#broccoli punch

[osamusbigtits]

the twins as toddlers getting into a fight because atsumu said vegetables taste bad and it made osamu unreasonably angry

#atsumu: broccoli is bad #osamu immediately punches him #lmao #hq #miya twins #bex thoughts

[everyonesfavoritenotetaker]

Any luck with Broccoli yet?

[🍋]"Nothing yet..." Lemon sighs, still sitting in the same spot he was when he first sat down.

"Somebody told me I should slap him to try to wake him up, but- That just seems like more harm than good."

There was a short movement from the other, along with a pained noise.

Broccoli is up!

"....Ughhhh- Where-" Broccoli pauses, looking around- Taking a moment to realize where they are.

"....How long was I out-?"

[🍋] ".....2? 3- Maybe 4-" Lemon has lost count at this point.

"3 what? Minutes? Hours?"

[🍋] "DAYS-"

"OH."

#the notetaker talks! [broccoli] #shaking citrus [lemon] #Yaay!! #Giving the slap/punch anon the look of shame #but anyways yaaayyy!! #broccoli is back

[hfustation]

Taco Salad - Broccoli Slaw with Spicy Dressing Recipe

Try the creamy, spicy, sweet, and tangy broccoli slaw dressing made with mayonnaise, lime juice, sugar, chili powder, cumin, and cayenne.

#spicy dressing recipe #punch #brown sugar #spicy dressing #broccoli slaw dressing #spices #sugar

[brodywarner]

Broccoli Slaw with Spicy Dressing Taste a broccoli slaw dressing that's creamy, spicy, sweet, and tangy, with mayonnaise, juicy lime, sugar, chili powder, cumin, and cayenne.

#brown sugar #broccoli slaw dressing #punch #broccoli slaw #broccoli slaw dressing recipe #spices

[atoaofficial]

Broccoli Slaw with Spicy Dressing Recipe Taste a broccoli slaw dressing that's creamy, spicy, sweet, and tangy, with mayonnaise, juicy lime, sugar, chili powder, cumin, and cayenne.

#limes #punch #broccoli slaw dressing recipe #brown sugar #spicy dressing recipe #sugar

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader

Ao3 Link

Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans

WC: 18k

Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.

Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?

"I don't have one."

"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.

"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.

"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.

"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.

"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.

"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.

"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."

Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.

"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.

"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.

"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.

"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.

"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.

"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.

"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.

"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.

"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.

"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.

"Told you so."

You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."

"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."

It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.

"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."

"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.

"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.

"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.

"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.

Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."

"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"

"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."

"What?"

"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."

Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.

"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.

"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.

"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.

"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"

"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.

"Yeah?"

"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.

"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."

A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.

You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.

"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.

"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.

"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"

"I'm not."

"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"

"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.

"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.

"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."

"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"

"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.

The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."

He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."

"Good."

"Simon?"

The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.

"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.

"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.

Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.

"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.

"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."

You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."

"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."

You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."

"And my dad?"

"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.

You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.

You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.

"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.

"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.

The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.

Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.

You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.

Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."

You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."

You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.

"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"

"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."

Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"

"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."

"That's not true."

"I think it is."

Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.

"Of course."

You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.

Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."

"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.

"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."

You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.

You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.

The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.

"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.

"Then lets go."

You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.

When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."

"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."

"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.

You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.

It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.

Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.

It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.

You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."

You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.

Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.

You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.

The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.

It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.

That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.

No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.

The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”

“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.

“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.

“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.

“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.

The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”

The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.

“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”

“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.

“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.

“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.

“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”

The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.

“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”

“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”

“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.

You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.

That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.

“I didn’t want to lose.”

“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”

“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?

“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.

“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”

“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.

You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”

“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.

At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.

He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”

“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.

Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.

“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”

“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”

“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”

“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”

“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”

“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.

“They gave him a hard time too.”

“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?

Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.

He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.

“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”

“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.

“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”

Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.

Who are you Ghost?

”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”

You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.

“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.

“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”

”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.

“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.

”What are you? My aunt?”

”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.

”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.

”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.

You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.

Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.

He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.

Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.

You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”

You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.

”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.

”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.

”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”

”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”

”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”

”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”

”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.

Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.

It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.

He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.

You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.

You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.

You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.

You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.

Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.

When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”

”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.

”Need to know.”

”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.

”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”

”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.

”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”

”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”

”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.

”What?”

”Forget about it.”

”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”

”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs

”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.

He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.

Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.

”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.

”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”

”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”

”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”

”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“

”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”

”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.

”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.

That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.

He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.

And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.

Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.

The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.

Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.

The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.

He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.

The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.

You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.

You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”

”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.

“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms

Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.

It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.

He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.

Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.

When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.

He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.

”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.

You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.

Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.

He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.

”Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.

He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.

His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.

”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.

He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.

Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.

“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.

You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.

”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.

It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.

It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.

He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.

He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.

“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.

You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.

”I love you.”

Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”

It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.

”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.

”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.

”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”

”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.

”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.

”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.

Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.

God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.

”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.

You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon

”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.

”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.

”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.

”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.

You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.

He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”

”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”

You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”

”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.

”I love you so much Simon Riley.”

His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”

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[linuxgamenews]

Pulling No Punches beat em up to defeat the madness on Linux

Pulling No Punches is a worthy arcade action game for Linux and Windows PC. Which is the epic new creation from developer BrainDead Broccoli. Which is available on Steam long with 98% Very Positive reviews. Pulling No Punches, the full game releases on Steam. Also, a crowdfunded beat’em up featuring 4-player coop and frame by frame animation. Due to the work of Braindead Broccoli, after 2 years in development, the arcade style game is finally here. Pulling No Punches is a classic style beat’em up animated frame by frame. Where players will try to survive a fictional pandemic in a city full of madness and denial. The game also includes 4 playable characters with unique unlockable moves. As well as extremely detailed settings and local co-op multiplayer up to 4 players. As a result, Linux players can use Steam Remote Play to try it online with their friends.

Pulling No Punches - Launch Trailer

Between April and May 2021, Pulling No Punches had over 1,200 backers in a local crowdfunding campaign. Focusing on a Brazilian audience. The launch has also reached great reception online, with thousands of fans visiting and wishlisting every day. Even having a feature on the Steam home page’s Popular Upcoming section. The game follows the fictional story of a global pandemic that engulfed the world. As a result, being ignored by fanatics who do not believe that the disease is real. It is up to Pulling No Punches main characters, 4 common citizens adequately protected with gloves and masks. Due to deal with these fanatics and solve the situation with the force of their own fists. Also offering a Steam Demo for both Linux and Windows PC players.

Cool Features:

4 Co-op Local Multiplayer!

4 Characters with unique Unlockables and Moves!

Use everything at your disposal to destroy your enemies: a wide variety of punches, kicks, grabs, and headbutts!

Handmade art painfully animated frame by frame!

Pulling No Punches is in development for Nintendo Switch, PS4, PS5, Xbox One, Xbox Series S/X, and MacOS through a publishing deal with QuByte. A release date for such platforms has not yet been announced. Pulling No Punches arcade action game is available on Steam. Priced at $9.99 USD / £7.19 / 8,19€. Along with support for Linux and Windows, of course. So get your game on!!

#pulling no punches #arcade action #beat em up #linux #gaming news #braindead broccoli #ubuntu #windows #pc #unity

[alexa-fika]

Hello Alexa! Hope your doing well as always seems like your not lacking requests so put the other requests before my own ♡

An idea came to me last night when I failed a test for the third time- and need to redo it, when I'm sad or something bad happens I go hide in my closet with blankets and pillows, like a child- so how would the whitebeard pirates or mihawk react to child dokusha hiding when their sad? Like their because they got in trouble or isn't allowed to go with the crew on an island and instead has to stay on the ship?

As someone who had gone through a lot in their early childhood I find these stories so comforting and sweet. I often find myself only opening Tumblr to see if you've posted. Remember to take care of yourself, because someone really cares about you♡

Solace and Comfort (Whitebeard pirates, Mihawk x gn!child!reader)

A/N Hey hey Holo! I absolutely love when you request and as a a ghank you for being such a sweetheart I went ahead and did both :) I also do the same thing, when im upset I like to find a closed or cozy space and just huddle up and hug my plushies. Your words really mean a lot, I appreciate them and it makes me so giddy.

