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furiousgoldfish · 4 months

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While growing up in an abusive family, a part of me strongly refused to grow up, in fact it's still resisting it. I thought at first, it was because I was taught that I am less and less valuable as I age, but it wasn't only that. It turns out, growing around mostly abusive people, can give you some horrifying notions of what it means to be an adult.

I am going to write down how I perceived adulthood, as an abused kid, because I need to work on it myself, and if there's somebody else feeling this, know that these are not your only option for a future:

All adults are stupid, unkind, boring, bitter, aggressive, obsessed with money, do not understand people around them at all.

All adults have to play specific roles assigned to them and don't step outside of these roles. For instance: mother, grandma, father, aunt, teacher, uncle, neighbour. All roles are restrictive and people can only do whatever is assigned to this role (cleaning, cooking, working a job, going to army, being married, etc)

Adults can't play, be curious, or have fun. Adults have to be focused on their role and stay grumpy, serious, bitter and busy. They don't laugh except when drunk.

Adults are having it tougher than children. They are unloved, uncared for, nobody considers them nice or pretty, nobody wants them around or gives them gifts. Adults are permanently unwanted and undesired everywhere.

Adults have good opinions only of people who are already dead. Everyone alive is constantly being humiliated, shamed and criticized. It's better to be dead.

Adults don't care about children, and only think the worst of children. Adults think children should only exist to work and to be yelled at. Adults are dangerous.

Adults don't care about friendships, loyalty, kindness, courage, bonds, closeness, care, or love. Adults friendships are drinking and smoking in the same room while talking badly about every other person in their life. They don't play, laugh or share things. It's a big game of pretense that the other has it better.

Adults lie and fake everything. They lie about their home life, about what they know, about money. They lie about, and to their children. They tell lies confidently. They make things up if they don't know and then tell those lies as if they're truths. They don't feel guilt if caught lying and instead double down on it.

Adults have money but they can't spend it. They have to keep paying bills and they never have enough money for bills and food. They will buy alcohol and cigarettes though, but they're always stressed about bills. They consider it children's fault.

Adults are endlessly stressed about having to 'feed a family'. This is so bad that they actually end up hating their families. They wish all of their children were dead so they wouldn't have to feed them. They can't seem to stop having children but also hate feeding them. It's like they're forced into it.

Adults have to work constantly. They work their jobs and have to do endless chores when they get home. They have to get up early to do chores and do them late at night. They have to do everything alone, unless they can get a child to do it for them. They can't select not to do it, they have to shift it to someone else to avoid it. Adults have no free time, or hobbies. They have to work at all times and always know what needs to be done.

Adults have bodies that work less and less. They can't run, climb or jump. They're always having surgeries and can barely walk. Their backs and hips hurt and they complain about the pain every time they need to do anything. They blame the work for this but can't stop working. They're still somehow stronger than children when they want to hurt children, and then they're fully mobile. But at all other times they appear sickly and need stuff done for them.

Adults never get over anything that ever happened to them. They're always victimized by everything that ever happened to them. We the children have to get over things instantly, but they are angry and bitter about the past forever. They hold grudges against family members forever. They freely take things out on other family members. They never forgive or forget or calm down.

Adults are not passionate about anything. Their main priority is looking good in front of others and convincing everyone they're better than they are.

Adults selectively care when someone is crying. If it's someone they don't know, they'll act nice about it. If they know the person they will tell them to shut up and stop annoying them. It's like they fall for strangers tears but see through anyone else's as pretense. I don't understand.

Adults die and then other adults get drunk at their funerals. They say you need to cry but they're only serious for the public part and then go and have parties where they just laugh with everyone. Adults don't care about the dead people but say you're not supposed to say anything bad about them now they're dead. They pretend they cared while the person was alive but they didn't. They obsessively clean and decorate graves just for others not to think they 'didn't care'.

Adults will betray anyone's secrets. Adults will tell other adults whatever you told them in confidence. Adults cannot be trusted with information.

Adults judge and badmouth anyone who doesn't act the way they think people are supposed to act. They will impose their own rules and morals on others and shame anyone who doesn't agree. They insist that everyone needs to follow their assigned family role even though they complain about hating their own. They use the most horrid slurs for people they consider 'bad at their role' and write these people off as parasites and worthless people

Adults all agree children should be obedient, quiet and never want anything or disturb them. They want children only to present them with achievements and work for the rest of time.

Adults have sex but nobody is supposed to say anything about it. It's unclear whether they want to be doing it. If it's a part of a role it doesn't seem like they can say no.

Adults can't be cared for or pampered like children can. Adults do not get candy or chocolate. Adults say it's because children are cute and they're not. Adults are jealous of children. Adults complain about not being cared for.

Adults don't understand how hard children have it and always say being a child is the easiest and best time of life. They seem jealous and tell children to be grateful because it's only going to get worse. I can't imagine surviving worse. They claim their childhood was better than anything they deal with now because food was free and they didn't have to have a job.

Adults have no freedom. They have to stay with family and play their role. They can't survive otherwise. They leech off of each other and hate everyone. They live by imposed rules that force everyone to stay together even if they hate each other. They hate everyone around them. They feel loyal to no one. They bring misery to themselves and people around them and don't feel shame or responsibility for anyone they've hurt or ruined.

Adults don't see others as people with their own inner world. They insist that everyone except them is stupid, shallow, mindless and worthless.

Adults are all cowards who will submit to anyone who is stronger and louder. They'll only fight those who are weaker. They don't care about justice and will happily punish victims in unfair fights. They themselves are bitter and upset if they don't get the justice.

Adults only ever look out for themselves. They don't care about other people. They want money and others to admire them and to serve them. If that is not happening they are angry and bitter at the entire world.

Adults don't see good in other people. They don't see what someone else needs or deserves. They don't care about adventures or magic. They don't have wonder or awe inside of themselves. They don't even look at beautiful things in front of them. They don't care about nature, animals or trees. They don't care about books or knowledge, or reading. They don't care about stories or legends. They don't care about people who suffer so badly they want to die. They judge people for suicide.

They don't care about creating or making something unless it can be sold for money. They don't even tolerate others doing it.

They love no one. Everything they do is a drag and a pain to them and they want to push their work on someone else all the time. They don't care about anything except money and how to get more attention and keep pretenses. They have no true friends or care for anyone. All they have is work, rules and roles they need to act. Their lives are meaningless. Even though they have money they cannot travel or use it for fun or joy. They don't think anyone should be free to do as they want. They have no dignity or honor but pretend they do when in company. They yell but pretend they're victims for 'having to yell'.

They don't care if someone wants to die because of their actions. They don't care for anyone who wants to live differently. People who live differently are worthless and stupid to them. They think they're the only ones who are always right even when they're always wrong.

Adults are convinced that when I grow up this will all make sense and I will grow up to be exactly like them

If you felt as a child, or still do, that these are the truths of adulthood, and something you'll end up becoming, it's not true, and it's mostly just abusers who live their lives in this manner. If this is the only thing you've ever known and seen as a child, adulthood would be terrifying and feel like you'd have to lose your soul in order to become like this.

I'll write another follow-up debunking these and writing what I feel adulthood is right now. It's just definitely not that. And living around people who act like this is normal, is traumatic.

#growing up in abuse #traumatic childhood #perceived notions about growing up #adulthood myths #myths of adulthood from a mind of an abused kid #child abuse #abusive adults #abusers making themselves seem like the norm #growing up in narcissistic household #the empty space in the middle is just so tumblr would let me post #apparently there's a character limit per block #and all of my bullet points were just making one block #the limit is 4096 characters btw

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yanderenightmare · 2 months

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TW: nsfw, noncon, poverty & debt, gun violence, organized crime, death threats, arranged marriage

fem reader

Thinking about owing the mob…

Not you specifically, but your family – debt you weren’t aware of before you’re being cashed in to settle it.

You imagined several terrible things before the arrangement was explained to you.

One of the sons needs a wife with a clean reputation.

It’s a simple equation. You’re eligible, and he isn’t picky.

And though it leaves you in mourning for a life yet lived, it still comes with a sense of relief. It’s one of the better deals you could’ve gotten. At least you wouldn’t need to witness or partake in any crimes, nor act as a scapegoat for the likes either.

Besides… though you’ve yet to meet your fiancé, you’ve been explained that he only plans on treating you like a wife on and for the camera – that his tastes otherwise lie in the gentlemen’s lounge.

All you ever have to do is smile. He isn’t interested in anything else.

That’s what you were told, and yet…

“It’s funny.” Your husband says after the wedding ceremony.

You’re back at the mansion you’re meant to call home. The grounds are about twice the size of the block you come from. Marble, gold, and diamonds – it’s so outrageously excessive it’s shameless.

“I was told your brothers run routes for us to make ends meet.” He continues, looking at you and the expression on your face as you stare up at the chandelier – it’s clear you’ve never seen anything like it. “Fuck, I mean, I can’t imagine risking my life and still end up needing to pick between food or rent at the end of the day.”

Your gaze falls down to him at that.

Clad in lush wedding expense – white gown and silver tiara – you still stick out like a sore thumb. Something in the way it wears you and not the other way around. It’s obvious you’re uncomfortable with it all. It’s probably worth more than your family's ever owned.

He steps closer with a chuckle.

“Then, the poor suckers go and fuck up so bad they end up needing to sell their own sister.”

He spots your fists ball at your sides. But you keep your cool. Only a slight grimace curling your lips along a tiny furrow between your brows. It all smoothens into something else when he reaches out to grab your chin.

“What’s even more funny…” He tilts your face in his hand – jaded eyes assessing you like he’s found a coin on the ground. “You don’t look like street trash like I expected.”

Your frown returns, and you try pulling back – but he grabs your arm before you can.

Tsking, “Ah-ah – Remember,” His smile sharpens. “You’re property now. When I touch you, you let it happen.”

You weren’t that easily convinced. He bet you’ve had to fight off a lot of unwanted attention back where you come from. But he isn’t some back-alley thug. When he wants something, he expects it not only to be served on a silver platter but to be hand-fed to him with a silver spoon.

He pulls the gun out from behind him. Slotted in the band of his dress trousers, it had stayed hidden beneath the coverage of his suit jacket during the ceremony.

Your throat dries up, and any protests you had died of thirst along with it – eyes wide as you stare at the piece.

You can’t believe he’d carry that thing into a church with vows upon his lips – now pointing it at the very same wife he’d made those vows to.

“Make me spend a single bullet, and your family will share the rest.” He taps the barrel’s mouth against the quiver of your lips. “I’d rather not it come to that. It’ll ruin the carpet…”

You quiver, feeling weak with a shudder – your eyes slip closed with a shivering tear.

“Not to mention this…” He strokes the pitiful droplet off your cheek with the weapon while eyeing the way you quake with grinning eyes. “Pretty little body I’ve only just acquired.”

BNHA – Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

BLLK – Reo

HxH – Illumi

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mari-the-bimbo · 7 months

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Nanami: the brat tamer

A/N: I apologise in advance for the woman I became when I wrote this 🙏 Also can we talk about how I randomly defeated my dyslexia and managed to write without bullet points? Lol

Warnings: MINORS DNI, oral sex, adult language, hair pulling? age gap

Having an older, accountant boyfriend didn’t seem so fun when you had to wait for him to get home after overtime.

You sat on your shared bed, arms crossed, pouting, and aggressively checking the time every 2 seconds, the impatience of waiting for Nanami finally creeped up to you. Now you were mad, how could he leave you like this for so long?!

So even after you heard the front door open and close, you decided to ignore it and pretend you’re sleeping. It’s petty, you know it is, but you convinced yourself it’s what he deserves, even after you heard his faint calls of your name from downstairs.

“Sweetheart?” Says his deep, creamy voice as he reaches the bedroom. You squeeze your eyes shut a bit tighter, in an attempt to block him out.

“I know you’re awake” he says.

You huff in annoyance at his smart ass comment and finally turn around to see him loosen his tie. Damn it, why did he have to be so sexy.

“So? I have nothing to say to you” you reply before turning your back to him again as you get comfy in your bed.

“Oh? Is my sweetheart upset about something?” He asks, trying his best to co operate with your young fiery temper.

You couldn’t help but furrow your brows at his tone, speaking to you as if you were a child having a tantrum. “What do you think?” You say sarcastically as you look at him again with a frown on your face.

You watch his jaw clench and he takes a deep breath, you knew his patience naturally ran thin, yet he tries his best with you. But dealing with you when you’re being a brat isn’t easy.

“I’m being nice y/n. So come here and tell me what’s wrong” he says, large hands grabbing one of your legs that dangled off the side of the bed.

Your bad temper led you to use your leg to push him away, however as your foot collided with Nanami’s stomach, you realised your effort was in no avail. It was like a foot to a wall, a hard, unmoving wall.

You gulped as you look back up at your strong boyfriend. His face would seem indifferent to others, but only you could notice that slight annoyance on his face. “Really y/n?” He asks, daring you to reply as he grabs the foot on his stomach tighter.

But just as you’re about to reply smartly, your breath is stolen as he quickly pulls your body towards him with the hold on your foot. You gasp “Nanami!” as he gets on the bed, now towering on top of your barely clothed body.

You’re about to protest again but he places his hand over your mouth, effectively shutting you up. “No. I gave you a chance to be a good girl but you chose to be a brat, so now you’re going to be disciplined like one” he says, and although you should be scared, you couldn’t help but whimper against his large hand and arch your back.

He wants to laugh at you but he shakes his head instead, “you shameless girl” he says as he removes his clothes and all you could do is hum in agreement and eye his chiselled abs that are no longer begging to burst through his blue shirt.

He sighs as if he’s disappointed but you know he’s loving every second of this. Your eyes are starry as you watch him pull his boxers down, finally letting his fat dick spring out, cum glistening at its tip, making you subconsciously spread your legs out.

Nanami watches you do this with a unamused look. “What are you doing? Do you really believe you deserve to be railed after that attitude?” He scolds, making you stare at him in disbelief and you finally scoff in annoyance.

Suddenly his hands grabs your hair, tugging it ever so slightly, yet the veins on his muscular beefy arms were bulging. “Ah!” “Be quiet, another sound out of you and you’re getting nothing out of me, understand?” He says, his frown deepening the contours of his handsome face.

And that threat humbled you in seconds, you stare in disbelief again but this time you nod. You were in no state to deny this, and he knew that too from the wet patch on your underwear.

“That’s right” he says, as he presses his dick against your face. His pre cum starts dripping down your face, and even as you moan, Nanami keeps the stern look on his face.

He wastes no time pushing himself inside your mouth, your choking is like music to his ears. It’s keeps him moving, his hips thrusting harder every time, because the wet gummy feeling of inside your mouth was just too good against his length. His hands reach behind your head, grabbing all your hair into a ponytail, helping you suck him more easily, bobbing your head so that you can take more of his length.

He lets out a choked moan which only motivates you further, maybe he’ll finally praise you if you try harder. You swirl your tongue around it, sucking harder and harder in hopes of a single praise out of Nanami’s mouth. Because as much as you pretend to be an unbothered bitch, you want be his good girl.

“Ohhhh you’re so good to me sweet girl” he finally says. Suddenly his speed increases, mouth fucking you relentlessly.

You try so hard to keep up with his speed but at some point your mouth gives up and you become a sex toy for his dick to play with. And once he finally slows the pace of his thrusts, and strokes the back of your neck so sweetly, the situation isn't made any easier as the salty taste of his cum flows down your throat as well as trickling down your chin. Nevertheless you swallow it all.

Finally you pull back, gasping for breath, making the remaining cum spill on your neck and breasts, but that’s not good enough for Nanami. “Don’t waste my cum you silly girl. You know I hate wasting”. His long fingers picks up the trail you left behind and presses the creamy trail against your mouth, forcing you to open your mouth and swallow it all.

You struggle to give an answer as you try to regulate your heavy pants.

“Well? What do you have to say?”

“Thank you daddy” you manage to choke out, you knew the drill.

“And?” He says, an eyebrows raised.

“And- I’m sorry for being a brat before” you add, crawling into his lap, craving his warmth. His eyes soften at your exhausted figure, he could never stay mad at his beautiful angel.

He strokes your hair as he watches you become putty against him. Pretty wide eyes staring at him, waiting for praise. He can’t help but give you an amused smile, god, you were so pretty, especially when you had cum glistening on your chin.

He lets you press yourself against his body as he kisses your cheeks. “That’s okay sweetheart, next time you’re sad, you need to tell me, okay?”

“Okay” you lie, knowing damn well you’re going to do it again just to get him mad.

What? It’s not your fault he looks so damn fine when he’s mad.

He presses one last kiss to your head before pulling you away. “Okay you need to get up now princess, you need to show me how sorry you are”

“Huh?” You say.

You continue to stare dumbfounded as a Nanami grabs his tie, his eyes not looking away from yours as he ties your hands together.

Your confusion soon morphs into a giddy smile as you realise what this meant. You open your legs once again, knowing you’re in for a treat. You give Nanami your best puppy eyes and you watch him lick his lips in response. Perfect, you knew you would get your way, Nanami loves you too much to deny you of anything.

“Am I about to get railed?”

“Yes you are sweetheart”

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norrisleclercf1 · 3 months

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Awwwwwwwww please give us more mafia max Casper and fabby. They were so cute 😭😭😭😭

Maybe blurb on fabby kicking Jos? Or more of Casper being adorable and not liking bad things 🥹🥹🥹🥹

A/N: EEEEEEEKKKKK I love these little hellions also Fabby is a little shit and protective of his brother Casper

There weren't a lot of time in your life that Jos didn't bother you. At your wedding he was perfectly fine, even nice. When Fabby and Casper were born he held them and even got you flowers, and sometimes those memories of Jos help you forget that this is the man that used to run the Dutch Mafia.

Hell you even forgot that at one point is was borderline abusive to your husband who was nothing but this sweet man who is the best father in the world. So, when Jos came over for dinner you didn't think twice about inviting him in. Max always called you the best of him, to far forgiving and willing to give others a second chance that it clogs the evil they have done in your life.

Max would home soon, running late from a meeting and Fabian and Casper in their room playing with their toys. So, with you standing in the kitchen dressed up as Max was having some of the other Mafia Dons over you wanted to impress.

"You try to hard sometimes," The comment caught you off guard, stuttering forward you regain your balance on your heels and stop the salad bowl from shattering to the floor. "I'm sorry?" You turn to Jos whose pouring himself another half glass of brandy. "You try to hard, it's annoying. For Max's little friends. Always told that boy he shouldn't have married you. Needs an equal." Jos shakes his head as you take a deep breath to calm your shaking nerves.

"Jos, that's very rude. The boys are upstairs, so I think you need to stop drinking. Max will be home soon," You comment, reaching over to take the glass out of his hand. Jos rears back and raises his hand and you flinch. "Mommy!" You jump as Jos screams and you see Fabian kick his grandfather in the leg multiple times. "You leave my mommy alone, you big meanie!"

