#I wish I could just knit and not have to talk to people ever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charlesslut16 · 10 months

Note

hi love <3

could you maybe write for pierre :

Like you and your friends are talking about pierre, who alsways wants everything to be perfect in bed but y/n also wants to have quickes. Pierre hears the conversation and decides to show you how capable he is of having quickies with you.

thank you in advance bae ( :

-quickies-

summary : you and you're friends are talking about how pierre doesn't have quickies with you. Pieere hears the conversation and decides to change it.

PAIRING : pierre gasly x fem!reader

WARNINGS : +18, smut, NSFW, dirty talk, dom!pierre, fingering, spanking, p in v, badly translated french, curse words, public sex, unprotected sex (be safe!)

note : i hope you like it! Send in more requests and i will work them off! Love you <3

masterlist

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Pierre opened the front door of your apartment, with the keys you had given him for emergencies, and walked up the stairs to your bedroom, as you hadn't opened the door, when he sent you the message that he was in front of your house.

His step haltered, when he heard his name being mentioned, followed by a very know loud girl group laugh. He stopped in the middle of the stairs and waited quietly.

"So what is he like? Is he like a machine in bed too? Like a beast? " One of the girls asked, cackling, and he chuckled quietly with a shake of his head, a smile visibly on his face.

"No," he head your voice and the smile on his face grew wider. Of course, he wasn't cold and clinical during sex. If there was something people couldn't accuse him, it was the lack of passion.

"I mean, he does want it to be perfect all the time, so in a sense..." He held his breath, his brows knitted together, as he listened to her carefully, being visibly confused.

"You, girl, you're saying that like that's a problem." One of her friends laughed loud and he huffed. He couldn't understand why this sounded more like a complaint than a compliment.

"All my man does for me is put it in and take it out." Pierre's spine straightened a little bit, a smirk tugged at the side of his lip. He could go for hours, and loved to go for hours.

"Of course it isn't a problem, but sometimes I just wish he could do quickies without having to plan a day ahead," you exclaimed.

"Quickies are nice, but we don't have them, you know. I can't just say that we have ten minutes before the race starts or let's have a quickie in the shower before you need to go to the airport, because well... it wouldn't be perfect."

Pierre's eyebrows raised to his hairline. He figured you liked that he'd rather wait than just get it out of the way like it was a meaningless act. You were always the more sensitive one, and so he made sure that you felt cherished and treasured even when you were in bed together.

He couldn't wrap his mind around what the problem with that was. "But the thing is sometimes, you just need to fuck without any special treatment." you stated.

His fingers tapped against the railing before he inhaled deeply and walked up the rest of the stairs. No one had ever had the nerves to complain about his performance in bed. But if you wanted to be fucked, he could give it to her now.

"Good evening, ladies." He flashed them his most dazzling smile before he walked straight to you, grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you up and after him.

"What the... Pierre..." you complained, your voice slightly off from the booze you clearly had, one glass of wine as always, but it was enough to get her tipsy a little bit.

He completely ignored her words, and walked down the stairs, dragged you with him without haltering even for a second. You could only see the sight of his face, but you knew that look very well. He was pissed.

Pierre's jaw was clenched, his fingers dag into your arm so hard you wondered if you were going to get bruises later on. When you both hit the floor area. He turned to the right and headed towards your home office.

"Baby." Your hand tugged at his shirt, but he brushed your fingers off with a low grumble. You bit your bottom lip, felt your panties soaking trough between your legs.

There was something beautiful in a raging Pierre Gasly, how his eyes turned from a light colour to a darker one, his determination shining through. He was always like a force of nature, but these times, he reminded you of a tornado.

"What are you even... Pierre, they are going to... the girls will know..." you said breathlessly as he pulled you into the tiny room and closed the door behind you.

Pierre pushed you up against the wall of the tiny home office, wasting no time before he parted your legs and his hand slipped between your legs, making you almost buckle.

"Je n’en ai rien à foutre qui entende quand je te baise la cervelle," he growled in a low voice, another wave of wetness gushed between your thighs. I don't give a fuck who hears when I fuck your brains out,

"Qu’est-ce qui t’a pris?" You asked, accompanied by a moan, as he pushed your panties aside and thrusted two fingers into your pussy. What the hell has gotten into you?

"Ma copine ne peut pas se plaindre que je ne la baise pas correctement." He grabbed your jaw and pounded his fingers hard in you, in and out, fast and mercyless, his palm brushed over your swollen clit in small circles. My girlfriend can not complain that I don't fuck her properly.

Your knees trembled, and you could feel the familiar pull in your belly approaching you way too fast. Your hips lifted to pierre's hand and a whimper escaped your mouth, when his knuckles brushed over your sweet spot.

His fingers sank into your jaw deeper for a moment, and you hissed quietly. You were about to reply, as he pulled his fingers from your soaking hole and with a well planned moves grabbed you by the hair and pushed your face on the table.

The air, getting knocked out of your lungs, when your upper body hits the hard surface. You could hear him unbuckling his belt behind her and glanced over your shoulder.

Your boyfriend's big veiny hands wrapped tightly around both ends of the belt, and you felt your core pulsing with need, your ass lifted into the air involuntarily.

"Je n’ai pas le temps de parler en ce moment, juste une salope rapide." He smirked at you before the belt came around your wrists and pulled so tight, the leather cut into her skin. I have no time to talk right now, just a quickie, slut.

Your thighs quivered, and you could hear him huffing when you spread your legs just a bit wider. He looked you up and down before giving your ass a little pat.

"Tu vas crier mon nom, princesse, ne laissant aucun doute à quiconque à l’étage sur la façon dont je peux te baiser," You're going to scream my name, princess, leaving no doubt for anyone upstairs just how properly I can fuck you,

You could feel the tip of his cock against your entrance, and you tried to push back to him, but his hand came around your waist and held you so tight, you knew for sure the edge of the table was going to bruise your hipbone.

"Watch the clock. 10 minutes." He ordered, and your gaze fell on the small table clock. Pierre was unbelievable. You were about to make another snarky comment, but he was faster than you.

Without giving you even a moment to adjust to his size, Pierre thrusted into you with one swing of his hips, and you cried out. Tiny colourful blurs appeared in your vision as his cock invaded your tightness, every little bundle of nerves alive for the rough treatment he was giving you.

Pierre was a man on a mission, no doubt about it, fucking you so hard, the table moved inch by inch forwards. You could do nothing but scream as he held you down by the waist and pounded into you so powerful, you were a trembling mess in no time.

"Putain viens me chercher, qu’ils l’entendent." His hand landed on your ass with such strength, the print of his palm coloured your butt checks red, over and over again. Fucking come for me, let them hear it.

He switched between your cheeks before you cried out in desperation, the power of your orgasm nearly knocking you off your feet. It wasn't enough for him tough, not far enough.

"Eyes still on the clock, I hope." He smacked your burning red ass one more time to get your attention and to not let you slip into the bliss of your orgasm just yet.

"3 more minutes." you mumbled, as an answer through your haze, your breathing heavy as you pushed back into him, unable to follow the speed that he dictated.

"Alors vous pouvez m’en donner un de plus, n’est-ce pas?" He growled before one of his hands slipped from around your waist over the line of your spine up lightly to your hair, and he pulled you up against his body. Then you can give me one more, right?

Your eyes rolled back into the back of your head when the angle changed and his cock brushed against your g-spot repeatedly, sending all of your cells into a frenzy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Pierre, please!!" You screamed, pierre's thumb brushed over your clit and your body crashed against his when you came undone with a glass chattering scream.

Your swollen pussy clamped down on him, his thrusts turned erratic as he fucked you through your second orgasm before he followed you with a low grunt.

""Was that quick and unexpected enough for you?

"I petition you to be spontaneous more often."

"Next time you criticize how I fuck you, I'm not letting you come for a week." You laughed out but instantly nodded because you knew too well Pierre and his punishments were not to be taken lightheartedly.

#pierre gasly one shot #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly drabble #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly f1 #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #dom!pierre gasly

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

Note

OMG i just saw your !MafiaGhost on how they met but can you do how !MafiaJohnPrice met with the reader? (if you haven't already and have the time of course. 😊💕.)

mafia!John Price x fem!Reader

John Price has always walked a different path in life than people like you. And yet, despite your status, he learns that the two of you are more alike than he thought. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

mafia!141 masterlist

warnings: vague mentions of death and violence, infidelity, crude language, hurt/comfort, unhealthy relationship dynamics

wc: 4.3k

an: sorry this took me a bit to answer! as you can see i got carried away. also, as we're headed into the new year, i'd just like to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who's been supporting my works! i recently hit 1k followers, and i cannot thank you guys enough for your lovely comments <3 i hope you all enjoy :)

“You see that girl right there? You stay away from her. She’s nothing but trouble.”

Those were the first words John’s father ever said about you. He used one long, crooked finger to point you out in the crowd of other students who mingled about the room with their parents. Everyone had gathered in the school gymnasium for the science fair where all Year 8 students had projects and posters set up on rickety fold tables. Voices echoed endlessly off of the hard floor and walls that it was almost overwhelming.

Really, he didn’t agree with his father about you being trouble. You were plenty kind, and well liked by students and teachers alike due to your kindness and intellect. A proper student, one that everyone else in the school strived to be. There were times where your words bit harder than most would have liked, but John just saw that as you telling things the way they were. He liked that about you. Admired you, even. But then he saw the real reason why his father said those words.

The man who accompanied you oozed authority and power, both in his stance and the way he walked. People regarded him like he was the King of England himself both in how they spoke to him and stepped around him like he could part a crowd with just a single glance. Most importantly, this man was your father, and he donned a uniform fit for only the chief of police himself. His father never liked police officers very much. They always made things difficult when it came to running the family business.

It wasn’t until Year 11 that he actually talked to you. Or, more like you talked to him. By some terrible twist of fate, his maths teacher sat the two of you together in the small, double seated desks that laid in perfect lines around the entirety of the room. He learned that you liked to doodle in the corner of your paper during lectures, and had a tendency to tap your pencil against the desk while taking exams. He liked the way your eyebrows knitted together in concentration, and how soft your voice was when whispering answers to the table next to you.

He didn’t have time to think about you often, not that he should have. John Price was unfortunate enough to come from a family that had a long line of brutal patriarchs that often conditioned equally as cruel heirs. Once he turned sixteen he was forced to go along with his father during his work escapades where he very quickly learned how to clean up bodies without dirtying himself. He often showed up at school with various cuts and bruises, and with heavy bags under his eyes. Balancing the life of a killer and a student was tiring work.

“Red color corrector will hide the bruise on your eye.”

It took John a moment to realize you were talking to him, and even then he still didn’t fully believe it until he looked over and saw you staring at him. You were leaned forward over your desk with your hand lazily propping up your head while you waited for him to answer. His pencil halted in its dance across his work as he brought his full attention your way.

“Color corrector?” he repeated.

“Yeah, you know. Green hides red marks from acne, orange hides dark circles, red for… very dark circles,” you said, tilting your head at him. “I’ve got some in my bag, if you’d like. Though, you’d have to find your own shade of foundation.”

Your bluntness and slight humor towards the shiner on his eye had him chuckling, which only made the smile on your face grow into a smirk.

“You sound like an expert,” he noticed.

“I am,” you quipped before grinning. Carefully, you reached a hand up to the collar of your uniform and pulled down, exposing the side of your neck and some of your collar bone. There were several, small and faint hickies that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for you pointing them out. “A girl’s gotta have her fun.”

John liked your humor. And maybe there was something a little comforting knowing that someone like you was getting into trouble, too. Albeit, significantly less violent trouble than him, but that was for the best anyway. Maybe it gave him hope that someone like you and someone like him could actually have something in common. That he could resemble something that was normal.

A few years passed, and John began to drift from you bit by bit. You ended up graduating at the top of the class which earned you several offers from the most prestigious schools across the country, and it was all anyone talked about. Great things awaited you with opportunities to see distant lands, meet new people, and live a good and honest life.

As for John, his father died when he was twenty-three. Murdered, to be exact, and in a manner eerily similar to the way his mother had been. Cold, calculated, and ruthless, his fathers existence had been snuffed out by a single bullet where his blood stained the pillow that covered his face.

The torch had been passed down, and its handle was still bloody.

Over the years he grew rigid and battle hardened in the business of violence. He earned plenty of scars, and built upon his fathers empire until it was twice as big and infinitely more dangerous. It was the only thing his father had ever managed to teach him; how to be dangerous. Everyone who once thought the Price’s were people to fuck with learned very quickly that the new Don had nothing to lose but his own life; one that he didn’t care all too much about.

The only thing he held close to him was the ghosts of his past, which was why he found himself standing in line at the florist’s shop. Even while running a quick errand, his phone vibrated in his pocket non-stop from merciless amounts of emails flooding his inbox. Mostly updates about certain events within the family that he attempted to lazily check as the woman in front of him spoke sweetly to the shopkeeper. Her voice was so soft, so comforting, so… familiar?

He didn’t realize it was you in front of him until you turned to leave with a small bouquet of flowers in your hands. Even after all those years he could recognize the features of your face like it was second nature. The shopkeeper spoke to him and asked him what she could do to help him, but her words didn’t even register in his mind. His feet moved on their own accord, and your name slipped out of his lips before he could do anything to stop it.

Once you turned around to face him he found that the air had been knocked completely out of his lungs. It had been years since he had seen you, and you had changed so much; grown into your features, and turned into a beautiful woman that left him speechless. However, you didn’t regard him with the same dreamy gaze; instead, you stood there and stared at him as you awkwardly adjusted the flowers in your arms.

“Yes?” you asked tensely.

You didn’t recognize him. Of course, it made sense. He had grown significantly taller, his facial hair was full and thick, and for once he wasn’t sporting a shiner. His clothes were also significantly nicer, as he seemed to have grown fond of business casual as of late. If anything, your confusion was more humorous than anything else because he should have seen it coming.

“John, John Price,” he said as if he was introducing himself for the first time.

There was something about the way your eyes lit up at his name that had him feeling warmer than he had in a long while. A precious grin broke out on your lips as you took a step closer to him and laughed in the way someone does when they’ve figured out the answer to a riddle, and it was too contagious for John to not chuckle with you.

“I didn’t recognize you!” you exclaimed, still giggling. “God, it’s been years! Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

“Getting in just enough to keep things interesting,” he countered.

It was like no time had passed at all. You were still that star pupil that you were all those years ago, and he could still hear your pencil tapping on your desk clear as day. It felt unreal.

“What’s the occasion?” he then asked, gesturing to the flowers you held.

“Oh,” you said, as if surprised. “Well, it’s, uhm, the anniversary of my dad’s passing.”

The chief of police? Your father? That man who always held himself so powerfully had been shoved into the cold, unforgiving earth? When he was a kid that man had always seemed indestructible. Then again, so did every other adult when you’re at that age.

“I’m sorry to hear that, I hadn’t heard,” he quickly apologized.

Despite the terrible awkwardness of the conversation, you still smiled. “It’s alright. Was a while ago now, anyway. But, uh, what about you?” you asked, gesturing towards him and his empty arms.

“Mum’s birthday,” he answered simply.

His response made you smile something small and bittersweet. “How sweet of you. I bet she’ll love them.”

“Yes, they’ll make for good decoration.”

Something settled between the two of you; something that had never been there before. Not while you were children; not when you grew up together. Whatever it was, it was unfamiliar, and much too suffocating, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to welcome it or not.

“Well, I ought to get going,” you excused politely. “Got a few more errands to run. But it was really good seeing you again, John.”

This was the part where he should have said goodbye. Wished you farewell just for you to vanish and most likely never see him again. If he was a smart man, John would have done just that, and instead he found his hand diving into his pocket before he could stop it. He grabbed a pen and stole one of the shop's business cards off of the counter where he quickly scribbled down something in the negative space before holding it out for you to take.

“Here. I’m certain you get this a lot, but if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be there,” he assured you.

To his surprise, you took the card without hesitation where your eyes quickly scanned his rushed handwriting while you thanked him. As you held the card in front of you, something caught John’s attention. There was a metallic glint on your finger, one so bright that it nearly blinded him, and he realized you wore a large, gaudy ring. It was something given to you in poor taste, surely. Something that attempted to steal the spotlight of your beauty rather than compliment it.

“Did you get married?” he asked in what he told himself was curiosity.

You paused for a moment as you glanced at the ring on your finger. With such a large and obnoxious gem on a thin band, he was surprised it hadn’t snapped off.

“Oh, not yet. Just engaged,” you said in an odd tone. As if you couldn’t stand to look at the ring any longer, you shoved the card into your pocket before smiling at him. “Thank you, again.”

He tried to forget about you after that. Tried to forget about that ring on your finger and the way your voice changed when you mentioned your engagement. But it was so easy to worry about you; to care about you. Even after all those years you were still just as sweet and well spoken, but he was still John Price. Now the Don of the most lethal mafia in the country, he shouldn’t have been around anyone like you. You were the chief of police’s daughter, the girl who graduated top of his class in school and went to university; trouble. Nothing but trouble.

So he kept to his own work. Ran his club on the south end of the city, washed the blood out of his shirt, and spent his nights sipping brandy that was too expensive and well crafted for a man like him. But then he thought about the dress that you’d wear, how you would do your hair, what song you’d want to have your first dance to… it was moments like that when he was glad that he had given you his number rather than the other way around. He was even more glad that you hadn’t made an effort to reach out to him. It was better that way.

“You alright, boss?”

Those three words tore John right out of his thoughts and slammed him right back down to earth. Back to the thundering bass that shook the walls around him in the nightclub, back to real life and the man who sat at the desk in front of him, typing away on the computer.

“Tired,” John replied simply.

“You’re always tired,” the man countered. He paused his typing at the computer and ran a hand over his hair, which he had styled into a slightly grown out mohawk. “Even then you never space out this bad.”

Whatever Soap, his electronics specialist, was trying to get at, John certainly wasn’t in the mood for it. Sighing, he leaned back further in his seat while he stared at the man with a tense expression. “Do you have the intel or not?”

A small chuckle came from the corner of the office where another man sat, seemingly bored as he typed away on his phone. “Way to piss the man off.”

“Aye, I’ll turn that phone of yours into a fancy brick if you don’t watch your tone, Garrick.”

The two men chuckled at each other’s teasing just in time for John’s own phone to go off. Not expecting a call, John ripped the device out of his pocket and stared at the unrecognized caller ID with his thumb hovering over the decline button. But he hesitated. It had been months since he had given you his number, and yet a small part of him worried you might have been on the other line.

When he stood from his chair, it caught the other two men in the room off guard, but they stayed silent as they watched John accept the call and raise the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he answered.

All he got in response was a sob.

By the time John had found you, all of your tears had run dry and a brutal fury filled the empty space. It wasn’t terribly late at night, but it was plenty dark enough that the park you had run off to looked eerie and uninviting in the dim halogen lights. Knees bouncing with anxiety, you sat on a park bench and bit into your bottom lip as you watched John approach from the street.

For as much effort as he put into looking calm on the outside, it did absolutely nothing to settle the nerves fraying within him. Hearing you cry, hearing you beg for him to come get you scared him more than he cared to admit. Really, he was rather proud of himself for keeping as level headed as he did, even after he saw the tear stains on your cheeks.

It didn’t take long to coax what happened out of you, in fact, it nearly erupted out of you. That fiance of yours had proved to be less honest than he liked to paint himself as, and as the two of you sat on that park bench in the middle of the night you gave him every excruciating detail. How he had been acting strange for a few months, how he used to show you off and then suddenly wanted to keep you locked away. A part of you knew what was really happening, and yet you told yourself you were crazy until you had walked in on your fiance fucking his mistress in your shared bed.

“Four fucking years, John,” you said, trying not to grit your teeth too hard that they cracked. “Four years of being with this man just for him to do that? He moved me into his flat, wanted me to quit my job because he said he wanted to take care of me. I have nothing. I don’t have my own place, I hardly have my own money, I was an idiot and gave up everything because he asked me to and I was stupid enough to believe him.”

By that point in your rant your knees were bouncing so fast your entire body vibrated. Terrified you’d disintegrate in front of him, John reached a careful hand out and brushed it against your shoulder. Though you didn’t say anything about it, or even look at him differently, your muscles seemed to relax some.

“I could’ve been great,” you continued as your voice began to break. “I was able to go to any school in this country, I got my degree, I could’ve kept at work and been… something. And I didn’t need to. Not really. There was never anything I was trying to prove to anyone. I could’ve had a few kids with that white picket fence and stayed home to care for them. I would’ve been completely happy living that trophy wife life if it meant I was loved. But I wasn’t. I’m not, and that fucking hurts because I know I’m worth so much more than this.”

More tears fell from your eyes after that, and it didn’t take much prompting from John before you crumbled against his side. When was the last time someone had held you like that? Wrapped their arms around you and held you close? When was the last time someone comforted you and actually meant it and not just in some sort of twisted expectation of devotion? Something in you told you that you should have felt shame for blatantly sobbing on a man in such a public space at an hour like that. Another part of you didn’t really care.

It took a lot of convincing to get you to stay at his place. Eyes refusing to look at him when you gave him excuse after excuse, it was obvious that you didn’t want to burden him anymore than you already had. So you told him you could stay with your mom, or even get a hotel if that wouldn’t work, but John simply wouldn’t hear it.

Eventually you were in the living room of his house. An actual house. Not an apartment or flat in the city, but something kind and quaint in the higher end of town. He had a real lawn and backyard that was perfectly manicured, and everything on the inside of the house was much too perfect and clean. It was something straight out of the catalogs you’d see in magazines or on HGTV.

First order of business was a shower, and though it felt strange changing into John’s clothes, you would have done anything to wipe the stench of your cheating fiance off of you. And maybe it was because of the spite that boiled inside of you, but you found that you liked the way John’s clothes smelled significantly more than you ever liked your ex’s. Second was getting you food, and though you had told John you weren’t hungry, the scent of his buffalo chicken was too good to pass up.

It was near midnight by the time you went to bed, and John had made sure everything was set up for you in the guest room before he meandered back down to the kitchen to clean up. There was still plenty of work that needed to be finished that night back with the boys. He took comfort in knowing that you’d be safe in his house, at least, and well out of reach of that terrible excuse of a man.

When John finished cleaning things up in the kitchen, it took him a moment to notice the incessant buzzing sound that plagued the room. Like rattling glass, it made his ears quiver just listening to it, and he quickly scavenged the countertops until he found your phone resting on the island in the center of the room. Flashing lights illuminated the screen as your ex’s caller ID and photo popped up. He caught the tail end of the call, and the screen faded back to your lock screen where it claimed to have received 27 missed calls, as well as 84 unread text messages.

Where the fuck are you?

Answer your fucking phone.

Baby please.

Answer me.

Stop being a fucking bitch.

Goddamn skank.

Come on, honey it means nothing.

Are you seriously making this a big deal?

Come home before I drag you home.

I’m not fucking around.

You’re pissing me off.

Before leaving the house to head back to the nightclub, John swiped up your phone and hid it in his pocket, along with that god awful ring you didn’t care to wear anymore.