Reader is replaced by Dokucha as a placeholder which stands for Reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

Thatch found himself in his kitchen, preparing the next meal for his Captain. He made sure to take into account his current condition and choose the right ingredients to alleviate it.

"Hm, should I use kale or broccoli for this one?" he inquired to Izou, who had joined him earlier to escape the rowdiness of the crew as he completed maintenance in his pistols.

"I'm hardly the person you should ask Thatch."

"Kale it is," he exclaimed, beginning to chop down said vegetable, the tapping of the knife hitting the cupboard echoing around the otherwise quiet room

"Regardless, it is about time we addressed it, isn't it?" Izou spoke, pushing the lock back in his flintlock, a snap resounding across the kitchen

The chef stops chopping the kale at the comment, glancing up at his brother and letting out a sigh, putting the knife down

“I suppose so.”

“How about it, Dokucha? Want to come out and talk about it?” The sniper called out, walking around the counter to stand next to Thatch

A few beats of silence filled the room after that statement until the sound of ruffling came from one of the cabinets in the kitchen as Dokucha slowly crawled out of it, a stuffed bird held tightly in their arms

“How did you know I was here?” They mumbled, drying their teary eyes

“You usually hide here when something happens,” Thatch answered, kneeling down

"You should consider branching out," added Izou with a smile

"Would you like a hug?" Thatch offered

They nod, running into his arms, cries escaping them as he crashes into him

Thatch hummed, wrapping his arms around them and picking them up, swinging them from side to side for a few minutes until their cries lessened

"What's going on?" Izou questioned, glancing at the child, who by this point had positioned their head on Thatch's shoulder and looking back at Izou

"I wanted to go with Ace," they sniffled

"I know you do, but he had a risky mission he had to go on," Izou replies gently

"Why?" they cried

“They had something of ours, so Ace had to get it back.”

“I wanted to go with Big Brother too!” They cried, beginning to struggle against Thatch’s embrace

“Let me go!” They scream, beginning to throw punches his way

“Hey, Hey, it’s okay,” the man reassured them, tightening their hold, ignoring the shrill screams that now escaped them

“Hey, Hey, Dokucha, he always comes back, just like he came back from his previous mission and the one before. Just like I come back, just like Izou, and everyone will come back. But we need to calm down so we can welcome them back.”

“We would love to take you with us, Dokucha, but we want to keep you safe even more; we couldn’t bear something happening to you,” Izou continues, rubbing the child’s head

They sniffle, relaxing in their hold

“Hey, how about we go see Pops?” Thatch suggests

“Papaw?”

“Yeah, I’m almost finished with his meal; how about you come with us to deliver it?”

“Okay”

“Pops, food is ready; we had special help today.” thatch announced approaching the man

Whitebeard glances down at the two commanders, about to ask what they mean, until he spots the ‘special help’ running towards him

“Papaw!”

He grins, lifting the child up

“Gurararara, what brings you here, Dokucha?” he questions, glancing down at his sixteenth commander as he spoke

“We were having a hard time earlier wanted to go with Ace.”

“Gurarara, why would you be upset about such a thing brat?”

They shrug

“Has the boy ever broken his promise to come back?”

“No…”

“Has he ever lied to you?”

“No…”

“Then why were you throwing a fit?”

“I didn’t throw a fit!”

“Sounds like you did”

“You’re mean, Papaw!”

“It’s called tough love.”

“It’s being mean!”

“If that’s the case, are you not coming to the celebration when he does return?”

“I want to!”

“Are we done with the fits?”

“Yeah!”

“Did someone say celebration? I could use some grub,” a voice joins in

Dokucha beams, jumping off Whitebeard's hand and crashing into Ace

“Ace! You’re back!”

“Just like I promised.”

“Where are they?”

The human drills look at each other nervously and turn back to the swordsman, letting out a string of hoots and sneers.

Mihawk narrows his eyes at this

“Is that the answer you wish to go with?” He said, pulling out Yoru from his back and pointing it against the apes

“I will allow you to try again; where are they? I am well aware this is where they run to when they grow upset.”

In response, the human drills sounds escalate as they pull out their own weapons, only to stop as a small voice joins in

“It’s okay, Ezra, Enrique.” A small child wrapped in a blanket spoke, patting the apes, effectively calming them Down as they slowly lowered their weapons

“Don’t hurt them, Papa,” they mumble, hugging their blanket closer to them

He sighs, sheathing Yoru once again and extending his hand toward the child

The child wobbles their way to their father, taking hold of their hand and looking back at the human drills, sending a wave their way

As they walked on, the only sound that could be heard was the sounds of the forest around them as insects and birds chirped together, the sound of the human drills still reaching their ears, and the sound of Dokucha’s blanket being dragged as they walked next to the warlord.

“Are you going to tell me why you ran off?” he spoke, breaking the silence between them

He sighs at the silence that followed, pausing to pick up the child and place them on his hip, in turn the child leans their head against his shoulder

“Is this about the sword practice you were doing before?” He inquired, letting out a hum as the child nodded their head against his shoulder

“Can you tell me about it?”

“I can’t do it,” he mumbles

“Do what?”

“I can’t make the sword cut like Papa’s.”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah”

“That kind of precision takes practice, it takes time,” he explains

“But I want to be strong like you!” They cried, leaning back and glancing up at him

His eyes soften at this, halting his walking as he puts all his attention on the child

“I know you do,” he said, wiping the tears that began falling from their eyes

“But one cannot simply master the sword overnight.”

“Not even Papa?.”

“No, I am not an exception to the statement. I had to train for years to be able to reach my current state, and I don’t doubt you will one day surpass me; that day is just not today.”

They frown at that, lying their head on their shoulder again

“How about we begin with the move you were attempting before?”

“Papa will teach me?” They exclaimed, shooting up

He chuckles

“You should have asked; I am never below teaching you the way of the sword.”

They grin, hugging his neck tightly

���I love you, Papa.”

“I love you too, dearest.”

Here we go! Two for two!! These are really cozy ones, loved how the Mihawk one turned out

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece fluff #one piece x child!reader #alexaanswers #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x child!reader #mihawk x child!reader #oc x whitebeard pirates #whitebeard x gn!reader #whitebeard pirates x child!reader #whitebeard pirates x reader #whitebeard x reader #op whitebeard #whitebeard crew #whitebeard one piece #whitebeard pirates #thatch x child!reader #oc x thatch #thatch x reader #thatch #thach op #izou x reader #izou one piece

[saekkas]

𝐎𝐇, 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐁 𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄

summary: itoshi rin has never been good at keeping secrets. this fact becomes increasingly clear when you catch him in the middle of his part time nightly activities of saving the world.

tags: f!reader, spiderman au, kissing, spiderman rin, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, stubborn rin, rin is touchy, hopeless fools in love

wc: 1.3k

prompts: "i'll carry you." + "when were you planning on telling me this?" + "you're not going alone." + "i'm coming with you whether you like it or not." + "i need to know if you're okay."

your childhood friend, itoshi rin, has always been stubborn. in elementary school, he insisted on giving his share of broccoli over to you every recess because he claims it'll finally trigger your growth spurt.

it never came even after eating his portions for a whole year, and you bickered every day because of it.

now, you're both turning 21, and he's still the same stubborn boy he was. the only difference is his height and the skintight spandex that now covers his face and muscular body.

"itoshi rin, put me down!"

your voice is shrill, your fists banging against his chest. he has you in his hold, one hand around your waist as he keeps you both suspended midair with a web in his other. "i swear! i'm going to tell your mother about this."

the rain drips into your eyes, blurring the image you have of him. you can't see his eyes, not with the mask covering them. you wonder how he's able to see from behind the horrid thing. you know he's going to scowl if you ask.

"ma'am." his voice sounds gruff from behind his mask, deeper than what you know it to be.

you roll your eyes, scoffing because the cover-up attempt is nothing but desperate. after all, if anyone would know the sound of his voice, it's you. "please be quiet, you might wake up the whole neighborhood."

