#also I'm glad my content warnings have been helpful for people!

[astraystayyh]

Conversations with Hyunjin

or what i imagine dating Hyunjin would be like (kind of went overboard because i love this man).

warnings: reader feels insecure when hyunjin looks at them for too long. a little suggestive in the end. hyunjin is dramatic but we love him 🫶

if you enjoy please reblog or leave a comment,, means the world to me <3

Minho's version.

"Look a bit to the left... Perfect", Hyunjin gently grips your jaw, his paint-stained fingers slightly moving your head to the side. You were in Hyunjin's little art studio, and he was halfway through sketching a portrait of you.

He didn't explain why he suddenly wanted to draw one, but his multiple kisses on your face the night before were enough to convince you.

But now that you were sitting on this chair and he's been looking at you for the past half an hour, you can't help but feel self-conscious. He was intently staring at you- you wondered if he started to notice all the imperfections on your face.

Hyunjin's brush strokes falter when he realizes that you are fidgeting with your fingers. He tries to hold your gaze, but you avoid it each time, a tight smile drawn on your lips. You scratch your throat, once, twice, and he steps away from the canvas.

"Angel," he smiles when he's right before you. He doesn't have to look down to grab your hands- they find each other instinctively.  "What's wrong?".

"Nothing," you attempt to smile, but your voice is strangled, and Hyunjin feels his heart drop in his chest.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?". His voice is quiet, a stark contrast to his excited demeanor when he just started painting you.

"No! No, baby. Never", you reassure, squeezing his hand tightly. "It's just... I feel like the more you stare at me, the more you'll notice my imperfections".

"What imperfections?" he questions seriously, his head tilted to the side as if the thought of you having a flaw was inconceivable.

"I don't know... I just don't like it when people stare at me a lot, I guess".

"My love, you are the most beautiful person I've ever seen," Hyunjin leans down, leveling his eyes with yours. He needed you to know how serious he was.

"You are only saying this because you love me," you smile, and he shakes his head no vehemently. "The first time I saw you, I squeezed Jisung's arm so bad I almost broke it."

You've lost count of how many times you've heard this story. Each time you hang out with the boys, Han has to remind Hyunjin that he was starstruck when he saw you. But it still made you feel warm inside- like a blanket tightly wrapped around you.

"You looked so beautiful, and you also had this alluring aura surrounding you. I wanted to talk to you as soon as I laid my eyes on you", he pecks your nose, and you scrunch it up in response.

"And I'm glad I did because not only you're the prettiest human alive," he leans away, his hands gesturing up and down in reverence, "but your soul is the most beautiful thing about you."

"Now," he gently flicks your forehead, and you laugh, "no more talk about imperfections."

"Yes, sir!" you giggle, and he smiles softly at you. "You know what? Let's leave the portrait for another day. Come sit with me while I draw?"

"You know I can't say no to that."

And so for the next hour, Hyunjin paints your favorite flowers with you curled up in his lap. You don't talk much as he draws, but his minty breath tickles your neck from time to time and you haven't felt this content in a while. 

°°°°°°°°°°

"Babyyy, what's wrong?" you lean into Hyunjin's side, who was seemingly ignoring you. You've just returned from running some errands to find Hyunjin sulking on the bed.

"Nothing," he huffs, turning his head away from you.

"Then why aren't you kissing me?" you whine, and he steals a glance at you.

"Because you didn't kiss me first."

"What are you talking about?" you chuckle, making him sulk even more.

"In the morning, you didn't kiss me," he grumbles, and you internally melt at his antics. Sometimes Hyunjin made you feel as if he needed your kisses to breathe.

"I did, you were asleep, but I kissed your cheek."

"Well, I didn't feel it."

"Yeah, because you were asleep, dummy," you giggle, and he finally looks at you, his tongue poking slightly against his cheek. He knows he's been ridiculous but it was too late to back out now.

"Well, then you should've woken me up!"

"I will next time", you smile at him, and he brightens up, "You promise?"

"Pinky promise". You lace your pinky with his, and you both kiss your thumbs, stamping them together.

"Now come here" You open your arms wide, and he sinks into them. His mouth falls perfectly on top of your collarbone, and he grazes it gently with his teeth, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

"Baby?", he calls out a while later.

"Mhm?"

"On second thought, don't wake me up. I probably need the sleep", he says sheepishly, and you giggle, "I know."

°°°°°°°°°°

"Hey, love," Hyunjin leans in to kiss your forehead, snapping you out of your haze.

"Hey," you turn your eyes back to the TV, hugging your knees tighter to your chest. You weren't really watching the movie you put on; you just needed something to take your mind off the weight on your chest.

"Bad day?" he asks, his tone soft, and you nod silently.

Hyunjin kisses your head again, and for a second, the world around you stills and you feel okay. But his lips quickly leave you, and you're left aching for his hold.

"Wait here," he tells you, and you hum in reply; you couldn't move even if you wanted to.

Ten minutes later, Hyunjin comes back to the living room. He pulls you up and leads you to the bathroom. There, you find some candles lit up and rose petals thrown on the ground.

"Let me take care of you," he says as he starts to undress you. You appreciated how he kept his voice barely above a whisper; the bathroom was fit for hushed conversations only.

When you are both bare in front of one another, he pulls you into the bath he filled- your back flush against his chest, and you sigh contently.

Hyunjin pours some gel wash into his hands, then rubs it on your skin, skillfully massaging your tense body. He's so gentle with you- his touch is featherlight, and his mouth leaves a sweet trail of kisses on your back. You feel as if you are floating in space, somewhere where no one can hurt you.

You notice that he used his body wash, not yours; and soon his scent surrounds you until all you could smell is him.

You know that this way, you'll carry Hyunjin with you throughout the night, and onto the following morning when he is no longer there with you.

His scent on your skin will remind you of how he took care of you, how he loved you, how he held you so close to him until you both became one.

°°°°°°°°°°°

"You don't have to stick your nose in the painting to see it", you giggle, and Hyunjin leans away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

"I'm trying to see the details. Leave me alone", he pokes his tongue out at you, and you retaliate with the same childish gesture, which in turn makes the both of you chuckle.

You lean your cheek against Hyunjin's arm, and you both contemplate the painting in comfortable silence. "I really wanna be poetic, but this just looks like a child's drawing," you finally say, and he laughs loudly, head tipped back- you can't help but stare in awe at how much joy suits him.

"That's what I thought too!" he high-fives you excitedly before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the next painting.

It's one of a Renaissance couple kissing, their hands cradling each other's cheeks closely- as if they can't possibly get enough of each other.

"Now this is beautiful", you sigh, and he pokes your side gently. "Let's recreate it."

"You just want an excuse to kiss me", you wiggle your brows at him, and he holds your jaw, beckoning you closer to him.

"And what about it?" he smiles bashfully before crashing his soft lips on yours.

Hyunjin might be biased, but he thinks that if someone were to capture this moment, it would look much better than the painting behind you two.

°°°°°°°°°

"This bag is so heavy," Hyunjin whines, and you stare at him pointedly, "I told you not to buy all that stuff."

"But they were dumpling-themed toys for dogs! I had to get them for Kkami."

"That dog doesn't even like you," you tease, and Hyunjin screeches loudly, stopping in his tracks. "How dare you!"

As you two continue your bickering, an old couple passes you hand in hand. They are seemingly arguing, but as you near them, you can tell they are just joking- just like you two. The fond way they gazed at each other with was a clear testimony of their love.

You and Hyunjin both turn to look at each other; mouths slightly hang agape. "I just got chills," he whispers, and you nod in agreement, "I think we just saw our future selves."

"I can't believe you'll annoy me even when I'm seventy", he jokes, and you lightly punch his side. But in true Hyunjin fashion, he yelps loudly as if you had hurt him.

"Will you still be this dramatic when we are older?"

"This is the only correct way of living", he declares solemnly, and you laugh heartily. The truth is, you wouldn't have it any other way.

Hyunjin throws his arm over your shoulders, bringing you closer to his side. He presses a quick kiss to your head, and you wrap your arm around his middle, resuming your walk.

"I was always afraid of growing up, but it doesn't seem as daunting with you. Because I know I'll have you with me in the end", he says and you beam at his words.

"I can't wait to meet every version of ourselves."

"I know I'll love you in each."

"Yeah? Even if I annoy you every day?" you smile cheekily, and he pinches your cheek affectionately.

"Even then. You are my last love, yn".

°°°°°°°°°°

"Don't come in!", Hyunjin shouts as soon as you open the door. His arms are open wide like a shield blocking you from stepping forward. 

"And why is that...?", you chuckle, slightly pushing him away to pass. He doesn't budge, and you frown.

"Please just go, go, go," he grabs your shoulders, spinning you around until you are facing the door again.

"Hyunjin, what are you hiding?" you ask, amused as you free yourself from his grip. He looks everywhere but at you, and doubt starts to seep inside you. 

"Are you... are you with someone?"

"NO! God, no, how could you think that?"

"Well, you are acting suspicious, I don't know!" You throw your hands up in the air defensively, and he sighs.

"Fine, come see."

Hyunjin walks first into the kitchen, and you gasp softly. To say it's a mess would be an understatement. There are pots everywhere, flour on the ground, and some clearly not-edible cookies on the table.

"This is embarrassing" He hides his face between his hands, and you giggle, gently removing them.

"Did you try to bake for me?" you coo, leaning your face into his until your noses brush together.

"Yeah, I know you've been working hard, and I wanted to surprise you. But clearly, I shouldn't have."

You feel your heart clench at the defeated look on his face, so to cheer him up, you grab a cookie from the tray. Its brown color throws you off, but you still take a big bite. You try your hardest not to scrunch your nose because he definitely used salt and not sugar, and oh- that's an eggshell you are chewing right now.

"This is yummy," you force out, and he rolls his eyes at your blatant lies.

"Please spit it out. I don't want you to die from food poisoning."

You oblige eagerly, thankful for the opening, and Hyunjin leans against the counter, gazing sadly at the cookies. 

"You are the best boyfriend in the world. You know that?"

He timidly shakes his head no, and you smile softly at him, "You are. Now let's clean this and order pizza. I'm starving."

"You are not mad?"

"Why would I be?"

"The kitchen is a mess."

"Well, it's our mess to clean up., And you doing this for me made me so so happy." You stand on your tiptoes and grab the back of his neck, pulling him downward for a kiss. When he leans away, you smile cheekily at him, and he rolls his eyes at you, "Come on, just say it."

"Leave the cookies to Felix."

"Noted."

°°°°°°°°°°°

"Guess who?" you whisper in Hyunjin's ears as you cover his eyes with your hands.

"An intruder who is oddly romantic?", Hyunjin jokes, and you flick the back of his head playfully, "I hate you."

Hyunjin turns around to grab your arm and drags you across the couch. "You love meee", he singsongs as he makes you stand between his legs.

"Yeah, I do" you giggle as he looks up at you, a huge smile on his face.

He looks so pretty from this angle, you think, his eyes wide and sincere poring into yours. You liked how Hyunjin never hid any of his emotions from you; and right now, you could clearly see the adoration he felt for you painted on his face.

You swipe your thumb affectionately across his cheek, and he leans into your touch, totally unguarded. "So... your birthday is in a month," you grin at him, "but since you'll be busy, I figured I'll give you your gift early on."

"You are my gift," his reply is instant. You once thought phrases like those were cheesy but you quickly realized that Hyunjin means them. He says them so easily because it's the truth for him.

"I think you'll really like this present," you smile excitedly as you pull out an envelope from your back pocket.

"Open it," you urge him, and he does as you say. He takes out two plane tickets and looks up at you, confused.

"What are those?"

"We are going to Paris!"

"We are?"

"Yes! In a week. I've prepared everything! I made all the reservations and a list of all the places we could visit. And I got us an exclusive tour of the exhibition you've been dying to see", you explain happily. You've been planning for this trip for a month now, you wanted it to be perfect for him.

Hyunjin's eyes well up with tears and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying. You knew how badly he wanted to go to Paris, and you went to all of these lengths to make him happy.

"Yn... I..." he stammers, and you hold his hands, gently squeezing them into yours. "It's okay, Jinnie. I know."

"No, I need to say it... I..." he pulls you onto his lap and you place your legs on either side of his body. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, and you pat his back gently, giving him a few moments to gather his thoughts.

"The reason why I wanted to draw your portrait is because I wanted you to see yourself how I see you. I wanted to capture you in a way only I can because I'm so in love with you," he pauses and you kiss his temple, overcome by emotion.

"I hoped that decades from now, someone would find those portraits and they will see how perfect you are. This way, you'll live again through my paintings and my love for you."

"Jinnie...." you whisper, at loss for words. Now it was your turn to tear up.

"Can I finish your portrait in Paris?", he clears his throat and you giggle through your tears, "Please."

"We also should get a portrait done of the two of us on the streets. And we'll hang it in the living room."

"Isn't that a bit pretentious?"

"It's our home. Who's picture are we going to frame? Han?"

"I mean he is our biggest supporter...", you trail off and he laughs at your words, "He really is. But I'm your number one fan."

"Prove it", you smirk and he flips you around until you are laying on the couch and he's caging you with his arms- the necklace he bought with your initial on it dangling over you.

"Oh I will."

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

(if you want to know how Hyunjin celebrated op's birthday, you can read When I fell in love heheheh)

#stray kids x reader #kpop imagines #skz x reader #skz au #skz headcanons #skz scenarios #stray kids #stray kids imagine #skz fluff #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #stray kids recs #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #skz hurt/comfort #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x yn #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #hyunjin soft hours #hyunjin skz #skz family #stray kids fanfic #skz x you #skz x y/n #hyunjin

[weirdkpopgirl]

Cute | Haechan Imagine #9

Title: Cute

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none really

Word Count: 668

Author's Note: I can clearly envision Haechan in a scenario like this. To be honest he's one of my favorite members from 7Dream to write for, and I'm glad to post more content of him on this blog. I'm sorry this imagine is kinda short and I personally don't think it's that great. But it was coming up with the idea was still fun. Hope you guys like it ^ ^

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

“You fell for me because I was cute?!”

The incredulity in his tone prompted you to blink in confusion, putting a brief pause to the mindless play with Haechan’s fingers. You sat nestled at the edge of the couch, cozied up between his legs as your back was supported by his steadily rising chest.

Your head turned slightly to meet his equally bewildered gaze. The expression he wore resembled that of someone who had just been deeply offended. This wasn’t exactly the reaction you anticipated when answering how you came to develop feelings for your boyfriend.

“Is that a problem?” you asked him skeptically. The male scratched his head with a sheepish smile on his face.

“No, I’m just surprised,” he replied, extending his hand to gesture with his fingers.“So let me get this straight. You didn’t like me for being handsome, cool, smart, or even funny. Instead, it was because I was cute?”

