space between you both and the large gathering crowd slowly diminishes. It is there where his once telepathic leading fails, with Joel turning left towards it as you stray right, over to the ascending pathway of stairs.

“Where are you going?” His tone is offended, almost, as he comes to a halt and watches you fail to do the same, to notice the space between you both and correct it like some puppy who’s been called to heel by its master.

“Where am I going?” The question, at first, is one you mistake as rhetorical. Staring back at him with an equaled confusion, you gesture to the stairway, as though it is the most obvious answer. Because, well, where else could you have been heading? He said so himself, that up there is Fira, the capital of Santorini, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to see it. “Where are you going?”

“To the cable cars, that’ll take us up the island.”

Above the crowd of people, hanging over doors of small businesses, lay several signs. CABLE CARS - 6€ ! stands out, impossible to miss. Symbols you scarcely recognise sit beneath it, in smaller text, and you assume it’s Greek. In the distance, you spy the movement of the mobile boxes, people being carted up the length of the cliff at a speed that promises them a journey of mere minutes.

“Oh.” So, perhaps his option makes more sense than your own far longer, more tiring one. Still, stubborn as a mule, you double down on your decision to take the scenic route, inching closer towards the first step. Your guide, still in the face, refuses to move, daring eyes willing you to continue. “You want us to take the lazy man’s route? You go ahead, I’ll take the stairs and meet you at the top.”

You press one foot up onto the first step, weary of where you rest the point of your heel.

Glancing a few steps further up, there’s the unmistakable sight of a mound of brown substance, no doubt excreted out of one of the donkeys that walk ahead, tourists mounted on their poor backs.

“I don’t think you understand,” he finally inches closer, if only slightly, hands clenched at his side. “There’s five hundred and eighty-eight steps until you reach the top.”

The number is more daunting than you expect, and you pray he can’t read this on your face. “Only? I’ll be up in no time then!”

You feel more than see the way Joel’s eyes travel down the expanse of you, stuttering almost over the curvature of your chest, the dips at your hips, till they rest at your feet. The question hangs loose between you, unspoken yet evident.

In those heels?

“Listen, Joel,” taking a second, third, and fourth step, you aim for a literal higher ground, staring down below as he continues to drift closer and closer towards the stairway. “If you’re not fit for the task, or the climb’s no good for your knees, you can just say it, there’s no shame. Like I said, I’ll meet you at the top. Promise I won’t even report the fact my private guide abandoned me in favour of his own comfort.”

Defeat has never come easy.

Well, to phrase it better towards the truth, acceptance of defeat has never come easy.

There was always something more to be said, another excuse to be given for any of your shortcomings. When you’d been turned away from the school’s soccer team, you’d told yourself it was because you were a girl- ignoring the fact three girls in your year made the cut. When you’d lost an arduous game of Monopoly, you’d sworn you’d caught your sister sneaking notes out of the banker’s pile into her own. When you’d been beaten, round after round, by your own niece at Mario Kart, you’d stuck your tongue out at her and told her you let her win out of pity.

All that had been before, of course, back when you still roamed school hallways, when your sister sat across from you at the dining table, when your niece still laughed freely, wildly, celebrating her own victories with an over-the-top, uncoordinated dance around the living room.

As changed as things may be, defeat is still your foe.

It is that reason alone that you bite back a complaint.

You’d enjoyed the initial moments of your trek. Maybe it was the salty air in your lungs, or the beautiful views of your surroundings, or the idle grumbling coming from Joel, a few paces behind you, kicking up dirt under his feet with every step he travelled up. Whatever the reason, adrenaline had been flowing, into your heart and through your veins, covering every square inch of your body, a tingling of nerves from the tip of your toes to the top of your spine.

But, by the 10 minute mark, a dull ache forms in your feet. Each step of your heel feels more life threatening than the last, as the stairs grow slippier, dustier, and well-worn the further up you advanced. By stair who-knows-how-may, you take a near fatal tumble backwards, the crunch of crumbling rock threatening to be the last thing you hear. Till he appears behind you, fast as light, huffing out a breath as you smack down against his solid chest.

“Mind your step.” From anyone else, you would mistake it as a sign of care. From Joel, you know better than to think it’s anything beyond a humourless taunt.

You try to keep count of the steps, from then on, an effort to motivate yourself to move faster with each ten-pace you count. By 50, you lose your place and begin counting all over again.

The journey is difficult in other ways, too, with the constant passing of donkeys who obligate you to stand aside and make way for them. And the distant movement of cable cars, firing up and sliding down more times than you can keep track of.

When a particular step proves itself too steep, you can no longer hold back and, finally, a hiss slips out between your clenched teeth as pain shoots up your ankle, the leather of your shoe rubbing even harder into your brittle skin, threatening the promise of a blister yet to fully swell. Pushing the pain down, alongside a complaint, you take another step. Hiss. Then another, hiss. You can fight it no longer, bending at the waist to slip off your heel and examine the irritated skin.

Sure enough, it’s been rubbed raw, broken and spilling a small pool of blood.

Behind you comes an exasperated groan and, before you can straighten yourself to even register what’s happening, Joel barges past you and the figure of him up ahead slowly diminishes the faster he climbs up hill.

“Hey!” You call after him, hobbling to slip your shoe back on, but it’s to no avail.

He’s long gone, growing further and further out of your reach with each passing minute.

Cursing him under your breath, you decide to hell with the no complaints of his preferred regard for his own comfort. He’s abandoned you, injured and hobbling up the steps, all because he has the patience of a toddler who’s been waiting far too long to go potty.

“Wear somethin’ a little more sensible…” You’re bound to seem deranged to any passers by, half hopping up the steps, mumbling to yourself in a mockery of his deep voice “Yeah, right, how bout I shove somethin’ a little more sensible up your ass. Oh, what’s that? There’s no room up there with the massive stick you’re already carryin-”

“A local man warned me bout ya, on my way back down. Said there was some no-good girl casting out bad juju.” You freeze, foot stopped in mid-air. Shifting your gaze up ahead, you find Joel there, skipping a step every so often as he grows closer and closer. At his side, dangling from two fingers, sits a plastic bag. “Told him it ain’t no juju or curses you’re casting, just throwin’ a little tantrum.”

Like a fish out of water, all you can do is stare at him, wide eyes and mouth agape.

Joel pays your silence no mind, almost delighting in it. With a pop and a crack from his knees, he crouches down before you, holding out the palm of his hand.

“C’mon,” he mutters, pointing towards your injured foot. “Lemme see.”

You’re hesitant, at first, but ultimately lift it and let him curl his grip around it, holding you in place as the shoe slips off you. A tut meets your ears as his eyes meet the bloodied mess, and you watch how he contemplates, for a moment or two, before wetting his thumb with his tongue and swiping it over your broken skin.

It stings, like salt in a wound or a bee’s stinger through skin, and you try to flinch back, retract yourself from his hold. But Joel’s strong, resilient, nails biting at the flesh of your ankle to keep you in place. His free hand digs into the plastic bag he’d discarded at his side and pulls out a white box. Fiddling with it for a short period, he manages to open it at last and slips out a bandaid. He rips that open a lot quicker, using his teeth, and slips it over your open wound perfectly, thumb and pointer finger smoothing it around the curve of your heel.

“D’ya see now why I told you to not wear those things?” You feel like a child at his words, reprimanded like you once were for touching your mother’s curling iron. “And why I said we should take the cable car?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you refuse to meet his eyes. But he just won’t let you be, craning his own neck to infiltrate the space you stare off into. There’s a pleased look on his face, smugness pulling at the right corner of his mouth. Alarmingly, you think of how it’s the closest you’ve gotten to seeing him smile.

You continue your pursuit of silence, repeating a mantra of how you don’t care that he’d tried to look out for your comfort, or how he’d then tried to save you the effort of an uphill battle, or how his hand, big and warm and rough at the fingertips, is still holding your foot in place, absentmindedly rubbing your ankle in a circular motion.

“Look at ya, gone all quiet on me,” that corner of his lip curls higher. You register the rustling of the bag, his hand digging back inside it. “Ain’t one for bein’ put in your place, are you?”

Out comes his hand once more, though this time it’s not a box of bandaids. Now, resting firm in his grasp, sits a mixture of navy blue dyed cotton, stitched atop a flat, thick layer of a straw-like material. A slip-on canvas shoe. Joel doesn’t await permission, nor does he even ask for it. He simply takes charge, slipping it onto your foot, mindful as he straightens out the back to lay against your heel.

“Other foot, up.”

Switching feet, you stumble as your weight completely shifts onto your injured side. Your hands, reaching out to stabilise your swaying body, are quickly directed by his own to rest atop his head, curls of brown threading between your fingers. You contemplate asking what products he uses to achieve locks so smooth and shiny, then rethink it as soon as you imagine his reply of a disinterested grunt and a snarky ain’t use anythin’ but dirt water and a splash o’ whiskey.

“How’s it feel?”

Soft, you almost reply, then realise he’s asking about the shoe.

With a wiggle of your toes, you tell him it’s fine, and leave it at that. He doesn’t need to know they’re surprisingly comfortable.

Joel rises with a bit of a struggle, yet refuses the help you offer. Rough hands scoop up your discarded heels, tossing them into the bag, and then he straightens his back, lets out a noise of discomfort, before nodding up ahead.

“C’mon, only got a hundred or so to go. We’ll be up in no time.”

The sun sits high in the sky when you reach the city of Fira.

Crossing over that last step, 588 painted in white across it, you huff out a sigh, exhaustion aching you out of any enjoyment of your victory over the stairway from hell. Before you can even utter a word of your thirst, Joel is already reaching into his bag of wonders, unscrewing the lid off a bottle of water and passing it to you. Grateful, you take a sip, and lament the few drops that spill down your chin.

At least they don’t go to complete waste, cooling your skin ever so slightly.

It’s a shame to see Joel start moving again, moments before you’re even ready to gain back your breath, but you follow after him, nonetheless, mindful to not press your foot too hard down. Through streets he winds, past shopkeepers he walks. Eventually, after a few minutes, you ask him where you’re both heading.

“To catch a coach,” his hand moves quickly, tugging you closer as a bicycle shoots past behind you. Your own find themselves against his chest, and realise it is nothing like his hair. Solid, warm, wide. It’s almost a shame to lower them back down to your side. “Less you think you can walk from here to Oia, too.”

Truth be told, you don’t know where Oia is.