"sir," you parrot, your tone drowning in sarcasm. "i think it's best to put me down before i punch your pretty face."

his silence does nothing to sway your glare, it only worsens it.

"ma'am-"

"quit it." the rain pelts against you both, and you eye him in anger and concern. you've seen the news, you know he's been soaked and drenched for the past two hours.

spiderman may be able to take a punch but rin, your best friend who sneezes every second when rainy season comes along, has always had a weak immune system. "i know it's you. let me go."

he sighs from behind his mask, and you perk, ready to finally feel the pavement under you again. you scowl when he wraps his arm around you tighter, shaking his head. "i'll carry you. just stay still."

he doesn't let you answer. the wind roars against your ears as rin swings you both through the busy street. you squeak, hiding your face in his neck as you latch onto him with all your strength.

you're trembling when you reach your fire escape and he doesn't let go, not even when your feet finally touch solid ground.

"hey."

his tone is smooth as he adjusts your position, moving so that the rain hits his back and not you. his hand glides from your waist, up your back, and to the side of your neck. it lingers there, a steady warmth you can rely on. "we're home."

your prolonged silence worries him more than the way you're shaking. rin can only sigh as he lifts you up, carrying you bridal style through the balcony and into your bathroom.

"what do you think you're doing?!" you gasp, floundering around in his arms before stilling. you watch as he treks puddles of water into your apartment and you sigh, deflating at the idea of mopping. "you're an asshole, spidey."

you feel his chuckle as much as you hear it.

your bathtub is big, a moving present from one of your grandparents. it functions as a stool when rin places you on the edge, slotting himself between your parted legs.

"i need to know if you're okay."

his lips curl around the syllables of your name and it sends a heat through you. since when has rin ever said your name so softly? "i need to know if you're hurt."

"i'm fine," you sigh. there are words unsaid between you, tension that threatens to snap like a coil. the ring on your finger is shiny, and you feel looking at it is better than looking at him. "thanks for the lift home."

a gloved hand encases yours. you watch, silently enraptured as rin leads your hand to the edge of his mask. his hand then trails down to wrap around your wrist, letting you do whatever you wish.

he's always been hopeless when it comes to you.

in one swift movement, obsidian hair tumbles down his face, covering the teal of his eyes. the color contrasts with the bright blue and red of his mask. you realize belatedly that his bangs have grown, covering the sight that's been your favorite since fifth grade.

silence stretches a minute into a lifetime, and rin can only watch as you pick and prod at the mask in your hand. his hand lingers on your wrist, gently squeezing before it slides down to your waist.

"how are you even able to see through this thing?"

your attempt of a joke is weak, and even rin knows this. he sighs, running a hand through his hair, before leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

"ask," his whispers, his voice raspy. his eyelashes flutter and you curse whatever god there is because the thought of keeping your relationship with him strained leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

"when were you planning on telling me this?" your gaze moves from his face and you motion down his body. "were you ever going to?"

"i was," his reply comes, strained. you quirk an eyebrow because as stubborn as he is, rin's never been a good liar. "sometime in the near future."

"did you think i wasn't going to notice?"

you watch with amusement as rin huffs, blowing a breath of air to move his bangs. he shakes his head after, leaning his head down to press a kiss on your collarbone. "no. you know me better than anyone else."

"you're right." you let him pull you up to your feet, let him tangle his hand in your hair and around your waist. god knows you're as hopeless as he is too. "so, going to tell me about your double life?"

the moment rin stiffens, you think it's because of your words. you scramble to take them back only for him to dash out of the bathroom, out of your arms.

"rin!" you shout, watching with wide eyes as he runs to the balcony while quickly pulling on his mask until only his lips are visible. "where the hell are you going?"

your heart stops when an explosion sounds, the familiar red and orange colors filling up the sky, coming from somewhere across town.

"oh no, you don't," you grumble, marching towards the open balcony to take his wrist before he goes flying off. "you're not going alone."

the way he says your name, so soft and pleading, it almost sends you to your knees. he swivels to look at you and his mouth is twisted into a smile. you can't see his eyes and yet, you're sure you don't like whatever look he's giving you.

"you need to let me go," he sighs, lifting your hand to his mouth. he kisses every single knuckle with love, achingly similar to a farewell. for what is desperation if not the pursuit of love?

"i'm coming with you whether you like it or not."

he chuckles at your stubbornness, seeing the version of you from elementary school. he pulls you close, placing a searing kiss on the edge of your lips only to jump out of the balcony.

"itoshi rin!" you move, ready to climb down the emergency stairs only to realize the webbing connecting your hand to a heavy drawer behind you. "you little-"

the sound of his chuckle rings out and you only have a moment to react for when he tugs you into a kiss. it's awkward, confusing because of his position. he's hanging upside down from the rooftop, pushing against your lips with a bruising hold.

"i'll see you tomorrow." his voice comes out soft, airy compared to his natural gruff. he leans back slightly to kiss your forehead, whispering the three words you've been dying to hear for years.

and then he's off to save the world.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin imagines #rin x reader #rin imagines #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n #bllk x female reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x you #rin fluff

[jaidens]

imagine bradley falling in love w mavs daughter 🤭🤭🤭 or like them growing up together and js being like hs sweethearts and stuff idk but like JUST IMAGINE 🤭🤭🤭🤭

I was seven and you were nine looked at you like the stars that shine

pairing [s] : bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader

warning [s] : mentions of : goose

a/n [s] : requests are open! dal loves herself a bradshaw

Bradley Bradshaw had known the Mitchells since he was still wobbling when he walked. Pete was practically a father figure after Goose passed away. His daughter was like a sister to him, which led to him taking comfort within her. Bradley was known for being her sidekick in elementary school, middle school, and highschool.

In elementary school, it was all fun and games. Bradley and you had a willow tree together that Bradley would hang from the branches while you did your homework. That was always the difference between him and you. The sporty, athleticism in Bradley while you chose the approach to reading and staying quiet.

Bradley brought out a different side in you. He made your head fuzzy and the butterflies fluttered in your stomach. He was your first crush when you were seven-years old. On the playground, he punched the hell out of Lucas Dillinger after he pushed you off of the swing set.

Then, in middle school, filled with hormones and acne you still had a major crush on Bradley Bradshaw, the lead player of the San Diego Middle School baseball team. Most girls in your middle school had a crush on him, and it ended up in him distancing himself from you. It made sense in your head. Bradley was popular and you were on the opposite spectrum of popularity. The longing stares across tables didn't make sense however, as Bradley pushes the wet broccoli on his plate while staring at you.

Highschool is where it started. When Bradley leaped up enough courage to ask you to the Homecoming dance with a poster board and your favorite flowers. The dumb smile he had on his face pulled you away from the embarrassment you had in the math hallway that day.

He picked you up in his suit and tie, and went silent whenever you walked down the stairs. His hair was pushed back slightly and he walked over to you, handing you the bouquet to you and hugging you tightly. “You look... amazing.”

Bradley Bradshaw was in love with Maverick’s daughter. That's what he knows when he sees you in his bomber jacket, a helmet, and some pretty boots as you rev up Mav’s motorcycle. You were both 18; dumb and in love as you start driving down the flight ramp on your dad's bike.

Bradley didn't have the heart to tell you he was leaving the next week.

That night you and him laid on the cold concrete and stared at the open sky. The light pollution was almost barely there, exposing all of the constellations and stars that twinkled. Bradley knew you as the quiet girl who read Junie B. Jones while everyone else played free tag. Now, you were the girl who was out of braces with pretty teeth and pretty everything.

He says your name quietly. You turn your head and see those soft hazel eyes looking into yours, as he swallows the anxious feeling in his throat. “Can I ask you something?” You nod towards him and he shakes his head and says,

“Can I kiss you?”

Those dumb feelings you had arise fuller in your head. A hand on his chest, a turn of your hips, and you connect your lips with his. The soft feeling of him apologizes for anything he had ever done to you in the distant past.