"FAbby!" You yell and pull your boy back as Jos makes a noise and steps forward but stops as you hear the keys jingling in the door. "Baby? Boys? I'm home, Carlos, Daniel, and Lando are here. Charles will be joining soon with his baby girl and wife." Max calls and stops, the others almost running into his back when the see the scene before them.

You blocking Fabby with your body. The salad everywhere, and Jos's glass shattered on the floor. "Daddy!" Casper comes running down the stairs with tears in his eyes and Max is quick to pick up his baby boy. "Dad? What the fuck happened here?" Max jaw tenses but he stops and shushes Casper and bounces him gently.

"Grandpa was being a big meanie to Mommy, so I kicked him. No one bullies Mommy other than me and Daddy!" Fabian yells, he makes a bolt for it but you tighten your arms around him and Lando moves grabbing your killer. "Alright, let's go cool off big guy," Lando carries him as Fabby glares bullets into Jos's head.

"Father, what did you do?" Max is quick to hand Casper off to Carlos who quickly starts bouncing to calm down the young boy. "Nothing," Max takes slow steps and bends down, helping you stand he looks over you making sure not a hair is out of place. "Are you hurt my love?" "I'm fine Max, Fabian kicked him, I was just worried he was going to hit him," Max's eyes go cold as he motions to Daniel. "Why don't you and the boy all go downstairs, I'll text Charles we're eating at one of Carlos's restaurants," Daniel grabs your hand already holding your purse.

"Let's go misses," Daniel smiles and you give a wobbly smile as Carlos and Lando follow you two with the boys. Max takes a deep breath adn turns, his eyes a cold fire as he stares down his father.

"I think it's time, I taught you a lesson,"

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cultrise · 1 month

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·.⌇ BULLET CATCHER. BOOTHILL

✶ SYNOPSIS boothill decides you’re too weak to join him on his mission. his solution? teach you how to fight.

✶ CONTENTS suggestive content, lots of tension, shy boothill??, mentions of blood, not much description abt the reader just her being shorter than him (istg this man is insanely tall), all curse words changed by his synesthesia beacon are in italics, i want him so bad help. ᵎᵎ wc 1.6k

your body hits the floor with a thud, pain resonating from your abdomen all the way to your skull. you try to get up, palms slipping on the cold surface.

thud!

you groan as you hit the floor again, cursing under your breath. how did he even manage to hit you that time?

the sounds of leather boots get near, steps slow and almost agonising. a slow, metallic clap fills the silence of the room.

“good job! ya’ managed to last 2 minutes. say, if i warn ya’ next time, will ya’ finally be able t’dodge my attacks?” you feel your temple pulse with anger as boothill’s voice continues to keep pressing on your nerves.

“you misled me! you looked like you were going to block my punch and you spun and kicked me! how’s that any fair?” you protested, looking up at the grinning man in front of you. boothill bends down as if talking to a child.

“fightin’ ain’t fair, sweetheart. y’can’t expect a cutie t'play fair” his nose scrunches at the unwanted voice filter. god, he was infuriating. for 2 hours you had repeatedly failed to land any blows while he took every chance to knock you down and irritate you. you were sure to have bruises all over you.

a metallic hand extends in front of you, ever so gentlemanly. you scoff at him, earning a quick smirk. the moment your palm touches his cold one, boothill expertly helps you up, with no effort. a fleeting hint of arousal washes over you at the evident difference in physical power. you quickly brush away the thought.

"now, should i kick your lovely face again?" boothill grins, flashing his white teeth at you. you ponder surprise-kicking his face in.

"keep talking like that. see what good it does you" you threaten. boothill's body leans back on the wall, watching you with an amused stare. you take note of the way his eyes peek from under the tip of his hat, scanning you intently.

"oh? got any fantasies about what to do to me, princess? do tell" he crosses his arms, leaning forward, beckoning you. you knew well enough how empty your threat sounded to him. you intended to do anything to uphold it, even if it meant spending the entire night locked up in that room with him. you couldn't just let him lord his combat skills over your head.

"plenty. something along the lines of ripping your arm and beating you to death with it" you snarl. boothill erupts in wild laughter, almost losing his balance. a vein on your temple starts pulsating with anger. you had to win one sparring match. you absolutely had to wipe that grin off his face.

"how charming! didn' know y'got off to that. i'd like to see that" he cocks up a brow teasingly, watching your own furrow. the sole implication of it makes your mind run wild.. no, you have to concentrate on kicking his ass!

"oh, don't worry! i'll save you front-row seats" you drily indulge him. boothill snorts, walking in your direction. he circles you twice, seemingly analysing whether you have what it takes to carry out such a threat. he stops behind you, bending in to whisper into your ear.

"y'gonna stop daydreaming and put y'r plan in action instead?"

with swift motion you reach your right hand back, grabbing the gun in his holster and turning, pointing it at him. boothill smirks at your bold move but soon enough shakes his head in disapproval. had you forgotten he was a cyborg? how foolish.

within seconds his left index and middle finger take the shape of a gun barrel and he points it back at you without hesitation. the barrel heats and, taking notice of it, you block his aim by hitting his hand with the blunt side of the gun’s magazine. in doing so, the bullet fires into the nearby table and boothill jumps back, taking a look at the dent in his wrist.

"lovely. y'gotta pay for that" he looks up at you, only to notice you trying to create a makeshift distraction from some of the items in the room. he chuckles, eyeing down your movements "now we're talking!"

the sparring goes on for quite a while, with bullets and objects being thrown all over the place. the sounds of clanking metal and breaths of effort go on for a while.. until he has you cornered.

you curse under your breath once mroe. you had been doing so well.. just how did he manage to steal his gun back? boothill approaches, kicking the gun to the other end of the room with the tip of his boot, out of your reach.

a cocky smile overtakes his features, his gun still pointed at you as he nears. you look like cornered prey to him, unable to escape, proving him right. you count your escape options, though it doesn't seem like it'd change much. you had to think of something. and fast.

"y'done?" boothill asks plainly, getting closer to you and pressing his gun between your ribs. he won't fire it, you know that much. who would he agonise then? but it seems like there's no way out. in a real situation, you'd be dead where you stand, bleeding out from a gunshot wound to your side.

"this was cute an' all, but it proved my point. you'd be useless as my partner" his gun retracts, merging back into two steel fingers as he looks down at you. you, on the other hand, are seething, close to seeing red. your mind goes haywire trying to find options to gain the upper hand.

"you think you've won? i can still fight back" you press, boothill sighing.

"ya' could, but what difference would it make? i could pull out my gun again and jus—"

your hands grab his shoulders, making him stall before you tiptoe and hit your forehead against his nose as hard as you can. he stumbles, completely taken aback, hand flying to his now bloody nose.

you seize the chance to flee, reaching for your revolver and approaching him once more, you push it to his temple and ask, "y'done?" mimicking his tone.

boothill's mouth is agape, eyes repeatedly shutting and closing, as to evade the pain. he tries to straighten his back, but he gets reminded of the position he's put in as you press the tip of the barrel to his head.

he scoffs, then grins and fully starts laughing at the realisation "hug me, that was good!.. ow!.. that really hurt, you cutie!" he drags a finger, under his nostril, cleaning himself up.

"you got any more witty comments?" you attach one hand to your hip looking down at him. your eyes glisten with pride as he raises his arms up in defence.

"i must admit. ya' had me there. y'win" he complies before you jump up, ecstatic.

"fuck YES! fuck you, you son of a bitch!" you yell at him, earning only a laugh back. he decides to let you enjoy it. after all, you did get him. and not only that, you got him good.

"yeah yeah... i went easy on you and let you win" he glances at you, waiting for a reaction.

"or maybe i had you at gunpoint. face it, i won fair and square."

"or maybe i just like being held at gunpoint but hot women" he towers over you, grinning. you roll your eyes, shrugging.

"whatever, make up any excuse you want. i still got your ass" you press a finger to his hard chest "not to mention, you're bleeding"

"y'really didn' have to hit that hard... you probably broke my beautiful nose" he presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose, looking for any bumps that would indicate broken bones. "now y're gonna have to kiss it better" he shrugs, closing his eyes with a small smirk.

when his eyes open, however, he notices your face getting nearer to his. his mouth falls open, eyes instantly going to your lips. was that all it took? a simple joke to get you to kiss him? boothill's throat goes dry, eyelids closing again.

click!

he opens them for a second time, startled. you look up at him, amused, as he looks to his side. you had leaned over to put his gun back into the holster which hung off his waist. he feels his cheeks heat.

"not in your wildest, wettest dreams" you retort his proposal, heading for the door. boothill's brain spins. what was that reaction?

his eyes shift to the door as you turn on your heels to face him again "oh, i almost forgot. i'll see you on our mission tomorrow. maybe get your nose fixed before that?" you snort before leaving the room.

boothill is entranced, walking over to the table and placing his hat down, contemplating. he closes his eyes, trying to calm himself down, but the image of you getting closer replays in his head. he remembers the exact curve of your lips, how soft and inviting they looked, your beautiful eyes, the proud look in your eyes when you finally won against him and when you cursed him down...

"system: overheat!" his cyborg body beeps.

"great!" boothill slams a fist on the table, putting a dent in it before he turns and leans on it, placing his palm over his mouth. it was insanely frustrating how he wasn't allowed to curse out loud. no, that wasn’t it.

boothill's face goes red. he runs an impatient hand through his hair, sighing. what the fuck was wrong with him? his body beeps again, signalling more overheating of his mechanical components. he knew he was screwed.

the only thing replaying in his mind is you. boothill's palms and fingers grip the ends of the table.

"what in the world am i g'nna do tomorrow?..."

#𐙚 — pages.#honkai star rail #hsr #boothill hsr #boothill #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #boothill honkai star rail #hsr boothill #hsr boothill x reader #WE BACK #thank you to this cowboy for getting me back into writing #it was about damn time

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bettyfrommars · 4 months

Text

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

masterlist playlist

Part 2: The Hideout

You follow Robin over the resort property line to a place where guests are forbidden and get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes.

word count: 3.6k

My blog is 18+ONLY, mature themes, violence, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, fighting, mention of blood, reader is called Bird as a nickname, reader plays the cello. Reader is 21, Eddie is late 20's.

Songs for this chapter: Animal (fuck like a beast)//W.A.S.P. No one like you//Scorpions Mental Health (bang your head)//Quiet Riot Wasted Years//Iron Maiden

a/n: it has been so much fun to pull this out of the rubble and jump back into this world for a rewrite, I hope you enjoy. To my I'm on Fire peeps, there will be a scene in this chapter that feels very similar to something that happened in IOF, and that's because I originally stole it from this fic, thinking I'd never post it, lmao. Thought about changing it, but it's just too perfect. Plus, there will always be a hint of biker Eddie in all of my Eddies.

Sticking close behind Robin, you crossed the arc of a walking bridge over a creek and disappeared on a worn path through the trees. It was only then that you could finally make out the building where the loud music was coming from.

It had corrugated metal sides and roof, like a structure you might see on a farm that housed large equipment. There was a picnic table out front where a few people were seated, and the shell of a vintage automobile with bullet holes in it sat in the weeds.

A little more than a city block away was a modest cabin made from actual logs with an old truck, a van, and a motorcycle parked out front.

“Who lives there?” You nudged Robin.

She stopped to see where you were looking first, and then, “oh yeah, that’s Wayne’s place. The head maintenance guy. This is his too,” she gestured to the metal building where the music and shouts were coming from. “Both him and his nephew Eddie. Have you met Eddie?”

You absolutely knew who he was, but didn’t want to come off as a stalker, so you shook your head.

The large sliding door entrance to the building was open about a foot, letting out wafts of smoke and a hazy, golden light. From over Robin’s shoulder, you could see quite a few bodies moving around in there, and just then came the sound of a glass breaking.

“Ready?” She smiled back at you, struggling to hold everything in her arms as she reached for the handle to slide the door open the rest of the way.

“Let me?” You lurched forward.

“I got it,” she insisted, fumbling one of the guitars before catching it again with a gasp of relief.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting to see when she eased the door open the rest of the way, but a topless woman dancing on a table top was not one of them.

Her hair was bleached blonde, frizzy and teased around her face. She was tan with a prominent bikini line over her pert breasts, and it looked like she’d just pulled the top of her leopard print spandex dress down to give a little show.

The song Animal (Fuck like a beast) by W.A.S.P. was blaring and the guys around the table cheered while the woman flipped her hair and worked her hips in a circle. You were sure you recognized her as one of the waitresses from earlier that night.

Metalheads of all kinds were crowded together, mingling, and you feared that you stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Some were in leather; some wore jean vests with pins and patches all over them. A handful had long hair that they must’ve tied back or wore under hats while they worked at the resort, but a few of them, like Steve, kept theirs short and tidy, for the most part. Overhead string lights swayed from high wooden beams, and a chandelier that looked like it was made out of wrenches. An old, pea green Kelvinator refrigerator and a small kitchenette was to your left, as if someone had lived there at one point, and two couches sat against the wall that were mismatched and worn.

Most of the crowd of people seemed to be lingering together in the middle, standing there as if waiting for something. Taking shots, smoking blunts, and making out with each other, blocking you from seeing beyond them.

Robin signaled to follow her, and you were hesitant to start moving through the masses, holding the guitar case flush to your body, feeling like it was something to hide behind. You noticed posters on the walls for bands like Judas Priest and Metallica, and on the concrete floor you saw smudges from white chalk markings, dark splotches the color of dried blood, but that was ridiculous.

You pushed between a girl with a blue mohawk and a guy with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos in a hurry to keep up with your escort, and the two shot you a hard glare. When you could finally see the far wall, there was an oval, threadbare carpet in the corner with a drum kit set up, three microphones, two amps, and some other equipment that suggested live music would soon be happening.

“This is where they practice!” Robin shouted over the music, directing you where to put Eddie guitar down. “We call it The Hideout.”

“'Where who practices?’ You set Eddie’s baby near the wall where she told you to.

“Eddie and Chrissy’s band,” she motioned for you to stand over at the wall with her.

“Oh,” you turned to look at the instruments again, heart flopping a little at the idea he would show up at any moment. “They're playing tonight?”

There was a commotion up ahead and you both turned to look. "Later maybe! The fights are tonight,” again, yelling over the growl of the music. Now the song was No One Like You by Scorpions, and it sounded like people were cheering at someone who’d just come through the door.

“Fights?” You leaned in to get more information when everyone started pushing back to make room for whatever was about to happen. You remembered that one of the guys on the porch earlier that day with Chrissy and Steve had a black eye, and you’d noticed another worker at the resort who had a busted lip, but you hadn’t paused to think that maybe they were somehow connected.

It was then that you saw Eddie appear from out of the sea of bodies, and took a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, afraid to let it out for fear you might whimper.

He was so beautiful, it made you dizzy. You stood up straight, adjusting yourself, covertly checking to make sure you weren’t perspiring too badly.

He was wearing the tux he’d had on for the show earlier, but the tie and cummerbund were both gone, and his white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his stomach. You caught a glimpse of tattoos on his chest, and a necklace of some sort. Someone handed him a beer and he threw back a generous gulp.

“There’s going to be boxing? Here? Tonight?” You were trying to act casual and not stare at him the whole time, but it was hard to tear your attention away.

“Nothing professional,” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, putting her shoulder blades against the wall. “Just your average bare knuckle street fighting, basically. The guys were doing it to blow off steam, but then some others got involved and people started placing bets, so a whole thing started.”

Eddie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and took it off, passing it to someone in the crowd. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his lean muscles under the scattered ink. He kept his hair tied back and started wrapping white tape around one of his hands while Steve said something in his ear.

“How do they choose who fights who?” You were invested now, wringing Robin out for any information she had.

“I don’t know how they figure it out, but the new guys usually fight each other, and then a winner challenges Eddie or Steve or Alex,” she pushed off the wall to get a better look at the center of the room. “But it looks like Eddie is up first.” And then with a smirk she added, “all of the new hotshots at the resort think they can beat Eddie.”

“Can they?” Your voice cracked, eyes locked on the scene. A guy shorter than Eddie but muscular in a football player type of way, was also shirtless in the circle now, with taped hands and wearing a pair of sweats with the name of a university down the leg. The guy was hopping from foot to foot to keep himself hyped up, punching the air in front of him.

“No one beats Eddie,” there was pride in her voice. “Looks like the guy he’s fighting tonight is Lance, one of the new ski instructors. Totally full of himself.”

Steve was wearing a white wife beater and jeans, and he raked a hand through his mop of hair just before pointing in your direction. Eddie’s gaze followed the line of his finger directly to your stunned face, and then it lingered there.

He seemed to contemplate, wetting his lips, and then he nodded to Steve and was on his way over.

He didn’t have to push people out of the way because they were all quick to part to make room for him. It wasn’t long before he was standing right in front of you. You tried not to let your gaze linger on the full curve of his slightly chapped lips, or the way his wavy bangs framed his cherrywood eyes. On closer inspection, you could see that the necklace he wore was a ball chain with a guitar pick hanging from it.

Robin opened her mouth to say something, possibly introduce you, but Eddie cut her off.

“What the hell are you doing here, Princess?” His voice was low with an edge of irritation. He pulled the chunky metal rings off his fingers one by one as he spoke.

Robin cleared her throat, stepping forward. “She’s with me,” she stuttered a bit nervously, knowing full well she shouldn’t have brought you there. “She came with me, she’s cool.”

Eddie collected all of the rings in his fist and kept staring at you as if he wanted to hear it from your mouth, not Robin’s.

Your brain short-circuited for a second and you forgot how to form words when he was so close you could see the detail of the dragon tattoo on his chest. But then, finally, it came to you:

“I-I carried your baby.”

The second it slipped out, you knew how stupid it sounded.

Unblinking, he gave his rings to Robin, and then he was gone.

You stared at the space where he no longer stood, flushed with embarrassment.

“I carried your baby?” You repeated in a whisper, covering your face with your hands.

Someone turned the music down so that Steve’s voice could be heard, and he waved his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention.

“I don’t have to explain the rules to you, because there are none,” his announcement was met with screams and cheers. Robin tugged at your arm, signaling for the two of you to get a bit closer to the action. “First one to hit the ground for whatever reason is the loser. Just fists, no blades or other stupid tricks.”

At one side of the circle of bodies, Lance the ski instructor was practicing some tight punches, and at the other end, Eddie rolled his neck while Chrissy finished taping the knuckles of his other hand. It was then that the chalk and the stains on the concrete you saw earlier made sense.

“You two ready?” Steve put his arm up between them, waiting for their nods, and then, at their signal, he chopped his hand down between them as if he were slicing the air.