But you do know your walking for the day is over, happy to follow Joel onto the coach. You take the aisle seat, he’s by the window. Across from you both sits a couple, young and giggling into one another’s ears, as though the sounds of their joy is sacred to none but them. A pang of envy thumps your soul, and you quickly turn your face.

Only to find that Joel’s is grey.

Not the hair that lines it but, rather, his whole face, paled and blood-drained. It’s a sickly image, and one that’s quick to get your heart racing.

“Are you okay?” Any thought of keeping your composure becomes mute as you hear your own voice, a treacherous shake to it that gives your panic away. “You look…” There is no word kind enough for you to use to relay the image of him, so you lock your lips.

It takes a few seconds for you to get a reply, as your hand moves up to feel his forehead. It’s sweaty, warm, and you move to pull your hand back when he’s holding it firm in place, eyes slipping shut. “‘S cold. You’re cold,” seems to be his explanation. “I’m fine, it’s just- Carsick.”

“You get carsick, yet you work on a cruise.”

“Not the same. Ship’s big, somethin’ bout the size and my own visibility, ‘s what stops me getting seasick.”

You sit like that the rest of the coach, your hand pressed to his forehead, his eyes slipped shut.

“What’s your favourite stop on the cruise?”

As it turns out, Oia is exactly what you’d pictured Santorini to be.

White washed houses, deep blue domes for rooftops, turquoise waters, all for as far as the eye can see. Joel complains, more than tells you, of the rise in tourism over the years, of how it’s turned the beautiful village into a party-town for idiots abroad, disregarding the clean environment, shamelessly blocking paths to snap a frame-worthy shot, raising prices to the ceiling. When you ask him if he thinks he’s in part to blame, if people like him are to blame- running tours, bringing guests onto the island, earning a wage off the visiting of such a place- he grumbles out something about missing breakfast, needing lunch.

So you find a cafe. Or, more, Joel leads you to one. He greets the doorman, with a wave and a pat on the back, before sauntering his way through to a back terrace, overlooking the whole village, the water perfectly framing it. Stepping out and sitting down, the view robs the very breath out of your lungs.

It’s like sitting inside a postcard.

Joel asks if you like Greek food.

You tell him you’ve never had it.

He orders for you both, a mixture of different plates, and swears he’ll find something you’ll like.

It turns out you’re rather fond of baklava.

“Florence.” Joel’s taken his time to answer, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. Disbelief more than fear in his eyes, you have to wonder if it’s the first time someone’s thought to ask him, in all his years as a guide. Naturally, this leads you to wondering how many years that is. “It’s a real site. Full of history, a real story to be told.” He tilts a ceramic dish your way, eyes glancing down in an offering. You follow them, and spot olives. Shake your head, no, then smile, thanks. He shrugs, more for me, and pops two into his mouth. “There’s this…” he pauses to chew. “This library.”

“A library?”

“‘S not just a library.” He slips out the olive’s pip and raises another into his mouth. You try not to think about how thick his fingers look, rolling the remaining briny green pebbles around in the pot. “There’s a cinema built inside it. Plays some classic films. I always- or, I try to go whenever we dock.”

It’s hard to picture Joel inside a cinema, something about the setting too busy, too loud to place his scowling face in. Would he be the kind to have a favourite seat, perfectly picked to optimise the sound quality? Does he speak animatedly, excited any time he recognises an actor? Or is he a shusher, the kind to roll his eyes when someone dares to even clear their throat?

A part of you wants to ask him if your tour involves a trip to this library.

Something tells you it’s not a place he likes to share, though. It’s his own little corner, safe to sneak a moment of selfish indulgence amidst a week of catering to another’s needs.

“A cinema inside a library?” A waiter interrupts you, asks if everything’s alright. Joel orders another serving of baklava. “Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?”

“Yeah.” For a moment, you think you see a smile creep across his lips. “Suppose it is.”

Another interruption comes in the form of your ringtone, rippling the water in your glass as your phone vibrates upon the table. You’re well aware of how Joel spots the word Mum displayed across your screen. Just like you’re aware he sees how you swipe down on your screen and switch on aeroplane mode.

Before he can ask any questions, or the sudden silence can become too deafening, you throw out another question. “And your least favourite?”

“Least favourite stop?” You nod, affirmative, and he needs no time to reply. “Here.”

“Here?! How come?”

The baklava arrives, as if on cue, and you point down at it, as though it is reason enough to be enamoured with the island. It seems to do little to convince him, his hand reaching out to push the plate closer to you, inviting you to indulge yourself.

“Compared to the other stops, Santorini’s bland.” He says it when your mouth is too occupied to protest, stuffed full with layer after layer of pastry. “Kind of like a diamond, y’know? Real pretty to look at, empties your wallet, and, at the end of the day, ain’t much you can do with it.”

“People propose with diamonds.” You point out, and cough as a flake of pastry hits the back of your throat.

Joel’s already passing you your glass of water before you even think to reach for it.

“People propose with rings. Diamonds are just custom, not a guarantee.”

Sunset arrives with no warning, a hue of fiery orange melting down into the calm waters on the horizon. It’s Joel who makes the call to head back, one glance at his watch enough to tell you the last chance to catch a coach is nigh. It’s only as you go to call for the bill that he tells you it’s covered and you realise his earlier trip to the bathroom had been a ruse to go pay.

The trip back is calmer, quieter, with the coach full of sunkissed and heat exhausted tourists.

Again, you take the aisle seat, and Joel, the window.

Keeping an eye on him is easy, switching your gaze towards the approaching darkness of the night sky calling upon the street lights anytime he meets your eyes. When you notice the increase in breaths and the paling of his skin, you wordlessly unscrew the cap off a bottle and slot it into his hand, inviting him to finish off the last sips of your water.

Skipping out on a trip down memory stairway, you quietly follow him into the cable car and, when you reach the Old Port, you try your best to block out his smug remark of how easy and fast the ride was. A feat which becomes easier as you stumble halfway up the dock and turn back.

Like hours before, as you first stepped off the tender, your mouth falls agape. Only, this time, wider. The view of the island lit up in all its glory is enough to leave you breathless, hands scrambling to fish out your phone, open the camera and-

“You gettin’ on or what?” Joel calls out from behind, and you find him waiting on board one of the tenders, hand held out towards you.

It’s a demand, more than it is an offer, to hurry up. The collective of other passengers are watching the interaction, and a feeling you’ve come to know all too well crawls its way into your veins.

A burden, holding them all up, that’s what you are.

The feeling follows you back, as you slip into a damp seat and watch as the boat carries you further and further from the island, it’s lights twinkling in a way that chokes you up, drains you out, eyes stinging from more than just the salty air. You’ll love it, I swear! The memory plays out in your head, those words gushed at you. Hands squeezing your cheeks, a smile blinding you under its brightness. Just wait till you see it at night, the lights shine over it like stars!

You blink.

A tear pools at the corner of your eye.

“Here, look,” something nudges you. It’s Joel, inching his phone into your view. Through blurred sight, you glance at it. And find yourself, centre frame, lit only by the moon. In the back lies the whole skyline of Santorini, lights reflecting down onto the waters below. “Best view you can get, the whole island in one shot.”

Afraid to hear your own voice, you smile.

He answers by pointing his phone back at you, snapping another photo.

Back on the cruise, the two of you part ways, with Joel telling you to meet him in the same bar, same time as the night before.

Dinner had been part of your plans. With a glance over the listed restaurants on board, the ache in your tired bones asks you to stay in bed and make use of the room service. You listen, order something light, easy. It arrives in under 10 minutes and your hunger is satisfied sitting out on the balcony, watching the dark waves roll past.

Phoning your mother is the next port o'call.

Unlike with your food, that takes longer than 10 minutes. Much longer, and involves you countlessly reassuring her that yes, you’re okay, and no, you don’t need her to fly out and meet you in Naples.

“I’m a big girl,” you even throw in a laugh, hoping it’ll ease the worry lines you can picture splayed over your mother’s face. “I think I can climb up a mountain without my mum’s help.”

“Honey, you know that’s not what why I’m worri-”

“Did you know you can get carsick but, at the same time, not seasick?”

You hang up shortly after, with a promise to try your best to answer when she calls tomorrow, instead of hours later, when she should be fast asleep.

The time on your phone tells you there’s still forty minutes until you need to meet Joel. The image of that grandiose bathtub flashes before your eyes and, in record timing, you’re sinking into scalding waters, a complimentary bath bomb dumped in and granting you the childish gift of bubbles.

You try to relax, at first.

There’s no need to wet your hair, so you indulge yourself. Lay your head back, close your eyes. Feel your muscles loosen with the warmth, ignore the sting of soap in your blistering heel. Your hands struggle to find a resting place, until they meet your thighs. They sit still, for a moment or two, before one slips down, inching into the crease of where your legs meet.

Something stirs in your core, comes alive as you think of how long it’s been since you last felt someone. A few months, it has to be. A fellow graduate, if you remember correctly, that stupid robe still on his shoulders as he let his mouth come down on you.

Your hand is soon on your core, before you really notice, mind on a mission to recall the hazy encounter. When you think of his tongue, messy yet eager, your finger’s already on your clit, pressing against it with a tease of pleasure. When you think of his cock, uncut and thicker than your ex, splitting you open on his bedroom floor, your hips cant up against yourself, chasing friction. When you rewind how soft Joel’s hair had been between your fingers, your free hand grips one of your breasts, fingers pinching at your nipple.

Your eyes snap open.

Joel’s hair.

Joel.

Something you should not be thinking of right now, hand buried between your thighs.

You wait a few seconds, remind yourself of the graduate’s face.

His blue eyes, your fingers roll over your nipple.

His blonde hair, your legs spread wider.

Joel’s solid chest, your fingers dip inside your cunt.

Your breath is shaky, Joel’s annoyed groan echoes.

The shame of it, of thinking of him, is almost as tantalising as touching yourself, fucking your own hole full with as much of your fingers the angle will allow. It’s a one time thing, you justify. You just need to get it out your system. One and done, cum and done. No more of Joel Miller between your thighs, this is the closest he’ll get.

Someone knocks at your door.

You nearly miss it over the sound of your breathing, the pounding of your heart.

“Who is it?” You don’t like how weak you sound, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Another knock.

“Can I come in?”

A hand still between your thighs, orgasm titering on the edge, body fully submerged in lukewarm water. “No!”