“Yes. Anytime you can kiss me.” You laugh and Bradley runs his hand across your cheek and smooths his thumb against it.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look? It's the only one I got?”

—

“Mommy! Momma! Did Daddy really ask you out with a poster?!” Your girls blabber questions and you quiet them down with a laugh.

“Sh. Shh.. you can ask Daddy about that tomorrow. Get to bed girls.” You tell them when you walk out and then the light off. Bradley stands in the hallway with a smile.

“That story always gets you baby.” Bradley says before you pull him into a deep kiss with a tug of his collar. “Shut up.”

#☆ — dal!! #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x gn!reader #bradley bradshaw x wife!reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #top gun x reader #rooster top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick

[project-sekai-facts]

In June and July 2021, there was a pop-up cafe based on WEEKEND GARAGE at the E-DINER cafe located in a mall in the Toshima Ward in Tokyo.

The menu consisted of five items based on the members of Vivid BAD SQUAD and their starting Virtual Singers.

1. Kohane's dream plate, consisting of two peach buns filled with red bean paste, and two sesame balls filled with sesame seed paste. These are Kohane's favorite foods, hence the name of the dish.

2. Colorful punch tea, a fruit punch drink with mint. An grows mint as a hobby, which is why the drink is mint flavored. The drink is also the same color as her image color.

3. Marscapone pancakes, consisting of two pancakes topped with cream made from marscapone, orange slices, blueberries, and syrup. Akito's favorite food is pancakes, and his image color is orange (and Toya's image color is blue).

4. Coffee shaved ice, a coffee flavored shaved ice drink topped with coffee jelly. Toya's favorite drink is coffee, and he is not fond of sweet things, hence the unusual flavor for a typically sweet drink.

5. Tricolor omurice: chicken rice with omelette, ketchup, basil, and broccoli. Designed to match the image colors of the virtual singers - red ketchup for MEIKO, yellow omelette for Len, and green basil and broccoli for Miku.

Above images are all from corocoro's article about the diner.

Various merchandise was also available, such as WEG t-shirts like the one Ken wears, WEG tea cups, and Vivid BAD SQUAD ice cream spoons.

#project sekai

[phrandallanton]

ranfren headcannons

I've done everything but posted headcannons and a fanfiction. This won't do. Here's some headcannons of mine! All of them aren't serious so don't take them that way d(>_･ ). Feel free to ask me about any other headcannons I'll definitely give more!

Randal

• if he has any pimples on his face he definitely picks at them untill they pop

• either is really good at math or sucks at math and hates it. (No in-between)(leaning towrds sucking at math more)

• has tear stains on his homework sometimes

• he bathes everyday dispite what people think. (Luther forces him too)

• his hair gets really oily. He has tried to cook with the oil his hair produced once. Nobody ate dinner that night.

• if he's frustrated and you go to poke him he'll scream on top of his lungs, but like the scream that goes from normal yelling to banshee screeching. "stop touCHING MEEEEĚĘƏƏ!!!!"

• gets in a lot of internet arguments about things that don't matter at all ("I think you'll find it's 'whom'.")

• he'd get so mad if he ask you to hold his glasses, and you proceed to carelessly get your fingerprints all over them.

• draws with those "how to draw anime" guid books.

• if he ever took a driving test, he would have already failed the moment he opens the car door.

• loves kraft mac and cheese, double points if it's in shapes of popular marketable characters.

• now thinking of it, if he was a pasta dish he would be kraft mac and cheese.

• bites his toe nails off (gross) Luther tried to get him to stop but he probably does the same thing when no one is around.

• sneezes weirdly. Like..."ah...ah...AH CHOOwoowoowoowoo..." and shakes his head. Or if he's covering it in his elbow it'll sound like a trumpet horn.

Luther

• he can dance but it's weird.

• if you tell him a joke he'll turn it into a life lesson.

• he wins every staring contest. However if your eyes start watering he'll get worried and start begging you to blink.

• treats women (and everyone) with so much respect, but he won't hesitate to punch a women if he really has to.

• *shakes his indext finger* "no no no"

• Randal probably tried to set him up on a blind date, he didn't like that. It was very awkward to say the least.

• genuinely gets happy when there are bagels at the function.

• when asked for advice, it'll sound like he's going to say something really meaningful and life changing, but then does a complete 180. "Oh, you think your ugly? Well people will have their opinions about you and ...well... you aren't the best thing to look at. But there's worst out there ♡."

• I can see him gobbling up some cheese and broccoli.

• has a walk in closet filled with clothes and accessories he doesn't wear.

• he 100% definitely has the goofiest giggle in the planet.

• eats ice cream with his front teeth.

Nyon

• I will stand by this till the day I die, he's really funny. He has a really good sense of humor. But I could also seem him not understanding jokes too. But at the same TIIIMMEE I feel like he'd be naturally funny.

• he knows lots of slang and pop culture due to watching TV a lot and probably quotes stuff in his head. (Maybe out loud if he was talking to you)

• has a lot of opinions, will never say them out loud, even when asked.

• he's the smartest out of everyone, including Luther.

• easily amused. please give him one of those little fishy nightlights. He'd enjoy looking at it so much.

• he's good at card games and Nyen doesn't like that. (Nyen has stabbed him over games of uno)

• has a really funny looking smile. (There's that one drawing in the Christmas comic where he's smiling weird after he saw Luther's reaction to the fire place tape he made for him)

Nyen

• listens to death metal but then listens to a jpop song right after. ("Can't let gang know I fw this")

• good at math, sucks at reading.

• loves hearing about drama and will be nosy.(come on man he loves Judge Judy and romance novels)

• sounds like Tom from Tom and Jerry when he yells.

• he calls himself "The Tom Cat" and (canonically) "Top of the pets in the house hold" which is practically the same as "I'm the alpha" so he's probably has said that.

• sucks at card games. Will legit end up with half of the pack of cards in his hands in the middle of an uno game.

• actually the weakest of them all. (I won't go into all that right now. But I can definitely beat him up in a fight, just sayin.)

•him and Nyon probably have times where they stay up and chit chat for a bit before they sleep, Example (from my old notes I had):

Nyon high on weed:...why do we call oranges..oranges...but we don't call apples...reds..??..

Nyen:....sh*t...you got a point... does that mean we would call lemons: short yellows and bananas: long yellows so it doesn't get confusing?...

*they then discuss this for an hour or so*

• Snores really really LOUD. Sounds like a car.

