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ja3yun · 4 months

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Stitch Me Up | L.HS

underground fighter!heeseung x nurse!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), ex heeseung, unprotected sex, cream pie, weapon and blood mention, if i missed anything lmk!

wc: 4.5k+

synopsis: after a tough shift in the hospital all you wanted was to rid yourself of the tension and your ex turns up just in time

a/n: hi! hope you're all doing well. a quick one shot from me so i hope you like it. not much to say on this one <3 ilysm

Dragging your feet behind you, you unlock your door. Everything that went wrong today could have gone wrong; first, you caught your fingers in the mobile hoist, a patient spat in your face, and you spent the last 30 minutes of your shift cleaning shit from the toilets.

No one ever said being a nurse was a glamorous job, but on days like these, you wish you picked something a little more dignifying.

You kick your shoes off and head to your bedroom to grab some pajamas. Every bit of you is emotionally and physically drained, this past month has been exhausting. Working 70-hour weeks and being underpaid for it was starting to take its toll on your fragile body.

Nights like these you miss Heeseung, you shouldn’t but you do.

Picking up scattered clothes that made a mess of your bedroom floor, you groan when your lower back aches. Someone in their 20s shouldn’t be in this much pain. They should be living their best life, staying up late, going out at the weekend, and having a healthy social life.

You love your job, it’s rewarding and you love to take care of people. Seeing people who are in your ward get better makes your heart feel full like your life is actually worth something and doing some good in this shitty world.

You used to have balance. Heeseung was your balance.

Sifting through your drawers you find some pink shorts with white love hearts and a cropped white tank top. Usually, you would settle for a set of sweats and a baggy t-shirt but after practically spending 3 days straight in unflattering scrubs you wanted something pretty.

When you walk you can feel the pain in your feet, and blisters start to form. You needed this shower asap. Luckily the bathroom is less than 5 steps away from your bedroom door so you can keep your hobbling to a minimum. The shower is so enticing as you switch the button on and set the temperature just right, or in your case, scolding hot.

A roasting hot shower is what you need to forget today. You need Heeseung’s hands to melt away the pain.

You miss him.

Heeseung and you have been broken up for precisely 1 month and 13 days. For some reason today you can’t shake him off your mind.

The water cascades down your skin, tiny droplets sit on your face as you wash your hair. The smell of coconut fills the tiny box bathroom and for the first time today, you feel content.

After you rinse the conditioner from your hair and wash your body with a matching scented soap, you pull the shower curtain back and step out carefully - the last thing you need is to fall and break a bone.

Wiping the mirror to rid it of the steam you stare at yourself. The dark circles under your eyes and the redness of your cheeks showcase just how tired your body is. Nothing an overpriced and overrated skincare routine can’t fix. You grab the cleanser and start your regime. It reminds you of him, how he used to always help you, the pads of his fingers gently rubbing the product into your skin, and when he had any left over he would use it on himself. He looked so cute and sweet during those times.

What is with you today? Why do you keep thinking about him?

Quickly, you dry your hair and body with the towel and get ready for bed. Typically, you would sit up and watch an episode or two of Brooklyn 99 but honestly, you’re too burnt out to enjoy it.

As you leave the bathroom there is a knock at the door and you freeze on sight. It’s late and none of your friends would come over, so your brain goes into panic mode. Being a girl alone in her flat was scary enough these days never mind taking in the factor of the time. All the lights are off so hopefully if you just stay still, they’ll leave.

Another knock.

Grabbing a coat hanger from the clothesline in the bathroom you arm yourself with it, it would do enough damage to the person on the other side of the door if you had to escape.

So you couldn’t second guess yourself, you briskly tiptoed to the door and swung it open, hanger tightly in your grip ready to swing.

The figure turns around and jumps, backing up when they see the coathanger ready to be lobbed at their face.

“Woah, Y/N. It’s just me.” He puts his hands in front of him in defense.

Heeseung.

You breathe out and relax, dropping your arms to your side. Although your exterior seems to have gotten over the fright, your heart is thumping still. That could be because when you look him in the eyes finally you register who he is.

“Heeseung it’s past midnight, what are you doing here?”

He steps forward and you see his face battered and bruised, his lip has been bust open and a black eye forming on the left side of his face, he was a mess. There have been countless times he’s looked like this, it’s how you two met.

A year ago there was a knock on your door, not unlike tonight, except that time your friend Jongseong was carrying a half-to-life version of Heeseung. The boy couldn’t stand on his own two feet.

“Y/N, sorry, I didn’t know where to go, he didn’t want to go to the hospital,” Jongseong explained, although it didn’t clear anything up.

“What the fuck, Jongie, who is this?” You grab the other side of the spent boy and sit him down on the couch, “What happened to him?” Looking at the guy in front of you, you see the blood on his t-shirt, slash marks on his arms, and his face is blown out.

Jongseong rushes to get the first aid kit from your bathroom, “He was fighting tonight and some arsehole pulled a knife on him, and got him in the stomach a few times,” You lift the fabric covering his torso and see wounds bleeding, “I tried to pull him out of the fight but he wasn’t having it.”

You don’t know a lot about Jongseong’s work life, all you know is that by day he’s a simple office body, filling, paperwork, a pen pusher of sorts. But when night came he was an underground fighter, all of it illegal, but he fell into it with some guys at the gym. From what you hear he is pretty good at it.

“Heeseung, buddy?” Jongseong slaps the boy's face a few times, “Stay awake, this is Y/N, she’s a nurse.” So his name was Heeseung.

“Jongie, these are pretty serious, he needs to go to the hospital.”

“No hospital.” Heeseung coughs out. You suppose if you take him to A&E how could any of them explain what happened?

You rub his legs to soothe him, “Okay, no hospital.”

That night you stitched his wounds and cleaned him up. Obviously, he survived, and you took him in like an injured winged bird. Let him stay at yours for 2 weeks, and by the time he was ready to fly away back into the world, you wanted him to stay forever.

You look him up and down to take in his outfit, he wasn’t wearing sweats so this wasn’t a scheduled fight, instead, he was clad in jeans, a White Stripes t-shirt, and a loose-fitting leather jacket, “What the fuck happened, Heeseung?”

“Is it lame if I say you should see the other guy?” He laughs but nothing is funny.

Stepping aside you let him into your flat which he does like second nature, his shoes left exactly where they used to go, “Heeseung you can’t just come here looking like this and not tell me what happened.” On autopilot, you go to get the first aid kit.

He takes a seat on your kitchen counter and looks around, “Nothing much happened, some guys being dicks.”

You come back from the bathroom and see him atop your kitchen, “Eh, get down from there. Now.” He always perched himself on anything but a seat. It didn’t bother you too much but right now after your shift, you couldn’t be arsed to pander to it, “Try and treat my place with a bit of respect please.”

Heeseung jumps off and walks to take a seat on the edge of your couch. It might be wrong of you to think it but he does look beautiful like this. You blame Leon Kennedy in Resident Evil for your attraction to busted up men.

As you open the first aid kit you feel his eyes on you, “Why did you come here, Heeseung? You could have treated this yourself.”

“I missed you.” He confesses and it’s true he did miss you.

For the past month he’s been throwing himself into fights he knows he won’t win just to feel something other than heartache. In spite of his cold attitude and reckless behaviour, he held your love so gently in his heart that he couldn’t even act tough around you. From the first day he laid eyes on you, he knew you had to be his, and if that meant opening up his heart, that’s what he did.

A first he thought it was because you were fixing his wounds and he owed you something but that thought quickly vanished when you fixed more than that.

“Heeseung, we broke up. It’s done.” You say coldly. With the thoughts of missing him earlier still fresh in your brain, you had to nip this in the bud.

When you broke up with Heeseung it wasn’t exactly because you wanted to, it was to protect yourself. His lifestyle and yours don’t mix, he was always getting into trouble and you were trying to avoid it at all costs. But more importantly than that, you couldn’t see the man you love come home every night exactly how he is now, broken and beaten.

The deeper into the fight circuit Heeseung got, the more dangerous it was. People were pulling knives, guns, and bringing back up, all for the sake of making sure their bosses won the bets. Your ex-boyfriend was a great fighter - or so you’ve heard, he never let you come to any of the fights - but these other guys played dirty and it was a threat to his life.

So when you asked him to stop and he said no, you did what you had to and called it off. You lost sleep, precious never to be taken for granted sleep, every night he fought and it was taking its toll on you. You tried to compromise with him and pleaded with him to go back to the regulated (if you could even call them that) fights, the ones where the stakes are lower.

However, Heeseung was above that now, too much of a hot commodity.

“Baby, I’m making us enough money so you don’t have to do so much overtime.”

“Seungie, I’m a nurse, all we do is overtime. Plus, this shouldn’t be about the money, it’s about your safety.” Your voice is cracking with every sentence you have uttered tonight, but he still won’t listen, “I’m not asking you to give it up, but please stop taking these high-stakes fights, you’re going to get killed.”

Heeseung scoffs and places a hand on your shoulder, “I won’t die, I’ve got you to stitch me up.”

“No, Seungie, you don’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

It was a brutal way to end it, none of you walked into that conversation expecting that outcome, but for you, it was the only thing you could do.

Soaking a cotton pad with some anti-septic, you place it gently on his lip, a hiss from him following your action, “Sorry.” You whisper. A sorry for the pain but also for breaking up with him. No matter how much you knew it was right for you, you knew it was hard on him. Opening himself up to love you wasn’t easy for Heeseung.

“I’m used to it, baby.” Your heart cries as he calls you baby, it always sounded so perfect coming from him.

“What did the guys do?” You ask and he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, masked behind purple and blue, “You said guys were being dicks, so what did they do?”

He didn’t want to waste energy on it, the fight being over in a flash anyway, “Just stuff. They got a jump on me hence the mess.” He moves his hand to gesture to his face but while his hand is already there, it engulfs yours, the one that’s cleaning the blood from his mouth, “Baby, I didn’t start it.”

“I know, Seungie.” You feel yourself falling back into how it used to be, his thumb running circles into your hand.

Once you finish up, you place a skin closure strip on his mouth, your thumb rubbing gently to secure it in place. He takes the opportunity to take your thumb into his mouth and you nearly moan at the intimate act.

But this isn’t how it is now.

“Heeseung.” You warn him.

He releases your thumb and sighs, “Habit.” He was a man of few words, you knew that, so there was no need to say anything more.

“You should go. Keep it clean, and put some ointment on that black eye.”

“I miss you so fucking much, Y/N.” Ignoring him, you walk into the bathroom to return the first aid kit, “Don’t you miss me?”

It almost makes you laugh. You missed him more than anything, so much so that after the shitshow that was today all you could think about was him. All you wanted was for him to wrap you in his arms and tell you everything is fine, but that is a wish that can’t be a reality anymore.

“It’s not about missing you Heese-”

“I’ll quit.”

You turn the bathroom light off and brush past him, “No, you won’t. We both know it so don’t lie to me, don’t start that now.”

Heeseung is a beat behind you when you walk into your bedroom, “Y/N, believe me.” He knew you didn’t need to believe him, there wasn’t even a reason to believe him because he had said this before. But this time is different, “If you just listen to me,”

“No, I don’t think I will.” The stare you have on him is angry, “I offered you a solution for all of this, and honestly? I am so tired of this conversation now. I need you to go.”

Hurt flickers in his eyes, “Baby, I’m miserable without you.”

Agitation builds up inside you. He’s acting like this is solely your fault, like you were the one that caused all this. Granted, you broke up with him but it was after giving him every solution to stop it, “This is not my doing, Seungie, okay?” He wants to retaliate but you snip in before he gets the chance, “You love fighting those losers more than you ever did me, you made that clear.”

He sees red at your allegation. How dare you even think for a second you weren’t his number one. Sure, he didn’t want to give up fighting, it was who he was, but he also didn’t want to lose you, he sees that now. He has to prove to you just how much you mean to him.

Heeseung takes two long strides to you and kisses you hungrily. It’s been so long since he felt your lips in his. The stinging from his wound is dull compared to how he feels to have you like this again, he has a whole month of kisses and fucking to catch up on and nothing will stop him.

“I love you so much don’t you dare fucking say that.” It was a rarity for him to say that he loves you out loud. You knew he did, it was his actions that showed his love more than words, but hearing it made your eyes well with tears. Because he didn’t say it much, you cherished every single time he did.

You fall onto the bed behind you, his weight crashing onto you as you both lose yourselves in the kiss, all that anger and hurt dissipated each of his kisses.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you try and deepen the kiss but he pulls away. He takes off his jacket and t-shirt and that’s when you see the bruises dispersed along his chest and torso. This fight must have been a lot more brutal than he let on.

Sitting up you kiss each bruise while he straddles your lap, gently showing love for each one. The nurse in you wants to tend to them right away, they really did a number on his stomach and you’re slightly concerned about the damage done to his insides. But right now all he needs is a few kisses to make it better.

“They don’t hurt, promise.” He assures you, but if you kiss him too hard, which isn’t hard at all, he winces. To fixate on something other than the pain he whips off your tank top and just the sight of your breasts has him feeling a-okay, “Missed you so much.”

You could laugh at his obvious ogling but with your burnt out body and his just the same, you just needed to feel him, “Seungie, please,” You whine into his right peck as you kiss him over his darkest bruise again.

Heeseung understands your pleas and pushes you flat against the bed before undoing his jeans and not so gracefully kicking them off, “What do you want, baby? I’ll do it all.”

To quit fighting. That’s what you want to say, but you can’t risk the idea of an argument, not when you’re so close to having him inside you again, “Fuck me, Heeseung. Please.”

This is all he’s been dreaming about since you told him to go. Your love wasn’t the only thing he craved.

Dipping his head down to yours he kisses you again, his hands dipping into your cute pajama shorts to pull them down, “Can I eat your pussy baby?”

You would love nothing more than to feel his tongue all over you but you are truly exhausted, “I have had such a hard shift Seungie, just need your cock to make me feel better.” You’re lifting your hips into his as you say this, staring into his eyes to let him know he has to do this soon or you’ll crash.

“Okay, baby.” He brings two of his fingers to your folds to assess how easy you could take him. You’re wet but you could be wetter for him. Heeseung is an average size but if you’ve been without sex for a month like he had hoped you’d need a little more.

He clambers over you to reach the top drawer and grab some lube. His cock is basically in your face so who were you to not have a taste of it? You sit up on your elbows and your mouth engulfs his member. He's so shocked by the sudden action he nearly drops the bottle, “Shit, baby.” His free hand finds its way into your hair as you bob up and down his shaft, “Missed that mouth of yours.” He breathes out, “Missed it sucking me off, missed it saying my name, fuck I even missed it bossing me around.”

Pulling back you look at him with an unamused look but he uses it as an excuse to kiss you once again.

Slithering down to his previous position he coats his cock with some of the lube, sparing some for your hole, slipping a finger into you to slick your inner walls with it. You turn into a moaning mess as you feel his fingers for the first time in so long, your hips involuntarily buck up.

“I’ll only be a minute, baby.” Once he feels satisfied you won’t feel any pain, he slides his finger out and rubs the head of his cock on your pussy. He isn’t even teasing you but you feel like he is with how long he is taking.

Abruptly, he pushes into your heat, the feeling of you around him makes his head spin. No one will ever feel as good as you, that’s why he’s willing to do anything to have you, “So good,” he exhales, “So fucking good, baby.” Bottoming out, he can’t stop a loud groan from erupting out his mouth. You’ve missed the sound so much.

He starts to thrust into you at a fast pace once he knows your walls have settled, each hit making the room fill with sounds of skin slapping and curses. With the way he’s fucking you, you would think you hadn’t seen each other in years, but he craves you so much that even one day without the option of you around his cock was unbearable.

“Shit, Seungie please go faster.” He listens to you and picks up the pace, knowing how tired you are he needs to get you off quickly.

Between your thighs, his hand finds your clit as he starts to rub it harshly. You look unreal right now, with your mouth open and head thrown back into the mattress.

Lifting your right leg over your shoulder he reaches a deeper spot, his cock pounding into you with ferocity it makes you squeeze around him, “Oh fuck, baby, do that again.” You squeeze his shaft with your walls again, “Fucking pussy feels like heaven.” He whispers to himself.

His hips keep a harsh rhythm, the sharpness of each thrust sending you more and more over the edge, “Close.” Is all you say.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?” he smirks, happy knowing that he’s about to feel your ecstasy around him, “Cum for me, Y/N.”

And just like that your pussy comes undone on his dick that is still mercilessly pummeling into you. A loud mewl draws out your mouth and your hands grab onto the duvet under you, he’s making you feel bliss right now.

Heeseung can feel himself getting closer and if he wants full satisfaction he needs to cum now while your walls are contracting thoughtlessly, he needs you to milk his cock dry.

Feeling him lose his rhythm a little you know he just needs a little something to bring him over the edge, “Seungie, need your cum so bad.” He loved it when you begged for his seed.

“Yeah? How bad?”

“I’m starving for it.”

The last few words have his hips stuttering and ropes of his cum shooting into you, filling you up just how you like it.

You’ve finally regained composure from your own high and just in time to see his slack jaw and eyes screwed shut. He was one of the few people that looked good when they orgasmed and you loved when you got to see him in all his glory.

Heeseung falls onto you briefly to catch his breath, the pain from his stomach coming back slowly but that doesn’t matter right now, “Let me clean you up.” He slides out of you and goes to get supplies to look after you.

Because your job requires you to look after everyone around you, it was nice how Heeseung would do aftercare so well, making sure you’re okay.

He takes a while but as he comes back he’s holding a damp cloth and bottle of water in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, “Sit up for me baby.”

After placing the tea and water on the bedside table he starts to run the cloth along your sensitve area. He loved to see you full of his cum, every time the white substance would leak from you he felt a bit of pride so washing it away like this was mourningful.

“I have quit.” He says lowly, “Fighting, I mean. I quit this morning.”

“But you only said you would quit earlier?” You question, recalling the previous conversation.

“I wanted to see if you would believe me.”

You’re dubious, not understanding what he’s saying, “You can’t just quit like that, Seungie. You told me it wasn’t that easy.”

And it wasn’t. It’s not like you can hand in a two week notice and call it a day, there are too many stakeholders involved, too much money being thrown around to just up and off.

“Yeah, you can see it wasn’t so painless.” He finishes cleaning you off and goes to place the rag in the washing basket.

“What do you mean?” As he walks into the room you see his bruises again and it all hits you at once, “The guys being dicks…”

Heeseung nods and jumps back into his boxers but not anything else with the hopes you want him to stay, “Told them I wasn’t doing it anymore and next thing I know I’m on the floor.” He laughs embarrassed at the memory.

This was technically your fault, you asked him to stop the high stake fights and this is what happened.

Seeing your face, Heeseung sits on the bed next to you and cups your cheek, “Hey, no, I know what you’re thinking but you didn’t make me quit. I chose too. This is my doing”

“But I asked you to.” You look down and trace over his bruises lightly.

“Yeah, but I said no at first.” His hand runs into your damp hair, “I decided to quit this morning because losing you isn’t worth it. I meant it when I said i’m fucking miserable.”

Sighing you fear this happiness in your chest is going to disappear at any moment, “It’s what you love though, Seungie.”

“I love you.” He hates that you have this preconceived notion that somehow he loves fighting more than you, “And I know I should have said it more when we were together but, baby, give me another chance so I can keep saying it.”

You want to cry again, “Have you actually quit? No more fights?”

He places his hand on his heart, “I quit, promise. The only fights now will be with guys who stare at you too long.”

Laughing, you remember a time he clocked two guys out for even offering you a drink. Heeseung has always been protective of you, that’s why you missed him so much today. Coming home after a grueling shift made you want nothing more than for him to hold you.

He’s offering you that chance again and you can’t turn it down, “I love you, Heeseung.”

“Fuck, baby, I love you too.” His lips are on yours again as he pours his love into you, his devotion.

Heeseung wasn’t letting you go again. Not for any fight in the world.

#enha smut #enhypen smut #heeseung #heeseung smut #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #aj writes #posted it early bc i'm feeling generous #enhypen angst

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mandukkul · 10 months

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TEENAGE ANGST — n. rk

synopsis: you’re suppose to spend yet another birthday alone wallowing in teenage angst, but someone steps in and breaks the cycle

tags: non!idol!riki x f!reader, comfort, angst (not too much i think), a bit of fluff, maybe coming of age

warnings: riki doesn’t appear until like 1/3 into the oneshot, NOT PROOFREAD!!! cursing, angst (i think), spelling and grammatical errors (i wrote tbis at 2am and finshed it at 3 leave me alone), lots and lots of mis-capitalisations, tense errors probably, teenage angst 😰 , let me know if there are any more

word count: 4.7k

published: 13 July

authors note: first writing piece on here, my birthday is on september 8th but i wrote this maybe back in may

You think as a teenager, the worst thing that could affect you was teenage angst. but for you, it would probably be the least of your problems. Instead wallowing like every other teenager before you, locked deep into their rooms never to see the sun until they were 20, you decide it’s better to fix your problem with a day out.

you’re going to be better than what the stereotype says. I mean who’s better at swimming in your own self pity than yourself of course. Even if your parents had decided that travelling abroad for months on end as a job was better than staying at home in the giant house they bought to live as a family, or leave a teenager alone instead of bringing her along, you won’t let it bother you like it did the previous years.

Although you couldn’t feel bad, your parents were dreaming big, even if you became merely a side thought in that dream. Any teenager would live blissfully with all the materials you had. It was truly a dream, but a dream can only become reality if you make it.

You’re not going to think so negatively and say that people around you would rather see you burn than to see you happy, even though that’s exactly what you’re saying.

You’re a kid with everything you want, but surrounded by other kids who are and have basically the same as you, only with parents in the picture, you’re at bare minimum on the grand scale of things.

To live your life with no one by your side, unless you count the people who dislike you at school, is harder than you think.

But you’ve lived your life like this far too long to complain, it’s been routine to be left alone. only now, the difference is that your birthday was today.

spending what most would say a precious day, in a house so hollow you’d think it was abandoned isn’t exactly ideal. Being alone could only add to your ever growing list of reasons to angst over. not even you, who seemed accustomed to this trend, would want to be reminded of how alone— lonely— you are.

so to attempt to turn a new leaf, you urge yourself to spend it differently, you told yourself. straying from your normally secretive emo self, you decide that traveling to the next suburb ,since you heard about a new promotion of the manga you liked being released in a cafe in said suburb, was a good way to ignore your ever piling problems of self-destructive tendencies.

but oh how the world is against you, even if it is your birthday.

The bus suddenly needs to take a detour to a different area you’re not too familiar with, then declares that the route must be canceled due to complications leaving you stranded in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. When checking your phone to find where you are, you see that you are not only an hour walk away from your house, but your phone is standing on its last legs with a messily 20%.

To test your limits further, the sky starts to cry the moment you’re just far enough from your house that running back would do more harm than good.

you quickly scope your area, finding that there are no parks in the vicinity to offer mercy from the rain, and the closest shelter is either 20 minutes forward to the bus stop or the array of trees planted along the side wall as decorations.

you way your options, and take the tree closest to you as refuge. you’re glad the area you’ve wandered to is littered with them, even better that they're thick enough to offer some kind of protection.

minutes passed and the rain hasn’t let up, going at the same harsh rate it has been going at for the past 10 minutes. your clothes, so obviously drenched, weighs you down causing your minimal moves to become sluggish (or maybe it’s the premonition of sickness approaching).

the trees hang low with despair, mimicking your very attitude. rain licks your face, and you can’t tell whether your tears finally made its greeting or it’s rain getting into your eyes.

you start to ponder whether running to the back home would be a better idea than your lovely tree, the idea of escaping your rain soaked clothes seeming like a dream as of right now, a dream escaping you the longer you wait.

you test your already bad luck, because god so obviously has a vendetta against you, deciding your next best option was to end your little escapade and head back home in the rain.

Barely ten minutes in, with wet sneakers splashing into deep puddles and your clothes glued to you like second skin, the rain starts to roar, angered by your decision apparently.

your vision can’t help but blur due to the heavy rain clouding your sight, and the hair that stubbornly sticks itself into your forehead and subsequently, your eyes. it’s hazy and you can barely make out the road in front of you, you’re glad the path ahead of you is empty and that you’ve arrived in a more familiar area.