“Ain’t safe to leave your door unlocked. Anybody could walk in- Jesus!”

You’ve never screamed louder.

Joel takes up most of the bathroom doorway, same clothes save for the shirt that’s got two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. You’re pressed right back into the bathtub, as physically far from him as you can get, knees pressed up to your chest, ankles crossed over.

In Joel’s defence, he’s quick to turn away, presenting you with a view of his back. A hand runs through his hair.

“Why are you in my room?!” You inch even further back, the water suddenly dropping several degrees.

“I asked to come in!”

“And I told you not to!”

“Well obviously I didn’t hear that!”

“Why are you in my room?” You’re back to your first question, eyeing up your towel.

It’s across the room, on the bathroom sink. No way for you to reach it without the risk of him seeing you reflected on something.

“You were late. Came to check if ya tripped on them heels and broke your neck.”

“I,” you’re not sure what time it is with your phone sitting by the bed, charging. That's now five times you've been late in adulthood. “Didn’t realise the time. I can meet you at the bar in ten minutes.”

He nods, and you watch him take a step, then immediately pause. “You know, I’ve heard a few things from passengers…” You may not see his face, but you swear there’s that half-smirk, smug look upon it. It’s practically dripping off his words. “The shower head, fourth setting. Seems to get the job done for most ladies on board.”

Grabbing the closest thing in reach- a bar of soap- you launch it and watch it bounce off his irritatingly wide shoulders. “Get OUT!”

You make it to the Tipsy Byson in 15 minutes.

Dressed more appropriately than the night before, your flared jeans and crop top garner less stares. It’s just as busy, if not busier, yet it’s not hard to spot Joel on a barstool, nursing a glass of something syrupy looking. Behind the bar is Luke, head thrown back at something Joel says.

They’re an interesting pair to observe, you realise as you make your way over. With Luke, so tall, so lanky, so bright-face, his energy warm and inviting, and Joel so- well, Joel.

“There she is,” Luke cheers, a little too loudly, calling attention to you as you slip into the stool next to Joel. “My new favourite customer.”

“Thought I was your favourite,” Joel’s yet to look at you, and it’s a relief. He’s looked at you enough for one day, one week, one lifetime.

“Sorry but she smells better than you, Joel,” the barman winks at you, a cheeky grin on his face. “ Plus, she’s a hell of a lot nicer to look at.”

Joel scoffs, you giggle.

“Not sure about the whole smelling better thing,” your response comes minutes later, after Luke’s already served you a glass of wine and turned away your cash, telling you he’ll put it on Joel’s tab. “But thanks!”

Unprompted and uninvited, Luke bends over the bar and takes an exaggerated sniff. “I don’t know, smell alright to me.”

“Really? I’m not even wearing perfume, I forgot to pack any-.”

“Yeah! Go on Joel, give her a whiff, tell her she smells fine!” There’s resistance on his end, but Luke’s adamant, hand clamped on the back of Joel’s head, shoving him face first into your neck. Joel’s nose brushes against you. You hear him inhale. Exhale. Inhale again, then the urge to cross your thighs begins to nag at you. “Well?”

“Yeah, smells nice- Fine. Ya smell fine.”

“Be still my beating heart! Someone alert the press that Texas said something other than-”

Joel interrupts Luke’s dramatics, scowl on his face. “Don’t you have a job to be doin’?”

Only once the bartender is down the other end of the bar, engrossed in a heated discussion over what beer pulls a better head, does Joel speak again, sipping on his drink. Whiskey.

“So I noticed somethin’, when I was checking your bookin’ info.” You nod, urge him to continue, and take a sip of your own drink. Some country song plays over the speakers and you notice a sudden shake in Joel’s knee, his foot tapping to the beat. “Says there should be two of you in my guide team.”

“Oh,” the lump forming in your throat falls safely back into the pit of your stomach as you take another drink of wine. “Must be a printing error. You know how technology can be, always complicating things.”

“Hmm,” it’s easy to write off the awkward energy between you with the excuse of earlier events, and it’s the first bright-side you find to him walking in on your intimate bath. “Well, you know the drill for tomorrow. 7 am on that deck or I’m-”

“Docking without me, I know.”

You finish your drink first. When Joel orders himself another glass, you smile politely and turn it down. Yawn, then tell him you best head to bed.

Before you can slip out the entry, someone calls your last name. Loud enough to turn more than just your own head.

It’s Joel, approaching you, effortlessly parting crowds through the lively bar as though he is knife and, the people, butter. The loud music seems to ring louder in your ear, impeding you from hearing the words that leave his moving lips.

“What?” You call out, hands clasped over your mouth in an attempt to amplify the volume of your voice.

His response is to step closer, hands holding you in place by the waist as he leans down. A hot breath on your neck, the smell of whiskey on his breath, the soft brush of lips against your ear.

“It’s your turn to bring the coffees.”

series taglist. @auteurdelabre

#joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fanfic

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minihotdog · 1 year ago

Text

The Scout

Pairing: Ghost x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ghost runs into an old... Friend? Enemy?

a/n: idk man I'm just justing

c/w: adult themes MINORS DNI

Word Count: 8k

Ghost excused himself from the group of men after exchanging his post with Gaz for the night and headed towards the grey, empty room he’d been calling his. His body was worn out, along with his mind.

The mission had been going on for weeks and was moving at a snail’s pace. They were pursuing a militia that had recently aligned with Makarov’s forces. Laswell had received intel on a shipment of weapons that were heading for said militia’s hideout intended for Makarov. The shipment was set to arrive within the month and the task force intended to intercept it, but that meant a lot of time spent sitting and watching in shifts.

The detachment facility was concealed but close enough to intercept coms without being detected

Ghost was getting tired of waiting. He was used to action, and adrenaline, and the slow pace was wearing him and his comrades down even more than the countless neverending firefights they were accustomed to. As much as those moments left permanent marks on his psyche, he and everyone he knew craved it in some twisted, bloodthirsty way. At this point, he was doing a thousand pushups a day for “excitement”.

He blew air through his nose in frustration as he sat on the twin-sized wrestling mat he called a bed. He placed his gun on the floor next to him and threw his heavy vest against the wall to use as a pillow.

The weight coming off his shoulders leaves him rubbing his aching shoulders in relief over the sleek material of his sweater. He lies back on the paper-thin foam and his spine lets out a series of pops, finally releasing the pressure built up from hours holding the same position.

He groans quietly, reaching under his mask to scratch his scruff.

M’as well sleep on the floor, this mat is shite.

He rests his hand on his chest and the other on the knife sheathed to his belt. His eyes shut and he chases his rest fully clothed, boots and all.

-Time Skip: Approx. 0300-

He didn’t dream often, especially on the job. On the contrary, nightmares plagued him when he was home and a threatening darkness encompassed him on the field. But this feeling wasn’t right. Even asleep, Ghost was on alert. He could sense to his core that the air in the room had changed and a wave of uneasiness flooded him in his dreamless state.

He couldn’t pull himself from the darkness as he usually could. No matter how hard he subconsciously tried, his body was begging for rest against his efforts.

Ghost felt a weight lower itself onto his lap. Another person’s hands slide lightly from his waist to his chest.

Bloody ‘ell, wake up!

His body tenses involuntarily under the fondling. The zipper on his sweater carefully unzips. The cool air hitting his bare chest causes him to twitch in the battle between mind and body. The grasp the darkness had on him was lethal.

Small, warm hands graze the exposed skin of his abdomen, lightly tracing the patches of thick scar tissue that littered all over his body.

A soft, feminine voice coos at him as he twitches and his mind rushes to fill in the blanks, sending different scenes through his closed eyes in a poor attempt to mask the sound as a dream.

C’mon, wake up!

He felt as if he was floating through dimensions as he began the process of regaining full consciousness, eyes still refusing to open.

The mysterious woman lowers herself onto him, her nose gently nuzzling his neck. She takes a deep breath as if she’s trying to savor his musky scent. Her head pulls away from his neck and he feels fingertips graze his throat.

She fiddles with the hem of his balaclava before it begins to catch at the sides of his jaw. He feels his mask being pulled up and a shock shoots through his body. His limp state disappears instantly and he reaches for her. His other hand remembers its place on the knife.

His fingers wrap around her wrist, preventing it from going any further.

“Don’t worry, darling.” She coos as her free hand caresses his cheek. “I won’t pull it off, that’s not nice.” His grip tightens but she pays it no mind. She moves her hand from his cheek and uses it to pull his mask enough to reveal his lips. Her thumb outlines his bottom lip and she swoops down to plant a small kiss on his lips. He feels her lips through her mask.

His eyes flutter, trying to rid themselves of the blurriness. Moonlight pours into the room just enough for him to make out her figure above him and some of her features.

“I’ve been watching you for so long.” She wines, bottom lip quivering slightly under the material. “I couldn’t help myself. I needed to see you.” Her eyes crinkle as if she’s smiling under the mask. The black mask only covers the lower half of her face and a long single braid falls over her shoulder. He sighs, staring up at the ceiling.

“Y/n, we have to stop meeting like this.” The rasp in his voice sends shivers down her spine. She chuckles and tilts her head.

Ghost releases her wrist and wraps his fingers around her throat so quickly she doesn’t have time to react. Her hands come up to hold his in place and a whimper falls from her lips. Her eyes stare into his, lust clouding her pupils. Ghost shifts beneath her, feeling the heat radiating off of her. Her hips involuntarily grind against his in a jerking motion and arousal begins to stir inside of him.

Even through the mask, he could see her jaw go slack, her eyes burning into him. He couldn’t stop himself from giving her a small squeeze and watching her body come alive for him.

Fuckin’ ‘ell

He snaps himself out of the trance and slides himself up until his back rests on the wall taking her with him. He lets out a shaky breath before speaking.

“Why are you watching us this time?” He shakes her roughly when the words refuse to fall out of her open mouth. He unsheaths his knife from his belt and presses the blade to her throat just about his thumb. “C’mon, love, keep this easy.”

She grips his wrist and attempts to push the knife away but he doesn’t budge. A look of panic flashes in her eyes. “Decided to toy with the enemy and this time it isn’t going your way, huh?”

His bare lips graze her ear. “If you were under my command, I’d take you bound and gagged to teach you a lesson, you little minx.” His words drip with poison. She fights against his grip to no avail. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

The hem of his fatigues grinds painfully against her clit. He catches himself nearly panting at her little cries.