In the morning you woke up in a bed that wasn’t yours with clothes that didn’t fit you, yet you had never felt so comfortable in your entire life. It had been a long while since you last felt like you belonged; since you felt comfortable in your own skin. Still, you couldn’t stay there forever and you forced yourself up off of the mattress as you snuck your way to the living room. You were greeted by several large boxes that sat stacked neatly in the furthest corner of the room, and once again John was in the kitchen making food. He still wore the same clothes he had the night before, and they looked terribly disheveled, yet he still continued on anyway.

“Mornin’,” he greeted as he looked up from his pan where several eggs sizzled away. “Sleep alright?”

Still groggy, you approached the island where you lazily leaned against it. “Yeah. Looks like you didn’t get any, though.”

John chuckled, something tired yet still hearty at the same time. “Perceptive.”

“Always have been.”

John quickly finished up the eggs and began to dish out the food onto plates. While you waited, your fingers lazily ran over the counter top where they collided with your phone, and it took everything in you to hold back a sigh. Looking down at it, you pressed the home button where the screen lit up, expecting to see several messages from your ex, and yet there was nothing. You stood there perplexed and wondered if the man had really let you just run away from him, until you noticed something else missing.

“Have you seen my ring?” you questioned as John slid a plate of food your way.

“Your ex took it back,” John answered simply. He stood on the other side of the island for a moment before he turned around and started cleaning up the mess of ingredients and dishes that littered the counter. “I also managed to retrieve all your personal items. They’re stacked in the living room when you’re ready to look through them.”

Mouth open in surprise, you glanced back into the living room and eyed the stack of boxes before looking back at John with a raised eyebrow. “How… how’d you manage all that?”

Perhaps he should have hesitated before answering. Thought of something to say other than the truth. Instead, John didn’t miss a beat in answering you as he continued cleaning.

“He sent you a few messages last night and I saw his name pop up on your phone. Didn’t realize you were engaged to the mayor’s son,” he explained. “I have some contacts who were able to get me an audience with him. I figured it would be easier for me to grab your items than you doing it yourself. Save you the trouble, at least. He shouldn’t be bugging you again.”

For the longest time, you didn’t know what to say. There were a few glaringly obvious holes in his explanation, namely why there weren’t any notifications on your phone. If he had only glanced at it, they would have still been there, and yet they had been cleared. Then there was the fact your ex was too self centered to ever have an audience with anyone he didn’t actively seek out. Perhaps even stranger, you weren’t at all surprised. Maybe you were a little taken aback at everything he had done for you, but not at the methods he used to get it done. Because you had known John’s secret from the very beginning. After all, you had been the chief’s daughter.

“John,” you said, voice soft and even.

Drying his hands off on a small towel, he turned around to finally face you where he was surprised to find you smiling. And god, you were stunning, so much so that all he could do was stand there and wait for you to continue.

“I’m glad I ran into you at the flower shop,” you finished. “Thank you. For everything.”

It wasn’t what he expected you to say, and still he mimicked your smile, although it was much more tired than yours had been. Life was strange. Nothing had ever gone as planned in John’s life, and yet there was you. Through all the years and the shit and the struggles, you had found your way back into his life, and for some strange reason, he found himself hoping you’d stick around this time, no matter how much trouble you caused.

“Any time, darling.”

don't let me in with no intention to keep me jesus christ, don't be kind to me honey, don't feed me, i will come back

#mafia!price #mafia!john price #mafia!141 #john price x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader

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ghouljams · 24 days

Text

There is No Pavement, My Love

Professor Love makes an observation, Professor Riley misinterprets it.

"I'd like to add your book to my syllabus." Love says leaning against Ghost's desk. He glances up from his grading, his eyes darting between the way she pushes her tits out and the way she smiles, before returning his attention to his work.

He'd worried about this after the conference. He already had enough requests rotting in his inbox for reprintings of his book. The whole thing was more trouble than it was worth, raised more heartache than he ever wanted it to. It was better left buried with the rest of his past.

"No."

"Why not?" He can hear her pouting, he stuffs down the smile it threatens to raise in him. How is it one woman can be such a balm for his melancholy?

"Never find enough copies," he circles a glaring comma splice and underlines a misquote, "it's out of print."

"Well then it's a good thing someone uploaded all of it to the internet in pdf form." Love wiggles in her seat, attempting to draw his attention again. Ghost gives a quick glance, his eyes fixing on the strained buttons on her shirt. Weak. He is a weak, weak, man. Always has been, that's exactly why he's in this mess in the first place.

"Cheeky little thing aren't you." He looks away, but his voice is thick and labidinous. The soft noise Love lets out make him think it's not an unwelcome tone. Cheeky indeed. She leans a little more heavily against his desk.

"What about just the forward?"

Ghost sets down his pen, taking off his spectacles and laying them neatly beside it. He knits his fingers together and rests his hands heavily on the papers he'd been grading.

"Why do you want to teach my book?" He asks, leaning to match her pose.

"Mostly just the forward," Love amends. Ghost shakes his head with a smile, drags his teeth over the scar splitting his lip before he can look at her again.

"Why do you want to teach my forward?" He asks again.

"Its a love letter."

Ghost freezes, his brain running through every word of his book looking for anything that could be interpreted as something so... romantic.

"Explain," he grunts, crossing his arms over his chest as he sits back in his chair. Love blinks, her expression softening in a way that makes Ghost feel like he's dying. His heart clenches in his chest. He squeezes his bicep, his fingers tight to keep himself from pulling her over the desk. If he could kiss that sad softness out of her smile he would. She laces her fingers together.

"My mum lived through Hell every day of her marriage to my father, I wish I could rest comfortably knowing she's somewhere better, but then I wouldn't be here, and neither would you." Love recites, and some long dormant crack in Ghost's chest aches. Her voice is softer, when she speaks again, and that hurts all the worse, "You spend 250 pages talking about grief and our comfort in the afterlife; talking about your time in the service, and losing people. Just because you wanted to make sense of your mum's death. How is that not a love letter?"

Ghost swallows the lump that threatens to choke him. He fixes his eyes on hers, hard and unyielding even when he can see sincerity shining through her expression. He can't stand it. Tenderness is a privilege, she should never assume such a softness about him.

"It's a book," He tells her firmly, "one that's better off buried."

"It's part of you," She tries, "an important one."

"If you're done teasin' me,"

"I'm not-

"You can get out," Ghost powers through her objection, nods towards the door. Love opens her mouth and her raises a brow, "Go on, be cute for someone else."

There's a hurt in her eyes when she closes her mouth, her lips drawing together tight. It hurts as much as Ghost thought it would, but he can't have her poking around at scars like this. There's too much about her he should have nipped in the bud, too much he's let her get away with, too much he's deluded himself into hoping for, she can't have this too. She can't think he's more than he is.

She stands, and shuts the door tight behind her.

And it's worse somehow.

#simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost mwii #professor!Ghost #professor au #is it really a slow burn if it doesn't hurt a little bit?#oc: love #I'll fix it in the next one #Ghost is tender about his trauma but who isn't?

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thedevilsoftruth · 7 months

Text

Iniquitous ~ Loki x fem! reader

Summary: You are a maid for the royal family of Asgard, but little did you know of how much your prince really likes you.

Warning: Smut with plot? Heavy, heavy, smut. Filthy, rough sex. Arrogant, narcissistic Loki, Slight non con, Dom! Loki, Sadist Loki, knife play, blood mentions, heavy degrading ( Loki calls the reader a whore/slut ) over simulation, bondage, oral ( fem receiving) Loki being obsessed with the reader, drugging. Minors dni

This is the darkest thing I have ever written, the ending is actually really freaking sad and I had the sitting in my drafts for so long because I just didn’t like it. Anyways here she is, enjoy!

Word count: 6k || Read time: 20+ minutes

Gif from lokihiddleston

Night came down on Asgard with the full, bright moon above illuminating the dark sky. Loki wondered the halls of his " precious " home, the castle which resided the royal family including himself. Although he was King Odins son, he never felt as though his father or mother gave him the attention he truly desired. It was always his brother who seemed to be the favorite. It was always his brother who seemed to be blessed with the most luck. His brother was always in the league as for whoever would get the throne next. But when it came to Loki, it seemed all he brought to the table was chaos and mischief, always fighting with his brother over anything.He truly thought he wasn’t able to meet anyone who seemed to have the slightest care for him. Until you came to him. You were kind and gentle with him, you were the only person who really seemed to care

The moon shone above the kingdom and casted a ghostly, yet beautiful glare of light through the windows of the building, filling in the dark spaces. Lokis green eyes moved to see through his brows as his head hung low. He had partaken in evil, but not this kind of evil. Something about the moonlight, or maybe the fact he was carrying your unconscious body in his arms was filling him with some sort of twisted lust. These halls he had wondered for decades he had met many different people and tried to feel love through that, nothing seemed to work out well and he found himself falling into a certain depression. But tonight he knew he would never be the same, as he was going to feel some sort of comfort through his lechery.

His eyes darted back onto your sweet face in his arms as he recollected the things that had happened before this very moment. The shouting, the anger.’

" I wasn't trying to seduce her, brother. what is this nonsense you speak of? " Thor asked him in distress and confusion, throwing his hands up as his brows knitted together.

Loki looked down at his hands, not wanting to make eye contact with his disappointment of a brother.

" I saw what you did to her, she's not yours. " Loki utterd, clenching his jaw tightly as his fingers curled into fists.

" I never claimed her as mine, brother. if you would just listen to me- " Thor argued back desperately, only to be cut off.

" why should I listen to you!? You tried to kiss my beloved, I saw it with my own two eyes. " Loki raised his voice, his fingernails digging so deep into his skin he could feel it leaving marks.

" It was just a greeting, brother. All I did was kiss her on her cheek, I meant nothing else. " Thors voice became quiet as his nose burned as if he were going to cry. He felt hurt as well, he never wanted to fight like this with his brother but unfortunately not eveything went the way he wished. Loki shot his brother a deadly glare.

" if you touch or talk to her again, my brother, I will make you wish you never crossed paths with her. " Loki growled before turning his heel and walking away to look for you. And then that was it. it only took him an ambush, but oh he had you now.

He finally reached his chambers with your inert form in his arms, using his magic to thrash the door open and close.

Once inside his chambers he set you carefully on his bed,sitting between your legs as he awaited your consciousness to return. Your face twitched and your arms jerked slightly through your sleep and Loki admired the sight. He leaned in and pulled your hair in your face over your ear so he could place a tender kiss on your cheek.

His fingers went up to your chest to touch the collar of your shirt and then..

Your eyes opened as you awakened, your lashes fluttering against your soft skin as your head hurt too much to sit up. You groaned as your vison somewhat cleared from being so blurry, and Loki vaguely came into your vison.

" mmm... Loki? " You rasped and blinked rapidly trying to clear your vision, but still couldn't quite focus on his face properly. what was he doing there?

" shh, my love. " he hushed you in a gravely tone as he leaned in more to connect your lips with his, kissing you softly and patiently. You groaned into his mouth, pulling away confused.

" what are you doing? "you questioned him, your voice weak and small. the room spun and your head felt like it was bashed into the ground repeatedly. He simply hushed you again.

" worry not, darling. you and I have a lot to talk about, my love. " he spoke softly as he combed your hair back with his slim fingers. you tried to remember what happened before this moment, but everything was so foggy and your body was just so exhausted. Your brow raised, curious about what he had to say. He gave you a gentle smile and raised your hand to kiss your soft knuckles.

" I've been watching you for a really long time now. I'd say you've got some kind of hold on me. " he said with a chuckle, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone lovingly as he stared down at you with soft green eyes. your brows furrowed harder.

" what do you mean, ' watching me? ' "you questioned the sly god as he towered above you. He grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers with his.

" You're so wonderful. " he sighed as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and let go your fingers, slowly slipping off his jacket from his shoulders and tossing it like it was nothing. you were confused and in pain, and to be honest you were quite scared. You closed your eyes tightly and tried to remember what happened last. All you could remember was finishing talking with Thor and then going off into the halls to finish cleaning the common room before someone grabbed you from behind and covered your mouth, but who was that?

" Loki, please be more precise with me. I'm beginning to get scared. " you spoke with a wobbly voice as your eyes opened, your body starting to feel less numb. He lifted his head from the crook of your neck and his expression softened into a fake pout. His thumb traced over your cheek before trailing to your plump lips and running sideways over your wet bottom lip.

" aww, so pathetic. " he mocked through a chuckle as he lowered back down again to kiss your wet lips. You whimpered against his skin as he bit down harshly on your lower lip, making you yelp and jerk your head back.

Lokis hand lowered down to his belt, pulling out a pocketknife and rising his hand to your face with the unopened knife in his hand.

" look at you, so pretty and vulnerable. are you going to cry? " he taunted in a high voice, pressing a button on the pocketknife and making the blade pop out. Your nose burned and your vision became blurry with tears. This was it. There wasn't even anything you could do about it, you were weak and powerless.

" please, Loki. I'm sorry if I did anything- " your voice was shaky as you stuttered your words, hoping he wouldn't do anything bad fo you.

" oh darling, " he began in that same husky tone. " just keep begging like that. I love you so much. " his warm hand went on the side of your neck to support you as the blade of his knife grazed the skin on your face harsh enough to draw blood, making the tears you held back to come pouring out of your eyes. You cried out in agony as he pressed harder against your cheek before quickly pulling the knife out of your bloddy skin. He bit his lip at the sight of you crying and it only made him more lecherous. He set the now bloody blade on the nightstand next to the bed, his legs repositioning between you to straddle your lap, making sure you didn't go anywhere.

Lokis eyes darted back at you, his energy prurient and randy. His tongue darted out of his two lips and he hunched over to lick the blood off of your soft cheek. You stared in horror as he lifted his gaze to yours, your very own blood all over his lips like an animal.

Your breath became short and uneven as he licked the blood that coated his lips. your head was throbbing and your thoughts were racing, how did you get yourself into this situation!?

You were just a simple maid working around the palace, you had talked to Loki a lot but you would have never though he would think of you like this. you were a mere peasant and he was a god and a Prince. And yet here you were. As much as he disgusted you, you felt some sort of weird liking for the way he was touching you. you knew it was wrong, but it truly was tempting to just give in.

Your eyes painfully cluttered open, and when they did you wished they didn't. Loki was naked from the waist down and your shirt was off of you and hanging off of his shoulder. How did that happen? You gave him wide eyes and sat upright, backing away with your arms covering your almost bare chest.

" magic comes in handy sometimes. now come here, darling. I need you. " He voice was low as he beckoned you closer with his right hand, his left grabbing your arm and sliding you underneath himself like how he had you earlier. He pinned you beneath him as you felt his hardness press against your center, making you gasp softly and turn to face the other way. You felt guilty with how easily you were letting him just take you.

" I don't want this. " you whispered through a quiet sob as his fingers fiddled with your bra strap. He panted against your exposed skin, his breath hot and making your body shiver.

he gave you another fake pout.

" You know, I've longed for this moment for a really long time. I like you a lot. I don't know what I would do if you said no. " He said, his tone of voice low and somber as he held your hand in his own and against his cheek. He gave your hand a small peck, his gaze not leaving yours as he gave you a pleading look. you shook your head, tears streaming down your wet face and soaking the green silky sheets beneath your shaking form.

there was a moment of silence. you were afraid to close your eyes, but you couldn't keep them open much longer and you so badly needed more tears to come down. You could feel him moving in between your legs, though you couldn't see him.He dropped your hand and now you could feel his hands underneath your long skirt, lifting it up to drop all the way down to your hips.

Your eyes fluttered open to painfully meet his sultry gaze. He looked at you through his raised brows with a smirk, his hands sneaking under your thighs to prop your legs around his now nude body. He was beautiful.

He was vile, but good lord he was a very charming man. As you stared at him, his smirk grew. It was like he knew what you were thinking.

" Don't fight it, " he whispered as his cold fingers slid your undergarments off of your pretty little legs with a singular swift move. He bent down, his form towering over you and casting a shadow over you. The room was dark, but the moon shining through the window illuminating him. he looked like he was under a spotlight or like he was twinkling like a star in the night sky. he looked so handsome over you, it was just so sad how he got you in the position. He gave your lips a quick peck, his slim fingers going up and under your back to unbuckle your laced bra. He propped you up on his lap, sitting you upright as he slid your bra off your shoulders and tossed that aside as well. Your breasts were now exposed for him to see and he chuckled as you hugged your chest with embarrassment. He chuckled.

" aww, don't hid yourself. what's the point if you don't have anywhere to turn anymore? " he breathed against the back of your neck, his huge cold hand running up and down your bare back. " so sad. " he laughed, kissing your shoulder tenderly. He looked back at you with that smug face.

" you belong to me now. All I need is you right now, so don't try to leave me or things will end up very bad for you. " he uttered, his tone licentious as it echoed in the large space. He laid you back down on your back on his king sized bed and pinned you down by your wrists on the silky sheets.

" I want you to say you need me. Say it. " he demanded, his hot breath fanning over your cold body. You gulped as your last tear rolled down your cheek, not wanting to say anything or oblige to his orders. But he was so beautiful, how could you not resist? His eyes were mesmerizing. Your throat burned.

" I need you, Loki. " you said, your voice sounding guttural. he chuckled gravely, his grip on your wrists tightening. You even said his name. There was nothing that turned him on more than your pathetic body underneath him like this, especially when you spoke to him like that and obliged to his orders so easily. But he was getting bored now, he needed more excitement.

Loki pressed his erect tip against your enterance, making you yelp in surprise. His face lowered down to the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. His nose grazed against your skin, trailing up to the back of your ear and making you quiver.

" Such a good little whore. Now say it louder." He said, slowly sliding an inch of his lubricated tip into your wet entrance. You whimpered quietly and your hips bucked up as you bit your lip hard.

" Please. I need you, Loki! " you supplicated desperately yet loudly. You writhed underneath him as he pulled himself out completely, leaving you empty and cold. You whined at his teasing, he was testing you. You closed your eyes tightly.

" Please! " you were only saying it the first time, just to be safe but now you actually meant it and it was driving the both of you crazy. He chuckled against your skin at your precious reactions, his voice sending vibrations through the room and your neck. He hummed as he lifted his gaze and grinned.

" So obedient and eager. " He growled that last part, his index and middle fingers sliding up from your wrists to pin your palms down, his other fingers clenching around your wrist. With that, he wasted no time to shove his length into your tight hole with one harsh thrust. You bit your lip harder, trying your utmost hardest to not let your moans slip out.

" Such a whore.I guess it wouldn't matter if you wanted me or not anyways. " he muttered under his breath as he continued his pace against your quivering form. His thick erection slid in and out of your slick walls that clenched around him. He was perfect. Every thrust he gave sent you inches to heaven. You truly felt like you were being penetrated by a god. His big muscles flexed every time he slammed into you and you couldn't help moaning louder each time.

His lips hovered above your ear, his lips grazing the sensitive skin on the side of it as he moaned and groaned with his rough movements.

Loki grabbed your hips to hold you in place as he rammed into you harder, his shaft twitching deep into your sopping cunt.

" So good. Just so good for me. Do you understand what you are doing to me? " he murmured against your ear, his words sending shivers down your entire body. Your lips trembled, sliva dripping down your chin as you slightly shook your head. Your parted lips let out breathy little moans of pleasure in sync with his pelvic thrusting.

Loki took his hand off of your hip and rised his thumb to touch your tremoring wet lips. He leaned his face in with yours, your noses merely touching and his pace slowing. His thumb fell on your bottom lip and slowly grazed the soft skin before grabbing your chin roughly with his other fingers, forcing your mouth agape.

" Don't close your eyes or look away from me. " he whispered, his voice gruff but smooth. he let go of your face and pulled himself out of you entirely, making your eyes shut and making you whimper desperately. Loki hummed at your reaction, his other hand that was pinning you down going onto your chest as his second now wondering your thigh.

" Loki... please.. " you mewled, your hand gripping his shoulder weakly as he stared down at you with an intense gaze. He smirked, his hand that was on your chest beginning to graze your hard nipple. You but your lip to try and hold back your sounds of pleasure but it was difficult when he was teasing you like that.

" Look, " he started, his hand fondling your stimulated breast. " at me. " he ordered frimly, making you shake your head in response as your tear filled eyes darted towards his emerald ones. he chortled at the sight of you.

" mmm, good girl. " he cooed in a praise as he gave you a peck your wet lips, reaching for the drawer of his night stand for something as he kissed you passionately. You whined quietly and squirmed underneath him. It was so hot and uncomfortable, all you wanted was him inside you again.

" Hush, my love. " he whispered into your mouth as he pulled out something from the drawer that made a loud metal clanking. You we're too scared to look at what it was as because you had a feeling it was something bad. Loki pulled away to fix his attention on something else, but you wouldn't allow yourself to look at what he was doing. He looked back at you with a dangerous gaze.

" Sit up, pet. " he spat, making you nod your head frantically and sit upright with your quaking body. Loki smiled innocently at you as he held up something in your vison. It was a pair of handcuffs. He unlocked them from each side, his eyes still fixed on yours seductively. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to do. That disgusting smirk on his face never left.

Loki grabbed your wrist and cuffed it to the bedpost, straining you from making too much movements. The god clicked his tongue and slid his body down yours, making his way to your naked legs and never taking his gaze from you. He trailed kisses from your stomach to your lower abdomen, earning tiny moans from you in the process.

Loki lifted the back of your thighs and placed them on his shoulders so he could bury his face in between your legs like the hungry animal he was. His face lowered down to your drenched womanhood, his lips coming in contact with your throbbing cunt. Your head threw back as his hot breath fanned over your desperate sex, his lips abrading your wetness.

His tongue glided up and down your folds repeatedly before stopping at your pulsating clit. He looked at your piteous form through his brows, humming against your clit as he did so and making your legs jerk with pleasure.

You felt so pathetic and vulnerable like this, underneath him as he ate you out like the greedy slut you were.

His tongue lapped around your throbbing clit , sucking gently while circling the ring that was throbbing painfully in anticipation of him. He took a hand off of your thigh, rubbing in over your lower abdomen as he gave your bud a kiss. He licked the tips of his middle and index fingers and dipped their bases into your entrance, inserting them in and out slowly and making your body shake from shock.

You screamed and thrashed beneath him, your legs jerking and your bound hand clawing in the air. You heard a deep rumble from Loki, the vibrations traveling to your inner core and causing a new wave of blissfulness to course through your entire body. Your thighs clenched around his face tightly, making him growl and take his fingers out of you, seizing your thighs roughly.

" stop fucking squirming! " Loki snarled lowly as he glared at you through his brows. You were panting heavily but you kept your eyes averted in shame, looking anywhere but at him.

His large hands gripped onto either side of your hips, holding you tightly in place as he lifted his head up out of your heat. He licked his lips and leaned in to give you a sloppy kiss as he positioned his hips in between your legs comfortably once more. He wasted no time to slide his thick length back inside you again, his large hands gripping your waist as he pumped in and out of you roughly like he did before.

Your hands curled into fists in the air, your hips shaking wildly at the feeling of him stretching you out completely. You couldn't hold in any of your moans. you wanted more of him, wanted every inch of his whole being even if it was wrong.

Loki had never felt such intense emotions until now. It had been what he longed and what he utmost desired. When he first met you it was like your hearts were binded together, like you guys were meant to be with each other. And now he had you. All underneath him and moaning like the sad being you were. He had to admit, it was the one of the best sexual experiences he's had. But it wasn't enough, he needed more.

Loki pulled you in for another kiss, his pace becoming faster as his memeber pushed deeper into your core, making you cry into his mouth. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue gliding against your bottom lip as his hips rocked against yours. There was a loud wet sound coming from your sex's rubbing together, echoing through his room along with both of your moans and groans of pleasure. He didn't care if it was loud, he needed satisfaction. All he cared for at the moment was sweet release.

Lokis hand went up to curl a fist around the locks of your hair tightly as he slammed almost every inch of his length into you, his pace erratic and his breathing ragged. You were a fever, and you were taking over him. But every touch was too much for you, hitting every nerve in your system. Loki pulled away from your lips, leaving you to feel cold without the cordiality of his lips.

" You're so damn gorgeous like this. " he whispered huskily as he moved his dominant hand to grab the headboard of his bed, his hips rolling back and forward with such force that made the bed slam against the wall repeatedly. Your moans were gasps and screams now, your back arching like a cat in heat as he gave you his all. Your free hand gripped the green sheets beneath your sweating body as your bound hand tugged as far as it could in the handcuffs desperately.

" Ha— Loki! " you screamed his name as your mind cluttered with pure lust and desire. You felt a burning in your abdomen, letting you know you were close.

With on swift move, Loki was able to push every inch of his shaft into the deepest and sweetest part of your core. He repeatedly hit your sweet spot and growled lowly as you screamed and moaned in sync with his thrusts. Your nails dug into the sheets, your whole body tensing up as he pounded into you relentlessly. With bucked hips, you grinded against his pulsating length to help reach your peak as he drived into that same spot over and over again. And it worked.

With high pitched scream, you came undone all around his full length, your body convulsing violently with waves of ecstasy that washed through your whole being.

Your chest heaved up and down as the warm liquid discharged out of your body. Once you caught your breath, you finally turned your head to meet Loki's gaze. He stared lovingly at your disheveled appearance as you panted underneath him. He took his hand off the headboard and used it to swoop your hair back and kiss your sweaty forehead.

" Good girl. " he praised in a whisper against your skin, his voice croaky and guttural. " look at you, you've made such a mess underneath me. " he cooed, his fingers running through your hair softly. He hummed softly as he gave you another kiss on your forehead, his hand slipping off of your head and down to the side of your jaw.

" I just need you to keep being a good girl as I go another round on you. "he said with a wicked grin plastered on his handsome face. He hadn't even pulled out of you yet, either. You let out a soft cry and you covered your face into the sheets, knowing he was just going to being more torture.

Loki began kissing your cheek and moving to your jaw, leaving his lips lingering there for quite some time before he moved back to kiss your neck.

" I want you to beg. " he purred against your skin, his long lashes fluttering against your skin. He finally pulled himself out of you, sending an ache straight through your core like a fire. You winced in pain and his hand brushed your hair. His gaze drew back to the nightstand next to the bed. he was able to reach the top drawer from the bed and he pulled out a tiny sliver key from the cluttered drawer. He used the key to unlock the handcuffs, your arms falling down limply next to you with a red swollen wrist.

" Stand up. " Loki demanded, spanking your ass hard enough that it burned and was sure to leave a mark. You whimpered and stood up shakily, feeling lightheaded due to all the moving around. You felt exhausted, your legs wobbling underneath you as you used the nightstand for support. Loki shifted behind you and wrapped his arms around you.

" you know, I didn't quite like that interaction you had with my lovely brother Thor earlier. " He whispered against the crook of your neck as he gave you sloppy wet kisses around your skin. He nibbled at your skin and his hands rubbing your warm stomach. You let out a small moan at his touch, f a mixture of pleasure and discomfort coursing through you as his hot breath sent shivers down your spine.

" I'm sorry if I did something that upset you, Loki. Thor was simply greeting me- " Your voice was small, but cut off before you could finish.

" I didn't ask for your inexact excuses. " he growled, moving your body against the cold wall. He moved your arms behind your back and held both your wrists together with one hand. You felt your ragged breath returning. Your mind was cluttered and you were exceedingly overwhelmed. You gave him a glance over your shoulder.

" You think me a liar, Loki? " You asked curiously, trying to figure out where this conversation was going. But you hadn't been lying to him, he was your prince and you were supposed to be loyal to him.

" Never forget that you're mine, y/n. not Thors, not anyone else's, mine. " He tone incensed and almost like a growl as his grip on your tightened. You nodded your head, feeling your knees about to give out underneath you.

Loki's bare chest rest against your back, his wet tip twitching against your soaking entrance that had just been covered in your hot cum. He bent down and placed his lips right next to the sensitive nub of your ear.

" Now take me again like the piteous slut you are." He growled, entering you again and watching you scream in agony and pleasure. Every touch was enough to make you spill out, it was like he was working magic against you. As much as you hated it, you knew you loved it. As much as you just wanted to stop comprehend what was going on, you just wanted to be oblivious and simply drown in the rapture of the moment. Everything around you was hot and dizzy as he worked you into a frenzy, making your body jolt wildly against his. Loki loved seeing you writhe like this in his reach in ecstasy and pain. It was so intoxicating; it was just his own little fantasy, which was intensely satisfying to him because it was all he could think about for days. He felt himself just about to reach his full satisfaction, his breathing becoming labored and his fingernails digging into your skin as he thrashed into you. You couldn't help but moan his name while feeling that burning sensation return in your core. His movements became jerky and a bit out of rhythm, he could barely take it anymore and it was getting hard for you to continue to hold on as well. He whimpered and pulled out, turning you around to come face to face with you as he pushed you back down on his bed.

He wasted no time to get back inside you again, rocking his hips against yours like an absolute mad man and immediately hitting your sweet spot like it was nothing. You gasped loudly in response, your hands tgrabbing around his shoulders as your eyes rolled backwards into your head. The feeling was overwhelming and absolutely blissful. He groaned your name with urgency as his long desired orgasm came over him so intensely he couldnt stop moaning. The white liquid coated the deepest parts of you and you felt yourself reaching peak as well, only adding to the mess. Your entire body was trembling and twitching, still incapable of comprehending what the hell had just happened. Loki ran his fingers through your hair again and the gave your forehead a kiss.

" so obedient, you are. you know I could hit that spot without even trying. " he spoke through a chuckled as he magicked his way back into his clothes. He gave your forehead another kiss before standing up and walking around the bed. He threw you a white lacy robe. where did he get that from, you wondered as you felt the silky fabric.

" Get dressed. " you heard his voice speak as you turned away from him. You did as such, wrapping the comfy piece of clothing around your stilly shaky form. You were surprised that you could still move... barely. The second you tied the robe closed you fell off the bed due to immense exhaustion. Loki shifted in front of you and squatted down on his knee, bringing your hand into his own so he could help you up.

" ah.. Loki, my head hurts. " you groaned, rubbing your temples to see if that could help you at all. Loki hummed emphatically amd brought you back into his warm embrace. His hand ran up and down your arm soothingly.

" I know, darling. here, you should drink some water. " his voice was soft and sweet as if he genuinely cared. He even conjured you a cold glass of water and handed it to you while giving you that warm smile that said he cared.

You sipped the water slowly, but you quickly realized that you shouldn't have given him yourself like that.

" oh god, " you felt even more lightheaded now. it was like your heart skipped a beat and your world completely stopped moving in that very moment. Loki innocently titled his head in confusion.

" what is it, dear? are you feeling worse? " he asked, his hands rubbing your shoulders comfortingly. You shook your head and shuddered you shoulders to get his dirty hands off you.

" it all makes sense now. " you spoke with a wobbly voice through sobs, placing the glass he gave you down on the floor. Tears streamed down your cheeks and Loki simply stared at you worriedly.

" what is it you speak of, my love? " He asked again, you looked down at your hands that lay limply in your lap.

" you drugged me. " you choked, your voice coming out as a whisper.

" I...what? " his words seemed stuck in his throat as his eyes widened in disbelief. you stood from his lap and backed a few feet away from him.

" Dont act as if you're innocent, you know what you did! " you yelled through broken ugly sobs. He continued to look at you with wide eyes as if he had just been told something utterly absurd.

" Darling, I would never do such a thing! " He said, his heart dropping because he knew something terrible was coming up. You looked behind yourself and picked up Lokis opened pocketknife on the nightstand that was still covered in your blood.

" Then how did I get into your room? why do I remember someone coming up behind me while I was folding laundry and pressing a cloth against my mouth before I blacked out? " Loki stared at the knife and then back at you. His expression became serious and he stood up as well.

" you dare threaten me with that!? " he spat, taking a step towards you with a menacing aura. You shook your head again and continued to sob.

" Just admit to it, Loki! " you cried desperately, backing up towards the door.

" so I finally get my happiest moment with the woman I love and now she's threatening me with a knife? I guess I just can't be happy! " he said with watery eyes, now making you feel bad. you never wanted him to be sad, only wanted to see him happy but he did do terrible things to you.

" I thought you loved me too. " his voice was barely above a whisper as a tear ran down his cheek. You shook your head, your tears only purring down even more.

" Loki please just- " he grabbed your arm and pulled you flush against his body.

" if you loved me you wouldn't be pointing that thing at me. But I guess you don't. " his voice was brittle, his grip around you tight before it released.

" and if you loved me, you wouldn't have drugged me! " you barked back, the whites of your eyes now having a tint of red from all the crying. Loki inhaled sharply and his face scrunched up angrily.

" Do not talk to me that way! " Loki shouted, raising his hand threateningly and making you flinch. There was a long silence, a loud silence. It was like time had slowed down, almost to a standstill. You lowered the knife and your crying slowed down. You wondered how you had gotten yourself into this situation. All you did was be nice to this man before. you cared for him for years and you were there for him during rough times. And yet here you were. You had supposed this was an example of how easy it is to be manipulated, and that hurt a lot. Loki stiffed his shoulders and breathed in sharply.

" You know, you should be grateful for what I did for you. " he said in a low tone, looking directly into your face and staring deeply into your eyes. Your mouth slightly fell agap in astonishment and you couldn't believe how twisted truly he had become. The only Loki you ever knew was kind, loving, and caring, always so gentle. Now there was none of that.

Your nose felt like it was on fire.

" So if you're not going to be grateful, " he pushed you out of the way from the door and you stared at him anxiously.

" I'll just leave you here. " and with that he was gone, all the doors in the room shut and locked completely. Your tears returned, and this time worse than before.

" no, no, no, no, Loki! " you spoke with heavy, desperate tears streaming down your cheeks as you banged your fists on the door.

" no, don't leave me! " he probably couldn't even hear you anymore, and that terrified you. Your body slid down the door and crumbled up into a ball when it hit the floor. Your face was so wet with tears, it looked like your were dunked into water. Everything was a blur now. You were all alone.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #marvel cinematic universe #loki smut #mcu loki #loki x reader #marvel #marvel mcu #marvel smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #mcu #marvel fanfiction #tom hiddleston

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matchavellichor · 7 months

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Hi, I hope your day is going well when you read this!! I know you said you were currently taking a slight break from writing due to school, and first of all, I'm wishing you the very best of your studies! But I thought I would send a request just in case you do resume writing fics in the future, but feel free to ignore this! This seems a bit plain, but I was wondering if you could write an ominis x fmc where mc is terribly shy and avoidant to no one but ominis due to her feelings for him? Over time, though, Ominis observes her personality when interacting with other people, becoming fond of her but is left conflicted seeing how nervous she is around him, leaving him to wonder if she hates him or not. Since Ominis can’t see MC staring at him or how her cheeks go red around him, we could perhaps have Sebastian take note of this and act like the typical tease-playing wingman to set Ominis and MC up? It’s a pretty fluffy request, but you can lead it down any road you want, whether it turns out suggestively or not.

A/N: hi!!! tysm for the kindness <3 uni is still kind of hectic at the moment unfort, but i LOVED this idea sm so i decided to write a lil something anyway. ty for the request, hope you enjoy!

Great Expectations

Ominis x f!MC - Fluff - 3k words

Summary: Urged on by Sebastian's insistence that the reason for MC's evasiveness is that she harbors a secret crush, Ominis decides to take Sebastian's advice and find this out for himself.

Tags: Miscommunication, Wingman Sebastian, Clueless Ominis, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Banter, First Kiss

"Some light reading?"

Ominis can sense the way she startles, nearly dropping the tall stack of books balanced carefully in her arms.

“Oh, uh…hello, Ominis,” she greets as she rights herself, voice oddly tight. “I hadn’t realized you were here.”

“Always am. The library’s practically my second home at this point,” he smiles warmly, making some attempt at small talk.

There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat to break the silence. “I uh, I hadn’t realized you were such an avid reader yourself,” he tilts his head, waving his wand over the topmost title in her pile. “Ah, and you have taste! Dickens is brilliant. I’d love to pick your brain sometime about—”

“I apologize, if—you’ll um, if you’ll excuse me,” she suddenly interrupts, eyes trained at her feet, before she’s brushing past him in the tight corridor of shelves and exiting towards one of the more populated corners of the library.

Ominis frowns, brows knitting together in confusion and what’s beginning to morph into genuine offense at this point.

“Was it something I said?” he mutters under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ever since they had become acquaintances, any attempts at amicability on his part had been met with brisk dismissals, curt replies, and her avoiding him like the plague. At first he thought her simply timid, but after observing her behavior with the likes of Sebastian or Garreth or any of her other friends, Ominis had been seriously considering some innate character flaw of his own.

He had thought he had made some progress in their relationship at the last gathering they had frequented, a weekend get-together in the Slytherin common room, but it was quickly becoming apparent that he’d been sorely mistaken.

Was he really so unapproachable? Dreadfully unlikeable? Did she simply have no interest in befriending him?

Ominis tries to pretend his ego isn't bruised by this notion, but fails miserably when his brain wanders to more woeful reasons as to why she would want nothing to do with him. His family’s notoriety and the rumors surrounding his person that are frequently pedaled around the castle undoubtedly have already reached her ears.

Filled with a strange sense of defeat, Ominis abandons any of his original plans of reading in favor of sulking in the common room alone. Less than two steps towards the library exit, however, and he’s bombarded by Sebastian.

“Ominis, you sly dog, don’t think I didn’t see you two warming up in the back shelves,” he grins, poking his friend in the ribs and waggling his brows.

Ominis frowns, swatting at the brunette’s hand. “Warming up is certainly not the term I would use. She despises me.”

“Despises you? Are you blind?”

“...Yes?”

“I refuse to believe you’re that blind,” Sebastian amends, scoffing. “Don’t tell me you really haven’t noticed.”

“Noticed what? The way she can’t bear to spend longer than a minute around me?” Ominis grumbles. “Trust me, I’m well aware.”

“Oh Gods, you’re just as hopeless as she is,” Sebastian groans, deeply pained. “She doesn’t despise you, she’s head over heels, Ominis,” he leans in with an all-too smug tone. “Take it from a man who knows the ladies.”

Ominis turns his head over his shoulder as if in search. “And, pray tell, where is this man?”

He receives an indignant smack on the arm. “I’m serious! Trust me, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. I mean, why do you think she’s always so nervous around you?”

“She probably thinks I’m going to curse her or something,” Ominis mutters. “My reputation isn’t exactly the nicest, Sebastian. Are you forgetting who my family is?”

Sebastian barks out a laugh. “I’m sorry, Ominis, but anyone who takes even a second out of their day to speak to you will know you’re incapable of harming a lacewing fly. Trust me on this, she likes you.”

Ominis pauses for a moment, considering the possibility that had never before crossed his mind before. An involuntary warmth spreads over his skin, surfacing all kinds of unbidden feelings he doesn’t have much experience in handling. Noticing his contemplative silence, Sebastian peeks at the blonde.

“Oh, Salazar, you’re blushing,” he gasps, no small amount of delight seeping through his tone. “You know, for a while I was half-convinced you were incapable of it. Me and Garreth actually had a bet that were half-vamp—”

Ominis scowls, pushing Sebastian’s fingers away from where they were currently trying to prod at his flushed cheeks. “I am not blushing. Look, this whole notion is ridiculous, even for you, Sebastian. She can barely tolerate me, much less harbor some crush on me.”

“Fine,” Sebastian shrugs, feigning acquiescence. “Then flirt with her. See what happens, and if she truly despises you as you say, then no harm, no foul.”

Ominis sputters. “I will not flirt with her, don’t be absurd.”

“Why not? If you already believe she hates you, what do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? My already maimed ego? You’ve seen her in Defence against the Dark Arts, if we’re being realistic I’m probably in risk of breaking a couple bones as well—”

“Ominis, just try,” Sebastian groans, looking ready to rip his hair out. “If you don’t, I’m marching right back into that library and flirting with her for you.”

Immediately, memories of Sebastian’s past trysts with women and the sheer amount of crudeness in even his most tame chat-up lines come to mind. Ominis panics. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, we both know I would,” Sebastian grins, stopping in his tracks and turning back towards the library doors. “Remember that one boiling cauldron line Garreth taught me? I’ll go up and tell her you begged me to use it for you—”

“Stop, stop, alright,” Ominis grits, fisting a hand in the back of Sebastian’s robes to pull him back. He sighs. “I’ll….I’ll speak to her, alright?”

Sebastian claps a hand over his shoulder, pleased. “That’s the spirit.”

As much as Ominis would have liked to postpone the inevitable as much as possible, fate was not on his side. He had the misfortune of running into her while on his way to the Great Hall for dinner, and with Sebastian by his side, he would have no chance of escape.

After urging his friend on with not so friendly threats, Sebastian made himself scarce, though undoubtedly somewhere within earshot so he could listen to disaster unfold.

“Just the person I was looking for,” he greets with as much warmth as he can manage, though his nerves are broiling a storm in his gut. “Have you gotten in any good reading today?”

Once again, she seems startled by his presence. “You were…looking for me?”

“Well, yes. I was wondering if I might accompany you to dinner?” he smiles. “Would give me a chance to bore you with my fascination with muggle literature.”

“Oh,” her eyes widen, looking almost excited before it’s washed over with anxiety. “I’m sorry, I uh, I wasn’t…going to dinner.”

“Oh,” Ominis frowns, noting how close they were to the Great Hall. “Where were you heading then?”

“The library,” she blurts out and Ominis tilts his head in confusion.

“But the library’s in the opposite direction,” he nods over his shoulder. “And haven’t you just come back from there?”

“I–I have to go,” she says, suddenly swiveling in the other direction and brushing past him. “Apologies.”

Once again, Ominis is left perplexed, and increasingly hurt. The only thing the interaction has done is given him a bigger headache, her behavior irrational in the face of Sebastian’s theory. Ominis finds himself even more convinced she hates his guts.

As if on cue, Sebastian ducks out from behind a tapestry shielding an alcove, an almost pained sort of grimace on his face.

“That was…bad.”

“Understatement of the year,” Ominis groans. “Do you see what I mean? She clearly doesn’t like me, Sebastian. All I’ve done is made a bigger fool of myself.”

“She’s nervous, Ominis. She was blushing the entire interaction. Look, maybe try being more direct? Girls like confidence! Tell her you will spend time with her and that you won’t take no for an answer.”

Ominis blinks at him. “Are you trying to get my bollocks hexed off?”

“While that would be deeply amusing, no,” Sebastian assures. “Look, she’s clearly just too shy to let herself spend time with you, that’s why she runs away. You can’t give her a way out, hell, incarcerous her if you have to.”

Ominis looks genuinely concerned for any women that have had the terrible misfortune of being the objects of Sebastian’s romantic interest. “How you’ve not found yourself in Azkaban yet amazes me.”

“Oh, shush,” he scowls before suddenly snapping his fingers, metaphorical lightbulb lighting up his face. “I’ve got it! Remember how Sharp gave her detention this weekend for sneaking ingredients for Garreth? Just muck something up tomorrow in Potions, and done! She’ll be forced to spend a whole evening with you.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“It’s brilliant,” Sebastian grins, far too proud of himself. “Everyone knows detention is the best place to snog.”

Ominis chokes. “There will be no snogging—”

“Oh, got bigger plans in mind, have you? Ominis, you dirty little devil—”

The tips of his ears burning bright-red, Ominis pushes through the entrance doors to the Great Hall before Sebastian can get another word in, thanking Merlin she’d foregone dinner tonight.

While sprinkling some erumpent horn powder in Sharp’s cauldron during a practical demonstration was easier than he’d thought, actually having to go to detention the upcoming Saturday evening was not.

Pacing his dorm room anxiously while he counts down the hours until he has to make his way down to the Potions classroom, Ominis can’t help but be besmirched by his own stupidity at how he inevitably let Sebastian talk him into this.

Like the devil, Sebastian pokes his head through the door, not even bothering to knock. He plops himself down on one of the beds, eyeing the blonde with poorly-concealed bewilderment. “What are you so strung up for?”

“Not helping,” he glowers. “What if she runs away again?”

“Relax, would you?” Sebastian rolls his eyes, standing to walk over and muss the blonde’s hair. Ominis scowls and swats at his friend, but Sebastian is nothing if not stubborn, pulling at Ominis’ neatly folded uniform tie until it drapes messily around his neck.

“Perfect,” he grins, standing back to examine his work.

Ominis frowns, attempting with great futility to smooth his hair back into place. “I look like a delinquent.”

“How would you know?” Sebastian raises a brow. “You look great. Girls like a bit of a bad boy, you know. And after your stunt in Sharp’s class you’re certainly starting to build a reputation.”

“You were the one who told me to do it!”

“I told you to get yourself detention, not cause a minor explosion.”

Waving a wand over his wristwatch to check the time, Ominis’ pulse doubles when he realizes he has to be in Sharp’s classroom in a few minutes.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Sebastian is dragging him out the door, blabbering terrible advice as if he’s sending his friend off to a first date and not detention with a grouchy Potions master.

“—And most importantly of all, compliment her, Ominis. I know you’re not very expressive, but for the love of Merlin, tell her she looks nice,” he practically shoves the blonde through the common room door, adding a final, “have fun! Use the contraceptive charm!”

Ominis is promptly left alone in the dimly-lit corridor, a heat involuntarily rising to his cheeks, praying some greater force will strike him down before he has to humiliate himself any further.

The classroom is empty when he finally arrives a few minutes behind schedule, except for where he inevitably finds her scrubbing cauldrons in the back of the room. She tenses when he approaches, but doesn’t startle when he greets her this time. Ominis wonders if he can put it down as progress.

“Sharp asked me to tell you we’re not allowed to use magic,” she nods towards the stack of cauldrons perched on the workspace. “And, um that we’re only to bother him if someone’s bleeding, dying, or dead.”

Ominis nods, pointedly taking the space beside her and dragging one of the soot-covered cauldrons towards him to begin working.

There’s a tension between them that Ominis can’t ignore for the life of him, only the sound of scrubbing to cut through the painstaking silence. After a few unbearable moments, he clears his throat, remembering Sebastian’s advice.

“You look nice tonight,” he attempts, though his voice sounds oddly thick with nerves.

The sound of scrubbing stops. “Sorry?”

“I said you uh, you look very nice,” he attempts with more firmness, though his hands are white-knuckled around the edge of the table to stop himself from bolting from the mortification.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“What?” he asks perplexed, forgetting momentarily a crucial reason as to why the compliment would seem absurd coming from him. “Oh dear Merlin, no, no that’s not how I meant it all.”

“Very funny, Ominis,” she takes in a sharp breath, dropping the brush with a dull clatter into the cauldron before she crosses her arms and faces him, all timidness suddenly replaced by a glaring frustration in her tone. Ominis isn't sure if it's an improvement, but at least she’s talking to him. “Did Sebastian put you up to this?”

“Sebastian? What? Of course not,” he sputters, desperately trying to amend. “I— Look, I’m—I’m sorry. Can I start over? Please?”

She raises an expectant eyebrow.

“You don’t look nice,” he tries, trying to suppress the wince that washes over his features. His only consolance is that Sebastian isn’t here to witness any of it. “I’m sorry, no—that’s not—I meant, I’m sure you do look nice, not that I would…know, but,” he runs a hand over his face, certain that if she didn't hate him before, she certainly does now. “I meant, you smell very nice. That I can tell, you…you smell very lovely, actually.”

There’s a long pause where she simply stares at him before her frustration inevitably only seems to double. “Is this what you find entertaining?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re taunting me,” she seethes. “You obviously know what I feel for you and now you’re making fun of me for it, aren’t you? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“What? Salazar, no, that’s not it at all—”

“Truly hilarious,” she scoffs, shaking her head. “Very mature. Maybe try being more subtle—”

“That’s not what I’m—”

“You can stop pretending you want to hang out with me all the time now—”

“Will you listen? I’m not—”

“Next time, if you don’t feel the same way, then simply—hmpph!”

Despite the blaring alarm bells that should be going off in Ominis’ head for doing something so painfully impulsive to someone who could hex his entire bloodline in the time it takes her to take out her wand, his mind blanks out into a puddle of warmth as he crashes his lips to hers.

She freezes, mouth unmoving against his in the time it takes awareness to seep into her brain and for her to realize he’s kissing her.

To his relief, when the realization does set in, she kisses him back.

She seems to melt just as much as Ominis, her body instinctively leaning into his, hands going slack at her sides before they instinctively come to hold at his forearms where he’s cradling her face so she can’t pull away.

Ominis pulls him towards her, and then, urged on by some coiling heat inside of him he’s admittedly not too familiar with, he crowds her against the workspace. He nearly topples over several cauldrons in his franticness to deepen the kiss, muttering sheepish apologies through heavy breaths, but he’s far too consumed to feel embarrassed.

His lips on hers are clumsy and impatient, and maybe far too hungry for a first kiss, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her hands come up to thread through his hair, to drag down his scalp, and Ominis couldn’t stop the groan that leaves him if he had all the composure in the world.

He’s so far gone he doesn’t even care about all the soot they’re getting on each other, too preoccupied with trying to keep his knees from buckling, to press his body even more against hers as if it’s the greatest offense known to history that they’re not physically molded to one another. When he slots a thigh between her legs and she lets out a little noise against his mouth, he thinks he might just collapse.

Ominis skin feels hot to the touch, nerves prickling with want, with the urge to touch and taste and grind until he goes numb. She finally breaks the kiss, panting heavily against his mouth, eyes glazed over with just as much raw need. Though the loss is almost physically painful, Ominis is grateful for small mercies, because he was a few seconds away from tearing through her uniform top.

“You’re…” she swallows, trying to clear the breathlessness from her voice. “Uh, very committed to the bit, I suppose.”

Ominis can’t help the laugh that escapes him.

His shoulders shake, forehead dropping to meet hers, and when he glances back up he smiles, lips still raw and undoubtedly kiss-bruised. She returns his grin, until he can feel her smile against his mouth when he leans down to press his lips to hers again, because he simply can’t help himself.

They barely register the sound of the door to the professor’s office swinging open. Only when he clears his throat do they finally tear apart, and Ominis wonders if it’s possible to drop dead from sheer mortification.

Sharp lets out a long-suffering sigh, as if he’s accustomed to walking in on much, much worse by now and his hardly fazed.

“Just get the cauldrons clean,” he grumbles, grabbing a few texts on one of the adjacent tables. He hobbles back to the door, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. “Bloody teenagers and hormones, don’t get paid enough for this shit…”

He ducks his head out before closing the door, pointing a stern finger in their direction. “And not on my tables.”

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis x you #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x reader #fluff #hogwarts legacy fanfic

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elysiumarchieve · 1 year

Note

Got any Scara sleeping / cuddling headcanons? ♡

sleeping scara is a blessing honestly

scaramouche sleeping/cuddling headcanons

warnings: scaramouche's past, angsty fluff?? it's mostly fluff but it's scaramouche what do you expect at this point

✧ scaramouche does not have a decent sleeping schedule

✧ in fact, being a puppet formerly created to hold onto a gnosis, i don't think he actually requires sleep in the same way that normal humans do - it was something that already bothered him during his time as the nameless eccentric wanderer

✧ unlike all other humans, he did not feel sleepy or tired in the same way they did. emotionally drained, yes, and there was also this dull aching in his chest, but no signs of weariness

✧ however, closing his eyes nowadays brings back memories he would rather like to forget and bury in a dark place within his mind, memories that remind him of how cruel betrayal was and how much he despised everyone

✧ and considering that he was seemingly tossed aside by his own creator for crying in his sleep, he even hates sleeping, so have fun trying to get him to rest his eyes

✧ scaramouche refuses to sleep nor to rest near you. he doesn't require it, so why should he lay down? is he supposed to bore himself to sleep for eight hours straight?

✧ if you sleep, that's completely fine with him. you're human and it's only natural for your weak body to rest - otherwise you might end up suffering even more from your lack of sleep (and he doesn't need to have a tired and groggy s/o tagging along)

✧ the rare moments in which you'll ever keep a glimpse of how he presumably could look like while he's asleep is when you wake up in the middle of the night

✧ with one arm around your shoulder and gently holding you close to him, you can't even feel a muscle move or a single sound from him - at first you might even believe he's actually dead because he doesn't even breathe (does he even need to breathe is a legitimate question at this point)

✧ in case you're lucky enough you might even have to chance to glance up at his face to see how his face actually looks relaxed

✧ his eyes are closed and his eyebrows aren't knitted together as when he's talking to anyone below his value

✧ it almost feels unreal to see him like this, calm and not snapping at people who bother him; especially since most of the time, you'd find him staring into nowhere particular and he'd call that 'resting'

✧ you have no idea what he dreams of and neither would he ever tell you. his dreams aren't worth mentioning and besides, why do you even believe the balladeer of all people dreams?

✧ you might catch his eyebrows move a little before his eyes just violently snap open and he's back from 'resting his eyes' for five minutes. he almost looks,, sad? there's a look in his eyes that whatever he just saw were things he actually wishes to leave behind

✧ if he catches you staring at him, he'll ignore you and simply tell you to stop gawking at him. if you managed to remain undetected however, you can practically feel how his hand around your arms tightens a little - not to hurt you but to actually feel that you're right next to him

✧ scaramouche doesn't really 'cuddle'. he doesn't see the necessity for it and thus deems it as unnecessary for him. but if his s/o wishes to cuddle him to go to sleep, he'll probably groan but do it anyways

✧ cuddling with him is kind of,,, complicated. he's stiff, doesn't really know where to put his hands and in the end, he'll only complain about it which makes this entire thing even worse

✧ he genuinely has no patience for any of this and he thinks it's below him to learn how to 'cuddle' with you. however, since it's you, he'll try (while complaining and groaning about the entire ordeal)

✧ while he's somewhat stiff, he tries copying what you do to him - but he's completely silent while doing it which makes it somewhat uncomfortable. in a way, you two look absolutely ridiculous

✧ if you happen to fall asleep on him, congrats, he ain't having it. what if he needs to move and you lay right on top of him? he can't have that

✧ however, what is rather sweet of him is that he wouldn't simply push you off of him - if you fell asleep on him he'd try waking you first. if that fails, he'll do his best to get you off almost too carefully before putting you in your bed and leaving you there while he goes about what scaramouche does in his free time

✧ scaramouche, however, never thought however how comforting it was to just lay there and feel the steady beating of your heart when he holds you, and just listen to it - no thinking, no tragic memories crossing his mind, just the besting of your heart and your gentle snores if you had fallen asleep

✧ in fact, it's enough to make even him drowsy enough and help him close his eyes even for a few minutes (hours?). when his eyes usually open again it's bright outside and he curses you for cursing him in such a cruel manner (what if you disappear or betray him? is he getting weaker again?)

✧ actually, he doesn't even understand how you manage to fall asleep with him, but he always makes sure to remind you that you look stupid in your sleep (you don't)

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #kunikuzushi #headcanons #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

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agaypanic · 2 months

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can you do a rodrick one shot where you're best friends and you're in love with him but he's too obsessed over Heather to notice? and you finally tell him after he's upset about how her birthday party ended up . a little smutty

Wish I Was Heather (Rodrick Heffley X Reader)

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Summary: Rodrick’s obsession with Heather Hills makes him blind to the fact that you, his best friend, have been in love with him for a long time. When Heather’s birthday party turns into a fiasco and Rodrick thinks no one will ever love him, you finally decide to tell him the truth.

A/N: kinda based on heather by conan gray, and a small reference to the og second verse of the song. not too canon compliant with dog days bc i dont really remember the plot of it. alludes to smut a bit but isn’t explicit

***

It was a miserable sight. As sad music played, you were lying in bed, curled up in Rodrick’s checkered hoodie. Your best friend was playing with his band at Heather Hills’ birthday party. It seemed that he was absolutely in love with her, and you couldn’t really blame him. Sure, she wasn’t the nicest person, but she was popular and beautiful. It never surprised you when you were talking to Rodrick about something, and all of a sudden, he would tune you out just because she was walking past him.

Sometimes, you wished you could be her so Rodrick would look at you that way. Even kiss her just to see what your best friend really saw in her.

If you had to guess, he’s probably confessing to her right now. He said he would, that tonight was the night. Although she had never done anything to you, and you didn’t want Rodrick to hurt, you slightly hoped that she’d stomp on his heart just so you wouldn’t lose him to her.

It wasn’t fair. Him being so mesmerized by Heather Hills when you were right there.

You groaned as you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. You didn’t want to be bothered, yet you still reached into your pocket and pulled out the device, squinting at your suddenly bright screen.

Roddy

can i come over?

You knit your brows in confusion as you read the message. Of all people, you weren’t expecting Rodrick to text you. And of all messages, you didn’t expect him to ask to come over. To be honest, you were pretty sure that he was busy trying to shove his tongue down Heather Hills’ throat.

Before you could respond, he sent another text.

Roddy

pls :((

You

what’s up?

Roddy

party sux

You sighed. Part of you liked the fact that Rodrick was turning to you to cure his boredom, but you wished he saw you as more than entertainment. You wished even more that you didn’t give in to him so easily.

You

window’s unlocked

Less than a minute after you sent your message, you jumped at the sound of something, or rather someone, at the aforementioned window. You turned your head just enough to see Rodrick hanging onto your drain pipe as he opened the window.

“Hey.” He said quietly, falling through the opening and onto your floor. You turned to lay flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling while Rodrick flopped onto the bed next to you.

“Hi.” You looked over at Rodrick, finding his face a mess. His messy eyeliner was messier than usual, and he looked exhausted and miserable. “What happened to you?”

“Heather Hills.” The name was said with a pout and whine instead of the usual captivated tone.

“What about her?” You didn’t mean to ask, not wanting to hear about his obsession with the girl any more than you’ve already had. But curiosity got the best of you.

“I pretty much ruined her birthday party. Now there’s no way she’ll ever go out with me.” You snorted, wondering what he must have done. Rodrick looked offended at your reaction, but continued. “It was a complete disaster. I had Ben play the drums so I could sing, and we did that one Justin Beiber song. I tried to hold her hand, but… I ended up knocking over an ice sculpture.” You couldn’t help but laugh. It was strange how the misfortune of the person you loved regarding the girl he was obsessed with was bringing you out of your own miserable mood. “Then she tried hitting me with a microphone stand, but she hit the chocolate fountain. After that, I thought I should make a run for it.”

You were full-on belly laughing at the visuals Rodrick was giving you, no matter how much you tried to contain yourself. Rodrick frowned at you, so you slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle yourself.

“Only something like that could happen to you, Roddy.” You giggled, but it died down when his lip started to tremble. This scared you; you rarely ever saw Rodrick like this. “What? What’s wrong?”

“What if that was my one chance?” He asked, his voice small. He turned onto his side, facing you and curling up. You mirrored his position. “Like, what if that was the only shot I’d ever get with a girl, and I just blew it? What if no girl ever wants to be with me?”

“Oh, that’s not true, Roddy.” You cooed, patting his arm. “Don’t be dramatic, girls like you.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“Prove it.” He took your silence as confirmation that you couldn’t, and he clicked his tongue. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Rodrick.” You sighed, shifting closer to him. “Girls do like you.” You figured now would be as good a time as any to tell your best friend that you were in love with him, even if it was just to make him feel better. “I know one girl likes you, at least.”

“Who?” He gave a short laugh of disbelief, looking down at you.

You were too scared to say it. So, instead, you reached for his hand, slowly interlocking your fingers as you looked at him. Rodrick didn’t say anything, either trying to come up with a response or not getting your little hint at all.

“I know I can never be Heather.” You start, the both of you cringing a bit at the name. It seemed that the girl brought a sour taste to both of your mouths now. “But I love you for you, Rodrick.” Feeling brave, your free hand went to cup his jaw, and he seemed to relax under your touch. Something came over you, and you bit your lip to try to contain yourself. “I can show you…”

For someone who didn’t usually get clues, Rodrick seemed to know what you were alluding to, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. He seemed like he was about to agree, but he stopped himself.

“You don’t have to do that… You know, just to make me feel better.”

“I want to.” You responded quickly. “I mean, if you want to, obviously. But if you don’t, then we can just pretend I never-”

Rodrick cut you off by pressing his lips to yours, and they soon moved in tandem. Hands turned greedy with their grips, and soon Rodrick was rolling to lay on top of you.

You’d probably regret this later. But for now, you didn’t care. Even if you weren’t Heather or whoever Rodrick probably wished you were, you were the one that was in your bed with him. You could worry about the aftermath and consequences later because all that mattered now was you and Rodrick and what was about to happen as you took off your clothes, starting with Rodrick’s hoodie that he gently pulled off of you.

And as he kissed you and grasped at your hips, Rodrick realized that the girl of his dreams was never Heather. She was right beneath him, shuddering at his touches and whispering sweet nothings that would be everything to him.

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit

#agaypanic #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy kid x reader #doawk #doawk x reader

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des111ree · 1 year

Text

·˚ ༘"Unforeseen Feelings" // SEBASTIAN SALLOW

—————————————

Pairings: sebastian sallow x f!reader

Warnings: one shot! angry love confession / mentions of alcohol.. mini angst ? mini fluff??? steamy kiss kindaaa // This a long one yall!!!

Summary: you and sebastian decided to sneak off to the astronomy tower one night, ominis insisting to getting some sleep instead. you two ended up going alone, and sebastian gains the courage to ask you the only thing that's been on his mind since he introduced you to ominis, angrily revealing 'unforeseen feelings' from you both.

Word count: 5252

✩

You giggle as you finally make it up the stairs, instantly rushing over to the rails of the tower, and looking out into the sky.

Sebastian follows behind you with a smirk and a shake of his head regarding your giggling.

"Ominis and his beauty sleep are missing out." You tease, tapping your fingers on the railing in front of you before spinning yourself around to face him.

"He knows precisely what he's missing out on.. He sneaks here rather frequently alone." Sebastian responds to your claim, taking in the fresh, cool air as you followed. Your elbows rested on the railing behind you as you watched him speak.

"Do you always find yourself informing people about others' business?" You respond smartly, giving him a smile with the raise of your eyebrows.

Since the day you met him all he's done was talk of other people and their doings. They weren't necessarily bad things, and you know YOU'D never say anything to anyone else, regardless of how small a thing it was. It was simply amusing.

He somehow knew everything about everyone. It was frankly a bit unnerving in the beginning.

"Mm." he hums in response whilst sitting down against the cold stone wall. "Just you." He shrugs in finish, lifting his knee up to his chest, reaching the hem of his pants and tugging down on it.

Your eyes wander around the tower, nodding calmly in response. Though the feelings that strung in your chest, and the bottom of your stomach, were far from that.

You roll your eyes at yourself for the dramatic response to his two words, sitting down with your back against the pillar, next to one of the telescope entrances.

You two were quite far from each other, not much wall between the telescope spaces to be sat up against.

"I know too much because of you." you add on, he just snickering on the side with a shake of his head.

"We've yet to find out more. Together." he states confidently, pushing your heart to flutter happily regarding his implication of doing and exploring more with you, willingly. You knew you two were friends, but still, him wanting or willing to do anything with you made you overly happy.

You were happily feeding into your delusions.

"Mmm, who's the next victim?" you broaden your eyes playfully, smiling before he responds back with an identical tone.

"Hmm. I was thinking we could sneak into Black's house and interrogate his wife," Sebastian nods with narrowed eyes, resting his elbow on his knee which is up to his chest.

You nod enthusiastically, eyebrows knitted together in honest shock with his messed up 'ideas'. Your hung-open mouth widens into a smile, scoffing uncertainly with a laugh.

"Steal some family photos.. Heirloom diaries and whatnot." he continues whilst you giggle more, looking and picking at his nails as if this was a normal conversation between you two.. Or, anyone.

A last chuckle escapes your mouth, making Sebastian shoot his eyes over to you, a faint smile peering past his lips.

Sebastian loved seeing you smile, so it became his goal every day to make you beam as much as possible with him. Which, frankly, wasn't very hard.

Sebastian was one of the few in the school with your shared humor. Others would call you lot immature and improper, but ever since you found Sebastian, it didn't matter anymore. Because you had each other to be 'immature' and 'improper' with.

You wouldn't have wished it to be any other way.

"If he even has a wife." You suggest with a raise of eyebrows, sinking your teeth in your bottom lip whilst in thought.

"We'll have to interrogate the million bottles of half-empty brandy throughout his house then." He suggests instead, sarcastically.

"What a sad, sad man." You nod in response, looking around. You hear Sebastian scoff a laugh, making you giggle in return due to his silly little 'planning'.

"Probably a real conversation we would've had in year 5." You smile at the thought, shaking your head.

"Yeah," he responds breathlessly, thinking back to that year you two did the most reckless things. Not too much has changed, but it certainly wasn't as bad as before.

Silence fills the tower as you're both in reflection of year 5, having both the worst yet finest recollections then. As Sebastian was most likely thinking of the terrible situation between him and his sister, you were stuck thinking of the day you met him.

You had enough time to heal from everything which happened before, having the best shoulders to lean on.. But with what Sebastian's been through... Who knows about him.

"It sucks Ominis couldn't be here." you blurt out, merely desperate to fill the silence.

Sebastians' head was slightly down, his eyes darting onto yours after your words. He attempts to read your face, looking away before responding.

"I suppose." Your eyebrows raise at his answer. "Suppose, hm?" You puff out your lips and narrow your eyes in thought, nodding at the response you wouldn't have expected from him.

"I don't mind being alone." he shrugs, his eyes fixated on yours. You hold eye contact for a moment before helping yourself up, and sitting next to him silently. Butterflies swarmed your stomach, attempting to brush them off.

You rotate your body away from him, resting your back on his shoulder in silence.

"Could I ask you something?" he questions unsurely, fiddling with his fingers.

You hum in response, bringing both your knees up to your chest. The cats got your tongue, your mind still swarming, and your heart still thumping rapidly due to his last words. You never seemed to be able to pull yourself together with him.

It's as though your feelings have a mind of their own, absolutely tweaking with any and every move he may make. It drove you mad sometimes, it was frankly overwhelming. But it was overwhelming with the best feelings ever.

Besides the nauseated sense in your gut regarding it.

"Anything." you add on, finally finding your voice and brushing off your thoughts.

Whenever you found the both of you alone somewhere, the air became a lot heavier, the vigorous tension weighing it down. You weren't certain if it was all constructed in your mind, but it was certainly there. For you at least.

Some certain remarks Sebastian makes have you wonder if he feels it too, but you never trust it fully, keeping yourself from looking and feeling like a clown.

"Does Ominis know?" His tone has gone low, trailing off his sentence, concerning you.

"Know what.." You respond unsurely, disoriented about where this could possibly be going. Was there something you weren't supposed to tell him?

"That you fancy him." Sebastian answers late, it paining him to hear whatever words which were to come out of your mouth next.

He always felt out of place around you two, as though he's always third-wheeling at what not.

He's attempted to talk to Ominis about it before, but he pushed it off, calling him crazy. That made him wonder.

Sebastian was fairly jealous when it came to you two, knowing Ominis has many strong factors in his personality, and that he's very desirable when it may come to women. Always has been. More than him on most ends.

Ominis could see Sebastians' feelings toward you, and he knew that. Which is why he was so worried. He wondered if you'd said anything to him about 'your feelings towards him', and he didn't tell him.

"Fancy him?" Your tone reads shocked, absolutely dumbfounded from where that's come from.

Sebastian sighs. "You heard me just fine."

He's grown tired of the both of you 'playing dumb', but little did he know he was very much making stuff up in his mind.

"And where did that come from?" You ask, turning your body around to face him instead. You sit with your legs crossed, staring at him in concern and question.

Where could he have possibly gotten that idea from? Is he a fool?

He's sure to not return your gaze, the topic being sensitive to him.. Slightly embarrassing, frankly. But he needed his answers.

Sitting in silence whilst the two of you sat & chattered of whatever, was eating him inside out. For years.

"I mean it isn't exactly a secret. Whenever it's us three about, between the two of you, I start to feel left out."

Your mouth gapes open, stunned. How could he be so blind?

"Sebastian, you can't be serious." You respond with a scoff, causing him to avert his eyes from you further.

All these years of merely wanting HIM, and he thinks I'm in love with his best friend??

"I've felt it since our 5th year, y/n."

"Then you're the only one." You respond instantly after him.

Regardless of you calling yourself crazy for it, you always felt something between the two of you. The passive flirting, constantly needing to be around each other, etc etc, for the past 2 1/2 years. But him questioning this made you think. Was it one-sided, or is he jealous?

He couldn't be.

"Seb..." You say softly, hoping to gain his attention. But he doesn't look your way. He shakes his head with a scoff, repeating your nicknaming.

"Seb." He mocks, his eyes not trailing towards yours once, matter of fact they wander everywhere but onto you. You didn't understand his sudden coldness but Sebastian was hurting himself with these made-up feelings of yours toward Ominis, forcing himself frustrated. But of course, you didn't know this now.

You go to place your hand gently on his knee, but he flinches, causing you to jerk your hand away, watching him stand up from the floor.

Your watch him silently in confusion, hurt and concerned with how he's acting.

Sebastian would sometimes get like this, randomly. You learned to just let him feel it out, then be there for him once he came to you, or else you'd get pushed away. He tends to do that to people he loves. Push them away.

As he stood up he began to pace a bit, before walking over to one of the railings, thinking to himself while looking into the grounds below us.

"Sebastian.. What's wrong?"

You notice his jaw clench at your voice, suddenly going tense. He usually did the exact opposite at the sound of you, which made you even more confused.

Your heart started beating faster, resting in your stomach as you grew ill of worry. Whenever he gets like this, it brings back memories of year 5. Terrible, terrible memories you never wish to relive again.

But it feels as though you are when he gets like this.

“Seb-?”

“I cant-“ he cuts you off, attempting to drain out your voice with his own, but he trails off.

He can’t handle you questioning him, because he knows he’s going to give in and expose his feelings to you. He’ll give in to anything as long as it’s you telling him to. And right now he knows you want answers. And frankly, he needs to give them to you. He feels swamped with all the kept emotions inside him from everybody that he has towards you.

Which is what causes him to just blurt it out. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He turns around to finally return your gaze. His lips quiver, but no tears appear. He’s more afraid than he is upset, but then again it varies.

“Can’t.. Can’t what?” You practically whisper, shaking your head as you watch his lips fail to stay content.

“Why are you always acting like this?” His face goes angry but his eyes are more hurt, glossing over. His mouth gapes open in a deep breath, his eyebrows knitted together in anger and confusion.

Your voice doesn’t work, merely mouthing the words ‘acting like-???’ in confusion, your eyes going glossy toward the swamp of sentiments in your chest.

You didn’t understand what was happening but you understood you must’ve hurt him in some way, which hurt you.

And the sudden waves of emotions made you grow overwhelmed, confused, and frankly sad. You two were having a great time on your way here, how'd it suddenly get so serious?

You would've been used to it by now, just wait for it to pass, but the vibes were heavier and different this time. You knew it had something to do with you now, your mind swarming with questions about what you could've possibly done to get him so heated like this. Was it something you said?

Sebastian swallows the lump in his throat, his jaw clenching harder. His lips didn't seem to stop quivering, only getting worse with each thought passing through his mind. Frankly, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more concerned for him in years since right now. The lip quivering and hurt eyes… It was different.

But you chose to stay quiet. Well, honestly you didn’t know what to say. Just let him talk.

"Acting like you don't know." His voice was softer but still tense. He was clearly very uncomfortable, and so were you. Your eyebrows didn't leave each other's side, knitted jointly.

Your confusion seemed to just grow bigger and bigger inside of you at every word he said and every one of his actions. 'Don't know..' 'Don't know...'

You let your eyes wander as you thought hard. Don't know what? You were clearly unsuccessful with your study, darting your eyes back onto his.

He stood there leaning against a wall, his leg over the other, watching you with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, as if he were waiting for you to get it.

He realized you were just as confused, so he sighed in response. He closed his eyes and turned his back toward you, running his hand through his hair as he backed away from the wall, and paced again. Certainly a pacer.

"Don't know wh-" You were asking in question, but it seemed as though you began talking, he grew more frustrated. He was. Not necessarily at you, but at the situation.

He interrupted you, his next words painting the tower LOUD with silence.

"That I've loved you this whole time?!" He raises his voice in frustration, now facing you.

You're at a loss of breath, your mouth gaped open in absolute shock. Your eyebrows curve up a bit, reading his facial expressions.

Your eyes dart between every crevice in his face, trying to gather your thoughts together.

Was he serious? Of course he was. But why? Since when? How? Your heart was warming, fluttering in your chest whilst your gut was in the ground, a nest of butterflies attempting to escape it felt like. You were beyond happy, yet confused, relieved, exhausted, and ANGRY.

Angry about why it took him so long. All the restless nights could've been saved? This whole time you were left wondering.

"Are you serious?" you blurt out, frustration peering through your tone as anger gets the best of you tonight.

You stood up, walking towards him. He just watched you, his eyebrows knitted together as his lips finally stopped trembling.

As soon as you got close enough, you pushed his shoulders as hard as you could, causing him to stumble backward. His mouth immediately opened in shock, confused.

Just as he gained his balance again, you pushed his right shoulder, it now being your turn for your lips to shake.

"All," You paused between your words, pushing him between each one. "This," Your arms got weaker, pushing him with less force. He didn't even defend himself, he just stood there watching you, his hands brought up under your arms, holding your elbows gently just in case he had to stop you.

"Time?" you finished your sentence, slightly whimpering with your last, weak push. You looked at him with glossed-over eyes, a red nose, and fluttering lips. His eyebrows threaded together as he tried to read your facial expressions, confused about your feelings.

His hands rested on your elbows, still trying to scan over your eyes. This was the one time he couldn't tell exactly what you were feeling, and frankly it drove him mad.

"Wh.. What are you thinking.." He asks breathly in a confused manner.

You scoff in response, ripping your arms away from him. The glide of his hands brushing off your elbow as you did so, sent shivers all up your body. You take a deep breath to regain your strength, stepping backwards once more as you look up at him angry, but the hurt in your eyes stopping you from looking intimidating.

"What am I thinking?" You asked breathlessly, almost in shock. Definitely in shock.

"Just about all the nights I've lost sleep over this," You take another step forward, causing him to step back, thinking you were going to push him. Your voice is barely raised, but enough for him to know you were angry, for whatever reason.

"All the doubts, the swarming thoughts, the tears, the anxiety, the-" You trail off, thinking of every single day for the past 3 years you drove yourself crazy thinking and wondering about just this. The insecurities of which grew, the wondering if it was all in your head. You nearly went crazy.

"Now?!" You hit him again, but not too hard. Just enough for him to lose slight balance. He watched you with lightly broadened eyes, and a gaped open mouth. His eyebrows seemingly GLUED to each other.

His face grew more tense and angry, snapping back after he gathered his thoughts. "How do you assume I felt?!" his arms slightly lift in unbelief.

Denial then fills over your whole body, causing you to scoff. "No." you shake your head, blinking the tears away. Your nose was red and highlighted. You shake your head for a second, looking him in his eyes as you just completely turn around and walk away from him.

Leaving the situation isn’t exactly what you wanted to do, but you needed to process all the swarming sentiments in your body right now.

"No?" he asks in disbelief, confusion in his tone. "What do you denote, no?" He continues questioning you, stopping you from completely leaving the tower. You stop in your tracks, right before opening the door to the stairs.

"I love you.?" he states, though he's confused with why you're telling him 'no.' He was questioning if you were blowing him off or if you didn't believe him.

"No."

"I do-"

"No! Sebastian. no." You raise your voice a bit higher to override his words. As much as you've been longing to hear them come out of his mouth, you didn't believe it. Therefore you didn't wish to hear it anymore. He was just confusing platonic love with romantic love. Or so you convinced yourself.

"I just apprised I'm in love with you, y/n-"

You talk over his words, shutting your eyes harshly in frustration. you wished he would shut up, because the more he told you, the more it hurt you. Knowing he possibly had no idea what he was talking about hurt you to your core.

"You're NOT- how?" you interrupt yourself, turning around to face him. You pause before continuing your question, watching him.

"How do you know." You ask, standing still in silence as you await a reply. You didn't expect much of a response, because you had already convinced yourself it wasn't true. It was just a mistake on his end.

As if it seemed his eyebrows couldn't thread jointly any more than it was, it did just that. "How do I know?" He asked in a whisper, breathlessly. His voice hardly even strung out.

You bite on your bottom lip in anticipation, knowing his answer would just back up your claim to him not knowing what he was talking about. Fire in your chest grew, your anger not leaving at all. You didn't want to stick around to hear it, but a feeling inside of you thought just maybe he would feel the same. Or at least hoped for him to.

"I KNOW because it's all I've thought about since I met you, y/n"

"No. No." You say as he speaks, interrupting him again.

"No. What do you mean no? Why no?" he responds the second you voiced your first 'no.' talking over you as well.

You just shake your head in response, and just as you were about to form your lips to say another 'no' he interrupted you before you could.

"Yes. Yes, I do. Y/n.. Merlin- Yes I do." He's practically begging for you to believe him, yet still has sternness in his tone. Your mind seemed to stop working properly, and just the mere way you were standing there in this situation had you overly uncomfortable. You had no train of thought, yet all in the globe.

You had no idea what to think or feel, yet you were pondering and discerning everything imaginable all at the same time. You felt nearly sick to your stomach with the fast change of emotions and all the sentiments you were experiencing at once.

He clenches his jaw at your silence, taking in your frankly rude denial.

"I finally tell you after all these years and how you respond is denial? rejection?" He scoffs, looking away. This whole argument his accent had just grown stronger and stronger, as it usually did. When he was upset, Angry, or sad it'd heavily enhance. But since he was both at the same time, it was brutally strong.

You pierce your lips together as you take in his words. Your eyebrows aren't as tense as before, softening as they curve up the glossier your eyes get.

"The bloody hell are you talking about, 'no'??" He pauses, his face tensing and getting clearly angrier.

"Fuck, y/n?!" he complains breathlessly, looking at you with confused, curved eyebrows.

He blurts out more words, gaining more anger in himself, but you block them all out. You block his voice out of your head, not taking in a thing he's saying. You just watch him spit and scoff in frustration as your face falls straight and stern. You sheer watch carelessly, before interrupting his rambles.

Your head begins shaking at him, yourself, and frankly the whole situation. Your eyes are truly tearing up now, as your face tenses up. Who knew your lips could quiver anymore, tweaking your voice trembly.

"Fuck you." you blurt out, yet slow and softly. You stand still and careless, just watching him. Watching him as anger fills in your chest, most likely along with his.

You stare as he pauses in the middle of his words, turning his head to look at you. Confusion, Disgust, and anger paints over his face as he just glares in return.

His lips curve and mouth slightly opens to create the word ‘what’, but his lips don’t move anymore, not one sound coming out from him.

“Fuck. You, Sebastian.” you repeat yourself, pausing between each word. You wanted to be SURE he heard you and understood what you were coming off as, CLEARLY.

He blinks twice fast, his eyelashes fluttering in confusion. His breath hitches in his chest, physically feeling his stomach drop. He pierces his lips together in response, slowly walking up to you.

You didn’t move an inch as he approached, standing still and tall, heightening your chin the closer he got. He now towers over you, tilting his head down which causes you to feel his breath on your forehead.

“Oh, fuck me, huh?” He looks directly down into your eyes coldly, towering over your whole body. You don’t return your regard, staring at his chest as you nod slowly.

“Enlighten me. What did I possibly do to you.” he asks, except question wasn’t in his tone. Pure strict and demand was.

He was almost whispering with how low his voice was, and each breath he breathed on your forehead caused shivers sent down your spine.

“I hate you.” You whisper, your voice cracking. “You’re a fucking coward.”

Your voice tracks off before your able to finish your sentence, swallowing the lump in your throat. You were at the verge of crying, but you blinked back your tears. You hated the way he still proceeded to make you feel, even in an argument like such.

You were feeling many emotions, and the strongest one was anger. So that’s the one you used. You couldn’t believe it after all this time. All the times he’d have gotten so angry at you or distanced himself from you when you got close to a guy, but then never confessing drove you mad, and so confused. As confused as ever. It’s like you couldn’t do anything with anyone else but him, but he could still go and do whatever he wanted. You were exhausted.

The confusion you felt due to it kept you up so many nights, it genuinely breaking you the more it occurred. He never gave reason or anything as such. He just forbade it. Or got angry if you did. It’s not like you wanted anything to do with anyone else but him anyways.

You push Sebastian away from you with a small whimper. You begin to choke on your tears due to the attempt of dismissing any other crying noise to escape your lips in embarrassment.

Sebastian skips backward, keeping himself content on the ground. He merely glances down at you from the distance, not blinking or moving his gaze elsewhere. His eyes get sadder and lower, feeling heavily rejected. His heart is heavier than the feel of this ‘rejection’, fallen into his gut.

His eyes wander off of you, losing perception of time and reality as he dissociates into his swarming, hurtful thoughts.

“You made me feel so trapped, all these years.” You start slowly, scanning over the ground before fixating your gaze back on his face as you paused. You noticed him spaced out, snapping back into reality at the sound of your voice as his eyes follow back onto your face. His expression didn’t change, watching you hurtfully. His eyebrows curved in concern and intrigue, wondering where you could’ve been going with your statements.

“So isolated from any other boy.” You finish, still having more to say. You read his expressions before gathering your next words, seeing him try and take in what you were saying. He was frozen, stuck processing.

“I hate you for making me feel as if I was chasing someone who was so blinded by me wit-“ You took a deep breath, trying to take control of your quivering lips, and keep yourself together.

“With friendship and .. And platonic love.” You finished, sniffling away your tears and runny nose, fixing your face to be more cold and direct again.

You look up at him and hold eye contact harshly, giving him a mean stare with hurt eyes.

“You have loved me..” you start off with a low voice, steadily, piercing your lips together as your anger builds up inside you. Your eyes shut harshly, opening as you finish your sentence.

“This whole. FUCKING TIME?” Your voice progressively gets louder until your practically yelling it in his face, stepping closer to him and pushing him again with a grunt.

“FUCK you. I have been SO EXHAUSTED and WORRIED all of these FUCKING YEARS being unsure about EVERYTHING, and NOW?!” you step closer to him after he stumbled back, keeping his feet on the ground.

His face grew angrier and tenser as you continued your sentence.

“I frankly don’t get how you DIDN’T NOTICE?” Sebastian finally responds in the same tone as you, his voice loud but not as loud as yours was, for his hurt and pain where nearly overcoming his anger momentarily.

“How the bloody FUCK was I supposed to notice when you would talk to every other girl the same way you do I?”

“What are you rambling on about?? You are so much closer to me than any other girl?”

“We trauma bonded, I thought we’d just naturally become close from everything we’ve been through together??” You create excuses for yourself, truthfully still in denial. But a bit of it left here and there, more and more as the two of you blabbed on.

“Frankly! But you could have simply payed attention to context clues. I never treated you like any other girl. You were my onl-“

“Fuck, Sebastian.” you whisper to yourself, interrupting him. You look away with a scoff, as he grows additionally angry.

“You could’ve just fucking told me yourself as well!! You’re mad at me for not saying anything but i’ve been dreading this since our 5th year?!” He complains completely frustrated and shocked, in disbelief.

You mere shake your head and ignore his words. Your mind keeps thinking about all the restless nights because of this exactly. And as much as you’d be extremely happy to hear his words, you’re angry. You’re angry and frustrated. Assumably making yourself feel this way, but you weren’t thinking of such right now.

“All these FUCKING MEN to try and get over you is FUCKING INSANE. i grew so exhausted wondering if you felt the same way or not!!!-“ You complained more, pure adrenaline based off of your anger yet extreme happiness. You didn’t understand the mix of emotions but you did understand your anger and frustration.

“I feel the same GOD DAMN WAY why are you yelling at me like it’s all just on me-“ he complains right after you, but you talk over him.

“-All these fucking jealous wars and sleepless god damn nights…-“ You were practically rambling on to yourself, letting it all out since you’ve never been able to say it out loud before.

“you isolated me from any and all relationships with any other girl because you were just always on my bloody mind and I was always wondering if you liked me or we were just friends or wh-“

You guys then go on like this, continuously bickering back and forth, mostly talking over each other. You were both extremely angry and frustrated at eachother, or so the situation. Clearly.

Yet happy. So fucking happy.

Whilst you just started screaming and yelling at each other, you stepped closer and closer, getting in each other's faces. His breath made contact with your forehead again, but you kept yourself together. The irritation and mixed emotions held you strong.

You look up at him to hold eye contact while arguing over each other, to let him KNOW you’re pissed. Both of your faces paint tense and angry, anyone who would’ve spotted you two arguing would assume things were to get violent.

But finally, Sebastian shut up. By shutting you up.

He aggressively grabbed the back of your neck and smashed his lips harshly against yours. You immediately kissed him back, all your thoughts draining from your head at the simple feel of his lips.

Yours brushed like velvety silk, smoothing over each other perfectly. His hands made their way to both sides of your head, dragging you into his kiss harder. Your hands traveled up to feel over his chest, just as you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

He didn’t think twice as his tongue already made its way in, both of your mouths perfectly jointed together like a fitted puzzle piece. You were both nearly out of breath but refused to break apart until it literally depended on your life, breaking free of the anger by taking it out on each other. Passionately. Romantically.

Perfectly.

You two broke apart gently, your foreheads resting against each other as you breathed the same breath, all the air from your lungs nearly 100% vanishing due to the hold of the kiss, and all the before disputing.

All the anger disappeared from inside you both completely, your hearts fluttering with joy, and pounding like never before.

You broke the contact from your foreheads to look at his face fully, brushing your hand over his cheek, holding it in your hand. You go on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his nose, but he interrupts it by kissing your lips again instead. His hands brush down your lower back, pulling you in closer to him.

Your lips mash into each others' hard, the feeling of him smiling against your lips yields you to as well. You break away from the kiss, his lips desperately following yours again like a lost puppy, but you back your face away from his.

"I'm in love you." You breathe against his mouth, your eyes traveling up into his as he breaks his look away from your lips onto your gaze.

"No." he responds breathlessly, teasing and mocking you. You giggle softly, knotting your fingers into his hair as he pulls you into a hug, snickering in return.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

✧.*Authors Note: hi! I'm honestly not too sure how I feel about this one but I spent too much damn time on ts so it's getting published.

I loved the idea of an angry love confession from Sebastian and y/n, but I feel as though I might've rushed it a bit and didn't portray Sebastians' personality as well as I could've... But frankly, I'm just desperate to post this one shot so I'm happy as hell writing this authors note right now lmfao. Enjoy feeding into your delusions with me!!

And again, kind feedback/advice is very very welcome!!

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sgiandubh · 5 months

Text

S on BBC 4's Saturday Live: 'anything but a quiet life'

As you all know, S was today on BBC Four's Saturday Live radio talk show, sharing the scene with people like super male model David Gandy, Catrin Finch - a Welsh harpist of international repute and the ever fascinating Lucy Worsley, a strong contender (along with Mary Beard) for the title of personal favorite (living) historian.

You can listen (as I dutifully did twice) to it here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m001t96r. I don't know how to embed it on this page, but that shouldn't be a problem.

The show is always interesting and I strongly suggest to let it play along and not rely only on my summing up & comments. I particularly enjoyed Lucy Worsley's Medieval and Baroque musical selection (flawless!) - but enough said, we're here for S, who was live on show from BBC's London studios.

As usually, I am going to transcript it as much as I can, primarily for those reading this post and using Google Translate (@bat-cat-reader, you are served!). So, you will kindly excuse the length, thank you.

At the 07:40 mark, a half jocular mention when prompted by the host: not a cricketer and not a harpist either (you can say many things about S, but not that he's got no humor - always a big plus in my book). But then things quickly get emotional, when he immediately mentions his mother (the question generally asked was 'what did your parents sacrifice for you?'), who 'sacrificed a lot (...) [as] a single parent, (...) she gave us everything, I think'. And then he quickly gets emotional, mentioning Chrissie H. again:

'(...) can I give my mom a shoutout, it's her birthday, on Monday [Nikki Bedi, presenter: 'aww, of course you can!'], so happy birthday, Chrissie, and thank you so much and I wish... I'm glad you never got me a harp, because I would have never dedicated myself. I think that's why I became an actor, because I didn't have to work too hard at one thing.'

It's then David Gandy's turn to talk about his own rural childhood in Billericay (Essex), his close knit family and his parents' endeavor of building a business and the now incomprehensible need to use faxes, something he has now to 'explain to the younger ones'. Then Nikki Bedi turns to S (13:08): 'Sam's laughing at that. Do you remember faxes?' Answer: 'I do.. I mean, I remember faxes getting scripts through or couriers bringing you know, scripts to your door, it..it's just a completely different world, now, and I am sure the fashion world is completely different now, isn't it, David, I mean it's changed so much'.

Onwards to more questions asked by Mrs. Bedi. This one was interesting (19:16): 'Sam, do you fear that each job you do is an act that could be your last? Is that always in the back or front of your mind?' Answer: 'Yeah, I think.. David, I mean...um... earnestly, everything you're saying there kinda rings true for my career as well... I am sure for Catrin being, you know, being a musician, I think it's, you know [Nikki Bedi: is it true, Catrin? CF: yes, absolutely, yeah, many things David said... it's the same (...)'].

Huw Stevens mentions alternatives to 'gigs', the need to plan for the future and the fact 'you always have to remain busy', mentioning S's whisky. Gandy also mentions S ('you've got quite a few businesses [...] a man after my own heart, we'll then gonna have to go out'), immediately cued in by Nikki Bedi ('whisky, tequila, gin').

Just after Lucy Worsley's superb intervention (easily my favorite of the whole program!), cue in to the kilt on a glacier part of S's chit-chat I am sure we all dutifully 🙄, by now. I noted the slight hesitation in his voice, while mentioning 'my...my friend, Graham McTavish', so I will not - yeah, sue me-, I repeat: I will not transcript this verbatim, simply because it doesn't really bring anything new or important to what we all know, already. Sitting on a glacier 'in a kilt, in commando, yes, it's my claim to fame'. Disgruntled Tumblrettes, beware - he poked fun at himself (shall I sign this to you, or are you able to read my lips?) and that is something only very intelligent people are able to do without sounding pathetic. Another interesting thing is the way Nikki Bedi presented S ('the actor, award-winning liquor maker and writer'- 36:00), roughly midway of the whole broadcast.

His dedicated segment begins at the 49:10 mark and lasts until the end, about 10 minutes in all. He was introduced by Huw Stevens: "Sam Heughan, it seems, would like anything but a quiet life", plus some cursory bio elements, mentioning his mother's influence on his own creativity, his breakthrough as JAMMF, but also TCND (Nikki Bedi watches it and 'apparently the third episode is the most steamy' 🤦‍♀️). 'He is also a philanthropist, businessman and thrill seeker, and of course, as mentioned earlier, has his own whisky and is a best-selling author'. Mentions his 'parents, characterful people, hippies, in the Seventies, with a love for Tolkien'. S: 'my mum would probably kill me if I called her a hippie' - also, 'she is not the best singer, but there was always music around'. Stevens mentions the Gandalf's Garden Soho hippie community both his parents were a part of before he was born, but S doesn't develop it. The rest (difficult childhood, loner, using his imagination sparked his creativity, etc) we know from Waypoints. The very Scottish concept of 'stravaigin'' comes along in the conversation, which is not exactly a drifter and a bit more than a wanderer (if I understood correctly) - perhaps a good title for a second personal memoir, S? I'll leave this idea float in here for free, heh. OL comes along then, and by far the most interesting thing he mentioned about it is that "it is my life, it's taken over my life', hoping it would sparkle at least some conversation in the comments' thread. OL 'has also been hugely beneficial for Scotland, increased tourism by 200% in some locations (...), and it's all down to the magic of Scotland'.

Next projects: exciting not to really know what is next, but 'I am also saying no to a lot, because I am in a place now where I think the next decision is really important (...). I enjoy being in control now (....), producing my own shows and you know, my own products. (...) once you take control of that creativity (....) there's a lot of freedom and yeah, we shall see'.

And then Huw Stevens makes a joke - but was it really a joke? it's the BBC, after all - and says that all four of the guests could contribute something to what 'could be the next generation of Bond', (S: 'the finest British production'). Cue in an anecdote about S being invited to present an event to Buckingham Palace and taking a cab to a pub, right afterwards. MPC and tomorrow's book signing at Saint Pancras station wrap off the show.

Quickly, my 50 cents on it: way, way better than expected and S always delivers when they ask no weird questions about his private life (hallelujah, maybe they listen to us, after all?). The question about the fear of each job being the last reminded me of one of his answers in a very early interview: 'your biggest fear? getting the sack'. This time, his answer, whatever he intended to say, got lost in the brouhaha, but I suspect not much has changed, essentially, even if the 'after OL' part of the show strives to tell a more optimistic story.

But the thing that impressed me the most and in a very good way is the attention he got from all the other people invited in that studio. Unlike the social nobodies of Tumblr, they did not find bizarre the fact that he created his own spirits business and is actively promoting it. They were far from judging him: in fact, I even think he made a new friend of David Gandy, who had quite positive and nice and honest things to say about him. S was articulate and graceful and very moving every single time he mentioned Chrissie. And I am also sure he would have loved to share more things, especially when David was lovingly talking about his wife and daughters. But he couldn't. And that is a shame. But this too, shall pass - The Boy is slowly learning to say no to a lot of things, as he just let us know. Probably the best news we've got from him in a good while.

And now, onwards to a particularly venomous Anon I am still pondering the answer to.

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year

Text

Steve came into being in an unusual way. He bloomed from a flower after his mother had beseeched a fairy, wanting a child of her own. He had the features of a handsome young man, all in the petite form that could fit in the palm of his mother's hand.

Steve was kept busy just trying to keep up with her as she worked as a seamstress. She often found him tangled in thread or wrapped up in ribbon. He was great at needling her thread though.

Still, Steve wished to have someone around who was more like him. Someone of his size who really understood his point of view. Sometimes his mother would read to him, stories of fantasy and of knights and princes. His favorites were of the fairies. People as small as him, who surely saw the world as he did, but had the wings to take them higher and away.

The book was propped on the dresser of his room and he stood in front of the picture of the fairy prince. Like this, Steve could almost pretend he was talking to him.

"Have you ever seen one? A real fairy?", Steve asked his mother while she sat knitting in the corner.

"Well, fairies do exist darling. But there are many kinds." There were probably about as many as there were flowers. "I haven't seen any quite as small as the ones in your book."

Steve frowned a little but if there were all sorts of fairies, then ones that looked more like him must exist somewhere. Otherwise where did the stories come from? They must just be too small for humans to see.

When his mother turned in for the night, Steve continued to gaze at the page. The fairy prince in the story had an elegant air about him, with sparkling golden hair. Now that he was alone, in only the candlelight, he let his fantasies run wild.

"Hello there, your highness", he bowed, smiling silly to himself. "May I have this dance?"

Lost in his own world, he didn't notice the eyes watching him as he twirled next to the page. Eyes belonging to someone small enough to sneak in through the slightly opened window with wings to bring him closer.

"Mind if I cut in?"

Startled, Steve took a needle from the pin cushion next to him and brandished it, only to come up against a sword the size of his needle.

"Quick on his feet. Very attractive for a dancer."

Steve took in the stranger. Long, dark hair, wild eyes... and wings.

"You're a fairy", he breathed out, the grip on his needle loosening.

"That I am." Seeing that he wasn't about to be impaled, he withdrew his sword and gave a lavish bow. "Eddie of Forest Hills, at your service. And you? Or should I just call you gorgeous?"

Steve was thrown about by this stranger, no not a stranger anymore. By Eddie. Without taking his eyes off him, he put the needle back in the cushion. He gave a small bow of his own. "Steve."

"Pleasure to meet you Steve." Looking up at the story book, Eddie flew up to the picture of the fictional prince then pointed to himself. "What do you think? We're like twins, aren't we?"

Steve laughed but not unkindly. The fairy in the book seemed worlds away from Eddie.

"Are there, others like you?"

"Like me? Hmm, if you mean one of us winged folk, there's plenty out in the hills. If you mean incredibly handsome..." Eddie's wings slowly brought him back down to Steve. "Well right now I can only think of one other."

Steve blushed. Whoever this guy was, he was good. Almost too good.

Then somehow he leaned on something that wasn't there and fell over the side of the dresser, squawking down the way before catching himself with his wings. Which got Steve laughing again.

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

That laugh, oh that laugh. Eddie would fall over a dozen times just to hear it. He never imagined he'd find someone like this tonight. Eddie 100% believed in love at first sight. At least on his end. He did think he would need to do some convincing on the other person's end. But seeing how he made Steve laugh twice in less than a minute, he figured it was safe to say he was charmed at least.

"So, there's other fairies", Steve sat down, his legs hanging over the edge. "Is there actually a fairy prince?"

Eddie floated all the way back up and then sat down next to him. "There is", he said with a grin. No need to show his entire hand so early.

"Well, what's he like?"

Steve suddenly looked enraptured and Eddie couldn't help but feel a little jealous for himself.

"The prince is...princely, I suppose. Good with a sword, listens to the common folk, not too stuffy, heard he's pretty good looking too."

"Is that so? Coming from someone who considers himself incredibly handsome, the prince must be quite the looker", Steve said.

And stars help him, Eddie couldn't help but get a little closer. "I mean he's fine, for a prince."

"Have you ever met him?"

Eddie nodded. "I have."

"I bet he's strong and brave. I'd love to meet him myself one day."

It was hard to focus on just one part of Steve. He wanted to gaze into his eyes, stare at his lips, and try and see if he could count his moles by the light of the candle, all while listening to his words. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up stealing a kiss. And he wanted Steve to give it to him.

They seemed on the precipice of deciding just that when something bumped against the window, sending Steve nearly into Eddie's lap which sent Eddie into the stratosphere.

"What was that?"

Eddie groaned and flew next to the window, Steve following on his feet. They came out the crack in the window to meet the maker of the noise.

"Steve, meet my shining steed, Honey."

Steve waved at the bee that looked itching to fly. "Hi Honey."

Eddie almost replied with a 'hi sweetheart' but kept it in his head. While Steve was admiring the fuzzy hide, Eddie walked around him, hands behind his back like he was surveying.

"Soooo, wanna take a ride?"

Part 2

#apo writes #fanfiction #stranger things #steddie #thumbelina au

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niphredil-14 · 3 months

Note

hey so how do you think the rottmnt boys would deal with having a published writer s/o. I imagine s/o has made Leo a jupiter jim fanfic which feels way too accurate it could be one of his comic books. Or like left little poems for Donnie lying around to cheer him up and discuss feelings with it or Fantasy short story for Mikey?

Oh, how the writer in me loves this request!! (also, welcome back to my inbox! nice to see you again! c:)

Leonardo:

Ever since Leo had found out that his lover could write, he had been begging them to write fanfiction for him. They had most likely been forced to watch all of the Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu movies before they even started dating Leo. But no matter how much he had begged for fanfiction, they had refused. They were just too busy working on the next volume in their series! But little did he know, that in the weeks leading up to his birthday, they had been brainstorming, plotting, drafting, and editing a special story just for him. When they handed him the gift, wrapped meticulously in Jupiter Jim themed wrapping paper, he was so excited! Before even unwrapping it, he knew that he would love it, just based on the look of pure joy and excitement in their eyes. He ripped the paper off, and found a deep blue binder, filled with paper. On the cover was written, "Happy Birthday, Leonardo" in large letters, and below it, in smaller letters, was written, "All my love, Y/N <3" His heart warmed, and he flipped the binder open, and almost squealed in excitement. Jumping over t them, he pulled them into a tight hug. He did not put it down until he finished reading it, and then he would just reread it. After he almost dropped it while on patrol, he asked Donnie to transcribe it and put it on his phone.

Raphael:

He found out early on in the relationship that his partner was a writer, and while he was very impressed with them and their talent, he wasn't much of a reader, so he didn't fully grasp just how amazing they were at first. While Raph could read, it was always hard for him, and he would have to go back and reread paragraphs over and over until they stuck. Out of love and interest in his darling, though, he began to listen to the audiobook versions of their books while he worked out. And he found out that worked for him, and was enjoyable. And though he often found himself wishing that it was their voice reading their stories to him, he knew from their conversations just how awkward they felt reading anything they wrote aloud to people, he knew how much they hated it, how vulnerable it made them feel, so he never asked. How much and often they talked about their work to him varied, though when they did it was usually just them complaining to him about their publishers/editors, or asking for his advice on the plot, or just using him as a fill in for them to perform the rubber duck theory. However, one day, they burst into his room, holding a book, and practically shaking. He had been sat on his bed, and they quickly sat down beside him, with the book pressed close to their chest. Before he could get a word out, they had begun to speak.

"I have a gift for you!" They trilled, they voice high, and sing-songy. A grin had stretched across his face, even wider than it had when they had first entered the room.

"Aw, Babe, you didn't have to get me anything!" He said to them.

"Well, It's not really that kind of gift, so..." They trailed off, and instead opted for just pushing the book into his hands, forcing the knitting needles aside. He looked down at the book, and found their name written below the title. How they had managed to keep the fact that they had published a new book a secret from him was beyond him, and he paused in wonder. "Open it!!" They exclaimed. And so he did, he flipped through the pages until he came to the dedication, and his eyes began to water at what he saw. Typed in a fancy, swirly, italic font was written,

"To my dearest, Raphael, who has given me endless support, love, and inspiration, who's the best muse anyone could ask for, and who's character is better than any I could create, I have written you into these pages so that your essence may be as immortal as my love for you is."

They had all the talent when it came to words, and he was left with only speechlessness as he pulled them into a tight hug, fat tears falling down his face as he buried his beak into their neck, holding them as close as he could.

Donatello:

It had never been a secret that Donnie was incredibly impressive, and taking that fact into consideration, it was no real surprise that anyone, even as talented a writer as his love, would find themselves often speechless in his presence. With their emotions running too high to properly verbalize them in the moment, they would often find themselves writing out how they felt in long paragraphs until they were able to cut down the words into poems, vague and intricate enough to not be fully clear, and yet so powerful as to make someone know exactly the emotion the poet felt while scribbling the words. Donnie had a very clear understanding of their experience with being unable to verbalize just how they felt, as he often experienced the same thing, and resorted to building things as a way to show his love. Which was why he was so moved when he had found their journal. He knew that all of their final drafts were kept on an ever-growing document on their computer, but he never knew just how those drafts came to be final. And yet, there was a pain in his chest as he held the journal, a disorganized mess of thoughts, in his hands, and was able to see their word vomit be carved down into pure art, not unlike a sculptor chipping away at wood or stone, to reveal the heart of their creation. He had known that he was important enough to them for them to gift him some of their poems, but to be able to look at the proof, to be able to hold it, and to touch it, the proof of just how strong the emotions he stirred up within them were, that was a powerful experience. It was as if his brain had completely shut off for the moments that he held their raw thoughts in his grasp, and all he could think of was how impossible it would be to ever completely and successfully express the same level of depth that his emotions had for them. But he knew that he'd be damned if he didn't try. And with that, he placed their journal back down on their desk, and made his way to his lab, already brainstorming.

(I got kinda carried away with Raph's, I'm not sure what came over me lmao. guess i got possessed by some kind of inspiration ahaha)

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

Note

Soft Joe ideas? What about strangers to lovers where a reader is determined to flirt with Joe using only corny pick up lines to brighten up his mood. She could be a barista he sees every day or something like that...

No smut, but giggly soft Joe.

giggly soft joe?????? yes, excellent, i need him (ima make this a five parter, i HOPE YOU ENJOY) Wordcount: 2.2K

---

Sunshine Blend Dark Roast

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

This amount of energy was not what Joe was expecting this early in the morning. Or, what he could really handle, this early in the morning.

It was weird how he had spotted you from across the street; the coffee shop was fairly crowded already, yet, you'd stood out. Morning commuters all desperate to get their first fix of caffeine in before stepping into offices. It was as if you were lit by a spotlight that moved around and followed you. No, wait. Joe was wrong. There wasn’t a spotlight – you were the spotlight. Beams of glitter shot out of your skin, your eyes, your smile. Joe had seen it from across the street, and it had lured him in just like he assumed it’d lure in any other guy.

“Good morning,” you sing-songed, like it was a Friday afternoon, and the sun was out, and everyone was happy because they just got off work and knew they wouldn't have to wake up to an alarm the next day. Except it was Monday. Monday morning, half past eight, and the weather was gloomy. Grey, cold. Very wet.

Joe got in line and let his eyes scan the menu even though he knew he’d go for the most boring, albeit the best, option in his opinion.

You asked people for their order, talked to them like you knew every single one of them personally, recommended flavours like you knew their taste profiles, asked their names like they did in other coffee shops and passed cups onto your colleague. Would sometimes step back and help, poor steamed milk into large paper cups, or scooped ice into even larger plastic ones.

Until it was Joe’s turn. You told the person in front of them that their drink would be ready for pick up at the end of the counter, then turned and made eye contact with Joe.

Joe, who was wearing a beanie, burgundy, beautifully knitted. Wet, from the rain, just like his grey coat that had dark spots all over the shoulders from fat drops of water that had collected on leaves and streetlights before they fell, to make their marks more prominent than the regular old water droplets that shot down straight from the clouds.

It was Joe Quinn, the actor, who you immediately recognized as the celebrity that he was. In your little coffee shop. On a random Monday morning. Seven thirty. Joseph Quinn.

Joe saw you gasp a small breath. Saw how you sucked in both your lips to bite on. Saw the big eyes you made, staring directly at him. Joe saw it all, and he really wished he didn’t. He was just getting a coffee like everyone else was. Your features quickly changed though. You crinkled your eyes like Joe had seen you do at every other person that came before him, and they would no doubt crinkle like that for every person that would come after him. Your lips pursed into a cute smile, dimples on full display for anyone to see.

“Hi, what can we get ya?” upbeat, happy. Like you’d just had the best sex of your life. Had no worries, or had ever had them for that matter. No bills that needed paying still. No looming tasks that you were secretly procrastinating. No anxiety, no ill will, no darkness. Just light. Pure sunshine.

“Large americano, please,” Joe asked, and because when eyes were on him and he’d have to speak, he’d suddenly fidget, become all nervous, Joe only then decided to slide the beanie off his head and find his wallet in his pocket.

“Are you sure?”

Joe halted. What? That was a weird question to be asked. When had anyone ever before asked Joe if he was sure that what he’d just ordered was really the thing he wanted to order? Never. It was Monday morning, and he was barely awake, and this was definitely a weird question to be asked.

“Um, yes?”

But Joe got asked weirder questions on the daily now, so he kind of just went with it, but cringed anyway. Cringed deep within his core where it was dark and only he could feel it, because showing cringe made people uncomfortable and that’s the last thing he wanted. People would do anything to keep him in conversation for longer. Ask for a pic, tell him they loved him, that he had beautiful eyes, and then would ask him weird questions to keep him there for longer. At what time was he born? What kind of milk did he drink? What was his favourite piece of furniture? Why did his parents decide to call him Joseph? Personal questions they had no business asking, and questions Joe half the time didn’t even know the fucking answer to. Made him say I don't know a million times until he'd start wondering, what did he really actually know?

“Just checking.” you shrugged. “I love a man who's sure,” a little small smug smirk played with your lips and that was cute, but far too forward. Definitely cringe worthy. Joe coughed a small chuckle to let some of the cringe out in the best way he knew how.

“What’s your name?” you asked, large paper cup in hand, sharpie ready in the other.

“Robert,” Joe had the false name so readily available, you knew he must have used it more often. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation. You asked a question, and not a second later he’d answered it with a lie. You knew, and you smiled. Let Joe tap his card to pay. Told him his drink would be ready for him at the end of the counter in a minute before turning to the next customer, the last person in line for now, someone you knew, Joe thought, because you didn’t need to ask for their name.

Then you turned, started helping making drinks. Asked the guy who’d come in after Joe if he didn’t want any pumps of peppermint maybe, or vanilla, for an extra little kick of flavour. As you said it, you kicked your leg, punched an arm, and you giggled at yourself. The guy smiled and said, “Do whatever, you know what I like,” and Joe didn’t think your face could show more excitement if you’d tried. “Shouldn’t trust people like that,” you then spoke as you got busy, contradicting yourself completely. “What if I poisoned you?” you turned, big eyes at the customer who kept his eyes on his phone. “I’m sure the coffee would be great still.” He quipped, and Joe saw your whole face scrunch up as you nodded. “Yea it fucking would.”

You made coffees and seemed to love it. What a complete 180 from every single other barista he’d ever gotten a coffee from. Sure, some of the hipstery variants, guys with curly moustaches, suspenders and tattooed arms, they’d be into it too. But not like this. Those guys wouldn’t skip, hop and sing along to the music playing as they did the annoying tasks of cleaning up after themselves as drinks poured into cups from machines on their own.

One large americano.

You called for Robert. Joe stepped forward, smiled politely as he took his drink and instead of placing it down for him to grab, you held it in your hand for him to take it from you. As he took it, you held onto his cup still, which forced him to look you in the eye.

“Enjoy,” you smiled so sweetly, you might as well have been made of sugar. Only then did you let go.

“Thanks,” Joe smiled, bashfully, a little uncomfortable. Unsure of what you were doing exactly, if this was normal. You saw his ears go red, and pursed your lips tighter to not let any laughter escape. You made Joe blush. Cute.

As Joe walked out of the coffee shop, back out into the rain, the cold air immediately told him how flushed his face really was, the contrast was too much to easily ignore and he sighed. He was... a little annoyed. It was a random Monday morning, and Joe was just getting a coffee. Was this yet another thing to add to the list of all the other normal mundane things he could no longer do without people being weird?

The list seemed never ending now, and Joe hated it.

Joe had a very vivid imagination, so with everything, he’d think of the best possible outcome which would feed him the self-confidence he needed to pursue. Whatever that was; he’d imagine something all working out just fine, and then he’d just go for it. But every coin had its flip side, and so during the pursuing, during the going for it, Mr Self-doubt would rear its ugly little head up and hiss the most unthinkable worst-case scenarios into Joe’s ears, shoot hot worry into his veins. It was something inside him that would whisper warnings, over and over.

Ever since people suddenly seemed to be wanting more of him, Joe was meeting more and more people that in theory should really silence that voice. They’d tell him how much his work had meant to them, how good he was at what he did, how much they valued him - it was all nice things; things that should build him up in every which way.

Yet, it didn’t.

It only seemed to amplify the ugly voice more. Gave it more things to argue against. More things to counteract.

Any time someone would pay Joe a lovely, innocent, sweet little compliment, the voice was fast and vicious and would immediately find several counter arguments to remove all credibility. Make sure he never believed any of it. And Joe would worry enough as it was. But now it all seemed bigger, denser, more all-engulfing, and sure, it was always nice to meet kind strangers who just wanted to be friendly, but the dark side of his brain would grow, and if he didn’t get enough rest, it could completely take over some days.

Joe never minded the voice before. Kind of kept him from being a cocky prick.

Now the voice just made him avoid.

Avoid tasks, avoid new situations, avoid people, interactions - he had to, of course, for his job. And he would do them just fine. He’d be so fine, such a trooper. But outside of office hours, Joe would avoid. He’d procrastinate and worry and drown in self-doubt and so instead, he’d find solace in the things he knew already. The people he knew already. Joe stuck with his old friends. They were the dirty dishes he did whilst an unwritten essay had its deadline inching closer. They were the room he deep cleaned whilst his looming phone laid on his desk with unread messages he had still to open and reply to. They were the kitchen cabinets he went through to find everything that had gone off whilst he had badly written scripts waiting to be read.

Joe found mental psychological discomfort in a lot of the things that were now new to him, so he’d delay and avoid. Do dishes instead.

But then, enter you.

The voice seemed quiet, eerily so, but Joe just thought it was because it was confused. He was confused.

Are you sure?

Who asks that?

What if I poisoned you?

Shit like that would never fly in a Starbucks, or a Costa Coffee.

Joe drank his coffee on his commute, and it was good. Nothing special. Just coffee, the way he liked it. And with every sip he took, he got more into his day. The schedule ahead, his mind going over all the things he had to do that day, and whilst he found focus, you drifted from his thoughts. He had a meeting in half an hour. Then another, but through zoom, with America. Lunch with his publicist most likely. Afterwards some time to himself. Then script reading. He needed to do so much reading, and although he loved reading, there was something annoying about the have to of it all.

Joe finished his coffee, and you no longer occupied any of his brain space.

Until, suddenly, you popped right back in.

Because as Joe went to throw away his cup, he saw it.

Joe

Not Robert. He had said Robert, and you’d called out for Robert, but the cup read Joe. You’d written Joe. Black sharpie on a brown paper cup. Joe. His actual name.

He let out a weird laugh, looked around as if someone else was there and would tell him, no way, she wrote your name? that’s hilarious. As if anyone he’d show the cup to now would understand why it was significant that a coffee cup read his own name. Of course it would. But, it shouldn't. Not this time. And yet, it did. Joe.

He looked at the cup again, your handwriting beside the logo, and then disposed of it.

“Morning,” Joe walked in, greeted the woman behind the front desk.

“Ooh, someone woke up at the right side of the bed this morning,”

Joe stopped, realized he had a big old shit-eating grin plastered onto his face and a pretty, loud bubble-gum-pop of a girl on his mind. He furrowed his brow as he thought it over, a little confused, but smile unwavering, then said,

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @jenisnotlost @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff - (tag list currently full)

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joe quinn x y/n #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic #sunshine blend dark roast #fanfiction #fluff #requested

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vintageaurelia · 4 months

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knitting club (Thomas Thorne x Reader drabble)

note: hi fellas. this is my first time writing something like this and POSTING it. I'm a little nervous ngl! But just bear with me I swear I'll improve 😊. anywho! feel free to shoot some silly little requests my way!

Also! apologies if you don't have any clue about knitting, I personally do and I based this off a singular Thomas quote LOL.

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The club meetings Alison was hosting in the home proved to be bothersome for some of the ghosts, annoyed at how many people were visiting the house every day. Between the AA meetings and just the most random topics you could ever think of being discussed, it was something not everyone was entirely interested in. Though everyone loved to tune into the AA meeting every once in a while, for some juicy stories.

You on the other hand? You stuck around for all the art based clubs, it reminded you of when you were alive and could do all this work with your hands.

The knitting club proved to be one that you could watch for hours, it's one of the hobbies you missed a lot. Looking around at all of the cute creations everyone was making and talking about their families and different stories they had from the day filled your soul with a sort of warmth.

As this week's meeting began, you sat on the old beat up couch, watching all the young, old, women and men fill the seats, excited about what progress they made over the week. Unbeknownst to you though, a certain poet was walking past the room to see you sitting in there alone, with the group that had no idea you were there.

Thomas was never really fond of the knitting club, he felt it was boring and it wasn’t worth his time to sit and watch other people knit while talking about their grandkids or their in-laws. But maybe he could learn to like it? Maybe just for you?

He walked into the room silently as you were enchanted by all the people getting ready to start the meeting. “Good evening dear (Y/N),” Thomas greets you with a slight bow and a polite smile on his face. You light up and wave to him “Hi! Are you here for the knitting club? I thought you didn’t like them?” Thomas freezes up before responding with a quick agreement. “I just thought I might’ve judged them a little too hard at first, so I thought I would give them another chance,” this makes you smile and you go back to watching the group.

He had to admit it's not as boring as he remembered, but it still wasn’t super enjoyable for him. But boy did it make him gleam seeing you get up and tell him what everyone was making and why.

By the end of the meeting, he learned one of the older women was making a blanket for her new grandson, and a young man was making a hat for his wife as a Christmas gift. Part of him wished he could do something like that for you, just because he realized how excited you get about this stuff.

“Say (Y/N), did you know how to knit when you were living? You seem to know quite a bit.” You nod, “It was a big hobby of mine. I spent a lot of time and money on blankets and hats, which now thinking about it, probably paid off. Because now my family has something handmade to remember me.” You smile, but it hurts to think about sometimes.

Thomas reads you like a book, he realizes how emotional you are getting. He places a supportive hand on your shoulder.

You both lock eyes, getting lost with one another. Thomas soon breaks eye contact to glance over at the people knitting mindlessly.

“I know that being stuck here isn’t ideal, and not being able to do the things you love isn’t ideal either. But isn’t it splendid you can still appreciate it? Even if you cannot do it, isn’t the true gift appreciation?” He states, so matter of factly you can’t even begin to argue. “That was actually very poetic.” Both of you smile at each other.

“I also appreciate you, Thomas.”

“I feel the same exact way, my dearest.”

-----

I hope you all enjoyed! Probably not the best work ever, but I thought it was cute :)

#thomas thorne #thomas thorne x reader #bbc ghosts #x reader #bbc ghosts fanfic

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strayflowersstarsandlove · 4 months

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Busan (hwanghyunjin)

Author's note: for some reason every time I write of Hyunjin's I end up with lenghty paragraphs I don't know why, he triggers the writers in me idk I love this man💀💀 anyways this one can definitely be read as a standalone as most if not all my longer writings! reading Preoccupied first might give you a little additional context but it's not essential 💖

"I don't know... What if he's just not that into me?", you puff your cheeks out and cross your arms tightly across your chest, trying to keep warm in the chilly early morning breeze, shifting your weight on your feet from side to side, "bullshit! He is so into you! He's just shy", Changbin whines, only pretending to be annoyed at you as he pinches and pokes your cheeks until you start giggling.You were currently waiting for the whole gang to arrive at the train station for a day trip to Busan.

Originally it was supposed to be just you and Hyunjin, Changbin and your other best friend, Changbin's girlfriend, a double date of sorts. It only ended up being a group outing because Jeongin overheard you guys talking as you were planning the day and decided he wanted to be your tourist guide and then Han overhead Jeongin and felt excluded from the activities so he invited himself and Minho along, and one member led another and so you ended up being stuck with 6 other people on your date.

Which wasn't inherently a bad thing, ever since you and Hyunjin had started seeing each other after meeting at a party, you had had the chance to hang with all of them and you quickly understood just how tight knit and lovely they all were, you thoroughly enjoyed spending time with them and always ending up your day with cramps from all the laughing.

This time you just wanted to be alone with Hyunjin though. You had been going on multiple dates in the last few couple of months, each and every one of them had been great and you could tell that you were getting closer. But he hadn't popped the question yet and you were way too shy to do it yourself. You thought that maybe a change of scenery and the beach would have set the perfect occasion for either of you to try and make the move but even when Lexy had to pull out due to a nasty stomach bug, you were still left with 7 more people on said scenery, Changbin being the sulky one too cause he missed his girlfriend dearly.

You stuff your hands in your pockets and hum to yourself, still mulling over your best friend's words, absentmindedly kicking at the dirt beneath your feet, "he will ask you to be his girlfriend, y/n. I promise. I think he's just trying to find the courage. He made the first move already by kissing you and asking you out, which is out of character for him, give him a little time". Changbin serious, softer tone comforts you a little, you smile weakly at him and nod, "I'm willing to give him all the time he needs, I just wish I knew if he's into me as much as I am into him. I can be very clingy and boring and overall uninteresting, I wouldn't blame him if he just decided I'm not worth it".

Your best friend sighs frustratedly and forcefully engulfs you in a big bear hug, "yah! Don't ever say that again, you hear me? You are so worth it, you're exactly his ideal type too. Hyunjin-ah is just fundamentally shy and he got burned on his last relationship. I'm sure he's just trying to feel this out a little after he dived in head first and got broken hearted. He falls in love so quickly, trusts so easily, he's such a sensitive, reserved person it's amazing he felt this comfortable and outgoing with you so far. He's gonna fully come out of his shell, trust me".

You hug him back very tightly and mumble your thanks and are about to reassure him you understood what he said completely when you hear a loud yell followed by some ridiculous bickering in the distance and soon enough Han and Minho emerge from the car park, shortly followed by Chan and Felix, with Seugmin in tow. They all look so happy to see you and greet you so warmly you instantly cheer up. Even more so when you see Jeongin in the distance, he's fixing his hair amenably after an overtly excited Hyunjin has basically jumped on his back to ruffle it over and over. You can hear him giggle all the way from your spot and can't help but feel a soft, warm rush to your chest.

When they finally walk over to the group Hyunjin beelines to you. He pulls you close and kisses the top of your head while squeezing your hand, smiling softly at you, his demeanor still bubbly and hyper but more tender, softer when he greets you, "hi", he beams at you, his sweet smile reaching his eyes as you reciprocate the gesture and ask him how he's doing today, to which he solemnly replies that he's excited for the day, and a little twinkling in his eyes confirms that. God he's so cute.

The train compartments are divided into four seats each and after much debating (and some mild, playful fighting, Hyunjin looking defeated as he concedes to Changbin who just has to sit on the more outside seat cause he hates when his shoulders squeeze against the window seat ) you end up sitting by the window, Changbin sitting next to you while Hyunjin is directly across from you, next to Chan.

The chopsticks, Felix and Jeongin sitting on the opposite row while Seugmin enjoys "some deserved peace and quiet" as he sits next to other passangers behind your row. 2racha starts talking among themselves the minute the train departs and even though you and Hyunjin try to participate into the conversation you both quickly realise their argument over whether tomatoes are fruits or vegetables is getting pretty heated pretty fast so you just glance at each other and snicker, he stretches out his long legs and loops them around your feet, and then lends you one of his bluetooth earbuds, a silent invite to block out the noises and enjoy the scenery outside your window.

Once you arrive in Busan the group splits for a preventive toilet stop, you, Chan, Felix, Changbin and Minho being the ones brave enough not to take advantage of the washroom at the station as you aimlessly stroll around while you wait for the others. You can tell Chan is trying his best to keep his kids in check while also trying to give you and Hyunjin some space, the moment the group is reunited again he immediately tries to lead them towards the exit so Hyunjin can make his way to you without all eyes on him.

If there's one thing about Chan is that he is very perceptive, he obviously knows his friend very well and figured you too like to keep it low key, you too aren't overly into pda and would rather spend some quieter times with just the long haired brunette.

And his efforts are repayed when he exchanges a quick, complicit glance with Hyunjin, who slows down behind everyone else until he's walking right next to you, he sneaks an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to him, "you're doing okay? I'm sorry they're so loud", he apologises, a fond smile forming on his lips as his eyes wander to his friends animously talking and grabbing at each other's hands and butts, "I'm doing great. I'm actually happy they've taken seemingly well to me, I was afraid they wouldn't like me that much for a sec", you admit sincerely, trying to fall into step with his long strides, "why wouldn't they?", he replies simply, matter-of-factly even, smirking a little when he notices you blushing.

As soon as you all step outside into the blinding sun, Jeongin turns into intense chaperone mode, he gives directions to where to go first and which local stores you should stop by so he and Chan can plan out the day a little. And so the adventure begins.

First stop is dalgona coffee and Sinchang toast from a local café where most of the boys also help themselves to Milmyeon and Ssiat Hotteok, which you share a portion of with both Han and Felix, as they're saving up some space in their stomachs for more desserts later on in the day. Which you can only agree with.

After that you make your way to the beaufiul Haedong Yonggungsa, the temple by the sea, a sprawling temple that sits right on the eastern coast of Busan, which literally takes your breath away with how incredible and sacred it looks, the air there just feels different, rarefied even. As you lean on the balauster that looks out on the baby blue sea, you find yourself shutting your eyes.

You whisper a silent prayer only you know the meaning of. And it's curious, how for that mere couple of seconds you manage to numb your ears to the sound of the wind, the mumbling and praying of the locals and the tourists gathering in the temple, even the stifled laughs of your friends, you almost feel like you're the only person in the whole building as you wish just for happiness, in whatever form that wants to presents itself in.

When you open your eyes again Hyunjin is silently standing next you, elbows resting on the balauster as well, his eyes deviate from the stunning sea below to your surprised ones, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips.

Next stop is another temple, Taejongsa temple, with its bursting hydrangeas paths and blossoming plants all around, Changbin gets particularly sulky as you guys walk through the place, he whines about being in such a romantic scenery without his munchkin little baby, which you find ironic considering you're currently being swept up into some deep conversations about love and the expectation of society with Felix and Chan, Han butting his head in every once in a while only to be pulled back by a bemused Minho that makes him twirl and fall into every single flower bed on their path.

For lunch you all help yourselves at local street vendors on your way to Gamcheon village where you stop for pics with the little prince statue (everyone makes Jeongin take at least one selfie with each member and the statue), and then wander off to the shops and thrift stores. All the while your group of friends manages to keep you entertained and laughing your ass off, but sadly also busy and never really alone with Hyunjin. You manage to lock eyes with him on a few occasions and briefly hold hands as you walk through the narrowest parts of the village, but you somehow always end up separate, despite Chan's best efforts no to have the kids hog you all the time.

Part of you feels extremely happy they feel so comfortable with you they want to include you into their every activity or conversation, but another part of you longs for some alone time with Hyunjin.

As the afternoon rolls out slowly, you and your group walk aimlessly around the streets, some of the guys stop to take pictures of the colorful walls and murals, some feed into their caffeine addictions by cramming inside tight little cafés. Seeing that Felix and Seugmin walk out of a cute bakery with delicious looking pastries and drinks, you decide to step in yourself and order some warm coffee to go and milk bread. Which tastes absolutely delectable.

You flutter your eyes shut as the yummy, soft texture melts in your mouth, you almost moan at how good it tastes, "jeez, calm down. It's just bread",you hear a brash voice and some snickering and find Changbin looking at you like you're some kind of crazy person, "you don't understand Binnie, this is heaven. Heaven in bread form", you try to explain, stuffing your face with more, "you and flour boy are meant to be. Go to him, share it with him. Hyunjin loves milk bread", he says, stealing a bite from your roll first, "mmh not bad, not bad", he comments, taking a sip from your coffee too.

You make your way towards the back of the group, and patiently wait for Hyunjin to finish talking with Chan before attempting to shyly approach him, "milk bread?", you offer, holding your precious wrapped roll out for him to bite into. He lights up. He tears into the bread making the cutest, frowniest face and you giggle, "mmmh oh my god so good", he yawps, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he leads you down the steep pavement, "hehe it's yummy, right?", Hyunjin nods and hands you back your food but you signal for him to finish it as you happily sip on your coffee, even offering him some too considering his cup is already empty, he gladly accepts and puckers his lips around the straw, the sight momentarily making your breath hitch in your throat. It's been a whole week since you last kissed him properly. You're having withdrawals.

"Coffee and milk bread. You really know how to take care of me, uh?", Hyunjin smirks at you and next thing you know he's pulling you inside a little souvenirs shop, dragging you towards a far off isle in the corner where you almost knock down all the tiny porcelain little tea cups and hand painted fans and cute colorful socks.

You erupt into loud giggles as he himself trips over the rug but manages to straighten himself out at last. You giggle and giggle until he's leaning in, his lips just inches away from you - "annyeonghaseyo. How can I help you today?". The clerk was so adorable and smiley both you and Hyunjin end up with a bag each full of gifts for your respective families. And deep red ears and blushy cheeks.

As the sunset bleeds into early night, you stop at a photobooth and take multiple pictures with everyone. Or you try to. You're just about to get back inside the booth with Hyunjin after Jeongin and Minho went in when Han gets so whiny and fussy from how tired he is that Chan has to drag everyone out and back on the road.

The last stop on your trip being a sightseeing one at Gwangandaegyo Bridge. The square is so crowded and bustling with people and lights and energy you feel so immensely grateful and lucky to be there with your friends.

Chan on one side and Changbin on the other, you loop your arms together and sincerely thank them, "I appreciate everything you two have been trying to do for me today! Thank you for making me feel so included and for looking out for me". Changbin grins at you and pokes your cheek, "I told you you were going to have a great time!", he exclaims while Chan just laughs, "I'm sorry this wasn't the most romantic thing for you and our Hyune but I'm sure seeing you so comfortable with all the boys and vice versa means a lot to him too", he nods toward the man of the hour, giggling and pointing at the colorful lights and taking pics with Felix. "Yeah, I hope so", you mumble, looking fondly at them.

You all take a few more pictures and decide to look for some street food for dinner before redirecting towards the train station, Chan winks at you as he calls up on all the guys and orderly leads them towards downtown, conveniently making sure you're in tow with Hyunjin.

You quietly walk next to each other, fingers interlocked, playfully bumping into each other every once in a while, "did you have fun today?", he asks, his eyes searching yours intently, "of course, I'm like so tired, but very happy! Busan is charming and the food is amazing, I couldn't have asked for more. Did you have fun? ", you reply earnestly and he nods, "mmh…I did. I liked seeing you happy",you smile bashfully and blush as he says that, which must give him some sort of an ego boost cause he looks so satisfied he bites down his lips and tugs at your hand when you refuse to keep eye contact with him. In the spur of the moment he bends down to kiss your cheek, sighing softly :"y/n would you… no wait… Can I be-", "HAN-AH NOT ON MY NEW SHOES".

Poor Hannie feeling sick all over Minho's shoes wasn't the perfect ending to your amazing day in Busan. The boy ate a little too much a little too fast and then washed it all down with too much iced coffee that's all. With all of your adrenaline levels down and the tiredness of the day catching up to you all, this time when you get back in the train nobody fights for the seat distribution.

You finally end up next to Hyunjin, who scrambles to fling himself on the faded blue leather seat next to the window and basically forces you to sit beside him while Seugmin and Jeongin sit across from you. It barely takes 2 minutes for the maknaes to fall asleep in their seats, their cute little heads atop of each other, sleepy, pouty faces so irresistible Hyunjin has to take a few sneaky pics.

Just as you did on your way there, you share earphones with the brunette, who also offers his shoulder for you to lean on as you feel so sleepy after the long day. The ache in your legs and your feet dissolving as you finally relax to the music playing in your ears and the comfort of the sweet guy next to you who clasps your hands together and breathes so softly as if he's afraid he's going to disturb your sleepy state.

Travelling into the night to the light hum of the train feels calming, a bit surreal even. You feel as if you're in a bit of a dream like state, the moonlight filters through the big window as the train speeds through miles upon miles of rail tracks, every single passanger on board either sleeping or quietly scrolling through their phones and you just feel so at peace, your eyes droopy and heavy but still refusing to completely give in to sleep.

"Y/n…are you sleeping?", Hyunjin calls out quietly for you. At first you're confused as to whether he is actually talking or the song currently playing in your ear is playing tricks on you, but when you lift your head up and meet his soft gaze and gentle smile, you're sure you're not just hallucinating. You blink a few times and shake your head slightly, "not sleeping yet", you murmur as your rub your eyes with your knuckles. Hyunjin visibly melts at that, you can see it in the way even in the dim light his eyes go all soft and crescent moon shaped as he smiles.

He hesitates a bit, as if he's mentally debating whether to further speak or not, and then he leans in and kisses you. Plump lips crushing into yours, a soft hum as he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth, your muffled gasping as his tongue explores your mouth. If this is a dream no one dare wake you up right now. That's all you can think.

"Can I be your boyfriend?". You pull away still breathless and confused. Your brain short circuiting from how much you've made out in the past few minutes. You look at him confusedly as he licks his lips and looks at you expectantly, you shake your head briefly and pull out the earphone still idly playing whatever song, "you-you.. What?", you stutter and he giggles, pecking your lips once more, "I said: can I be your boyfriend?". So you heard that right the first time. It wasn't just the absence of oxygen reaching your brain then. You squeal and squeak, almost waking up the sleepy heads in front of you, and then jump at Hyunjin's neck, almost crying as your repeat yourself over and over: "ohmyfreakinggod YES PLEASE!".

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mistyresolve · 11 months

Text

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 4)

Word Count - 6.5k

Summary - Every question answered only led to more questions, Rowe turns out to be nothing more than a pawn in a much bigger game. The stakes are higher and Doc is second-guessing their decision to join the 141 on this mission. The 141 is forced into darkness and plans are changed. Doc and Ghost are to head to the abandoned Fort Echel when suppressed feelings begin to arise.

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Maybe a little bit of angst, Mentions of childhood trauma

A/N - There is no actual smut for this part but it does get a little heated. I wanted to put the actual action on a separate part in case people wanted to skip it.

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3 ❤︎ Part 3.5

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

Ghost was quick to order everyone, except Price, out of the building. His demeanour turned dark and his pupils were blown, taking in the smallest details of his surroundings. His eyes would flick over to even the slightest movement. This change in personality made him unrecognizable, his smokey tenor foreign to you. The man you shared a hug with not ten minutes ago was long gone. The mask that was knit deeper into his skin came to the surface. Each breath and motion he took was calculated, like a predator watching his meal being brought to him.

This was what he didn’t want you to see.

This was what he was trying to hide from you.

“Don’t come in unless I call for you,” he didn’t meet your gaze, his attention fixated on the three men that Price and Gaz brought into the building. None of them stood a chance when they pulled into the Port, not with Ghost in front of them and Price and Gaz at their rear. It was too easy. There were no flying bullets or arguing, Rowe and his men knew they wouldn’t stand a chance. Not that they were given one.

Ghost had brought his pack from upstairs with him, only this time it looked heavier on his shoulder than before despite nothing being added. No. It was the weight of what he was going to do with its contents.

“How long?” you shifted on your feet as the men were brought past you to the rooms at the back of the building. Even with the doors closed, you knew you’d still be able to hear them if they screamed. Bile rose in your throat. You wanted them to get what they deserved, but you wish you had been on a far-away rooftop like Laswell or Soap. You knew it was coming, but it was all happening so fast, and all of it was too real.

You watched as Ghost analyzed the men, dissecting their personalities and flaws. Already, he was devising a course of action; who would talk first, who would give him the most information, and what he could use against them. He dipped his chin ever so slightly at you and shrugged, “We’ll see,” his voice was low but slightly quivered, the only indication that he was angry. His hands were still and calm as he reached for the doors following Price and Gaz.

Gaz returned to keep you company a short while later, his fingerings digging into his temples. Matching the action with the grimace on his face was a sure sign of a headache.

The second was just as strange; you worried you would hear them screaming and crying and begging but whatever Ghost and Price did they kept it quiet. Kept them quiet.

Gaz was good at distracting you though. He asked you about your new air support assignment and your future plans. You asked him about the patches on his sleeves and how he got himself a spot on the 141. He then wiped out a deck of cards with a devilish grin, “Snagged these from LT. Don’t tell him I have them, he's been searching everyone for them since Tuesday.”

“He always has a deck. What’s with that?” You opened the tailgate of the truck for a place to play cards.

“Mate’s an absolute savage at poker,” Gaz rolled his eyes as he shuffled the beat-up deck, “I’m pretty sure he's a cheater though.”

You and Gaz played three games of poker. Well, he won and you lost three rounds, and then you told him he was going to bleed you dry and choose a different game. Then he wiped out the good old “Go Fish”.

Five hours had passed when Price came back out from the warehouse, his attention solely on you. For a split second, you thought he was coming out to tell you they were done. Until he said, “We need you.”

You jumped down from your seat on the tailgate, “Yessir,” You followed him back inside the warehouse, grabbing your kit from your pack on the way, “I don’t have enough supplies for all three.”

“That won’t be an issue,” Price scowled, stopping only once before opening the door. He opened his mouth, then closed it, rethinking his words, “Prepare yourself.”

The door made no sound when he opened it, the air conditioning from inside the room hitting you in the face. Cooling the sweat around your temples. Then you realized that the air wasn’t just cool but freezing. Cold enough that your breath fanned in front of you in big white puffs. The room was a giant freezer, used to store the goods that needed to stay refrigerated before transport. This room would explain why you couldn’t hear them, why no one would be able to hear them. Price leads you to a section in a far corner, with plastic sheets hung from the ceiling to cut it off from the rest of the room. He pulled one of the sheets back ducking into the area and holding it open for you to do the same.

You half-expected blood to be dripping from the walls, pools of it on the floor, but it was relatively contained to a few areas. You also expected to see bodies, but you weren’t about to ask where they were stashed now. There was still one man tied to a chair. His body sagging in the seat and his back was facing you so you couldn't see his face. He was breathing but each breath was sharp and shallow.

Across from him stood Ghost, his mask lifted to the bridge of his nose, a cigarette caught between his lips. He leaned against a stack of boxes, his arms folded over his chest. He had perfectly positioned his body to conceal the array of tools and weapons laid out behind him. His eyes followed you into the room but otherwise, he remained still. Still and silent.

“Make sure he doesn’t die on us till we’re done with him,” Price forced the man to a sitting position, revealing his face to you.

If it wasn’t for the same blue shirt he came in with you might not have recognized him. His face was broken and bloody drool leaked into the front of his shirt. His skin was pale and his fingertips turned white. His fingernails were missing, leaving behind raw flesh.

You nodded, kneeling before him and began a more thorough inspection. Already his skin resembled a corpse more than a living human. You moved to his neck needing to double check for a pulse. It was irregular and faint but it was there. With gentle hands, you felt for any abnormalities. When you reached his abdomen Rowe let out a low bubbling groan, the first sign of life you’ve seen from him. You lifted his shirt and gritted your teeth. The skin was warm and bruised, “He’s got internal bleeding,” there was no question about it, “If we call a medevac now this is survivable.”

You stood back up, turning to Price.

“He won’t survive,” he deadpanned, this expression unreadable.

Your face scrunched for a second in confusion, “It isn’t fetal yet. We just need to get him a—”

“He won’t survive,” Price said with such finality that you had to look to Ghost to make sure you were hearing him correctly. Rowe wasn’t dead yet and he still had time. Only they weren’t planning on saving him. They brought you in here to stabilize him for a little while longer. Draw out the last dregs of life from him so they could continue.

“There isn’t much I can do for him here and with what I have on me,” you opened your kit, racking your brain for a solution. With a shake of your head, you weigh the ethics of what you were able to come up with. What a strange time to be entertaining ethics, you thought before handing a vial to Price, “A shot of adrenaline will get him in talking condition again, but” you emphasized on the ‘but’, “it’ll hasten the internal bleeding. So, you’ll have about ten more minutes with him.”

“Do it,” Ghost pushed off the crate, stamping out the cigarette under a boot and pulling his mask back over his face, “I can work with that.”

Even as you drew up the liquid into a syringe you couldn’t stop that queasy feeling from growing. It felt wrong to be killing someone this way. A horrible, awful someone but it went against the very core of providing healthcare. You gritted your teeth as you injected Rowe and prayed it would kill him faster than you initially predicted.

You quickly left after that, throwing one last look at Ghost. He made no move toward Rowe. He was going to wait until you were out of sight and out of earshot.

Ghost and Price were another half an hour before they came back out. Price was murmuring something to Ghost before turning to you and Gaz.

You wanted to ask if the adrenaline worked but thought better of it, especially after seeing the shadows in Ghost’s eyes. The way he looked through people, his mind someplace else entirely.

His voice was horse from the hours of interrogation when he spoke, “Shit’s getting old,” you couldn’t help but cringe at the sight of his knuckles, bloody and raw. They were quickly made hidden when he reached into his back pocket for his gloves, mindlessly tugging them back on. Next, he unrolled his sleeves, covering the splatter of blood that reached all the way up his arm. The only physical evidence anything even happened

“Got what you needed?” Gaz stretched his legs out in front of him before standing.

“And more,” he jerked his chin back to the warehouse, “Two of them knew fuck all but Rowe liked running his mouth,” a pause, “There’s a leak and it’s coming directly from HQ.”

“What?” both you and Gaz said in unison, perking up.

“Who?” Gaz furrowed his brows, his face a show of bewilderment.

“He didn’t know. All he knew was that they went by the name Spector and that they know fucking everything,” Ghost shook his head in frustration.

“How much is everything?” you asked hesitantly.

Ghost and Price shared a look that could only mean something was really really bad. Something that would change everything. The look made your heart skip in your chest.

“He knew my name,” Ghost said lowly and the shadows seemed to wrap tighter around him. The air became stale in your lungs.

If this Spector was throwing out people's secret identities that was a massive problem. But if Spector had access to Ghosts files, that was an entirely different level of problem. It meant that this person not only had access to classified documents but redacted information too. This was beginning to be so much bigger than just Rowe.

“So, Rowe wasn’t necessarily the one who knew about the convoy? He was just following orders,” you chewed on the inside of your cheek, eyeing Ghost, who was more than displeased with this turn of events.

“Affirmative,” He leaned back on his feet, “But that only confuses things. Rowe had a motive after being ousted. This Spector is more of an enigma.”

“Wouldn’t that mean they would have known about this mission? Why didn’t they warn Rowe?” Gaz brought up a good point. The few things that made sense to you didn’t anymore. What would Spector have to gain from something like this? Why stop the convoy? Who else is he talking to?

“To prove a point,” Price interjected, his eyes darkening with barely concealed anger, “Spector sent him a package yesterday with sensitive information about every one part of the 141,” he turned his attention to you, his expression shifting to something akin to apologetic, “That includes you. Rowe said he didn’t share anything with anyone else but the documents aren’t secure.”

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach. You hide and run from your past like it was the plague and now your history was floating around the world, available for anyone to look at.

Ghost made a grumbling sound before saying, “He left everything at a safe house on the outskirts of town.”

“Are Laswell and Soap still at his apartment?” you asked, shoving your hands under your arms to keep them from shaking.

Price nodded, “They’re on their way there as we speak, one of them should give us a call once they’ve retrieved everything. For now,” He reached for the dial on his radio and turned it, flicking through the channels, “We need to lay low. Switch your radios to channel six and get rid of any devices someone might be able to track you on.”

It was risky not knowing who Spector was or what he was capable of and it was obvious they knew more about us than we did them and they were probably keeping a close eye on us. Listening in on conversations on our radios. It was a horrifying thought to learn that someone with so much power was basically invisible. Neither Ghost nor Gaz hesitated to do as Price ordered, and none of them were as shocked as you were. It was hard to be angry with their lack of concern because this was their job, they dealt with a kind of threat all the time. The realization that you might not be as prepared for this kind of mission hit you like a bullet. You were a corpsman, a medic and nothing like who were the 141.

You were a medic and you just killed a man.

You pushed that thought down. You wanted this and you refused to let the little voice inside your head psyche you out. You cleared your throat, “Are we alone?” Being alone meant no more support and no more backup.

“We’re going dark for a little while. Just until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with and we won’t be completely alone, we’ve still got a few men we can get a hold of it shit really hits the fan,” Price knocked your shoulder with a gentle fist. You wish his words had been more comforting than they were.

“Inside the house Rowe told you about,” Laswell’s voice floated through the radios, “He must have torn through this package last night, like the little savage he is. There are documents all over the place.”

“Everything there?” Price replied before nodding to the unmarked vehicles.

“I can’t be sure but I’ll grab what I can. Burn the rest?” She sounded distant, her attention on whatever was in that house.

“Take a good look around, try and find anything relating back to Spector. But if you feel like getting rid of everything is better make sure there won’t be any casualties,” Price was moving, quickly turning back to Ghost to say, “Head to Fort Echel.”

Ghost nodded before pivoting and striding for the truck. You jumped into the vehicle with him, “I thought Echel was dismantled?”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, seeing something you didn’t realize you were showing, anxiety, “It is, but we’ve been stashing gear and supplies there for months.”

Of course they would have had a backup plan. Assuming “We” was the 141, they probably had every piece of equipment a squad might need in dire situations. Fort Echel was still a two day's drive from the city at the very least. Two days if we only stopped for gas and to use the bathroom.

Gaz and Price disappeared minutes later, taking a different route from you guys.

You drove for hours in silence, and the sun had long since set. The only source of light now was the lights on the front of the truck and the illumination from the dashboard. The radio was on but the volume was low enough that your foot tapping against the floor was still audible. Ghost side-eyed you once, twice, three times before releasing a tight breath, “What’s on your mind?”

“What—” You wanted to choose your words carefully, “Did Rowe say anything about me?” This time he kept his attention on the road, and when he didn’t answer immediately your hackles began to rise.

“Nothing,” it was a blatant lie but you could tell from the tightness in his shoulders he wasn’t going to tell you the truth. You knew he wasn’t lying to you on purpose, nor was he trying to hide something from you. He was telling you he wasn’t ever going to mention what he had heard but with far fewer words. He wasn’t going to repeat whatever was disclosed in that room.

You were incredibly grateful to him for it, but it was better if he heard it come from you. If only so he would know the exact truth, “I didn’t just join the force for the money. I joined to get away from my family,” you held your breath, waiting for a reaction. There wasn’t one. So he knew that much already. You started again, “My dad was an alcoholic and my mom was an enabler. My siblings and I took the heat off her when my dad got out of control so she didn’t do anything to stop him when…” you trailed off as you watched the city fall away to nature as you guys drove further and further away, “he was an ugly drunk,” you managed and that was going to have to do for now, “I’m sure Rowe told you my dad is in jail for murder.”

“He did,” the words were cautious and gentle despite the significance behind them. He didn’t mention who was murdered and you didn’t offer the information. Nor would you ever. It was too hard to talk about. Too…confusing.

“He’ll be there for the rest of his life,” your tone jumped a few octaves in an attempt to get rid of the heaviness in the truck, “Testifying against him was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. To this day I wonder if it was the right thing. Which sounds ridiculous, because, of course, it was, he’s the devil. But at the same time, when he wasn't plastered he was my dad. He took me to all my sports, and taught me how to ride a bike,” you wiped your palms on your pants to dry them of the sweat that began to accumulate there.

The truck slowed to a stop, pulling into a dirt side road and continuing on until you came up onto a small decently well-kept portable building. Ghost turned off the engine, pausing to stare out the front window before finally committing to his next action. He pulled his mask off, revealing a mess of hair, grown longer than the few times you’ve seen it before. He’s been too busy to get a cut. The black paint smeared down his cheek and across his eyes hid some of the tiredness from beneath his eyes. He grazed a clothed thumb across the scar on his top lip, “This one was from my dad when I was seven. Hit me with a nasty right hook and my teeth went right through my lip,” he moved his fingers to the scar peeking out from the hair on his brow, “I was twelve and he threw me into the kitchen table.”

Eight years old. He was eight years old and his own father did that to him.

There was no doubt that there were other scars scattered across his skin with similar stories. One’s that matched the scars littering your own skin. Angry ears burn at the corners of your eyes. You were carried away by a wave of emotions like a dam broke and released them all at once and they swirled and churned in your stomach. Anger, guilt, shame, empathy. You were right all along. Maybe it was some unfortunate 6th sense, but from the moment you met him you could feel the entangled youths you too shared. You didn’t say anything, as no words would be equivalent to the flurry inside you.

“Don’t be thinking you’re less than others because of your past only to turn around and tell me not to do the same. All while we bear the same traumas,” he tossed the mask onto the dashboard and leaned back into his seat, he closed his eyes for a moment, “Half the people you work with are just the same.”

It wasn’t the first time you saw his face but each time you did you were stunned by his handsome face. You studied his profile and there was enough light that you could still see the faint lines around his mouth. Lines formed from years of frowning or smiling you weren’t entirely sure. There was an innocence that smeared across his features but it was swiped from existence when he opened his eyes once more.

“Hypocrisy is a funny thing,” he murmured, his thoughtful dark eyes searching the horizon, “And I’m not immune to it,” because he too does the same thing he was reprimanding you for. He was doing it right now.

A cover of silence fell over the two of you, save for the low volume of the music on the radio. You savoured the rare moment of peace. It had been so long since you were able to share a moment like this with him. He was sitting right next to you and you still missed him. Missed the time you had lost with him. Missed the excitement you felt every time he walked into the medical tent. Missed the conversation and companionship. This time when he turned his head to face you, you searched it for a hint of what you were feeling.

And there it was. A flicker of sorrow. Of heartache. Like a match being lit and quickly blown out in a place with no light.

“I missed you,” you confessed with a nervous laugh, “I’m still mad as hell with you, but dammit I missed you.”

He blinked and his expression remained unreadable, “You haven’t a clue,” then a shy smile, “I couldn’t get you off my mind no matter what I did. I felt like I was losing my mind,” he opened his mouth but was cut off.

“Rowe's safehouse has been dealt with,” Soap buzzed, and the sound of a fire crackled in the background, “Found a hard drive but I’ll need some time to decrypt it, and a couple of letters from his old CO. Other than that and the files on us, this place was a bust.”

Disappointment reverberated in Ghost's chest and he kicked the truck into reverse, backing back onto the highway, “We can finish this conversation once we get to Echel. The rest of the squad will be a day behind us, we’ll get things in place for when they catch up.”

“We aren’t going to stay the night here?” you looked back to the shrinking silhouette of the building behind you.

“Not anymore no,” his jaw ticked in frustration.

“You’re going to drive through the night?” you asked, tilting your head at him.

“Done it plenty of times before, Doc,�� he shifted in his seat, preparing for a long ride, “You should get some rest though. Won’t be a lot of time once we get there.”

“I’m fine,” you prissed, “I’ll keep you company. Make sure you don’t fall asleep behind the wheel and kill us both.”

“How thoughtful,” he looked out his window but not before you caught the grin and his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek to try and hide it from you.

“What do you want to talk about?” you slid your seat all the way back to allow you to fully extend your legs and stretch.

“This was your idea, don’t be asking me.”

You shot him a vexed look before asking, “What was the last movie you watched? I would take you for either a documentary or an action-type guy.”

He hummed, amused by your guess, “Legend.”

You thought for a second, “The one with that one actor from Peaky Blinders? Uhhh,” you fought to remember his name, “Jake Gyllenhaal?”

“Oooh, close. Tom Hardy,” This time he didn’t bother to hide the teasing smile from you.

“That wasn’t close at all,” you frowned.

“Uh-huh. That’s the joke, Doc,” it always came as a shock to you that Simon Riley was capable of making jokes. With the stick up his ass and all.

“I don’t find you very charming,” you very much did find him charming but he’d never hear those words come out of your mouth. Not because you were embarrassed to say something like that but because he would hold it over your head for the rest of your days.

“You wound me,” he most definitely was not wounded, evidenced by the lack of hurt in his voice.

“Was I right about the documentaries and action movies?”

He nodded, his eyes flicking from the road to you and back to the road, “I enjoy the occasional Blue Planet marathon.”

You murmured the title to yourself for a second, trying to remember the series, “Like the animal one? With David Attenborough?“ when he nodded again in confirmation you got excited, “You marathon animal documentaries?”

“They’re calming,” he elaborated, his thumbs tapping on the steering wheel in time with the beat of the music on the radio.

“I prefer Our Planet. I’m not a huge fan of large bodies of water,” you teetered back and forth about films and actors and tv shows. You talked about books and varsity sports. Failed high school exams and first jobs. The conversation flowed just as easily as it did before, it was like you guys were picking up where you left off. He listened more than he spoke but you were alright with that because you talked enough for the both of you. He would add little bits here and there, share a story or two, but most of the time he would nod or hum or chuckle.

His soft, breathy laugh was what you missed the most. The sound was so rare and so lovely and it always made you feel good to be the one to bring it out of him. Simon didn’t smile enough. Which was a damn shame because his smile was sweet. Shy, even. His eyes would crinkle at the corners, and every grin was followed by a sarcastic eye roll or a playful shake of the head.

You don’t know at which point in the conversation you fell asleep but by the time you woke up the sun was already up and Simon was standing outside the truck emptying a gas can into the tank.

Your neck and back and shoulders were sore from sleeping in an awkward position. With a groan and a huff you unbuckled your seat belt and hopped out of the truck. Simon eyed you from the other side of the truck, his mask was still on the dashboard and seeing him in full daylight bare faced was a real treat so early in the morning.

You stretched out your arms above your head, “Was I snoring?”

“Like an old man. I had to pull over and check the engine ‘cause I thought it was about to blow up,” he said with a straight face, but his dark eyes twinkled with wit.

Fixing him with a blank stare, “You’re a bully,” you lifted a hand to cover your eyes to look down the road. The land was devoid of other people and seemingly went on forever, “How much longer do you think?”

Simon drove all through the night and he was no doubt reaching his limit of no sleep. He might have a bigger fuse than most people but he was still human. Looking at him now, with his tired eyes and nodding head, you felt a strong need to force him to rest.

“We’ll be there by tonight,” he looked at the watch on his wrist and picked up a second gas can to fill the rest of the tank.

You walked to the driver's side of the truck, daring him with your eyes to stop you from opening the door and taking the driver's seat, “I’ll drive the rest of the way,” you didn’t bother asking him because you knew if you did he’d say ‘No’. He must have been truly exhausted because he didn’t argue, not even a grunt of disapproval from him.

He lasted ten minutes in the passenger seat before crashing. He had leaned the seat all the way back, stretching his long body as much as possible, and his hands folded over his stomach. His chest rose and fell in equal bottomless breaths, and his face serene. He looked younger, the stresses of the day incapable to follow him into sleep.

You knew the general direction of where you were going but had to check the paper map from the glove box for the last hundred kilometres. There was no way you were going to wake up Ghost to ask him for directions, he needed and deserved the sleep. The last time you saw a paper map like this was back when your family used to take camping trips from coast to coast for the summer. Your father was adamant that the paper was more reliable than the digital GPS. Which was a lie because you were regularly taking detours and U-turns.

A gloved hand took the paper map from yours and folded it back up, “Just keep straight,” Simon kept his eyes closed but directed you to the remnants of Fort Echel. The fence surrounding the camp was still up but no soldiers stood guard at the entrance. Only a few portable barracks were left behind, the lot was vacant and the garage at the back was boarded up. You pulled up to the back entrance of the garage, the boards that once secured it were leaning up against the side of the building.

“Wait here,” he pulled on his mask and he quietly closed the truck door behind him. He unclipped the pistol at his thigh, readying for a fight if need be as he unlocked the door to the garage and disappeared inside. You held your breath, counting the seconds.

The garage door rumbled and rolled open, revealing Simon and their stash on the other side. There was no way this was only a month's worthwhile of stashing. There were vehicles, guns, ammunition, and rations.

Simon guided you into the garage, “Let’s get this place lookin’ nice and pretty, yeah?”

While he took care of the weapon you set to taking stock of the ammunition and rations and gas reserves. It took the rest of the day and neither of you stopped to eat, the work preoccupying all your time and attention. You shared words here and there and made the occasional eye contact but the both of you were comfortable in just sharing the space.

Simon moved quickly and practiced, taking apart, cleaning, and putting guns back together was second nature to him. You would have never believed such a job could be clean until you watch him do it, not only were his clothes untouched by the oil and gunpowder but so was the table. Although his fingers were a different story, those were stained and greasy.

“Why was the rest of the squad a whole day behind us?” you peeked over the crate of ammunition, a clipboard in hand to recount the stock.

Ghost was at the large table in the middle of the garage, guns and parts and oils laid out before him, “Price and Gaz cleaned up after us, got rid of the bodies and their cars,” he was polishing the barrel of a sniper, the name “Intervention” spray painted into the stock, “Laswell and Soap were busy with Rowes safehouse, they ran into some trouble on their way out.”

“Anyone injured?” You walked to the next crate.

“Soap says he rolled his ankle real bad and is gunna need you to kiss it better once he gets here,” Ghost and Soap had brotherly love. Tough love and you already knew he was busting Soap's ass for “rolling his ankle”. You could imagine the two men bantering over the radio while you slept last night.

“Maybe I’ll give him a lollipop after too,” you threw the clipboard down on the table next to Ghost.

“He’s not allowed sugar after nine pm,” he glanced at the clipboard and gave you a nod of approval at the count. All was well and accounted for. The wide garage door was still open, and twilight had fallen. The only lights were the propane lamps planted in the darkest corners of the building, making it harder for anyone to try and sneak in on us.

You sat at the table on the stool opposite Ghost, resting your face in your palms, “A sticker then.”

The rest of the squad would be in tomorrow mid day, and Price mentioned over the radio a few hours ago of having a friend come in as backup in the next few days. He didn’t mention who it was going to be and Ghost just shrugged and you asked him if he had any ideas, “If Prices say they’re good, they’re probably good. Still, keep your head up though, you never know.”

“You must have a lot of trust in Price,” you spun a spare bolt like a top and watched it spiral out of control before clattering back down on the table.

“I have a lot of respect for him, yes,” he pointed to the box of springs and bolts beside you. You slid it over to him and he picked out what he needed for the sniper, “He’s saved my sorry ass a few times. He was one of few who had my back when the army wanted to discharge me.”

You tilted your head, “They wanted to discharge you? Why?” Simon acted like a picture perfect soldier, he followed every rule and regulation and he showed results. People looked up to him, respected and admired him.

“About 5 years ago, now. I was relieved from service for a few months and could only return upon finishing an anger management class,” you could see the meek grin beneath the mask when your jaw dropped open, “I lost my shit on a mission and it nearly cost someone their life. Amongst other incidents. Multiple incidents. If not for Price I wouldn’t have had the chance to come back at all.”

You snapped your mouth shut, it wasn’t hard to believe, you could see the occasionally simmering anger beneath his mask of cool and calm. He must have paid good attention during his classes considering you’ve yet to see him completely lose his control.

He wiped his hands clean on a fresh cloth before bracing his palms on the table, leaning ever so slightly closer, “A lesson well deserved. I was an asshole back then.”

“A lesson not learned, you’re still an asshole,” you flicked the chain on his dog tags dangling from his neck. Your fingers intertwined with the silver chain before letting it fall once more.

He hummed his eyes narrowing at you, a mischievous glint in them, “Oh, I can be so good.”

You squeezed your thighs together as heat pooled into your core. He’s looked at you with that same promising expression a few times before. Each time you’ve pretended not to notice or refused yourself to indulge in the curiosity. You had a feeling that curiosity was going to be getting the best of you tonight, “Can you?” you would play along tonight too. You leaned back on the stool, your hands braced behind you to allow him an uninterrupted view of your body.

With heavy lids he dragged his eyes down your frame, examining every curve and line. His fingers twitched on the table as he fought the desire to reach out and feel those same curves for himself. Your chest tightened in anticipation.

“So good,” he murmured, his imagination already running wild with his intentions. When his eyes met yours once more you almost leapt across the table at him. He hasn’t touched you and could already feel the effect of him. Phantom hands ran up your thighs, and side, leaving tingling skin behind. You slowly spread your legs as a silent invitation.

His attention shot down to between your legs, his chest rising and falling faster than it did moments ago. His eyes squeezed shut and he backed away with a groan, “I suggest you go take a shower in the barracks before I take you right here,” the only thing stopping him doing just that was being on the wrong side of the table and pure will.

You couldn’t decide whether you were upset or appreciative of his restraint. He picked up on this because he quickly followed up with, “Just not how I imagined my first time with you,” he waved a hand across the array of stuff, “There were fewer guns and oil.”

You decided you were upset at his restraint. You would be more than happy if he were to bend you over the table and have his way with you.

Be good to you.

Yet, you obeyed the “suggestion” and slid from the stool. You had to brace a hand on the table as your knees felt like jelly beneath you. A slick heat was already hiding between your legs and your mouth felt too dry. Too empty. You licked at your lips, the lips that were suddenly too lonely. You considered reaching across and lifting his mask in search of company.

He watched your every move with delicious awareness, and his eyes flashed with warning, “Go. Now,” he hissed.

“Will you be joining me?” you tested, your heart racing in excitement.

Another groan and he had to grip the table for dear life, his eyes dropping to his feet, “Don’t test me right now. I’m trying my best here.”

Leaving a room has never been so hard, your every nerve ending was begging you to turn back and let him undress you. The cool night air stung against your sensitive skin, but it allowed your mind to regain control of your body once more. Oxygen was once more filling your lungs. A giddy giggle bubbled up your throat like carbonation in pop.

On your way to the barracks you let your mind wander, let it daydream about the man still pacing around the garage. How his large hands would leave your body shaking for more, how his tongue would leave your mind liquid.

You were right in the middle of imagining his hands in your hair while you were on your knees before him when your shoulder cracked against the doorframe of the barracks. The sudden flash of pain drags you back to reality.

The vibrant blush that followed could be seen from space with the right binoculars. You scolded yourself for acting like an airhead teen because a man showed you a little interest. Then again it was more than a little interest. It was a downright promise of pleasure.

Masterlist

Part 5

A/N - I’ve finally finished my clinical and I'm making my way back home for the summer so I’ll be able to get back to uploading regularly again!!

Tag List

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