I guess not even you can escape the clutches of teenage angst, slowing your strides and accepting your fate.

you think how stupid and cliche you look walking in the rain with a frown. Your feet dragging, now feeling the effects of almost an hour in the rain, and on your birthday of all days. The only thing to complete your look was loud sad emo music.

stopping in your tracks, letting the rain do what it wants, you begin to think back to what you must’ve done to anger god so much.

you shut your eyes for just a moment, to shield yourself from rain trying to attack your eyes, but the rain suddenly stops, or more accurately, something is blocking the rain from you. you begin to hear the pitter patter of rain against an umbrella and just for a moment, you think god has found pity in your wallow and granted you mercy. When opening your eyes, low and behold, a black umbrella meets your face.

oh and there’s Riki, or what he likes to be called, Niki, standing in front of you, holding the umbrella over your head acting as your current saviour.

so much for God's mercy.

If your day wasn’t already so bad, you’d say that seeing niki would be the worst part of your day. Unfortunately for you though, it was the best.

you and niki have never been on the same page, ever since he ‘accidentally’ bumped into you while you were in an empty hall. you had given him many chances to be nice to you, or atleast apologise, but as days passed from the first meeting, all you’ve received was strange stares you know all too well. When confronting him, all he could do is ignore you and or play dumb. This interaction had left a massive rift between the two of you, and being a not so popular kid in highschool compared to the ‘king of dance’ was not a good look.

“why are you trying to be a main character” is the last voice you want to hear from, especially on this joke of a birthday. you crane your neck slightly, meeting face to face with the face you hate (and hate to say is extremely easy on the eyes). “why are you trying to stop my main character moment” you shoot back with equally as much snark, but it comes off weak as you underestimated the sound of rain.

Niki looks down at you with the same glint in his eye you dislike, not because it was a judgmental one, but one of mystery because you can never guess what he’s thinking. “sorry sorry, should i let you get back to that” he removes the umbrella from above you but you make no attempt to stop him.

the rain embraces you once again, as harsh it was moments ago. you state a niki again, his dry figure under the comfort of his darken umbrella, staring at you who seemed to be physically separated from him.

talk about rift.

you’ve never noticed how far you were from niki, in a metaphorical sense. Niki had everything you had, and more. He had people to talk to, hang out with, care about and care for. He too, probably went through his fair share of teenage angst, but you think to yourself that this is the first (and only) win.

he sees this and halts his movement, examining your figure deeply. you seem tired. along with the wet suit you’re wearing, and unruly hair dripping at its tips, you look far different to how you present yourself at school. nonchalant and cool, an enigmatic girl who seems to always be out of everyone’s business but as of now, you look (in the nicest way possible) like a train wreck.

“Are you taking joy out of watching me wallow?” you scoff, staring at him with a distasteful eye, “i’m not a sadist” he jokes but he’s the only one who’s smiling.

he coughs to clear his throat, or maybe the awkward atmosphere, you’re too tired to care. you watch as he moves the umbrella back under you, “why are you standing in the rain anyways?” he questions.

“m trying to get home” you whisper loud enough to beat the rain, looking at Niki who’s features seem to fuzz up the more you blink.

“don’t you live 3 streets away?” he adds, you only nodding in response.

your movements are suddenly too sluggish to call lazy, the effects of an hour in the rain finally hitting you.

“aren’t your parents worried?”

probably

“my parents are overseas,” you mumble as he nods knowingly, having his fair shares of travelling parents, although he has his sisters to accompany him, “and i don’t feel like spending my day alone”

birthday

you think how this is the first real conversation you’ve had with niki, ever since your first encounter. Normally you’d stray away from him, so much as look in your direction, you’re off to avoid further conflict and instead plan a faux argument comeback for if the day ever arrives.

you rub your eye to rid the haze that had gotten worse, along with the bodily ache and pounding head.

niki notices, he always notices you. seeing you off in your own world from a distance.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone laced with concern, or at least that's what you think. He moves his hand to wipe some hair out of your face, attempting to help with your irritable eyes.

Despite the cold weather, you’re hot to the touch.

“oh shit, you’re burning up” he goes into mother mode as he touches your forehead, seeing as that’s what his sister and mother do when he has his own fever. you mumble an incoherent response, you’re not sure what you said either.

“I should get home then” you mumble, stepping away from safety and into the rain. He goes to stop you, but the moment you move you’re in shambles, collapsing into his arms like some damsel in distress.

oh fuck

…

sometimes you think to yourself, what did you do to end up here? and when i mean here, i don’t mean the literal sense, i mean the place you are in life, because for you, all you seem to do is piss of whoever’s writing your story, because why else would you be living such a shitty (but not enough to outwardly complain) life.

The second you wake up in bed was your first red flag. the sheets a bluish grey, far different from your own floral white ones. The bed is softer, and the quilt more warm, but that might just be from the sheer exhaustion you exhibited some time ago.

The next flag was the scary tall silhouette you see entering the room, holding what looks like a black plastic bag filled with various things.

riki looks much more intimidating when all you can make out is his outline.

the moment he turns around from shutting the door, he sees your eyes staring at him and the previous blank expression he wore changes into a face of concern.

“oh you’re awake” he scrambles words together as he stalks up to for bedside, placing the plastic bag beside him as he examines your condition like some kind of doctor.

“clearly” you croak, and you find out that your voice is extremely hoarse (and sore).

“try not to speak, i think you have a fever from standing under the rain” he deduces but you can’t help but scoff, “gee, who would’ve guessed”.

the sick you are even snarky than normal you.

Niki chuckles at your comment as he shuffles around the plastic bag for a bottle of water and what looks like painkillers.

you shift your head to watch him as he assorts the medicine and water onto the bedside table, pulling out a small mandarin to complete the collection.

“What's with the orange?” you whisper, trying to not use your voice too much, “vitamin c” he answers simply and you can’t help but laugh at him.

you manoeuvre into a sitting position to take what he’s giving you, ignoring the pain striking your head as you do so.

as you pop pills and chug water, you continue to scan the room. It's pretty boring, with a table with a few pieces of stationary, and a shelf with some personal touches.

Niki sees you’re so obviously inspecting the room, and coughs up an answer.

“oh umm- sorry. i didn’t know where you lived and you had passed out and i panicked and brought you to my house” he explains. that explains the strange surroundings. you’re in his room.

you think about how different his room is to what you originally assumed. no trophies, or obnoxious posters. a very standard and boring room for someone so rich.

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “i’ll leave you to rest” he starts to get up and you don’t know what has gotten over you, but the moment you see him shift away, you grasp his wrist urging his attention back on you.

he stares at you intently, as if he’d listen to the hours of silence you’d make if you chose to.

under his scrutinising gaze, you can’t help but avert your gaze. “I don't want to spend my birthday alone” you unconsciously mumble and you feel pathetic as you hear the words leave your mouth.

a raging silence fills the room, and your own anxiety gets the best of you as you loosen your grip around his wrist.

the moment he longer feels your fingers against him, he reaches for you back which surely catches your attention.

you never had a real interaction with the boy, especially due to the circumstances you (or him) were put through but your distaste for him wasn't baseless, even if your heart felt different.

Speaking about heart, it was pounding so loudly against your chest, you could’ve sworn Niki would dance to it.

“It's your birthday?” he’s grip on your hand is gentle, almost delicate as if you’d crack under the pressure of his touch. you nod softly, not facing him but you can tell what he’s thinking.

you probably seem more like a loser than you already are, you feel like that at least.

Riki nods his head, gently as to let your eyes follow enough not to be bothered by such movements. He repositions himself beside his own bed, hand still attached to yours.

you try everything in your power to ignore his riveting gaze, but the awkwardness is much louder than the silence itself.

you ponder to yourself, if this birthday was one of your best ones or the worse. you silently compare back to when you were six, and everyone and their friends were there. your parents seemed less concerned with otherworldly matters and you focused on nothing but the people around you.

That was the last time you felt noticed.

teenage angst must’ve hit you really early, huh?

then, back to just 14, where it was yet another year alone, with no one at school knowing who you are (yet because the moment you meet riki everything had a turn for the one worse), your parents at god knows where, living their best business lives, and this is your first time spending your birthday alone (first of a few).

you think how empty your house was, how dark and voided it felt, feeding into your ever growing reasons to angst.

and now you think of now, despite being ill with a rising fever, you don’t feel as bad as you did back then. you can’t tell if it’s just your delirious mind putting it’s fair share of delusional thoughts into you, or it’s just because you haven’t had company in so long. but the hand wrapped around yours, and the feeling of someone (even if it’s the ever so terrible niki) next you that made you smile.

“What are you smiling about? Are you going through shock?” niki’s voice is a mixture of playfulness and concern, because even if the chances of you suddenly falling into a seizure is low, it isn’t zero.

your eyes trail to him, but not to his eyes, you wouldn’t dare look straight at him.

“I thought it was going to be another bad birthday” you shrug, and you can’t for the life of you, wipe off your smile, not now because Riki finds it in himself to squeeze your hand.

you expect another remark, because that’s all your conversations seem to be (from the single one you’ve just had earlier) but nothing of the sort came, instead, from the corner of your eyes, you see him smile.

the nicest type of smile, with his boxy edges, and eyes squeezing softly.

if you weren’t looking at him before, you are now.

“I'm glad” that’s all he says, and your heart clenches at something that isn’t depression and anxiety.

The overwhelming feeling of awkwardness has long dissipated and has been replaced with something else.

something new.

you stare intently into his eyes, moreso, he does and you are compelled to look back. He's searching for something, in the darkness of the room it seems like.

you can barely make out his features, soft eyes, and sharp jaw. his hair perfectly framing his face, to much of your distaste, and is slightly damp probably from just getting back from wherever he went.

you wonder what’s going inside that head of his, while staring so intently at you, dissecting every little part of you. does he notice the droop of your eyes, how tired you look, how pale your skin has gotten from days locked in your room, how your cheeks never flushed with life yet was always plush to the touch (probably from all the instant food you’ve consumed)

does he notice the teenage angst you wallow in, him probably going through the same trivial problems as you.

“Sorry you have to spend your weekend with me” you whisper, thinking about all the other things the “king of dance” could be doing instead of nurturing you back to health.

He’d probably be out with heeseung or jake at the local gaming cafe, laughing and playing. He was probably on his way there if not for running into you.

you don’t break eye contact so you see how his eyes double in size, quick to shake his head, your own aching from following his movements. “hey don’t say that” he scolds you, taking his other hand to caress yours.

How intimate does he get?

your skin burns from his touch, and not because your fever is bordering on 39° C. Your eyes tear away, too much of your brains disliking because, even if you dislike him, he’s very nice to look at.

“no one deserves to spend their birthday alone” and he may be right, but your own angsty self could beg to differ.

because with the cards dealt to you, and the way you’ve treated the world (because how it treated you) there’s no doubt there’s a love hate (mostly hate) relationship going on between you and life.

“Even more, now that you’re sick” he adds on, rubbing circles to the back of your hand and you feel comfort for the first time in a while.

“i guess even someone who hates me can be nice, huh?” you didn't mean to say that out loud, but your quiet voice is too intertwined with your head voice, mixed with the fact that you’re terribly sick, couldn’t tell the difference.

he stares at you quizzingly, as if you’ve said something so utterly absurd it’s left him speechless.

“i don’t hate you”

those words catch you off guard. because the words “don't” and “hate” have never been uttered on the same line with “you” following after it.

you stay silent. it’s your birthday so of course he wouldn’t uprightly say it to your face.

“Do you hate me?”

he asks and you take a moment to ponder, about the strange stairs he’s given you, and the amount of times he’s ignored you piled with how everyone at school seems to stray away from you.

you only hate him because he hates you

“i only hated you because you hate me”

niki is left truly speechless (in a metaphorical sense), and his jaw is literally cracked wide.

“what?!? I don't hate you! god! i could never hate you”

like a cringey teenage cliche, you bite your lip holding back an unwanted grin.

“don’t say the lord's name in vain” you mutter to make light of the situation.

not having friends didn't mean you weren’t socially inept.

Your dry chuckle is the only sound left in the room, other than the pattering of rain. riki can’t help but frown at the news he just heard.

“i’ve never hated you, not for a second” he looks at you as if he’s trying to convince you, telling you that all your internalised monologues were for nothing, “i just thought… since you were so stand-off-ish, that you just didn't like me” you shrug, averting from his gaze.

words pour out of you like vomit and you can no longer keep up your enigmatic cool girl facade, not now that you’re sick.

“not many people like me, so i assume you hate me jusy as much, and well, if you hated me, i figured i should hate you back”

and you did, well you tried to at least. but in moments like these; where niki holds your hand as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, where his eyes never leave your lips because he’s so set on remembering every little detail you say, afraid your words will be lost to tone. you can’t help but not hate him at all, noy one bit.

“how could i hate you when you’re just so perfect” he whispers, almost like a confession.

actually he did confess. to you. right now.

you owlishly blink, and suddenly think that your beating heart is more serious than your fever.

you try to snatch your hand away from him, in embarrassment of him feeling how hot you feel, with the tips of your ears flaming red.

with your averted gaze, it’s not like you can see that his neck has a creeping speck of hot red as well as his cheeks, ears, and everything on him.

He's so glad it’s dark right now.

“you can’t just say that, riki” it’s the first time you’ve said his name.

his name out of your mouth, your tongue, your lips.

He wants to hear it again.

“Why not?” he eggs, leaning closer despite the strange territory they’ve suddenly entered.

“Some people might get the wrong idea” and by some, you mean yourself because even with the minimal things you know about the boy next to you, your heart is fluttering like crazy it makes you want to vomit.

“But I'm not lying, you’re so perfect” Riki reiterates, “you’re so perfect, i’m afraid to even talk to you, or look at you, even be around you” he rambled at the amount of failed attempts to talk to you, caused by his shyness.

so… everytime you tried to talk to him, walked near him, caught him staring, it was all because of some silly crush?

and now you feel stupid, ontop of your crippling angst, you’ve failed at teenage romance.

letting out a frustrating sigh, so heavy you might even blow the poor boy away, you drop down ontop your back and whine.

he’s shocked for a moment, watching you wail with your hands covering your face.

he finds you so cute, his stomach might because an olympic gymnast at this point.

riki crawls closer to you, kneeling onto his knees as he gently pries your hand away from your face. “I feel so stupid” you can’t help but utter, eyes shut to avoid his eyes.

riki grins, leaning closer (not that you could see), “the smartest girl at school? Feeling stupid? That's a first” he jokes and you unintentionally snort out a laugh, “i’m not the smartest” you instantly shoot back, slowly opening your eyes.

“oh but you are, you’re smart, and beautiful, and mysterious and witty and-“ you rip your hand from his grip to cover his mouth, any more and your ego will start to inflate and be as big as Sunghoon’s. “aish, stop that

'' You laugh, and you can hear him giggling along.

“But why? can’t i tell the girl i like how amazingly perfect she is?”

the girl he likes…

the.

girl

likes

IS YOU?

“you like me…” you gape, maybe you are socially inept, or at least, romantically.

riki laughs, and a hearty one at that. the type of laugh that comes straight from the stomach. “how could anyone not?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

like the teenage girl you are, you can’t help but feel bubbly and giddy, like the princess in some lame disney movie being swept off her feet by a guy who’s probably way too old for her (funny seeing that riki’s younger than you).

Then guilt hits you. as much as you want to revel in this blissful joy, you know nothing about riki, and you spent so long hating on him in your head to suddenly switch up.

“I know nothing about you though…” you break the news to him, “i mean, we technically just had our first real conversation”.

riki can’t help but smile, even if he’s just been indirectly rejected, your gentleness in letting him down makes him swoon even more.

“we can get to know each other then” he declares, smiling down at you.

“But are you willing to wait?” your eyes fill with anticipation, hoping for the best (it is your birthday after all), and wonder for the first time in forever, smiling from ear to ear.

“for you, i’d wait a thousand years”

if what he said before wasn't swoon worthy, this definitely was.

you feel like one of his silly fangirls that wait outside of class, giggling at his stupid smile but this time, you know you’re the cause of it.

“Are you going to start singing Christina Aguilera now?” you joke, giggling quietly to yourself. “I mean you should, since it’s my birthday after all” oh what a good birthday it was.

“anything for my birthday girl” Seeing your smile stretch for the first time, he hopes he’d be seeing that everyday in the near future.

Riki looks at you, for what feels like the millionth time. He really looks at you, like he did at school, like he did on the street in the rain, and like he does now.

and he thinks to himself:

yeah, I can definitely wait.

authors note pt.2: as you can see i write a lot for riki (my bias) mostly because i have so many wips that i s decided to release 🤭 might accept request who knows. also if you have any tips on how to write or do a layout please pm!!!!

494 notes · View notes

whyse7vn · 10 months

Text

GHOSTED -

[ ot7 x reader ]

YOONGI -

yoongi: hey

sent 6 hours ago

yoongi: bro

sent 1 hour ago

yoongi: *babe

yoongi: hello?

y/n: yes

yoongi: oh

y/n: ???

yoongi: are we fighting?

y/n: no?

yoongi: so just fuck me then?

y/n: pretty much

yoongi: no one loves you

sent 30mins ago

yoongi: ur annoying me

y/n: hiii babe

yoongi: what is ur problem?

y/n: what?

yoongi: i have a gun to my head

y/n: don’t shoot?

yoongi: why is that a question?

y/n: cuz i’m not sure

yoongi: not sure about what?

y/n: if i want you to shoot or not

yoongi: why have you been taking so long to respond?

y/n: omgee do you miss me???

yoongi: not anymore

y/n: YOU DO?????

ur so cute

yoongi: whatever

sent 10 mins ago

yoongi: okay now ur doing it on purpose

could literally be bleeding out rn and ur ignoring me

sent 20 mins ago

yoongi: all together you’ve ignored me for 8 hours

y/n: i don’t like math

yoongi: i don’t like being ignored

y/n: was busy

yoongi: liar

y/n: i’m being honest you big baby omg!

yoongi: i am not a baby that’s gross

you would literally be in prison rn if i was

y/n: you don’t need to take everything i say literally

yoongi: you didn’t need to ignore me

y/n: i’m here now

what do you want?

yoongi: what do i want????

are you trying to break up with me rn?

y/n: and if i was??

yoongi: i’m not speaking to you rn

y/n: ok

yoongi: this is the part where you beg for my forgiveness

HOSEOK -

hobi: you can’t tell anyone but you know that argument jin and jimin had last week?

sent 5 mins ago

hobi: the one where jin threw his shoe at jimin?

sent 5 mins ago

hobi: anyways it was actually my fault

it wasn’t jimin who ate those strawberry tart things it was me

jin asked me who ate them and i said jimin

just for funzies

and i knew he would believe it

i was gonna say ur name but jin would of let you off to easy

don’t tell ANYONE

i’m fr

tarts were good as hell tho

10/10

hope he gets some more

idk where their from so i fr pray he buys more

sent 3 hours ago

hobi: ANSWER ME

why are you ignoring me 😓?

y/n: bored as hell

hobi: ???

y/n: was bored as hell?

hobi: so you ignored me??

y/n: yeah??

hobi: are you mentally ill?

y/n: possibly?

hobi: gws?

y/n: thanks?

hobi: why do you hate me?

y/n: are you truma dumping rn?

hobi: you are my truma

y/n: truma by seventeen

hobi: i love seventeen

y/n: so do i

hobi: let’s hang out with seventeen

y/n: i agree

hobi: aju nice

y/n: clap clap clap clap

hobi: why do you hate me?

y/n: thought we were moving on from this tbh

hobi: bored as hell is not an good excuse for ignoring me

y/n: it’s like we take 2 steps forward then 13 steps back

hobi: 13 just seventeen

y/n: did that just for them

hobi: ur kinda funny

y/n: thx

hobi: stop distracting me omg?

y/n: sorry

won’t do it again

hobi: why do you hate me?

y/n: if we think about it you’re the mentality ill one in this relationship

hobi: ok that’s a lie

ur a sociopath

y/n: you don’t even know what that means

hobi: i so do

y/n: what does it mean then

hobi: ur abnormal

y/n: fuck you

hobi: it’s okay love my little sociopath 🥰

y/n: …

hobi: the next time you ignore me i’m leaving you

sent 4 hours ago

JIMIN -

jimin: hello there something seems to be wrong with the hand break of my car

can you send anyone out to fix it

📎 3 imagines attached

sent 5 mins ago

jimin: pls i need some to fix it asap

📎 1 video attached

sent 3 mins ago

jimin: this is REALLY REALLY important pls i need to be somewhere in the next two hours

sent 1 hour ago

jimin: THIS IS LIFE OR DEATH

y/n: ew

that is your dick

jimin: when can you send someone out 😖

y/n: get lost

jimin: :((((

sent 1 hour ago

jimin: um okay….

sent 2 hours ago

jimin: yoongi just said i’m “so desperate” in the gc and if he’s talking about what i think he is i will NEVER talk to you again

sent 5 mins ago

jimin: ur lucky

he wasn’t talking about that

sent 4 mins ago

jimin: HEY

4 missed calls from jimin

jimin: fine be like that…

sent 20 mins ago

jimin: thought about it and

idc if the boys see my dick!!

SHOW IT TO THEM IF YOU WANT

I AM NOT ASHAMED

sent 10 mins ago

jimin: STOP IGNORING ME OMG????

2 missed calls from jimin

jimin: i am an example to men fuck you die

y/n: joon laughed and called you a slut

jimin: #slut4myqueen

wait he laughed?????

tf is he laughing for???

4 missed calls from jimin

jimin: HELLLO COME BSCK RN

YOU DONT GET TO SAY THAT AND GHOST ME AGAIN

HELLOOOOO HELLOOO HELLLO GELLO

HELOOEOD

incoming call from jimin…

JUNGKOOK -

y/n: YOU WANNA SEE MY NEW DRESS

jungkook: PLS PLS PLS

SEND PICS

sent 10 mins ago

CAN I JUST FT YOU?

sent 10 mins ago

ANSWERRRRRRR

20 missed calls from jungkook

sent 14 hours ago

jungkook: it’s a new day and i have a knife to my neck

sent 2 hours ago

jungkook: i know you are awake

where are my pictures

send 30 mins ago

jungkook: ok

sent 2 hours ago

jungkook: I LIED IM NOT OK IM NOT

sent 10 mins ago

jungkook: plsplsolslplslpls

y/n: hi

jungkook: dress?

y/n: ??

jungkook: show me the dress

now

y/n: …

jungkook: pls

i’m like a dog waiting to be fed

y/n: never compare yourself to a dog again are you sick in the head

jungkook: me and bam are identical twins rn

y/n: i’m gonna throw up

jungkook: show me the dress 😖

y/n: no

jungkook: ok fine im just gonna go do a line of coke then

y/n: ur being extra

like extremely extra

jungkook: coke is on the table

my lines are ready

im about to sniff

y/n: just come over and see ur for yourself?

jungkook: OH???