Lance was hopping from foot to foot, trying his best to look like some fancy footwork he saw in a Rocky movie, while Eddie walked casually, giving the guy a hooded, bored stare.

Eddie could read Lance like a book. A fight was a lot more than just a mindless throwing of hands, there was a mental prowess and skill needed that a lot of the punks busing in from suburbia did not have. Street smarts was one thing, and Eddie surely had that, but he’d been fighting bullies off since he was a kid, and Wayne taught him to fight like it was a game of chess.

Eddie could tell where Lance was going to go a second before he made the move. He saw the guy was amped up, letting his emotions fight for him, and that was only one of his first mistakes.

Lance charged at him and swung, but Eddie was already steps away; relaxed and agile, holding his guard up. The ski instructor came at him aggressively, again and again, until Eddie pushed him, making his opponent stumble back.

Keeping his form, Eddie caught you standing there out of the corner of his eye.

…what were you doing there at the Hideout?

He let himself ponder that question for too long and Lance was on him again, aiming a left jab to his ribs, and Eddie absorbed the blow with a grunt, arching to the side.

You were not supposed to be there. What was Robin thinking?

Mostly, Brenner and Joyce stayed out of their business, as long as whatever they did was off resort property, but if they found out one of the guests was somehow involved, there would be hell to pay.

Lance charged again and Eddie dodged, angry at himself for not being able to focus .

“C’mon Lance, stomp that freak,” someone yelled from the crowd.

And that was all it took

For Eddie to get tired of dragging it out for betting purposes.

Lance charged forward with a cry and Eddie socked an uppercut into his unsuspecting jaw.

The surfer boy went down

Hard.

Saliva and blood flew from his mouth as he flailed back, arms going ragdoll.

It felt like it happened in slow motion but soon enough, Lance was splayed out like a starfish on the concrete floor.

“Goodnight sweet prince,” Steve said sarcastically as he collected bets over the ski instructor’s limp body.

Robin cheered with her hands over her head, and you gave a few slow claps, your brain barely able to register where you were or what you were seeing.

“You want a beer?” She asked as you watched Lance numbly get to his feet with the help of two friends and attempt to shake it off.

Robin motioned for you to follow her around to the refrigerator which was stocked from top to bottom with nothing but beer cans. She handed you one and then went to lean against the side of the appliance, cracking open the tab with a hiss.

With your back to the crowd, you prepared to follow suit, listening to Steve introduce two more fighters.

But then there was someone at your side,

“Not like that,” a voice said.

Eddie had come up behind you, wearing his white shirt unbuttoned, skin still glistening with sweat. Mental Health (Bang Your Head) by Quiet Riot came over the speakers, eliciting a wave of yelps and screams from the group.

“Wait,” he put his hand on top of yours to keep you from opening your beer while he motioned for another guy to toss him one. You turned to seek comfort or guidance from Robin, but she was absorbed in conversation with a girl in a platinum pixie cut who’d just walked up.

“Like this,” he brushed his bangs to the side, and winked as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. He used the serrated metal edge of one to punch a hole at the bottom of the can.

It was the wink that made your skin flush hot, and then your jaw went slack as you watched him wrap his lips around the newly made hole in the can. He made eye contact with you one more time before tipping his head back, and cracking the tab of the beer open with his thumb so that the liquid when squirting down his throat.

The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

It wasn’t three seconds before he lowered his head and crushed the can in his hand to show it was empty. He let out a refreshing, “ahhhh,” and darted his tongue out to lick a droplet from his chin.

You were still holding your unopened beer, waiting for him, mouth dry. “I-I’m not sure I—”

Yes, you knew what shotgunning a beer was, you’d seen it done plenty of times at college parties and in movies, but had never been tempted to try it yourself.

Ignoring your hesitation, Eddie motioned with the crook of his finger for you to come closer. You shuffled to be within reach of him as if your knees were locked in place.

With a gentle touch, fingers brushing yours, he took your beer from you, wiped it off with his shirt, and then proceeded to make the same hole with his key in the aluminum. Some of the beer sprayed up and misted your face.

“Here we go,” he tipped your chin with his finger and butterflies swarmed in your stomach as his eyes searched yours. “Just let it shoot into the back of your throat.”

You swallowed nervously to make sure your throat was working, and then wrapped your lips around the can at his instruction.

“Easy, just like that, hold it there,” Eddie was so close now that your elbow was touching his bare chest. He put a hand on the back of your head. “When I say, tip your head back all the way, and I’ll flip the tab for you.”

You swiped your tongue over the hole in the can, thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you messed it up and beer went shooting out of your nose.

Robin offered a few words of encouragement and you noticed a tendril of hair clinging to the sweat on Eddie’s neck, right over the heartbeat in his throat.

“You ready?”

You weren’t but—-

“Okay, now.”

You closed your eyes, slammed your head back, and prayed, even though you weren’t at all religious. Some lukewarm beer leaked onto your tongue, and then Eddie pulled the tab, keeping one hand over yours to hold the can steady.

The gush of liquid hissed and exploded down your throat, and for a second you thought you would choke, but then your swallowing reflex bolted into action and it was over so fast.

You gasped and swiped beer from your chin when you pulled away to look at the empty can, amazed.

Eddie cupped his warm hand around the back of your neck, and you felt him shift closer until his mouth was at your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

An actual chill ran down your spine.

Robin put up her hand and you gave you a high five. “Not bad for a first timer,” she joked. “Now crush it on your forehead and grunt.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You turned to Eddie, “that was fun maybe he should—”

You were about to say the two of you should do another one,

but he was gone.

—----

The next night, Eddie couldn’t sleep, so he decided to head to the property to finish up some work at the pool house.

The place he shared with Wayne was close enough to walk to the Hawkins Landing property, but that night, he drove. He wanted to roll the window down on the van and blast Wasted Years by Iron Maiden and belt out the lyrics.

He slipped into the parking lot for visitors and employees, turning the music down so that it wouldn’t be heard by any of the nearby cabins. There were two street lamps on, but a third one he noticed was out, and made a mental note that he’d have to get Jamie to fix it tomorrow. The sidewalks along the manicured lawn were also lined with lights that came out of the ground like little mushrooms, and the boat dock far off to his left was lit, but other than that, he was in the dark.

Grabbing his red toolbox from the passenger seat, he put a flashlight in his tool belt holster, and the van door creaked on its hinges just before it banged shut. His ribs still ached from the punch he took the night before, but he only allowed himself to cringe and curse in private. Luckily, his only companions at that moment were the crickets and the lapping of the water against the bank.

It wasn’t until he was a few yards down the sidewalk, head down, lost in thought, that the din of classical music made him halt in his tracks.

It was definitely strings, possibly a violin? No, it was too deep.

He looked up at the main house, but the sound was much too close to be coming from way up there.

He cut to the right and up the grass.

Then he saw the attic light on in cabin #11.

He told himself not to bother, but as the passion of the playing increased, curiosity got the better of him.

He came right up to your driveway, staying half obscured by a tree trunk, and watched you.

The cello, of course that’s what you were playing. He was no expert on the classics, but he’d always learned music by ear and had a unique sense for identifying instruments.

You weren’t reading from sheet music, you were just playing while you stared out at the sky.

Playing something by heart, or making it up as you went along, he wasn’t sure.

In his mind, you were so far out of league, it was criminal.

Your attention broke when a sudden movement down on the road startled you.

The bow zipped clumsily across the strings one last time, and you stood up to get closer to the open window.

But, your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you.

There was no one there.

-----

Hi hello! thank you so much for reading! For those wondering, this fic will still be centered around music, not boxing, but the little fight club they have has a lot to do with the spin of the plot soon.

thank you all so much for the suppport! we are getting to the juicy parts now! give me those hungry eyes. comments and reblogs are cherished!! like, I live for them.

-------

taglist: @tlclick73@micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson series #Dirty Metal Summer #Eddie Munson fic #dirty dancing au #eddie munson x reader

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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 2 months

Text

Training Part 1

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers type. You and Gibbs never got along, and luckily you never really had to work with each other…until now.

Part 2

You followed behind Agent Fornell as the both of you stepped out of the elevator and into the squad room of NCIS.

You spotted the 3 familiar agents standing in front of the plasma, speaking amongst each other until DiNozzo spoke.

“Trouble on your 6 boss.”

Their supervisory agent turned towards you and Fornell, looking ready for an argument.

“You can release Ramos, we’ll take it from here Gibbs,” Fornell started.

“We’ll release him when we’re done questioning him Tobias. He has ties to our victim and has no alibi for the night of the murder.”

“He’s got nothing to do with your murder. He’s been under FBI surveillance for the last 3 months and if you compromise all of our work, both of us are gonna be on the chopping block with our Directors.”

Gibbs gave him a look that showed that he had no intention of backing down and Fornell sighed before turning to you.

“Stay here. We’ll be back.”

As Gibbs walked past you, you made sure to give him that hard stare that he always gives you every time you see each other. You met Agent Gibbs a few months ago on a joint Investigation and from day one he rubbed you the wrong way. He was stubborn, arrogant and always thought he was right. Even though he was good looking and good with a gun, you weren’t gonna let him intimidate you.

“So how’s it been, being the FBI’s lackey?” DiNozzo jested, making you roll your eyes.

“Better than you being Gibbs’ pet,” you shot right back, getting a snicker out of the Mossad agent behind you.

“You know I heard about that incident with your last case. Suspect got the jump on you. Sounds like your hand to hand combat needs a little work,” he continued.

You walked over, closing in on him, causing him to take a step back. You were at least half a foot shorter than him but judging by the unsure look on his face, your intimidation tactics were on point.

“He was 6,4” and pushing 200lbs DiNozzo. And I didn’t really do much hand to hand with him before putting two bullets in his chest. But by all means, we can put those skills to the test if you want.”

“Stop harassing my agents, Agent Y/N. If you wanna spar, you can do it with me,” you heard Gibbs’ condescending voice speak from the stairs. Looking over, you saw Fornell and him walking over and backed off of DiNozzo who chuckled nervously. You waited until he was standing in front of you to speak.

“Pick a place and time Gibbs.”

Your words held contempt and he just gave you a smirk while taking a sip of his coffee. It took everything in you not to slap it out of his hand. The rest of his agents were quiet as Fornell was smiled in the back.

“NCIS training room, 6pm.”

“I’ll be there.”

You all continued working, the case turning into a joint investigation, you making a point to avoid the Supervisory Agent as much as possible throughout the day. When lunch time came around, you and Fornell stopped by a little sandwich shop.

“So what’s your beef with Gibbs?” he asked you, taking a bite of his pastrami on rye.

“He just thinks he’s so righteous. The way he talks with people, the way he walks, everything about him screams douchebag,” you ranted, Fornell chuckling as you did.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just funny. Have you ever thought the reason you don’t like Gibbs is because he’s so much like you? And being the most competitive person I know, you hate having someone that matches you.”

“Don’t profile me Fornell. It’s above your pay grade.”

“See. Like that. Gibbs would’ve said something just like that. Maybe not as harsh but similar. I think you actually like him but don’t know how to deal with it. Maybe this little sparring sesh of yours will prove beneficial.”

You huffed in annoyance at his words but you he wasn’t completely delusional. It did make sense but at the same time, part of you genuinely didn’t like Gibbs.

“Are you trying to set me up with your best friend Tobias?”

He just shrugged his shoulders before stealing a fry off your barely touched plate.

“I’m not trying anything. You challenged him remember? Just one word of advice. He’s got a blind spot just outside his left eye. You use that knowledge correctly and you’ll have him on his ass. Then I can break his balls for the rest of the investigation.”

You both laughed and finished up your lunch before heading back to join NCIS.

————

You were just finished tying your shoes when you saw Gibbs come into the gym. He was wearing an old NIS shirt, some sweat shorts, and black converse. Very casual for someone about to get his ass kicked. You on the other hand, went with some black leggings, sports bra and a loose tank top.

“On the mats, let’s go,” he said in passing.

You followed him to the training mats where he placed a dummy handgun down. There were only 2 or 3 other agents in the room, minding their business with various gym equipment, seemingly none of Gibbs’ minions hanging around.

“Your objective is to not let me get ahold of that gun, understand?”

You just nodded and stood across from him, both of you an equal distance away from the gun.

“Now.”

Both of you ran for the gun, you getting there first and grabbing it. As soon as you brought it up to fake fire, Gibbs knocked it out of your hands, sending it sliding towards the other side of the mats. Before he could make his way to get it, you grabbed a hold of his neck and pulled him down in an attempt to get him to the ground but he just twisted out of it and broke free, giving him plenty of time to grab the gun and aim it at you.

“Dead,” he declared, making you roll your eyes.

“Congratulations Gibbs. Want a medal?”

Keeping a straight face, he walked over to you, eyes never leaving yours and stood a foot away, making you have to tilt your head up because of the height difference. Ok, maybe he was a little intimidating.

“I want you to stop being a brat and let me help you.”

You wanted to spit out something snarky but bit your tongue as he continued. “You’re never gonna win a hand to hand combat with someone much bigger than you based on brute force. Maneuverability and quickness are going to be your best friend.”

He took a step back and dropped the dummy gun.

“I read your file. You spent 2 years training in Judo and Jiu-Jitsu. Use those skills. Use the enemies own weight against them. For now, just try to get me to the ground for an arrest.”

You sized him up real quick, identifying his strong and weak points before attacking. You remembered what Fornell had told you earlier and decided to use it. Side stepping to Gibbs’ left side, you grabbed him by the shirt and used your leg to trip him backwards so that he fell to the floor. You wasted no time in climbing on top, getting your legs around his arm and neck before pulling in for a successful armbar. Once he tapped, you let him go and couldn’t help but wear a triumphant smile.

You went to get up but was taken off guard when you felt Gibbs push you back to the ground, grabbing your wrists and twisting them behind your back while sitting atop of your stomach and wrapping his legs around your own so you couldn’t move. You squirmed, hoping to slip free but he had you in a vice grip.

He leaned down so his face was inches from yours, both of you breathing hard from the exercise.

“Never let your guard down,” he whispered. You don’t know if you were more pissed about the fact that he got the drop on you or how turned on you were right then but you weren’t gonna let him win that easy.

He may have had a grip on your hands and legs but that didn’t stop you from pushing your chest up and bringing your head to the side of his, gently caressing his cheek with your mouth. You heard him let out a breath and loosen his grip just the slightest.

That’s all you needed.

Slipping your arms out, you used all your momentum to shift the weight, grabbing the gun that was lying inches away and pointing it at him once you were on top.

“Dead,” you declared the same as he had earlier but with more cockiness.

He chuckled and sat up, leaning back on his hands, licking his lips and looking at you with his head cocked to the side.

“With a little more practice, you could join NCIS.”

You laughed at his joke and took a second to give him a once over. His striking blue eyes, chiseled jawline and boyish grin was actually pretty attractive if you thought about it. In that moment, he didn’t seem like the typical douchebag you pegged him as and it unnerved you.

He didn’t make a move to push you off as you realized you were still straddling him and just held his stare until you looked away.

“I’ll stick with hanging with the big boys, thank you.”

You got to your feet and offered him a hand which he took. Your stomach fluttered just a little as his hands met yours to took the dummy gun from you.

“Look forward to working with you again Agent Y/N.”

You just smiled and turned to leave.

“Goodnight Agent Gibbs.”

As you left the gym, you saw his own smile appear on his lips.

#gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis #ncis fanfiction #agent gibbs #mark harmon #ncis request #jethro gibbs x reader #ncis imagine #jethro gibbs fanfiction

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spanktony · 2 months

Text

“YOU TOOK A BULLET FOR ME…” - rosita espinosa

summary: you take a bullet for her.

words: 800+

warnings: gun/gunshot, near death experience, and that’s all i believe.

notes: posting this as i try my hardest to get out of writers block & answer my requests! also lost the request to this ☹️

navigation. request.

You had found yourself in Negan's group, the Saviors. You didn't exactly like what you did—taking raids on random communities—but you understood that it was necessary for your survival in this post-apocalyptic world.

Negan knew you since you were a teenager, and he saw potential in you. He believed that you had what it took to be a valuable member of his group, and he made sure to keep a close eye on your progress. Which is exactly why you joined him on a hot afternoon to seize supplies from a new community called "Alexandria."

"Remember, kid," Negan sneered, his barbed-wire-covered baseball bat, Lucille, resting on his shoulder. "We're here to take, not make friends." Negan said, exiting the truck. You quickly nod, following behind him as you both approach the gates of Alexandria.

The gates were opened quickly, and everyone began to take supplies from the community, loading them into the back of the truck. You watched the chaos unfold, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Deep down, you knew that this was not the kind of person you wanted to become, but what choice did you have?

You help one of your fellow group members load a crate of food into the truck, trying to push away your conflicting emotions. Dwight walks up to you, "See that car over there? I think they might be holding something in there, check for me."

You nod, making your way over to the car. A woman in an olive-green top stands in front of the trunk of the car. You send a slight smile, wiping your forehead of sweat as you approach her.

"Mind moving?" You ask politely, gesturing towards the trunk of the car. The woman gives you a suspicious look before reluctantly stepping aside. As you open the trunk, you can't help but wonder what you might find inside.

The trunk is filled with guns, ammunition, and various other weapons. You glance at Negan and Dwight, occupied with taking other supplies from someone else. You take a deep breath, grapping some of the weapons. The woman is watching you with an upset look on her face.

You leave a few of the weapons behind, not wanting to take everything. You turn to the woman, "Maybe next time hide in a better spot," you suggest, trying to lighten the tension.

The woman's expression softens slightly, but she remains silent.

That was the first time you met Rosita, the next couple of times you saw her, she kept that same guarded expression. It became clear that she was still wary of you, despite your attempts to ease the tension. Nonetheless, you still continued to make small talk with her, hoping to gradually build trust and establish a connection.

You shared stories of your own experiences and asked her about her interests, trying to find common ground. Slowly, Rosita began to open up, sharing snippets of her life and even cracking a smile from time to time. It was a slow process, but you were determined to break through the walls she had built around herself.

As the days turned into weeks, your conversations became more meaningful and genuine, and you could sense a growing bond between the two of you.

Just as your group was leaving, one of your members got into an argument with Rosita, and she didn't look like she was backing down anytime soon. Instead of letting the situation escalate, you walked over to the two, attempting to mediate and diffuse the tension.

But your group member acted too quickly, pulling out a weapon and pointing it at Rosita. You immediately stepped in front of the gun. A loud sound rang out as you felt a sharp and hot pain in your chest.

You fell to the ground, gasping for breath and clutching your chest in agony. Ringing and Rosita's voice calling for help filled your ears, but your vision started to blur as darkness closed in.

Days blurred together as you drifted in and out of consciousness. When you finally awoke, you found yourself in a small, makeshift infirmary. The harsh, sterile scent of antiseptics filled the air, and you realized you were no longer with the Saviors.

