#And this idea was in my head since I first saw the prompt

[fortunekookie07]

Mc disappears on a mission/snowcrest (Days, weeks, author's choice) I want pain, anguish But a happy ending, with a reunion (the only requirement, life is sad enough 😭)

This is the prompt requested, and I got this idea.

Looking for my Heart

The mission seems simple enough, you thought as you read through the file that Jenna had sent. After you had gone to Snowcrest last year with Zayne and temporarily teamed up with the Deepspace Hunters stationed there she had decided to add more diversity to the training. This included rounds in Snowcrest.

This time it was your turn, you were excited to see Dr. Noah and Pie again. It had been almost six months since your last trip. Getting out of Linkon for the first time in awhile was just the refreshing change you wanted.

Zayne had agreed to take you to the train station so you could meet up with your temporary team, but for some reason he was late. This was highly unusual, Zayne was almost never late. He prided himself on his perfect manners.

You decide to take your luggage downstairs anyways. Surely Zayne was on the way or maybe even pulling up to the complex now. Upon seeing the quiet parking lot devoid of his car a pout forms on your lips. You grab your phone and scroll through the texts you'd exchanged and check to make sure you'd told him the correct time and date. There it was, Wednesday morning 9:30, along with his affirmation and yet no Zayne. You decide that this is not ok and immediately tap the phone icon to call him.

Straight to voice-mail, a frown furrows your eyebrows and your lips purse out in frustration. You call again, once more, twice more. You almost lose count at the number of straight to voice mail calls you send. So you type him a text in anger.

I know you don't want me to go to Snowcrest but this is my job after all. If you didn't want to take me you shouldn't have agreed in the first place. Trying to make me miss the train is really petty. You hit send without a second thought and immediately call for a taxi. Minutes later one is pulling into the parking lot and finally you are off.

After getting to the station and finally securing your tickets and luggage your phone rings. Zayne's name and picture flash across the screen. In anger you shut your phone off and stuff it deep into your bag.

You walk down a few cars before finding a seat. Across from you is a family. A little girl is giggling as her father is making funny faces and the mother is quietly laughing as well. A smile crosses your face and then unwanted thoughts pop into your head.

For a moment you see yourself and Zayne in that exact situation. Though he'd probably never actually admit it, Zayne would do anything you asked no matter how silly. To him you'd hung the moon and scattered the stars. A small smile came to your face and you violently shook your head back in forth, uncaring that your hair whipped your cheeks as you did so.

"No I'm angry, we're mad at Zayne. Be mad at Zayne"! You chant softly to yourself before slapping both cheeks. Having successfully for the moment chased away the daydream you sit back in your seat as the train begins to move and look out at the scenery flashing by. Slowly changing from city to mountains.

Two hours later the heaters in the cars came on as the temperature outside had dropped. It was snowing lightly according to the weather report. Your about to get your jacket on when an alert sound on your Hunter's Watch. You look down and see that a there is a Metaflux warning on the screen and the scanner is red.

Immediately your heart starts hammering in your chest as a cold sweat rolls down your back. This is exactly the readings you saw on your first day Hunting.

"Look out"! You scream just before everything goes white and you hear a high pitched screech and then nothing.

**********************************************************

She was standing off to the side holding Dr. Zayne's phone. Finally it was her turn to watch for important calls or messages and inform him of them. Finally she would be able to get closer to him. Oh how she had dreamed of this day! Luck was finally dealing her the winning hand.

At least that was the cloud nine Mia was currently occupying until the phone actually started soflt vibrating. A quick glance at the screen sent her stomach straight to the pits of ultimate fury. How did this stupid girl have Zayne's number? She was always around him. It made her blood absolutely boil staring down at her stupid smiling face and name on the screen. "Humph"! She scoffed sending the call straight to voicemail. Oh how it delighted her to reject that snake's call.

Well that was until the phone started vibrating again almost immediately. She's calling again?!?! Mia thought wanting to throw the device into and inferno.

I've been in his department for two years and she already has his number?? How dare she deceive my Zayne! She sent the call to voice-mail again. This went on several more times and she was almost giddy at having rejected the call five times. A wide smile made its way onto her face as a text message popped in then. Zayne would never allow anyone to talk to him like that. She was riding this wave for the next hour before finally the surgery was done.

Mia quickly deleted the records of the call and then looked up as Dr. Zayne set down his instruments and gave his final orders. He was handing the last of the surgery duties over to his team. They quickly got to work stitching the patient back up. Dr. Zayne walked over to her and her heart skipped a beat as she watched another nurse help remove his scrubs and gear before finally standing in front of her.

He looks so tired, she thought silently handing over his phone. He accepted it and a deep frown immediately hung over his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Damn, I'm late". He said quietly.

"Is something wrong Dr. Zayne". Mia asked gazing at his face. Mock concern on it. Zayne only looked at her before leaving the room. Mia was confused, while it was true they didn't have much contact, he'd never outright ignored her before. She shrugged it off as tiredness. It had been a six hour surgery after all.

Mia left the surgical wing and went back to the nurses station to write down the report she knew would be expected by the end of the day. However forty-five minutes later she was being summoned to Zayne's office. He had directly written an email and sent it to her. This had never happened before. Mia had attended dozens of surgeries with Zayne before, but never had an email come to her straight from him.

She was so elated that she didn't even notice the looks she was getting as she practically skipped to his office. Word of her misdeeds had traveled around the entire cardiac ward and then some, but Mia hadn't noticed. Too busy floating in the clouds to see the disapproving stares and mock sympathy she was getting.

She stopped only once at the last bathroom before turning to his office to check her hair and makeup. She quickly undid the ponytail her hair had been thrown in before and finger combed the strands before relying it neatly. Adjusting her bangs to fall just right across her forehead and removing all traces of smudged eyeliner. Perfect! She thought glancing once more before leaving.

Standing in front of his office door she cleared her throat and raised her hand to knock, but another hand beat her to it. She turned a withering look on her face but nearly recoiled in shock. Standing to her right was the president of the hospital along with his secretary and another Doctor she couldn't remember the name of.

"Come in". Zayne's deep voice sounded from the other side. The president quickly pushed the door open and strode inside. His secretary looked at her. A woman in her mid thirties with square framed glasses a high ponytail with side swept bangs and piercing golden eyes. She looked like an eagle that had just found her next pray. Mia suddenly felt small, all her early excitement and high dwindling rapidly to nothing.

She walked into the room like a timid mouse searching for the cat she just knew was watching her. "Y-you wanted to see me Dr. Zayne"? His green and gold eyes looked at her. Expression flat, devoid of all emotion and even life. Her body started to trembled as she played with the hem of her uniform shirt.

"Did I receive any calls earlier this morning"? He asked her out right not beating around the bush. "N-no sir, your phone did not ring". She was sweating nervously. Why was she being asked this in front of the president. She wanted the floor to swallow her.

"Is that so". He said and the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees with that single sentance. He wordlessly turned his computer monitor around to show what he was looking at and Mia felt her stomach sink to the floor as she stared at a frozen image of herself holding Zayne's phone. It was clear as day.

"Are you unaware that in addition to their being an observation deck above my operating room there are also cameras all over the place? Are you sure this is the route you wish to take"? He asked as her pressed play on the video. You could clearly see her holding the phone and looking down at the screen when the device lit up. The name couldn't be read from the distance but the picture of you was unmistakable.

Mia lost all composure as she ditched her cover. "Why does she get to have your number and hang around you all the time like some cheap skank? It makes me sick the way she's always coming to the hospital like she owns the place. She doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you. She doesn't deserve to breathe at all"! Mia shouted chest heaving from her words and anger. "Who does she even think she is? She's isn't good enough for you"! She went on. There was no coming back from this, Mia had tossed all caution to the wind and she was going down with her sinking ship.

"Are you so self absorbed that you don't even know who my patients are"? Zayne asked, his voice was cold enough to give Mia frostbite as she practically froze. Horror dawning on her as realization started to sink in. "Not that it is any of your business in the first place. She has an extremely rare heart condition and requires weekly checkups to make sure no changes occur. She has my number because I gave it to her....".

Just then the door burst open and several people came in panicked. "Dr. Zayne you need to see this now"! The male shouted grabbing the remote and turning the TV on to the news in a flurry.

"..Minutes ago on the mountain there was an explosion believed to have been cause by metaflux, at the time the train bound for Snowcrest was at the heart of it. As of yet we are unable to get reports of the accident. As you can see drones are trying to get closer bit having no visual luck. The smoke has completely enveloped the accident. We are able to confirm that the train was blasted off the tracks as you can see here". The reported said as a still image filled the screen.

You could clearly see where the tracks ended brokenly and the huge gouge that had been taken as well as the black smoke. All eyes in the room turned to Zayne who had stood abruptly from his chair with such force that it had been knocked over. He scrambled for his phone furiously before tapping and immediately calling someone. The phone went straight to voicemail. Over and over again to no avail, finally he dropped the phone and hung his head brokenly.

He looked up sharply and sent her a withering glare, "The president will deal with you. I need to go". He said directing the last part to the president.

No one said a word as Dr. Zayne left the hospital and drove straight to the train station. He tried calling Dr. Noah, but to no avail. Emergency lines overruled all other communication.

Zayne felt like all his sanity was about to slip away, you were missing and you took his heart with you when you vanished.

*******************************************************

That had been eight days ago, every news outlet was following the story as the very world held its breath. Four rescue attempts had been made with no results. The explosion had stired up all the Wanderers and the area was thick with danger. Rescue workers couldn't fend off the Wanderers and there just weren't enough Deepspace Hunters that could destroy them, protect the rescuers, and look for survivors. All hope seemed to be lost.

As morning dawned on the ninth day something changed, the areas that had previously been inaccessible were suddenly clear. The Wanderer sightings in the first zones had dropped to zero. Even the metaflux readings were bottoming out. Like the forests surrounding the area was reclaiming itself.

Zayne finally ditched the watch the Association had put on him and headed into the wilderness. You the only thing on his mind. He was coming for you no matter what.

*******************************************************

Pain, that was the most prominent feeling you had first as you tried to open your eyes and move. They didn't want to cooperate. Something shuffled near you and then you realized something was holding your hand. At first you were afraid, unable to open your eyes and unable to move. Panic started to set in and with it dizziness. Even though you were already lying down the ground beneath you was spinning. Like a merry-go-round turned on to fast.

Then there was a quiet shushing. "It's alright, please calm down. Your injuries are serious and we have no way to treat them. We barely managed to stop the bleeding. Your eyes have been covered because there were deep cuts on your forehead. In addition your right leg and arm are badly broken. I don't know the extent of all your injuries so please don't move. If it hadn't been for your warning no one but you would have survived. My wife and daughter are alive thanks to you. Please let us help you". A male voice said softly near your ear. A hand brushed your hair back and then there was gentle pressure on your left hand.

A smaller hand had gripped it holding softly. "We managed to put up some shelter, it's been snowing non stop since the accident and the area is not safe. Your watch alerts us to dangers so we're staying hidden. You're a Hunter aren't you"? Those time a female voice was speaking softly. Memories slowly came back, you remembered the family you saw on the train and tears came to your eyes. That family had survived and not only that, protected you at your most vulnerable moments.

With all the strength you had left to muster you squeezed the small hand still holding yours before passing out again. Thankfully in unconsciousness there was no pain and there was also Zayne.

How you missed his cool demeanor and often icy personality. You missed staring into his deep hazel eyes and getting lost in them. You missed him holding you and waking up to him. In your dreams Zayne had already found you and was gently tending all your injuries while hiding how much it pained him to see you in this state.

The next time you woke up all was quiet around you. Carefully you pulled the layers of cloth off your eyes and peered into the dim light. It stung a bit after so much darkness. Huddled around you was a man, woman, and small child. They looked worse for the wear and tou noted cuts, burns, scrapes, and the like on them. Seems they had been extraordinarily lucky to escape with such minor injuries. You took note of the extent of your own injuries for the first time. Breathing hurt if you sucked in air too deeply, seems you can add ribs to the list of broken. Not to mention the burning paid in your side. That was heavily bound with cloth. That must be the bleeding that was hard to stop.

You tried to lift your head but that just sent oy straight back to the world of dreams. All your energy spent on just moving cloth from your eyes and feeling out wounds.

*******************************************************

Zayne was still unsure of the man walking beside him. He sort of knew about your upstairs neighbor and frequent Hunting partner but had never actually met Xavier before. He was quiet hardly speaking and seemed to be emotionless. Taking down every Wanderer that approached.

He hardly even needed Zayne's help, in fact he was pretty sure the man required zero help at all. It was quite a surprise when Xavier had agreed to Zayne's coming along in the first place. He knew there was more that Xavier knew than he would ever let slip. This guy held more secrets than a diary.

When Zayne had told him he was going to find you with ir without his help Xavier relented and off you were. Easily slipping past barriers and blockads headed for the accident zone.

Suddenly Xavier stopped his sled dogs and walked through the trees. In front the train tracks appeared and so did the spot where a huge hole was. Spanning at least thirty feet wide and probably ten feet deep at its center, it was no surprise the train had been blasted off the tracks. One of the cars lay on its top. Windows busted and scorch marks all over the metal. The fire on this one had burned a long time. The smell of burnt wooden, metal, and coal still lingered in the air. The bursting of snow looked odd on the scene. Any tracks that may have been on the snow were long since gone. Dusted over with more snow.

"Not here". Xavier said quietly leading away from the car and walking further away from the train into the woods. The air was dead silent, no animals had been seen in days. Having run away, or too terrified to come out of hiding.

Zayne felt his heart freezing over with the bitter cold. He would not admit the chances of your survival of the explosion until the evidence was thrust right before his eyes.

The hospital had forced him into a personal leave two days after the explosion. He was walking around in a daze, because quite literally his heart was missing. He got angry everytime he thought about what one of the nurses had done. Rejecting your calls like that several times. Her job was terminated that day. The president would not have such a malicious person on staff at Akso hospital. If word got out that patients were treated like that because a nurse thought she was entitled to whatever she wanted their stellar reputation would plummet.

A crunching noise started coming from a few feet in front of them. Xavier dashed forward towards thr sound.

In a makeshift clearing a man was walking their way. He looked beat up and tired as he froze at the sight of them before smiling in joy. It looked like he had been crying.

"Oh thank god"! He cried coming to them in relief. "We need help, the young woman that is with us is hurt real bad. I don't know if she's going to make it. I can't treat her injuries. Zayne felt his blood freeze as a sickening feeling came over him. "Show us". He said and the man immediately turned are hurried back the way he'd come. For the first time Zayne realized there was a tent strung from blankets and branches.

The man pushed the heavy blanket aside and went in. Zayne paused for a moment before he and Xavier followed. As soon as Zayne got a look at who was lying on the ground it felt like his soul left him.

There you were, his heart so battered and hurt he could barely breathe. For the first time Zayne wished he didn't have any medical training ir knowledge. He could easily see every injury and the signs of the ones the untrained eye could not.

A fever had set in and you were shivering despite the blankets on you and the two people huddled near you trying to keep you warm.

"Move aside", Zayne said with a calm he didn't feel. He took his backpack off and immediately searched for the pain medication and bandages. He gave you a shot to dull the pain your broken bones would definitely be giving you. He removed the cloth wrapped around your stomach and examined the injury. He could tell they had tried their best to care for you but lacking any supplies at all it had been a struggle. Signs of infection were already setting in. The jagged cut to your side was deep and would require antibiotics and stitching. Neither of which he had now. He just tried his best to clean the wounds with the basic supplies he had and moves on.

At some point during his treatment, you woke up. Eyes hazy and unfocused. "Zayne can't you find me already"? The fever had made you delirious. "Hurry and come find me Zayne. I can't hold out much longer". He stoked your head and mumbled. I'm looking for you, I'll find you soon. "M'kay". You say before slipping back into a feverish sleep. "We need to get her out of here now". Zayne says to Xavier carefully turning you onto your back and the carefully picking you up.

Your face scrunches in pain and whimpers escape your lips but you do not wake. The pain meds are doing their job, for the most part.

*******************************************************

After what seems like a year later you're waking up. You tense as you realize that you no longer have anyone around you. The little girl is gone and so are the mom and dad.

It takes you almost three minutes to notice that you are lying in a bed now and not on a covered ground with several blankets. Only when you realize that do you also hear the sounds of machines. You blearily open your eyes and see the white walls and the large curtained window on your left.

Zayne is also there, asleep in a chair that just screams uncomfortable. There is a chart in his lap and you realize it's yours. You are glad that you can't read what is written from your angle. You try to turn onto your side and one of the machines starts beeping angrily at you.

Zayne snaps awake instantly and reaches over to press a button. He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. He must be exhausted. You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a whisper. Your mouth is so dry.

Your voice is only a whisper. Instead you try to move your hand. This manages to catch his attention. He is immediately checking you over. Doctor mode has been activated.

"Are you in pain? How is your head"? He fires off questions rapidly. Unable to answer them you point to the water on the table. His gaze follows your finger and he grabs the glass holding the straw for you to sip. "Slowly, not too fast". He gently chides.

"Zayne, you found me". You say not answering any of the questions. "Of course I did". He says matter of factly sitting down and staring at you again. "I know you are too resilient to go down without a fight. You're tougher than that".

You smile softly gazing at him. "I need my heart". He gently takes your hand staring at the ring on your finger. He won't say it but you have certainly put his heart through a beating.

"When can I leave the hospital". You ask and he just sighs. "You're just going to have to stay put for awhile. You're in for a long recovery. The extent of your injuries were no small matter.

"Dr. Zayne I'd like you to return my finacee to me now". You say in a joking manner squeezing his hand.

A long sigh is drawn out from him before he says "just what am I going to do with you"? He leans over and kisses your forehead, both eyelids and then finally your lips.

"I hope you know a person can't live without their heart. Don't make mine disappear again. " You smile, feeling warm with his words.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne x reader #halseyhatter #fic prompt #love and deepspace

[castiwls]

fearless - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'And I don't know why but with you I'd dance, In a storm in my best dress, fearless'

Requested; @fuiabarcelos

Notes;tysm for the request <3 requests are open!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

“What are you doing out here? It’s pouring down.” Sam’s voice surprised you slightly as you looked up from the spot you’d been searching. “Looking for her ring, she’s dropped it.” You picked up the table cover frowning slightly when you saw nothing. 

The day had started off bright and sunny, the day most little girls would dream of for their wedding. The morning of the wedding the weather was warm yet that slowly began to change. You’d noticed around the midday point that clouds had started gathering above but you’d happily ignored it, too caught up in the celebrations to care about the weather change.

Not long after the rain started pouring down on the marquee and everyone quickly rushed inside. During the chaos, your sister had someone who dropped her ring which had led to you offering to stay and look.

Pulling up another table cloth you squinted slightly at the ground until a small glimmer caught your eye. “Ah. Found it!” You held the ring up to him before standing. “Thank god, I was starting to think we were gonna have to find a replacement.” You came to stand before Sam holding the ring out to him. “Put it in your pocket.” 

He nodded taking it from you and placing it into his coat pocket. Letting out a breath you finally looked him over properly frowning slightly. “Is it raining that bad?” He laughed running a hand through his hair feeling the droplets of water run down his arm.

“Pretty sure it’s a storm.” He smiled pulling off his jacket. He threw it over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the entrance. “It’s peaceful in a way.” He turned his head to look at you. In a weird way it was. “It reminds me of that one scene in Singing in the Rain.” You smiled up at him before looking back to the entrave. “I always wanted to try that but my mum was too worried I’d get sick.” You laughed quietly at the memory of trying to convince your mum to let you go out into the rain and bounce around to your heart's content.

Sam thought for a moment. The rain had slowly begun picking up and was now visibly bouncing off the floor of the patio outside. The faint sound of music could be heard from the party which continued in the small hall nearby. 

“Well,” Taking a step forward he turned and held out a hand. “Your mum’s not here now.” Sam smiled watching your eyes light up at his idea. You had to both go through the rain anyway to get back to the venue. Realistically no one would know. 

Placing your hand in his you felt him gently pull you out of the tent. A small gasp left your lips as the rain first made contact with your skin. It was colder than you’d originally thought but the coldness quickly disappeared when you felt Sam pull you into his chest.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing up on your toes slightly as he curled an arm around your waist. Tilting your head back, you closed your eyes feeling the rain gently roll down your face. 

The last few weeks had been the most stressful of your life with wedding planning yet being here made it all worth it. Sam grinned down at you as he slowly swayed back and forth. It had been a long time since he’d thought of marriage, nevermind been to a wedding but being here with you made him think that maybe one day it could be possible.

“I love you.” He whispered watching as you looked back to him. “I love you too.” He slowly closed the gap between you both, pulling you closer by your waist. 

The rain continued to fall as he pulled back before he suddenly spun you round causing a laugh to erupt from you. You both knew there was a high chance you would wake up tomorrow not just hungover but also sick but in that moment none of that mattered. 

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester smut #sam winchester headcanon #sam and dean #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #supernatural drabble #spn x reader #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #dean winchester imagine #spn fanfic #dean winchester x reader #.mine #.spn #.sam winchester

[lulublack90]

Prompt 16 - Embarrass

@jegulus-microfic April 16, Word count 854

Previous part First part

James actually ran as soon as he got out of Regulus and Sirius’s suite. He was so stupid throwing himself at a stranger without even asking if they were single. He thought Regulus would have told him, but clearly not. Then again, he thought, he did tell me to go away repeatedly, and I wouldn’t go. Barty was right to be angry at me. 

His feet had led him back to his own room. Clumsily, he scanned the door card and let himself in. Maybe he’d go out onto the slopes and have a ski. He hadn’t done that for a few days. Not since he ran into Regulus. He could hardly embarrass himself more than he’d already done today.