OK I WILL

I WILL DO THAT

fuck the lines

i’m omw

HEHEHEHE 🤭🤭

NAMJOON -

namjoon: when you get home text me ok?

sorry i could say bye properly they wanted me to record something

staff are being slow today

i’m kinda getting annoyed

yk i would of walked out with you otherwise

or you can call me

actually just call me

sent 3 hours ago

namjoon: i said call me i mean it

sent 2 hours ago

namjoon: so are you fucking home now??

sent 1 hour ago

namjoon: hello??????

y/n: kim namjoon???????????

namjoon: sorry

i didn’t mean to be mean

y/n: i think you did

namjoon: you didn’t call

y/n: sorry

namjoon: i worry yk??

y/n: i said i was sorry

namjoon: idc

for 6 hours i was on the edge of my seat

what if you died or something?

did you just ignore me for fun or did something actually happen

y/n: i’m home

namjoon: it’s too late to tell me that now

y/n: i didn’t watch our show btw

i’m waiting for you

namjoon: …

y/n: ^^

namjoon: answer my question

y/n: stop being mean

namjoon: you were mean first

y/n: wasn’t

namjoon: you didn’t call babe

y/n: SORRY OMG WONT HAPPEN AGAIN

namjoon: TAKE UR SORRY AND SHOVE IT UP UR ASS TBH

y/n: i’ll watch the new episode rn

namjoon: …

y/n: that’s what i thought bitch

namjoon: i’m not coming home

y/n: oh no!!

my hand it’s just itching to press play rn

namjoon: whatever be there in 10

y/n: once again i prove i wear the pants in this relationship

sent 10 mins ago

SEOKJIN -

y/n: bff can you pick me up

jin: i am NOT ur bff

i am ur BF thank you very much

but ig i could

where are you?

and what the hell are you dumb out so late it’s like 2 am

sent 4 mins ago

jin: how the hell can i pick you up if idk where ur at

ur lucky i’m still awake and willing to come get you

sent 5 mins ago

4 miss calls from jin

jin: what if i kill you

CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE UR AT

sent 2 mins ago

jin: went to look for my car keys and you still haven’t replied

do you want me to break up with you rn?

sent 4 mins ago

12 missed calls from jin

jin: the amount of times i have called your phone is embarrassing

like i’m some obsessed sick freak

WHERE ARE YOU

i really don’t want to have to drive around seoul looking for you

am i a stalker????

sent 10 mins ago

5 missed calls from jin

jin: I HOPE WHOEVER TOOK YOU MAKES YOU SUFFER

okay i take that back

i’m a LITTLE freaked out rn

just a little

don’t let it get to ur head

sent 20 mins ago

jin: DROVE TO HYBE AND THEY SAID YOU LEFT LIKE BEFORE 10???

also why the hell are they still open fr that’s not right

WHERE ARE YOU IM DRIVING AROUND THE STREETS LIKE A LOSER

7 missed called from jin

y/n: LMAO fell asleep in seungcheol’s car

and my phone died

jin: seungcheol???

y/n: seventeen man

scoups?

jin: where are you rn???

y/n: at seungcheol’s

vernon said hi

jin: TELL VERNON TO DIE

y/n: um rude?

i said you said hi back

anyways will come home later might as well stay here for the night

jin: send me the address

y/n: miss me that much??

jin: send it

y/n: are you mad at me???

you started sharing your location with jin

jin: put my reputation on the line for you today

i will never forget this

y/n: why am i scared rn…

TAEHYUNG -

tae:

why is this us

*whimpers in your ear*

sent 14 hours ago

tae: okay that wasn’t that bad

sent 1 hour go

tae: i’ve definitely said worse

sent 2 hours ago

tae: yare yare

sent 1 hour ago

tae: do you think army would call me tae-chan if i asked

or should i be v-chan

but thinking about it tae-chan just connects with me on a different level

it’s so personal

intimate almost

sent 2 hours ago

tae: baka why are you ignoring me

yare yare

sent 3 hours ago

tae: HELLO HELLO

pls 🥺pls 🥺pls 🥺pls🥺

sent 2 hours ago

tae: ヾ( ￣O￣)ツ

me asf

sent 1 hour ago

tae: oh

heyyyyyy lolz

i now see how smoking negatively effects the brain

i would like to formally apologise for the man i was in the last hours

y/n: kys

tae: i was high and watching naruto

forgive me 🥺

y/n: you are out of ur mind

tae: *was

i was out of my mind

never smoking again i swear

y/n: we need to go on a break or something

i need time to fully process the bullshit you just came to me with

tae: live in the moment

don’t dwell on the past

sent 10 mins ago

tae: HEY COME BACK

ily

ghosting me will NOT solve our issues

…

can you tell i was listening to svt when writing this low-key can’t see straight rn how the hell it 1:42 am rn not on tbh

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tipsyleaf · 8 days

Note

I’m going to go insane if Tumblr scraps one of my ask’s again. Gonna reveal my identity at this point. ☹️ (You wish.)

BUT OH MY GOODNESS YES YES YES, A THIRD BABY IS POSSIBLE!!!

I personally feel like Violet would be around 13-15, and Cecilia 9-10. (You can adjust with the age gap etc.) So they’d be a little older now, barely teenagers now.

Of course, the pregnancy was an unexpected thing. Both you and Leon never thought the two of you would have another baby, but nonetheless, the two of you had to deal with the consequences of your horny actions. 🙄

Violet and Cecilia would absolutely hate the two of you at first. Big sisters? Hell no. They’d literally run out of the living room yelling and slam the door to their separate rooms in frustrations. But what could the two of you do? Just wait and let them get over it…

At first, it was such a weird thing to them…Seeing their mom with a belly…Ew. And how Leon would give you double the attention made them get the ick, they were already used to y’all acting like horny teenagers but oh my god.

But alas, as soon as they met their little baby brother, oh, it was like it was the greatest thing in the world! The two of them would constantly beg to hold him, fighting over who gets to unfreeze the milk from the fridge and make him a bottle.

They’d both play with him, volunteer to even take him off of your hands for the day. (Which never lasted because they regret it as soon as he has a stinky diaper.) The two would also very much criticize his outfit choices. Every single onesie and little outfit you put on him had to be approved by his big sisters.

I also feel like they’d come up to you in the middle of target with a bunch of baby toys and clothes saying that he’d absolutely love them, and you just had to sign and give in.

- Anon! 🎀

Tumblr has been a Cunt to me the past few days with asks. I'm about to delete my whole account if it doesn't get fixed (I'm being dramatic.)

Leon and his wife would even be shocked they could have babies still... Not unhappy but you'd look him dead in the eyes and tell him "I'm getting my tubes tied or you're getting a vasectomy. No more kids."

Violetta (12) would definitely want nothing to do with the baby at first. She's almost a teenager and her parents having another kid at their DECREPIT AGE?!

So Embarrassing 🙄

Cecilia (8), still very young and impressionable would probably just be following her sisters lead but secretly be excited to finally have some to boss around.

But Violet (being the older pain in the ass sister she is) would probably get to Lia and drill it into her head that middle kids get forgotten and oh nooo she's the middle child

Make her sister cry, get grounded and her phone taken away for that.

But once their mother starts showing, Lia comes around immediately. Cuddles up with mommy on the couch whenever she can just to be close to the baby. Violets still super hesitant and not happy about it. Especially every time her dad shows you affection and like... Bucket loads of affection.

He missed seeing you pregnant. That pretty glow you'd always exude even just existing in his presence. And your cute pregnant waddle! He could go on for hours how much he loves when you're pregnant. This is a completely new experience for Lia, Violet hardly remembers what happened when you were originally pregnant with Lia . She was way too young to remember.

Time comes around when you find out the babies sex, Leon fully preparing for a 3 for 3 on the princess counter.

It's a boy... He's devastated at first. He really wanted another girl. But you on the other hand are relieved. You wanted a little boy. Not that you don't love your daughters it just be nice to have a son too. Eventually he's okay, especially after you tell him this means you need to have more renovations done to the house so there's room for the new baby. That means a new room to make into a nursery, something they didn't get to do with Lia but this time around they will.

Closer to the due date you start going over names for the baby. Leon suggesting Marvin as a middle name, you know the context of it and accept it immediately. Everyone starts throwing names around, Violet staying quiet. Lia suggests calling him Puppy...

"That's not a name honey." You chuckle at her suggestion when Violet looks at Leon.

"What's your middle name Dad?"

"Scott." Violet looks between her parents, shrugging.

"Scott sounds good to me."

You and Leon look at each other and smile. Agreeing it's a good name.

Time comes around to have the baby. Violets still against the kid, Lia's bouncing off the walls excited to meet her baby brother. You give birth and the girls are allowed in the room finally.

Both girls look mostly like a good mixture of the two of you... Leon could never deny Scott as his son (he never would) because the kid looks exactly like him. Dusty Brown hair from his younger years, cute little nose, big blue eyes and a butter ball of a chunky baby. He's absolutely precious.

Lia gets help from Leon to hold him since she's still younger. Violet keeps her distance until she walks over to check on you and make sure you aren't too tuckered out. Leon basically traps Violet between a chair and her only escape, offering her to hold her brother if she sits down. She agrees just to get this over with.

She has little Scott in her arms. He looks up at her smiling with those big blue eyes... 3. 2. 1...

She's crying. Won't stop talking about how cute he is or how much she loves him already. You and Leon share a look before he tries taking the baby back.

"He needs skin to skin time with mommy." She whines, reluctantly handing him over.

After that day you basically have two live in nanny's. Both girls wanting to help.

Unless it's diaper related...

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #resident evil x reader #🌿 ivy writes #🌿 ivy replies #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy

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rorywritesjunk · 5 months

Text

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. Chapter warning has drinking, a drunk and all over the place Buggy, and Sunny just quietly being "what the fuck". Also it's Buggy's birthday. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. I actually have started rewriting it after chapter 5 because I realized I wanted to change some things up.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 6

“I think she’s heartbroken.” Benji said as he and Miss Pins watched you stumble around the shop, looking through stacks of fabric and spools of thread looking for your tailor’s chalk that was tucked up in behind your ear. You had been acting… odd since you told Buggy to leave the shop three weeks ago. You managed to sew a customer’s order to your lap, sewed cuffs inside out on another one, and just now you spent the last hour looking for the blue piece of tailor’s chalk that you tucked behind your ear.

“Oh?” Miss Pins replied, head resting in her hand as she watched you look through the same stack of fabric again. “You’re a kid, how do you know about heartbreak?”

“I was in love with a girl and she broke my heart.” Benji told her as you finally found the chalk and set it on the table. “We were 12. She told me she wanted someone nicer, which was dumb. I am nice. I just voice my opinions.”

“Well, don’t get hung up on that young romance. Someone else will come around.” The old woman said as you started looking for your scissors next. They were in a cup in front of you along with other tools. “This is really sad. Did she like the idiot that much?”

“I think so.” Benji frowned. “I didn’t like him.”

“Neither did I.” Miss Pins sighed. “So of course Sunny would.”

“Why did she like him?” Benji asked. Miss Pins shrugged.

“She’s always been kind, ever since she showed up here all those years ago.” Your boss replied. “No matter who someone was or how awful they were, she would just be nice to them.”

You finally found the scissors and held them up triumphantly before pausing and staring down at your work. It took you so long to find the tailor’s chalk that you forgot why you needed it and the scissors. You were distracted, half expecting Buggy to come bursting into the shop any moment now with some silly little thing to fix on his jacket, but you were quite firm when you told him to leave that one day, so he must have taken it to heart. You weren’t going to see him again.

Was it fair you got upset because he couldn’t remember your name? But at the same time, the way he reacted was more hurtful. Something stupid like your name. It repeated in your head nonstop and you wished it wouldn’t. He was just so mean about it. Sure, he had been rude and a bit of an ass since you met him, but it was never mean.

You remembered what you were working on. A customer wanted his jacket to have reinforced stitches in the sleeves but more room in the shoulders to allow him better movement when he used his sword. He had come into the shop and while you even thought he was handsome, you didn’t hide your disappointment that it wasn’t Buggy. Miss Pins gave the job to you and the man paid ahead of time, so you immediately started working.

Maybe Buggy would show back up.

You had been fast asleep until you were woken up by someone yelling outside the shop. You heard your boss shouting from her bedroom window at whoever it was, but you got up to see what was going on. You heard her shout Dammit Buggy! So you headed downstairs to the shop and opened the door.

Sure enough, Buggy was standing there, glaring upwards at Miss Pins’ window. He swayed where he stood, a bottle clutched in his hand before he raised it up.

“You’re loud too, Miss Pins!” He shot back before shrieking and jumping out of the way. Miss Pins had dumped a cup of water on him. “Hey!”

“Buggy?” You stepped out of the shop and closed the door behind you. His eyes lit up when he saw you and he had a big smile on his face. His face was flushed and he looked so happy to see you.

“Su-Sunny! You’re still here!” He slurred, grinning as he dropped the bottle and threw his arms around you, catching you off guard. “I thought maybe… maybe you left and never wanted to see me again!”

Oh, this was a happy and drunk Buggy. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as well coming off of his clothes. You wondered how much he had already. It was best to send him on his way, to not get involved, but you worried what sort of trouble he would get into if you left him alone, so you called up to your boss’s window that you’d be back later, you wanted to make sure he got back to his ship safely. You picked up the bottle and put your arm around his waist, keeping a firm hold on him to keep him from wandering off.

“‘S my birrrrthday!” He announced as he slung an arm over your shoulder, laughing loudly as you made your way down the road and toward the docks. “I’m… I’m two months… After you. I’m younger.”

“You definitely are.” You mused as you tightened your arm around him. He looked at you with a smirk.

“You’re touching me.” He lifted his arm to have another drink and realized he didn’t have his bottle. “Where-”

“I have it, Buggy.” You told him, holding it up to show him. “No more, okay?”

He looked grumpy until his hand popped off and grabbed it from you, bringing it back to himself. Smirking triumphantly, he raised the bottle to his lips and continued drinking. You weren’t opposed to drinking at all, but you also didn’t want to be around a drunk pirate right now. You wanted to be home and sleeping.

“Which one is your ship?” You asked when you came to the docks. He lowered the bottle and frowned as he looked at them before pointing to one furthest to the right. You hoped he was right as you walked with him to the ship, still keeping a hold on him. Once you dropped him off you’d head back home, but he turned to you with bright and excited eyes.

“Have a drink with me!” He pleaded. “It’s… it’s my birthday.”

“I know it’s your birthday, you told me.” You reminded him. “And I don’t want a drink, Buggy. I need to get home.”

“Please?” He asked as he stopped in his tracks. You kept your arm around him and looked over at him. The happy and bouncy Buggy was gone, replaced with someone different. He looked unsure of himself right then as he asked you, turning his gaze to his feet. You were going to regret this but you sighed and nodded.

“One drink.” You told him, and before you knew it, he was smiling again and taking hold of your hand, leading you up to his ship with his chest puffed out proudly, looking quite happy once more. You followed after him, shaking your head as he led you to what you figured was the captain’s quarters. One drink, that was it, then you’d head home.

He finally finished the bottle and tossed it aside before stumbling over to a cabinet for more. You took a seat on his bed, watching him as he rummaged around before pulling out two glasses and a bottle. He grinned at you, wagging his eyebrows as he brought you a glass and opened the bottle, but you took it from him.

“The birthday boy shouldn’t be pouring his own drink.” You told him as he plopped down beside you. You didn’t trust him to not spill it everywhere so you poured him a glass before your own, setting the bottle out of his immediate reach (which was silly because he could still grab it with his Devil Fruit powers). “Cheers, Buggy.”

He smiled brightly and let his head rest on your shoulder as he gripped his glass tightly. “You’re nice.”

“I’ve been told that.” You chuckled. “Thanks.”

“No, no, no, you’re so nice.” He continued gushing. “And… y’know, I’m gonna marry you. You’re so nice, Sunny, and I’m not married, y’know, so we should get married.”

You choked on your drink and set the glass aside, coughing a bit before clearing your throat. Oh, he was so drunk. You reached up to pat his cheek gently. “You’re not going to remember any of this tomorrow, so don’t propose marriage to me yet.”

He tossed his drink back before giving you his glass. You put it beside yours, not wanting to fill it back up. The moment your hand was free he took it in his own, entwining his fingers with yours as he continued his drunken rambles.

“We’ll get married, because you’re so nice to me, and I’ll be so happy.” He continued as he turned to look up at you. “I want to be happy with you, Sunny.”

“Buggy, I want you to be happy too.” You told him. “I don’t know if marrying someone will make you happy, however.”

“Is it because I was an asshole on your birthday? Is… is that why you won’t marry me?” Buggy asked with a frown. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I was mean. I was an asshole. I like you a lot and got scared ‘cause I couldn’t remember your name, and you have a nice name, and I didn’t get you a present.” He suddenly dropped your hand and stood up, marching back over to his cabinet. “Wait, I wanna sh-show you somethin’!”

Oh, Drunk Buggy was just a bit everywhere. Happy, excited, emotional, and apologetic. It was kind of fun to see in a way. He rummaged through the cabinet before hurrying back over to you, tripping over his own feet before falling onto his bed beside you. He held up something and you took it. They were photographs of two young boys, one with a straw hat and red hair, and the other had to be Buggy going by the bright red nose and scowl.

“That’s me,” He pointed to himself in the photo. “Wasn’t sure if you knew. And that’s Shanks. We… we were best friends on a ship together and then we weren’t.” He frowned. “Haven’t been for a few years.” He sat up on the bed and leaned into you again. “You’re really nice.”

“Thank you for apologizing for my birthday, Buggy.” You told him as you looked through the photos. There weren't many, and they were old, showing their age in their wrinkles and fading color. Buggy certainly was a cute little kid. “I’m sorry I was rude to you.”

He straightened up and put both of his hands on your cheeks, turning your head so you faced him. He glared at you and you wondered what was about to happen, but his gaze suddenly softened and he looked down at his lap, his hands still on your cheeks. “Don’t you ever apologize because you’re perfect and have done nothing wrong ever.”

You put both of your hands on his and moved them off your face. “Buggy, I think you need to go to bed.”

He turned red suddenly and pulled away from you, looking down at his lap as you got to your feet and removed his hat, setting it down on a nearby trunk. You noticed he went quiet but decided not to say anything as you looked for some kind of sleep clothes for him, or did he just sleep in his everyday clothes? When you looked back over at him he was struggling to remove his shirt. You sighed and went to help him get free of it. When you saw his face again, he looked away once more.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you knelt in front of him to help take his boots off. You didn’t trust him to do it himself, afraid he’d topple over and hit his head.

“I never… with… with anyone before.” He mumbled as he gestured between the two of you. For a solid minute you stared at him as you tried to process what he was thinking, and when it hit you, your face burned as you set his boots aside. “So um…”

“Neither have I, Buggy, but that’s not what I said.” You told him firmly. “I told you it’s time for bed. For you, not me. You need to get some sleep.”

“Canyoustaythenight?” He blurted out. “Please? I don’t… want to be alone.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to wrap your mind around this. You didn’t intend for any of this to happen. You were just going to bring him home before going back to your place to crawl into your bed, but he managed to get you to stay for a drink (that you didn’t finish) and now he wanted you to spend the night.

He was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in his world right then. It was a little hard to say no, but you did want to make sure he would be okay, so you removed your own shoes before putting your hands on your hips. “Where are your pajamas?”

He shrugged as he fell back on his bed, stretching out across it. His entire body separated for a moment before snapping back together and honestly, it was momentarily horrifying to see it all happen at once. You needed him to explain this but not when he was drunk. You sighed and nudged him to get under the blankets, which he did, watching you once more with bright, excited eyes as you got into bed beside him. Almost immediately he wrapped himself around you, resting his head against your chest as he closed his eyes and sighed happily.

“So nice, so soft, warm.” He mumbled quietly. You took the chance to remove his bandana, pleasantly surprised to see how long his hair was. Why did he keep it all hidden? You ran your fingers through it as he made himself comfortable against you. “I don’t wanna be away from you again, please, ‘msorry.”

“Get some sleep, Buggy.” You told him as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Okay? No more talking.”

“Imma marry you.” He sighed. You rolled your eyes and wondered what you needed to expect the next morning.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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verily-veve · 4 months

Text

@hprecfest I wanted to do this and made my first rec list :)

1. A favorite fic under 5k: Still Life (Drarry, E, 3k)

No summary given.

2. A comfort fic : Orange Blossoms @danpuff-ao3 (Snarry, T, 4k)

These are foolish times to have hope, and more foolish still to be in love.

3. A podfic : Deadheading the Odd Dahlia @cailynwrites (Drarry, T, 1.5 hours)

Harry is content to spend his days at Draco’s flower stall at the farmers market, burying his true feelings in artisanal coffee and rose bouquets. When forced to find new lodgings, he accepts Draco’s offer to live in a cottage at Malfoy Manor, and his long-hidden crush blossoms out of control. Turns out, proximity makes the heart grow fonder.

4. A fic with art: The Curse of Anteros @danpuff-ao3 @mrviran (Snarry, E, 53k)

When Harry is cursed, he seeks out Severus Snape. They have a long history behind them, after all, and they've always had so much between them. Who else would he go to?

5. A non-AO3 fic : If You Are Prepared (Snarry, E, 193k)

A task he can't refuse. A boy he doesn't want to refuse.

6. An unreliable narrator fic : Heartbeat by @phantomato (Tomarrymort, Harry/Orion, E, 23k)

Harry, dumped into the past, communes with dangerous men.

7. A canon-compliant fic : Rapture by @mia-ugly (Snarry, E, 48k)

Snape sees the man, for the first time, on his twenty-fifth birthday.

8. A canon-divergence fic : Certain Dark Things by @liladiurne (Snarry, E, 50k)

In which Severus takes a trip to Italy, thinking he'll have a quiet time at the Malfoys' villa, but Harry has other plans.

9. A rare pair fic (less than 2000 fics on AO3) : The Sword of Gryffindor (Sneville, E, 58k)

“Do you feel strong hitting me?” Neville spits out. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry before, but there’s something else too. He wants to feel it again, the pain, wants to control it like he did last time. This isn’t like Amycus Carrow driving his wand into his shoulder blades while whispering about his parents, this isn’t sitting scared in a school bench while his sister rants about muggles with a crazy glint in her eye. A choice. He’s in control here, he can take it. “Do it again you fucking coward.”

10. A fest fic : Not All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (Drarry, E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot. But before long he finds himself with a thriving business, a nice flat, some actual (albeit irritatingly Gryffindor) friends, and a very satisfying sex life. What’s more, no-one is hexing him in the street. And Harry Potter is single, and gorgeous, and giving Draco decidedly interested looks. Stop taking the Felix? You must be joking…

11. A dark fic : Frigid by @mrviran (Harrymort, E, 3k)

In which one of Voldemort's Horcruxes is broken, and needs to be fixed.

12. A WIP you’re following : Pacify by @chickenpets (Snarry, E, ongoing)

Pacify: 1. To allay the anger or agitation of 2. To reduce to a submissive state He would do his duty. He would save Draco, if he could. He would protect the students, if and when the school fell to the Deatheaters. And Potter. As far as he was concerned, Potter could have whatever he wanted, now. What was the point of trying to tell him no if he was going to be sacrificed on the pyre of the greater good? If Potter wanted to learn, Severus would be his teacher. If he wanted a master, then Severus would make him submit. And if he wanted a lover... well. Severus would love him. And that was it. Anything else was a waste of time. And there was so little of that.

13. A fic with over 100k words : Another Mask Behind You (Drarry, E, 116k)

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies. (And then more porn. Seriously, if you don’t want sex scene after sex scene you probably shouldn’t read this. And please read the warnings.)

14. A favorite series : Love Your Enemy by @danpuff-ao3 (Snarry, E, 50k)

Love...hate...Harry and Severus definitely hate each other (if only because they love each other so much.)

15. The most recent fic you bookmarked : Everything We Dream Can be Real by @vdoshu (Tomarry, E, 51k)

Harry had a life after Voldemort. He had a family. He had a career. And then one day it was all ripped away when he woke up at Number 4 Privet Drive. Or: Where Harry doesn’t exactly get that chance to do it over again. And things are Not Okay.

16. A fic that made you laughed: Harry Potter and the Problem with Potions (Harry & Snape, T, 184k)

Once upon a time, Harry Potter hid for two hours from Dudley in a chemistry classroom, while a nice graduate student explained about the scientific method and interesting facts about acids. A pebble thrown into the water causes ripples. Contains, in no particular order: magic candymaking, Harry falling in love with a house, evil kitten Draco Malfoy, and Hermione attempting to apply logic to the wizarding world.

17. A fic that made you cry: Epitaphs in Autographs by @vukovich (Drarry, E, 7k)

A series of works surrounding death, imperfect relationships, flawed coping, and humanity.

18. A fairy-tale inspired fic : Two Lockets (Snarry, E, 57k)

Harry, Snape, and the grim old house that keeps its secrets.

19. Fic with the hottest smut: Ruin by @chickenpets (Snarry, E, 12k)

Severus didn’t even want to contemplate how quickly he’d crumbled, or how incredibly satisfying it felt to have Potter immobilized and powerless that way. Because the boy he had under his fist right then was not the same one that had barged into his lab demanding attention and slinging insults. This boy was… different. He was silent, and wide-eyed. Flushed, and panting, and very, very still. It was almost like alchemy. The Golden Brat of Hogwarts - the Chosen One - transformed instantly into this new apparition. He’d gotten what he wanted, Severus supposed. Brutality.