Rosita sat at your bedside, her eyes filled with relief as she saw you awake. "You took a bullet for me," she said softly, her voice tinged with disbelief.

You managed a weak smile, wincing at the pain. "I guess I did." You glanced around the room, noticing the bandages wrapped tightly around your torso. "How long have I been out?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Rosita's expression softened as she replied, "Almost a week." Shit.

"How am I supposed to get back to my group?" You thought aloud, concern etched on your face. Rosita's eyes flickered with worry as she responded, "You can't go back to Negan after what happened. It's too dangerous."

You sighed, realizing the gravity of the situation. "I know," you murmured, a sense of uncertainty creeping in. "But what else am I supposed to do? I doubt your group would be willing to take me in permanently."

Rosita's expression softened as she reached out to touch your arm gently. "I'll convince them. For now, relax." You nodded, grateful for Rosita's support. "Thank you," you whispered.

#spanktony #tonyspank #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #twd x reader #twd rosita #rosita espinosa x reader #rosita x reader #rosita espinosa imagine #rosita espinosa #thewalkingdead #gender neutral reader

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lvlyghost · 11 months

Text

All The Nights to Come

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You get hurt during a mission.

Word Count: 900+

Tw: strong language, blood, angst, comfort towards the end. grumpy ghost as usual. bad grammar, and probably a lot of typos. not proofread 🫶🏻✨💞

A/N: just a little one-shot to help me with writer's block. next I'll be working on another part of salvation and a third part of the things i never said since a lot of you asked 🥹💛 remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome 🤍

Masterlist✨

You didn't know how to stay out of danger. Or at least that's what all of your teammates said. Especially Ghost.

Ghost. You had a complicated... relationship with the Lieutenant.

Polar opposites.

That's what he had called you both one day.

He's the darkness that comes at night, you're the light he'd gladly let consume him.

"Stop distracting me." He grumbles staring straight ahead. You chuckle at his growing annoyance.

"We're in the middle of nowhere, Ghost. The worst thing that could happen is tripping with a rock." You roll you eyes. "How about we play something, we still have one hour left until we reach the evac point."

"No."

"Comen on! There's no one around." He sighs, but doesn't say anything. You decide to not push his limits. You've started to know him more and more, as much as he would allow, of course. "Is something bothering you?" you finally ask, head tilting down to watch your step. Again the only response you get is silence. "If this is about what happened last night..."

"It's not that." He gruffly interrupts you. Irritated that you're even bringing it up.

"You were the one who said this couldn't happen anymore. So you might as well make up your mind Ghost." You walk faster, leaving him behind, or as much as you can considering his strides are easily longer than yours.

"I am your superior, what the fuck am I supposed to do, kid?" You clench your jaw, hating how his words are setting deep in your heart. The way he emphasized the word superior. "I could get us both suspended, or even worse get us kicked out of the military! Am I really the only one who's thinking?" He seethes.

"Oh well!" You feign amusement. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you cared enough when were fucking each other in my room..." Ghost's body freezes for a brief second before he keeps walking. "If you're bloody scared of letting me in you should've just said it. No need to fucking hurt me like I'm nothing."

"The fuck did you just say? Have you not heard a word I just told you?!" His accent becoming more prominent every time he speaks. "I'm trying to protect you, I don't bloody care what happens to me."

Ghost doesn't notice it, too enraged, looking down at you as he walks closer. But you do.

You see the reflection, a small glimpse of the scope. The sun shining down on the sniper's rifle. Everything moves in slow motion, you scream... or at least you try to, pushing Ghost with all the strength you have. He stumbles a few steps to the side, the pure shock in your face as you realize what's about to happen. A bird chirping in the distance, and what sounds like a cascade near, a river flowing before it hits you. Right on your left shoulder, a shot that was aimed at his heart.

Ghost's heart.

And you take it instead. It pierces through flesh and bones, hurting like million of bullets. Your sight goes black as you start falling, body helplessly hitting the muddy terrain. Shots are fired, a loud shriek and a deep voice echoing but it's so far away. It's getting harder to regain consciousness.

"Why the bloody hell did you do that!?" Fear glowed in his eyes. Ghost's big gloved hand pressing down the wound on your shoulder, the fabric quickly becomes stained with crimson red blood.

Your blood.

"S-Sir?" You choke up. Fighting to keep your eyes open.

Focus on him.

"I'm going to fucking have you on desk rotation for this." He grits his teeth. "Don't you do that ever again. Not for me. Never for someone like me." He leans closer, managing your body in his hands so he can take a better look. He breathes when he sees the exit wound.

"It's my duty..." you murmur, with half-lidded eyes. "To shield and protect my superiors..." you breathe out.

"Don't give me that shite." He scolds you. "I'm the one who's supposed to protect my team." Not just his team. The truth was that he wanted to protect you, he had to. "Now keep those pretty eyes on me, yeah? That's an order sergeant." He commands.

You laugh, with what low energy you have left.

"Sir? You and I both know I'm not good at following orders." He reaches his medical pouch, disinfecting and wrapping as many bandages as he can on your wound.

"Now's a good time you start listenin', kid." He picks you up with more gentleness that's he's ever experienced himself. Who would've thought that a man like him could care for someone else. He has the softest touch, you think. "Think you can hold on until we get there?" He asks, looking down to your face, body too small and light in his arms. If he could kiss you right now...

"Sure thing, Ghost." You murmur, wincing when he starts walking. "This is not what I had in mind when they said we were going to Spain. We could play that game now, right?

A soft chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, making your lips tilt up in a weak yet heartwarming smile.

"Fuckin' hell, love" he doesn't lose sight of your eyes. "I guess we can. As long as you keep talking to me. Don't you dare go somewhere I can't follow."

"Don't think you'll get rid of me that easily, Sir."

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bteezxyewriter12 · 13 days

Text

You Won't Regret Me/ 1

Pairing- Wooyoung x Named Reader

Word count- 4k

Includes- enemies to lovers, arguing, insults, hate sex, semi public sex, bathroom sex, wall sex, sex from behind, squirting, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, arguing during sex

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Wooyoung Masterlist

Wooyoung POV

We all stand behind Hongjoong, watching the drug exchange go down, all of us ready to scrap if we have to

Hongjoong waves his hand, Joanne coming forward with the case full of heroin

She puts the suitcase next to Hongjoong, standing stoically next to him, waiting for the other gang to show the money

I scowl at her back

I can't fucking stand her

She's Hongjoong's best friend from childhood and when he started the ATEEZ gang, she was invited to be in it

As a member of his inner circle

She's tough, loyal and ruthless just like him

But she's also cocky, a know it all and argumentative

She thinks she's better than us

She's mean and rude

I hate her

The other guys tell me to chill the fuck out but I can't

Just her fucking voice grates on me

And the way she presents herself as if she and Seonghwa don't share the title of second in command

How it doesn't bother Seonghwa is beyond me

I'd shut that shit down in a second but Seonghwa lets it go

Probably because they fuck from time to time

But I'll be damned if I let some pussy affect my job

The leader of the gang puts a suitcase on the table and opens it, showing Hongjoong the money

Hongjoong goes closer, checking the bills, making sure it looks like it's all there

We won't know until we count it

"Jo", he says, and she opens the suitcase we brought, showing the rival leader the product

He goes to the suitcase, takes a knife out and opens one of the blocks

Sticking his finger in it, he tastes it and nods

Hongjoong scoffs, "Did you think we'd give you fake heroin?"

"You never know", the leader growls

"We have a reputation to uphold. When we say we'll do something, we do it", Hongjoong sneers, "We don't go back on our word"

"Noted", the leader says dryly

"If that's all", Hongjoong rolls his eyes, waving his hand to the suitcase of money

Seonghwa steps up, closing the suitcase and taking it

"Actually that's not all", the leader says

I hear guns cocking and when I look around us, all the men the leader brought has guns pointed at us

Great

"Give us the money"

Hongjoong sighs, "And what, you'll let us go?"

"No"

"Yeah thought so", Hongjoong says, shaking his head

"You were stupid enough to bring your whole inner circle with you", the leader grins, "It's just too good an opportunity to pass up. Taking out the whole ATEEZ gang. My gang will be famous for that. I will be famous"

"No, you're gang will be eradicated", Hongjoong says, holding his hand up and waving two fingers

Bullets fly by us, hitting all of the rival members

They all go down, some dead, others severely wounded

"You were stupid to think I didn't bring reinforcements", Hongjoong growls

I want to laugh at the leaders shocked and scared face

"How..."

"Snipers", Hongjoong shrugs, "You're an idiot if you didn't think I cased this place out first and thought of every possible scenario that could go wrong. And now your men are dead or dying. You're going to die. And we are going to eliminate your entire gang"

He pulls his gun out and shoots the leader in the kneecaps

He goes down, screaming like a little girl

To us Hongjoong nods, "Go"

Taking out my gun, I walk to the nearest guy to me and check him

Dead

Moving to the next one, he's groaning, holding onto his ribs

Raising my gun to his forehead, I pull the trigger, killing him

As we go around killing all the surviving men, Hongjoong says to the leader, "You should of just taken the money"

Then he shoots him in the head

"Fuck!", I hear San yell, a gun going off

I quickly turn to him, seeing him shoot down, his upper arm bleeding

"You good San?", Hongjoong asks

"Bastard shot me", he says, putting pressure on his arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding, "Flesh wound"

Sucks

"You get him?", Hongjoong asks

"Yeah"

Joanne appears next to San, taking her hoodie off and pressing it against his wound

"I'll fix your arm Sannie", she says

We don't use hospitals

And she is normally the one who fixes the guys when they get banged up

She did Hongjoong the favor and got trained as a nurse, so she knows what she's doing

For cuts, stitches, bruises, minor injuries, flesh bullet wounds, she fixes

Anything major like broken bones or body bullet wounds we go to a hospital and threaten the people there to keep quiet

"Thanks Jo"

"Yeah, let's get you back to Joong's house", she says

"Let's move out", Hongjoong calls

The rest of the guys come back towards us, Jongho dragging one of the rival members

"He's alive?", I ask

"Alive enough to answer questions", he says

We need one alive to tell us about his gangs hideouts and the inner workings of the gang so we can kill them all

No one crosses Hongjoong and ATEEZ

"Woo, drive Jo and San back to my house", Hongjoong orders, "Were going to the interrogation hideout. When she patches up San, all three of you come meet us"

I roll my eyes, keeping in a huff, nodding

As I walk to my car her and San are waiting at, I catch her glaring at me

"Let's go", I growl at her, unlocking my car, "And don't fucking get blood on my seats"

"He's bleeding you fucking idiot", she snaps, climbing in the back after San, "If blood drips deal with it"

"I don't want blood in my car", I snarl

"You can wash it out. Don't be a prick"

"You're such a bitch! It's a simple request. Don't get blood on the seat"

"You fuck-"

"Ok guys, can we go?", San interrupts, "Kinda in pain here"

"Yeah", I answer, remembering that yeah, he's hurt

Arguing with the witch isn't going to help him

Starting the car, I drive towards Hongjoong's house

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

The music is loud in the club as I make my way to the bar

After San was patched up, we met Hongjoong and the rest of the guys

Jongho got information out of the rival member he tortured and we used that info to make a plan

Our gangs subunits are hitting all the hideouts as right now, killing everyone in them, essentially erasing that gang

We're on call in case we're needed but honestly we're good

Hongjoong inspires loyalty and everyone in the gang, from the low level drug dealers to us, his inner circle, are totally loyal to him

The low level ones are terrified to fuck him over

They should be

Hongjoong suggested we go to our favorite club to unwind and we all agreed

I'm on my way to get a drink, get shit faced and hopefully lucky

As I pass by the bathroom, it opens, someone walking right into me

I turn to glare at the person and seeing who it is my blood pressure rises

"Watch where you're fucking going!", I snarl at Joanne

"Oh fuck you", she snaps, rolling her eyes

"You walked into me you cunt!"

"Wah wah wah", she mocks

God, she just pushes all the wrong buttons, infuriating me

"You should apologize for being such a clumsy fuck!"

"How was I supposed to know your dumbass was standing by the door? Why are you hanging by the bathroom, you perv?"

My mouth drops momentarily at her stupidity, "I was walking by, idiot"

"Uh huh. Sure"

Oh that's it

I'm so done

"Do you ever shut up?", I snap

"Do you?", she snarls, "You're such a whiny little princess"

Princess?

Is she fucking kidding me?

"Fuck you!", I yell, getting so heated

"No fuck you!", she shouts back, glaring at me

I glare back at her, so much hate and anger running through me

And the next thing I know, I pull her to me, she comes willingly and her lips are against mine

Her kiss sends shivers down my spine, my head spinning and fire running in my veins

Goddamn she's a good kisser

Just as soon as we kiss, she's pushing me back, a look of disgust on her face

Yeah well I'm disgusted too

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Fuck off!"

"No you fuck off!", I snarl

"Don't fucking kiss me you toad!"

"Toad? Thought I was a princess", I snap

"Yeah, a princess toad!"

"You sound like a five year old", I snort

"Shut up! You're fucking gross"

I gape at her, insulted, "I am not gross!"

I take painstaking steps to ensure I'm not gross, I'm groomed and always looking good

So fuck her

"You are! A dirty whore who fucks anything that walks"

Is she calling me a slut?

"I do not! I may make out with a lot of girls but I don't fuck them all!"

And I use condoms most of the time

"Yeah sure. I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole"

I snort, "You would be lucky to fuck me"

She laughs, "Right. Cause you're such a catch"

I am

When I'm in a relationship I give my girl all of me, love her unconditionally

She'd be fucking lucky to have me

"Too bad you would never find out. I'd never touch a wannabe bitch like you"

"Wannabe?", she growls

"Yeah", I spit, "You pretend your tough shit, pretend you're second in command when really you share that title with Seonghwa"

"I earned my title asshole"

"Yeah right,", I snort, "Teachers pet"

"Fuck you, you little prick!", she snarls in my face

"No fuck you", I roar

We glare hatefully at each other and in the next second, her lips are against mine again

I slide my tongue in her mouth, playing with hers as her arms move around my neck

Putting my hands on her hips, I push her back, opening the door to the single bathroom

Slamming and locking the door, I turn her, shoving her against the door, kissing her hungrily

"What are we doing?", she asks between kisses

"Don't think about it", I answer, not knowing what the fuck we're doing

"Ok", she says breathlessly

I move my hands down to her pants, starting to undo them

"Are you trying to fuck me?", she scoffs when she pulls away

"Oh just shut the fuck up and let me take your pants off"

She glares but says nods

"Good. Shut up and kiss me"

She growls but does what I say, her soft lips so good against mine

I get her jeans open and I shove them and her panties down at the same time

She kicks her sneakers off, then moves her legs through the jeans and panties, leaving them a heap on the floor

"Bet you suck at sex too", she snaps as I pick her up and shove her against the door, her legs wrapping around my waist, her arms around my neck

"Suck?", I scoff, "Please, you're going to be screaming my name in a minute"

She actually laughs, pissing me off more, "I seriously doubt that"

"Yeah we'll see", I growl, pulling my pants and boxers down

I'm not stopping to think how stupid this is

Or that I should definitely not do this

I'm ignoring that voice that's telling me to stop because I'm fucking horny

I hate to admit it but I really like her kisses and they turn me on

"We will see", she snarls as I align my cock to her hole

I thrust hard into her, bottoming out in one stroke, splitting her tiny cunt wide open

"Oh my god", we both cry

Holy shit, she's so fucking tight, clenching around me hard and so very wet, drenching me

My god, she feels fucking amazing

But I'm never telling her that or I won't hear the end of it

"Well you have a big cock, I'll give you that", she concedes

I smirk up at her

"Doesn't mean you know how to use it"

Snarling, I grip her ass hard as I pull back until just my head is in her pussy

"You'll see just how well I can use my cock", I snap, then slam back into her forcing her open around me

"Oh fff....", she trails off as I start railing her into the wall

I groan, feeling her pussy suck me in with each ram, like she wants to keep me inside her

I can feel every inch of her pussy impale on my dick, completely soaking my length and my lap

"So wet for my cock huh?", I smirk at her

"Don't flatter yourself", she moans, "It's a natural reaction"

"Oh?", I laugh, "It's a natural reaction for your pussy to drown my cock and douse my lap?"

"Shut up", she groans, pleasure all over her face, her body shivering against mine, her fingers bunching in my hair

"You're this drenched and I haven't even hit your spot yet"

"As if you could find it"

"Oh I can find it", I assure her

I roll my hips into her, plunging deeply

No, not there

I hike her legs up higher on me, shifting her around

Burying in her again, her body shivers and she yells out in bliss

I smirk, "Found it"

"Fffff...fuck you", she stammers as I hit her spot again

"Oh look", I mock, each thrust making my head hit her spot, "You're pussy gets wetter and wetter every time my head rubs you there. What was that about me not finding your spot?"

"Shut up", she roars

"Nope", I say gleefully, watching her tremble with every stroke

Her white shirt is clinging to her in sweat in all the best ways, showing off her big tits

Her hands move from my hair down to my chest, her hands unbuttoning my shirt one at a time

She gets it open, the air cool against my sweaty skin

She pushes it down my arms but I'm not letting her go to take it off, so I just let it hang

Her arms move around my neck again, her lips crashing into mine

I take her kiss eagerly, loving the chills that are running down my spine

I move faster into her, her pussy throbbing like crazy as her moans get louder and louder, her legs tightening around my waist

She's close

And I never wanted a girl to cum on me as much as I want her to

I want her to eat her words from before

"Cum on my cock", I pant, fucking her into the door

"Nnnn....no", she groans

I snap my eyes to hers, peering at her in disbelief through my sweaty hair

"What the fuck do you mean no?", I snarl, snapping my hips harder, smashing her spot

I watch her moan, her pussy clenching my cock like a vice grip

"No", she cries out, "I don't want to"

She's really fucking something else

She has the ability to piss me off during sex

That's a rare gift I wish she'd lose

"Yes you do", I growl, "You're squeezing my cock like you're trying to choke it, your pussy is drooling all over my dick, you want to cum"

"Fuck you", she snaps, her fingers digging into my shoulder, her other hand twisting in my hair, her pussy trying to unclench around me

I fucking had it

"Stop trying to force it back", I yell, thrusting into her with each word, "And. Finish. On. My. Cock. Now!"