He had just hauled himself off the bed and started to look for his skiing clothes when the room phone rang. He picked it up in case it was his parents, but they had his mobile number, so it would be odd if it were them. 

“Hello?” He said into the receiver. 

“James? James, is that you? Please don’t hang up. Can you come back, and I’ll explain.” Regulus’s panicked voice buzzed down the phone line. James sunk onto his bed. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Reg. My intentions aren’t exactly platonic, and you have a boyfriend—”

“I DO NOT HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!!” Regulus shouted, clearly aggravated. “Sorry. Barty is not my boyfriend. I broke up with him, and he refuses to accept it. But I swear, James, I would have told you if he were. Please come back.” James ran his hand through his hair as he debated. “Please, James.”

“Ugh,” He grunted. “Okay, fine. Is Sirius there to let me back in?” He’d already stood up and walked towards the door but was suddenly yanked backwards by the corded phone. “Ouch!” He cried as he landed heavily on his arse. 

“You just tried to walk away with the hotel’s phone, didn’t you?” Regulus said, trying to hold back a snicker. 

“Shut up, or I’m not coming.” He hung the phone up and, rubbing his rump, left his room. 

It wasn’t until he was approaching Regulus’s room that he realised he’d never gotten an answer if Sirius was there to let him in. He really didn’t want Regulus to have to hop all the way through to open the door.

As luck would have it, Dr Lupin had just raised his hand to knock on the door. “Dr Lupin,” James called out, waving at the man and jogging the last few steps to get to him. “You here to check on Regulus’s ankle?” He asked with a big smile breaking across his face. 

“Oh, er—I mean—Yes, yes. That’s right. Regulus’s ankle—Yep—Exactly.” The young doctor seemed flustered, with a pink flush creeping over his face. He was saved from further explanation when the door suddenly opened. 

“Remus!” Sirius beamed at him. His face dropped when he saw James standing next to him. 

“Hello, Mr Black. I’m here to check on Regulus’s ankle.” Remus stared straight at Sirius. 

“Huh? Oh—Yeah, brilliant. Thank you, Dr Lupin.” Sirius moved aside and let him in. James flicked his head between the two men but couldn’t figure out what he was missing. He shrugged his shoulders and followed them in. 

They crowded into Regulus’s room, much to Regulus’s surprise. 

“Hello, Regulus. How are you today? I’ve come to check your ankle.” Remus got Regulus to stand and move a few steps as he observed and nodded at his progress. “Excellent. It’s healing well. You can probably do some light exercise with it now. Walk around the suite at least today and try a bit further tomorrow. You should be almost back to normal by the time you go home, though I’m afraid I can’t recommend any more skiing while you’re here.” Remus told him in his doctor’s voice. 

“Thank you, Dr Lupin,” Regulus said as he lowered himself back onto the bed. 

“You’re welcome,” Remus said, straightening his jumper. “I’ve taken enough of your time. If you want a final check before you leave, let me know.” He turned towards the door.

“I’ll see you out,” Sirius told him, following him through the door.

“Hi,” Regulus murmured once they were alone. 

“Hi,” James sighed and sunk onto the end of the bed. 

“I’m sorry if he said anything to upset you. I’ve blocked his number now. Hopefully, he’ll get the message.” They sat there in awkward silence. 

Regulus shuffled himself up the bed so he was propped up by his pillows. “Can we just forget that moron spoke to you and just go back to how we were this morning?” He asked hopefully. “I found a film I think you might like. It’s all romantic, and there’s sword fighting and pirates and Rodents of unusual size.” He smiled shyly at James as he flicked the TV on. 

With very little encouragement, James flopped backwards next to Regulus. 

Regulus immediately snuggled into his side and nudged James’s arm until he wrapped it around him. Regulus sighed contentedly as he put the film on.    

Next part

#April 16 #jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #jegulus au #jegulus angst #james potter #regulus black #james fleamont potter #regulus arcturus black #sirius black #remus lupin #barty crouch jr #james x regulus #regulus x james #regulus and james #james potter x regulus black #james and regulus #clumsy james #Embarrass

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

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

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 

Everything would be done if another city fell.  

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down. 

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did. 

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life. 

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 

Your face gains heat. 

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 

You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible. 

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 

The man forces a weak huff. 

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty keegan #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod keegan #keegan p russ #keegan x reader #keegan russ #keegan x you #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ x reader #call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts x reader #cod ghosts #cod keegan russ #cod fic #cod fanfic #cod x female reader #x fem!reader

[evielmostdefinitely]

cold tonight |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: coriolanus has been neglecting you, busy with the games and his new leadership. you decide to be bold to get his attention.

contains: 18+ smut. dom/sub themes (yes it's snow but everything is consensual). established relationship. spanking. orgasm denial. cum play ??? kinda, creampie, pinvsex. possessive and dark-ish snow.

“Pardon me,” Your spine stiffened, nearly crushing the crystal champagne flute in your hand. You couldn’t see him, but you felt him, lingering behind you, a looming presence; Coriolanus. 

“I apologize for interrupting, ladies.” Coriolanus’ manners were impeccable, even through his fury. “I need to borrow my wife.” His hand was on your waist, an affectionate motion to the outside, but you knew better. You knew with the way his grip tightened, the sharpness of his tone, your actions from before hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

Coriolanus had been so terribly uptight for weeks- preparations for the games, you assumed. It was his first year as President hosting the games. He’d been neglecting you, too consumed with his own work. It had been weeks since he touched you, except the quick kiss goodbye in the morning, and you were beyond pent up. He seemed more relaxed tonight. The reaping was tomorrow, everything in place and ready to go for the tributes, for the sponsors. 

It seemed harmless, really. 

Coriolanus had started it. Kissing you in the car ride over here, his hand gripping your thigh under your dress, hand on the back of your neck, yanking at the loose hairs there- teasing. It hadn’t gone any further. The car pulled up, Coriolanus wiping your lipstick from his face, offering a hand to you when you slid out of the car. You knew you looked flushed in the photos, and you were. 

You went to the restroom, excusing yourself to reapply your makeup, compose yourself. The idea was… scandalous, you supposed. Definitely improper, your mother would faint if she knew you were acting like such a harlot, in public, no less. Still, the idea was thrilling. 

You slipped your tiny, lacy undergarments off, balling them in your gloved hand. “Corio,” You called sweetly, tone drenched in honey, warm and inviting. He excused himself, lured into your entice. 

“Yes, my love?” 

“You dropped these.” You whispered, hoping the flush across your face, your collarbones and creeping up your neck, didn’t give you away. A shaking hand grabbed his, shoving the underwear into his own palm. 

Coriolanus frowned, lifting his hand to see what you put in it, only for you to quickly press it back down. “Don’t.” You shook your head, eyes darting around. “They’re just for you only.” You whispered, eyes batting towards him in a way that had his heart lurching with excitement. 

Coriolanus moved, turned into a corner, opening his hand. He blushed a deep crimson when he saw your panties, slightly damp at the crotch- he assumed from the excitement of the car ride. He had to stop himself from bringing them to his nose, inhaling that intoxicating scent that was unapologetically yours. Instead, he balled the garments into his pocket, shooting you an icy glare from across the room. 

You blushed, eyes batting towards him, turning back to your conversation with a sponsor. Oh, he had half a mind to take you to the middle of the room, embarrass you for being so defiant and bratty- so needy. Too bad for him that he’d grown to adore it so much. It only made punishing you more exciting. 

Now, Coriolanus had managed to break away, after a night of feeling the mocking garment in his pocket, taunting him, pulling his mind from droning conversations with the Capitol's finest. His arm on yours, pulling you away from the party. 

“Corio,” Your heeled steps echoed down the empty hallway. “We can’t be gone for too long. They’ll notice you’re missing and-” 

“-They’ll be fine.” Corio hissed, fingertips pressing into your biceps. He found a closet, filled with cleaning supplies for the servants of the hall, pulling you in with him, locking the door behind. 

You felt small under his gaze, shrinking back until you were pressed against the shelving. “Do you think this is a game?” Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed towards you, a menacing step forward in the small space that had you pressing further into the shelves. “Do you know how highly inappropriate that was? If someone would have saw you-” 

“-No one saw me, Corio.” You mumbled, arms crossing over your chest. You had meant for it to upset him, not really. Only rile him up so it might excite him. “I was careful.” 

“Careful?” Corio scoffed. “You were down right sloppy, my love. Acting no better than the hookers in District One-” 

“-Corio!-” 

“-Perhaps I should just drop you off there.” Coriolanus looked down at you, eyes sliding over your frame. “You’d be dressed accordingly.” He stepped forward, trapping you under his steely gaze. “No panties. You’re filthy.” 

You blushed, turning away but his hand caught your chin, bringing you back to meet his gaze. “You’re out of line. Disrupting the peace.” 

“What can I say? I’m a rebel.” You sneered, biting and challenging. 

“You’ll watch how you speak to me.” Coriolanus snapped, grip tightening around your jaw. “You know better. You do not use that word around me. Do you understand?” 

“Yes…” You whispered, eyes downcast. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his icy glare , so harsh, domineering. 

“Look at me when you’re speaking to me.” Coriolanus growled, face mere inches from your own. Your tummy flipped with heat, eyes cutting to him for a moment before snapping back down. 

Coriolanus’ jaw tightened, lips pursed in displeasure. “You’re not feeling very obedient tonight, are you?” He sighed dramatically. “I’ll fix that.” His hand left your jaw, stepping back, shedding his coat in the small space of the closet. 

You watched him carefully, hands still clasped in front of you, eyes trekking his movements. Coriolanus looked at you, hanging his jacket over the door knob. “Go on. Lift the dress and bend over, grab the shelf.” Your stomach erupted in butterflies, nervous and excited heat coursing through your veins. 

“W-What?” 

“You need to be punished. I would wait until we got home, but I can not trust you to not misbehave any further.” Corio sighed heavily, disappointed, rolling the sleeves of his shirt. He was so quick to step into this role, a flick of a switch and he was so easily domineering over you. It made you throb, thighs pressing together. 

“Corio,” You whispered, as if anyone was around. “Not here. I-I’ll be good, I’m sorry. I was just playing.” 

“Playing?” Coriolanus challenged, brows lifting. “You thought this was the appropriate place to play?” 

“N-No, I just-” 

“-You what?” Corio snapped, a ghosting of a scoff on his tone. “You acted inappropriately and you will be punished. You know my rules. You know what I expect of you, how you’re supposed to behave.” You blushed, knees tightening at the authority in his voice. 

He knew it got you flustered, knew you were probably dripping down your thigh already. It was exactly why he did it. 

“Now bend over before I have to ask you again. You know better. Do not make me get creative in here, darling. I might not have my usual devices, but I will find something in here that will substitute the cane if I have to.” Corio frowned, the threat leaving you shuddering, quickly turning around. There was nothing you hated more than the cane, Corio knew that. He’d only used it twice on you, once to try, the other when you’d screamed at him at University. 

You lifted the silk material of your dress slowly, bare skin covered with chills with every inch of skin exposed. Corio’s tongue slid across his bottom lip, eyes drawn to your drooling lips between your legs, puffy with excitement. How he’d missed them, missed you. 

You leaned forward, shaky hands grabbing onto the shelf of cleaning supplies, bent at the waist and presented for him. “Hm, so you can follow orders?” Coriolanus hummed, hand gliding teasingly over the globes of your ass. “When you want to.” 

You didn’t answer, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs matching the beating in your chest. Coriolanus moved beside you, pulling you close into his hip. “I don’t have long, and I didn’t intend to have to punish you.” He snapped, chastising and mean. You whimpered beneath closed lips. “Twenty with my hand. I don’t need you to count, but you better keep quiet, do you understand?” 

You took a deep breath in, stilling yourself. Corio’s palm fell flat against your ass, sharp and stinging, leaving you gasping with surprise. “I said, do you understand?” Corio sneered. He despised repeating himself, you knew that. You were extremely bratty, in a way you hadn’t been since you and Corio first started playing years ago, when you were first dating. He loved how he’d broken you, got you to submit entirely to him, be his good, obedient girl. 

“Y-Yes, Corio.” You nodded gently, voice meek and quiet. “I understand.” 

“Good.” Coriolanus snapped, squeezing your right cheek firmly. You squirmed under his touch. 

His hand rose, falling just as quick on your right cheek, the fading imprint left behind on your skin before he repeated on the other. You bit at your lip, nails digging into the wood of the shelf with each passing snap. 

The walls muffled the sound and thankfully your tiny squeals of surprise. One particularly hard smack had you jumping, Corio’s hand pressing you back into position. “Stay.” He hissed. You were throbbing, a slick and sticky mess of desire by the time Coriolanus was finishing. 

Two final smacks, the hardest of all, had tears pricking your vision. Your bottom stung, itchy with a burn you were desperate to rub out. You expected more, expected it harder. Coriolanus had gone easy on you. 

You felt him press against your burning ass, and you knew why. His erection stiff in his trousers, flush against your reddened ass cheek. “Have you learned your lesson?” Corio rasped, the same hand he’d spanked you with now rubbing down your spine in a soothing, calming manner. You shuddered excitedly under his touch. 

“Yes, Corio.” You whispered, turning to look back at him over your shoulder, hoping your batting eyes would lure him to touch you, lick you even. 

“Hm,” Corio hummed, unbuttoning his trousers. “I’m not sure I’m convinced, but,” He pulled out his length, leaking from the reddened head of his cock already. Your mouth pooled with spit, desperate for a taste. “I need to do something about this.” He nodded towards his erection, stroking it slowly. 

“Can’t go out there. I’ll look just as desperate as you, then what will they say, hm?” Coriolanus rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, free hand pressing on the small of your spine. “The Snow’s, a bunch of needy whores. Can’t have that, now can we, love?” 

You shook your head, eyes glassy and glazed with desire and the threat of tears from before. Corio grinned, toothy and salacious, pushing into you slowly, without warning. You gasped, biting at the back of your hand. The stretch was burning from the absence, eyes rolling back in pleasure at how he filled you. 

You missed him, missed this feeling more than words could describe. His cock splitting you with every slow, quickening roll of his hips. Fingertips sunk into your hips as he rutted into you. 

“You’ll be good f’me now? Be my good girl? I know you can be. Be good to me, and I’ll be good to you later, I promise, my love.” Corio rasped, breath hot in your ear, folded over your back, buried so deep in your pussy you were sure you were seeing stars. 

You were close, orgasm pulling the coil in your belly tighter and tighter with every thrust of his hips. The way he fucked himself into you, hard and fast and little sloppy, breathy whines of moans pressed into your bare shoulder, trying to muffle your favorite melody. You whined, head tipping back towards him, neck exposed out of habit.

Then Corio grunted. His hips flush to yours, stilling, hot spurts of warmth filling your cunt. You gasped, gripping at the shelf like it was your orgasm, dwindling away just as furiously as it came. Coriolanus’ chest heaved, breath shaky, pupils blown when they met yours. 

You gaped at him, watching as he grabbed the panties from his jacket. You knew he would be quick, it had been a while after all, but Corio always let you cum first. 

Unless…

“Don’t give me that look.” Corio scoffed, a taunting smirk pulling at his lips. “You didn’t really think I’d reward you? After you were so bad?” 

You blinked, lip quivering lightly. His thumb pressed to it, shaking his head. “No, no, no, there will be none of that.” He commanded. “You didn’t earn it, this time.” He dropped to his knees, wrapping one hand around your ankle, lifting it so you stepped into your panties. 

“You can still earn one later,” Corio continued, eyes bright with wicked excitement, like when he was watching the games- watching his torturous ideas come to life. You hissed at the lacy fabric, rough against the sensitive skin of your ass. “If you’re good.” His pillowy lips pressed a soft kiss to each of your reddened cheeks, pulling down the material of your dress. 

“Corio, I-I,” Your legs pressed together, feeling his release move as you stood, threatening to spill out of you. “I can’t keep this in me all night-” 

“-You can.” Coriolanus nodded firmly, lifting his own pants. “And you will.” His eyes darkened at the order, eyes never leaving yours as he fastened his own pants back. “You will keep every single drop in and maybe- maybe I’ll reward you when we get home.” 

Your pussy ached, clenching at the thought, feeling his seed spill into the thin materials of your panties. Corio grinned wickedly, smoothing down his hair before unlocking the door. He checked the hall before stepping out, offering his arm to you. You clung onto the silk of his shirt like a lifeline, legs a little unsteady and shaking still. 

“If you’re good. If you follow all my rules,” Coriolanus nodded to the guard, letting them open the door for the two of you, sauntering back into the party. “I might eat it out of you later.” 

“Corio,” You hissed, blushing, ducking your head towards him to hide your flustered smile. 

The entire night, you clung to Coriolanus, his prized possession wrapped on his arm, on display for all of Panem’s elite to see. His good girl, his obedient wife. One who smiled politely, made small talk about the weather and the games, sipped on her champagne and didn’t get sloppily drunk like the Stillwells’ wife. Everyone waved off the glassy gaze in your eyes as affection, your matching flush for the honeymoon phase still going strong. 

And they weren’t entirely wrong. 

That night, Coriolanus was true to his word. Your legs up in the air, his face between your thighs, pulling every filthy sound possible from you until the early hours of the morning. You could barely walk the next morning, sore and shaky legs, shifting in your seat during the reaping, all while Corio wore a smug smile.

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x you smut #coriolanus x you #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #tbosbas fic #coriolanus snow fic #ficrec #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #president snow #hunger games #the hunger games #dom!coriolanus #dom!coriolanus snow x sub!reader #dom!coriolanus snow #tbosas x reader #tbosas smut #tbosbas #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x reader smut #coriolanus snow x reader smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x oc

[albonify]

Nevermind, Let’s Hard Launch ! - Lando Norris

SUMMERY: Y/N has been reluctant to go public with her and Lando’s relationship, until she builds up enough courage to soft launch, but she gets bored.

WARNINGS: none, reader can speak french

french mon amor - my love, ma vie - my life

Y/N scoffs, putting her phone down. She is currently sitting on a yacht off the coast of Malta, curled up with her boyfriend, Lando, looking out at the water as she gently plays with his hair. Lando, hearing her scoff, looks up

“What’s up baby?” “Articles talking about how you have a new girlfriend this weekend, her names Alice by the way.”

He chuckles and opens his mouth to speak but Y/N cuts him off.

“She’s a brunette and totally your type!” she smiles as she mocks the article.

Y/N fakes a gasp, “Lando, ma vie, did you know that you apparently have a thing for tall brunettes? Because I sure didn’t.” she feigns shock before laughing. Lando just softly laughs at the girl’s antics.

“Baby, you know not to listen to those articles, because i’m pretty sure they’re wrong anyways. Im don’t think I know an Alice” he says, jokingly putting his thumb and index finger on his chin to feign thought.

“Oh i know ma vie, but they are quite funny to look at”, she laughs, “Besides”, she smiles and leans in, kissing him, “I know the truth”.

She smiles at him and gently intertwines their fingers. Lando smiles back at her and kisses her pinky finger, interlocked with his. It’s become a common place for the boy to kiss, having fallen in love with it when he first saw her freckle there.

“Just say the word and i’ll post us Y/N , you know i’ve been dying to let the the world know about you.” he states, looking at her.

“I know mon amor but I i’ve seen how girlfriends get treated online, and i am in no way ready for that.”

She sighs as she snuggles her head into the crook of Lando’s neck. Lando puts on a sad smile as he gently brushes through her hair.

“i know baby, but i promise, when we do go public, anyone who has hate to say will be dealt with, i wont let them get in the way of me and the girl i love.” Lando says softly.

Y/N smiles into his neck and leave a soft kiss to skin, she loves kissing his neck, its her sign of affection, totally nothing to do with the fact Lando just has a nice neck…

Lando, in return, moves her hair and kisses behind her ear, another common place for the boy to kiss, before his smile turns into a grin and he starts to gently tickle Y/N.

Y/n shouts softly “Lando no! stop!” inbetween her laughs.

Lando just start tickling her more adjusting their position so he is above her making it easier to tickle her, this time less gently as it prompts more laughs.

God how he loves Y/N’s laugh. he could listen to it all day.

It’s not until she starts kicking her feet against the couch that he stops.

Y/N looks at Lando, his grin still prominent as he catches his breath, his messy hair asking to be played with, and she thinks she falls more in love at the sight.

At the same time Lando just looks at her, her hair all disheveled, slightly out of breath, her cheeks pink, and her smile still beaming, its at this moment Lando knows it’s her forever.

“I love you so much baby” He says as he kisses her softly.

Y/N kisses him back saying, “I love you too mon amor, more than you could ever know”. She smiles before her eyes drift and Lando recognizes that look, she’s in thought.

He lays down softly kissing her cheek before looking at her, “What you thinking about baby?”.

Y/N looks up at the sound of his voice, “What if we soft launch?”.

Lando lights up at the idea of finally being able to show her off, “Are you sure love? we dont have to if you dont want to”.

“Yeah im sure mon amor, t we’ve been dating since our teens and i know it’s you Lan it always has been and it always will be, not even the internet will change that. so yes Lan, im ready.” She smiles softly reaching up to touch his hair.

Lando smiles brightly, slightly blushing at her comment, “Im glad because I feel the same way” He leans down and kisses her. When he comes back up his grin has become a smirk.

“Well what are we waiting for?” he asks “LET’s SOFT LAUNCH” Y/N laughs and grabs her phone.

landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 384001 others

landonorris summer break was epic

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user LANDO WHAT ITS THIS

oscarpiastri great break huh? 😏

-> user OSCAR WHAT DO YOU KNOW

-> landonorris yeah, it was pretty good!

