#i went from being an angst writer to a hurt/comfort writer

[roe-and-memory]

i really love thinking about the potential of lightnings childhood. we have no idea what happened, but its up for interpretation, and i think thats great.

neglect - a common headcanon - seems to make so much sense for him. he hates help, he hates being told what to do, but also hes so lonely and in such desperate need of approval and validation that he’ll take the harshest words as long as theyre coming from someone who, at the end of the day, will give him at least one pat on the back for doing something right.

i think this, as we all know, is a major part of his character, but the idea of doc, taking this kid thats been so awfully treated his entire life - who isnt used to affection or any kind of positive attention, who hates being bossed around because he thinks he knows better and can be trusted more than other people would - and essentially finding a midway point so he can be lightnings crew chief in a way that both introduces the idea of gentle help (telling him when to pit, etc etc) and doesnt infringe on lightnings fear? hatred? of being told what to do and how to do it? its perfect. it introduces to this kid with severe abandonment issues the idea of sometimes needing or even just wanting help, and helps him change for the better without forcing him to immediately conform to the idea that oh, he HAS to need help.

lightnings previous crew chiefs are so much different than doc, because while doc takes the time to get to know lightning, to discuss ways they can work together to get around these issues he has while also being able to enforce proper rules within the sport, his crew chiefs before never did this. they didnt get to know him personally, they didnt care. they just knew he didnt listen and had a flaring temper, and it was never really that fair to lightning that they didnt give him a chance. obviously, not all blame is on them, because as much as they didnt put the effort in to find a groove that worked for their driver, he also didnt try to put this effort in (although, really, as an 18 year old with issues surrounding this job that are KNOWN it was never really his job to be the one to initiate finding a solution - hell, he probably didnt even know what the issue was.), he was ALSO the one to fire these people, so they’re both at fault for this in a way.

but, again, i love thinking about this whole childhood thing because not only is doc opening up the help that lightning was always consistently refused to the point he believed he just didnt need it - that all those times he wanted help when he was young was really just him being dramatic - but hes also opening up the option for Family that lightning never had either. doc takes all the awful morals that lightning taught himself (or that harv taught him) because he had no one to teach him the true ones, and flips them around. he becomes the father lightning never had and the guidance that no one had ever given him. god i love found family guys theyre literally father and son

also nobody imagine how silly the first time doc ever ruffles his silly ass sons hair is. lightning freezing because oh, no ones ever done that before, and doc being like ? how badly do i need to kick the shit out of your parents? that is like the most average father appreciation Ever wdym ur dad didnt do that to you at least Once.

#cars 2006 #cars fandom #lightning mcqueen #pixar cars #cars headcanons #memory’s headcanons #cars 3 (2017) #doc hudson #i could talk about them for HOURS #pixar making a canon father and son found family is the best thing to ever happen to me #like they knew.. they knew im insane #i went from being an angst writer to a hurt/comfort writer #found family changes a man

[yrbladie]

♡ ﾟ˖ ॱ ▎WHEN THEY LOSE YOU ㅤ𝅄 🌿 ꒱

˖ ࣪ ayato, diluc, kaeya, neuvillette, zhongli

warnings ：angst, hurt no comfort, mentions of death and body (yours), sad bois, some have quite a comforting ending, others not so much, gn! reader, established relationship, implied marriage (ayato, diluc, zhongli), reader is called 'beautiful' (kaeya), spoiler free, non fluent writer

ㅤHe doesn't weep at first. Don't get him wrong, though, it's just that how could he ever fathom the thought of not having you by his side anymore?

ㅤYou were taken from his arms so suddenly that he wondered if you were ever real since the start, or only a fragment of his imagination, something that had always only belonged to his most beautiful dreams.

ㅤThe only way he knew you were indeed real was by the way people would talk behind his back when they thought he wasn't paying attention, talking about how sloppy he had become. Or the way he would still find small bits of you sprawled over his desk. Trinkets you gave him, and the letters you had sent to him the last time you went to visit your homeland for a week, knowing your lover would miss you too much.

ㅤIt suddenly dawns on him at that moment. How you were not there anymore, how he would never see you again, see your bright and beautiful smile or hear your giggle at his poor cooking skills.

ㅤAt that moment when he suddenly misses you, Ayato gets up and goes to visit you. In a place he never thought he would see you. Buried under the Sakura tree you planted with him last summer, the one where you both had wished for it to be as eternal as your love for each other.

ㅤHe sees your grave filled with flowers and gifts from the people you had known, and even finds the bouquet of flowers Thoma had sent under his name. And he kneels beside it, staring at your name written there.

ㅤHe still felt guilty, that he was not there for you when you needed him the most. That he was busy with work above anything else again. He could have protected you oh so easily, and he wasn't there.

ㅤ"I hope you can forgive this stupid lover of yours, my dear."

ㅤForgive him for everything. Forgive him for not loving you better, and for not being strong enough to be there when you died nor when you were buried.

ㅤAyato now knew, dreams are never meant to last.

ㅤWhen people saw you both together on the streets, with Diluc carefully holding your hand or touching the small of your back to guide you through the streets, like you were made of the finest porcelain, everyone thought they were going crazy.

ㅤThere was no way, the master Diluc Ragnvindr, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt, unmatched in every possible way, had gotten himself a lover.

ㅤWhen you arrived it was like a breath of fresh air for everyone who knew Diluc. You made him a different man, made people see a different side of him Diluc himself doubted existed.

ㅤAnd you were everything to him. Until the fateful day you were forcibly taken from him.

ㅤBut still, he couldn't hope to grieve, he had no time to let himself stop and rest, not even for a minute. In a minute so many things can happen, just like in a minute you were gone.

ㅤDiluc still had Mondstadt to protect, and he would focus solely on that for as long as there was still air in his lungs. Even if his torn heart still churned in pain everyday.

ㅤEven if in the darkest hours of the night, just before dawn, he would still sit alone in his dimly lit room, the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. The walls of his manor, once filled with laughter and love, now seemed to echo with the emptiness of his loss. The air was heavy with the scent of fading memories.

ㅤEverything in your shared room is a bittersweet reminder of the warmth that had once been, now slipping through the cracks of time.

ㅤOutside, the world moved on, without you. And Diluc couldn't understand it, for his world was you. Every moment without you felt like an eternity.

ㅤAnd in those short moments he wept. Letting the pain flow freely, as if by releasing it, he could somehow reach across the chasm that separated you both. And he still could somehow feel your presence in brief moments, a soft whisper in the breeze or a fleeting glimpse in a dream.

ㅤDiluc had experience in mourning, and he knew that one day, the sharpness of his pain might dull, but his love for you would remain eternally vibrant, a testament to the life you had shared.

ㅤIn his own way, he would carry on, honoring your memory with each step forward, holding you close in the chambers of his heart, as he navigated the path of grief, one tear and one memory at a time.

ㅤIn that way, Diluc could forever hold you close to his heart somehow. The idea that you would have liked that he kept protecting those you had come to love, gave him comfort as he got up for another day.

ㅤYou were his first, but also his last.

ㅤOh, to be loved by the Cavalry Captain, with his deceiving smiles and well thought words. People used to call him such a heartbreaker before you came along and showed to all that Kaeya Alberich could be so much more than that.

ㅤIt seemed like he always had a smile reserved only for you. Different from the grins and crooked smiles he gave for others. With you nothing was ever fake, you had managed to tear down the walls he built to keep himself safe each and every time, no matter how much he tried to keep you at an arm's length.

ㅤBefore Kaeya even noticed you had already made a home in his heart and had no plans of leaving.

ㅤBut of course, fate had always found its way to mock him. He could but only watch as your life slipped past his fingers like sand, no matter how much he held onto you and begged the skies not to take you. Not you too.

ㅤIn the end, Kaeya still had to carry back your lifeless body to Mondstadt, back to your home where you belonged.

ㅤBut did he still belong there now? He was once again reminded of his purpose, the destiny that hung heavily above his head, like a death sentence forever haunting and taunting him. A destiny he just couldn’t seem to escape.

ㅤCursed to loneliness, to destruction. He should have known he didn’t deserve all the happiness you had brought along with your love to his wretched life.

ㅤYou had slipped away, leaving behind a void that seemed insurmountable. In the beginning, Kaeya refused to acknowledge the cruel twist of fate. He clung to the hope that this was all a nightmare, a cruel illusion that would dissipate with the morning light.

ㅤDays turned into nights, and reality set in, stubborn and unyielding. The denial that had once shielded him from the harsh truth began to crumble like a fragile dam battered by the relentless waves of sorrow.

ㅤHe still remembered everything about you. While others would talk about how sweet you were to everyone, Kaeya would remember the laughter shared on lazy Sunday mornings, the whispered promises exchanged under a blanket of stars, and the simple joys of a life built together.

ㅤHe still had your portrait on his desk, a painful reminder of how beautiful you looked when you smiled up at him. And he still wondered how you were. Are you happy now, wherever you are? Are you safe?

ㅤOr do you miss him like he misses you?

ㅤKaeya only found solace on those lonely starry nights, where he laid by himself on the grassy field he always hated, saying the grass always got stuck at his hair as you laughed, calling him such a drama king.

ㅤAnd as the first rays of dawn began to set in, he smiled.

ㅤThe pain remained, a constant companion, but it transformed into a tribute—a testament to a love that transcended the boundaries of mortality. With a heavy heart, he got up, in a silent acknowledgment that life, though forever altered, would continue.

ㅤHe would carry your cherished memories with him into an uncertain tomorrow. With a newfound strength—a resilient ember burning in the ashes of loss, Kaeya had to carry on.

ㅤEven if his fate overtakes him once more one day, the whispers of your voice, urging him to embrace life would always remind him that there was something out there worth fighting for. And that one day, when his body and heart rests for one last time, he will meet you again.

ㅤThe skies of Fontaine have never been cloudier than since the day you died. The rain poured down, seeming endless. Like a mourning prayer for another loss the nation held.

ㅤYour funeral was quiet and quite lonely. You had not really been a person that went out each and everyday, or that easily befriended all that you met through your day. You were a common person, like any other in Fontaine, maybe just a little weird with your outlander ways.

ㅤBut Neuvillette still loved you anyway.

ㅤYour love for each other was nothing grand nor loud. It was almost timid, but shined brightly like an unwavering ember.

ㅤSo it didn't come as a surprise that no one knew about your relationship with each other. Neuvillette was, before anything, an important and key figure in Fontaine, his every move scrutinized under the city's gaze, yet whose true emotions remain hidden behind a mask of stoicism.

ㅤEven to the end, he couldn't even attend your funeral. Watching from the sidelines, like an outsider. He watched as your loved ones paid their respects, leaving their flowers and good wishes that you now may be safe, in the arms of the gods.

ㅤNeuvillette wanted to scoff at this. The gods were silent as their people suffered under their gaze. And most of all, there was no space for people like you on their golden mighty thrones.

ㅤWhen everyone parted and left only your lonely tombstone, did Neuvillette finally came to pay his own respects as the rain fell heavier, a reflection of how he felt inside. Like a storm that could never break free from the clutches of a well maintained facade of a composed judge.

ㅤYou made him so vulnerable as each time you touched his skin, his heart longed for more of you, with feelings he couldn't understand.

ㅤIf only he had noticed sooner, if only he had met you sooner.

ㅤIf only you were still here. To show him comfort once more.

ㅤBut as the calm and collected Iudex wept by the lonely grave, you were still gone.

ㅤAnd in the next day and even the next after that, every day became an act. An imperturbable, endless theatrical piece. Worthy of even being presented at the opera house.

ㅤAnd as Neuvillette still conducted each trial with unperturbed accuracy, the outside seemed to have forgotten about you. But not him, never.

ㅤHe still heard your voice, just outside his office, while you laughed with the Melusines. He still asked for two cups of tea to be prepared and people wondered who the other cup was for. And he still had the official documents where you accidentally doodled on and had apologized profusely for doing it, but Neuvillette had never held it against you.

ㅤAnd he still loved you. Each day when the rain started again, the pitter patter sound followed the judge as he disappeared through the corners of Fontaine to find you once again.

ㅤHis life was destined to be eternal, and so was his love for you, despite the fact you weren't by his side anymore.

ㅤAnd as Neuvillette still found small flowers and trinkets left on your grave, he knew he would not be the only one to forever remember about you.

ㅤThe God of Contracts was no stranger to loss and to mourning. He himself had buried more friends than he could count.

ㅤHe had an immortal soul and an unyielding memory. His friends were forever reminders on his everyday life, that he got to walk the places they never had a chance to see.

ㅤEvery time, he caught himself reminiscing about you, about your shared laughter under the bustling night time of Liyue, and the dreams over breakfast.

ㅤAnd how fate took you away from him.

ㅤThe town now seemed to be filled with a haunting silence, even if nothing much had changed. The vendors still called for him to eat and buy their products, he still watched the same plays and stories. But now every corner held a memory, a reminder.

ㅤDays turned to nights, and nights into days, but the pain persisted, insistently. Zhongli found solace in the shadows of the past, where memories of your happiness still lingered like a sweet melody.

ㅤHe never thought of himself as someone to be stuck in time. But your presence and your loss seemed to have made an ever deeper impact on his life than he initially thought.

ㅤAs the years went by, he would still wait for you. With the hope and the heartache that the skies would relent at his incessant prayers and return you to his arms, in another form, in another life, it didn't matter.

ㅤStill, he knew he was not alone. Hu Tao would pat him in the back gently in an almost nudging manner every day, encouraging him to go out again, to rest more. And slowly Zhongli felt like he could gather the shattered pieces of his heart again. Like his wounded soul still had a purpose.

ㅤEven if his body and mind eroded until there was nothing more left of him, he thought that all the memories of you would still be his most cherished treasures.

ㅤAnd so, in the quiet town where love once blossomed and sorrow cast its shadow, Zhongli would learn once more to carry the weight of loss with gentleness. The stars above forever witnesses of his eternal and enduring love for you.

ㅤIn the small shrine he built above your grave, where Zhongli could still feel your presence sometimes, through your pictures and the incense. His heart was finally at peace.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ《◇》

#genshin impact angst #ayato angst #diluc angst #genshin angst #neuvillette angst #zhongli angst #kaeya angst #genshin impact x reader #ayato x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #neuvillette x reader #diluc x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

do you have any headcanons for arguing and making up? i’m a slut for angst with comfort 🙈

Making Up After a Fight

Gender Neutral Language!

Genre: slight angst, fluff Featuring: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, and Sean MacGuire Warnings: Dutch is kind of toxic | Not edited

AN: Sorry it took me so long to get these written! I went through some nasty writer's block and decided to play the game a little to help out but all that did was distract me for a week. This is definitely pretty roughly written - I'm also a huge slut for angst with comfort, though, so I hope you like these! <3 ---> Requests are open! Check out guidelines if you have any questions

<><><><>

Arthur Morgan:

Arthur gets frustrated easily when he feels like he’s not being listened to or understood. It’s not really anyone’s fault, but his emotions can get the better of him and he’ll say something that he doesn’t mean.

“You got bait for brains or are you just being an idiot for fun?” (or something like that)

You know in the back of your head that he doesn’t mean it, and he regrets it the second the syllables bounce off his lips. Your brain can know something but your heart will still hurt all the same.

Usually when Arthur is getting too big for his britches with you, you can shut him down and put him in his place. It’s something he highly respects about you - not putting up with his bullshit when he gets like that. Sometimes, though, your eyes will start to water and you can’t say anything without feeling a lump in your throat constricting your vocal chords.

You have to turn and walk away or else you’ll cry in front of him. That would just make everything worse.

Seeing your form retreating, knowing that you’re running off because you’re hurt rather than angry, made Arthur’s chest grow heavy with guilt. His first instinct is to follow after you and hold you until you’re feeling better.

But since he’s the one who hurt you, he just lets you walk away and he goes to pout since he thinks he deserves to be outcast for a little while.

He’ll give you as much space as he can bear, avoid you for an hour maybe two, but he comes crawling back with those puppy dog eyes and a singular wild flower in his fist.

He’ll go to his cot where you’re sitting with his hat in your lap. You stopped being upset five or ten minutes after the argument. Once you took a few deep breaths you understand, but you also had to understand that Arthur would come back to you after he was done punishing himself.

So you waited.

When you saw him approach with that sheepish expression and slouched posture your heart bled for him. He was a brute and an ass at times, but he meant well.

“’M’sorry, Darlin’,” He’d mumble and get on his knees in front of you. “I didn’t mean it, I never mean it.”

He places the flower in your lap by his hat and gazes up at you. His hair is long and falling in front of his eyes a little, so you brush the strands away from his forehead to get a better look at him.

His blue eyes are a little red and there’s a deep crease in his forehead from an hour or so of constant worrying.

“You can be so mean sometimes, Arthur Morgan,” You scold him lightly and he sighs, nodding.

“I know.”

He spends the rest of the week making it up to you. Truly it doesn’t matter exactly what was said or what the argument was about, when you are truly hurt by his words/actions it kills him. He’ll punish himself for a bit then come back ready to spoil you with words, presents, kisses, and anything else you could possibly ask for.

John Marston:

He’s constantly arguing with you about something. A lot of the time he just picks at you to get a rise out of you - he thinks it’s funny.

Things can get out of hand quickly with him if he grates on a nerve of yours and you bite back though. His first instinct is to give a smartass retort and it just spirals into a full-blown fight from there.

“John Marston you are a pig!”

You storm off and hide in your tent for a while. He’s just standing there dumbfounded. He starts asking himself why he let it get to that point, why did he have to open his big ol’ mouth and antagonize you?

He tries to get you to talk to him, he’ll pace in front of the tent and start calling your name nicely. He won’t ever open the flap though, he doesn’t want to invade your space and risk riling you up anymore.

When you ignore him he’ll eventually get the hint and wander off.

He tries to figure out something to do while he thinks about how to make it up to you. He offers to help Arthur out with any bounty hunts or little jobs, he’ll offer to take Bill or Lenny into town, or he’ll just pick up extra shifts of being on lookout for the camp.

When you finally come out he has to restrain the urge to run to you and scoop you up, demanding that you forgive him so that he can stop pouting.

He does drop whatever it is he’s doing to approach you and makes small talk to test the waters.

“How are you?”

“Fine, John.”

“That’s good… You still mad at me?”

You roll your eyes and try to walk away, but he shoots out and grabs your hand before you can get too far. He doesn’t hold you tightly; his fingers gently encase your own, if you wanted to leave you could easily. But, you falter with your back turned to him and wait for him to speak.

“I’m sorry, really. You know I’m an idiot.” He’s practically whining as he says it, begging for you to look at him.

You turn your head slightly to give him a side glare. At first, the sight makes his heart drop into his feet and he thinks he really screwed up this time, but when a small smirk starts to quirk the corner of your mouth upwards he lets out a low sigh.

“You are cruel,” He chuckles and tightens his grip as he pulls you into his arms and wraps you up in a bear hug.

Your laughs are loud and genuine as he twirls you around, pressing chaste kisses to your cheeks as he does so. Your voices echo throughout the camp once again.

Everyone in camp knows what’s going on with you and John whether you’re fighting or making up, your business is everyone else’s.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

I want to start out by saying Dutch never actually apologizes when you two fight. He’ll buy gifts, say pretty words, whisper sweet nothings, and all the like, but the words “I’m sorry” have never left that man’s lips in his entire life. He will not start now.

Dutch’s obsession with the O’Driscoll’s can cloud his judgment on many things, it makes him blind to reason. Further than that, it makes him hateful and sometimes just plain mean.

He trusts you, he loves you. So, you’re stuck listening to his plans and his grievances with the gang, the law, the O’Driscoll’s, and any other misfortune he has had to endure in his life.

He’ll go on and on, plotting, groaning, whining. One night, after being sat on his cot for hours, you’ve had enough. You beg him to do anything but complain and come up with a half-brained plan to get rich quick.

It hits a nerve and he blows a fuse.

“You don’t understand what’s at stake, do you?” He’s practically yelling. “It’s so easy for you - I spoil you!”

You’re stunned into silence as he shouts at you. You didn’t expect him to blow up.

“Get out of my tent, get out of my sight!” He sends you away. In a daze you stumble out of the tent and into the dark camp.

There’s a few people still up wandering around. Mary-Beth is singing by the fire and Kieran is trying to sing with her, but doesn’t really know the words. Your feet start moving on their own and you take a seat across from the two at the fire.

“What’s going on, gunslinger?” Karen shuffles to a seat beside you and settles down. Mary-Beth’s singing falters for a minute but she continues on, just quieter.

“Dutch is pissed.” You mumble, staring into the flames.

“When is he not? Have a drink,” Karen shoves a bottle of beer into your hand and watches as you take a long swig. She continues, “Have some fun without him for once.”

The night takes a turn from there. You sing and dance and laugh. A few more people join in until it’s gone from moping around the fire to a proper party around it. Javier even brings out the guitar. The noise is enough to draw Dutch from the dark hole in his tent to see what’s going on.

When he sees you, the tears on your cheeks have dried and your face is flushed from the drinks, he can’t help but feel a little guilty. To him, afterall, you were just naive. You didn’t understand what was truly going on in the camp, didn’t understand his plans.

He creeps out of the tent and sneaks up behind you as you’re dancing along to Javier and Mary-Beth. When a pair of arms wraps around your waist, you let out a little squeal.

Dutch spins you around so that you’re facing him, your bodies pressed flush together causing a heat to flare in your stomach.

“My beautiful dancer,” Dutch mumbles and presses a soft kiss to your lips. You don’t fight, don’t ask any questions. You’re just happy that he seems to be sorry for what he did. He’s holding you after all of that, kissing you. He must be sorry, and so are you.

When he pulls back you gaze at him with half-lidded eyes. “I’m sorry, Dutch.” You whisper.

“Hush now,” He starts swaying as he holds you, leading you into a dance.

Your fight is practically forgotten by the end of the night. In the early hours of the morning, everyone is stumbling back to their respective beds. Stomachs are full and heads will be aching come noon, but to you it was all worth it. So long as you and Dutch aren’t fighting anymore.

Javier Escuella:

He hates fighting. I mean not in general, but just with you.

He won’t allow himself to be taken advantage of or walked all over, but if there’s some stupid argument that’s making you mad he will roll over and apologize. Just to keep the peace.

He loves you more than he loves being right, and if it makes you happy to just admit that then so be it.

When y’all do fight, though, it’s over something big. Stupid quarrels are so rare that the first time anyone catches wind that the two of you had a falling out it shocks half the camp to the core.

Javier would only truly get upset with you in a life or death situation. Like when you decided to not tell anyone you were heading into town really quick and met a few O’Driscoll’s in the general store.

When you saw them you recognized them as few that had gotten into a fight with Javier in town a few weeks ago. Javier let them walk away to save face, there was a large group of witnesses that would have pretty much guaranteed him an execution if he had taken their lives.

Your heart skipped a beat as one of them turned to look at you, but they left shortly after you entered the store and you prayed that would be the end of it.

After you finished at the store, though, you walked through the door to find the three men standing in the road before you. Their arms were folded across their chests and their legs spread in a dominant stance.

You clutched the items you bought to your chest and tried walking away from the trio, but one of them called out and made you stop in your tracks.

“You’re one of Dutch’s people ain’t you?” The tallest one said. It wasn’t really a question, he knew who you were.

“And what’s it to you, mister?” You shot back, reaching for the dagger in your belt.

“I’ve got a few questions for you about your boss.” The three of them started moving towards you. They surrounded you and backed you to the wall of the general store. You whipped out your dagger to tell them to back off, but it wouldn’t do much against three of them - you knew that and so did they.

The only reason you had made it out of that situation without even a scratch was because Arthur happened to be riding through town on his way back to camp and noticed the commotion.

He brought you back to camp, and that’s where you saw Javier standing at your cot with this arms crossed and a scowl darkening his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He practically shouts at you.

You didn’t mean to, you held them back as long as you could, but tears start flowing freely down your face in large, hot drops.

Javier’s scowl disappears almost immediately. He didn’t expect you to cry. Maybe yell back or explain yourself, but not cry. He drops his arms and grabs both of your hands in his.

“Are you okay?” His voice is low and laced with worry. Arthur got to him first and told him what happened briefly, so he knew you weren’t physically hurt, but other than that he didn’t know what happened.

“They surrounded me. I was - I was so scared, Javier.” Your throat was thick and it was hard to speak. Javier embraced you, rubbing your back and holding the back of your head as you cried harder into his shoulder.

“You’re safe now,” He assures you and presses soft kisses into your hair.

He spends the next few days feeling guilty for being mad at first.

You tell him you understand his reaction and that you were sorry,but he just says sorry back to you and claims he shouldn’t have been angry when you were scared.

You’re both equally sorry, I guess.

After that, though, Javier refuses to let you go anywhere alone. You don’t have to go with him but you have to have a traveling buddy in case anything like that happens again.

Charles Smith:

Doesn’t fight with anyone, really.

Sure, you can get mad at him and yell and hold a grudge, but he just lets you figure your emotions out from afar if that’s what you need. He gives you space when you need it, attention when you want it, and does anything that he can for you.

He loves you more than anything in the world, so when you’re mad at him it eats away at his insides until you make up. He’s literally the consent king, though, and will wait for you to come to him before he initiates anything.

It feels like he doesn’t care sometimes. It drives you crazy that he doesn’t chase after you and try to make up with you then and there or rectify the situation immediately, which turns into another argument.

“Do you even give a shit what I feel?” You frown at him one morning after a small argument that he just brushed off from the night before. He assumed since you slept with him in his bedroll, that meant you were over it.

“I love you! What are you talking about?” He rubs at the little stubble on his chin in exasperation.

“You never listen you just say ‘okay’ and move on. You don’t learn that way, Charles. You roll over and the same thing will keep happening because you aren’t listening.” You try to explain yourself. Charles nods but you can’t tell if he actually gets what you’re trying to convey since he never acknowledges it more than that.

You sigh and get up.

“I need a minute, come talk to me when you can.” You walk away from him and towards Miss Grimshaw doing the laundry.

Charles just stays where he is and lets out a long deep sigh. He thought it would be better for him to just agree with you, it would make you happy to be agreed with rather than continuing to fight over something so trivial.

He hasn’t been with the group for a super long time, but he’s created a strong bond with Arthur. So, that’s who he goes to to ask for advice on the whole situation.

Charles relays as much as he can back to Arthur and the cowboy just starts to chuckle at the absurdity of the conversation. He’s used to people coming to him for advice (he doesn’t really get why), but the situation with you and Charles came out of nowhere for him. He didn’t realize you two fought ever.

“No relationship is perfect, Charles.” Arthur suggests.

That’s literally no help to him so Charles walks off and tries thinking what to do. He comes up with nothing, though. Which makes him frustrated.

He starts walking towards you. You look up and see his determined face and scrunched brow and excuse yourself to meet him halfway.

“We need to talk.” He says, his words are intense but his gaze is still soft. You aren’t scared of him anyways.

“I think we do.” You reply and follow him to a private area right outside of camp.

The whole time he goes off about how he doesn’t get what you want from him. What you expect him to do or say when you get mad or annoyed.

“I just want to know you care about me and my emotions.”

“Dear, I care about you more than anything in the world. More than life itself, why do you question it?” He’s basically pleading with you to understand him, to finally see that just because he isn’t as forward with every single thought (good or bad) on his mind doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you or your emotions.

It takes little to no time for you to throw your arms around him in an embrace and mumble an apology into his hair.

Even your big fights aren’t really fights.

Sean MacGuire:

Sean does stupid stuff all the time. Literally he does stupid stuff more often than he does anything smart.

Especially when he’s drunk.

One night a small group of some of the gang decided to head into the saloon in town for a drinks for the night. You and Sean were always up for a good time and tagged along - obviously.

It presented opportunity for a little pickpocketing as well (if you didn’t get too drunk and sloppy to do it).

Everything went well for the first hour. Drinks were shared among the group and laughs were bellowing through the air with a contagious warmth. Better yet, no one seemed to be testing the waters and starting a bar fight.