Fucking into her once more, she screams as she falls into her orgasm

"Fuck! Wooyoung! I hate you!", she yells, pulling my hair so hard my head is pulled back, her pussy watering my cock like I've never felt before, throbbing like crazy, throwing my body into unbelievable pleasure

"Shit", I whisper, forcing myself to stay up, gripping her thighs hard

"I fucking hate you!", she cries, her body shaking, her face in pleasure as she keeps coming

"I fucking hate you", I snap

God, her orgasm feels so fucking good

That's just another thing to hate her for

I fuck her through it, wanting her to be in complete and utter pleasure because of me

Just to spite her

When she finishes, I pull out, putting her down, then spinning her around

I kick off my shoes, pants and boxers, then throw my shirt on the floor

Getting closer to her, I pull her shirt off her body, then undo her bra

Pulling her against me, her back to my chest, I snarl in her ear, "Open your legs"

She does, moving her hands against the wall as I slip back inside her, her pussy pulling me in so pleasurably

Moving my arms around her waist, I begin to move, getting a fast and hard pace going

It feels phenomenal

Pushing her hair to the side, I growl in her ear, "How does it feel to know you came on the cock of someone you hate?"

"Fuck you", she snarls, her body shaking with each plunge, betraying the pleasure she's in

"Uh uh. Not an answer", I say, burying inside her and grinding into her spot, "How did it feel? Don't lie"

"Stop"

"Just answer the fucking question"

God, can she stop being argumentive for a fucking second?

"It felt.....good", she says through clenches teeth

Pounding into her tight cunt, I press a kiss to her neck, smirking at the way her skin trembles under my lips

"Just good?", I ask, running my fingers softly up her stomach, between her boobs then back down

"Wooyoung-"

"Joanne!", I snap

"Fine! It was fucking amazing! The best orgasm I've had in a while!", she roars, "Happy"

"Extremely", I smirk

"I fucking loathe you"

"But you like my cock", I rub it in, pulling her head back against my shoulder, sliding my hands up her body and squeezing her boobs

She just grunts, the pretty wet sound of her pussy swallowing my cock so loud in the small bathroom

"Cum again", I whisper in her ear

"No!"

Can't she just fucking do something without an argument?

She liked it before, I'd think she'd want another one

But she's so goddamn stubborn

"You're gonna cum again", I snarl, pumping my cock inside her tight wet hole

"Fuck you"

I let out a frustrated cry and grab her neck, squeezing slightly

Her pussy gets so fucking tight, a moan coming from her

Well well, she likes being choked

That works out because I want to strangle her all the time

"You're going to cum on my cock again", I growl in her ear, "Your pussy is going to do what I say, when I say"

"I-"

"Shut up", I snarl, choking her lightly, her pussy getting impossibly tight, "Right now, I own your pussy. It does what I want. Do you hear me?"

I let go of her neck so she can answer but she just grunts

"Do you hear me?", I snap

"Yes!", she bellows

"Good. Cum"

I squeeze her neck as I thrust directly into her spot and she screams wordlessly, her body thrashing against mine as she orgasms

That same utter ecstasy I felt from her previous orgasm washes over me and I close my eyes, just basking in it

Forcing my orgasm back, I let go of her neck, her screams of my name shattering the silence as I let her ride it out on my cock

"Wooyoung! Wooyoung!"

God, I really like hearing her yell my name like this

I hate it when she says my name any other way though

Pushing her forward, I bend her over my arm, resuming my thrusts

Looking down, I gape at how utterly creamed up my cock is

There's a coat of cream all over and a thick ring at the base of my cock

God, I've never seen anything like it

And it's such a turn on

"Yeah you love my cock", I laugh, "If you could see how much you're creaming me, you couldn't argue"

She just grunts, her forehead against the wall

I watch the fascinating sight of her little hole spread open for my dick, straining the closer it gets to the base of my cock

Her hole is smeared in her cream and it's driving me insane

But I had her cream twice and there's something else I want

Moving my fingers to her clit, I play with it, rubbing quickly

"Fuck", she cries, more cream gushing from her hole

"You're gonna squirt", I murmur, rubbing her clit as I thrust, "You're creaming my cock so much and I fucking like seeing that but you need to squirt now"

"I....never....I don't think...."

"You never squirted?"

She shakes her head, her hips starting to move backwards, meeting my thrusts and taking me deeper than before

"Fuck", I whimper, "Yeah shit, fuck yourself on my cock. I'll make you squirt"

We move together, the sound of our skin slapping getting louder as we desperately fuck each other

"Oh god", she whimpers, her fingers scratching at the door, "So good. So fucking good"

I smirk, wondering if she knows what she's saying

I'm never letting her live this down

The next stroke has her pussy raining squirt around my dick, her screams of my name so pretty

I keep fucking her, so close myself

"I'm coming inside you", I grunt, as she finishes gushing all over the place

"You fuck-"

"Shut up", I yell, "I'm coming inside your cunt and you're going to take it"

She snarls but she doesn't say anything

"Ok?", I growl

I need her to agree

I'm not an asshole, if she really says no, I'll pull out

I'm not going to make her do something she doesn't want to

Not that I can anyway

If she doesn't want me to cum inside her her big fucking mouth will tell me

"Yes", she murmurs

"Yes what?"

"Wooyoung-"

"Say it", I urge her, so close

"Yes, come inside me!", she yells

"Is that what you want?", I moan, my body shaking hard from holding it back

"Yes! I want you to fill my pussy!", she cries

Ok then

Shoving my cock in to the hilt, I yell her name, euphoria tidal waving over me as I cum deep inside her

My fingers dig into her hips, holding her on my dick as her pussy milks me dry

Stars blast in my vision, it feels fucking amazing

Best orgasm I've ever had, hands down

But unlike her, I'm not dumb enough to tell her that

I pull out of her, watching my cum drip from her hole to her thighs

"Don't clean up", I order her, moving to grab my clothes, getting my shirt on

She glares at me hatefully, "What?"

"Keep my cum in your pussy", I clarify, picking up her panties and tossing them at her, "Let it drip out on your panties. I want you to feel me there the whole night. I want you to be reminded that you have the person you hate's cum leaking from your cunt, making a mess in your panties"

"I fucking hate you"

I roll my eyes, already knowing this

"Put your panties on now. Princess", I snap

She grumbles but she does like I ask, pulling her panties on

We dress in silence, then she heads for the door

"Don't fucking tell anyone", she snarls

"Oh I won't. I don't want anyone to know I banged the witch", I scoff

"Fuck you asshole"

Leaning down to her, I whisper in her ear, "The asshole who's cum is making a mess in your panties"

She huffs, despise in her eyes as she opens the door, the loud music crashing into the room

She immediately walks out, practically running to get away from me

I just smile, step out and continue my way to the bar

#ateez wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung smut #ateez wooyoung smut #wooyoung smut #ateez fanfic #ateez smut

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olsenmyolsen · 5 months

Text

This Is Me Trying - Three - (A Y/N Parker Spider-Woman X Kate Bishop Story)

masterlist

Summary: You and The Hawkeyes get ambushed as Kate meets The Spider

Word Count: 3.8K

Content: Guns, Shooting, Violence, Flirty Kate Bishop, Clint being protective

Your Y/N Tingle, as Peter so annoyingly called it.

You landed on a billboard and scanned your eyes around until the hairs on your body stood up.

It was another group of Tracksuits cornering a man.

"Please just take the car!" The guy yelled just loud enough that one of the four poorly dressed men raised his fist and connected to the man's abdomen.

"The city that never sleeps." You mumbled as you leisurely swung your way to the top of the car. Startling the whole crew.

"You know, fellas, I think there's better ways to get a car. Ever tried Uber?"

"Can it Spider-Girl!" A man barked at you, making you roll your eyes under your mask. "I was just asking. I've never used it." You gestured to your web shooter, making the guy look before you fired a web at his face, blinding him.

"Shit!" One of the three other guys called out.

"You know!" You jumped off the car to dodge an attacker with a crowbar. "Since you're all dressed the same, I'm gonna give you guys different names. Okay?" You asked, but no one gave an opinion as they charged at you.

You sighed and went to work catching the fist of the guy with a long grey beard. "Okay, you're Smokey." You said as you webbed his fist together and kicked him into a nearby dumpster. "One down."

The following two guys, each sporting a faded hairstyle, charged you together. One with ginger hair, the other blonde. "Would Ketchup and Mustard be too easy or not good enough?" You asked as you redirected Ketchups crowbar swing to hit Mustard in the back. Making Mustard miss his kick at your leg but giving you enough time to web his foot to the ground as you jumped over the two. Webbing the crowbar and flinging it down the alley.

"Huh?" Mustard asked as his foot didn't move after barely recovering from the hit. "Oh, here!" You said as you webbed his other foot to the ground, making him wide-eyed. "Ketchup! Get her!" He yelled, causing the other guy to tilt his head, confused. "But that's not my-"

You knocked him out in one punch.

"You know I actually hold back when I fight." You told Smokey, who sat on the ground with back pain thanks to the dumpster. "Whatever." He muttered, earning a shrug from you.

"You whatever," You mumbled back as you looked at Mustard and pushed him, causing him to fall over, thanks to his webbed feet.

"That's enough!" The man who you blinded with your web finally tore it off. "Oh hey!" You waved as he pulled out a gun. "You've caused enough problems!" He shouted at you as he cocked back the pistol. "This might not be the right thing to say, but trust me, I know.." He looked at you. "You see, I have an essay due on-"

"ENOUGH!"

He fired a shot into the air before pointing back down at you. You could hear the screams and hushed whispers of the people around this city block.

"Hey, let's put the gun down."

You put your hands up as he turned the gun to the side. "I don't think so." He turned the gun away from you and to the man lying on the snow-covered asphalt—the owner of the vehicle.

The owner looked from the gun to you with fear in his eyes. "Please..." You gave a little nod his way.

Internally, you named him Carl.

"Don't do anything stupid." The man with the gun.. let's call... Dean said. "I won't." You replied back. You kept your eyes in the direction of Dean, but behind the mask, your eyes were searching for protection for the car owner.

A tire a few feet away would have to do.

"I'm really sorry about this." You said, confusing both men. Without another wasted second, you webbed past the car owner. Your web sticking to the tire as you pulled it towards you,

Dean fired his gun.

The bullets began ricocheting over the rim of the wheel or getting stuck in the rubber of the tire as they flew past Carl's head.

With your other hand, you webbed the gun free from Dean's hand and sent it flying backward into Smokey's head, knocking him out.

Now free of the gun, you jumped and twirled in the air to add speed to the momentum of the tire before letting go as you flung it at Dean.

The tire bounced off the cold ground and right into his standing body, sending him flying a few feet away. The tire kept going until it collapsed down the alleyway.

Dean hit the snow with a heavy thud.

He was out.

You landed on the ground and let out a breath.

"I-I thought- I thought I was dead," Carl spoke up after a moment of silence, garnering your attention.

You took cautious steps and crouched in front of him. He sat on the ground shaking. The snow in the air added a quiet bubble between you and him.

"Hey, it's okay. You're here, man. You're here." Carl reached forward for your hand.

You extended it and helped him to his feet.

"You save-saved me!" He took in his surroundings before looking at you. You shrugged. "It's all in a day's work."

Carl shook his head and patted your shoulders.

"I get to go home to my wife because of you."

You weren't going to lie. That did feel good to hear. But even as a spider-based superhero, you still aren't the best at taking compliments.

"Ummm, the police should be here any moment. Okay?" Carl nodded. "Just get home safe."

"You too, Spider-Woman!" He cheered. "Just The Spider is fine." You laughed under your mask and started walking backwards. "You got it, Spider!" Carl shouted as you webbed up the passed-out goons.

"Merry Christmas! Well- uh- if you celebrate!" You shouted as you zipped onto a fire escape before flinging yourself to another roof.

Carl watched in astonishment and clapped. "You too!"

As you hung in the air, let out a breath and collected your thoughts. Getting shot at was never going to be an easy thing just to have happen.

You let out another web and launched yourself into the air, adding a little spin into your release. Your web reached another building, but before you could twhip yourself up, your tingle started going crazy, and before even thinking about it, your body twirled over to avoid an arrow.

Wait, an arrow??

You webbed it up and quickly looked around.

Your eyes eventually found the man you loved to annoy.

Clint Barton on a roof waving at you.

You smiled and let your feet hit the snowy roof with glee. "Hawkeye!" You actually called him by his hero name for once, surprising the man.

"Spider!" He called back as he took the arrow from your hand before looking at the webbing with disgust. "Does this stuff come out of you?"

You tilted your head. "Ew, no!" Clint tried pulling the webbing off the arrow but failed. "It'll dissolve soon." He glared at you. "Hey! You shot at me!"

Clint couldn't argue with you there.

"Why did you shoot at me?" You asked with a smile behind your mask. You didn't get to meet a lot of heroes doing this job.

"Well, honestly..." Clint sighed. "I wanted some information."

"Oh?" You said, surprised. "About?"

You walked past Clint and sat on the roof's ledge while looking at the rugged man. He sighed. "About that building?"

He pointed past you and to the building across the way. It was one you recognized from Ned's discovery. "What girlfriend kick you out?" You joked as you pulled out your phone to text Ned.

Ned sat in your room on the computer. Peter was lying on the floor, throwing a crumbled-up piece of paper to himself. They both had just finished their robotics report for the week and were decompressing.

Outside the room in the living room, MJ was napping with a bowl of Alfredo pasta turned over on the floor. It had fallen when she turned over earlier.

A game show was playing on the TV.

MJ only watched game shows by herself.

"Is that Y/N?" Peter asked when Ned's phone chimed. "Yeah," Ned replied after looking at your text. "What does she want?"

Peter got up and walked up to Ned, sending files and pictures to you. "Just information." He replied, making Peter tilt his head. "Information? About?"

Ned wasn't sure if he should lie or not, but thankfully, he didn't have to say anything when you sent a selfie of you and Clint Barton looking annoyed in the background. Followed by a text: "Hawkeye is bossy."

"Did you really say that?" Clint whined when he asked, making you laugh.

"No, of course not." You lied to the archer and smiled when you got the dump of information from Ned. You sent a quick thank you text and once again ignored Peter's text about doing school work despite the fact that you were hanging out with an ex-Avenger!

"Here." You flipped your phone over and showed Clint the info you had on the buildings. "So you really are tracking them too," Clint said, making you roll your eyes. "I have no reason to lie, arrow guy." You paused. "Hey, that rhymed!"

Now, it was Clint's turn to roll his eyes.

You put your phone away as Clint turned his head and looked at the building. "So... what's your plan? To just stay here and wait for something to happen?"

Clint moved his shoulders up and down. "Kinda."

You huffed and sat down on the snowy roof. You frowned as you immediately regretted it because you'd have to wash this suit next. "That's lame."

Clint chuckled.

You looked around the roof. "Hey, where's number two?" You asked, looking up to number one. "I'm starting to think they're not real."

"Oh, they're real." The older man said. "Look."

You looked to where he gestured, and through one of the broken-out windows on the building across the street, you saw a chick dressed in purple point her bow and arrow in your direction. "Oh, so she is real!" You looked from Clint back to the girl.

"So should we move?" You stood up. "That arrow is pointed directly at us!" Clint laughed. "I would if I were you."

"What does that me-?" Your body flipped itself out of the way as the arrow flew by you and plunged itself into the brick wall of the roof behind you.

Attach at the end of it was a giant black cable that got yanked up with a force on the other side, creating a zip line across.

"Was she aiming for me?!"

"Probably," Clint responded like it was no big deal. "You coming?" He asked as he attached himself to the zip line and clicked on a flashlight. Something you noticed the girl in the window do as well.

You look from him to the building where the girl was waving from.

You waved back. "I could've just swung you over there." You pointed out to number one. "Yeah, but if I broke another bone because of someone else, my wife would then probably kick me out."

You guess you could see the logic in that.

"Wait, you're married!?" That piece of news finally hit you.

"Happily. See you over there." Clint stated as he started making his way across.

You looked from Clint back to the building again.

You've never really done team-ups, but this was happening naturally. You and the two Hawkeyes were all on the same trail of crime. You all knew where it was potentially leading, so the more help wasn't something to shake your head at.

So when Clint looked back over to you when he was halfway across, you made your decision.

With one twhip, you beat Clint across and squeeze through a window to find yourself in front of Hawkeye number two.

But never in a hundred years would you have guessed who it would be.

"Hi!"

Her voice was the exact same, and the way her face scrunched when she looked at you full of glee was something that made your stomach flip with butterflies.

Kate Bishop stood in front of you in a purple ensemble with her bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows on her back.

Aside from the suit, you noticed that Kate had her hair down. She was wearing a purple beanie.

She looked cuter than ever.

Her cheeks were pink from the cold. You could also see a fresh coat of lip balm was recently applied to her lips. Lips that looked soft as- "I can't believe I'm with the Spider!"

She broke you out from your thoughts as she cheered in front of you.

"I'm Kate Bishop, Hawkeye." She extended her hand and waited for you to shake it. "Y/-Uhh I-" You fumbled over your words as you extended your hand. "The uh-" You went wide-eyed.

Your voice!

She couldn't recognize your voice!

You started shaking Kate's hand before making your voice deeper. Not a cartoony amount, but just enough where Kate would definitely know that The Spider is a lesbian.

Ya know?

"T-The Spider!" Yet you still stuttered in front of your crush, causing your face to go completely warm.

The need to rip your mask off to breathe normally was rearing its head.

"Sorry for shooting at you, by the way!! I just wanted to see if you really had it!" Kate said as she dropped your hand with excitement.

"It?" You questioned.

"You know the..." Kate acted out your acrobatic movements, all while her two feet remained on the ground. "Your dodgy spider thing." She smiled as she spoke.

Kate Bishop was the exact same.

You couldn't believe it.

A smile was on your face behind the mask.

"My Spidey sense." You said, making Kate's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh! Cool!" She nodded to her own words as she bit her bottom lip.

Something so innocent was making you blush.

So you turned around and started walking along the floor of the building just as Clint FINALLY came through the window. "I'm getting too old for this shit." He said as he unclipped himself from the zipline.

"Spider," Clint called out as you looked back. "Kate. Spider. Just in case this one was too star-struck to say anything."

That made you listen.

Kate looked at Clint, embarrassed. "No! No! He's joking! Like it's not true! I mean, I like you but- not like that! Like, I admire you... From afar! Ya know? Wait, that's not right!"

Clint covered Kate's mouth as you stood there, shocked at the jumble of words spilling from your crush's mouth.

"She admires you as a hero. Just forget she said anything." Clint said as he removed his hand. "Yes. Thank you, Clint." Kate nodded but avoided eye contact with you.

You just nodded back and grinned widely under the mask. "Well, thank you, Kate."

Kate tilted her head and looked your way.

"You said my name. The Spider said my name." She whispered loudly to herself before starting into the distance.

"Well, enough of... that," Clint said. "Kate, did you find anything?"

Kate nodded and singled for you and Clint to follow.

"Every floor was either empty or left to rot. And this one was the same until..." She stopped in the hallway of what you now recognize as an apartment building door and shined a light on the door.

It looked a lot like Aunt Mays.