A soft chuckle escaped you, now amused by how he was in such disbelief. You sat up a little to face him better, so you could explain. “Well if we’re talking about first impressions, I found you kind of annoying because you were loud and joked around a lot.”

“Hey—” he started to protest before you held your pointer finger up to signal you had more to say.

“But I think it was the day you came alone to the cafê I was working at,” you continued, trying to recall the memory. “And remember how you got a brain freeze because you drank the smoothie I made for you too quickly? I don’t know, I just thought you looked cute.”

The boy beside you then covered his face with his hands, muttering, “Okay now that’s just embarrassing.”

Out of all his noteworthy moments that could have sparked interest in him, it was the one where he looked like an idiot.

You suppressed a chuckle, and gently brought his hands into yours. “Wait, I’m not finished yet.”

His deep brown eyes met yours, brimming with a blend of innocence and sulkiness. Gosh, he was even more endearing when he wasn’t trying to be. A warm smile stretched across your lips.

“It took about three months into our relationship for me to figure out that I loved you,” you admitted softly, nervously playing with his fingers again. “I realized that we’re both kind of emotionally closed off to people around us. But neither of us is afraid to be vulnerable with each other.”

Haechan could see the sparkle in your eyes as you expressed your fondness for him, and suddenly his eyes also glistened with emotion. 

“What is this? You weren’t supposed to get so serious,” he chuckled nervously.

A faint blush appeared across your cheeks, as you wiped the first tear from his cheek. Honestly, your heartstrings were also being tugged as you reminisced the memory of falling in love with Haechan.

“It’s true though. I’m so blessed to have you in my life, Hyuck.”

The tenderness in your voice only heightened his emotions. Sighing, he leaned his head back on the couch, trying to stop the tears from flowing. “Baby, if you say one more sweet thing, I might just burst,” he joked.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics, the warmth continuing to fill the atmosphere. Gently, you brought his face to your level and planted a soft peck on his lips.

“Was that okay?” you asked playfully, already anticipating the teasing you were about to receive from him.

Unexpectedly, however, Haechan blinked at you for a few seconds as if he were in a daze. Then without further hesitation, he pulled you closer and crashed you into a longer, hungrier kiss that poured out all the love and emotion he felt in that moment. As you melted into each other’s embrace, you were once again reassured that the two of you were meant for each other.

Sigh. Haechan really was the cutest.

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

#nct dream #nctzen #kpop #czennie #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 imagines #haechan imagines #haechan #haechan scenarios #haechan x reader #haechan fluff

[iamasaddie]

hangry

paring: Tim Rockford x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 3k~ summary: You and Tim get stuck in a shitty motel in the middle of nowhere with only one bed to share.

warnings: one bed trope kinda but it's not the center of the fic; explicit sexual content (don't wanna ruin the surprise with too descriptive tags); talk of food, mentions of eating; age gap (Tim is twice the age of the reader, but reader's age is not specified); no use of y/n.

a/n: an absolute gem @beefrobeefcal once (last fucking year but i'm as fast as a snail in a coma) suggested to write fics using the prompt "Wait, why didn't you tell me you had a bag of those?" and I rolled with it. Here's the result! also it wouldn't have been as pretty as it is without the help of the loveliest @noxturnalpascal who helped me correct all of my silly mistakes!

MY MAIN MASTERLIST

“This is some fucking bullshit.” Detective Tim Rockford threw his case to the floor, still catching his breath from climbing four floors up. 

“Don’t be so negative, Detective Rockford, at least we have a bed.” You chuckled, looking around the poorly furnished room. Wallpaper that was yellow from time, and not because of a designer’s choice; two uncomfortable looking armchairs with a small coffee table straight from the 70s between them; a TV with a “not working” sign attached to it with a sticky tape; and the bed, that caused most of the controversy between you and your new partner. The bedspread was a tacky shade of orange, causing you to scrunch your nose and pray that it was at least changed once this week.

Apparently, a small town in the middle of nowhere couldn’t keep a cafe open in the middle of the night even if it was a crime scene, and yet it had a fully booked motel straight from Lovecraft’s novels. The yellow glow of the bedside lamp cast a sickly light over the room, adding to the stark feeling of isolation. You did suspect that the bookings were a total lie and the tired looking owner just didn’t want to clean two rooms after your inevitable check out in the morning. You didn’t tell Tim about your suspicions, though.

The man was still standing next to the front door, both of his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. 

“No fucking cars in the parking lot, and yet they’re fully booked. They think I’m that stupid. Fucking lazy ass people.”

You just groaned in response and kicked the armchair before throwing yourself on the bed. 

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Rockford, stop being such a wuss. If you’re so scared about your virtue I can sleep on the floor.” You pointed at the raggedy carpet, but hoped he wouldn’t accept your offer. After spending 6 hours in a car you wanted nothing more than to take a shower and slip into bed. In some ways, you were even glad you had to postpone your crime scene investigation until the next day. 

Tim just huffed and shook his head. He picked up his case where he’d thrown it and placed it on one of the armchairs instead, disposing his trench coat on top.

“You wanna head to the shower first?” The man asked, easing his tie with one hand and pointing to the only other door with his head. 

“No, you go,” your stomach grumbled and you remembered something that made you curse inwardly with annoyance. “I forgot something in the car, gonna run down and back.”

“Poor thing,” he said plainly, his intonation not showing an ounce of care, “I would leave it there, if I were you.”

“Of course you would,” you looked him up and down, his broad shoulders tightly bound in the gun holster, following lower where his white shirt was straining along his soft, slightly protruding belly, and lower still to his thighs in his usual black slacks. Tim cursed every living and dead being on his way up, and when you heard his knees pop you felt genuinely sorry for him, even though you felt your mouth fill with saliva as his buttocks flexed right in front of your face. 

Tim coughed, and as your eyes came back to his face you saw one of his eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline.  His raised brow revealed his bemusement, making you realize that your  hunger, that went beyond just food, had been so consuming that you had become lost in your thoughts and your lingering. He shook his head and disappeared behind the creaking door that led to the bathroom. 

The only thing that rained on your parade as you ran to the car Tim drove was exactly that - rain. You tugged your thin jacket tighter around yourself, feeling the cold wetness already seeping through it. 

“Bingo! Here you are.” You drew two celebratory fists in the air and then tugged the crinkling bag from under the car’s backseat. It must’ve fallen while you were on the road and for a moment you had a scare that you just imagined taking the thing with you. You pressed your treasure to your chest as you quickly returned to the room you left moments ago. 

Rockford was nowhere to be seen when you sat on the edge of the bed, your soaked through jacket and jeans disposed of on the vacant armchair. Your much less formal attire that you wore to work finally did you good, and you tugged your oversized t-shirt a bit lower as you rummaged the plastic bag you brought for the thing you wanted most. A brightly colored pack of mini-waffles warmed your heart almost as much as the memory of your first kiss with your high school crush. Anticipating the sweetness on your tongue, you opened the pack in a hurry, fully tuning out everything else. You didn’t hear the water in the shower stop, or the wet sound of Rockfords bare feet closing in on you. A sudden wave of relaxation washed over you as you bit into the soft, buttery waffle, indulging in its delightful sweetness. Just as the flavor exploded in your mouth, a voice startled you from behind. 

“Wait - why didn’t you tell me you had a bag of those?” 

Your head snapped in the direction from where the voice was coming, and you almost choked on the sweet delight. Tim was wearing a big towel wrapped around his hips, letting the water droplets fall from the curled strands of his hair and travel down his chest. You followed one drop that slowed down on the slope of his belly, and then went even faster over the soft curve, hiding into the soft fabric. 

You weren’t sure if you already forgot what Tim asked or you didn’t hear it from the beginning, so you just made an uncertain sound between ‘huh’ and ‘why’, still chewing on your waffle.

“I asked you if you had anything to snack on, and you said ‘yeah, there are some mini waffles left in the bag.’” Your partner looked way angrier than the situation called for, confusing you even further.

“So?”

Tim looked at you like you had grown out a second head. His eyebrows couldn’t decide whether to frown or to jump up, making him look funny. “So I did the gentlemanly thing and left those for you because I thought you’d get hungry again pretty soon!”

“Aww, you’re so sweet when you want to be, Detective.” You didn’t think a grumpy old man like Tim Rockford would be so attentive to small details like that. You felt your cheeks warm up, teasing him was only a way to not embarrass yourself, because you knew that you were two or three sentences away from making a lovesick fool out of yourself. Well, you didn’t love love him, but it was hard not to develop a crush on the man.

“I was fucking starving and you had a full bag of snacks that you didn’t tell me about?” He stepped closer to the bed, his eyes dropping to where your naked thighs were pressed together.

“Uhh… I just didn’t think?” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling the wave of fresh warm smell coming from Tim. Was he still hot after the shower or was it his normal body temperature? It was definitely higher than a normal human’s. You felt the urge to stretch your hand and place it where his tummy moved with his breathing until you heard stern muttering.

“You never fucking do.”

“Hey!” Your hand dropped to the mattress, pushing you out of your trance. “That’s not true!”

“Give it here,” it was Tim’s turn to stretch out his hand, pointing towards the opened bag of waffles clutched in your left hand.

“Not until you say you’re sorry and that you were wrong.” You didn’t actually need him to apologize, you knew he was tired and you were quite used to him being mildly rude and snappy when he was in a bad mood (which was 95% of the time you spent together). But having something that he so desperately wanted - even though it was something as ridiculous as a half-empty bag of mini waffles - made you giddy with power. 

“Not in a million years, now give me the mini waffles.” His knees bumped into the edge of the bed, his hand almost gripping your arm, but you were quick enough to pull the snack away. “Stop being a child.”

“Stop being a dick,” you said nonchalantly and shrugged your shoulders. “That's all you did for the last seven hours.”

“Give me the goddamn waffles!” He surged forward, miscalculating his movements and his size and ending up falling on top of you with his whole body, pressing you into the bed with his chest and stomach while his hand traveled up, finding the waffle that spilled out of the opened bag on top of the bedspread. He shoved the tiny snack in his mouth, moaning in satisfaction as the sweetness hit his tongue. You could barely stop yourself from accompanying him with your tiny whimper. 

“Oh, so you were just hungry,” you whispered, breathless. Your eyes watched as his jaws clenched and unclenched savoring the food before he swallowed soundly. You were very aware of his curious eyes searching for something on your face and you hoped he would find it. The heavy weight of him on top of you was pleasant, and you moved your hips up, your already moist panties crushing into the stiffness beneath the towel with the motel’s initials on it. Apparently it was the only thing Tim needed, the sweet smell of waffle that still lingered on his lips and tongue becoming more apparent as he brought his face closer to yours.

“Yeah, and I’m not full yet.”

His lips crashed into yours before you could even process it. The gentle vanilla flavor of the waffles made Tim’s taste sweeter than you could ever imagine. Your tongue as if having a mind of its own found a way between Tim’s lips, collecting every bit of sweet taste mixed with something very Tim. Your lips fought for dominance, as he squeezed both of your hands in one of his above your head. Your kiss was akin to a science project, the chemical reaction when both of your tastes mixed caused your brain to shut down. It wasn’t something you dreamed about every night, but as soon as you got it you knew you wouldn’t be able to leave. 

Tim’s lips freed yours, hasty kisses covering your jaw and neck as he hiked up your t-shirt, leaving you in a sports bra that didn’t match your panties neither in color nor in style. He didn’t seem to care, eyeing your tits with hunger.

“Up,” he growled, and you didn’t need to be told twice. You awkwardly slid up until your head hit the pillow. You waited for Tim to join you, but he had other plans. His hands grabbed your ankles, almost throwing your legs apart as he laid between them, getting comfortable with his face right in front of your pussy. You knew he could feel the hotness exuding from you, he didn’t take his eyes from the wet spot between your legs as he let his thick thumb travel up and down your slip, teasing you through the damp material.

“Never knew I had such a sweet tooth,” he grinned, before replacing his finger with his nose, the tip pushing into you harder and eliciting a moan from somewhere deep inside of you. Tim moaned in response, inhaling lungs full of your smell. He swiped his nose up and down a few more times before you couldn’t handle the teasing anymore, deciding to get rid of your panties yourself. 

When your hands traveled to do just that, Tim noticed it, biting your thigh and humming in disapproval. “You need to learn how to be patient, sweetheart.”

“You’re the one to talk,” you huffed out of breath, still remembering the fit he threw over the waffles. Tim’s head lifted up and he looked into your eyes, for a moment you were ready to apologize, unsure if you said something wrong. However, that night detective was full of surprises. He nodded, giving you a little smirk.

“You’re right,” his eyes never left yours as his hands made quick work of ripping the simple cotton of your panties apart and throwing what was left of them somewhere to the floor, “I am quite impatient.”

Instead of reply, a ragged moan dripped from your lips as his tongue licked a fat stripe along your slick pussy. Tim’s movements were confident, and didn’t lack the hungry passion that you saw in his eyes a moment ago. His tongue concentrated on your clit, flying around it in tight circles. You felt like the warmth of his mouth on your pussy made even your bones feel like red-hot iron. With trembling hands you gripped still damp strands of his hair, unsure if you wanted to press him harder into yourself or push him away with the amount of unfiltered pleasure he gave you. When the tip of his tongue played with the hood of your clit, exposing the throbbing bud to the pleasurable torture, your legs clasped together, thighs crashing Tim’s head between them. Though the man devouring your pussy was clearly happy with it, his hands quickly pushed your thighs apart. As he lifted his head up for a moment, you saw that the lower part of his face was drenched with his saliva and your arousal, and your thighs twitched again when he licked his lips with a pornographic moan. 

With his left hand still squeezing your right thigh and pressing it into the mattress, his right gave your burning pussy a slap, that ripped a choking breath out of you.

“Keep ‘em open, you don’t want me to tie you up, do you?”

You weren’t sure because there wasn’t an immediate ‘no’ in your head, instead, you felt a new gush of arousal seeping from your pulsing hole. Noticing your visible reaction, Tim raised an eyebrow, “interesting. But not tonight.”

He dived back into your pussy without any other comments, his fingers pushed your pussy lips apart and his mouth found your clit once again. His tongue slid further down without letting the pressure off your clit when the tip found your entrance. 

You wailed shamelessly when the thumb that was helping keeping your pussy spread open replaced Tim’s tongue on your nub as the wet muscle fucked into your hole. He lapped and licked into your welcoming cunt, the more of your arousal seeped on his tongue the deeper and more animalistic were the sounds he made.

In your desperate attempt to reach pleasure you didn’t notice Rockford’s hips rut into the mattress beneath him with cruel abandon. He moved his hips in perfect sync with the push of his tongue and the circling motion of his fingers. The pressure on his cock wasn’t ideal, but with the accompaniment of your taste and smell enslaving his senses it was enough to drive him further and further down the road to his own orgasm. You threw your hands to your face, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your fist under the relentless abuse of Tim’s mouth and fingers. Every grunt he made resulted in vibrations that started at the soft skin of your pussy and traveled straight to your brain, spreading the pleasure all over your body in shocking impulses. You felt possessed as your body thrashed with upcoming orgasm, every lick to your core was akin to an electrical charge. Your hands fell apart, hitting the mattress as a cry left you hoarse and breathless when one of the most powerful orgasms you’ve ever felt hit you. You were half out of your mind to stop Tim from continuing grinding his face into your pussy and licking up your release without the previous finesse as his body started shaking as well. When the grunts stopped shaking the room, his head fell limp between your legs, hairs tickling the naked skin of your sensitive pussy. 

“I need to take a shower again,” he murmured, before placing a wet kiss on your sweaty thigh.

“So, when am I getting my treat?” You laid together in bed, now on the same face level. Your body was still recovering from your orgasm, but your mind was greedy for more. Your hand lightly caressed Tim’s soft belly on the way down. The fresh towel was hiding his cock that wasn’t fully hard yet. Tim shuddered with oversensitivity when you gently squeezed the promisingly fat shaft. 

“Give me a few moments, darlin’. You’re undeniably sexy, but my body’s twice as old as yours.”

You kissed his shoulder, placing your head on the same spot afterwards and letting your finger trace patterns on his skin. You were satisfied, and happier than you’ve been in a while, you didn’t care how long it took him to recover as long as he’d still want to fuck when it happened.

“Maybe we’ll both wake up for a midnight snack,” you murmured in Tim’s neck, biting the soft spot a little.

Tim’s voice was a bit out of breath, and he tried to keep it even-pitched as he spoke. You felt his hand travel to your buttock and squeeze the meat. “I always crave something sweet in the middle of the night,” he half-whispered, placing a kiss on top of your head.

please leave a comment and reblog if you liked this fic!

#iamasaddie fic #tim rockford x female reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford fic #tim rockford smut #pedro pascal fanfiction

[runa-falls]

scratches and bites - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Could be a little off-canon for some characters, lots of plot, slight angst, Miguel is an helicopter mom, reader just wants some friends :(

a/n: ok. i didn't realize how much i wanted to put into this chapter so spicy stuff is coming NEXT chapter. promith. i've already written some of it. anyway, i'm glad y'all are enjoying my O'Hara content. I hope this lives up to your expectations lmfao

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. This is what you've been doing since he swept you away.

w/c: 2.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

So being “Spider-Woman” turned out to be harder than you thought. It’s not all swinging from and shooting webs like you imagined. Apparently, there’s a spider-specific physical regimen you’re required to keep up with. Every day. 

You’re almost convinced that you’re being hazed into the spider-verse community because you are yet to see anyone else doing upside-down web squats on a 100-story building. Not to mention the life-threatening training simulations you were thrown into as soon as you arrived in Nueva York. 

“They can’t hurt you, Kid. They’re holograms.” 

“Yeah, that’s what they want you to think O’Hara, but my ass has been kicked enough to prove differently.”

“Alright, well they can’t kill you.”

Miguel has been “training” you for the last few months to become the best Spider-Woman you can be, pushing you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. Though these days, this “training” is actually just him telling Parker to drill you in whatever he thinks will work. 

O’Hara attempted to do it himself for like three days, and it turns out he’s too impatient to take in a spider apprentice or even be in a room where you do anything but exactly what he commands. 

You should’ve expected it. 

Sure, Miguel is a naturally grumpy man, but you swear he has it out for you. He literally tenses whenever you enter the room and makes sure to barely meet your eyes when he’s forced to talk to you.

Actually, ever since you were dropped in the middle of Spider-Central, O’Hara has been ignoring you. Treating you like the plague. Always making the excuse that he’s too busy with things that are far more important than anything you’d ever have to say. As if he wasn’t the one who forced you to come with him in the first place…

It’s not fair. He was literally all you had. 

Months ago, he showed you a side of him, the one that convinced you that he actually brought you here for a reason, but now he can’t even look at you. Sure, you’re a particularly slow learner, and one that never really liked PE, but you deserve some slack. You left everything for him – for them. 

Meeting people who’ve gone through similar circumstances as you was quite interesting, to say the least. And it doesn’t stop at people either. Spider cars, dinosaurs, and cats were just the beginning. 

You’ve made a few friends. There’s Gwen, a 15 (or was it 16?) -year-old who mostly talks about her friend Miles, music, and…uh, Miles. It’s sweet how she gushes on about some guy without fully realizing how into him she is. Miles sounds great, really great, but you’ll probably never get to meet him because of the number of restrictions placed on your watch. Fucking O’Hara and his parental controls. 

Gwen is cool, she plays the drums and can do a bunch of acrobatic things that you’d never even attempt, but she’s also almost a half-decade younger than you. There’s only so much you can talk about before you start getting homesick. Of course, despite her young age, she’s still given more responsibilities and missions than you. If Miguel has one hobby, it would be undermining everything you do. 

“She’s been in the game longer than you have.” He always makes that excuse. 

And you always counter it with: “But I’m older! I can do more than just scream for help!”

“This isn’t a discussion.” That honestly might be his favorite phrase to shut you up these days. “You’ll be called on when you’re ready, Kid.” And that. 

“I am ready. And stop calling me that. I’m not a kid, I’m 20 years old!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

There’s also Peter Parker, your reluctant coach. He’s…something else. Sure, he’s your friend, but he’s more like a substitute teacher and crazy uncle type of guy. Usually, he listens to everything Miguel says, acting like a glorified babysitter, but sometimes, he’s up to bend the rules on some things.

Once he let you visit his dimension, claiming you’d need some real-life experience as a “friendly-neighborhood spider-woman”. You spent that day chasing down petty robbers and helping old ladies cross the road. Sure, it was a small field trip, but that was only the third dimension you’d traveled to at the time. 

Parker is also always trying to get you to hold his daughter whenever she comes to work claiming that “it’ll be good for your mental health, trust me.” Of course, for Parker, every day is “bring-your-kid-to-train-the-new-spider-woman-day”. And really, you don’t mind holding her, but not when you’re in the middle of sparing 5 of Doc Ocks tentacles. 

The baby is adorable, but you do worry about how she crawls up the walls. Parker doesn’t seem fazed. Actually, neither does O’Hara. 

Sometimes you wonder if O’Hara wants kids one day. He certainly handles Mayday like a pro, letting her crawl over his shoulders and paperwork. Would he possibl– No, actually, it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, because he left you. He’s not – couldn’t even be an option. – Anyway…

Parker and Mayday are nice company and the only real constants in your life, but you really just want to be a consistent part of the team. You don’t know how much longer you can spend your days doing swinging drills and spider crunches (don’t even ask). But Parker has actually been your rock these past months, to give him credit. He’s one of the few people that makes you feel like you belonged in this distorted array of spiders and dimensions.

Then there’s Hobie. 

The first time you met him you probably had literal stars in your eyes. Donned with a spiked vest and several facial piercings, he caught your attention right away. He catches everyone’s attention. Even his suit is cooler than everyone else’s with a spiked mohawk that surely gets in the way.

Unfortunately, just as you were hoping to take on the Brit as your mentor for all things spider, he was decidedly off-limits, courtesy of O’Hara. Apparently, his rebellious nature and brash energy make him a “bad influence”. 

“Seriously? You should be glad that I’m taking a bigger interest in my training.” You have your hands posted up on your hips, trying to make yourself look bigger than you actually are. Damn, O’Hara and his domineering presence!

He rolls his eyes openly, genuinely already done with the conversation. “Yeah…your ‘training,’ sure.” 

“What is that supposed to mean!” You practically whine it out.

“Don’t get distracted gatita, just do as you’re told.”

“Ok, what does that mean? I don’t speak Italian.”

“That was Spanish dumbass.”

Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hanging out with him anyway (though he’s not around as much anymore). Who knew making friends as Spider-Person would be so hard. You’d think you’d have a lot in common with everyone around you, but really, you’re all alone. Sometimes you think the spiders actually resent you deep down because you’re the only one that has never lost anything. Or had anything to lose in the first place. 

For now, you’re just moving through a sea of spiders, trying to catch a glimpse of what you’re supposed to be doing here. Trying to figure out why you were chosen over the infinite other versions of you in the multiverse.

—

So far you’ve been on 2 and a half missions. The half was when you were forcibly sent home and effectively grounded for a week. Apparently, talking to civilians while standing guard is prohibited, even when they’re selling dip’n’dots. What? It was a long ass mission. And it was hot! 

This one is your official third mission. It’s quite simple, in theory. Just travel to Earth-275A, infiltrate a tech lab, pick up some – worryingly volatile – equipment, and go home. Easy. 

Except, it didn’t exactly go that way. 

It’s just you, Miguel, Gwen, and Jess on this mission. You and Jess were placed on lookout duty (you on the roof and Jess on the ground with her bike), while Miguel and Gwen broke in and out of the building. It was all running smoothly, each spider occasionally muttering quietly through the radio whenever their positionings changed. Otherwise, it was silent. And frankly, a bit boring. 

You idly kicked around some pebbles that somehow found their way onto the roof of this tall ass building, sometimes smacking them against the half wall separating you from falling a thousand feet downwards. You were actually dying to get back to HQ because you briefly spotted Hobie talking to Parker and Mayday before you had to go. He’s been quite absent lately, and you want to show off some of the new moves you learned this week.

Then, there was suddenly action. 

A huge explosion surges out the right side of the building that O’Hara and Stacy were infiltrating. That mission plan was not kidding when they described the ‘volatility’ of the shit inside of those supply crates. Deep creaking and smashing objects follow the blast. You watch as the tallest building in the city starts to tilt. Shit, the explosion must’ve taken out some of the support beams.

You hear Miguel yelling your name through your earpiece, as well as heavy breathing and crumbling concrete in the background. 

“Y-yes? Copy–”

“You and Gwen collect the crate and get out of here. I already called for a portal. Jess and I will get surrounding civilians away from danger.” 

“Understood, sir.” You don’t usually call him anything like ‘sir’, but the stakes are high and complete compliance is needed at this moment. 

“Crate is located on the top floor, Stacy is already there waiting for my word.” You briefly shake yourself out, mentally preparing yourself to scale the larger building in front of you.

With a quick fwp, you attach your web to the nearly as tall building next to your target to give yourself some leverage. You jump without even giving yourself time to think about it, tugging slightly at the web, making sure to collect as much kinetic energy as possible. You release the web when you get to the highest point and spit out another web to get you to the top floor of the building. Luckily the blast took out the windows so you could easily enter the floor. 

There, Gwen stands next to a crate with several scientists and guards nicely pasted onto the walls with perfectly placed webs on each limb and over their abdomens. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“It’s been 30 seconds!”

“Relax, I’m teasing.” She shoots out a couple of webs and connects them to the crate. “Here, help me out with this.” You follow her movements, pulling at your webs slightly to get a good evaluation of its weight. Surprisingly, it moves quite easily, almost three inches from your soft tug.

“Why’re we both doing this when it weighs 100 lbs. We have super strength.”

“I dunno, Miguel just gave us the orders. There’s probably a reason. It doesn’t really matter.” You frown realizing you could’ve been down there helping O’Hara save actual lives but instead, you were ordered to assist a teenager on a one-person job. “The portal is opening in a few seconds on the roof of the building behind us.” Gwen doesn’t seem phased. “We can just swing it with us.”

“Isn’t this shit going to blow up if we move it too harshly?”

“Not when it’s in this protective crate.” She steps closer to the broken window, mentally measuring and planning out the escape route. “That explosion earlier was from an open container.” You hum, still torn over leaving Gwen to do the delivery so you can help people get out of the way faster. “You ready then?” She’s been watching you. Clearly, your thoughts are painted on your face.

You nod briefly, “Let’s go.” Together you take each side of the crate and use your other arms to swing yourselves over to the portal that magically appears. This time, that odd purring sound of the portal is completely blocked out by the chaos going on around you. Somehow the building has still only tilted a little bit since the explosion. 

As Gwen pushes the crate into the gateway, you look down at the streets, watching as Miguel and Jess work impeccably together as they save hundreds of civilians from falling debris and the inevitable demolition of the building.

Then you look back a Gwen, who’s ready to head home. Then you look down at them again. 

Then your eye catches on a red sedan sheltering a terrified family that sits under the chaos.

Gwen catches your eye. “Don’t.” 

“I have to.” 

“Migu–”

“Would do the same.”

“--Will mur-der me.” You sigh, but quickly shoot a couple of webs downwards without looking. Gwen has her arms folded, sharing that unamused expression that Jess loves to sport. Her feet are now temporarily stuck to the floor. You’re sure she could get out of it in a second, but you can tell, she’s not going to stop you. “Don’t die.”

Right before jumping off the ledge, you send her a cheesy smirk, “Me? Never.”

----

Taglist: @deputy-videogamer @danaeaurelia @reuxxi

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #spider-man

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Regarding noncon and dubcon content..

Trigger warnings to those who feel uncomfortable with the mention of the topic even though some of the terms are censored.

Recently I've seen a lot of content regarding the noncon and dubcon content and though I do interact and like some of them.. the lacking of tags and warnings is extremely concerning. Yes I know that some people are into cnc however some of these are out of hand. I also don't promote it in my page.

I've seen a few straight up romanticizing abuse and my gosh was seeing my comfort character so out of character worse than forcing myself to finish "It Ends With Us" by Coleen Hoover.

I'm glad @shoukiko spoke up about the matter and that @puff0o0 has been helping comfort those of you have been traumatized by this kind of writing. Everyone should be aware of their internet consumption, this especially applies for writers who should also be aware of what they're putting out there and labeling accordingly.

I also saw in puff's recent post of a requester asking for comfort hcs and god do I feel bad for those people who have suffered seeing that kind of content. Soon I might write some comfort hcs of CoD characters in a relationship, LIKE A GENUINE, REALISTIC (?) ONE OF NORMAL PEOPLE IN A RELATIONSHIP. Not anything that has to do with them being a r***st, ab***r, pr*d***r or any of the sort.

Because I've seen a few posts like saying that was their actual hcs of these characters especially a lot of straight up of the ch*ld p*rn, r*p* and I have never felt more disgusted, revolted, sick and shocked in my whole life seeing what they wrote and seeing how serious it was..

If you see it, DO NOT HARASS THOSE CREATORS, DON'T EVEN INTERACT IN A NEGATIVE WAY. If you wish to confront then do it the civil way, all the bullying and death threats are not necessary or welcome. You all should know better than that and should be far more mature.

This isn't directed to anybody or to any means, you do you if you want to read that content however it's uncomfortable, even disturbing for most people.

I understand that writing is an art and it's free for everyone but please for the sake of some people, do add tags, trigger warnings and just warnings in general. This also applies to those who promote that kind of content.

@wishesforyou @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld

#aethelwyne lia writes #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod headcanons #ghost x you #aethelwyne lia answers #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi!

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

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

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

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

'Til it Hurts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

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

Word Count: 12.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A city now filled with killers. 

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

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

Not good. 

Shit. Karver, where did you go!? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So that was where you came in. 

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

Mostly because of situations like this.

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

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

None of this was going to plan.

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

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

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

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

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

A man, then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll never get it out of me-”

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

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

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

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

Have they seen murder? 

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

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

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

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

Your mark has been met. 

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

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

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

The Reaper. 

Oh, what would they think of you now? 

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An easily recognizable ringtone starts to play. 

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

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

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

“Hm,” their command affirms.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brows furrow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Price grunts under his breath. 

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

Someone’s in a hurry. But from what?

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir?” But the inquiry is ignored.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re right. It’s not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d say,” Gaz mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room is more silent than Ghost is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Ghost. 

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

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

Mutt was the worst of them.

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

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

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

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

Your ears twitch. 

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

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

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

“Sir!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

But there were ups to this constant downward slope. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows furrow.

He was never mean to me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If I had known…you frown. 

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

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

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

Like blood lining the street. 

You force yourself to run faster.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t look away.

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

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

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

Your Captain scurries after. 

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

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

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

You supposed manners were a foreign concept around here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Were you…afraid? That…that wasn’t it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

I need new intel. Badly.

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

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

Your cheeks heat. 

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

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

Shit. Your hips trade weight. Look at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hadn’t he changed even a little bit? 

“Now that’s dark.” 

“Never said it wasn’t.”

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

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

They had died a long time ago.

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

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

Stop that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes blankly follow where you were looking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brit.” You spit with fake venom.

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

He sounded…entertained? Snide in a sarcastic way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, where are we–” 

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

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

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

Boxed in. 

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

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

You don’t bother watching him drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A wide grin is stuck on you.

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

Oh, hell, when she smiles like that…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tossing his head up, he motions with urgency.  

“C’mon. Be quick ‘bout it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were few people worthy of that.

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

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

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

You’d never had sex before.

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

He sighs heavily and follows in silence.

—

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

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

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

You could forget about it. You should. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did they do this to you? 

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#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #cod x you #cod mw22 #cod smut #cod x reader #cod #mw2 fanfic #mw2 2022 #mw2 #mw2 x reader #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x you #ghost mw2 #captain johnathan price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #simon riley #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod fanfic #x reader smut #x fem!reader #x female reader

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hey its me who asked for your The Unexpected Guest, and it was brilliant! I love the idea of part 2 it makes more sense!

I loved your idea of once they get to Rivendell Thorins and readers feelings are explored and some spicy stuff happens

Thank you, and love your work!☺️x

(I'm really glad you enjoyed it! I'm really sorry for the wait for part 2 - uni work, work work and writer's block are not a great combo and I didn't want to rush this (this part also got WAY longer than I thought it would), plus I've made some minor edits to part 1 since I wasn't totally happy with it - been a hot minute since I wrote smut so I hope this is ok :D thank you all for being so patient and I hope you enjoy!!)

(link for part 1 - warning for NSFW content below, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it))

ghivashel - treasure of all treasures, amralime - my love

An Unexpected Guest pt.2 (Thorin x AFAB!fem!human!reader)

The journey to Rivendell was taxing on all of you, though you couldn't help but feel most sorry for Bilbo. The hobbit was so new to adventuring - you doubted he had ever been out of the Shire before now - and you had decided to support him wherever you could as a helping hand. Just helping him set up camp, saddling his pony in the morning, offering him water, little gestures seemed to make a difference in his demeanor.

Spending time with the hobbit to keep his morale up, especially after the troll attack, did mean that it was getting harder to find a spare moment with Thorin. The two of you had spoken much more frequently since his confession, and you wished for more time, but the whole group was in poor spirits as it was. While they were all happy for you, public displays of affection were just likely to irritate everyone further. And Thorin's burden of leadership would likely not be eased while you were still on the road. For the moment, all you could do was keep moving and offer comfort to whoever needed it.

Needless to say, arriving at Rivendell was a weight off your shoulders. Even if the dwarves tried to pick a fight with Elrond.

You had all taken your time to settle in and relax, having taken full advantage of the elves' hospitality (and you were forever grateful for being able to feel clean after the long journey). When the group of you were provided with dinner and the inevitable food fight broke out, you were happy to see how everyone's spirits had been lifted. However, you couldn't help but notice your One stood to the side. There was a content smile on his face, but you could easily see the tension that still bristled through him.

You soon found him after everybody had retreated to their rooms for the night. It was hard not to hear him - the pacing in his room seemed to echo through the hallway, if only slightly. Raising your hand, you softly knocked at the door, hoping that he wouldn't be too stubborn to talk to you.

"Come in."

Even his tone of voice betrayed his stress. He visibly relaxed when you entered the room though, shutting the door behind you, and you felt glad to at least be some comfort.

You smiled in greeting, and spoke softly. "Will you tell me what's going on with you?"

"I assure you, I am fine. Do not trouble yourself."

You closed the distance between you hesitantly, giving him the chance to back away, and took his hands. "Please, Thorin. I can see something is troubling you."

"I am just... concerned. About the future of this quest, about everyone's safety." You saw a struggle in his mind of not wanting to be vulnerable, but he seemed to give in, and sighed in defeat. "I fear that people are going to be hurt because of me."

"Oh, my love..." you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. "You are the best leader any of us could ask for, and I promise you that you will not be the cause of any hurt."

He gently pulled back and looked into your eyes. "You truly believe that?"

"Of course I do. Those in this company are strong and intelligent. Perhaps with the exception of your nephews," you chuckled, and Thorin couldn't help but smile. "They are all capable of making their own decisions. They knew the risks of coming along, but they have all chosen to join anyway because they saw a courageous dwarf that they wanted to follow."

"I only want to do right by my people."

"And you will. We all have faith in you."

He pressed his forehead to yours again. "You're far too good to me, ghivashel," he murmured.

"All I want is for you to be happy, my love."

And with that, you tilted your head up and kissed him, your fingers tracing his cheekbones as you pulled him closer. It wasn't rushed and clumsy, as it was when Thorin first confessed, but slow and loving, every movement of your lips against his a confession of love in itself. His hands found their way to your waist and pulled you flush against him, trying to feel as much of you as possible.

When you separated to take a breath, meeting his lust-filled gaze was all the encouragement you needed.

"I wonder if there's any way I could relieve some of your stress..." Your tone was playful as you slid your hands achingly slowly down Thorin's chest, and you heard him inhale as you stopped just at his hips.

"Amralime, are you sure? If we start I will not want to hold back."

"I trust you, Thorin." You smiled and nodded towards the double bed. "And we may as well take advantage of the luxury while we have it."

He smirked. "I'm beginning to think you came here just to bed me."

"Hey, I would never-"

Your sarcastic reply was cut off by him kissing you again, with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before. Maybe you had awakened something long kept under control, but any coherent thought of that was soon lost when he shrugged the furs off his shoulders and his fingers found the hem of your shirt.

Soon becoming restless feeling him trace the curves of your waist, you broke away from the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt off. Thorin did the same, and after some hurried fumbling between more stolen kisses, you were both undressed. His hands never left your body as he backed you up towards the bed.

"You are so beautiful, ghivashel..." he murmured, lips trailing along your jawline and down your neck. It was so easy to get lost in the sensation, but when he tried to sit you down on the bed, you stopped him.

"Tonight is about you, my love." You turned the two of you around and gently pushed him back to sit down, taking the time to admire his toned body as you knelt in front of him.

Thorin's eyes were wide with surprise and he almost looked as if he wanted to protest, but the twitch of his already hard cock gave him away.

"You... you don't have to-"

"I want to." His breath hitched when your lips traced his thigh, and you smiled. "Relax, my king..."

Any further protest was soon lost when you leaned forward and licked a long stripe up his length, wrenching a gasp from his lips. Your movements were slow, mapping out every inch of him with kitten licks until he was writhing impatiently before you, until you were done teasing and sucked his tip into your mouth.

The room was filled with the sounds of breathy groans and muttered Khuzdul that you could barely focus on as you continued. Thorin twisted his fingers into your hair when you began taking him inch by inch into your mouth - his grip was firm, but never controlling - and when you started bobbing your head he was certain that he must've been dreaming.

Looking up at him and pressing your thighs together to suppress your own arousal, you watched his head tilt back in ecstasy every time you pressed your tongue flat against his tip when you rose. The sounds he made were so beautiful that it was becoming more and more difficult to control yourself. Fortunately, it seemed you wouldn't need to for much longer. You felt the tension in his body increase with every bob of your head, every swipe of your tongue, and as your movements grew faster you wrapped your hand around the base to stroke what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Yet, when you next looked up at him, he gently pushed you away, denying himself climax.

"Is everything alright, my love?"

He leant down for a brief kiss, still breathing heavily, and nodded. "That was... incredible." He took your hands and guided you to stand, then pulled you closer to straddle his lap.

"Then-" You inhaled sharply feeling his lips and teeth over your throat. "Then why didn't you let me finish?"

Thorin didn't answer for a moment, too busy creating a cluster of pink marks along your neck. When he was satisfied with his work, he tugged your hips down to press his hard length against you.

"Because I want to finish inside you, amralime."

You simply nodded, feeling too flustered and on edge to offer any sort of response beyond a whispered, "Please..."

Thorin stood up holding you, his lips continuing their assault on your neck, and carefully laid you down in the center of the bed. He slotted himself between your legs and wasted no time in moving to prepare you. Pausing to receive a nod of consent, he slid one thick finger into you, and you gasped at the sudden feeling. He soon added a second when you began rocking your hips against his hand impatiently, begging for more.

"Patience," he chuckled. "I do not want to hurt you."

"I don't care." You moaned breathlessly with every curl of his fingers. It felt like so much already, but still not enough. "I need you now, Thorin."

"Who would I be to deny my queen?"

He withdrew his fingers and you immediately pulled him forward to kiss you, a soft gasp being pulled from you when he ground his hips against you, ever so lightly pressing against your clit. Holding himself up over you with one hand, he used the other to guide his tip to your entrance and, swallowing your cries in the kiss, he slowly pushed into you.

His hand found yours and your fingers intertwined while he waited for any signs of your discomfort to fade. It was an uncomfortable stretch to fit his thick cock, but it soon became a welcome sensation, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to urge him on.

He moved carefully at first, until your cries of pain became cries of pleasure, and soon his hips snapped back against you much more firmly. Each thrust hit so deep inside of you, filling you up so perfectly, and his fingers gripped your hips almost tight enough to bruise. You clutched onto him tightly, trying to stay grounded amongst the sensations. One hand was buried in his hair, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, the other was digging into his back, leaving scratches that you were sure would last a few days at least. Though it didn't seem to bother him - every time you dug your nails into his back, it seemed to be encouragement, and he relentlessly kept up his pace. It was firm and deep, but never rough, though part of you wondered how hard he would go if you asked.

With each thrust, you bucked your hips to meet him, trying to get more friction to ignite the coil of heat growing in your core. Thorin's moans soon grew louder, despite him trying to remain as quiet as he could, and when his rhythm grew unsteady his fingers slipped down to circle your clit as his teeth latched onto your neck again.

"Ghivashel..." he murmured, his voice strained. "I'm so close..."

Your mind was spinning with pleasure, and you felt yourself reaching your peak as well. "I am too..." you panted.

His hips shifted just enough to hit a spot inside you to make you see stars, and along with the attention on your clit and your neck, it was enough to push you over the edge. Your grip on him tightened as the coil snapped and heat spread through your body, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your cry of pleasure.

It seemed to last forever, and in your pleasure-filled haziness you registered Thorin also growing tense, and you heard his deep groan as he reached his climax and came inside of you. He felt so perfect, and you both stayed clinging onto each other, lost for breath, until you both came to.

Still catching his breath, he kissed your forehead and pulled out to lie next to you, and you couldn't help but whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He lay on his side, facing you, and brought your hand up to his lips. "You are so wonderful, amralime."

You smiled softly and shuffled closer, putting an arm over his waist and tucking your head under his. "So are you, my king."

You glanced back at the door to the room and chuckled.

"What is it?"

"Maybe we should lock the door next time."

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit smut #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit imagine #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #thorin imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin smut #thorin x reader smut #thorin x reader lemon

[atierrorian]

Could I request Lilia Vanrouge helping his SO dye their hair? (Reader is the SO, if that wasn’t clear.)

Dyeing the hair

Context: He got a hair dye.

Warning: None.

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge

Note: It might be ooc but I haven't exactly been playing TWST for a long time now because I've been losing interest and I'm really busy. But I'll try my best to post as much as I can!

"Are you sure you want to do this Lilia?" You sweatdropped while you held the magenta dye in your hand. Weirded out by the sudden request Lilia had demanded of you a few minutes ago. You had never even dyed someone's hair before in your entire life.

He nodded, "Yes, I'm sure I want to do this." He was already sitting down, waiting for you to start.

You sigh as you realize you really aren't gonna get out of this. But you do wonder why he chose you of all people, after all, he knows you have ZERO experience in this. You're worried you might accidentally do something bad to his hair...

"Why me? Out of all the others you seriously chose me? I think I have to remind you that I have no experience in this." You gently grabbed Lilia's new haircut that was caused by Malleus.

"Because I trust you."

"Do not say something you'll regret afterwards my love. Because I can assure you this will turn into a disaster."

And after a few minutes of bickering with each other, you decided to give in. It's tiring having to argue with him about something like this knowing he would not let up. You sigh as you begin to start the process and silently pray in your head to the Thorn Fairy that this will go smoothly.

"Please don't let this end in a disaster..."

After a few hours, you looked proudly at your handy work. It wasn't too bad and it actually looks nice! It also suits him so that was a plus as well. Lilia looked content with your work as well and pecked you on the lips for a good job.

"Thank you, my dear, this really looks nice! And it suits me." He said as he continued to admire his newly dyed hair. You nodded with a small smirk on your face while you clean up.

"I'm just glad that it didn't end in a disaster, who knows what would have happened... Besides, your haircut is already a disaster, so I'm glad I didn't make it worse." You muttered the last sentence to yourself. You don't know whether he heard you or not, but it didn't matter because he was still looking in the mirror.

After you cleaned up, you were about to go to your room and take a nap until Lilia suddenly grabbed your hand and kissed you on the lips.

You were, understandably, surprised and didn't even get to mutter a word when he pulled away and smirked.

"And another for complying with my request."

THE END.

BONUS:

"Oh, so that's how your hair is like?"

"Yup! All thanks to my amazing love!"

"I'm surprised they even complied in the first place..."

"As expected from them! They are always amazing and talented!"

#atier's works✎ #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Twst scenario #twst fluff #lilia vanrouge x reader

[aeor-is-for-reccing]

Happy Birthday, Aeor is For Reccing!

One year ago today (give or take a couple hours), we published our first rec list. To celebrate, I (Opera) have prepared some stats. A little bit like a reccing wrapped, only with a smaller budget and being less creepy about your data.

But thank you to everyone who has recced, every one who has read the reclist, everyone who has reblogged, everyone who has kudosed, to @professor-rye and @theusualjasper, and everyone who helped along the way.

I'm glad we've gotten this far!

To start: We've had 685 recs, 478 fics, 210 Authors, 53 reclists and 43 themes.

Most Recced Authors: (1) Mousecookie - 25 recs (1) royalgreen - 25 recs (3) SaltCore - 21 recs (4) hanap - 15 recs (5) kmackatie - 14 recs (5) Chrome - 14 recs (5) Firefright - 14 recs (8) Mlle Kurtz - 12 recs (9) road_rhythm - 11 recs (9) MinnesotaBruja - 11 recs (9) LuckyOwlsFoot - 11 recs (9) MarsBar2019 - 11recs

Authors with the most fics recced: (1) royalgreen - 18 fics (2) SaltCore - 13 fics (2) hanap - 13 fics (4) Mousecookie - 12 fics (5) kmackatie - 10 fics (5) LuckyOwlsFoot - 10 fics (7) Firefright - 9 fics (7) Jakia - 9 fics (9) Professor_Rye - 8 fics (9) Mlle Kurtz - 8 fics

Fics recced the highest number of times: Hard Mouth and The Hole in the Stone, both recced 8 times Fic recced the most number of times for a single theme: In the Closet of Our Discretion, by Firefright for Cultural Differences (recced 4 times) Longest fic recced: Dappled Shadow and Penumbral Light by Professor_Rye (463,977) Shortest fic recced: Of Constellations and Freckles, also by Professor_Rye (100 words) First fic Recced:  Stay for a Spell by Palebluedot Latest fic Recced: Uncharted Waters by EmpressofWizards

Word Cloud based on what people like about the fics:

Most common content note: Choose Not To Warn Number of Series recced: 16 Percentage of Hidden Gems that are No Longer eligible (have over 150 kudos):  48% (check them out!) Number of Images Rai has Used: 27

So what's next?

Well, the absolute next thing is that sometime this week I'm going to post the reccing spreadsheet for everyone to see - if people want to look through old recs, they should feel free to! Then there's the ideas I had from the survey a few months ago - chief among them was making it easier to import information from AO3 (you'd still be able to rec fics that can't be imported or on tumblr, I'm just trying to remove some of the hassle) I'm still doing research on the best way to make that happen, and kind of selfishly want to do it myself - but it's been a busy couple of months for me.

Speaking of which - I'm having surgery in a month! A double masectomy and reconstruction on February 19 (roughly equivalent to top surgery (masculinizing)) and February 20th (roughly equivalent to top surgery (femininzing- fat grafting)). Kind of like they're turning my chest on and off again - a ctrl-alt-deteat, if you will. Anyway, I don't want cancer, but everyone I've talked to about this has said the stomach incision is worse than the chest incision, and nobody's ever described top surgery as a walk in the park. I'm planning on doing absolutely nothing for six weeks, and @theusualjasper will be taking over during that time.

Anyway, here's to another year! Thanks to everyone who has participated or helped along the way, you're all great. Even you <3

#not a rec list #shadowgast #shadowgast recs #stats

[zaacoy]

Lego monkie kid season 4 spoilers ‼️

(heyyyyy note from after finishing writing all this out: this first one is just me going crazy over debatable freenoodles content in s4, you have been warned. Everything in here is /pos!! teehee)

WOW. OKAY. WHAHSJJSJnsjabsjanJSdWHHWJH????? The effect this show has on me is almost beyond my comprehension, not even really sure how to put this into words

iiiiiiiiiiii'll figure that stuff out when it isn't 3 am, it'll be a little rb thread whatever that's called on Tumblr

For rn can we please talk about how stRONGLY FREENOODLES WON WITH THIS SEASON????? WHAGAHT??????? ISHDKSJBSKX!!!!!!!!

FIRST FRSIT FIRST.

The FACT that tang KNOWS EXACTLY how Pigsy makes his noodles from memory if not by HEART??? He has no recipe on him and pigsy can't help he just????? KNOWS pigsy's noodles recipe. Something that is VERY important to him and is unique to his family??? And to which the ONLY other person we know of that also knows pigsy's recipe is mk. His adopted son???? The only people pigsy has EVER told his recipe to is his basically son mk and TANG. OR, POTENTIALLY, Tang has spent so much time sitting right by pigsy's side as he works, watching him indulge in his passion day in and day out to the point where he's just picked it up on his own?? EITHER WAY. HUSBAND BEHAVIOR.

"I'm your tangy!" he. he did not just say that. "I'm YOUR TANGY"????? 'YOUR' POSSESIVE. BASICALLY "IM YOURS". AND NOT YOUR Tang, TANGY. A PETNAME/NICKNAME. WITH THAT EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE????????? H. HWHWJGSJ???? HOW did they get away with this I genuinely wanna know. That is SO GAY. CATASTROPHICALLY GAY. "YOUR TANGY". I am dead on the floor.

"I have devoted my life to this man" elaborate on that. nonono keep going, what did you mean by that. How do you platonically devOTE YOUR LIFE TO ANOTHER MAN????? THAT IS THE MOST OBVIOUS INDIRECT WAY YOU CAN SAY YOU'RE MARRIED. THIS E N T I R E SCENE HOW DID THEY GET AWAY WITH THIS???? HOW do you a man devote your life to another man in a nongay way, Tang. Asking for a friend I just wanna know

The look of awe. He is literally stunned. No fear no nothing just. woww what is my husband doing. Gay gay homosexual.

what.

THE.

FUCK.

In. In what UNIVERSE is leaping into someone's arm, NUZZLING AGAINST THEM BECAUSE YOU'RE SO HAPPY TO SEE THEM AGAIN, AND THEN STAYING CURLED UP IN THEIR ARMS ,BOTH OF YOU BEAMING AT ONE ANOTHER, NOT GAY. I. That's. I'm. HfhdhsggdwghwWHAWT???? They are so married. They are so gay for each other. I. I cannot even fathom. Not even going to get INTO THAT GIGGLE WHAT WAS THAAAAAAT.

Slight side note, glad to see a head canon validated! The little nuzzle thing was a cute little gesture that I've always hc'ed onto Tang pretty much from the beginning of my freenoodlesshipping journey. Watching it HAPPEN in canon??? Feels good >:3 He's a snuggler fr

almost got a 2 for one, I hc tang to be the kind of person that doesn't really stutter or close off when he gets flustered he just starts laughing. It'll start out as soft chuckles and giggling but it just grows deeper and louder the more flustered he gets. Pigsy, being completely enamored with his man, tends to fall into a laughing fit with him and then they just become a flustered happy giggling heep in each other's arms. Sooo close, I won't stretch Tang's little giggle so far as to say that that hc is also basically canon, WILL use this scene to justify it tho :3c

"it's beautiful" AS A RESPONSE TO PIGSY KICKING ASS??? HOW DO YOU NONROMANTICALLY CALL YOUR "FRIEND" BEAUTIFUL JUST CASUALLY. UNPROMPTED. OUT OF THEIR EARSHOT. WHAT????? Why. Why are they so?? wghshdj

Some quick fire more general freenoodles moments:

"Oh, Pigsy where are you?" The first person he thinks to look for is Pigsy? Pigsy specifically? Not sandy or monkie king, pigsy. mmmmhm.

Talking back to a demon that is cooking you as we speak by praising your definitely not husband the entire time? Very straight. That's a very straight look they're giving each other too. Yes, very (/sar)

Just. How happy and excited he looks watching pigsy cook and get back into his thing? They're so wholesome. Old supportive married couple

"Doesn't that moron know we're his family?" Dadsszszs

the look of support and encouragement. They're so soft they make my heart hurt

:glance:

Trying to support each other, quite literally having each other's backs when in danger

Holding onto your husband and trying to protect your husband by extending an arm out in front of him respectively

Pigsy doing his thing and Tang being COMPLETELY there for it. Look at him. That content prideful expression on his face. Pride in his husband. Two kick ass husbands and their two unimpressed, frustrated children. Also find it cute how Pigsy made a bunch of food and then actively weaponized it but still went out of his way to make Tang in specific a nice bowl. Not the other two, just Tang.

IN CONCLUSION: 🏳️‍🌈🐷🍜

It is 4 aaaaaammmmmmm, goodnightttt prepare for more delusional ramblings later in the week I have so many tang thought jfjfn

#TLDR: zaacoy goes off their rocker and explodes about freenoodles #They are so real to me #lmk season 4 #lmk s4 spoilers #monkie kid season 4 #Sorry for the really long insane rambling #It will happen again 😔 #lmk freenoodles #freenoodleshipping #Zaacoy rambles🌙

[speckle-meow-meow]

STOP YOU DID SO WELL!!!!!!!!!

I know this is a lot all of a sudden but you're my favorite writer writing about my favorite fandom!

But if you aren't busy at all, can we get Eddie and Frank being parents to an emotionless (something happened and now they don't show any emotions) teen reader who only seems to show emotions around Wally or butterflies?

Like how do you think they'd react?

Your fine! I honestly didn't expect people to like my content so soon lmao!!

It took me so long to fine a goddamn image with these to together holy cap.

Edit: I had an idea that readers emotionless would relate to abuse but I completely forgot abt it so no trigger warning I'm terribly sorry about that.

Eddie and frank felt that their house was always missing something

It felt so empty

Until one day

You came falling from the sky

Right next to eddie

You of course startled him but he soon gained his composer

He was surprised to see a child? (again to them your still a kid)

But he realized that you might have been hurt due to the fall so he carried you all the way to him and Franks residents

Since Frank has a vast knowledge of many things Eddie thought he could help you

But they don't really have a concept of fleshy bodies nor injuries at least not cuts or blood

Only bruises

But he did the best he could

It's been at least 3 days since they brought you to their place

They fixed up the guest bed room to be yours since they figured you didn't have a home

When you woke up you seemed so neutral

Definitely not normal

At least to them

They asked you questions and you answered with a monotone voice

They practically adopted you after a week of having you

You were the thing, or person that they've been needing

To fill that empty space

After month you were able to leave their home with or without them

But you usually stayed by their side choosing to

The first person to really see your emotions was Frank

He was in his butterfly dome and you joined him

Frank was studying a new butterfly that he had captured, after a while he started to hear soft giggling.

Soon the giggles turned into laughs of joy

Frank turned to see you well a form of you, you were covered head to toe in butterflies, laughing, smiling.

He's glad you were able to show emotions to at least something, he was also extatic to know that it was butterflies.

After a while you decided to join Eddie on his journey to deliver mail to the other residents and friends

You went to every house

The last one was the home of Wally darling

A small yellow man with blue puffy hair

Puffy hair that you couldn't resist to touch

You stared in awe of the blue haired man or puppet.

And wally noticed

"Well hello neighbor!" Wally said greeting you.

You didn't say anything only stared

You didn't even hear Eddie say to wally about you being emotionless and a bit mute

Before both of them knew it you were touching Wally's hair like it was a cat, making sure not to rough it up or destroy it.

Wally of course was surprised but chuckled and invited you into his home allowing Eddie to continue delivering mail.

Before Eddie left he told you he'd be back to pick you up.

You spent the rest of your day with Wally laughing and smiling. He became your uncle.

It's been 2 years now you still haven't seemed to age but you didn't mind

Your parents still haven't seen any emotions from you

Unless your with Wally or the butterflies

Which makes them sad

But you slowly show them emotions little by little which is definitely progress

Progress that they will cherish

{Thank you anon for requesting another fic! And I'm glad you liked the last one! And as always hearts and re-blogs are always welcomed along with requests and questions!}

#x reader #gender nuetral reader #fluff #welcome home x reader #platonic x reader #frank frankly #eddie dear #welcome home Frank #welcome home eddie #platonic wally darling #wally darling #welcome home wally #platonic #gn reader #teen!reader #emotionless reader

[givemea-dam-break]

hi my love, can you do anthony lockwood x reader

possibly with prompt 17 or 24 from the angst list?!? ive been craving some lockwood angst recently and i love your fics so who else could i ask to fulfill my needs

a/n: yes yes yes i have been dying for angst it’s my favourite thing to write. i'm so glad you like my fics! feeling honoured rn. this is shorter than some of my other fics, but i hope you like it!

warnings: angst, language prompts: "You're not my friend anymore, remember?" and "You left, you left, and now you have the gall to come back like nothing happened." gn reader

Your day couldn't have gone worse.

Originally, your plans for your first day off in weeks had been to spend your time in the library nearby, listening to the rain on the tall windows as you read in your favourite seat before stopping off to grab a takeaway on your way home.

Of course, things can never go to plan in a world haunted by ghosts.

To preface, the Visitors aren't the problem, not today at least.

You've reached a particularly good chapter of your book when things start to go wrong. You're completely content just reading away, sipping on some tea in your travel mug, when a shadow looms over the pages, making it hard to read.

Looking up, slightly irritated, you say, "Hey, do you mind moving, please?"

Then you see the face, and the irritation melts into something more: fury.

Anthony Lockwood stands before you, soaked with rain and dripping all over the floor. His hair, usually neatly brushed, looks like a wet rat, and his cheeks are flushed from the November chill. From the way he smiles, they remind you a little bit of apples. You like apples considerably more than you like him.

"What do you want?" you ask.

Lockwood points at the free chair next to you. "Can I sit?"

"Absolutely not."

"Right." He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat. "Can we talk?"

"Also, no," you say, returning your attention to the book. "Goodbye."

A sigh. "(name), please, it's important."

"Important enough to bug me on my only day off? No, I don't think so."

You hope for a moment that he'll turn and walk away, but this is Anthony bloody Lockwood, and when does he ever listen to you? He moves, sinking into the seat beside you, and crossing his legs. You make a point of ignoring him, continuing to read the last paragraph you were on.

"We need your help."

No response. You keep on reading.

"(name), please. It's a big case, and we could really use your Talent."

Again, you ignore him, silently mouthing the words as you read them. Your focus on him strays, and for a minute it's as if he's no longer there, but the scent of bitter tea and citrusy shampoo lingers, taunting you.

Swiftly, you shut your book and stand, grabbing your bag. The action seems to shock Lockwood, and his daze gives you enough time to slip the book back into its slot on the shelves and storm out of the library.

Alas, Lockwood has long legs and catches up momentarily.

"I don't want to talk to you," you grumble, pulling your hood over your hair as you step out into the rain.

"I know, and that's my fault, but, please, listen this once. We -"

"Need my help. Yeah, I got that." Squeezing through a crowd of kids heading into the library, you continue, "But, thing is, I'm not an agent anymore. And, even if I was, you're not my friend anymore, remember? You gave up that right months ago. I wouldn't help you even if my life depended on it."

That stops him short. You keep on walking, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

"You're not an agent anymore?" he asks, catching up once more.

You scoff. "Haven't been since that last case we went on, and I don't plan on becoming one again."

Judging from his expression, he hasn't taken the news lightly. He almost looks betrayed, and that makes you want to strangle him. He's got no right.

"Why not?"

"Because," you say, stopping at the side of the pavement, out of the way of other people, "you left. You left me there, Lockwood. And now you have the gall to come back like nothing happened! You don't just do that."

His frowns. "I didn't leave you."

You want to scream at him, to pull your hair out. It feels like you're about to explode from the rage you're feeling.

"Yes, you left. I was left in that goddamn maze of a mansion by myself while you and George, what? Went to go have some celebratory doughnuts? Not all of the sources were secured, Lockwood. I almost died trying to get out of there."

"I didn't -" His face blanches, and he looks like he's going to be sick. "We thought we'd secured them all."

"Well, you didn't. Want to know why I didn't go back to Portland Row for a week before getting my stuff? I was in the hospital recovering from ghost touch. Took my a month to regain full use of my right arm, you know. I almost lost my arm, in fact. But you didn't ask, you just stood and watched as I packed my stuff."

That makes him angry. "What was I meant to do? There was no stopping you."

"I wanted you to try," you say, and your voice wavers. His expression softens. "If you'd tried, I might've stayed. I might've forgiven you. But you just watched. You never asked me where I was for that week. No, you were busy revelling in your success and hiring other agents."

"We needed another agent, anyways."

"You should've checked on the one you had!" Your breathing is heavy, and your head hurts from the myriad of emotions swirling around. "I'm not - I'm not doing this right now. Today was meant to be a good day. Goodbye, Lockwood. Don't come see me again."

You start to walk away, but his hand clasps around your wrist. Scowling, you tug it from his grip, looking at him incredulously.

"I'm sorry, (name)," he says. In his defence, he's being genuine, but that doesn't mean that you're having any of it. "I am. About all of it. Please, can we talk it out?"

Thank god for the rain, because it hides the tears in your eyes. "No. I - I'm going home, and you're going to leave me alone. I don't want to see you again."

Lockwood's jaw goes slack. "Please, I'm sorry. I can't lose you."

"The minute you left me alone on that case, you lost me," you say. "I don't care how sorry you are. It does nothing. It doesn't stop me from seeing the moment I almost died every night when I sleep. It doesn't change the fact that I don't trust you anymore."

"(name) -"

"I pray that your new agent, Lucy, 'the Superstar' - that's what you called her on live TV, right? - I pray she doesn't have the same fate. I hope things work out well for you, Lockwood, truly, but that doesn't mean we'll ever be friends again. Now, I'm going home."

"Please don't go." His voice is a little shaky. It's the most emotion you've seen from him other than that fake smile he gives to the press. "Please, I'll do better."

You shake your head. Then, wordlessly, you turn and make your silent, miserable trek home.

#lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #fanfiction #x reader #givemea-dam-break

[basilly]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

|| ➼ hq boys meeting you after a long time of your breakup

characters: kuroo, kita, & akaashi

warning: swearing, she/her notiably in kita's and possibly kuroo's(?), kuroo's is angst and cheating !!, kinda long

a/n: i couldn't help but make one angsty! but i hope you enjoy, they're a bit lengthy

kuroo

nerves flooded your veins as you noticed a familiar pudding-head standing against the wall. drink in hand, you nervously walk towards him, cautiously looking around for his partner in crime. while you were very excited to see all your former classmates at this high school reunion, you knew you had a couple people to face. he smiled warmly at you, nodding his head at your presence.

"hey kenma- how are you?" "glad to see you y/n, i'm doing pretty alright." "i heard your business took off! i've been meaning to reach out but..."

you trailed off slightly before searching the floor again for someone in particular.

you apologetically smiled at him.

"i'm sorry he did that- i don't really know what got into him back then."

"i'm sorry he did that- i don't really know what got into him back then."

you almost flinched at the memory, the repressed emotions were attempting to arise again.

"it's okay, you didn't know-" "kenma! yaku's looking for... oh."

you froze, eyes widening. kuroo stood right next to the two of you, arm draped on kenma's shoulder. his eyes had also gone large, not expecting you.

"sorry y/n, yaku needs me but it was really nice seeing you again. please reach out you have my number."

kenma reached out his hand to squeeze your arm in sympathy before darting off, leaving you alone with your ex. kuroo straightened himself out before clearing his throat.

"so uh... how have you been?" "fine."

the silence grew, tension getting suffocating. you swirled the contents of your drink, suddenly interested in how the ice melted. you debated taking off but your gut told you to not move.

"hey.. i'm sorry about what happened. it was a dumb mistake and i really didn't mean to hurt you about that."

you didn't know what to say. at this point, making eye contact with him was hell.

"tetsu! here's your drink!"

your eyes snapped up. right before you stood a familiar figure.

unlocking the front door, you sighed in relief. you were lucky enough to get off early from work and a warm calming bath was just calling your name.

unfortunately for you, the world had other plans.

sitting on the couch was YOUR boyfriend with his lips locked with another woman.

all you could remember was vicous sobs and overwhelming anger, ending in a broken promise.

that same woman was standing in front of you, arms entangled with kuroo's. your grip on the glass tightened.

"you have some nerve kuroo testuro. how could you cheat on me like a piece of scum and then bring her where you knew i would be? AND THEN have the audacity to try and apologize like it was solved? you know what, fuck you."

you spat out the words before running off, eyes blurred with tears. you regret coming.

akaashi

the aroma of coffee wafted into your nose, bringing a sense of warmth and rejuvenation. in a way your whole being relaxed at the sight and smell of the little coffee shop. it had easily become one of your favorite spots to spend a couple hours in a couple days a week to catch up on work or to enjoy a drink.

taking your usual spot along the edges of the cafe, you got right to work. your fingers flew at the keyboard; you had a very important writing piece to submit soon. in all of your focus, you hadn't noticed a presence in front of you.

"y/n?"

you almost jumped back in surprise, having to register who had just called your name. you hand flew to your mouth in surprise.

"keij- sorry, akaashi? that was habit."

he only laughs warmly. the last time you had seen him was years ago but you noticed his features grew out a bit more. he had been wearing a white sweater with a trench coat, messenger bag slung on his shoulder.

"it's okay, you can call me keiji. sorry if i shocked you. i wasn't even sure if it was you at first if i'm honest. i didn't know you were around here."

you could only sheepishly smile before realizing he was still standing.

"did you want to sit? i can move these papers."

he gratefully took the seat across from you before taking out his own laptop.

"have you been well? it's been a while since we last talk." "yea.. yea! actually i'm working at that place i interned my junior year and i have an apartment nearby."

as the two of you caught up, you couldn't help the smile on your face. the sense of familiarity was all too welcoming. for a split second, you almost regretted breaking up years ago before remembering the tough situation.

as university students, balancing the study life and love life had gotten too stressful and led to too many misunderstandings and miscommunications. it wasn't too long before the two of you had amicably broken it off.

"sorry to cut this short y/n but i have to meet some friends at dinner tonight- i'd love to do this again though." "yea, of course! uhm i'm kinda a regular here, you'll probably catch me here on tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays." "alright."

after he had left, you were once again mildly shocked that he had paid for your drink.

it soon became routine. the two of you would take some spot on the edge of the cafe, immersed in both conversation and your work. it was all too calming- and you weren't sure if it was just the cafe atmosphere.

as he spoke, your heart ached at the thought of how much time you had lost with akaashi after all these years. he was still gentle and kind, adjusting your cup to make sure it wouldn't spill or taking his napkin to wipe off the crumbs from your pastry off the table.

"excuse me, sorry to interrupt but i just wanted to hand you guys a couple pastries! on the house of course."

the two of you looked up to the barista, each piecing in your graditude.

"it's no problem, you've both been regulars and i think you and your boyfriend are adorable!"

you grew warm, almost choking on your drink. akaashi only smiled gracefully, as he does.

"sorry we're- uhm" "i'm so sorry! i just thought- because you guys looked cozy." "no it's okay! please, we did date but we're exes."

as the barista apologetically walked away, you couldn't help but giggle.

"that was sweet."

akaashi only nodded, seemingly in his thought. his index finger swirled around his saucer.

"y/n? do you remember what i told you when we broke up?"

you thought carefully before shaking your head. it had been too long.

"i would date you again and again, whether it be in another life or in a million if the time was right. i know that it isn't a next life but in this life, can we try again?"

you almost want to explode at the statement, turning even more embarassed than you already were.

"y-yes! of course, i would want nothing more."

he grinned before reaching over to take your hand in his.

"i'm so lucky that you were here that day."

kita

a sweet melody tangled in the sounds of excited chatter. a sense of happiness and bubbly feelings flowed through the air. it was your best friend's wedding, and everything was going absolutely perfect. not a cloud of rain in sight, everyone was dressed glamorously, and not a bad mood in sight. you were graced as the maid of honor, happily obliging to take the spot besides your best friend.

well that was until you had to walk down the aisle with the best man. aka your EX who she had failed to mention was the best man.

"are you kidding me?!" "pleaaaaseee don't kill me- i knew you wouldn't say yes if you knew who it was!"

you could only rubbed your temples, suddenly tensing from the stress. the bride stood in front of you, almost on her knees begging with her hands pressed together. however, you knew you would have to give in, it's her big day.

"fine. you owe me big time." "are you sure? i could be doing you a large favor here." "FAVOR!? yea because putting me with my ex-boyfriend to walk down the aisle is a favor." "hey- you told me yourself that you would go back to dating him in a heartbeat." "OKAY but there's a lot to unpack there, we both know why it went wrong."

you both flinched at the memory, suddenly reminded of the vast differences you had been experiencing that had led to the decently messy breakup. neither of you had done anything wrong, your lives had just been going in different directions.

"okay well- y/n get ready, it's time." "fuck you, how could you tell me that milliseconds before doing it!"

you didn't have enough time to both curse her out and school your features. instead, you had met eyes with kita shinsuke, scowling.

"lovely to see you again, y/n." "kita."

you politely nodded your head, erasing the scowl.

"sorry, but soon-to-be mrs. miya didn't tell me." "mmm understandably so, you would've dropped out."

he offered his arm for you to slip your hand through while you rolled your eyes. you could only mutter to yourself.

"why didn't i think atsumu's best man wasn't going to be kita."

suddenly, a softer rendition of the bridal march erupted from the quartet, signaling the other bridal party couples to walk. you adopted a smile on your face, prepping to face everyone.

foot in front of the other, you cautiously made your way down the aisle. you thought you had been in clear, but a small piece chipped away from the pavement thought otherwise.

"careful."

kita steadied you easily, his arm quickly moving to hold your waist. your ears burned as you try not to swat at him in front of the crowd.

"thanks."

parting ways at the end of the aisle, you missed the way kita's eyes lingered on you.

luck was not on your side today. or rather, your best friend made it her mission to make you suffer. seated besides kita at the bridal party table, you tried to focus your attention on the other bridesmaids.

you felt a small tap on your shoulder, causing you to turn your attention to turn. a tall blonde stood behind your seat, offering his hand out.

"sorry to interrupt, i noticed you across the hall. i thought you were really pretty and if you would like to dance."

before you could even reply, another hand grabbed yours.

"sorry but they were going to dance with me."

kita got up, taking you with him towards the dance floor.

"shin! why did you do that?"

you were now swaying to the beat, arms on his shoulders, his hands on your waist.

"we both know blondes aren't your type anyway."

as the two of you danced, one song after the other without noticing, you felt the background fade away. everything was so light and easy-going. without even thinking, you move your forehead closer to lean against his. in a low voice, you bring your eyes up to his.

"you know... i kind of miss this- us." "i can only think the same thing. how about i take you on a proper date? maybe not our first but... a new first date?" "perfect."

his eyes glimmered, moving back slightly to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

i guess it had been a favor afterall.

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kita x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #hq x reader #kuroo fanfic #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #kita drabble #kita fanfic #akaashi x you #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi drabble #akaashi fluff #akaashi fanfiction #bailly

[swampofiniquity]

Mercy Me: Part Two (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 2,700

Cross-posted on AO3

Summary/Warnings: Leon finds solace in you after his mission in Spain. Leon x gn!reader, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, some angst but you kiss it better.

Part One

Masterlist

*Please note that by clicking "Keep Reading" you are confirming that you are 18 years of age or older. If you are under 18, please respect my boundaries by not reading or interacting with my mature or explicit content*

Multiple times during Leon's explanation of his job and the recent mission in the remote Spanish village you had to force yourself to take a deep breath and swallow down a wave of varying, different emotions: fear, anxiety, revulsion, anger.

But the most prevalent one was worry. It roiled and festered in your gut as he spoke, making your heart pound and hands feel numb from how hard you were gripping your mug as you listened. You wanted to scream, to take this sweet, kind man who liked to tip too much and would bend over backwards to make you smile on the worst nights, and wrap him up in your arms. Bundle him in blankets, and warmth, and soft things, far away from any threat of biological warfare or the heartless people who just blindly tossed him to the wolves, alone and in the dark and woefully outnumbered. 

You knew it wasn't luck keeping him alive, he'd also told you about Racoon City and being trained as an agent, things he legally probably should have kept to himself, but that didn't stop you from feeling immeasurably lucky that he was still breathing and in front of you.

That lucky feeling wound itself around the worry, morphing and expanding until you were frozen in place and nearly breathless. 

"Hey, come on, no need for any of that," Leon paused in his recounting of the weeks of quarantine and medical tests he and Ashley had to endure once they were back in the states, and you were alarmed when he leaned forward to gently wipe a stray tear off your cheek. “I promise you, I’m fine now.”

You hadn't even realized you'd been crying.

"Why is it that out of everything you just told me tonight, I find that the most unbelievable?" 

His answering laugh had an acidic tinge, like the tart lemon you could still smell on your fingers from making the drinks. "Well, it’s the truth. I have to be fine. If I wasn’t I’d…” he trailed off, his eyes darting away and his hand reaching for Max only to find the dog had long since fallen asleep and was snoring at his feet. He shrugged instead, taking a swig of whiskey and stretching to place the empty mug on your coffee table. “I don’t know. I just know that I am. I always am. I’m fine.” 