Sean had his arm around you the entire night. He claimed it was to let all the scoundrels at the bar know that you were his and no one should even try to stake a claim to you.

You rolled your eyes but stayed nestled in the spot.

That is, until you were pulled away by your bladder. All the drinks were catching up to you and you slipped from under him to run to the restroom really quick.

When you came back, though, a working woman had taken advantage of your absence to catch Sean’s attention.

In his drunken state, Sean couldn’t even realize that the weight of the woman beside him wasn’t the same as when you were sitting there before. He didn’t say a thing as her arms wrapped around his torso or when she ran her fingers through his longish hair.

Tears fill your eyes almost instantly. You try to blink them away and get a better look at the scene in front of you, but it doesn’t change. It only gets worse as her lips start leaving rougey red stains on his neck.

“Sean!” You shove at his shoulder. When he sees you in front of him, his bleary red eyes turn to the woman beside him. His brain takes a minute to put two and two together, but by the time he has figured the situation out you are pushing through saloon patrons to get out into the night air.

Sean sobers up immediately. He pries himself out of the grasp of the other woman and follows your trail out the door.

He calls your name over and over again until he finally finds you sitting on the street corner crying into your knees.

“Please, Love!” He approaches you and your head whips up at the sound of his voice.

“You stay away from me you dog.” You snap and get up. You’re still pretty drunk as well however and you wobble and nearly fall over at the sudden movement.

Luckily Sean catches you by the arm before you can tumble into the dirt.

“I didn’t know she was there, honest. Thought you was there beside me.” He lifts a hand to your cheek, ready to brush away some of your tears, but you turn your cheek and shrug him off.

“Sure.” You say and try to walk away. He catches your arm again and turns you towards him once more.

“Honest, Love. Why would I pay for sex anyways - I’ve not a penny to me name and you give it to me for free.”

The sentiment was there, but definitely not the right thing to say.

You have to physically restrain yourself from hitting him upside the head at his words.

He sees the struggle on your face as soon as he says it and clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Sean MacGuire you bastard!” You shout at him, but can’t help a weak laugh from erupting from your throat at the end.

“I didn’t mean that, oh lord I didn’t.” The terror in his face only causes you to laugh harder.

The laughter surprises him and even yourself, so much so that the both of you are laughing. Though you don’t really understand why.

“If you ever-“ You say with a mocking glare, “Ever do something like that or say something like that again, I am leaving you Sean MacGuire.”

“I wouldn’t blame you one bit,” He says somberly, still with a small smile.

<><><><>

I didn't write for Sadie because I genuinely could not think of a situation for her or how she would be, my brain died halfway through writing Sean's. I'll just have to write some Sadie focused hc's next time teehee~

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption #john marston #john marston x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #charles smith #charles smith x reader #sean macguire #sean macguire x reader #rdr2 headcanon #rdr2 headcanons

[unsolvedjarin]

just you wait sunshine.

pairing: (sebastian vettel x driver! reader)

summary: sebastian’s retirement has led him to reminisce his past life and mistakes, including you. little does he know, the universe is about to give him a second chance via a small bookstore in switzerland.

note: this went on WAYYY longer than i wanted it to be and it didn’t really go the direction i wanted either, but we move

content warning: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, more sebastian centric than reader centric tbh (sorry i just love him so much)

word count: 3.7k

Retirement had been good to Sebastian.

He’d finally been able to spend time in his farm house, plant some trees, grow a garden, and along with all that, still have time to drive cars whenever an event needed him to. It was like his entire life schedule magically cleared up in front of him.

He missed racing of course, he won’t pretend that he didn’t. After all, he spent 15 years in the sport, it was his pride and joy for quite a long time. But that time of his life is over, he’s accepted that. He wanted to enjoy the other things in life instead, be able to see and experience things that the busy life of being a driver didn’t let him experience.

Sitting on a chair in his porch watching the sun set, he reflects on what he could have done differently. Who he could have treated differently. And when only one name enters his mind, the same one that’s haunted him for the past 5 years, he sighs reluctantly and heads back inside to prepare his dinner.

—

2012

“What do you wanna do when you grow up?”

The question takes you by surprise as you take another swig of your beer. The moon shone brightly on the porch of whatever airbnb your team had set you up at, and the stars were sparkling like they had never before.

“What kind of question is that, Sebby?” you giggle. “Isn’t this what we’re gonna do for eternity? Racing?”

Sebastian shrugs, looking up at the sky on his foldable chair that you had brought on the trip. “Yeah but after that, you know? I’ve always thought about what my life will be like after retirement.”

“Okay old man, because you’re sooo close to retiring,” you tease. He gives you a playful light shove for that, smiling as he does. The air feels freer and lighter than it ever has before.

“But seriously,” Sebastian chuckled. “Have you ever thought about it?”

You ponder for a second before replying, “No, not really. I mean my career’s just starting, I haven’t really thought about the end. But when I do retire, I think I’d like to be a writer.”

“Like those egotistical types to make a biographical book about themselves?” Sebastian asks, earning a laugh from you. The sound made him feel things that he’d only ever felt before with you.

“God no,” you laugh out. “I don’t wanna be like those old blokes who get obsessed with themselves after they retire. I just wanna write fictional books, maybe under a pen name. Just a simple life; me, my theoretical dog, and my theoretical book.”

Sebastian nods with an understanding look in his eye. He wants that life too. A simple one, away from the public. Even now at his young age, the paparazzis and press were getting annoying quickly.

“I want to live in a house far away from the city,” he says. “Maybe the suburbs— no that’s too near…a farm! I’ll live in a farmhouse.”

You smile at the thought of Sebastian Vettel, two time Formula 1 world champion, just lounging about in a farm tending to his animals and crops.

“Wouldn’t it get boring? Or lonely? Milking your cows alone?”

He answers you with no delay, “Well I’d want you to be with me of course.”

You thanked whatever higher power was listening at that time that he couldn’t see how your blush formed over the darkness of the night. Regaining your sense of self, you reply, “What makes you think I’d want to go with you?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks genuinely. “You could write your books inside while I…I don’t know what type of farm I’ll make, exactly. But I’ll be tending to that and you can write your books with your theoretical dog.”

“It’ll be our theoretical dog, then.”

Sebastian replied with a soft smile, “Ours, then.”

—

He had settled on bees. Having a bee farmhouse. It wasn’t easy work, it was definitely more complicated than milking a cow like you had said, but it made him happy, and it made him content.

Well, as content as he could be.

You had your first kiss that night, Sebastian recalled. He remembers because even though you didn’t think it, he could see the red blush dusted lightly on your cheeks, a sign he made the right choice leaning in and making his move.

Preparing his dinner for one in his cozy yet lonely farm house, he realizes he could have had this all with you. If he had just been more kind and if you had forgiven him, you could have had all of this together. A life that both of you had always wanted.

—

2018

“Sebastian, I’m not asking you to retire or something, I’m just asking you to take a break, please,” you beg. He remembers your exasperated voice as clear as day.

“I can’t take a break, Y/N, you don't understand. If I don’t get at least podium in this race, that's it, my career is basically over.”

Scoffing, you replied, “Your career isn’t over just like that, you’ve still got another year with Ferrari for christ’s sake.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” he mumbled, opting to turn away from you and put on his racing gear instead.

He’d been distant the whole season, the tension between the two of you increasing and increasing that finally it just snapped this race weekend. He’d been icing you out, acting like you didn’t exist because he was ‘practicing for the races ahead.’

At first you understood, you were a driver too. You recognized the difficulty of always losing race after race, how after a while it took a toll on your mental wellbeing. So you gave him space.

Then, when that didn’t work, you tried reaching out, helping him. It was the worst mistake of your life. Every time you tried to talk to him, to ask him what was wrong so you could help, he kept pushing you further and further away, acting like you were getting in the way of his work, sometimes even getting angry.

That went on for the whole season, until finally today, on qualifying morning, you snapped and demanded he talk to you.

“What the hell do you mean ‘I wouldn’t get it’? I have the exact same job as you,” you accused. You’d been patient for months and his vagueness was starting to get on your nerves.

Whipping his head around angrily to face you he replied, “You don’t have to reach the same standard as I do. I have to constantly prove I’m the best, and you constantly prove to be a midfielder.”

Oh.

Oh.

That was a low blow, even Sebastian knew that. Your relationship had been teetering on the edge for the past year, but this was a make or break moment, and he knew exactly which one of the two it was going to be.

“So it’s like that,” you decided with a tone of finality. Sebastian wanted to ask for your forgiveness right then and there, to apologize, to make up for the last few months of being an asshole, to beg you not to throw away your years together just like that.

But he knew he was in the wrong, and he was too stubborn and egotistical to apologize.

Sensing the silence from him, you nod with teary eyes you tried so desperately to stop from flowing freely. Sebastian wanted nothing more to wipe them away, to hold you in his arms, but he never could do it.

“This is how you want it to end?” You asked him. It was a genuine question. You were giving him one last choice, one last chance to make up for how he’d been treating you the past year.

He stayed silent.

“Enjoy your fucking career, Vettel.”

—

He won that race. It was his first win of the season, but he felt like he had lost the championship itself as he stood on that podium, eyes looking for you in the crowd like he usually did, finding you absolutely nowhere.

After your argument he tried to talk to you in the paddocks but you constantly avoided him, the act not being hard when he wasn’t allowed inside your team’s hospitality building nor paddock. That fight was the last sensible conversation with each other you ever had.

You retired the year after that. You moved out quietly from your shared home, and he heard you stayed with Jenson for quite a while. He couldn’t blame you, Jenson had always been kind to you— Sebastian had no place to be jealous.

Hearing the beeping of his oven, Sebastian snaps out of his trip down memory lane to grab his dinner. It was a tray of lasagna, one he was sure he would be eating again tomorrow lunch because of the size of it.

He thinks about how he wouldn’t have to place the excess in a container for tomorrow if he just had someone to share it with. If he could share it with you.

Going through his grocery list at 10 in the morning, Sebastian notices a new store out of the corner of his eye. He’s been to this street countless times to do his grocery down the road— they had a brand of milk that no other nearby grocery had— but he had never seen that store before.

It was a bookshop. A small one compared to the large shops that surrounded it, but it stood out enough to be noticed yet cozy enough to feel inviting. It was a cold morning in Switzerland, and the heater inside just invited him further in until he found himself standing at the doorway, taking in the smell of books and the absolutely gorgeous decor.

He will admit, he hasn’t seen a bookshop like this in quite a while. The second he stepped foot inside he felt the love radiate through it, as if he knew the owner personally and how they had a passion for their store.

All Sebastian could think about, however, was how much you would love this. How you would adore running your fingers through the spine of a second hand book, or how you would pick a fresh new one for him to read and he would do the same for you, just like you both did back then.

He won’t pretend that he never looked for your book when you retired. He knew you weren’t joking about publishing one, he just didn’t know what pen name you chose so he never could find it.

“Looking for something specific?” A voice makes him turn his head around to see the woman behind the register looking at him inquisitively. He realizes that he was just standing in an aisle not really reading or picking up a book.

Sebastian shakes his head, “Not really, just browsing. I was thinking about how a friend of mine would have liked to see this store, it’s right up their alley.”

“Why don’t you invite them then?” A different voice speaks.

…It can’t be.

That voice.

That voice.

No, he was hallucinating, dreaming maybe. Yes, this was a dream. That would be the only explanation why from behind him he heard a voice he missed so dreadfully, one he tried imagining talk to him again some nights, one he watched old videos for, one he—

“Sebastian?”

It was you. He would recognize your voice anywhere. He turns around, and the world seems to slow down as if it suddenly focused on just the both of you. The background blurs and everything is hazy and distorted but you were there. Standing in front of him, actually real. Older than he remembers but not in a negative way, just more mature. More peaceful. More you.

Staring at you in the middle of a bookshop in Switzerland after 5 years, Sebastian couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. What would be right? Would there be words he could tell you that would make you ever forgive him?

“I-” “You-”

You both start at the same time, making you laugh at each other. It was the first time he’s seen you smile since 2016. He used to say he would burn cities to see you smile, and he’s glad he knows now that that feeling hasn’t changed.

“You first,” he says. He wants to hear what you’ll say so he can choose his words better.

“I, uh,” you laugh awkwardly. It was still a beautiful sound to Sebastian. “I was actually slightly expecting to see you here.”

Oh. Well he didn’t expect that. You…you were expecting to see him? Like purposely thinking about him? The thought boggled Sebastian.

Noticing his visible silence, you speak up again. “I co-own this bookstore,” you smile. “I knew you lived around the area so I expected I’d bump into you eventually. It’s not the main thing that I do, but my Swiss friend you just talked to behind the counter wanted to make a bookstore but was low on funds so I decided to help a friend out, you know?”

Oh he knows. You were always so kind when it came to your friends. He remembers, he used to be one of them.

“That’s really nice of you,” Sebastian says. He slaps himself internally for the dumb reply he gives. “You uh, you look great.” Way to fucking go Sebastian. What a great conversation saver.

“Not in a weird way, of course. I mean I would never try to make you feel uncomfortable by saying that. Did you feel uncomfortable? Was it weird? It probably was. I mean I haven’t seen you in so long and that’s the first thing I say it’s so stupid and I could have said something of significance but—”

You stop Sebastian before he rambles on any longer. Holding his fidgeting hand, you chuckle at the sight of the nervous German in front of you. “Relax, Seb. I’m not mad. I’ve moved on.”

Oh.

“You have?” He asks, not thinking before he speaks because he knows he hasn’t. How could he move on from the best thing that ever happened to him and the biggest mistake he ever made?

The question takes you aback, pulling your hand away from his. For a second Sebastian thinks he’s messed up all over again, but you simply reply, “I meant from racing. But I know what you think I mean.”

“Can we catch up? I’ve missed you.” Sebastian hears himself say it before he even realizes the implications of his words.

“Oh.” you say with a pause. It makes Sebastian’s heart sink. Maybe you really have moved on, but in a way that you didn’t want him in your life anymore. He gets that. It looks like you’ve built a nice life for yourself outside of racing. Even if he never gets to be in it. He’s proud of you for being able to move on. “How about we sit down for some coffee first? I know a place near here.”

Oh thank god. Sebastian wasn’t ready to be deprived of you again so quickly.

Walking to the cafe, the air was thick with the tension between the two of you. While your accidental meeting in the library had gone well, the spark of the moment had faded and the reality of the situation had settled in. This was someone Sebastian had deeply wronged, someone he still deeply loved, and there were too many words unsaid there about both.

Sitting down at the window seats— he remembers how you loved sitting there so you could watch the people outside— you flag down a waiter to take both your orders.

“I’ll take a macchiato and— Seb do you still take your coffee black?”

Nodding, he looks out the window with a light blush on his cheeks. The fact that you remembered his— albeit simple— order made him happy and he had to catch himself otherwise he would be smiling like a teenage boy again. It was truly the little things.

“So,” he speaks up, straightening up and looking at you.

“So,” you mimic. “I go first or you go first?”

“My life has been pretty televised before I retired, there’s nothing really surprising in it. You go first.”

You spend the next 30 minutes filling him in on your life, how you avoided the media for the past few years, how you live in a cozy home with your dog, how you still exchange presents with some of the older grid during Christmas (Sebastian admits he got jealous here).

But the most important part was when he heard how you finally wrote that book you always talked about.

“Really? You finally published it?” Sebastian asks. He could see how the smile on your face was genuine, unlike the many times he saw you put on a fake one for the press or the media. It made him happy.

“Yeah, I finally found time after I retired to start it. Surprisingly it’s actually much harder and less peaceful than I thought it’d be.”

“At least it’s not a biographical book,” Seb jokes. The throwback makes you giggle, but it also makes you both acknowledge the elephant in the room. There were still so many things left unsaid, you both didn’t know where to start.

“Y/N back when I said those things, you know the ones, I didn’t mean them.”

Giving him a sad smile you reply, “I know, Seb. But it doesn’t take them back. Besides, that silly argument was just the straw that broke the camel's back, we were on the edge of our relationship for so long, you knew that too.”

“I know, but that was my fault it was on the edge too. I kept pushing you away because of Ferrari and how disappointed I was in my career. I didn’t realize at the time how much it was hurting you until I finally lost you. I know it makes no sense to say it this late when all is said and done, but I am sorry.”

Sebastian’s words stunned you to silence. You knew he never meant pushing you away, despite your last fight he was never intentionally that unkind, it was just racing that pushed him to be like that back then. But hearing the words coming from him hit differently, the way he said the two words you’ve been yearning for for years. I’m Sorry.

It couldn’t make you forget, but it could make you forgive.

“I know you are, Sebby,” you say. The old nickname brings a nostalgic smile on his face. “I’ve forgiven you years ago, just after I retired. I figured I should let go of my ghosts and that’s what I did. Though I won’t lie, your ghost did put up quite a fight giving me tears at night,” you joked. Sebastian could sense the hint of sadness in it.

He wishes he could make it all go away, to fix it just like he used to be able to. But he knows it’s not that easy. Not when the years have separated you both. It’ll be hard getting your trust back to let him into your heart even just as a friend, but goddamn if he wasn’t going to try and fix it.

“Will you ever show me the book?”

The question catches you slightly off guard. “I doubt it. It’s not up your alley anway, historical fiction.”

“Anything you write is up my alley. Maybe you can come over sometime and show it to me,” he says, not realizing the underlying meaning to it.

“Careful, Sebastian,” you say. “Forgiving is easy when you’re given time, but forgetting is harder. Let’s take baby steps.”

Baby steps. He could live with that. To Sebastian it doesn’t matter if it takes days or years to get you back in his life, he’ll let you take your time. You deserve it. And if you choose in the end to walk out of his life again, well, then he deserves it.

You hug each other goodbye when you leave, the hug lasting longer than it should have. He knows he promised baby steps, but when you buried your head into the crook of his neck and tightened your grip around him softly, he couldn’t resist pulling you closer to him and holding you there for a few seconds. He misses this, the closeness of it.

He sends you his address if ever you were in the area again, and you notice how the profile picture he has for you on your number was still the one of you when you were both rookies. It made you happy.

Sebastian didn’t expect anything more to happen, he spent that night contemplating what good deed he must’ve done to bring you back into his life again. Whatever it was, he was grateful he had done it.

The next afternoon as he was reheating the Lasagna— that he ultimately forgot yesterday— in the oven for lunch, he heard his doorbell ring. Opening his door he spots a package on the floor, one that was wrapped with a cute bee themed wrapping paper. It made him chuckle. He expected that whoever or whatever was at the door was you, but this was the next best thing.

Sitting down on his porch chair, he opens the package delicately as if it were fragile. He can feel the outline already, it was a book. Moreover, it was your book. Sebastian couldn’t believe it.

There was a note attached that read, ‘Forgot to tell you yesterday. I missed you too.’

The few words were almost enough to bring him to tears, but he continued and opened the book to scan its contents. The typing Published 2020 stands out, making him realize how long he’s missed out on this.

But what truly catches his attention is the dedication. Smack right in the middle, the words to be seen by everyone, read; For my Sunshine, the amount of words left unsaid will never match the amount of love I still have for you in my heart.

He may not be able to fix his mistake just like that, but Sebastian would wait however long it took for you to love him again, as a friend or as another. As long as his sunshine was in his life again.

#sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel imagine #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #fanfic #writing #f1 fanfic #f1blr #f1 x reader #fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi!

I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all of your COD fics! Your Price fics made me fall in love with him (I saw a recommendation for See No Evil on TikTok and just went down the rabbit hole from there (it’s also my comfort fic)) and Laughing Poets made me buy Ghosts for Keegan. Your writing is so beautiful and poetic and has inspired me to start writing again after a really bad writing’s block!

I also did want to put in a request for Ghost (because I love him so much) but given his hype, I understand if you don’t want to write for him or if it may be hard. But I was hoping that this hasn’t been done before (much) and that I could read it in your words since you are so amazing!

I was thinking of the reader being a CIA agent that was working undercover to get classified information and 141 was sent in to extract her after she was compromised. And her and Ghost don’t really get along at first, like they don’t hate each other but they could just care less about one another. But then they get separated and one of them is injured and the other fights tooth and nail to get to them, realizing how much they care. I was thinking that her callsign could be ‘Reaper’ but it can be anything else if it fits better. It can be angsty (because that’s the absolute best genre), fluffy, nsfw, whatever you want to do with it.

I know this is asking a bit much and I’m sorry for that. Feel free to change it as you see fit and do whatever you want with it, if you want to do it. I really appreciate and love your work!! Thank you!!

'Til it Hurts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: This duology will be 18+ and contain the following: intense gore, blood, violence, vulgar language, angst, fluff, suggestive content, (smut, p in v sex, virgin!reader (relevant to plot) all in part 2), abuse of power in the past, toxic working environment in the past, copious flashbacks, soft!simon because I love him like that (I guess considered ooc), banter, etc...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted tomorrow after I edit it and the link will be added to this part as well for ease of access. But, anna, that's wild that people post about my work on tiktok, lmfao. I'm so glad I helped you out of that writer's block, though! Enjoy part 1, Love (I did change it around a bit)!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You often think of the friends you had when you were six. The neighborhood you grew up in was full of other kids your age, and there was practically a horde of young boys and girls outside at any given moment. Early mornings were ripe for adventures – ears perking up from your pillows at the sound of bird songs and lawnmowers like an instinctual call to cause mischief. Days would run long and nights would end late with games of tag. 

It was inevitable, at this point in your life, to not think about where your friends would be now. Were they happy? Starting families and getting married on island resorts; white sand underfoot and a gentle lapping of ocean water? You’d lost contact a long, long, time ago – never bothered to get back in touch, though you know things might be better if you had. 

God, you’d never have friends like that again. 

Selfless. Genuine. Without competition or a need to stab each other in the back. Friendships built on a childlike innocence that was never meant to stay or grow with the brutal stretch of years. People mature. They harden, sharpen. 

They break themselves to fit a mold of what they want to be without even realizing…Or maybe that was just how you grew up. 

Your feet pound against the cobblestone streets of Bergamo, Italy, as you make your way through the packed road of the Upper Old District. Under your chin, your fingers go up to grasp the scarf around your neck and pull the thick navy fabric up farther. Fast eyes flicker over faces as a fake plastered smile splays over your lips, and your jaw holds a tension that seeps into your shoulders.

Keep the act up, you have to remind yourself, fingers heavy at your hips, don’t let the facade slip, or else it’s over before it begins.

At your sides, past the unending sea of loudly speaking humans and loyal animals alike, the broad expanse of ancient architecture calls to the history of this city; red-terracotta roofing, extravagant greenery, and pillars as tall as the buildings themselves. A picturesque land filled with mysteries lost to time, stories never told beyond the scratch of a pen and moth-eaten parchment. 

A city now filled with killers. 

“Sitrep,” you grunt into the open channel, the earpiece fizzling as it sits in the clutch of your canal. No one answers and, slipping past a family of tourists, you glare at the ground; heart going so fast you feel like it could jump-start a car. “Damnit!”

The seconds draw on and as you pick up the pace, now shoving your way through the crowd, you feel eyes on you. Slithering over your skin like oil. 

Not good. 

Shit. Karver, where did you go!? 

Karver ‘Rigs’ Massarini was an informant – someone who’d been giving you everything that you needed to know about the cell in this area; along with a grouping of eyewitnesses to a stash of ICBMs. A stash that could do some serious damage if they stayed here with the wrong people. Intel suggests that those very missiles were going to be shipped off to Mexico in only a few days, smuggled across the border into United States territory with the intent of doing some pretty awful stuff and framing the US. 

If you and Rigs weren’t quick with this, so many innocents would suffer.

You’d already gotten into contact with Mexican Special Forces yourself, warning Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra of a possible breach and to watch for any unregistered shipments on the docks or coming in from the air. 

But now Rigs was missing, and you had a funny feeling you were being trailed. 

Back alley. You take a quick right, boots slamming to the ground and heart hammering. Get away from the civvies in case someone decides to go trigger-happy. 

This cell was known for being deadly, Mr. Massarini had sent the file over to CIA headquarters before you were shipped out; Laswell had set you on it right away without even taking the time to read it entirely.

“Extremely high Kinetic; I’m giving you full Execute Authority on this, Reaper. We’re running out of time. Find those missiles.” 

Torture, kidnappings, mutilations, the list went on for this group and how far they would go to keep secrets. No one had gotten any clear insight as to what their motives were – just that they needed to be put down in exactly the ways they had been doing to others. Ruthlessly, before they grew bigger or spread their influence beyond borders, and created a group that could rival what Al-Qatala had been. 

So that was where you came in. 

God, you wished Farah and Alex were here with you – at the very least you could rely on them to help, even if you sectioned yourself off from others more than a dying cat. There was a reason you preferred being sent in alone with only your wits.  

Mostly because of situations like this.

“Rigs, sitrep. Where are you,” you try again, the close walls shrouding in your shadows. Throwing looks over your shoulders, you take down deep breaths, a growl gradually digging itself a hole in your esophagus. Desperately, you say, “I’m heading back to the safe house ASAP. Wait for me there.” 

Your right hand gravitates to your pocket, slipping through the fabric and pushing aside the ripped seam at the bottom. The sheath at your thigh pinches you with every step, but you’ve endured it for years, calluses breeding where the leather had chaffed the flesh to toughness. To an ingrained perfection. Flinching when your fingers bump against the handle, the metal adornments feel cool to the touch despite the sweat dripping down your spine; temperature and nerves leaving your palms sweaty. 

None of this was going to plan.

You caress the small Dirk blade strapped to you, and when the first footsteps enter the alleyway behind you, your hand clenched into a loose fist around it. Your eyebrows pull tight with annoyance.

Taking a slow breath as the trailing stranger begins to move faster, you take a corner, halting the second you were out of sight. You nonchalantly turn on your heel and lean into the wall, feeling your body conform to the building and the stone dig into your back. 

The material is cold, and as you raise your Dirk up, you flip the blade parallel to your forearm, wrist lax, and fingers still. A slow breath flows from your barely-parted lips. 

3 seconds. You don’t blink, only gazing out across the space and noticing the dark shadow gaining ground. 2…1…

Your body jerks forward, free hand snapping out and grasping the fabric of a shirt. Twisting your hips, you plant your feet and wrench the stranger around the corner, breath coming out in a loud snarl. Without a shout, you have the person’s back shoved to the building in an instant, blade held above an Adam’s Apple. 

A man, then.

“I’m going to give you one full minute.” Your Italian was only surface level – far better at understanding others than speaking full sentences. But you think whoever this man is comes to a conclusion well enough. “Before I cut you open and watch the life spill from your eyes.”

You don’t recognize this person, his sharp face or dark, sly, eyes, and with a quick assessment of his large stature you figure out he’s the basic definition of a man sent to complete a job. One that would have left you dead if you were anything less than a contracted CIA Agent on a job. You had been trained among the best from your time in the Marines – years on Special Ops forces; taking point. Even if they were the worst times of your life, you still learned a great deal from them, particularly, how to know when to cut your losses. 

With one look into his smug face, you know that this stranger would tell you nothing. 

Your lips formed a grimace, teeth flashing under flesh at the rod-straight form of the man under you. He was smirking with eyes seeming to be laughing at you. Arrogant. Self-assured. 

“You’ll get nothing out of me, Reaper. We are already on your trail.” Your head tilts, a numb huff escaping your throat and pushing the individual's hair back as a breeze would. There was a small pause; tiny shiftings of your feet as your blade digs ever deeper. 

A thin trail of blood falls from the placement, and your muscles writhe under the epidermis. There’s no thought behind the laugh that enters the air, that cold, dark, thing that’s more of a bark from a hellhound. It was just a realization that no matter where you went, there could never be anything unique anymore. Everyone was always the same. 