Kate pushed the door open. As it creaked to a stop, one by one, the archers and you stepped inside. The apartment looked lived in. Boxes and tables were removed from dust where others still had it sit. A bed was in the corner of one room, where a work bench and whiteboards riddled with equations and words sat in the corner of another.

"Somone lives here?" Clint asked to no one in particular.

"Lived." Kate held up a notebook left behind on the coffee table and started reading from it.

"I've done all that has been asked of me, and yet he keeps asking for more. I'm afraid of what will happen if I say no. But with the recent news of his disappearance, maybe I have a chance. Now is my time. I'm smarter than this. And if they come for this place-"

"It stops there. No more entries after that." Kate looks from you to Clint, who grabs the notebook and flips through it before returning to that final page. "This was written almost a year ago."

You take a few steps closer. "His dissapearance." You repeated. Making the other two look at you. "Yeah?" Kate asked as you thought about the words.

"Who owns the buildings? Who disappeared a year ago and is creeping up our backs. Powerful enough to have people go into hiding."

Clint sighed.

Kate knew.

"Kingpin." You snapped your finger and nodded; you went to say more, but your phone started to buzz. "Oh.." You picked up to see Ned's caller ID.

"One moment." You said, making Kate look at you a little differently.

Clint returned to the notebook and started to take pictures before combing over the place.

You took the phone into the other room and clicked the side of your mask. "What??" You asked in a hushed whisper. "Where are you?" Ned asked as he looked at live camera footage of a group of Tracksuits exiting a car.

"In a what we now know is an abandoned building."

"Okay, well I have- wait we?!" Ned asked as he took his eyes away from the computer screen. "Yes, me and the Hawkeyes!! Oh my god, speaking of which! I have to tell you-"

You stopped as your body started to feel it.

Your hairs went straight up.

You stood up and started walking out of the room and into the room Clint and Kate were in. "Spider?" Clint asked, a little worried. Kate turned to see you look around, slightly panicked.

"What's going on?" She asked.

Clint shook his head, and the two watched you.

Your body directed you to the abandoned desk. You squatted down and ignored the feel of Kate's eyes on your ass.

That's when you saw it.

A silent armed. Triggered to go off when the front door opened. Kate must've accidentally set it off when she discovered it earlier.

Yet your tingle didn't stop.

You stood up again and walked to the window. At the same time, Ned's voice came through your earpiece. "Get down!!"

Time slowed as the first bullet cracked the window, sending shards of glass your way as the bullet blew right past your face.

As the glass skimmed your mask, you turned towards Kate and hit a button on your wrist to send a wall of webs in her direction.

"Get down!" You shouted as your voice became muffled thanks to the rain of gunfire coming from the street below you.

You watched Clint hit the deck as he was the furthest away. If he could save himself quicker, the quicker he could save Kate and you. If needed.

As you hit the floor, your webs hit the ceiling and wall in front of Kate, protecting her from a shower of glass and ricocheted bullets, which left you unprotected as you began crawling toward the younger Hawkeye.

"We have to go!" You heard Clint yell as the gunfire didn't stop. You agreed and motioned for them to go first when you finally made it to Kate.

But she was going to leave without you.

Kate grabbed your left hand and started dragging you as she followed Clint through the front door of the apartment. The sound of glass and gunfire sounding further away as you three ran through to the other side of the abandoned building.

Back to where you entered. Except when you looked out the window, you saw men waiting on the roof across the way.

"Shit!" Kate said as she got her breath. "Language." Clint retorted, causing Kate to give a really?! look.

Clint looked around, ignoring Kate, until his eyes landed back on you.

"Spider, take Kate and get her out of here."

You opened your mouth to speak up, but Kate beat you to it. "Clint! I'm not leaving you!"

He looked at her and placed his right on the top of her purple beanie as the sound of gunfire started to become louder. The men entered the building.

"Yes, you are. I'll hold these guys off and meet you at your aunts."

You watched Kate shake her head and sign to the older Hawkeye. Leaving you out of the conversation.

Clint sighed and signed back.

Clint grabbed his bow and turned towards the window to line up a shot.

"Cli-"

"Kate!"

He turned his head back, stopping her. Kate deflated. "Spider, take her."

You lifted your eyes from Clint to Kate. You took a shaky step forward and placed your hand around the strong arm of your crush.

She looked back and nodded. "Let's go." She took a step towards a window positioned on the west side of the wall and broke it with her bow. She cleared the glass away and waited for you to climb onto the exterior wall.

"Right!" You nodded and jogged to the window.

It was a silent moment between the two of you as Kate stepped outside the window and into your waiting arms. You couldn't help the feelings in your stomach and the fire in your heart when Kate wrapped her legs around your waist.

Her chin on your shoulder.

You also couldn't help your mouth when it opened up. "Usually, I like to take a nice girl out to eat before this happens."

You cringed and rolled your eyes at your own words.

Thankfully, Kate laughed. Whether it was genuine or not was a mystery, but she smiled and wrapped her arms tighter around you.

"I may have a slight obsession with you, but let's slow down."

That was news to you.

"Obsession, huh?" You felt a grin grow on your face.

Kate quickly hid a blush and pushed herself further into you, which didn't help the moan stuck in your throat from trying to fight its way to your lips.

But you swallowed it down and managed to say: "You ready?"

You felt Kate nod.

"Hold tight." You said even though you would never allow Kate to slip from your grasp.

You twhipped you and Kate away from Clint as you heard him send a barrage of arrows to the idiots on the other roof.

On the outside, Kate tried to play it cool, but on the inside, her stomach was doing flips like it was qualifying for a gold medal.

The rush of air against her body hundreds of feet into be air was one thing

But being wrapped around your body was another. Especially when she couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the first time the two of you had met.

But Kate would know if she had ever met the Spider...

So, who were you?

Tagging List: @daddy-jareau

dividers by @/benkeibear

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 4 months

Note

I saw you wanted some ideas for Leon so here’s mine: you’re hiding with him in the RPD from Mr.X in the stars office, and the more you talk the more you realize you’re into each other. A small make-out session turns into something more and Mr.X becomes your last worry.

Btw, I loved your recent Leon fic :3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ N o t e ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ I found this in my drafts with a few paragraphs written and decided to finish it. I'll start the year with a smut, haha. Thank you, anon for the idea, and I'm sorry I made you wait 🙏❤️. I hope you like this 😊. I wanna write more about him, so keep the requests coming! Also, your feedback is appreciated ❤️.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ P a i r ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Leon S. Kennedy x F!Reader

I take commissions so if you're interested check my Ko-Fi. ❤️

You were both panting as you barely escaped the monster that was chasing you relentlessly all night. He was tall and strong, and bullets didn't kill him. From the distance, it looked like a normal person given the simple outfit; he was wearing a hat and a trenchcoat, both black, but from up close, he was rather scary due to his grey skin and dead eyes. The height also added to the intimidating factor.

How did he end up dressed that way? You asked yourself as you saw him kneeling on the ground. Leon just emptied a clip by shooting his head. Apparently, bullets stop him for a bit, giving you a chance to run. Still, you couldn't help but be amused by his attire.

"Who the fuck gave this thing a fedora?" You asked quietly as you passed near him. "Like, it has to be custom made or something? Look at the size of its head…"

"Probably, but I think we have more important things to worry about right now."

You hurried outside the library and never stopped running. They just kept coming… from all directions. You tried blocking some windows, but it was useless.

All this time, you followed Leon's command, as he seemed more collected, even if he was just a rookie. You had a hunch that he was trying to impress you, and you had two reasons. One, you heard him curse like a sailor around the station before meeting him—something that didn't happen when he was with you—and two, you caught him staring at you a few times. He'd looked away every time you turned your attention to him, but he couldn't hide that smirk.

"This way," he whispered as he gently closed the door behind him.

"Where to-"

"Shh," he said, pointing to the ceiling. Your face turned pale at the sight of the horrendous creature that was crawling. Its sharp, long claws tapped on the surface as he walked on all fours; its brain was popping out, and he didn't appear to have any eyes. Terrified, you froze in place, but Leon grabbed your hand and guided you into the corridor.

"Just watch your steps, ok?" he whispered again in a soft voice, trying to soothen you. "Don't look at it; you'll be fine. Just stick with me."

With steady steps, you made your way to the STARS office and closed the door behind you. Leon pressed his ear on the door, and once he heard the licker crawling away, he told you that you were safe.

You let out a sigh of relief. You hadn't realised you were holding your breath until now.

"Good. Listen, do you mind if we rest a bit here? It's too much cardio for me," you joked.

"Sure, I could use some rest too."

The STARS office was clear, and you found supplies too. Some medicine, ammo, food, and water felt like a gift sent from God. There was also an armory, but it needed to be unlocked from the computer. A reminder that your work is far from done. Still, you tried to enjoy your small break. Leon was sitting at one desk from the edge, and you were sitting next to him. Behind you was a nice brown leather jacket, which you considered taking, but it was too big to fit you. The team's belongings were intact, making you wonder why they closed the unit so suddenly.

"Where do you think they are? Do you think they are safe?" you asked Leon, who was busy starring in the blank.

"They are probably doing better than we are. Those guys were elite."

"I think we're holding up pretty well, considering you're a rookie and I never touched a gun."

"Yeah…you almost blasted my brains back then," he chuckled.

"I'm sorry about that." You said it soflty and gently squeezed his forearm as a sign of comfort. "But you burst through that door, and I panicked."

"It's alright," he said, smiling. He smoothly slid his arm to the edge so he could grab your hand. Your fingers intertwined quickly.

"Thanks for the quick lesson, tho…it came in handy."

"No problem, you're a natural," he winked, which made you blush.

"Yeah, but I kinda had a great teacher."

"What can I say? I work best under stress."

You both chuckled. A short pause followed, in which both of you just stared at each other. Leon wanted to say so many things to you. He wanted to praise you for being so brave and for taking care of him; he wanted to tell you how lucky he feels to have found you in this mess, but he didn't know where to start.

"You ok?" you asked, seeing that he got lost in his thoughts again.

"Yeah, I'm fine… I was grateful for having you with me; that's all."

"Really? For a moment, I thought I slowed you down."

"Me slowing you down? You're faster than me. You actually left me behind a couple of times."

"Oh, that? I thought you did that on purpose...just trying to get rid of me."

He chuckled.

"Nah...I never wished to get rid of you. I really like having you around." He said.

"Me too..."

Neither of you let go of the other's hand.

You both stopped talking. Your smiles dropped and your eyes closed as you leaned forward towards each other. Soon, your lips touched over and over again, filling the room with faint sounds of kissing. You were both shy at first, but Leon got more courageous and came closer to you. His hands found your waist, and you cupped his face, prolonging the kiss. Soon, you felt Leon's tongue trying to find yours, and the kiss got a lot more intense.

Not carrying about Mr.X and other threats, you climbed onto Leon's lap and continued to kiss him with the same passion. Now you were closer to each other as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and he wrapped his big arms around your waist, hugging you and keeping you close.

It shows that Leon craved this kind of affection and intimacy from the sweet whimpers that came out occasionally.

"Wait…" he said as he broke the kiss. "I know a more comfortable chair…"

You didn't know what he meant until he suddenly stood up while managing to carry you and went to Wesker's office. He was a strong fella.

On his way, he never ceased to kiss you, becoming even more eager.

He sat on Wesker's chair, which was more comfortable and much bigger than the previous one. Since your legs had more room to rest, you had the strength to roll your hips over his crotch, letting out small, deep whimpers as you felt his bulge growing between your legs.

His hands squeezed your flesh as they ran along your waist. His muscles relaxed under your precise movements. His needy whines filled the room as you kept moving faster.

"Y/N…" He whispered shyly, breaking the kiss for a few seconds before coming to taste your lips again. He felt his cock throbbing in his pants. He wanted you; he craved you. It was unbearable.

You felt the same way, and your cunt was throbbing with excitement as you thought about him inside you…he felt…big…

With fast movements, you took your pants off, and then you proceeded to strip him off. His cock jumped in the air once his boxers slipped past those big thighs of his, and oh, what a sigh it was. He was long, thick, and leaked heavily in front of your eyes. You watched how a droplet of his precum glided along his length, making you drool. His tip glistered as it was basically drenched in his own juices.

You teasingly tapped his tip with one of your fingers, which made him whine loudly.

"Y/N…" he said, his attempt to maintain his composure being obvious.

"Shh. Just stick with me." You said this, looking at him with siren eyes.

You climbed back, one leg slidding next to him, and the other followed slowly. You raised a bit and aligned yourself above his tip. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you began to descend slowly and gasped when you felt his cock entering inside you. When he felt himself inside you, he pulled you again in a passionate, eager kiss.

Moans and whimpers filled Wesker's office quickly. You let out sharp, deep exhales as you took more and more of him. You struggled a bit at first, but both of you were so wet that after a few thrusts, you slid up and down with ease. Leon moved his hands to your ass, squeezing your cheeks hard with every throb of his cock. Not only did you feel him leak inside you, but you also felt how he rubbed that sweet spot inside you. It was pure bliss, which turned your mind foggy.

He also thrust his hips from beneath you, matching your own rhythm. You allowed yourselves to sink deeper into each other's touch without being bothered by what was happening out there. The kiss became messier, the touching more intense, and the thrusts more erratic as you chased your own release.

However, Leon felt that his time would come sooner, so he lifted you spontaneously and placed you on the desk, knocking down everything that would make you uncomfortable. Was that too loud? He didn't care.

"You are so strong, officer." You teased him and gave him the same dirty look, enjoying how that made him visibly weaker. He rolled his eyes and lowered his head a bit to the side, trying to hide his blushing cheeks.

His cock was halfway inside you now, and his arm rested near your head. With a deep breath, he began to thrust inside you, and he maintained eye contact this time. His face was still red, but not because of embarrassment, but because of how good your cunt made him feel. You wrapped your legs around his waist so you could feel him deeper.

His pace was slow at first, and he didn't go all in. It was pleasant, of course, but you wanted more, so you gently pulled him closer with your legs.

Understanding your intentions, he went all in, his balls constantly slapping your skin with each thrust. His breathing became faster, and your moans became louder as he finally hit that spot inside you again. When he picked up the pace, he placed his big thumb at your clit and stroked it fast. You felt a familiar pressure in your lower belly, and your throbbing cunt gave him a clue that you were about to cum.

"Leon…don't stop…" You said it between whimpers.

With his final strength, he went even faster with both his thrusts and strokes, and finally, he felt your wall clenching around his cock. With rolled eyes and curled toes, you grabbed his forearms as the orgasm hit you hard. A few seconds after your climax, you heard his moans getting louder. Then you felt hot spurts of his cum filling you up fast.

Both of you were trying to catch your breath now. Leon collapsed on top of you and allowed himself to indugle with your gentle touch for a few moments. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his tired body, with one hand playing with some strands of his blonde, smooth hair. The other caressed his back.

His nose was buried in your neck, enjoying the warmth and comfort that your body provided.

"I never thought I'd get laid on my first day as a police officer," he muffled, making you chuckle.

"Well, I bet you never expected a zombie apocalypse either."

"To be honest, if you would've asked me a few days ago which was more likely to happen, I'd go for the zombie apocalypse."

You chuckle again.

"You need to be more confident, Leon." Your fingers moved to his nape. "You're a great guy."

Once he felt your feather-like touch, he sighed with satisfaction.

"Oh yeah, just like that."

You began to massage gently. All this time, he remained inside you, and neither of you protested.

"You like that?"

He let out an affirmative hum.

"I'll tell you what," you began in a soft, calming voice. "When this is over, we keep in touch and go on a normal date. To get to know each other, you know?"

"Sounds good, but we need to get out of here in one piece…"

"Hmm…yeah…let's do that then."

He pulled out eventually and helped you get dressed.

You slowly made your way out of the STARS office, then made your way further into the station, looking for a way out. Now you look at the situation with a little more hope. Maybe it's because of the sex, or maybe you realised you have someone to count on. Who knows, but one thing is sure: you lived to go on your first date.

Tag-list: @lunarastrobabe @skylar-todd@rokurodokuro@brownsugarwrites (if you want to be added DM me 🤗)

#resident evil #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x f!reader #leon kennedy x you #leon re2 #resident evil 2 remake

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envysparkler · 21 days

Text

Ted grinned as Grayson walked away, his shoulders hunched and his hands balled into fists. He hadn’t bothered laying out the evidence or the proof—both were easy enough to find, connecting Grayson’s disappearances with Nightwing’s appearances was like playing a goddamn match-2 game.

And it was no wonder that Grayson had the highest close rate of the precinct when he could just go and get whatever evidence he wanted. But Ted didn’t care about that. Not anymore.

No, he didn’t care that Detective Richard Grayson was Nightwing. He cared that Richard Grayson-Wayne was Nightwing. Ted was about to become very rich—if Grayson did as he was told.

Ten million. He would give Grayson two days to cough it up, or he’d go straight to Vicki Vale. Or perhaps Arkham, he knew a couple of guards there and surely someone in those cells would pay handsome money to know who Nightwing was under the mask.

Hell, he could even do all three. He held the cards here.

Ted smiled at Grayson’s pinched face.

Ted gave a parting smirk to Grayson as he left for his smoke break. The man had begun ignoring him, as if that would make the deadline go away. He had a little less than twenty hours.

Ted had gone ahead and got a visitor’s pass for Arkham for the day after tomorrow. He’d worry about specifics after he knew whether or not Grayson would come through.

It was cold outside, late afternoon edging into evening. He passed by a couple of other officers as he headed deeper into the alley. He lit the cigarette and took the first puff dreaming about the island vacation he’d be taking.

First class. Gourmet food. Five star resort and margaritas on the beach. Life was about to become much better.

A flicker of movement caught his eye and he turned, unhurried, as the garbage bag ruffled in the shadows, straightening.

Up. And up. And up. Until it resolved itself into a slender figure dressed all in black and most definitely not a garbage bag.

Ted blinked. The Bats usually only came out at night. And that they rarely ever ventured into Bludhaven.

Oh, so Nightwing had decided to take a different option out of his little predicament. It really was a shame—Ted might’ve even left him alone if he’d gotten the money. Now? Now it was fair game. And everyone knew the Bats didn’t kill.

Ted turned away from the figure and back towards the front of the alley—he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a figure dressed in black and purple, dangling their legs off the fire escape, grinning down at him.

He picked up his pace a little bit—he’d get back to the precinct and make it very clear to Grayson that his mind games weren’t going to work. The money, or the Joker was going to know exactly where to strike.

Someone stepped in front of the alley, blocking the entrance and Ted slowed his steps before coming to a stop.

Red helmet. Red bat. They didn’t know a whole lot about Gotham’s vigilantes, but the Red Hood was a sore topic for every gang in the city.

Ted slowly, quietly, moved his hand to his gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice said behind him, almost breathing on his ear, and Ted shrieked, drawing the gun and twisting around.