-> user why are men so dry 😐

user THE SECOND SLIDE?!!! jdksndowmendk LANDO.

yourusername 🤍🐚

user IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH

-> user did you hear that? that was my heart shattering.

user ladies i fear this is a soft launch, we lost him 😔

maxfewtrell wtf mate, why dont i know about this?

yourusername

🎶 High by the Beach - Lana Del Rey

liked by bsf.user, friend1.user, and 209 others

yourusername 🌊🤍🐚

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bsf.user UHM HELLO?

bsf.user WHO IS THAT

bsf.user WHO IS TRYING TO STEAL MY GIRL

-> yourusername 🤷🏼‍♀️🤭

-> bsf.user UNACCEPTABLE.

bsf.user you look so absolutely stunning tho 🤍🤍

-> yourusername i love youuuu 🤍

friend1.user oh so we have a lot to catch up on then?

friend2.user oh youre glowing babes 💋

It’s been a few days since you and Lando soft launched. You were happy to see most people were supportive but you were still nervous.

“What you looking at baby?” Lando asks.

Right now you where tanning on the beach with a book in your hands, lando was soaked, having just came from the water. “Reading and thinking my love.” you reply.

Lando moves to lay on you, “what are you thinking about pretty girl?” he asks as he closes his eyes, joining her in sunbathing.

“Our soft launch” Y/N replies. At that Lando eyes widen, “is something wrong with it?” he asks worried.

“No my love, I was thinking about what if we did more.” “more?” Lando asks confused.

“Yeah like what if we hard launched?” Y/N said nervously picking at her cuticles.

Lando grabs her hands to stop her and looks at her, “You… want to… hard launch?” he asks her confused, knowing that she loved the privacy they had. “Yeah i know its you and i know the internet wont get in the way of us, so i want to hard launch”

“OMG OKAY im gonna go do that right now i love you” Lando quickly kisses her and runs to get his phone.

Y/N laughs at the boys excitement and grabs her phone waiting for whats next.

landonorris

🎶 Cupid’s Chokehold - Gym Class Heroes

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 875,527 others

landonorris 5 years with you, to forever more years. i love you forever my dear 🤍

tagged: yourusername

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yourusername the best 5 years of my life, cant wait for the rest. onto our forever my love 🧡.

yourusername

🎶 Always Forever - Cults

liked by landonorris, bsf.user, and 145,683 others

yourusername i’ve loved you 5 years of my life and i plan to keep loving you for the rest. toi toujours, ma vie 🧡.

tagged: landonorris

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landonorris i cant wait to get married and get old with you. i love you now and forever flower 🤍.

—

🏷️’s

@fangirl-dot-com @lizzypiastri

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #lando norris fanfic #ln4 fic #lando norris fluff #smau #f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader

[flamingpudding]

Ghost Twins: Lost in Gotham

A/N: I finally got my copy of AGIT and it sparked this prompt idea, I might continue on...

"Of all the times why were we thrown into a different dimension…"

"I am not happy about this either, twerp."

Danny gave his body double a scorching glare. Dan only shrugged as he leaned back into the park bench, hiding a chuckle. Even if the situation was dire, it was kind of funny too. Good things had changed so much since he got a human body. Danny had become more of a brother to him than his nemesis or time original, especially since Danny had gotten the crown and was trying to smooth things over for ghosts and humans. Plus he finally understood why Jazz like to tease them so much as her younger siblings. He got to tease his time original / cousin / 'younger' brother now too, well he did see himself as the older one when they could technically pass as twins.

"We are stuck looking like this! Our powers don't work and I can't open a portal, Dan!"

"And what do you want me to do about it? Clockwork is not responding to either of us."

Dan studied Danny who was still pacing in knee-high snow, then looked down at his hand which was smaller than he remembered. He tried reaching out to his ghost powers but nothing responded. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Danny stopping his pacing and looking back at Dan, his voice soft from resignation.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"It's... nothing." I don't remember what I did last. Why do you ask?"

"It's the same for me. We are stranded for some unknown reason in an entirely different Dimension in six-year-old bodies, with no clue or solution to get home and our ghost powers being all wonky as shit! And clockwork won't react to us yelling his name into the snowstorm we are currently in! At least we are cold-resistant!"

Danny resumed pacing in the snow, kicking random little snow hills he was making with his pacing as he ranted. Dan was watching him from the park bench with a scowl of his own. Both had found themself waking up to each other in a pile of snow in a park that was located in a city they had no idea about, the only thing they had was a green sticky note with the words 'Code Bat: Different Dimension'.

That led to Danny yelling for clockwork into the starting snowstorm. They knew their powers weren't completely gone. Wherever they were they were in a place with a lot of ambient ectoplasm.

"We should look for a way out of the snow twerp. Even with cold resistance, we should stay out here." Dan huffed as he tried to make out the buildings around them outside of the park, Danny instantly stopped pacing tilting his head.

"Where should-"

Both boys yelled in absolute horror as they suddenly got picked up and were carried like a sack of potatoes under the arms of strange guys. Instincts kicked in and the two instantly fought back but the guys carrying them didn't appear to be bothered.

The wind whisked past their ears making hearing anything difficult until they finally got put down next to each other. Instantly Dan took half a step before Danny, glaring at the ones that abducted them from a park. "Who the fuck are you, guys?!"

"Language kid. And I should be asking what the fuck you little kids were doing out in the middle of the worst Snowstorm Gotham had in a long time?" The guy in a red helmet said towering over them with crossed arms. "I know you street rats are smarter than staying out in the open like this. Don't you kids have a shelter?"

Street Rats? Okay, so what if their clothes looked a little ratty? Hold a second. Danny and Dan looked at each other briefly as if for the first time noticing how worn the clothes they had looked compared to what they were used to wearing. Great so not only were they in twin six-year-old bodies but also wearing such worn-out clothes that people saw them as street rats.

"None of your fucking business." Dan retorted, the fun of the situation now gone and anger and frustration settling in as he glared at their abductors. Danny on the other hand tilted his head miming the confused child as he stared up at them.

"We got lost."

"You got lost?" The other guy in blue with a mask asked them unbelieving and Danny only nodded.

"Yup, we got lost."

Dan watched how the two adults playing dress up exchanged glances. He peaked back at Danny and then back at them. Before making a probably short-sighted decision.

"Fuck this!" He said out loud and grabbed his twin's hand. Once more he reached for his ghost core and powers, internally yelling at it to get a response. And it worked, sort of.

He felt intangibility wash over them so he attempted to escape by phasing him and Danny through the ground only… to get halfway stuck as the old on his ghostly powers got lost. Dan's eye twitched as he realized he was stuck in the ground up to his tights.

"Dan what the fuck?!" Danny who was now stuck knee-deep into the floor yelled.

"I was at least attempting to escape!"

"We are stuck now! This is even worse! You could have just let me talk our way out of this!"

"Oh hell no. I remember the others saying often enough that you should not do the talking!"

"Phasing us through the floor is not better at all! Our powers are wonky or did you forget that?!"

While the twin boy's where fighting Nightwing and Red Hood exchanged worried glances.

"Hood…"

"Yea… Probably Meta Twins on the run."

"I will contact the others."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dan phantom #jason todd #dick grayson #dpxdc #dcxdp #prompt idea #crossover #Dan and Danny could pass as twins #de aged #de aged danny #de aged Dan #unplanned dimension travel #they don't now why #Did they really dimension travel? #I might continue on this #So who's gonna adopt the boys? #Bruce or Jason? #Maybe even Dick? #no beta wie die like danny

[penny00dreadful]

STWG Prompt: I Couldn't Lose You

Happy birthday @hitlikehammers, you deserve the world!

AO3

“He’s dead.”

Something must have been wrong with his brain. Maybe all those hits to the head had finally caught up with him. Maybe his audio processing was fucked or he was hearing things.

He had to be.

Because there was no way in hell this doctor just told him Eddie was dead.

“He’s what?” Steve asked with a slight shake of the head, like that would dislodge whatever was making him hear this incorrectly.

“He’s dead, Mr. Harrington.” The doctor repeated, his fingers tensing around his clipboard.

Steve could feel the crease in his brow, his confusion was probably plain all over his face. 

It didn’t make any sense.

“How could he be dead? He can’t be dead.” He replied. “I only just saw him.”

There was no devastation, no heartbreak, no clawing grief and no screaming agony. 

Because it didn’t make any sense.

The doctor looked on in sympathy. “Mr. Munson took a very quick turn-”

“A turn of what?” Wayne snapped, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at this ‘doctor’. “How did he turn?”

Steve glanced behind the doctor to look into Eddie’s hospital room again. The empty bed, the crisp sheets, the quiet monitors. Flowers gone. Cards gone. Eddie’s stuff sitting in a chair near the door.

It was almost like he’d never been in there.

When did they have the time?

Steve and Wayne had only left his side for ten minutes. It was the first time Eddie had been left alone since he came into the hospital, half dead and bitten to hell.

And Steve and Wayne had come back to find a doctor waiting for them by the door.

A doctor that Steve didn’t recognise. In a town with less than 5,000 people.

“His fever got quite high-”

Wayne scoffed. “Eddie didn’t have no fever.”

“Sir.” The doctor sighed out, frustrated. “Your nephew was very sick. And gravely injured. Situations like these can turn fast.”

Steve and Wayne glanced at each other, the both of them seeing the same suspicion reflected in each other's face.

There had been no alert over the PA system. The nurses station hadn’t been scrambled. If Eddie had taken a sudden turn, if Eddie had died… a young twenty year old suddenly dropping dead would have had half the floor flooding in trying to save him.

Not to mention Steve was pretty sure that doctor, if he was even really a doctor, was breaking the Hippocratic Oath by telling him this information.

Steve wasn’t family, he had no right to that information. The doctor hadn’t even asked Wayne before he started talking, he just started talking.

Steve could be anybody. 

Something super fucked up was going on. They needed to find Eddie and they needed to find him fast. 

“I understand this must be very hard for you.” The doctor said with a solemn face. It was very convincing. He must have gone to acting school. “Would you like to see him?”

Steve’s mind screeched to a halt again.

“Excuse me?”

“He’s down in the morgue.”

Bullshit he’s down in the morgue. But Wayne’s face was remaining hard and with one curt nod, he began to follow the doctor down the hallway.

It only took a glance back for him to communicate that he wanted Steve to follow him, to come with them. Either as backup or as emotional support if it did turn out that Eddie was dead.

Which it wouldn’t.

Because it couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t fucking dead.

Steve also really didn’t like the idea of leaving this floor unmonitored. He just felt… there was something in the back of his head telling him that he needed to keep eyes up here.

As they approached the nurses station and by extension, the elevators, his saving grace turned the corner.

“Just one second.” Steve said to the two of them. “I need to talk to my girlfriend.” 

Wayne snapped his head over to him and when Steve nodded in Robin’s direction there was a moment of complete and utter bewilderment on his face before he masked it.

With a small nod, he sent Steve off and Steve could see all of the questions running through Wayne’s eyes but he didn’t have time. 

Robin’s eyes got wider and wider as he approached, opening his arms up for a hug and a weary, “Hey baby” before he pulled her into him, turning them so her back was to the doctor.

“Code Red. Eddie’s missing.” He whispered into her hair, keeping his nose buried into her neck to hide the movements of his lips. “They say he’s dead. We’re going down to the morgue. I need eyes up here.”

He just fucking hoped she’d be able to keep a straight face, that she’d get it, that she’d go along. 

Though he should have never doubted. 

Not for one second.

Robin was silent only for a moment before she ran a hand up and down his back with a little sombre nod. “Remember. Will’s body was found in the Quarry.” She whispered back.

Steve didn’t have time to figure that one out, Robin was untangling herself from him with a sad smile.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I’ll tell the kids.” 

She turned his head to kiss him on the cheek and then gave him a light push back towards Wayne.

Steve leaned against the elevator wall and he stared down at the floor. The three of them were carried down in silence, but Steve’s mind was whirring.

Was Robin suggesting there might be a body down there?

A fake Eddie? Made to look dead?

But how could he tell? How would he be able to tell?

From what he’d heard, Will’s fake body was like a clone of him. Hopper had only been able to find out it wasn’t actually him by cutting into him.

There was no way he’d be able to get close enough to cut in. He probably wouldn’t even be allowed to touch. They might try to keep him at a distance. 

And there was no way to warn Wayne about what might be coming. 

The doors dinged open and Steve was out of time. 

Down another hallway and through another set of metal doors, there was already a gurney out in the centre of the room covered in a white sheet, the shape of a body clear as day underneath, like they had been expecting them.

Despite, despite Steve knowing in his bones that that wasn’t Eddie. That that wasn’t his boy under there, the sight still sent his heart lurching.

He could feel the apprehension crawling through his skin and he almost asked them not to show him.

There were two doctors standing by the doors, almost like sentries, big and bulky. Their lab coats were too small on them and they were watching Steve and Wayne like a pair of bouncers.

The doctor they had travelled down with looked to Wayne and with his nod of approval, pulled the top of the sheet back.

Dark curly brown hair spilled over the side of the table. Skin so pale it was almost white in death glared across at them and it was Eddie.

It looked… it looked just like him. 

Wayne took a shuddering breath in, took a step closer and was stopped by a hand on the shoulder.

“Hey man.” Steve snapped, far too loud in the cold metal room, unable to keep his own emotions out of his voice. Because what if he had been wrong? “That’s his family. Get your fucking hands off him.”

The ‘doctor’ holding Wayne back glared at Steve like he was ready to disappear him under a black bag. 

“It’s alright son-”

“No, it is not alright.” If Steve needed to create a scene to get them their way, then Steve was going to create a fucking scene. “Do you know who my father is?” He asked, all but sticking his nose up in the air.

The corner of Wayne’s mouth ticked up ever so slightly. It made Steve’s skin crawl to invoke the status of a man he couldn’t fucking stand, but he needed to do something.

Steve wrenched the doctor's hand from Wayne’s shoulder and he wouldn’t be surprised if he got punched in the face for it, he was almost expecting it but the doctor who had led them down here spoke up.

“It’s- it’s okay, Vince.” He said, a little panicked, like he hadn’t really planned this far ahead and didn’t really know what to do in the face of Steve’s tantrum.

Wayne seized upon the opportunity to take a step closer and Steve followed in his shadow.

He had to know. 

He had to know if that was really his baby lying on that cold and impersonal gurney.

Steve turned his back on the two guards and while the doctor they had come down with watched Wayne like a hawk as he reached a hand out to brush Eddie’s hair away from his face, Steve took his opportunity.

He kept his movements out of sight of the guards behind him, and kept them small enough so they wouldn’t draw the eye of the other doctor in front of him. 

He slipped one of Eddie’s fingers into his hand through the sheet and twisted.

It went easily. Twisting around on itself without any resistance. 

There was no bone in there.

It was like it was just full of cotton.

It wasn’t Eddie.

It wasn’t Eddie.

Steve closed his eyes and felt the tension drain out of him.

But then he heard a sniffle to his left. 

Wayne.

Fuck, how was he gonna tell him?

How was he gonna get him out of this room so they could go find his boy?

They were running out of time.

“I have to go tell the kids.” Steve muttered, with as much sympathy as he could. 

Wayne looked at him, his watery eyes searching, almost offended that Steve wasn’t more upset until it seemed to hit him that there was a reason for it. 

Wayne searched his eyes again, asking a million, million questions, but he must have eventually settled on some kind of trust because he gave Steve a short nod before looking back down at the fake body, his gaze a little angrier than it had been.

Steve didn’t waste a second, couldn’t waste a second.

He turned and left the room as calmly as possible but as soon as he was out of sight of the guards, he ran as fast as possible without creating too much noise.

The ride on the elevator back up to Eddie’s floor was excruciatingly slow, everything was taking too long. Why was everything taking so long?

Eddie had to still be in the building somewhere.

They wouldn’t have had the time to take him out of the hospital completely, they would have needed the people, they would have needed to be sure no one saw them move him down to the ground floor.

The elevator dinged and the doors had barely started to open before Robin threw herself in, furiously jabbing at the button to take them back down.

“Rob, what the-”

“Lucas saw an ambulance pull into the ambulance bay from the wrong direction and it looks brand new, not like any of our usual rust buckets. Jonathan’s got the car running with Argyle standing by. Dustin and Mike think they’ve found the room he’s being held in downstairs but it’s locked.”

“Not for long it’s not.” Steve growled and Robin grinned at him.

“Thought you’d say that.” She plunged her hand into her pocket and pulled out a handful of bobby pins. Steve was forever finding them lying around his car, she always had some on her.

“Perfect,” he said, taking them from her.

“I can’t believe this is how you’re finally gonna use the lockpicking skills Eddie taught you.”

“I can. It sounds like something out of one of his stories.”

Robin snorted and the doors opened. 

The hallway was thankfully deserted, except for Mike, standing at the end and waving them forward.

Steve and Robin followed him through the corridors until they ended up just outside the Ambulance Bay, Dustin hovering next to a closed door.

“In here, in here!”

“How do you know?”

“A nurse was talking to a janitor about why it was locked. He told her there were some chemicals being stored in there but you can’t store chemicals out here, there’s too many temperature variables and the weather-”

“That’s all we have to go off of?” Steve cut him off, but even so he still dropped to his knees and started to fit the pins into the lock.

“He’s in there, Steve. I know it. What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? Stop distracting me.”

“How do you know how to do that?”

“Enough questions, Roast Beef.” Robin pulled the brim of his hat down but then looked around and asked, “Where are the guards? Shouldn’t there be guards?”

“Erica had a seizure.”

“Erica had a what?!” Steve practically shouted, nearly losing his grip.

“Not a real one, obviously.” Mike sniffed. “But the guards were dressed as ambulance guys-”

“Ambulance guys.” Robin muttered.

“Yes. Ambulance guys and so they had to help. We screamed at them to help.”

Steve drowned them out, focusing all his attention on getting this fucking lock open. If it didn’t open in the next five seconds he was gonna break the fucking door down- 

He felt the lock catch and with a quick turn to the side, the door gave a little creak as it opened ever so slightly.

Steve was barely on his feet again before he burst into the room, being met with cold concrete and steel shelves and a hospital bed awkwardly wedged in between them all, no monitors, no tubes, nothing but a pale body lying in a thin hospital gown.

“Eddie.” Steve called, making his way across in less than two steps, bending down to scoop him up. He was fucking freezing and knocked out completely. “Eds?” 

He shook him just a little, hoping to get him to stir but Eddie didn’t stir, his head lolled against Steve’s arm and he was just dead weight. 

At least he was breathing.

“Is he okay?”

“Why isn’t he waking up?”

“Did they sedate him?”

He shoved his way out of the room, ignoring Dustin and Mike’s questions. 

“Where’s Jon parked?” He asked Robin, already heading towards the Ambulance Bay doors. “Can you take care of-” 

“We’ll get Wayne, we’ll get everyone else. He’s just around the corner.” Robin’s eyes went wide at the sound of footsteps running towards them. “Go!”

Steve took off. 

He’d thank Robin later, he owed her his life.

He clutched Eddie tight to him, shielding him, curved over him and nearly tripping over himself when he heard a door slam somewhere behind him and shouting echoing around him.

But then he saw the car.

Jonathan was behind the wheel and as soon as Steve turned the corner he started revving the engine, while Argyle threw the back door open, twisting over the passenger seat to get to it.

It was a little less than graceful, stuffing Eddie into the back seat and practically falling in on top of him as Jonathan took off, tearing out of the hospital with the door still open and Steve’s legs still hanging out. 

But they got away. 

They’d made it away.

For now.

Steve was able to pull himself fully inside, slamming the door closed behind him and cradling Eddie into his lap.

“Where am I going?!” Jonathan shouted back at him, one eye on the road, one eye in the rearview mirror.

There was no one following them so far.

“I don’t know! I don’t- The cabin!” Steve shouted back. “Get us to Hopper's cabin!”

“This is fuckin’ wild, dude.” Argyle whooped. “Born free!”

Eddie let out a soft little noise, rubbing his face into Steve’s shoulder and curling in on himself. His skin still felt like ice under Steve’s fingers.

“Stevie?”

Steve looked down at him, surrounding him as much as he could, rubbing up and down his arms trying to bring some warmth back in. “Yeah, it’s me baby. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

Eddie hummed against his neck. 

“They stole me.”

“And I stole you back.” He pressed his lips against Eddie’s forehead. “I’m not letting anyone or anything take you from me.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“I don’t care. I couldn’t lose you. Not again. I couldn’t.”

Eddie grinned up at him. “You didn’t.”

“No,” Steve whispered back. “I didn’t.”

AO3

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #penny00dreadful #eddie x steve #stwgdailyprompt #dailydrabble #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic

[ozzgin]

Hi, first i wanted to thank you for doing my first request, it's amazing 😍. Since you did it so fast i wanted to ask for something else.

Could you do something with a Prehistoric reader. She's from the Jurassic like Pickle, she was frozen and brought back to life like him. However she's less agressive and a bit smarter than him. I kinda saw her like a big ( dangerous ) mama Bear, who likes those tiny humans.

I trust you for the rest, you can choose if you want to write about first meeting with fighters (which i find funny in the anime by the way ), how she was during Pickle's fight or what's her interactions with the fighters ...

Thank you for reading this , bye.

I’m so glad you enjoyed it! The speed may vary depending on how easily I can visualize the prompt, since I need a solid movie in my head before putting it into words. Not very efficient but so far it’s been working haha. :’)

Baki Characters x Prehistoric! Fem Reader

Featuring Pickle’s challengers: Kaiou Retsu, Katsumi Orochi, Jack Hanma and Baki Hanma.

Backstory

A million thoughts raced the scientists’ minds upon discovering not just one, but two subjects perfectly maintained within the saline block. Were you partners? Would it be possible or expected that you continue your ancient lineage? While the idea was incredibly tempting from a researcher’s perspective, it was equally dangerous. They considered separating the two of you in order to avoid the risk, but they soon discovered that your help was needed to protect everyone else from the enraged prehistoric man.