• oddly very ticklish I bet.

~~~~~~

That's all I have now. It's 2 in the morning and I'm falling asleep. I might write other characters headcannons later.

"I'm going to sleep" -bop it

#ranfren #catmen #luther ranfren #luther von ivory #comic #web series #nyon ranfren #Nyon #nyen catman #nyen ranfren #Nyen #randals friends #randal ivory #ranfren randal #headcanon #Ranfren headcannons #i need to sleep now #yawn

[musings-of-a-rose]

Jump Then Fall - Chapter 4

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc “Vanessa Morales”

Word Count: 5000

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Please be aware there is an 11 year age gap. Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Well, we've finally reached the end! I'm so sorry this took forever to get out. I really do love these 2 and would welcome any asks about them! When the story starts, Vanessa is 19 and Javier is 30 but in this part, Javier is 36 and Vanessa is 25.

**Shoutout to @vanemando15 for listening and bouncing ideas from me, and for her guidance with being a Latina herself. Without her, this wouldn’t even be a thing, just another line on my WIP spreadsheet. And also to my husband, who is also Latino and answered any questions I had (along with taking me to Colombia back in 2014). And to @wyn-n-tonic, who listened to my rambles and insecurities about writing an oc in first person.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

--If you like this, please let the algorithm know by reblogging! This way it can be shared with multiple people (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Jump Then Fall Masterlist

General Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

<<Chapter 3<<

I don't see him until lunch the next day as he and Chucho had run into town for a few things. They both come in with some grocery bags and set them on the counter.

"They were out of broccoli so I got green beans. Will that work?" Chucho asks as he hands me a bag of fresh cut green beans.

I take them with a smirk. "Why do I get the feeling they weren't out and you just didn't want to eat the broccoli?"

"She's got you there, pops." Javier chuckles as Chucho punches his arm.

"Pendejo."

"Alright, alright. Get cleaned up and I'll make you both some lunch. Extra broccoli for you, old man."

Chucho hides a smile, grumbling as he heads upstairs to his bathroom. Javier stays in the kitchen with me, helping to unload the bags.

"New relaxation thing?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"What?"

I gesture towards his mouth. "The chewing gum."

"Oh. Nope. Giving up the other one. I'm trying the Nicorette thing."

I close the refrigerator door and look at him. "Really?"

He shrugs. "It's a nasty habit, or so I'm told."

I turn away from him quickly, trying to hide the warmth creeping up at face at his use of my words.

"Well that person must be very smart to say that."

"I think so."

-------

I don't find the time to tell him the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Despite having a lot of chances to. Javier always finds his way to me around the house, chatting and asking me questions. I try to ask him some too, but his eyes grow dark and distant and he shuts in on himself, no doubt recalling the horrors of his time pursuing Escobar. I stop asking.

"Vanessa! We have to go or we'll be late to Danny's wedding!" Chucho yells up the stairs at me, just as I'm putting on my mascara.

"I'll be right down!" I take one last look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down my dress. It was bold, for me anyway. Spaghetti straps and a form fitting dress that stops just above my knee, a lacy slip over top of it all that's long sleeved. It's a dark green color, always one of my favorites. I'm not sure it's entirely wedding appropriate, but it's the only thing that I liked that fit me decent enough. My hair is down and loosely curled and I turn my head back and forth to make sure the bounce had stayed.

I grab my clutch and head downstairs. Chucho stands at the foot of the stairs, smiling at me.

"You look beautiful, Vanessa."

"You're just saying that so I won't make broccoli next week."

He chuckles and gives me a hug. "You caught me. Oh, when's Alex back?"

"Next week."

"Pops, we have to get going or we'll..." Javier comes walking back inside the front door, red flannel shirt tucked into tight jeans that hug his body in all the right ways. He stares at me, his eyes moving up and down my body until Chucho elbows him in the stomach.

"Fuck! You uh..you look uh nice, Vanessa."

"Nice?" Chucho says, chuckling in disbelief. "I thought you knew how to talk to women." He heads out the door, leaving Javier and I standing in the entry.

"You look really..handsome." I manage to choke out at Javier. "Now come on. Your dad will kill us if we're late."

I move to hop in the truck and then realize the stick shift will need to be right between my legs if I wanted to ride in the front.

"I'll get in the back," Javier speaks into my ear.

"No you won't. The bed is dirty and I will not have my son walking into church covered in-"

Javier puts his hands up. "Ok, ok. We'll figure it out."

I get in, taking Javier's offered hand to help me up into the cab. I slide across the bench, looking down at the gear shift as Javier slides in next to me. I try to move my legs but there's nowhere for them to move to.

"Tuck them next to my leg." I look up at Javier, the closest I've been to him since that night.

"Are you s-sure?"

"Yeah. I won't bite." I swear he mumbles "Unless you want me to" under his breath but maybe I'm projecting.

We make it to the church on time. Well, early actually as Chucho wanted "a good seat." We get out of the truck and to my surprise, Javier offers me his arm again. I take it, using him to help me out of the cab, smoothing down my dress when I finally plant my feet on the ground. But he doesn't let go, doesn't drop my arm, letting me choose if I wanted to hold onto him or not. I link my arm further in his, noting the small smile he's fighting to contain on his face.

I am very glad I chose to hold onto him. Not just because his touch is electrifying my body, but because the ground in the dirt parking lot is very uneven, the last rainstorm having put in several large potholes and what feels like millions of smaller ones. Javier saved me from falling right in the mud more than a few times. When we finally make it to the pavement, he still doesn't drop my arm, looking down at me with raised eyebrows, silently asking me what I'd like to do.

"Oh no. I'm attached now. If you let me go, I'll fall on my butt I know it."

He chuckles and covers my hand with his large one, engulfing mine. "I got you, baby."

We say our hello's to everyone as we enter and I feel Javier tense next to me at the amount of attention he's starting to receive. Many people wanting to shake his hand and tell them how proud they are of him, that he's a hero. He smiles, although it doesn't reach his eyes, and thanks them, shaking their hands with his free one. This happens several times on our way to the pew Chucho wanted and after the third time, I place my free hand over his, giving it a light squeeze. I can feel him relax into me slightly as the man in front of us thanks him yet again. But as the next person approaches, I cut them off.

"Juan, it's so nice to see you, but we need to sit. These shoes weren't made for real feet," I chuckle and nod my head towards my feet. "I swear if Javier weren't escorting me I'd be taking these things off or fallen on my rear end by now."

"Oh! Yeah go sit. See you later, Javs!"

We finally make it to our row and Javier gestures for me to go ahead. I make my way in, sitting down as Javier slides in next to me.

"Hey, thanks." He speaks quietly so only I can hear him.

"Yeah of course. Anytime."

Shortly after, the ceremony starts and Javier places his arm across the pew behind me and I will myself to not blush and just pretend like I'm focusing on the sermon, the priest now saying something about love and devotion in marriage or..something. I have no clue as I feel Javier stretch a little and slide a little closer to me in the pew, our hips almost touching.

The reception was beautiful, music starting up a bit later while everyone was eating. We finish eating and Javier turns to me, mischief in his eyes.

"Dance with me?" His hand is outstretched towards me and I take it without hesitation.

"Do you know how?" I ask as he pulls me to my feet.

"Do you?"

"Fair question."

He escorts me onto the dance floor, placing his hand confidently on my hip, the other taking my hand. The music starts and he spins us around, our feet moving together to the beat. His eyes are on me and mine on his, the air between us igniting with something that we felt 6 years ago.

That realization jolts me back to the present and I move my head next to his, looking over his shoulder. I really need to tell him. I catch sight of a blonde woman, about Javier's age, giving me a really nasty look. But then the songs ends and Javier pulls back.

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah."

We head back to the table and sit, several more people coming up to shake Javier's hand and tell him how proud they were, that he's a hero, all of it. I can see that far away look in his eyes, like he's here but not here. His eyes lock on something across the room and he leans towards Chucho and me.

"I'll be right back."

I watch him walk across the room towards the blonde woman who had given me such a nasty look earlier.

"Who is that?" I lean over to Chucho, nodding towards them. He glances up before looking back down at his plate of food.

"Lorraine. His ex."

"Oh. They serious?"

He takes a bite of his food and chews. "They were. But that was maybe 10 years ago?"

"Hhm.. how serious?"

"Well, they were going to get married."

"Oh."