20. A fic rated G: The Son by @perverse-idyll (Regulus, G, 5k)

First there were two sons. Then there was one.

21. A thought-provoking fic : The Things We Need by @kbrick (Drarry, E, 25k)

Three hundred and fifty-three days out of the year, Harry is in a monogamous, fufilling relationship with Draco Malfoy. Then there are the other twelve days.

22. An unfinished fic (hasn’t updated in 10 years or author stated it been abandoned) : The Marriage Stone (Snarry, E, 382k)

To avoid the machinations of the Ministry, Harry must marry a reluctant Severus Snape. But marriage to Snape is only the beginning of Harry's problems. Voldemort has returned, and before too long Harry's marriage may determine the world's fate.

23. A soulmate fic : The Left Words (Harrymort, M, 234k)

Harry has some weird words on his left wrist. That must be one of those strange things that Aunt Petunia hates so much. But it's okay! He likes them. Then, it all turns even weirder. Hogwarts, magic, a Headmaster and a Dark Lord await Harry - he would prefer if they all just left him alone, thank you very much. But when has it ever mattered what Harry wants?

24. A holiday fic: All I Want for Christmas (is for You to Stop Talking) by @femmequixotic and noeon (Drarry, E, 162k)

The Niffler's Garden is the most prestigious wizarding nursery school in England and has been for the last century or more. Harry Potter's boys are both enrolled as pupils at the Garden. When he volunteers to assist with the Yule pageant, he has no idea that he'll be working closely with another parent, Draco Malfoy. Although they haven't seen each other much since their own school days, Harry faults Malfoy for not being a hands-on dad to little Scorpius. Will the intense weeks of preparation fan the fires of enmity or something else entirely?

25. A fic rated T: Altered Course by @crowcrowcrowthing (Tomarry, T, 12k)

Tom Riddle has a problem. He has so many plans, so many things to learn and accomplish during his time at Hogwarts, but one professor—one charming, talented, maddeningly handsome professor—is determined to get in his way. How does Professor Potter seem to anticipate Tom's every move? How does he always manage to stay several steps ahead, knowing secrets about Tom he has no right knowing? It’s simply unacceptable, and Tom needs to do something about it before everything is ruined.

26. A fic with an ending you can’t stop thinking about : Nocturne by @necromanticnoir (Snarry, E, 54k)

A Gothic Snarry version of ‘Beauty and the Beast’, inspired by the dark and sensual tale from the Czech film version, ‘Panna a Netvor’. I follow some of the plot, but then diverge and do my own thing. Got to make it even weirder, right? An eerie, erotic, brooding, bloody, batty, haunting fairytale. ‘Underneath my skin there’s a human. Buried deep within there’s a human. Despite everything, I’m still human.’ - ‘Human’ by Daughter

27. A Muggle-AU fic : with great outbursts and lightnings by @liladiurne (Snarry, E, 148k)

They stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. Harry has developed smoking to an art form that fascinates Severus. Everyone smokes in Paris, but he’s never taken up the habit himself. Watching Harry smoke, however, is strangely erotic. It feels like watching something that ought to be done in private. He wants to say something, anything, but he’s speechless. He’s a bloody poet, and here he is, standing speechless in front of a nineteen-year-old boy. March, 2013. In which Severus is a semi-famous poet with writer's block who moves back to London after the death of his lover and meets Harry, a prodigy struggling with his own demons.

28. An under-rated fic : An Eye for an Eye (Drapery, E, 42k)

Harry owes Draco a Life Debt.

29. A post-canon fic : Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm (Drarry, E, 104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

30. A pre-canon fic : He's just a Little Fixer-Upper (Snilch, E, 10k)

After Voldemort's first defeat, Snape's grief and guilt are overwhelming, and he starts thinking about ending it all. But there's someone in the castle who's been watching Snape since he was a child, someone determined to put him back together again.

31. A fav amongst favs: for this I have 1 for my 3 favorite ships :)

Wild (Drarry, E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

When the Rose and the Fire Are One by @perverse-idyll (Snarry, E, 81k)

Harry's haunted by guilt. Snape's warded by roses. Each must free the other in order to free himself.

Either must die at the hand of the other by @metalomagnetic (Harrymort, E, 260k)

Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts because Harry Potter had not been the one to kill him, as the prophecy demands.

#hprecfest2023 #snarry fics #drarry fics #tomarrymort fics #rare pair fics

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marvelbabi · 2 years

Text

Hidden Romance (2) - b.b

a/n: this is my part two to my bucky barnes series! i hope you all enjoy and i’m sorry for the long wait. :)

pairing(s): dom!bucky barnes x f!sub!reader

story summary: warned by your father-like-figure to stay away from his war buddy, James Buchanan Barnes, but you find him in your bed after a few too many drinks. Is it just a drunken mistake or something more? (a series in the making)

warnings: 18+, obvious age gap, dom/sub dynamic, unprotected sex, size kink, daddy kink, praise kink, soft degradation/teasing, choking, creampie, petnames (peach, doll, princess, baby girl), sexual tension, shower sex, overstimulation (please lmk if i missed any!)

word count: 3.2k+

You woke up in your empty bed, Bucky’s warmth long gone as you sat up in the sheets. The events of the night prior had yet to return to your sober mind until you stood from the bed. Your shoulders and back ached in pleasurable pain, causing your eyes to unconsciously widen in surprise. Your first instinct was to run towards your mirror, but you found yourself struggling to even take a step due to your shaky legs. With a soft groan, you held onto the wall for support, knees trembling with every step. It was then you noticed the redness around your wrists, brushing your fingertips along the sensitive skin as you began to piece the last several hours together.

Once you finally made it to the mirror, you were in shock of how messy you looked. Your once freshly curled hair had become knotted throughout your head, while streaks of mascara ran down your cheeks due to past overstimulation and the worst second worst part was the light bruising that dusted your lips. The cherry on top though was that you had deliberately broken the rules and slept with the one person who was off limits;

Bucky.

In an instant, the missing memories pieced together the rest of the puzzle and all you could think of was how you craved more of him. More of his warm body pressed against yours while his cold digits ran over your skin. And more of the mind-numbing kisses he pressed all over your body. You felt your stomach drop at the realization of the night before and anxiety quickly filled your body. You needed to take a shower and head to training.. with Steve.. after you fucked his best friend. You shivered stay the thought, trudging to the bathroom in the walk of shame.

As you turned the handle of the shower, you found yourself smiling softly as your eyes landed on one of Bucky’s famous sticky notes. It was his thing for you that had started a few months ago when you were upset at the team for not bringing you on one of their most important missions. Bucky seemed to notice you start shying away from everyone, including even him and as a means to fix that, he began to leave small notes where he knew you’d find them, usually having old jokes or new songs that he had found that he thought would peak your interest. You couldn’t stop yourself from noticing his older mannerisms, finding them rather romantic even if it was just as a friendly gesture.

This one was different though. It was sweeter, more personal, and even had a touch of his younger girl-charmer self. Written on the blue post-it was ‘Good morning, my peach. I slipped out before the others woke up, but I’ll see you at training. <3 With love, James.

You felt your heart pound in your chest as you placed the piece of paper down before slipping into the shower to calm your nerves. You felt as your muscles relaxed under the water, the heat breaking down the knots that had formed. A stressed sigh escaped your lips as you continued your shower routine quickly, subconsciously rushing to see Bucky again.

As soon as you were finished and dry, you began throwing on your clothes, the fabric sliding over your damp skin. You truly didn’t have time to doll yourself up, almost tripping over yourself when trying to rush out the door. You peered at the phone in your hand, gasping when you read the time; 9:13.

You were already over a half-an-hour late when you barged into training, eyes quickly falling over your way. You noticed a hungover Wanda and Kate chugging water, while Sam held his pounding head in his hands, and in the center of the room, Steve stood with his arms folded over his chest.

“You’re late, Maximoff.” He said blankly, his sharp eyes staring daggers at you. You faltered slightly under his gaze, your brain pondering all the ways he could have found out about the events of last night before Bucky came out from behind his frame.

You felt your heart pound at the sight of his sweat glistened body that was almost ripping through his shirt, begging for freedom. He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, chuckling at how serious his friend suddenly looked.

“Cut the girl some slack, Stevie, she downed a lot of alcohol last night thanks to a little someone.” Bucky motioned towards Kate who flashed the two an awkward chuckle and avoided eye contact before turning back to her training. “She can’t hold her liquor like we can.”

“Okay.. but I don’t want this to become a common thing, alright Y/N?” Steve questioned, gaining a quick nod from you in return. “Bucky, get her warmed up and stretched out, will ya?” The innuendo caused you to tense up as you began to tie up your hair, not missing the eager grin that became pasted on Bucky’s lips.

“You got it, Cap.” The brunette began to make his way towards you, causing the hair on your skin to pipe up in anticipation. Your eyes locked with his as he got closer, a mistake that you soon realized as memories from the previous night started pooling into your brain. “G’morning, peach.” His gruntled voice softly reached out to you as he leaned past you to place down his things.

“Good morning, Buck.” You managed to croak out, using your voice for the first time that morning. Bucky looked over at you cautiously, stopping himself from questioning the sudden use of his common nickname. You gulped softly as his eyes took a quick scan of your body, Bucky happily catching his delicately place love bites on your skin. He sighed inwardly, before taking a step back from you.

He extended his hand out, yours gently being placed in his before letting him lead you to the mats and after that, the rest of training went by in a blur. You did your best to avoid eye contact with your training partner, which didn’t happen to go unnoticed. At the end of the session, Steve came up to you and started congratulating you on your improvement, though it went through one ear and out the other as you noticed Bucky waiting for you by the door.

“Thank you Cap, and I apologize again for being late, but I am beyond sweaty and would really like another shower.” You flashed him a small smile as you picked up your items before reluctantly walking towards Bucky.

The large man smiled down at you whilst opening the door, his hand finding it’s way to the small of your back. Usually, it would make you feel comfortable, since it was a usual gesture coming from Bucky, but instead you felt like you were about to catch flame. Bucky felt your body tense under his touch, sighing once more that morning as he began leading you through the hallways.

“Relax, doll. No one knows about last night,” He whispered gently in your ear as he turned the two of you around a corner. “No one, but us.” You felt his calloused hand began to travel down towards your hips as he turned you to face him. He saw the hesitation in your eyes as you instantly looked around for other members of your team. “What is it, peach?” He tried to cup your face, but you pulled yourself from his touch. “Did I do something you didn’t like?”

This made you unconsciously gasp as you finally met his blue eyes, the same ones you’ve been trying to avoid all morning. You noted the way worry spread over his face, causing you to soften in his hold. He looked like a little kid when he was worried. With one more look and listen of your surroundings, you placed your hand on his stubbled cheek.

“No, James. You did everything perfectly.” You felt him ease up under your touch as you started to run your fingers over his nape. “It was an amazing night, but..” You paused, trying to find the right words while feeling his eyes boring into you as he pulled you closer to his body. This caused your eyes to go wide in surprise as his grip on your hips tightened. You couldn’t help but falter at his touch, leaning into his chest slightly as he searched your face for any clues of what the problem was. “It’s against Cap’s rules, James.”

“Oh darling, we’re far past following the rules.” He interrupted, the stress leaving his body as he was finally able to cup your jaw. “You’re such a good girl, peach.” He pushed his teasing further as he began to get comfortable, bringing his face inches from yours before pulling back completely. You were about to question him before he took ahold of your hand, pulling you towards his room. You felt your nerves reignite as he unlocked his door, pushing you inside quickly.

Déjà vu hit you like a bus as he began backing you up into the spacious room, closing and locking the door behind him. It was your turn to search for an answer to his actions as he turned away from you to open his bathroom door. You watched from behind him as he turned on the shower, steam soon filling up the small space.

“You coming with, baby?” He cooed softly, extending his hand for yours once again as he stood in the doorframe, steam circling his broad frame.

You look from his eyes to his hand before choosing to instead pull your shirt from your sweaty skin and over your sore shoulders. You slowly began to strip of each article of clothing, watching Bucky let his hand fall to his side as he watched with his bottom lip between his teeth, dumbstruck once more at your body. When you were fully undressed, you began to walk towards him, trying to slyly slip by his body and into the bathroom only to be stopped by an arm wrapping around your waist.

“Not so fast, pretty girl,” He pulled your body against his chest, his hands beginning to roam your sticky skin. “You aren’t getting away that easily.” His fingers began to carefully tickle your sides, helping you relax as you engulfed in laughs.

This continued for a few moments longer before he released your frame, allowing you to scurry into the bathroom with a small smack to your bum. You took this chance to check yourself out in the mirror, the lack of alcohol in your system making your confidence plummet slightly as you crossed your arms around yourself. As you stared at the reflection, you caught glimpse of Bucky undressing his buff body.

In your sober state, you took in all of his features once again. Unlike last night, you noticed the small things like the way his shoulder muscles tense when he stood up straight, or the big vein that ran down his stomach and past his v-line. The happy trail enticed you and you held your breath, watching him pull down his briefs. Your jaw almost dropped as you fully took in his size, seeing it bounce back against his stomach. You felt yourself begin to drown with slick as you pulled your eyes from his stature and back to yourself.

When he finally turned his attention back to you, he began walking your way causing a shiver to travel down your spine as your eyes found his already hard member again. Bucky slowly pressed your body flush against the counter, caging you between him and the cold granite, using his metal digits to keep ahold of your hip. Your eyes met his in the mirror as his free hand found its way around your throat.

You tried to catch his next move, but he caught you by surprise when he pushed his member through the gap of your thighs, his shaft rubbing beautifully through your folds. Your hand flew to grip his wrist as he continued to tease your throbbing entrance with painfully slow thrusts, his throbbing tip threatening to enter you every time.

“I’ve wanted round two all morning, baby girl.” He let out an audible groan as he pushed you down against the chilling surface, your womanhood becoming exposed to his eyes. He kept his hand on your back as the other began to pump his length, wet from the juices that had dripped from your core. “Unless you want to follow the rules?” He asked, batting his eyes innocently as they found yours.

“Jamie..” You whimpered softly at his taunting, using an unexplored nickname, causing Bucky to freeze momentarily. You froze as well when you saw his reaction, worried that you had said something wrong. Not a second later did you feel him enter you inch by inch before bottoming out inside of you.

“Only you are ever allowed to call me that.” He whispered as he towered over your frame. His hips began to grind against your ass, allowing his tip to blissfully kiss your womb. The sensation caused loud whines and mewls of pleasure to leave your mouth as you reached behind you to grab on to any part of him you could. His eyes stayed glued onto your core as he pulled himself almost completely out before sinking back in, watching as his girth stretched out your tight hole. ”You hear me? Only your pretty little voice can use that name. Okay, little one?”

You unconsciously moaned at his words, nodding repeatedly as he began to pick up his pace. It wasn’t until he harshly grasped your hair and pulled you up to see him in the mirror did you realized what he wanted. Your mind flashed to last night, causing your cunt to clench around him at the thought.

“Yes, daddy.” You managed to get out between your noises, but happily so as you watched a proud smirk fall onto his face. His hand left your hair to find your throat, pulling you to his hairy chest so he could plant a kiss on your temple whilst keeping up his brutal assault on your g-spot. Thankfully, his other arm snaked around your waist to keep you upright as your knees began to buckle. Your loud moans bounced off the echoey walls as you watched his face contort in pleasure.

“That’a good girl. My best girl.” He softly praised in your ear as his grip on your neck tightened, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Thank you, daddy.” You couldn’t help but accentuate the nickname, feeling him twitch inside your warm walls as his thrusts started a feral pace.

Your mind began to become a fogged up world of bliss, causing you a struggle to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head. You tried so hard, desperate to watch Bucky as he properly stretched you out. You small hands gripped the wrist around your throat, digging crescent shapes into his skin. You couldn’t help but let out a small squeal as Bucky pressed his golden hand against your lower stomach, caressing the bulge that formed with every thrust.

“You look so perfect, peach.” He groaned out, staring at the way your small body melted into his, loving the way you took every inch of him with adoration. He kept his eyes on yours in the reflection as he began to nip at your skin. You groaned softly, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach begin to form.

And then in a instant, it was gone. You watched in shock as Bucky released you, pulling completely out of your now gaping hole. You angrily turned to face him, ready to put up a fight for his immense teasing before he quickly grabbed you up by your thighs. He situated you on his hips before he carefully filled you up again.

You leaned your chest into his, holding onto his shoulders for support as he began to walk into the shower, the hot water falling over your bodies. You gasped as your back touched the shower wall, the cold tile being a relief to the heat between the two of you. You met his eyes before he rutted his hips into yours, his lips swallowing the moan that left you.

You loved how he felt, loved how he treated you like an angel and a slut all at the same time. He took care of you even when it wasn’t allowed and that thought made your heart beat quicken as he gently caressed your hips. His movements hit the perfect rhythm to send you over the edge causing your grip on his skin to tighten. You both yelled out in bliss as you hit your high and flushed around his cock. His thrust became sloppy and his shoulders tensed under the pads of your fingers as he persisted in abusing your core.

“Stay with me, baby girl, daddy’s so close.” He gasped out before placing a sweet kiss to your forehead, gaining a weak nod from you as your body convulsed in overstimulation. He pressed his lips to yours as he thrusted his tip against the deepest part of you, releasing his load into your sore body.

After a minute of pressing soft kisses to your skin accompanied by soft thrusts into you, Bucky gently helped you down to your feet. He held you up as he placed you under the water, allowing you to become fully drenched.

“Jamie..?” You ask meekly, turning to face him with shaking legs. His hands rested themselves on your sides as he cocked his head, a caring smile on his lips as he waited for you to continue. “Does this mean, that it wasn’t.. well you know..?”

“A one night stand, princess?” He asked, chuckling to himself as he nuzzled your nose, his hands cupping your face lovingly. “You, my dear, are way more than that to me.”

You felt him lean into you, pressing his lips against yours for what felt like the 100th time that day. This kiss was new, causing you to melt at the amount of emotion he put into it. His arms slowly embraced your frame, holding you close as a mixture of sweat, cum, and stress ran from your bodies.

When he pulled back, your eyes scanned his face for any hint of a lie, your insecurities getting the best of you. Like usual, Bucky knew every one of your faces, pressing his body closer to yours as he reconnected your lips. His lips hit yours like honey, his large hands holding your face close to his.

“I promise you.” He quickly stated before coming back to your lips, kissing you for several moments before he began to quickly place small kisses to your cheeks, your nose, and even your ears. You couldn’t help but let out a childish giggle as his scruff tickled your skin, squirming in his hold.

“Okay, okay, I believe you!” You yelled through laughs, his bright smile giving you butterflies as he gave you his final kiss before quietly beginning to run soap over your skin. You sighed contently in his arms, giving in to his help in washing your body.

You were so happy. And so loved.

Where did it all go wrong?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel smut #mcu x reader #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes headcanon #avengers smut #avengers fanfiction

926 notes · View notes

journey-to-the-attic · 20 days

Text

3rd anni req 13: satan, lucifer / sick

ao3 link

note: i don't have much to say i just think this one's real cute! takes place post-jtta ^^

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

…something’s not right.

I open my eyes groggily. I find myself staring at a ceiling that - albeit familiar - should not be there.

“Ah.” Something yellow pops into the corner of my field of vision. “How’re you feeling?”

“Bad,” I mumble hoarsely, forcing down a cough and cursing my stuffy nose. “What’re you doing here?”

“What’re you doing here, you mean.” Satan passes me a glass of water with an encouraging smile. “Lucifer brought you down a few hours ago.”

That’d explain the ceiling. I've woken up in the House of Lamentation, which is definitely not where I went to sleep. I’d be happy if I had the energy.

“Your dad called.” Satan nudges me until I take a sip from the glass. “Said we’d better take care of you while he was still down.”

He presses the back of his hand to my forehead, then hums a little worriedly. “...your fever hasn’t gone down at all. Your dad gave Lucifer some medicine. I’ll go get him - don’t move, okay? Back in a second.”

It’s not the worst cold I’ve ever had, at least, I decide as he hurries out. But definitely not the best, eitherI hadn’t expected it to get this bad so quickly - colds always hit Dad harder than me, so I thought I’d gotten away with a tickly throat.

It’s so warm in here. I kick off most of the covers, then immediately regret it as a chill passes over me. The duvet’s landed in a heap on the ground.

“What have you done now?” sighs someone from the doorway.

I blink at Lucifer, then hurriedly attempt to fix things, as if he hasn’t already seen it. As soon as I sit up and attempt to reach over the mattress, though, the entire world tips sideways, and—

“That’s enough.” Lucifer’s by the bed in about half a second. “You need to be resting.”

He very pointedly sets me back in place, then stoops to drag up the blankets as well. I grumble something indistinct and allow him to tuck the corners in, even though I’m already starting to overheat again.

“I’m not convinced your dad gave us the right thing,” mutters Satan, trailing behind with a brown bottle in hand. “IK, take a look.”

I squint at it. Hydrogen peroxide. Must’ve gotten it mixed up with the Calpol.

“...well, I can manage without,” I mumble, waving the bottle away. “Just have to wait it out.”

“I’ve had Solomon on the phone,” says Lucifer, watching me carefully. “Mostly unhelpful. He’s suggested vinegar and onion.”

When was the last time he got sick? The Middle Ages?? I scrunch my face in response, too tired to come up with a verbal one.

“I didn’t think so.” He brushes some hair out of my eyes, then holds my face still and peers intently at me. “...we’ll manage. What would you like for lunch?”

“Nothing,” I mumble, pressing my cheek closer to his hand. It feels nice and cool. “Mrgh. Feels like my head’s full of bees.”

He thinks for a moment. “...some fresh air might help. Satan can take you around the garden.”

“It’ll be chilly,” says Satan a little anxiously. “I don’t want to make it worse.”

Lucifer lets me use his hand as a pseudo ice pack for another few seconds, then gives my cheek an unusually affectionate rub and stands up again. At the same time, he shrugs off his jacket.

“You can use this,” He says, handing it to Satan, and sweeps back out the door. “I’ll make some tea. Don’t take too long.”

Satan pulls a face at his back. Then he turns to me with a much gentler expression. “Alright, how are we feeling? Are you up for a walk?”

“Dunno.” I prop myself a little further up, then press my eyes shut as the room flashes in and out of focus. “...give me a sec…”

Satan’s already crossed the room when I open my eyes again. Without a word, he wraps Lucifer’s coat around me like a cocoon, tying the sleeves to fasten it, then picks me up like an unwieldy parcel.

“...thanks.” The more I speak, the more I realise how bad I sound.

Satan chuckles and presses a quick kiss to the side of my head, then starts moving. I don’t know if he’s going extra slow because it’s harder to manoeuvre with me in his arms, or if he’s noticed how much everything makes my head spin, but the rocking is more soothing than it is dizzying.

It feels like my head’s about to pop. That’s kind of overpowering everything else right now. Though it’s all still just as miserable. Ugh.

“Everyone else’s at school,” Satan says as he walks steady circles around the garden. “Your dad called early this morning, but Lucifer thought it’d be better if they left the house quiet. I’m pretty sure Mammon clocked him, but…”

The sound of his shoes clicking against the brick path is like a metronome. I follow the rhythm with my breathing, trying to ignore the congestion. “What about you?”

“I overheard him on the phone, so I bothered him until he let me stay as well.” He pauses. “...we’ll go back inside in a bit. You’re not cold, right?”

I murmur a no, gazing around at the hedges for a moment, then dropping my head back onto his shoulder when my neck gets tired. Lucifer’s coat smells a little like that woody incense Dad puts out when we have guests over.

“Well, you’re in no condition to go to school, so you can just stay with us until you’re completely better,” He says, partly to himself. “Lucifer can’t say no to that.”

My head does feel less fuzzy when Satan heads back inside. Instead of taking me back to my room, though, he heads to the library.

“The fire’s going,” He says, transferring me to one arm and using the other to select a book. “I’ll read to you until you’re sleepy again. How does that sound?”

“Nice,” I mumble, managing a little smile when he tilts his head down to look at me. His eyes are warmer than the fireplace.

Lucifer joins us just as Satan is starting on the first chapter. He doesn’t interrupt - he sets a tray on the table, then picks up one of the three mugs and sits down on my other side.