“I’m here to warn you, you stupid fuck.” She chokes out, clawing at his now painful grip on her jaw.

“Warn me of what?” He growls.

“Makarov has men heading this way. He thinks the task force has been tipped off.” She winces at his tightening grip.

Ghost chuckles, his plump lips tugging into a cocky smile. He sheaths his knife and his grip on her neck loosens and she gasps, finally being able to breathe properly.

“You’re working for Makarov now? That’s fuckin’ hilarious. You just keep getting worse.”

He tosses her backward onto the floor. He jumps to his feet, throwing on his vest and grabbing his gun. He readjusts his mask and turns back to her.

“Well, I recommend you disappear now.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, “So no goodbye kiss?”

“Fuck off.”

He places his headset over his ears.

“Bravo 6, Ghost. How copy?”

“What is it?”

“A little birdie told me Makarov’s men are heading our way.”

“All units pull out!”

Gunshots begin sounding through the hallway nearby. Ghost assesses the hall. When his head turns back she’s gone and the window is wide open.

He leaves the room behind to join the fight with his brothers. A trail of destruction leads to the vehicle barreling towards the compound for them. As Ghost enters the humvee he looks back to the dark building. Somewhere in the dense treeline, he could swear she was perched up watching him.

- Time Skip: UK -

“Makarov knew we were there. We did not prepare for that possibility. He could’ve used the gun deal to drag us out there and intended to have all of us killed.” Price sits at the head of the table looking to Laswell at his left.

“How’d you get out in time?” She looks over the images and reports plastered on the table.

Ghost interjects, “He had a scout visit before the attack, a familiar one.”

“Viper visited you before the attack?” Her eyebrows furrow. “This gives us plenty to look into. That’s enough for now.” She turns to Price. “Speaking of scouts, we’re gonna need one to plan for the next mission.”

They all dismiss from the debriefing, everyone heading their separate ways except Soap and Ghost.

“Yer tellin’ me she told ye they were coming? Tha’s a first.” Soap says in disbelief. “I guess Makarov isn’t payin’ them like he used tae.”

They say their goodbyes and Ghost heads to his barracks room.

#simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #tf141 x reader #my writing

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evangelina830 · 7 months ago

Text

-📌 -

🤍Side blogs

- @catfortress (tf2 fan au ask blog where they are cats!)

- @outofthisworld69 (rp blog for my tf2 sona, Bandit!)

- @evangelina-stories (blog for fics and comics)

🩵Intro

- My sona and about me n stuff

- Hallo! I am Evangelina but u can call me Evan :D and mutuals can call me Miles if they want^^ I love cats (especially my torti, Molly :>), singing, piano, romance, taking photos of the sky/bugs, and art !

- I lack a thing called gender so I kindly ask for they/them pronouns :3

- I’m currently learning Spanish

- Commissions!! - currently open

- Feel free to send art requests through that button, but I can’t promise a fast answer xdd (ocs, other ships than I post, and just questions are fine!)

- Anxiety is apart of me, so apologies if I’m weird sometimes or something x,)) (anxiety disorder augghh)

🚫Boundaries

- DNI - Proshitters, non-con likers, zoophile, AI ‘artists’, racist, homophobe/transphobe, gross people like lolicon, yeah (and anyone that just likes to cause problems lol) - people who enjoy dubious consent also make me uncomfortable, pls shoo

- Don’t trace/repost my art anywhere!! If you want to use it (like for profile), please ask me first. If I say you may, please credit me!

- If we are mutuals, you’re more than welcome to DM me anytime, but I’m not 100% quick at responding x)

- If we are NOT mutuals, please don’t message me unless it’s within reason or you are wanting a commission. (I’ve had plenty DM me constantly and get upset when I didn’t always respond :,3)

- I don’t care for suggestive, so as long as things you post aren’t on the dni list, you’re welcome to follow/interact with me^^

💙Things on my account

- my current interest is TF2! (Sometimes when I find a new interest, that’s all I think about, so I apologies if I suddenly move to something else😭)

- Every fixation in media or so, I have a favorite pairing… and I tend to make fan-kids for them :3 (usually just one), also I like to make other ocs for the fandom

- When i get fixated on said media, pretty much all I think about is that ship… but I love others and I’m not picky! (I love bloody suit lol)

- It’s probably necessary to put that I’m a sucker for the enemies to lovers trope - and somehow at the same time, am I an absolute sucker for romance. So I suppose prepare for cringe (?) on Tumblr dot com!

- I’m always drawng!! Digitally, occasional traditional^^ (crafting included)

✨Tags

- #EvanSona - the way I draw myself in fandoms

- #EvanArt - renders!

- #EvanDoodles - doodles and sketches

- #EvanCrafting - felting, origami, needle felting

- #EvanDrawing - traditional drawing

- #EvanUpdates - self explanatory lol

- #EvanAnswers - answering asks^^

- #EvanReblogs - for reblogs

- #EvanOther - other stuff

🤍Socials

- Instagram - @evangelina_830

- Twitter - @evangelina_830 (barely active)

- Discord - ask

- BlueSky - @evangelina830

#I had a bunch of anxiety when getting tf2 fans following me #so I thought to remake my intro and boundaries🙏#evansona #evanart #evandoodles #evancrafting #evandrawing #evanupdates #evananswers #evanreblogs #evanother

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monstersholygrail · 11 months ago

Note

Do you have any monster OCs? or any OCs at all? :o

You are opening Pandora’s box with this question, my love. Goodness gracious, I’m gonna put it all under the cut because the answer is yes, I have many OCs both monster, cyborg, and otherwise!

Thank you so much for asking btw, it was super sweet of you <33

If anyone would like to send in any asks about these then I’d be more than happy to talk about them 👉🏼👈🏼

Tumblr OCs

So, starting off with on my blog, I have 2 OCs! I have Demon Prist, my special boy. His story is that he is a fallen angel who is desperately trying to get back into Heaven and God’s good graces when you come into his life. He’s convinced you’re a gift from God for his devotion all these millennia as you take his pain away.

I also have Ghost bf whose name is yet to be revealed although I do have one! His story (lore drop!) is that when moving to a new city, you’re looking for an apartment and you find him! The two of you talk for weeks before agreeing to a sort of trial run. But before you can get there, Ghost bf dies and you show up to an empty apartment and you expect him to be back soon. When he reveals himself to you the two of you contact each other in weird ways and fall in love along the way.

More to come too!

Book OCs

Then I also have Monster OCs that I would like to introduce here and later possibly turn into books! The first being Wren and Emery. Wren is a bigender Eldritch monster whose favorite show is a monster hunter show where they find monsters and study them. Not actual hunting. Emery was the host of this show with her bf Jonah when a bad werewolf accident happens and Jonah kind of takes over the show. Wren decides to invite the show to his manor to essentially… catch him. All in order to help Emery. It’s very rom-com vibes. Wren and Emery are the main couple (Jonah is bad)

I have Delilah and Augustine with their friends Ivory and Sivan. I want to write their story through an anthology. It’s basically flustered vampire x bimbo human. Delilah is insanely smart, she’s a mortician ironically. But she misses a lot of things right in front of her, hence the bimbo type personality. So it’s a collection of like Augustine constantly getting caught being a vampire bc he’s not smooth or sneaky (anymore) and it just doesn’t click for Delilah. Which makes Ivory, her best friend that’s also a secret vampire, insane. She’s a hypocrite but her and Auggie have a fun dynamic.

Thirdly, I also have Zella and Senén. Sen is a hybrid wolf who ran his own mafia when his men thinks he betrayed them and the cops are on his tail. So hides as a puppy hybrid in England with an American woman named Zella who’s there looking after her sick grandmother. He has to maintain his facade even as he finds it all super demeaning. But he falls for Zella and starts getting comfortable in this new life when trouble turns its head back around on him.

Next I also have this idea for a futuristic serial fiction that would span over at least 100 chapters. It’s sci-fi fantasy. Think Nimona-ish but darker. It’s ultimately kinda cyberpunk but from the opposite perspective of it for the most part. It follows Nora or Noor and she’s in the II (Iridium Imperium) also known as the eyes. It’s a guild that protects the city like law enforcement and they’re all cyborgs with special magical gifts. Their whole city runs on guilds it’s a requirement to be in one within city limits. Only those with magical gifts can join The II. The story covers the climatic and intense downfall of The II and ultimately Nora herself as everything she’s ever known is destroyed and she’s the last to accept it if she ever really does. She has at least 3 romantic partners over the course of the series but I’m unsure if I want her to end up Ren, her enemies to lovers man from outside the city limits who understands her far too well, her ex Gio who abandoned her in order to join the resistance but always comes back for her whenever she needs him, end up with them both in a throuple, or if she should end up alone! It’s a huge world and many OCs within this world.

The working title of this next one is called Grimoire Gargoyles! It features Giselle who’s a librarian working in France at a super old library. She finds herself in the restricted section and reads out loud from a book. Accidentally releasing two French Revolution Gargoyles from their prison stuck on top of the library. Now that Francois and Bastien are free they try and leave but find themselves drawn back to Giselle. Revealing themselves to her she isn’t afraid given that monsters are a normal sight in their world. Though Gargoyles have been extinct since the Revolution. Together they work together to try and finish the spell to release them from their curse and fall in love along the way.

More include a heist trilogy with a Dragon jeweler for the King and a thief, a dryad who accidentally performs a mating ritual with an ancient dragon at a festival celebrating his supposed vanquishing, a vampire stalker who stalks a human after tasting her blood for the first time but then stops and she starts stalking him bc she’s upset he stopped stalking her, a dragon hybrid and a griffin hybrid who exchange mating symbols as kids and basically betroth themselves to each other but he’s meant to marry her sister and years later they go through the marriage trials together not knowing it’s impossible for him to marry someone else.

Other Book OCs

My oldest OCs are from last November and it’s called Crafting Constellations. It’s an elf world and all high fantasy. The first book follows Soleil and Peracles. Peracles is the heir to a Kingdom that’s only ever had female rulers and Soleil is his general. They have a forbidden romance going on and have to work together to figure out the evil plot against the crown by an unknown force. See art of them here. Its sequel features Cane, Peracles’ royal advisor and Soleil’s ex, in his heartbreak when he saves Pera from being poisoned. He gets into an enemies to lovers with Pera’s assassin named Astraea. Then the third book features the antagonist as the main character Nova and she kidnaps Viyan, a co-worker of sorts with Astraea in order to get revenge. Then I have a secondary series featuring all 4 of Peracles’ brothers with love interests. Also a prequel that’s a sapphic tragedy with Peracles mother and her own general.