He was disarmed before he even knew what was happening, the gun yanked out of his fingers as he was shoved back, hard, sent stumbling back into the dumpster. Above him, the girl in the black-and-purple suit giggled.

“Hood gets a bit testy about guns.” A tall figure in black-and-red, removing the clip, the bullet and tossing each piece in a different direction.

“I don’t get testy,” the Hood rasped, low and rough, “If someone points a gun at me, it’s only fair that I get to point a gun right back.”

“We’re trying to get him to stop using guns so much,” the girl said, sotto voce.

Ted turned back to the mouth of the alleyway. The Red Hood had a tire iron slung over one shoulder.

“What—what do you want? My wallet? My phone? I—I didn’t do anything,” he raised his hands. He would’ve backed away, but the figure in black was giving him the hives and he didn’t want to get any closer to them than necessary.

“Tt. We all know that’s a lie.”

Ted literally did not see where Robin had come from. He’d been staring as the Hood took slow steps forward, he’d blinked, and then suddenly there was a kid in green-and-yellow scowling in front of him.

A kid with a sword.

Ted immediately cast a glance skywards, because where Robin was Batman wasn’t far behind, before the strangeness of the situation settled into him. He was being menaced by a bunch of idiots in masks, in an alley in broad daylight.

“Look, I don’t know what you want but I’m a cop, you can’t just—”

“You know exactly what we want,” the girl said, swinging her feet. The all-black one took a single, menacing step forward.

“You messed with the wrong fucking Bat, asshole.” Hood tilted his helmet to one side.

“If you even dare to touch him—” the katana flashed. “I will remove your hands.”

“Look, Officer Devins,” the one in black-and-red said, “We’re willing to be reasonable. Leave Dick Grayson alone, and nobody has to get hurt.”

Ted was itching to shoot one of them—now he understood why his friends in Gotham were so fed up with their vigilante problem.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied baldly, “I didn’t do anything to Grayson. Can I go now?”

#my snippets #outsider pov #someone tries to blackmail nightwing #pity he doesn't know about nightwing's host of protective baby siblings

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jazeswhbhaven · 15 days

Text

I was curious so I looked at the prologue (yah I know whatever side-eye me but anyway)

*spoilers ahead*

I'm going to talk about this in bullet points because this is more like a curiosity read instead of a "I'm going to invest in this" read.

Levi Childish Jealously Overall Thoughts:

First, now I get why they said "chlidren's day" It is because MC was talking about Minhyeok and them hanging out each children's day together and their fond memories of such

Also, Levi are you fucking srs why are you checking up on MC with a damn crystal ball as if your ass can't stand the fact that they're out smiling with the Gehenna besties like????

I clicked on the prologue and his ass was already mad and it made me laugh because see??? see what I mean by he's always mad about something? lmao

Also he made Foras go out and help him do the spying like? Ok

He made Foras feel bad about suggesting to go nerf Minhyeok if Levi wished it and this man is like "oh a sudden death that will make one miss the other forever" and he's referring to Solomon here and Foras was like "fuck" (HONESTLY Levi he only suggested that to make you feel better like don't do that .-.)

Learned some stuff about the devil named Seere, who can travel anywhere and through dreams too in a blink of an eye (reminds me of someone from another fandom...) and that's the one who produced the memory manipulation spell and it seems he just does this any way to cause mischief on Earth (so if anyone experiences deja vu blame him /j)

So the rules are, Levi can't alter things too much or it messes with each others minds or causes both of them or just Levi to wake up out of the dream if I'm getting that right

also Satan is about to get pissed the fuck off because they also got a sleeping spell/poition from Seere and everyone in the palace was asleep LMAO. The fact that he pretty much knocked everyone out so he could do what he wanted without pushback goodness.

NOW i'mma go over the dream events:

Minhyeok looked so ready and adorable in his uniform, confirmed this is high school Minhyeok and MC.

Minhyeok saw Levi just standing in his room and was like o______o the fuck? And Levi literally snapped his fingers and erased him.

Imagine the nightmare Minhyeok had as a teenager and was like "a demon fucking erased me from existence omfg" and his parents were like ???? and his brother was like "lol wut"

anyways moving forward, MC noticed the changes but didn't challenge them (Levi is hot wow gonna forget my friend ig /j)

Already this man is mad at MC for tripping and not tying their shoes...plz???

Also for whatever reason MC is very clumsy here, like everything reads to me like a Kdrama where every moment MC is falling, tripping, forgetting shit and Levi is getting annoyed and pissed off at every mistake and it's sending me because dude it is not that deep please relax

Cool Levi moments though is when he ties the shoes, blocks MC from getting hit by a volleyball, lends his gym clothes, gets a cream bun for MC, and takes MC to the nurse because they sprained their ankle

WTF Levi moments is....him basically glaring at the teacher who didn't challenge him, choking another fucking student for almost hitting MC with the volleyball, shoving students (actually I like that and wish I had someone to shove people out the way to get me stuff)

everything else was pretty tame and a good set up though for a highschool au, ASIDE from the sexual stuff? (again personal preference so don't axe me in the mentions)

Next, some screenshots of Levi doing the MOST

You see this? This is you all's king btw because he and I would have been boxing...like? don't fucking call me stupid for forgetting shit like a bitch has ADHD so yeah I fucking forgot damn.

and CUT THEIR FEET OFF? LEVI PLEASE

But again this is good material for how he would act in a school au setting, I do remember doing a childhood au with him and the other kings and he reacted similarly by finding everything they did annoying, kept to himself, and caused an issue that nearly killed everyone because he couldn't control his powers just yet, so if I do decide to do a highschool au with Astra I'll remember Levi's reactions for reference

Oh and a couple other things

this is our official room in Gehenna?

Baby....

I'm giving Satan extra smooches this room is gorgeous? Do we fuck in here too? I would. (i'm a sucker for canopy beds with ornate designs)

Just some mini lore about Seere. Also something about him being under Asmodeus or this being mostly monitored by Asmo? (someone help here I was speed reading) So that's interesting.

Overall, everyone that likes schoolboy role play sexy time, have at it. My journey stops here at the sfw part.

Justice for Minhyeok though he is just in the void somewhere like

a funny thing before you all go look at Glas' name

it's usually Glasyalabolas, right? I was cracking up because he's never beating the Ikea furniture name allegations.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb leviathan #whb game content #whb reacts #tw mild violence #just levi being himself as always #please don't take me srs nothing is that deep for me with levi

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preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

Text

cold heart, warm hands (simon “ghost” riley x f!reader) - part 1/2

First off, I haven’t played a Call of Duty game in years. But, I remember crushing on Ghost back in idk?? 2010? Anyway, glad to see he’s getting the white boy of the month treatment. Glad we’re all totally NORMAL about him. Feedback is definitely encouraged and appreciated :)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader!Assassin

Rating: Mature/Explicit (18+)

Fic warnings: angst, injury/bodily harm to reader + some hypothermia, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing/explicit language, knives as metaphors for sexual tension, reader is lowkey feral (I am channeling my inner Princess Monoke), slowburn, the inherent eroticism of catching feelings while running for your life, touchstarved!ghost, bonding, (there will be smut/porn in part 2) i needed a light plot because I cannot function without it, all the names of politicians are fake/do not relate to any living or deceased person.

No use of Y/N. Reader is described as muscular/toned with scars from active combat/torture, though no other descriptors are used. Author isn’t well-versed in other languages, they’re just a sucker for Slavic mythology. Reader’s undercover code-name is “volchitsa” which translates to she-wolf (or bitch-wolf) in Russian.

Summary: Lt. Ghost is tasked with the extreme mission to extract code name “volchista” from her undercover mission in St. Petersburg. They briefed him on what little they knew of you, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the reality.

READ ON AO3 || 🔪🔪🔪

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is how it begins. You are a girl made of snow. You carve a pretty smile from the ice. You flatter the diplomats. You trick them. They believe you can be melted and molded. You impress the headmistress of the school. You trick her, too. A man from America comes. They replace your ballet with ballistics. You suspect they offer money to your family, your school. They roll your tongue until you can call upon any accent and shape around any language. When you’ve impressed them or pleased them, they give you tasks, and you carry them out with little question of who at the top of the pyramid pulls the strings. You are better with bullets than you ever were at ballet.

You thaw, in pieces, until the girl from the snow is a shadow, a puddle, a glistening drip of an icicle from the rooftop. They give you a name. A point of contact. A promise of extraction once intel is gathered. You don’t merely go “undercover.” You go underground. You enmesh yourself. They call you a wolf and release you among the pretty, bronze-polished sheep. After all, this is what your training was for.

Only now it’s finally time to go home.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Three years undercover?” Ghost says, reviewing your file, “you sure we can trust her?” He glances at your old photo. Pretty thing. He suspects that’s why they assigned you to rub elbows with high-ranking military officials and defense contractors. Three years is a hell of a long time to be someone else.

Price says, “I know you’ll make the right call if you think she’s compromised.”

“Naturally.” Ghost replies gruffly. He checks the intel for your rendezvous spot. A cemetery at the edge of the Vyborgsky District. At the stroke of midnight. How morosely dramatic. He’ll be a ghost in a graveyard. Is this Price’s attempt at humor? He considers asking Price why he’s not sending someone else out. Someone who shows their face in case some nosy do-gooder comes up asking questions. He shakes the thought from his head. It’s a stupid question that he already has the answer to.

Price selected him because the target, codename volchista, is one of the most dangerous operatives in the country. If anyone can take you down–if things get nasty–it’s him.

“You’ll be going in dark on this one until you reach the border,” says Price.

“Not a problem.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s gray everywhere you look. Storm clouds loom over St. Petersburg and block the starlight. Gray and dark gray tombstones. The barren trees appear like black skeletons in the night, like echoes of lightning. Your breath mists gray in front of your lips. A family of gray moths dance around the ground-level lamps. The air tastes like impending snowfall, brisk and sharp on your tongue.

You check your watch. Three minutes until midnight. There is no one here but you. You are alone, with the gray ghosts, and the gray tombstones, and your gray, foggy breath.

The hair at the nape of your neck prickles.

Your knife flashes silver in the gray. Your blood roars in your ears. And you pivot like a dancer, like an acrobat, lethal and light on your feet. The resounding clang of your knife meeting another reverberates through the silent, empty cemetery. You lurch your body forward. You assume your cover is blown and they’ve sent this masked man to kill you. He matches your momentum and avoids your strike. You snarl. He is big but not as clumsy as you hoped.

A gloved, strong hand grabs your wrist, “steady on, volchista.” Their accent deepens their voice to a rough and pleasant burr. It’s like drinking whiskey. You stare at him. Only your contacts know your code name.

You say, “Lev sent you.” You pause. “You’re early.”

“If I'd known you’d try to skewer me, I’d have been punctual.” He slowly releases your wrist, though what little you can see of his gaze is dark and wary. Lev told you nothing beyond the meeting spot and where he stashed your equipment. It was safer (or so he said). He could’ve at least mentioned your point of contact would be wearing a costume so you wouldn’t assume it was an assassination attempt. Your eyes scan the graveyard, unable to shake the sense of paranoia that slithers around your spine. Whenever something felt too easy, you got anxious.

“Sorry.” You respond without expression. “Let’s go.”

You’ve walked these pathways hundreds of times. You know them in the dark, you would know them blindfolded. None of Petrovich’s men bothered you when you went to the cemetery. Though, they were never far. You incline your head faintly toward the familiar tombstones, to the names you’ve memorized as a game to keep yourself sane during these past three years of espionage.

You shoot a glance over your shoulder. Skull-man is walking eerily quietly behind you despite the bulk of body armor you can tell he’s wearing beneath his white, camo coat. His hood is drawn up over his head. Probably to hide the mask.

“What do I call you?” You ask once you’re close to the church.

“Ghost.”

You laugh softly. Although you will never see Lev again, you wish you could. You wanted to praise him for such a stupid, funny joke - setting up your extraction in a cemetery with a man named Ghost. You come to the church door where Lev has stashed your supplies. He’s left the key for you beneath a snow-capped rock. You kiss its cold, metal teeth in farewell before sliding it into the lock. The old, oak door creaks beneath your palm.

Ghost watches your back, checking behind you before you both go inside. The air smells of incense and candle smoke. The effigies on the altar glow with ethereal, flickering light. You crouch onto the ground and start tapping your knuckles to find the hollow floorboard. Lev said it would be about ten paces from the entrance.

Rap, rap, rap, rap. A flurry of snowflakes drifts across the mosaic, stained glass windows. You knew you tasted snow in the air. You idly wonder if the snow will feel different once you’re home again. You wonder if everything will be different considering the intel you gathered about Petrovich and all his followers.

Ghost asks, “why’d they give you the name she-wolf?”

Your smile is a knife.

You say while looking up at him; “I used to bite a lot during my training.”

Your knuckles find their treasured spot. You jam your knife into the edge of the floorboard, wiggling it, and it gives underneath your pressure. You tug on the backpack, holster your pistol and knife and hide your face in a scarf. You pull the rest of Ghosts' equipment out with a small gruff. The keys to the snowmobile parked in the shed outside bite into the soft flesh of your palm. You and Ghost will ride to the next point. And God willing, you’d make it over the border before anyone noticed you were gone.

Ghost, silent beside you, stiffens.

“Shit.” You hiss. You duck sideways, throwing yourself into the space between the worship pews. Ghost crouches into the one next to yours. The door to the church swings open. There is a burst of cold air and snowflakes and bright, roaming flashlights. With your back pressed against the hardwood and knife in hand, you glance across the aisle to Ghost and wait for his lead.

He signals the number three with his fingers. You nod. You track the lights as they move through the church, elongating shadows, and bouncing from the pews and pillars. Two have moved to the side of the church. A single target is walking down the main aisle. They’re trying to pincher you. Could it be Petrovich? Or were you betrayed internally? Or were they police officers? You hadn’t gotten a good look before hiding. Ghost’s entire body is taught like a loaded weapon. You feel it in your own spine and shoulders. The familiar, tense coiling. The single and narrow simplicity of setting a task and then completing it. You are going home. And nothing and no one will stop you.

A voice calls out in Russian. “Petrovich is looking for you. It’s too late for prayer. It’s time to come home.” It sounds close to the doorway. You roll onto your stomach and signal to Ghost: ‘Enemy’. Perhaps it’s presumptuous to assume he doesn’t know Russian after being assigned to a Russian-Evac Mission. You make a mental note to ask him what he knows (if you both survive). He tells you to ambush right, then signals the go-ahead.

You wiggle beneath the pews, getting behind your target, and crouch-walk toward him. You stay low and silent. From this vantage point, you can see they’re Petrovich’s bodyguards. They aren’t wearing tactical gear or body armor. They’ve got flashlights and pistols holstered at their hips. They aren’t expecting any sort of fight. You almost feel bad for them. Almost.

You are a deadly viper hidden in the grass, a wolf stalking her prey, an arrow finding its mark. Your knuckles tighten around the grip of your knife. The church is dark, save for the flickering candlelight, and the blue-white shine of their flashlights. You slam your boot into the back of your target’s knee, causing him to crumple. He grunts, in surprise and pain, and that is the last sound he creates because your knife lodges into his carotid artery. A warm gush of blood covers your glove, and it arcs upward, splattering and spraying onto the fine stonework when you dislodge the weapon. You kick the rolling flashlight aside and run on quick, crouched feet toward the door. You don’t even bother to check if Ghost is alright. You assume he is. If not…well…you’ll claw your way out of Russia yourself. There is no returning to this place.

The man at the doorway is panicking. He wildly waves his flashlight around the church while holding his cellphone to his ear. You snatch his wrist in a bruising grip and drag him toward you. He shouts. Your forehead smashes into his nose. His cellphone clatters to the ground. Your knife finds purchase through the thick fabric of his turtleneck. The gray sweater blooms deep, dark crimson–nearly black in the low light. He moans, you shove him aside and pick up his phone. He’s calling Petrovich, but the line hasn’t connected yet.

Ghost is suddenly before you. You meet his eyes. There’s a splatter of blood on his white camo hood. Your chest heaves with exertion, and the adrenaline of combat floods your senses until you are woven within it. If you don’t shake off Petrovich, then your extraction becomes thousand times more difficult.

You grab the bodyguard by the root of his hair, jerking his head back, and snarl into his face. “Tell Petrovich you’ve found me. Tell him I’m coming home.” You say in Russian.

“Traitor.” He spits blood at you. You haven’t removed your knife from the juncture of his shoulder and neck. You twist the blade a little. He grits his jaw from screaming. Prideful to the end. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the dark, hulking shape of Ghost with his knife in his hand.

“Last chance.” You warn. “I will feed you to the wolves.”

“I am dead either way.” His eyes flick to Ghost behind you. “He will kill you.”

You are uncertain if he is talking about Ghost, Petrovich, or someone else. You don’t care to ask. You click the bright red ‘end’ button on the call screen before it connects. Wordlessly, coldly, you yank your knife from his shoulder and spear him below his jaw. A torrent of blood gushes over his sweater, and your wrist and hand, and onto the shiny wood. He slumps, on his knees like a man in prayer, and you shut your eyes briefly. You take no pleasure in the killing. It was either them or you. Wolf versus sheep. It was survival. A singular question tightened around your neck like a noose. Who betrayed you?

Ghosts’ voice is low from somewhere over your shoulder. “What’d he say?”

“That I’m a dead woman.”

He shrugs his massive, bulky shoulders. You can’t ascertain how much of it is him and how much is his gear.

You sheath your knife. “Petrovich will come looking for me.” You nudge the fallen bodyguard with your boot. “No use hiding them. We need to leave. Now.”

He extends his hand, “keys.”

“Who said you were driving?” You scoff.

“I’m the one taking point.” He says. “You’re the escort. I drive.”

You drop the keys into his waiting palm. You simply don’t have the time to argue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You get an impression of his true size when you’re perched behind him on the snowmobile. Your arms encircle him (as best you can), your cheek is pressed against his broad and muscled back, and the cold wind cuts through your scarf and bites your ears and nose. It’s dangerous to drive in the dark, but you have no choice. No alternative. You must take a risk with the dark forest full of birch trees and lonely pines to avoid the checkpoints at the borders.

Ghost is, at the very least, efficient. Your stomach swoops each time the snowmobile crests over a small hill and the vibration of the motor purrs beneath your legs. The world is a blur of grayish-white. Snowflakes and branches whip past your field of vision. You force your eyes to remain open, as snowflakes crystalize on your eyelashes, and try to keep watch of your surroundings.

You release a soft “oof,” when the snowmobile jolts over a hill and freshly fallen snow crashes over you and Ghost like a wave. The trees start to thin. Your fingers tingle inside your gloves from your lack of circulation due to how tightly you're holding onto him and the overall icy chill in the air. You suspect you’re about an hour from the second point. Possibly less, you hope, with how fast Ghost is driving.