The female specimen seemed to have a much more docile and cooperative temperament, with strong maternal instincts. Could it be that she viewed the much smaller modern humans as children? (Y/N) wasn’t that dumb. She could very well tell that these new forms of her own image are matured, but she could also easily asses how fragile they are based on their extreme fear and helplessness against Pickle. They haven’t showed any intent to attack her or Pickle, so she had no reason to be hostile. Pickle was rather frustrated by her frequent scolding, but his expressions seemed to indicate that (Y/N) always had a kind heart towards weaker creatures and it wasn’t his first time having to satisfy her pity. He begrudgingly accepted it.

The Meeting

Truth be told, most of the men had gathered in order to measure up Pickle’s strength. And he was eager to prove it after his quick encounter with Yuujirou’s mysterious techniques. It was only when you stood up and let out a warning growl that they realized the faint beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. Pickle had immediately cleared the way and even the Ogre himself grounded his stance, ready for anything. What a majestic creature, they all thought. Feminine beauty carefully chiseled into a powerful physique, adorned with muscles that would put any bodybuilder today to shame. The same arms that lovingly cradle infants with motherly devotion could easily crush bones and twist frail bodies.

The smell of fear lingered for aggravatingly long moments. You gently placed your large hand on Yuujirou’s shoulder and used the other one to point behind him. Only then did they notice the bright helicopter lights and pleading voices asking them to evacuate. You were looking out for them.

Kaiou Retsu

He’d love to challenge you. Truly. But not only are you a woman, you’ve also never shown Pickle’s excitement for battle. He respects your decision and would never impose his wishes on you.

After his fight with Pickle, he wakes up intact and notices you standing over his wounded body. A miserable smile spreads over his face as the realization hits him: you just don’t want to harm them. That’s why you never fight.

He’s not sure what hurts most. The damage Pickle has done, or his ego after realizing that all you have for them is pity. He’s going to need to find other ways to impress you.

Retsu later catches you trying to reproduce some of his moves and wonders if he’d be allowed to teach you martial arts. Or would that make you too dangerous?

Katsumi Orochi

Unlike Retsu, the damage he’s done to his arm couldn’t be prevented. You allow Pickle to remove the limb given the extensive injury.

Like a father that just played too hard with his children, Pickle follows you around apologetically, as if explaining he had no fault in this.

Katsumi is a little shocked to find you in his hospital room. Embarrassed to be seen in such a vulnerable state by someone like you, he waves his arm frantically and rattles the sheets, mumbling explanations and reassurances. You just stare in confusion. He forgot you can’t understand language.

You wonder if he can survive with one missing limb, as back in your day this handicap could’ve proven fatal in the long run. Should you provide the food for him? The hospital staff entrusts you to deliver Katsumi his meals after they noticed you hunting in the guest garden.

You insist on helping with grooming duties like hair brushing, though Katsumi had to thoroughly gesticulate he’s not as open to being naked in front of you. Please don’t assist him when he’s changing his clothes. Let him have the last remaining bit of manliness.

Jack Hanma

How stubborn! Jack is the first one to feel your mama bear anger. After the fight with Pickle he kept coming back for more, despite being barely conscious. Pickle was becoming increasingly afraid of upsetting you and would throw you worried looks, unsure how to proceed. Eventually you put Jack in a headlock and dragged him back to the hospital yourself.

The next time Jack wakes up, he notices you standing in the door frame, arms folded and flexed in a threatening manner. He can’t help but chuckle at the view. To think that a woman would have such an iron grip on him. Well, you’re no ordinary woman.

As before, you’re unsure of his recovering abilities. You attempt to feed him yourself several times and Jack has to politely suggest that he’s not as frail as you might think. Though somewhere deep down he might secretly enjoy being spoiled like this. He’d never, ever admit it.

Baki Hanma

Baki took you through a rollercoaster of emotions; from being worried that such a tiny, young boy insists on challenging the prehistoric man to squealing in shock at his unexpected strength. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d be able to defeat him if you were standing there instead of Pickle.

Unlike the others, Baki has no issue relying on you. In fact, he’s almost shameless about it. Absolutely he is too injured to walk! You can go ahead and carry him. He’ll quickly wrap his arms around your neck and cling to you, grinning.

I think he’d really love the idea that someone as strong as you is also kind and likable. He doesn’t have to worry about proving himself or that you’d look down on him. He’s really craving this newly fond protectiveness of a mother.

He likes teasing Pickle by holding onto you whenever he sees you. The Jurassic man has been on the edge ever since you’ve started becoming attached to these tiny humans. He almost can’t get a moment alone with you. Which makes him extra irritable. You sigh at the two menaces that find new ways to mess with you.

#baki #baki the grappler #baki x reader #pickle baki #kaiou retsu #jack hanma #katsumi orochi #baki hanma #baki headcanons

[nichoswag]

Hey Rei! I've been thinking for a while if I should send a prompt request or not, but here we go. 😂 (Hope you'll like it lol)

So my idea is #15 "Please stop flirting with me, my parents are right there." with a fake dating trope. And the idol who first came to my mind was Heeseung, I feel like he would match this well! You're free to decide the atmosphere of the story, I, personally was just feeling funny haha. I hope you'll have fun with this request! <33

flirt . lee heeseung

prompt: "please stop flirting with me, my parents are right there."

pairing: fake bf!heeseung x gn reader

warnings: fake dating au, lots of flirting, kissing, teasing, like one light innuendo

song rec: into it - chase atlantic (warning: song is extremely sexual)

a/n: hii marine! admittedly i did push this to the top of my list because i feel a bit more inclined to complete reqs from my moots ♡ sorry it took so long, but i did have a lot of fun with this request!! i hope you enjoy :))

if someone were to ask you how you got in this situation, you honesly couldn't say you have a clue.

walking into your childhood friend's parents' house hand-in-hand with him, you're still questioning how you got here.

well, to put it simply, you and heeseung grew up together. you even went to college together, and now you're back home together. but, you're now actually together.

at least, that's what you've told both of your parents, after constant nagging and pleading from both ends for you both to date someone. so, your solution was to pretend you're both dating each other.

now, you're shaking due to the nerve of the roles you're both about to play.

heeseung squeezes your shaking hand that's placed in his, sending you a reassuring smile. "hey, it's fine. we're only doing this to get them off our backs."

your heart flutters at his smile and the kind action.

mrs lee opens the door for the both of you. "____! it's so nice to see you," she exclaims, pulling you into a hug.

"moooom," heeseung whines. "what about me?"

she chuckles. "oh, hush. i haven't seen ____ in years."

as she welcomes the two of you into her house, you realize how natural this feels after all. besides, you and mrs lee have always been close, as your moms are best friends, so she's like a second mom to you anyway.

heeseung leads you through the wide hall into the large dining room. sending you a wink, he pulls back your chair for you. you send him a weird look as you sit down, but he ignores it and pushes your chair in, taking a seat next to you.

diagonal from where you and heeseung sit, your fathers are arguing about who's lawnmower does the better job. you chuckle at their pettiness as your mother chastises your dad for picking a fight over such a stupid thing. things haven't changed at all.

you're immersed in a conversation with heeseung until someone takes a seat across from you. it's heedo, your fake boyfriend's older brother.

and your childhood crush.

there's a girl sitting next to him, and they're holding hands, just as you and heeseung were a few minutes ago.

heeseung seems to notice your curiosity, because he leans closer to speak into your ear. "that's yeri, heedo's girlfriend." he takes your hand again and squeezes it. "are you okay? we can leave if you're uncomfortable," he offers, knowing about your long-term crush on his brother.

you shake your head. "i'm alright. just surprised."

he nods, understanding. "are you over him? i mean, you've dated since you last saw him."

"i think so, actually." you smile, nostalgia hitting you suddenly. "he was my childhood crush, so i guess it's just weird for me. it's not like i haven't seen him with a girl before."

you remember the time you saw him making out with a girl at a party him and heeseung had thrown in high school while yours and their parents were on a trip. you'd then gotten drunk on wine to the point of throwing up, and heeseung had held your hair back half the night at your house while you threw up.

then, when he brought his first girlfriend for dinner with his parents. heeseung had invited you over, not knowing he was there with his girlfriend, and you'd spent the evening crying in his room while he held you.

heeseung grins at you, seemingly remembering those nights too. you feel eternally grateful to have someone like him in your life.

he presses a kiss to your temple, seemingly trying to keep up the act. "you hungry, cutie?"

you nod shyly, blushing as he ruffles your hair. "starved."

within a few moments, heedo and heeseung get up to help their mother bring plates of food from the kitchen and set them in the middle of the large dining table.

yeri stares at you across the table. you feel self-conscious as she eyes you up and down, as if she's analyzing how big of a threat you are to her.

heeseung catches a glance at her eyeing you as he sits down, sighing as he realizes what's going on. he glares back at her, and she just smiles innocently, fixing a napkin on her lap. she glares at you as she kisses heedo on the cheek.

"what's her problem?" heeseung whispers in your ear.

you shrug. "i have no clue. I've literally just been sitting here."

he rolls his eyes. "i hope she doesn't cause a scene."

dinner does end up going without a hitch. besides a few more glares from yeri when heedo asks about your experiences in university and settling into your new job, you feel at ease. even when yours and heeseung's parents ask how you two began dating, you're able to answer the questions just as the two of you practiced earlier.

you notice heeseung looking at you with an expression you don't recognize throughout dinner. almost like admiration, except his eyes are fiery. you just think he's playing the role of your loving boyfriend.

mrs lee brings out a tray of sweets. "anyone hungry for dessert?" she practically sings.

heeseung grins and leans close. "mine's already here." he places a hand on your knee.

you choke on your own spit, and he pats your back. "please stop flirting with me, my parents are right there," you whisper-yell into his ear as everyone stares at you both.

your hear giggles, and you realize everyone must have heard what you said.

your mother smiles sweetly at the both of you. "don't worry, we're not judging you. the two of you are adorable."

you blush furiously, and heeseung ruffles your hair again.

yeri huffs from across the table, and you realize she must be jealous of the attention you two are receiving as a couple, not insecure of her relationship. she busies herself with fixing heedo's collar aggressively.

he grabs her hands as the attention turns to them. "what is your problem? you've been like this all evening. can't you just act normal?"

heeseung stifles a laugh from beside you and you nudge him with your elbow. "what's funny?"

he leans over to whisper in your ear for the third time tonight. "just that they're seemingly an actual couple and they get along worse than us."

you giggle, and yeri turns to glare furiously at you. "what the fuck is funny, you callous bitch?"

there are gasps all along the table, and heeseung nearly stands up defensively before you grab his arm to pull him down.

"don't think i haven't noticed you flaunting you perfect boyfriend all night." she laughs mockingly. "you're like a three. how did you manage to pull that guy?"

"get out." heedo glares at his probably soon-to-be-ex girlfriend, motioning towards the hall that leads to the front door.

"what?" her tough front cracks as she wears a scared face. "heedo-"

"i said. get. out." he gets up, pulling her up with him and marching toward the hallway.

you can hear the yelling and screaming still. "i've told you before, she's like a fucking SISTER to me! who are you to talk to my family like that?" "SHE WAS TAUNTING ME WITH HER PERFECT GUY-"

eventually, the screaming is muffled as it seemingly continues outside.

mrs lee gains her composure and proceeds with setting out the dessert. "kids these days are so dramatic. minus my ____, of course. you're an angel."

you smile at her. "thanks, mrs lee."

her smile falters. "honey, why don't you just call me 'mom?' i'll be your mother-in-law eventually, anyway."

you nearly choke again, and heeseung stifles a laugh. "just go with it," he mouths.

you smile again. "sure, mom. thank you for the dessert."

dinner wraps up rather quickly after the dramatic scene. heedo returns at the very end, looking very disheveled as you and heeseung make your way up the long spirals stairs to his room, where you'll both be staying the night.

heeseung lets out a long laugh after he closes the door to his childhood bedroom, nearly slumping against it. "that was a train wreck. heedo has terrible taste in girls."

you giggle. "he should've just chosen me when he had the chance."

heeseung's smile fades. "no, i rather like having you to myself."

your feel a twinge of pain in your heart at the way his smile drops. "hee, i was just kidding. i told you, i'm over him. i think i like someone else now, anyway."

the smile that began to creep onto his face at the first part of your speech drops again as he hears the last part. "oh." his shoulders slump, face looking dejected.

you catch his face in your hands as he turns away from you. "hee, do you really not realize who i'm talking about?"

his eyes widen in realization. "you mean..."

"yes, i mean i like you, lee heeseung." you grin at him.

before you realize it, he's taking you into his arms and picking you off the ground and you're spinning through the air. you both giggle as you come back onto the ground.

now flustered, you look away from him "so..."

"i like you too, ____. i thought that was pretty obvious." he ruffles your hair yet again, pulling you close by your waist.

you giggle. "it kinda was."

he looks at you for a moment, gentle gaze flickering between your eyes and lips. "can i kiss you?"

you nod, and he leans down to connect your lips gently. you wrap your arms around his neck, one hand resting on the nape of his neck, and the other tangling in his hair.

he pulls away and you lean your head against his chest, breathless.

"fuck, i think i might be in love with you." the words leave your mouth before you can even think about what you're saying.

he smirks down at you as you meet his eyes, yours wide. "yeah? what makes you think that?"

you inhale sharply. "you've been there for me through everything since we were kids. my heart hurts when you're sad, i feel angry when you're angry, and i'm happy when you are. also, i always find myself missing you when you're not around. i think that's love."

he smiles, eyes shining brightly. "if that's the case, i love you too."

minutes later, you're settled in a pair of heeseung's clothes, waiting on his bed for him to come back from the bathroom.

as he enters the room, your heart races. you've spent nights together as friends, no biggie. but now, it's the real deal.

he sprawls out on the bed beside you and turns to look at you. "cuddle?" he asks, opening his arms. you practically dive into them as they wrap around your body tightly.

you realize you feel safe here. that to you, there's never been any place safer than in his arms.

©nichoswag | do not copy my work or repost onto any other platform.

#rei answers ♡ #rei prompts ♡ #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen smut #enhypen headcanons #enhypen hard hours #enhypen soft hours #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung #heeseung enhypen #heeseung fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen heeseung smut

[anonymouslosersworld]

continuing the bloodline

Prompt; Mc is the last of Solomon's bloodline wouldn't a half-demon baby be cute especially if it was with a certain king. (Mc's Depravity just wants to see a specific view after all they offered once.)

Summary: Mc just wants to breed and knock up some very pretty demons.

Genre: smut (m)

Fandom: what in hell is bad

Characters; 2 out 4 Kings of hell Satan and Mammon

Warnings : Dom Mc, creampies, overstimulation, voyeurism, sub! character, m-preg just normal mc horny stuff.

Intro: Satan/Sitri/Ppyong, once told Mc that demons can't have kids on their own, for demons to have kids they would have to go to Lilith and ask for her help due to complications. But many demons just go to Earth and fuck humans because it's more compatible/easier. (this is in-game when they talk about Lilith and her role in demon society a little.)

So Mc, the last of her line looks into this topic (for research purposes, obviously) and finds out it's the demon that gets knocked up no matter the gender. Now Mc can't get the image of their favorite demon knocked up. (Not canon info)

Satan (666 words)

He understands he offered it when he got affected by the angel's blood, but he didn't think you would take him up on it. But ever since he presented the idea, you kind of took it with you. You didn't take the suggestion right away, but you had a certain look about you every time you saw Satan. You basically eye-fucked him almost all the time, but your eyes would linger around his stomach.

At first, he thought you were just fantasizing about his dick or basically just salivating over his abs. But then the touching started, and he could only describe it as oddly comforting but a little confused.

Before, during, and after you guys fucked, you would just rub his kiss marked-stomach. He was constantly asked if he had any cravings or would be inspected to see if his nips were swollen. It wasn't until the angel attacks calmed down and things were finally settling down that your actions were doubled. You were just taking him everywhere. You would pull him away from events with nobles just to do him in a separate room, shoving your tongue down his throat when he spoke to Sitri, making him cum from playing with horns and groping his cock whenever you felt like it. You were insatiable, and Satan began to put things together...eventually.

His horns were like a faucet, leaking all over his body. His hands are tied up with a makeshift tie on his headboard using his own shirt. His pink overall was shoved off of him.

His face was hot. His brain was foggy, and his eyes rolled back.

"so pretty~" He finally hears for a long while.

Your tongue takes a good, long lick of the cream that fell on his nipple from his horns. Satan's body shakes as he breathes heavily through his nose. Your body leaned over his as you continued to lick the devil's essence off his chest; after all, you need it to live.

Satan looks at you, dazed, as you sit back on his cock. He watches as you cheekily smile at him when you finally finish swallowing all of his cum.

"I'm going to make you a daddy, Satan~" You leaned back down to whisper into his ear.

"f-fuck!" The warmth wrapped around his cock was beginning to be too much, but your words made his cock burst. His thighs spread a little more. His cock practically throbbed while in you.

"You like that, baby?" You tease him as your hand presses on his stomach.

"You want a baby right here?" Satan lets out a shakey breath. '' You are the only one that I want to give my baby to." Your hands gripped the base of his horns yet again, and Satan's back arched.

Oh~" he could practically hear your smirk. "I didn't think they would get more sensitive."

Satan's head feels like it's going to explode. His mind is going a mile a minute as he keeps thinking of having a baby with you. Him being full and having a baby in him. His cock is deep inside you; he can feel your insides pulse around him. Satan feels your hips rocking, taking his cock back in and making his head dizzy. Was this why you kept fucking him over and over again? Was this why you kept his cock inside you long after you both came?

You were trying to make him pregnant.

"You'd look so beautiful with you full of me."

He whimpered in response. The tip of his cock had swollen up since you had basically promised him a baby.

He thought of his stomach swelling with your love.

a baby

"F~uugh!" Your lips bit into his neck. Your teeth are breaking his skin, and your tongue is soothing and lapping up after.

"I can't hear you, baby." Your lips moved from his neck to his ear. You take the liberty to nip the tip of his ear. "Go on, keep going."

"F-fuck a baby into me."

Mammon

You took one look at his massive tits and ass. He walks around hell in all kingdoms, claiming you are his master and claiming to be yours. Why wouldn't you think to breed the shit out of his fine ass?

He practically encourages you to be as greedy as possible and lets you touch him ALL over whenever. Something about this man makes you absolutely feral.

Maybe it's the off-the-shoulder, free-the-titties look that really did it for you. But for some reason, you loved seeing and feeling his gold-fingered claws dig into your skin or whatever was in his reach whenever the pleasure overwhelmed him.

The man's tits alone make you salivate at the mere sight, but when you mark them up with HICKIES, bites, scratches, and lick marks,.

It became the norm for Mammon to walk around Tartaros with all types of evidence on him. Mammon would walk with a spring in his step and a beam of pride whenever he even caught a reflection of the physical marks you left him in someone's eyeballs. All because you were staking your claim over him.

"I want everything," you repeated his favorite phrase to him. Both of your hands squeezed Mammon's tits as you had him underneath you. His body shivered, and his nips were swollen from you sucking them. You had taken orgasm after orgasm from him. His body was sensitive, and the remnants of chocolate on his abs clung to him. Your expert tongue had basically fucked his tits and stomach.

"It's all yours, master." The nail marks on your back stung, but you smiled at him as you took one of his fingers to your mouth. Your eyes reflected possessiveness, but your whole aura was bathed in lust. You would give Asmoudues a run for his money.

"I want all of you, Mammon." He whimpered as he felt you move against him again while the vibrator worked deeper inside him. Your ass looked amazing as you rode him. He loved the view of your ass as you rode him. You more than welcomed him to grope your ass as you gripped his thighs, leaving marks. He could feel your cum deep inside him from previous rounds.

"I-iingh, all yours; take everything. All that I am is yours."

"Have my treasure, Mammon." Your voice got a little deeper. " Let me fuck it into you. No one will have this treasure but you."

He can mostly see the back of your head but he could see a hint of a blush. He grounded his hips harder into you at the thought of you breeding him. He was already fucked out, but he couldn't help but want more. All the cum you shot him was safely kept inside him with a deep-tissue vibrator you had received as a gift from Beelzebub. The ultimate way of staking your claim over him

"y-yes, fuck yes!" he moaned loudly as he came " m-master, more" His face was red from blushing as he repeated what he said to you.

''let's make your wish a reality."

#what in hell is bad x reader #what in hell is bad #what in hell is bad smut #sub whb satan #sub whb #whb mammon #whb satan #whb #whb mc #dom reader

[won4ver]

hii, eires!! so i just saw your prompt list (super comprehensive, i'm in awe) and this idea immediately popped into my head as i was reading through them: their friends find out you’re not as scary as you look + you rub your cheek against their chest

and in my mind, riki starts dating someone but he's always been secretive about her when it came to the other members. they only ever saw her in passing since he doesn't want to hang out with her at the dorms where 6 other (stinky) boys live. and she has a very cool/cold aura about her and a rbf (much like riki 😭) so they worry she's mean or up to no good but in the scenario they stumble upon a cute and fluffy scene where riki and her are all lovey w each other :> and teasing ensues and riki gets all embarrassed and grumpy and she ends up being nice lol. it doesn't have to include all 7 of them, and you can pick any other prompts or ideas!! but that's my suggestion, yea :D

✈︎ the perfect moment

pairing : idol!bf!riki x fem!reader

warnings + genre : slight angst. fluff. teasing. riki gets angry and storms off. height difference.

wc : 2k

a/n : HIII N STOP I LOVE YOUR REQ SM??? i literally loved writing this so much, you’re literally a genius. i hope you like it, and that it lines up with your expectations! this was my first ever request so i’m a bit nervous lol. PLS LMK HOW I DID🫶🫶

“Have you spoken with Riki today?” Jay looked up from his phone at Heeseung’s worried tone, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried recalling a time he talked with their youngest member within the last twenty four hours.