Then my second oldest OCs named Prudence and Narada. It’s another sci-fi fantasy series. Prudence is a part of a faction that has the power to get into another persons mind and read it and control it. A long time ago her faction was deemed too dangerous to stay alive so they made them extinct. And for over 100 years they’ve been living in secret and pulling the strings of their entire world Janeus. Her coven sees into the future and ensures fate stays on course. So they kill the emperor of one of the empires so that his son takes over: Narada. Prue goes there, hiding her eyes as their powers are revealed through eye color. And she successfully manipulates him but they fall for each other along the way and she ends up betraying her coven and revealing herself and their plan for the young emperor. Prue is convinced that she can fix things and manipulate fate all on her own but their world slowly begins to perish and she realizes her mistake. When she gets a “chosen one” prophecy with herself as the one to defeat, she learns to accept fate and that you can’t control it as she thought.

More include a fae hunter x fae lord that’s kinda similar to Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride lol, two demons and a human working at a casino and underground fighting ring that helps them hide from the world when their pasts catch up to them, and a biblical apocalypse where the world is split into the seven deadly sins and the Lord of Greed and a man working for the Lord of Lust inadvertently work to bring the second coming of Christ.

And I’m sure there’s even more that I’ve forgotten or that have slipped my mind!! I have so many plots in my head that it’s hard to focus on any of them lol.

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seenoversundown · 1 year ago

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Masterpost

₊⊹ The Caravel Tavern Series ⊹₊

The opening of Caravel Tavern was a dream come true for Jake. With the help of his best friends and brothers, naturally. In a small city in New England, it's rare to come across new faces. (or even run into some from the past) Follow along through the series to discover what this piratical themed bar has in store for these boys.

WARNING: This series would be considered an AU ROM-COM, with romantic themes, wholesome friendship vibes, found family, and silly goofy behavior throughout.

Trigger Warnings will be listed at the beginning of chapters if applicable. (Please reach out if you feel anything was missed and I will make sure to add it in quickly!)

Please be advised that this series will include slow burn, open-door romances, meaning there will be on-page sexual content. Mature readers only (18+)

• All of these can be read as stand alone books, but do read better as a series! They are interconnected, so you will get more details if read in order 🫶🏻 •

💜 🩵 💛 ❤️

Sam Kiszka x Willa (Fem OC) - Updated 02/09/2025

Enemies to Lovers | Forced Proximity | Workplace Romance

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Masterpost

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Josh Kiszka x Quinn (Non Binary OC) Temporary Hiatus

Love At First Sight | Secret Dating | Friends to Lovers

Summary: Josh has always loved love, and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance.

Masterpost

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Daniel Wagner x Melody (Fem OC) New Chapter every Wednesday!

High school Sweethearts | Single Mom | Rekindled Romance

Summary: They were best friends and did everything together, until the decision of college came around. Now, six years later, Melody rolls back into town, with a small surprise, giving Daniel the shock of a lifetime.

Masterpost

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Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC) Completed 11/27/2024

Workplace Romance | Friends With Benefits to Lovers | He Falls First

Summary: Jake has always been a hopeless romantic, heavy on the hopeless. He's gone out with plenty of girls, but they never last. Tired of being told he's "too sweet", he tapped out on dating once he bought the bar. Just waiting for the right one to walk into the bar and steal his heart

Masterpost

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Anything extra that is within the world of Caravel Tavern:

Prologue ⁂ - (Jake POV) : Opening night of the bar and all the festivities that come with that.

Dueling Cameras ⁂ - Sam x Willa (Fem OC) decide to make getting pumpkins into a little competition (per usual) (One Shot)

Chiaroscuro ⁂ - Josh x Quinn (Non Binary OC) attend a local film festival where Josh gets to present a short film he's directed. (One Shot)

Spooks & Cider ⁂ - Daniel x Melody (Fem OC) Back in high school, go to a Fall Festival where Melody faces her fear of the Haunted House. (One Shot)

Affirmation ⁂ - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) find themselves in an oddities shop where Charlotte has her tarot cards read, whether she believes in it or not. (One Shot)

Be Naughty, Save Santa The Trip ☠ - Sam x Willa (Fem OC) Sam runs late after a shoot and Willa leaves him a little surprise for when he gets back home to her. (One Shot)

Merry Everything & A Happy Always ⁂ - Josh x Quinn (Non Binary OC) have always had the tradition of baking cookies together, but Josh sets up a scavenger hunt for Quinn to bake some this time for a very special reason. (One Shot)

It's The Most Wonderful Time of Year ⁂ - Daniel x Melody (Fem OC) took on hosting Christmas dinner with everybody but unfortunately for Daniel, nothing is going smoothly. (One Shot)

White Christmas ☠ - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) have a million and one things to do on Christmas Day and Charlotte is already stressed by 6 am. Thankfully, Jake knows exactly how to calm her down. (One Shot)

Succulent ☠️ - Sam x Willa (Fem OC) take a little trip to Vermont for Valentine’s Day where Sam cooks up a nice dinner with a great idea for dessert. (One Shot)

Satiate ☠ - Josh x Quinn (Non Binary OC) - Quinn is sweet enough to make breakfast in bed, but also has a devious little plan for their favorite person. (One Shot)

Saccharine ⁂ ☠ - Daniel x Melody (Fem OC) spend a sweet Valentine's Day making cinnamon rolls together and then have a cozy evening away. (One Shot)

Siren ⁂ ☠️ - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) get stuck at the bar on Valentine’s Day, but Jake makes sure to make it up to her after the bar closes. (One Shot)

Allure ⁂ - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) it's Family Lake day and that means getting to longingly stare at Jake while he takes care of everything he can. (there is a part 2 that's linked at the end <3)

You're My Wishlist ⁂ ☠️ - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) Christmas has come and Charlotte has a special present for Jake waiting at home. (One Shot)

Good For Me - Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC) Valentine's Day is planned out perfectly until Jake has to go into the bar for a minute and everything changes.

TagList | Jukebox Playlist | Master List (for other one shots / fics)

Wattpad | AO3

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tarithenurse · 2 months ago

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Inhuman

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader, eventually Loki x fem!reader, Stucky, more (some canon, some not). Word count: 963. Contents: Violence, gore, death. A/N: Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag.

Chapter 47

... Bucky’s PoV ...

It’s been a long night where the military has had to do more than simply contain the battle to the old centre of London, but Bucky is pleased to see that the enemy’s ranks are thinning. It’s a good thing all civilians had been evacuated as there is heavy damage to buildings and the casualties would have been countless.

He had followed [Y/N] as she was running from one soldier or the odd civilian (press mostly) to the other and she had even had to patch up Clint and Wanda as well to ensure they could continue. Wanda had been shielding a group of soldiers, but the constant fire the shield had taken had caused her to lose focus on what was coming at her back and she had been hurt instead. At least Vision had had the wits to grab the Sokovian and bring her to [Y/N].

More than once had [Y/N] been too late and her pain and frustration had either released a flood of curses that could have made coms melt their ears off…or it had been channelled into silent fury aimed at any enemy within her range.

She hadn’t killed any of the aliens to begin with, but that had changed when they found the car that had been turned into Swizz cheese. The weak metal encasing had not been enough to shield the little family inside it, and [Y/N] had grown taut and pale when she stared at the remains of the two children, a girl of maybe six years and an even younger boy. After that she hadn’t spared anything that blocked her path.

Now Bucky and [Y/N] are working their way up through a building that used to sport more than ten floors and overlook the Thames…by the time they reach the third floor there is nothing but open sky above their heads.

Bucky takes in the area in a split second: at the other end is Steve, delivering a wholesome ass-kicking to anything that’s stupid enough to get within his reach; [Y/N] is running straight to a soldier who is bend over a broken figure; and on the far left are the flashes of lightning that indicates where Thor is. On the other side of the water, lit by the first ray of sun, is a smoking trail that proves where the big, green Hulk has been before turning back towards them. Who’d have thought someone as calm as Banner could turn into a monster like that?

[Y/N] has only just pushed the injured person into the arms of the worried friend when a quartet of aliens, all different kind, on the Chitauri’s flying motorbikes roars past over their heads. A few figures leap off, most landing near Steve, but one lands just behind [Y/N] who is reaching for something in the rubble.

Bucky doesn’t have to think before he has placed himself between what turns out to be a Dark Elf and the woman he loves, and he grabs the arms of the creature, preventing it from swinging the big sword down to [Y/N]’s neck. It seems like an eternity as they struggle to get the upper hand, but Bucky’s metal fist is clamping down hard on the Elf’s wrist, making it drop the sword as the bones begin to crack. With a flurry, [Y/N] pirouettes past him and jams a long, ribbed, metal pole in between the scales of the back-armour, she only stops as she rests against the surprised looking fiend. With a grunt she pushes off and yanks the pole with her, and she must have hit the heart because the fire glowing in the Dark Elf’s eyes is extinguished.

“Nice job, doll.” He could kiss her, as she stands there out of breath with gleaming, violet eyes.

“You gotta save that for later.” Steve’s voice rings out.

Looking over to his friend, Bucky recognizes the smile, but it’s gone the next moment as something blasts against his shield, knocking him off balance. From behind [Y/N] and Bucky another flying hell-engine comes roaring and even though Bucky rips out the bottom of it with his left hand, it still manages to land another shot that tips Steve over the edge.

… Reader’s PoV ...

You’re running before he’s out of sight. Behind you, Bucky is ending the life of the Chitauri that fired, but it’s the pain from up ahead that nearly makes you stumble as you reach where there once was a wall.

Looking down, you can see Steve on a pile of rubble and you leap down without considering the landing. A sharp pain that spears your right leg tells you that it won’t be able to support you and you resort to crawling and dragging yourself up the heap to reach the Captain.

A groan is further evidence that he is alive but he has rebars poking through at his hip and shoulder. Frantically stopping the bleeding, you look up as something moves in your radar as well as the perimeter of your vision: a Dark Elf is standing over you, sneering as it points one of their guns at you, but the shot misses because something hits it hard on the shoulder.

It didn’t miss.