He listens, blowing idly on the tea, then hands it to me once he’s deemed it safe. He waits for Satan to finish the chapter to speak up.

“Feeling any better?” He asks, touching a hand to my forehead. He isn’t wearing his gloves today. “...hmm.”

“It hasn’t been that long. I’ve read that humans run warmer, anyway…” Satan lowers the book and glances at the tray. “Is that one mine?”

“You need to actually eat as well,” Lucifer says as Satan clicks his fingers and floats his own tea over. “I’ve asked Barbatos to drop something off. Is there anything else you’d like?”

The prospect of forcing anything really solid down already makes my throat hurt. “Not hungry.”

He sighs. “I know, but it’s important. How about some soup? Could you manage that for me?”

I resist the urge to simply turn away in protest. My head’s clearer, but it feels like I’ve gotten grumpier because of it, now that I can register everything else that sucks in higher definition…

“...maybe later,” Lucifer decides, almost unnervingly patient, and taps my mug. “At least drink your tea.”

It tastes sweeter than usual. I wonder if he added honey.

Satan starts on the next chapter. He keeps his voice low and even, but affects a funny voice for the dialogue - especially when it’s punctuated by French, which I’m not entirely sure he knows how to read. Lucifer stays through it all, tapping a foot silently on the carpet and adjusting my mug for me every time it starts slipping out of my grasp.

Some way through chapter four, the doorbell goes, and Lucifer quietly excuses himself to answer it. Satan stops reading without being asked, marking his place with a thumb, then glances down and asks softly if I’m feeling much better.

I hum an affirmative. As long as I don’t move too much, and as long as I don’t try supporting too much of my own weight, I can just about stay comfortable.

I hear Barbatos’s voice from down the hall, but it isn’t long before the front door closes again, and Lucifer returns alone. He resumes his spot on the sofa, then opens the paper bag that he’s come back with.

Satan carries on from where he left off. I glance up at Lucifer to see if he noticed him waiting. Sure enough, there’s a particular twinkle in his eye.

I don’t get to contemplate that for long, though, because then he pulls a pastry from the bag, and very determinedly holds it in front of my face until I take a bite - it’s soft and fluffy, and tastes of ginger.

Then he pats me on the head, as if to say ‘well done’. He doesn’t try pushing me any more than that, but I don’t doubt things’ll change later. Lucifer gets antsy whenever any of us miss a meal.

As Satan reaches the end of the first act, I start wondering how long it’ll be until everyone else gets back. I can’t decide if I’m excited to see them, or if I’m just anticipating the inevitable increase in noisiness.

“...‘Is the murder the work of some rival gang whom Cassetti had double-crossed in the past, or…?’”

Something brushes over my hair. I glance up at Lucifer. He keeps gazing ahead, eyes barely open - looking closer to sleep than I am. In fact, the only indication that he’s still awake is the hand on my head.

“...they left the compartment.” Satan finishes, then clears his throat and drains the rest of his probably-cold-by-now tea.

There’s quiet for a while. Lucifer flicks his wrist, and the sputtering fireplace roars back to life.

Eyes still closed, he says, “Don’t stop there. We don’t know who did it yet.”

“Sure, if you want me to rip my throat to shreds,” Satan scoffs, then holds the book over my head. “You do it, if you want to know so badly.”

Lucifer sighs, but opens his eyes and does as he says. Flicking to the right page - Satan’s deliberately shut the book without marking it - he starts reading aloud from where he left off, at the beginning of the second act.

Satan swings one leg over the other and leans over so that he can vaguely see the page, and nitpick whenever Lucifer misses or misreads a word. If I lean back a little, I can set my head on his chest.

Every now and then, he cranes his neck down to peer at my face. I’m past caring, but part of me wants to tell him that, if I wasn’t already sleepy, he’d definitely put me off with the constant checks.

I am, though, which means that Satan quickly notes the look on my face with apparent victory. He leans down a little further and whispers, “I’ll tell you what happens later. Get some more sleep, okay?”

Lucifer keeps reading (I note that he isn’t doing Satan’s funny voices), but almost imperceptibly nods his head. I haven’t said anything in a while, and I have a feeling it’ll hurt if I start again now, so I just nod as well.

I’m not used to being passive in the House of Lamentation. It’s hard to sit around and let everything happen around you when it’s all so much fun - I don’t know how Belphie does it.

I feel a little spoiled. But it feels really nice, too.

I close my eyes and let it all wash over me. Hopefully I’ll feel better when I wake up, and we can all spend some time together - it’s been a while since I’ve been able to visit. That’d make it even better.

#3rd anni event #your honour they mean everything to me #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #jtta ik #writing

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exhuastedpigeon · 4 months

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Fuck it Friday!

Tagged by @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks @eddiebabygirldiaz @jeeyuns and @wikiangela - thanks friends :)

This is from a new fic I'm working on. The working title is LAFD? More like LAF(PR)Disaster. The fic is an outsider POV fic taking place after a retired high ranking LAFD member makes some extremely shitty comments on video. It's going to focus mostly on a documentary being made about the women, POC, and queer folks in the LAFD.

Oh and how could I forget Buddie fake dating for the cameras because the PR team mistakes them for a couple and they decide that it's better for the LAFD if they act like a couple. :)

I'm really excited about this one since it isn't just going to be Buddie-centric. We'll get a lot of time with Hen, Chim, Ravi, and some OCs that I've already accidentally fallen in love with.

An hour later Liliana walks into Miranda’s office without knocking and grabs her emergency bottle of tequila from where she knows Miranda keeps it. She’d taken another fifteen questions before Taylor Kelly had gotten another one in and the only thing that had stopped her from jumping her podium and whacking her over the head with her own mic was knowing there was tequila waiting for her after. Well that and her fifteen years of service with the LAFD as a consummate professional. “This is a shit show,” Liliana pours herself a drink and when Miranda nods, pours her one too. “We’re going to need to do so much more damage control.” “I’m considering,” Miranda drinks her drink in one go and holds it out to Liliana who refills it with a raised eyebrow. “I’m considering stepping down.” “No,” Liliana says before she can stop herself. She won’t let it come to that. She can fix this, it’s just going to take time and some very, very careful PR work. “I need to find as many queer firefighters, firefighters of color, and non-male firefighters as I can and I need a budget for a documentary.” “A documentary?” “We’re going to show the world the work the LAFD has done to make this place more open and accepting in the last decade. We’re going to show the world the work that you’ve spent your entire career doing. I’m not letting you throw that away. I’m not.” “Okay,” Miranda gives her a soft smile and all Liliana can do is smile back.

no pressure tagging @thewolvesof1998 @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @underwater-ninja-13 @steadfastsaturnsrings @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @watchyourbuck @wildlife4life @devirnis @cal-daisies-and-briars @callmenewbie @hippolotamus @rosieposiepuddingnpie and anyone else who wants to share!

#fuck it friday #911 #buddie #my wip #wip: LAFD? More like LAF(PR)Disaster

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arxxq · 1 year

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Prompt 13 with itoshi sae please!, thanks a bunch 💖

13. “Whoever has a problem with us can come fight me” | Itoshi Sae

Ah thank you anon for requesting! I just got back home and tmmrw I'm even more busy gah. ♡♡ i have school in a few hours lmao...should be sleeping but here i am

Hope you the best anon!

lowercase intended, mistakes will be fixed later on

Prompt list in my blog..can't post it here since this post won't be featured in the tags..

now sae had realized something off about you recently.

he was bothered by it but at first he decided to not ask you about it because maybe it was just for temporary.

but as time goes on, it wasn’t just for temporary. he wanted to know what wrong so bad but it wasn’t as easy because almost all the time he tried to approach you about it, you always manage to change the subject. you guys have been together for almost years, but he was so concerned on why you were behaving like this near him again as if he just started courting you.

he missed your touch, your embrace your warmth. as much as he does not want to admit it he missed it alot. even if he tried to hug you or even just simply touch your hand, you would pull away from him. he despise this action from you. just why in the world are you acting like this nowadays.

but as time pass on, he knew that he will be able to get his answer just that it wont be coming out from your mouth. one day as sae was scrolling on social media, he found a post that caught his attention only because the post was something about you and him.

it seems like whatever this person was saying was supposed to be directed to you. the post read “out of everyone sae had to chose that bitch..like c’mon there’s other fish in the sea!” and even the comments were agreeing with this said person saying how you don’t deserve him or saying that their better than her. sae scoffed at this. could this probably be the reason why you were behaving like this? its not safe to assumed so he decided to ask someone you trusted the most.

“no i’m not telling you anything,” right now sae was talking to a friend of yours. well it was the only person sae knew you had put so much trust into after all you’ve known eachother like siblings. “i know you yourself are worried about them, so if you cared then tell me,” sae wasn’t wrong. your friend themselves were worried about you so they sighed and gave in.

“yeah its about the post...and maybe also because they were cornered by others as well for the past few weeks..” now that was something sae was not expecting. sae nodded his head and the last thing he heard from your friend was, “you better make things right!”

sae was now home, he was waiting for you to enter the door and when you did lets just say he had you cornered so you couldn’t escape. “sae i have to cook dinner you know..” you tried to reason with him but he was unfortunately one step ahead. “no need i ordered take out.” before you could say another word, he beat you to it. “don’t even try to make up a silly excuse,”

you let out a breathe and lowered down your head lips trembling..sae immediately took notice of your action and pulled you into an embrace which surprised you “i know why you’ve been behaving like this and i don’t like it...so because of that i’ll say this once,”

“whoever has a problem with us can come fight me,” those words made you smile and let out a tear. “so if you could please stop acting like this..” he mumbled which made you laughed.

as you were eating, sae took the oportunity and made sure to remember to post that comment on the post. the comment says.

“if u got a problem with our relationship then come fight me because fyi they are much more better then you’ll ever be,”

Reblogs are highly recommended

Do not claim your own and do not post on other platforms

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳aryssa;hasinah #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff

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the---hermit · 6 months

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13|11|2023

This new week started with the introduction of a new class, which also means finding a new weekly routine. I am not giving up my calm morning routine so I decided to start waking up a bit earlier since I have an early commute. Today it seemed to work, so I hope it will continue to do so. This new class I am taking is an history of enlightened philosophy with a focus on the topic of sexuality. As far as I understood today the focus will be both on how this philosophical current finally started to deal with this topic that had previously been hidden, and how they stumentalized it in order to go agains the church and the state. It sounds like a very promising class, and the professor gave me a good impression so far. I did have to place a quite deranged book order today to have the materials for the exam (and I also treated myself by ordering the prequel to Legends And Lattes since I had a discount and it was finally available). I still managed to work a bit once I got home, but I doubt the afternoons of my commuting days will be much productive. I will try to stay on top of highlighting and fixing the notes I wrote in the morning, and maybe schedule some tasks that require less brain energy.

cozy hobbit autumn activities and productivity:

set my alarm at 5.55 am to have my slow morning routine and read first thing in the morning (no one can take that from me it's the best way for me to start my days and I really care about maintaing it if I can)

two hour lecure on the philosophy of the enlightement

listened to a bookish podcast on my commute back home

daily Irish practice on duolingo

ordered the books I need for my new class, and while I was in uni I got a delivery of a couple of used books I got a couple of weeks back and I am very much excited for them

set up my bullet journal and did a bit of planning for the week - I also have a check in of what I have to do for the exams I am studying for but I haven't made any big to-do lists yet because my brain is tired

highlighted the notes I took this morning and fixed them adding the informations I missed during the lecture

updated my reading journal (finally)

folded a lot of laundry

today's self care:

last night I had already packed my backpack and picked an outfit for today and did all the little things I could do in advance, and I will do the same tonight

I plan on making sure I turn my phone off 30 minutes before bed and reading at least a couple of pages before I go to sleep

did some study planning to make myself more calm

took part of the afternoon to relax with some tea and a book

📖: Odyssey by Homer

#studyblr #studyinspo #uniblr #university #studying #student life #productivity #self care #cozy hobbit autumn #journal #book #bookblr #knife gang #mine #the---hermit

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wibixthecowboy · 10 months

Text

Play the Song: Chapter 13: Sweet like Candy

Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.

Warnings/Tags: !graphic depictions of panic attacks!, references to suicide attempts (no descriptions), references to SA (no descriptions), Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, justified angst, tooth rotting fluff, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, wholesome brother Gaz, touch starved Ghost, eventual smut, praise, choking, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), size kink, oral f receiving, ghost will do anything to get his dick sucked, idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV

A/N: Holy Fuck. Excuse my language but jesus. That last quarter literally gutted me. BUT I PERSIST. Here is what I think is the longest chapter by far? idk I haven't checked. Thank you for sticking around for so long. Smooches for everyone, enjoy! Also! I know the chapter links are broken :( , I'll fix them asap!

Words: 7.8k

Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

@urfavsunkissedleo@butskii@abbiesxox@itsasecrets-things@thatonewriterthatnooneknows@copiasratscheese @Sheviro-blog @Simonsslvt

★Flash

Dust swirls up into a small cloud, forced into motion by Flash's incessant kicking. It travels a few feet before dissipating into the bitter morning wind. She shivers again in the thin cotton of her pajama shirt and sweats and debates going back in. Debates sliding the small phone back into her pocket, shoving off the single stair in front of the base doors, and throwing herself back into her sheets. They'd be cold by now, it's been nearly an hour since she'd tossed back her blanket, dug the phone out of her duffel bag, and sat herself down outside to call her sister. Well, attempt to call her sister. It's been over five years since they'd last talked, when she'd stuck fifteen-year-old Flash on a transit bus to Arizona with a small backpack of keepsakes and photocopies of her registration papers for the Safford Advanced Military Academy. She’d sent a few letters, from the cramped desk in her first dorm but had never gotten any back. The constant schoolwork was a good distraction but it still stung.

Filling her lungs to a near painful capacity, Flash double checks the faded sticky note her sister had slipped into her pocket so many years ago and then the glowing numbers on her phone before shutting her eyes and jamming her thumb into the call button. Flash's breath is stuck in her throat, stilled in anticipation almost as if its waiting alongside her as the phone rings. Much to her surprise, she picks up by the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

She sticks her head between her knees, absolutely convinced last nights dinner is about to come up but after a few breaths her vision clears and she answers in a rush of air.

"Sarah?"

"Who is this?"

Flash tries to swallow back the disappointment building in her stomach and then,

"Grace? Is that you?"

The dinner does come up now and she barely manages to make it to the sad cluster of shrubs before the sting of bile burns up her throat. The world caves beneath her, sucking her chest through the souls of her feet. It ricochets through her brain, slamming hard at each turn. Grace Grace Grace. She gags again, wiping her mouth on the cold skin of her forearm.

"Hi." She manages, the sound of her voice echoes between her ears. "Yes its me."

"Are you okay- did you just throw up?" Her sister's voice is calm as always, despite not hearing it for several years, the cooling affect is just the same. Sarah was- is the personification of winter. Cold, calm, and biting if you stayed with it for too long. But she's the only person who's ever been there every time Flash really needed her.

"Yeah, I uh," a burning gasp breaks her words and she realizes she hasn't been breathing. "I don't know I think I ate something funny."

"Okay." There's an awkward pause and when Sarah realizes Flash isn't going to say anything she continues. "Did you need something?"

It's at this moment that Flash remembers why she hadn't ever called. Sarah was an expert at talking people off a ledge. Every time Flash got into a fight, Sarah was able to smooth things over with a carefully plated store-bought box of cookies and a sweet smiled promise. But when it came to dealing with Flash and her inferno of a temper, Sarah chose to sit on the sidelines and watch as Flash burnt herself over and over. If it wasn't causing harm to others, Sarah didn't bother. But years of burning herself meant Flash had developed calluses.

"Is Taryn there?" The words are bitter, whether from the bile souring her mouth or the stinging disappointment, she doesn’t know.

Taryn was Sarah's on-and-off girlfriend and the only woman in Flash's life that gave her the softness she so desperately craved. If Sarah was winter, Taryn was Spring. On the days she came over, windows were opened, wildflowers were picked, neatly arranged in vases, and dinner was always something with potatoes. Taryn had made their small two-bedroom crash pad into a home. How Taryn and her sister had made it work was beyond her.

"Um- yeah, she's here. One second."

There's a rustling as Sarah drops the phone from her ear and then a murmuring of voices, even through the lowered phone she can hear the way Sarah's voice softens as she speaks to Taryn. She'd never spoken to Flash that way.

"Gracie?"

"Hello?" Flash's response comes out broken and half-whispered and with all the heavy emotion that she’d secretly hoped she’d feel when speaking with her sister.

"Gracie! Hi!" Taryn's sweet honey voice pours from the speaker, still soft from sleep and the tears building behind Flash's eyes begin to burn. "How are you, sweetheart? It's been forever."

"Good- good. I've been good." She presses her knuckles against her eyes until colors bloom against the backs of her eyelids, unshed tears wetting her fingers. "I just had a question."

"Oh?" There's another round of rustling and Flash can picture her sitting up in bed, blindly grabbing at her side table before fixing the round pair of tortoiseshell glasses she wore over blinking eyes.

"And what's your question?"

"When you met Sarah," Flash rubs a hand roughly down her face before glancing around, "how did you know?"

"How did I know what?" Taryn's interest has clearly been piqued.

"You know." She hesitates before sighing and feeling five years younger, mutters, "That you liked her."

"It took having a crush for you to finally call me?"

"I don't know, maybe?" There’s another silence, but unlike with Sarah, Flash know’s it’s Taryn waiting patiently for her to find the words that sometimes tangled themselves when making the journey from brain to tongue. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize honey. I'm glad you did, it's nice to hear your voice." Then she continues on, like it hasn’t been five years, and when she closes her eyes, Flash can see the pink sundress Taryn had worn the last time she’d seen her. The hem had been stained burgandy the week before by Flash’s impatient blackberry painted fingers. "It was kind of love at first sight.”

Flash, either in a desperate attempt to hear to a story not about the plight of terrorists, or simply because Taryn’s voice made the world brighter, listened to her whole story. How when Taryn had met Sarah, she’d been enthralled, and even more so when Flash had threatened to break her arm if Taryn broke Sarah’s heart. How she’d so quickly decided that Sarah was the one for her despite Sarah’s supposed lack of interest and to both Flash and Taryns dismay, her complete and utter denial of being at least bisexual.

Another kick sends more dirt floating along the breeze and Flash struggles to find a way to ask for advice. ‘I’m actually talking about my lieutenant.’ ‘Oh, you didn’t know? I’m not fifteen anymore, I’ve actually killed several people.’ ‘Anyways, I want to fuck the life out of him but when I touch him he looks like he’s either going to piss his pants or bend me over the counter.’ or maybe just ‘How do I get over the deeply rooted fear of love that my dead father and might-as-well-be-dead sister instilled in me at a young age?’. She’s debating rephrasing the last one when a sharp cry cuts through Taryn’s retelling of her and Sarah’s first date.

“Is that a baby?” Flash’s voice is sharper than she meant it to be. “Do you have-”

She’s cut off by a fake laugh and a breathily muttered ‘no’. Taryn never cut her off.

“No don’t be silly.” Another nervous laugh. “I have to go, Sarah needs me. But do call again! Let me give you my number so you can call my cell next time.”

Flash listens numbly as she prattles off a long list of numbers, more focused on the static noise around her words. Waiting to hear another cry. When it doesn’t come Flash just shakes her head and tunes back in just in time to hear Taryn mutter another ‘goodbye’ and the quiet buzz of a dead line.

She blinks a few times, simultaneously overwhelmed and underwhelmed by the call. And then the last few sentences Taryn had left her with slowly start to trickle to the front of her mind. In a rush, Flash flies through the front doors of the base, nearly dropping her phone in the process, grabs a pen from the table and scribbles the number along her forearm, hoping to god she’d remembered it correctly. Hoping she could survive another icily quipped sentence from her sister if not.

Its then, mouth still gross and breathily reciting Taryn’s number in a desperate attempt to recall the sequence, that the sound of footsteps pulls her attention to the hallway. It’s the team, minus Price who’d left an hour earlier, and only gave Flash a fleeting worried look and a head shake as he passed her on the front steps, to get a headstart in traveling Alejandro’s farmhouse.

Soap leads the group, hands tucked neatly into the front of his cargo pants. Behind him, Gaz is nearly identical in both stature and clothing, but unlike Soap, his hands fall confidently at his sides. Ghost, seemingly the odd one out, trails a few feet behind, dressed sharply as usual, but there are two distinct purple smudges under his eyes. They pass through the poorly crafted living room before each settling in their respective spots at the table, like an aged high school clique. She’s about to make a remark on this when Soap raises a brow at her.

“And what are you doin’ lookin’ like that?” His hand waves up and down her body, at it hunched over the table. “We leave in like-” He glances down at his watch, “An hour?”

Ghost sits down heavily in the chair across from her and his eyes almost immediately fall to the messy set of numbers scrawled on her skin. His dark gaze narrows just the slightest bit and Flash can already see him jumping to conclusions.

“I called my sister.” She blurts out, both to answer Soap and to stop whatever train of thought is starting in Ghost’s head. She’s not sure why she feels the need to defend herself. The three men sitting around her freeze, stopping their respective tasks to listen. “I uh- yeah.”

“How did it go?” Gaz asks smoothly when the silence has stretched just a few seconds too long. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

He slides into the seat next to her, leaning on his arm and giving her just a tad too much concentration. It was times like these when Flash wondered if Gaz operated a black market of gossip, too eager and always asking the right questions.

“We don’t talk.” Flash’s eyes flick up to see Ghost watching her warily. “Not for five years at least.”

Gaz raises his brows but doesn’t say anything, just pitches his mouth down in the corner, enough that Flash know’s he’s no longer fishing for details. Part of her wonders just how much he knows.

She looks across the table at Soap, sitting silent in his chair, picking at his nails, and suddenly becomes aware of the space left between him and Ghost. Now, after hearing Soaps late night confession the day before, the signs are obvious, like Soap has the words ‘I fucked my superior and now we don’t talk about it’ scrawled across his forehead in bright red pen. She clears her throat,

“It was fine, I just called for-” She hesitates, still not quite sure why she’s telling them this. Maybe Taryn’s sweet tongued optimism rubbed off on her too much. “I just needed some sister advice.” Flash finishes with a shrug, hoping the burn on her cheeks isn’t too obvious.

“I get that.” Soap starts, and Flash almost jumps at his voice, deep and raspy from sleep. “I’ve got my own sister. She can be annoyin’ as shit but she’s got some good advice.”

“And what are you getting advice for.” Gaz teases, “You haven’t had game for the last year.” His words falter at the end and Flash doesn’t need any explanation to know he’s talking about Ghost and Soap’s relationship, or whatever the hell Soap had called it. In a quick attempt to smooth things over, she looks expectantly across to Ghost.

“No. No siblings.” He says, and Flash watches the way his eyes fall to the worn table in front of him.

“That's too bad.” Flash says, kicking him lightly under the table, “They’re a pain in the ass anyways.” This time, when he glances back up, she smiles at him with her teeth, remembering the way he’d so carefully parted her lips in the bathroom the night before. Something in his gaze shifts and his mouth moves under his mask, pulling up at the corners. But before she can see the full thing, he’s standing and moving towards the kitchen. Glassware clinks around, he pulls one of the bowls from the cupboard and stands at the sink, waiting awkwardly. She catches on a moment later and sits up.

“I’ll go back to my room while you guys eat.” She says, trying not to let the gesture sting too badly. “I’ve got to pack for the trip anyways.”

As soon as she turns her back, even though she know’s its impossible, the rustling of Ghost pulling off his balaclava echoes through the concrete room. Just incase she has a sudden loss of self control and turns to see him making his breakfast unmasked, Flash speeds up her pace and practically throws herself through her door.

Leaning against the foot of her bed is an empty duffel bag and next to it a small, half-filled laundry sack. In it are the clothes from that night. Just underwear, a tank top, and her favorite pair of cargo pants. All her other layers had either been torn or cut through. They’d been sent through the wash five times now, but every time she’d braved the task of opening the synched bag, a staggering fear grasped her so tightly that she would pull it shut and give it back to Price. He took it wordlessly every time and they would both pretend. Her muttering something about there still being blood and him nodding while sending it along with the rest of the laundry. Both of them knew the clothes were clean, practically washed thin, but she could smell the brine of the sea, the gory mess of the man as he splattered across her shirt without even opening the bag.