“Uh no, why?” Jay tried not to let his nervousness show, barely stopping his voice from wavering. It wasn’t unusual for Riki to be away from his phone during their days off. If anything, it was expected of him.

Ever since he’d gotten together with you, he’d always spend his free time with you, typically spending the entire time at your apartment. 

But what wasn’t usual was him going no contact the entire day. Usually, he’d pop a few messages every couple of hours, informing his members about his plans and his sleeping arrangements.

“He hasn’t responded to anyone’s messages, Jake is getting worried because Riki told him that he’d call around noon and it’s-” Heeseung made a show of turning his lit-up phone screen towards Jay, bold numbers in the top center, “already seven.”

As if to confirm Heeseung’s words, Jake began spamming their group chat, questioning every single member about his whereabouts.

Jay gasped as he remembered his last conversation with Riki, one that took place just as he caught Riki leaving around six in the morning. “He’s with YN. I’m pretty sure they went to her family’s place in Incheon for lunch.”

Heeseung suddenly recalled Riki informing them about his trip a few nights ago, an excited smile on his face as he rambled to his members about how much he’d been looking forward to today. 

“Oh” The two boys shared a look, their expressions clearly troubled as they both thought back on the same memory. They didn’t mean to completely dismiss Riki’s excitement. They wanted to be excited for him, but it was hard.

They both remembered the way they all grimaced as they heard your name, their evident disapproval showcased on their faces. It was clear to everyone that they didn’t approve of you, well it was clear to everyone except for Riki up until that moment.

They all watched as his face dropped, confusion filling his eyes as he questioned them about their expression. Heeseung almost wished he could go back in time to stop himself from humiliating you in front of everyone, to stop himself from making his wrongful assumptions in front of your boyfriend.

He could hear his own words loud in his ears as if he said it all over again. “Riki, I don’t think she’s right for you. She’s never once shown any intention to even meet any of us, she just seems stand-offish.”

If that didn’t completely throw your boyfriend off, then his leaders following words definitely did. “She doesn’t seem like a good person to be around, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen her smile.” 

Heeseung saw the way Riki completely hardened at their words, his eyes glaring holes into them as he stood up from his chair. He could feel the way he flinched when Riki’s chair screeched against their dorm floor as he stormed outside, his house shoes still on.

“I feel bad about what happened that day.” Heeseung shook out of his reverie as he glanced over at Jay, his eyes glazed over the same way. “He’s barely said a single word to any of us since then. He literally gave me the cold shoulder yesterday!” 

It was clear to everyone in the group how much Riki cherished you. They saw it in the way his entire body perked up at your name. Or in the way they all watched him stay up late making little origami bouquets for you even when he had an early schedule.

It was so easy to dismiss all his acts of love because they’d never seen the two of you in action, only seeing a small glimpse of you as their managers dropped Riki off at your apartment for your weekly sleepovers. Or when they caught sight of you sitting in their company lobby while waiting for your boyfriend, head cladded in black headphones.

They all remembered the way you’d react when you caught them looking, the way you’d avoid their eyes and look down at the floor. Your oversized jeans and graphic hoodies didn’t help with their image of you either, your style matching their youngest perfectly. 

Those small peaks were enough for them to form their own opinions of you, enough for their dislike of you to build to the point of spilling in front of your boyfriend.

Jay felt his phone buzzing in his hand, a phone call from Jungwon coming in as his and Heeseung’s conversation paused. “Hello?” Heeseung couldn’t hear what Jungwon was saying over the quiet radio, their manager ignoring their conversation as he sat bobbing his head in the front. 

“Okay, Heeseung and I will reach the dorm first, once we get home I’ll try calling Riki again.” As soon as Jay ended the call he was quick to summarize their entire conversation, Heeseung nodding along as he agreed to call Riki as soon as they returned.

Their dorm was completely silent as they unlocked the door, all lights turned off sans for the smallest ray peeking from under Riki’s door.

Both boys’ eyes widened as they saw two pairs of shoes beside the door, a small awe of amazement leaving Heeseung’s mouth as he saw their matching shoes. “Jay, look! They literally have matching dunks.” He bent down to untie his shoes, eyes never leaving the smaller pair. 

“Her feet are so small, how tall is she?” Heeseung shrugged in response, their limited knowledge about you showing in their questions.

“Riki told me that she’s five three, she literally barely reaches his bicep.” Both boys jumped in shock as Jake appeared behind them, Sunghoon, Jungwon, and Sunoo following close behind him.

“You actually almost just gave me a heart attack” Sunoo snickered at the two boys before he paused in front of them, just now also noticing the shoes sitting beside the door. “Oh my god?” He gasped, a hand flying over his lips as his eyes sparked. “I think that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen?”

Jungwon leaned over Jake’s shoulder to see what everyone was staring at, regret coming back in full force as he recalled what he said to Riki.

Everyone settled down on their couch, their outer attire still around their shoulders and they relaxed for a minute. Through the silence in the living room, they were able to hear a small feminine giggle, one followed by a laugh they recognized as Riki’s right away. 

Jungwon stood up from his spot, tilting his head towards the door with wide eyes. They all stood frozen in spot as they finally heard the quiet music coming from his room, barely loud enough to hear over your giggles.

All the boys shared a knowing look, deciding this was the moment they’d finally properly meet you. They all stood around Riki’s door, Jake in the front as he gently grabbed the door handle. They all watched with bated breaths as the door opened, releasing it as they saw that neither of you heard it.

All their jaws dropped at the scene in front of them, the pure innocent scene in front of them not only melting their hearts but changing their thoughts on you.

The sight that welcomed them was one straight from a romcom, everything down to the way you looked into each other’s eyes was filled with nothing but love.

You stood in front of Riki, one hand entwined with his with your other wrapped tight around his waist. Your cheek was resting against his chest, chin pointed up as you looked him in the eyes with the brightest smile on your face.

Riki’s smile mirrored yours, hearts barreling out of his eyes as he held you tight against him.

Your feet were on top of his, sock-cladded heels elevated in the air as you stood on your tippy toes. For the first time since they’ve seen you finally ditched your jeans and an oversized sweater, both of you wearing your matching sets of lotte world pyjamas. Riki’s filled with small pictures of Lotty, and yours with Lorry.

Riki quietly hummed along to the music, playfully singing random parts to you. 

These moments together were his favourite, the soft ones that were shared between just the two of you. In your private world without the perceptions of others ruining your moment, it was perfect.

Well, it was perfect until Jay accidentally awed out loud, both your heads snapping towards Riki’s ajar door. Riki reacted before you, gently lowering you onto the ground and pushing you against his back, hiding you from the others’ view. 

Riki could feel your nervousness, your hands rubbing small shapes into his stomach as you held him tighter. Riki glared at his members as he felt your heart racing against his back, his protectiveness coming out in waves as he broadened his stance to hide you better.

“Is there something wrong?” Sunoo could barely keep his smile down, even with Riki’s glaring eyes he still looked completely harmless.

His long hair was done up in a half-up ponytail, his zigzag headband pushing his bangs out of his face. “You guys are so cute!” Riki raised an eyebrow at him in confusion, eyes losing their sharpness as the members started complimenting the two of you over each other. 

“Can you all leave, please? We’re kind of in the middle of something.” At your boyfriend’s surly wording, you gave him a soft nudge to the back. He quietly apologized to his members as they all gaped in amazement, “You got in to apologize with just a tap? We need you around more.” Riki turned red with embarrassment, closing his eyes tight as he focused on your hands around his waist.

You finally peeked out from behind your boyfriend’s back, automatically being met with all six boys staring at you with a soft look, small smiles greeting you as you looked from member to member. Riki felt you wiggling behind him, his protective instincts coming up again.

He turned his back to the members as he held you against his chest, looking down into your eyes for any sort of discomfort. When you nodded at him with a smile he finally stepped to the side, his hand clasped around yours as he pressed his side completely to yours.

Seeing your height difference in person differed completely from just hearing it from Jake. The actual image of the two of you beside each other was one they’d never forget. 

“Hey, you’re yn, right?” You nervously nodded your head towards Heeseung after looking into Riki’s eyes for reassurance. Heeseung smiled brightly at your cute acts, a tender affection filling whatever disapproval he held before.

Heeseung walked towards you, ignoring Riki’s warning looks, and reaching his hand out toward you. “I’m Heeseung, Riki’s eldest brother.” You wrapped your smaller hand around his own, your anxiety almost completely washing away at his gentleness.

“It’s nice to meet you. Riki had told me a lot about you.” Riki groaned out loud as you outed him, a soft whine of faux annoyance leaving his lips as he tugged on your entwined hands. “Don’t tell him that! That was supposed to be our secret.” You looked away from Heeseung to look at your boyfriend, a big smile on your lips as you gave him the softest look you could muster. 

“I mean it’s fine, you can tell them anything” Riki looked away from you with flushed cheeks, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he tried to hide his lovesick smile.

“I didn’t know you could slow dance, Riki.” The room erupted with laughter as your boyfriend groaned. You easily allowed him to disconnect your hands so he could tackle Jake in a headlock, loud “la la la”’s leaving his mouth as they all teased him.

“Riki, dance with me!” Heeseung joined them, acting like he was going to wrap his arms around Riki’s waist. “Baby, help me!” Riki tried calling you for backup, only to let out a sigh of betrayal as you joined their teasing.

Even if your relationship with his members started off rocky, there was nothing any of you would change about this moment. It was completely perfect.

#won4ver ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི #won4ver ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི requests! #nishimura riki fluff #nishimura riki x reader #riki fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen ff #kpop fluff #niki fluff #enhypen ni ki fluff #ni ki fluff #enhypen ni ki #ni ki enhypen #ni ki x reader #enhypen niki fluff #nishimura riki #enha fluff #nishimura riki oneshot #nishimura riki soft hours #niki enhypen #enhypen x reader #nishimura riki scenarios #ni ki scenarios #enhypen niki scenarios #enhypen riki #riki enhypen #enhypen riki scenarios #enhypen fluff scenarios

[fraugwinska]

Hello, wait are your requests open? 😅

If yes - i have an idea? :)

Per Charlie's decision everyone goes out for a night out in the town. You stay at the hotel as you weren't feeling well. Thinking the hotel is empty you carelssly leave your room and head to the bar and lounge area. To your surprise it's already occupied - Alastor is drinking whisky and listening to jazz on his old radio. He is already tipsy as he starts slowly dancing with himself. You don't want to interrupt but before you can go back he calls to you and asks if you want to join him. I just really need some tipsy and more relaxed Alastor thay slowly openes up to the reader. Bonus scene: you two fall asleep on the couch and wake up to the whole group staring at you two with the wildests reactions lol

This was such a cute prompt - Thank you for suggesting this, dear Anon! It's a little shorter, but I really like it - hope you do too! :>

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

More than words

Thirsty. You are thirsty.

That's the first thought you had when you woke up from your nap. Hell really had eternal suffering, with migraines being just as annoying and painful in hell as they were on earth. You had woken up with pain behind your eyes, and you knew in that exact moment you had to tell Charlie you wouldn't be able to go out tonight, because knowing yourself it would last the whole day and leave you exhausted by the evening.

You peeled yourself out of bed, realizing with relief that the pain and the dull pressure were gone almost completely. One or two glasses of water and a strong espresso, and maybe you were even able to get a good night's sleep. So you threw a cozy, fuzzy cardigan over you and headed to the kitchen. You had expected creepy silence, since it didn't happen often that everyone went out all at once, so you were surprised to hear the faint sounds of pianos, trumpets and drums when you were halfway down the staircase. Maybe Charlie or Husk had left the radio on? Without real reason to you tiptoed the last steps down, peeking around the corner of the corridor leading to the bar. What you saw made you both speech- and breathless.

Alastor, with a glass of whiskey in hand, humming along to Boogie Man by Sid Phillips, eyes closed and dancing just for himself – tipsy, slightly uncoordinated swing steps that might've looked impressive if he wasn't... drunk? At least a bit buzzed, that was for sure.

You watched him in fascination, tapping and twirling, while you contemplated what to do. The only way to the kitchen was through the foyer, which meant you had to pass the bar, ergo Alastor. But you weren't sure how much he would appreciate you catching him in this... state. Yes, you were on good terms, you would even go as far to say you were friends, but that stage of relationship was far too fresh to risk changing it by angering him. You decided that your bathroom sink had to provide the much needed water and fuck the espresso, you turned around to sneak back to your room.

���Oh, I didn't know there was an audience for my show!“

Fuck.

You glanced over your shoulder – Alastor looked you straight in the eye, swaying a bit, grin loose and eyes a little clouded. He sounded more amused than angry, something you didn't expect, but were fucking grateful for.

„Sorry, Al... I didn't think you were home, I just wanted to get some water and head back to my room.“ „Ah,“ Alastor took a sip of his drink, golden brown liquid leaking from the corners of his mouth down to his chin. With careless fingers he wipes it away. „So eager to leave little ol' me hanging...“ He pouted. Alastor, the radio demon pouted. You asked yourself if you might have migraine-incited hallucinations.

„Alastor, are you... okay?“, you ask, carefully turning to him.

„Fantastic dear, just fantastic.“, he muttered, eyeing his now empty glass, „Although drinking in company would certainly be more pleasurable than drinking alone.“

He walked back behind the bar, steps still a little wobbly, and poured himself another, giving you an opportunity. It was the deers crude way of handing you the choice - You could leave now, if you wanted.

Instead, you wrapped the cardigan tighter around yourself, suddenly very aware of your lack of decorum, and with a few steps, you were in front of him, sliding onto one of the stools. Alastor tilted his head at you as you leaned on the counter, both elbows on the slightly sticky surface and face in your hands, sighing.

„Alright tapper, as long as you don't bring my headache back, pour it away.“

----------------------------***----------------------------

„... and wouldn't you believe it, the next time this idiot saw me he just ripped off his whole arm and threw it at me!“

Alastor laughed, loudly and boastfully, slapping his thighs. You joined in with your own laughter, more like a cackle, tongue and restraint loosened by his choice of drink for you – mint julep, apparently one of the only cocktails he knew how to mix, being a favourite from his time in the 1920's. The fresh and cooling drink went easily down your tongue, and both of you had been chatting away for the last hour, mostly Alastor telling you funny anecdotes and you laughing at his stories till your mouth went dry.

While you drank slowly, Alastor rushed every drink down his throat like a parched man. With wonder you watched him, amazed by how much he could take, word unslurred and speech still crisp and transatlantic. The only indicator of his drunkenness: his choice of words became more and more crass. It made you giggle uncontrollably whenever he used profanities that were so unlike him. 

“Can you blame him? That poor man probably didn’t want you to rip it off again - might just do it himself and save the trouble!” “I didn’t even get to the best part, darling - He owned a fucking second hand shop! Ha Ha HA!” He bellowed with laughter,looking more like a mischievous school-boy than a terrifying overlord and you slapped his arm. “Alastor, stop, you’re making this up!” “Absolutely not, it’s the irony that makes the story even more comical.”

You shook your head, stirring the mint leaves in your glass.He was much more easy-going than normal, his cheeks tinted in a pretty shade of red. The biggest difference was his everlasting smile. Tight and wide normally, it had become a loose, content one, playful without the malice it usually carried. He looked even more handsome that way.

“A penny for your thought, cherie.”, he chuckled, arms crossed on the countertop and leaning in closely. The proximity brought the smell of bourbon, warm wood and nutmeg with hints of vetiver. The stronger version of his natural scent. Tasty. The thought shuddered through your mind and you swallowed it quickly with the rest of your own drink. “I just thought about a Chaplin quote that came to mind.” He leaned on his hand, blinking in curiosity, half-lidded eyes telling you to continue - you and him had a thing for his movies, you've watched City Lights together multiple times. “A man's true character comes out when he's drunk.” You mirrored his gesture with a smile of your own, bringing your face even closer to his, which seemed to startle him. “And I gotta say it’s a shame you’re not drunk more often.”

Alastor pulled back, grasping for the whiskey bottle as he avoided your gaze. You were confused - had you offended him? You sat yourself upright, ready to apologize, when he cut you off.

“Better not to reveal this kind of secret to just everyone, my dear. It’s only the ghost of a man long gone, anyways.” He sighed at the bottle in his hands, realizing it was empty. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. “Please, you may tell that yourself but I’m not a medium. That man isn’t gone. He's only hiding, deep down in there.”

Foolishly your brain didn’t remind you that Alastor didn’t like to be touched. You reached out, putting your hand flat at his chest, right where his heart would be. As for Alastor, his alcohol-dazed mind couldn’t catch up with what you were doing fast enough. Your palm pressed down, receiving the soothing, soft warmth he always radiated through your sensitive skin, like an old radio that had been left on for too long. His eyes widened, you felt him inhale sharply, yet it took another few seconds for him to react, flinching back.

His barstool wobbled, swinging dangerously, and like in slow-motion he fell backwards, only letting out a small, ulfiltered “Shit!” before he disappeared behind the bar. You jumped up, stuttering “Sorry, sorry, oh fuck, I’m so sorry!” while you hurried behind the bar to help him up. He was sprawled out on the floor, almost like a starfish, his chest shaking and an arm thrown over his face. “Alastor, I’m so sorry, are you hurt? Did you hit your head? Fuck, I’m so….”, you stopped abruptly when he burst out laughing. He wheezed, shaking with laughter, and you fell to your knees beside him, relieved and at the same time unnerved. He sat up, still holding his chest with one hand and patting your head with the other.

“Moments like these remind me why I like you so much, darling. Such a blue-eyed, air-headed doe you are.” You met his gaze, ready to banter, but the sad tint in his expression made you decide against that. Instead you shuffled nearer to him, slowly sitting up on your knees, to give him the option to push you away. He didn’t, only watching you closely. You wrapped your arms around his head, pulling him close, his cheek resting on your chest, tight enough he had to hear your heartbeat.

You held him like this until you felt his hands on your back, returning the embrace. HIs breath was warm and heavy on your skin. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was holding back tears. Maybe he was. You just stayed like this, holding him in your arms. Words were unnecessary, unwanted even. Him and you weren’t close enough yet to bring everything he should share into words. But you would be there, whenever that moment came, and for now, this was the right way to express what couldn’t be said. Much more even.

When he pulled away, he did it gently, a soft and thankful smile on his lips. “I think the bar has run dry, my dear.” He stood up, offering you his hand to help you up. You took it, and he left your hand in his as you stood face to face. “How about a warm nightcap to end our day?” ----------------------------***----------------------------

“... You are seeing this too, right? I’m not trippin’?!” “Shhhh! Don’t wake them up.” Charlie hissed at Angel, her eyes round like saucers, staring over the backrest, as did the others. “How can this creep still smile even when he’s sleeping?!”, Vaggie whispered loudly. Angel gave her a sly smile. “You’d smile too if a hot girl slept in your lap like that.” Husk groaned, pulling a paw over his face. “It’s too late and I’m too sober for this shit.” “SSSSSSSHHHHHH! Leave them alone, go! Go to bed, quietly, all of you!”, Charlie shushed them again, shooing them away from the sofa.

She quickly ran to the nearest cabinet, pulling out a thick blanket which she carefully draped over your and Alastors body. She took a few heartbeats to internalize what she everyone saw when they came home.

You looked like a couple. Of course Charlie knew you weren’t. Alastor - half-laying, half-sitting asleep on the sofa - had his arm around you, his head resting on the top of your head. You were serenely slumbering while nuzzled against his chest, legs pulled up and looking like you were mended to his side. You, too, were smiling. On the cofffee table in front of the sofa were two cups of what looked and smelled like hot milk with honey, the porcelain still faintly warm to the touch and the liquid barely touched. She suppressed the squeal she wanted to squeal.

After she was done, she quietly took a few steps back, scanning that you were both still fast asleep, then she took Vaggie’s hand and together they headed to their own room. Charlie knew you weren’t a couple. But she also knew that was only a matter of when you would become one, not if.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angel dust #charlie morningstar #fraugwinskawrites #quick fic #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel dust

[yeppeun-riaa]

𝕺𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 | ran haitani x fem!reader | NSFW 18+

English is not my first language. I know I have some requests and I'm working on them so take this by the time being♡ also i meant for this to be multiple x reader but i fucking love ran too much :')

'Ran haitani' everyone knows of him and his brother, the 'Kings Of Roppongi', I mean, you'd have to be living under a rock not to know those names, they were the constantly the source of all the gossip you heard, the buzz of the entire fucking town you'd call it, but every mention of those names were never associated with something good. It's no secret that they're delinquent, anyone with a sprinkle of common sense and a functional brain would know to stay away from them because they're never good news.

Of course, that implies that you don't have common sense or a brain becaues why else would you let him practically suck your face off in a remote area of this very club.

You had no idea that the ran haitani was going to be there, you've been looking forward to this night the past week as it would be your first time in a while you got to relax and let lose with your friends, something that you rarely did since you were always busy with your studies. It wasn't easy being a student, so one could only imagine the excitement that bubbled inside you at the mere mention of a club. You only have 2 goals for the night, 1. hook up with a hot guy, and 2. do shit you normally wouldn't do because who know when this opportunity will ever show itself again?

So perhaps it was his good looks that made the fact that he was a literal criminal fly over your head, maybe it was the alcohol it your system even though you knew you weren't that drunk, or simply the fact that one of your goals was to do shit you normally would not. Whatever it was it prompted you to fully ignore the pleads of your friends to stay away from him once they saw you both eye fucking each other, and also what let you allow him to drag you into a dimly lit room that coincidentally had a huge king sized bed right in the middle of it. Whatever it was there was no going back now..