The realization leaves you numb and empty as you look down. You are vaguely aware of more of your friends arriving, but everything is drowned by a sickening, sinking feeling. The only thing you can see is the ugly gaping whole and you can feel the throat object to what must be a soundless scream as Steve’s body, now marred by a smouldering cavity, turns into a lifeless husk. The hole stretches from his shoulder to the lowest rib and is deep enough to even sever his spine.

#fanfiction #mcu #reader insert #avengers #Inhuman #writing #fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #x reader #x fem!reader #x you #x Y/N

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gimmie-a-sammich · 11 months ago

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Absolution | Chapter 1 | The Best Kept Secret

Pairings: Resistance!Ateez x Fem!Original Character, Resistance!??? x Fem!Original Character, feat other idols

Genre: (18+ Minors DNI) Dystopian au, smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Absolution: act of absolving; a freeing from blame or guilt; release from consequences, obligations, or penalties. Haunted by the guilt of her choices, Serafina desperately searches for a way to atone for her sins. In a world ruled by power and corruption, will she find the forgiveness she seeks? Is she worthy of absolution? Maybe stumbling upon the resistance is the answer she's been looking for.

Chapter Warnings: death, depictions of death, violence, use of some pretty cool superpowers, manipulation

Word Count: 6.4k

read here on AO3

Absolution Masterlist

next chapter

Silence.

Silence was a blessing. Silence meant they had not been spotted. Silence meant the others were doing their job, and doing it well. Silence meant Serafina wouldn’t have to intervene. Yet.

Missions had been relatively the same lately. Information was intercepted regarding the resistance’s plans and locations. Once that information was determined accurate the special operations team Serafina was a part of was often dispatched. This team was not designed for mercy. Their solitary function was destruction and death, each member carefully selected due to their abilities.

Tonight they investigated a rumored trading post and convergence sector for the resistance. According to the Crown’s sources, an exchange of weaponry and classified information was to occur among two of the more influential and powerful factions. Two of their highest leaders would be in attendance, along with a large portion of their respective militias. The objectives were simple. Intercept the intelligence. Kill all present. Take no prisoners. Burn everything to the ground.

“Hostiles located.” The com in Serafina’s ear came to life, a familiar voice filling the silent void she sat in. She glanced to the left, finding most of her team still in the same ready position they had been in for the past forty-five minutes. Jay and Jiwoo had moved ahead to take inventory of the seemingly abandoned town to be sure the intel was correct. Serafina, Ender, and Changkyun lurked on the outskirts of town, waiting for confirmation before moving in to proceed with the extermination.

“How many?” Changkyun, the leader of their unit, responded.

“Enough. Most are gathered in the town hall. Few on patrol, but nothing we couldn’t slip past easily. We haven’t gone through every building, more could be hidden. We’ll take a different route back and will reconvene.” Jiwoo, once again.

“Do your best to remain undetected. This will be easier if we continue to rely on stealth, at least for now.” Changkyun’s voice was smooth, always calm and ever present during missions.

Serafina sighed deeply, adjusting her hands around the helmet in her lap. She had taken it off to clear her head and stare up at the stars flickering in the black sky. They were never to come off in front of the enemy, so this lull in time was her only chance. The military’s anonymity played a key role in their tactics. Faces were never shown, given names were never shared. Even within the military itself certain individuals were shrouded with mystery, this unit being one of them. Many knew of its existence through whispers amongst the shadows, but noone truly knew the monsters lurking within it.

“Echo, helmet.” Echo, her military provided codename. Changkyun’s use of it reminded Serafina of her place and role, snapping her back into that headspace. Yet another measure towards anonymity. Each member of the unit had one, along with all high ranking officials, other specialty units, and remarkable soldiers… especially those with more powerful abilities.

“Right, sorry Knight.” She caught a glimpse of Changkyun smiling at her. His deep blue hair reflected in the moonlight before hidden by his own helmet. She slid hers on, holding her breath and gazed straight ahead while the retinal scanner verified her identity. Specs and stats flooded her vision for a split second while the helmet recalibrated and transitioned to her predetermined settings.

Ender, or Indigo as he was known within the unit and military, had not removed his helmet of course. He shook his head at the two of them, questioning their reasoning for taking them off in the first place. Serafina could only imagine the glare he had given her when she had taken it off, knowing that his disdain would only be aimed at her and not Changkyun. In all honesty she didn’t care about his thoughts towards her. She hadn’t in years.

“ETA five minutes.” Jay’s voice rang through the system this time.

True to his word, Jay and Jiwoo scurried up to their vantage point in the hills exactly at the five minute mark. Neither seemed out of breath when they crouched to join their team. Both turned to Changkyun, ready to debrief completely about their scouting trip.

Jay inhaled deeply before speaking. “Like we said, the majority of individuals in the town are located within the city hall building. That appears to be where the exchange is happening. The two leaders we are after are already in the conference room, along with their other officials. Patrols are scattered throughout the town, focusing mainly around the city hall and the armory. Teams of two, takes them about 10 minutes to complete a sweep.”

Pictures and maps appeared on Serafina’s screen. “Pictures of important landmarks, the armory, and city hall should be coming through. They are marked on your maps as well. I set motion detectors at each patrol route so we will have accurate timing on the sweeps. Those should also be live and available now,” Jiwoo said.

Each member pulled up the maps on their wrist and internal systems. As always, Jay and Jiwoo left nothing unturned during their scouting mission. Their trust in each other and skills led to them frequently being paired together whenever a bit of reconnaissance was needed. Jay’s ability only provided another fail safe in the event something went awry.

“Ace, Frost, Great work.” Changkyun’s smile was heard through his praise despite being hidden. He took great pride in his team. As soon as it came back to the mission, though, his voice shifted to firm and commanding, the voice that made his team follow him without question. “Ace, you and Indigo will make for the armory. Kill anyone who comes at you, but staying undetected is the priority for now. We don’t want to alert them of our presence too soon. Survey their arsenal and take inventory of what we could be dealing with moving forward. Burn it to the ground when you’ve sent information back to the Crown. Frost, Echo, and I will go straight to city hall. Echo will gather the information we need before we proceed with the rest of our mission.”

Changkyun intentionally left off the second half of their orders, though it went without question what they were. Once the classified information was identified and retrieved, the extermination would be completed. Only ash and death would be left in their wake.

Beneath the moonlight, the teams nodded in confirmation. Their sleek black tactical suit further camouflaged them and provided additional protection from bullets and whatever ability could be thrown at them. The Crown wasted no expenses on their military, their gear and weapons a perfect example of that, not that they used the guns and knives strapped to their bodies frequently.

The quintet moved quickly and silently down the hill before breaking off into their designated groups once they came to town. Jay and Ender took a sharp left at the first street intersection, making their way towards the armory, Changkyun, Jiwoo, and Serafina continued straight along the main road.

“We need to take the next right,” Changkyun said, glancing at the map projecting from his wrist. “Patrols will be crossing soon, side streets are our best option as we get closer to city hall.”

Without speaking Jiwoo and Serafina followed close behind, remaining vigilant in their surroundings. For being an alleged hub, the resistance had done little to make the town livable. Boarded up and decrepit houses lined the streets, roofs caved around the crumbled foundations. Boxes and crates provided further coverage for the team. Casings from the broken streetlights crunched beneath their boots, the lack of additional light casting an additional layer of shadow.

As always, Serafina remained calm as they moved through the streets, thankful they had remained undetected thus far. Although it only delayed the inevitable, she found solace that she hadn’t needed to kill anyone… yet.

“300 feet,” Jiwoo stated. The trio paused behind a group of crates, but Serafina had a perfect view of the building ahead of them.

It wasn’t at all what Serafina expected, even with the pictures Jiwoo had provided. The building barely stood out in comparison to the other buildings, only being marginally more upkempt and larger. In the time it took Jay and Jiwoo to return and for the trio to sneak through town more guards had settled around the entrances. Whatever was set to happen tonight must already be in process.

“Indigo, Ace, report.”

“Coming to the armory now. Minimal security, it looks like most of the guards have moved elsewhere. We’ll transmit the inventory back to the Crown before we burn it.” Ender’s voice rose in glee at the end of his statement. He did nothing to hide his excitement regarding their current task. Ender reveled in his abilities and the destruction he caused.

“Copy. Come to town hall when you’re done. And Indigo, only burn the armory… you can do the rest of the town after we’ve finished here.” Again Changkyun made his tone firm. Ender had a habit of going too far too quickly, making it difficult to keep him in line at times.

Changkyun held his arm out with a closed fist due to one of the guards' sudden movements. Fortunately, they had not been spotted. The guards continued laughing and joking with each other, although their hands still tightly gripped the assault rifles, fingers ready on the trigger. Serafina knew their presence would be known the moment blue flames rose to the sky, making it only a matter of time before bullets, or more, flew around them.

“Echo, take the guards on the right, I’ll handle the ones on the left.” Changkyun directed. “Frost, watch for more to come. We all know Indigo and Ace will be noisy.”

Serafina and Changkyun dispersed silently in either direction, leaving Jiwoo on reserve for backup. Light on her feet, Sera leapt through the side streets, coming to the six scattered guards quickly. Easy work for her. Energy began coursing through her, so much so that the air around her began to ripple slightly. The guards took notice of the slight change in the air, tightening their grips on the rifles and looking around the empty streets. They were marginally more alert, but it didn’t matter.

She molded the surrounding energy, choosing to design her golden matter into chunks of razor sharp shrapnel hovering in the air, waiting for her will. With a simple thought they shot forward, slicing through the six guards and killing them before they could raise a gun or alarm.

“Right side guards eliminated.” Sera slunk out of the shadows into the open street just as blue flames shot up in the distance. With Ender at play now stealth would no longer be an option and there was no reason to continue operating with such.

Confidence oozed out of Sera as she walked towards the front of the building even with alarms sounding around her, keeping her eyes open for resistance reinforcements. Molten gold liquid lingered around Serafina, only needing a moment to transform into anything she imagined. Changkyun rounded the left side of the building at the same time, holding his trademark purple staff of psychic energy. Blood splatters coated his black suit, some still dripping off the staff’s tip.

“Reinforcements are converging, Knight,” Jiwoo said with a huff. Based on her grunts she was in the midst of dealing with some of them. “Indigo and Ace are on their way. I’ll join them and we'll eliminate the threats before proceeding to the building.”

Ender and Jay echoed her thoughts, completely in agreement with the plan Jiwoo proposed. Changkyun may be their leader, but this team was a well oiled machine filled with equals. Before Changkyun had a chance to confirm, the doors of town hall flung open.