“You’ll never get it out of me-”

“Break my bones; rip my flesh, you will never make me talk-”

“If you want to see me beg, you’ll be disappointed-”

There were countless memories you could bring to the precipice of your mind and re-live; moments ingrained into your psyche like a tattoo is to skin. So you can only smile and nod, scarf swishing around your neck. The man looks confused now, if not slightly nervous. That self-assured attitude leaking to the ground. Eyes as dark as obsidian beginning to snap back and forth – looking for a saving grace in the make-up of ancient stone that wasn’t going to come. 

You wondered how many people had died in this city throughout history. The stories lost to time. Have these alleys seen war? Famine?

Have they seen murder? 

But you are a woman of your word. A minute passes in tense silence, your eyes never leaving his own and ears carefully in tune, twitching like an antenna, to the joyous shouts and laughter just a street over. Here you wait like a rat in a trap, though you like to believe yourself more of the metal Hammer than the unknowing participant in a dance of death and wits.

You tighten your grip on your Dirk, shrugging up at the man. Your face is nonchalant as an understanding smile grows. As simple as a server at a restaurant.

“I believe you.” And you run the knife’s edge across his flesh like a match to a striker before he can scream.

Stepping back, you’re suddenly thankful for the scarf over your sweat-slick neck because as the spray of blood splatters over your nose bridge and forehead, you swipe it away with one of the ends of the thick fabric. You let the body drop, watching large hands snap to the gushing wound like that alone would stop the cold grip of death. 

Your mark has been met. 

The External Carotid Artery was easy enough to cut, though you had to dig deep for it, and it seemed the man had moved mid-slice. Frowning while the man gasps and gurgles; flails as a fish would, you study your work as you flick the blade clear of blood. Your brows furrow. 

“Nicked the Thyroid Cartilage, hm.” Sighing and shaking your head, you sheathe the Dirk and twist on your feet, still intent on making your way back to the hotel safe house and trying to find a lead on Rigs. The slumping of a body reverberates a moment later, a grandiose death rattle, and still, only a street over you hear animated conversations – the bustle of traveling feet, and the sound of the breeze. 

You often think about the friends you had when you were six. But, now, instead of being the one who fought off the monsters at the ends of the beds, you had become it. The monster. The boogeyman. 

The Reaper. 

Oh, what would they think of you now? 

You swipe at the blood along your fingertips, seeing the red bleed under your nails with such a numb feeling that it scares you more than anything. Taking down a gathering of saliva that feels more like a slug in your throat, you wonder when you lost the ability to value human life. Of course, the answer was slated in those early years in Special Ops, but you don’t dwell on those times. 

In fact, it was better if you never thought of them at all. 

Taking a left, you hum a tune under your breath and listen to the birds sing as the blood dries. 

—

The meeting room wasn’t even a room, just a vacant air-craft hangar that had been fitted out with two rows of metal fold-out chairs and a projector. Shadows danced over the floor, long streaks of darkness over concrete. 

“...I’ll be giving you full Execute Authority – but this mission is completely Black. Host weapons only. No Evac team.” Laswell’s voice echoes off the ceiling, and Ghost’s eyes flow over the projected intel, memorizing the faces and locations with nothing more than a blink of his blue eyes. Fluttering eyelashes caress the hard material of his mask before settling. 

Task Force 141 was being sent off on another deployment again, deep into Belarus and near the Russian border.

“Time frame?” The Captain asks, standing a small distance away and leaning against a crate of ammunition. His arms are crossed; jaw is loosely set. 

Kate looks at him, above the heads of Gaz and Soap, and nods her head before she comments, “one week.”

Gaz huffs from ahead of the hulking form of Ghost, and the silent man shifts his attention back to the group. 

“One week, Kate? No offense, but we don’t even know if the bastard’s in Belarus.”

“‘fraid to get dirty there, Garrick? Ah, we’re good enough for it.” Soap elbows the male at his side, and the masked man releases a puff of breath one row back. The Scot twists in his seat, mohawk tendrils falling over his forehead, and smirks. “C’mon Lt. back me up here. We’ve got this in the bag already.”

“Bit confident, Johnny?” Ghost grunts out, accented voice low and muffled from under the black fabric over his lips. His hips shift over the chair, legs splayed and arms crossed as he reclines back; letting the bulk of his gear weigh heavy. “Just wait until you’ve got us sitting on a pile of dry leads and rotting corpses.”

“Eh, nothin’ we haven’t dealt with before.”

“Focus, you three.” Kate interrupts as Gaz rolls his eyes to himself, fixing his ball cap over his head with a fast flick of his wrist at the antics of the other two. “You’re going to be shipped out at 2000–”

An easily recognizable ringtone starts to play. 

Blinking in surprise, Laswell takes a glance at the table that had been long forgotten and spies her phone buzzing over the metal. Her light brown hair, kept securely tied back, swished at the nape of her neck. She wastes no time.

Briskly walking over, the rest of the men in the room watched intently, heads perked up. Ghost couldn’t stop the pique of interest at the strange behavior, though his form remains still, only making a noise under his breath in contemplation. In the hold of his crossed arms, his fingers tighten.

“Not the person I’d imagine keeps her phone on for just anyone…” Gaz makes a slow comment, and John slides up beside him, hands hooking onto the sides of his combat vest. Watching. 

“Hm,” their command affirms.  

 Kate picks up her phone and immediately answers, brows furrowed. She shifts her weight as an inhalation reverberates. The conversation on the other side was too muffled, a small droaning the only signal that someone was on the opposite.

Unconsciously, Ghost straightens in his chair as the rolled-back sleeves of his undershirt leave his black ink tattoos on display. A deep intrigue spilled in his chest but otherwise, he was still focused on the previous instructions for the next Op. This was just another cog in the wheel, perhaps a location change for their safe house, or an accelerated timeline. No matter, they would get it done regardless–

“Reaper?” Laswell speaks, and blue eyes slide to stare at the Captain, whose legs had tensed. “What’s happened–” 

The Lieutenant knows something was wrong just by the simple fact that he’d never seen their Station Chief talk on her personal phone with that look on her face before – he’d seen it mirrored on the Captain and he’d clocked it from her just as simply. The wrinkled skin at the side of her eyes, and stiff-set lips peeled back in a frown. She’d always been serious, but the air was different. 

Reaper? He runs through the database of his mind and ignores Gaz’s and Johnny’s muttered words and glances. 

“Now who do you think that is, then?” Soap grunts out. Ghost doesn’t answer.

Brows furrow. 

Sounds familiar, the man can’t help but admit. 

“Patch me through. Now.” Kate slips to the computer a few steps away and opens a fresh tab, sorting through files and months of intel as if it mattered just as much as a bug under her heel.

“Kate?” Price prompts. The woman only holds up a finger and keeps the phone in between her shoulder and cheek, hands fast across the keys. 

Soon enough, a feed pops up on the projector, and the three previously sitting all rise to their feet in an instant. 

An open wound is in the process of being stitched and displays itself over the entire available space, violent red internal flesh puckering over the edges of…Ghost narrows his eyes, unphased.

Was that a fabric needle and thread being used for sutures? Resourceful, he admits.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” The manchester man levels thought the blandness of the tone contradicts itself. “Where’s this feed from, Laswell?”

“What the fuck…?” Soap growls out, and the Scot blinks at the screen in shock as the Brit beside him lets off a sound of disgust akin to a sick cat. 

“Reaper, sitrep.” Kate doesn’t flinch, rushing off into procedure as steady hands delve back into flesh, blood falling from their fingers like water to splatter to a rundown wooden table. The world-away computer was most likely getting a rain of crimson all over the keys at this rate. 

Price grunts under his breath. 

“Shit,” a distinctly feminine voice wafts out, a harsh sigh held back, though the annoyed tone was noticed immediately, “can’t a girl stitch herself up in peace? Besides, Watcher-1 answer me this, huh?” The computer is jerked, its screen going staticky as Ghost watches with roving eyes to take in the background when the visibility returns. A bed, nightstand, and sitting by the floor of the front door, copious amounts of weapons. The man takes stock – an M13 assault rifle, X12 handgun, and Arctic .50 sniper rifle. Ammunition lines the floor in a way that leaves Ghost’s lips thinning under the mask. 

Someone’s in a hurry. But from what?

“…what goddamn hotel doesn’t have mirrors in it?” Kate’s sigh can be heard a mile away. “No, I’m being serious here, Watcher – how the hell does that happen?” 

Watching you take a step back, Ghost as well as the other three all blink in surprise when you come into view. Your top was off, only a sports bra covering your flesh, as your focus stays on the digging needle you send into yourself over and over. 

Yet again a feeling of intense familiarity strikes the Brit in the chest. Your soft face, your hair, your voice. It was infuriating.

Who are you? The inability to call forth a memory leaves the fists at his sides gradually clenching under his gloves. 

“Reaper.” Seriousness grows in the Agent’s voice, and Price lets out a slow chuckle that leaves Gaz turning to him in confusion. 

“Sir?” But the inquiry is ignored.

“Still as stubborn as ever, then, Reap?” Everyone sees your hurried stitches stop, head snapping up as they clock a veiled panic behind the iris’. 

Your eyes tell all the story they need, and Ghost’s body freezes as the color evokes a physical twitching of his hand. 

“Holy hell,” he utters under his breath so silently no one even realizes he spoke; eyelids pulling back before settling like nothing had even happened.

“You know, you're the first person who’s been nice to me out here.”

“...Then I’d tell you to get better friends, Sergeant. I’m not sticking around.”

“I never said they were my friends, Ghost, and I never expected you to stay, anyways. That’s not how this works.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Bravo-06?” You ask, voice sometimes cutting out over the line. A laugh breaks out, and a small smirk twitches the corners of your lips, “Hey, Old Man, how’s it going over there? Been a while.”

“What have you got yourself into now?” Price asks, chuckling under his breath with a groaned continuation, “and how do you need me to get you out of it?”

The spectral man now watches with a newfound fervency, blue eyes boiling so violently that if anyone had seen, they would have thought he was about to attack. Like a split second of eye contact with a wolf before it rushes. The build of his shoulders was still loose, however, and the only indication of shock was his optics; the mask shrouded all. 

But there was a subtle movement of his hips, feet transferring over the floor to stand shoulder-length apart.

“Oh, this,” you point to your injury with a free finger, tying off a knot on the last line of sutures. “Nah, it’s nothing. A couple of assholes tried to get the jump on me a block back, one had a knife on ‘em.” Your hand tosses the needle and thread to the table, a muttered, thunk, sounding off. Looking down at your work with a raised brow, everyone watches. “Took care of it – they gave me a name, too, but with the trail of bodies I left today, I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t pan out.” 

A pause before you turn your head back up, face now completely serious as you focus on Laswell. 

“But we have a bigger problem, Watcher. Rigs is gone; I think my position’s compromised. I’m going black.” Your form leans to the side, and a wrinkled t-shirt is thrown over your head. From your mouth, a stifled groan releases. Ghost blinks in surprise.

The Captain’s lips thin, and he looks at a tight-wound Kate. 

“I have a contact in the lower levels, Reaper, meet up with her and she can have you out of the city by tonight. I’ll send over her info.”

“No can do, Watcher.” You sigh, and Ghost simply stares, following your figure as you back up, heading to the X12 and shimmying it into the back of your pants before looking over your shoulder. Kate hums under her breath. “If they’ve got Rigs,” Walking quickly back over to the computer, one of your hands grasps the top of the frame, thumb poking out from the corner. You tilt your head. “I ain't leaving without him right behind me. I’ll be in contact in a month – if I’m not, then I’m dead already.” 

Your chuckle strikes a cord through the room and Soap snorts in answer. 

“Glass-half-empty kind of person, then?” 

“I’d say,” Gaz mutters.

Continuing, you’re about to say something else – lips already partially parted and breath sucked in  – before your eyes lock onto Ghost. The atmosphere of the room flips like the page of a book. 

You stare at him with what seems to be a million emotions flying past the glossiness of your optics; lids already peeled back and whites showing in a display that showed more than told. The man could only begin to imagine what you were thinking – how long had it been since he’d seen you last? You’d obviously gotten out of your Marines Special Ops unit. 

Not quite how I remember you. It wasn’t hard to recall that small branch of the MRR – Marine Raider Regiment – and how they treated you. But that wasn’t any of his business. He’d been there to do a job, and he’d accomplished it. Quite thoroughly, if anyone would have checked the file after it was all over. 

Ghost’s life was counted in the sands of an hourglass, small, molecular, bits hitting the bottom one after the other; rarely was that time wasted on pointless squabbles and words but at that moment, he was conflicted. 

The Brit had never expected to see you again, and the sand briefly halted when you spoke. Hm. 

Yes, he remembered that voice… he’d just never heard you this confident before. 

“Ghost.” He watches the emotions on your face settle, and he was thankful for the mask covering his visage because he knows he would have left at least a small twitch of his lips slip. “Long time no see.”

“Mutt.” The Lieutenant nods in a monotone greeting but notices a slight jerk of your shoulders at the name. His eyebrows furrow, but mentions nothing as his pulse slows. 

Your neck moves as you swallow, looking to the side as a dark curiosity fills the space in Ghost’s lungs; head nanoscopically tilting to the side like a vulture. 

“Nice seeing you, Bravo-06,” You tilt your head toward the Captain before clearing your throat and addressing Laswell. “I’ll be around.” 

It wasn’t hard to tell that the title had made you freak, a kind of bad cloud suddenly springing to life above your head. 

Seems to bother her more than being in a Hot Zone, Ghost tells himself, the deep well of dark water in his gut still. That didn’t make any sense. He watches your hand slaps over the computer and the feed goes dark in an instant. 

The room is more silent than Ghost is. 

“Kate, she’ll need our help.” Price shakes his head from side to side; body moving to the front of the room. “I’m not asking.” 

The two talk it over as Ghost’s mind trails, head tilting down more towards his chest as his eyelids narrow. 

“Hm,” He grunts, arms tensing as his grip shifts. Soap turns around as Gaz goes to join the conversation between the Captain and the agent.

“What? Know ‘er or something, Lt?” The Scot asks, slapping a hand on the taller man’s arm. Ghost eyes lock on the grip before he blinks, looking back up and leveling the Sergeant with a dead stare. Johnny laughs awkwardly and moves his limb back to his side. “Just…didn’t peg you for the type to start relationships.”

The Lieutenant turns down the aisle of chairs and lets out a bland, “negative. Leave it, Sergeant.” 

Why did you react badly to the namesake you’d gone by for the entire time you’d been in Special Ops? Mutt was when everyone had called you when he had been around for that short time. 

He felt no great concern for you – no hatred or care – you were just another Agent that would probably end up dead like everyone else. Another time, maybe, he’d have gone in a heartbeat, and if the team decided to go after you, he’d follow. A mission was a mission, it wasn’t like it largely mattered. 

But there was something in the back of his mind. Intrigue? Yes, perhaps. The blue-eyed Lieutenant wasn’t one to dwell on these types of things, but a colleague was still a colleague. 

Whatever the outcome, he’d do his job with all the ruthlessness and tact he always did.

Ghost’s hand goes up to fix the position of his mask and glances at the blank projector stream, eyes boring into it as they darken. A moment later, he was leaning against the ammunition crate that Price had previously been on, arms crossed and ears twitching at the ongoing battle of wills; isolated to himself as his intimidating form towers ever upwards. Spine straight. Bones stiff. Eyes grim. 

You’d been nice to him – a person that, for the limited time he’d interacted with, had left an impression that was only just starting to come back full force. Smart and resourceful; not too bad on the eyes. 

He takes down a sigh. Stubborn…but undoubtedly loyal. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, and you look up at him as if he wasn’t the one in a mask – as if his entire being was laid bare before you. He swipes away the trail of blood with one firm press. The gentleness of your skin is known even through his glove.

“You’ll live, Sergeant.” He utters, teasing in his monotone voice, “now, where the hell are we goin’? Gun’s itchin’ to lay a few out.” 

Ghost would have smirked at the way your eyes dilated if he had the ability, but in the end, he brushes past. Because if he hadn’t, you would have seen his own do the same.

‘Reaper,’ he frowns, feeling the ammunition crate dig further into his hip, they never called you that one.

Perhaps the real battle of wills was happening inside of him – not five feet away between his Captain and his Station Chief.

—

You remember every interaction like it was yesterday, and although he might not, you can’t help the memories from flooding as you gather your gear. Stuffing guns into duffel bags and intel into crossbody sacks that weigh you down like boulders. 

Fuck, you open the back window and shimmy out into the back streets, knowing that your position is compromised and not waiting any longer to test your luck. Your side burns something awful; horrible stitches peeling back skin as you groan in pain. What the fuck was Ghost doing with Price? I didn’t know they knew each other. And the two other men in the room…eh. Not the problem right now! 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you pant, swinging your legs out of the window frame and sharply inhaling when a suture tears. “I’m never in the loop.” 

In all honesty, you don’t want to be – too complicated. It’s better to just stick around and be told what to do. 

Glaring down at the ground with glazed eyes, you only take a breath of hesitation and let off a curse before dropping. 

Your knees take the brunt of the force, and the ricochets of landing on cobblestones travel up your ankles and leave your legs shaking. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you would have come up with a dirty joke to mutter to yourself. 

The discomfort can only last so long, you tell yourself, and ignore the spreading liquid on your side, only thinking of Rigs and the mission. 

And Ghost. 

Gritting your teeth, eyes vulnerable, you turn down the backroad and stay away from others, drowning in memories more deadly than blood. It had been a while since you had thought of it – the lockbox in the back of your mind keeping all under tight watch; guard dogs with metal teeth and chained necks. 

But that title; that namesake you’d scrubbed your skin raw over. Mutt and all the others said in cruel breaths. Oh…but Mutt. 

Mutt was the worst of them.

Your hands were vibrating, the tremors traveling up your wrists and arms – past elbows and bruised flesh under skin; bloodied nose and quivering lips. Why did they always yell at you? But worse, why did they always make you do the dirty work? 

The Captain, everyone just called him Alke, was standing in front of you, berating your accuracy on the last round of target practice. Fortunately, this deep into the Unit itself, you’d found a way to let it go in one ear and out the next, eyes as blank as a starless sky. 

You could see the spittle flying from the man’s lips and some even splashes across your cheeks like acid, but there was something artful to the way you didn't react. A culmination of crafted numbness that bleeds like trauma. It was a constant, everlasting, void.  

What they were making you into was not what you wanted, but what possible other option was there? Resign? No, this was nearly an unimaginable position to be in at such an age. You deserve to be here. Should you report the blatant unprofessionalism and favoritism in the ranks? And be blacklisted by these people's friends so that you never ascend the line?

Your ears twitch. 

“...You’re not sleeping until your marks are perfect – else we’re overthinking your position in this Unit. Can’t have a Mutt in our ranks, can we?” The last sentence is punctuated with a ruffling of your hair almost like a brother would; teasing, but you know that isn’t what it symbolizes. Harsh laughs and mocking remarks from the bystanders. “Least of all one that’s gonna get us killed. Tch.” When you don’t answer, staring off in a daze at his nose in a perfect image of formation, the Captain raises an eyebrow. “Affirmative,” he smirks, “Mutt?”

“Sir!” Your mouth shouts, though the action is more instinctual as your back straightens.  He frowns at that, perhaps wanting to torment you more, but huffs and files out, ordering the rest to follow with one last call.

“I expect you to be up for morning drills an hour early. I’ll be checking your shots myself.” 

“Sir!” 

After everyone’s gone, you blink back to reality. There’s a second of confusion, creases forming in your forehead at the sound of birds and blowing glass. Head turning side to side, your lips thin at the absence of others as if only realizing how spaced out you’d actually been. 

Flashing teeth and heated eyes flash through your mind before you blink them away. Signing away the tense nature of your chest, you clear your throat and relax your legs. Your vision slides to the corners of the concrete dugout, snapping past sectioned-off areas for privacy to search if there was someone who might have stayed back. 

Not finding anyone, your hands, clenched behind your back, loosen and fall limp to your sides like bags of rock. One weakly goes to swipe at the trail of blood from your nose, wrecking your already wrinkled sleeve with crimson; but soon an identical trail drips off your chin regardless. Licking your lips and tasting copper, you take a shaky breath and nod to yourself. 

You knew what shooting all night would bring on – lesions under the firing pad covering your shoulder; deep-rooted pain leading to nerve damage later on. Blisters that leak puss and blood onto your bedsheets. Not to mention the mental strain, the bags under your eyes burn from lack of rest. 

Gritting your teeth, you walk over the tossed rifle on the floor and pick it up with shaky fingers, the tips flinching back from the cool metal before encompassing it tightly. 

Silently, you get on your stomach and set the weapon in the crook of your already pain-laced shoulder. Your blood splatters the stock.

—

It had been two weeks with no luck in finding Rigs, and you were starting to get paranoid.

Staring at the dead body tied to the wooden chair, you growl and tear your Dirk from the woman’s chest angrily. 

There had been increased police patrols from all the corpses you were leaving, so you’d compromised and limited the chance of being caught at the same time. 

Bergamo, Italy, was an ancient place, and the underground was what you were now both metaphorically, and physically, exploiting. Sewer systems. Catacombs. You’d lost track of the paths you’d taken a million times over, and had started to hate the constant darkness only kept back by the small hand lamp you’d stolen. 

But there were ups to this constant downward slope. 

It made interrogations increasingly easier to pull off with multiple feet of stone all around you. The screams don’t meet the surface.

“Catello Tullio,” you mutter, caressing your sensitive side with your free hand and placing your blade on a turned-over piece of rock. The area reeks of blood and gore, a stack of bodies chucked carelessly in the corner beginning to reek something awful; even as you have another to add to the count. It wouldn’t be long before the rats came in droves.

Another given name, another score. But this one was new. Apparently, the title of the one that took Rigs while he was out getting more rations in the market. 

You point a finger at the slumped body, “you better hope I don’t find you in hell if you gave me the wrong damn name.” 

Grabbing your light, you stalk off down one side of the tunnel back to your camp, dodging drag lines that strike your eyes with their crimson streaks. 

The raggedy blanket and gun-sack you’d been using for a pillow take form in the dark, and somewhere in the corridor a rat squeals; feet pitter-pattering until it disappears altogether. You didn’t even want to think of the spiders living down here. Files and notes are strewn along the floor, perfect hiding places for eight-legged monsters. 

You couldn’t do anything until nightfall. It was just too risky. 

Massaging your side as you bend down, you grimace at the partially healed wound and scoop up your pistol before plopping to the ground with a grunt. With the deadly object held in your lap, you take a moment to breathe and try to push away a growing headache in the back of your skull. 

“This has to be one of the worst Ops on record, huh?” your small voice speaks back to you in bouncing waves of echoes as you begin to fiddle over the gun's small grooves and dents. “How did you manage this, Reap?”

Smiling blandly, the overwhelming quiet and nothingness all around you is like a curse. And in those pockets of a void, your mind always trails to him – or at least it had been for your time on the run. Ghost. That dark and brooding mass of horribly bleak humor and…well…you couldn’t call him mean. 

Your eyebrows furrow.

He was never mean to me. 

There were soft instances where you would question yourself as to if the Brit had possibly had some affection for you. It wasn’t a long shared history of course, but you had sworn that there was something about the way he looked at you…something that you remember so vividly…

You shake your head and stand after a small while, stretching your feet. Placing your pistol in the back of your belt, the weight brings you dull comfort.

 Shining your light on the hand-held radio on the ground in passing, you rove back to it after you scan the perimeter. Its black metal mocks you.

No one’s coming to help ‘cept you. One voice says, and another grunts out, get it together, Mutt. 

You turn on your heel to go and take a breather to disperse your dark thoughts but only make it three steps before your eyes widen, lips parting in awe. Nearly falling flat over yourself, you whirl around in an instant. 

A static enters the air as if the gods above were laughing at you - toying with your fate like it was a rock tossed to the sky. The familiar British drawl causes your chest to tighten, though the sentence is broken and barely understandable.

Someone’s here for me! A smile slashes your face – fierce hope lighting your eyes. You hadn’t wanted anyone to explicitly come for you, but this was a welcome discovery. Someone to talk to!

“--eper…Copy?” Darting like a cat, you move so fast that you stumble over rocks on the way there. “Lead…cafe…red cloth…Out.”

By the time you snatch the small black object, the garbled and firm tone has already shut itself up. Your mouth parts.

“Shit!” You yell, shaking the thing in your hand with an iron grip, hissing like a snake. You look above you at the cracked ceiling of stone and a growled accusation.“I’m too deep…Fuck. Gotta get up there if I want to be able to respond.”

But it hadn’t all been fruitless. Lead. Cafe. Red cloth. You clip the radio to your belt and make sure your shirt covers your weapon; pat your thigh and tell yourself to stop forgetting your Dirk everywhere before setting off in a jog. The light flashes over dead eyes and stiff bodies.

You snatch the blade off of the stone as you pass it, slipping it into your cut pocket and hearing the satisfying clink of it sheathing.

“Let’s just hope I don’t smell too bad…” You say aloud, chuckling, and listening as the sound echoes off the stone. If no other company, you still had the sound of your own voice. 

You couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. But, you were getting side-tracked. 

A Cafe with red cloth, then. Not exactly the place you’d go for an intel swap, but if someone had been trying to contact you for more than a week, you’d imagine they were getting desperate at this point. 

If I had known…you frown. 

Thinking over the multiple blueprints and pictures of the city in your files, you go through your internal cabinet of knowledge for color schemes - not what you’d have thought you’d be using it for, but, oh well. A lead was a lead.

“Golositá!” You laugh, sudden glee on your face as you dodge a pile of large stones; lips peeling back as you take a fast corner. “Gluttony! Of course, that’s the place.” 

The bustling business on the upper side of Bergamo with red table cloths as well as red awnings extending into the street. Anyone would be a fool to miss it. 

Like blood lining the street. 

You force yourself to run faster.

—

You met him last, despite being a Sergeant. The Captain had you up late last night yet again – running the forest trail this time rather than shooting. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it surprised him when you were still up early with the others; from the looks that he was giving you, you just decided that, yes, he was. Or he was just pissed he didn’t have an excuse to get rid of you. 

Blinking away fatigue, you keep your stance relaxed as a gargantuan shadow comes to loom ahead of you. 

The man everyone had whispered about called himself ‘Ghost’ and, if nothing more, was certainly intimidating. Shoulders wider than a bench, arms as rounded and as strong as boulders; not to mention the tattoos that made him look like he took cross-country motorcycle rides in his spare time. Tan tactical gear and dark patches for the SAS, the red and white British flag. Gloves covered his large hands, straps carried knives on his biceps and thigh. Something akin to a tan cape that was loose around his hidden neck.

But the mask was what really caught your attention; your head tilting with an innocence that no longer lives in you.

Skeletal. Half a visage of a dead and gone intimidation of humanity. Sewn into a hood of black cloth from which only the eye sockets were open…But the eyes there were no different than if the holes had been empty in the first place; as if the person inside was as dead as sun-bleached bone. Was a corpse piloting this suit?

Ice blue. Freezing blue. Harsh. Colder than a grip of a phantom, you thought as you blinked up at him, colder than the nights you would stay awake working yourself to death. You watched this Ghost’s chest move in a steady inhalation and you stuck out a busted-knuckle hand. Foolish, maybe, but there were worse things to be afraid of than a mask. Then of those eyes that made your spine shiver. 

But you didn’t look away.

“Pleasure, Sir.” There was a moment of tense silence where your Captain, at Ghost’s side, was frowning at you silently. The man could say nothing as long as this SAS member was here to assist in your next Op overseas. At your sides, your colleagues on the tarmac shuffle on their feet like nervous penguins. 

Ghost glances at your hand, and you try not to show how fast your pulse is running when his eyes leave a cold trail as they grace your split knuckles and torn nails. He ends with a slow look at your name patch. 

“Sergeant.” He says and slips past without another word. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you inhale smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. Snickers bounce off air particles, striking your ears as an embarrassed heat rises to your cheeks, but that scent stays in your nostrils for days. 

Your Captain scurries after. 

“Erm, forgive, Mutt. She’s a helluva strange woman, that one.” You keep your sneer hidden, a hiss lodged in your throat and a twitching finger. But your anger isn’t directed at the masked beast that stalks away. That yapping bully of a Captain would hold all of it as long as you were here.