"Ran—", you gasped for air between the rough connecting of your lips and his, moaning into his mouth as his hands roamed your body, gripping your tits, his leg slid between your plush thigs effectively brushing against your clit and wetting you panty even more.

"Shit", he grumbled kissing up your neck and nibbling on your ear, "I can feel how fucking wet you are y/n", he smirked and gave you a few more wet kisses before standing to his full height and working at his belt buckle, you wasted no time and lay on the bed with your face directly in front of his clothed dick, and god—did your mouth water as soon as his boxers fell, he was big and fuck it was pretty, a vein running down the left side and you couldn't wait to feel it inside of you.

Slowly you eased his dick into your mouth, giving his tip wet kisses and licking along his shaft where the vein ran, you look up at him through hooded eyes as he took his shirt off and took all of him, choking and gagging as his hand went to the back of your head, "fuuuckk", he groans holding your head in place he stared fucking into your mouth, tears welled up in your eyes as your nose kept brushing his happy trail and he pulled you off him with a soft pop. You fell back onto the bed gasping for air while he crawled over you, discarding your dress and spreading your legs wide for him. He slid two long fingers in and you let out soft whimpers, "does that feel good, huh?", he said in a deep husky voice that made you nod your head and clench around his fingers, "yes, fe-feels so good", quickly you found yourself being lost in pure bliss and pleasure an he stuck another finger in and repeatedly hit your g-spot, being fingered has never felt so good for you, "ra—I'm close! Can i cum? Pl-" "cum for me yeah, make a whole fucking mess", his lewd words sent you over there edge, squirting and wetting the sheets below. He leaned down and licked all your juices from your thighs, no man has ever looked this hot between your legs.

He manhandled you onto all fours and with one hard thrust shoved his impressive length into you, starting at an almost animalistic pace he pounded into you, "fu—fuck!" Your back arched almost painfully when his hand fell hard on your ass, "look at how-shit- messy you are" he bent down to your ear and gripped your hips, "and all for me, right?" He questioned but you were to far gone at this point to even consider answering him.

He pulled out and growled into your ear, "you fucking answer me", he punctuated each of his words with a slap to your ass, the skin would probably be bruised tomorrow, but that was to worry about tomorrow, "yes ran! all fo—youu" he fell back onto the bed with a grin, fixing two pillows behind himself and made you sit on his cock, 'ride me' in with you wasted no time grinding down on him, your mouth dropping open at the sheer pleasure, you put your two hand on his knees for support and went crazy bouncing up and down chasing your next high. He leaned back and held your hips with both hands enjoying the view of you tits all up I. His face, "I'm close–" he held you in place and thrusted his hips up, bounding your wrists behind you with one hand and holding your neck with the other, he used you like some kind of fleshlight, not even stopping when you orgasmed and started to get overstimulated, "stop-st please, it's to much!" All your cries fell on deaf ears, he was to busy chasing his own high to care even a tad bit about you right now so with a stutter of hi hips he pulled out and came along over your lower half.

He pulled you in for a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth, he groaned softly running his calloused hands down your sides then pulling away, "you good y/n?" To which you nod, he seemed caring enough, too bad this was a one time thing, you think as you slip into your dress after wiping yourself off, completely missing how his gaze was trained on you with something primal while you left the room with limp.

@haitani-maki ;))

#ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #ran x reader #ran smut #tokyo rev ran #haitani ran #tokyo rev x reader #haitani ran x reader #haitani ran x y/n #haitani ran x you

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi Hal!

Congratulations on finishing all the requests (there were so many good ones!!) and thank you for opening them up again!! I’m excited to see what you have in store for us with all your other projects, bestie!!! 😊😊

I was unsure of who to request at first because there are so many good ones but then I saw Hesh’s name and an idea hit me.

If you’re ok with it, could you possibly write one for Hesh where the reader is part of the Ghosts has been taken/captured by the Federation and after some time, they get intel on where she is so they go out to rescue her and she and Hesh are reunited? I don’t know if you want it to be a pre-established relationship or one where they both admit their feelings after they get her back, so I’m leaving it up to you. But I need a little rescue/reunion fic to fill the void in my heart that the ending of Ghosts made.

As always, feel free to change it up as you see fit and do whatever you want. I just think that Hesh deserves more love and I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing Riley again (aka: the best dog in the world)!!

Thank you and remember to take care of yourself and I appreciate you and your work!! 💕💕 Love you, bestie!!!!

Lengths Of Love

PAIRING: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You'd loved Hesh for as long as you can remember, and you'd pulled him out of trouble for even longer, but you'd never had the courage to tell him how you feel. Until you do. Until you're being dragged away from his broken body.

WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

WARNINGS: Major spoilers for CoD: Ghosts, heavy angst, blood, guts, descriptions of wounds, canon-typical violence, weapons and firearms, death, torture involving: drugs/hallucinogens, physical violence, mental stress, talks of PTSD, anxiety, paranoia, rescue fic, best friends to lovers plot, wounds that would 100% kill you that you live from (plot armor fr), etc.

A/N: Bestie, I don't know what you put into your prompts, lmao, but I always end up writing so much for you!! Thanks so much for sending something in <3<3

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

The beginning of the end started with good intentions and one statement. 

“You hear this? It’s Rorke. He’s here. They’re evacuating on the train system below.” Hesh’s green eyes darted to you and Logan, his painted face a collection of rage and surety. The three of you were, in an instant, in agreement of revenge—there was no question as to what had to be done. Merrick couldn’t stop you, not on this. 

Rorke had made one of the most dangerous decisions of his life, and that was underestimating the Walker boys and their partner in sinful crime. 

“Harp,” you look away from the body of the warhead as it enters the atmosphere, locking onto Hesh’s hard eyes; the ones that had grown steadily colder since the death of his father, Elias. But it wasn’t just him—the patriarch had been close to you as well. The knowledge of his passing, witnessing it as the rope restraints seared into your flesh, had lit an all-consuming fire in your gut.

Like hounds, the scent of blood had hit the air. 

“Let’s get the bastard. Now or never,” you ease out, and Logan darts his gaze down to you from behind his balaclava. 

“Damn right,” Hesh barks, nodding firmly to you.

Anyone would have missed the way your gaze lingered on him as he darted off and began rushing down the stairs from the control room, Logan ever quick at his heels. But they wouldn’t have missed the way your breath pushed out a soft sigh as your eyes kept locked on the back of Hesh’s head as you followed after. 

You’d been childhood friends since practically infancy, a neighbor to the Walkers. It was natural that Hesh would grow to be the object of your daydreams ever since grade school; a constant and digging knife into your heart when he’d repeatedly pick other girls over you.

But such was life. 

All that mattered now was bringing down Rorke, silly love could wait.

“Merrick,” Hesh yelled down his line, the world outside this building rampant with open war. “The missile’s away and we’ve got a lead on Rorke, we’re going after him!” 

The white double doors meet the three of you as you all rush to them, and the panicked man’s voice flashes down the line immediately. 

“Negative Hesh! You three get back here and return to the rally point. We’ll track him down together.”

You call, “Isn’t an option, Merrick. We can’t let this one go.” 

You and Hesh ram your shoulders into the doors, Logan darting through first with his weapon drawn down the hallway. The brunette’s and your shoulders brush in a jostling of gear—pulling the back as your eyes lock. Cold light seeps from overhead, metal under your feet clanking in-key.

You look away before Hesh agrees and levels with the Ghost over the line to push your point. “Sorry, Merrick. Your mission is complete…ours isn’t.”

Federation heads pop up from behind makeshift barriers of barrels and other stacked items and as you all enter and clear rooms, alarms blare with the ferocity of fighting lions. Hesh keeps by your side, offering you openings that you greedily take as another soldier falls with a stiff twitch of your finger on the trigger. 

Darting behind cover, the man slams to the space beside you, calling over above the noise and the whizz of bullets.

“How long till impact?!” You shove a new clip into your FAD, brushing sweat and blood from your cheeks, smearing patches of your own paint. 

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you hear Logan pushing the line. You dart out of cover to help—locking onto hostiles and backing up the younger brother with quick feet.

“Eight minutes, Hesh! You got a plan that doesn’t leave me with scorched hair?” He finds it in himself to laugh, clocking a soldier to your left and riddling him with bullets. 

“We need to get to that train, Harp. Don’t worry—I’ll kiss the burns away for you.” He rushes past and sends a smirk over his shoulder. You’re left stunned for a second, wishing that the teasing tilt to the older brother’s words was more than that. You blink, and the feeling is forced away.

Later.

“Keep pushing, Logan,” Hesh moves on. You all sprint down descending ramps, farther and farther underground with every step; adrenaline building to a breakneck level like weight slowly being added over and over to a chest. “We need to get to Rorke!” 

You didn’t want to tell him, but, while revenge was on your plate as well, this was a very reckless idea.

As you grab for a grenade from your belt and jerk on the pin, you chuck it down the way and call out a warning to the boys, who, like a well-oiled machine, dart and wait for it to detonate. Bodies fly, bloody splashes of torn limbs, and three Ghosts materialize from the smoke with masked and painted faces; eyes like fire and veins boiling. 

“Fire team suppressed in 3-1,” Hesh shouts through the line as you slide your knife into a man’s eye, his goggles breaking in a shattering of glass. “Advancing to loading bay!” 

There’s a large elevator ahead for transporting crates, and all of you jog inside as the gate creaks shut.

Merrick’s stiff voice replies, “Roger that.”

Silently, you click into the channel and mutter out as a moment of relative peace coats your body like a blanket, even if for a few small seconds. 

“I’ll keep ‘em safe,” a small twitch of your lips, “Commander.”

A deep and unimpressed voice wafts into your ear with a large sigh. “Know you will—just remember to keep yourself safe in the process, Kid…Don’t do anything stupid.”

You shift your gaze to Hash and find green already staring at you. Blinking, the man quickly darts his vision away and after a moment you turn your face back down to the connection and huff through a burning epidermis.

“Haven't you heard?” The elevator shows the train as it descends down, and you call to the boys, ‘six minutes’, with a firm voice. 

“Stupid seems to follow us three everywhere.”

Hesh points as the figures of more soldiers walk around below. “There’s Rorke’s train, straight ahead!” Sure enough, the worm of black and gray metal extends to your eyes across the large room

“He’ll be on there soon. Logan, take left.” You order and the brown-eyed man nods from beside you, shouldering his rifle and checking the clip. “Hesh?” 

“Taking right—you got Point, Doll.” He stares at you, licking his lips. “Clear the way?” You tilt your head at him as the elevator jumps to a stop, the barrier sliding away. It pains you to look away.

There were so many things you had to tell him. Too many things. 

“Always.” Shiting your face forward, you take a breath and take notice of points of cover, scoping the room in three seconds flat. Screeching wheels and alarms ingrain your eardrums. “On me.” 

As you head out first, fire the first bullet, the two peel off in opposite directions, Hesh only sliding up beside you and uttering into your ear.

“Be safe.” 

That comment makes you want to be anything but, if only he’d whisper into your ear like that again. 

Clearing the room, you can’t get your mind off the fact that this crush was overtaking nearly every part of your life—years of quiet agony and staying your tongue in fear of losing what great friendship you had. 

The stock set into your shoulder recoils with another burst of fire, Federation soldiers scream in pain, but you barely register over the shadows in the sides of your vision. 

“Damnit, Hesh,” you growl, bullet grazing your shoulder as you grunt and slip behind a concrete divider. 

“What’s that?” Your eyes widen comedically. Shit…had you forgotten to close the line? 

“Eh,” you clear your throat, grimacing at the small sparks of pain in your shoulder. “N-nothing.” 

There’s a bout of silence and then a panting voice, rough and growing more serious. “You alright over there, Harp?” You can’t even respond before Hesh quickly continues. “I’m comin’ to you. Stay there.”

You violently shake your head, although he can’t see it.

“Hesh, I’m fine! Keep right and clear that hallway.” 

There’s a deep grunt. “Fine, but if I see one scratch I’m makin’ Riley chase you down the Base when we get back.”

If we get back.

You roll your eyes with a growing smile, steeling yourself and slamming your weapon to the top of the divider before locking onto your targets. “Please, we both know he loves me too much for that.”

“Most I’ll have to do is put a treat in your pocket, Sweetheart.” His sly smirk is heard easily, and you swallow tense-like and breathe shakily. That low drawl in his tone left you more distracted than you could ever get used to. “Hell,” There’s a struggle over the line before the shink of a knife meeting flesh. A breathless chuckle that leaves your gut swirling. “Maybe I’ll just chase you down myself.”

Logan coughs over the line and you have to click off before you scream. Your face flares up until your ears ring and you have to duck behind your cover again before you get metal right to the forehead. 

Behind the barrier, you glare at the floor.

When did general teasing get so hard for you? Jokes and jabs carrying weight—since when? Sure you’d liked—more liked loved—Hesh since before all of this, but you’d carried on well enough. 

“Fucking hell,” you grumble, shaking your head to clear it and rushing. 

The brothers pop through the side hallways to flank the enemy, taking out the one or two hostiles that were still breathing after you level your barrel with the last standing head; firing with a burst of gunpowder.

“Train’s leaving, let's go!” Hesh screams, waving an arm quickly at you, walking backwards on quick feet. “Harp, C’mon!” 

You chuff, hopping the divider and sprinting as the metal object speeds up—there’s a moment where you fear you might miss it, Hesh and Logan both forced to hop on even in your absence.

“Harp!” Green eyes flash, one hand on the railing and the other extended out. 

“On it!” Snapping, you slam your palm into his and feel his strong fingers curl to clutch you. Logan grabs your collar and helps; the both of them easily yanking you over just as the wall of the tunnel engulfs you all in illuminated shadow.

Back meeting the train’s body, you pant and chuckle as Logan shakes his head, amused, and pats your shoulder. You wink at him jokingly. 

“Good save there, Walker Number Two.”

Hesh grabs the side of your neck, looking you over as he leans back with a breathless chuckle at the title for his brother. He blinks quickly at your shoulder, eye narrowing before he reaches out and looks at the blood on your gear.

“You mind telling me what this is, Doll?” You make a nose in the back of your throat as the smell of his musk hits your nostrils; the deadly concoction of his scent and his digging gaze.

Stuttering, you huff. “Eh…bullet graze?”

You’re leveled with thin lips, but Logan grabs his brother by the upper arm and peels him off you, motioning to his radio as the train gains even more speed. Wind whips past your face as Hesh clears his throat, quickly avoiding your eyes. 

The man’s splotchy paint shows his red skin under the darker pigment. 

“Merrick, we’re on the train,” he speaks, shifting past you without another look. “We’re going after Rorke.”

“Solid Copy.” You watch the brunette walk away and hold your breath, though you don’t know why—heart beating not just because of adrenaline. 

Embarrassment breeding in your stomach, you ignore Logan’s knowing stare and push off the wall, rubbing at your bleeding shoulder with a stiff hand. 

—

You break a man’s neck against the wall, hand on the back of his head before you slam it into the hard metal. There’s a crunch of bone and a broken rattle before the broadcasted feed from the screen on the train’s panel spits out a message in panicked Spanish to the already deceased men.

“Evacuation protocol C is in effect. All personnel secure cargo and supplies—”

Hesh interrupts ahead of you as you let the body drop, scowling at the heavy sound of its dead weight. At his angry voice, you perk and tune in.

“Tell Rorke we’re comin’ for him.” There’s a quick shove from the other end of the feed, the previous man disappearing as the individual that takes his place makes your eyes go to slits. A great growl like a wolf echoes from your heart and seeps from between your clenched teeth. 

Rorke’s scarred face appears with a smirk and a cocky voice.

“Why don’t you just tell me yourself?” You look at your boys, more concerned for them as you watch firsthand the trauma the death of their father brought them. 

Logan holds his weapon tighter, fixing his grip. Hesh is a bit more direct. He leans closer to the screen, bearing his teeth like a dog and snarling with rage and hatred.

“You’re done, Rorke.” All of a sudden he peels back a fast fist and sends it careening into the screen—making a shattering of glass and a hard thud emanate deep into your bones. 

Blinking quickly, you tense as it happens, not expecting that. But as soon as you try to make sense of it, the brunette is already banking off to the side door, calling a sharp, “Let’s finish this!”

He grabs the side of the train car and wrenches on the handle, grunting and pushing with all of his might.

“Hesh,” you try to reason, stepping in now before things get too hot. “We need to think of a plan before you rush into things. This could get us in a heap of shit that we might not be able to get out of.”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, and you spare a glance with Logan for help. But he, too, has already joined his brother with a swish of gear on the handle. With one great push, the door opens to the outside brightness, making your face turn away for a moment. 

Along the far expanse of open sand dunes outside; mountains flanking the bridge this train flies across, you get the perfect view of a warhead meeting the ground in an explosion of fire and death. It bursts far across the valley, and you cover your eyes as the sharp ball of light burns your retinas. 

The shockwave hits moments later, and Hesh says easily as the train shakes and squeals like a metal pig, “Looks like Icarus got control of the rods!” The boys step out onto the platform along the train, and you have no option but to follow. “All that’s left is Rorke, let's go!”

“Hesh,” you try again, hissing out his name, and you’re graced with a quick glance.

“Harp,” he comments, “what is it? We can’t wait any longer—”

“What we can’t do is go in blind!” You shout above the wind, legs stanced to help you stay up. Green eyes twitch with confusion, perhaps even a little hurt. 

“Blind? What are you talking about, we push forward and take what’s owed.” You know how much this means to him—to Logan—but there was a point where pride and stubbornness outweighed sense. This was dangerous, especially for Hesh. 

You were always the one to keep him level; keep him from becoming too much like his dad. 

You’d promised that old bastard you’d look after his boys, albeit in a teasing sense, but to you, it had been a stark vow on your soul. Logan was a brother to you, and Hesh…Hesh would always be more, but that only made your love for them both grow. 

“You keep those two from getting in their heads, you hear? They mean well, but there’s no one I trust more than you to level them out, Harp. I’m proud of you. And I’m sure your folks would be too.” Elias had said that, and when he died you bottled it up and used so much force that coal had turned to diamond. 

You would keep Logan and Hesh safe. Safe, and level, and not hard-headed. 

For as much as you secretly loved your brunette, he sure was stubborn as all hell.

“If you want out, Harp,” Hesh calls to you, gritting his teeth. “Just wait back in the train car. This is something we can’t put off like everything else—this ends now; today. I’m not letting Dad’s killer survive.”

“Son of a bitch, that’s not what I’m saying!” You’re quickly losing your standing. Logan jogs ahead to scout, time ticking. “Hesh, you know that I loved Elias as much as you two did—not one is denying that this needs to happen. I'm with you. But this is too damn dangerous! We can’t rush into this without a plan of attack; of exfil! Do you even know how we’re going to get off of this thing?!” 

Hesh had been isolating the few days he had on the U.S.S Liberator, keeping to his room. The man idolized his father and put him on a pedestal of gold even when he was a teenager. He’d even pushed away from you, which all together was unheard of. Logan had nearly had an aneurism when you’d come back to the cafeteria and shook your head in disappointment after trying to get him to open his door. 

The two of you told each other everything. Always. That was just…how it was.

But the man that Hesh had donned the skin of was not the man you loved.

Hesh glares at you, eyes going alight with anger. 

“If you were with me, you wouldn’t be holding me back.” He turns and runs after Logan, leaving you behind in the open air as the train banks left and right with the sway of the bridge. 

Staring. Barely breathing. Mouth parted and eyes wide. 

When the man is at the end of the current train car, having to jump a small distance to the next, he pauses. His back is tight, and under him, his feet shuffle. 

There’s a moment you hope he’ll turn around and come back, take you into one of his hugs, and squeeze the life out of you. It wouldn’t be such a cruel way to die, you think, to be held in his arms. 

But the next moment you see the back of his head shake, and he jumps over to the next section, not even giving you a second glance.

You don’t want to admit how long you waited there, your mind jumbled and confused. 

Don’t take it personally, you try to tell yourself, sucking down a breath before slowly walking forward. He’s hurt. Grieving. He didn’t mean it.

Rationality was a tool of the level-headed, and you were anything but that nowadays.

Over the line Hesh’s voice makes you flinch as you slowly follow after, train car after train car.

“Rorke must be at the front of the train!” You step over dead bodies and lend merciful bullets to the ones still writhing, boots coated in crimson. Following a trail of wreckage with stiff lungs. 

Stay out of his way? Fine, you could do that.

You stayed back from the head-to-head fighting, laying covering fire and keeping off the comms—whenever Hesh managed to look back at you, you simply moved on to the next hostile. 

Eventually, you all ended up on the rooftops, the boys far ahead and yourself blank-faced at the rear. Logan was acting more concerned than Hesh was, glancing at you constantly in confused worry. But it was very much short-lived.

“Incoming!” The right side of the railcar bursts with fire, and you gasp before grappling for the opposite side of the train, keeping you there before the swaying beast leveled out. “Helos. Take cover and take out the gunners!”

You scoff, quickly making your way behind a connector joint to lean your back against it and catch your breath. Two helicopters fly alongside the train, Logan already firing at one, and Hesh…your eyes narrow with annoyance. Hesh was already running ahead of the pack, his low grunts and growls over the line giving way to his impatience. 

You click your jaw and try to remind yourself that this is the same man who held you close during movie nights and carried you to bed when you fell asleep. Made you waffles when your boyfriend in eighth grade broke up with you on Valentine’s Day.

Stitched your wounds before he gave them a teasing ‘kiss better’ and looked up at you through dark lashes. 

You wildly shake your head to force yourself back to the present.

The gunners are harder to hit not only based on wind and distance alone, but on the erratic movements of the pilots. It’s several clips before you down the second Helo, and Logan’s follows immediately after as they both collide and ram into the mountainside.

You both share a glance and rush after the misguided brunette. 

At the end of the train, only the engine remains. 