Without a second thought Serafina flung matter at the militiamen. It transformed into much larger spikes this time, impaling the first man with such force it sent him barrelling back through the open door. Bullets flew towards them, but all it took was a raise of Changkyun’s hand to stop them midair. He laughed when Sera melted them into nothing but blobs of golden goo.

“Ah, my sweet Echo… we do make such a great team don’t we?”

“Not willingly, and you know that,” Serafina shot back. Changkyun only laughed at her before taking off towards the building with purpose. The staff in his hands transformed into a katana, a second materializing in his other open palm. Sera had no choice but to follow, allowing more golden lava to form around her. Changkyun barked further orders, but his focus now was getting to the conference room and killing all who tried to stop them.

Serafina had to give the resistance credit. These men and women didn’t run nor show fear even as Sera and Changkyun tore through them with as much ease as a knife cuts butter. Bullets, flecks of gold, and shocks of purple flung around the building as they fought. Neither left anyone standing and quickly found themselves at the door of the conference room. Changkyun forced the barricaded door open easily, blocking the shots fired at them the moment it opened, leaving Sera to liquify the bullets.

“Are we interrupting something?” Changkyun asked with feigned innocence.

Ten men and women sat around a table, each with their guns aimed at the pair in the door. One of the men made a sudden move but was quickly halted by Changkyun. He froze mid reach, a small ball of orange energy attempting to form in his hands. A terrified look entered his eyes at the inability to move and the flickering ball slowly disintegrated before it could be used. Changkyun’s telekinesis was some of the strongest Serafina had seen and one of the primary reasons he achieved his current position. Even if more around the table had their own abilities, which surely they did, all seemed too stunned or frightened to use them following Changkyun’s antics.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Echo?”

The weapons pointed at them turned to liquid in an instant, falling into golden puddles on the floor. Even without seeing his face Sera knew Changkyun was smirking. Serafina’s powers were awe inspiring, a fact evident based on the shocked faces in the room. Unfortunately for them, they hadn’t even touched on what she could really do.

“And how did we get the honor of having the fabled Hell’s Unit in our presence?” A gruff and weathered looking man standing at the head of the table spoke. A large scar slashed through half his face, marring what would have otherwise been a very handsome man.

As hard as the Crown tried to keep their team hidden in obscurity, rumors of their escapades traveled through Meridian like wildfire. How could it not, given its members and kill count? Their operations and abilities became something of legend at this point, lies and truth intermixing to the point no one truly knew what to believe regarding them.

Changkyun chuckled, clutching his heart. “Hell’s Unit? That’s a new one for me. I like the sound of it. You must be Giddeon.” He was the leader of one of the factions the team was dispatched to eliminate. “And you… you must be Kahanna.” Changkyun was speaking to the olive skinned woman next to him. Her features were dark and sharp, accentuated by the tight ponytail sitting on top of her head. Based on the dossier they received before the mission, they were the pair with the classified intelligence as well.

“Knight, the rest of town is clear.” Jiwoo appeared behind them. Still encased in her diamond armor, the sharpened points coming out the top of her wrists were stained red. Serafina always found this diamond state stunningly beautiful. Light reflected off Jiwoo, shooting rainbows on every surface. As much as she looked like stained glass, Jiwoo was more or less invincible in this state.

Ender and Jay stood behind her, lit up further by the blue flames flickering in Ender’s palm. The two of them played around now that the mission was nearing its end. Jay created portals to move Ender’s flames to random places throughout the room, startling whoever the blue fire appeared by. Ender was on his best behavior, though, and didn’t let the flames burn for too long. Serafina knew him well enough to know that he enjoyed the fear he elicited.

“We just need these two, kill the rest.” Changkyun stated coldly. He never took his eyes off Giddeon and Kahanna, arms folded tightly against his chest.

Jay took a small step forward, creating small portals directly above the heads of the others around the wooden table. With a flick of his wrist they snapped down, muffling the terrified screams, and at the snap of his fingers the portals closed. Eight decapitated bodies slumped to the floor with loud thuds. A metallic smell enveloped the room from the amount of blood pooling on the hardwood.

Changkyun avoided the bodies on the floor as he walked closer to Giddeon and Kahanna. “What do you two know? What was so important to discuss that a secret meeting had to take place? What are you planning?” His gloved fingers drug across the table as he spoke, rustling the papers with his movements.

Gideon’s laughter echoed through the room and only added to the growing tension. His dark eyes flashed in the light, voice seething with anger as he spoke. “You’re better off just killing us.”

Kahanna remained stone cold beside him, not a single bit of emotion crossing her face as she stared straight ahead. Their resolve was commendable, if not foolish.

Changkyun’s low laugh rumbled from deep within his chest. Serafina inhaled sharply when he removed his helmet and placed it on the table. A common occurrence for him during investigations, but it still garnered the same reaction from her. Nothing Changkyun did was without purpose. He knew that neither Kahanna nor Giddeon would leave this room alive, but Serafina’s abilities provided a further fail safe which allowed him to be more reckless in these moments.

Fingers tapped the top of his helmet, the soft thuds seeming much louder in the heavy air. Changkyun nudged a body out of the way so he could sit more comfortably in a chair. His dark eyes appeared almost black, hazy with the power he had in this moment. “Take a seat.” Neither Giddeon nor Kahanna moved a muscle. “Your defiance is commendable, truly. I said sit.”

Using his telekinesis, Changkyun forced the two down into the chairs behind them. The struggle became prevalent on their faces, grimacing and thrashing against the force keeping them down. Struggling was futile. If Changkyun wanted you to sit, you would.

“You can force our bodies, but you can’t force us to speak,” Kahanna said fiercely.

The entire team with the exception Serafina laughed at her statement. Changkyun dipped his head to the floor, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes were cold. “You’re right. I can’t. But I don’t need to.” He turned to Sera, beckoning her towards him with an outstretched hand. “Echo, please.”

Changkyun stood, allowing Sera to take his seat. Unlike the former, Sera kept her helmet on. Kahanna and Giddeon continued to to struggle against the force of Changkyun’s mind and she could see a slight strain from keeping them contained starting to creep onto his face. These two must be stronger than she initially thought if Changkyun had to work this hard. “You will not struggle and you will remain seated.”

As soon as the command left Sera’s lips both Giddeon and Kahanna became still as statues within the chairs, letting Changkyun’s mind relax and focus on obtaining information. His hand settled on Serafina’s shoulder, squeezing softly in appreciation for taking the task of restrainment off his plate. It lingered for a moment, an action noticed by Sera. Attention returned to Giddeon and Kahanna once his hand brushed off her shoulder. Changkyun grinned like a madman down at the two leaders. Confusion and fear had snuck onto their faces at the realization they had no control. That control resided within Serafina and Serafina alone.

There was more to Serafina beyond her physical ability. She could manipulate minds, an ability that only those in the inner circle of the Crown were aware of. With only her words Sera could assume complete control, making the unlucky recipients do and say whatever she pleased. This in combination with her manipulation of matter made her an unstoppable force, her powers utterly limitless. She was precious to the military and to the Crown, their perfect weapon in every way.

“You will answer all of Knight’s questions completely and without lies.” Serafina’s voice was soft and soothing. Her eyes became a striking gold within her helmet as she spoke, the only outward indication that she was using her powers, both physical and mental, mimicking the color of her self-produced matter.

Changkyun’s smile widened to a toothy grin. He looked borderline manic standing between Kahanna and Giddeon. “Like I asked before… What was the purpose of this meeting tonight?” He placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

“We were reviewing new information released among the resistance. A former military member had intelligence regarding two members of your very team.” Giddeon’s voice was cold yet melodic, gaze unblinking and transfixed on Serafina.

The air in the room thickened. Changkyun’s fingers tightened on their shoulders, knuckles nearly white from the pressure. His eyes surveyed the four members of his team, mind immediately running through every possibility, but even Changkyun couldn’t have predicted this outcome.

“The resistance received confirmation that Indigo and Echo are the prince and princess.” Kahanna’s voice had the same melody and intonation as Giddeon’s.

Serafina felt her heart stop beating for a moment. She desperately wanted to look at her brother even though Ender’s helmeted face would provide no comfort. She needed to know more before letting herself spiral. Her and Ender’s identities and abilities were one of the best kept secrets in the military, or so she thought.

“What else is known about the prince and princess?” Changkyun’s voice and face remained steady and neutral regardless of the bomb that was dropped. Ever the perfect leader he was, never letting his emotions show even in the thick of it.

Kahanna gulped before continuing. “Their true names and appearance continue to be a mystery to the resistance, however factions are on high alert for any news regarding your team. It is known that Indigo’s abilities pertain to fire and the ability to control it. Rumors were that his flames are blue and that his power goes beyond others with pyrokinesis, which of course we now know to be true, but that is not known within the resistance.”

“And the princess and her abilities?” Changkyun’s eyes settled on Serafina, flashing with concern briefly with the followup question.

“Not as much as Indigo in that respect. The most common rumor is that she has a form of telekinesis, but there are also whispers that she can manipulate the world around her in some way. Now we know that none of the information remotely comes close to what Echo can do, and it’s unfortunate that we will never be able to share those details with the other leaders.”

A bit of good news. Sera felt some of the tension leave her body knowing there was still some secrecy. Her mother and father had shielded Serafina and her siblings from the eyes of Meridian’s people, choosing to keep their names and appearances hidden for this very reason, even if the existence of three Titon siblings was known throughout the continent. King Nikolai and Queen Delphine were ruthless in their manner of ruling and knew their children would be easy targets in attempts to topple their regime. They took endless measures to keep their children safe. Ender’s identity would only become public when he married or ascended to the throne. However, it was tradition among the royal family for their children to receive military and combat training at age fourteen until eighteen, even without the expectation of serving under the Crown. Ender and Serafina’s abilities were too powerful not to be used and both thrived during training, resulting in them following in the footsteps of their mother and father. Hence their current positions on this team and now the question of their safety.

“What is the resistance’s plan in regards to the prince and princess?”

“Capture if possible to use as leverage, kill when necessary,” Giddeon said.

Ender barked a sharp laugh from behind Serafina, scoffing at the thought. “Good fucking luck with either of those options. The resistance really does have a death wish.”