So instead of kicking it to the side, or ignoring the sad, knowing look in Price’s eyes as she shoves the unopened sack into his hands again, she picks it up and sets it on the unmade sheets of her bed. Her hands shake violently and it almost makes her laugh, how they vibrate when the canvas whispers open.

On the top of the neatly folded pile is a small scrap of notebook paper. When she leans in closer, she can make out a single line of familiar scratchy handwriting ‘you’ve got this kiddo :)’. Tears burn behind her eyes as she picks the note up and sets it aside, reading it one more time before her eyes are too watery to see, and reaches into the bag to pull out the tank top. Her hands still shake, and the fold is done horribly, one strap sits higher up than the other making the whole thing a bit lopsided, but she finishes. The pants follow suit, folded neater this time. She picks them both up, along with the underwear, and shoves them into their respective drawers before leaning heavily against her dresser.

Taking a shaky breath, Flash turns to slide down the side of the solid wood, wedging herself between the wall and dresser she lets her head fall between her knees. There, away from the view of the laundry bag and clothes, she lets the adrenaline drain down her limbs and through her fingertips that rest on the cold floor. It shakes her body and looses a few broken sobs, but she’s alive and the clothes are folded.

★Ghost

He waits outside of Flash’s door, hand half raised, fingers curled in a fist to knock. Soap had sent him to give her a thirty-minute warning which would now end up being a twenty-five minute warning. Shaking his hand out one more time, he raises his fist, and right as he's about to knock, the door swings open.

Flash stands in front of him, looking down at the duffel bag in her hand. She jerks back when she sees him. Just for a moment, in the few seconds, it takes for her to recover and slide back on her happy-go-lucky smile, he can see the crease at her brow and a small frown tugging the soft shape of her lips down.

“You ready?” She asks, and Ghost nearly forgets that she is the one they’re waiting on.

“Yeah.” He starts, and all the confidence he had built, all the words he’d carefully laid out for hours the night before wash away at the sight of her. “We uh- Gaz took the Jeep.” Flash nods for him to continue, and he does after another deep breath. “You, me, and Soap will be taking the truck with the rest of the equipment.”

Flash watches him carefully, eyes flicking over every inch of skin his mask leaves uncovered. It’s this hungry gaze of hers, the one that scares the shit out of him, that she gives him before responding. Completely ignoring his words.

“You didn’t sleep?” She says but doesn’t wait for him to answer. “Me neither.”

Flash shoves her bag into his hand and jogs towards the front door, already arguing with Soap about her “perfectly valid” license. He carries both their bags in one arm and decides that it's the weight of their bags that is slowing him down. Not the fact that Soap reaching the truck first meant he and Flash would be stuck in the back together, strapped to a single bench. He wanted to thank whatever officer had replaced the passenger seat with a now out-of-date comms system.

_____

An hour in, Flash’s cheek is pressed hard into the knuckles of her fist and a shiny patch of drool starting at the corner of her mouth. He both envies her sleep abilities and fears them.

When his eyes drift back to the landscape outside the windshield, his gaze catches on Soap watching them through the rearview. He struggles to remember if the mirror used to be angled down that far or if Soap had intentionally moved it to watch them.

“So things are getting pretty serious?” He asks, not taking his eyes off the poorly paved road in front of him. Although he says it jokingly, Ghost can see the underlying curiosity, maybe even a twinge of jealousy.

��We’re not doing this right now Johnny.” Ghost grumbles, keeping his arms tight over his chest, as if they could create a barrier against Soap’s prying eyes. He knows better. Years of using little to no communication during deployment meant that learning each other's body language was critical, especially in cramped bunks.

Soap just shakes his head, still not taking his eyes off the road. Ghost can practically watch the countdown until his next snarky remark. A slow scrunch of his brow, followed by a slight downturn of his mouth, before- right on the mark, Soap drags a rough hand down the left side of his face before finally speaking.

“Has she seen you without your mask?”

Ghost’s eyes snap to Soap’s, still waiting for biting words to follow, to snap at a tender spot only he knows how to find. Instead it’s something much, much, worse.

“Just remember what happened last time.”

The words slither through the air between them, squeezing around his ribs before sliding down to stoke the coals of fear burning in his stomach. The cab of the truck is too small and suddenly the heat of Flash’s body pressed so close is so present in his mind that if he doesn’t back away he might just- stop. Stop.

“Pull over.” He mumbles, staring into the dead space between horizon and road.

Soap obliges wordlessly, slowing the truck to a slow roll before stopping in a cloud of dust on the shoulder. Ghost steps out, stumbling over the edge of the pavement as he braces his hands against his knees and heaves great breaths of warm desert air.

The sound of a door opening behind him has his shoulders raising to his ears, a poor imitation of hackles.

“Stop!” He clears his throat before lowering his voice and trying again. “I’m fine. Get back in the truck.”

But the sound of footsteps persists, light and barely audible, despite the thin layer of gravel coating the road and landscape around them. When he turns, Flash is standing behind him. Her face is pink with sleep, an impression of the seatbelt running from her mouth to her ear, and one side of her hair has been rubbed upward, making her braided hair lopsided. When her eyes fall on his hunched shoulders, the freckled bridge of her nose scrunches.

“Whats going on?” She asks suddenly, growing more aware. “Are you getting sick?”

When he doesn’t answer, she steps closer, resting a hand between his shoulder blades. Ghost can't help the low sound that pushes from his chest. She keeps it there, rubbing circles into the expanse between his shoulder blades.

“It’s okay,” Flash starts, still soothing his hunched shoulders back down. “I get sick too, just on plane rides. I don’t know what it is.” She laughs once, bright and musical. “Maybe the forty thousand feet in the air bit.”

Ghost’s breaths come easier now, in through his nose and streamlined from his pursed lips, the way his psychiatrist had shown him. The small pouch of his pills sit comfortingly in his breast pocket, but he lets them stay there. Finally, he turns to face Flash, reluctantly letting the warmth of her palm fall from his back.

“Yeah.” The word comes out staticky, like when the comms are just a bit too far apart. “That part is pretty shitty.” He doesn’t know why he’s agreeing with her. He’s never once felt an ounce of fear flying on a plane. There’s no point when everything is already so far out of his control. But when her lips split and reveal an amused smile he understands why.

“C’mon.” Flash grasps his hand, pulling him back towards the truck. He hadn’t realized just how far he’d stumbled. “I’m sure we have something in the truck for nausea.”

Ghost just nods and follows her lead, sliding smoothly onto the bench of the truck and shutting the door behind him. Flash carefully slips her pinky finger around his, squeezing tightly. And that single act sends a rush of heat through his chest both pleasant and burning. She knew. She knew damn well he wasn’t car sick. Soap says nothing.

Instead of folding his hands underneath his arms like usual, Ghost lets them be. One gently grasping the safety handle, and the other tucked neatly under Flash’s tracing fingers. And does his best to ignore the eyes watching them from the mirror.

★Flash

Flash, in a desperate attempt to get out of the truck, barely manages to let it stop before bursting out and jogging a few short laps around the vehicle.

“Jesus kid.” Soap swears, stepping out of the cab and stretching his arms overhead. “Weren’t you just sleeping like-” a disbelieving glance at his wristwatch, “three minutes ago.”

“Four fucking hours.” She bites as Ghost slides from the back. “That’s basically abuse.”

In a desperate attempt to relieve the cramping behind her thighs, Flash bends forward, slipping her hands under her sneakers. A relieved moan splits her lips, muffled into the fabric of her pants. Careful not to go light-headed, she slowly straightens out before reaching her hands above her and pushing her chest out. It feels fucking amazing.

When she finishes and turns to the two guys behind her, she can’t help but laugh. Ghost’s face is turned away, eyes downcast in a way that promises Flash his cheeks are burning hot. Soap glances between the two of them before laughing loudly and stalking off toward the large building that, in Flash’s humble opinion, does not look anything like a farmhouse. If it weren’t for the large yellow barn nestled into the field next to it, the large concrete building would probably look like a prison.

Flash is about to follow after Soap, both eager to get to the briefing, and much to her annoyance, nervous to see Alejandro and Valeria, when a gentle hand grasps her elbow. She turns to find Ghost, still hovering near the car, one hand held behind his back.

“Whats up?” She asks, eyeing his hidden hand and taking a few curious steps towards him.

“I uh-” Ghost stutters in a way that two days before would leave Flash shellshocked, but after seeing him so vulnerable the night before, she just nods for him to continue. “I have something for you.”

“Ooh a gift?” Flash says, trying to peek around his body, but the bulk of his shoulders easily blocks her vision.

“It’s nothing, really. Just something small. I didn’t think you had one and you were looking at it. Then there was that guy.” He rambles, ducking his head slightly.

Flash has to squeeze her hands into fists to keep from grabbing his face and kissing him. Even through the mask would be better than nothing, but the few moments of silence that lapse between his rambles and her watching the way his hand endearingly fidgets at his belt helps her somewhat regain her self control.

“If it’s important to you. It’s important to me.” She says softly and steps closer. “Now let me see.”

He hesitates for one more second before pulling his hand from behind him and showing her a folded blue square in his hand. Flash’s heart stops for a moment and then starts back up so fast that she nearly passes out. It’s the cerulean scarf she’d seen at the market.

“Ghost-” Her voice catches as she reaches up and pulls the silk from his hand, mouth suddenly dry.

“I just thought it would help, the dust is bad and- I think I got the right one, the blue right-”

He’s cut off with a huff as Flash throws herself against him. She wraps her arms around his chest squeezing hard. The rough velco of his vest scrapes her cheek, and something is pushing painfully against her ear, but she doesn’t let go.

“Thank you.” She says quietly.

The words, muffled into his chest, are barely audible. He doesn’t respond, but a few moments later, she feels a hand rest lightly against her shoulderblades. When she doesn’t let go, his other hand slides up, pulling her into him.

“Let's head in,” Flash says, reluctantly pulling away and sliding her hand into his, before tugging him towards the "farmhouse".

They make it just a few paces before he slides his hand from hers and takes two measured steps in front of her. Flash is about to question him, but leaning against the open door of the farmhouse is Alejandro, handsome as ever.

"We've been waiting." He nods to Ghost, shifting out of the doorway to let him pass. Flash watches him go with a confused glare. "Everything okay Rubia."

"Yeah," She breathes, brushing past him without looking at his face. "Everything's fine."

_____

Much to her disappointment. The briefing is not as entertaining as she’d thought it would be. Both Alejandro and Price would be making final decisions tonight. This briefing was only to go over the information they already knew. But she still listened diligently and took her notes at appropriate times. Alejandro didn’t do so much as glance in her direction as he spoke, both he and Valeria remained impassive during the meeting. It made Flash wonder how many of the people sitting around her had shared a bed with them. Her eyes land on Gaz, who seems to be a little too focused on Alejandro's hands as he retraces a path on one of the topograph maps. She glances over to Ghost, hoping to point his attention to Gaz and his drooling mouth, but he stays facing the front of the room. Even when she stares at him, practically burning holes into the back of his masked head, he doesn’t turn around. So when the lights shut off and the projector whirs to life, she grabs the pen resting next to his paper, making a point to doodle little hearts at the corner of her paper when he finally looks her way. Instead of shaking his head and laughing like he usually does in response to her minor thievery, he pulls another pen from his pocket and holds it in his hand.

Annoyed at Ghost's sudden coldness and bored out of her mind, Flash turns to Gaz to whisper in his ear,

“Do you think if you stare at his crotch enough, you’ll see through his pants?”

His face goes bright red and a stuttered cough cuts off the briefing.

“You okay Gaz?” Alejandro asks, raising a dark brow as Gaz hits his chest with a fist, still coughing.

“Yes, sir. Fine.” Gaz mutters.

Alejandro continues on, using a meter stick to draw an invisible line down a projected image of a warehouse.

Flash leans back to Gaz’s ear again, feeling malicious. “Is that what you call him in the bedroom? Sir?”

This time Gaz chokes, coughing wildly as Flash bites back a smile and forces her brows to pinch in concern as she pats his back.

She does get Ghost's attention this time, but much to her disappointment, yet again, it's just a small shake of his head. Flash glares pointedly back.

“What is going on. Are you sure you’re okay?” Alejandro asks again.

“I’m going to go grab some water and air, I’ll be right back.” Gaz bites out between coughs.

Flash lasts another two and a half minutes after he leaves before muttering something about checking on Gaz and wandering out of the room and down the hall.

It’s here, with fists shoved deep into her pockets that she passes a set of double doors propped open to reveal a small training room. It's modest compared to the one back at their base. The back wall is decorated with an assortment of real and fake weapons and a thick green mat covers the stained cement. A bright red sign nailed to one of the doors threatens suspension to anyone who brings the weapons out of the confinements of the training room. She's about to walk by, wanting to slip out of the building and explore the barn. But her curiosity wins over and she hovers in the dim hallway.

Once Flash is there, watching the fighting pairs, she's surprised it took her so long to hear the grunting and unmistakable thud of bodies bouncing off worn foam. One of the men leaning against the back wall, who'd been intently watching a rather unfair match play out, starts towards her in a slow prowl. The challenge is clear, confidence leaks from him like a poison, and his eyes scan her body, lingering for a few seconds on her chest. She recognizes him from the meeting, but can't quite remember his name. Liam? Larson?

"Get er' Lucas!" One of the guys calls, following with a series of whooping howls. She sends him a withering glare and is about to stalk away to find Gaz when her drifting eyes catch on a brightly colored package peaking from Lucas' pocket. Maybe just one match and then she'd find him.

"What do you say Rubia? Just you and me?" He stops just a few feet from her, close enough that she can smell the sweat that sticks the front of his shirt to his muscled chest.

She has to bite back a laugh at the stuttered way Alejandro's pet name falls from his lips. A far cry from the other man's smoothness. It's not that Lucas isn't attractive, his body is well-shaped and thick dark hair falls into a pair of bright hazel eyes. If she wasn't so busy at the academy she might have even gone for a guy like him. But all she can think of is Ghost's kind eyes and if she's being honest, the shape of his ass in one of the heli harnesses. She doesn't have to see Lucas's backside to know it'll pale in comparison.

"I don't know." Flash looks him up and down, letting the boredom in her eyes shine. "You look a little," she waves one hand around as if it will pull the word from thin air "small."

Lucas flinches back, obviously not used to being rejected.

"Then it should be quick, no?" His smile is back now, and just as flirty as before.

She relents, “Rules?” She prompts, stretching her shoulders and removing the belt from her waist, doing her best to ignore the pinch as her stitched skin pulls taught.

“Clean fight. First one to tap loses.”

Flash nods and smiles widely, more than eager to move after sitting for the past five hours. Lucas smiles wide, almost looking feral with a pair of pointed canines.

She follows him to the mat and they square up, him guarding high over his jaw and her standing still, hands at her side. Someone behind them shouts a command and Lucas is lunging, striking hard and fast towards her exposed midsection. She easily sidesteps him, having seen the flex in his exposed calf muscle just a moment before. Childs play.

Flash lets him lunge, easily dancing around his brutally thrown fists and elbows as he tires himself out. She can already tell he’s used to using his weight as an advantage rather than a tool. Much like every other man she’s fought.

After a particularly poorly timed left hook, Lucas lets out a frustrated growl. Taking pity on him, Flash sighs before darting towards him. In just under two seconds, she’s slipped her leg behind his knees and with one shove of her elbow has him sprawled on the mat, blinking widely. In another second, she’s locked her bicep over his neck and tightened her legs around his chest in a breath-squeezing grip.

When he doesn’t stop squirming, her bicep tightens around his throat, "Tap." She orders, calm and unwavering. "You've already lost."

Nails scrape at her grip leaving angry red scratches against the back of her hand and wrist. She winces but doesn't relent. His gasping lips have turned pale and the veins at his forehead bulge against sweating skin. If he doesn't tap he'll pass out, she's sure of it. His fingers scratch at her hand again, but this time they’re fumbling and slow. The men surrounding her are shouting at him to fight back and Flash wonders if they're too ignorant to see that the lack of oxygen has left his limbs useless, or if they're just that dumb.

Just as his eyes start to roll back, there's a weak tap against her outer thigh. She immediately releases and Lucas scrambles back against the mat, shoving her to the side in the process, and hunches over, violently coughing between gags.

"What the fuck." He spits out, still curled into himself, red face inches above the dirty mat. "What the fuck is wrong with you."

Pushing herself to her feet, Flash stalks towards him and jabs a finger at his sweating glare. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She wasn't about to let him make her feel guilty, he'd started it, she just saw it through.

Lucas just stares at her with bloodshot eyes and the room around them stays silent. Nosy Bastards.

"I'll tell you what's wrong with you." She continues, stepping forward to rub the dirty tread of her shoe against the white of his shirt before leaning down, their faces just inches apart. "You're too slow."

He says nothing, even as she reaches over and snatches the cellophane bag of sweets from his pocket.

_____

Happily picking through the bag of candy she’d so fairly won, Flash wanders the property kicking rocks and half-assedly looking for Gaz. Just before she's about to turn and head back, she stumbles upon a smell that she can only describe as animal.

When Flash stops in front of the open barn doors, her jaw drops. One of the biggest horses she’d ever seen stands before her, lazily chewing on a mouthful of hay. She has to crane her head upward to see the ginger mane falling in neat tendrils over a huge, muscled neck. It's as beautiful as it is terrifying.

The horse's nose is soft like plush velvet when she runs a single finger across it, and surprisingly warm. The deep chestnut of its eyes stays relaxed and half-lidded so she strokes it again, this time with her palm. When she does, warm puffs of air blow against her hand and she jumps back, heart racing. The horse seems to sense this and with its long, nimble legs, lowers itself to the ground, nestling into the dry hay bed at her feet. Following it down, Flash drops to her knees and sits back against her heels, feeling braver now that they’re nearly face to face. Well, face to muzzle.

“You aren’t so mean. Huh?” She speaks softly, pressing her palm between the dark, watchful eyes and feeling the warmth of its skin. “Are you a boy or a girl?”

“She’s a girl.”

Flash falls backward, feet slipping from under her in the slick hay when a deep voice calls out from behind her. But large hands are under her arms in seconds, pulling her up and to her feet.

Ghost stands in front of her now, mouth quirked into a small smile under the cotton of his mask. “That’s the second time I’ve had to keep you from knockin’ yourself out.” His hands linger, squeezing her biceps reassuringly before dropping to his sides. “How often does this happen when I’m not around?”

“I- what?” Flash’s heart still beats wildly in her chest, partially from nearly cracking her head off the paved ground, but mostly from the looming presence in front of her. “What?”

“She’s a girl.” Ghost continues, choosing not to repeat his question. “Maple I think. One of Alejandro’s first girls. She’s a sweetheart.” He steps closer to Flash and for a moment she thinks he’s about to grab her, but then he’s reaching past her to rest a hand on the patch of cream-colored fur her own had been resting against just minutes before. Maple's eyes close and she pushes against his hand, moving to nose his palm. Ghost responds by loosening each finger of his glove before pulling it off and tucking it in his waistband. Flash watches intently as he returns his hand to the spot and smooths it upwards, following the patch of cream between her eyes.

“Do you still have that candy?”

Ghost's voice snaps her back and with burning cheeks, she pulls the small plastic bag from her pocket, feeling a pinch of shame at being caught but called out. “How did you know?”

“One of the guys was complaining.” He starts before turning to look at her, his brow furrows slightly at the scratches covering the back of her hand and forearm, but it eases when he glances up at her face. “And your mouth is bright red.”

Handing the bag to him, Flash uses the back of her other hand to wipe at her lips but it’s no use. “Horses can have candy?” She asks, now scrubbing her mouth with the sleeve of her fleece.

Ghost responds by pulling one of the round, brightly colored candies and placing it on the flat of his bare palm before extending it to Maple.

“Some.” He speaks lowly and in a calming tone that Flash knows is for the horse's sake, but she can't help but melt all the same. Maple picks the candy up with the soft skin of her lips before crunching it between a powerful set of teeth. “This stuff is just dyed sugar. They sell it everywhere.”

Then he’s grabbing her hand, flattening her fingers with a gentle swipe before setting a purple one on her palm. It's only when he starts to move her arm towards Maple's giant mouth that she jerks back, closing the candy tight in her palm. It’s sticky and in just a few seconds starts to melt against the heat of her skin.

“Keep your hand flat.” His hand curls around her forearm to grasp her wrist. “I promise she won’t bite. Open.”

At his command, Flash opens her palm and with shaking fingers, lets him guide her arm outwards with his hand wrapped reassuringly around her wrist. At the last moment, Flash shuts her eyes tight, not wanting to see the grisly sight of her fingers being ground to a pulp. But she’s only met with Maple’s warm breath and the tickle of whiskers as her soft lips take the sticky candy from her hand. A nervous laugh bubbles up from her own mouth, a mix of relief and joy at the strange feeling.

“See,” Ghost's voice vibrates from a warm chest, nearly pressed against her back. His hand still grips her wrist, “I told you she wouldn’t bite.”

“I trust you.” Flash says to their hands, “I just don’t trust the horse.”

“Give her another. This time with your eyes open.” She doesn’t ask how he knew her eyes were closed.

With open eyes, Flash lets Ghost set another candy, a bright orange one, onto her palm. Her wrist, still encompassed by his gentle hand, moves on its own accord towards Maple’s brown muzzle. She takes it just as sweetly as before, in a soft kiss of whiskers.

Flash does laugh this time, a sweet laugh that has her falling back a step with the effort, right into Ghost.

When she turns to apologize, still laughing, the words die on her tongue. He stares down at her, eyes wide and burning with so much emotion her breath catches in her throat. His own breath comes shakily through his nose as he brings a hand up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear before dropping it back to his side.

“Do you want to ride her?” He whispers, still staring intently at her face.

“Fuck no.” Flash breathes. But she doesn’t stop him as he pulls a saddle off a post and begins to strap it to a now-standing Maple. She doesn’t stop him when he lifts her like a rag doll and places her in the saddle, or when he gracefully swings himself up to sit behind her. And she doesn’t stop him when he reaches around her to hold the brown leather reins and guide them out and onto a dirt trail. She could have, but she doesn’t.

She’d severely underestimated the proximity that riding a horse with someone requires. Every inch of their bodies molded together, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. It’s glorious. She can’t help but settle back a bit, reveling in the way his arms wrap around her shoulders.

The setting sun shines orange and yellow across the tan field, turning it into an ocean of waving ochre honey, and the rest of the green flowing forest into a golden meadow. It seeps into her very bones, dragging her heartbeat to a dull thump that sounds in time with the gentle rocking of Maple's steps. She shifts further back, now laying entirely across Ghost's chest and nestling into the warm spot between his neck and shoulder. It smells delightfully of sweat, oranges, and dirt. He stiffens at first, she doesn’t know if it’s surprise or discomfort, but he relaxes just a moment later, resting his chin gently atop her head. And there, nestled in the warmth of his embrace and lulled by the swaying steps of sweet Maple. Flash closes her eyes and wills her mind to remember every detail, begs her body not to forget the gentle shift of muscle against her back as Ghost directs them down a rough path he seems to know so well.

“You’ve done this before?” Her question is quiet, spoken through a drowsy fog.

Ghost moves the reins to one hand and uses the other to gently knit their fingers together, the way she’d done in his truck. Here in her sleep-drunk state, the effort it takes for him to fit his fingers between her own smaller ones is too comical. “Yes,” His thumb rubs up and down the ridges of her knuckles, no doubt soothing his own nerves, “I’ve spent a lot of time here. Alejandro has done a lot for me.”

“With the horses?”

“Well,” he starts, hesitatingly, “A few years ago, I was having a rough time. Things were not going my way.” A large breath presses his chest tightly against her back “Alejandro let me stay with him for as long as I needed.”

“So you became a cowboy?” She teases, squeezing his hand tight.

“Not right away,” he laughs lightly and Flash involuntarily presses back into the sound, “I was scared shitless. Alejandro had to practically force me into the barn. But then I learned more about them. How compassionate and loving they are. Did you know they can have a whole conversation with just their ears?”