At that point, you were sure you’d seen the last of Ghost until the Op – not really getting the feeling he’s a people person so much as a ‘give orders and follow them’ type. 

But that was fine by you, it didn’t change anything. You’d been told to go back to the firing range tonight for opening your mouth and ‘making an embarrassment of the Unit’....whatever that meant. All you did was welcome the guy with the barest hint of a good attitude. 

You supposed manners were a foreign concept around here.

The world ahead of you was blurring, red circles in your eyes that gloss over with water every minute you force yourself to stay awake. The stars were out, sky dark, and the area was only lit by large lights situated around the base. In some sort of strange way, you enjoyed the sound of crickets and the cold breeze over your bare arms as if the only sense of peace you got was when you were half-passed out, nailing shots from a rifle. 

The stock was where it always is, your cheek pressed to the side; staring down the scope at the multiple holes in the paper targets. Dots surrounded by multiple other dots like a slice of cheese. You suppose that made you the hungry mouse in that case. 

‘A mouse with a fucking day before she drops.’ You frown, blink, and pull the trigger as the trees rustle. The force lands directly on your shoulder – the kickback is usually not one to bother you, but seeing as your appendage was one bad day away from being dislocated and forever damaged – you took it with a grit of your teeth. 

And you took it because you knew you could. Just as you knew that you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your neck. Freezing, you remove your finger from the trigger and loosen your grip. Turning your head to the side, a free hand goes up and shifts the ear mufflers from your head to your neck in a single movement. 

You swear your heart jumps to your throat when you see a skeleton’s icy blues numbly watching you; arms crossed while a nice-looking SA-B 50 Marksman Rifle sits against the wall at his side. How…long had he been there? Watching?

“What’re you doing, Sergeant?” Ghost asks sternly, that Manchester accent making him sound harsh. Grating like a rock being run against concrete. “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be thrilled at a scene like this, eh?” 

Blinking, you remind yourself to breathe before answering – voice tough and hoarse.

“I have my orders, Sir. You’re free to join me.” 

You turn back as a grunted huff falls from behind muted cloth. Ghost walks up to your laying form, standing on your left side and picking up the binoculars from the hanging hook in your station. As you look back through your scope you don’t know why, but you hold your breath; waiting for something.

“...Not a bad shot. You’re prone to firing more to the right, judging from the grouping. I’d fix that, less you miss a moving target runnin’ the opposite.” He lowers the object - staring from the side of his eye. From your position, your neck cranes to see his fingers twitch. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” For someone you’d expected to be quite harsh – though you had no doubt he still was – Ghost was more sarcastic in his mannerisms. 

Backhanded comments that wound sting if you got on the other end of them.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.” Shifting your grip, you move the stock farther up your shoulder, feeling an immediate release of tension, though the expansive trauma still leaves needles in your tissue.

“Hm, pay attention and you just might learn something.” You feel yourself quirk a lip for the first time in months; your mouth doesn’t stop to think.

“You mentor a lot of people in the middle of the night, then?” 

“Only the ones stupid enough to be awake.” He takes a step back, going to grab his own rifle as his footsteps don’t even make a sound.

‘Quiet for a guy with thighs that could choke me out.’ 

Your brows furrow at the heated thought, taking a slow breath and flexing your hands as the shadow disappears from over you. Why were your hands sweaty?

Were you…afraid? That…that wasn’t it.

“You’re up too, you know, Sir. Bit hypocritical.” This was the first time you’d had a full conversation with someone since you’d gotten in with this Unit. A mildly pleasant one, at least…you wouldn't really call this bonding.

“I can always leave ya’ to it, Sergeant.” Deadpanning the words, you clear your throat and fall silent at the threat. 

‘No,’ you wanted to comment, ‘no, I want the company so badly it hurts.’ 

You swallow saliva and reposition your ear mufflers back over your head, heart bruising your ribs, as you bring down a calming breath of air to still your nerves. 

The two of you don’t speak again, and you don’t ask why he takes the shooting cubby right next to yours, the nose of his rifle peeking out from the concrete wall. You certainly don’t ask why he’s up, either.

And in return, he doesn’t ask you the same.

—

When you find Golositá you’ve managed to sneak through the city unseen, taking every backroad and alley you could as the heat of the day increases to near sweltering. Panting, you stick to the thin shadows of the path across the street, eyes dancing over red cloth and flicking to faces; studying visages as one would a medical report. 

Your chest hurts, and you run a hand over your side, feeling the raised skin under your shirt before digging into the aching ribs. All this running around and little food to help keep your normal strength was troublesome, and it would only get worse if this Op from hell continued. 

I need new intel. Badly.

About to retreat, not finding anyone you recognize off the bat, a black-shrouded figure kisses the side of your vision as if a phantom. 

On the outside table, the farthest removed, a man sits stiffly with an untouched teacup in front of him. Smirking, you can’t help but scoff at the thought of Ghost using the thing – you’d think his thumb and forefinger would break the delicate porcelain in an instant. Like a spine over his thigh.

Your cheeks heat. 

He looked almost identical to what you remember – minus the gear, obviously – and your stomach twisted at the thought. Was a simple look enough to bring you to the breaking point? Why were your lungs tight?

As if feeling your stuck eyes, those icy blues shift from people-watching to lock onto yours immediately. As hollow as they always were, it seemed. He blinks and the blonde eyebrows on his sliver of visible forehead move.

Shit. Your hips trade weight. Look at you.

Loose shoulders under a rugged buttoned-down and painted balaclava make your breath go thin, not able to resist sneaking a glance at those tattoos you remember so vividly. Yes, that was still Ghost.

Jesus, is this how it felt to see someone you barely even remembered suddenly appear? Was it elation or caution that was making your heart race? 

Ghost doesn’t look surprised. His eyes don’t widen; don’t soften or light up. They blankly watch you as you shake away the shock and raise a brow in return. A sarcastic finger goes to your head, and you mock salute. 

What are you doing? You seem to ask, a mischievous expression growing as you start forward when he dismissively narrows his eyes. You look ridiculous. Are you asking to be spotted? 

The man leans into the too-small chair he sits in, one hand going to hang off the back and the other resting on the tabletop. Gloved fingers tapping morse in slow measures.

Clear. Come here. He follows you with his gaze, head stationary, as you enter the flow of traffic, smiling at people at your sides and letting off polite greetings when you could. Steadily striding, you weave through groups and individuals like water, legs steady even as your ears pick up every little sound. 

A comfortable middle point of visible excitement and strict business. Why were you so…happy?

When you approach Ghost’s table, you slip up beside him with a sly chuckle, pulling out the chair to his right. You, softy, lower yourself down into it, not turning to him but instead simply making sure no one had followed you with a quick scan. His heat only adds to the warmth of the day like a walk through damnation.

“Well, well, well,” you smile, addressing the SAS member with his shadow hanging over you once more; such a heavy thing, though you don’t mind. Your expression mellows to have it above you again. There was a safety to it, you had to admit. The cold comfort of death. “Trip to Italy, Sir? Take a little vacation?”

“Came to bail out a bird from my past,” You smell that scent again – smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. “And if I ever went on a vacation, I sure as hell wouldn’t pick this place. ‘Bout to burst into flames; traumatize a few kids and their mums.” 

Hadn’t he changed even a little bit? 

“Now that’s dark.” 

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Of course he hasn’t, you answer your own question, feet shifting and skin pliable, why would he? He isn’t like me – didn’t have to reinvent himself based on atoms and in the wake of silent nights. 

There was a piece of you that believed that Ghost had always been this way, though you knew it was false. Nobody in this profession was just born like this, they were led to it. Whoever it was under the mask or balaclava didn’t matter anymore. 

They had died a long time ago.

“Not a fan of the history, Brit?” You tease, bringing up a hand to itch at your undereye, finally taking a peak at the form that nearly swallows you. 

Your lids try not to peel back, but you didn’t realize how close you’d sat next to Ghost – any closer and you would be in the crook of his arm; the relaxed spread of his knee bumping into yours and arm over the back of your seat. Trying to act nonchalant, you ignore the strange swirling in your gut with a hum and a twitching of your leg.

Stop that.

“Don’t care a smidge, just not a fan of the damn heat.” The gruff man responds with his inked arm on the table flexing, as though he was tenser than he showed. Ghost clears his throat, “needs a good downpour, eh?” 

“Try living underground for two weeks. Literally. Sun’ll feel like a blessing.”

“Fuckin’ hell…That’s why the radio wasn’t working, then.” While this was all cute – re-learning each other like a shaken puzzle – there were dangers to being this open. The Brit would be fine, but if you got spotted, well, there would be worse things to worry about than an achy side and a pile of bodies in a tunnel.

“You got something for me, or are we here just to stand out like bullet holes in a forehead?” Feeling his head tilt to you, snaking down your form, your body leans forward, palms sweaty as they lock on the table. “Price with you? The other two I saw on the feed?”

“Negative. Op in Belarus. Sent me in alone.” Your knees brush, delicately; like a touch of down feathers. You refrain from taking in a shallow breath, knowing he’s analyzing every movement with a hidden mouth and gentle huffs of air that rises his sculpted chest. Through a grunted sigh, Ghost tells, “The Old Man insisted. Laswell thought you’d be alright by yourself, regardless,” and falls silent.

What was he doing? Why was he talking with that rasp in his tone? Your heart swells at the comment about Kate, but a confusing feeling settles in your lower body. Why did the air feel thick?

The warmth of the sun was making your skin perspire, leaving a sheen of sweat over your arms. But the thought of heat stroke fled as you became hyper-aware of the man beside you, keeping careful not to touch you, though his gaze still bore into the side of your face like prodding fingers anyways.

He can’t quite figure you out, he admits to himself. So much of you was different – and he couldn’t tell how. 

She’s lighter, he tightens his face, not the same as when I left. 

But there had been an utter satisfaction when he’d seen you in that alleyway, even if you were different in a million ways, that would never change. Ghost’s body had loosened, his clenched jaw let go, and snappy answers to servers stopped entirely. 

Because those were still the same colored eyes that he remembered. He takes a long breath. 

Through the haze under your creased skin, a red alarm starts to sound off. Not because of the confusing way you felt the chilled form of Ghost on a near internal level, but because of the hooded individual across the street.

When your eyes lock, they back up three paces and bolt down the adjacent street, vanishing into the crowd. Your expression darkens, and Ghost shifts his attention from your face to the streets. 

His eyes blankly follow where you were looking.

“Come on,” you get to your feet, hand snatching at the SAS member's sleeve, dragging him with you as a mother would a toddler. It was ironic – if he resisted, you wouldn’t be able to force him to move, not in a million years, but he slid off his chair with fluid muscles. 

He doesn’t question you when he’s brought into an offshoot of the road, vacant of tourists or locals besides a stray cat and a few scavenger birds. Flies jump off garbage cans, buzzing through the air above your heads as you level Ghost with a serious stare. 

You nearly stumble over your words when you get to look at those long blonde eyelashes that you remember heatedly, but push through as they move to half-lid his blank eyes. Your heart skips beats as you spare looks up and down the space.

What the fuck is going on with me? Focus. This is serious. 

But, Jesus, he should really stop looking at you like that.

“You said you had a lead over the radio – anything on someone called Catello Tullio by chance?” You ask, voice like stone.

“Tullio?” Ghost hums in the back of his throat, all business, hips moving under him as he goes to glance at the street. His balaclava moves as he speaks. “Someone made a mention of it. ‘Fore I put a knife in ‘em, ‘o course.” Nodding, he huffs out, “On me.” 

Turning on long legs, he starts to walk farther down the path, and you follow at his side, peering up and eager to gain more intel. “You’ve caused quite a panic around here, Sunshine. Cell’s terrified of the ‘Reaper.’ I’m nearly impressed.”

He briefly flashes an optic to you, heart betraying him as he remains locked on your lips. Rotating his jaw, he turns back forward.

“Oh, my,” smirking slowly, you roll your eyes, “whatever will I do without your approval, great Ghost.”

“Dunno – kick the bucket probably.” Shaking your head in false annoyance, the slow, mocking, stain in the man’s tone leaks into your very DNA; coating it with honey. Like a warm sunrise, you clock a small hitch in his chest and equate it to muted chuckles when you laugh. 

“Don’t go placing bets, now. I’m not so easily broken.”

“Oh, wouldn’t think of it, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t be my handiwork if it happened,” his tone goes light, “don’t wanna take credit away from you.”

“Brit.” You spit with fake venom.

“American.” He grumbles back, but you clock the small spark in his iris, cold blue bouncing silver light like snow. 

He sounded…entertained? Snide in a sarcastic way. 

Your mouth rises in a stupid, dopey, grin as you stare from the side of your vision, chest jumping in easy comedy. What a strange pair you two were, but you find you liked his company even more, this time around. 

Or maybe he had changed slightly. Or maybe it was just you.

At the end of the day, you were relieved that it was easy to talk to him. Conversations with corpses are a bit one sided, after all.

Ghost’s lips had to be at least quirked under that dark fabric to achieve mischief like what he was spitting out, you leveled with yourself. At the minimum, the man wasn’t annoyed he’d been forced out of his own primary mission because of you. 

You remember he wasn’t averse to cracking jokes – particularly dark ones – but it had…it had never felt like his before.

Strange, you admit with a raised brow and a cocked head, cheeks burning for no apparent reason. You’d gotten him to chuckle? Holy hell, you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for that. I’d think he would be pretty pissed about being sent here. He’s never been one to fuck around. 

You both continue in easy silence until you decide to speak once more, intent on asking where you were being led. 

Ghost’s head had perked up in what you assumed to be soldier-like attention, but then his head had whipped behind the two of you. Oblivious to his shift in mood, like a dark cloud, you open your mouth.

“Well, where are we–” 

“--Get down!” Hands slap on the back of your arm and jerk you to the opposite wall as a loud echo rings out. Whizzing over your head so close that you feel the breeze of it. 

Gasping, the air is expelled from your lungs in one fell swoop; your spine grating over the rough stone as your legs scramble to keep upright. Wiping away the shock quicker than an eraser over a whiteboard, your neck snaps to the problem; brain already hardwired to get over being shot at and the adrenaline that floods your veins immediately after. 

Across the way, Ghost’s fast hand was reaching to the back of his outfit – without a doubt going to grab a concealed weapon. Eyes fiery and arms tight. And as though you were seeing it happen in slow motion, you lock onto the hostile in the middle of the alley back the way you both came. And then onto the hooded silhouette ahead of you. 

Boxed in. 

Hyperfocused, all of it happens in only three seconds, two trained professionals protecting each other without even realizing it. 

One, you realize how this will have to play out if you don’t act immediately. You don’t know how you can trust Ghost to take the other hostile while you focus on the one ahead, but you don’t question it. Two, your gun lays heavy in your hand as your legs pivot. Three, you fire double shots with a loose finger and hear mirrored gunfire from the man beside you. 

You don’t bother watching him drop.

Snapping your head backward with a rageful expression to see Ghost’s corpse hit the floor with a cracking of a skull, shouts start to ring over the city. When you lower your weapon, you turn to notice the Birt examining your own downed hostile with a satisfied stare. If you hadn’t had his back, he would have been shot in it. 

But what you didn’t know was that he was thinking the same thing about you. 

Turning to stare at each other, your widened eyes lock; fingers twitching along the cool X12’s metal as those stormy iris’ only seem to darken further when they dart to your lips. Like staring into a wild animal’s gaze and pretending you’re not in a trance because of it – stuck in that moment of infinity and nothingness with not a single muscle moving. Waiting for either a mouthful of fangs around your supple neck or for the beast to turn away with grace and practiced steps. 

You swore Ghost’s mouth parted under that damned balaclava, but whatever he was going to say was lost when the world came back in a violent storm of screams. Panicking, you gape at the entrance – seeing multiple shadows shoving through the crowd to get to you.

“On me!” Keeping your pistol in one hand, you bolt, hearing heavy footsteps pounding behind you as your mind begins to run.

Ghost trails without a single doubt in his mind as to why he’s following you, and it makes him cautious. 

Catacombs, you decide, get under the city and backtrack to the outskirts. Survey and have Ghost tell me his intel before making a move…yeah! 

“Where are we headin'?!” Ghost shouts, keeping right your heels as you turn corners. Gunshots ring over your heads as you jump up small groupings of tile steps, blood pounding in your ears. You try to remember the maps you had stored in your files underground. Left…no, two rights. Shit! I need to be higher – see the streets like a bird would! “Reaper?!”

“Do you trust me?!” You call over your shoulder, and though it seems deranged, a smile forms over your lips. “I’ll need an answer in the next few minutes, yeah? I’m on a time crunch!” 

“What are you on, Girl?” The adrenaline speaks to you, propelling your legs faster and faster. You vault over a fallen trash bin and take the shock to your ankles as it travels to your thighs. Snickering, you feel the brooding man’s presence like you always could – just beside you like a loyal hound. His focus excites you as you put your gun away in the small of your back. “Bloody hell! Not giving me a choice?”

“Not if you don’t want to get shot in the ass!” Taking one more right, you find yourself rapidly approaching a dead end, tall walls, a balcony, and a large dumpster – the flap already closed overtop. Not answering the man as he barks out a comment, you throw yourself atop it with a puff of breath and spasming lungs. 

Laughing, your hands don’t falter. Reaching up with eager fingers, you grab at the black metal front of the balcony a small distance above and suck down a hot breath. Your arms strain, sickly sweet sweat on the top of your lip, and eyes wide with glee despite the gaining footfalls rising like a battlefield cry. Jerking your body up with only your upper-body strength, you slide your abdomen over the railing with barely a second passing. Once your feet are firmly on someone's property, you twist around and slap your hands to the metal with a twinkle in your vision; face wrinkled with all the animated amusement. 

A wide grin is stuck on you.

Ghost stares up with slightly widened eyes from the ground, arms poised on the garbage bin.

Oh, hell, when she smiles like that…

“But I can’t judge, can I?” Teasing, you extend a helping grip with a smirk. “Everyone has their fetishes, hm, Ghost? Maybe yours is just having a gun pointed at you.” 

He blinks at that, but knowing the urgency in the back of your throat, he pushes himself up with a grunt. You try not to watch his muscles strain, but spy the way the veins in his forearms grow larger as his alluring hips flex. They situate themselves under him as he crunches before straightening in an instant. 

Fuck, don’t drool, you scold, lips lightly parted like seven devils were flying in the back of your mind. Jesus, imagine the weight those things can carry…shit. Wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to that. 

A leather-coated hand slaps into your awaiting one. You snap back to a screaming reality and stare down into hypnotic sheens of ice and…wait…did Ghost have fucking green flecks near his pupils?

“You sure it isn’t yours, Sunshine?” He harshly comments, and his balaclava moves with a rising of his eyebrow. 

Clearing your throat, you murmur a weak reply as your face begins to feel like a blazing fire, squeezing his limb before pulling. He chuffs. Grunting violently, you know he does most of the work in helping himself up, though the Brit still slaps your shoulder in comradery when he’s stable. Kneeling down, he forces himself into the wall behind the two of you, fingers weaving to create a cuff over his knee. 

Tossing his head up, he motions with urgency.  

“C’mon. Be quick ‘bout it.”

Catching one foot in the basin of his clutch, you force down your illicit thoughts about Ghost and jump, pushing off with your opposite leg on his shoulder and his added boost. Scaling the wall, you arch and scramble - with a growing bite in your side – to the terracotta-shingle roof.

Following after and checking your six, the beast of a man joins just in time. 

Shadows dart around the corner far on the ground, and the both of you are speeding animals over the rooftops in the meantime. Against better judgment, boots pounding the tiles, you release loud bouts of genuine laughter. 

How long had it been since you’d had such fun? Enjoyed someone else's company like this? Running across homes, you look at your side, only to find Ghost’s eyes already digging into you. Unrelenting. Unmovable. Panting, you smile brightly, giggles making your sides hurt something awful but your pace doesn't slow for an instant. 

All it took was a glance at the streets – you know where you are now. 

“Enjoying yourself, Reaper?” He asks, arms pumping and barely winded, and you wonder for a moment how he breathes under that covering of his – it had to smell horrible by the end of the day.

“For…the first time in ages, Ghost.” He chuckles at that, and it is a betrayal of his nature. How could someone so violent, so cloaked in oceans of blood, produce such a soft sound? A genuine sound that makes your stomach flip? 

His bewitched eyes rove back in front of him, and he can’t deny the simplicity of speaking to you. It wasn’t a chore, just a conversation with a person who he wouldn’t mind having on 141 at his side. 

There were few people worthy of that.

You swallow thickly and take point, leading the shadow of death to your home underground so you can re-evaluate. 

You can only wonder why you don’t feel nervous as he watches over you, skin marked with horrors but his hand had fit so well in your own. And you also wonder how you can come to care for someone you haven’t seen in ages so quickly, as if you’d both been around each other for years. 

Had you really ever forgotten him? Or just tried to push the affection, both emotional and physical, for him out? But that was the problem, you tell yourself with a clenched jaw, that physical attraction. All of that was just…tied into a million knots. Complicated. 

You’d never had sex before.

And, Ghost questioned himself as he watched your legs move, did he forget you out of necessity? Because those eyes of yours won’t leave him alone, and he so very much enjoyed looming over you.

He sighs heavily and follows in silence.

—

When you first joined them, they all created rumors. This was long before you were permitted solo Ops, long before half of your file was filled and bleeding with black ink that would shame a warlord. When everyone just thought you were signed up because you were some unhinged kid, brimming with unchecked problems and willing to throw everything away just for the chance to prove yourself. Who got into it for kicks. 

They would say you enjoyed it, killing. Reveled in it, really. That it got you off when you were covered in blood and crimson guts as they pooled at your feet. 

You suppose that was what turned you away from sex in general – those heavy comments said with no remorse that stuck with you. It was fear almost, a genuine twisting of your mind to make it your fault. It wasn’t your fault, you knew that; you could sleep with anyone you wanted and the comments weren’t a brand on your skin.

You could forget about it. You should. 

But the words were so mean. Just cruel for the sense of being cruel. And it stuck with you.

If that was all anyone would see, why try and force them to look away? You kept to yourself, never spoke unless spoken to, and shoved all of it down like a kill switch. No sex, no relationships. Nothing to make you think about the rumors. 

Getting off on death? You were horrified at the concept, horrified that people would play around like that with you – with your life!

You just ended up telling yourself you wouldn’t feel it until it hurt too bad. In a way, you were right…but you can only force emotions down for a while until they break forward like a fist to the mouth. 

Besides Mutt, they had many names for you – titles and backhanded monikers. Rabid. Demon. Devil. Monster. Sometimes, beast.

But they all had the same meaning. Inhuman. Wrong. 

It shouldn’t have bothered you that much. It…It shouldn’t have made you stay up at night still thinking about the way they would laugh and pinch your arms as you were left shaking; drowning in gore not your own because they sent you into the heart of the Hot Zone for a few jokes. Teasing you about how you probably touched yourself because of it.

But it was just an excuse to make you too scared to leave. Your reputation…

“There’s that Devil for ya’, always ready to slit some more throats for us. You think you could do the next few, Mutt? You’ll love it, I know you will. I’ll give you a good report if you do it without alerting the guards – see there… ‘Course you will. Fucking freak.”

Your eyes stare forward blankly, Dirk leaving a dotted fluid trail over the dusty ground.

Why did they do this to you? 

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[monstrousvoice]

Date Night?

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationship: Husk X Female Reader

AN: I had a week long writers block cause of this damn thing, but I hope it turned out well despite the trouble I had writing it. Sorry if the ending seems a little rushed, I was struggling with it

Beta-read by the lovely @irkimatsu! I consider them to be the Husk expert, so their input is very important.

Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Alcohol, Implied Sexual Content, No actual smut tho, Angel Dust being a good friend - Hes there for his buddy, As always - Husk is implied to be on the chubbier side

Summary: Sometimes you need a friendly reminder that you're allowed to be happy.

Read on AO3!

“You should head back to your room.”

Your heart seized at the words being spoken to you. Your back was to him, so he wouldn't see the heartbreak on your face. Not that it did any good, one look in your direction and he'd see the way your shoulders tensed, the way you curled in on yourself for comfort he wouldn't give. Not that he would look in your direction anyways. 

Even after the vigorous rounds of sex you went through, even with him sitting right behind you, the bed feels cold. 

“Right.” You manage to choke the word out sounding relatively normal. You don't want to move, you're tired and sore and you just want his warm body to hold you close, to bury yourself in his scent and sound and feel loved in a way you don't think you ever have, especially not since falling into hell.

You try once more to reach across the gap between you. 

“Uhm…Charlie said she's planning a movie night tomorrow? If you wanted to sit…with me-...” Your voice gives an embarrassing crack from nerves as you propose the offer. You know what his answer will be.

“That…sounds tempting doll…” 

But he can't. 

“But I can't.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath even as you sit up. Swallowing the disappointment and hurt welling up in your throat like bile. You don't think there's any room left inside yourself for such pain…

He offers no explanation other than that - he never does - and even knowing he's not paying attention to you, you still nod your head in acceptance. 

“Maybe next time.” He offers, as a pathetic attempt at consoling you. You know there will never be a next time. 

So why do you always ask? 

The answer to that question hurts so bad you feel like you'll collapse into a million shards, never to be put back together again.

You dress yourself in silence, forcing yourself to not look in his direction as you cover the bite marks and forming bruises from the world. Eventually you crack, and peek over your shoulder at him with all the demur bravery of a lamb.

He sits with his back towards you and the door, facing the red wall of his room. A bottle of cheap booze is already in his claws, and he takes a swig of it without acknowledging your existence. Like you didn't even exist if your cunt wasn't squeezing his dick. 

You feel like you're about to vomit.

Clothes on, the area between your thighs feeling sticky and used like a throw away toy, you sneak out of his room and walk back to yours feeling disgusting and weak. 

Husk only looks back after you close his door. 

~~~~~~

“A-and then he just fucking fell over! Dick still out!” Angel cackled, throwing his head back as he laughed at his own story. Husk laughed with him, the pleasant buzz of being drunk making everything funny. He poured the two of them another shot each as Angel continued. 

“Fuck man, it feels so good to laugh. You know that Husky? For fucking years I've been down here-” The spider hiccuped as he grabbed his drink, downing it in one go. “-And I've never been happier than I have been since coming to this tacky ass hotel.” Husk nodded along to his words, letting the spider speak his mind. 

“Like, I actually have fucking friends here! That's insane!” Angel laughed, looking giddy. “I-I actually…like being here…” The smile didn't leave his face, but it did soften a tad, looking more genuine and true. His lower hands were folded on his lap under the bar top, and he was leaning against the wood on one top arm. His free arm was idly playing with his glass, tilting it onto its bottom edge and rolling it in circles. His eyes stayed glued to the last bit of liquid courage inside, swishing side to side as he rocked the glass. 

“It is…pretty nice here. Even if I was forced into it.” Husk conceded. He wasn't even pretending to work anymore, leaning on one arm on top of the bar as he spoke. He felt so calm and sluggish…like he could lay here and sleep for days…

And then Angel spoke again.

“Oh yeah, I'm sure you don't regret meetin’ her, eh?” His tone was light, and the smile he gave Husk was a genuine one. It made the bartender's blood go cold. Immediately he shifted, shoulders stiffening as he closed himself off. 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He grumbled out, looking away and scowling. Angel froze, letting his glass fall back onto its bottom with a ‘tink’. He raised a single eyebrow and narrowed his eyes at the cat demon. 

“I'm pretty sure you do whiskers.” Angel leaned forward, genuine concern overtaking his features. “What happen’? You two get in a fight?” Husk growled low in his throat, the fur along his spine bristling.

The image of your face flashed in his mind, looking so fucking sad, all because of him-

“Drop it. It doesn't fuckin’ matter.” He hissed. He felt uncomfortably exposed in this moment, alcohol mixing with his self loathing into a potent concoction of misery, and Angel is still fucking staring-

“Why do you do that?” 

That…was not the question Husk was expecting. 

“What?” He asked, more bewildered by the question than angry.

“You and I are friends now, yeah?” The spider asked, gesturing between them both with a single hand. He didn't wait for Husk to respond before continuing. “We're losers, you said. And so it's okay to do loser things in front of each other cause it doesn't matter. So why ain't you tellin me what's wrong with your girl?” He dropped his hand back onto the bar top, drumming his nails against it as he continued. The alcohol in his system put him in a ranting mood. 

Husk wanted to be offended, to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business, but he just…couldn't. As Angel spoke, Husk's ears drooped lower, his tail curling around his legs. 

“We all know you like her, you know. We all see it, and we all hear it, lemme tell ya. So if there's a problem…I'm here to help, or whatever.” Angel rolled his eyes at his own words, hating how corny it sounded but meaning every word. 

Husk sighed, leaning his full weight against the bar. His gut told him this was a terrible idea, but…he did trust Angel. Maybe…he could help? 

“For starters…she's not my girl.” Angel looked genuinely shocked at his words, sitting up straight and furrowing his brows. 

“I didn't take her for a ‘fuck, no attachments’, kinda gal.”

“Cause she ain't. I'm the one who said to keep things…whatever.” He gestured vaguely, unsure how to label what you two are even to himself. Angel's eyes widened in surprise, blinking at Husk like it was the first time he'd ever seen a demon. 

“Well…why the hell did ya go and do that?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was Angel trying his damn best to be his friend…maybe it was the way your voice had sounded late last night when he told you to leave his bed…

Husk felt himself crack. 

He hung his head, feeling pain and self loathing flood through him. His next words sounded tired and sad.

“Fuck, cause what else could I do, Anthony?” He took a shuddering breath. “Ask her to be mine and go on to live happy, knowing that someone like her is fucking-...fucking chained to me? A fat alcoholic who's addicted to gambling everything, even his own damn soul, away!?” The bristling of his fur was starting again, his tail swishing angrily at his feet. Even his wings were tense and ready to flare open. Angel - Anthony, simply stared at him, wide eyed but unimpressed. 

“Wasn't there something you told me before…? Hmm let me think,” The spider pretended to think, giving an exaggerated eye roll as he did so. “Oh, yeah! You think that makes you unique?” Husk paused, eyebrows furrowing at his own words being spoken back to him. 

“Everyone has problems down here buddy, you know that as well as I do.” Anthony brought a hand up to pat him on the shoulder, a small smile on his face. “So if someone wants to be near ya despite that…well what's stoppin’ ya?” 

Husk couldn't meet his eyes any longer, lowering himself till he was laying his head on his folded arms on the bar top. His ears drooped as he huffed the saddest, most pitiful sigh of his life - and death. 

“Because she's worth so much more than that. Because the way she smiles is damn near perfect, and she doesn't even seem to hate when I have too much to drink, she goes out of her way to say ‘hi’ to me…Because she makes me feel so damn happy…” He buried his face in his arms, his voice coming out muffled. He hoped it concealed the way his voice cracked with emotion. 

“And that's what terrifies me the most.”

Anthony didn't say anything in response. He moved his hand from Husk's shoulder to his head and neck, idly stroking the soft fur there and finishing his drink. He gave his friend the time needed to compose himself, waiting patiently.

It took a few minutes, but Husk came back to him. The bartender straightened up, carding his claws over his muzzle and back over his ears to link behind his neck. He breathed deep, cracking his neck side to side before letting his hands fall back down as he exhaled. Angel took his hand off him, letting his friend have his space for a moment. 

“Feel better?”

“...A bit, yeah.”

The pair stood in silence for a moment. Angel took a last sip of his drink, pushing the empty glass back towards Husk.

“I can't tell ya what to do Husky, that's your choice.” The spider shrugged his shoulders, “But I do think you should give it a shot. We're allowed to be happy here.” Husk grabbed the glass, moving on autopilot as he dunked it in the soapy water of the sink to clean. He dried it with a rag as he thought on Angel's words. 

“Just…think on it baby.” And with that the spider demon stood, knocking on the bar counter with knuckles before heading towards the stairs. Husk stayed put, letting his emotions settle in the quiet of the hotel lobby. 

He went through the motions of closing up, emptying the sinks and restocking as he thought. He knows he's a piece a shit, that he's irredeemable at this point…but maybe Angel has a point. 

They were all surrounded by crooks and murderers and assholes, but if you choose to be with him then maybe he should embrace it? Maybe that was the last good thing his stupid ass could do, was make you happy…

Charlie's lessons must be getting to him. 

Even so, he couldn't stop smiling as he went back to his room, thoughts and ideas of how to impress you blooming in his mind like flowers. He could use his old suit, that still fit him…and Charlie no doubt knew a place that grew pretty hellspawn flowers, she seemed the type to like that sort of thing.

Husk finally found sleep late in the night, the resolve to sweep you off your feet boiling his blood and making him dream of color for the first time in decades. 

~~~~~~~

When you got out of bed this morning, you didn't expect anything special. You went about your routine and stepped out of your room, only to hear a ‘crunch’ and feel the shape of something under your feet as you stepped out. With a sense of panic you jumped away, your mind immediately assuming that Nifty was crawling on the hallway floor and you had somehow crushed the small demon under you, despite how ridiculous that seemed. 

Instead, you found…something not alive, thank Lucifer. You tiptoed closer to peer at it, and recognized bright colored paper wrapped snugly around some very crushed flowers. Confused and more than a little curious, you picked them up, noticing a bent up card tucked in-between the stems. You recognized the handwriting. 

Doll,

Got these for you, hope you like em.

I wanna take you out tonight, somewhere nice. I'll stop by your room at 6 to get you. You don't need to go too fancy, just wear something nice but comfortable. 

Husk

You stared…and stared some more. Take you out? Where did this come from? You looked up and down the hallway, half expecting Alastor to pop out and laugh about how he ‘got you’ and your look of confusion was sooo funny. Then laugh even harder when he saw how genuinely hurt you felt over a fake letter from the bartender. 

No such thing happened. 

You continued standing in the empty hallway, looking back and forth for an explanation you wouldn't get. Eyebrows furrowed, you looked back to the card, flipping it this way and that as if you missed some secret note. When nothing changed, you looked at the flowers. They were nice, or at least, they were before you accidentally stepped on them. No other messages attached, though. 

You popped back into your room to lay the items on your dresser. Did you really believe this? Husk has made it clear he didn't…didn't want anything more than a rough night of sex every once in a while. He couldn't have left this for you…

Could he? 

Hope sparked in your chest, so fast-so quick, and you immediately shook your head and tried to squash it down. No. No. You were not doing this. You were not going to get your hopes up that this was anything more than a booty call. He wanted to get dinner or something first? Fine. You could do that and not get attached like a leech to the smallest bit of affection he showed you. 

Should you even go…?

The constant loop you found yourself in with the cat demon…it was taking a toll on you. You could feel it in the way your eyes still stung after crying the night before, the way your chest ached at the thought of him. The sex was good, amazing even, but was it worth the hurt you felt every time you tried to reach for his hand only for Husk to pull away like you burned him? 

You groaned, rubbing your face in frustration. Why did you have to make these things complicated? Why couldn't you just take what he offers you and be happy with that? 

You knew why…

Huffing, you stared at the letter and flowers and made a decision. You would try tonight, and see if you could make this…thing between the two of you work without all the…the emotions and stuff. And if you couldn't, you would stop. Because it wouldn't be fair to you, and it wouldn't be fair to him. 

Just one more try. 

And so you found yourself waiting in your room hours later. You had done as Husk’s letter said, dressed in something nice but comfortable, worrying your bottom lip to dust from nerves. What were you supposed to expect from tonight? A cheap dinner to get you in the mood for sex only to be told to leave in the morning once more? You so desperately wanted more than that…

You jumped at the sound of knocking on your door. Tripping over your own feet, you managed to get the door open and felt surprised by what you saw. Husk stood before you, fur slicked back and neat looking, with a proper casual suit on - no missing shirt. He still wore his suspenders, thumbs hooked into the straps and pulling them as he waited for you. 

His pupils dilated at the sight of you.

“Whoa…You uh-you look nice doll.” Husk smiled at you, and you felt your heart melt a little. You smoothed non-existent wrinkles in your clothes, fiddling with your appearance.

“Thanks…I hope it's not too casual? Or too fancy?” He shook his head ‘no’ at your words. “You look very nice too, Husk. Very handsome…” Your voice trailed off as you spoke, nervous you were overstepping a line by complimenting him back. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. You were biting your bottom lip, bracing yourself for him to reject your kindness and tell you not to get attached to him, like he always did…

Husk swallowed his words, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as his eyes darted to the floor. 

“Right, thanks baby…” He mumbled, feeling embarrassed. By the way you relaxed, looking at him with wide hopeful eyes, he figured he gave the correct response. Shaking off his nerves, Husk moved to a slight bow, gesturing for you to take a step past him and into the hallway. 