Chucho looks at me and leans in. "He left her though. The day of."

"The day of...the wedding??"

"Not one of his best moments. But he was young and scared. And stupid."

I look over at them, a man now walking up to them and putting his arm around Lorraine.

"Well she seems to have done alright."

"Yeah. Married some banker or real estate guy or something. Seems happy. Couple of kids."

"Should you have told me this?"

Chucho gestures around at the room. "Everyone here was there that day. They all know. It's not a secret."

I nod, turning to look back at them when I see Javier turn, his hand doing that thing where it opens and closes, his bottom lip worrying slightly into his teeth. He stops a few steps away from Lorraine and looks back, watching as she picks up her kids and animatedly talks to them. When he turns back around, his face is full of regret and want, but I don't know if it's about her or the kids, his almost family. He walks through the room and out the back door.

"I'll be right back."

I get up and cross the room, heading out the door Javier did. I look around and see him sitting on a bench under a tree several feet out from the reception room. He pulls out some gum from his pocket and stuffs it in his mouth, his jaw chewing furiously. I walk up to him and he looks up at me, his eyes sad.

"Can I sit?" I ask, gesturing to the space next to him on the bench. He nods at the space, leaning back to put his arm across the back of the bench behind me.

"Thank you," I say to him after several moments.

He looks at me. "For what?"

"For...everything. I know you must have had to do some things you aren't proud of in order to catch a very bad man. I can't imagine how that must weigh on you, make you feel like you don't deserve praise. But you worked so hard and they took that ending away from you which was, excuse my language, very fucked up of them and you didn't deserve that no matter what you did, and I just....thank you."

His eyes bore into mine, shifting emotions behind them. Anger, regret, fear, disappointment in himself, disbelief, but then something else. Something softer as he focuses on me. His hand comes up to cup my face and I lean into it, loving the feel of his calloused hands on my skin. He leans in towards me, his eyes shifting down to my lips, his breath fanning out over my face.

"Wait. I have to tell you something, Javier."

"Can you tell me after we make out?"

Can I? No. No, Vanessa.

"I really think I need to tell you first."

He pulls back and it looks like it costs him a ton of effort, just like it did me to tell him to stop. He puts his hand on his lap and watches me, waiting for me to continue.

"Do you remember when I told you that Alex's dad had important things to do? And you thought he was giving me a line?"

He nods. "Yeah..."

"What if...what if that were you?"

He furrows his eyebrows together, confused. "If what were me?"

"If you had gone off to Colombia or were going off and you found out you'd gotten some girl pregnant?"

"I would have come home or not gone."

"Yeah, but wouldn't you resent them just a little for robbing you of this opportunity?"

He scoffs. "They would've saved me a lot of shit."

"You know that now. But then?"

He thinks for a moment. "I don't know. I can't say I wouldn't have been disappointed."

"Don't you think your kid would pick up on that?"

"I...I don't know. I didn't consider....Vanessa?"

I swallow down the tears that are fighting to escape my body. "Yeah?"

"How old is Alex?"

I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. "6."

It takes him a few moments, probably doing the math in his head. But then his eyes widen and he pulls his arm from around me, scooting back a little.

"6?"

"Yeah."

He shifts on the bench. "Is he...who's his dad?"

I can't help the one tear that falls from my eyes. "Y-you are."

He looks at me before abruptly standing, pacing back and forth, his hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm his dad? Me? Are you sure?"

"I've only ever been with you."

He scoffs. "It's been 6 years, Vanessa. You haven't fucked anyone in 6 years?" He stops to look at me and sees the truth in my face.

"I've gone on some dates, but nothing ever happened."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I can only tell you the truth, I can't make you believe it."

He laughs angrily, finally stopping in front of me, glaring down at me.

"Why didn't you fucking tell me?"

"I-"

"Did you not think I deserved to know?"

"I-I-"

"I would have stayed for you! I-"

I stand up and he backs up a couple steps. "That's exactly why!"

"What?"

"You would've hated us if you stayed. You would've resented it. You just said you'd be disappointed. You don't think we wouldn't have picked up on that?"

"You didn't give me a fucking choice, Vanessa! Does he even know me?"

"He doesn't know who you are. I told him you were a superhero, fighting a really bad man in another country. And that you'd come back when he was caught."

Javier hesitates a moment. "You never gave me a choice! I lost all of that time. I lost...FUCK! I can't even look at you!" He turns and walks away, past the parking lot and into the street, heading towards town.

I call after him but it's no use. I collapse onto the bench, my head in my hands, finally letting the tears out that I'd been holding back for so long.

-------

The next morning, I set at the kitchen island, a mug of hot coffee clutched between my cold hands as I wait for Javier. I hear the sounds of someone moving down the stairs and I sit up straighter, but Chucho enters the kitchen. I feel my face fall as he looks at me.

"I know I'm not a looker but-"

"Sorry, Chucho. I was expecting.." my voice trails off and he cocks his head.

"Javi? He left."

I sit bolt upright. "Left?"

Chucho pours himself a mug of coffee. "Yeah for Cali. Didn't he tell you? He was going to tell you last night that he was heading back. It was sort of a secret but I told him you'd probably notice if you were no longer sharing a bathroom."

I feel the blood drain from my face. "He's gone?"

Chucho turns, mug in hand and scans my face. "Yeah. I thought he told you? When neither of you returned to the reception, I assumed...well, I thought he'd tell you before he..."

Tears fall wet and hard from my already puffy face. Chucho looks alarmed but sets his mug down and pulls me to him, letting me soak his shirt as he makes calming sounds at me.

"I told him, Chucho. I told him about Alex," My speech is muffled but he hears it all the same.

"What happened?"

I tell him the entire conversation, how Javier just stormed off and how I expected to see him this morning, to apologize and tell him he doesn't have to be involved, that I can move out to make it easier. Chucho waves me off with that last one. "I would never make you move out. Javi doesn't cook nearly as good as you."

I give him a small smile, my shoulders still shaking from sobbing.

"Listen, Vanessa. I won't give you a lecture. You know my opnion and it's no use retelling you. But he knows now. Javier tends to run from things."

"So we're his latest Lorraine?"

Chucho cocks his head, thinking. "I doubt that very much. You're not Lorraine. He looks at you differently."

"Looked. I doubt he'll even want to see me again."

"Mm...let's just give him space, ok?"

"But what if he's down there another 6 years?"

"Something tells me it won't take him that long to think about things."

-------

Javier

It had been a month since Vanessa told him he has a kid. That he has a 6 year old son he knew nothing about, knew nothing about him. Except that he's a hero. Which is a lie.

The Cali Cartel had another 5 months before they would be "turning themselves in", which was a big joke. He had to catch them before the time was up so they could face actual justice and not this fake, bureaucratic bullshit.

He's tried to resort back to his old ways of dealing, burying himself in a woman. But when he tried to, he couldn't bring himself to do anything, let alone sleep with them. It was everything he could do to not pick up a cigarette, but his patience was wearing thin.

He tried not to think about Vanessa and her confession. But when the work day was over, and he went back to his penthouse the government provided, his brain would play that conversation over and over in his head. At first, he continued to remain livid, that she had denied him the choice of knowing his family, being with his kid. But then his dad's words echoed in his mind, the call coming the day he landed in Cali.

"That girl has been through hell, Javi. Don't be the asshole you claimed you wouldn't be."

"She didn't tell me I had a kid, dad. A kid! Who does that?"

"She was only thinking about you! This whole time, she was worried about your wellbeing. She didn't want you distracted or resentful, even if it cost her everything."

"What did it cost her?"

"Her parents! Her family, friends, her church. Ours welcomed her with open arms only because I was there to vouch for her. She was shunned from her entire life and still only worried about you. Don't be such a stubborn asshole."

He thought about Vanessa, so young and pregnant, trying to figure out how to tell her strict parents she was expecting despite not being married. Them kicking her out, closing her off from all of her friends and family, anyone who would support her. Her finding the strength and will to drive all the way back to Loredo to try and find him and discovering he would be away for an indefinite amount of time. What would he do in that situation? Run away from it, probably. Which she didn't have the option of doing.

He takes a swig of his drink, the ice cubes clunking against his top lip. He wants to meet his kid, Alex. Wants to tell him that the bad guy was caught and that he's back. Would he be back? It's probably good Alex doesn't know who he is, in case something happens to him here. But if he gets to go home, he knows he wants to be in his life.