“Clear!” Hesh relays, jumping down from the roof of the railcar and hurriedly walking to the white door, leaning against the wall. “We’re at the last car, Logan. Rorke’s pinned, he knows we’re comin’.”

You gaze down from the top as Logan follows, silent and brooding. Your hands along your FAD tighten under your gloves. You don’t even look at the man. 

“Merrick, do you copy?”

“Copy, Hesh.”

“We’re moving in on Rorke.” You slide him a look, seeing him glaring those pretty greens into the ground. “If you hear the word “Checkmate”, you will fire on our position! Confirm?” Your eyes snap with horror, heart lurching.

Surely, you hadn’t heard that right.

Merrick’s voice echoes your frozen confusion. “Say again, repeat your last.”

You jump down and stagger for a moment, barking out a harsh, “What the fuck are you doing?” Inside of your chest, your heart rampages like it never had before. “That’s suicide!”

He was going to kill everyone to bring down Rorke, and you get no answer beyond a clenched jaw and a quick side-eye.

“You heard me, Merrick, on “Checkmate”, hit this train!” The connection is cut and Logan gets into position to shoulder the door open, you watch, stuttering. 

Hesh levels with his brother, “We can’t take any chances, Logan. Even if we fail, Rorke dies.” Panic builds, and you’re taking quick steps forward.

You keep those two from getting in their heads, you hear?

You have to stop them, you have to drag them away—but even you know that deep down the only thing that will stop these two is a bullet. 

Eyes snapping back and forth, you only get close enough to try and snatch at Hesh’s arm right as he finishes a countdown of three; at the end, Logan kicks down the engine room door with a violent connection of his boot.

Even with the drop on the three guards inside, it doesn't stop the bullet from ripping through your lower side, preoccupied and distracted yet again. You yell loudly, balking back into the door frame and hunching over as blood spurts out of you. Hesh’s head whips your way immediately, jaw going slack and a soul-deep hysteria takes over.

So now he pays attention.

“Shit, Harp!” So little time. 

Logan can’t take care of the last remaining Fed soldier by himself, and in a large act of self-sabotage, that very soldier just happened to have a missile launcher. 

The entire left engine explodes—the train jerks; everyone is sent in a back-and-forth motion, first hitting off the last train car before being sent right back through the engine room entirely. A transference of force gives you whiplash as your head bounces off the door frame. 

The world goes blurry, body hitting and slamming through layers of glass and pain before the control room is suddenly where you end up, using the body of a stunned guard as a cushion. 

There’s a second of muffled gunfire, struggling and yelling—and then it all comes back into focus like a sniper’s scope being correctly sighted. You gargle an expletive and shove the guard under you back down despite the searing heat in your side and head; struggling to unsheathe your combat knife as the world tilts. 

Hands push at your cheeks, grip at your neck futilely, but when you get the blade out and struggle the hands down once more, you hammer the point into his throat with a thump of your boot pressing for purchase on the floor. 

The man spasming, you push off of him and slam to the ground, coughing in great lung-shattering segments.

“You can’t win, Rorke!” Hesh’s voice brings you back from the swirling, and you hear your blood patter to the metal floor like rain.

“Shit,” you mutter, gasping for air. 

Gazing up you see Rorke holding Logan in a chokehold, free hand pointing a gun at Hesh. Your eyes bulged, trying to push onto your knees and reach for your weapon as you saw Hesh continually looking away from the target and worriedly watching you. His hands at his sides are loose, but when you lock eyes with him, they clench and shake. 

“It’s over—” He tries, but the loud gunshot bounces off the train’s enclosed space. You’re yelling before you can think, darting forward and leveling your gun right to Rorke’s head as Hesh’s form collapses to the ground.

Standing on unsteady feet, you pant and stumble, but the devil’s brown eyes hold you captive. Rorke smirks as you guard Hesh behind you. 

“Well, well, well, seems the girl’s just as promising as you, eh, Logan? She’s the other one who slipped her binds in Las Vegas.” He laughs. “Look at me, I’m surrounded by young talent.” 

“I don’t exactly care if you are or aren’t,” you growl, shuffling to keep Hesh even farther behind you as you instrumentally cough again. Your legs are wobbling. “Just that you put my fucking friend down.”

“You willing to die for him?” Rorke looks demented, with his scar and his intimidating build. Whatever torture he had been through to make him like this—a Ghost killer—it had worked perfectly. There was no coming back from this. He whistles lowly. “That’s some loyalty you have there.”

His mind was dead to all else.

You don’t hesitate in an answer, even as the man behind you grabs your leg, trying to move you with a wheezing breath.

“H-Harp,” his spine moves in a cough. “Don’t…please.”

“Always.” Interest alights in those dark, tiny eyes. Logan tries to give you messages with his gaze, but you ignore him. Ironic. “That’s not something I’ll break on. Unlike you.”

“Shit, Kid,” there’s a grand laugh, “now that’s heartless…but good,” Rorke glances at Hesh, raising a brow and chuckling. “I’ll love to see the look in his eyes when I—”

“Checkmate!”

“Checkmate confirmed.” You look down at Hesh and see him watching you, his gaze open and bare. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, but all you can do is watch. 

There’s no time to think.

“I love you,” you confess in a fleeting moment of bare nothingness, blurting it out. “I’ve loved you.”

Hesh’s body entirely halts, jaw slowly slackening in horror; something shifts behind his eyes but before he can open his mouth, a rageful bark bullies the smooth tone of his throat back.

“What did you do?!” Your form is bodied into the controls behind you, colliding as you snarl and are forced to recover. With a snap of your finger, you fire a shot into Rorke’s foot. 

He yells and whips his wrist back, slamming the butt of his gun into your temple. 

As the bridge ahead of the train explodes, Hesh drags himself to cover your body, muttering into your flesh words you cannot name as the darkness sets in.

“It’s over,” Hesh speaks grimly to Rorke, turning to look at him silently as he presses your head into his chest, sharing a nod and thin-lipped look with Logan still stuck in his arm. “It’s over.”

“Shit, Son…” The train gets thrown and broken in a wave of utter destruction and rebirth; and through it all, Hesh never lets go—not even when the water below comes up to meet you.

—

The beach’s sand is coarse, and it sticks to your gear with a fervent hold. To your skin, the paint, and blood, for the moment washed away as hands dragged you from the water, small puffs of breath and whimpers greeting you. 

“C’mon, Sweetheart.” Hesh. And he sounded frantic. “C’mon, open…open your eyes, dammit. Please, you just told me the best thing you possibly could. Please.” 

Water slips off your neck, and as you’re weakly lying back, propped against a rock, hands slip to your cheeks, moving the skin as a barely conscious body tries to make you wake up. 

A forehead hits against your shoulder, a deep groan of pain emanating from the man who grips at your gear.

“No, no, c’mon,” Hesh can barely keep himself sitting up, bloody and broken. Logan had to drag him from the water not seconds prior, and in turn, Hesh had grabbed what little strength was left and helped him get you. “Logan!” Green darts to brown, and the older brother pleads in a broken voice, “Help me!”

You bend your head forward and cough up blood and water, shoving Hesh away from you so you can collapse on your side and expel your stomach.

“Harp,” the man quickly mutters, dragging himself over and grabbing your shoulder to keep your face out of the sand. “Fuck, okay—it’s okay I’ve got you.”

“You,” your voice cuts out, and you shake as you gasp and sputter, “A-are a fucking idiot!” 

Hesh chuckles, and you feel his head hit off your arm, his struggling breath. “God, I know. I know, Sweetheart.” 

Logan crawls over to you, pushing you back against the rock and grappling for his medical pouch as Hesh patches into the comms. You grunt and look down at the younger brother, head swirling in colors and ears pounding with your pulse. 

“Merrick, do you copy? Merrick, come in.”

“Hesh! Hesh, is that you?” You weakly smirk at the shock and relief from the tone, letting your head tilt back as Logan hurriedly packs your gunshot wound with gauze. You wince and stare at the sky—blood infectiously tinging the sand below you. 

Hesh tries to help too, but you and the man are in far worse shape than Logan. The older brother’s shoulder leans into yours heavily, and you shift your eyes to the side as they flutter.

You haven't forgotten what you told him, what you confessed, but right now pushing back the black in the sides of your vision was more important.

And Rorke. What had happened to Rorke?

“Yeah,” Hesh watches you, face screwed with concern. “Yeah, I’m with Harp and Logan. We’re…we’re alive. Rough shape, but alive.”

“And Rorke?” You hold your breath.

“Dead.” Logan ties off a quick tourniquet and your spine tightens in agony, hissing out as your nerves spike with electricity. The brown-eyed man spares you a sorry glance but you shake your head in dismissal. “He’s dead.” 

Out in the water, the enemy warships are firing off missiles inland, some smoking and others already sinking. Merrick gives you the news as Hesh brings a hand up to your chin, tilting your head his way. You go willingly, skin on fire from the scrape of his gloves. 

Logan moves back, having done what he can, before he collapses back into the sand, panting with an arm over his stomach. His older brother’s forehead bumps into yours, eyes stuck. 

“Copy that. The Federation is in full retreat—the rest of the payload is inbound to finish the…”

Whatever else Merrick relays is lost and Hesh’s lips splay over yours, his nose letting out a long breath and body sagging, dead-weight. Cheeks hot and mind running, you let instinct take over and reciprocate, quick fingers pulling at his vest straps.

“Since when?” He asks, breathless when he moves back an inch. 

“After you introduced me to your first girlfriend, Cassie Albrook,” you smile, eyes crinkling. “Seventh grade. The one with the black hair? God, I was so jealous.” 

Hesh chuckles deeply, body jerking as he kisses you again, pulling back and holding your cheek in his hand. His eyes are wide and open.

“You mean to tell me, I could have been kissin’ you all the way back since seventh grade?” Your face moves with pure love, flesh going soft—even the pain diminishes somewhat. 

Merrick’s voice still gruffly moves down the line, and the last bits of his sentence are heard. 

“...Sit tight, Recon’s comin’ for ya.” Everything was looking up. 

Missiles slam into the Federation ships out in the water, the sudden burst of liquid and fire making Hesh briefly cover you with his side to protect you from the shockwave. When you turn to look, nothing but sinking metal remains. 

“I’m sorry,” Hesh tells you, and you don’t have the energy to pull away from his neck as you let your head rest—the thumping of your brain and the calming shadow of his form giving way to believe you had a concussion. 

“Hm,” you hum, letting him continue. His voice echoed in his breast.

“I…I’ve been an ass these past few days, weeks, I shouldn’t have said what I did—wanted to take it back as soon as I turned away from you.” You close your eyes and sigh long, sarcastic even now. 

“You owe me dinner and a movie, then I’ll see if I can forgive you.” Hesh chuckles, nose pressing down into your scalp. He kisses you there as water falls from his chin.

“Sounds like a plan, Doll.” The man lets himself rest, curled around you and waiting for the recon team as the sand and the water move. “I love you too…just so you know. Long time.”

Your failing mind lets off a scoff. But a happy one.

When you wake again, not remembering when you’d fallen asleep, it is to the sound of screaming. 

“Logan!” You jolt up and have to place a hand on your head to stop the pounding. Hesh is struggling to move, fighting to get to his younger brother who you turn as quickly as you’re able to face. “Logan!”

Your face voids of blood. 

Rorke is dragging the other man away, pushing him to the ground as Logan tries to fight like a dog on his back, with only one arm working properly. Growling, you try to stand—body falling and sliding right back down as Rorke kicks Logan’s combat blade from his hand, walking over to you and Hesh. 

He stands and pants, limping from your shot to his foot and a hand across his abdomen in obvious pain.

“Look what you did,” Rorke motions behind him to the still-falling missiles being disposed of from space into the ocean; atop the wreckage of what Rorke had been a part of. Falling to your side, you leave behind a raging Hesh who attempts to move and get to Rorke while you go to Logan. The devil wheezes and points from you to the boys, forcing a grunt of approval. “You’re good.”

Hesh is shoved back by a ruthless boot into the rock, and you snarl, coming over to Logan and his very broken arm as he weakly writhes on the ground. You place your body over his and bare your teeth as if a beast. 

“Rorke!” You bark. “It’s over! It’s done. Everything you’ve built is dead and recon is on its way for us…you’re finished.”

“Nothin’s finished, no,” Hesh tries to lunge again as Rorke’s body stumbles closer to you but falls into ragged coughs and stays on his side in utter agony. 

“Stay away from them!” The man you’d just confessed to hisses, hand grasping futilely at the sand. Green eyes run back and forth from you to Logan, desperate and breaking by the second. “Rorke! You son of a bitch!”

“Nothin’s ever finished.” Grabbing you by the scruff of your neck, you’re being tossed off Logan and thrown to the side in a cloud of sand, body screaming at you as you yell out loudly. 

Rorke bends a knee to look Logan in the eyes, shaking his head.

“You’d of been a hell of a Ghost.” Yelling, you wrench at the combat knife in your vest, set your feet, and tackle Rorke off of the Walker boy with a feral curse on your breath. 

“Get the fuck off of—” Your leg twists with a defining crack as you’re grappled and thrown off, only able to slice a nice long cut down his jaw and at the beginning of the man’s throat. 

Screaming you hear briefly Hesh’s rageful bellow, his calling of your name in high keens of helplessness. Promises of revenge and justice. 

Breath breaking as tears line the back of your eyes, Rorke comes over you and pins your dominant hand to the ground—you look up and grimace, trying to make your body function. 

Move!

Rorke laughs, great shoulders shaking with glee. He’s fucking demented as he continues his sentence from before your fruitless attack. 

“...But that’s not gonna happen, is it?” The man smiles and you struggle as Logan and Hesh rapidly try to assist. 

“Harp!”

“There ain’t gonna be any Ghosts.” Rorke’s eyes shift to Hesh, and you follow with a sense of dread and horror. The man’s mind had been made up when he turned back around, disregarding Logan entirely in favor of you and your ‘unbreakable’ loyalty. 

The joy it would bring him to destroy you and set you loose after such. Set you loose on Hesh. 

He leans in close to you, so you can feel his breath and his conviction. 

“We’re gonna destroy ‘em together.” 

“Harp!” You’re shoved back, knife grasped and ripped from your hand as your broken leg is grabbed and pressure is applied. 

You scream again, arms carding across the dunes as Rorke begins dragging you backward like a child holding onto a stuffed toy. Blown green eyes meet yours, Hesh reaching out and screaming at the top of his lungs for you. 

But he can’t move.

“Harp!” 

And you can’t feel your fingers. 

“I love you,” you whisper, perhaps for the last time and he sees your lips move. Hesh screams and slams his hand into the ground, Logan stumbling to his knees but immediately dropping back with a small cry. 

And Rorke chuckles.

—

You don’t know where he took you, but you do know the jungle floor is cold and wet, and the mud under your fingernails makes you feel gross. 

What you do know is that the earthen walls of the pit you are in are pointless to try to climb—the top is slatted with a covering of long sticks with wide square openings. You know it’s going to rain by the smell in your bloodied nostrils. 

You know that your leg is broken, your bullet wound is festering through the tourniquet, and your concussion is making you sleepy. 

In your head, you count these ‘knowns’ and sprinkle them like seeds as you stare blankly at the sky far above. Everything aches; hurts. When you breathe, it comes in and out with a wheeze. 

You know that Hesh loves you, and perhaps that’s the only fact you care about. Wherever he is, you’re glad he can’t see you like this. 

Rain patters against your head, the storm clouds finally rolling through. Leaves can be heard shuffling on their branches. You breathe in and out, rising and settling your lungs slowly. 

You can’t break—not like Rorke. 

No matter what he did to you, you can’t betray the Ghosts. Logan. Hesh.

Elias’s words echo as you curl into a tiny ball, shivering and whimpering as your wounds move and pull. 

...I’m proud of you. And I’m sure your folks would be too.

You know this game. Torture. They’ll pump you full of hallucinogens, starve you, beat you within an inch of your life; and through that you cannot give in.

But it’s easier said than done.

In the middle of the night, the top of the pit is pushed away and there are the voices of multiple people that dance above the rain storm. They jump down and in the state you are, there’s nothing you can do to stop them from hooking their arms under yours and hauling you up, limp and motionless. 

The words are in Spanish, and you still can make out some over the commotion and the way your hearing dips in and out. 

“Where do we inject….”

“...neck, I believe…arm could work too…”

“...nasty…was it? I heard…mix of drugs…Who knows?”

Your head is harshly yanked back, and the sharp pinch of a needle digs into your neck, the action making your good leg kick out in panic but there’s little you can do. 

A flood of thick fluid enters your veins and like sap seeping out of a tree some drops exit the wound and mix with the rain weighing down your clothes. They’d taken your gear, only your undershirt and cargo pants still clothing you. 

When they’re done, they let you drop back to the floor, where you flop and smash your face into the mud with a weak drag of your cheek along the sludge. With calls from above, a rope is tossed down and they all ascend. The top is clattered back over moments later. 

Laying still and groaning, teeth clenched, already you feel ten times more strange than before. 

“Ah,” you grasp at your head, which was bursting to begin with, as it gains a looseness to it—the mud below you shimmered with puddles, the chill got colder, and your clothes felt grating against your skin. “Not good. N-not good.” 

You pull at your shirt collar, coughing as your eyes bulge; your heart breaks itself as it immediately can be felt hammering into your ribcage far more sensitive than you’d ever experienced. It felt like your chest was going to rip open. 

Panicked sounds emanate from the back of your throat, fingers digging into your scalp as the drugs carry their venom through your blood. 

Your wounds blazed.

You start screaming, babbling for nothing, and pulling at your flesh, but the overhead striking of lightning leaves the desperation mute to all but the trees.

—

Hesh stares at you from the corner of the pit, but his eyes are not green. You watch, silent, barely moving, from where you curl into a tiny heap of bloodied flesh. You’d torn at your skin for days; time looped together with more injections and no food. Water you got from the sky.

They had offered soup, but you knew better even as you dug harsh lines into your neck. There were just more drugs in the broth. 

But Hesh. Hesh.

He wasn’t right—didn’t stand like him, or breathe like him; there was something off about his smirk as he watched you gaze at him in an addled stupor.

“Feelin’ good over there, Kid?” Not Hesh. Not. Hesh.

You’re panting, your body sweating profusely in the humidity and so, so hungry.

Not Hesh takes a step forward and his image tilts like the turning of a page with Rorke taking his place, but as soon as it happens it flips back on itself to your Love.

“N-not right,” you hurriedly whisper.

Not Hesh puts a hand to his ear, kneeling down in front of you. “What was that, now?” A long chuckle. His voice is…is…deeper. Your eyebrows flinch up and down. “Who do you see, Sweetheart?”

“Hesh,” you whimper out. “Hesh, what are you talking about? What’s going on? I…I feel like I’m…I’m twisted inside out.”

“Hesh, huh?” The man looks to the side, smiling. “Well, that’s better than I expected. This’ll be fun.”

“W-what—” A fist connects with your face and you get catapulted into the wall. Before anything else, your stomach is kicked, making your call of alarm get forced out as a gasp as your clotted bullet wound reopens in a great tear. A large hand grips you hard by the chin, snapping it forward to stare into those wrong eyes but the familiar face of Hesh. 

What was he doing to you?

“H…Hesh,” you can’t even stutter out his name before you break down into coughs and gagging; tears rolling down your cheeks, and blood and mud everywhere.

“Yeah, that’s right. You just keep lookin’ at me.” You dry heave and push at his hands, fingernails digging into his skin to create crescent moons. “Keep lookin’ at Hesh.”

—

It’s three months of the same, and you can’t go on anymore.

You lay in a near comatose state on the ground, flesh completely covered in mud and open wounds—maggots eat at your dead skin, wriggling deeper. Not having the heart to pick them out, or even move the few non-broken fingers you have, you lay in blank agony. Pain so deep you can’t scream or make a single noise. It would make it worse; it is making it worse. 

Breathing is becoming a chore.

“Is today going to be the day?! God, I sure hope so.” Hesh looks down from over the edge, fiddling with another syringe of drugs. “Enough blood down there to make a fuckin’ painting out of. Shit…You lasted longer than I thought, Kid.” You don’t look at him. At his dark, wrong, eyes. 

“I’m nearly impressed.” There’s a low chuckle and the crackling of branches. 

You close your eyes and try to think of a single kiss and green eyes, but the rest of the image is tainted to you. Your mind can’t call it forward without the corruption of the puppet ahead of you, this shifting specter of mist and smoke.

Memories that used to bring you comfort call to fear and spine-curling hurt. 

This couldn’t be Hesh, you told yourself for the millionth time, but…who else could it be? Your body was too broken to try and work through the hallucinations, to think or rationalize.

There’s a thump of boots and a grunt. Someone coming closer as birds speak far above. Singing. It's the first you can recall another living creature being this close to the smell of infected decay.

 “Now, now, let’s see that neck of yours.” You’re seized and pushed onto your back, head lulling and eyes fluttering. Hesh’s image shifts and bends into another, one you should be able to name but can’t quite recall. It’s hard to focus. “Just one more, and we can fix this. Together. No more Ghosts, huh? We’ll make it right.”

Birds songs. Birds and flying shadows. Rapid wing beats like an eagle or the pound of paws on the ground. 

There is an un-godly snarl and a call of rage. 

“Rorke!” The dark-eyed Hesh snaps his head away, his needle stilling in his grip only inches from your flesh. He’s grappled and ripped away, thrown up and slammed down into a full-body jerk of pure strength not a second later with a cry of shock. “Get the fuck off of her!” 

Shadows roll and wrestle, feral yowls like that of beasts bounce off your impaired hearing, mud stuck in your ears. You think your vision cuts out for a moment because the next there’s a different man gripping your shoulders, slightly shaking you back awake.

Blue eyes like the ocean. Your brow barely twitches in confusion. 

Keegan? 