“After you, sweet thing.”

~~~~~~~

Dinner was…something. 

It was a tiny hole in the wall joint that Husk brought you to, one with good food and better alcohol. It looked a little nicer than your average bar however, with nice mood lightning and even music. You wondered if the reason it was so nice was because it was on the edge of the city, not far from the Hotel. Less gangs looking to rob a place all the way out here.

When you sat down, immediately your gut started churning with self loathing and fear. What happened now? 

Normally going out with Husk meant him getting absolutely sloshed before flirting with you, asking you to come to bed with him. The words he spoke always managed to make you blush, his baritone voice doing wonders to your body even as you knew he was only interested because of the alcohol coating his breath. 

He never seemed to stay sober in your company long enough to talk seriously. You doubted he even remembered the numerous nights you gave in to his charms. 

Would tonight just be a repeat of that? 

When he ordered a hard whiskey as you settled down into a booth, you feared the worst. 

“So um…why did you want me to come out tonight?” You asked, staring a hole into the table top as you hated yourself for falling for this again. You didn't even notice the waiter putting your drink in front of you. Husk took a sip, a single sip, of his drink before turning to you. At least he wasn't chugging them tonight…

“Well I uh…I wanted to do something for you. Make up for everything else, I guess.” You gave him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. When he didn't elaborate further, you sighed, curling in on yourself where you sat.

“Right, okay…” Your voice trailed off, the two of you sitting in silence even as others in the bar made a ruckus of noise. Out the corner of your eye you saw Husk open his mouth as if to speak, only to snap his jaw shut and take another sip of whiskey. 

Just as you thought you would go mad from the suffocating tension, your waiter came back. 

“The fuck you guys want?” He asked. He was chewing something (tobacco maybe? smelled like tobacco) obnoxiously loud, looking bored as he started down at you. 

You floundered for a moment, realizing you hadn't even looked at the menu yet to see what you wanted. Panic rose in your chest and squeezed your lungs tight as your brain short circuited on what to say. 

“Uh-”

“Two of the house specials, and make sure to-” You turned to look at Husk with wide eyes as he ordered for you, telling the server exactly what you wanted and didn't want on your food. Your waiter rolled his eyes and scoffed even as he wrote everything down, not noticing the grateful and shocked look you were sending the cat demon.

You couldn't believe it, Husk actually knew what you liked! You had honestly thought he never noticed what you ordered to eat…

“Th-thank you…” You managed to squeak out after the waiter left. Husk smirked at you, eyes hooded and pupils wide as he looked at you. 

“Gotta make sure my baby gets what she wants~” He all but purred at you. He shifted closer to you in the booth, and you jumped in your seat at the soft tickling of his tail against your leg. 

Oh no.

You tried to smile back despite the mix of emotions making your stomach twist. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of your heart, if only he would stop staring at you like that-

“H-how was your day!?” You blurted out, a little louder than you meant to. Husk's eyes went wide just like yours did, taken back by your volume. You covered your mouth in embarrassment, giving a muffled apology. 

“Sorry, sorry…didn't mean to be so loud…” He chuckled in response, a deep sound that vibrated through your body even with the distance between you. Distance he was slowly closing in on.

“S’alright baby girl.” Oh god- “My day was alright. Was making sure I got everything done at the bar in time for this.” He gestured between the two of you, and all you could do in response was nod. What was happening right now!? Husk never acted so bold towards you until he had a few drinks in him - and ‘a few’ is quite a bit before he started to feel the buzz of intoxication. Was he drinking before he picked you up? He didn't seem drunk at the time, but it's the only explanation your fried brain could think of as to why he was acting so…not himself.

Everything today was going against the norm of your relationship. Husk never complimented you like he did today. He never let you compliment him back. He never called you nicknames unless he was in the mood for a night of fucking.

Was that what this all was? Just another attempt to get you in his bed only for him to push you away again come morning? 

Your chest felt tight…you couldn't breathe. He was so close now-

“How ‘bout you? Good day, I hope.” As he spoke, he brought a paw up, laying it over your own hand on the table. 

Oh no.

No, you couldn't do this. Husk never asked about your day. Whatever this was, it wasn't going to end well for you, your gut was urging you to run.

You took in a deep breath to ground yourself, and pulled your hand away from his. You didn't meet his eyes. 

If you had, you would have seen the quiet worry in his gaze. He already missed the warmth of your hand. 

“You don't have to do that.” You whispered.

“Do what?” Husk asked, a feathered eyebrow raising in concern. Why weren't you looking at him…?

“I mean you don't have to pretend to care, or anything. It's not necessary, we both know what this is all for.”

“...What?” The bartender sat up straight, slowly pulling away from your personal space. 

“You know that I like you already, Husk.”

“Yeah…?”

“And…well, after dinner you'll want to go back to the hotel. You'll want to sit at the bar for a little while, have a few more drinks…and I'll sit with you because-” You paused, swallowing hard. Husk didn't say anything, only the sound of his breathing letting you know he was even still sitting with you. 

“You'll ask me to come up to your room again. And I will. You'll have me sit on the bed and we'll talk a little, but after everything you've had to drink you won't remember it…nope.”

“...I remember the things you tell me…” His voice was soft, but you didn't stop talking. You couldn't. 

“I'll stay for the night. And it'll feel…so good to be with you. To have your hands on me, to feel desired and wanted…by you. And I'll convince myself that maybe you really do feel that way for me…that you want me for more than sex. That this time is different…And I'll feel happy.” You took a deep, shuddering breath. Your eyes were fixated on an old stain in the wood. Husk sat in silence next to you, ears perked in your direction.

“A-a-and then…morning comes. And you'll ask me to leave. And I'll try, fuck will I try, to-to…to reach out, in some way. But oh no, you're busy. Can't meet up later, can't spend time together. And I'll go back to my room, my legs s-sore and covered in-” You sniffed, feeling a sting behind your eyes that you refused to give in to. 

“...And I'll lie in bed and slowly die all over again.” 

Silence between you two. Someone at the bar is hauled outside by security. A group of demons a couple tables over cheer and shout over a game they're playing.

You look at Husk, your eyes burning with unshed tears. His own eyes were wide as he stared at you, like it was the first time he was seeing you. Really seeing you. His ears were wilting, laying flat against his head. His wings were closed tight against his back.

You couldn't help but give a disbelieving laugh as you spoke again. 

“I…I don't know why I put myself through this…” you whispered. That was a lie.

Husk felt his blood freeze, his heart crack and break as he looked into your eyes. His hand moved on instinct, moving to cup your cheek. You flinched at his touch, as if you forgot he was really there with you, in this moment. Your eyelashes fluttered as his warm paw settled on your face, your tears finally falling. He used his thumb to wipe them away.

He liked the way your face looked, cradled by his own paws. 

“I'm sorry.” He whispered. You didn't respond, simply looking through him with a thousand yard stare. “I'm so sorry baby girl…I shouldn't have done that to you, I never wanted to make you feel so low that…that you think of yourself like this.” 

He feels you swallow beneath his claws. You haven't pulled away, yet, and he can't thank whatever god exists above you both enough for such a small mercy in Hell. 

“I was scared. I'm still scared…” He mumbled, pulling your face closer to his own. His wings wrapped around you both, shielding you from the rest of the bar as he spoke. “I thought…bringing you out tonight would be a step in the right direction. Showing you…how much you mean to me.”

You whimpered at his words, eyes closing as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Despite his surprise, he let you, quickly wrapping his arms around your shoulders to hold you even closer. He could feel your hot breath on his fur, a little wet from your tears too, but he didn't mind. As long as no one else in the bar saw you like this. A curtain of red feathers made sure that was the case. 

“I do want more baby…I swear I do. I'll take you out to dinner, I'll talk with you and I'll listen, I swear it-! And I'll hold you if you'll let me…I wanna hold you so bad…” Husk pressed a kiss against the back of your head, nuzzling his nose against you. His own voice sounded choked up at this point, and he swallowed hard to keep his emotions in check. 

You nodded against him, gripping his fur tight in each of your hands. You felt overwhelmed, but you were happy despite that. His words felt like a balm on a burn, soothing and pleasant.

Breathing deep to calm yourself down, you slowly pulled away, just enough that you could look him in the eye. A thin ring of molten gold around wide pupils watched you in turn, and you could see the slight fear in him that you would pull away completely. You had no intention of doing so. 

“You r-really, really mean it?” You asked, voice so soft you wondered for a moment if he even heard you. His soft smile said otherwise. 

“Yeah, yeah I really do babydoll. I won't…I won't be great at it, at first-” He cringed at his words, ears going flat. “But I just ask for a chance, a real chance, to show you I can do better. Please.” You're leaning in to press kisses against his muzzle before he's done speaking, your hands carding through the fur of his chest and up to cup around the base of his ears. 

You hear a faint purr under the loud atmosphere of the bar. 

“Okay…” You manage to say in between smooches on white and black fur. Husk simply holds you tighter to him, claws pressing into the muscle of your back and shoulders. 

You stay like that for a moment, holding each other and calming down before you have to face the world again. You wipe your eyes and try to fix Husk's fur, smoothing out the spots you had mussed. You were both smiling. 

“Hey, we don't allow fucking in here, put the wings down or get a room.” The voice of your waiter cut through the tender moment. Like magic, Husk's demeanor changed, his usual grumpy frown back like it had never been missing. He dropped his wings as asked, but gave a scathing glare to your waiter.

“Wern’t fucking, dickhead. Just leave the food and go.” The waiter’s unimpressed gaze flicked between you two. Your flushed face, Husk's still messy fur, the wrinkles in your clothes from holding each other…

“Uh huh, yeah whatever man. Just don't do it.” With an eye roll so dramatic you wondered how his eyes stayed in his skull, your waiter placed your plates with an unceremonious ‘thunk!’ on the table and sauntered away. 

Husk glared after him, and the sight was too much-you laughed. Husk looked back at you with wide eyes, before his own grin took over his face, and he was chuckling along with you. 

“Well, that happened~!” He rumbled. You leaned against him, still giggling to yourself as you wrapped your arms around his middle. “You ready to eat, doll?” His own arm settled over your shoulders as you snuggled into his side. 

“Mhm~” You nodded, pulling your plate closer so you could eat while snuggled against him still. Husk didn't seem to mind, squeezing you tight before digging into his own food. You could feel him rise and fall with his breathing, his stomach pressing against you, soft fur feeling warm against you. 

You didn't talk much, too exhausted after the onslaught of feelings you just sorted through together. The food was fine, the drinks were fine. What made you happy was being held close by Husk, and knowing you could hold him close too, and he wouldn't push you away.

Even after eating, even after flipping off your waiter as he left your table with his tip, even as you walked down the hectic streets of the Pride Ring, you were still holding each other in some way. You needed to feel him against you, to feel his warmth as you made your way back to the Hotel.  When Husk gently tugged you towards his room, you followed. When he pulled you into bed with him, you wrapped around him like a leech, legs and arms tangling with his as you settled down. You drifted off to sleep feeling warm, surrounded by the sound of his purring.

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel Husk #Hazbin Hotel X Reader #Hazbin Hotel Husk X Reader #Husk X Reader #Hazbin Hotel Angel Dust #TW Mentions of Alcohol #My Writing

[lovelettersfromluna]

｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ The Bug Collector ｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: The one where you own a sweet little book store, and Ellie makes it her life mission to torment you.

an: a request from @ximtiredx !! (Thank you so much btw). Basically Ellie is a raging asshole with a giant fucking crush on you, and you’re too sweet and oblivious to even notice, so she just comes off as cocky and mean heh. ALSO! This is most definitely a small town fic! The summer is in full swing and it’s inspiring me so much to make something inspired by it. I strayed away from Ellie being a dickhead a tiny bit towards the end bc I can’t help but make her soft and enamored with the reader I’m sorry @ximtiredx 😭 Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! (Not proofread again SO SORRY)

Warnings: 18+ smut!! Ellie is kind of an asshole in this one and very bad at feelings. A tiny bit of angst? Reader is a little oblivious, thigh riding sort of?? Scissoring sort of?? I KNOW ANOTHER SCISSORING FIC IM SORRY it just made the most sense to me, pet names, Ellie is obsessed with readers tits, slight mean!ellie (she redeems herself later), super fluffy at the end, let me know if I missed anything!

The small fan you had perched up on your counter did nothing to cool you down.

The summer had been brutal, and business was extremely slow because no one wanted to set foot out into the miniature oven that was your town. You let out a soft sigh, doodling little stars and moons all over your notebook, which was completely fucking empty.

It was too warm out, and you were suffering the worst case of writers block. It was like any thoughts that came into your head were always involving how hot you were and how much you wanted to be anywhere else other than where you were right now.

And that wasn’t even like you. You adored your little book store, putting your entire heart and soul into bringing new stories to the people of your town, your heart fluttering every time you rang up someone and they had that familiar face of wonder and excitement as they waited for you to wrap up their books in your brown paper bags, your cute store logo written on the front.

But it was hard to be excited for that when the only person you saw was the baker next door, and when the summer was melting you from the inside out.

It was almost noon, and you were contemplating closing up shop early and going home. You’d still be hot, but you’d be hot in the comfort of your little home.

But then the bell above your door rang, signaling that a customer had arrived.

And your face was lighting up, because finally, someone was there that you could talk to.

But of course, out of everyone in your very small town, the person that happened to walk through your doors was of course none other than Ellie Williams herself.

You didn’t have a problem with Ellie, you loved all your customers equally. Giving each and every one of them the same sweet smile that you always did, making sure to throw in extra goodies with every purchase, because you truly adored them all for supporting your tiny store.

But Ellie was a little….mean.

Most things went right over your head, because you were too caught up with trying to help her find a book that she’d like (which she usually never even bought anything from your store). But other things, you did catch onto.

Like when she teased you for being an old lady stuck in a 20 something year olds body, that one sort of hurt your feelings. Or when she asked you when the last time it was that you went to a party or a bar and no tea parties didn’t count, also hurt. Or, when she’d make fun of your clothes, specifically calling you a farmer whenever you’d wear your favorite pair of overalls, they were cute, okay?

So some of the things she said did hurt your feelings, but you just assumed that she was just…like that, that all of that was just Ellie being Ellie. No matter what, you never stopped giving her your sweetest smile, because as much as she wanted you to.

You never took it personally.

Your sweet smile is on your face as you perk up once you see her, straightening your back out and adjusting your posture as you give her a wave.

“Ellie! Welcome in! Having a good day?” You chirped, and she’s already stalking her way towards you, smug smirk on her face as she leans her forearms against your counter, shaking her head as she turns your fan so that it’s now only hitting her.

“It’s fuckin’ hot sweetheart, do you think I’m having a good day?” Her voice is rough and raspy, and you can’t help but sigh softly before nodding in agreement.

“It is…I do wish it was cooler in here for you” you sighed, looking down at your fan that was blowing warm air through her pretty brown hair. “Looking for anything specific today? Maybe I can help”

And you’re flashing that sweet smile in her direction again, making her roll her eyes. “Are books all you can ever think about? God it’s a little pathetic, don’t you think sweetheart?”

Her words make you frown, but then you remember that, that’s just Ellie.

You let out a soft sigh before you shrug, your lips pouting out a bit as you speak. “I dunno…books are just…they’re comforting, you know? It’s nice to lay down after a long day and just read” you explain.

And Ellie is holding back a groan because she’s picturing you in bed, in her t shirt, reading a book, and she can already feel herself getting turned on. It’s pathetic because you haven’t even done anything to make her want you.

Maybe that’s why she picks on you so much.

You don’t even try and she’s putty in her hands, and that pisses her off. You don’t give her any special treatment, you don’t bat your eyelashes like the other girls whenever she compliments you, and you act like she’s just any other person when she walks into your store, trying to find it in herself to ask you out and not be a dick to you.

But she doesn’t, she’s always mean to you.

She likes the way your cheeks get red, and she thinks you almost like that she’s so mean. There’s just something about the way you take deep inhales after she’s said something particularly nasty that has her smirking like an asshole.

“That’s fuckin lame man…and you know it” she sighs out, pushing herself off of your counter. She finally gets a good look at you once she does, and she’s shamelessly letting her eyes drift down your pretty body.

The warmer months are Ellie’s favorite, because it forces you to wear less and less clothes.

Your white linen dress hugs your mid size perfectly, pushing your tits up more than she’s ever seen them before. It’s just short enough that she gets to see more of your plush thighs. She’s biting her lip like she’s staring at a fucking meal, her green eyes burning from a lack of blinking before she looks up at you, raising her eyebrows once she realizes she’s missed what you said.

You furrows your eyebrows as you watch her watching you, looking down at your dress. Was there a stain on you or something? Or maybe she was going to make fun of your dress?

When she doesn’t, and she continues to stare at you, you repeat yourself.

“I said, that it’s fine that you feel that way…we’re just different, that’s all” you nod to yourself before you round your counter and make your way deeper into your book store, busying yourself with organizing your shop a bit more.

Ellie follows you, leaning up against the shelves that you’re restocking as she's eyeing you up and down, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she watches you.

It's annoying because you're so fucking oblivious. You don't notice any of the attention that she gives you. You don't notice the way her eyes roam down your body, or the way she's dead silent whenever you bend over to pick up a stack of books, Ellie is positive that she needs to tattoo 'I want you' on her forehead for you to get the message, and even then it wouldn't be clear to you how badly she wants you.

She also hates when you say that, that you and her are different. It sounds like you're dismissing her attempts at trying to ask you out, and it pisses her off.

"No, means you're lame and i'm not" She huffs out, turning her back so she was leaning against the shelves. You sigh, standing on your toes to get one of your books on the higher shelves, huffing softly to yourself in concentration.

"I...yes thats nice Ellie...if you're not going to buy anything, you can leave" You sigh out, still struggling to reach the highest shelf. You were too focused on restocking your books, and frankly you had no time for Ellie and her games. It was too fucking hot, you were very fucking tired, and she was just so...so..

So fucking mean.

Your words make Ellie seethe, because you've never asked her to leave.

And she's scoffing, rolling her eyes as she finally pushes herself off the shelf, snatching the book from your hand and settling it on the shelf without any struggling from her end. "Get a fucking step ladder next time, princess" She spits, and her tone makes you flinch a bit.

You watch her as she storms out, and for a moment you think you might have been too mean for saying what you did. You truly didn't mean it, not in the way that she might have thought anyway. You were just...frustrated, and Ellie made you feel even more frustrated...

But then you're thinking about how rude Ellie is to you all the time, so cocky and smug. Bragging to you about the parties she attends in the city, or the amount of girls that are dangling off her arm whenever she's there, and she tells you that you could never be like that, you could never get out the way she does because you're just a boring little librarian who's only friends are the baker next door and the couple who owns the pet store a few blocks down.

Ellie is fucking mean, and you hate that you're blaming yourself for finally stand up to her...sort of.

｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ

The end of the day comes sooner than you expected.

Mainly because all you can think about is Ellie, and it's distracting you from the heat. No one else comes in for the rest of the day, only a few of your regulars to drop off some books they had finished and wanted to donate to you. Other than that, it was just you and the soft music that played out of your old little radio.

You close up an hour early, figuring that there was no use in staying open late. More times than not, people wouldn't be making an emergency late night run to the little book store in town.

You frown softly as you turn off all the lights, and flip the little sign on your door to the side that says 'sorry! come back tomorrow!'. You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, the strange weight that you had been carrying ever since Ellie had left earlier in the day.

She didn't even say anything that was out of the ordinary for her, she was always witty and rude. It was just...she seemed so...hurt, when you told her to leave. You then realized that it was something you had never done, to her or anybody that set foot in your shop.

Even though you shouldn't, it made you want to apologize.

You pulled your bag further up on your shoulder, deep in thought as you only hoped she would return the next morning. You were already replaying the words in your head that you would say, trying your best to make amends with the girl that would never once apologize for all of the mean things she said to you.

You don't even notice her sitting on the bench thats set right outside of your shop.

Her fists are shoved in her pockets, and her knee is bouncing wildly as she waits for you. She had been waiting for quite some time, knowing that you would have to close up shop eventually.

When she does hear the little bell on your door ring, she's up on her feet in seconds, making her way towards you.

"Hey..um...you mind if I walk you home?" She asks, and you're blinking up at her almost in shock because you're positive you've never heard Ellie use such a gentle tone with you before.

You even go as far as to look around you, just to make sure she's speaking to you and not someone nearby. When you confirm that she is in fact speaking to you, you give her a small nod, and you both begin to walk into the direction of your house in silence.

She feels awkward, and stupid, and she regrets the way she's been tormenting you for god knows how long, and she finally has the chance to be civil with you and she isn't saying anything.

Because she's an idiot.

You break the silence first.

With a small clearing of your throat, you're tugging the strap of your bag gently, eyes glued to your shoes as you walk. "Um..do you live around here?" Your voice is soft, and Ellie feels like she wants to kick herself for being so rude to someone so fucking sweet.

"No, no. I live on the other side of town." She doesn't even fully finish her sentence and you're already stopping in your tracks, shaking your head quickly. "Oh no..you dont need to walk me all the way there then..I'd hate to make you walk across town in the dark."

Ellie stares at you in disbelief, because its already dark, and you'd be walking alone, and she is quite literally your bully, but yet you're still worrying about her walking home on her own, sacrificing your safety and comfort so that she doesn't have to make her way back,

She chuckles softly before she shakes her head, placing her hand on the small of your back as she urges you to continue walking on. "No fuckin' way, you're not getting rid of me that easily" She hums, and her words make you giggle, the air between the two of you already feeling less tense.

She sighs out softly, her hand dropping from your back before she speaks again. "Look I...I waited for you so I could apologize...its not cool the way I treat you.." She mumbled, almost sounding ashamed of herself for even being in this position to begin with.

You hum softly, staring down at the ground once again as you nod at her words. "Didn’t expect to hear those words from you, Ellie…” you mumble out, and it makes Ellie feel like shit.

She groans “I can be nice too you know..” and it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than she’s trying to convince you. You giggle softly as you look up at her, the warm summer breeze blowing her pretty hair back, brown fringe sweeping across her face before you speak.

“Oh really? I’ve yet to see that” you hum, and it doesn’t have any bite to it, and it isn’t harsh. It’s simply the truth. You truly have never experienced any sort of nice behavior come from Ellie that wasn’t used as a way to lure you into another one of her stupid jokes or pranks.

Ellie sighs, because she knows you’re right, and she’s annoyed at herself for it. She opens her mouth to speak, but you’re already in front of your house, and of course your house is just as fucking cute as you are.

It makes Ellie want to scream at herself.

She sucks in a harsh breath as you both stand outside your place, and she asking before she can even stop herself.

“Can I come in?”

｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ

Ellie is sat at your little kitchen table while you get her something to drink. She’s taking in the little trinkets in your home, and it looks like a cozier version of your book store, she wasn’t even sure if it could get any cozier than that in all honesty.

But it does, because it’s bright and colorful and it smells like you, and Ellie finds that she doesn’t even want to leave.

You return with a talk pitcher of fresh lemonade that you had made yourself the day before, knowing the weeks weather would be brutal and you’d need it for when you got home. You placed two glasses on the table and a pitcher before you poured some out for her.

“It’s too hot out for tea…I hope this is fine” you gave her a gentle smile before you sat down across from her.

It’s moments like this where Ellie doesn’t think you’re even real. As she watches you move from the kitchen to the table in your little sundress, pitcher of lemonade in hand, she realizes how badly she wants you. She’s always known that she’s wanted you…but it’s practically screaming at her as she sits there in your home.

The two of you talk for a bit, and she finds that it’s the first time she’s actually talking to you. Getting to know you, asking you about your store, and it’s the same for you. You’re able to ask Ellie things you were too scared to ask her in the beginning.

Ellie realizes her little crush for you is so much bigger than she thought it was in the beginning.

Soon enough, you’re both moving to the couch. The cool breeze that was blowing in through your window made you look like a dream to Ellie, and she was sure that she was staring like a dazed out idiot, but you seemed so comfortable around her, and Ellie had realized that she’s never actually seen you this way before.

Not around her at least.

You hum softly once your words die down, looking over at the large old clock on your wall. It was already so late, and you knew for a fact if you sat there any longer, that you’d be able to sit with her for hours and just talk.

“It’s already so late…I should probably start heading to bed” you sigh out, and Ellie can tell that you’re feeling tired. She nods quickly, standing up and grabbing both of your glasses and taking them to your sink. The gesture makes you giggle softly.

You pat down your dress before you walk her towards your front door.

As she walks out and turns around so that she’s facing you, you think there’s an angel at your door. Because the moon is shining down on her pretty face, and she’s staring down at you with those big green eyes, and you feel like she’s walked out of a dream of yours.

Your staring is how you end up in Ellie’s lap on your couch.

Because she knows that look, she’s seen it so many times before from other girls that have wanted her. But she feels like she’s dreaming because you’re looking at her that way, so she couldn’t help herself from leaning forward, wrapping her arms around your waist and pressing a needy kiss to your lips.

She takes advantage of the way you gasp into her mouth, pushing her tongue into yours as she’s already walking you backwards towards your couch, kicking your front door closed.

You’re a mess on top of her, straddling her lap, her hands pushing up her dress and squeezing the plush skin of your thighs.

You moan softly into her mouth, feeling like the first kiss from her made you want so much more. Your hands are tugging at her hair, pulling her closer to you and keeping her closer to you. “Ellie….” You moan out.

Ellie breaks the kiss, looking up at you with blown out pupils as she nods, just as breathless as you are. “What is it baby? Tell me what you need?” She sighs softly, giving your thighs a soft squeeze.

And you’re whining because you don’t even know what you need, you’re just moaning, and needy, and your skin feels like it’s on fucking fire because you haven’t felt want and lust like this in a long fucking time. So you begin to grind your hips down on her lap, moaning out as you arch your back at the feeling.

“Mmm….fuuuuck…just…need you Ellie…wanna feel you…please” you whine, and Ellie is staring up at you like you’re a fucking goddess because she’s only ever dreamt about you like this, on her lap moaning for her.

The feeling of you rocking your hips back and forth on her lap is making her moan with you, because your thigh is slotted right between her legs, and your movements are bringing her just the right amount of friction that she needs from you.

She grips your hips harder, forcing you to grind harder down on her lap. She let her head fall back against the couch, a soft hiss leaving her lips followed by a long, drawn out moan.

“Fuuuuck…that’s it baby, grind that pretty lil cunt on me…fuck you feel so good….” She leans forward, pulling your dress down so your tits pop out for her, and her lips are latching onto your nipple in an instant. The feeling of her warm mouth has your head spinning, and you’re positive there’s a wet spot on her jeans.

From you and from her.

You gasp softly as you stare down at her attacking your nipples with her mouth, biting and sucking, your hands still laced in her hair as you go faster.

“F-fuck! Ah…mmm…Ellie I’m…oh my god!…I’m gonna fucking cuuummm”

Ellie is nodding against you, her lips coming off of your nipple with a pop before she’s staring up at you again, strong hands guiding your hips to go faster, her own pussy grinding against your thigh as she moans loudly.

“That’s it princess, fuck…cum with me, be a good girl and fucking cum with me..” she groans out, and you truly don’t need to be told twice.

Because between her words and her moans, you’re throwing your head back and your hips stifle as you cum hard against her. She’s pressing her face into your chest, breathing hard as her orgasm washes over her as well.

The two of you sit there for a moment, the only noises in the room being the sounds of your breathing and the occasional kisses she’d press to your chest.

This time, Ellie breaks the silence first.

She sighs softly, her arms sliding up to grip your middle as she pulls you closer to her body, now pressing kisses to your neck as she hums.

“I wanna take you out…on a real date” she hums softly, and it makes you giggle. She smirks softly against your skin before she pulls back a bit, staring up at you with raised eyebrows. “You laughin’ at me?” She questions, and you smile softly as you give her a nod, brushing her hair out of her face.

“It’s a little late for asking me out on a date, don’t you think?” You hum, and she groans softly as her eyes flutter shut. She’s embarrassed because you’re right, you just made her cum on your thigh and she was choosing now of all times to ask you out.

“Better late then never? I mean…I know it’s really fucking backwards on my end but I just…I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out for a really long time..and I get it if you wouldn’t want to go out with someone who’s only been rude to you but I just really fucking like you and-“ you cut her off with your lips pressing against hers.

Ellie furrows her eyebrows, but still melts into the kiss nonetheless. She stares at you with a confused expression, because you’re giving her that sweet smile with pretty sleepy eyes and she feels like she’s being pranked or something.

“You’re cute when you ramble…” you hum softly, and it makes her cheeks go red. You giggle softly before you nod, pressing another gentle kiss to the corner of her lips.

“I’ll let you take me out on a date if you spend the night” you hum, and her eyes are nearly bulging out of her head because she couldn’t believe that someone as sweet as you is asking her to stay the next.

She nods eagerly, turning her head so she catches your lips against hers, making you giggle.

You spend the rest of the night in each others arms after the nicest shower Ellie has ever had, getting to know each other and making up for lost time. And as crazy as it may sound to you…

You are so fucking happy that Ellie was so shit at flirting.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #tlou 2 #ellie x you #ellie williams fluff

[smolvenger]

First Lady (President Loki x fem! Reader blurb)

Summary: It's not easy being in the spotlight as First Lady of the Nation. But your President's Husband knows what to do when your online critics take it too far.

Or "Who did this to you?" with President Loki.

Word Count: 1318 (blurb time)

Warnings: SMUT! 18 + (wall diddling, whee), online bullying and harassment (inspired from my own personal experience, whee) mention of sex. Angst and then fluff and hurt/comfort. I steal ideas from Ana Huang and Sadie Kincaid. Bad grammar. I had writer's block with this one and was stuck so not as revised and polished as I could be bc I just wanted this done, I'm not Shakespeare or Donna Tartt okay? If I miss a warning, please inform me at once. Don't victim blame those affected, Report it! If you see something disturbing or triggering that isn't tagged that I missed, then that is on me to take accountability for it and it is your responsibility to report it!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

Dick-Tionary: The exact, more explicit smut begins at “Open wide, my dear.” and ends at "He gently let you down."

Something about the internet gave people anonymity and with that came power. They could say and do what they wanted…even the vilest things.

Comment after comment. Ding after ding on your phone. There were posts about how you were wrong. Irresponsible because they didn’t like your cause of supporting raising minimum wages. Even under posts where you were talking about the importance of your cause, so many people went “Well, to be fair-” 

You couldn’t help but look at more about you.

Stupid. 

Ugly. 

A pig.

And those were the tamer ones. 

The constant bullying and demands from these people. You thought you were qualified for this. That you knew your way around tenfold. Dolled up in your nice dress and makeup…and here you were, crying. Wanting to throw a fit. Wanting to scream and call them vile, horrible things. T sob until you couldn’t breathe and crash down, heels, pearls, lipstick and all.  No better than a little girl playing dress up. Not an adult who handled everything with strength and grace. Not a First Lady of an entire country.

You should be strong. Thick-skinned. “Don’t take it personally” was the advice everyone gave you. Every single time. Without fail. But at this point, it just numbed in your head. What did that even mean? It meant nothing. Like “thoughts and prayers” maybe at once it could help, and has helped but now…it was just a phrase people threw out that fixed nothing.  And how could you not take a comment beneath your post telling you to not take it personally?

You found yourself stumbling onto the Oval Office adn there he was- your husband in folden horns. A crowd of suited men around him.

He noticed your state. You had no time to compose yourself. But he raised a hand and their chatting voices silenced.

“Everyone! Leave- now!” he ordered, snapping his fingers.

They ducked and left. A few careful eyes at your frazzled, pensive state.

He went over and looked at you. Then he put one hand and put it under your cheek so you faced him. His voice was soft, yet subtly angry not at you, but at your tormenters. 

“My darling…who did this to you?”

You sniffed. Then you answered him.

“All of the comments…online…I know I have to. It’s part of the platform. A First Lady has to have social media…but…but…”

He wiped a tear. Then you leaned onto him. His cold buttons grazed your cheek and he let you cling to him. Let yourself break down.

“What am I even doing? Why should I say or do anything online? They just want to tear you apart and spit you out! And they just want a lady who looks pretty and does or says nothing. Even when I wear anything, they tell me I look like cat vomit. I can’t win whatever I do, Loki. And the split second I try to do anything, say anything they…they..”

“Give me your phone,” he said.

You handed it to him. From his pocket, he took out a chip and attached it to yours.

“Firstly,  I’m taking this away from you for now. You will get a new one for communication. I will not have my wife and First Lady miserable.”

 He set the chip in.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping track of them. We’re going to track them down. They’re going to regret every word of it…here…”

He sat down on the chair in the center and tapped his lap.

“Sit.”

How could you resist?

He set you on his lap. He pulled out his personal phone and immediately was making calls. You leaned into him, snuggling him close. 

“Yes, Grant, I want you to hire a Social Media manager for the First Lady. Have the comments filtered and in need of approval before posted. Also, look for security. There are several people we must hunt down. They have threatened the security of the first lady. The tracker is on her phone, we’ll analyze the data on the comments and find each and every one of them- they cannot go on without consequence, don’t you think? Freedom of Speech is overrated anyway…hurry along, do it now- no- Grant, I don’t care if you’re about to get a blowjob from the Black Widow this second, I want you to do it!”

He ended the call.

He held you. And then kissed you. You leaned in more. How handsome he looked- his suit fixed up. His smirk was confident, rakish. You found you were straddling him, his hands on your hips. As you kissed again, he pushed his tongue inside.

“Oh…Loki…”

He raised your skirt some, to feel your bare leg.

“I feel if I make you cum, that would make you feel better…wouldn’t it?”

He slid a hand and saw you weren’t wearing underwear at your hip bone. 

He tilted his head, his voice even quieter. 

“And you followed my one little rule, too. Good girl.”

He held up the phone one last time, pressing a call.

“Barton, cancel my meeting for this hour. Reschedule it. Emergency, shall we say.”

Before the man on the other end could ask why he hung it up.

He smiled at you.

“Open wide, my dear.”