What about Vanessa? Will she let him in their lives? Javier is pretty sure she will, even with the way he left. But what about her? If he's honest with himself, truly honest, when he looks past the anger, he sees her big eyes, the freckles on her cheeks, the sass she gives him in her quiet manner. And he thinks, no. He knows. He knows he loves her. He thinks she loves him. If she didn't, surely she would've told him long ago, not caring about his well being. But she had been so adamant about not telling him, wanting him to be safe.

He crosses his arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. Fuck, what was he doing? Granted he signed up to go back to Cali when they called him in, assuming that if he didn't they would throw him in prison. But honestly, he was ready to come back and actually be here when they get the bad guys. But then Vanessa came back into his life and now a kid.

Fuck, he's an idiot.

-------

Vanessa

6 months. It had been 6 months since Javier stormed out and ran away to Cali. Ok, run away was harsh as he went there for work, agreeing to it long before he knew I was here. But he hadn't called and I took that as a sign, no matter how many times Chucho said it doesn't mean anything because he doesn't call him either. He gets too caught up in his work.

It's the start of summer, the windows are open to get a cross breeze coming through the house. I do miss the ac back home, but I'll take Chucho's home over the one I grew up in any day, heat or no.

Alex got a new book and I hadn't seen him for a couple hours as he's spent them in his room, devouring the latest in his series. He did come out once, nose buried in the book, to ask me for a snack.

I finish washing his cup, setting it on the rack to dry. I stare out the little window over the sink, watching Chucho putter about between the barn and the shed, thinking about the animals and how hot it's going to get out there. I know they're used to it, but still. I'' have to get some extra ice trays at the store so I can throw some more in their water troughs. Chucho says that's why they all like me so much.

Suddenly, I hear heavy steps on the wood floor behind me, much heavier than Alex's. I spin, my hand gripping the cast iron pan that was sitting there. But when I fully turn, I nearly drop the pan.

Javier is there, standing in front of me, his chest heaving, a small bead of sweat sliding down his neck and onto his chest, which is slightly exposed by his several undone buttons in his lavender purple, button up shirt.

"Javier, I-"

"Sshh. I'm sorry."

"What?"

He takes a few steps towards me. "I never should have just left. I at least should've told you about Cali."

"No. I'm sorry. I should've told-"

He's only a couple steps from me now. "No, it's ok. I understand. You were thinking about your family. About how it would affect even me. you did what you had to do."

This was not what I expected. He reaches for the pan, still clutched in my hand. He takes it and sets it on the counter behind me, leaning close to me. He looks down at me, his hand coming up to cup my cheek and I inhale sharply at the sensation.

"You're so brave and I'm a fucking idiot."

"You have every right-"

He pulls me to him, gently pressing his lips to mine, giving me time and space to stop him. But what he doesn't know is his touch has sent me spiraling, spinning away into the sky. And when his tongue slides into my mouth, my body trembles slightly, my hand coming up to mindlessly grab onto his arm. But then he pulls back, staring into my eyes.

"I'm in love with you."

My stomach lurches, a thousand butterflies being released in my body at his words. Love? He loves me? I never thought I'd hear those words from anyone, let alone the man I've loved since I was 19. The reason none of my dates every worked out.

"And it's ok if you don't-"

"I love you too."

He smiles, a real smile that lights up even his eyes, both of his hands now cupping my face. "Really?"

"Why do you think none of those dates ever worked out? It was always you, Javi."

He kisses me more passionately now, his hand leaving my face to grip my hip, pulling me against him. I feel him through his tight jeans, pressing into me and I groan a little in his mouth.

"Fuck, you're so intoxicating. It was killing me not to kiss you."

"Mmm." Is all I can manage to say. But then I remember we're not alone, not this time.

"Do you want to meet him?"

Javier pulls his face back from mine. "He's here?"

I nod. "Yeah. Reading, upstairs."

He shifts, tugging on his pants. "Hell yeah I want to meet him. But uh, give me a sec?"

I glance down and chuckle. "Maybe I can help you with that later?"

He groans. "You aren't helping any now."

He turns and walks out the back door and I see him say hi to his dad, embracing him. Chucho watches him for a moment and then a smile appears and he claps him on the shoulder. I can only assume he's telling him he's going to meet Alex. Javier comes back inside, taking a deep breath.

"Ok, I think I'm ready."

"Alex! Can you come downstairs for a minute?"

Small feet patter across the floor upstairs and make their way down, Alex appearing in the kitchen a moment later, his book still propped open in his hand.

"Mom, I was at a really good part!"

"Alex, I have someone I want you to meet."

"Can it wait?"

I kneel down to get on his level, his eyes, so like Javier's, staring back at me, sensing the seriousness.

"Alex, meet your dad, Javier."

Slowly he turns, looking up at Javier who waves at him awkwardly. "Hey, kiddo. I uh, got the bad guy. I'm sorry it took me so long."

Alex continues to stare at him for a moment. Then he throws his precious book to the floor, running full out towards Javier, who throws his arms out at the last minute as Alex leaps into them, nearly knocking him over.

"Dad? It's really you?"

"It really is."

Alex clutches onto him, tears in both of their eyes. "I always dreamed of meeting you! This is the best day of my life!"

Javier hugs him tight, fighting back the tears that are quickly gathering in his eyes. "This is the best day of my life too, son."

-------

2 years later...

I load up the old tractor with a couple of picnic baskets, 4 large thermos full of homemade lemonade next to them. I close the back and carefully hop up, driving slowly across the property, a smile on my face. After a while, I pull up to the 3 men in my life: Chucho trying to carry wood by himself, Javi yelling at him as he runs to help him, and Alex, hammering away at a spare piece of wood. They were at the back end of the property repairing a downed section of fence. Javier sees me pull up and he rushes over, offering me his hand to help me down.

"I wish you hadn't driven this thing."

"Well if I walked, it would've been dinner by the time I brought your lunch."

"Mom! Watch me!" Alex starts hammering on a piece of wood Chucho had laid in the ground, Javier moving to help him pound it in further.

"My strong man!"

"Son, gather up the tools and put them in the box. We're taking a break for lunch."

Alex starts to look around for the tools as Javier turns back to me. He wraps his arm around me and leans in to kiss me, sliding his tongue over my bottom lip.

"Now now none of that. That made this happen," I rest my hand on my enlarged belly as Javier leans down, planting a kiss to my stomach before standing back up. He leans close to my ear.

"I plan on putting as many kids in you as you'll let me."

I slap his chest, but the thought warms me. "Let's just see how these 2 go first, yeah?"

He smiles at me, kissing me again before lifting Alex into the back of the trailer, helping me to set up the picnic lunches I had made for all of them. As we stare out at the river, a boat comes through, obviously carrying illegal items, most likely drugs. Javier stiffens, but then looks around at us.

"I'm done. I've done all I can. Now I just want to spend my life with my family."

-------

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk  

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena x you #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena #javi pena #javi peña #narcos #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fan fic #javier pena ff #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal characters #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #javijueves #pedropascal #pedropascaledit #pedro pascal fanfic

[wawataka]

my roman empire in mp100 was that one fan made comic where shimazaki verbally announces teleporting behind teru, saying “i’ll krump with you sweetie pie,” before punching him in the gut and the last thing teru thinks before blacking out is “why did he say ‘teleports behind you’ out loud…” i constantly think about it. and the broccoli tree arc

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #teruki hanazawa #shimazaki ryou #not ship #sh*materu shippers can die

[buttsmasher]

Seth (Repost)

Warnings/Tags: Underwear Stealing, Sweaty Underwear Sniffing, Face Farting, Fart Torture, Fart Punishment, Gay Farts

You’ve just finished your workout when you see Seth, one of the lead basketball players for your collegiate team, heading to the locker rooms. You head that way as well, watching his ass as he walks. When you both do make it to the locker room, you try not to stare too much as he gets dressed. But you can’t help it, the dude is a total hunk. You can’t stop wondering what his balls smell like after a sweaty gym session.

You shake your head and try focusing on getting dressed. You hear Seth say fuck, and he throws on the pair of yellow shorts he was working out in and jogs out the locker room. That’s when you notice Seth’s locker is slightly ajar. You take a peak around the locker room and determine that you’re alone. You creep over to his open locker and pull it open. There they are, the green boxer briefs with clear sweat stains on them.