Flash hums encouragingly, hoping he’ll keep talking, if only to feel his voice against her back.

“They can love too. They’ll bond to someone, and love them the same way a human would. Real love.” An eager note shifts his voice, something Flash had never heard before.

“And did you bond with Maple?” Flash speaks into the soft cotton of his jacket.

“No,” a sigh tickles the soft hair at her nape “though we did get close. I have another horse. Her name is Rose.”

“Pretty name.” Flash hums “Where is she?”

Ghost stiffens again, and this time it takes him a few more beats to settle back and even longer to respond.

“She’s being cared for by my neighbor.”

“What’s she look like?” Flash’s voice is drifting, and the lids of her eyes seem impossibly heavy. She starts to imagine his home. A cupboard filled with chipped mugs and a wooden drying rack next to a deep basin sink. She’s decided that he’s not one to use a dishwasher.

“Golden hair,” his hand reaches up to tug at a strand of her own and she bats a hand at him, completely missing through her half-lidded gaze. “Blue eyes.” He’s brushing his hand along her cheekbone now and the feeling is like a magnet, tugging her eyes closed with a final drag down the bridge of her nose. “And a fiery temperament.”

“Are you calling me a horse?” Flash mumbles, half incoherent. But Ghost manages to decipher it and laughs breathily.

“No, I’m just noticing some similarities.” His hand reaches up to smooth the hair at her temple. Its awfully delightful.

“You keep doing that I’m going to fall asleep.” She threatens, even though they both know she’s far past salvation.

“That’s okay.” His hand drops to wrap around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. “I won’t let you fall.”

“Okay.”

And for the first time since the incident, Flash falls asleep without the anxiety of what she’ll miss, what will pull her from her sheets, screaming and clawing. For the first time in weeks, she falls asleep in the sweet embrace of safety.

A/N: You cannot tell me that Flash isn't an ass woman. She's going to be grabbing handfuls soon.

Also the idea of Ghost hyper fixating on horses AUGGHH HES TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD

Anywaysss, thank you for sticking with me through all of this. I love all of you and will talk to you again very soon!

#Ghost x reader #Ghost x female oc #SImon riley #Cod fic #Simon Ghost Riley #Alejandro Vargas #Valeria #Modern Warfare 2 #Ghost stories #Headcannons #John soap mactavish #John Price #MW2 #Gaz Garrick

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voidingintotheshout · 5 months

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Bigger Bro: A Continuation

Okay, so there's this amazing story of filial revenge by someone on here called Better Off Bigger. They wrote an amazing 10 page (6,000 word) story called Big Bro. It's one of my favorite stories (of any genre) from the last couple of years. It is 18+ but I don't recall any sex or descriptions of nudity. Use discretion, but in my estimation is only PG-13.

Anyway, I wrote a 19 page (15,000 word) sequel to this awesome story exploring the family history and the relationship dynamics between the two brothers. I've talked with Better Off Bigger and their preference is that I link to their story and then post my own. I'll honor that and remind you that my story may not stand of its own without reading their story first.

Link to: Big Bro by Better Off Bigger

I'll post my story in two parts. I started this story in January 2023. It's DECEMBER 2023 now. It's been a tough thing to polish and edit. It's worth knowing that I loathe editing, so if there is a typo, leave it (and the location) in the comments if it's bothering you and I'll try to get around to fixing it in less time it took me to edit this thing (6+ months).

Bigger Bro (Part 1 of 2) (2023)

Note: Part 1 is in first person, from Jared’s perspective.

Fortunately, I love cooking, so spending a couple of extra hours in the kitchen every day making food for my big bro Marco was something that gave me pleasure. It also didn’t hurt that recently, my stepbrother had been conditioned to eat everything that was put in front of him, and it showed.

It has been a year since I moved out of my parents house, and Marco was out of a job. Apparently, someone tipped off our oblivious boss at how much food Marco was eating, which, at first our boss didn’t really care that much about until this person put a price tag on how much it was costing our boss, and then Marco had to go.

We moved ourselves out of that house, and for a little while he was at a loss. He hadn’t been out of work in years, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He thought for a while about going to college or going back to school in between bites of whatever food I put in front of him, but whenever I would dangle the idea of how he would pay for it in front of him, the idea of cashing in his nest egg on going back to school didn’t appeal to him. He’d tell me that he would think about it, mull it over in between mouthfuls. Fortunately, I managed to keep him mostly occupied as I persuaded him that this new arrangement was about complete freedom for him to do what he wanted. No asshole judgmental friends, no asshole judgmental parents, and no asshole judgmental coworkers. He could do what made him happy, which coincidentally was what would make me happy: him eating like a pig.

I moved around some of the dishes that were warming in the oven and stirred some of the items that were still on the stove. I treated our stove like a warming oven, so things that took a long time to put together like a stack of waffles or pancakes, or French toast, could just stay warm in the oven while I worked on other things. I could still hear Marco’s snoring from the end of the hall, so I knew that he was still asleep. Fortunately, I was almost done.

The pot of coffee was brewing on the dining table, and that was the last thing I put together for his breakfast. I already had my lean breakfast while I was cooking, because I certainly wasn’t gonna wait around a half hour to an hour while he wolfed down all of that food. I turned the heat off on the final items to get done, which was the roasted carrots in butter sauce. I started to plate everything on large trays, because he didn’t really care about eating off of ceramics, so I just put the food directly on serving trays, just to make it easier for me to keep everything clean. I just kept a stack of them on the counter and I could just throw them in the dishwasher as needed. Usually one meal cooking for Marco ended up filling up the dishwasher more or less, so I just got into the habit of emptying the dishwasher while I was prepping the food.

I was plating the food, when I heard a thud at the end of the hallway, and that usually meant that Marco had rolled himself out of bed. I knew from experience that the heavier you got, you’re not usually very good at getting a sense of how much your life has changed since you’ve started gaining weight. He wasn’t even aware that he needed to use the momentum of swinging his legs to get his body off of the bed. One time, about a month or two ago, I came home. He was taking a nap in bed, and I tried to get him to see if he could get out of bed without swinging his legs over the side. Poor fat fuck acted like I was asking him to do the impossible. For a second, I wanted to get on to the bed and show that I had more than enough core strength to turn my body without swinging my legs… that this was an indication of how fat and heavy he had become, but I didn’t wanna fuck things up.

I heard the thuds of his footfalls, and I popped my head around the corner so I could see him waddle down the hallway. Unlike me, who gained weight mostly in the belly, Marco gained it everywhere, and he had already developed massive ass and thighs that made it so that he needed to waddle everywhere he went. Fortunately, I did everything for him, so no one had yet had called him out on the fact that he was literally waddling from place to place. I loved that I saw the edge of his belly leave the bedroom quite a bit before I saw the rest of him He waddled down the hallway, his arms pushed out from the massive bags of fat hanging down under his armpits. His apron of belly fat was hanging down below the reach of his arms. He could reach the end of his belly, but only if he was lying on his back.

One day, I was feeding him breakfast and he mentioned that he had just been beating off thinking about the hot guy I’d just brought home and fucked last night. I went into his room, and I saw that he had piled some pillows in the middle of the bed, presumably to get his belly away from his dick so he could even fucking reach it. I checked the browser history, but he was either too oblivious, or careless to even think about clearing it, and I was very happy to see that he was already chatting with communities of gainers and encouragers online. Googling tips on how you can continue masturbating at large sizes. I mean, he had a boyfriend, Nathan, but all of his eating made Marco horny so he usually needed it more often than Nathan was around. Nate was a little bit smaller than I was at my peak. He weighed about 275. Marco loved it because Nate was half his size.

“Sup bro.” Marco interjected. “Have another amazing repast for me, I see. You’re lucky that I’m here so that you can keep your skills up. It’s not like that bullshit restaurant you work at even serves breakfast food.” I snickered, because the restaurant had been an ‘amazing, esteemed place’ before he’d been fired but was now a ‘bullshit, shithole, fleabag’ now. A ‘bullshit’ restaurant serving fare he’d shovel into his face as fast as he could every time I brought home anything.

He started digging into the French toast with ice cream and syrup and butter. He ate it with serving spoons now because it was just easier to get stuff into his mouth. I was trying to convince him to start eating with his hands, but it was gonna take a little bit more persuading to get him to eat foods like mashed potatoes (which were hot), or ice cream (which was cold) with his hands. “Yeah. I love getting all the practice I can. I’ll have some of my fellow chefs drop off some food starting at around eleven. Will that give you enough time?”

“Yeah. I’ll be up and about by then. I got a lot of stuff percolating in the tank.” He said, with a jerk upwards, as if he was busy thinking deep thoughts about his future, as he moaned and grunted audibly stuffing food in as quickly as he could, in an effort to overfill his stomach before his brain could send the signal that he was full. As if it was a race against time.

“Excellent. It’s important to stay busy. Will you still be up later in the week to let some of my buddies in culinary school cook for you? They all really appreciate having someone with a good appetite who can give them notes on what you liked and what you didn’t. You know, food tasters are nice, but they only taste a bite of the food but you’ll finish the whole meal so you give them better sense of which items lose their flavor or stop being as delicious by the last bite.” I also liked the fact that the mammoth meals stuffed my obese brother with thousands of extra calories, every single time he had one of those. I wasn’t about to tell my brother that they didn’t really need his feedback, but I really loved any opportunity to stuff that fatass with more calories.

I thought back to Marco walking down the hallway. His double chin turned in to a small scoop of fat as plump, fleshy face jiggled as he waddled down the hallway. Marco generally didn’t bother wearing shirts around the house, but rather just kept a nice shirt near any place that he was likely to sit and eat, so he could just throw the shirt on anytime he needed to have guests. That would guarantee that if there were any food stains, they were almost always on the inside of the shirt.

I didn’t know how fat Marco had gotten exactly, but every once in a while, I would bring home a bottle of rum and two liters of Coke, and Marco would get completely wasted. Once, Marco had gotten to the point that I knew the fatass was about 10 minutes away from falling asleep, I would make Marco put one foot foot on either scale, because Marco was too fat for anything less than a bariatric scale at this point, and get his weight. This was an important one, because this was the one year anniversary of the two of us moving in together. When we moved in, Marco was 410 pounds. He had gained another 5 to 7 pounds between when he got fired and when we actually moved in. I glanced over to the table and noticed that Marco had finished half of the food on two of the cafeteria trays that were piled high with mounds of food covered in fat and butter and sugar. “Everything good there a big bro?”

“Amazing as always. I don’t know how you do it. I was always useless in the kitchen, but I was always pretty helpful around the dinner table finishing stuff off. Not that our fucking parents appreciated that. I’m glad I can at least do something to create more amazing chefs like you by giving all of your friends notes about what they’re making. Some of them are pretty good. That lady, Sandra? She’s amazing. You should have her come and cook again.”

Sandra. Yeah, Sandra wasn’t going to be coming back.

One of the design details that I had all over the house is I had mirrors right next to photos of Marco as he used to look when he was fit. As a way of taunting him. Amazingly, he never really put it together, he just saw that he was a hot guy and that was awesome and now he can do whatever he wants which was also awesome. Sandra didn’t know she was going to be cooking for someone who at the moment was about 530 pounds. Not only that, without anyone but me and his encourager boyfriend, he had lost all sense of decorum and table manners as he was encouraged to stuff food in as quickly and shamelessly as he could; never timid about asking for, or demanding, more food at any time. It was part of my plan to make a Marco one of those greedy pigs that he saw watching episodes of My 600 Pound Life. It was all part of a larger plan.

Sandra didn’t know any of that, and when she found out that her food was being used to make a 23 year old guy who was already so heavy that he struggled to get up, even fatter… she felt like she was doing something bad, and when she insisted that she would try to intervene and get Marco to start being healthier, she had to go. If need be, I could make up some story about unprofessional conduct, or she had a death in the family and needed to move away, or whatever.

I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling that Marco had already gotten so fat that he would struggle to actually get into that fucking car of his. Once I knew that he was so fat that he would just keep stuffing himself for the rest of his life, I would point that out so maybe we could sell the car and he could keep the money for his rainy day fund and that would be so much less power that he would have to do things for himself. I didn’t need my pig to get away.

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened to her. I haven’t heard from her in a long time. I don’t know if she’s in the game anymore.” There was Nick, though, who had just moved up from Tennessee and had gotten used to putting too much butter and gravy in all of his southern cooking at the restaurant though. He was interesting, a little unpolished, but as soon as his techniques got better, I think he would jump at the chance of cooking for Marco, someone who would appreciate food made with as much butter and gravy as Nick could whip together.

Two-thirds of the food was gone. At this point I would usually go into the kitchen and rinse off stuff and put it in the dishwasher while he was absorbed in stuffing his face with more food, something that happened more and more often.

Once he got over 400 pounds and lost his job because people said he was too fat, he tried to rally a little bit, but it was moving out that really broke him. You see, he used to be a guy who could benchpress hundreds of pounds so when he was packing stuff up and moving stuff out of his room, I was making great progress with my stuff and I wasn’t helping him. His parents weren’t really talking to him that much because he kept on teasing them that he was going to move out and eat whatever he wanted and they were not happy. Fortunately for me, they are not people who communicate well. They’re the kind of people that, when they’re unhappy with you, they just stop talking to you. That was supposed to make the other person want to reach out and extend an olive branch, but Marco was just too stupid and oblivious for that. So all he registered was that they just weren’t giving him shit about what he was eating anymore and that he was almost ready to leave. I had packed up most of my wardrobe, the gym equipment, some of my smaller pieces of furniture, as well as other stuff like things from Marco’s and my childhoods that our parents didn’t want anymore. They were getting older and wanted to move into a smaller place. The house they were living in was part of a really great school system that was also really expensive. Since they didn’t really need to worry about that since they were empty-nesters, they could move into a much smaller, two-bedroom place without any stairs that was closer to his father’s job, and would be the kind of place that even if their knees started to go from all of their exercise, they wouldn’t have trouble getting around the house. A smart move, I thought.

So there I was, I would fill my car with a bunch of stuff, the big items first. It was easy. I would be packing up some stuff, with help from the guys at the gym, and I was making a ton of progress. Marco insisted that he could do it himself. He had his own car. The only problem was, the last time he had done a lot of weightlifting was 200 pounds ago, back when his weight was below 200. That belly was in his way. When he would be folding up his clothes, and lifting boxes off of the ground—it ended up being some thing that was not possible for him without getting winded or frustrated. Even with creating a mobility aide, such as putting the box on the desk chair while he was still sitting on the floor, and then using the desk chair to hoist himself up off the floor, he got worn out packing up a single box over the course of an afternoon. One day, after our parents have gone to sleep, I was back from the restaurant, and I was stuffing Marco with all of the foods that had gotten returned, as well as a bunch of other stuff that I was whipping up once he finished with that. It was our nightly routine.

He came to me, despondent. I knew it was serious because he’d stopped eating and put down the food for a few minutes. He came clean that he just didn’t have the stamina right now. Maybe he was just bloated from too many celebratory freedom meals. (That’s what he was calling every meal now that he was unemployed). He told me that he just didn’t have the energy to do this anymore and he wanted to know if he could have some help from me and my gym buddies, the ones that used to be his friends. I looked at him coldly, making sure to look down at his bloated, gut and food-stained shirt. The shirt that he had been wearing at the restaurant when he got fired. The one that had been tight then and now his belly was hanging out of the bottom of. He didn’t even care. I told him that I would get him his help, but in exchange he needed to sit there, in that shirt, stuffing his face the entire time they were packing up his room and he need to apologize that he had just gotten too fat to do this kind of stuff. I told him that I wanted him to own up to the type of man he was now and come clean. That he was too fat, and too out of shape to do anything other than eat. He started to object, but I told him that if he didn’t have his shit out of here, he would be unemployed, living with his parents, and I knew he didn’t fucking want that. I had him over a barrel. He relented.

Marco was on the last tray of food today, so while I was cleaning up the kitchen, I brought out some of the snacks that got him through the morning. I placed them in front of him I along with a remote. Sometimes he got so fat and heavy after eating, that he couldn’t manage to hoist himself up for several hours. So, since we had one of those giant flatscreen TVs across the living room, he would sometimes just sit at the table, snacking on food until his bladder or his appetite forced him to hoist his fat ass up and take care of something. “Thanks man. I didn’t wanna say anything, but those four trays are starting to not cut it anymore, you know? Like I’m not hungry obviously it’s just I’m not really as full as I’d like to be.”

God he was a pig. “Yeah, I know man. I used to be heavy too. I know how good it feels to really weigh yourself down after a nice meal. I’ve got you buddy. We’ll move up to five trays starting tomorrow. That should fill you up.” I figured by the time he got to 600 pounds a year from now I would be up to six trays, which was as much as that table could hold, but I also figured at that point I might be able to condition him to just start taking most of his meals in that bariatric bed with the foldout tables, and once I got him to start eating in bed, I knew he would never get up again. Then my plan would really start.

Anyway. Moving day. This was before Nate entered the picture. I saw Nate at the bar that Marco used to go to. He was trying to coax his date into finishing another plate of fries and all I heard was this random ex jock, shouting “stop trying to fatten me up dammit!”

I knew I had found the right person.

So I talked to Nate and explained about my brother. I knew I had chosen the right person when he got this hungry look in his eyes seeing the before and after picture from a hot, sexy confident jock to this puffy blob of a man lounging on the sofa with a huge tray of food resting on his belly, because it was the only place his fat arms could reach easily anymore. Nate immediately wanted to start playing around with Marco and it helped that he worked at a bakery, a place that tends to be open in the mornings and close by dinner time so I had someone who could feed Marco while I was at work during the dinner rush. I need to keep my brother full.

I couldn’t let him get hungry and start wasting away, now could I?

I’d set it up as if Nate was someone going to culinary school who was interested in Marco and loved his confidence or whatever, which was true. I wasn’t expecting Nate to develop genuine feelings, I was honestly only thinking of creating another incentive for Marco to continue being a pig, now that I had broken him with moving day.

Nate would come over about three times a week, and they would talk on the phone a lot, Marco never really putting it together that Nate always liked call when he knew Marco was going to be eating something. Whatever boats your float, Nate. They even fooled around… occasionally, because sex with Marco tended to be more of an ordeal, or so Nate said. The bigger Marco got, the less energetic and mobile he was. The more likely he would get out of breath, of his pulse would race too much, or whatever. This meant that his partner would need to take it even slower, and do more of the work. This meant that sex was fairly rare, especially since his belly and fat pad had buried so much of his dick at this point. I knew this because I was the one who needed to wash him down there now that he couldn’t reach everywhere anymore. The lack of sex thing was nice though, because that kept Marco horny and that made him eat more. It didn’t matter though because when he had sex, he felt like that hot stud he was before, and that also caused him to eat more.

I had done most of the washing up except for the final tray that Marco had in front of him and that’s when I heard the TV flip on, which was my cue that I could head out and start doing some cardio. I’d gotten myself into peak physical condition, so at this point it was all about maintenance. I didn’t wanna look like some kind of power lifter, so fitness was more about about going to the gym to maintain and burn off steam. I had about 45 minutes before I needed to leave for work so I had enough time to run a couple of miles before I took a quick shower and throw on my work clothes. Him being done with breakfast was a good sign. I would go for my workout, come home and then start the dishwasher. “You feeling good bro?” I’d shout from the kitchen.

I just heard a few mumbled words as he tried to talk with his mouth full. I smiled. I loved how easy this was. If the old Marco had seen what he was like now, he would be horrified. The fact that he was more than double his high school weight and didn’t really seem to care was more than I had hoped.

Sometimes, at the end of the day, he was so weighed down with food and muscle atrophy that he thought nothing of letting me help him up. The idea that he struggled to hoist his fat ass out of a chair after doing nothing but eating all day, didn’t even seem to bother him. “Awesome. I’m gonna go for my run. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I walked past where he’d seated himself on his bariatric bench with the wheels, so he could easily hoist himself up. I’d managed to convince him to let me install a little rope pull attached to one of the ceiling beams right above where he sat, to help hoist himself up. He said he didn’t need it, but I noticed that he uses it pretty much every time now. I was also gonna have one right above the spot on the couch that he usually sits in so we can use that one to help with himself up off the couch when he needs it.

I took off the apron and hung it from the hook in the kitchen, revealing the running clothes underneath. It was just easier to cook in my running gear that way I could save some time. Cooking that mountain of food for him was not easy. I glanced over at him and saw that he had already finished the fourth tray and was wolfing down a bunch of the snacks already. He was insatiable. I was glad to see that he had the TV remote and the door remote if he needed them.

That was one of the things that I treated him to when he got to 450 pounds. I had gotten to be pretty senior in the restaurant since I was saving money all over the place and getting rid of food waste (Which was going to Marco) and customer satisfaction was through the roof. Being in the food industry, and the restaurant industry in my town, you get to know chefs from all the other restaurants. It’s like a brotherhood. You find yourself calling them for references and stuff like that and eventually I’d broach the subject of what do you and delivery drivers do with food that you can’t sell. Dishes that get returned and deliveries that the customer paid for but didn’t show up to accept. Situations where you order too much of something and it needs to be used today and you’re not likely to do so. Well, wanting to have less food waste, it was easiest to just give all of that food to a delivery driver and have them run it over to Marco’s place. Marco would press the button on the door remote and let the guy in, who would place all the food in front of Marco and get five to ten bucks for his trouble. That way Marco would have piles more food and the guy (or the restaurant would have 5 to 10 bucks more than he used to. It didn’t happen every day, but it was getting more consistent as pizzas and cheesesteaks or whatever would arrive and Marco would be there to stuff it down his fat face.

Anyway, I turned down at the end of my block and continue on with my run. I wasn’t really worried about my time or my pacing anymore. I’m basically where I wanna be but I do try to keep my pace at a certain level just so I know that I’m not backsliding.

I’m very curious as to how much walking it would take Marco to get out of breath, but I don’t think he has left the house more than once in the last six months. I get all of his clothes and anything else he needs. I do the grocery shopping mainly because I don’t want him to buy a bunch of shitty tasting junk food which might make him bored. Eventually, I’ll need to resort to that when his appetite is such that I can’t really do a full-time job and feed him all day. Happily, he’s not at that point yet.

So anyway, moving day. Over 100 pounds ago. Marco had his instructions and I brought some of his old friends went and seen him in a few months and I choose the judgiest of his old gym buddies and I prefaced it by saying that Marco was unrepentant, and all he wanted to do was just be a pig out and stuff his fat ass with as much food as he could. He’d gotten himself so out of shape that he didn’t even have the stamina anymore to pack boxes and move them into his fucking car. We needed to get him out of the house so we’re gonna need to do it for him. Should only take a few hours with a couple of us working together.

The stage was set. I had given Marco a fairly lean breakfast, so he was already complaining for food by the time my friends from the gym got there. He didn’t know that they were his old workout buddies and some of his old lovers. They saw Marco with his belly hanging out of his old uniform, stuffing himself with anything he could get his hands on. Apologizing for not being able to help but he’s just really bloated lately and he just doesn’t have the stamina. That it just wears him out packing up all those boxes. He played his part to a T, and he was eating slices of cheesecake with his hands, right out of the tin. He takes a messy pile and holds it out to one of the gym rats and says “do you want a slice? It’s really good!”

They look at him disgusted. “Jesus fuck dude. You’re like a fucking disgusting pig. I think you might be the fattest guy I’ve ever fucking seen. That’s all you do. Just stuffing your fat ugly face with more fucking food? I remembered when I used to lust after you. I asked you for lifting tips. The only thing you’re lifting is your fucking fork. Do you even use silverware? Are you literally just stuffing food into your face with your hands? God what the fuck happened to you. You’re such a gross pig.” Marco looked totally defeated.

Fortunately, he was so hungry, and he was so prone to eating his feelings that it just made him want to stuff his face more, and when he realized they were not going to be convinced to treat him nicely, he almost wanted to stuff his face more to antagonize them. This gave me the idea that I’m going to be presenting to Marco later today after my run. One of the other guys chimed in who have been rejected by Marco “I remember when you were the type of guy they could have whatever you wanted, but it turns out the only thing you wanted more of was food. That’s why you ended up getting fatter than everyone else and you probably can’t even fit on most of the machines at the gym. Is it true that you got fired from your job at the restaurant because you got too fat? Oh my God, that’s your uniform isn’t it? You only got fired a few weeks ago and your belly is spilling out of the uniform? Damn, you’re never gonna lose weight if you don’t treat that as a wake up call.”

Marco, spiteful, stopped eating long enough to spit out a few words “I don’t need to stop eating. I can eat whatever fuck I want to and I hope you know that even though I’ve eaten myself so fat I can’t even pack up my own shit to move out of my house, I’m gonna stuff my face the entire fucking time you’re here so you can know that your words are motivating me to get even fatter.” He pulled up his shirt and grab the newly forming roll below his flabby sagging man breasts and said “do you see this roll right here? I’m gonna stuff my face until it ends up developing even more creases and folds in my flesh. And the entire time I’m doing it I’m gonna be thinking about you. So that you know you made me even fatter and heavier.” The rejected guy, who was a little bit of a dom, was disgusted, but I couldn’t help but notice that he needed to readjust his crotch immediately after. I’d catch Sean occasionally stealing glances at Marco gorging himself after that. Even all these months later, he’d try to play it cool and ask me ‘what is that gross pig of a brother looking like now’ and ask for a pic. There was a hungry look in his eyes that I was definitely going to take advantage of when Marco had totally given up.

I had gone around a mile and a half at this point and I was just about to turn and go through the homestretch. I tried to do about a 5K before I left for work, but sometimes I didn’t have time, and I had to turn it around early. That day he ended up stuffing himself to the point that he started begging and demanding that I order pizza to come to the house, so we could continue stuffing himself with more food as they move the last of the stuff out of his room. To the guys, I acted appalled that my fat ass stepbrother would want even more food but then, when I had a moment alone, I called the delivery place and ordered three pizzas to be delivered to our parents house under his name, as if while we were outside, he was just phoned to order more food. Happily, Marco was in on the bed and fessed up for it saying that three pizzas was not even going to be enough to fill his belly and then he probably would end up ordering a few more. That he needed to get himself nice and fat for them. That was the moment where I was absolutely sure that he was a man who ran exclusively on spite. I could use that.

As it turned out, I thought, as I finished the last third of the run. Marco had overestimated his appetite. He had eaten himself into a stupor, sure. But as he rested on his bed in the new place, surrounded by boxes, he still had one and a half pizzas left over, but those would be gone within 24 hours. After that, he was vocal about asking for as much food as he wanted. It was his thing, he had decided. He would not accept less than he wanted. The weight started to climb really quickly and I decided that I wanted to make sure that he didn’t need to leave the house to get anything so when I saw his clothes were starting to get tight I replaced them with larger sizes that I would buy on the Internet and have shipped to the house. That way he never really needed to worry about whether he could find clothes. Once I knew what brands he liked, it was very easy to pick him up a new T-shirt or sweatshirt that had sizes up to 10X or the gigantic pairs of sweatpants that he would throw on.

I even created a strap, like on a messenger bag, that he could use to pull up his pants if he needed to get them up and down. Hell, sometime between 450 and 500, I managed to convince him to start doing enemas which I needed to help him with. He was already used to the concept because he needed them before when he hooked up with guys, but the fact that he couldn’t actually reach back there well enough to insert it was new. I just needed to do about 2 to 3 enemas per week and he was good to go. I had started to turn onto the block where I lived and knew I would be heading home soon and then it was rushing to work and business as usual.

The funny thing is at one point about six months after he moved into this place. It’s almost like he just gave up. He started to look at old photos of himself like it was another person. Occasionally, he would watch episodes of My 600 Pound Life and complain because those people didn’t look that fat. Six-hundred pounds didn’t look that big to him. What were they complaining about?

That was a day where he couldn’t get the momentum to hoist his fat ass up off of the couch and needed me to help pull him up and he didn’t even have the self-awareness to see that he was a morbidly obese, 23-year-old who was too fat to wipe his ass, too fat to get up sometimes, and he was stuffing himself heading for 600 pounds.

Fortunately, one of the things that he loved back when he was fit, was showing himself off on Instagram. Fortunately, for me, he’s not very internet savvy. I walked in, and he was groggily digesting the meal working his way through a pot of coffee that was sitting next to him. The table he ate at was right next to an outlet, so I just brewed the coffee there, so he could just get coffee, as well as what turned out to be weight gain shakes that filled a small mini fridge that sat on the table. That way if he ran out of food and was desperate, he had something to eat, ignoring the fact that it was basically boost in a one-gallon pitcher.

“Hey bro” I asked the blob. “Have you thought about that Mukbang thing that I was telling you about?”

“Yeah. I’m definitely going to do it. In fact, I already set up the channel and created one or two videos already. They don’t have a lot of views, but it’s early yet. It’s not hard for me just to set up a video camera here and just videotape me eating and just talking about whatever. It’s nice to actually talk about, you know, my opinions on sports and culture and whatever and that Patreon thing that allows people to give me money? That’s amazing. People are really generous with that stuff. Especially when I showed what I looked like before I started eating? The money just started pouring in. I’m getting a lot of people that’ll just pay me money to eat random stuff. If I keep this up, I might be able to make enough money to actually pay rent around here! Imagine that, being able to earn more money stuffing my face than I could serving other people! That way, any time someone dropped off some food, I can just turn that into a video. Nate even said that he would agree to doing this kind of video where one person feeds me on camera? Apparently, that’s some thing that a lot of the guys have been requesting and it would be kinda hot to be able to do a video with my boyfriend. Thanks for the idea!” I saw that he was about to try to hoist himself up to head to the couch, but his belly bumped up against the bottom of the table and knocked him back down. He glanced up at the pull rope, and then just sighed ever so slightly. He settled back down and then reached over to grab a pitcher of the weight gain shake from the fridge. He waved me away to get dressed in my bedroom, and he pressed play on the video camera to start his next Mukbang.

“Hey, everybody. Mark of the Beast here. Or MarcObese as you’ve suggested I call myself. I’m thinking about the new name. I like it. It’s better than the cheesy metal name that I thought of. Anyway, I’ve got this pitcher of really fattening protein shake that my awesome stepbrother made. He’s the one that cooks a lot of the food you see on this channel. He’s a chef at this awesome restaurant in our town. He doesn’t want me to mention the name but it’s amazing. I’m just gonna go and rant about judgmental people at the gym while I finish this shake. Buckle up guys, I have a lot to say. Now it’s probably been a while since I’ve been at the gym. I didn’t really go back after that bullshit with moving day. Fuck those guys. I’ve just been focused on eating what I want, and living my best life. I’m glad that you guys are coming along for the ride. Although I doubt that if I did go back to the gym, it would be the same one I used to go to, the ones with all those judgy bitches that were there last time. So anyway, I struggled a little bit pulling open the door to the gym because it was uphill and I was just getting a little out of breath. OK? Not a big deal. And then this judgy twig of a woman goes ‘maybe you should pick up the barbells instead of the bars of chocolate tubbo!’ And I go ‘Fuck you! I’m gonna have twice as much junk food as I was going to today, that’ll show you!’ So anyway…”

I heard Marco trailer off after I cast one glance into the living room as I saw that he had already finished about a quarter of the pitcher when I went into the bathroom, closing the door and turned on the water to take my shower. My plan was going perfectly. Once he got to about 550 pounds, it was gonna be time to move on to phase 3. I just wanted to give it a little bit more time for his Mukbang channel to become his “career”.

Once some helpful person had pointed his channel out to the gainer and encourager scene, guys from all over the world started coming out of the woodwork and being so nice to him. Giving him money just to eat food he wanted to eat anyway. To Marco, it was a dream come true. But my dreams for Marco were just getting started. The days when I couldn’t bring people home because he was taking up all the space in the living room recording his videos? That time was coming to a close, I had a feeling. The water rushed over my svelte, naked body, and I thought of how much fun I could have in that living room when Marco finally figured out why he got the big bedroom, in the place I was paying for.

///

Some time later, after Jared had quietly left, Marco shut the camera off. It was an OK video. Like a lot of his videos, he did it as a livestream where he made most of the money, release it as a video a while later, and then film a little bonus video at the same time where he would eat a little treat, based on the audience’s suggestion, and that bonus video would only be available on the Patreon. Overall, he would do about one pair of videos every day or two and between the money he made during the videos (and the money he made on the Patreon broken up per week), he ended up making about $100-$200 a week. It wasn’t much, but his channel was growing pretty quickly.

It had been a few hours since he had plunked himself down on his bench to have breakfast, and he had about a half an hour or so until people started to arrive with food for lunch. Then Jared was going to be coming back to drop off some food after the lunch rush around 2:30 or so so he had only a little bit of time before he would inevitably be woken up by someone, so he decided the best thing he could do was just put on one of the music channels on the TV and take a nap on the couch. He looked up at the rope, reached up and used all his upper body strength to pull himself up. His body felt so bloated and weighed down after eating so much, he thought to himself.

He wasn’t aware that since he overate at every single meal that heavy feeling wasn’t being bloated from his last meal, but the fact that he was growing ever closer to 600 pounds. He could feel his body shake as he waddled the short distance to the couch, and then thought better of it, and waddled back to his bedroom to go take a piss before he stretched out on the couch.

He waddled over to the toilet and grabbed the rope that was tied to a hook on the wall, and he looped it around underneath his belly, and held the loose end in his other hand, and that’s what he used to pull his belly up and out of the way, so that he could piss without pissing all over the bottom part of his belly, which sometimes was in the way now. It was another one of his stepbrother’s ingenious tricks. He was so grateful for Jared. Not having to worry about going out to buy food to fill his belly, not having to worry about cooking everything, not having to worry about rent and paying the bills. Keeping his parents off of his back? Jared ran interference about everything, so Marco could just worry about growing his channel, starting up his Mukbang business, and enjoying his life.

That done, he glanced at himself in the vanity mirror, backing up, so he could feel the tile against the soft fat behind his shoulder blades, and his large buttocks pressed against the tile. It was the only way he could take in his whole body as he saw his wide, flabby body, staring back at him. He looked at it, and smiled. Sure, he had accepted that he might be way fatter than Jared had ever been, but when Jared was fat, he looked like a flabby loser, Makos still felt like he was doing Jared a favor by making fun of him. Especially given how hot and in-control Jared had turned out. It was the push Jared needed to get the kind of life that he had now. Sure, Marco had been trying to get Jared to break his diet, but as it turned out, all of that, stuffing his face in front of Jared had given Jared the motivation to keep at it. It looked like Marco wasn’t the only one that was motivated by spite. He saw all the fat rolls and cellulite piling on top of his neck, making it so that he couldn’t really check behind him anymore because there was just too much fat on the way. He couldn’t really bend over and touch his toes anymore. When he needed to put on shoes for some reason, like, if Nate wanted to take him out for a date at a buffet, they had to be slip-ons, and he almost never wore socks. It was just too hard. He looked at his obese form in the mirror, and felt like he looked like a man was imposing and took up space. He didn’t look like the flabby loser that Jared had been, even though he was approaching twice old Jared’s size. The truth was, all of the little inconveniences didn’t really bother him because it was always only slightly more inconvenient than it had been a few weeks ago.

Maybe the extra food was catching up to him though.

He felt his leg muscles and knees protest at keeping him standing for only the few minutes it had been. He turned to the side and looked at his giant belly hanging down. His tits hanging on top of his belly like half deflated beach balls and he loved that size. He loved how much space he took up and how much his body pissed off so many people who just gave him dirty looks and words of fake concern. All of those haters on his channel were only fueling his drive. None of them were really taking care of him and thinking about what he wants, except for Jared. He was a good one. Marco shook his belly as much as he could reach. He glanced at the clock in the bathroom and noticed that he only had about 20 minutes or so before people might start knocking on the door So he waddled back to the living room, piled all of the junk food and leftovers on the table in front of and beside him on the sofa, and he went back to watching the TV, hoping that he might get lucky and open the door for a delivery driver. Before he sat down, he need to remember to grab both remotes, because it was getting harder and harder to hoist himself back up again. It was a really low sofa, he told himself. It was even tough for Jared to get off of, after he came home drunk from the bars.

End of Part 1

#better off bigger #big bro #bigger bro #gainer fiction #kinky fanfic #lgbt

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sandinthemachine · 1 year

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OBSESSED WITH THE PROMPT LIST OMG.

can i pls get a #6 and #13 under fluff with a little #10 under smut for ghost 👀👀

Ok I'm actually really proud of this one. Hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 2584

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mild smut (thigh riding)

It had been a hell of a month. What was supposed to be a week-long reconnaissance assignment had turned into a wild goose chase of body doubles and, if you were being honest, actual bodies. On top of it all, now that you were back you couldn’t sleep to save your life. Too busy thinking about nothing. And about everything.

About the night in the safehouse after everything went to shit. The way Ghost’s hand had brushed over your back as he nudged you aside to take the first watch. You ought to rest. You look like hell.

About the way his voice had changed, pitched slightly higher, when you had dragged yourself back the next day with a broken radio and some nasty scrapes. Good to see you alive, love.

Love. He’d called you love. He’d never said that before.

He was English. They call half the girls they meet love.

It didn’t mean anything.

It might just mean everything.

It was too much. Too much and not enough, and you were sick of it.

So here you were, sipping beer on the beat-up common room couch and texting an old friend. Well, you weren’t sure if ‘friend’ was the right word. You just knew ‘boyfriend’ wasn’t. It was a casual fling you’d started up the last time you were stationed here. He had been between jobs at the time, looking for some stress relief, and you had told him you were there on a business trip. It had been…nice. He was easy to talk to, blissfully ignorant of your real job, and happy to keep things no-strings-attached.

After two miserably sleepless nights back, you had figured why not and messaged him again, fully expecting him to block you.

He’d responded immediately. Happy to hear from you, he’d said. Let me take you out sometime? Still casual, you thought. Just a little…less than before.

You let out a breath through your teeth, fingers hovering over the keyboard and the text you’d left on read all day. “Eh, what the hell,” you mutter to yourself.

What are you up to tonight?

Finishing up work. I can pick you up in an hour and a half?

No need. Tell me a place, I’ll meet you there.

You hope he still has the same bed, the magnificent king-sized mattress you could drown in. That would put you right to sleep. Well, that and an orgasm or two.

You smile at yourself. It doesn’t reach your eyes.

Ghost would never tell you directly, but he had been looking for you. You’d all but disappeared when everyone came back from the mission, sticking to your own barrack and making food in the microwave. He could hear the beeping through the wall, and knew you weren’t eating enough.

He had barely slept since the team had got back. Too busy remembering.

Remembering the way your eyes had stared back at him when he’d tackled you to the ground out of a sniper’s way. They’d been almost soft. Too soft for the brick-and-metal battlefield, shrapnel sharp and made to kill. Too soft for him, born to perfectly fit that battlefield. Born to die there, too.

Remembering the way your fingers had tightened around his wrist when he helped you up. Like he was a glass ornament, handled with gentle reverence. More than he had deserved. So much more.

You probably would have done the same with any of the men.

It didn't mean anything.

It meant everything.

The mission had failed on his watch. He was responsible for dealing with the fallout, even if it was just emotional. He was responsible for everyone on the mission. He’d do this for any of them.

So he kept telling himself.

By the time he found you, you were already heading out, rushing past him with a hasty nod. He catches a whiff of your perfume and forgets himself for a second, pausing to inhale.

The door is halfway closed behind you when he finally calls your name, and you freeze, eyes fixed on him.

“Where are you going?”

You shrug. “Out?”

His eyes scan your figure, the nice jeans you’d picked out, the silk shirt. You’d even done your hair. You looked…

You clear your throat, breaking him from his reverie. You’re giving him a confused look. “You okay, Ghost?”

He inhales again, wiggling his shoulders and squaring them again. He should ask where you’re going, he thinks, make sure you’re safe. No, that’s stupid, you can take care of yourself.

He wonders if your hair is as soft as it looks.

You look even more confused now, eyebrows coming together, and you finally let go of the door, stepping back inside towards him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he grunts back without thinking, and you jump back.

“Oh, alright, well, then I gotta-”

“Wait,” he blurts, cutting you off. “You mind if…mind if I join you, love?”

You inhale sharply, clamping your mouth shut over your tongue. “Oh, I actually, uh, I’m…sorry, I’m meeting someone.”

He leans back as if you’d struck him, and you can see his shoulders tense even under his clothing.

You want to reach for him suddenly, but it feels wrong, so your fingers clench around themselves instead. “Simon, I-”

“Don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t go on a date.”

Your words catch in your throat, lodging themselves tightly as your heart twists. He’s not serious. He doesn’t really mean it like that. “Why?” you choke out.

He takes a step towards you, leaning over you, dark eyes appraising all of you. “You know why.”

You shake your head at him, taking your own step forward, leaning up to his face. “Say it,” you whisper.

His eyes widen, and the fabric of his balaclava flexes as he opens his mouth.

And freezes. What if he says too much and scares you away? What if he says too little and you don’t understand? What does he even say? What if-

He looks away, fixing his eyes on the wall and trying to think.

Your heart drops at the movement.

With a sigh, you turn and walk out the door, closing it softly behind you. He makes no move to follow you.

The restaurant is a lot nicer than you expected. As is your date. He’d done his hair up, picked out his best button down and dress pants. All for you, he says, as he tells you his craziest work stories. Stuff like file cabinets getting knocked over and birds flying in through a window. You remember the time Soap got hit by a stray bullet flying through a window. Trying to shake the thought, you give your date a smile. It never reaches your eyes. He never notices.

When the food comes you find yourself eyeing the small portion, perfectly plated with a sauce drizzled artfully across it.

It reminds you of the time you’d gotten sick after a 12-mile ruck in the pouring rain. Ghost had raided the kitchen to make you soup, serving it to you with a bent spoon and a gruff apology. All we have, he’d mumbled.

The soup had been way too salty, the bowl way too big for you. You’d finished it all.

You curl your fingers around the fancy silverware, inlaid with intricate metal swirls. The delicate piece feels wrong in your calloused hands, reflecting the fingernails you’d finished scrubbing mud out of only an hour earlier.

The food is perfectly salted. You want to cry.

“Hey, you alright?” You look up to find your date leaning over the table, eyes wide and concerned. “Do you want to talk?”

All you can manage is a small shake of your head. “Sorry, I…I need to go.”

Your chair scrapes raucously against the fancy floor as you get up, and everyone turns to look at you, their perfectly manicured fingers clutching wine glasses. Gentle unmasked faces looking at you with concern. Fancy dress shirts and cocktail dresses crinkling as they turn to get a better view.

You storm out, your boots too loud, your steps too heavy, your shoulders set too stiffly, the muscles of your back flexing awkwardly against the soft fabric of a shirt tailored for someone much more…soft than you. Someone like them.

You hadn’t finished your food, hadn’t even thought to bring a jacket, and as the blast of cold outside air hits you a choked sound escapes your throat.

You won’t cry. Not like this. Not here. So you grind your teeth together, folding your arms tightly against your torso and marching forward. The walk is far less than 12 miles, and it’s not even raining. You’ll be fine.

You can’t feel your toes by the time you get back, shutting the door silently behind you and creeping into the kitchen for something, anything warm. You flip the light on, shaking and distracted.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. His head whips towards you as you stand there with your finger hovering over the light switch, your name falling from his lips unbidden.

He rises slowly, prowling towards you like a wolf, only to pause as he notices the spasms wracking your body. His hands reach out to take hold of your shoulders. “Fuck’s sake, love, you’re freezing.”

His hands feel like a furnace against you, and you sigh at the contact, closing your eyes and forgetting the world for a second, forgetting all about the past few hours. Even at arm’s length you feel the heat radiate from his body, and your eyes open again, flicking over his chest and up to meet his own.

He huffs, eyes scanning the room before opening his arms. “Come here, then.”

You practically leap into him, clutching his shoulders tightly and burying your face into his shirt. He bends a little, and you squeak a protest before feeling his arms wrap around your thighs and hike you up so you can wrap your legs around him as he carries you to your room, settling you down on your lumpy cot. Wordlessly he goes to your closet, pulling out all your extra blankets and wrapping them tightly around you before settling in behind you, pulling you against his chest. “You know,” he grumbles. “If you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

You scoff, shoving your shoulder into him. “What do you mean extremes?”

He sways at your push, tilting his head and giving you a look. “I mean storming out and freezing your ass off.”

“I did not-”

“You did,” he cuts you off, leveling a glare at you, but a second later his shoulders sink in a little and his eyes wander. “How was your…” he trails off, eyes meeting yours again.

You shrug. “Left early.”

“Why?”

You lean into him, inhaling the musky smell clinging to his clothes. Cologne and gunpowder and woodsmoke. “You know why.”

His grip on you tightens, but he keeps his eyes on you. Your body shifts as he heaves a great breath, releasing it through his nose. It tickles your eyelashes, and you bite your lip.

His gaze shifts down, focusing on the reddened skin where you work your lip between your teeth. When he speaks, it is barely above a breath. “You never let me finish earlier.”

You lean in closer, and he feels your breaths tickling the edge of his balaclava.

He tears his gaze up, raising a hand to cup your cheek as he looks into your widening eyes. “Don’t go on any more dates. Not unless,” he clears his throat, swallows, “unless I can come with you.”

Your teeth release your lip, the flesh popping outwards. “Simon Reilly,” you croon, and his breath hitches. “Are you asking me on a date?”

His chest heaves another large breath. “I am.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

His eyes fall to your lips again. “Then do it.” At your shocked expression he forces a huff of laughter, reaching up to shove his mask just high enough to reveal soft lips.

You pause at that, your fingers tracing up along his neck, thinking of your own chapped lips, beginning to worry.

But then he leans forward to meet you, and you stop thinking entirely.

He’s gentler than you thought he’d be, lips slowly moving against yours, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other snaking around your waist as he shifts you both, settling on the edge of the bed with you straddling one of his legs.

His mouth stays open just slightly when he pulls away, half-lidded eyes meeting your own, eyes so dark you can scarcely tell where the pupil ends and the iris begins. Or perhaps it’s all pupil. You’re sure yours are.

You lean into him, pulling him back in. His fingers run up your spine, causing your whole body to shiver, a vibration you feel straight in your core. He shifts, pulling you in closer, and his thigh flexes, rubbing against you, and you whimper.

He pulls back again, eyes glinting, and you smirk. The blankets have long since fallen off you, the cold creeping back into your bones. “You know,” you whisper. “I can think of some faster ways to warm me up.”

He chuckles. “I bet you could.”

You brace yourself on his shoulders, rubbing yourself against his thigh and shifting to guide his hand down.

He only tsks at you. “Not yet.” You make a frustrated sound, tightening your fingers around his wrist, but he only leans back, pulling his hands away to prop himself up on them. “Gotta warm up first, love,” he hums at you, grinning.

“Simon,” you plead.

“No whining,” he orders, voice taking on a gravelly undertone as his grin morphs into a smirk. “It’s my thigh or nothing, I’m not helping you get off.”

You huff, but bring your hands back to his shoulders, looking down as you slowly start to grind into him, gradually picking up your pace, your breathing beginning to hitch. He shifts, and you look up at him, his eyes watching you as he leans up again. A hand rests on your hips, another tangling in your hair. It’s even softer than it looks, he thinks, and before he knows it he’s breaking his own word, bouncing his leg into you, savoring your moans as he feels your fingers tighten around the muscles in his shoulders, shaking as you get yourself more worked up. You’re nearly frantic now, and he pulls your hips, grinding you into him harder, and finally you break with a cry, feeling a wave of heat wash over you as vibrations run up your core and your legs quiver.

You’ve barely recovered when his hands yank you flush against him and he twists, pinning you to the mattress with a growl.

“My turn.”

You wake the next morning to the mattress shifting as Simon settles down on the edge. You hadn’t even noticed him get up.

“I made you tea,” he grunts, turning to present you a chipped and faded old mug. “Only mug I have,” he grumbles, but you’re already sitting up and taking it from him.

“It’s perfect,” you hum, taking a sip. It’s just a little too sweet, and the chipped mug is a little too big, but the beat-up texture feels perfect in your rough hands. It’s all perfect. You give him a grin so big your eyes scrunch up at the corners.

Fucking hell, he thinks. How did I wait so long?

#cod #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader

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