Keeping your legs open, he adjusted them to wrap around him. He backed you up to part of the wall. Not caring about the curtains of the window. Not caring about the security cameras.

 In fact, let them watch if they want.

He kissed you intensely, his tongue inside and out. Tasting you. He lifted your skirt to your hips, backing you up. You hung onto him, shaking with wet, desperate need as he undid the zipper of his trousers.

“I’m going to fuck you. Fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk and live the next week curled up in the lap of luxury, how does that sound?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Please- fuck me, Loki-”

“I’m the President-” he corrected.

“Fuck me, Mr. President-” you quietly begged.

He entered briskly. You let out a loud gasp. But you were already so soaked from him, it was clear. He kissed you again. One hand going to move one of your legs to hook around his waist. 

He only slowed down so he could speak, his eyes intense. 

“Yes, moan louder. I want them all to hear- I don’t care who hears- or sees. I want them-to- to know you’re mine- My little doll. My little toy. My First Lady- my wife-”

Your breasts bounced lewdly as he picked up speed, thrusting in and out of you. He pounded you so much, the portraits shook. You held onto his shoulders, and then his horns on his head. He was grunting like a madman.

He fucked hard, his hand digging.

“I want you to cry out, say what I am as you cum. I am Loki, I am your president, I rule you- say it- say it, fuck, I’m cumming-I’m going to-say it.”

You cried his title, your throat scratchy. Pleasure breaking on you, as well as on him.

He gently let you down. You adjusted his dark curls. He smoothed your dress, though your legs wobbled. The bliss of ecstasy makes you forget what even happened just an hour ago.

“Now…how do you feel now?” he asked.

You took in a deep breath, the blood still rushing and the world spinning.

“Better…” you replied. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist. But he traced a finger down your spine, into your skirt.

“Good. Because I’m going to order some…gifts for you tonight. For you to wear beneath these dresses and skirts and blouses. And I want us to have dinner- just us. And when I rip off your clothes, that lace will be on you. Because, my dear, once this next meeting is done…we are far from over with this.”

#president loki #president loki smut #president loki x reader #president loki x y/n #president loki x fem! reader #president loki x fem! y/n #loki series #smut #loki my beloved #carrie writes #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #loki #president loki imagine #loki fic #loki blurb #loki fanfiction #carrie's birthday blurbs

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Always There - Chapter One: S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, mentions of death and murder, mentions of Azkaban, shittyly written angst,

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

Author's Note: It's been a long ass time my friends, but I'm trying to make a come back here. I was a bit out of my comfort zone with this one so I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 1146

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

GIF by red-artemis-jane

not my gif

The year Harry turned 11 was the year professor Sprout retired, in turn, Y/N got the position as herbology professor. She enjoyed teaching her nephew and loved being back at Hogwarts no matter how much it pained her to be there without her brother and his best friends. The first two years went by without much issue, however, in Harry’s third year, Y/N heard whispers of a new professor starting at Hogwarts, an old student from her time there. And she had also heard about the escape of Sirius Black, her brother’s best friend who had supposedly ratted the couple out to the dark lord and got them killed. It was a lot of emotions for her to deal with at once.

She was already at Hogwarts when she got word that Harry was attacked by a dementor on the train ride there. She rushed to the main hall and found her nephew rather quickly. “Merlin Harry, are you okay? Did you get hurt? How did this happen?” She bombarded her nephew with questions before engulfing him in a tight hug.

“I’m okay, Aunt Y/N. I didn’t get hurt, I don’t know what would’ve happened if professor Lupin wasn’t there,” Harry reassured his aunt.

“Lupin?”

“Professor Potter, we are waiting for you at the table, you may catch up with your nephew after the feast,” Dumbledore’s voice interrupted. She planted a kiss on her nephew’s forehead before following the headmaster to the table. She took her usual spot beside Severus, not even noticing the new but familiar face on the other side of the man. Dumbledore began his usual beginning of the year speech, this time including that due to the escape of Sirius Black, dementors would be gracing Hogwarts with their presence. “I would also like to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor R.J Lupin.” Y/N choked on her tea at the name, Severus patting her back gently as he suppressed a chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at me you git,” She said harshly.

“I wasn’t laughing,” Severus replied monotonously.

“Sure you weren’t.” Once the food was put out and she had filled her plate, she took her plate to the greenhouse to get herself ready for another year. She also just needed a minute alone, away from everyone, so she could try and process everything that was going on. As she sat at her desk to begin processing, the greenhouse doors opened. “I really don’t want to talk right now Sev,” She said without looking up.

“Good thing I’m not Severus,” A familiar voice spoke, “It’s been a long time.” She looked up to see Remus standing a few feet away from her. Her mood soured just a bit more at the sight of him.

“And who’s fault is that?” She snapped at him.

“I deserve that,” He sighed.

“Why are you here Remus? Shouldn’t you be at the feast?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Remus retorted, “I wanted to talk to you without your guard dog with you.”

“Then talk. And he isn’t my guard dog, he was there for me when I had nobody.”

“I also deserved that. Look, I just want to apologize for leaving without a word or even a letter. I thought it would be safer for you and Harry if I left, especially with my condition. It was too dangerous for me to be around you two. You didn’t deserve that.”

“If that’s all you have to say, then good night.”

“Talk to me Y/N! Yell at me, throw things, do something!” Remus shouted at her. She shot out of her chair, rushed around her desk and got in his face. Her heart raced with anger, her head spinning as tears sprung in her eyes.

“You want me to talk, fine, I’ll talk. You left me when I had nobody! My brother just died and you up and left! And then Peter died and Sirius got thrown in Azkaban and I got a baby practically thrown at me and you left me! The only person that was there for me, that got me out of bed, that got me to eat and took care of me, when I couldn’t do it myself, was Severus! He helped me and you were nowhere to be found! So fuck you Lupin, get out of my greenhouse!” She yelled at him, tears flowing down her cheek, chin trembling as she held back sobs.

“Y/N ple-”

“Get out! Get out of here before I do something I regret!” With that, Remus walked out of the greenhouse, leaving a sobbing Y/N alone, once again. That was the way Severus found her about 20 minutes later and, once again, he was left to pick up the pieces Remus had left behind.

“Darling, what happened? Why are you so upset?” Severus asked her, his voice filled with concern. When she didn’t answer, Severus became even more concerned but connected the dots. “Lupin came to see you, I’ll kill him.” She let out a teary chuckle at the threat he said under his breath.

“He came into my office, I thought it was you at first because I hadn’t looked up but I was wrong. He apologized and then wanted me to say something to him and I just screamed at him. It felt good to finally get it all out but it still hurts,” She finally explained. 

“I’m glad that the foul git got what he deserved. Do you want to talk about it?” She had nodded her head and the two talked for nearly 3 hours, about everything that was going on. Severus reassuring her as they talked and validating her feelings and her thoughts as the conversation continued. They had moved their conversation to a sofa she had in her office, eventually talking until they fell asleep. That was how Minerva found the pair when she had been wanting to chat with Y/N about Remus’ new position in the school. In all of the years she had known Severus, she had never seen the man sleep, let alone even yawn, so imagine her surprise seeing one of the most beloved professors sleep on a couch with the most dreaded professors together, not only just sleeping but snuggled together. Severus had his arms wrapped around her in a seemingly protective manner, Y/N’s head dipped down, resting on his chest, one arm around his waist, the other tucked into her chest.

Minerva just knew that she had to tell Albus and Sybil about the sight she took in. Before leaving the greenhouse office, she made sure that the lights were out and the two of them were covered in a blanket Y/N had lying around in her office. Minerva finally left the office with a smile on her face and a warmed heart at the sight.

#remus lupin x reader #severus snape x reader #severus snape #snape #pro snape #professor snape #padfoot #prongs #moony #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #harry potter #hp marauders #maruaders #snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #snape x y/n #minerva mcgonagall #albus dumbledore #sirius black #best friend sirius #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #remus lupin #james potter x sister!reader #james potter #lily potter #lily evans

[sydnikov]

saw you were asking about requests and if that’s still the case: something hurt/comfort where the reader is comforting svech when he finds out he has have to surgery, and helping him through the recovery process.

either established relationship or a feelings realization maybe? whatever you’re most comfortable with.

In Five || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov/Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: Cursing (mild this time), sports injury (torn ACL/ligament), steamy kissing, bad proofreading, so much angst, but don’t worry there’s fluff at the end

A/N: I really tortured myself writing this. The emotions are still high, I hate the Bruins (sorry Bruins followers), and I hope you guys get all the feels as you read this. In all seriousness though, THANK YOU to whoever sent this in because it got me out of my writer’s block. (p.s. I’ve now opened requests to get me more inspired… so go submit stuff!!) anyways, I hope y’all enjoy 😁

It wasn’t bad. Not at first glance—at least that’s what you told yourself from the stands, clenching your fingers so hard they left nail indentations in the middle of your palms.

But you knew. You knew your best friend because you could read him like a book. Every twitch of the eye, a quirk of his lips, they all were a glimpse into his mind of what he was thinking. Andrei is your favorite book, and you just reached the chapter where everything starts to fall apart.

He was trying to hide it, the pain he was feeling from the quick stumble he took at center ice. It was just a small muscle pull, though, right? That’s what you thought, but then you saw him skate to the bench, favoring his right knee with the expression of one who knew he messed up.

Andrei played the rest of the game, but as you headed down to the locker room you couldn’t fight the feeling of dread steadily creeping up your heart.

“Hey,” you greeted a few of the girls leaning against the wall, waiting for their significant others to finish interviews. You were sort of an outcast in that manner, because Andrei wasn’t yours… No matter how much you wanted him to be. “Has he come out yet?” you asked.

The solemn shake of their heads gave you your answer, and you didn’t even bother trying to hide your worry when you leaned back against the wall with them, anxiously chewing your lip. The time came and went, seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to an hour of watching the other Hurricanes players come and go—none of them the man you wanted, no needed to see.

It was times like these where you questioned how you got here, waiting on Andrei like a girlfriend but being firmly stuck in the friend zone. He had never made you feel like anything less because of it, but you felt it aching in your very bones when he’d flash a smile to the girls at the bars you frequented, or when he’d ask you whether the blue shirt or the red shirt would look better on a date with the cute girl he met at a shopping mall.

It was funny, too, because you hadn’t met him any differently than he’s met the other girls he’s taken out. It was at a bar, actually, one in downtown Raleigh not too far of a drive from PNC Arena, and you were nursing a drink with a few friends from work when the place exploded in activity because players from the Carolina Hurricanes had just arrived.

You didn’t ask “who?” like one of your coworkers asked, because you loved hockey and went to a decent amount of games, and you could confidently answer which player had which number. In one game you’d even managed to snag glass seats, and that had been the best night of your life.

Never had you actually met any of the players, though. Odd, considering you had always made it a habit to go out at least once on the weekends, but one fateful Saturday night was when you finally were able to get a good look at the players outside of their hockey uniforms. You were content to merely watch them from a distance, but soon you realized they were just like any other regular bar patrons and soon lost interest in eyeing them a few tables back.

It was as you were ordering another drink that you caught from the corner of your eyes a body settling down on your right, too close to be convenient because there were other open seats far from you. You hadn’t been looking for a hookup that night, though, so you figured playing hard-to-get might ward off any men looking for a quick one-night stand.

“Hi,” the man suddenly spoke, accent too thick to be attributed to intoxication. A foreigner? You met his eyes, your gaze colliding with warm brown that reminded you of the hot chocolate you’d buy to keep your hands warm in the winter. “Drink not up to standards?” he said, leaning against the bar counter to get a better look at you.

Your brain had short-circuited, because wow this guy was good-looking, and it only took another minute of analyzing his features with your tipsy brain to realize you were talking to Andrei Svechnikov, or rather, he was talking to you.

“Not much of a drinker to begin with.” you had replied smoothly, shocking even yourself because talking to attractive men had never been a strong suit. “What about you? What do you drink?”

You and Andrei, who had later introduced himself and to which you responded with a cheeky quirk of your lips, “I know”, had hit it off immediately. You talked for hours that night, unable to shake the undeniable chemistry you had between you until one of your friends ran into you slurring her words and stumbling in place that signaled your outing time was up.

You exchanged numbers that night, and unbeknownst to either of you, your hearts were beating in tandem for days after, and brains spiraling with ‘what ifs’ and ‘I think they like me’. Unfortunately… It had never gone beyond that, because communication was hard to begin with for Andrei without the added challenge of having to speak English, and well–past relationships have made it a little hard for you to put your trust in people.

So, here you were. Confidently able to say that Andrei was one of your closest friends who you just so happened to be in love with, but knowing it would never go beyond that. You’d rather have Andrei in your life as a friend than not at all, right?

That’s what you told yourself when you finally heard the familiar sound of Andrei’s deep voice from the locker room, coming closer and closer as the distance between you decreased.

“No, no,” Andrei said, firmly, finally making his appearance. “No hospital. I feel fine.”

“Son, you’re favoring your knee. You need to go, now.” Head Coach Rod Brind’Amour marched in right behind the left winger. “I let you wait out the rest of the game, that’s what we agreed.”

Andrei remained in place, stubbornly glaring at the older man with the two looking like raging bulls getting ready to charge the other.

“‘Drei?” you finally found the courage to speak, hesitantly stepping forward and breaking the heated glare between the two men. You didn’t even notice until now that the athletic trainer was waiting behind them, phone held to his ear. “What’s going on?”

Immediately, the Russian’s eyes whipped towards you and he stepped back from Rod immediately. He said your name in slight confusion, even embarrassment at being caught in the metaphorical pissing match between him and his coach.

“I—” he licked his lips, struggling to find the words in English. “My knee. It is… Messed up.”

“Messed up?” you said. “What do you mean?”

That’s when Rod popped in. “He took a bit of a stumble on the ice, it didn’t look too serious at first but his knee is hurting.” He turned to glare at Andrei. “He can barely stand on it.”

Andrei clenched his jaw, attempting to shift his weight onto his right knee, but he could barely manage to stand before his face twisted up in pain and he had to use the wall to balance himself.

You stepped up to the Russian, worriedly wringing your hands together before stilling them to grab your stubborn friend's arm. “You’re too stubborn for your own good,” you smiled wryly, attempting to mask your worry with a small tease.

Andrei towered over you, but his size had always made you feel safe rather than scared, and that applied to now, roo. “I am fine, darling,” he murmured the pet name in Russian, his voice matching the softness of his eyes he could never hide when looking at you. Sometimes he’d speak in his native tongue in front of you because he knew you didn’t understand, and the scowl on your face afterward always made him laugh.

But, even though he was definitely not fine, he could barely take having to bother his teammates and coaches with his issues, nonetheless you. He didn't want you to see him so weak, at least not like this.

“My knee is just stiff. Sore.” he shot a look towards Rod, who up until this moment had been staring at the wall to give the two of you privacy. “It is not that bad, I am sure of it.”

“Then you’ll go to the hospital to get it checked out since it’s ‘not that bad’.” Rod deadpanned, finally breaking the bubble of tension that always seemed to surround you and Andrei when together.

“I agree with him, Andrei,” you said, placing another hand on his arm to gain his attention. “You need to get it looked at, at the very least.”

You gave him your best puppy eyes, peering up at him as he stood over you. You could see the hesitation on his face, knowing his protesting was mostly because he hated bothering others with his problems.

“If not for your career, do it for me?” you said, attempting to bring back his smile by poking him in the chest. “Please?”

A moment of silence, you staring at Andrei and Andrei staring at you…

“—fine.”

He agreed, but his knee was not fine as he said it was. It was bad because it wasn’t actually his knee that had been causing his pain, but rather a torn ligament connected to the knee that turned out to be the ACL in his right leg.

And Andrei was devastated. You weren’t allowed to be in the room with him while they checked him out because he needed an MRI, but Martin and Seth were and it was them who came up to you in the hallway, grim looks on their faces as they broke the news. You could hear the raised voices of both Andrei and Brind’Amour shouting from the room.

You couldn’t see Andrei’s face, but you felt your heart breaking for him anyways as the doctor probably told him how long his recovery would take, the physical therapy he would need to endure, and the amount of time he wouldn’t be able to play hockey for.

“Nine months,” Andrei said, angrily typing away on his phone to his brother, Evgeny, probably. “Maybe six if I am lucky.”

You remained silent, watching him from the kitchen counter at a loss for words. You had offered to drive Andrei home, unofficially taking on the role of caretaker since Martin lived with his girlfriend and Seth was, well… Seth.

Andrei was on the couch, dressed in an old Hurricanes hoodie with shorts, his right leg propped up on a stool wrapped in a temporary cast. His face was flushed, and his hair messy from all the times he had run his hands through it. You knew he was in pain, both mentally and physically, but it really was unfair how he still managed to look so attractive all throughout.

Leg cast and all included.

“Is that what the doctor said?” you asked, finally gaining the courage to speak as you crossed the room. You carefully sat on the couch next to him, not wanting to jostle his leg.

The Russian dropped his phone on his lap, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes before gazing at you with determination. “Yes. But I’m going to be better in five.”

You finally cracked a smile, there’s the ‘Drei you knew and loved, your first one since hearing the news and bringing him back to his house. Andrei couldn’t help but grin, feeling the fondness for you in his heart grow. You were so good to him, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his feelings to himself while you stayed with him.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t mind having you stay with him for the rest of the year, though. Andrei was selfish, and he was also possessive, so he liked having you to himself. He considered Martin and Seth and Sebastian his good friends, his teammates, his bros if you will, but you were his. His best friend, his best girl—you were the only one he wanted, and maybe this new living situation would give him the opportunity to finally tell you.

Andrei just hoped you felt the same. He wouldn’t be able to stand losing you because he couldn’t keep his heart under control.

“Well, you know I’ll be here to help you get through it.” You stated with conviction, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze and your heart beating all the while.

You held your unspoken promise, especially on the day of his surgery a little less than a week after his prognosis. It was an early surgery on a Thursday morning, and you even called off work so you could be at the hospital with him when he woke up.

You already knew most of your friends and family were wondering why you were putting so much effort into caring for someone who was just a friend, and if you were being honest you didn’t have much of an answer to give them. They had a point after all, right?

You and Andrei were just friends. That was it. You may be in love with him (now more than ever), and you definitely omitted that little detail during past conversations, but still. Friends move in with each other to help recover from big injuries all the time.

This time with Andrei was no different, and you had to repeat this mantra over and over again in your head as the anesthesia slowly wore off and his eyes were so soft and droopy, mumbling his words and his accent was thicker than ever and your heart was beating so fast it was going to jump out of your chest–

“Thank you for being here with me,” Andrei slurred, gazing up at you with those warm, half-lidded eyes.

You grabbed his hand, gently, lacing your fingers together and squeezing once. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Andrei squeezed back once before losing consciousness, his eyes closing and his head lolling back against the pillow. “That’s normal, right?” You asked the nurse, who was busy writing on a clipboard. She only had to look up once to take in the situation before responding.

“Everyone responds to anesthesia differently. Your boyfriend is just one of many who has to sleep it off.”

You felt your stomach drop, your eyes widening only slightly at the nurse’s casual use of ‘boyfriend’. Of course, that’s what you and your best friend must have looked like to her, right? You, holding Andrei’s hand, and he gazing up at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

It was probably just the drugs in his system. Definitely.

Andrei was cleared to leave the hospital the next day, and you heard the news from the group chat you, Martin, and Seth were in. It was comically titled, ‘Andrei’s bobble-leg’, courtesy of Seth, of course, and it was essentially just the three of you coordinating who has Andrei duty on the days you weren’t able to be with him.

Unfortunately, the day he was able to go home was the day you had to be back at work, so Martin and Seth left their morning skate early to drive him home. And so, here you were now, finally off from work and driving down Capital Blvd road to Andrei’s home.

Martin, Seth, and surprisingly quite a few of the players were already there when you arrived. You knocked on the front door before letting yourself in, curiosity written all over your face as you walked closer to all the noise.

Happy shouts of your name rang across the room when you appeared in the doorway, and your face flushed red in embarrassment at all the eyes suddenly upon you. “Hey guys,” you said, eyes scanning around the room looking for the only man you really cared about.

Finally, you found him. Andrei was seated on his couch, leg safely propped up on the ottoman and wrapped in tight bandages and a brace. He had an Xbox controller in his hand, the video game he was previously playing on pause.

“How was work?” Sebastian asked from the right of Andrei, also holding a controller. There were several bags of chips laid out across the ottoman, and both men were currently snacking.

It was probably against their diet, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell them that, especially Andrei.

“Work,” you finally responded, rather dry. Most of the population, including you, unfortunately, were not lucky enough to play the sport they loved as their job.

A few chuckles and about an hour later, everyone began packing up to leave. Somehow, you had gravitated toward Andrei during this time of catching up with his teammates and ended up on the couch next to him, on his left. His arm was casually strewn across the back of the couch, fingertips playing with the ends of your hair and occasionally brushing against your neck, sending shivers up your spine.

You liked to pretend it was just you harboring feelings for him sometimes because it was less scary, but every day that fantasy was getting harder and harder to live… Especially when you would turn your head to catch a peek at his side profile, and he was already staring as if knowing the effect he had on you.

“How’s your leg feeling?” You asked once you heard the front door shut, signaling the exit of the last guest. It was silent other than the TV playing softly in the background, it having changed from Call of Duty to a rerun of Friends some time ago.

Andrei sighed, attempting to hide his emotional turmoil with a smile. Bringing his arm down from the back of the couch, he tentatively rested it on your shoulders, gauging your reaction before bringing you to his side. He’s been an affectionate person since you first met him, so you were used to the random hand-holding or hugs, but it still never failed to make you long for something more.

He patted his leg gently, careful not to disturb it from where it rested. “Hurts. But that is to be expected, no?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t suck.” You said, your voice nothing more than a murmur. You rested your head against his shoulder, tugging at a loose string on one of your sleeves.

The hockey player didn’t respond, instead, he placed one of his big hands on your shoulder and squeezed, a sign he at least heard your attempt at reassurance. Time passed quickly like this; Friends continued playing, as did your position tucked into Andrei’s side.

You felt at peace, and while he didn’t say it with words you could tell the Russian beside you felt the same. Hopefully, the next few months of healing will just fly by.

And they did, at first. But even though the Carolina Hurricanes were missing one of their star players, the games must go on. His teammates went out on the ice, each and every one of them feeling Andrei’s absence keenly.

You felt it too, as the Boston Bruins scored their fourth and final goal of the night, winning the game in a shootout. The hope immediately dissipated within your chest and in rose frustration and disappointment to take its place, but you were sure that was nothing compared to what Andrei was feeling beside you.

The entirety of the game, your hand was wrapped in Andrei’s, his squeezing down when the Bruins scored their first goals in regulation and releasing to clap when we were finally able to tip the puck in. Then the team came back in the third period—you weren’t sure what Brind’Amour had said to the boys during the second intermission, but whatever he said had worked.

The Hurricanes had been controlling the puck in the Bruins’ zone, something they had failed to do in the first two periods. They were passing, aiming, shooting, scoring, first by Skjei in the corner of the net and then by Aho on a tight pass from Martinook that slipped right past Swayman’s shoulder.

It was looking so good because Andersen had finally gotten his head in the game and the defense had stepped up, but then we went past overtime scoreless, and then to the fateful shootout.

You had felt the anxiousness from every fan in the arena. If anyone was an avid Hurricanes watcher, including you, they knew shootouts had never been this hockey team’s strong suit.

Andrei’s frustration was palpable next to you. His left leg was bouncing up and down for the entirety, and you could see the muscles tensing and untensing in his right leg as if he had wanted to move. It only got worse when Brind’Amour sent Burns out first, something that had you, Andrei, and every single Hurricanes fan in the arena watching on in confusion.

“No, no,” you had heard the Russian mutter from next to you. “Why is he sending Brent? He needs to send Fishy, or Turbo—” the words then died in his mouth as Brent missed as everyone knew would happen, and sadly Teuvo, who went out next, did too.

Unfortunately for us, the Bruins had good goal-scorers. Coyle had slipped the puck past Andersen, as did DeBrusk, and then it was done. Game over. Just like that.

You finally turned to face the man next to you just as his head fell into his hands, tugging at his hair and messing up the gel you forced him to put on because no, Andrei, you can’t show up with bedhead. He was muttering words you couldn’t understand, most likely the creative Russian curses you heard him say on occasion.

If this game had been hard to watch for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how Andrei was feeling.

“‘Drei,” you said, tentatively. “Are you—”

“No. Don’t.” He snapped, rubbing at his eyes before unsteadily rising to stand. His right leg shook, but he refused the arm you held out and didn’t dare to look in your eyes to see what look they held. As he tried to reach for his crutches, his leg buckled from underneath him, and this time you ignored the hurt of him lashing out to put your arms around his back to steady him.

“Can we— Is it okay if…” he struggled to speak, his accent thick with emotion as he struggled to find the words. Andrei had never been good at communicating when upset, literally, because everything always came to him in Russian naturally, and this time was no different. “Leave? Can we leave?”

“What about—”

“No. No team. No reporters.” he said, digging his fingers into the back of his jersey you were wearing.

You softened, gently maneuvering your body so you could face him better. Now you were chest-to-chest, your arms still wrapped around his midsection to keep him steady. “What do you want then, Andrei?”

“Home,” he murmured. “Home. With you.” he wasn’t able to convey it right at this moment, but his heart was pounding as he said the words. To him, to anyone in his culture, this was the closest he could come to expressing his love without outright saying it.

He found he wasn’t scared about finally admitting this out loud, either, because you were his home. Everything about you was home because he wouldn’t dare let anyone else except his brother and mama see him so vulnerable.

Of course, you were oblivious. He normally found it cute, but right now he wanted to shake you because all he wanted right now was to hold you in his arms and kiss you as he found comfort in your presence.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, the double meaning of his words flying right over your head. But something emboldened you, gave you the courage to raise your hands to his shoulders so you could reach up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, right next to the corner of his lips.

“Let’s go home, ‘kay?”

The ride home was silent, comforting even despite the rough loss the team took. By the time you finally managed to get to the car, the two of you were struggling to keep your eyes open and also keep your hands off each other. Andrei tangling your hands together, you gently leaning against his side…

It was all surface-level, neither wanting to speak the words out loud but yet not wanting to sacrifice the innocent, physical intimacy you found with each other. This was all racing through your mind the closer you got to Andrei’s house, and you were almost positive he was thinking the same.

Andrei, in fact, was actually contemplating the one-hundred different ways he was going to kiss you, if he ever gets to that stage with you. He was currently facing the window but left enough room at the corner of his eyes to take little peeks at you, only fuelling his determination to do something about the tension between you.

And, yeah, maybe he was hyperfixating on you to distract him from the fact his team lost and if he was down on the ice he knew he would have been able to fix it, been able to score. His emotions had skyrocketed since the game ended, and everything felt so much more intense than usual.

Maybe that was just the pain medication he was on, though…

After you finally arrived at Andrei’s house, it took a little bit over an hour to finally get yourselves ready for bed. The problem? Neither of you were ready for any sort of sleeping, and you both knew it.

Currently, Andrei was leaning back into the couch, his right leg once again propped up on the ottoman and a blanket haphazardly thrown over his lap. You were next to him, legs comfortably tucked underneath you with a few inches of space left between you and Andrei.

There was half a family-sized bag of Doritos in between you that he said was in his pantry, so you were both currently snacking on them while watching the NHL channel. It was quiet other than for the TV, for neither of you were speaking a word for fear of breaking the thick silence between you.

The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, and what made it even worse is that you didn’t think Andrei even noticed. He was wrapped up in his phone, most likely watching the game recap because his face was twisted up and his whole body seemed tense.

You shoved another Dorito in your mouth. Fuck. You were so, so screwed. You needed to get it together before you said something you regretted, especially since you had temporarily become his roommate.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and spoke. “Andrei?” you said, hesitantly looking towards him.

“What?” he responded after a moment, not taking his eyes away from his phone.

Now you felt uncomfortable. Before, in the arena, he was looking at you like he loved you, but now he was snappy and tense and worse than normal because his team lost without him being able to play.

Picking at the skin around your nails, you attempted scooting down the couch before just giving up and moving to stand. “Nevermind,” you said with a mutter, feeling withdrawn and defeated. If he didn’t want to open up to you, fine, but you didn’t deserve to have him take out his frustration on you.

At least, not like this.

Andrei didn’t even respond, furthering your feelings of bitterness towards the man you had so many feelings for. Wrapping your hands in the long sleeves of his hoodie you were still wearing, you shuffled down the hallway and into the guest room you claimed as your own.

You could still hear the TV playing in the background, but that was the only sound in the otherwise silent house. You blinked the frustration from your eyes and crawled underneath the bed sheets, scrolling on your phone until you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed of restless tossing and turning, and then suddenly it was three in the morning and you were being woken up by countless knocks on your door.

“The fuck?” you muttered sleepily, crawling out of the cocoon of blankets you were in to answer your door. For whatever reason, your sleep-addled brain wasn’t able to comprehend that it was probably Andrei on the other side. “Andrei?” you said, confused as the Russian leaned against the wall.

He looked rather sheepish, slightly embarrassed. His hair was ruffled, and the TV was still playing so he probably fell asleep on the couch.

“Oh, shit,” you said, suddenly realizing that he was probably here because he needed help. Of course. That was all it was. “I’m such an idiot, sorry,” you breathed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you stepped out of the room. “C’mon, I’ll help you get in bed.”

Andrei stopped you with a hand, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find words. “No, that is not it.” he finally settled on.

Okay, now you were curious. “Huh?”

“I am sorry.”

What?

“For what?” You asked, staring up at him wide-eyed. You were honestly too tired for a heavy conversation like this so you were struggling to keep up.

Andrei swallowed the lump in his throat. His leg was currently throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing in his heart as he looked at you. Your hair was all over the place in the most endearing way, and your eyes were droopy in a way that told him you were just sleeping.

“For not treating you right, for—” He cut himself off, sighing in frustration. Why was English so complicated? If only you understood English. “English is stupid.” he muttered, then released a big sigh and steeled his resolve.

Stepping closer, he brought the two of you chest-to-chest and brought his arms to cage you against the wall.

And you, you meanwhile, let out the most embarrassing noise possible when he suddenly got close, and then Andrei was everywhere and nowhere all at once. His body was trapping you in, and while your senses were on overdrive you strangely enough didn't feel like fleeing.

“Andrei?” You squeaked, sinking further into the wall if it was possible. Your eyes dropped, finding the center of his chest to firmly set your gaze. His eyes were so dark, intimidating, and swimming with an intention you were nervous to find out. “What are you doing?”

“Look at me, please?” A large hand smoothed against your skin, gently tilting your head up. Your eyes automatically locked with his, and the emotion on his face had you gasping. “There’s my girl,” He said.

Okay, yeah, your body was frozen, the breath leaving your lungs in a torrent of sharp breaths. This… This was new territory, for the both of you, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Andrei looked so calm while you looked like a startled deer—an unattractive one, at that.

He started speaking, heart thundering while the words poured from his throat like warm, melted butter. “I’m in love with you. You are my person, I knew from the very first moment I saw you in that bar so many months ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but tonight, having you next to me… You’ve always been next to me, and I’ve taken advantage of that. Darling, I want to make up for all the times I never kissed you senseless, and I want nothing more than to have you as mine, and I yours.”

Your favorite music, your favorite voice, words so filled with emotion and yet you couldn’t even understand him as he looked at you like you were his sun, and he a plant desperately seeking your warmth. Andrei had only spoken in Russian a handful of times in front of you – most being curses or quips exchanged with Pyotr – and never had he spoken so much of it.

You’d always thought Russian was rather harsh. The sharp whistles, clicks of the tongue, hissing of certain words; you admired anyone who could speak it, but it had never been an easy language to listen to you. But, when Andrei spoke Russian… It was soft, almost musical, and expressive to the point you felt like you could understand the very subject at hand if you thought about it. Maybe you were just biased, but you swore you fell more in love with him every time he spoke it.

“No words?” he said, a grin on his face that made you realize you’d maybe been silent for a little too long.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You were breathless— literally.

“I show you, then, what I said,” Andrei brushed his fingers against the side of your neck, almost fully grasping it as he gently brought you closer. You had no complaints, though. “Yes?”

He said your name again, looking at you with those warm eyes so full of depth they hypnotized you and had you nodding yes, almost instinctively.

Andrei sucked in a breath, tightening his grip on you only slightly as he slid his hand around the back of your head. Your lips were slightly parted, shiny and red from where you’d been biting them previously, and that cupid’s bow that always drove him crazy when you smiled was quirked upwards as if it was asking him to kiss you.