A whirring sound, like a beast waking from its slumber, rises above the rushing wind. You twist your spine to look behind you.

You yell above the engine and the wind, “fuck me.” Above the treetops, a helicopter is risking the storm, its searchlight roaming through the forest. Only one man is hunting you. Only one man is desperate enough to send a helicopter in the middle of the night with little visibility.

“Ghost! We’ve got company.” You shout.

“That was quick.”

The snowmobile banks with a hard left turn. You bury your face in his shoulder blades to protect yourself from the sharp wind. You recall the map Lev showed you. You memorized the route to the second point. Something tugged at the corner of your mind. The helicopter’s searchlight scanned the thick, snowy landscape. It will catch up to you soon. Ghost weaves through the trees, but they provide little cover.

It’s dark. It’s snowing. The helicopter is faster than you. These are the facts.

If you stop, you risk Petrivoch’s men finding you. He sent a helicopter; you have no doubt in your mind that he also sent out snowmobiles and ATVs. The darkness is your best cover.

If you continue, you risk Petrivoch’s men finding the safe house. The only silver lining is that Petrovich doesn’t know who you work for. He doesn’t know you have help. He might assume you’ve been kidnapped. But, what if Petrovich thought you were dead? He wouldn’t chase after a dead woman.

You say, “Ghost, I have an idea. But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

He grunts.

“We need to crash the snowmobile.”

“You’re mad.” Is it the wind filling your ears, or does he sound a little…impressed?

You squeeze your fingers around your wrist when Ghost takes another sharp turn. You suspect he’s double-backing and confusing your trail while avoiding the oncoming helicopter.

“My other plan involved a sniper rifle and blowing out the searchlight. However, seeing as we don’t have a sniper, I’m going to plan B.”

“Crashing our only means of transportation sounds more like Plan-fucking-Z to me.”

“You have a better idea?!” You snap.

You continue, impassioned, “the storm will cover our tracks. We can walk the rest of the way. Petrivoch’s men won’t follow us if they think I’m dead.”

He mutters something under his breath. It’s too quiet for you to hear.

“Find a good place to stop with tree coverage and I’ll do the rest.”

“Jesus.” He grumbles.

You wait for the inevitable argument. The discussion about how the snowmobile could outrun the helicopter and whoever else might be pursuing you. You brace yourself, drawing counterarguments inside your head, preparing yourself as you have your whole life. The pine trees thicken, and the snowmobile gradually slows. His back is tense. You wiggle your tingly fingers inside your gloves. You slide your arms away from his solid, firm midsection and scoot to the edge of the seat when the snowmobile finally stops.

Ghost twists around, looking at you, his eyes fathomless beneath the mask.

“Your plan. What is it?”

You tell him. It involves tipping over (or crashing) the snowmobile, lighting it on fire, ripping pieces of your clothing and burning other remnants to imply that whatever was left was eaten by wildlife.

You peel off your bloodied gloves, “it’s not a perfect plan.”

“It’s bloody insane is what it is.”

You shrug, “and yet you agreed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the picture of mental stability, now am I?” He tears one of your shirts between his hands. You work quickly and silently in tandem. The helicopter is searching the less forested areas. It’s loud enough to hear, though you can’t see it or its spotlight through the thick evergreens. You tie together several pieces of fabric and shove them into the gas tank. After it detonates, although the helicopter won’t be able to land nearby, Petrivoch’s men will likely find the remains before dawn.

You reach under your shirt, toward your collar, and your fingers encircle the charm on your necklace. You tug. The thin golden chain snaps. It was your first gift from Petrovich. A symbol of your loyalty - false as it was. You hold it aloft and the tiny eagle charm glitters above the flickering flame of your lighter.

“I hope I am there the day they burn you.” You whisper with the trees, and the cold snow, and your silent Ghostly companion as your witness. You drop the broken necklace. You light the edge of the fabric. The smoke singes your nostrils and your eyes water. You run toward the trees and don’t look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Ghost put as much distance between yourself and the snowmobile before its explosion. Your muscles strain, your skin glistens with sweat, and you are hot and stuffy beneath your warm clothes. The pace he sets is brutal. You push yourself to keep up, never complaining, though your mouth tastes of copper from how many times you’ve bitten your lower lip. The storm rages and covers your tracks.

“The storm’s getting worse.” You say. You’ve never endured in silence for this long before. Not since your youth, you think. The howling wind cuts between you and him, dragging snowflakes in their wake.

Ghost barely glances at you. “Hadn’t noticed.”

If you squint, he blends into the world. A white-and-gray Grim Reaper here to collect your soul.

“Were you going to kill me in the church?” You ask. You remember how he approached you and the bodyguard. His cold lethality. The silence that shrouds him. His eyes were dark, too far to discern what emotion lay within. He doesn’t answer, but he does look over at you. You are mirrors of another. His face is covered by his strange, macabre mask. Your face is covered, in a heavy scarf, your eyes visible through the slit in the fabric. You speak through your eyes. Nonverbal. Expressive. Weighted.

You tilt your head slightly to the side as if to say ‘well?’

You wonder if he smiles beneath the mask. You wonder if he smiles at all. He turns away and checks his compass. For several minutes only your crunching footsteps and the wind screaming through the branches keeps you company. You don’t think Ghost (and by proxy the US government has betrayed you) but you aren't certain. Not until you have some type of proof or motive. The only people who knew about your meeting location were Lev, yourself, and Ghost. You know you didn’t slip up. And you’ve been in this field for too long to chalk Petrivoch’s appearance to coincidence and dumb luck. Someone is compromised.

You glance sidelong at Ghost through your snow-covered lashes. He’s big, he’s strong and efficient. You’re not a person who doubts their abilities and you’re not an idiot. You know a losing fight when you see one. In close-quarter combat, his reach is longer, and if he pins you then it’s over. If you plan to incapacitate him–it’ll need to be an ambush. It’ll need to be quick. You store the thought away for later. You’re not going to ambush him in the storm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The snowstorm starts to ease, and he’s forced to admit that your plan to torch the snowmobile might’ve saved them. There’s a chance that the weather made it impossible for the helicopter to keep pursuing. However, he won’t know until sunrise. Either he’ll have Petrivoch’s men on his ass or it’ll be smooth from the safe house to the border. He prepares himself for the worst. Petrovich isn’t a man who gives up easily. Price’s file on him was stacked. Although most of the intel you gathered undercover was on a need-to-know basis, he knew the man was powerful, controlling, and deranged. A dangerous cocktail. It gives him all the more reason to wonder if you’ve been broken and brainwashed by Petrovich. But the thought holds little water. Your behavior has been motivated by survival. You handled yourself with extreme grace and brutality in the church. Price said you were good. He didn’t realize you were that good. The takedown of your target was effortless and clean. A thing of beauty, really. You function well under pressure. And you smile often for a woman trained to be a covert assassin. You’re nothing like he expected.

He announces, “we’ll take a break here.”

He watches you drink from your canteen. Your face glistens with sweat before you wrap yourself back up in your scarf and hat. You pack your canteen with snow and store it away, but he notices your hand flinch near your knife, the brief tenseness of your shoulders. He scans the darkness for threats. He meets your eyes with an unspoken question.

Your breath fogs in front of your mouth, hazy, obscuring your gaze from his for a moment. When the mist passes, your eyes are cold and narrowed, and you look like you want to skin him alive.

“I didn’t give Lev everything.”

His brow furrows, “what’re you telling me for? I’m not your superior officer.”

Your gaze softens imperceptibly.

“Someone ought to know in case Petrovich is still hunting me.”

“You don’t need to bargain your worth to me, she-wolf.” He says plainly. “I’ve got my orders.” He’s not sure what game you’re playing. And he doesn’t rightly care. Once you’re across the border, you’re someone else’s problem. Whatever intel you have, or don’t have, it doesn’t concern him. His only concern is making it out of this tundra with you alive. You adjust the straps on your backpack and nod, signaling with your hand that you’re ready to move.

The blue-black sky lightens, and stars fade from view. Tiny, blackbirds flit through the air. The terrain flattens. He recognizes this location from the map. The safe house is over the hill. It was a less straightforward route than if he had the snowmobile, but at least you’ve made it. He keeps checking your six–part of his job–and scanning the open sky for threats. The snow crunches underfoot.

He says, “we’re almost there. Come on.” He jogs ahead.

Something cracks under his foot. He spins, looking for you, and discovers you’re a few paces behind. Your arms and legs are spread akimbo and when you meet his eyes, there is controlled panic, and he can practically hear the gears turning within your mind.

“We’re on the lake.” You exclaim like it’s a brilliant revelation. “I remember seeing it on the map!”

The storm must’ve covered it. Fucking hell!

“There’s a USB in here.” You strip your backpack from your body and slide it easily across the hidden ice. “It’s more important than I am.”

Another crack reverberates beneath him. He’s hyper-aware of his size and the dangerous risk of getting wet at this temperature.

“What’re you doing?” He beckons with his hand while lowering his body, “this way!”

“Yeah, yeah, working on it.” You take a tentative step forward. Despite the logical distance, it feels like a chasm has split you from him.

“You need to get low.” He’s on his stomach on the ice and the next crack vibrates beneath his gut. “Spread out your weight.”

You nod. You start to crouch, but lady luck isn’t on your side. The ice ruptures. The crash, your yelp of alarm, and the splash of cold water are like a pike driving through his eardrums. He army-crawls toward your flailing arms. Your gloves scramble for purchase on the flat, slick ice as your head disappears underwater. Ghost unintentionally shouts your name.

He grabs you, pulling you up. You sputter and gasp, water saturating your scarf that’s peeled partially away from your face, and revealing your wild, stricken eyes.

“I’ve got ya.” He says, “I’ve got you.”

You cling to him and kick your legs underwater while he lifts you out of the ice trap. Your shivering body crawls across the ice alongside him, though he tracks your sluggish movements and rapid breath. He needs to get you to shelter immediately. The second you’re clear of the lake, he crowds you into his arms and lifts you in a fireman's carry.

You protest weakly through chattering teeth, “I can walk.”

“This is faster.”

He trudges up the short, small hill while carrying you and both backpacks. The sight of the safe house is like fucking salvation. It’s a squat, modest little wooden cabin. He can spot a chimney sticking up from the roof. If it doesn’t have wood, then he’ll start burning furniture. He needs to get you warm before you drop into severe hypothermia. The cold wind cuts across the air like a cruel cosmic joke. Draped across his shoulders, he can practically feel your desperate, galloping heart against his back.

“Stay awake.” He commands, voice brusque and sharp.

“Aye, sir.” You mumble.

“That doesn’t sound awake to me.”

“Fuck you.” You say this time, with more emphasis, more feeling.

He grumbles. “Atta girl.”

He shoves open the front door with his shoulder, kicking it closed, and deposits you in front of the cold, empty fireplace. You’re trembling worse than earlier, but you’re lucid. You tug your wet scarf off of your face and struggle to unlace your boots. Unfortunately, there are no logs beside the fireplace. He huffs. Plan B then. The cabin is a single, large room with the kitchen and sitting area sharing the space and a door that presumably leads to the bedroom or bathroom.

Ghost grabs one of the wooden stools and uses his tactical knife to hack a small divot in the wood so he can snap it with his foot. He breaks the stool into pieces, shoves them into the mouth of the fireplace, and starts the fire with his emergency fire starter kit. He shoots a glance over his shoulder to you. You’ve managed to get your boots and socks off, though the rest of your clothing appears to be a challenge.

Ghost shoves your trembling hands out of the way. He yanks your zipper down.

“O-oy!” You shout with surprise and indignation.

He says, “arms.”

You relax your shoulders, and he tugs the heavy coat off your body. Wordlessly, you lift your shaking arms, and he pulls the drenched mess of your sweater over your head. Your shirt and tank top comes next, then your sports bra, until you're naked from the waist up in front of him.

Your toned stomach muscles clench. A mapping of scars decorates your skin like battle trophies. If this was any other moment–he might’ve taken a second to appreciate the solidness of your form, the shape of your tits, the honed lethality of your biceps and forearms and stomach. There’s nothing waifish or delicate about you. You’re a weapon of flesh and muscle and hot blood. Your eyes focus on some spot behind him, and the firelight reflects and shifts in the depths of your dark pupils.

You lift your hips and (with his help) drag your soaked pants and underwear off your body. He does not think about your thighs or your calves. He removes a blanket from his bag and drapes it across your legs. The key to overcoming hypothermia is gradually warming the body. He strips himself of everything but his mask and underwear and sits behind you–bracing his knees around your legs and caging you with his body heat. He shucks his gloves off and gently rubs his palms along your freezing arms. The fire crackles before you. The knobs of your spine and the curve of your shoulder blades press lightly into the planes of his naked, muscled chest. You’re weirdly quiet.

“No cheeky comment?” says Ghost.

You blurt, “Lev’s the traitor.”

Ghost blinks.

“Enlighten me.”

“You saved me, not the USB.”

“USB means fuck-all to me. I don’t want you dead, she-wolf.”

You laugh weakly. A full-body tremor wrecks through you. He can feel it across his entire chest and straight to his groin with how he’s got you melded into him. His hands slow. He can feel each individual ridge of the scars on your arms. He can feel the fine, thin hair along your forearms. Your wrist bones and knuckles are the only fine-boned, delicate piece of you that he can touch. He glances down at the sleek musculature of where your neck meets your shoulder.

Unless he chops more furniture, the fire isn’t going to last long, but it should be enough to get you stable. That’s all that matters.

~~~~~~~

Between the fire raging in front of you and Ghosts’ solid heat at your back–your skin tingles as it regulates temperature and your circulation returns. Your eyes drink in the muscles of his thick thighs, braced on each side of you, and the peek you get of his black-and-white tattoo when his arms move. He hasn’t stopped touching you. His hands travel up and down your arms, to your wrists, and shoulders. How come you never noticed how big his hands were? A flush of warmth burns at the nape of your neck. You feel like you’re being surrounded by a large, jungle cat. And it’s tempting to close your eyes and melt into his warmth. You’re at the safe house. You’re almost home. It wouldn’t be so terrible to sleep, would it? Ghost would keep watch. He’d look out for you.

“Talk.” Ghost orders. “You’ve gotta stay awake.”

“About what?”

“I don’t care.” He huffs. His voice is warmer, as close as you are, and it drips like honey and vibrates across your back.

“I memorized names in the graveyard to keep sane.” You say, surprising yourself with the confession, your secret little game. “I can recite those.”

“Do it then.”

You stare into the flames until your eyes start to water and repeat their names. They were your first ghosts before you met this one. You numbly scratch at one of your scars. You repeat the names again. Ghost isn’t rubbing your arms, but he’s still touching you. His large, calloused palms have settled. One is on your hip, the other is clutching your shoulder and that arm squishes into your breasts. Your back is snug against the hard, muscled planes of his chest. He’s holding you?! You’re not sure why this realization comes as such a surprise. He’s sharing his body heat. There’s nothing tender or romantic about it. You’re his mission. Yet, this is the first time in three years that you’ve allowed non-transactional physical contact. Usually, if someone touched you, it was because they wanted something (or you were manipulating them to get what you wanted). Ghost’s motive isn’t ulterior. It’s transparent. He wants your continued survival. That’s it.

“You got quiet again, she-wolf.” He says with a breathy edge to his tone. “Better not have fallen asleep on me.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m awake.”

To add to your point, you wiggle your toes beneath the blanket. At least, you no longer feel like an ice popsicle, but you selfishly want to stay here–in the warmth, muscled solidness of Ghosts’ body. You close your eyes momentarily and try to absorb this moment into the fibers of your being, your essence, and your bloodstream so you can remember it on the cold, lonely nights ahead. Ghost’s breathing deepens. You only notice because of the proximity of his ribs to yours. His thumb glides along the raised bumpy edge of a scar near the end of your clavicle bone.

You say slowly, “that one was from Petrovich.”

If he wasn’t wearing the mask, you would feel his breath on your skin. His touch withdraws. He rests his palm on your forehead, checking your temperature before his hand glides below your jaw and registers your pulse with two fingers. Everything he’s doing is clinical and tied to survival. Yet, that doesn’t explain the slowness of his movements. It doesn’t explain why his touch lingers below your chin. Your pulse jolts and your breath hitches. His chest rumbles against your back in a low, deep hum.

“We need to change our route.” You say with Ghost’s thumb and two forefingers loosely wrapped around your throat. “Lev betrayed me. And he knows my exit plan. We need to find an alternative to the border.”

Ghost says, “then we better move before we waste any more daylight.”

His hand recedes from your jaw, and you are bereft of its soft pressure and warmth. Ghost stands up. And you twist your spine, drawing the blanket over your chest, and allow yourself the very selfish and human privilege to see him half-naked. As expected, he’s a fucking massive specimen of virility. You bite the inside of your cheek at the sight of his broad muscled chest, his strong biceps, veiny forearms, and capable hands, the cut of his v-line into his waistband, and the trail of dark hair that travels down from his belly button. Your eyebrows lift in surprise and appreciation. You don’t mind the mask hiding his face because his body is fucking spectacular.

He pulls his shirt over his head. You watch unashamedly at the play of muscles as they ripple across his chest and flex. The low-burning fire snaps loudly and sends a flurry of sparks up the chimney.

“Careful,” His eyes spark behind the mask, “you’ll drool on my nice blanket.” His tone brightens with gentle teasing. Somehow, the sound of his voice like that, deep and teasing, is hotter than the sight of his abs.

You smirk. “See, I thought you were cute until you got cocky about it.”

He scoffs. “Cute?”

Ohh, you found a little nerve. How delicious.

“Cute.” You affirm and say no more. You dig through your backpack and procure your last set of clothes. There’s no room for shyness or modesty in an active combat situation. Sure, no one is shooting at you. But that reality can change real fast. You shimmy your underwear and pants over your hips and quickly pull your bra over your head like the house is on fire. You feel Ghosts’ gaze on you. And it blazes like a hot brand across your skin. Forget the fire, the shared body heat, the blanket, all you need is a few seconds of Ghosts’ undivided attention, and you are burning up.

“Here, take this.” You underhand toss the USB to Ghost. He catches it effortlessly.

“Why?”

“In case you fail your mission, I don’t want to fail mine.” You open the closet door and pull a mothball, musty-smelling coat from the hanger. Your clothes drying in front of the fire need a few more hours before they’re wearable. Those are hours you don’t have.

“Lost faith in me already, have you?” says Ghost.

It’s your turn to scoff. “Hardly.” You level him with a serious gaze, “I’m trusting you with it, Ghost.”

He says, “Riley.”

“What?”

“My name. Simon Riley.”

Your heart stutters inside your chest. You weren’t expecting him to give you anything in return, let alone his name.

“Okay, Simon.” You smile tentatively, “let’s get the hell out of here, yeah?”

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