You take another look around before swiping the prize. You bring the sweaty green boxer briefs to your nose and take a long inhale. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning.

The musk is intoxicating, and you just have to get another whiff. You put his pouch right up to your nose and draw in a breath getting high off of the scent of his tangy balls. You sit down right on the bench in front of his locker, feverishly sniffing the musky clothing. 

Someone clears their throat behind you, but you don’t hear it. You’re too occupied by the scent of pure man in your face. “Hey faggot!” The person yells at you and you turn around to come face to face with Seth. “I think you have something that belongs to me.” You slowly pull the boxers away from your face.

“Uhh, no, I think-I think these are mine.” You lie, gettin up, boner obviously tenting your shorts as you try to walk back to your locker. He grabs your arm and swipes the undies out of your hand. 

“You think I’m stupid?” He pushes you. 

“No! No!” You shake your head frantically and he pushes you again.

“Steal my underwear and try to gaslight me.” He feigns a punch, stopping right before his fist makes contact. You see gears turning. “Get on the ground.” 

“What?” 

“On the ground, now!” You get down on your knees. “On your back!” You’re beginning to worry that someone might hear him. 

“Okay, okay, just stop yelling.” You lay on your back. Before you can even get comfortable he’s dropping his full weight onto you. Your nose pokes into the ass crack of his shorts as he moves back and forth. His shorts smell even muskier than his boxers did. 

“How’s that? You like that?” He jostles your head around with his making sure your face is overwhelmed by his stink. 

PFFFFFFFFFTT PFFFFFFFFF

A couple of short but noxious farts escape from his ass assaulting your nose immediately. They didn’t sound like much, but they pack quite a punch and make you cough and you struggle to get away from the eggy smelling ass smothering you. “I bet you liked that huh?” You rapidly shake your head no. “Well hold on, there’s more where that came from.”

PFFFFFFFFBBBRRRRFFFFFTTTTT 

“Aaah fuck yeah!” He groans as the five second beast of a fart gets released up your nose. The smell of rotten sewage and broccoli overload your senses. To make matters worse, you can taste his farts in the back of your throat. “Bet you were wishing you didn’t try stealin’ my undies now huh bitch? Ate broccoli and brussel sprouts before I came here.” 

PFFFFFFFFFRRRFFFFFTTTT PFFFFF PFF

“If you try hard enough, bet you can smell them.” You continue to struggle and Seth lifts up slightly. You get a clean breath of air into your lungs and seeing the opportunity you try to push yourself off the ground, but you watch in horror as he pulls his shorts down revealing his ass. His ass is covered in light blonde hair and as he sits back down on your face, the hairs tickle your nose. 

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTT

This time a 15 second fart punches it’s way up your nose. Your breath is literally taken away as you inhale the toxic fumes. You struggle to breathe against Seth’s sweaty and musky ass. “Can’t forget about that protein shake. Those things are deadly by themselves.” 

PFFF PFFFF PFFFFFFFF

“How you like that faggot? You like it when you get your face blown up with Seth-Bombs?” He mocks. “I bet you like it. I bet that you followed me here just to get a whiff of a real man.” His ass cheeks clench on your face. 

“Please, I can’t take it.” you whine. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh bud, it’s too late for apologies.” You can hear his stomach gurgling. “I mean, you should’ve known you’d be caught.” He pulls his leg closer to his face.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTT

A loud, echoing fart explodes from his ass. “And that’s what I call a Seth-Nuke!” He yells. The scent is easily the worst thing you’ve smelled your entire life. 

“Please stop.” You cry as your head falls back against the hard concrete. “No more.” You huff, trying to get any clean air you can.

PFFFFFFFFFFFTTT

You breathe in the exact moment he lets out a torrent of gas. The fart overloads your brain and you can’t think straight. The world feels like it’s spinning as you cough up a lung. All you can taste and smell is his nasty ass. Your legs stop kicking as you no longer have the strength to put up any resistance. 

“Aww did little fart face pass out?” He mocks as he stands back up. You lay there staring up at him unable to move. You try to move but you're too tired. “I’ll just let you stay there, maybe you can think about how you fucked up.” Before leaving he hikes his leg up and lets out another loud fart. “Adios faggot.” 

He leaves you there, his stench lingering on you. You lay there for what seems like an eternity, contemplating on how to get the taste of his ass off your tongue. 

[piece-of-hweat]

Little Nightmares Headcanons!!

(May change over time n stuff)

listed from youngest to eldest

RUNAWAY 9y/o

No clue, he/him

Really good at swimming (main reason why I draw him as a fish-person)

Loud, confident idiot (stares at Tommy-Innit)

Hates broccoli.

Lactose intolerant

Hates being wrong/failing

Very much a "act-before-think person"

Break dances epically

Competitive. Very competitive. (especially with Six)

Hates Six's guts

Has a collection of ships in bottles

Either Runaway or Mono are trans... I just want like... supportive brother arc please--

Plays with sticks

Knows one word in French. And it's piscine. He was the one who told Mono about the piscine joke.

Athletic

SIX - 9y/o

Aro/ace, she/it

loves ducks

Will bite (you and your belongings)

Won't scratch (she bites her nails)

Knows how to swim on the surface

Pupils are slightly slitted

Sharp canines

Growls and hisses when she’s really mad, or extremely not in the mood for anything

Had a duck and mouse plush at some point

Will tear Runaway into pieces if she could

There was a head-canon idea where Six has some form of DID, OSDD, UDD, etc. I don't really use this headcanon a lot because I myself don't have DID, so :/

Dark humor

NOONE - 10y/o

She/her

Animal lover <3

Clutches/fiddles with the ends of her clothing when nervous

Looks confused/concerned and scared 24/7

Likes drawing (probably has some animal doodles in her school books)

Listens to Mono's late night singing.

Allergic to nuts (once, at school, a group of students with pbj sandwiches "offered" Noone the sandwiches despite her declining. She was sent to the ER shortly after and was excused from school for the rest of the day and the day afterwards.)

Probably will get along with Six

Ticklish

Reads a lot

Laughs at Six's jokes.

Around the same height as Mono (taller than Raincoat)

Smartest (academically) in the group

LOW - 10-11 y/o

Bird nerd

Always liked reading comic books (especially the super-hero ones)

Percussion my beloved <3

Listens to your problems and gives you decent advice

Took up archery in school

Makes friendship bracelets

*insert epic secret handshake*

Ticklish

Probably makes music with Mono and Raincoat

Apple Juice lover

Plays with sticks

Very strategic

Probably plays chess or smth

Gamer /pos

Athletic

ALONE - 10-11 y/o

She/he

Listens to your problems and gives you… advice. Not good, not bad. Just advice.

Engineering <3 (probably would be really into those lego-machines)

Hits harder than a truck. Be careful, you might've shatter a bone.

Probably was a batter in baseball

Probably will win in a arm-wrestle against Mono.

Hits you lightly when laughing

Allergic to nuts

Apple juice lover

Doesn't talk much

G R E E N

Knows how to handle and discharge a gun properly. Do not ask her how or why she knows this. He simply does.

Person with the most amount of obscure knowledge (more people drown in freshwater than they do in saltwater. fear that creek in the forest behind your house. fear it. It will take your life one day)

Fascinated by wires and Mono's powers

Probably needs glasses

Reads a lot

MONO - 10-11y/o

Bi, He/him

Is British

Plays the violin (but it’s more like a guitar bc it’s big for him and he lost the bow)

Despite being taller than average, he walks around on his tippy toes

Barely knows how to swim (just fails around and barely stay afloat)

Dino-arms

Knows very limited amounts of Japanese and German (knows a couple of words in French, but only really remembers bonjour and piscine)

Punches hit like a truck, but it hurts Mono's hand a lot

Asthma

Very ticklish

stands awkwardly in the corner

Probably makes music with Raincoat and Low

Plays with sticks (uses them to direct magic)

Broken humor

Has negative associations with trains (doesn't like them)

RAINCOAT - 11-12 y/o

No Clue, She/her

Is Sisi

LOVES horses

Wanted to be an actress because MAKE UP, COSTUMES!! ACTING!! SINGING!! AAAAA!!

Good at cooking and baking (stares at my Bakes-Cookies-for-Otto headcanon)

Has some experience with piano and choir, but nothing else really

Bestest big sister ever

Will totally paint your nails while you ramble about something

Really likes playing with hair (another career dream she had was a hair stylist)

Will tease you (/lh)

Really pretty voice <3

Typically the one breaking conflict up

Probably makes music with Mono and Low

Reads bedtime stories to others

Around the same height as Mono (shorter than Noone)

Also, secret funky art post on youtube

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #little nightmares 3 #tson #ln rcg #ln rk #ln six #ln low #ln alone #ln mono #tson noone #little nightmares mono #little nightmares headcanons #little nightmares six #little nightmares alone #little nightmares low #little nightmares raincoat girl #little nightmares runaway #hweat rambles