He waited a moment, stared into your eyes, his fingers merely a whisper of a touch against your cheek, and finally took the leap. The first touch of his lips was shy, testing, but then you whimpered with need and tugged at his shirt to bring him closer and Andrei had an internal moment of fuck it where he realized just how crazy he was for you. Pressing you into the wall, he nipped at your bottom lip and was granted entrance with a gasp drowned out by the sound of his own groan. He put every ounce of his passion and love and relief into this kiss as if trying to convince you to stay because this, this here? It was worth it—you were worth it. Fireworks, electricity, butterflies, and everything all at once was igniting in your gut and caused you to let out a pathetic whimper the moment your lips finally detached. He was clearly skilled at this, wholeheartedly controlling the moment as his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin that met your collarbone.

“‘Drei,” you gasped, clutching the hair right at his scalp – when did you move your arms around his neck? – as he sucked a mark under your jaw. “Hm?” he hummed, not stopping with his ministrations.

“What,” you said, throat dry and raspy as you tried to speak over the sound of your beating heart. “What did you say— oh,”

Andrei’s grin was almost feral as he drew the beautiful sound from your lips. “Found it,” he said, voice full of pride as he brushed his fingers against the newly-found sweet spot on your neck.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed his head in between your hands, bringing his head to yours so you could press a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips before pulling back to gather your thoughts because you had a lot of them.

Andrei pouted the moment you pulled him away but respected your boundaries and merely rested his hands on your waist to keep you close. He said your name gently, his tone bordering on questioning. “Did I… Did I push too far?” he said.

“No, no, not at all,” you rushed to correct him, already having caught the guilt in his eyes. “I just want to know what you said earlier, before you— you know.” It felt almost taboo to say ‘before you kissed the life out of me’, not wanting to break this delicate balance you found yourself in.

The Russian hummed, already catching on to your bashfulness and deciding to tease you for it. “No, darling, I think you need to remind me,” he brought a hand up to loosely wrap around your neck, the contact keeping you grounded. “On what I did before what?”

“Andrei,” you said, immediately dropping eye contact as your face flushed red. “You’re being a tease,” you muttered.

He dipped his head, brushing your lips together as he spoke. You felt his breath against your skin and had the sudden desire to taste him again. “I can do this all night, but the question is can you?”

You gave up at that because the moment he spoke he drew back and you couldn’t stand the feeling of not having him close to you anymore. “Andrei,” you sucked in a breath. “What did you say before you kissed me? In Russian?”

“I love you,” Andrei didn’t miss a beat as he crept his other hand farther up your waist. “That is mostly what I said. And more.”

“More?” you squeaked out as he drew closer.

The hockey player hummed, then suddenly stepped back and grabbed your hand. “Much more,” he confirmed. “Now—bed?” Short, sweet, and to the point Andrei always was…

Just one of the many things you loved about him.

Twenty minutes later you lay in Andrei’s bed, swallowed in another one of his shirts, and curled into his chest. His arm was wrapped around your waist, stroking gentle circles into the skin exposed to the room. It was silent, null except for the steady hum of the air conditioning and the gentle breathing of two humans reveling in each other’s presence.

“I miss it,” he said, suddenly speaking up. You lifted your head only slightly from his chest, already missing the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. “Hockey. And I miss playing with my brothers.”

Brothers. Your heart broke at hearing the longing in his voice, because every single player on the team he played with was his family, in one way or another, and now he was being forced to watch them play the sport he had no chance of helping them win.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he was feeling.

“I know, Andrei,” was what you finally settled on. Your voice was soft, gentle, trying to convey your understanding with actions rather than words. You drew tiny circles on his chest, taking pride in the way goosebumps rose in your fingers’ wake. “I know.”

He tightened his grip on you, holding you closer to him as if he were afraid you’d disappear. “Will you be here?” he suddenly asked, frowning. Andrei knew he was being slightly irrational, feeling so vulnerable, but he really hadn’t felt secure in himself since first tearing his ACL.

What was his purpose in life, really, if not to play hockey and have you with him?

You hadn’t yet spoken, so he quickly clarified. “In the morning. And all the mornings after.”

A smile broke across your face as you buried your head into his chest. You felt the rumble of his chest as he chuckled, and then he shifted to where you were laying on top of his chest so he could see your face. “All the mornings, huh?” you asked, feeling bashful.

Andrei grinned, his tongue poking out from behind his teeth, knowing the effect he had on you. “Every one,” he replied. “If you will have me.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

And you meant it, truly, with every fiber of your being. The next months were going to be rough, the ones where you’d have to be there for Andrei as he watched his team ultimately compete and fall through in the playoffs especially.

But you knew the two of you could do it. Andrei was nothing if not committed, even through all the arguments, tears, and emotional breakdowns, you were there for each other through the long haul.

And Andrei, meanwhile, after many difficult months down the road, had the biggest smile on his face as the doctors told him it was a miracle.

Because he had healed from his ACL injury in five.

fin

A/N: Before my medical professionals come at me, YES I KNOW acl injuries take up to a year to recover from almost all of the time, but for the sake of this fic just pls ignore that little fact 😭 in all seriousness though, I can’t wait till our favorite Russian gets to play again bc I miss him sm. As always, please leave likes, reblogs, and comments. Ily all <33

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#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov fanfic #andrei svechnikov fanfiction #andrei svechnikov x reader #carolina hurricanes #carolina hurricanes imagine #carolina hurricanes imagines #canes imagine #canes lb #nhl hockey #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl writing #writing #fanfiction #'in five'

[kawataslvr]

Could you do a second part of your last post, the one about Izana, Mikey and Reader?

Something like Reader is no longer interested in Izana and now Reader accepts Mikey and they are a boyfriend?

and Izana is surprised or something like that, or the famous phrase "you don't know what you have until you lose it"

Req’s finally back up..

Summary : Angst -> fluff

A/N : You guys will never let me give reader a horrible twisted ending, (im making an alternative to this) ,, sorry this took so long, writers block went so badly for me. I tried to write this from a perspective when i was in a situation like this, so the writing is switching between “i hate him” to “i love him and would do anything” because its something i went through even if we never dated 🥲

p.1 : Izana fic

You honestly didn’t know how you didn’t snap sooner, but it was when you stopped being in complete denial of it..

When even Izana’s friends were telling you to leave, the bruises on you becoming more apparent than ever before. Everything bruised, sometimes you didn’t come out of the house because of your body being so sore.

It got serious when people around you physically had to drag you out of bed. After a while a person can only take so much. Izana would look at you and get angry.. why were you still around him? He never asked you out. You two were never dating. He hated you.

Why was everything just hitting you? it was irritating you, how didn’t you realize everything sooner. How could you let your kindness be used so freely? You sighed while you say down on your bed, it didn’t matter if you just took a day to yourself today.

Izana wouldn’t notice if you were gone.

You needed time to yourself, to think. Your head was spinning around so hard it hurt, you needed to lay down and think. Have a talk with yourself.

You laid down and drifted off to sleep, nothing could’ve prepared you for the random rush of emotions that hit you today.

You woke up to your phone being blown up, panicking and unlocking it to see WAYY TOO many notifications from Izana.. you thought something happened. Something serious.

Only to open the messages to see nasty messages on you not showing up, how angry he was at you.

You sighed, you couldn’t let him just control you like this.. he wasn’t even dating you, there was no reason he should be freaking out so much.

And whatever that night possessed you to apologize to him and let him come over, was the devils job.

it was really a mistake, you knew it. You’re somewhat healed bruises coming back to night, but you still couldn’t resist Izana.

Even if you knew you never had a chance with him, you’ll forever have a special place in your heart where nobody could replace Izana.

You didn’t know why really, you didn’t know anything that happened that night.

Honestly, you needed someone to talk to. Someone who wouldn’t yell at you for being with Izana, someone who would actually comfort you.

Right..

you would be lying if he wasn’t your first option at any point given, but you had to admit. The guy was better.. than.. Izana..

He wouldn’t scream at you or hurt you, and he wasn’t going to lash out at you.

Manjiro Sano, better known as Invincible Mikey.

You weren’t oblivious to his feelings for you, so you felt horrible calling him at a late time, and to talk about Izana of all people. You felt like you were playing with Mikey’s feelings.

Yet he didn’t care, Mikey listened to your woes about Izana.. Comforting you the entire time, even if it hurt him and ripped him apart from the inside out with every word you said, the way you spoke about him so in-love while you were talking about him abusing you physically and verbally .

Mikey thinks thats the real reason why he felt like his skin was being turned inside out, you were so hurt yet so blinded by love. With someone who didn’t care about you. Someone who you weren’t even dating.

“Block his number, ghost him.. stop hanging out with this dude (name)..” his voice sounded so concerned, you couldn’t just do that.. but you really should..

Your mind turned into a conflicted mess again. Sighing and slumping down in your bed turning your head towards Mikey “i cant just do that.. he’d kill me..”

“I’ll be with you the whole day.. please (name)” you sighed running out of words to say.. you hesitated to nod your head. You hugged Mikey and laid down with him.

Nothing weird, nothing forced. You two just laid by each others side cuddling. It was nice, you slept wonderfully that night.

Not a single nightmare..

Some feeling you forgot to experience, or how to. It felt refreshing, for once. You could breath without feeling like there was a knife at your throat.

When you woke up Mikey was clinging onto you while he struggled a battle with sleep and the alarm clock. “ughh.. please lets just sleep in (nameee)..”

you laughed softly and snuggled closer into Mikey’s arm, when you suddenly got a notification.. you knew who it was from. Only one person texted you at this time, usually to ask you for something.

“give me a sec..” You reached over for your phone only to be pushed back down and gripped onto tightly by Mikey.

“Mikey!” you yelped out “we’re sleeping in.. c’mon.” Maybe that one day was how it all started, you slowly started distancing yourself from Izana from that day forward.

It was clearly taking a toll on the boy.

He didn’t know what he had until he lost it.

#izana x male #izana kurokawa angst #izana angst #izana #tokyo revengers izana #izana kurokawa #izana x reader #mikey x male #mikey x y/n #mikey x male reader #mikey tr #mikey fluff #mikey angst #mikey fanart #mikey smut #mikey #mikey x reader #mikey sano #tokrev manjiro #manjiro x male reader #manjiro angst #manjiro sano angst #manjiro x reader #sano manjiro #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #tokyo manji gang

[constellationandcompendium]

Writeblr Intro

Greetings traveller!

About Me:

She/her approaching 30

PhD graduate working in heritage

British (obsessed with tea)

Also sings and crochets

Enjoys both Star Trek & Star Wars

Occasional NaNoWriMo participant

Fanfic writer of 15 years making the jump into original fiction (find my fandom blog @thetamehistorian)

Happy to take asks / play tag games etc.

Has a habit of designing covers rather than writing

Second attempt at this blog (main blog this time, cha cha real smooth)

Tends To Write / Read

Sci-Fi & Cyberpunk

Urban Fantasy & Fantasy

Historical

Comedy (this suprised me too)

Introducing My WIPS

A crime thriller with a touch of cyberpunk...

Featuring

Man with habit of doing wrong thing for right reason

Best buds to reluctant allies to ‘I would die for you’

That ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this’ meme

Conspiracies and double agents

Lots of angst and hurt (with some comfort)

Wholesome parent / child relationships

Summary

Solaris City has a problem. Whilst the metropolis flourishes, down below in the old mines the Undercity grows wild and dangerous, it’s people cut off from the prosperity above, dreaming of the sun and spreading Haze - an addictive drug.

Elias also has a problem. Working for the Bureau has cleaned his slate but he hasn’t cut all ties with those underground. Now there’s a girl hidden in his flat and something big has been uncovered that has his contacts in a flurry.

With two days to go to a vote on unifying the two halves of the city, and his friend Sebastien caught right in the middle, Elias has a feeling that it'll only take one domino falling for everything to come crashing down.

WIP Tag

First Draft Complete, If Messy (Mind the Plot Holes)

A sci-fi comedy of a ship of misfits...

Featuring

Puns for ship names (and just bad jokes in general)

Captain packing up the ship and all its crew because they can no longer thrive in this household

Overly social parents (please stop inviting my professor over to dinner)

Space worker unions (and aliens)

Learning self-worth and finding strength through working together

Found family

Summary

The United Earth Ship Archimedes patrols the border of charted space. Beyond it - the vast and unexplored reaches of the universe.

It’s an exciting prospect for Aster Kobor, newly graduated from the fleet academy and hoping to make her mark upon the stars. Unfortunately, it only takes a few weeks for Aster to realise that the Archimedes is nicknamed ‘the screw’ for a reason. It’s a ship for the rejects and misfits, those deemed unfit to serve in the frontier ships and command never lets them do anything exciting. Still, Aster is determined to make the best of it and, unbeknownst to her, her meddling Captain is about to give the crew of the Archimedes their chance to show command what they're made of.

Soon a bad reputation is the least of their troubles and, whether the crew like it or not, they’ll have to learn to survive in deep space - where their only certainty is each other.

WIP Tag

Currently Wrangling Vibes Into ~ Characters ~ and ~ Plot ~

A historical novel about determined women, trains, and winning a war…

Featuring

One woman’s obsession with the railways

Code breaking commuters

Breakfasts cooked on a coal shovel

Being accidentally adopted by an elderly fireman and driver duo

Occasional air raid for added ~spice~

Solidarity in the face of adversity and outdated systems

Summary

Bea had always been fascinated by the railways, but her dream of driving one of the locomotives always seemed out of reach. Working the trains is dangerous, dirty, and completely off limits to the fairer sex.

Then the war came and the men went off the fight. Answering the call to help, Bea and her fellow railway volunteers find themselves with an opportunity of a lifetime. Obscured from judging eyes by steam and smoke they shadow the veteran drivers and engineers, learning what they can on the job and hitting the library when they can't.

The trains need to run, they are vital to the war effort. All it would take is one rogue bomb, one mishap to take out a driver and the wheels stop spinning.

Or at least, that's what the station manager thinks.

Currently Doing Research and Initial Planning!

#introductions #wips #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #writer

[jwirecs]

Recommended BTS Fics of January 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my bts recs of january! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Break The Ice ( pt2 ) || @yoonivy​​🔞💕✅💯💯

↳ There are three rules to become an official Puck Bunny: 1. You have to love hockey. No exceptions. 2. You have to had slept with at least three hockey players. Starters, no benchwarmers. 3. And most importantly, have fun! (oh child that ending. oh sweet mother lord.)

Perhaps Love || @mangowillow​💕💔✅

↳ for as long as you can remember, you have been in love with your childhood friend turned roommate, but jeon jungkook remains oblivious even when he comes to comfort and help you sleep every night.

Cupid’s On Holiday || @persphonesorchid​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ You don’t get it, you’re a damn catch. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re smart, you’re tidy, hell you’d give up your own kidney to a homeless guy if he needed it that bad. So what the issue? Failed relationships, blind date after blind date, and now your friend’s competitive archery teammate is telling you he’s Cupid here to help you find your one true love. You’re not that desperate. He could take those golden arrows and shove ‘em.

University Superstar ( pt2 ) || @jungkookstatts​🔞💕💔✅

↳ Jeon Jungkook is your University’s biggest rock-star-athlete-hot guy. It literally prides itself on his attendance at the school — walking around with his “big name” (captain of the lacrosse team), tattoos, and rude, jock-like personality. You hate him. You hate that he can’t apologize for being a complete asshole. But what you don’t hate is how he visits your office every day. You also don’t hate that your feelings for him are crawling back into your system… 

Are You Ready, Angel? || @gukkieslover​​🔞💕💔🔄

↳ jus your first time with sweetheart boyfriend koo, some plot there and could maybe be a series if people like it enough?? (link is to their masterlist!)

In Plain Sight || @bangtanstanst​💕✅

↳ A secret relationship isn’t exactly easy to hide, especially not when you work together – and when you make the most of some alone time during a grocery run, you get a little careless. A little too much so, perhaps.

Jealousy || @ryulvrsblog​ 💕✅

↳ Jungkook brings his pretty girlfriend to a meet up with his old college friends who oc has never met before, normally oc would shy away from social interactions like these, but when she sees a girl taking interest in her boyfriend, oc decides to take matters into her own hands. oc gets jealous and kisses jk twice, jk is in shock at his girlfriends bold actions, jk gets a little possesive too

Jealousy 101 || @bluewhale52​​🔞✅

↳ Yoongi posts his Hip Hop 101 video on BangtanTV and shakes his booty for all Army to see. Unfortunately he forgets that ONE person gets dibs on first viewing.

Letting Off Steam || @wnderkoo​ 💕✅

↳ a bad day on track has jungkook storming off and disappearing. where else would one find him but in the comforting arms of his loving girlfriend?

Clingy || @bonny-kookoo​​🔞💔🔄

↳ In which Jungkook is a professional hybrid heat-partner who just wants to do his job (ngl i might have to read this one again because i forgot how it went)

Human || @angelicfangz​​🔞💕💔🔄

↳ humanity is evil it can be something so twisted but it has its honey gems. It has people so sweet that your teeth hurt. You had those people and you messed it up resulting in you losing them but what happens when you find yourself in a hybrid sanctuary by the same people who made you feel what you've always wanted, human.

Wait, Little Rabbit || @bangtanflirt​​ 🔞💕💔🔄💯

↳ You, a meek little bunny hybrid, find family amongst six predator hybrids and their lovely human caretaker.

Candy Cane || @oneofthemillionarmy​​💕💔✅💯

↳ SUMMARY LINE: CHRISTMAS PROMPT #19: CHARACTER A DOESN’T FEEL THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT BUT CHARACTER B, WHO LIVES ABOVE THEM, KEEPS PLAYING CHRISTMAS CAROLS REALLY LOUD.

Entombed || @97erstan​​​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ (no summary but fighter!jk + drama???? yes pls)

Hooking || @mapofthesea​​​ 🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ The home opener of hockey season is crazy for everyone, but when star defensemen Kim Taehyung takes a specific interest in you, who are you to turn him down?

How Many Things || @myg-butterfly​​​​💕💔✅

↳ Yoongi invites you out to a party with him, and in trust, you say yes. But what happens when you lose him in the crowd, just to find him again with someone else by his side? In the midst of panic and longing, you wonder how many things he thinks about before he gets to you.

Motor Head || @jeonjcngkook​​ 🔞💔✅

↳ jungkook doesn’t like seeing someone else have your attention, so he decides he’s gonna do something about it.

Much Better || @yoonivy​​🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ On a night out with your girlfriends to let loose and forget about your ex, you meet a man that you are instantly attracted to, like magnets on the dance floor. But he reminds you way too much of the one that broke you heart… Can Kim Taehyung prove to you that he is not like your ex at all?

Pink Sapphire || @jiminrings​​​💕💔✅💯💯💯

↳ having jungkook for a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he’s easy to love. your relationship’s perhaps become so easy that jungkook doesn’t think sometimes — and that’s what makes it the easiest for you to hate him. alternatively, you and jungkook married each other for business, but the both of you stay for love.

Placebo || @bangtangalicious​​​​ 🔞💕💔🔄

↳ a scientific compatibility test matches you with your soulmate, except he's everything you hate and you're everything he stands against.

Camboy!Tae Mini Series || @hisunshiine​​ 🔞💕💔✅

↳ Give me all of your love, gimme something to dream about. KTH is your favorite camboy, and as a loyal subscriber, you are chosen to test out some new features on the platform he uses to go live. He’s really good at selling his viewers a dream, and as a thanks to a new milemark he’s hit on the platform, he’s choosing one winner to get their fantasy scene. (summary is of the first part! and i fully enjoyed reading this)

I See You || @i-am-baechu​​🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ The L/N family has always been different from other families. For starters, they see ghosts. Y/N hated this gift but as she grew older, she became used to it. Through her college years, she hasn’t seen that many ghosts but that was because they all left alone after her breakdown towards an upcoming test. When one of her classmates has a ghost attached to him, she realizes she needs to get rid of the ghost because it was starting to annoy her with the constant talking and poking her head. How come she never noticed his smile or his bright brown eyes before?

Do check out all of the other BTS Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

#bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts strangers to lovers au #bts friends to lovers au #bts hybrid au #bts mafia au #bts established relationship au #bts enemies to lovers au #bts fic recs #bts recs

[tmntxthings]

∑—fic. recommendations゜・。

tmntxthings rules & masterlist

《warning: some fics may be nsfw 18+ read the labels for context》

I really wanted a place to show more appreciation for other tmnt writers, so here we are, plus points for organization teehee, I’ll be adding more as I continue to read <3

—————————————————————————

一→ | leonardo hamato | ←一

its you by @ashbub

〈rottmnt, fluff, young!leo, oneshot〉

super duper cute, loved seeing a young reckless leo hehe <3 ash has amazing fics for donnie too

chair-ry on top by @marwhoa

〈rottmnt, fluff, oneshot〉

cutesy meet, despite the monster hehe, leo and his puns, go read all of marlowe’s stuff, rn

the key to my heart by @navithescribe

〈rottmnt, fluff, multi〉

smitten leo teehee, he’s hooked from chapter one

so shell feed by @pxrtalchopped

〈rottmnt, fluff, crack, multi〉

one of the first rise!leo fics i ever read, super fun <3

quick sketch by @landsel

〈rottmnt, nsfw 18+, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, multi〉

eeeeeeee, the feels, im in loveeee, the writinggg, the art, the storyyyyy mwah mwah <3

like father, like son by @eternalglitch

〈rottmnt, angst, multi〉

gonna be completely honest, i couldn’t read past chapter ten-ish but maybe one day my fragile heart will toughen up to finish, honestly a staple rottmnt fic, the writing is devastatingly beautiful <3

little blue hearts by @thelaundrybitch

〈bayverse, 18+, fluff, angst, multi〉

i rlly like the trust building it makes the story so much more realistic, & how relatable/funny all the characters are hehehe, go check out her other works too!! <3

一→ | donatello hamato | ←一

donnie has little mercy on the injured by @dancingdonatello / @pikoit

『rottmnt, fluff, hurt/comfort, oneshot』

loved this, donnie’s nice but yk he has a bad boy persona hehe, they have plenty more oneshots too, go read them alllllll

in my head, we belong by @dancingdonatello / @pikoit

『rottmnt, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, multi』

my heart strings were tugged plenty of times throughout this one, and yes it is completed!

crush too much by @afreakingdork

『rottmnt, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, multi』

oml no words, just go read, you won’t be disappointed, love love love this <3

weird city, weirder neighbors by @in-a-black0ut

『rottmnt, fluff, multi』

super fun, donnie my guy, what a greeting heheheh <3

cool for the summer by @stormywritestuff

『rottmnt, nsfw 18+, fluff, angst, multi』

so so detailed and intricate, love the relationship building, feels so lifelike in the best gritty way possible <3 also i couldn’t find the original post on ash’s tumblr so i went with landsel’s post hehe <3

perfectionists by @rheawritesforfun

『rottmnt, nsfw 18+, fluff, oneshot』

loved. that. sm. rhea has plenty more awesome works for the our beloved turtles, go!!! run!!!! <3

baskè-ball by @thegreat-aristurtle

『rottmnt, fluff, oneshot』

another rottmnt staple in my opinion, like if you haven’t read this yet run run run, beautiful writing <3

hold on by @dunk-on-em-ao3

『rottmnt, sibling angst, hurt/comfort, oneshot』

wahhhhhhh donnie my sweet soft shell turtle, this one rlly hit hard, the differences between donnie and his brothers & feelings that come with being ‘different’ lovely read <3

alpha stage by @snailsnaps

『rottmnt, sibling fluff/angst, multi』

this idea is so so neat and cute, I think the consequences here are the most intriguing, hehe link leads to their masterlist!! <3

softie by @rising-shellshock

『rottmnt, fluff, oneshot』

oh my lord this was so adorable, my heart stuttered a couple of times because i could just feeeeeel the love, pouring out of both donnie & reader, super duper cute <333

like you by @msbarrybeeson

『rottmnt, fluff, angst』

this was one of the first donnie x reader fics i ever read, and it took til now to find it again !!!! another rottmnt staple, the dialogue is just perfect, it’s like I can hear their voices, check out part two!! <33

一→ | raphael hamato | ←一

the red king and his crimson heart by @b00tyshakerr9000

〔rottmnt, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, multi〕

sooo sweet, raph’s a big softie, jay also has another multi fic for donnie <3 check out their stuff

first sight by @yn-hamato

〔rottmnt, fluff, angst, oneshot〕

definitely a cute meet, idc about the circumstances hehehe, tess has more amazing fics too check ‘em out <3

teensy-weensy hiccup, oops by @marwhoa

〔2k12, fluff, oneshot〕

ahhhhh i just love a little jealous raph hehe, again go check out marlowe’s stuff !!!! the bestest !!! <3

ego boost by @raphsgrl

〔bayverse, nsfw 18+, fluff, oneshot〕

so they didn’t rlly have a title so i just made one up >.< i hope that’s okay, just for labeling purposes hehe <333 on another note xD woof!! raph is a hottie right here <3

一→ | michelangelo hamato | ←一

golden hour by @b00tyshakerr9000

{rottmnt, angst, hurt/comfort, oneshot}

wahhhhhhhh my heartttttt T^T~~~~~ such a good read!!! <3

to fill a hole by @ray-jaykub

｛bayverse, nsfw 18+, fluff, oneshot｝

mikey is just so flippin cute, reunions are the best ;D heheheh <3

holding out for a hero by @sharpwindow

{bayverse, nsfw 18+, fluff, oneshot}

him just trying to hold out, and listen to splinter’s advice sksksksksks such a cutie, they also have a bunch more fics <3

#fic rec #fic recommendation #tmnt fandom #rottmnt #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt x reader #leo x reader #donnie x reader #raph x reader #mikey x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #leonardo #raph #donatello #mikey #michelangelo #raphael #leo #donnie #hamato clan #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2k12

[yukuoo]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write something for Nagumo! Maybe something along the lines of him coming back from a mission to his significant other place but they’re mad cause he hasn’t responded to their messages (for whatever reasons) for a few days and they thought something happened to him on the mission so he feels bad and consoles them. Kinda like comfort angst, you know?

My apologies for this being so late, Ive had an extreme writers block because of school and finals☹️ anyways I ran out of ideas around the end because I personally don't know how couples fight since its always different for everyone (Ive never been on a relationship..)

𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐎 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂: 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍!

Running your hand through your hair, you stared at the screen of your phone for the past 40 minutes or so give or take. You don't remember the last time something like this had happened— if it even happened that is.

Nagumo should have been home after a while, yet no matter how many time you call or text him, he doesn't pick up. Paranoia doesn't help the situation either. You knew he could take care of himself, he wouldn't be an assassin after all. He knew his weaknesses, his flaws and how he could use them or even hide them. Otherwise, he wouldn't have taken the job.

You looked the time on your phone, exactly reading 2:03AM. You wouldn't go to sleep until you got a call or he knocked, if he didn't then it would feel like a world would crash onto you and kill you in the process.

How long has he gone without any contact? He was only supposed to be gone for a couple of days and you agreed that he would text you every now and then. Being an assassin meant being very busy yes, but would it mean you were selfish? Selfish to want to have at least one word for your lover that he was okay? That he was alive and breathing?

You didn't care if he cheated on you, you didn't care if he sent you a message that you two were over. You just hoped that he was well, alive and well.

At that moment, the sound of keys jingling and the door knob made your heart leap. All negative thoughts swatted away and the heaviness in your body disappeared. Like a dog waiting for it's owner to come back you immediately ran to the front door and saw the man you had been oh so worried about for the past few days.

The light was off and Nagumo immediately assumesd you had gone off to bed, it's wayy past the time you would normally go to sleep.

That is until the light.

Nagumo felt as if he was a teenager getting in trouble by their parents for sneaking out in the middle of the light in those movies or Tv Shows. He stared at you for a good couple of seconds before standing up straight.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Good morning..?"

"..."

The stare you gave him made him feel uneasy, and as much as he wanted to look away he couldn't bare to. Nagumo knew he was in trouble.

Hes dealt with life threatening injuries, strong opponents, hes killed people for god sakes!

But he's never felt more threatened by anything else other then you being absolutely pissed at him.

You let out a long sigh, standing up and about to walk away. Even an absolute buffoon could understand you were beyond irritated by the man who stood in front of the door.

You felt a hand grab your wrist and give it a slight squeeze with a tug following after.

"Listen, I don't know what I did wrong, but—"

"Are you serious?"

Maybe you were exaggerating right now, but the frustration that had consumed you made it unclear for you.

"You could have texted me, called me— fucks sakes I was worried!" You spoke in a firm voice, yet the slightest bit of shaky-ness in your voice threw him off. You were a strong and independent person, being able to take care of yourself would be no problem.

But to have you so worried that you cry for him, for you to hurt for him as he went quiet for a few weeks without a word to you made a small pit of guilt build inside of him. Even so, he won't deny that he was in the wrong for not even sending a letter or a post card.

"Listen sweetheart, I'm sorry I didn't call you. Or answer you, there is no excuse for this, but you do remember that I have told you that my job is dangerous." He spoke sternly yet there was a tinge of softness while he held your hand.

Staring into his eyes, the warmth of just his hand was enough to calm you down slightly. Yes you were still mad, but yelling at him about it won't so any good.

"I... I do remember yes, but couldn't you have reached me out somehow?"

"It would have been risky."

"Well..." You paused, sighing and coming into terms that he was right. "Yeah... You're right, im just tired sorry."

"Ive told you not to apologize about that" smiling, he pat your head with his other hand. "I should have reached you out one way or the other. Now, lets get you to bed."

"What am I? A kid?"

"Yep!"

"... Sigh"

#sakamoto days #sakamoto days x reader #sakadays #nagumo sakamoto days #nagumo x reader #Nagumo yoichi x reader #i hope thats hia actual name or im gonna lose it

[hoeforhao]

↳ ༉‧₊˚✧ * in another life * ༉‧₊˚✧ 🤍

✦pairing : idol! jeonghan x fem! reader

✦genre : smut, phone sex, fingering, masturbation (both f and m), mutual cumming, angst, ex boyfriend au.

✦warnings : explicit language, jeonghan is an absolute bastard here(only the character, no hate towards our angel), manipulation, verbal degradation, heavy angst, unrequited love, one sided pining. tell me if i missed any!

✦word count : 1.3k

✦author's note : took me five shots of vodka to complete writing this as it's a real story, beautified by a writer's mind. not proofread as i didn't have the heart to re read it!

Was it really that easy, as people staged it to be? To be your ex's so called "close friend"? Someone he only came to while being completely lonely or peak horny -

These are the only thoughts that kept storming your mind, whilst your eyes were fixated onto that 'hey hey hey' from jeonghan's pvt account.

Did your brain exactly know what his single hey meant? Hell yes! Did your conscience immediately give in and try to stop you from replying to that? A cent percent yes! Yet your heart knew no bounds. What do they call it? Yes!! Everything's fair in love and war...even if it meant losing your dignity again and again...but come on at least you weren't hoeing around with several -

Quite a dumb way to justify what was gonna come next, right? Shaking all these warning signs off of your body, you respond with -

"Yes sir?"

"Are you home rn, y/n? You know it's night and something just takes over me whenever the sky paints itself dark!!" a short vibration of your phone and jeonghan's message pops up on the lockscreen.

"Yes. I'm home han." oh how you wishes to type hun, oh how you wished to reply affectionately to your lost home, ask him how his day was, is he eating well, remembering to take rest in between dance practices and most importantly caring for his soulful voice. But alas, you couldn't!! cuz you knew his lustful replies will only hurt you more, than you already are.

"You know what I want right, hun?" that one word from him and your heart felt like it was being poked with a thousand icicles.

"I do. Should I? Or you'll?"

"I'll baby. Pick up quick nah!!" this was the last string where all your organs tried their best to hold you back from diving into the fire again...but well...

×××××incoming video call××××××

knowing that picking up his call would mean dirtying yourself for the third time, yet sometimes love makes you do things even laws can't ~

"Moan for me baby, i wanna hear you scream my name while pleasuring yourself"

how even in the darkest corner of your heart, you still had the faintest flames of "what if he greets me like the old times, just once" burning brightly, only to be put to sleep by han's desperateness for your body, not the soul he painted once so beautifully.

"Do you have any special requests? Cuz I don't know what to say" what more where you even supposed to say huh? while you two were together, you would make sure that you went out of your comfort zone to pleasure him. Trained yourself so well in this field that your moans became honey to his ears ; but now, now you've no right over him, no right to call him explicit names. Thus the only way for you was to act just as he directed you to.

"Moan daddy for me bitch, if you wanna see me cum. Ain't that your favorite thing, pretty slut?"

As much as each of his syllables tore the skin of your insides one petal a time, all you could do was abide by his demands, with a heart of stone.

"H-han i wanna s-see you cum so bad, daddy pls" your lips burned aflame each time a word left its crevices.

"That's like my good slut. Now strip for me baby. I wanna see each and every part of your body" instead of his stern angelic voice, all you could hear was jeonghan panting into the speaker as he kept on stroking himself.

Not wasting anymore seconds, you seductively took off all your clothes, leaving you in nothing but all the scars that life has carved out on you.

"Happy now?" probably the most useless question you've ever asked, knowing quite well that it was gonna be a long night.

"You think so? Awee such a naive little bitch you're y/n!!! The fun has just started baby" his mocking smirk irking up on your skin even from another side of the screen.

"Finger yourself until you come undone on the sheets, while screaming my name. Wanna see you doing all the nastiest things tonight."

Muffling in all the cries that your heart has been wanting to blurt out all these time, you just quietly lay down on your back, the cold sheets beneath stippling a wave of shivers through your entire body.

Spreading your legs wide apart, ensuring to give jeonghan the perfect video of your pussy, you gradually slide down your fingers, rubbing gentle circles 'round your clit.

"The prettiest moans I've ever heard and and the prettiest pussy I'll ever see. Such a desperate whore for my dick, aren't you bitch!"

It's as if everything around you was muted all of a sudden and all you could hear was jeonghan praising how much he loved your womanhood, fueling your fingers to slide at a faster rate in and out of your hole.

"J-jeonghan am gonna c-cum...aaaa" even before you could finish your sentence, warm fluids coated your fingers, earning the lewdest groan from han.

"Naughty girls don't deserve the gift so soon. How many times have i told you not to call me -"

"S-sorry daddy! I was lost in pleasure that's why it slipped out of my mind" your hormones were now peaking , thus making you absolutely desperate to see him cum for you.

"Still you need to be punished babygirl. Hump on the pillow infront of you while pinching your nipples hard" han's cruel demeanor echoed through the room.

Not seeing any way out, you sat on your knees to do exactly what as asked of you. At this point you've become his own little porn star who would give him a show whenever his lust wanted.

"I guess my job's done now?" you finally open your eyes, boobs aching from the intense action it got and conscience all blurry.

"Yes baby. Such an obedient slut you're for me. I love to see you beg for me so much aah" jeonghan's moans kept getting loud as he was climbing his high.

"Y-y/n aah I love your pussy s-so much babe" and with this you saw the smooth white liquid ooze out of his pretty dick and onto his stomach. As much as your mind wanted to take in this heavenly sight with as much lust as possible, your heart kept drifting away to the thought of "only if he would move the camera to his face while I watch him sleep all peacefully, face painted with the most beautiful smile this world has ever witnessed...just like the old times".

"Well then I gotta go sleep ig. Bye"

Such a fool aren't you? Expecting the impossible always ; knowing very well that even the heavens can't bring your home back anymore. The shoulder you always leaned on, the first person to ever see you cry, your bub your sugar was now far gone. What was left was a bastard who just keeps on using you for his pleasure.

Well not that it was his fault tho. You've always been the hardest to love.

"Maybe in next life, when I'm as pretty as you're, I'll be lucky enough to hug you to sleep. Bye bub. Sleep well♡" you hushed under your breath before tapping the red button on the screen that brought you the opportunity to at least listen to his voice once in a while....

#kpop #seventeen #svtcreations #kpop scenarios #fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen smut #kpop smut #jeonghan smut #svt jeonghan #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan #seventeen jeonghan #jeonghan angst #svt smut #svt angst #kpop angst #seventeen x you #yjh #jeonghan svt #jeonghan scenarios #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fic #jeonghan fic #svt creations #seventeen imagines