Changkyun sighed and grabbed his helmet, placing it on his head before stepping away from Giddeon and Kahanna and rounding the table towards Jay, Jiwoo, and Ender. “Anything else pertaining to this team?”

“We know the remaining team member’s military names: Knight, Frost, and Ace. Again, we don’t know their appearances, although you’ve kindly shown us yours, Knight, if only briefly. We’ve heard that you like to show your face, but none have lived to describe it. Whispers have also been swarming regarding your abilities. You have some variant of telekinesis, Frost with durability, and Ace with portaling. Again, nothing close to the reality of the powers this team holds.” Kahanna closed her eyes after speaking, a single tear sliding down her face.

Changkyun kept his back to the table, choosing to face the rest of his team. “Let them speak freely now, Echo.” Serafina complied with her leader’s command, standing up to join her team and severing the connection, eyes returning to their natural color. Jiwoo slid a hand into hers, offering silent support. “Thank you for the information… this has definitely been an enlightening conversation.”

“The Crown will break, Knight, and your team will burn along with it.” Giddeon spat, voice laced with anger. Fists hit the table with enough force to snap it in half. Finally, a demonstration of Giddeon’s known ability of enhanced strength. Kahanna made no moves to show her gifts, having accepted her coming fate.

“It’s you who will burn, Giddeon,” Changkyun said softly from the doorway, taking a few steps into the atrium before he paused. “Indigo, if you would.”

Ender stepped around Changkyun, ignoring Giddeon’s screams of harsh words and expletives. He enjoyed holding life within his hands just as much as he enjoyed playing with the flames flickering around his fingers. Serafina turned around just as blue flames erupted beneath Giddeon and Kahanna. Screams of pain filled the building, echoing through the wooden halls. Somehow they grew louder in Serafina’s ear as she followed her team out into the empty town. Ender stayed put, wanting to be sure Kahanna and Giddeon were both dead before considering vacating the now engulfed building. It was no surprise that Ender would let his flames run wild. For as much control he had over his ability, Ender himself was as volatile as the flames he wielded and let them run rampant without warning.

“Asshole didn’t even make sure we were out before he let loose,” Jay mumbled, shaking his head at the blue flames shooting up into the sky.

“You know I can still hear you,” Ender retorted.

Jay laughed, a warm and welcome sound, although it did nothing to replace the imagined screams that rang in Serafina’s ears. “Which is exactly why I said it.”

Ender strolled out of the flames completely unscathed just a moment later. Not only was Ender entirely fireproof, his suit had also been designed to withstand the flames around him. He lightly punched Jay’s shoulder when he rejoined the group. The five of them stared at the blue fire, watching as the building toppled to the ground before backing further away due to the intense heat.

Serafina found Ender’s cobalt and indigo flames beautiful, something she would never openly admit to her brother. It was because of this rare coloration that Ender received Indigo as his military name. His flames were exponentially hotter, and therefore more dangerous, than typical fire, something Ender took great pride in.

“Ace, portal us back to the initial rendezvous point,” Changkyun commanded. “We need to burn the entire town and we’re not leaving until it's ash.”

A black void opened behind them. Changkyun stepped through first, disappearing into the vortex. Serafina followed suit, walking through the portal and stepping back onto the grassy hill above town. Jiwoo and Ender arrived seconds behind her. Jay brought up the rear, closing his portal as soon as he stepped through.

Now that the unit was out of harm’s way, Ender willed his flames to spread through the rest of the city. Even though Sera had seen her brother at work many times before, she always caught herself feeling a mixture of awe and disgust at his sheer ability to destroy everything in his wake. She felt a similar feeling with her own abilities, but unlike her brother Sera felt no joy in dealing death and destruction.

Silence once again filled the air, only broken by the crackling flames and the occasional crash of houses and buildings caving in. Time passed by slowly to Serafina, though it only took minutes for Ender’s scorching fire to level the town to ash. The flames disappeared following Changkyun’s command. Ender’s fire would burn endlessly if allowed, and only he and Sera had the ability to extinguish the flames. This was a newer revelation between the siblings, and one that drove the wedge deeper between them. Following another command, Jay opened a new portal, this one leading them back to their homebase within the military complex. Back to Serafina and Ender’s father. Back to share the news that the children of the Crown may not be safe.

The team’s handlers, Mira and Benjin, were at the ready the instant the portal closed behind the quintet. Of course they had seen the events and heard all the information gathered by the team during the mission, putting them on edge. Although they commended the team on a job well done, the air was heavy in the room.

Serafina pulled off her helmet once Mira gave her space, handing it to the woman with a small smile. Concern filled Mira’s face, but she didn’t ask Sera any questions before scurrying off. The handlers were responsible for much of the team’s security, including keeping their identities hidden. The concern wasn’t only for Sera’s sake, it was also for her own life. Mercy and leniency were not routinely found in the Crown’s version of justice.

“Knight, they want a debrief immediately,” Benjin stated. He had retaken his seat in front of the many computer screens, scrolling and typing as messages came in. He swiveled in his chair to face the leader, face falling with a sigh. “Changkyun… I hope you don’t suspect Mira or I. We would never-”

Changkyun shook his head, silencing Benjin with a raise of his hand. “More would have been known about Ender and Sera if it was someone in close proximity to the team. The information was too general to come from either of you. You’ve been with us since conception… I don’t question your loyalty to us, or to the Crown, and I will make sure the King knows where I stand.”

Relief washed over both Benjin and Mira, but only briefly. Changkyun valued loyalty above all else and both handlers had proven that over and over again. While King Nikolai trusted Changkyun’s thoughts and opinions, it was his will that reigned supreme. If he questioned Mira or Benjin, or anyone who knew of his children’s identities within the team for that matter, there’s no telling what pain and torture they would endure.

With a small bow and fleeting glance towards Sera, Changkyun exited the room, not bothering to stop at his locker to change out of his blood stained uniform. Blood was a common sight within the base and the importance of teasing out next steps outweighed the need for clean clothes at this moment. The rest of the team, on the other hand, could hit the showers if they desired while they awaited their next directive.

Serafina intended to do just that, grabbing clothes from her locker and heading to the bathroom located at the far side of the room. Due to their ranking, her team’s headquarters had separate showers for the male and female members, each with three individual stalls for more privacy. Everything else she needed was already housed in the bathroom, along with Jiwoo’s supplies.

Sera paused in front of the mirror, surprised she didn’t look more of a mess. Her long black hair was relatively untangled thanks to the thick french braid cascading down her back, although loose pieces had fallen into her tanned face. Those pieces were quickly tucked behind her heavily pierced ears, both adorned with a variety of hoops, chains, and studs. Stormy blue eyes that leaned almost gray appeared hazier than normal due to the late hour. It was nearly 3am and all Sera wanted to do was wash the blood off her hands and crawl into bed.

“Sera?” Jiwoo entered the bathroom, her fire engine red hair sticking out against the crisp white and gray tiles along the floor and walls.

Beyond being teammates, Sera also considered Jiwoo a friend and sought her out frequently. Thankfully all members lived within the royal compound, not only to keep their most valued unit safe, but also because they knew of Ender and Serafina’s identities. Another measure taken to protect the Crown’s longevity and to keep those with powerful abilities under lock and key.

“Hmm?” Sera paused brushing out her hair to give her full focus to Jiwoo standing beside her, locking eyes with her through the mirror. The two were similar in height and build, Sera only barely taller and leaner than Jiwoo.

Jiwoo leaned her head onto Sera’s shoulder, not caring about the blood coating the uniform she was still wearing. “Are you okay?” The question was genuine, albeit a loaded one, filled with concern over her friend’s safety.

“I guess? Changkyun is right… its very general information that was fed to the resistance. I’m honestly surprised that it’s taken four years for them to figure out anything about Ender and I.”

Not a complete lie, but Sera hoped her answer would appease Jiwoo. Considering Jiwoo didn't push her further, it must have been enough to ease her mind. Sera never spoke much after missions anyway, especially ones filled with this much carnage. The additional element of her family’s security also weighed heavy on her mind. She left her friend in the mirror, stripping her uniform to enter her usual shower at the end of the room.

Her thoughts spiraled the minute Sera stepped into the stall. Sera always made a conscious effort to hold herself together in front of her team, but exhaustion and fear clouded her head. She held in the tears that threatened to spill out, not wanting Jiwoo to hear the sobs that would heave from her chest if they fell. Tears were saved for the pillows in the safety of her room. Serafina worked hard to maintain the steely facade, pretending as best she could to be the everwilling weapon she was intended to be. But it ate at her day in and day out. Every mission became more difficult. Every kill burned into her memory, her ledger an endless list of red names. Sera hated herself for the desolation she wrought, hated the things the Crown and her father forced her to do.

Defiance was something the regime did not take lightly. Punishment came swiftly, even if executed on a child of the Crown. Sera made the foolish decision to refuse a direct order from her father seventeen months ago. That singular act haunted her nightmares with the punishment she endured and the unintended results of her actions. Often she felt the weight of the collar around her neck and the chains that surrounded her wrists during her time in the Gallows, although those seemed mild when compared to the rest of Sera’s torture. Sera had no choice but to comply even if it pained her to do so. Nikolai’s threats were promises, and the promise that a second act of defiance would result in worse consequences terrified Serafina.

No, outward defiance was not something that Serafina could risk, at least not at this moment. She would continue to bide her time, acting perfectly in the role she hated playing. For now, she could only watch the blood stained water spiral down the drain and wish that the rest of her sins could be washed away as easily.

notes: Here's the supes you've seen and the team's codenames in case they weren't clear

Changkyun (Knight) - Telekinesis, with the additional ability to manifest pure purple psychic energy into weapons of his choice.

Serafina/Sera (Echo)- Matter manipulation, can produce and mold her golden matter into nearly anything. Can also manipulate all forms of matter in the world around her. Mind manipulation, can control and will minds to do whatever she pleases without question, including manipulating memories and thoughts. Possibilities with her powers are limitless, but she is still learning what all she is capable of doing

Ender (Indigo)- Pyrokinesis, can form and control his blue flames at will, as well as control all other fire around him. Ender’s blue flames can only be put out by him or Sera.

Jay (Ace)- Portaling, creating mini black holes, transportation. Can use these portals for transportation or killing, as we’ve seen.

Jiwoo (Frost)- Diamond armor, can create and extend pieces of said armor into weapons. More or less invulnerable when she is in this state.

#ateez fluff #ateez au #ateez fanfiction #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez x oc #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho

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