You weren't sure why you did it, there sure as hell wasn’t a conscious thought behind the action in the moment, but you found yourself responding by rising up on your knees and stretching across the couch to pull Leon into your arms, hugging him tightly to your chest. He was stiff for a long moment and you could feel the heat of his palms hovering just above your back, not quite returning the gesture, until he finally let out a tremulous breath and let himself give in. He sank into your embrace, burying his face into the curve of your neck and bringing his arms up to wrap around you, dragging you even closer until you were practically in his lap. 

Leon was so warm, his body so sturdy and solid against yours that you could feel his heartbeat throbbing in time with your own. It was comforting, reassuring. You wanted so desperately to believe him right then, but something about the way he held you, clinging to you like a drowning man would a life preserver, it made you realize that he wasn’t anywhere close to fine. 

But you weren’t about to poke holes in the lie, not when it seemed like he crafted it for his own self comfort to begin with, so instead you gently tilted his head so you could bring your lips down near his ear and whisper. “I'm so glad you're safe and here now. I want to help you. Please, even if it's just to help take your mind off things."

An unrestrained groan was all the warning you got before Leon moved, his hands snapping up to cradle your face, bringing you down as he surged forward to crash his lips against yours. It was graceless at first, his desperation leaving no room for finesse, but you didn’t mind. You weren't drunk, but the alcohol in your bloodstream warmed it, making it easier to let him use you, to open your mouth and legs to welcome him in closer. 

"Is this okay?" Spoken between kisses, his lips never leaving your skin. But Leon seemed unsatisfied with your hummed confirmation and pulled back to meet your eyes. 

You felt your face grow warm under his scrutiny, squirming a little until he finally elaborated, spitting out the words like he had suddenly lost control and couldn't hold them back any longer. "I didn't come here for this. I didn't really come here for anything. I just… I swear, I don't want to take advantage of you or put you on the spot or-"

You cut him off with what you hoped was a reassuring smile and a quick peck to his uncharacteristically flustered cheek. "Leon, sweetheart, it's okay. I know you. I trust you. You’re not taking anything that I’m not freely offering.”

“Yeah?” 

“Of course. And, well uh…” you took a deep breath, figuring that him openly sharing his situation earlier with you deserved a reciprocal moment of vulnerability, no matter how hot you could feel your face get. “I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be getting anything out of it either. I like you, like a lot.” 

He kissed you again, humming against your lips. “I really like you too.” 

He tasted like your favorite whiskey and smelled like your lavender laundry detergent. Both sensations triggered a possessive need deep behind your ribcage. It didn't matter what the parameters of your relationship were in the outside world. There and then, he was yours. Kissing your lips on your couch, breathing in your breath straight from your lungs. Consuming you. 

With each kiss, each press of his tongue against yours, he got bolder, more demanding. Hands snaking under clothes, his skin scorching yours as he kneaded and gripped your flesh. Hips meeting yours, forcing a gasp from your lungs when you felt his arousal hot against the exact place you were yearning for him most. 

“God, I just want to get lost in you,” he groaned. Leon's body was practically thrumming, wild with kinetic energy and want. His breathing just shy of erratic as he deepened the kiss, either ignoring or relishing in the scrape of teeth and uncomfortable smash of your noses together as he desperately tried to press even closer. 

It was too much too fast, like a car heading full speed towards a brick wall. He seemed intent on crashing and burning, of blurring the lines of punishment and pleasure. A worry confirmed for you when he pushed you suddenly onto your back, knocking the air out of your lungs and crowding you into the couch cushions with his body, lips not leaving your skin until he pulled back with a wince and shifted his weight awkwardly to the side.

“Shit,” he swore, arms shaking as he braced himself above you and scowled down at his left knee. He hissed as he distributed his weight back on it, trying to cover the sound against your neck. 

“Leon-” you started, but he cut you off, sinking his teeth into the skin on your collarbone, just hard enough to draw a whimper from you. Your hands flew up to tangle in his hair.

“I’m fine,” he lied again around placing soothing kisses on the mark he left. "It’s just bruised.” 

"It’s okay,” you soothed, dragging your nails across his scalp and taking a moment to enjoy the way the action made him melt against you. “Let me take you to bed. Let me take care of you.” 

Your bedroom door was just a few feet from the living room, but you still took Leon’s hand and guided him up from the couch. The bedside light was still on, your sheets still rumpled from your interrupted sleep, but you’re not sure Leon even noticed. He let you lead him as far as the room’s threshold before he spun you back around and pressed you hard into the heavy wooden door, taking the opportunity your surprised gasp gave him to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

You let the kiss distract you for a moment until you felt his hands fist the hem of your pajama shirt and tug, his intention clear. You pulled away, sucking on his bottom lip and releasing it with a gentle pop as you met his eyes and nodded your permission. 

The shirt was gone in a flash, quickly followed by your pajama pants and underwear. You barely had a second for any doubt or insecurities at suddenly being so exposed before Leon scooped you up and deposited you into your bed. Something dark and almost predatory flashed in his eyes as he loomed over you, but it was gone the moment you opened your thighs for him, hoping to tempt his warmth back to your rapidly cooling body. 

“Need you,” he growled, his hand moving to grip your thighs and spreading them further. He tried to step forward into the cradle of your hips but you stopped him, halting his progress with the press of your bare foot against his chest. Blue eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“Your clothes,” you reminded him and he huffed out a laugh. 

Before stepping back to strip, Leon gripped your ankle and pressed a kiss to your instep, the sensation tickling all the way up your spine. “Knew I was forgetting something.” His smile was loose and boyish for the first time that night, contrasted charmingly with the broad, muscular body he revealed with each article of clothing that soon joined yours in a pile on the floor. 

As you watched him, a rush of warmth started in your chest and flowed deliciously down your body, settling pleasantly behind your belly button. A smattering of healing bruises marred his otherwise flawless skin - a large, purple mottled one on his flank looked particularly nasty and you couldn’t help but wonder which of the horrible things he had described to you left it on him. 

As if reading your thoughts he responded. “I promise, it looks worse than it feels.” 

“Come here.” You didn’t wait for him to respond, sitting up and grabbing his hands to pull him in close until his knees hit the edge of the bed. 

Starting at his chest, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to each bruise, paying rapt attention to the way you could feel his breath hitch and his hands flex against yours as you worked. It felt like worship, something reverent and sacred. Too serious for a simple hookup, but that didn’t stop you from pressing forward. You took your time, pausing to give the bigger marks extra attention with your tongue. He moaned when you reached the last one on his hip bone, his hips jutting forward to brush his now fully erect cock against your face. 

You gave into the urge to give it a kiss too, the head bitter and burning hot against your tongue. 

“Fuck!” Another moan ripped from his chest and shot straight between your legs. The wet throbbing there was getting impossible to ignore. 

Feeling bold and impatient, you tugged Leon down to join you on the bed. He wasted no time sealing his mouth back on yours, lifting and pushing you back towards the headboard, his strength making it easy for him to mold your body to his desires. His bare skin against yours felt like low voltage electricity dancing across its surface, tingling and warming you from the outside in. And it was your turn to moan, broken and ragged, when he rocked his hips against yours, his erection heavy and pulsing. 

You somehow had the presence of mind to get him to trade places with you, mindful of any healing injuries as you straddled him. He was panting now, unable to keep his hands still or gentle, roughly squeezing your hips until you were flush against him again. 

As you reached behind and guided his cock inside you, Leon shuddered and threw his head back into a pillow, a call of your name lost as lightning crashed outside, close enough to flash through the gap in your bedroom curtains. The rumble so deep and loud you could feel it resonate in your chest. 

“Oh god.” The stretch burned when you first started to move, it had been a while since you’d last been with anyone, but it gradually subsided and was replaced by a pleasant ache, like an itch you’d suffered through for days finally being scratched. 

“That’s it, fuck, ride me baby.” A mixture of praise and curses flowed freely from Leon’s lips, getting more jumbled and less coherent when you sped up, dropping your hips down hard now with each thrust so he hit deeper inside you. 

Suddenly he surged up, bracing himself with one hand on the bed, the other seizing your hair to pull you roughly back into a kiss. Panting into each other's mouths, swallowing each other's moans, you both adjusted to each other's rhythms. The change of angle allowed him to roll his hips into you, reaching that spot inside you that made you clench and tremble around him. 

The rain and wind picked up outside, the storm rattling the windows as the movement of your bodies shook the bed. What had started as a quiet night alone was now so alive and loud and charged that you could barely focus. 

“Fuck, gonna cum,” Leon warned from behind clenched teeth, tearing his mouth from yours to arch backwards, his eyes squeezing shut. 

“Yes, inside, please. Come inside me,” you encouraged, your own orgasm a little too far out of reach, but the desire to make him lose himself was so much more powerful. You picked up the pace, tightening as much as you could. 

Your name escaped his lips like a punch to the chest and Leon came so hard his whole body shook, his legs quaking and his arm giving out. You followed him down when he collapsed, laying on his chest as he bucked and emptied inside you. You could feel the pounding of his heartbeat throb in time with the pulsing of his cock, relishing the wet warmth as you helped him ride it out. 

What you hadn't expected was for him to keep going, staying hard and fucking his cum deeper into you as he whined high in throat. “Please, don’t stop,” he begged, even as the overstimulation was making his teeth chatter and his body convulse. 

And who were you to deny him, a man praying at your altar, finding both solace and penance in the movement of your body as you accepted him inside. 

You sat back up, bracing your hands on his shoulders for balance as you continued to fuck him. The orgasm you had been prepared to deny yourself reignited, an exquisite pressure building in your belly, spurred on by man under you. Every whimper, every breathless moan torn from his chest brought you closer. His movements were unpredictable, wild and chasing his own high one second only to be more deliberate and focused on you the next. Once he was able to bring a trembling hand down to stroke you, giving attention to your most sensitive spot, it didn’t take long for the dam to burst. 

You cried out, your entire body tensed and impossibly tight as your climax ripped through you, the release making your hips stutter and toes curl.

Leon followed you over the edge and when he came again he shouted, full throated and raw, his voice thick with unshed tears. Every feeling, every emotion, every truth he’d been denying himself spilling out and into you along with his cum. His every muscle clenched and spasmed as he came down with a sob, fingers quick to dig into the bruises he had already left on the plush of your hips, stilling your instinctive attempt to lift up and let him slip from your body. 

“Stay. Stay,” he repeated, raspy and ruined. Like your connection was the only thing anchoring him to reality. 

You let yourself sag bonelessly, settling into the warm circle of his waiting arms as you both caught your breath. Leon drew you in for another kiss. This one gentle and sweet, completely lacking the fire and urgency from before, instead replaced with a lazy, relaxed appreciation. 

“Thank you.” 

Taglist: @xxacademy @weeb4equality @mayorofzillyhoo @skydisneylover

(trying to tag everyone who replied that they were interested in a part 2)

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 remake fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #accidentally stayed up all night finishing and editing this #thank you so much for all the support and love #leon kennedy smut

[ironstrange1991]

Strange Love (Part 5)

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: When planning a new mission, Y/n ends up getting into a confrontation with one of the Avengers. Meanwhile, Stephen tries to convince her that she needs to learn more about her powers before using them in battle.

Word Count: 6,9k

Warnings: Y/n hates a certain Avenger and has a rather peculiar view of things. This can be uncomfortable for some people who don't agree with her point of view. Other than that, we have sexual content, basically oral sex and penetration with no protection.

A/N: I'm going to endorse all of Y/n's words on the matter at hand because (obviously) that's also my point of view on the matter.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Chapter 5: Stand My Ground

Back in your apartment, you concentrated very hard not to think about Loki, but deep down you were feeling bad even though you knew you hadn't done anything wrong. You weren't cheating on Loki, you had been pretty honest about your feelings. You didn't feel the same way about him, something had changed and even if you hadn't said it word by word, he knew that Stephen Strange was responsible for this change. He just didn't know that the Stephen Strange of your universe was involved. You were happy. After so much suffering, you were feeling happy and you couldn't let guilt spoil that.

Tony and Pepper returned to the tower three days later on a busy Thursday. Natasha and Clint were there too, plus Banner and Rogers and Rhodes of course. You liked the feeling of having the Tower crowded with people you liked and cared about. Of course, if you could exclude Rogers from the equation you'd be happier, but that wasn't an option.

However, with Tony's return, you became aware of murmurs and conversations and soon you realized that something was going on, something they needed to sort out and that Tony wasn't telling you. You had no idea what it was and was too distracted to catch anything.

Your mind was lost on Stephen, always on him all day. It was your first thought when you woke up and the last when you went to sleep. You couldn’t deny you were in love with him. Those were definitely symptoms of passion.

Or love. Stephen’s voice sounded in your head and you were shocked.

I'm not the one doing this, sweetheart, you're actually distracting me from what I'm doing.

You smiled to yourself in total surprise.  “Sorry, I don't know how I'm doing this.”

“What are you doing?”  Tony asked coming in and approaching with both hands in his pocket.

Oops, dad caught us. Stephen’s voice teased you.

You concentrated on trying to end that mental link with him and were surprised when you could physically feel it slipping away. As if an uncomfortable pressure on the side of your head disappeared.

“You said you didn't know how you were doing it.”

You decided to stay close to the truth.

“This thing in my head, it's getting out of hand.”

He looked at you worriedly.

“Is everything okay, Tony?”

He smiled trying to hide his concern. “Well, I'm glad you mentioned that thing on your head... I need your help.”

You nodded. “Of course, whatever you need.”

He sat in the sofa next to you. There's a guy, we suspect he has weapons made with technology from Strucker's lab.

“What kind of weapons?” You asked already feeling anxious.

"The dangerous kind. Strucker was working with Loki's scepter.”

“The mind stone.”

Tony agreed.

“Does this guy have a name?”

Tony ran a hand over his face. “I don't know, Rogers knows him. I think he's called Crossbones." He shrugged “You know, nowadays any idiot gives himself a cool name...”

“What…?”

Tony looked at you surprised “Do you know him?”

You nodded. “Worked for Hydra. I know him, but Rogers knows him a lot better.”

Tony shooked his head. “Yeah, It looks like Rogers thought he was dead, but that's not what happened. He came to me asking for help to put an end to the guy.”

Your blood boiled in your veins and you got up. Why did everything that went wrong always have to be related to Steve Rogers?

“Lagos.”

“What’s that?” Tony seemed confused by your sudden irritation.

“Rogers lost him in Lagos. That's when it all happened. The Civil War.”

Tony didn't seem to keep up. “What civil war?”

You sighed in a rare moment of impatience with Tony. “People name big things that happens with the Avengers, Tony. I thought you knew that.” You sighed trying to stay calm. “That's not the point. The Civil War was when the Sokovia accords came out. The fight at Leipzig Airport, all that, that's what they call it.”

Tony nodded getting slightly more serious. Memories of the event flooded back to his mind, apparently.