“C’mon, that’s it. Right here.” A light is taken and directed right into your eye in the fading light. “You’re doin’ great, Harp. Just keep lookin’ at me.” 

The light passes over your blood-coated eyes and barely diolates. Keegan’s lips under his balaclava thin to an alarming degree. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at you before he darts his vision over to Hesh, the actual Hesh, who’s locked limbs with the former Ghost; fists to guts and primal anger. 

In his haste to get to you, Hesh had damned himself—he’d left no opening for any of the others to get a clean shot at Rorke. But no one could blame him, even if it was reckless; incredibly stupid. 

The man had been on your trail nearly every day since you’d been taken. Barely sleeping, eating little. A man possessed. 

The Ghosts had been half convinced something had taken over his image and scooped out his personality.

“Merrick,” Keegan patches into the secure line, looking back down at you. “Positive ID on HVT, three klicks West. Hesh has engaged—we found Harp.” 

There’s an instantaneous response, worried breath. “Solid copy…how’s she doing?”

“We need MedEvac immediately. She won’t last another night.” There’s a curse on the other end, a loud and quick call to the rest of his squad. 

“Copy! I’ll call it in!” Keegan tries to stabilize you as Hesh and Rorke rip each other to shreds, and Hesh, who had the upper hand in the beginning, is quickly losing it.

“Awe, look who tracked ‘er down!” Rorke snatches at Hesh’s collar and lays two jabs to his ribs—there’s a definitive crack as the younger man shouts in pain. “Young love! So fucking pointless.” 

“I’m going to rip you into pieces,” Hesh bares his teeth, eyes wild and unrestrained. For a moment Rorke looks taken aback by the utter conviction in his green gaze. “And make you choke on your own damn teeth! You hear me?!” 

Ripping away with a tear of fabric, Hesh bends low and tackles the former Ghost to the ground, splaying him out on his back before his fist is snapped back and brought down; again and again and again. 

“Hesh!” Keegan shouts, pressing deeply into your wounds and trying to give you fluids with one hand. “This fucking kid.” The Sergeant gives up, shaking his head. 

Trust had to be given, and Keegan knew that at this moment he had to trust Hesh to hold his own. He needed to keep you conscious. 

“Easy, Harp.” You can feel the cracks in your dry throat as the water seeps past them, and you cough up droplets before the blue-eyed Sergeant tilts your head and helps you. “Easy, Sweetheart.” 

Keegan doesn’t even want to look at your body as the brutal sounds of a fist on bone continue, clothes scuffling and gargled breaths—the savagery and barbarous remnants of mental and physical torture too much even for him. 

“Christ,” he hisses. 

You gulp down water slowly and let it fill your stomach like a brick. 

Hesh reduces Rorke’s face to a mess of flesh and busted bone, sweating and not even stopping as his knuckles split under his gloves or his fingers dislocated from their sockets. His eyes burn, his face goes red—he looks insane. 

He looks like a spirit of utter revenge. 

Only when Logan and Merrick drag him off the spasming body does he stop, but not after he tries like hell to fight out of that hold as well. Whipping around, he attempts to land a punch on Merrick before Logan is forced to put him in a restraint hold. 

Hesh’s cheek meets the mud, face being sunk into it as his right arm is twisted so far behind his back it nearly breaks. The older brother growls, free arm and legs moving—back sliding. 

“David!” Merrick barks at him, face pulled in a sneer, enraged at the man’s lack of sense. “Shut this shit down. Look at her, dammit!” Logan gets bucked off, but the youngest Walker boy has enough sense to wrestle him back down and grab onto his chin; forcing those green eyes to lock on you and Keegan. 

The second he sees you, he entirely freezes.

Merrick sighs out harshly, jogging over to you and already checking in with the MedEvac that Kick’s flying in. There would be no resistance—all the other hostiles were dead. 

“Jesus Christ,” the Commander breathes, kneeling by you instantly and studying your body. 

Hesh’s reaction is slower, but the spread of vile tears burns the back of his eyes. Logan lets him go at seeing this, standing and holding out a hand, but the brunette stays on the ground a moment longer; utterly still. 

Hesh’s mouth opens and closes. 

All at once he’s rushing over and limping up at your side as Merrick grabs more medical supplies from his packs to help you. 

“Oh my God,” Hesh breathes, and Keegan sends him a glance. You’d drank all of the water. “Harp, hey, you’re going to be okay—it’s gonna be alright, you hear? I’m right here, Logan and I are gonna get you home. Back to California, okay? Riley’s waitin’ for you, Doll.”

You flinch at that voice, and Merrick looks sharply at the blue-eyed Sergeant. Their eyes lock, holding for a long moment. Logan’s brows tighten in confusion. 

The brunette seems not to notice it at all, hands finding your cheek before Merrick can give him a warning. Your eyes slowly shift to him before they peel back with fear.

Hesh’s vision goes glossy, clenching his jaw. “Shit, what did he do to you—”

“Hesh!” 

You yell and yerk back, shoving the man off of you with a fear-filled sob. 

“No!” Keegan and Merrick grapple to keep you down, not wanting to aggravate your wounds as Hesh falls to his ass, hands slapping behind him before he hisses and brings them back up. He blinks quickly in confusion and panic.

Logan rushes over and hides him from your view, beginning to understand what was going on. 

“No!” You call again, Keegan having to hold your head into his chest to hide you away. Merrick yells down his comms to hurry the Helo up, and that he doesn’t care about anything else. “No,” your voice gargles off as you sob into Keegan. “Please, no more.”

“Shh,” the Sergeant mutters, looking over his shoulder at a pale and shaking Hesh. “Nothin’s going to happen to you. Not anymore.” 

“Harp,” Hesh whispers, jaw slackened. “I…I don’t…”

“Hallucinogens,” Merrick says grimly, watching you shake and wail. Logan has to look away, his fists clenching. “Who knows what she’s seen. Reckon it wasn’t anything good.”

It’s like he doesn’t hear anything besides your cries. Whenever you gasp Hesh tenses as if he wants to run to you—comfort you the best way he knows how. 

Hallucinogens? He thinks and feels tears dribble down his cheeks as he blinks, rubbing at his jaw and shakily placing a hand over the back of his neck. Logan puts a heavy grip on his shoulder, weighing them down even more.

—

Rorke’s death should have been a time of celebration—of honoring the fallen. Elias Walker, Ajax, and countless others. The Federation was nothing more than broken factions now. Dust to the wind. 

But no one can celebrate when they’re trying to fix one of their own.

You were being kept in the secure medical ward under twenty-four-hour surveillance and around-the-clock care; only Keegan was allowed in, seeing as you were the closest to him outside of Logan and Hesh and had no adverse effects to his presence. 

Merrick had said he didn’t want to risk Logan going in, as it might worsen things. Hesh was taking it hard. 

He just got you back, how was this right? How was it fair that you’d had to go through that right when it was supposed to be over and done with? The man got sick over it, thinking about what Rorke had done to…break your mind like he had. 

Two months. 

Two months of nightmares plaguing him, of your eyes when you looked at him. If Hesh had just been stronger, then that bastard would never have dragged you away on that beach. He resulted in working out more, running laps around Fort Santa Monica with Riley at three in the morning—he grew bags under his eyes. He grew quiet. 

When all of his broken ribs and fingers healed, the artificial wounds, he was offered awards for taking down Rorke; even a summon by the President. 

He’d denied all of them. 

If a medal was going to get you better faster, he’d have taken them in an instant. But he wasn’t that stupid. Hesh was withering, and everyone saw it. He loved you more than anything—more than fame or recognition. The man lay awake at night fearing that you were too cold or uncomfortable in the far-off ward, he was paranoid about your safety. 

More often than not, the nurses found him and Riley fitfully sleeping outside of your door on the hard ground, arm used as a pillow. They didn’t have the heart to move him.

In the last two weeks before the third month of your isolation and evaluations, in his nighttime routine, Hesh finds your door open. 

He stares at it now with a blank expression, fatigue once burning his eyes all gone for a deep and pounding panic. With a hand gesture, Riley halts and sits, and, sensing his handler’s mood, lets his ears go straight up in attention. 

Hesh reaches for the gun in the back of his pants, peeling it out slowly and taking a nearly silent step forward. Ready, his ears strain for a sound…but there is none. 

His free hand reaches for the door, the short sleeves of his gray sleep-shirt bunching. A moment later, he lightly taps the barrier farther out before entering the room with the gun drawn.

He said he wouldn’t get distracted, but it would be a lie to say his eyes didn’t immediately go to you. 

You were there, asleep, curled up on the far recliner chair instead of the bed. Head lulled to the side and knees kept close to your chest. But it was the scars that broke Hesh.

They were large and long—on your face and arms; legs. All moving and stretching like a child’s drawing up your sleep shorts and shirt, disappearing only to reappear somewhere else. Healed over but still fresh.

Hesh drops the gun and turns his body slightly away, staring at the side wall before he takes an unsteady breath. He re-hides his weapon and turns to leave, not seeing anyone else.

Maybe Keegan had forgotten to close the door…he’d have to chew him out for that. Already a dull point of anger was making his jaw clench at the sly older man.

“Bastard,” Hesh mutters.

Before he can exit and close the door softly behind him, he hears a broken squeak of alarm. He halts as you stare heavily into his back—awoken by the sound of nearly silent feet. In a steady motion, the man’s hands are by his sides, open and visibly holding nothing. 

“I was just leaving,” Hesh whispers, not looking at you. His heart hammers. “I’m sorry, I thought someone else was in here—the door was open, okay?” 

Your hands twitch, body still and breath held tight.

“Hesh?” He flinches, eyes closed tight. 

Don’t look at her. Don’t turn around. Leave.

“Are you really…him?” You ask silently, eyes darting nervously around the room and quickly waking up fully. 

It’s a moment before he answers you. 

“Yeah,” he forces out, voice tiny and sad. “Yeah, it’s me, Doll. Just David Walker.” 

Your throat bobs with a thin swallow. Treatment was still ongoing, but it’s not every day you wake up to find the man who you had nightmares about standing in your room. 

Breathe, you have to remind yourself. It was the drugs. Not Hesh. Never Hesh. Rorke.

But you were still scared. 

“I…I need to see your eyes,” you say. 

Hesh turns carefully, staring hard at the floor. His heart lurches, hands going clammy. 

What if she has a setback? He asks himself. What if I mess this up…Shit, Hesh, you couldn’t have minded your own business?

Oh, but he never could when it came to you. 

“Then look at me, Sweetheart.” The man breathes slowly, darting his eyes up to your face. “They only belong to you.”

But your gaze can’t slip to his sockets, only able to glare fearfully into his neck. But this Hesh felt different, more like the one you grew up with—those memories still coming back but tainted; you need to see green, but it was hurting you to think that you might not.

“I’m scared,” you admit, shakily. The man’s thighs tense, but he stops himself before he can go and take you into his arms. That wouldn’t help. “I’m…I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“I’m real. I swear to you, Harp, I’m real. I’m right here and I’ll wait for you as long as it takes. Even if it’s years, I will always be right here.” He pleads, hands still at his sides and going nowhere if you don’t tell him to. It’s like a floodgate opens, months of internal pain and heartbreak spilling out. You needed to know this, even if he never got to see you again. 

“I have loved you since I saw you get jealous over Cassie Albrook in seventh grade and tried to hide it because you thought she made me happy—she could never make me happy, Harp. That was you. That was always and will always be you. I…I can’t breathe when you’re not near me, I don’t know how to act right when you’re hurt. Seeing you hurting is…is…” Hesh’s voice breaks and he falls silent. 

“Please, if you need to look into my eyes, I’m beggin’ you, Sweetheart, please, do it. Even if it’s only one glance.” Your breath is stuck in your throat, tears welling and sliding down your cheeks. 

In your skull your brain pounds, bordering on hysteria and an urge to flee. There was so little that you trusted anymore. Keegan, yes—the nurses and doctors? You had no choice there. 

You knew that the Hesh you’d seen in the pit was Rorke, Keegan had explained it all to you after the drugs had been pumped from your system; you understood that part. But it didn’t make the sickening confusion any better.

Symptoms of severe PTSD, paranoia, anxiety—you’d seen the charts when the nurses thought you weren’t looking at them. 

You still wouldn’t let anyone with a needle anywhere close to you, had to be put under for it. 

But you’d been so lonely here. A simple kiss seared into your mind before the horror set in, a stain of a smile on your lips. A chest vibrating with a content purr. 

Hesh. You want your Hesh back. 

Taking a stuttering breath, your eyes dart upwards. You push through your misty gaze and lock on a color that can only be described as a grassy field of verdant growth. Great open plains of viridescent being—showing you a world bathed in tender belonging. 

Home. 

You sob and rush from the chair on legs that still hurt even now, meeting Hesh in the middle as he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around you. You’re covered and kept in a hold so tight it’s like he’ll never let you go, heart pounding and his face loose with shock.

But he says nothing beyond a loud shuttered exhale of relief, pressing you to his chest and burying his face into your scalp, breathing you in; taking you down like a sinner in church until all that remains is you. Your fingers digging into his shirt, your face in his neck, how you call his name as if calling a ghost back from the dead.

“Oh, my Girl.” Hesh chuckles through the tears in his eyes. “My Girl. I missed you so much, you won’t even believe it.” 

You push yourself into him tighter. 

Riley, at some point, had come to stand in the doorway, his dark beady eyes seeing only the colors in gray, brown, yellow, and blue, though that never truly mattered. Color was only half of the picture. 

And the rest of the image in front of him was seeped with the pigment of love. 

The dog’s tongue lulls from the side of his mouth, and in the air behind him, his tail moves back and forth into a soft arch.

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#cod #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #x female reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #hesh walker x female reader #hesh walker x reader #david hesh walker #hesh walker #cod ghosts #cod ghosts x reader #call of duty ghosts #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #call of duty: ghosts

[jeanette-luminia]

𝐈 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮-) || 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

Summary: He doesn't know about love. He gets these weird feelings whenever you're around him. And seeing you with Nanami together irks him. So, he went to his trusted friend, Shoko to see what's sickness he have gotten from you.

prompt: "I got a crush on you. And I like you. I like-" call abruptly ends

A/N: I had this idea since last year😭 And now I decided to write it again because of JJK season two! I don't know if I'm gonna write regularly. I'll throw some poems here and there, some blurbs. Since it's summer, maybe I'll write more.

Gojo wasn’t the type of person to be vulnerable. He does not like intimacy. He does not like the idea of being in a relationship, especially with his status in the Jujutsu world. He has a gift. A gift that can also bring a curse onto his life. He was the strongest out of everyone. No one can touch him. No one can hurt him.

Or so he thought. Gojo doesn’t understand this feeling—and it infuriates him. It was like punching him in the guts. He doesn’t understand the sudden heat that always appears on his face. The feeling like you’re gonna get a heart attack. When you feel your legs give out. He doesn’t understand anything; he wants to—but he’s afraid to come to you.

Because you were the cause of it. You.

You were a year older than him—the only second year in Jujutsu tech at that time when he was a first year. The first thing he noticed about you was your face. Your face is almost like silk, stern yet radiates kindness—warmth. It glows under the sun and moonlight. Then, you’re elegant. You walk elegantly, act elegantly, and talk elegantly; everything about you is elegant. It frustrates him. He cannot come up with a single word to describe you poorly, to tease you with, because in his six eyes—you were already perfect. 

You seemingly have been oblivious to the special treatment he gives you, yet others noticed. He wasn’t as annoying as he was with others. He didn’t show off that he was the strongest out of everyone. He wasn’t that egotistical, cocky bastard that everyone knew he was. To you? He was willing to behave.

But he couldn’t hold back these feelings anymore. Seeing you with Nanami together, talking or laughing, he feels his heart fall into the bottom pit of his stomach. Every part of his body burns from this pain he hasn’t yet familiarized himself with. But who was he to interfere? Why was he feeling like this? Maybe he’s sick? He should go to Shoko asap.

“Shoko! Help me!” he burst to open her door as flopped himself into her bed and rolled around with his hand covering his face.

“Can’t you knock?” she gave him an exasperated sigh.

He sits up, holding himself together as his hands are on his thigh, fisted like a ball. “Listen! I might be sick, and I know who caused it.”

She raised a brow. “Oh really? Who is it?” she said as she proceeds to drink from her cup.

“Y/N-Senpai.”

That effectively made Shoko spit all her drink onto the floor. “God damn it, Gojo!”

“What!?”

“Are you serious?”

“Well… yeah. I can’t think of anything.” his body deflated, back hunched back, and he had that annoying pout on his lips.

She sighed, fighting back the urge to smack him in the head for being this oblivious. She grabbed a table napkin and decided to listen to him. “Why do you think so?”

“Whenever I look at her, or when she’s near, it’s like someone is punching my gut. And I always feel like I’m having a heart attack! That’s serious, right? And I feel like my knees will give up on me!” He emphasized every word for her to understand what he was saying—and feeling. “And get this, I saw her and Nanami together, and I felt like my heart dropped! And my body– hey! Listen to me, Shoko! This is serious!” He pouted as he had to watch her laugh hysterically, gripping her stomach.

“I might die from this illness! You don’t wanna see your friend die!”

“God, how can you be so oblivious?” She wiped her tears from laughing. “Wait– you know what I’m talking about! Tell me what’s the problem!”

“The problem is that you’re in love. If you’ll consider it a problem.”

In love. Was he… in love? With you? No, no, no. He was not. He is not in love with you. “Think about it; you felt something when she’s together with Nanami, right?” Shoko asked.

Gojo only then nodded his head. “You were jealous. It took you long enough to notice. Everyone practically knew about it.”

“Ha?!” 

No, no way he was in love with you. After that interaction with that witch (Shoko), he unconsciously began to ignore you. Your greetings were returned as empty hello’s. Occasional ‘How are you’ was thrown at the conversation but never lasted more than two minutes. He was gathering his thoughts—but being away from you hurts like hell. It hurts more than seeing you and Nanami together. It hurts more than being around you.

He wants to be around you. Forever.

It was late at night, lights all off, yet he was awake. He was contemplating whether he should call you or just sleep with this feeling. He buried his head in his pillow and sighed as he held out his phone. Then, a caller ID appeared. He jumped at the sudden interruption of his peaceful time, looking up to see who called and—

It’s you. Okay, okay, okay. Do not fuck this up, Gojo Satoru.

He picked up. “Hello?”

“Gojo! Oh good, you’re awake– or did I wake you up?”

“No, no, you’re good. What’s up?” He could feel his palm beginning to sweat, his heart beating like crazy.

“Um. Did I do something?”

His eyes widen at the question, and he then realizes wow distance he has been. Shit. I’m fucked. “N-no! What made you say that?”

“You’ve just been distant. I don’t know.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry; it’s my fault.”

“Mhmm, You probably have something going on. I’m sorry for assuming.” he can practically hear your thoughts running wild.

“Other than that, why are you still awake?” this effectively made you pause. The line was silent for a moment. It’s now or never. He hears your breathing in the other line, patiently waiting for an answer. “Gojo.”

“...Yeah?”

“I got a crush on you.” Wait. What?

“And I like you. I like–” Suddenly, the line was cut off. He quickly checked his phone, only to realize his phone shut down. “No, no, no, no!” Damn it! He forgot to charge it! He quickly grabbed his charger and rushed to the nearest outlet around him. Fuck! He was cut off in the middle of your talking—

Wait. he thinks for a moment. On the other end of the line, it’ll look like he just hung up on her. No! That’s not what happened. He bolted out of his dorm and made his way to yours. In the dead of night, he rushed through your dorm building as fast as he could. Gojo could have teleported, but he didn’t want to invade your privacy by appearing all of a sudden. And, he didn’t think of it in the state of panic he was in.

Finally, he managed to burst into your dorm, panting. He noticed the phone with his contact was displayed on your phone. He also noticed your surprised look as you whipped your head towards him with tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry! The line suddenly cut off; my phone died!” he heard your sniffles, and he was convinced that you weren’t convinced.

“I know that’s stupid, but it’s true! Believe me, Y/N.” he looked at you intensely. Your eyes bore into his. Without his glasses, you can see how blue it is in this dark room of yours. You wiped your tears and tear your gaze away from him and focus on your lap.

“What’s your answer?”

“What?”

“I said that I like you. What is your answer?” you looked away. Even in the dark room, he noticed a pink hue on your ear. He walked closer to your bed, kneeling beside you. He takes you by the hand. “Can you look at me?”

Hesitantly, you looked at him. He was flustered and a blushing mess.

“I like you too. More than you know. I hate seeing you together with Nanami. I want to be the only person who can make you smile and laugh genuinely. I want to be the only person for you. I want to be the person who you can call at three in the morning when something happened. Let me be the person who can lend you a blazer when you are cold. Lend you a shoulder to cry on. Lend you help with it’s too much.”

Tears start to pick up from the corner of your eyes again. Gojo’s hands were shaking as he wiped the tears from your eyes. “I will become stronger in order for me to protect you. I like you too, Y/N. I have for a while.”

You let your tears flow as you smiled. Smiled turned into giggles as you wiped your tears. “I’ve never heard confession like that.”

He then whipped his head away from you. “S-so what!”

“Satoru.”

He perked up hearing his first name being called between your lips.

“I like you.” you smiled, ruffling his hair before moving away from his bangs and kissing his forehead. Gojo just plopped himself onto your thigh, too flustered to meet your eyes right now. “Finally.”

You just giggled at his childlike antics. Brushing your fingertips onto his hair, massaging his scalp in the process. “I’m happy.”

He smiled, meeting your gaze. His smile was genuine, the one you love. “Me too.”

He’s happy, he finally got her.

“But Satoru…” Gojo only hummed, content with what he got right now.

“Kento is my cousin.” What. WHAT?

© 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐀 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

#☕: writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader