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ghostheartfelt · 9 months

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*:･｡☆ warnings: heavy gore, torture, hurt/comfort, whump, s/a towards reader, men being gross, gunshot wounds, stab wounds, blood and violence, branding (torture method), waterboarding (torture method), reader (thaye) is a badass, first kiss, dismemberment of fingers, eye trauma, protective!ghost, implications of smut/sex, aftermaths of torture. (there is probably a lot i missed, but idc lol all the other shit should b enough warning!!) 〔☆〕 desc: you and the 141 are deployed to austria with the intel of a drug boss known as rolmuth who is harboring romanian soldiers to the east coast to smuggle illegal mercenary personnel into america. what happens when a rapid snowstorm picks up and you (callsign 'thaye') are separated from the others then further captured and interrogated alongside your lieutenant?

—✩ PHANTOM TOUCH ✩—

word count —15.6k

a/n: sorry for my inactivity! the entire time i was workin on this shit... let me tell you.. this is 51 pages on google docs LMAO so i hope the length and word count makes this fat fucking hurt/comfort one shot worth it.

VIENNA, AUSTRIA.

“Move, move, move!” Price yells.

Snow fell and blanketed the ground beneath you, you were dressed in white camouflage tactical gear.

Your movements were slower as you trudged yourself through the snow, you turned in every direction searching for your captain.

Your lieutenant.

Anybody.

Rapid snowy winds smacked you in the face, nearly forcing your eyes shut as you traveled through the gusts.

“Soap?!” You shout, planting your feet below into the patches of snow,

Your arms raise to cover your face.

“Fuck!”

“Thaye!” A voice echoed through the snow that encased you in a blanket of long silence.

Snow nestled into the ground below—everything around you seems to just slow down.

You traipse yourself heavily through the thickness around you as you snap a clip into your M4 carbine, swinging it behind you like it had been previously.

Thump.

Your head droops down and you feel your heart drop into your stomach seeing the body of one of the men you were deployed with face up.

His head four inches deep in the snow and his right eye completely destroyed, his chest marred with several bullet wounds.

The root of his nose is fractured to the point where it’s flattened into what’s left of his skull.

You swallow the knot in your throat that might have also been barf trying to make its way out of you, kneeling down to peel the soldier’s dog tags off of his corpse.

Hudson “Scooter” Wheeler.

It makes you smile slightly, your thumb dragging over the metal tag to wipe off the thickness of blood that had coated the carving of his name.

“I’m sorry, Wheeler.”

The loss of fallen soldiers leave footprints and engravings on one’s heart that never allows them to be the same, again.

You wished sometimes you could just be without the worry about who you have to lose and who you have to save.

Restless nights followed by mornings and afternoons full of nothing but unpromised resolutions. You nearly felt as if insanity would be a better route than going through the pain of losing the people you stood side by side with, enduring the effects of grief, bloodshed, and war.

Although there were moments of bonding and camaraderie that were forced to turn into utter gore and distrust due to the change of the objective that deemed those to turn against one another in hopes of survival and success.

Pride; a fickle sense that could drive an individual to the depths of madness and create a staked claim to prove more power then they own or deserve.

You didn’t understand it. Nor did you want to.

You were left in a society where the drabness of gray ruled the world and pain of loss clenched to the soldier’s hearts almost desperately.

And yet that perpetual colour of gray; a colour so dull but so compelling, it still lights the depths of hell you lived in by merely a petite dose.

Your mouth had begun to feel tacky with your muscles stiffening as the weather conditions intensify by every fleeting moment.

Inside your combat boots, you feel your feet begin to grow numb; similar to the feeling of stepping on fresh-cut grass and grazing dull needles.

Now, you wonder what hypothermia would feel like. You weren’t used to this sort of weather.

Even under your white half-face balaclava, you felt your lips and their absence of moisture.

Still, you trekked forward, squinting eyes searching for any sign of life around you.

Your face lights up at the sight of a shadow-like movement through the blistering storm and rapid winds once you wipe off the frost lingering on your goggles.

They moved closer—it seemed to be one person.

There’s a tree to your left—your legs manage to jerk themselves through the snow until you're beside it.

You cautiously lower your body into the snowpack below you, clutching your rifle in your grip while your eyes fixate on the moving figure ahead of you.

Your finger grazes over the trigger of your carbine rifle.

A leg comes before the torso, then the face.

The skull mask.

Ghost.

Relief washes over you immediately—raising to your knees.

“Lieutenant!” You call.

His head immediately snaps in your direction, and the time spent staring at each other seemed everlasting, though in reality it was just a few seconds before his large hand was squeezing your shoulder and he was right in front of you.

“Thought we lost’ya,” Ghost rasps.

“What’s the sitrep?”

“Enemy force has ordnance on standby—Price ordered all units to the West Safehouse,” he says.

You nod softly.

“Why’d you hang back?”

His eyes widen under his balaclava and you open your mouth to speak—Ghost tugs you by your vest, pulling you to the side.

“Gh—“

There’s a person behind him.

Sounds muffle around you, complete silence surrounding you as Ghost’s head is slammed with the butt of a rifle.

Your hands reach down to pull your handgun from off of your hip, pointing it towards his attacker, squeezing on the trigger and unhesitantly dropping him to the ground before he can double back and finish him off.

No words leave your mouth as you turn in one quick jerk, the barrel of a L1A1 being aimed between your eyes.

Not even seconds later was the thick handle of a bowie knife met with the back of your head.

Immediately, your body meets with the snow, and you feel the coldness of the snow over your mask.

You struggle to pick up your head, pain surging in the back of your head enough to blur your vision.

Keeping your eyes open was a challenge—they constantly blink shut as you watch the enemy force yell at each other, manhandling Ghost by ripping his weapon sling off of him and dragging him by his fur-lined parka.

His body was dragged up into a Humvee and roughly thrown in before you were picked up by your ankles and wrists and tossed right on top of him.

Your head slumps against Ghost’s bicep as you're washed up by incapacity, your mind fogging against your will. Enervation holds you captive and sweeps you off your feet.

You’re met with blackness, next, yet the only thing you could think of was your failure to protect your superior.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

You awoke to the sounds of struggling—something teetering on the floor.

It takes a moment for you to come to your senses and stir from unconsciousness, eyes fluttering open to take in your surroundings.

The ever-present smell of waste and deteriorated flesh smacks you with reminiscence, the overbearing cold, the taste of grime, blood, and bile in your mouth.

When you go to move your hands, they’re immobile; binded by thick ropes that with your state of exhaustion and physical weakness, would be impossible to escape from.

Your heavy head manages to shift for oneself to observe the room—your gear was purloined, leaving you in your cargos and a tank-top.

Below you, the ground was concrete and stained with blood that led to the large metal door that had a closed hatch.

Vaguely, you recall in short and brief flashes why you were there, your eyes shutting for a few moments before opening once again.

Ghost.

Where was Ghost?

“Lieutenant,” you cough. “Ghost, wh—“

“‘M here, kid.” Ghost wheezes. “To’yr left.”

Your head turns, stopping at the sight of his mask on the concrete, blood smeared across the maw of the skull, over the eye socket.

“Ghost, are you injured?”

“No.”

Slowly, your eyes trace up the ground beneath you until Ghost’s boots are in view.

His soles skid against the ground as he attempts to drag the dentist chair he’s strapped in. “Fuck!”

You shift in your wooden seat in an attempt to reach your hand down to pull up the velcro flaps of your cargos. You couldn’t reach.

Ghost’s boots stop skidding against the floor as the metal door’s rusted hinges creak, the door being flung open to welcome a man inside—three other men were behind him holding military grade rifles with drum magazines.

The man inside the room raises his hand, offering departure in the Hindi language, to which his men shut the door behind him.

His arms were wrapped behind his back, the sound of his heavy boots echoing off of the thick stone walls.

He walks around the room for a while, allowing you to raise your head to take in who he was.

A European man that’s approximately 184 centimeters with long pushed back shaggy dark hair; his eyebrows arched, a bushy beard.

On his cheek, a nasty deep laceration scar that reaches the end of his eyebrow. Under his left eye, another scar reaches the bridge of his nose.

The man is inches from your face, now, a tilt in his head.

“We see how long it takes to break you, Sergeant.” His eyes crinkled as his lips upturned in a depraved smile.

He lifts himself from his bent position, grips the crest rail of the chair, and pulls you farther from Ghost.

“Who is your commanding officer?” He asks, feet spread apart as he looks down at you to assert his dominance.

“Fuck you.” You bite back.

The man’s hand roughly takes hold of your chin, tilting your head up towards the dangling ceiling light.

“I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

Ghost chuckles beside you.

His eyes narrow as he releases a choked scoff, his head swinging back before bursting into laughter.

“My drug ring reigns across the entire country—my men swarm all city.”

His accent is thick, though his English isn’t terrible.

“It is either you tell me now and you and friend die quick, or you die slow of bleeding until we find on our own.”

“Good fuckin’ luck,” Ghost grunts.

You swallow thickly, groaning as the man pulls your head back by the scalp of your hair.

You purse your lips as you collect saliva from the walls of your mouth, spitting just above the man’s eyebrow and watching as the gob runs down over his eye.

He snarls, dragging an open hand down his face. Using that same hand, the male flexes his hand into a fist and socks you in the jaw.

“Hey!” Ghost shouts.

You hear it pop and you immediately outstretch your neck and slam your forehead into the bridge of his nose, arms jerking in an attempt to escape your restraints. “You motherfucker!”

He lets out a groan, his head flinging back as blood streams down his nostrils, his hand trembling over his nose.

“Bitch! Madarchod! Bevakooph veshya…” He hisses through clenched teeth. “Broke my nose!”

His palm smacks you across the face so hard, a pinkish red hue starts blossoming across your cheek. He repeats it again, then again, and again.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself as numbness circles inside the flesh of your cheek, a similar feeling to those static electricity globes that you’d get for your twelfth birthday and press all five of your fingertips against.

“Hey! This is between you an’ me, a’right?” Your lieutenant gives a sharp nod, trying to reason with the man.

He stares at Ghost for a few moments, squeezing his fingers in his fist before leaving the room, the door slamming loudly behind him.

You take the moment to actually look at Ghost, your eyes taking in his features entirely.

From his long and messy dirty blonde undercut, to his shade and stubble.

To his bruised and bloodied lips and the thick scar running from his top lip to the underside of his chin.

To his thick and beautiful eyebrows, the scar on the start of his left eyebrow, running down to the bridge of his nose.

To his deep and all familiar brown eyes—long and light eyelashes accompanying their shape.

To the scar that spread out from the right inner corner of his lip and across his cheek as if it was the engravings of a smile line.

There were several scars littered across the male’s face; each one of vast distinction from the other.

Once again, the door thrusts open and the man returns, cotton wads up his nostrils with another male by his side, pushing in a rolling mayo stand with different tools and items you assumed were torture devices.

“Hey! Hey! What’re y’doing?” Ghost jerks in his seat, his eyebrows furrowing as the man picks up a syringe, flicking the glass and squeezing out a droplet of the liquid inside. “What th’fuck is that?”

“You will have your answer soon enough,” he simply replies.

“Agarwal—blade.”

The second man grabs the rotary tool from off the tray, a saw blade in the other.

Your hands tug against their bindings enough to chafe your wrists, it feels as if your skin is being shredded with a cheese grater.

“Paip rinch, ab.” The taller man holds out his arm, to which the man who was now identified as Agarwal hands him a pipe wrench.

“English, asshole.” You grunt.

He slings it over his shoulder and slowly walks towards Ghost as he whistles.

Ghost’s eyes don’t avert from his gaze, even as the pipe wrench drops from off his shoulder to clatter on the floor, hanging from his wrist and dragging along the ground.

“Who…is…your…superior?” His voice is grim, each word coming out as he takes a step.

Using the hook jaw of the wrench, he lifts Ghost’s chin.

“Piss off,” the blonde huffs.

Not even seconds later does the man swing the wrench around and belt it into his stomach. Ghost lets out a wheeze, his body lurching over in reaction to the sudden pain coursing through him.

“No!” You yell.

“Who.” He asks again with spite in his tone—he was demanding, it no longer was a question in his favor.

“You’ll know who when he comes’a knockin’ ‘n blows lead thru th’lot of ya.” Ghost says with a slight raise in his head.

The wrench is swung back into his stomach, causing Ghost to hurl and expel vomit onto his boots.

“Leave him the fuck alone!” You kick yourself forward a bit using your boots. Agarwal’s hands grip the slat of the chair and pull you back towards the tray.

“No, no,” he nearly coos, yanking your head back by the thinner group of hairs on the nape of your neck.

You clench your jaw and subside, lifting yourself up with your hips to help avoid the pain.

His eye’s strain, beads of sweat rolling down the end strands of his hair regardless of how cold it was inside of the formidable room.

“Get me my player,” the bearded man says as he trails his 12” redwood handle knife across Ghost’s jawline.

Agarwal’s hand releases your hair to your relief and he leaves the room.

“Disgusting—“ the male snarls. “Making mess of my floor.”

Your eyes narrow as you watch a pool of blood start to form as he slashes Ghost’s cheek, a groan spilling from your lieutenant’s throat.

“Fuck you ‘n y’r floor,” Ghost coughs.

He drops the wrench to the floor, then uses a rag that was hanging out of his pocket to swipe off the blood from the knife’s blade.

Two men walk in, one pushing in a record player and the other holding a tactical vest and a book.

Your vest and your book.

His name patch reads “Gamble”, the one who throws your vest and the book onto the floor.

“Rolmuth, the woman—she has had access to our radio frequency and has been writing down our shipment codes and locations.”

Ghost’s head raises, his pupils shrunken as he takes in the sight of the morse code book.

The man holding the knife cracks his head in your direction before proceeding towards you.

“Thaye…” he susurrated.

You don’t flinch when his arms raise to swing the knife over towards your temple, a maniacal laugh escaping through the barriers of Rolmuth’s teeth.

The knife lowers to release one of your hands, though before you can reach for anything, he slams your arm backward against the back leg of the chair, the feeling of your bones snapping beneath your skin causes you to let out a sharp, excruciating cry as your now-broken arm falls limp to your side.

“Thaye!” Ghost shouts. “Fuckin’ bastard…”

“How?!” Rolmuth yelled through his teeth, lips drawn back in a snarl as he nearly foamed out of his mouth.

His fist meets with your cheek and your eyes squeeze together in grimace to the pain as he punches you again.

Ghost calls out your name and you can hear the metal of his chair scrape and grind against the ground.

You feel your cheek begin to swell, the tender flesh on your face blooming into purple and blue bruises.

He walks to the record player and takes a record out of its sleeve that was resting on the shelf of the small table the player was brought in on. It has wheels on it—similar to the mayo tray.

Rolmuth blows on the record, though the sleeve looks too clean to hold any dust, then places the record on the platter. After pressing play, he drops the tone arm down.

The record scratching sends chills up and down your spine before the music almost beautifully fills the room.

Why does the sun go on shining?

You watch Rolmuth pick up a pair of pliers.

Why does the sea rush to shore?

You wonder if he’s going to try to rip out your teeth.

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world,

He clasps them around one of your fingers on your broken arm.

Fuck.

The cold metal around your finger makes you nearly want to cry.

‘Cause you don’t love me anymore?

He was going to rip off your finger.

“Who is your captain?” His hand squeezes the pliers, applying pressure to your singular finger.

“Go…to hell—“

A scream rips itself from your throat as you feel your sinew and flesh tear, the pliers tearing your finger from off your bone.

“Tha’s enough!” Ghost jerks and flails in his seat, there’s a sip of panic in his voice. “Get th’fuck off of her!”

Why do the birds go on singing?

Rolmuth wriggled the rest of your finger off, your eyes daring to skim down to look at the bone sticking out from your knuckle.

Blood spews out of the gore, coating your entire hand and dripping from the crevices of your skin into your lap, staining your cargos, turning their white color into several distinct shades of red.

Rolmuth sets the finger—your finger down lightly on the standing metal tray besides you.

Why do the stars glow above?

A penetrating ringing fills your ears; one so loud it felt like it’d be the cause of your tears instead of the pain surging through the entire left side of your body.

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?

You’re in shock, unable to speak. Your jaw is locked, your teeth are clenched so hard it feels as if you might shatter your teeth.

It ended when I lost your love.

Ghost’s voice echoes in the back of your mind, when he calls out your name, you’re pulled out of your trance. You jerk your slumping head up.

You want to call out his name, but it seems like your throat is swallowing every little word that is being screamed inside of your head.

The room is spinning and you can’t feel your arm, you can’t feel the finger move that was just severed from your hand.

“Look at me, look at me, love…” your lieutenant simpers.

Your eyes search the room until they land on Ghost’s, he sounds far away. You feel your eyes widen as cold metal wraps around another finger once again.

Why does my heart go on beating?

Rolmuth’s lips close in near your ear as he tugs lightly at your middle finger.

“You don’ want to lose this finger, do you?” You feel the man’s hot breath run up the side of your face and brush past your ear.

“Who…is…your...captain?”

Why do these eyes of mine cry?

Every nerve in your body seized, your spine stiffening with every urge to kill the man standing beside you.

Ghost coughs up blood; internal bleeding.

“I’ll fu…cking…skin you…” you croak, your words finally becoming coherent.

He laughs. Rolmuth’s single arm raises in a humorous gesture of surrender.

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?

Your eyes squeeze shut, though shoot open at the rush of heat, the pliers applying clutched pressure to your finger before Rolmuth started ripping off the second finger, wiggling it until it broke off skin and sinew.

It ended when you said “goodbye.”

“Look at me, Thaye.” Ghost’s voice sounds desperate, so you offer him a short glance as your jaw slacks and your body retracts.

Your strained eyes snapping to the bearded man as he places down your middle finger on top of your pointer finger.

A gag surfaces in your throat and your body twitches as you watch your finger fall and roll almost as if it’s the most natural thing.

Ghost yells your name again.

You finally focus on him, your eyes welling up, reddening and puffing against your will.

“Jus’ look at me, angel,” Ghost’s silked voice calms you, although in a manner you can’t hear him as well as you want to.

Every muscle and ligament inside of you feels tense and stuck.

Why does my heart go on beating?

You had three fingers on your left hand—three fingers.

Thumb, pinkie, ring. Thumb, pinkie, ring. Thumb, pinkie, ring.

“Y’ll kill her, she’s losin’ too much blood—she’s goddamn delirious!”

Gamble’s fist barrels into the side of Ghost’s head, you hear a feral groan leave his gullet.

At least I can still put a wedding ring on my left hand. You thought.

Those three fingers trembled and twitched, it was the only movement on the left side of your body besides for your left eye—is he going to take one of my eyes? Your head is swarming with thoughts.

“Ghost…” you slur, still locked onto the blonde’s eyes.

“I know, love,” he says as gently as he physically can. “So proud of’y…”

His speech comes out as a garble, but you’re still able to understand him.

“‘M gon’ get us outta here…alive, a’right?”

Your head slumps at the attempt of a nod.

“Save y’r energy, lovie.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Agarwal grips Ghost’s earlobe, pulling him closer. You’re not able to cognize his words, but you’re aware of the vexation in his countenance.

You flinch once Rolmuth drops the pliers on the metal tray. He removes his latex gloves that were blanketed in your gore and throws them onto your lap.

“Clean them up—she still is of use to me.” His voice grows more distant as he leaves the room.

Gamble injects Ghost with a syringe that was hanging off of his waist, casting him with drowsiness, his eyes struggling to keep open before he’s blacked out.

“What did you do—…what did y’do to him?” Your eyebrows stitch together. “What did you do?!”

They unstrap his arms from the chair, then his ankles.

“Answer me goddamnit...” You seethe, tears warping in your eyes.

“Shut the bitch up,” Gamble nudges Agarwal in the shoulder before he pushes Ghost further out of his restraints, his body still and unconscious allowing the scarred man to bind his wrists with zip ties.

Agarwal simply nods and paces toward you. The stock of his gun smashed into your jaw before you could react.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

DAY TWO.

The woman in the doorway was bedraggled; tired eyes and shrunken tear-stained cheeks.

There’s a light illuminating from the pulled-back curtains—a light so bright it could dry the shining tears that spill out scarlet fluid over the eyes of the miserable.

You feel only patient while waiting for the morning sun to rise over the horizon line of the ocean side.

It’s deteriorating yet caliginous frame of murky grey stone and vast sorrow of an arched entrance sat in disposition from harrowing memories filled with bloodshed, grief, and war.

Your face relaxes at the distinctly ravishing but delicate overcasted ray of light shot down from the amidst along the ruins, the melancholy ambiance nearly sent chills down your spine.

Heavenly cries of forgotten mothers begging for forgiveness of their past sins, children's playful and beatific screams, although it was nothing unknown to you.

Screams were usually followed by split rib cages and bullet wounds—tears, blood, those screams and sweat, you went through it all just for it to lie unheard and forgotten.

You searched the odd and seemingly afterlife-like realm with your eyes, you could only wonder where you were, and why you were there.

Why the flowy white dress draped over your body oscillated with the wind in a gorgeous motion.

You're lifting your head out of the water now.

The taste of salt seems so thick, heavy. Like you could drown in it. Like you could get drunk off of it.

The waves crashing onto shore sound so loud atop the eerie silence, their white crests phasing through your body as if your presence was unknown to them.

You loved the ocean because as opposed to the ones who were supposed to; the ocean loved you and was never afraid to come too close, even at your worst.

As you move farther from shore, the water slowly travels up your body, submerging your frame.

You close your eyes as your head is the last thing the water consumes. You feel the water bubbles tickle your skin and elevate themselves up to the surface.

It doesn’t take long for that familiar burn inside your lungs and that familiar feeling of being gagged by the water to swarm your senses.

Your head jerks up and you let out a loud gasp as you fade into consciousness, slipping into colored imagery instead of just monochrome.

Waking up felt like hell; your mouth was dry and most of your limbs felt unresponsive.

Only when you see Ghost curled up on his side, laying on the floor in front of you, are you able to register where you are and what’s going on.

His knees bucked up into his abdomen with his hands zip tied behind his back and his face battered and bruised.

Specks of dried blood ran from his scalp down his face reaching his compression undershirt.

He was asleep.

There was a gentle rise and fall with his chest—you could still hear his labored breaths from where you were.

It felt colder.

Your eyes wander down to your left hand that was wrapped in bandages that were stained red, your two fingers missing and replaced with nubs that were uneven from each other.

If your arm wasn’t broken, you could use it to break the leg of the chair and wield it against the next person to walk through that large metal door that made you wonder if it was life or death upon you.

If your fingers weren’t missing, you could use them to untangle your restraints on your other hand.

You could barely move your wrist—the pain that swells your entire arm makes it nearly impossible.

Ghost stirs on the floor, his body curling into itself further before his legs straighten out.

“Lieutenant,” you mumble. “What did they do to you…?”

His eyes flicker to yours.

“‘M alive, aren’t I?” Ghost says.

His voice is so hoarse and weak—he sounds dehydrated.

“You are.”

Your eyes close a moment to allow yourself to breathe in the air around you.

The single door breaking up the dull room that held them hostage creaks open on rusted hinges allowing Rolmuth to enter.

Two different men from the day prior push in the same record player and the same rolling metal tray that was stained with your blood.

“Rise and shine,” one says, his boot meeting harshly with the lower section of Ghost’s back.

The blonde’s eyes stay intent on the movements of Rolmuth as he lifts up different record sleeves to read their names. He slides one out and places it on the platter.

That familiar sizzle fills the room before the gentle hum of the music begins.

A short gasp leaves your mouth as Rolmuth kicks down your chair by the back stile, your head immediately jerking forward before it slams down onto the cement floor.

He dismisses the two of his men.

Rolmuth’s hand levitates over the tray and he grasps an old tan hand towel, draping it over your face.

You can hear the buckle of Ghost’s pants tink lightly on the floor as he jerks himself. “Fuckin’ bastard!” He yells.

I don’t want to set the world on fire.

It was going to be okay, you told yourself. You trained for this. Truthfully, you were one of the best swimmers on the task force. You can hold your breath—but if that rag manages to cave in, you’ll most likely panic and lose focus.

I…just want to start a flame in your heart.

“Are you ready for talk, now?” Rolmuth arches over you.

In my heart, I have but one desire…

Your voice muffled, you call him something along the lines of an asshole and a prick, which is quickly silenced by the pressure of water that smacks you in the face.

And that one is you, no other will do…

Ghost watches the man pour a jerry can of water over your face. His breath hitching in his throat watching your body twist and turn trying to evade from the water.

I’ve lost all ambition for worldly acclaim

Your body arches up in protest, head jerking side to side as if it would make it any more easier on you.

I just want to be the one you love…

Focus on the music, you tell yourself. You can barely hear your own voice.

And with your admission…that you feel the same,

Rolmuth’s smile is ear to ear as he continues tipping the canister over your cloth-covered face.

I’ll have reached the goal I’m dreaming of, believe me…

You violently thrust your body, panic surging through you as you feel water invade and swallow your lungs.

I don’t want to set the world on fire…

Involuntarily you gasp and choke in more water, you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head.

I…just want to start…a flame in your heart.

Your throat was burning like scolding lava, your heart throbbing inside your chest threatening to rupture. You don’t dare to make noise.

You’re gagging, gasping, sputtering. That you can’t handle. But you don’t let yourself cry. Not like this.

I don’t want to set the world on fire, honey,

The music is starting to garble.

Why is it starting to sound so distorted? You ask yourself.

I…—you too—uch.

“Stop, y’ll fuckin’ kill her! Bloody tosser!” Ghost grits his teeth before spitting out words.

Now that you have the chance to think about it, that song reminds you of someone.

I just want to start…

Your grandfather—you’d sit on that circular crocheted rug and listen to that song as him and your grandmother baked apple fritter.

A great big flame…

He loved that woman more than life itself; when she’d started to get sick with bone cancer, he helped her bathe, he helped her eat, get dressed.

Down in your heart.

Your mother told you about how he had asked her doctor to keep the fact that she only had three weeks left to live just between them.

You see, way down inside me,

She was still happy. So happy. He wanted to spend those last three weeks with her. He retired from his job and took her to all the places she’d talked about visiting.

Darling, I have only one desire.

She passed away, and he spent every day doing all her favorite things. He watered her plants, he baked. He listened to her favorite songs.

And that one desire is you,

He adopted a puppy—a beautiful Australian Shepherd which he named after her. Your mom would say that your grandma’s being was reincarnated into that dog.

And I know nobody else ain’t going to do.

Would that happen to you too? Who would you want to belong to? What kind of dog would you be?

A deafening ringing fills your ears, you finally stop fighting. Breathing.

“She’s not movin—“ Ghost wheezes. “She’s not fuckin’ movin’!”

He was trained for this. He couldn’t break. He couldn’t.

“Enough!” The blonde yells again.

They could crack him, but they can’t break him. They wouldn’t kill her.

Rolmuth finally puts down the canister and removes the rag from off your face, his body bends over to lift your chair back up.

Your body twitching, struggling to release the water clogged in your gullet

“Wake up, bitch,” he snaps and his open palm cracks against your cheek. Your eyes shoot open.

Your mouth opens, your strained and bloodshot eyes widen with horror as you vomit out water, sputtering between your lips as you hack and gag.

The taste of bile is sickening to your empty stomach.

Ghost calls out your name, catching your attention as you stabilize from your state of stupor.

“So proud of’ya, Thaye,” he groans. “Y’r strong, ‘lright? We’ll kill these bastards, all of’em.”

You can hardly spare the man a small nod before your chin is grabbed by Rolmuth’s uncut nails—blood and dirt caked underneath them.

“You tell who you are work for, I consider sparing life.” Rolmuth runs a blade across your cheek, increasing the pressure slightly to slit your skin—a feeling similar to a paper cut. You moan in pain. “Your friend I can not speak for.”

Blood trickles down from the incise, slowly flaring through your cut and pushing from the barriers beneath your top layer of skin.

“F…uck…—“ your silenced by sudden metal on your tongue, scraping gently like a threat.

“I will carve out ur pretty little tongue, cut it in bits, and feed it to you.” Rolmuth coos. “Would you that, yes?”

“Y’sick fuck, get th’fuck away from ‘er!” Ghost attempts to jerk himself up, the bonding on his ankles not allowing him to, his bruised ribs protesting in pain as he lets out a sharp breath.

Your eyes burn into his, your neck flinching as he slowly pushes the blade farther down your throat, his hand prying your mouth open.

He chuckles lowly, small “ah’s” leaving him as he slowly opens your mouth farther to allow the tip of the knife farther down. You salivate, drool racing down your chin and over the creep’s knuckles.

Ghost’s eyes divert from your face to the man’s hands. Disgust laced in his features.

He swallowed thickly, he could feel his skin boiling. He wasn’t angry.

Pissed.

He was incensed.

More than that.

“G..host…” your slightly muffled voice trembles.

His gaze fixes back on yours, watching as your left eye twitches at each of Rolmuth’s motions.

“I know, love…J’s look at me, ‘lright? J’s look at me.”

It presses onto the skin of your tongue, it’s curved edge digging into the fragile skin and tissue causing the metallic taste of iron to taint your sense of taste.

You still bore into your lieutenant’s gaze.

Saliva and blood dribbles down your neck, the sight no doubtedly arousing the male in front of you—his tongue leapt out to slowly trace along his bottom lip.

You might drown in your own saliva at this rate.

Your lieutenant purses his dry and cracked lips, but he doesn’t look away.

He takes the blade out of your mouth, rubbing it against the cloth of his pants to clean it.

Rolmuth raises the knife and pierces your thigh, the feeling of cold metal hitting you first along with the shock, the sound of cloth tearing.

“I want names!” The man hollered, spit landing on your face just below your eyes.

Ghost watches your pupils shrink, his own eyes widening and slowly shifting to your thigh.

An intense tingling sensation swarms your entire leg, then a heat. A heat that felt unbearable.

Ghost searches for your eyes again, his mouth moving, though you can’t hear anything he says.

He broke through skin and sinew, twisting the knife inside of the laceration.

“Talk, bitch!” Rolmuth’s eyes darken.

It takes a few moments for the pain to surface, and when it does, it’s scorching. Your jaw slacks open as your eyebrows pinch together, a shrill whimper escaping you.

“Don’ look, don’t.” Ghost pleads with you. Even he was struggling not to look at your thigh.

It didn’t take eyes to tell there was blood bubbling from the wound and dripping down your pants and trembling leg.

A narrow vertical split across the midsection of the flesh of your thigh. Your eyes didn’t leave Ghost’s.

Was his hair bleached? It seemed like such an unnatural shade of blonde. Brunette underneath. He must bleach it himself.

Rolmuth gave it one more twist, releasing a thin, raw, scream from your throat.

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them get the satisfaction of that from you. Especially not you.

“They’ll b’ere soon, Thaye.” Your lieutenant says.

“You are weak,” Rolmuth spits. “You will break.”

He rolls his shoulders before gripping your pointer finger and holding a jab saw above it.

Your eyes flicker to Rolmuth’s and Ghost calls your name.

“I want a name!” Rolmuth’s scream makes your head spin.

“Fuck y—“ your voice is replaced with a high pitched cry followed by gasps and whimpers as Rolmuth’s new blade carved through sinew and bone. He lifts up your finger against the blade and with one swift movement, your finger falls onto the floor.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you, y’bastard!” Ghost’s lips twitching in pain mixed in with a whole lot of anger.

Your body jumps up, an animalistic noise escaping your throat as you swing your head back and wince loudly, the pain in your thigh

“Name! Or I take another!” Rolmuth yells just inches from your face.��

You couldn’t handle it—your vision is swarmed by black spots and your head is killing you. Your body is in so much pain you feel so much, but so little all at the same time.

When your eyes roll to the back of your head and lolls, you can faintly hear the man yell ‘shit’ before you’re unable to comprehend what is happening.

Everything fades into a subtle blackness, and the last thing you hear is Ghost yelling your name. Screaming your name.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

DAY 4

You wake up to the sound of loud groaning and thumping.

It takes you a few moments to register that you’re awake and you can actually move.

So you do—you upheave your head and take in the light spilling in the room from between the iron barred vent.

It stings your eyes, blotchiness surrounding your peripheral before you’re able to adjust to the light.

Ghost is on the floor taking blunt forces into his lower abdomen—the blonde sputters out a cough as his entire body jerks at the contact.

The man grips the neckline of Ghost’s shirt, lifting his head from off the ground as thick red paste runs down his split and swollen lips.

His legs lift themselves up in an attempt to propel his body up and out of the man’s grasp, but he falls flat as his neck is slammed back onto the cement.

Before Ghost can gasp for air the moment his neck is released, a closed fist slams into his cheekbone, knocking the wind out of him.

“Stop,” you rasp. “Let’im go…”

Ghost is twitching on the floor, blood spilling from his mouth. His entire face is caked in red flakes and black and blue blemishes—the entire left side of his face is fattened with knots.

“No…” you snarl.

The man whirls his head and glares at you, an amused expression of disbelief stamped onto his face.

“No?” He says cockily.

The man paces towards you and cuts off your bindings, bundles your hair in his fist and drags you over towards Ghost, you whine and raise your unbroken arm to try and pry his hands off, but he only tugs harder.

He pulls your hair up until you're positioned on your knees, chin raised up and neck tilted.

You hear a click, it wasn’t a gun.

He unsheathed a pocket knife. It was a fairly decent size. You were tired of seeing knives.

Ghost watches the man’s hand lower to your abdomen, fingers pirouetting across your delicate skin, it sends a shivering fear throughout your entire body like electricity.

“Please…” you meekly whisper, attempting to pull yourself away, your body is so weak from lack of use. Your voice came out as a croak.

His other hand holds a knife that teases the neckline of your shirt.

Ghost thrashes against the floor attempting to wrestle out of his bindings. “I’ll skin you,” Ghost’s voice is hoarse.

“How would you feel If I just…” His fingers trace along the scars on your stomach. “Touch her, ever so lightly…Right in front of you?” The man snickers.

You yelp as his knife cuts a thin line down your blood-stained neckline until your cleavage is exposed.

Tears surface the corners of your eyes.

No, no, no, no…

“Keep y’r eyes on me,” Ghost whispers weakly. “That’s it, love.”

You feel your shirt tear entirely down the middle and fall down your arms, pooling around your wrists.

Your vision blurs and your mouth starts to feel dry, teeth chattering in unison with your trembling lips.

When the knife rests over the center gore of your bra, your breath hitches in your throat and tears bead down your cheeks.

The blade slices through the cloth and immediately your hand rises to cover your nude chest.

Ghost’s eyes stay locked with yours, one half-closed from being beaten beyond his control.

You feel his facial hair scrub raw against your skin, sipping in your fear and vulnerability.

“Team Delta en route for seaside, Corbin, what’s your report?”

His radio.

The man pauses and takes his hand off the midline of your ribcage to grab his radio.

“Delta, this is Pooch on standby—hostages are stable, the woman is awake.”

You release a choked sob, causing the man to release the talk button and bash it against the side of your face, sending you straight onto the floor.

“Thaye…” Ghost croons.

You clutch your chest with your one hand as you feel the right side of your face swell.

“It’ll ‘b over soon,” you tremble, releasing a shaken breath. “They’ll find..us…”

“Shut the fuck up,” his voice is slicked with spite. “Both of you.”

“Pooch, this is Delta, rog that. Don’t kill our intel—0-7, signing off.” It crackles.

You lift your head and turn it slightly, blinking causes the pain on your cheekbone to burn like acid.

“Go to h—“ the radio is bashed into your face again causing your vision to swim and make your head stumble.

The sound of blood trickling and hitting the floor fills your ears, your left palm flattens against the cold floor. Missing fingers wrapped to keep you alive, not because they care.

He punches the radio into your right eye. You keep your head down in submission.

“You wanna act tough? Get treated like you're tough!” He yells.

His hand tugs your head back—you can see your own blood splattered against the communicator before you’re met with the same fate.

Ghost watches as the man beats the right side of your face in with the butt of the radio until it’s practically unrecognizable—caked and blistered. Bruising and swelling so tender on your skin.

He can’t do anything.

He can only watch.

You whimper and cry, hissing through your tears while your jaw clenched, the radio mercilessly landing on the same spot allowing more blood to cascade from the wound.

The last hit is the hardest, sending your numbing cheek staggering back down onto the ground, you wheeze.

If Ghost’s hands weren’t tied behind his back, the man standing above the two of you would be a mangled corpse. He knew that.

Your breaths are shallow and rasped. It feels like hell to breathe—to move your face. Crimson just pools beneath you as Pooch flicks off your gore from his communicator.

He grunts in disgust as specks splatter onto the ‘cleaner’ side of your face. Like water spots on a windowpane or glass shower door.

When you hear the door slam behind you, it makes you flinch.

Your body has broken into tremors now, maybe it’s not tremors—but your spasming.

And your hand is still covering your scar-ridden chest, but you feel like you might pass out again.

Ghost’s own breaths are ragged—you wonder if lunderneath all the blood on your face if you’d look just like him.

“Sleep,” he rasps. “I’ll watch ya.”

You relax as much as you possibly can, your single eye twitching shut in favor of your other one.

All you’ve had these past four days was sleep, yet it didn’t replenish. It didn’t make you feel any less tired or exhausted.

With your bones feeling brittle and sore, it was hard to shift yourself into the mindset of falling asleep, but you tried.

You felt Ghost scoot himself towards you, possibly just to shield your unclad chest and give you a taste of comfort.

Your eyelids feel heavy with pain and fatigue, your body stilling as you allow yourself to sleep.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

DAY 5

Your hands are tied above your head, a gag set between your teeth which you gnaw at in an attempt to drag it down to hang around your neck.

Ghost is a few feet away from you—both of you hanging on metal piping with rope around your wrists.

Ghost’s boots were on the floor, he was too tall to hang like you, where you could swing your feet. Did they take your shoes?

You watch the steel poker ignite in the industrial furnace; the end of it glowing all shades of red, yellow, and orange.

It was two different tools Rolmuth was holding, now. They had two different symbols on each one that you were unfamiliar with. He was choosing.

Rolmuth spun the branding irons with his thumbs and pointers, chuckling dryly to himself as he approached Ghost, setting one of them back inside the boiler.

His boots were so loud, they echoed off the walls of the room they were in—It looked like some sort of boiler room, but you weren’t too sure.

You two must’ve been in a warehouse of some sort.

Rolmuth has to look up to look your lieutenant in the eyes.

When they’d woken you up, they threw you a gray tank top, so you weren’t as exposed as you were before.

The Hindi man pulls down Ghost’s gag.

“460 degrees of heat on metal…” he says as he lifts the hem of Ghost’s shirt. “You talk, I spare you more scar.”

“Go fuck y’self, y’manky twat…” the blonde snapped.

An open mouthed yell left Ghost’s throat as the metal is lanced firmly over the middle of his stomach, tugging at his flesh and skin.

Ghost’s eyes squeeze shut as loud whimpers escape from him, ragged winces.

“Stop!” you cry.

God, you’d never heard him in so much pain. You never thought you’d ever hear him scream in agony, in physical pain.

You're forced to watch the smoke trailing up the rod, Ghost’s back arching in tormentation.

“You piece of shit!” You twist and turn your body causing the rope to shred through layers of your skin.

His muscles tense and his knuckles go white from how hard he’s gripping the pipelines holding him up.

Rolmuth removes the metal from Ghost’s skin—it could be described as a flesh eating parasite; the way that his skin sticks to the rod as if it’s desperate for that contact.

A hitched gasp manages to make its way past his lips as he feels a tinge of relief, his body twitching and pained moans and hisses filling your ears.

You jerk your body weight down, kicking your bare feet until you feel the metal start to dent.

Rolmuth sets the iron back onto the furnace over a rack, he’s bending over to adjust the heat, the fire is roaring.

You tug your arms down and you let out a strained whine at the feeling of your wrists starting to bleed.

When the metal gives in above you, it creaks and drops you down.

You slide down the metal and Rolmuth’s body swings up from fidgeting with furnace levers and knobs.

His arms are immediately reaching for his gun while you lift your legs up and kick the heels of your feet into his shoulder blades, hard.

Rolmuth’s head slams back into the brick base of the furnace, he lets out a groan, his form dragging down and slumping against the floor.

Your body lands harshly on the ground, an excruciating response coming from the back of your head.

Black spots cloud your vision as you slowly try to regain your composure. Your vision is blurring, everything sounds far away and echoed.

The gun slides across the floor.

Your jaw clenches as you pick up your heavy head, your eye searching for the gun regardless of the pounding that distracted you.

When you spot the muzzle, you lurch yourself forward and reach, finger grazing the trigger guard before your pulled back by your hair, earning a yelp to leave you.

Your lungs refuse to cooperate in your chest as your scalp is nearly torn from your head.

Rolmuth growls with clenched teeth, pulling you away from the gun and towards him as he kneels himself over you.

This was the first time you were able to get a decent look at his face—if it weren’t for your messed up eye—but you only can see the rage dispersed over his face as his hands gather around your throat.

He slams your neck down, adding onto the pain thrusting through the back of your head.

“Bitch!” Rolmuth snarls.

You suck in your gag, causing panic and adrenaline to rush through your entire body as your binded hands thrash and attempt to push him off of you.

You duck yourself, bend your leg and kick it against his ankle to heave yourself up with all your weight upwards.

He exclaims in his native tongue, some of which you can only recognize as insults and swears.

Ghost calls your name weakly.

Rolmuth’s hands slip from your throat allowing you to breathe and sit yourself on top of him, you tug your body and maneuver yourself until you're behind the man, pulling the knot of your bindings against his throat and crossing them over.

His neck lifts to try and give himself access to air, though you tug and hold his waist steady between your knees.

You yell with your clenched teeth, the fabric between your lips making the muscles in your jaw ache.

Him wheezing beneath you, fingernails clawing at your split and abused hands before he shifts.

“Thaye!” Your lieutenant hollers.

Rolmuth’s hands reach down to his vest to pull another gun, aiming it at your foot and pulling the trigger causing you to let out an agonizing scream, pain racking your entire body.

The bullet shoots clean through, you knew that for sure. It was too close.

Your grip on his neck loosens so you can slap the gun out of his grip.

In three quick motions, Rolmuth’s back atop you with his hands grasping your hair again, dragging you towards the furnace until your face is close enough to feel the heat radiate onto your face.

You feel the thickness of gore engulf your foot and drip down your toes onto the floor.

Your grunting, muffled, and loud breaths make your head pound as the man squeezes your jaw and forces your neck towards the mouth of the forge.

“No…” you snarl with bared lips, kicking your legs regardless of the pain, throwing yourself towards him to keep yourself as far from the flames as you could.

Rolmuth laughs dryly accompanying his guttural breaths, his body stretching yet keeping a firm hold on your mandible as he takes hold of one of the branding rods.

“No!” Your eye widens and your hands reach up to push his face away from you.

“Fuck!” He growls, shaking his face to keep your hands off as he pulls the iron out of the furnace.

He wastes no time pressing it into your side regardless of the thin tank covering your skin, and the cloth does absolutely nothing in regards to the sudden gut wrenching sensation that makes it feel like your entire body was drenched in gasoline and set on fire with a blowtorch.

Your cry is deafening to the ears and the smell of burning charred flesh is quick to fill your nostrils. You feel and you hear your skin bubble up, sizzle, then pop, then stick to the metal and entangle itself around the start of the handle taking the appearance of something similar to chewed bubblegum.

Even trembling and shaking, you manage to find a way to position your hands so you can plant your thumbs into his eyes and use some of the only fingers you have left to press them into his eyes, causing the man to yell.

Still, your screams aren’t matchable as your fingernails gouge into his sockets and claw at his eyelids, shredding through flesh easily as blood began to dribble down his face and over his lips like tears. You still manage to scream louder in anger than the man can in pain.

Your fingers shove deeper into the grooves of his eye sockets, the organs are pushed so far back that blood sprays across your face and he finally releases the rod.

It clangs to the floor, and he starts sobbing in his native tongue, convulsing hands reaching up towards his red-painted face as you pull your gag out.

“Go to hell,” You seethe wobbly as you lift yourself and steer yourself behind him, taking Rolmuth by the nape of his neck and forcing himself inside the mouth, against the grills inside the furnace.

He shrieks and cries, moving erratically as his face is engulfed by the fire. Slowly, yet quickly, his skin is shredded by the blazes and the bottom rows of his teeth are exposed.

It takes him a while to stop making noise before you pull his head out and throw his twitching body onto the ground, then you finally allow yourself to lean against a boiler tank and take pressure off your injured foot.

You propel yourself off the tank by your palms and drag yourself regardless of your ankle to the edge of the furnace, turning yourself around to scrape the rope against the brick.

A gasp releases from your throat at the sudden relief around your wrists, the rope falling to the ground.

“Ghost?” You lift your head.

“‘M here.” He replies.

“I don’t know if I can get up.”

“I know you can,” Ghost urges. “Find…” he sputters up blistering coughs.

“…Fin’a knife, ‘n get me outta these binds, yea?” He huffs. “‘N I’ll do the rest.”

Your eye blinks as you grip the ankle of Rolmuth’s corpse, pulling him toward you to start flipping up his vest and pant pockets.

He didn’t have a knife on him.

Got to be fucking kidding me.

A door is swung open, a singular set of footsteps stepping into the room.

Your eye searches for a weapon—anything that can deal enough damage.

A metal fire poker is hanging off the wall to your right, so you swing your elbows back and lift yourself up by the palms of your hands.

As quick as you can, you hoist yourself up by using the support of a metal deaerator, your arm sliding against it as you limp and throw yourself towards the wall creating a subtle thud.

“What the fuck…?” A man’s voice murmurs.

You silently curse to yourself under your breath as you grab the fire poker off the nails that were being used to hold it up.

Using the heel of your injured foot, you shuffle against some shelving, looking between the gaps for the man inside the room.

He’s holding a Fennec, nothing you haven't dealt with before.

He’s twenty seconds to your left, carefully skimming along the floor with his eyes down the sights of his gun.

You pinch a metal screw off of one of the shelves and toss it into the corner closest to you to lead him your way.

“Fuck,” the younger male jumps slightly. He looked young and lanky, at least from his physique.

When you hear his boots start to rub against the floor, you lift your head slightly to watch him turn towards your direction.

Your fingers and nubs flex on the thin metal, it’s hard to gain a clear grip.

The man comes around the corner of the shelves, the sounds of his tactical gear shuffling alerting you when he gets closer until his helmet is in sight.

You immediately thrust the fire poker into the gap below his collarbone and into his scapula, dampening the fabric of his undershirt in that area as it rips.

Out of panic and shock, his finger grips the trigger and you have to jerk him away before any of his bullets are able to hit you.

“Please!” The boy pleads, gun dropping to hang around his neck as he grips the caps of your shoulders. You only glare at him before plunging the fire poker further into that same spot until it tears and mauls through his back, sticking out on the other end.

He’s gasping out, but it’s almost like no air is exhaling, mouth held agape as his grip on your shoulders releases.

You shout and cry out at every thrust until the hole carved into his skin is able to suck in the hooked tip.

The male’s head falls and you allow his body to slump down and forward, the metal rod holding his stilled body up.

You heave dryly and press a palm on the wall to support yourself, your foot is killing you—literally.

The blown out flesh and puckered skin walls made you want to barf. You could stick a finger through your foot and feel your pulsating muscles just hug around your finger.

You lean down and unclip the knife holster from the gun belt, unsheathing it then hobbling around the shelving towards Ghost who was still hanging from the pipes.

“Okay, okay…” you breathe sharply, struggling to lift yourself up onto the brick platform of the furnace, nearly stumbling off before you catch your footing.

“Keep still,” you say, arching your hand to start cutting at his bondings until he’s dropped onto the floor.

Ghost lets out a loud groan, his arms clutching his ribs. They’d broken one of his ribs, maybe multiple. You both were in bad shape.

It takes him a moment to get himself off the floor as you seat yourself and scoot off of the hearth.

He grabs both of the hand guns that had been dropped onto the floor, holding one out to you.

You unclip the magazine, then snap it back into the chamber at the sight of one missing bullet.

It was the same one that Rolmuth used to shoot your foot.

Ghost’s hand rests on your cheek, gently. “Y’did good, ‘lright?” He spoke with a lilt.

“Can y’walk?”

“A little.” You nod. “Fuckers took my shoes…”

He lets his hand fall to check his magazine, then he nods. “‘Don’t know if I can carry ya with m’ribs.”

“It’s okay, just don’t wait for me.” You reply.

His eyebrows furrow. “Bloody hell, Thaye, I ain’t leavin ya.”

“I know but—“

“No.”

Ghost’s half-lidded eyes glare at you, giving you all the warning to stop.

“Stay behind me.”

He starts walking towards the door, slowly peeking it before leaving with you behind him.

Walking hurt—even while you only applied pressure to the heel on your injured foot, the muscles contracted and the pain was torturous.

One man entered the hallway holding a box from another room, which Ghost took care of by shooting a single bullet between his eyes.

The box had opened and dropped glass equipment, alerting four others who had been lingering in the room he came from.

They yell and communicate in their native tongue, one sticking his head out of the door threshold to aim his rifle.

Ghost fires his pistol and the man swings his head back into the room, still opening fire into the hallway.

“Fuck!” You hiss, dodging the bullets and moving quickly behind a filing cabinet, lowering yourself down.

Ghost’s back presses against a door to your right, pulling himself out of cover to fire at the man.

Two bullets miss and the third causes his head to fling back and smear blood as his body arches and falls down to the floor.

You lift your head and aim your pistol, gasping when your throat is suddenly hooked back from behind you.

When the combatant turns you around and attempts to make a slash at your throat, you manage to extract yourself by gripping his wrist and snapping his elbow out of place, the sounds of bones snapping as he yells.

His knife drops from his hand and you scramble to pick it up from the floor.

You groan as his boot digs into your bandaged hand before you're able to pick it up, then his hand grips your neck to lift you up.

He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you, locking his wrists over each other at your back. You clench your teeth and jerk violently in his grasp.

Ghost is fighting four other men, locking them in the crook of his elbow and smashing their skulls between the doors.

The man holding you in position crushes you in his grasp even with his broken arm. He tries dragging you into another room.

“Let me the fuck go,” you gasp, causing the man to laugh.

“You will regret ever trying to leave your room,” he utters.

You breathe a moment, heart pounding through your chest as you swing your head into the side of his neck and sink your teeth into his skin with all the strength in your jaw.

Crimson liquid seeps into your mouth and down the front of your neck as you yank out the flesh of his throat. You spit out the skin and blood, wiping your mouth and tongue against the skin of your arm as the man’s grasp loosens

His shoulder blades and chest are glistening in red, gore spurting out of the torn spot in his throat as his body stumbles and he’s gargling on his own blood trying to speak.

“Fuck you…” You shutter weakly, eyes slowly skimming down to the knife lodged inside your waist.

Shit.

He must’ve stabbed you before lifting you up, your adrenaline pumping so fiercely you couldn’t feel it until now.

You stumble on your feet slightly, shaking hands lowering to wrap around the handle and pull it out of the slit.

The runnel of red paste turns into a thick stream down as it drenches your tank top.

You lift your head slowly and throw the knife overhead across the hallway, hitting a man who’s pointing a handgun at the back of Ghost’s head.

It’s blade spades into the back of his skull and makes his body wriggle down onto the floor.

“Ghost…!” You gasp and press your open palm over your soaking top and open laceration.

Ghost steps over both legs of a bloodied man before shooting him dead and advancing towards you.

“Shite…” He huffs, gently removing your hand and placing it back after gaining a clear inspection.

His hands grip the hem of his shirt and roughly tear at the fabric creating a long strip, then he moves your hand aside again to tightly secure it around your wound.

You hiss and groan, hand gripping his shoulder as he tugs and pulls at your body while tying the knot of the fabric.

“I’s ‘lright.” Ghost mollifies as he scoops his arm underneath your armpit.

It offers you some support as he guides you both out towards a staircase.

It wasn’t a warehouse—you and Ghost were just in a basement that was turned into a meth lab.

Boxes and boxes full of lab equipment scattered along the floors.

You’d never seen such a big basement, one with torture chambers and stonework rooms.

Hell, in the corner of the room with all the steel liquid tanks and chemical barrels.

A woman is in bright blue hazmat coveralls and a chemical mask standing on top of a metal stool.

Ghost raises his pistol and you lower it slightly with your palm, his eyes glaring at you with his head kept facing forward.

“You can’t miss, we don’t know what corrosives are in these tanks. Is it worth it?” You keep your voice low, personal between the two of you.

He doesn’t reply, instead he looks forward, then squeezes the trigger and picks the woman off by shooting her in the side of her neck.

You swallow thickly as her body spasms on the ground, the stool getting caught in her ankle as crimson fluid rises and bubbles inside of her mouth.

Ghost guides the two of you up the cobble stairs, one hand dragging up the wall and the other across your lieutenant’s wingspan.

Your eyes flash at the sudden two objects being thrown down the stairs, the sudden silence as they roll down step…after step…after step before Ghost is swinging you up into arms and yelling.

He’s breaching himself through the door, into open fire before the staircase you had come up from explodes into the emitting heat compressed air and blasts behind the two of you sending you both flying forward.

Smoke engulfs the room, giving both you and Ghost coverage to get behind cover.

You're pulled by the back of your shirt behind a deep freezer, bullets flying and hitting the metal.

“Fuckin’ pricks got us pinned!” His head lifts over to fire at three of the men who have ballistic shields covering those firing LMGs behind. “‘N I’ve got four left.”

You can’t see through the thick smoke—you can’t breathe while wheezing into the crook of your elbow. “Seven,” you inform him.

“Cover me,” Ghost grabs your arm for a moment, letting go and serving around the freezer.

You follow behind him with a raised pistol, shooting off at any glares you're able to see through the fumes.

Six…Five…

A man steps out from cover behind a wine cabinet, but before he can fire his rifle, you pop him in the eye.

Four…

Ghost quickly crouches down and shimmies the rifle out of the corpse’s grip, grabbing at a magazine and stuffing it into his vest he’d managed to keep.

You groan and push over a bookshelf behind Ghost once you’re both out of the smoke. He takes aim and opens fire at three men, blowing holes in their chests before he rams into the fourth with a loud yell and slams down the stock of his assault rifle into his face until his teeth and nose are finely pressed into the persian rug.

You finish off two more who try to walk through the threshold of the room, turning your head over your shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Two…

You jerk yourself away before you get slugged by a riot shield, ascending yourself and shoving your firearm past the barriers of his lips from behind. You pull the trigger and his head flings as the bullet rings out and creates a sizable hole in the back of his head.

One…

Before his body hits the tile, you take hold of his riot shield and deflect the hail of gunfire from the individual who came emerging from the threshold corner.

You walk forward until his clip is empty to drive the shield into his vest-covered chest, stunning him so you can push it aside and fire your last shot into the underside of his jaw.

Zero.

Bullets continue spraying throughout the entirety of the house while you make sure you don’t pass out from the amount of blood you’ve lost.

You grab the TAQ-V from off the floor and click a new magazine into it, shoving a spare into your back pocket before pushing into the same room as Ghost.

He’s piling bodies on the floor, wrestling for dominance over a knife.

You fastdraw another handgun you’d grabbed off of one of the bodies and shoot the man in his knee cap to allow Ghost to gain the upper hand and pierce the man’s temple with the weapon.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly.

You nod softly, inhaling sharply as you feel wet blood pool around your uninjured foot.

They took your shoes for no reason, like they had a use for them.

Maybe it allows you to move around more quietly, but it still disturbed you that they took the time to even peel off your socks.

“What intel did y’know that we didn’t?” His chest is against yours, head craning down to keep the conversation between the two of you.

“Lieutenant, we don’t…” You pause a moment, your head spinning.

Hunger, thirst, the cold, the blood loss. There was so much holding you hostage and you weren’t even able to comprehend how you were still standing—limping.

“Well, Seargant?” His voice is low, still holding the same husky British drawl.

“We don’t have the time for this, for now—“ Ghost shoves you aside before you can finish, raising the muzzle of his rifle to open fire on the men entering the room.

“Fuckin’ riot shields!” He pulls you behind a flipped over tattered blue couch that had already gone through its fair share of bullets.

A bullet flies and hits the side of the couch a hair’s breadth from your face.

“Goddammit,” he curses while replacing the magazine in his gun.

The men brandishing shields push further.

When one reaches close enough, you run in front of the shield and grab the sides before he crashes into you.

You turn him until his body is vulnerable to Ghost, your teeth ground into each other.

“Ghost!” You yell to catch his attention, head snapping in your direction to fire a single round into the back of his head.

You throw the body off of yourself and yank the riot shield to cover yourself, ducking your head as you recoil your fist and punch one of the men baring LMGs hard twice in the jaw.

You thrust the shield into the next, throwing it into his abdomen as he topples, finishing him off by shooting him down in the chest.

One turns with his M4 raised, but you turn your gun around and bash the stock into the base of his chest, then again into his cheek, swiping your leg across the floor and knocking him down then picking his head up and slamming it down on a thick shard of glass sticking upwards to finish him off.

Ghost drops the last body, finishing off a magazine into his vest and throwing the weapon aside. You toss him another one, which he catches with ease.

“We’ll force upstairs, look f’r our shit, ‘n leave.” He says as he picks up a frag grenade from off a vest.

“There should be Skimobiles somewhere around here, the ones they were using in the FFO,” you nod.

“A’right,” he groans while rolling his shoulders. “On my mark.”

He trudges past bodies until he’s at the threshold of the staircase, stepping up slowly with the grenade in one hand and his gun in his other.

You follow behind leisurely, eye down the scope of your rifle.

He pulls the clip and tosses it up, arm stretching behind to press his hand against your shoulder blade.

“Oh shit—grenade!” A man yells from upstairs before detonation.

“Go!” Ghost immediately backs up off the wall and skips over two steps into the corridor, prefiring as he loops around a wall.

There’s already bodies and limbs splayed across the room from the combatants who were hit by the frag.

Your back rubs against the wall as you lean to shoot down the hallway, whirring bullets firing past you.

After a few back and forths between staying flat against the wall and leaning to fire off your gun, bodies drop and you’re able to progress down the hall.

Ghost is somewhere on the opposite side of the house, you still hear heavy gunfire.

You pause at the sight of another man at the end of the hallway and you recognize him immediately.

The look in his eyes and the scruffiness of his face made your lips stretch in almost the most feral look.

Corbin, that was his name. Callsign ‘Pooch’.

Anger burns in the depths of your lungs and stomach as you grip the wall for support, lunging yourself forward to lift your feet over each body that was littered across the hallway floors.

Sweat ran down the sides of your face and splotched down around the neck of your shirt with the blood.

You watch his face twist into a wolfish grin as he slings his gun over his shoulder and walks towards you.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He purrs.

White noise fills your ears.

All you can see through the glossy shine of your eyes is the man who humiliated you in front of your superior.

All you can see through the blinding red rage is the man who beat Ghost and cracked his ribs, forcing you to watch him retract and twitch at every fleeting fist.

Even the hail of gunfire is silent in your ears as you drag your injured foot. Everything sounds underwater, everything feels dull.

His fist intersects and meets with your cheekbone causing your head to shift to the left and your body to stumble where you stand.

You grip his wrist and divert his second punch by lifting your arm and thrusting your knee roughly into his thigh to tamper his movements.

He groans, with grim chuckles following after. “I’m going to enjoy every last second of this,” he coos.

Your body shivers in disgust as you slide your fingers down to your waist, priming the knife stuffed beneath the hem of your shirt. “Go fuck yourself…” you hiss.

His eyes flicker down to your hand and his boot immediately connects with the middle of your torso, sending you across the floor with a loud thud.

Pooch steps between your legs and lifts your upper body by the neckline of your shirt, his knuckles slamming down to beat on your already swollen face.

Drool and blood pour from your mouth, a strangled gasp leaving you at every punch before he releases you harshly back down onto the floor.

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, the pressure and swelling in your face and head being all too much for you.

A boot is savagely kicked into the lower pit of your abdomen, making you gag on air.

“Get the fuck up.” Pooch spits.

You clutch your stomach and turn, slowly feeling for the knife, then quickly lifting the edge trimming of your tank top and grasping the handle, pulling it out and sweeping your leg around and behind his ankles to knock him off to the side.

He yells out swears as you level yourself over him, his legs kicking out to make your chest rest on the soles of his boots.

Both of your hands grasp the handle of the knife making it easier on your lack of fingers. His hands grip your forearms as you cry out and try forcing the knife down on him.

He kicks his legs up and backwards, upending you over him and sending the knife flying.

You hiss and give yourself no time to recover, flipping on your stomach and army crawling with your forearms to grab the knife.

He topples atop your body, planting a piercing slap across your face before reaching for the knife and propelling it downwards into you.

Before you’re able to block, the knife breaks through the skin in your stomach, your hand managing to grab his wrist before he’s able to gut you open.

You seethe and let out a sharp whine followed by a croaked cry, your other hand circling his wrist in an attempt to push him away.

Quickly, you roll your body off to the side and let go of him, causing the knife to pierce into the wood flooring as you grip a console table to succor yourself up.

Corbin abandons the knife and flings himself upwards, swinging his gun into his arms.

“I’m done playing games.”

You advance on him, grabbing the rifle and pushing it into his chest before he can aim it at you.

One of your hands grip the upper hand guard while the other grips the bolt and holds the muzzle up.

You yank his body over towards the window behind you, turning your body then grabbing the man by the back of his hair and smashing his head through the glass.

It shatters from contact and leaves cuts and shards in his skin, a loud yell clawing its way from his throat.

His finger grips the trigger and bullets roll out into the floor as you pull his head back.

You pull the rifle sling from off his shoulder, tossing it aside and disarming him from the X12 tucked into the back of his pants.

He growls at every tug of his scalp as you shoot him in the back of the leg and force him onto his knees.

A loud wail echoes the hallway from the man below you.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” you snap.

“You don’t get to scream.”

“You don’t get to cry and whine like a little bitch.”

There’s no remorse in your voice, no sense of mercy for the man being held on his knees and whimpering.

You smack the magazine onto the base of his nose, blood dripping it’s way down his nostrils as a struggling noise spills from his lips.

“You…fucking….” he chokes on his own words.

His entire body violently trembles at the tortured scream he releases as you squeeze the trigger again, shooting Pooch in his shoulder then proceeding to stick your thumb into the ravage wound harshly.

“Bitch! Fucking bitch!” He strains and pants like a dehydrated dog trying to jerk away from you.

You replace your finger with your foot, lowering his back against the floor as you press your toe into the bullet hole.

Another scream tears out of him as you blow another hole into the other side—his chest convulses.

Blood seeps from his mouth, you hold the grip of the handgun with both hands and sob out loud as you empty the entire magazine into his head until his face is unrecognizable to the amount of bullet holes.

You keep pulling the trigger, even as the gun starts to click announcing its out of ammunition.

The entire floor below you is covered in gore; flesh, messings of brains, blood, skin.

So much.

Your body snaps around as a hand abruptly drapes over your shoulder, your arm raising the gun ready to bash it into the skull of the next man to try and touch you.

“Thaye, Thaye—y’got him! Thaye, he’s dead!”

Someone calls your name trying to snap you of out haze.

Ghost—your eyes soften with glistening tears as he calmly disarms you after deflecting the hit with his forearm, tossing the handgun aside so he can push you into his chest by the back of your neck.

“‘S over, sweet girl.” Ghost says with intonation. “Can’t hurt ya anymore.”

Your eyes are wide with terror, hands bundling your lieutenant’s shirt as you exhale a shaky mewl.

It’s him who releases you first, handing you your custom rifle and radio.

His balaclava is back on his face, along with the skull mask.

“Y’r vest ‘n boots are in the room I came from,” Ghost jerks his head.

You nod softly and shamble towards the doorway in the direction he’d pointed out.

You pause.

A little boy walks out of the threshold—he’s holding a gun far bigger than his head.

Your eyes widen slightly. “Did these men take you from your family?”

You turn your head over your shoulder to call for Ghost, the sound of a bullet whirring filling your ears.

Ghost wastes no time pulling out his handgun and shooting the little boy in the head before running towards you.

Your right shoulder is screaming at you as time seems to slow down to a crawl. You hear Ghost yell behind you and the gunshot ringing as the little boy falls back and you do too, hitting the ground hard.

The masked man is on his knees in front of you within seconds, lifting your head into his lap.

“Thaye! Thaye, don’t y’fuckin’ die, not now…” He growls, applying pressure down onto your shoulder with both of his gloved hands.

Your lips slant in a tired manner, eyelids feeling heavy. His bloody hand kneads your cheek, smearing gore along your already dirtied skin.

“Fuck! Fuck!” he curses loudly. “Stay awake, love, please…”

God, he was hurting, it hurt to have your head against the burns on his stomach, but he wouldn’t let you die.

“Babygirl,” he says weakly.

All you can see is an uncleanable amount of red seep and cover your shirt.

Your lungs clutch together inside your chest, labored breaths escaping you with a strained noise.

“I know…I know—keep those gorgeous eyes on me, sweetheart.” He inhales a shaky breath, flipping up your blood-crusted hairs from sticking to your forehead.

You whisper an apology, catching his attention as you grip his waist. Ghost’s eyebrows furrow.

“Don’t. Don’t say sorry,” he says. “You did this, you saved our lives, love.”

“‘M just finishin’ the job, ‘lright?” His split and bloody lips find a place on your temple, planting a raw and long kiss to your throbbing skin.

“…’least I got to see your face before—“

Ghost holds you, squeezing your hand as a slight warning. “Don’t talk like that.”

It was a demand.

“That an—“ you spur into a coughing fit, blood spraying onto the man’s vest. “…Order, Lieutenant?”

“Spare y’r energy,” he huffs.

“Simon—“ you slur.

“Stop.” He snarls.

Your ragged breaths start to stray, causing panic to surge through the man above you.

“No,” he growls, squeezing your smaller hand in his a bit tighter than before. “Don’t, Thaye,” he says through clenched teeth.

Your body falls limp in his lap, the grasp loosening on his shirt making his heart pound through his chest, a painful pounding that felt similar to acid reflux.

“No!” Ghost yells, desperately palming at your tangled hair in panic. “Fuckin’ massacre,” he exhales shallowly.

One arm scoops beneath the back of your knees, the other across your shoulder blades with his hand holding your arm.

A loud strained groan claws it’s way from his gullet at the sudden pain inside his ribs as he lifts himself up and off the floor.

His muscles tighten inside his body, a burning sensation in his abdomen as he clutches you close to his chest, feeling your blood seep into his shirt.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

The gentle rhythmic beeping and steady flow of air through your nostrils was something that felt unreal and forced.

You slowly flutter your eyes open to light slipping in between the beige curtains. Your eyes are half-lidded and threatening to close against your will as your bandage wrapped hands rests atop the metal railing on either side of you.

It smells of strong floor cleaner and hand sanitizer, a scent that is slightly uneasy on you as you slowly slip back into consciousness.

Your muscles feel tight in your body; pain racking your shoulder and neck as you crane it to take a look around the room.

The walls are spinning and the ceiling above you is spiraling making you sick to your stomach.

On the bedside table to your left—closest to the window—there’s flowers. They’re too withered to try and recognize what kinds, shredding to flakes in your fingers when you caress them between your pinky and thumb.

Your hand drags up to pull nasal tubes out of your nostrils. It’s almost as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe air, throat tightening and lips so still from lack of moisture.

There’s a penetrating migraine in the back of your skull as you carefully swing your legs over the side of the bed, the thin baby pink and spotted hospital gown flowing down your sides leaving you slightly exposed in your thigh region.

Bare and bandaged feet slide along the smooth cold tile, sending chills up your body as you grip the IV stand with your trembling hand, the other holding onto the bed railing for support.

You groan and strain as you struggle to lift yourself up, propelling upwards with your palm and grip on the stand until your knees straighten and your standing up somewhat decently.

Where was Ghost? Is Ghost alive?

So many thoughts coursed through your head along with the punishing feeling of dehydration.

You guide yourself using the wheels on the IV stand towards a counter, your hands gripping the handle of the sink and pulling it upward.

A choked moan manages to break from you as you scoop the water in your hands and swill the rich liquid.

Water dribbles down your chin, which you wipe away before lifting your head to look into the medicine cabinet mirror.

Your hand rests on the wall in front of you as you heave.

They cut your hair shorter, not too short but enough so that it was comfortable. Your entire right side of your face being bandaged, stains of blood being a faint copper color.

Bandages wrapped around your neck and reached down your shoulder you’d been shot in.

Your hair had been taken care of neatly while you were in a coma, that was obvious.

Ghost. Where?

You grip the IV stand and hobble towards the door, turning the knob and gripping the threshold with your other hand as you step out.

A nurse pauses in her tracks, rushing to your side in an instant. “How are you up? Your injuries are critical,” she gasps, palm flattening against the small of your back.

“My lieutenant—…my lieutenant…” you say in an undertone.

“You need bed rest, you’ve only just woken up.” Her voice is gentle yet commanding.

“No,” you bark, shuffling out of her hold. “Please take me to him.”

The woman bites her lip before nodding hesitantly, hand against your back again to guide you towards his room.

It was only a few doors down from you—when the nurse opened the door, allowing you into the room.

You see the back of Ghost’s head facing in your direction, his hair tousled from the bandages wrapping around his head.

“Ghost,” you call.

His head turns from facing the window to facing you, you hear him murmur your name in reply.

“Y’minx,” he breathes. “Hell y’doin’ out ya bed?”

You carefully walk yourself towards him, the nurse holding her hands atop her chest nervously. The sound of the plastic wheels of the stand makes his breath hitch in his throat, the sound of reassurance that you were alive.

“You okay, big man?” Your voice is hoarse from lack of use, but he’s able to that you perfectly.

“D’ya ever worry ‘bout y’self, love?” Ghost asks with a tinge of humor.

Heavy casting was on his right leg, bandages and patches on practically every inch of his body—similar to you.

“Sometimes,” you smile softly and push strands of his hair out of his face, your heart slightly shatters in your chest at the sight of him flinching at your touch.

Ghost scoots himself over slightly, wincing at the sudden movement.

You seat yourself beside him on the large gatch bed and his hand pushes you down to lay beside him.

“Wait, Mr. Riley—“ the nurse takes a small step forward.

“I’ll ‘b fine,” he grunts.

Her eyes blink slightly as she takes a few steps back, her lips separating to speak though no words come out. She simply turns on her ankles and closes the door behind her.

Ghost secures an arm around your waist, pushing your back flush against his bandaged chest.

Your eyes trace his tattoos and the muscles of his arms, every scar and blemish.

“Where’s the force?” You ask quietly.

“Left recently,” he mumbles back tiredly, pressing his nose into your hair. “Y’smell like pomegranate—got y’self a damn spa crew while y’were out?”

You laugh dryly, breaking into a light fit of wheezes.

“Not too hard, Seargant.” Ghost’s finger tucks a loose strand of hair from your bangs behind your ear.

Your wet bandages on your hands rub against his knuckle as you hold onto his hand, he seems to pay no mind.

You turn your body slightly so you can get a better look at his face. “Odd seeing you without your eye black.” You quip.

His closed eyes open to look down at you. “Mm, might as well see m’down in me knickers then, eh?” He chuckles huskily.

“Very funny,” you roll your eyes lightheartedly.

You catch his small glances to your lips, his hand leaving your chest to run his thumb down your bottom lip until that same hand is cupping your cheek lovingly.

His eyes narrow, he’s sleepy, but you still catch yourself propping your body up with your elbow and closing the gap between the two of you.

Instantly, his head cranes and tilts to deepen the kiss, his fingers gently sliding down the side of your face to press his thumb into the underside of your jaw and drag his fingers along the nape of your neck.

Ghost breathes into your mouth, the taste of mint leaf and citrus enveloping your taste buds as his tongue laced over yours.

The kiss was passionate, you feel his eyebrows furrow showing his desperation as you both kissed softly at a gentle pace and motion.

Your eyes flutter open as you feel his warm lips leave yours with a quiet pop, both of you panting lightly with his forehead pressed against yours. Ghost’s eyes are unable to open for a few moments after you disconnect.

When they do open, your eyes bore into his brown orbs, the dark purple hue circling under his eyes showing his deprivation of sleep.

When he feels you buck gently back into his groin, he releases a small grunt, lips meeting yours again for a small chase kiss.

“Not like this,” he says quietly. “I’d take you on this bed right here, right now, but y’ve recently waken up ‘n we’re both still in r’covery.”

You hum in agreement, his hand finding it’s place on your chest once again with the knowledge of your lower abdomen injury.

“‘N to b’honest—‘can barely feel m’damned balls, feels like ‘ve got whiskey dick.” He grumbles, and you bite your lip to suppress a giggle.

“Simon!”

“Don’ you laugh at me, woman.” Ghost lowers his head into the crook of your neck, biting the skin gently

“My deepest condolences, Lieutenant,” you purr, catching his lips in another kiss when you jerk his head upward with your uninjured shoulder. He growls against your mouth in reaction.

There’s a long yet short line of silence as you turn towards his back again, your legs tangling with his as you hold your lips against his knuckles.

“Y’have no clue how strong you are.” He swallows the knot in his throat as he speaks. “God, Thaye, they…they told me there was a chance y’d never wake up.”

“Hey,” you hum. “Stop that, I’m here now.”

His eyes stare blankly at the wall ahead of you, maybe even the same wall you were staring at—if your eyes weren’t closed already.

“I just don’ know what I would’ve done if I made it outta there ‘n y’didn’t make it with me.” He says.

“Y’r the reason I made it out with you in the first place. If y’hadn’t pulled that barmy stunt—“ he pauses, and you feel the rise of his chest and the fall as he exhales deeply.

“Y’survived internal bleeding, trauma to the head ‘n eye, two broken ribs, second and third degree burns, asphyxiation, dismemberment, stab wounds and gunshot wounds..” Ghost squeezes his fist tighter against your chest.

“So did you, Si.” You coo softly.

“Christ…” he mutters.

His fingers interlock with yours best they can, regardless of the most of them being numbs on your knuckles, and it wasn't until your hand rested on his chest and rubbed over the raised scars, that he realized he hadn't been touched so gently in nearly eleven years. It wasn't a new feeling, but it was a feeling that he had craved desperately.

Never had fallen in love before, but he knew you had bad experiences with it—figuring out that your ex-fiancé had cheated on you while on deployment. Someone had to love you, and he was skeptical of it being him, but it was clear you loved him too and now he was scared you’d stop.

But hearing your gentle breathing as you slipped back into sleep hunched into his form led him somewhere he’d never been. You cleared his mind and cleared away his thoughts. For the first time, he doesn’t want to look away from what he has the ability to feel.

#simon ghost x reader #ghostheartfelt #ghostheartfelt writing #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost mw2 hurt/comfort #ghost modern warfare #simon ghost x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine

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javarium · 11 months

Text

layers | geto/gojo.

— short story

you’re their favorite kouhai, everyone at tokyo and kyoto knows this. they also know that if anyone or anything were to touch or harm you in any way, they would feel the wrath of the most powerful duo. and one day, someone is dumb and foolish enough to do exactly that.

note(s): this isn’t a full complete drabble with a complete ending, but it’s something I’ve enjoyed writing. flop or no flop, this was a fun piece to write :D But tbh I’m thinking about deleting it and redoing it, or adding more. or maybe a part two lmao??

****

Trees were nothing but a blur of green to your vision. The car was going fast, way too fast for you to make out anything but the simple colors blue and green.

You blinked several times, shaking your head to keep yourself from dozing off. You were tired, so very very tired from such a long and exhausting two days of being on a First Grade mission that turned out to be a bigger issue and much more than it was worth.

They should’ve sent backup with me…

You leaned your head against the back of the backseat. You closed your eyes for just a moment, then opened them again for just a few seconds. The process was rinse and repeat; the only way to keep yourself awake.

Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t… Just… don’t…

“Hang on, Miss [Last Name]!” frantically spoke the driver. He was probably looking in the rear view mirror, seeing you laying back on the seat with your eyes opening and closing. More so of the latter.

You heard the sound of a dial, then the voice of your driver hurriedly speaking into it. Problem was, you couldn’t understand a single word he was saying. It was all so… incoherent. Funny enough, it sounded like you were underwater.

Your head lolled to the side again, eyes half open with nothing but the same blur of green outside the window. Your hand was still over the wound, covering it with as much pressure as possible until you got to the school.

Unless you passed out first.

You could only imagine your upperclassmen holding this over your head as a joke for the rest of your life.

If you got to a medic in time, that is.

——————————

Everything had been fine. Just fine.

Great, in fact, he muses.

Him and Geto had been getting some ice cream to satisfy his sweet tooth, while Shoko complained that he was eating too much while munching away on her own ice cream like a damn hypocrite.

“What should we do now?” Shoko questioned.

“Might as well head back to the school,” Suguru suggested. “It is getting late and—”

“You’re no fun!!” Satoru complained. “Why are you so by the book?”

The black-haired male gives his childish friend a look of both amusement and exasperation. Of course Satoru was going to be like this. It was in his nature to be as anti-rules as possible. Especially if it meant pissing off the higher-ups.

“Alright, we’ll go—”

Shoko holds up a pointer finger to halt the conversation. “Aha, hold up guys. Sensei’s calling.”

“Maaaan! What now?” Satoru whines.

Just as the white-haired male goes to complain some more, he realizes Suguru’s expression changes. And that he’s not looking at him anymore — that he’s looking at Shoko now. So Satoru does the same, and now he sees his brunette friend’s face sheet white, eyes growing red like she’s about to start crying.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll be there.”

She clicks the phone off and looks to Geto, the whites of her eyes beginning to become red.

“Shoko?”

“We need to get back to the school. [Name]-chan’s hurt.”

The two males freeze, eyes going wider than saucers. But that reaction doesn’t last but two seconds, and Suguru’s pulling out his fastest Cursed Spirit he’s got and finishing the rest of the route back to school on it with his friends.

He and Satoru turn to look at one another, and Suguru knew his heart was the only one beating wildly in nothing but terror.

The three of them watched as the car pulled up; they landed as soon as the driver got out of the car.

Satoru’s and Suguru’s breaths hitched the second they landed beside the car.

Anger. Rage. Was there even a word to describe how they felt?

The red of your blood became the red of their rage — the red being the only color that they could see.

“Shoko, can—”

Her hand is already placed on your left side, her Reverse Cursed Energy pumping through your body. But the damage was done.

Your head rolled to the back of the seat, right hand limp on your stomach and left hand open, hanging loosely over the edge of the seat. Blood covered your palms, all the way up the inside of your forearms and up to the crook of your elbow.

And how pale your skin was. Was anyone supposed to be that shade of skin color? Of course it wasn’t. They knew that already. You weren’t supposed to ever be this way. Their adorable kouhai that was just too sweet and too nice for the world they lived in was never supposed to end up like this: sickly pale, blood pouring from the wound in your stomach and knocking on death’s door.

Shoko finishes healing you after what seems like forever. In reality, it’s only just a few minutes. But in those few minutes, both Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru come to a full understanding of something: they realize that you mean a lot more to them than just being their cute little kouhai. They can’t imagine you living in a world without you in it. Every thought of you not being there didn’t settle with them. They hated it. They weren’t able to envision coming to school without you passing by them in the halls. Seeing a world where they visited your headstone was unacceptable.

So many thoughts, so much anger, all accumulated within a matter of minutes that drives a permanent mark into their hearts and minds: that a world without you in it is not worth living in, and they love you too much to see anything else bad happen to you.

Suddenly, Yaga Sensei appears before them. Shoko moves out of the way so he can grab you, haul you into his arms and carry you to the infirmary where they have painkillers and other medicine. Shoko follows him, but Satoru and Suguru remain behind.

“Suguru?”

“Hm?”

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“That we need to kill someone?”

“And that’s why you’re my best friend.”

———

Taglist: @vagabond-umlaut • @torusbabygoat

not the gojo x student reader you guys wanted ik ik but I wanted y’all to read this anyway so sue me 😭😭

#gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #suguru geto x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader x gojo #gojo x reader x geto #jjk imagines #jjk drabble #jjk oneshot #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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theemissuniverse · 7 months

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I love your writing! I saw that your requests were open do to mind doing Johnny Cage x reader? (Gender is your choice) like reader is a god/goddess and somehow falls in love with an earthrealmer?

“TOO CLOSE TO THE HEART” JOHNNY CAGE X GODDESS!READER

A/N : surprisingly this is my first Johnny fic lmao. Also a little bit of info the goddess is of nature and virtue

WARNINGS ; none

MASTERLIST

Johnny was a ladies man. Usually he turned on the charm for every woman. But then he met you and his sole attention was on you.

You’ve told him time and time again that you did not mingle with mortals but he didn’t give up.

Johnny often flirted with you but not like how he usually flirted with women. He still kept it respectful because at the end of the day- you were a goddess.

Usually you were able to not fall for his advances but this time you couldn’t resist.

You were in your garden and helped your pretty flowers blossom. You looked over to your left and saw Johnny looking upset with a flower pot. He was sitting at a picnic table.

The flower pot held a flower that was barley alive.

You were quite concerned for Johnny. He was usually full of light but he looked really upset.

You walked over to him and sat down next to him. “What’s the matter? Someone make fun of one of your films?” You chose to joke.

Johnny sighed. The joke didn’t hit with him. You now were extremely worried. He scratched the back of his neck and he passed you the dying flower. “I know how much you like flowers so I was trying to grow one myself for you but…taking care of a flower is a lot harder than I thought.”

Something about this notion was incredibly thoughtful. You were the Goddess of Nature. Flowers were your everything. So, for Johnny trying to bloom one for you melted your heart. It meant he did care about the things you cared about.

You took the pot. “Lucky for you, I am Goddess of all things nature so…” You used your power and the flower started to regenerate into a healthy golden tone. “It’s all healed.”

Johnny smiled at what you did. “That’s pretty cool that you can do that.”

“Oh really? Because what I heard from Kung Lao, you thought it was pretty lame.”

“Well-that was before I got to know you and now I think it’s kick ass.” Johnny stated. You chuckled a little.

You then thought of something. “Why did you do this or try to do this for me any way?”

Johnny gave you a look like it was obvious. “Come on, doll. Don’t be naive. You know I like you.” He sighed a little. “But you don’t got a thing for mortals so I probably should just leave it be.”

You watched as Johnny was about to stand up from the table. You grabbed his arm and made him sit back down. “You are sweet…when you want to be Johnny and it’s not that I don’t want to but it’s unrealistic to be with you. I am immortal. One day, you’ll die.”

“Hey, I’d be one lucky old man to have you on my death bed and you’ll still look that good.”

You shook your head slightly. “I have a lot of responsibilities. We can’t be together twenty four seven.”

“And I’m a hot shot director now. Same here.” Johnny could see that you were starting to get convinced so he took your hands in his. “Come on! One shot. That’s all I’m asking, babe.”

You thought about it. Johnny had been showing relentless interest in you. And after the flower thing, you couldn’t help but say yes. “Alright. We’ll give it a shot.” Johnny fist pumped the air and you rolled your eyes playfully.

Your eyes glowed a bright green. (Because of your Goddess nature.) Johnny tilted his head as he stared into them. “Say, how do you walk out in public with your eyes like that?”

“I don’t.” You stated simply and your eyes changed to your human eye color. Johnny blinked his eyes in shock as he saw them. “Wow. You should wear your eyes like that more often.”

You return your eyes back to their God like nature. “You don’t like my eyes, Johnny?”

“Nah. You look hot either way, babe.” Johnny leaned in to give you a kiss but you placed a finger on his lips.

“In time I will see if you are worthy of that.”

“You know I like a challenge.”

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #liu kang #mortal kombat 1 #kitana #kung lao #mileena #raiden #johnny cage #mk #johnny cage x reader #kenshi takahashi #mk 1

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hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf · 7 days

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Can I please a smut with dom siren!seonghwa?

I love the concept of a siren with him,

And I mean like the mermaid type of siren.

Thank you!!

Mommy

siren!hwa x fem reader

Trigger warnings: none that i can think of!

Content warnings: names (baby, my love, angel, mommy sorry not sorry he’s so mother), choking, oral (f receiving), very mild breeding kink, hwa uses his powers for sex good idk i just liked the idea lmao

Summary: your boyfriend just wants to reward you

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: bestie i’m so sorry this took so long but oooooh lord. anyways. two in a little over one week after being on hiatus? not too shabby. also decided to try something a little different with the pov so lmk what you all think! enjoy my loves! 🥰

Tags: @bahng-chrizz @foxinnie8

Smut below the cut

I let out a soft sigh as I curled up in my chair, looking out over the water. Sitting with my knees to my chest, I sipped my tea from my favorite mug as I watched the sunset. I’d inherited my brother’s beach house, which was settled in a quaint coastal town, a few months ago and had finally gotten settled into a routine. Every evening, I’d sit on my private dock and watch the sky turn shades of orange and pink before heading inside once the moon graced me with her beauty.

After a short while, I saw the very end of a tail pop out of the water before quickly dipping back below the surface. I smiled softly and stood, placing my tea on the table. I’d always loved watching the fishes and wanted to get a closer look. I’d never seen one with such a large tail in this area. How big could this thing be?

I walked to the edge of the dock and stared out at the water, trying to spot the fish again when I saw a brief splash only a few yards away. Excited, I laid down on my stomach and dipped a hand into the water. It was coming towards me.

But what greeted me a moment later was not a massive fish. It was the face of a man. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen, in fact. And he was emerging from the water, his face mere inches from mine. His hair was slicked back and water droplets ran down face, eventually dripping from his nose and chin. His lips were full and his cheekbones were high. He had a strong brow and curious, sparkling eyes. He looked elegant. Princely. Soft.

Of course, I couldn’t help but let out a scream as I scrambled back. “What the fuck?!” I shouted as I jumped to my feet.

“Who are you?” He tilted his head as he reached for the edge of the dock.

“Who am I? Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Seonghwa. I’ve seen you here before. Who are you? Where is the man who lives here?” My heart sank at his question and I frowned.

“I’m y/n. That man was my brother. He died and left me the house.” I said quietly, looking out at the horizon. “How did you know him?”

“He died?” The man, Seonghwa, looked alarmed as he started to hoist himself out of the water with wide eyes. “How? When? He said he’d come back.” He sounded frantic. Panicked.

“He was sick. It’s been about six months now.” I paused, crossing my arms over my chest. “But you didn’t answer my question. How did you know my brother?”

He paused when he was halfway out of the water and I noticed something shimmering on his body, a few inches below his belly button. “He was a friend. He saved me and in return I gave him company. We spent much time here on the dock.”

“He never mentioned that…” I said warily, backing away a few steps.

“I asked him to keep my existence a secret.”

“Why?”

“You remind me of him.” He suddenly changed the subject with a dazzling smile that left me breathless. Was my mind playing tricks on me or were his teeth just a bit too sharp to seem human? “He was just as guarded the first time we met. He saved me but then interrogated me for hours. I was a captive audience as I was injured but the conversation grew lighthearted once he was satisfied with my answers. He asked many questions. You do too.”

“It’s only natural to ask questions when a strange man emerges from the water and says he knew my late brother.” I rolled my eyes, fighting not to grin. The situation was bizarre not to laugh.

“You seem to have the same temperament as him too.” He hummed, seemingly deciding on something. “I can trust you then. But you have to keep my secret.” And with that, he jumped out of the water. I expected the secret to be that he was a local who went skinny dipping for shits and giggles but I stood in stunned silence when I saw a shimmering blue-green tail. The same tail I’d seen splash out of the water only a few minutes prior. He had fins on his forearms that I hadn’t noticed before and one running down his upper back that stopped halfway down his spine as well, all of them the same deep teal as his tail. His beauty was terrifying and would surely haunt me for a long while. Maybe even the rest of my life.

“Y-you…you- what the FUCK?!”

“Shh!” He brought a finger to his lips and I clamped my mouth shut, looking around to make sure none of my neighbors were outside. Their houses were quite a ways away since each house had a private dock with space for a mid-sized boat but I was certain I was loud enough to draw attention to myself. “You can’t tell anyone about this. They’ll hunt me down and torture me in the name of science.”

I nodded, dumbfounded as he transformed before my eyes. Within minutes, his tail was replaced with a pair of legs and he stood before me as any other human man.

And he was stark naked.

He was stunning. Slender, toned, and tan. His shoulders were a bit wider than his hips, which were narrow and led to a pair of long legs. my eyes trailed back up his legs, tempted to take in every part of his body, and I realized I was gawking.

I quickly looked away and cleared my throat awkwardly. “Um…would you like to come in? I still have some of my brother’s clothes, I’m sure something will fit.”

He nodded and started for my house, leaving me standing alone on the dock, dumbfounded by what was going on and admiring his ass. My big brother was friends with a fucking merman and never told me?! I rushed to catch up to him, grabbing my now-cold cup of tea as I chased after him. By the time I caught up, he was reaching for my door.

Once we were both inside, I turned towards him, once again forcing myself to make eye contact and not stare at his perfect body. “Just…wait here. I’ll be right back.” I instructed before scurrying off to one of the spare rooms where I kept my brother’s belongings.

“You changed things.” I heard him say and puffed out a sigh.

“Yeah. It was hard moving in and seeing all his things.” I explained, hearing his footsteps as he wandered around the living room. “I kept everything, I just put it all away.” I finally found the box of clothes and rummaged around until I found a pair of sweats and a loose tank top. I rejoined him and held out the clothes, looking anywhere but at him. “Here. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I’m alright, thank you.” He smiled again as he reached for the clothes and my heart raced. Something about him was drawing me in. He was intoxicating. “You're much prettier than him.” He said after a few moments of staring at me, finally taking the clothes and making his way towards the bathroom to get dressed as if I hadn’t just seen every inch of him.

“Um…thanks?” I stared after him, entirely bewildered at the turn the evening had taken.

————————————————

I let out a soft sigh as my fingertips danced over the scales that reached up his lower back. That night had been the beginning of my romance with Seonghwa, who was now a fixture in my life. The two of us had spent hours talking about my late brother, sharing stories and fighting back tears. He’d held me until I fell asleep and I woke up the next morning to the clothes folded neatly on the end of the sofa and a note on top, scrawled in beautifully messy handwriting. See you soon.

“You're staring again.”

“Hmm?” I lifted my head from my arm and offered a sheepish grin. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to. Just thinking.”

“About what?” He asked, shuddering as my fingertips ghosted over a particularly sensitive spot just above the fin that ran down the back of his tail.

“The night we met.” I hummed, laying my head back down with a tiny smile. “Beautiful.” I whispered, touching the same spot as before. I knew he liked it.

He smiled softly and pulled himself up on the dock, kissing my forehead. “It was the best night of my life.” He responded, opting not to address my comment.

“Mine too.” I whispered, closing my eyes at his touch. I opened my eyes a moment later and looked up at him. “Do you want to come in? It’s getting kind of cool out here.”

When he nodded, I got up and backed away, leaving space for him to get on the dock while I grabbed the clothes I’d picked for him. It had become routine for me to meet him at the dock with an outfit and watch the sunset before inviting him in. He usually stayed the night with me and then went back to the water during the day when I had to work.

I watched in awe as he transformed before my eyes. It was a mildly unsettling sight but I could never manage to tear my eyes away, always intrigued. He didn’t look bothered despite how uncomfortable the transformation appeared. He’d explained early on, with mild indignance, that he was a siren, not a merman like I’d originally thought, and told me how his magic worked. It was kind of confusing but the main points were that changing forms didn’t hurt him and that his power wasn’t simply used to lure sailors to their deaths, like most fantasy books said. In fact, he’d used his charms to lull me to sleep the night we met after seeing my grief over my brother.

Once he was dressed, we walked up the dock towards my house. His arms were around my waist the moment I closed the door. “You look so beautiful tonight, my love.” He murmured, pulling I against him.

“So do you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled up at him.

He leaned down and caught my lips in a gentle kiss, bringing one hand to the back of my head. I shivered when his fingers tangled in my hair and gave a gentle tug. After two years, he knew exactly how to manipulate my body and heat pooled between my legs as he nipped at my bottom lip. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he ignited such need in me.

I dragged my hands down his chest and inched my fingers under his shirt, whining softly when he pulled back. “Let’s go to the bedroom, darling.” His voice took on that tone I knew all too well and I quickly followed his instructions, knowing it was best to follow his orders.

When I reached my room, he sat on the bed and motioned for me to stand between his legs. I complied, smiling to myself when he slipped his hands under my shirt and lifted it over my head. He frowned at the sight of my bra and I laughed. “Don’t worry, it has a zipper.”

“Good. I fucking hate fighting with those hooks. They’re so finicky.” He huffed and for a moment I saw his cute, childish side. As soon as he noticed my adoring expression, however, he gathered himself and wrapped his arms around me. “My beautiful girl…” he whispered as he pressed his lips to my stomach.

I shivered at his tone as my hands moved to rest on his shoulders, goosebumps appearing on my skin at his touch. I didn’t speak as his tongue darted out to tease me, biting back a pathetic noise when he slipped a hand between my legs and touched me through my shorts. His touch was gentle, further cementing my thoughts on his elegance. He could never be rough with me unless I begged, despite possessing the inhuman physical abilities that all sirens had. I was too precious to him. Too fragile.

“Tell me, my love, what do you want? You’ve been such a good girl lately, I think you deserve a treat.” His voice took on that mind-numbingly sweet tone and I felt myself growing dizzy as a fresh wave of arousal washed over me.

“I want you, Hwa.” I whimpered, grinding down against his fingers.

“Hwa?” He paused, looking up at me. I froze on the spot. I knew what he wanted me to call him, what I secretly wanted to call him, but I was always too shy to do it unprompted. “Is that my name, baby?”

“No…” I bit my lip and fought hard to maintain eye contact.

“Say my name then.” His eyes seemed to grow dark for a brief moment and warmth flooded my chest as my stomach did a somersault. He was using his magic on me.

“M-mommy…” I whined softly, cheeks going a soft pink.

“Good girl.” He cooed and applied more pressure to my clothed core as he continued. “Now, tell me again what it is that you want.”

“I want you, mommy. Please?” I begged despite my embarrassment as his magic compelled me to do the tasks I was too shy to do without his…encouragement.

The noise he let out made my head spin and I clenched around nothing, my panties sticking uncomfortably to my folds. “My good girl even used her manners.” His tone was almost taunting as he pulled me onto his lap.

I stifled a small noise and settled on his thighs with no hesitation as his long fingers teased my hips. The skin just above my waistband once more erupted in goosebumps at his featherlight touch and I shivered. “Of course I did, mommy. I wanna be good for you.” I murmured, waiting for him to tell me what to do next.

He chuckled softly and nodded, hands sliding to squeeze my ass. “You always are, baby.” He assured me, leaning up to peck my lips.

The peck turned into a fiery kiss when I looped my arms around his neck and wiggled in his lap in an adorable attempt to grind on him. He was hard beneath my ass and I wanted to feel him. He made a sound in the back of his throat as he laid back and flipped us both over to pin me to the mattress. He immediately rolled his hips against mine and I gasped against his lips.

He broke the kiss and moved to trail his lips along my neck, sucking and biting occasionally. Each nip had I arching into him as heat pooled in my belly. “Mommy, please-” I gasped, gently tugging at his hair as his lips moved lower.

His elegant fingers tugged at the zipper of my bra, freeing my breasts in a matter of seconds. He pulled back just a bit to admire me and I saw his eyes darken with lust. He wasted no time in latching onto my left nipple, tongue swirling around the stiff peak. I let out a soft cry when I felt his teeth scrape over my skin and he promptly switched sides, focusing on my right breast.

Much to my dismay, he didn’t spend much time on my chest, opting instead to work his way lower. His lips ghosted over the spot he’d been teasing before pulling me to his lap and I sighed, eyes slipping shut. I lifted my hips when his fingers hooked in my waistband and bit my lip as my shorts and panties traveled down my legs.

After tossing my clothes aside, Seonghwa guided my legs apart and made an appreciative noise deep in his chest. “My beautiful girl…you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you?” I nodded immediately and he smirked. “But first, you're gonna let mommy suck on that pretty pussy, right, my love?”

“Yes, mommy.” I whimpered, clenching around nothing. It was almost embarrassing how wet I was when he’d barely done anything. Almost.

“Good girl.” I moaned weakly at the name and he chuckled softly. “You always respond so well to that name.” He cooed as he leaned down. He kissed my belly while his hands guided my legs to his shoulders, tongue circling my navel like he knew I liked.

“Tickles…” I whispered and bit my lip, lifting my head to watch as he brought his mouth a breath away from my aching cunt. He didn’t immediately dive in and I wanted to scream but managed to keep my composure as he blew on me.

He ran a single finger through my folds and I felt my body grow weak. Keeping my head up so I could look at him was becoming a chore as he finally pressed a chaste kiss to my clit. I felt dizzy from the simple touch. “Mommy, please…” I whimpered, fighting the urge to grab a fistful of his silky black hair and drag him into me.

My plea seemed to be the only thing he needed because a moment later he sucked my clit into his mouth and a low growl rumbled in his chest at my resulting moan. One thing I loved about Seonghwa was just how enthusiastic he was to go down on me. He ate pussy like a madman and always made sure to finish me off before we even got to the actual fucking. I could live with his head between my legs.

The fight to keep my head up was lost and I found myself staring at the ceiling, my eyes slipping shut a moment later as a long, slender finger entered me. “Mommy…” I mewled, my hands moving to my chest.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” He groaned against me and my hips bucked of their own accord. He brought an arm up and slung it across my hips, pinning me to the bed. “Don’t move, angel. Let me enjoy my meal.”

“Sorry, mommy.” I bit my lip as I tugged at my nipple, my back arching slightly when he curled his finger. “Oh-” I gasped.

He didn’t say a word as he added another finger and quickly curled them to reach that same spot that had my whole body burning. He licked and sucked until my legs trembled on either side of his head. He made a small appreciative sound against me and the vibrations damn near made me squeal.

Then he pulled back and I was about to pout when he added a third finger. He curled them instantly and his pace became rough and my back bowed off the bed. “Oh my god!” I cried out, quickly bringing my hand to my mouth. I didn’t mean to muffle my sounds, I just needed something to sink my teeth into and my knuckles were perfect for the job.

He kept his pace and the coil in the pit of my belly wound tighter. He leaned back in and pressed a soft kiss to my clit and it felt like lightning struck my body. My hips jerked at the contact but his arm kept me in place and I felt him smirk against me.

Eyes now watery, I looked down at him and found him staring back at me. His eyes darkened once more as he watched me fall apart and simply muttered a few words in a language I now recognized as his mother tongue, his voice sending vibrations through my pussy. Instantly, warmth was blooming in my chest and I found myself whimpering behind my hand as an intense pleasure filled my body.

He knew how much I loved when he used his power to intensify my pleasure and helped me along quite often.

My orgasm hit me like a truck, steamrolling me as he lapped at my pussy. He kept his pace even as I began to writhe, his eyes glinting with mischief. A second orgasm approached and just as I was about to come undone, he pulled back. I let out a disapproving whine but didn’t argue further. Instead, I started to sit up.

“Can I-”

“Did I say you could get up?” Immediately I sank back down against the sheets. “Don’t move.” His eyes flashed. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, though the warmth spreading in my chest made any desire to disobey flee my body entirely. He’d pinned me to the bed with a simple glare and I watched helplessly as he undressed himself, my palms itching to help him.

My mouth watered when his cock sprung free from the confines of his shorts and he took a step toward me. “I’m gonna fuck this tight little pussy and you’re gonna fall apart on my cock, understood? I’m not stopping until I hear you begging for mercy.”

I clenched around nothing and nodded eagerly. I loved when he got like this. When he was so worked up that my reward turned into him simply ravaging me. I wanted him and he was damn sure going to give me what I wanted until I couldn’t take any more.

He lined up and urged my knees toward my chest, sheathing himself inside me in one fluid motion. The fullness I felt in that moment was one of my favorite things. He always fit so perfectly inside me, filling every inch of my pussy like it was made for him.

“Shit, baby…” His groan made me tense in anticipation. Every time he cursed like that, he gave it to me hard, just the way I liked it. He was careful with me, of course. I was his fragile little human. But he knew I preferred him fucking me furiously over taking me slowly and he gave it to me as a reward.

He also punished me that way but that was a story for another time.

“Mommy-” My breath hitched on the first thrust and my eyelids fluttered as his hand found my throat.

His pace was brutal, the sound of skin slapping filling the room in record time. He was precise with each thrust and my eyes rolled back when he gave my throat a gentle squeeze. Molten lava filled my veins as my vision swam.

He let up quickly, having long since learned my limits, and leaned down to crash his lips to mine. His taste mingled with my juices in the most intoxicating way and I let out another small whimper.

The coil in my belly was back and more intense than before as he reached a part of me that had stars dotting my vision. “Oh fuck- there!” I cried, the sound muffled by his lips. He drank up the sound with a low groan and slammed into me harder, determined to make me fall apart before he did.

It didn’t take him very long to accomplish that. Not even a minute after I had the thought that I wouldn’t last much longer, my orgasm washed over me. I swear the edges of my vision blurred with the force of it. A scream ripped from my throat as he continued to fuck me through my orgasm, showing no signs of letting up any time soon.

“That’s a good girl. Just like that.” He praised, pulling back just enough to watch me writhe beneath him. “You look so beautiful when you cum all over my cock, angel.”

Warmth flooded my chest again and I let out another cry as a third orgasm slammed into me, Seonghwa’s magic holding me captive as it settled deep in my belly. He was doing this on purpose of course. He wanted to make sure I was sated. He always did.

“Look at me.” He demanded. I did. I couldn’t look away. He was stunning like this. He looked powerful on top of me.

When I felt a fourth orgasm building, tears filled my eyes and I begged for mercy. “Mommy, please- too much-” The words came out as a broken sob of pleasure.

“You can take one last one for me, can’t you, my love?” I nodded frantically, knowing he’d give me a break after I’d cum a fourth time. “Good girl. That’s what I thought.” He grunted as sweat dripped from his chin and landed between my breasts. “Fuck, baby. You look so perfect right now. Just wanna fill you up with my cum and watch you try not to waste a single drop. Wanna breed that perfect pussy and give you a baby.”

“Please!” I sobbed, nodding furiously. I needed that. Needed him to fill me to the brim and make it so blindingly obvious who I belonged to.

“Yeah? You want that?” I nodded again as my orgasm barreled towards me. “Then cum for me, angel. One last time and I’ll give you every last drop.”

I let go, my back bowing off the bed as my whole body shuddered with delight. The sensation was so strong it made my toes curl and my watery eyes roll back as I let out one final cry. I bet I looked possessed with the way my body spasmed.

With a final curse, Seonghwa let go and spilled inside me, his thrusts becoming sloppy and losing rhythm as his high crashed over him. He only stopped when I let out a pathetic whimper, my body aching from all the pleasure he’d given me. Slowly, he pulled out and I whimpered when I felt his cum begin to leak out of me.

“You’re wasting it.” He teased as he laid down beside me, throwing a strong arm over my waist. “Are you okay, my love?”

“I couldn’t be better.” I smiled as I rolled over to face him, eyes already drooping. “I love you, Hwa.”

“I love you too. So fucking much.” He whispered. His words were the last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep in his protective embrace.

#kpop smut #ateez #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #alura’s works

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shima-draws · 7 months

Note

Please share your thoughts on Kieran/Ash

GRINDS MY TEETH OKAY ALRIGHT WE’RE DOING THIS

-Ash arrives in Kitakami and immediately butts heads with Carmine. Needless to say this leaves a strong first impression on Kieran who has never really seen someone stand up to Carmine before

-Carmine challenges Ash to a battle. Ash whoops her ass. Kieran is enthralled. Kieran proceeds to laugh to himself saying “It’s not like I lie awake thinking about him at night or anything” cut to Kieran lying in bed thinking about Ash going AW MAN

-Ash and Kieran get paired up together for the little interactive tour. Kieran is a hot mess. How do you not act like a total oddball in front of the really cool foreign trainer who was able to beat your sister in a Pokemon battle.

-Kieran’s a nervous ball of anxiety the ENTIRE time until they get to the first signboard. Then his autism kicks in and he tells Ash about Ogerpon. Ash notices how passionate Kieran seems to be about Kitakami’s history and is like whoa that’s really neat 😳

-Ash agrees with Kieran and says whoa yeah the ogre actually sounds really cool!! Aw man now I really want to meet it!

Kieran: Oh no I think I’m in love with him

-Kieran is inwardly having a mental gay breakdown and wonders what to do. How does he handle this. How can he impress Ash, who is already so impressive. Maybe a Pokemon battle? But there’s no way he could beat Ash after seeing how strong he was yesterday…

-Kieran decides to battle Ash anyway. Unsurprisingly, he loses. He’s about to go into a self-deprecating spiral when Ash comes over and is like WOW that was AWESOME!! Your Pokemon were so great, that was such a good battle!! Man battles are really really fun huh ^^

-Huh. Kieran’s never really thought about it that way before. At least with his background, battles have always been about power and proving yourself the strongest and winning. Maybe Ash is onto something? Kieran doesn’t feel the sort of disappointment he usually feels when losing a battle. He actually feels…satisfied?

-They continue on to the second signpost, and then to the Dreaded Den. Kieran infodumps about Ogerpon again. Ash listens to every word with a dreamy look on his face. Is nobody else seeing this?? Okay. Alright

-The Festival of Masks is ready to start. Kieran’s grandparents let Ash borrow an extra set of jinbei. Kieran sees Ash all dressed up and tries not to let his gay show too much. (He fails.) Kieran’s grandparents watch them awkwardly flirt with each other and do that eyebrow raise thing.

-THEY GO TO THE FESTIVAL! With Carmine tagging along. Carmine is her usual snarky self and unintentionally insults Kieran. Ash gets angry on Kieran’s behalf. Kieran manages to calm both of them down and he and Ash split from Carmine for a little while.

-Ash: I don’t like how your sister treats you >:(

Kieran: O-oh 😳

ASH CARES ABOUT HIM. He wants to cry. This is the best festival ever.

-I actually considered having Ash and Carmine being the ones to have a run-in with Ogerpon, and then Ash refusing to keep it a secret from Kieran, but. I like to think that Ash would change the narrative so much that he and Kieran would encounter Ogerpon from the get-go. This is the Good End route.

-Ash is able to start befriending Ogerpon with his Protag Powers and Kieran is stupidly impressed. And very very gay.

-Ash, freaking out: Was that the ogre?!! OH MAN

Kieran, freaking out: OH WOWZERS

Ash cares about him AND they met the ogre. This is DEFINITELY the best festival ever.

-Since Ash is bad at keeping secrets they’ll probably end up telling Carmine about Ogerpon anyway. Lmao

-The next morning the three of them find out the Real Story behind the Loyal Three and Ogerpon’s past. Carmine is furious. Ash is also furious but to a lesser degree. Kieran is just heartbroken that Ogerpon’s had to live this way for so long. And Ash is like holy CRAP Kieran was right the entire time!! Kieran you’re amazing!! How did you know Ogerpon wasn’t the bad guy?? You’re so cool Kieran 😤

Kieran: (A cute boy is complimenting me I think I’m going to explode)

-They aren’t sure what to do about changing the townspeople’s minds. Carmine says they should probably keep it a secret like her grandfather told them to. Ash refuses. Kieran also refuses. Carmine gets angry that Kieran is taking Ash’s side. Kieran actually snaps back at her and Ash is VERY proud Kieran’s standing up for himself

-They split up for the time being. Ash and Kieran decide to go tackle the last signpost. Along the way Kieran’s p dang quiet. Ash asks him what’s wrong when they get there and Kieran asks him for another battle.

-This time it’s CLOSE. And both of them get REALLY into it. Kieran realizes he’s never had this much fun battling someone before. Along this crazy adventure he’s learned so many things. And Ash has inspired him so much. Kieran’s always wanted to get stronger. But the way he’s been going about it has been all wrong.

-Kieran has an epiphany of sorts. Battling with Ash made him realize it’s not about winning or showing off. It’s about having fun!! And this whole time Kieran’s gotten stronger without even realizing it.

-Ash runs at him after the battle ends and he’s like “That was AMAZING did you see the way those moves collided?!! And when Furret dodged Pikachu’s attack like that I was like WHOA and then they were like WHAM and I was like YOOO!!” And Kieran’s gushing right along with him. The tism LEAPS out

-Ash makes Kieran develop a true passion and love for battling and he’s so thankful 🤧 Bc before he never could really grasp why he wasn’t improving at all. Focusing on strength kinda blinded him to what was really important.

-Kieran: Let’s battle again soon! I’m feeling really pumped up now, battling you and watching you strategize has given me some good ideas :’D

Ash gets the DOKI DOKIS and he’s like uh yeah okay! Definitely! (I don’t know why my heart jumped just now.) Pikachu looks at him like homie I think you’re catching SOMETHIN but it’s not a Pokemon 👀

Obviously there’s the rest of the DLC plot to finish but you can probably guess the direction it’s going in. Kieran’s obviously overcome his weird thing about strength so he doesn’t spiral and become unhinged over Ogerpon like in canon. Lol

Oh and this

-Kieran: You’re the WORLD CHAMPION???

Ash: Oh yeah did I not mention that?

Kieran: *Proceeds to have a heart attack*

Anyway I love them thanks bye

#Shima answers questions #Pokemon #Pokeani #Ash Ketchum #Kieran #Pokemon Kieran #The Teal Mask #Ogerpon #Carmine #Pokemon Carmine #Pokemon SV #I’M STILL THINKING OF A SHIP NAME BTW.#If y’all have ideas let me know ^^#Long post

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creative-caramel-coffee · 7 months

Note

It’s me again, something similar happened to me yesterday when I was moving to school, and could really use the girls for comfort rn

R is stressed trying to quickly move things, perhaps moving into wandanat room? When she falls, to her it’s blank one minute she was standing the next she’s in pain on the floor? Obviously r is stubborn and tries to carry on not wanting to be seen as weak or lazy. But the girls notice and immediately go into caring mode where the see r is actually bleeding and hurt her ankle.

“Oh my sweet girl you could’ve come to us. We aren’t mad. Let’s clean you up”

“You can’t walk darling, you’ll make it worse”

“Lots of love for our love bug”

“Shhh no saying sorry. They are not necessary sweet girl, you can’t help it”

Any fluffy comfort dialogue 🥹

~ 🕯️ I would like this emoji like you suggested so you can see I’m the writer you’ve been on my page recently lmao

Moving in but with crutches

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: Reader is super excited to move in with her girls but she’s a little clumsy and ends up needing some tlc

TW: light mentions of blood, sprain (implied), injury

A/n sorry this took so long to get done but I hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it. Also I’m happy for you to be 🕯 anon :)

It was finally time. Ever since moving to the compound your gaze had trailed after them like a lost puppy. Them, being the power couple of the compound. Them, being Wanda and Natasha.

You were sure the mind reader and spy couldn’t have missed the light shades of pink that dusted your cheeks every time they spoke to you. Or maybe they just thought you weren’t very sun safe, either way it didn’t matter now because the three of you had been dating for four months now and despite all the milestones that are in a relationship this one was the one you were most excited for. Moving in with them.

Sure, you had been sleeping in their bed for like two weeks now, but it was never really officially your room. You still had all your stuff in the other smaller room tony had built for you when you joined the team. Wanda and Nat party because they were sharing a room and party because they had been on the team for far longer, had a much larger and your opinion much nicer room. Furnished with Wanda’s touches and Natasha’s tastes. There were enough plants, courtesy of Wanda, to compete with a forrest and it was just beautiful.

You had spent the morning packing your stuff into box’s, sure it was just across the hall, but your stuff was important to you, and you wanted the full experience.

You came to the tower with nothing but your name and the clothes on your back, so you wanted the full nine yards. Wanda and Nat were supportive and had been helping you pack. But as lunch neared all of you were getting hungry so nat and Wanda had gone out to pick up some takeaway. Claiming that the living alone lifestyle was about to change, and you should make the most of it. Of course, that statement led to an argument over who was more of a blanket hog which you did your best not to be roped into.

Once the two had secured their keys and left, still bickering however, you turned up your music and moved over to some of the heavier items.

Pulling the books off the bookshelf and placing them neatly in boxes you moved over to the lamp. But in your haste accidentally pulled on the chord.

One second you were upright and the next thing you knew you were on the floor. As your senses came back to you and you shifted into a sitting position, the pain flooded in. Your ankle was bleeding, the bulb must have smashed, and on top of that the joint hurt like all hades.

Despite the calming breathes you took your ankle was starting to look worse. A light blue bruise that you were sure was only going to darken began to form around the joint and you closed your eyes.

Thank God you had turned up the music or someone would have surely come in to see if you were ok. How embarrassing, being an avenger only to be taken down by a lamp. No. You were not lazy. You were not weak.

Sucking in a breath you carefully got to your feet trying to avoid the glass. Putting any pressure on the ankle made it feel like you were stepping on a thousand suns, but you simply pushed through. You were not weak. You were an avenger. You moved as fast as possible to clean up the mess, which let's be honest wasn’t very fast.

You swept the glass up and placed the seemingly undamaged corpse of a lamp into a box for later. However, it was now no longer welcome in your new room. No. You made a small pledge to hide that box for when your ankle was better and seek some revenge on the stupid piece of furniture.

You had just finished sealing off the box of nightmares with the packing tape when two short raps came from the open doorway. You turned around as smoothly as you could with the pain in your foot and smiled at Natasha.

“Hey baby, Wanda’s gone to start getting the food ready in the kitchen are you gonna join us?” She asked.

“Yeah sure. Like I’d ever say no to that.” You said trying your best to hide a wince as you took a step towards Nat. Her brow furrowed and eyebrows pinched together as she didn’t miss the action at all.

“Baby? are you ok?” She asked. You wavered but plastered on the fake smile you used for Tony’s galas.

“One hundred percent. Did you get pad Thai?” You asked and tried to change the subject. Nat knew something was wrong and looked you up and down doing a mental scan to find the problem. You knew you were screwed when her eyes zeroed in on your sock. You had slipped it on last minute to hide the cut on your foot and in your haste had managed to miss the fact it had bled through the pale fabric.

Nat was over by your side in an instant, she guided you by your shoulders to the bed and pressed down to make you sit.

“Sit” she said leaving zero room for questions. You simply nodded as she crouched down and placed your foot on her knee. Gently she peeled back the sock and sighed at the semi-deep cut that ran down your heel. Your ankle was swollen and looked angry, and Nat was surprised you were able to walk at all but suspected that the fading adrenaline may have something to do with it.

“Wanda!” She yelled and the two of you heard hurried footsteps and Wanda appeared in the doorway.

“Yes?! Whats the matter?” She asked looking panicked. When she saw the two of you were still alive and breathing, she sighed and placed a hand over her heart.

“Jesus don’t do that nat.” She said. Nat shrugged.

“Sorry baby. Can you grab the first aid kit in the bathroom Y/n/n here felt she could hide something from us.” She said gesturing to the ensuite and then your foot which was propped up in her lap. She was holding the destroyed sock to the cut to stop the bleeding which made you wince. Wanda nodded and disappeared before coming back with the kit and placing it down beside Nat.

Wanda gave the injury a proper look now and softened her gaze and took your hand, rubbing circles on your knuckles with her thumb.

"Oh, my sweet girl you could've come to us. We aren't mad. Let's clean you up" she said.

“I-its fine. Im fine. No problem.” You said and went to move your foot from Nat’s lap who had just finished bandaging the cut. She grabbed your calf gently but tightly and glared at you before softening at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"You can't walk darling; you'll make it worse" she said gently and you huffed.

Wanda stood and sat next to you on the bed and began pressing kisses to your cheek and arms.

“It just means lots of love for our love bug" she said and pulled you in for a hug. Nat nodded and joined the hug.

“Sorry.” You said in a small voice. But Nat hushed you with a kiss to the lips it was soft and tender. When she pulled away, she looked into your eyes.

"Shhh no saying sorry. That’s not necessary sweet girl, you can't help it" she said and rubbed her nose against yours in a gentle moment of pure love.

“Do you want me to bring the food here or Natty can carry you into the lounge so we can prop your foot up to eat? Either way you're getting ice and rest on the ankle.” Wanda said and you let a single tear fall at the tenderness of it all. Wanda was quick to wipe it away and press a kiss to the tear track.

“Baby don’t cry love. We’ve got you honey.” She said and you sniffled.

“The lounge maybe?” You said and Wanda chuckled.

“Of course, sweetheart. Nat?” She said and gestured to you who grinned like a feral animal and scooped you up with little to no warning. You squealed and clutched your arms around her. She laughed deeply and you swatted her chest. The three of you went to the lounge and Nat called Bruce to bring you some crutches for later and Wanda finished prepping the food.

After the three of you were cuddled up under a blanket with ice on your ankle and old movie reruns playing in the background. Soon you drifted to sleep as Wanda ran her hands through your hair and nat traced patterns on your exposed thigh. After all you were only in a large t-shirt and boxers. The rest of the team was away apart from Bruce, but he never left the lab anyway. You we’re content. Happy. Safe. And loved. Life couldn’t get any better.

MASTERLIST

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the-doomed-witch · 1 year

Text

✦ You’re An Idiot & I Love You

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Thanos, you and Wanda quit the team to live a peaceful life together, trying to leave behind the trauma. (Read warnings)

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: hello here’s another fic, i’ve been working on it since almost a week :) i cannot stop listening to 305 by shawn mendes so i based the latter part of this fic on the song <3 the initial part is just a vent fic lmao. i’m thinking of writing a part two, but i don’t really know. my gif btw!

Warnings: 18+ MINORS+MEN DNI. traumatic past events, post-war trauma, flashbacks & nightmares, smut, thigh riding, fingering, praise kink, names (princess), a little angst, fluffy | best friends to lovers

Masterlist

YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO REPOST OR COPY MY WORK.

— ✦ —

You hit the pause button on your phone, look at the clouds and sigh. The park near your home is an amazing place to be, with all its flora, and a clearer view of the sky. Cities are so full of buildings, it’s almost impossible to see a clear sky outside the park anymore.

Whenever anxiety comes over, sitting on the park bench and listening to white noise helps you calm down. It also helps Wanda know where to take you when you aren’t at your best.

Sometimes she would hold your hand and sit next to you, listening to the same sound in a different pair of headphones. It’s truly therapeutic for both of you. The events of the past few years have been deeply disturbing for the entire team of Avengers. So you and Wanda decided to quit the team, and swore that both of you wouldn’t never exercise your powers again. Of course, there could be exceptional cases where the use of powers is ultimately the only way, but it’s mostly nothing to do with your simple lives.

Wanda goes to a therapist sometimes, and has offered you to try it out too, several times. You just deny with a simple shake of your head, and keep the topic aside. You’re happy to see her get better, settle her unsolved traumas, and accept Vision’s death.

“I knew you’d be here.” Wanda walks up to you, which is also the reason why you clicked the pause button. You give her a sincere smile, which she returns happily.

“Guess I’ve developed a little longing for this place. I can’t help but be here, I feel the safest here when you aren’t around.”

“Oh Y/N, you know I always come back home and always will. You’re my best friend, and the only one. I’m so happy that living together has worked out for the both of us.”

“So am I, Wands. I know I don’t have to run around the compound looking for you anymore.” Smiling with melancholy, you continue, “I miss bumping into our friends while doing that.”

She sighs deeply. There are memories of Vision in her mind, but they don’t feel like a dagger anymore. They are just bittersweet feelings for a star-crossed love. “Y/N, it’s been years since we left the team. Do you think they miss us? I wish we had parted with no hard feelings.”

“I think that it’s fine. It’s been years, nothing big has happened. And I hope it only stays this way. I don’t care if someone is still pissed off after so long, the war damaged us just as it did them, and we are still recovering.”

“But Y/N… you’re just refusing it all. There’s no point in being delusional. It’s affecting you, and your mental health in a really bad way.”

“I know but I cannot help it Wanda! I have had nothing before the Avengers, I don’t even know what I am grieving for. I haven’t had anyone to go home to since forever, and now that I have it, I wouldn’t change it for anything. Not even for friends who’d have hard feelings against me after I choose to live a life post-war.” You feel like you’ve spoken too much, because you feel like tearing up.

Wanda comes closer to you and hugs you tight. “Y/N, honey, it’s okay I’m right here.”

You sit there with her, since there’s nothing else you can do right now. For several minutes, none of you loosen the grip, too scared that either of you could turn to dust.

— ✦ —

On the way back home, you hold hands like little kids. Living with your best friend has got to be the best decision you’ve ever made. Feels like she holds a key to the corner of your heart that nobody has dared to discover.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” she moves closer and sits next to you on the couch.

“Nothing, just that you’re probably my favourite person in the whole world.”

“Stop being so cheesy and tell me the truth.”

“It is the truth. I love being with you Wanda, I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Your existence lights up mine. I don’t want to leave you, ever.”

You give her a kiss on the cheek, and reply, “I will not leave you, ever.” After being through all the devastating events together, you’ve both developed quite a habit of sitting together in silence and thinking. Snapping out of the state, you go to your room to sleep. Or maybe just lay down. Wanda remains in the living room.

— ✦ —

It’s almost 4:30AM and you haven’t slept. Thoughts about Thanos, his army, your teammates, Natasha, and Tony come back. Illusions of blasts, gore and doom fill up your mind. Countless number of people have lost loved ones.

Maybe, just maybe, you could have done something to save your friends. Resentment and regret feel like two old friends who come to lay down next to you.

Wanda is in her room, you can sense her sleeping. It would be a good thing to have someone to talk to, but not that great if you’d have to wake her up. Eyes open, you go back to staring at the ceiling. Tears begin pooling in the corners of your eyes, ready to roll down any moment now.

Silently, you sniff away the mildest nightmare of the night.

— ✦ —

You sit at your desk a couple of hours later, and begin writing something that you don’t know. “Good morning. You're up early?” Wanda walks in. She’s still wearing her shorts and tank top. And she looks damn fine.

“Good morning. Also, what do you mean by ‘up’?” you reply back sarcastically.

“Oh well, don’t tell me you stayed up all night. Now come here, you desperately need a morning hug.”

“You’re a hundred and ten percent correct.”

You get up and go hug her closely. She rubs your back and whispers words of reassurance in your ear. You just hold her and smell her messy hair. You’re sure she used your shampoo but it only makes you want to hug her tighter. After letting go, you look at her face adoringly and tell her sincerely, “You look pretty. So pretty.” She blushes and pushes your shoulder lightly, as a friendly gesture.

“Stop teasing me! I haven’t even had my coffee yet. I’m gonna have to sound mad at you if you make fun of me right now.”

“You think I’m joking? You look fucking gorgeous. Not even kidding, I’d kiss you if we were toge-” You regain consciousness and regret saying anything at all. Should’ve told her I’m being satirical for no reason, you think.

“What was that you said?”

“Nothing.”

“No no, you said something. Say it.”

“Uhhhh that I was making fun of you for nothing. Go tie a bun or something.”

“Did you just say that you would kiss me?”

“What?! No!”

“Okay, if you say so. I don’t trust my ears anyway.” She simply walks out of the room with an air of smugness.

During breakfast, she asks you a question you never expected, but should’ve seen coming. “But like, let’s say hypothetically, would you kiss me if I asked you to?”

You almost choke on the toast. “Wanda, let me have my breakfast in peace. Please.”

“Another question, who would you kiss? Who is your type even? I’ve literally never seen you talk about this in almost over a decade of our friendship. Come on, Y/N, there’s got to be someone.”

“No Wanda, I don’t have a type. If someone is for me, they’re for me. There’s no one that I like right now.”

Her face grew serious and her smile faltered. “You know I can read your mind if I want to, don’t you?”

“I know that. I also know you wouldn’t break a promise to know about a possible date of mine or something.”

“Fine, you win.”

— ✦ —

You’ve been in the park almost all day again. But your mind has been thinking of something else today.

Why did I even say that at all? Would I even kiss her? Would she kiss me back at all? She probably still misses Vision. She literally loved him so much, they were perfect together. No, I shouldn’t even think of this. Especially when Wanda loved Vision so much, and probably still does. But then again it’s just ‘probably’. SHUT UP Y/N.

Screw this. I don’t want to kiss her at all. Never ever.

— ✦ —

“Well you came back quickly, I didn’t even have to come to the garden to bring you back. That’s new.”

“Yeah I guess?”

“Too tempted to kiss me, aren’t you honey?”

“Can you please stop with that Wanda? I don’t even know why I said that at all. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause awkwardness between us. But you’re kind of amplifying it and it’s making me uncomfortable. Can we just not do this? You simply looked gorgeous, that’s all. And I’m not the one to kiss someone just because of how they look. Just leave this.”

“Oh-uhm, okay Y/N. I’m sorry, let’s not make anything uncomfortable for either one of us.”

Wanda seemed deeply hurt by your evidently irritated reply. For a moment, she also felt terror-stricken. It was a side of you that she had seen, but never faced before.

“Thank you. Do you need some help with dinner?”

“Nah it’s almost ready. You might want to set up the table though.”

“Most certainly.”

— ✦ —

The following week is all the same. Everything is sort of normal. Morning comes, you have breakfast with Wanda, you go to the park, Wanda comes to pick you up in the evening, you both have dinner, go back to your own rooms, and you grieve.

A parcel arrives in the mail. It’s addressed to “Y/N Maximoff” and you’re quite unsure how that feels like. Wanda takes notice of it, but says nothing. You kind of wish she’d say something about it. Wanda makes mention of going back to her chores, but you ask her, “Don’t you want to know what’s in the box? I mean, they could’ve mistaken either one of our names.”

“Not really, you can go ahead and open it.”

It was a real bummer. You feel guilty about her attitude towards you. You know something is definitely off with Wanda. You sure have had fights and arguments with her before, but none of them have made her turn away like this. You keep the box aside and decide to open it once Wanda starts talking to you again.

I mean, we are talking but you know what I mean, you tell yourself. And find it stupid. However, the rest of the day continues.

You decide against going to the dear park today, considering how pissed off Wanda already seemed. There has got to be something which could make up her mood.

“Hey Wands, you wanna watch a sitcom? It’s been a while since we sat together to watch one.”

“No Y/N, you can watch it by yourself. I’ve got some work to do.”

And in the same way, she was successful at avoiding spending time with you through any other activity. She was mad at you. You had to clear things with her as soon as possible, before she could find a hundred more reasons to be mad at you.

By the time evening arrived, all the work should definitely have been done. You did not disturb Wanda during her online work even though you’d do that normally whenever you stayed at home.

“Wanda, I need to talk to you. Please stop walking around. You aren’t even listening to me! Just wait for a few minutes. Tell me what is wrong.” You hold her hand to hold her back from leaving.

She takes a deep breath and questions you, “Why do you think something is wrong? Besides, you are the one who did not go have her nerves calmed at a park today but I didn’t go around poking in your business. Leave my hand!”

“Hey, hey take it easy. Wanda, your face literally says “I am pissed off but I want you to guess what it is about” and since I honestly cannot figure it out so I’m simply asking you. If you don’t want to tell me then nevermind. Whatever it is, I am sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies, keep them with you. And you can go do whatever the hell you want, I don't feel like talking to you right now. Also yes, I am pissed off.” Wanda’s voice slowly rises with every word she speaks, and a little discussion transforms into a heated argument.

“Fine, if that’s what you want. I won’t talk to you and I’m not even going to speak a word around you. You can say au revoir to my voice because I’m not gonna say anything. Night!”

“Yeah, as if I wanna hear you talk. I’m tired of it anyways. Night!”

Both of you have gone to bed without having dinner. And your mind is playing with you again. Flashbacks of not only the greatest war, but also your biggest fight with your best friend till now. You can hear her words echo in your mind.

“Yeah as if I wanna hear you talk. I’m tired of it anyways.”

“You can go do whatever the hell you want.”

“Leave my hand.”

In all these years, you have never heard her asking you to stop holding her hand. It was too heartbreaking to even imagine it.

— ✦ —

Wanda doesn’t talk to you the following day. Or the one after. Or the next. No calling you for the meal, no coming to pick you up from the park, nothing. You feel like you have had enough, so you approach her directly.

“So, do you want me to move out or something?”

“No Y/N.”

“Then speak your mind Wanda, I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“‘Speak your mind’ you say? Okay, here goes nothing.”

Without hesitation, she places her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you closer. For a moment, she stares into your eyes, and then kisses you deeply. You’re feeling both surprised, and satisfied. She closes her eyes to just feel you, and you place your hands in her hair. Her lips leave a trail as they move down to your neck, you tilt your head upwards to grant her all the access she would need. Wanda bites your skin and you let out a rough moan, driving her completely crazy.

That’s when you realise. Your best friend is marking your neck and you have no idea what’s going on. You gently motion for her to stop, which, reluctantly, she complies with.

“What?”

She clearly wants to go back to the moment, so she breathlessly asks you in return, “What?”

“Wanda.”

“Y/N.” She looks at you with a grin and pecks your lips again. “Alright, fine, let me explain.”

“Yes please, because as much as I love it, I’m still clueless.”

“I just have one question, now that you know, would you ever kiss me?”

Your cheeks redden up at her question. You avoid eye contact, gulp, and reply, “If you want then yes.”

She probably wants to growl and bang her head against the wall. “WHY DON’T YOU TELL ME HOW YOU FUCKING FEEL ABOUT ME?! CAN’T YOU SEE?!”

“See what Wanda?”

“Oh my God I cannot believe this. You are an idiot and I love you so fucking much.”

“Wa-”

“Don’t you dare say another word, I hate you! You’re just acting-” You shut her up by kissing her intensely, and again, and again, and yet again.

After pulling yourself away, you need some fresh air. So you sit on the couch, and beckon Wanda to follow. As soon as you’re sat, she decides to sit on your thigh, facing you. She slips her hands inside your t-shirt and seeks your permission, “Can I?” You smile and nod back at her, giving her consent.

She unhooks your bra, and cups your breasts in her hands each. Gently, she begins stimulating them. Your shoulders relax as she helps you feel lighter. You shut your eyes as Wanda gets you all worked up.

Suddenly, she pulls out her hands. You open your eyes and frown, uncertain about what happened. Wanda rubs herself against your thigh, making you moan by feeling her wetness. “Take off your shirt.” She directs you. You do as asked, and she’s met with the sight of your bare upper body. She immediately dives in to lick and play with your nipples, as you close your eyes again. Quite occasionally, you managed to say the same two coherent words; “Oh Wanda…”

She loves seeing you this way. It’s been years since she saw you relieve your stress. She hovers on your top, and connects her lips with your lips once again.

After a long heavy make out session, you decide to consider her wetness still lingering on your thigh. Grabbing her by the hips, you guide her for a pace. She’s in her yellow cotton shorts, and probably wouldn’t mind ruining them even more for you. Her moans get louder and louder till she finally says, “Y/N I’m gonna-”

“Yes honey, do it.” was all it needed for the knot in her stomach to release as she made a mess on your thigh. You slip two fingers within her heat to help her ride it out slowly. You mutter small praises to help her stabilise herself after her climax. Words like “You’re such a good girl” and “You did so well, princess” clearly had an effect on her. When you’re done and you pull out your hand from her dripping cunt, you let Wanda have a seat beside you.

She keeps on breathing heavily, but then looks at the sight of you licking your fingers clean. It was irrestitable for her, she had to pull you into a deep kiss. It was evident — she loved kissing you, whether it was a cute peck, a make out session, or just her catching her breath.

“Let me return the favour detka.” She requests you. You feel like it isn’t really necessary, but you don’t feel like breaking the moment so you let her do it. She pulls down your shorts, and begins teasing you over the panties with her fingers. You arch your back and groan, “Wanda please don’t-” So she bends and kisses your clothed core once before helping you strip off.

Slowly, she pushes in a finger, then adds another one. You spontaneously grasp her shoulders, which perturbs her. So she withdraws her fingers and looks at you tenderly and asks, “Y/N, are you really okay with this?”

“It’s just that… it’s been so long since I have…”

“Hey, I understand. If you want me to stop I can stop right away. You are always my first priority.”

“No, I want this Wanda. Everything feels so right, after so long.”

She slowly kisses you again, and this time not leaving out a single space she hasn’t discovered yet. Before you could do anything, she filled your intimacy with her fingers yet again. It’s an agonisingly slow pace, and it makes you shudder underneath her. “You look so gorgeous Y/N. You’re the most beautiful person I know, inside and out.” You can only breathe heavily in response because you’re (i) speechless, (ii) cuntful.

Gradually, she picks up the speed for you. Echoes of your pants and screams fill the room, and Wanda is enjoying every single bit of it. Soon enough, you were ready for your release. You try to warn her, but she understands your signal and whispers gently, “Come for your princess, Y/N.” It was all you needed to make a mess all over her fingers. She rides you through it as your elevated heartbeat goes back to normal.

She watches you with affection, and moments later you return Wanda’s gaze. She sits beside you again, and you both are in a familiar comfortable silence all over again. You decide to break it and bring up the previous conversation, “So… I guess I love you too? You’re the idiot by the way.”

“What do you mean that you guess? If you want to play the game then don’t forget you’re the naked one here and I can tease you really bad.”

“Oh really princess?” You wink at her and shift closer to her. She wraps her arm around you and says, “Let’s get a little cleaned up. I’m feeling a little hungry.”

You innocently ask her, “What do you want to eat?” but her mind is already running towards the wrong places. She swallows and replies, “A cup of green tea would do for me right now, would you like one?” You shake your head in the positive and get up.

— ✦ —

You two sit on the balcony to have the green tea. It’s late at night and the city is asleep. Your mind stares at the dark sky, still not quite visible because of the buildings. Wanda looks towards you the same time you look at her, she’s smiling. “Look at the moon Y/N!” She points towards it. Your gaze stays fixed on Wanda.

“I am looking at her. She’s breathtaking.”

— ✦ —

The following morning was enchanting as ever. You wake in Wanda’s arms, who is already lying awake next to you, waiting for you. “Good morning detka,” she whispers, “I hope you had a nice sleep.”

Morning laziness takes over you, so you hug her tightly and hum. She giggles and rubs your back with her hand, indicating for you to not doze off again. You groan, “I feel like I've slept after years, probably the first time ever.”

“It’s because you are sleeping for the first time in years. I love seeing you like this, but you need to wake up lyubov.”

“Fine, but you have to answer my question.”

“Go ahead.”

“What were you mad about, yesterday and before that?”

She hides her face behind your shoulder. “It’s stupid.” You hold her chin softly and tilt her head so she’s facing you. She sighs.

“Fine. I just didn’t realise how badly I’ve ever wanted to kiss you until you accidentally said that you’d kiss me if we were together. I’ve never been around someone who I could sit together with, listening to some white noise, and feel at home with. Hell, I’ve never been with anyone who could tell me they love me with my morning face. And then you backed off by acting all I-would-never-kiss-you so I was just a little pissed off. I’m sorry. You see, it’s stupid.”

“It isn’t, you’re just an idiot in love with another idiot. Also, don’t you dare say anything about your morning face. Your freckles, your faded accent, your natural hair - my goodness Wanda, I’d seriously kiss you if we were together.” You place little pecks all over her face, making her chuckle. “I love you Wanda.”

“And I love you Y/N.”

You hear the doorbell ring out of the blue. Against your will, you had to get up and open the door. There’s the mail for the day - a few bills, and a small box, addressed to “Y/N Maximoff” again.

You call Wanda outside the room. When she comes next to you, you ask her, “This is the second box. What do you think it is?” She arches her eyebrows suspiciously and takes the box away from you to keep it next to the bowl of keys. “We can find that out later.” she says before kissing your neck.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #mcu wanda #wanda x fem!reader #wanda smut #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x y/n #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader

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messrmoonyy · 28 days

Text

- you sunshine, you temptress

Tess Servopoulos x Female reader

Request- already in like Jackson, and so Ellie and Joel live together but Tess doesn’t. They’re new in town so they’re still not used to the whole nice civilized thing, but the reader is her nice neighbor who wears her down. She plants stuff and even like cooks for tess. But she’s not a wimp either, very skilled with guns and stuff. Just a fic where they meet and like reader takes care of Tess. Smut too if you want

A/N- I took this request and ran with it. It took me a long ass time I apologise but I do really like how this turned out. It became far more angsty than I’m sure you wanted it to be but. Here we are. I wanted to explore an idea that Tess didn’t like Jackson and took time to adjust, didn’t really like reader as well. Tess leaning to adjust and love and be loved. Also in transferring this over none of my italics saved and I could’nt be fucked to go back through this again and add them back lmao

Warnings- 18+ | tess is quite low for the majority of this, canon compliant discussions of death and violence, vague/ implied smut (wc- 13.2k )

Tess masterlist | AO3 - Tess requests are open but not currently top priority

SPRING

Tess didn’t like Jackson. Not at first. The drastic change from Boston to the nomadic lifestyle she had been living with Ellie and Joel as they crossed the country had been difficult enough. But to then transfer to something so wildly different from both of those things? Yeah. It took some getting used to.

She didn’t quite know what she had been expecting really. Maybe something like Boston but without the soldiers. Small pockets of people doing their own things to get by, together for safety but nothing much else. Not the working, thriving town she had walked into. Not the cleanliness, the stores, the diner, the hot water- that apparently was only a little temperamental in the colder months compared to year round like Boston- and clean clothes. Jobs. Families. Farming. She felt like she was in an alternate dimension.

She didn’t like the way everyone was so… cheerful. Which was a weird thing to say, but it was true. Because it threw her off.

She had developed her own bubble of happiness with Joel and Ellie over the months. They laughed together at Ellie’s shitty jokes, shared in her joy when she found a can of ravioli she liked. But would be stoney faced in an instant to protect each other. Joel and Ellie she loved like family, they were her family. She was used to warm smiles from them, a desire to be near her and talk to her. She wasn’t used to it from others.

Other people were scared of her. They moved out of her way and they did as she asked. They kept their heads down in case they upset her and they didn’t cross her path. But not in Jackson. No.

They smiled at her in the street, asked her how she was, said good morning.

And it spooked her. She didn’t like it. And she hated that she didn’t. That she had become so hardened that genuine kindness scared her. Because no one was kind anymore. No one showed care unless they wanted something else in return.

So she didn’t know how to take it. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the new found trust people had in her, their ease at having her around. To her surprise Joel didn’t seem to be struggling as much. He had Tommy back after all and that seemed to be easing his discomfort. Ellie was fitting in… kinda. Her colourful vocabulary and brashness had put some of the kids off at first. But they seemed to be warming to her now.

So it was just her. Trapped in some odd isolated headspace where she didn’t quite know what to do. She didn’t mention it to Joel, didn’t want to interfere with him and Tommy as they rebuilt their relationship again. Maria had tried to pull Tess into things more, and Tess liked her. Maria didn’t take shit, she had power and was in charge. People respected her. And she didn’t let Tess mope around for too long either.

But even Maria couldn’t quite pull her out of that disconnected state completely.

Part of her felt she was being ungrateful. She was alive and as safe as anyone could possibly hope to be in the current climate. Joel was alive. Ellie was alive. She was alive. But there was just… something.

Maybe a sick part of her missed it. Missed Boston. But then again maybe it wasn’t so sick. She hadn’t liked Boston really. But spending so long in one place would always make it hard to leave behind. Even the things she had so often complained about. She found she couldn’t even sleep on her new bed, Jackson having been looked after for so long that the mattress was actually still soft. She was too used to the lumpy one in the zone, and sleeping on the ground for months.

She’d been sleeping on the couch since she’d arrived. If she even managed to sleep at all, unable to fall asleep on the soft sheets and bed.

She missed her power too. Got tetchy when she thought about who was running operations back in the zone now. Who was living in her and Joel’s apartment, had they found their stash? Who was selling her shit and walking around like she had? She had to remind herself she shouldn’t care. That wasn’t her life anymore. It never would be again. Boston was a distant memory she needed to put to rest.

But it was difficult.

The new house felt too big. The town too clean. The people too nice. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with herself. She mildly regretted living separately from Joel. Just out of… familiarity. She wasn’t used to such an open space to herself. Even before the outbreak the house she had shared with her husband and son hadn’t been so big. And she had had two other bodies to fill the space.

In Boston that tiny apartment she had had Joel to fill the gaps.

But she knew she couldn’t impose on him any longer. Joel was handsome and mellowing. He would no doubt find someone in town… and she couldn’t be the one to stand in the way of that. Especially seeing as she herself had no desire to go there. Their relationship had always been purely platonic and she had no intention of changing that.

So when Maria had asked, she had taken her own place. Ellie had taken the garage. They all had their own space. But those two seemed far better at living in it than she was.

It had taken that stark shift though for her to realise that maybe she simply wasn’t made for being alone. She had met her husband in college. They had moved in together immediately after, and had their son young. Then she’d fallen into the group heading for Boston, met Joel… she’d never really been alone.

Though she also wasn’t particularly doing anything to change that either. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Back in Boston she’d get lonely from time to time, would go out and pick someone up with ease. Now? She didn’t know where that confidence had gone.

She felt people looking at her when she ventured out. She knew she wasn’t exactly unattractive, she knew people liked to look. But she had no desire to pursue. She didn’t even entertain them for a second. And they all grew bored of trying and moved on.

Everyone was friendly enough, but some kept their distance when they realised she wasn’t the… happiest of people. But one person didn’t let the permanent frown glued to Tess’ face deter them.

You.

You lived across the street from her, would wave hello every morning when Tess ventured out to find out what tasks Maria had to keep her busy for the day. You’d smile. You’d say hello. You even left her things on the porch.

And you liked flowers.

She gathered that pretty quickly. The window boxes were full, potted bushes and blooms littered your porch and edge of the dirt path street. It made her own place look incredibly dull. But maybe that was fitting.

She’d never been one for flowers. So expensive for them to just sit and wilt away in a vase, to be left with nothing but some crisped petals and dead stems within a week. So amongst the sandwiches and pies left at her door, the odd flowering embellishments she knew came from you.

A lot of people in town left stuff for her and Joel, to welcome them. To give them things they needed. She didn’t like accepting any of it. She didn’t like the feeling of… owing people. Feeling like they would have a hold over her, that they had given her a new jacket so now she owed them something. That you had left her a pie so now you were owed something too.

So she left the majority of it exactly where it was placed on the porch, Maria being the one to bring them inside for her.

“ You are gonna attract every damn animal in town if you keep leaving this stuff on your porch Tess “ Maria used as a greeting when Tess opened the door one morning, seeing the woman standing there with what seemed to be a loaf in her hands “ and wasting food? Really? Especially this? Now this looks delicious. Still warm too “ Tess scoffed but before she could speak she heard your voice.

“ Good morning Maria! Good morning Tess! “ she looked over Maria’s shoulder to see you jogging down your porch steps and waving, thankfully turning to walk into town rather than try and start a conversation

“ morning hun “ Maria responded with a smile, glancing over to Tess when she ignored you as she always did.

“ what? “ Maria sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in the way she so often did when she was at her wits end. Usually with Ellie and Joel’s bickering.

“ I’ve told you a million times. We all get along here. It’s a small town Tess, you can’t have grudges. Or.. at least public ones. I have a few secret ones myself “ Tess sighed and stepped back to let Maria inside, who only sighed too when she eyed the blanket on the couch “ you’re still sleeping on the couch? “

Tess brushed her off and grabbed her boots from by the door, sitting down to pull them on. She could already sense another of Maria’s lectures brewing, and the headache pulsing behind her temples made her hope she’d hold off on it.

“ I just fell asleep there I was… reading “ Maria did not seem even remotely convinced and walked through to place the bread down in the kitchen.

“ And what’s with the silent treatment with the doll across the street? “

“ she’s too… happy “ Maria laughed and shook her head

“ She's harmless. She’s kind “

“ she’s fuckin annoying “ Maria’s eyebrows flew up and she gave a small laugh again

“ Theresa “ it sounded almost scolding. Tess scoffed at that “ you sound like Ellie “ Tess scoffed again. Fucking Ellie?

“ calling me a kid now Maria? “

“ yeah. Cause you’re acting like one “ she sighed and stood with her hands on her hips, the way that told anyone nearby that she meant business. To shut the fuck up and listen to her “ you’re here now. And you need to stop isolating yourself “ she walked over to her and placed a hand to her arm, a gentle comforting squeeze “ I know it’s hard. I do. But you have to try “

She knew she did. She was just stubborn and stuck in her ways. And you really were… peppy. One of those people that seemed constantly in a good mood, seeing the world through rose tinted glasses and trying to spread your joy.

Tess’ own glasses had smashed a long long time ago. And she saw no reason for the amount of joy you seemed to hold.

“ I’m trying “

“ Try harder then “ Maria said before folding her arms and tilting her head a little as she watched her “ what’s going on with you? “ Tess stood up again and ran a hand through her hair, wishing she knew. Wishing she had the words to explain.

But how could she? How could she tell Maria that she wanted to go home? She wanted Boston back. That she felt out of place in Jackson and had never felt as lonely as she did in her entire life.

“ I’m fine. I’m just tired. Shall we go? “ Maria didn’t seem convinced but nodded, following her outside.

It was a nice day. Spring was in full swing now, in the weeks between Salt Lake City and settling into town the chill of winter had finally disappeared. She could see daffodils sprouting in the window boxes of your house. Her own were barron.

“ I’ve put you on farming rotation today. Sounds good? “ she nodded “ okay. It’s easy enough. Pot things, label things, pull things. It’s quite therapeutic “ she’d be the judge of that one.

She followed Maria around to the greenhouses, watching how people greeted her and smiled when they saw her. She didn’t know whether she was jealous or annoyed.

“ okay. Greenhouse 4, shouldn’t take more than a couple hours. When you’ve finished in there come find me if you want to help out some more. Okay? "She followed where Maria was pointing and stopped when she spotted someone already inside greenhouse 4.

“ are you fuckin kidding me Maria“

You.

Maria smiled and squeezed her shoulders, leaning close to her ear

“ Be nice “ Tess scoffed and turned to try and beg her to assign her anywhere else but there, but Maria was already walking off.

“ Maria- “

“ be. Nice! “

“ fuck “ she gave a frustrated huff and headed into the greenhouse, you turned around at the sound with that usual beaming smile on your face. She didn’t have the energy for this today. Didn’t have the energy for you.

“ Oh hi. I didn’t know I was paired with you today “ she stood not really knowing what she was supposed to do, annoyance practically steaming out of her ears “ you wanna get that side and I’ll continue with this side? Seeds are in that bag there, compost and soil is there, tools in the crate under the table. Okay? “

She gave a small nod and headed for the crate of tools, pulling out a small trowel and grabbing a pot. But she found her hands refusing to move. Simply staring down at the equipment in her hands. It felt like a weight was pushing down on her shoulders, crushing her chest, turning all of her muscles to lead.

“ I thought Maria would’ve had you trained up for patrols by now “ you said lightly, the sound of your trowel filling another pot “ from what I’ve heard your pretty handy with a gun “

What had you heard?

“ yeah “ she said, almost having to force herself to reply “ soon… they don’t like new people straight on patrol “ her hands still wouldn’t move.

“ figures. You could always ask her to put you on my regular route at first if you like. It’s one of the busier ones, you seem a little stressed. And well blowing the head off a clicker might be beneficial “ you laughed as you said it but quite frankly she felt you were right.

She didn’t like being unarmed. Adults in town were allowed to own their own weapons but weren’t to bring them out of their house unless they were heading on patrol. Her back pocket felt too empty without her gun there. Her fingers itched to hold it, if only for the familiarity of the metal on her fingers.

“ or why don’t you see if she’ll assign you on the hunting crew? Shooting rabbits isn’t exactly as fun as putting down clickers but. You know it’s something “ you seemed fully convinced that the answer to Tess’ supposed stress was killing something one way or another.

What had you heard about her? Who had been talking?

“ right “ she still hadn’t potted a single seed, some unmoving crushing sense of dread still heavy on her shoulders.

She didn’t know why the weight of her problems was weighing her down so heavily in the last few days. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just adjust to Jackson. Why was she feeling more anxious and depressed in the safest possible place she could be, than when she had been living under the looming threat of being murdered everyday?

No normal person's mind worked that way. No normal decent person craved the life she had once had. The familiarity back at least. She felt sick.

You were humming a song to yourself now. It felt irrationally loud in her ears. She could hear Maria’s voice in her head too. Telling her to try. To try be nice. Try to mingle.

“ thank you. For the bread “ she said in an attempt at conversation. She’d known it was you that had left it. Had seen the sprig of some kind of flower tucked into the cloth it was wrapped in. Obviously you “ but I don’t need charity “

“ it’s not charity “ you said, the sound of your tools stilling “ it’s a gift. I don’t know… welcome to town gesture that’s all “

“ Whatever it was. I don’t need it “ maybe this wasn’t exactly nice. But it needed to be said “ you can take it back if you want. I haven’t touched it “

“ alright “ she didn’t have to look at you to know your face would be reminiscent of a kicked puppy “ keep the lavender though. It’s calming… it’ll help you sleep” she turned around to look at you then. How did you know she wasn’t sleeping?

“ how- “

“ I came from a QZ myself, I spent years after that roaming. I know it takes time to adjust Tess. I barely slept a wink when I first got here… paranoid an infected was gonna jump me in my sleep or FEDRA was gonna come arrest me cause they suspected me of rebel activity… silly I know but. Our brains are hardwired into survival mode and it takes some time to shake it off “

It sounded genuinely sincere. Caring. She barely knew you and yet you seemed as though you actually wanted to help her. It made her skin prickle.

“ yeah. Well. I’m not you “ she turned back around as if to resume her previous activity. Though she had still not potted a single seed.

“ That's very clear “ even annoyed you sounded remotely cheerful still. Like no malice truly laced your words.

What was she doing here? The world was a hell hole, it was full of shitty people all doing shitty things. And there she was planting fucking carrots. In some odd altercation with you about her behaviour.

“ Tess? Everything okay? "Your hand falling on her shoulder shocked her into reality. She stepped away from your touch, moving so quickly it was as if you’d burnt her, heading for the door. She felt like she was suffocating she needed to get out “ Tess? “

“ I- I have to go “ you hurried out after her and she took a deep breath of the fresh air trying to calm herself. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t skittish and scared. She didn’t get anxious and erratic. She didn’t recognise herself anymore.

“ Can I do anything? I can get Maria or-“

“ look. I know you mean well. But I don’t need… any of this. I don’t need you thinking you’re helping all of the time “ her words were harsh and as much as you annoyed her, it was like looking at a kicked puppy “ just. Stop “

She turned away from you and headed straight for home. Home. Home that felt nothing like the word.

She felt ungrateful. People were sleeping out in the woods or in derelict buildings basically waiting to be attacked by infected. And she had a house. Warmth. Safety. But she couldn’t shake the feelings and she hated it.

She closed the town out behind her, closing the door and leaning against it to catch her breath. Why was this all so difficult for her? Why was she so incapable of adjusting to some kind of regular society again?

She debated talking to Joel. If anyone in town understood her it was him. Joel knew her inside out, could talk to her with just a look, knew what she was going to do before she did it. But he was settling in fine. He wasn’t struggling like she was. She didn’t want to weigh him down with that when he finally seemed so light.

She hid away for the rest of the day, almost expecting Maria to come and drag her back out again. But she didn’t to her relief. She had her peace and quiet to mope. To wallow in her own stupid sadness and isolation.

Until the evening.

She sighed when there was a knock on the door, probably Ellie ready to go charging around the room rambling off every piece of information about her day with an amused Joel in tow. Though she actually wouldn’t mind that.

But it wasn’t Ellie. Or Joel.

“ hey “

“ I thought- “

“ I know. Look. I just wanted to come and tell you I was sorry if I offended you or something. You just… you seemed like you needed a friend and I wanted to help “ she could tell you genuinely meant it. That you truly were one of those people that was just… nice. Good. Even after the past two decades that had twisted and warped so many others, herself included, you had somehow remained what she assumed was the same.

“ well I don’t… need any help “ you gave a small nod but didn’t immediately leave, shuffling a little awkwardly on the spot “ anything else? “

“ I noticed. I noticed you don’t have anything in the window boxes. I have some spare seeds… flowers can really help brighten the place up. I find that on sad days it’s always a little bit nicer to look at a flower than an empty box “ she opened her mouth to decline, to tell you she didn’t want you in her way. But you seemed to anticipate it “ you won’t even have to see me. Or talk to me. I can do it when you’re not home or if you are I can… I can just knock so you know I’m there. So you can wait for me to leave or- it’s just an idea “

She figured that in the long run giving you something to do that you might take as being helpful, might actually make you leave her alone a little more. And so, ever so slightly reluctantly, she sighed and nodded.

“ fine “ the smile on your face after that almost made her want to smile too. Almost. So kind. So genuine. So… bright.

“ yeah? Okay. Do you have any preferences? Or allergies? Colours maybe- “ she lifted a hand in a silent request for you to shut up.

Be nice.

She closed her eyes for a moment and gave a steady sigh, forcing some attempt at a smile onto her face.

“ anything. Anything is fine “ you gave a nod and turned slightly before pausing. You seemed to debate something for a moment before delving into your pocket and pulling out a small jar of something that looked like jam.

“ I know… I know you said you didn’t want- it goes real nice with the bread “ she waited a second before taking it from your hands. You said nothing else, just gave her a small nod of a goodbye and headed down the steps and across the street.

That evening she ate bread with the jam. It was annoyingly good.

———————————

You’d appeared the next morning to plant the seeds. And then you tended to them everyday. Watering them and doing god knows what to the soil. You would let her know you were there each time, a small knock on the door that you didn’t even mind if she didn’t answer. Just letting her know you were out there. Just as you’d said.

And as time passed she found herself answering it from time to time. Just poking her head around the door to see what you were doing, always there with your small watering can and a smile.

And that was okay. You were okay. Nothing else in her life felt right at that moment. But having a new constant did. And she had to admit that even when she woke up on the couch, rubbing at her sore neck, seeing the sprouts through the window almost made her crack a smile. Almost.

SUMMER

As the cold completely shifted from Jackson’s air she found that not even the warmth could truly raise her mood completely. Everyone in town seemed far more cheery, like the sun had some odd healing ability to make everyone more joyful after the bitter winter and the final week of spring which had been nothing but solid rain fall.

Though Tess, begrudgingly enough, found that her own joys still only stemmed from her family. But also from you. As much as she refused to admit it, she’d found herself looking forward to your small knocks on her door each morning, or on mornings where she left early for patrol she found herself almost hoping you’d be on the porch with your watering can and your smile.

Which she didn’t exactly understand or care to understand either. In fact she blatantly ignored the voices in her head warning that she was going soft. That she was beginning to almost look at you as some kind of friend.

She opened the door more often than not now, even made attempts to ask you about the flowers or ask about your day. You never probed her about herself which she liked. You didn’t pry. You let her be. You let her keep her walls fiercely guarded without so much as a complaint. And she kind of hated the fact that made her like you a little more.

And that morning was no different to the rest now, you had knocked and she had gone out to say hello. Had offered you tea and you had accepted as you so often did.

Her night had been filled with bad dreams. And she had feared that it would send her into another one of those days. Where she wanted to do nothing but hide and mope. But she had forced herself to go outside. At least to say hello.

Annoyingly to her, Maria had been right. And she lived there now. And that meant she had to try. She had to try adjust. Fit in. Be… nice.

She still felt wary around you. Maybe even more so because of how she was beginning to sort of like you. Or maybe tolerate was the better word. She told herself it was anyway. But she had been in Jackson a few months at this point. And after a few months your joy and happiness was bound to wear her down. Even if she was reluctant about it.

“ you know if you take good enough care of these they’ll bloom next spring too “ you said as she hovered by the door watching you “ it takes time and care though. Pretty things but strong enough to survive the winter if they’re tended too correctly “ your eyes flitted up to her for a moment as you said it and she felt the statement were a little more loaded than just being about the flowers.

“ I’ll leave that up to you “ you smiled warmly and looked back down at the plants.

“ here’s hoping “

Tess watched you carefully, still unsure exactly how to pinpoint what she was feeling. She was beginning to like having you around. But also your joy drove her insane. You were annoying. So unbelievably annoying with your bright smile and desire to care.

And yet… you had managed to be the one to coax her out of the house. Yes it was only to her porch but it was still out. You had given her something to almost look forward to each day.

She didn’t like it.

“ oh shit “ she blinked a couple of times to drag herself out of her head to see blood in her peripheral, dripping between your fingers and between the floorboards of the porch.

“ what did you- “

“ fucking sheers they slipped I. Look, it's fine it’s just a cut… You got a bandage or something? “ Tess nodded and glanced towards her door. She realised how bad it would seem to keep you out on the porch. To just leave you there whilst she went looking. But also the thought of you in her home…

“ yeah. Do you wanna… come in? Wanna wash it or something “ part of her almost wished you’d say no, but the relief on your face made her regret the thought instantly

“ thanks Tess “ she headed straight for the kitchen. Not even looking to see if you were behind her, rummaging around in a cupboard for her box of medical supplies.

“ wash it. The sink “ she murmured, watching you carefully from the corner of her eye as you headed for the sink beside her, cupping your hand in some attempt to not drip blood onto the tiles. She looked at your bloody hands, ignoring the guilt rising in her chest at the fact you had injured yourself doing something for her, and reached out for you. She held your cut hand in her palm, leading it carefully under the water. She could feel you watching her, eyes almost burning into her skin as she gently washed away the blood and the soil.

She focussed on the pink swirls twisting down the drain rather than looking at you.

She didn’t like it. Didn’t like how you put her on edge. She didn’t want to go delving into why exactly that was either. Why in the space of 6 months she had gone from despising your very existence, to having you in her home because you’d hurt yourself tending to her flowers. It was a lot to try and process all in one go.

“ Marias always laughing at me “ you said as she turned off the water “ says I’m one of the best snipers in town yet I’m clumsy as shit with anything else. Can shoot a clicker miles off but can’t handle a pair of gardening shears? Idiot “

Maria had told her all about your impressive skills out on patrols. She was yet to see them for herself though, Maria hadn’t paired you together yet. Thankfully. Though she couldn’t lie that curiosity on the matter was strong. She’d always had some morbid fascination with the nicest of people that were able to kill like it was second nature.

A silent chaos raging behind a gentle smile.

“ guns more important than sheers “

“ well that depends on the situation don’t you think? Gun won’t help clip the weeds “

She bandaged your hand silently with the care and tenderness that few saw from her, wrapping it up and admiring her work for a second.

She stood back when she was done not exactly knowing what to say anymore. And she hated it. Despised it. Tess always knew what to say. She was always one step ahead of everyone in the room, but she faltered when it came to you. And she didn’t know why. Or what power you seemed to hold over her as of late. Was it your kindness? Was it the simple fact that you had never shown her nothing but care and respect since day one and she just didn’t know how to accept it? Maybe.

She wandered if you noticed how she looked out of place in her own home. Surrounded by so many things that she had no connection to. Objects that weren’t hers, placed into a house that had once been lived in by others. Loved by others.

Like so many others she had gotten used to not getting attached to materialistic things. She could see you glancing around, how you could probably see that from the way the place looked so… bare. Unloved by her. Un- lived in by her. That you probably figured it out pretty quickly.

You were watching her intently as you wandered the kitchen and she didn’t like it, she didn’t like the way you made her feel like a prey animal ready to dart any moment. That wasn’t her. She wasn’t prey. She wasn’t the hunted. She was the hunter. She was the one with the upper hand.

But not with you. Not with you and your unyielding kindness and desire to know her.

So she turned around and started packing away the medical box slowly and carefully. Just to give her hands something to do.

“ why are you so afraid of me? “ you asked suddenly and she turned around with a confused look on her face. Afraid of you? Why would she possibly be afraid of someone like you.

“ what are you talking about? “

“ you’re afraid. You won’t let me in. You barely even let me be your friend. You keep trying to scare me away with being so… miserable. You have to let people in Tess… and I think it’s because you’re scared yourself I- “

“ I’m not afraid of you “ She said immediately. Her heckles raised at the intrusion. And at the confusion for your sudden lack of ability to not interfere “ are you afraid of me? “ she asked, her voice calm. And low and steady. Intimidating. The way she spoke to people in Boston who were pissing her off and she needed to remind them who she was. Her eyes had not left you for even a second. They were burning into you. Calculated. Smart. Intense.

Some desperate attempt and desire to keep you out. To make you back off. Even if it meant missing those morning knocks and tea on the porch. She couldn’t let you in. She wouldn’t.

But you weren’t afraid of her. You never had been. She could tell. You were stubborn. So unbearably kind but stubborn. Stubborn in the way you had kept up your daily visits even when she wouldn’t answer her door, in the way you still waved at her before she even spoke to you. So stubborn in the way you were standing your ground before her.

“ no. I know I should be. I know what you did. But I’m not “ she folded her arms across her chest, quirking a brow. Who had you been talking to? What could you possibly know. So you hadn’t been refraining from asking her questions all along, you’d been getting your information else where. She was almost impressed. It was smart. Calculated even.

At this point she wouldn’t be surprised if you’d cut yourself on purpose to get inside and make her talk.

“ oh? Oh you know what I did? “

“ someone in town… was gossiping I- everyone’s done bad things “ you said with a shrug.

“ what do you know? “ she advanced on you then. Slowly. Crossing the room to where you stood by the wall. You didn’t move. You held your ground.

“ a lot “

“ tell me “ she wanted to hear you say it. To confirm if what you knew was true. But also because maybe some sick part of her needed reminding what she had once been capable of. Of what she had been before she had become that misery of a human whose only joys came from her pseudo kid and the woman who planted flowers for her.

“ all the people you killed. Tortured “ your voice had dropped to almost a whisper as she stood in front of you. But you still didn’t look scared. And she couldn’t decide how that made her feel. Annoyed? Because she clearly didn’t hold the fear inducing powers she once had. Or… relieved? That she had finally come across someone that took what she had done and dusted it under the rug. Accepted it and moved on.

“ and it doesn’t scare you? “

“ you must’ve had your reasons “ there was a heavy tension hanging in the air, she could feel it thickly between you. Soon enough one of you would choke “ I know what you did. I don’t care. You can’t scare me away Tess “ at this point she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.

No one had challenged her like that. No one like you anyway. No one so… sweet.

Her old self would’ve laughed. Would’ve laughed in your face and thrown you out. But then again. Her old self would’ve laughed at what she had become too.

Things had changed. And she needed to accept it.

“ stop trying to scare me off “ to her surprise you reached up, your hand gentle on her face. She recoiled at first. As if your fingers were steeped in acid and you’d blistered her skin with your touch. But you waited a moment and did it again. And she froze, unsure of what you were doing or how she was supposed to react to it “ I want to be your friend. Let me. You don’t have to scare every single person that wants to care for you away. If anything you damn well need it “

She didn’t know what to say. Stood there like she was made of stone with your gentle hand on her cheek, your face full of nothing but warmth and affection for her. She felt like a deer in headlights.

“ you don’t know what I need “ she finally spoke, taking a single step back so that your hand fell away. Though she was certain she could still feel it. A kind touch was so unfamiliar to her, so rare that it lingered in her skin “ you know nothing about me “

“ I know enough “ so stubborn. So unwilling to take no for an answer or let yourself be pushed away. She kind of liked it. Liked the challenge “ you have to let people in. Let me in. I know how you feel- “

“ how could you possibly know how I feel “ she almost spat “ you’ve lived here. Comfortable and safe “ you gave a small laugh at that

“ not always “ she didn’t know why she had assumed you had been there so long, maybe because you were so… settled. Adapted “ spent two years captured by a bunch of slavers before I even set foot in Jackson. I’m not some sheltered little girl born into comfort Tess “ she took a step back, eyes narrowing as she tried to asses the new information presented to her.

She knew about slavers. Had been taken by them herself at one point. But two years? She had been there two days, in a tiny camp as they prepared to move her to their main base before she’d managed to get away. Those two days had been hell. She couldn’t imagine two years.

Maybe she had underestimated you after all.

But before she could answer you properly there was another knock to her door.

“ only me! “ Maria’s voice sounded as she entered the house, opening her mouth to say something else but stopping when she saw you stood there. She looked violently overjoyed “ oh! I’m sorry. Didn’t know you had company “ it must have been an odd sight to walk into. Tess as stoney faced as ever and you practically gazing at her.

“ sorry I- “

“ did you need something? “ Tess asked

“ lunch, the whole family. Good haul from the hunting crew today “ family. Her family. As dysfunctional as it was she very much wanted to escape the current situation and see them “ but if you’re busy- “

“ no. I’m not. She was just leaving “ she glanced over at you as you gave a small nod and a smile, quietly excusing yourself and heading for the door.

“ just. Think about what I said Tess? I’ll see you tomorrow “

She didn’t hear the end of that for the entirety of lunch. Maria not usually one to pry. But knowing very much that Ellie and Tommy would. Casually mentioning it and… that was that.

Ellie seemed particularly delighted. Looking at her in a way that she recognised from her own childhood when she realised liking girls wasn’t just a her thing. That she wasn’t the only one. But Tess didn’t probe. Though she was happy in the knowledge Ellie would come to her if she needed.

“ y’know I think it’s real nice “ Joel said to her when she stepped outside stating she needed a little air “ she’s softenin you “ Tess scoffed and folded her arms across her chest

“ you have no idea what you’re talking about. She’s a neighbour. And she looks after the flowers. She’s a pain in my ass”

“ baby steps Tess “ she glanced over at him and he was giving her that look that said he knew something was going on inside her head “ you leave the house more now “

“ to my porch and back “ she mumbled not entirely wanting to get into that conversation. She was not in the mood to discuss her long hours trapped inside her house. And her head.

“ baby. Steps “ she sighed and ran a hand over her face. She was tired.

“ she wants to be my friend “ it sounded so unbelievably juvenile to say out loud. She almost regretted saying it

“ and… you don’t want that? “

“ no “ she said maybe a little too quickly

“ right “ she could feel him watching her, trying to read her as he so often did. The way only two people who had been together for so long could do “ I don’t think I believe that “

“ I’m not asking you to “ he sighed again, used to her stubbornness. Her bad moods.

“ you are allowed to have friends Tess. And… more than that. I don’t know what that girls intentions are, I don’t pretend to know how your mind works either. But if you really didn’t like her then why are you still lettin her around? Tess I know would’ve told her to fuck off and threatened her for good measure for even tryna talk to you if you didn’t like her “

“ you’re talking shit “ he laughed and shrugged

“ you’re proving my point. Tess. Just do something. If you want her? Go get her. Tess I know would. And if not? Tell her to leave you be. Cause this mood you’re in… it’s not nice to see “

“ ‘ the Tess you know’ “ she muttered under breath. She didn’t feel like that Tess anymore.

By the time she walked home she couldn’t tell if she was more annoyed by the entire situation or relieved by it because somehow Joel of all people had begun to put things into perspective for her.

Maybe it was both.

Though the annoyance was slightly winning out. She wasn’t soft. She didn’t like the implications that you were softening her. She was stronger than that. Stronger than you. She hadn’t pushed you away because Maria said she needed to be nice. That’s why.

It was.

Wasn’t it?

She felt a sudden desperate need to prove to herself that what she was thinking was correct. And not Joel.

She was not soft. She was in control.

She didn’t quite know what it was that compelled her feet to head up your porch steps rather than her own. Knocking on the door before she’d even fully come to a halt.

Waiting impatiently for you to answer, looking a little surprised to see her when you did appear.

She pushed past the threshold, watching you take a step back in mild confusion at her sudden intrusion, cupping your face in both her hands and kissing you. You stumbled for barely half a second, kissing her back with a muffled moan and your fingers wrapping around her wrists.

The confidence she was used to felt far more present in your space, in the four walls of your home rather than her own.

She pressed you up against the closest wall, kissing you like her life depended on it. Far more in control than she was a few hours earlier. Than she had been in a while.

And this was it. This was the familiarity she had craved wasn’t it? This was the power she had been missing, the ability to take what she wanted when she wanted it. Even when she wasn’t entirely sure it was what she wanted.

So why didn’t it feel the same. Why did it not even slightly fill the void in her chest.

You were breathing heavily as she pulled away to catch her own breath, a joyful almost dopey smile on your face. You looked so incredibly beautiful. Sweet.

She’d break you. She would. She knew she would. It was a vicious awful cycle. Anyone she got close to got hurt. Friend or… more. It would all end the same way.

“ this won’t end well “ she said quietly, not entirely meaning to say it out loud. The words escaping her as she watched you, someone so beautiful and kind didn’t belong with someone like her.

Someone who had not let the awful things that happened to them twist them into something unrecognisable. In the way that Tess had.

It would be a mess.

“ maybe not “ you answered, voice just as quiet “ but did you ever stop to think that maybe it will be okay? “

“ no “ you laughed softly, head leaning back against the wall and your eyes falling closed for a moment. She wished she could have such a carefree look. She didn’t think her face even knew how to relax into such an expression.

“ have a little faith “

AUTUMN

It had been over 20 years since her life had completely fallen apart. And a lot could happen in 20 years. A lot had happened. Tess was good at having bad shit happen and then burying it so deep down that she didn’t have to think about it. She was good at having a blank face when inside she was screaming. But in the end, one person could only hide so much stuff for so long. Eventually it would spill. And every now and again it did.

And when it did? It was suffocating.

It struck her out of no where. She never saw it coming.

Sometimes it almost scared her. Scared her that the stuff she had done wasn’t even the worst of what kept her up at night. She had no remorse for the people she had killed. Tortured. Those bodies and those sounds. They didn’t haunt her. The stuff that had come before that had damaged her beyond repair.

The first few years had been the worst. Before FEDRA had full control, before any rules were in full effect. When everyone ran rampant, when people looted and murdered because they felt like it. When groups formed and did whatever they wanted. To who they wanted. When Tess had been alone. Had left her home with nothing but the clothes on her back and ran. And ran. And by some miracle survived.

That time before Joel. Before the entirety of the group making their way up to Boston.

Tess didn’t get scared. She wasn’t afraid of things. But she had been back then. She had been so afraid.

So utterly powerless and out of control.

She tried to see the positives as ridiculous as it sounded. Tried to twist the shitty things that had happened. The shitty things that she had done. She had done them to survive. And maybe that scared her even more. That she felt justified in her actions.

That she could think back to certain people she had tortured. Killed. Ambushed. And justify it. Not feel as though she had done the wrong thing at all.

And that she would do it all again if she needed to.

She would throw herself in front of trucks feigning an injury. Just a poor, defenceless woman. Beg for help only for Joel and the others to spring from the bushes and take everything they had. She’d kill every man and woman that got in the way of her rise in the smuggling ring. She’d tortured ever last piece of information out of those fuckers who had taken Ellie. Murdered every. Last. Firefly. In that hospital.

All again. A million times over.

But her humanity was still in her somewhere. Buried deep down but there. And when it reared its head it was ugly. Filled with words to make her feel like the worst person alive. Fill her ears with the strangled cries of her son. The sickening sound of the blood that pooled in her husband’s throat.

It made her feel numb. Like she was floating. No longer in her body and desperately trying to claw her way back down to it.

“ Tess? “ she was too lost to react. Too deep inside her own head to even turn around and look at you. But she knew that voice. The voice that had become as familiar as Maria’s. Ellie’s. Joels “ Tess what are you doing it’s freezing out here “ your voice was soft compared to the voices that were screeching inside her head, soothing. Gentle. Quieter yet somehow speaking over the screaming ones.

Your hands fell onto her arm and she flinched, shifting away from your touch.

“ hey. Sorry “ you said softly, hands raised in some kind of surrender “ won’t touch you again “ the voices were still shouting at her, but a little further off now. Like she was on one side of the room and they were on the other. And wasn’t that interesting. Where in the past only Joel had been able to coax her back to reality. Ground her. Now you had. And she had known you far less “ can I sit? “ she gave a small nod and you sat down, leaving a small gap between you both.

Things between the two of you had been a little different as of late.

You hadn’t kissed since that day she’d barged through your front door and re established that she was very much the one holding the reins. But she was letting herself be lighter. Trying her hardest to open up to you. To go into town more. Smile back at people. And it was hard. And slow going. But she was getting there.

Baby steps. Like Joel had said.

“ I’m gonna go get a blanket okay? It’s so cold “ she listened as you went inside, returning a few moments later.

“ why are you here? “ she asked as you sat down beside her again, wrapping the blanket around you both.

“ I was out on late patrol. I saw the light on… was gonna come see why you were still up. Have a chat or something… you didn’t answer so I just poked my head inside and I saw the back door was open“

She gave a small nod and continued staring out at the backyard. She hadn’t really done much to it. But there was a rope swinging attached to the large tree at the bottom now. Ellie loved it.

“ do you need to talk? About anything? “ you asked quietly “ it’s what friends are for you know. Talking “

“ I’ve never been very good at friends “ you gave a small laugh and nodded

“ yeah. I figured that one out myself “ you shuffled a little closer to her, nudging her leg with yours “ you must’ve had friends at some point “

The ones that truly stuck in her mind were Bill and Frank. Frank would’ve loved you she realised very quickly. You were so alike. So happy. Made to see the positive in absolutely every single thing. Yet becoming friends with Frank had been far easier than becoming friends with you.

She’d been different back then.

“ I had. I had friends “ she started, realising in that moment that she had never actually spoken about Bill and Frank since they’d died. Her and Joel had done as they always had and refused to talk about it. Let it settle and weigh heavy until it began to dissipate on its own “ they lived a few miles out of Boston. Met them over the radio “

“ they weren’t in a zone? “

“ no. Bill… fuckin crazy been planning for doomsday his whole life. Had the whole town mapped out and wired up “ she actually cracked a small smile thinking about it “ Frank though. I think. I think he’s the closest thing to a friend I really had “

She missed him. She missed them both. And missing Bill was something she never thought she’d feel, even if he was more open to her company than Joel’s.

You listened diligently as she spoke about Lincoln. Dinners in the garden and Bills stash of supplies, the awkwardness that always lingered between Bill and Joel. The bi monthly drop offs that had started increasing in distance as Frank got sicker and Bill got older. And then finding them with Ellie. The silent moment she had taken in the garden to cry for her lost friends whilst Ellie showered and Joel fixed the car.

“ they sound like amazing people “ she shrugged and glanced over at you for a moment. And maybe it was silly of her to take so long to realise it. But maybe she had a friend in you, maybe more than that. Maybe she had done all along and had been too blinded by her own self loathing and moping around to truly notice it.

It was the early hours of the morning and there you were, sat on her porch steps in the dark. Listening to her talk. Comforting her. And she realised that you were exactly what she needed. In that moment and every other moment to follow. Your compassion and your calming force of a personality. The way you cared…. Loved even. Your stubbornness. Your loyalty.

“ thank you “ she said quietly “ for being here “ you looked up at her and smiled. That warm, sweet smile that made even the coldest of days feel mild. Tess was all sharp edges and bitter words, someone so soft should be keeping a safe distance to ensure they didn’t get cut. But you weren’t afraid. You never had been “ for everything “ she didn’t want to elaborate and you didnt make her.

She reached forward to cup your face in her hand, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. You understood her in a way it had taken Joel 20 years to. Some odd force of nature that wiggled your way through the cracks in her heavily guarded walls.

Her eyes drifted down to your lips. Remembering the hard, forceful kiss you had shared that one time before. The kind she was used to. The kind she was good at. She wasn’t very good at being tender and caring. Kissing and all that lead from it had long since been something she did out of care and love. It was a means to an end. A release. A way to remind herself she was human.

But it didn’t have to be that way anymore.

“ you gonna kiss me or not? “ you whispered. And it made her lips twitch into a smile.

Tess had kissed a lot of people in her time. And if she was perfectly honest she wasn’t entirely a fan. Kisses were not like how the movies or books portrayed them most of the time. Uncoordinated or clumsy, too much teeth or tongue. She didn’t care much for kissing.

But kissing you was different. Kissing you was like a shot of adrenaline straight into her veins. It was the closest she felt she could come to understanding why Joel had been so hooked on pills before Ellie. It was addictive.

But something had changed now. Some locked gate inside of her had finally clicked open and you had seized the opportunity to slip your way inside. And she surprised herself with the realisation that it actually didn’t seem all that terrifying now, having you there. Having those feelings and thoughts.

Of course there was still… something. But it was less so.

Holding your face in her hand, your willingness to let her lead and melt into her. With every soft and gentle movement of her lips against yours she felt herself slipping. Like when the winter storms would hit Boston and her worn down boots couldn’t find grip on the icy paths.

But this slip wouldn’t end with her falling flat on her ass and nursing a bruised leg. You were keeping her tethered. Your fingers that were looped around her wrist, your hair that was tickling her face.

It made her feel startlingly real. Alive. Present. Present in a moment in a way she hadn’t done all day, she’d spent the day drifting. Some far off place in her head where her demons scrambled over her and suffocated the air out of her lungs. But she was breathing fine now, breathing in air that was yours, breathing as if you were her air.

She kissed you until her jaw started to ache, not sure how long it had been or how many quick seconds apart to catch her breath there had been. But when she finally did let you go the fog that had been blinding her all day seemed to have disappeared. Everything felt as though she were looking through glasses that had just had the lenses cleaned.

Sharper. Clearer.

“ it’s really fuckin cold “ she murmured, causing a giggle to bubble past your lips.

“ yeah. It’s freezing “ you didn’t seem even mildly pissed that that had been her first words after practically kissing your face off. Instead you both silently seemed to agree to go inside, collapsing onto her couch and kissing some more.

Something had shifted after that. Had changed after she’d woken up the following morning on the couch with you.

She actively chose to be around you, even more so than she had been. Spent enough time with you that people began to murmur about it. But she found she no longer cared.

There was still an odd weight looming in her chest, one she was certain may never actually go away. But it was far lighter than it had been.

WINTER

Tess had always preferred winter to summer. Especially after Boston. She hated those sticky summer days. Especially in that apartment that was freezing in winter but a sauna in the summer, no comfortable in between. Days when she felt like the heat was suffocating her and every drop of water she drank sweated its way out of her within the minute.

Winter felt so much… fresher. She liked the snow and the opportunities to wrap up and be warm on her own terms.

Some people found it bleak. But she rather enjoyed it.

You seemed to like it too. Because you could use the cold weather as an excuse to be close to her. And it felt nice. To have you there, to have you wanting to be near her. Even if she was beginning to believe you were forgetting your gloves on purpose now so she would hold your hand.

The arrival of the winter months had brought along the silent confirmation that you two were… something now. Dating didn’t feel right. That word didn’t feel like it belonged in the world anymore. And there had been no real discussions of the matter, mostly due to her own refusal to mention it. And ‘girlfriend’… it felt a little juvenile. Even if was Ellie teasing her every fucking day that you were in fact her girlfriend now.

Jackson was starting to feel more like somewhere she could begin to call home. Riding back through the gates with Joel, watching them close behind her but not feeling that feeling of imprisonment anymore. Not feeling as trapped as the walls in Boston, but finally feeling safe.

She walked into the Bison, happy to find it slightly less crowded than it could be. She walked over to the bar, smiling at the guy stood drying off a glass

“ hey… she here? “ something in her still prickled with an odd sense of anxiety that she didn’t need to ask for you by name now. That they all knew who she meant. That Tess would not venture into the bison alone for anyone else, and that you would never be leaving with anyone else but her.

But she pushed it aside.

“ yeah she’s out the back. I’ll grab her “ she waited patiently as he disappeared through the door, glancing around with some still deep rooted fear that someone was watching her. She didn’t think she’d ever shake that. But she had to remind herself that no one there was after her. No one there was watching her to find her weakness and abuse it.

“ hey you “ you appeared through the door a few moments later and you greeted with that beaming smile of yours, looking at her as if she were the singular source of joy in your life. You leant over the bar and she met you half way, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. It was the kind of kiss that was… familiar. The kind two people in love shared without thought, something as simple and regular as breathing.

“ having fun? “

“ oh yeah. Making sandwiches, riveting stuff “ she watched you wipe your hands off on a towel before slipping your way out from behind the bar “ but I’d really like to go home now “ Tess nodded and offered you her arm without needing to be asked, your hands slipping into their usual place and huddling close against her.

It was getting chillier out, the sky had taken on that odd yellowy state that signalled impending snow. The kind of day that back in Boston would’ve been some forewarning of an impending low ration season. But there was no such thing in Jackson.

You spoke about your shift in the bison as you walked and Tess listened diligently, all the while silently musing over you asking to go home. And very much heading with Tess towards hers.

But. You stayed over more often than not now. Your things were starting to intermingle with her own, the space that had previously felt so barren and so disconnected from herself… now felt almost like a home.

There were some of Ellie’s drawings tacked to the fridge, her talent alone making the space seem a little more lived in. A few pictures had been framed now too and dotted about the place. Tess, Joel and Ellie over for dinner at Tommy and Maria’s. Another of Ellie pulling a stupid face with Joel looking slightly amused at her side. One of you and her, you beaming at the camera as she looked at you. Maria had taken that one much to Tess’ original dismay. But she was quite thankful for it now.

That was the first piece of you that had made its way into her home.

You had a toothbrush in her bathroom now. A spare jacket on the hooks by the door. A small box of gardening tools by the front door. A hand knitted blanket across the back of her couch.

You were in the air even. The air wafted of the flowers you adored wherever you went, you filled the place she had only ever referred to as a house into home.

And sometimes it almost made her want to laugh. Laugh at herself for what she had become. Tess didn’t take things slow like this. Tess didn’t let her space be invaded by someone else. Tess didn’t have feelings or let herself… love.

Which was exactly what she was feeling more and more these days. Which was completely and utterly terrifying but she found she was just letting it happen. Because she could. And because she was allowed to.

She wasn’t old Tess anymore. If anything she was beginning to feel as though she was slowly becoming more and more like the version of herself that had existed before an apocalypse had destroyed the world. The kind of woman that did date and did take things slow. That had girlfriends or boyfriends and wasn’t scared. Was care free and happy.

And maybe that was more scary than the fear she had felt at losing the version of herself that had developed over 20 years of hell.

She was beginning to think that nothing would ever be without fear these days. But she was working on it. And it was lessening.

And you becoming a permanent fixture in her house was part of that.

Quite often the nights ended exactly as they currently were too. With you walking home together, cuddling up together on the couch to escape the chill of winter.

And making out until she forgot how to breathe.

It had not been more than that. She hadn’t allowed herself to let it be. Had happily let you sit in her lap or let you pull her down over you and sink into the couch cushions. But she never let it progress.

She didn’t truly think about why and you had never asked it of her either. Until tonight.

“ why are you holding back? “ you whispered, pulling back from her slightly. Still close enough that she could feel your breath against her lips.

Why was she holding back?

Because you weren’t some random girl she picked up in the zone because she was bored and lonely. Because until you, sex had become something with little feeling. Something to do because she needed some human contact that wasn’t Joel stitching up a stab wound.

And it was funny, really, when she thought about why she was holding back. Why as much as she may have wanted to, as much as the old her would’ve gone and gotten what she wanted months ago… she hadn’t.

Because it hadn’t felt right. Hadn’t been the time. You deserved more than that. You deserved more than a quick, meaningless fuck off somewhere secluded because she wanted to feel like a human being again. No, you deserved more.

Maybe you still did. She couldn’t figure it out yet.

But what she did know, was if now was not the time then she would wait. She would wait a million and one lifetimes. As much as she knew the short serotonin boost would breathe some life into her for a few hours again… she would endure. Because when she really thought about it, that wasn’t what she wanted really.

She wanted you. Of course she did. Needed you. In every single sense of the phrase. You had been a shiny little light in her darkness, you had prevailed and endured her bitterness to discover something sweet hiding beneath.

And so you deserved the best. Deserved every ounce of love and compassion Tess could find deep within herself.

“ where’d you go? Hm? “ you whispered softly, fingers trailing along the side of her face and tucking an unruly strand of her greying hair behind her ear “ you seem… else where “

“ just thinkin “ your touch was gentle, fingertips somehow still smooth and soft. So different to hers, calloused from years of fighting and doing shitty jobs in the QZ. She felt too rough for you. Too sharp around the edges. Like her hold on you alone could shatter you.

She knew in reality you weren’t delicate. She had watched you shoot like a trained marksmen. Had seen you jump on clickers and stab them until you face was splattered in blood. Chop firewood for town like it was nothing. You were strong. Capable. And yet she felt like she could bruise you like a peach just by looking at you wrong. She was no stranger to your strengths, your capabilities. Yet to her? She felt she could always see you as breakable.

Fine China. Soft fruit. The petals of the flowers you cared so much about.

Soft and pure and delicate. Not made to be touched by the rough and ready hands of the likes of her

And yet…

“ thinking about me? “ you said it with a small laugh, half joking. Half hoping. She gave you a small smile, a small nod.

“ of course “ it came out so quiet she wasn’t even sure she’d really said it right away. But your warm smile told her she had. And you’d heard. And even now, even in that moment, she still took a moment to be amazed at that smile. Amazed that it was because of her. You were smiling because she was thinking of you. You were on her mind. And you liked that.

Her hands twitched slightly at their place on your waist. Almost involuntarily. Like they were trying to make her move, go ahead. Do… something.

You looked down for a second before letting go of your gentle hold of her face, sliding your hands along her arms and trailing your fingers over her wrists.

“ I’m not going to break “ you picked up her hands, moving them down to brush over your ass, your thighs “ you can touch me “ she was afraid she’d do something stupid like blush. So she kissed you again, gently tugging you close by her soft hold on your thighs.

Your hands slid back up her arms, over her shoulders, up to hold the back of her neck, your fingertips slipping under the collar of her shirt. Everything about you was soft. Precise and purposeful. She could practically feel the desire radiating out of your fingers. But also the care.

She hadnt been touched like that in… a while. Touched in a way that conveyed love. A way that was gentle. Caring. Deliberate and slow. Like you wanted to take your time, in a way akin to how you had behaved since you had met her. You wanted to know her. To understand her. To peel back the layers she kept pulling on to keep you out.

And maybe a part of her would always want to keep you out, deep down. Fear of the unknown. Fear of a vulnerability she was still learning to adjust to.

But she was adjusting. Had been. And it felt right now. Felt right having the soft weight of you on her thighs, having your gentle fingers rid her of her sweater. Felt the shame of her equally as raging desire dissipate.

It was okay. She was okay.

She watched your deft fingers carefully unbutton your plaid shirt, one that now she thought about it looked remarkably like one of hers. When had you taken that she wondered.

She let her hands slip over the bare skin of your waist, disappearing under the soft worn cotton of your- her? - shirt. There was a scar along your ribs, the kind that had been there a while. No longer angry and red but faded and soft. She ran her thumb across it.

“ chains “ you said, answering her unasked question.

“ the slavers? “ she murmured, still tracing her thumb over the long stretch of scarred skin. You hummed a reply, your eyes watching her intently

“ plenty of permanent reminders of those fuckers on me “ it still baffled her how you had endured such cruelty and appeared on the other side as gentle as you were. She wanted to track those fuckers down. Torture every single last one that had even looked at you wrong. And reserve a special place in hell for the ones who had left their permanent marks.

She leant forward, dipping her head and pressing her lips to the scar. Your chest deflated in a soft sigh as she did, ghosting her lips over the skin in some feeble attempt to replace the pain with care. Your fingers laced into her hair, silently urging her to kiss you some more. And she did. She kissed up your chest, breath stuttering embarrassingly as her cheek brushed against the cotton covered swell of your chest as she pressed kisses to your sternum.

Everything about you was soft.

She inhaled deeply, your skin smelt of that familiar scent of being outdoors. As if winter air had been bottled and sprayed across your skin like perfume. Something so usually mundane and common place, yet intoxicating on you.

She kissed up your neck, skin in flames with every single soft sigh it caused you to let out.

“ can… can I.. “ you said in between kisses, hands now fumbling with the button of her jeans.

“ not here “ she murmured, pulling away from your lips slightly reluctantly “ you deserve better than the fuckin couch “ that made you smile, head titling to the side inquisitively.

“ well aren’t you just a lady “ Tess scoffed, patting your leg gently to urge you to stand up

“ lady? You must be thinkin of someone else “ you seemed reluctant to stop kissing her, grabbing her multiple times on the way out of the lounge. Including a long pause on the stairs where she almost regretted suggesting you move. And seriously debated just letting the entire thing play out right there on the staircase.

She’d never really been one for kissing. But with you she couldn’t stop. She was obsessed. A woman possessed. And she was taking her time.

But she remained on track. Leading you into her bedroom and the bed she had barely slept in.

She sat down on the edge, watching you as you closed the door before turning to her. Leaning back against it for a moment.

You were truly something. Stood there in your jeans and your bra. Your mismatched socks and your ruffled hair. Lips kiss swollen and eyes watching her intently.

“ c’mere “ she said quietly, gesturing you over with a tilt of her head. You wandered over, coming to a stop in front of her and reaching out to cup her face gently “ you’re so fuckin beautiful you know “ she said, not entirely intending to say it out loud and rather just think it. But the blush that crept across your cheeks made her glad she had said it.

“ you think? “ she hummed a reply, her fingers trailing up and down the backs of your thighs.

She didn’t know what it was about having you there in that room. Her room. Alone. It felt so incredibly intimate. In fact the entire night had. She’d never taken such… time. Time to explore and to appreciate, to admire. And now to have you in bedroom, a room she had barely been able to step foot in alone since arriving in town. But felt almost at ease with you there.

It was a lot to attempt to process all at once. And so she decided not to. That it wasn’t the time to send herself spiralling into yet another pit of despair and dread, she focussed all her attention back to you.

“ you’re sweet “

“ I’m not sweet I’m honest “ you smiled again at that. In reality she was not an honest person. She was deceitful and not to be trusted by anyone but Joel. But you trusted her. And she was honest with you.

She was. You truly were beautiful. And she felt a fool that it had taken her as long as it had to stop and really look at you. Had spent so long despising your presence rather than admiring you from day one.

She slipped her hands further up your legs, cupping the denim clad flesh of your ass and pushing you forward slightly. You took the hint, stepping over her legs and placing yourself back in her lap. Your arms looped loosely around her neck.

She couldn’t resist diving forward, lips against your neck and teeth grazing your soft skin in a way that made the most delicious sounds leave your lips.

“ oh, Tess “ your fingers tugged lightly at her hair as she continued her gentle assault, hands wandering and desperate to touch as much of you as she could. “ I can’t take much more of this teasing “ you whispered after a few moments, tugging at her hair to make her raise her head.

Her fingers ghosted over the blooming marks on your skin. Blossoming spots of red and purple, marks of a gentle cruelty that had sent the most beautiful look of bliss to overcome your face. Yet another mark of possession on your skin, but not of chains and binds this time…. Of hatred. But of teeth. Of lips. Of desire.

Possession through the deep rooted need to keep you as her own, but simply to hold. To protect. To love.

“ Tess “ she wouldn’t make you wait any longer. She wanted to keep touching, to commit every single inch of you to memory. But she figured that she’d have plenty of opportunities to do so.

And she would give you anything you asked of her. So she would not make you wait.

Through a desire blurred haze she manoeuvred you to lay down, a blur of clothing making its way to the floor and soft moans as her hands ventured downwards.

“ no no keep looking at me “ she said, her voice as quiet as it had been since you’d lead her up those stairs, coaxing your head up from where you were hiding with her free hand “ that’s it I wanna see you “ you slipped a hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her down to press your forehead against hers with a small nod, lips parted slightly as she moved her fingers in soft circles.

She lost track of time. Of all straight forward thinking. The seconds and the minutes all blurring into a moonlit haze of body parts in her mind. She took her time, breaking you down and unwinding every single knot under your skin.

Nothing else existed outside the four walls of that room, just you and her. The soft lewd sounds of her fingers between your legs, your quiet whimpers and gasps into her mouth, the rustle of the sheets beneath you as you arched and writhed beneath her.

There was something incredible about having you there, foreheads pressed together as she hovered over you, something so… romantic. How your hands held onto her, fingertips warm like they were branding her skin. Isolated in that room in a newer way than she had been used to.

And when she finally brought you to your long awaited climax, she watched you intently. Admiring the beautiful way your face moved and contorted in pleasure, watching your lips part and your legs tremble.

You returned the favour once you’d regained your regular breathing pattern. Pushing her onto her back and leading a trail of soft kisses down her chest and her stomach, settling between her legs and sending her eyes falling into the back of her head.

Her back arching off the mattress and her hand twisting into your hair, relishing in a bliss she hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time.

And then you lay there together. A comfortable silence enveloping the room, only disturbed by the occasional kiss or soft sigh.

Tess’ fingers played gently with your hair, inevitably lulling you into sleep. And she took the time to think.

She realised that in the time she had lived there it was her first night actually sleeping in her bed. She glanced down at where you were sound asleep on her chest, the weight and warmth of you pressed against her keeping away any anxious thoughts that wanted to creep into her mind.

And she didn’t want to escape downstairs, didn’t want to run. To push you away and tell you to leave. That sleeping together was far more intimate to her than any form of sex act could be.

The thoughts didn’t come.

It had taken her meeting you to finally come to terms with what her life was now. And the things that she had done. That in the current climate there were really no good or bad people. Just human beings trying to survive. Do whatever it took to live to see another day. Doing unspeakable things to get by and trying to convince themselves afterwards that they had done the right thing. That they had had no choice.

And that was okay. She was coming to peace with that. She would never fully forget, but neither would anyone else. But that was okay. Because as long as she had you by her side, she was quite content in the knowledge that she could handle it.

That then come spring those flowers you had planted would bloom again and she would let her fears die with the frost.

Everything would be okay.

#I post this reluctantly #because you read anons have been so rude to me lately #unnecessary #tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #the last of us #tlou #tess tlou #tess x reader #Joel miller #ellie williams #x you #x reader #tlou fanfiction #Anna torv #tlou hbo

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imagining-in-the-margins · 10 months

Note

Wait what's wrong with Maeve and Maxine 😭😭 and I do agree that there's sm off with Garcia in CME

There’s nothing wrong with them, really. If you like them, then power to you. The show is fictional and so are the characters, and I don’t ever recommend that people care as much about prime-time television writing as I do lmao.

That being said, I have a few complaints about Maeve as a character and Maxine as a partner for Spencer. I’ll put them below because it’s a lot.

For starters, Maeve is an awful geneticist. I’m also confused as to what the hell her job is. If you have an understanding of medical science, you know that absolutely no part of their story makes sense unless Maeve is an awful person.

(For the record, I don’t think the writers understand medical science, so this is probably unintentional.)

We’re introduced to Maeve as the woman who cured Spencer’s headaches. When he explains how she did that, the “magical cure” is, in fact, the equivalent of a multivitamin. Setting aside how unlikely it is that none of Spencer’s doctors could identify a very basic nutritional deficiency, it’s absolutely absurd that Maeve would recommend high doses of vitamins to someone who isn’t her patient.

(Is she even a medical doctor. Do we ever get confirmation? You don’t need to be to be a geneticist. I know because I’ve worked for one.)

That leads to the next question. Why the FUCK did she agree to read someone’s brain scans? You are NOT a radiologist and you’re not a neurologist. You have NO idea what you’re doing.

Now we move into her even more serious ethical violations.

Maeve identifies this man who is desperately seeking care for (what appear to be) psychosomatic symptoms as a result of trauma and stress. Instead of, I don’t know, helping him access psychiatric care he clearly needs, she…

That’s right! She starts dating him!

Maeve is a master manipulator. We see it repeatedly. Every time that Spencer begins to open up to her or offer her any vulnerability, she responds by either mocking the things he enjoys or by suddenly freezing him out. The one extended conversation we see between the two of them, Spencer expresses the desire to get to know her better, and once again offers his very specialized assistance in her exact problem.

What does Maeve do in response? She refuses to answer. The call goes silent, and she immediately proceeds to heavily guilt him while he apologizes in excess. She starts to vocally cry, but then immediately stops when he retracts his feelings.

Then, when he is devastated by being rejected, she tells him that she loves him and hangs up the phone.

What?

Then we get introduced to Bobby—the very recent fiancé that Maeve completely refused to mention. We hear from Maeve’s parents that Bobby was “controlling,” but when we see him, and how he interacts with Maeve… he’s completely normal? In fact, he seems genuinely concerned for her safety.

We have no reason to believe Bobby was ever acting against her best interests. She sure didn’t give a shit what happened to him, though, or else she could’ve helped him (and herself) by simply letting the FBI help her with a very basic and unsophisticated stalker that was identified in like five seconds.

Maeve didn’t want help. Maeve didn’t want Spencer to be cured. She wanted him to be available and rely on her because she was bored. She was lonely and she exploited a sick man for company. She left Bobby because she was worried about his safety. Didn’t give a fuck about Spencer’s, though.

I think Spencer knew that, too. Because even in his fantasy of her, he playfully corrects her just for her to shut him down for “arguing” with her. Because he corrected something she said that was literally just wrong.

So, that’s why I hate her.

(Don’t even get me started on how nothing they did made sense to avoid a stalker. You had Spencer call the same number every week on the same time through the same mechanism. Her number. She never changed her number. How many times does the BAU tell us that routine is a stalker’s best friend? Come on, man.)

Moving on to Maxine.

She’s fine. Really, I don’t have any qualms with who she is as a person except for the fact she’s a teacher who hates her job (and her name). You’re telling me this woman who went through school for art history hates children’s art? What?

Also, why are you devaluing children’s art? They’re kids. Are you okay?

The first thing we learn about her is that she’s a teacher, but she hates it because children’s art is lame. So, with a man’s permission (Spencer), she leaves that job to go work for the Smithsonian (Finally! A prestigious enough career for her!).

Setting aside how cringeworthy that notion is, it’s not even the worst part about that storyline.

My problem with her is the way they set up their relationship. Saturday begins with Spencer expressing his (very autistic) concerns about connecting with other people. In response, the psychologist essentially tells him to… just be normal, dude.

That’s when we meet Max, who then spends the rest of their onscreen time together constantly reminding Spencer how fucking weird he is and he should just chill out and be normal.

Pass.

That whole idea of “ommmggg we’re not dating okay it’s super chill and casual 🙄 we’re not dating it’s not even that serious 😒 he’s NOT my boyfriend I don’t want to call him that 😬” is also… not cute. It’s very juvenile and sort of insulting. It always came off to me as her repeatedly saying she doesn’t even really like him that much, she’s just there because the narrative needs her.

Then we get Date Night. What a fucking disaster of an episode. Here, we get to see Cat and Spencer reduced to absolute idiots who randomly believe a basic ass young woman’s super manufactured story about how she murdered someone.

Are you serious? Cat Adams, an actual serial killer, can’t tell when someone isn’t an actual murderer?

SPENCER REID, AN ACTUAL GENIUS AND A DECORATED BEHAVIORAL PROFILER, CAN’T TELL WHEN HIS GIRLFRIEND IS LYING ABOUT BEING A MURDERER?

Of course, we’re meant to believe she’s “just that good,” and also seemingly totally fine under the pressure of her family being kidnapped and potentially murdered.

(Maybe she is a psychopath?)

Her little jokes about Cat as a “mean girl but stabby” are so poorly received in the context of the episode. We have Spencer, still reeling from JJ’s forced confession and the upcoming loss of his mother, lamenting about how he really needs to stop basing his whole identity on the women who love him. Yet, that’s exactly what Max is there for. To be “better than Cat” so he has someone new to attach his mouth to.

(Also, super fucking weird she abandoned her family and kissed him after saying how much he liked kissing Cat, but we’ll move past that.)

Max is a mediocre character and a misogynist’s attempt to make a girlboss. She is also a way for the writers to reinforce that Spencer will only be deserving of love when he stops being so autistic “weird” and learns to just be “normal.”

Spencer frankly deserves better than that. This is why I’ve always loved his love interests like Lila and Austin. They reveled in Spencer’s “weirdness.” They found his real personality charming and cute. They were nice to him because they actually liked him.

So, that’s why I don’t like Maeve and Maxine. Feel free to disagree, but you should probably argue with someone else because I’ve developed my opinion after (too) many rewatches. I don’t see my perspective changing much.

That brings me back to how I started this rant, though. This is a fictional serial television show. It’s not literature to be preserved forever. It’s just our fun little copaganda show, and you can enjoy it however you want! That is your right, and you shouldn’t let me rain on your parade.

Just have fun! That’s what fandom is all about.

#answer #answered #anti-maeve #anti-Maxine #ship hate

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chokchokk · 10 months

Text

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 | choi san x fem!reader

PART TWO of : have your way with words, be my people pleaser

"Why? Am I not allowed to care now?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: He usually doesn’t drink this much. No, maybe he does, but it definitely shouldn’t make San act like this.

It must be a trap, you think, but you’ve already fallen for him, so there’s nothing you can do except not getting your heart broken.

"As if you could care."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: smut, angst, fluff (if you squint)

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 7.1k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): alcohol, san is drunk, reader doesn't fuck drunk people, lack of communication, non-penetrative sex, fingering, squirting, aftercare, showering, sleeping together (in a bed)

𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: prologue + main part, finished

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: please know that i wrote this before ateez drank in their video so any sign of projection is like just ... bad luck LMAO but uhhhhhh yeah here's the start of the A N G S T of it all so enjoy lol !!! <33

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲

unknown number: sannie i think i left my phone at your place

unknown number: oh wait

unknown number: yeah i’m an idiot

unknown number: how do i delete this message

unknown number: btw is my name still “unknown number”

unknown number: because you should really change that

“That’s our thing,” he laughs, “she’s smart and all, but every time we hook-up, it’s like, I’m seriously fucking her stupid.“

His roommate snickers and looks at the contact name.

“So, uh, what are you two?”

“Hm?”

“You guys have good chemistry! Or are you going to keep up with the whole “sex-buddies” schtick? She seems cool, why not give her a chance?“

“Nah.. You know I can’t get myself involved in that again, Seonghwa. My last relationship.. I get goosebumps just thinking about it, really. I think she wouldn’t even want that, too. It’s all just jokes and fun between us.”

“Really?“

He turns off his phone.

“Okay, only sometimes, I guess.” He smirks. “But I really like that about her, actually. She doesn’t do it as much now, but, uhm.. she compliments me a lot?”

“San, you’re so fucked up.”

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞? 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.

“Hey, it’s me! Open the door~!", his voice rings and San should be very happy you’re still awake at 3 AM on a Sunday. “Let me in!”, he repeats and it’s not a loud, aggressive shout, but urgent enough to snap you out of your mindlessly scrolling-cycle on your phone and make you question whether you’ve heard correctly or are imagining things.

It’s a very bold move, really, thinking that your home is free for him to come at any given time, and if it wasn’t for the unnecessarily sweet drunken “pretty please?” that follows right after his demand, you would have gladly let him walk all the way to his own residency, but you’re weak, weak for him, so even though you do hesitate, the door is opened with almost no significant time having passed.

“Well, good morning,” you chuckle and watch the man lean against the frame with his head, his legs unable to hold the weight of his upper body. He’s wearing his usual fit of a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans, but his blushed cheeks, the smell of sweet tangy fruits and other sour substances tells you more about his evening than you need to ask for. It’s also not helping that his lips look swollen, smudged with red lipstick that he definitely tried to get rid of with a lot of rubbing on the way here — San's had a long night and he's waiting for it to get longer.

“I can’t drive like this,” San explains and his eyes are barely opening while he tries to keep a serious tone as he speaks in short-cut sentences, “and you were nearby... so now I’m here.”

“Did I ask? Get in here, Sannie.”

You grab his arm, or at least try to get your hand around his thick bicep and drag him inside, the door closing with a thump. “Thank you~,” San giggles and it takes a lot to not make him stumble completely onto you, you managing to put him down on your couch with your whole body-power, his face immediately plunging into one of the pillows.

“Where’s your jacket?”, you ask, as you stare holes into his muscular back and broad shoulders.

“Didn’t wear one,” he lisps through the fabric and his voice is raspy.

“Dumbass."

Trying to help him, you decide you’re going to get him a cup of water, but before you can let loose of him and disappear into the kitchen, San grabs you by your hand, immediately crossing his fingers into yours.

“No, stay,” San begs with a soft-spoken voice, face still planted into the couch, and he doesn’t know what those words are doing to you. Yeah, you guys have been having one or two one-night-stands too many with the unspoken promise to plead no hard feelings, but it’s him. Catching feelings for San hasn’t been something you’ve deliberately made the attempt to avoid.

But maybe you would have, if you’d known how painful it was going to be.

“Your hands are so soft,” he daydreams, a melody accompanying his rambling, “so soft and warm, like- like everything about you. I was actually just thinking about that on the way here! I don’t know if you noticed, but I really like holding your hands. They fit so perfectly around everything, and really everything— it’s amazing, really, really… amazing.”

“Funny of you to say that,” you comment on his drunk sweet-talk with a tired— but still entertained— sigh and stand there, dumbfounded, his hand sweating into yours. Is this the same guy that told you that he was uneasy when someone (namely his girlfriend) held his hand?

“Why funny? It’s my truth! Your hands are one of your best assets, second to.. your lips, maybe?”

“How shameless!”

Of course he’s absolutely boozed right now, but it’s been well-established to you that San only wears his silly loveable himbo-mask only when he’s subconsciously benefitting from it. Once you two had met up enough to have gotten comfortable with each other, San’s “nerdy” personality had magically disappeared, leaving you with one confident, prude-ishly sex-seeking macho. The “Sannie” you were looking for has somehow vanished into small moments and yes, it’s not like you haven’t been the one trying to crack through his shy façade for your own enjoyment in the first place, but you do miss watching the cheeky guy push up his glasses during your studies, glancing over at you from time to time, blushing, when he catches you staring back.

“Shame finds no place between us, does it~?”

Yet, exam season is over, has been over for a longer time now, which only makes it more evident that San is trying to find excuses to come over for reasons that go below bonding emotionally by miles. Sure, the hook-ups have been fun, exhilaratingly so. He’s all yours, San says repeatedly, but once you’d realised that he was still casually seeing other people, and it was just a saying, but worse, had felt an aching sting inside your breast when you had done so, yeah, fuck, that has been the moment you’ve known that having sex with this man isn’t enough: You have fallen in love (or something similar) with San and a serious relationship is the seal to quench your thirst for his affection.

“I guess we’ve got rid of shame a long time ago, huh,” you answer non-chalantly.

His hands are soft too. His lips are like one addictive book you can’t help but stick your face into, breathe in the words they say, inhale the soothing scent and make it your perfume — you’re smitten for him. You can’t begin to fathom the dread you feel when something inside you ever-so enchantingly tickles when San giggles, acknowledging your ways: "That's who we are!"

He knows that it's not who you "are" as he sits there on your couch, fingers interlocking, it’s… well, who you had been.

Two people who didn't have to think before they said anything, be free with their thoughts in order to relieve them from the stress that came from maintaining concentration and quality. Have you been with him enough to say you miss the older San? The sweet, sometimes silly Sannie?

"You’re my stupid whore, don't you forget!”

No, time alone can’t tell that. But even the sweetest strawberries mold when they're not eaten and waiting is a tiring process.

“Yeah.”

For the short time you've known and yearned for San, he’s been in multiple committed relationships, which is one of the reasons why it has taken you two so long to finally fuck, and it hasn’t really bothered you while you hadn’t, since you couldn’t know what you were missing out on.

But now— though you’ve never seen him be with his girlfriends— you have gathered enough information to know that San’s got it in him. He doesn’t like talking about his endeavours and you could only get a little bit of small-talk with Seonghwa about it, yet from what you know now, your college “love”-experiences don’t come even one inch close to the romances he’s been in; you can’t help but find yourself fantasising about his sweet ways of loving.

You have had enough of half-assery, enough of hangovers, and the thing is, you desperately don’t want San to be your next failed situationship. Knowing that he is single, that right now, he is able to be taken— taken by you— but him still not being yours; it makes you question things you haven’t stopped to question about yourself when being with other people. Like, what do you have to do, what do you have to be in order for San to not visit some dumb party in the first place? He hasn’t visited as many parties when you were just “study-buddies”, why is he visiting them now?

It— whatever “it” is— has developed into something like a challenge, making San want you and only you. Turns out though, that stuff is more difficult than anything you've been doing for college. At least when you had to study, San wasn’t going around having fucking other women.

“Were you gonna leave me?”

Yes, of course you feel pathetic thinking about it like this; you know it’s all an error in communication in regards to your “friends with benefits”-lifestyle you and San are carrying out, but if it has gotten you two together the first time around, the manifestation must work the second time: That’s the only trust you have and it’s enough to keep you going and engage in San's unannounced rendezvous.

"No, you sound like you needed water, that’s all.”

For a while, San just breathes heavily into the pillow and you caress his finger. It does remind you a little bit of the movie-nights you've had with him in the past, when you tried to make your hands touch inside the popcorn like some lovesick child. Maybe it has never been about the sex.

His finger twitches as if he's already gone to slumber, but when you scuffle to get him a blanket at least, San yanks you back down.

“No! Noo, I need you, nothing else! Stay here, please,” he thrums, lurking from the pillow to wink at you, though before you can react to this sentence, San mutters, "I'm not going to fall asleep. I'm not tired, I'm just exhausted." That's the same thing, Sannie.

“Where were you, anyways?”, you ask and make yourself comfortable, San’s and your hands placed on the edge of the sofa, while his stomach lays flat over the whole surface, legs extended out.

“Where I was? Good question,” San lulls, laughing a little bit, "Seonghwa brought me as his plus one to one of his friend’s birthday party, that’s where I was!”

“Sounds nice,” you hum. “Didn’t know you were a cocktail-type of person, though.”

“Oh, do I smell?”

“Mhm—“

“But you’re right, actually, I’m not a long drink-drinker,” San falls in. Your eyes still being closed, you feel his soft, heated cheek against the surface of your hand, his swollen lips chafing subtly against your fingers. “But some girls came by with trays of self-made cocktails and… we couldn’t say no, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” you answer to just have answered something to fill in the silence. You can smell the saccarine scent in his T-shirt and you fear it's going to paint off from his saliva he's spreading onto your palm as San places kisses around your hand. "What do you think you're doing?", you ask sarcastically.

"Nothing?", San giggles, becoming a bit more eager with the smooches.

You've experienced him drunk a lot of times already, but usually he only drinks just up until the point where he can keep his “educated” tone to a perceivable level of sobriety. But as of right now, in contrast, he seems to be way loose, swimming somewhere in between of lust and senselessness, which irritates you more than it should.

That is another thing that has changed after a while you two had sex. You are perceiving him differently, more and more differently each time San exits through your door, leaving an emptiness inside you that another person can’t fill, by whatever measure possible. But apparently, the same doesn’t happen for him with you, and you have to convince yourself you can change that every single day.

“We should party together more often,” he inclines, “what do you like to drink?”

“Whatever’s available and does its job, I suppose.”

He giggles, gasping at your answer. “You don’t care about taste?”

“I mean, drink enough and everything is going to taste the same anyway, no?”

"Let's do it."

"Huh?"

"I'm in the mood right now~ Are you in the mood right now?"

You scoff and open your eyes, revealing a San piercing his sunken gaze through you, cupping his cheek with your hand surface like you’re a saint healing him, his nose glazed red, and his lips remain pinkishly stained — in the mood.

This is not Sannie, but your guts still churn in amazement at the sight. The fatigue is wearing off; the sight of the black-haired man caressing himself with you is... "appealing" to say the least. It looks like he’s devoting himself to you, but you’d be a lovelorn fool to think this to be true.

“Or am I too drunk?”, San asks, pouting. “I may sound like this, but I’m really not that drunk anymore, I swear!” He pushes his eyebrows down, seemingly trying to appear serious, but failing to do so.

“You don’t need to swear anything, San.”

Gritting your teeth, you try to maintain a smile towards the drunken man as benevolently as you can. Of course he came for only one thing and one thing only, regardless of how cute he's huffing against your words; here are you, thinking that San was trying to get you as his plus one just like Seonghwa did.

Fuck, he’s still so hot though, there is no way of denying that. The first attraction has never worn off and you’re still head over heels for this man who’s booping your nose tip with his finger on the hand that is intertwined with your own.

“So, what do you say, sweety?”

It only takes one look towards his private area to know that San’s pants are almost exploding from how hard he’s become, his bulge being a face-forward sign inquiring sex.

“San, you know I won’t. It didn’t work the last time, don’t recall?”, you whoop.

He tries to kiss you, but fails to do so, as San misses your lips by an inch and falls to the floor. Your hands finally separate and you rub the inner burning space between your fingers as you remind him of the time when he’d drunk-texted you a message asking for "a quickie". San had made no spelling mistakes, but it had been very clear he had went to a party and returned sexually unsatisfied.

“Yeah, but that was via SMS. Now I’m here, and like, I even found my way to you, and they lived— like three blocks away, so I'm able to orientate myself, see?”, San corrects you.

“Impressive, but it doesn't change anything.”

“Morals?”

“Yes, morals.”

"You know I want to fuck you," he mumbles sulkily. Shuffling around, San sits up straight and looks at you with a saddened expression, his eyes trying to focus on you as he continues to talk you over: “But if you’re also drunk, you would?”

“Don’t even start."

“Which means you would?”

“San.”

“Come on, I’m being— I’m really being serious this time!”

You chuckle and brush his messy hair to the back, approaching his face to a dangerous distance, San’s lips opened by a slit, heavy breathing leaving his mouth while he watches you, his lip corners slightly turned upwards. He’s panting, his penis must be fighting for its life right now, and you’re just petting his head.

“At least watch me do it, then."

“Watch you masturbate?”

“Yep!”, San nods and unbuckles his belt without hesitation. “I bet you’d enjoy that! You would enjoy it, wouldn't you?”

“Maybe. Only if you don’t hold back your moans.”

“Consider it done, baby!”

You let out a laugh and search for a better position for seating to apparently enjoy the view. The drunk man takes a while to get rid of his pants, his legs getting tangled up and all, but once he kneels there, in his underwear, it’s showtime.

Or at least something like showtime. He’s being way too interactive with it for you to just sit back and relax. Whining your name in a needy pitch, he starts to pump his hardened cock inside the boxers, leaving whatever is happening there up to your imagination like a suggestive soft-porn video. However, you’ve seen his penis enough to know what it looks like, so this task is not too difficult for you. You can draw a picture of his cock down to each vein in your mind and you catch yourself drooling a bit, when you see his glistening tip peak from his waistband. You have to keep yourself together.

While letting out low groans, rubbing the head of his erection and creating slick sounds, San searches for your vicinity: “You like what you’re seeing there~?”

“What are you, a camboy?”, you tease and inhale sharply, when San grabs the seam of his T-shirt and bites down on it, revealing all of his abdomen, whining through his teeth. He’s definitely seen the same things as you online and his abs look phenomenal. Those things aren’t necessarily connected, but it’s the two thoughts shooting through your head as he begins to move his lower body to pump himself through his hand, chasing his own high.

“I don’t know!”, he lies, “I just like pleasing you!”

San purrs, his pelvis moving in round circles to accentuate his V-line and muscles flexing and un-flexing as he does so— leaving you quite speechless.

“Ah, really?”, you pant, him answering a very well-behaved “yeah, really~” right after.

“What do you want me to call you when I cum? Mommy?”

“Oh my god, is alcohol bringing out the submissive side out of you?”, you try to defuse the tension (mostly to hold yourself back from going savage towards this man as you always do) and chortle.

“Hmm, I don’t know about submissive~,” San answers, the saliva from his mouth soaking his black shirt, “but I should get naked first, no?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Taken aback by how you're anticipating seeing San jack himself off, you turn a bit too honest too quick like an avid viewer.

He grins and pulls the remaining clothing over his head with both hands, and his tip is still squeezed between his pelvis and waistband. By now, you really want to lick up the precum that’s leaking out, but you try to take your role as the sober audience seriously.

“You know, at the party, there was a girl,” San narrates, throwing his shirt to the side and looking down at his naked torso, “she told me I had nice pecs, so I said thank you, as one should.”

As an attempt to not interfere his performance, you wordlessly follow San’s hand trailing down his chest area down to his pelvis.

“But then someone told me she was flirting,” he continues, theatrically gasping to re-enact the surprise he felt after his friend had lectured him, “oh my god! I didn’t know! So naturally, I made out with her.” Which explains the red-stained lips, okay. Where is this talk going?

“But, the funny thing is,” San laughs, continuously brushing over his skin to give himself goosebumps, finally taking off his boxer-shorts up to his knees, his fully-erect, hardened cock jumping out and slapping against his abdomen as he plays with it, “she was so distracted by them, we didn’t even have sex. Like, she was massaging them and nothing else!”

You gulp at the sight of San lick over his finger and spread the spit on his lip with an opened mouth, making him look very erotic and naughty. His masturbating doesn’t seem to be speeding up any time soon though, San’s little tale isn’t over yet.

“I mean, it didn’t get me frustrated,” San admits, “but it did make me realise that some people can be in it for different reasons~!” That’s where he’s going with it, huh?

Okay, maybe you aren’t being very truthful to yourself, if you think that you've succeeded in hiding your feelings from San.

Let it be the one instance when you told him you were currently only hooking up with him and nobody else, or the other, when you woke up earlier than him and Seonghwa was the one to make you breakfast, San hearing his roommate joke that he should “join you sometime” and you dismissed it by saying you prefer it “private” — San has been presented the picture numerous times now, the picture being you wanting more than this, more than playing around with each other.

Which makes it all worse.

“… And she was in it for my boobs!”, San giggles and you notice you haven’t been listening for some while, staring at his hand installed around his dick, pre-cum dripping onto your living room-floor.

“San, less talking, more making yourself come.”

“Heyy, where'd that come from?”, San wheezes and leans against the couch, propping himself up with one elbow, “I haven’t asked you yet, what you are in it for, my lo—“

“Stop, fucking hell, I wanted to see you cum! Do it, San. I thought you were going to give me a show, not tell me a bedtime-story.”

“Geez, I just wanted to ask you about your kinks~!” Of course.

Grinning, San pumps himself quicker, hissing and whimpering, enjoying having all your attention on him. And even though there's nothing you'd love to do more than sucking him off, you’re still keep your hands to yourself, massaging your own tits as somewhat an homage to his dubious anecdote, but also compensate the vibrating between your legs. You’ve gotten unbearably aroused.

“Shit, keep touching yourself like that,” San responds and hopefully he’s forgotten what he was asking for. Filled with a sudden rush, he sings: “Do you want to masturbate too? With me? Do that, it'll be so hot. I will watch you too! Please, touch yourself with me.”

Too irritated and horny to do anything else about it, you let your hand slide into your pyjamas, and you meet your wet pussy immediately. You drive your fingers over the slickness, silently exhaling.

“That’s so hot,” San admires you and his vocabulary seems to have minimized due to his drunkness. He intensifies his masturbation, the grip around himself becoming tighter, and as he begins to thrust his pelvis through the hole he’s created on his own with his balled fist, San hisses erotically. Still not in control of his body, his arm holding him up folds unintentionally. San trips, and you twitch out of worry which you quickly realise you shouldn’t have. It's just a short moment, dismissable at best and to he honest, San is the one who’s naked, but in this moment, you feel more exposed than you’ve ever been. Fuck.

He doesn’t say anything, thankfully so, but as San moans and laughs simultaneously, almost with a mocking undertone, you don’t know whether the feeling inside your guts is your lust multiplying or your heart dropping. To get rid of bitter thoughts, you hope it’s the first and insert your fingers into yourself, trying to match the pace of San’s movement.

“You sure— that— you don’t need my help?”, San asks with not-so innocent intent, and his voice is strained from letting all the moans out as you told him to. “I really want to eat you out right now, there wasn’t anything to eat at the party… No food and too many cocktails~ Too many— oh, fuck…”

Becoming faster with his hands, it appears San is slowly approaching his orgasm, murmuring drunken words while you just started having fun with your own masturbation.

“Hold it,” you groan, trying to quicken up your pace.

“But,” San whines, working his ass front to back as he’s edged himself, “I even asked you, I— I can make you cum! I can make you cum without penetrating you, so please— just— let me cum! Didn’t you say you wanted to see me do that?”

“Changed my mind,” you say, scoffing at the whimpering man, sweat forming on his chest and dripping down his skin. “Now be a good boy and don’t cum until I say so.”

San is definitely exploring his submissive sides here, his brain almost doing a complete revamp when he hears himself be called "a good boy", a pant leaving his mouth, trying to follow your command. It’s like he’s become even more drunk, bathing in your praise when you hum: “Ohh, yes..”

Eyebrows pushed together, his dazy eyes disappear somewhere into the breaths of arousal in the thick air that’s been created between you two. San is crushed in between the pressure to perform well and his pure desire, the devilish voice inside his head whispering words of profanities to him. The blush accompanying the florid stains on his lip— San looks absolutely, endearingly fuckable.

“Oh my god," you gasp, hoarsely laughing at him, but mostly out of amazement, "you should see yourself right now."

"What? Do I look that good?", he snaps back, thrusting as fast as he tries to keep up with you, almost competing with the pace you're pleasuring yourself. Short of breath, San wheezes: "You sound so wet, and I bet that was all me, wasn't it? Because I look so good? I'm your type, aren't I? Nobody gets you like I do?"

"San—!”

Using your thumb to circle around your clitoris, you fall victim to San's provocative teasing that you’re not comprehending at all. All it takes is his sly, foxy side grin for you to understand that San is asking questions he knows the answers to, knows them a bit too well maybe, but he will not back down.

"Say it! You wouldn't have opened the door if I was someone else, would you?", he asks and you don't notice that he's leaning forward to you the more you fall back so you can reach your g-spot better. “Tell me, tell me what’s on your mind, you stopped doing that! Praise me more, aren’t I your hard-working camboy?”

"Don't act like you'd care!", it sizzles out of your mouth, a light-hearted chuckle following your answer as your finger slides over the spot that gets you moan the loudest, sparks of pleasure forming and exploding in your pants.

"Why? Am I not allowed to care now?"

San is special, but so are you, and for the faint of your own feelings you won't allow this man to destroy your will just yet. You're already struggling to drive yourself to an orgasm all by yourself when San could do it so much better, but you can't afford a drunken confession (even if you're not even the one who's drunk) even for the sake of it.

"As if you could care," you joke with a wheeze and you catch yourself stopping to care about it. There is no inherent shame in liking San, but if there was, you aren't going to be embarrassed within the safe walls of your own home. You need the orgasm first.

"Well, yeah, I don't, but I'd still like to hear it out of your pretty mouth," San gutters huskily with the same grin, approaching you even more so you can see his abs tense up— thighs almost shaking from the withheld orgasm— up-front. “Take your clothes off.”

There's that again, this shift of power that San loves to abuse. Like a fucking metronome switching from one side to another, San changes up, which makes it impossible to get into his head. He's too smart to be sabotaged into submission, he must do it by himself. He's a wild animal that way, preying on you with hungry eyes, waiting for the moment you're too distracted to fight back. "Distracted" meaning wanting his cock in your cunt, that is.

Hurrying the hell up, you hastily pull off your pants and panties over your legs, revealing your pulsating, throbbing pussy that has been rubbed to a numbingly sensitive state.

"Yeah, I knew it, you're so fucking wet, shit, you’re leaking," San sighs in awe, gulping at the sight of your labia be moved around by your fingers, still wanking. "You should know that I’m so mad that I can’t bury my face between your thighs— you're so, fuck, you're so gorgeous, you should be the one who's the camgirl, shit.”

By now, your and his face are mere centimetres from each other, and there’s this heat that drives both of you, his lewd words melting against your skin.

"Oh my god, shut the fuck up," you sneer, flattered by his empty-minded eulogy, "I'm not going to let you fuck me even if you're being nice."

"Can you even make yourself cum with your own fingers?", San hisses pettily, watching them go in and out of you, daring you to go deeper, "I bet it doesn't feel like I do!”

"It doesn't, thank you very much," you quarrel and throw your head back for a moment to moan, accepting his challenge of resisting his soliciting. He’s piercing through you with lusty eyes— glassy from the orgasm he's been fleeing from since the beginning of your dispute, almost crying from being restrained that much.

"Are you close?", he whines, getting a bit impatient. "Please be close."

What? Do you think I'll let you cum?

"I'm so close," you whine back, speedening your fingers inside you, trying to thunder them as forcefully as possible to simulate the thickness and vigour of San.

“Good, that’s so very good.”

Sighs and pants leave through San’s opened lips and he looks for greed inside your irises, as you watch his shaft shimmer under the night-lights, imagining it pulsing through you, all of its girth stretching you out in a way you can’t achieve with your fingers from this angle.

“San,” you whimper, feeling your climax approaching quickly.

“Hmnh?”, the addressed man reacts, and his voice is shivering, waiting for you to say the magic words.

“San,” you moan again.

Tell me that you want me. How bad you want me. That you want to be mine, that you want me to be yours. That you’re thinking of nobody else, that you’ll only think of—

“I’m here, baby,” San answers and swings one hand around your neck, closing the small distance by pulling you closer to him; your lips clash together and his tongue eagerly slicks against yours, him heavily breathing inside your mouth. His saliva tastes of a life on the other side of the globe and as he thrusts into his grip with an unbelievable velocity, orgasming with strings of cum landing on your pyjamas, you feel otherworldly.

But San won’t stop milking himself until you have come to exhaustion as well: When he sees you push your lower body up, San throws his unoccupied hand under yours to take over your onanism, burying his digits inside you immediately. Surprised by his sudden gesture, you back your head away from the kiss, your body spasming together because of the overwhelming pleasure.

“You know you need me, don’tcha?”, San beams.

This is wrong, this is all wrong, this is not how you planned this, you cry, but by itself, your hand rubs over your clitoris repeatedly and because San has become a master in knowing where, when and how to finger you, it is impossible to not cum with him and become a moaning mess under his touch. It’s whirring, it’s sparking, San is trying to send you over the edge of the world and you’ll risk everything for it.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you whimper, feeling like you’re being intoxicated with the poisonous sucking at your neck and the stirring in your pussy; your body is being stimulated at so many points that it can’t catch up anymore. Not missing one beat, you scream out your orgasm, falling into the embrace of the muscular man who is barely any safety, his fingers not leaving your pussy.

“Be happy I’m not gonna shoot my second load into you, because your tiny pussy would feel so fucking perfect around my big cock right now and I could stretch it out so fucking nicely,” San growls intimidatingly, and you notice that his dick has become hard again right after his first orgasm, his stamina continuing to be one ridiculous weapon.

You moan, and apparently you’re not able to say anything except this, swinging your arms around his shoulders to not fall deeper into his fingers that are stirring your insides, “San!”

“What?”, he sneers and bites into your ear, “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“San, I—,” you start begging and reinforce the clasp to somehow make him slow down, tugging at his hair.

“Hmm? Yes? What are you? Coming? Being stupid for me again? Say it, say it for me, baby.”

“I, o- oh, stop, fuuck—!”, you whimper with the way he’s quaking you through and through, but your request gets lost in the sounds of your squirt meeting the floor. You see a lightning bolt strike in front of your eyes, your consciousness sent into the wide space of otherworldly dimensions: all you can hear his San’s stunned gasping once he realises what he’s achieved and him ejaculating the second time because of it, right on the spots he didn’t get the first time round.

“Holy fuck, mom~my,” he coos, finally letting you free, his own tension being relieved as well. San lets himself relax against the couch, taking you right with him on his bare, sweaty chest, your arms rested on his shoulders. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

You’re too busy catching your breath, the once-gone fatigue coming right back, hitting you like a wall. There’s nothing else on your mind rather than to cuddle into San’s arms and get some well-deserved sleep.

“Do you think you could do that on my dick?”, San asks and you can’t bear to answer. You’re lucky that his penis has gone limp, because you know that this man could continue for hours if he wanted to. “I think that just kicked all the booze out of me,” he pants and you know he’s lying by the way he’s continuing to lull. “I’ve made many girls squirt, but that was really something else. Maybe it’s because I never came with them. And I wasn’t even touching myself, can you believe that? You made me cum untouched, fuck…”

San has forgotten your first time.

And yeah, you want to blame it on the alcohol, you don’t know if he’s just mixing things up, whether his memories are hazy because of the months that have passed since the incident— but it’s the only way his surprised face makes sense. Of course people can forget and get confused, it’s just sex and fun after all, but it still feels… disappointing. Like the first time you found out he wasn’t all that “yours” after all, it’s not like he’s breaking any promise, rather than being a moment of “oh, but I thought— well, never-mind”.

“Hey, you can’t sleep now,” San reminds you, “you got my cum on your shirt.”

“I don’t care,” you mumble and rest your temple at his collarbone, stealing a glimpse of what appears to be San being on his phone that has been stashed inside his pants.

“You sure? ‘Cause I’m gonna go,” San smiles.

“Go?”

“Not home! Did I scare you? You clutched me like there’s no tomorrow.”

You bite into his flesh to get him to shut up and he scrunches his nose.

“You make a very comfortable bed…”

“Yeah?” San puts away his phone and installs his arms around your waist, grabbing your ass in the process. “I’m glad.”

Ignoring that your naked privates are touching, you sigh into his skin. Because the taste has already entered your system, he doesn’t smell like alcohol anymore, he smells sugary sweet, the mild scent of his body leading you to further sleep. “Mhm, it’s the best,” you purr thoughtlessly, feeling safe in his hug.

“You’re only nice to me at times like this~,” San remarks with a pout and stands up with ease, carrying you to your bathroom. “You’re always so... gutsy when we have sex. Are you that dominant?”, he rambles silently, putting you down inside the space of the shower. While he talks, he does a little shimmy to instruct you to get your arms up. “You know I don’t mind, but I’m not lying when I ask you to call me stuff. Like nice stuff. Sexy nice stuff. Gets me on~”

“How are you still drunk?”, you ask, too exhausted to take your top off by yourself, letting San pull it off with his hands.

“Why?”, he asks sassily, throwing your shirt inside the clothing bin, quickly rushing to the living room and back to get his own clothing back, explaining: “It’s just something I noticed! Other girls don’t do it like you can! Like, calling me camboy was something, but then you were so mean with it—“

Returning back to the bathroom, he crosses his arms and leans against the shower door.

“If that’s too mean, you must really not like degradation,” you chuckle, sitting naked in front of him. “And you do dirty talk and call me whore.”

“You know that’s different!”, San argues, taking off his socks and grabbing the shower hose behind you. “I at least keep a balance with pet-names, don’t I, darling~?”

“Quite convincing,” you remark, barely perceiving the whole scene.

“Wait, can you—“

“Here you go.”

You stand up and walk back a step so San can have the same amount space inside the shower. You actually have never showered together before, so this one is a first, but who knows whether San is aware of this or not.

You don’t want to be too grim about it.

San turns on the water only to realise that it’s not going to get warm. “This is bad~!”, he pouts. “It’s too cold…”

“Maybe you’ll sober up with the shock?”

Getting some water in his hand, you fear he’s gonna splash it to you, but San only applies it to his arm which doesn’t even need the water by how sweaty it is.

“I dunno if I’ll get it on my hair, I just don’t wanna leave the alcohol stink over your bed~!”

… Sweet, angel boy. Don’t you be so nice to me. You’ll mistake it for something else, if he doesn’t stop.

“Hey, you good over there?”

“You,” you stammer, “you still have lipstick stains on your face.”

“What’s that mean, “still”? Did I come here with lipstick on my face?”

Okay, so maybe he hasn’t tried to get rid of them at all before he came in. Ouch? — Ugh, who cares, let’s get you to bed first. Over-thinking is for tomorrow, you’re fucked out of your mind and San will be tomorrow too, if the alcohol stays this long in his body.

A sigh which turns into a scoff leaves your mouth. “Yes, yes, you did.”

“Do you think it’ll leave a stain?”

“It should go away.”

“Help me~”

San lowers himself a little bit so you have better access to his flushed face and turns the pressure low so you can wet your hands with a little bit of water, before you carefully brush them over his lips which feel hot in the cold liquid.

“Thank you,” he whispers and you stare onto his soft lips as you answer, “no need to.”

“No, I should, like a nice ladies’ man is to do, right?”

San throws an award-winning, a bit loose-eyed smile at you and uncontrollably, you smile back at his dimples. It’s a heart-warming moment, though you fear the warmth is not going to last long. These lips aren’t yours, he’s proving to you that they’re not yours— shit, fuck, damn it— you will probably not get over this for the rest of the night, if you don’t change the topic soon.

“Yeah. You.. ladies’ man.”

“You said that!”

“I did?”

“Well, actually, I don’t know, I think it was “people-pleaser” or something, actually, but I like.. Well, I actually like both!”

“You like being called a ladies’ man and people-pleaser?”

Rubbing his lower lip with your thumb, you question San’s understanding of the words he apparently enjoys to be described as. What a San-thing to do, you smirk to yourself.

“Seonghwa agrees!”

“With what, that they’re good words?”

“No, he said that they describe me pretty well.”

“Ah.”

“Do you agree?”

You inhale sharply and bite your lip, meeting his sunken eyes, a bit droopy from the exhaustion finally hitting your black-haired apprentice as well.

“I,” you start to say, “I don’t know. When I said that, … I meant something else, I think.”

“You think so?”

You know so.

“Because it’s, hm, I don’t know. Nice, isn’t it? The thought of being wanted by two groups? The ladies~ The people~ I’m their man, I’m their pleaser, you know?”

“Yeah, you please ‘em very well. There you go. Praise. Are you happy?”

San nods enthusiastically and hugs you, forgetting that he has ice-cold water running inside his hand, getting your whole back stunned.

“SAN!”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m so—!” His eyes are big, but he’s laughing, he’s laughing very loudly, getting the shower off and hugging you again, leaving balmy kisses all over your face. “Sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, I’m unforgivable!”

Except maybe he is.

When San tugs you in, waiting until you don’t answer his late-night questions of “who invented the camera” and “who was the first live-streamer” to tell himself goodnight and fall asleep immediately, you feel at ease: Disregarding that it took alcohol, will again take alcohol to have moments like these, there’s hope that there is still a little bit of Sannie that you can salvage.

He may not be yours yet, and for what he ensues it will take a damned long time for him to be, but San is here, laying in bed with you, one hand extended out, perfectly formed for your hand to fit in it and oh, how fit in it does.