“Rogers... everything that happened was his fault. What came later with the accords was a consequence of his actions and everything he did…”

Tony ran a hand over his face and seeing him shaken like that just by the memory of that event infuriated you even more, bringing out a protective instinct towards him that you didn't even know existed. Usually you were his protégé, but sometimes Tony needed someone to care for him. Though he liked the name, he was far from being iron made.

“What they did to you, the way they acted... and now he says he didn't solve the case?”

“Listen...” He ran his hand over his face. “I'm not going to defend the guy, he screwed up, but we need to solve this.”

“How can you take this so calmly? Tony, I cried all night when I saw what he did to you.”

Tony took your hand in his. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It's not about him, it's about the people who might get hurt if this lunatic decides to use these weapons. He asked me for help, I'll take over the case, but I need your help.”

He grabbed your shoulder. “Will you help me?”

You sighed. “Of course. I'll do anything for you, Tony.”

He smiled “And I for you.”

You tried to put your thoughts in order. “I'll try to locate him. Is that what you need?”

“Yes. Thank you, darling.”

…

It wasn't long before you managed to see Crossbones. The use of your mental abilities was starting to freak you out. You had no doubt that you had exceptional powers and abilities, but you had no control over them and wondered how far you could go without the help of someone who could teach you how to deal with them.

Crossbones had a secret laboratory in a disused power plant in Ukraine. When you told him what you discovered, Tony called a meeting to decide all the details of the plan for the attack and asked you to pass the information to the other Avengers.

“The plant has been deactivated for more than 40 years.” Natasha informed after researching the name and location that you gave her.

You nodded. “Only Strucker's men roam the place” You explained. “Anyone who stands in our way is an enemy.”

“They don't even imagine we're going, so it will be easier than we thought.” Rhodes stated. “I still think we should put the army in front of this.”

“If we use the army the government will know about the mission and it's not what we want”  Rogers said with his calm voice that always got to irritate you.

“We have the element of surprise, but it won't be easy” Tony explained. “Y/n took a look at the weapons they created.”

“The weapons are dangerous” You  said. “They have weapons with firepower equivalent to half the bomb used on Hiroshima. The others are even more disturbing.”

“What kind of weapons are we talking about?” Rogers asked.

“The dangerous kind” You replied dryly without looking at him. “They are weapons with cognitive-psychic powers.”

Natasha seemed scared and you knew the mind control thing was something that could mess with her because of her forced process to become a Black Widow.

“If they use it, they can turn us against each other” Banner said, understanding.

"It wouldn't be the first time something involving Crossbones has put one Avenger against another," You replied.

“So, what's the plan?” Nat asked.

“I came up...” Rogers started, but you stared at him and he stopped.

“I believe that the weapons reach the mind through a peculiar sound it makes, something imperceptible to our ears, but which has a cognitive behavioral effect.”

“In other words” Tony said smiling at you like a proud father. “Ear plugs developed with nanotechnology.”

Tony showed the devices you created together.

“What if it doesn't work?” Rogers asked. “Or if something goes wrong? We need a plan in case this goes wrong.”

“Like it happened in Lagos?” You asked and he didn't answer. Everyone was silent. “Explain to me, Captain, this is your mess, isn't it? Or does no one else remember what happened in Lagos?” You asked the others sitting now in dead silence. “All those people died because of you. “

“I made a mistake” He said staring his own hands.

“You made many mistakes and I'm sorry if I can't do like everyone else and pretend that nothing happened. Pretending that you and Wanda Maximoff weren't responsible for hundreds of deaths in Nigeria and swallowing your arrogant face wanting to give orders and make plans.”

Everyone was stunned, but you couldn't stop talking, the words just kept coming out of your mouth.

“The great Captain America. The first Avenger.” You looked at him spitting the words like they were poison in your mouth. “You're not living in a bubble anymore, Captain. The world just got bigger. There are bigger fishes now and if we take away the serum and your arrogance, what's left?”

Tony glanced at you understanding exactly where you got those words from.

Rogers remained silent. Fists clenched.

“I'll say... mistakes. It's what's left. Many mistakes. You can play nice all you want, but when things got really tough you weren't there to help. And I'm not talking about guns dealers.”

“Y/n…” Tony’s voice was shaky. “Let it go.”

But you just couldn't let go. Not when you'd seen in Tony's eyes how much it still hurt.

“The missile in NY? Tony. Sokovia in the air? Thor and Tony.”

You took a step towards him. “A spaceship has invaded Manhattan. Where were you?”

He looked at you, clearly shaken by your words.

“You were never there. You're good at making promises, but not very good at keeping them, are you? Unless of course we're talking about your dear friend Bucky. For him all promises are kept. All the... secrets.”

Tony ran a hand over his face.

“So when I say we have a plan, you accept the plan because this is your fault and we are cleaning up the shit you did. Don't question it because you have no right to question. You shouldn't even be here, but I'm not the one who decides, am I? I'm just suggesting that next time, unless you got your hand in that gauntlet and destroyed Thanos and his entire army with a snap of your fingers... shut the fuck up.”

Tony looked at you, clearly upset about the situation, but something in his eyes showed he was glad those words were spoken.

You sighed. “But I'm going to leave now, and you can put together a plan in case I'm wrong and the Captain is right. After all, he likes to be right, even when he rarely is.”

Rogers stared at you mutely as you left the room leaving them in complete silence.

…

You  went up to your apartment and made yourself some tea to try to calm your nerves. You knew perfectly well that you shouldn't have lost control, but you had it all stuck in your throat for years.

You drank tea slowly and distracted yourself finishing some French exercises that were already late and then your phone rang, it was Stephen.

“What you were doing unintentionally” He said. “I think I know a way to help you learn to control.”

 “ How?” You asked confused.

“Well... it involves other issues that I would like to talk about. Can we have dinner tonight?”

You thought for a second. “Of course. Yes, please, I would love to get away from this environment today.”

“What happened?” He asked confused.

“It’s nothing. Well, I'll tell you at dinner.”

“I'll pick you up at 8 pm. What do you think?”

“Great. Will you drive us there or just open a portal?” You asked teasing him.

“Unfortunately I don't think opening a portal it’s a very discreet way to enter a restaurant” He said laughing that deep and dazzling laugh. “At 8pm, then.”

“Can’t wait.”

You hung up the phone and Natasha was behind you.

“I'm sorry, the door was open.”

“No, it wasn’t.” You replied dryly already a bit defensive.

She nodded. “It wasn’t locked.”

“If you came here to scold me, it's a waste of time. Nobody in the world is going to convince me that Steve Rogers didn't deserve to hear that.”

Natasha nodded. “I didn't come to scold you. Rogers can be...difficult to deal with. You don't like him. You don’t need to.”

“Good, I'm relieved to know.”

“Actually I came to ask how you are” She said sitting in the armchair next to you. “After everything that happened... I didn't have the opportunity to say how sorry I am.”

You took a deep breath “Thank you, Nat. I'm fine, I'm feeling better.”

She nodded and then looked at the cell phone in your hand. “And does this improvement have anything to do with this date you are going to?”

You didn't answer right away which she took as a yes.

“Tony said you broke up with Loki”

“I  wasn't talking to Loki.”

She glanced at you with those watchful eyes and then she smiled. “I knew you guys had a thing.”

“We don’t.”

“Yes, you have.” Natasha smiled, seeing you fall into her usual trick. She seemed happy for some reason. “He's a nice guy.  Doctor, sorcerer...”

“Master of the mystic arts” You corrected her and she smiled, seeing you unintentionally confirm it.

“A little bit old and very old-fashioned with that goatee, but if that's what you're into...”

“Are you talking about me?” Tony asked and then apologized. “The door was open.”

“It wasn’t” You and Nat answered in unison.

Tony looked at you with his hands in his pockets. “Rogers left. I think you hurt him.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I came here to thank you. Really. But I don't think it's worth, Y/n... I've already tortured myself too much for everything that happened, I don't want you to suffer for me.”

You shook your head. “I'm sorry, Tony, I just... lost my temper.”

He agreed “That happens. He needed to hear... like twelve percent of everything you said.”

"The rest was a bit mean" Natasha said.

You smiled mischievously and he sat down next to you.

“We’ll keep the plan, then?” You asked.

Natasha nodded. “Apparently yes. It’s a good plan.”

“So, what were you talking about?” Tony asked and you gave Nat a serious look, pleading with your eyes for her not to say anything. She gave you a mischievous smile, but remained silent.

“Remember what I said about doing things I can't control?” You asked once again sticking to the truth.

He nodded.

“Stephen promised to help me. He said there might be a way to control it.

“That's great” He said seeming a bit confused “I didn't know you were talking after... everything that happened.”

You smiled “Stephen is a nice guy.”

“And he is a wizard” Natasha completed.

“Sorcerer” Tony corrected her.

“Is there a difference?”

“I think he prefers the term master of the mystic arts, but sorcerer works too.” You said.

Natasha stared at you with a smile “His goatee is old-fashioned”

“Come on, we're facial hair bros” Tony said indignantly.

“I think this is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard” Natasha said getting up. “Anyway, say hi for me when you see him” She said winking and leaving.

Tony looked at you noticing you were staring at him. “What is it?”

You smiled. “I love you” You said hugging him tight. “You are the most important person for me in this world.”

He wrapped you in his arms a bit surprised with the declaration of love. “Then promise me you will never leave.”

You sighed heavily “I promise.”

You laid there cuddled with him and for a second Stephen crossed your mind and you wondered if your relationship with him, not that it was exactly a relationship, perhaps not yet, but your clearly wanted it to be. Anyway, you wondered if Tony would approve. His approval was very important to you because, as you said to him, he was the only one that mattered to you.

…

You were distracted with your chores when the doorbell rang. You answered and Pepper stood at the doorway smiling shyly.

“Hey, are you busy? I can come back later.”

“No. Come in.” You said. She looked apprehensive. “Is everything okay, Pepper?”

She smiled looking around your apartment. “Ah it's so beautiful here now that you put all your stuff. I helped Tony decorate.”

You closed the door “A feminine touch is always nice”

“Yeah, I contained a bit of Tony's extravagances too.”

You gestured towards the sofa. “Thank you for that. Well, sit, please.”

She sat down shyly and you waited for her to say why she was there.

She sighed “Thank you for saying those things earlier today.”

You were surprised.

“I wish I had the courage to say it myself many times, but I'm relieved someone did.” She looked away. “I sleep with Tony every night and I saw what that whole situation did to him. What fighting Thanos, using that gauntlet did to him.”

You nodded “Someone needed to put Rogers in his place.”

She agreed. “Tony suffered a lot from everything that happened, it was very difficult.”

“I know, I... I saw everything Pepper, I suffered from afar for everything that happened and I really wanted to be on his side, I really wanted to be able to say that he was right.”

Your eyes filled with tears that you wiped away.

“You said the other day that coming here was a mistake, but I don't agree. You were the best thing that ever happened to Tony. He needed a friend. He has Rhodes, but it’s not the same.”

You smirked. “Second best thing that happened to him, then. You are everything to him Pepper. You, Rhodes and Happy were the ones who kept him in line, you're the people who never turned their backs on him.”

She nodded. “He loves you very much” She said also getting emotional. “He cares about you, I care about you. You are very important to us. You are part of our family now.”

You shook your head “I know.”

“Tony doesn't think he needs it, but he needs us to take care of him. We are all he has and he is all we have”

…

It was 8 pm and you were ready to leave but you stopped thinking about what you would say to Tony. When he was home, he knew about everything, Friday kept him informed of who was coming and going and that made you rethink the idea of ​​going out by conventional means, but it was too late and you could see Stephen's car parked in front of the tower.

You took a deep breath and went down hoping not to bump at anyone on the way, but as you approached the exit, you saw Tony parking and getting out of the car with Pepper at his side. You watched as Stephen got out of the car and greeted him. 

“I'm sorry to inform you, but I’m not working today. Schedule an appointment with Ms. Potts.” Tony said and then looked at Stephen from head to toe. “It's even weirder to see you dressed like a normal guy, I thought you only wore your monk clothes” Tony said and as you approached  he noted you.

You were wearing a reasonably simple black dress, totally normal, but you still feared what he might think.

“I invited Y/n to dinner. I hope you don't mind” Stephen said ignoring Tony's provocations completely. “Hi, Pepper.”

"Hi Stephen" She replied, smiling.

Tony greeted you with a kiss on your cheek and then turned to look at Stephen. “I'm glad you mentioned it, because I...”

“He doesn't mind at all.” Pepper said answering for him. “Have a great dinner.”

Tony gave up on his argument and the two left, entering the Tower.

Stephen and You looked at each other laughing softly. “Are you sure this is the guy you love?”  He asked teasing you while opening the car door.

"Yes, I do" You said, smiling as you walked in. He turned around, started the engine and drove fast through town.

You had dinner at a beautiful Italian restaurant. Stephen looked even more handsome than the last time you saw him. You loved seeing him in a suit.

"Tony will ask questions" You said, sighing.

“Like everything else, Stark seems to think that you are also his property” Stephen replied looking at the drinks catalogue. You thought you felt a bit of jealousy in his voice, but you also could have imagined it.

“He feels responsible for me and I like having him around taking care of me. I've never had anyone to do that.”

He nodded with a smirk then called the waiter and ordered a shot of whiskey.

“What are you going to tell him if he asks about us.”

You thought for a moment. “I don't know what to say, but it won't take Tony long to figure it out by himself.”

He smirked. “The truth is always a good idea.”

The waiter brought his drink and a bottle of water for you. “Are you ready to order, sir.”

“No, not at the moment.” Stephan replied and the waiter nodded leaving you alone.

“Would it be so absurd to tell the truth?”  He asked and only then you realized how much he wanted that. He wanted Tony to know about it.

“No”

He smiled. “Tell him what you think is best, he will believe anything you say.”

You nodded and he took a sip of his drink and stared at you with those blue eyes seeming to pondering his next words. “Potts seems to handle the situation so naturally.”

“What situation?”

“That romance between you and Tony.”

You smiled. “She came to my apartment today to thank me for defending Tony. She said he needs people to take care of him. I think that proves that she's really okay with our relationship.”

Stephen seemed incredulous “And what did you have to defend him from?”

You sighed. “Not what. Whom. Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, are they fighting again?”

You shrugged. “There is a mission to solve. A madman with psychosomatic weapons made from the Mind Stone. It turns out that this guy is only alive because Rogers faltered and everything that came after, the Sokovia accords, was a consequence of that mistake.”

Stephen shook his head. “I remember all the news at the time, I was still working at the hospital in Manhattan.”

“Please don't tell me you sided with Rogers.”

He denied it. “Both sides seemed wrong at the time.”

You strongly disagreed, but didn't say so.

“Tony asked me to help him find these guy. I found them in Ukraine. We will attack the location and take the weapons. Tony and I put together the plan with the information I got, but Rogers didn't seem to trust my abilities and I ended up losing my temper and saying some things he needed to hear for many years.”

Stephen frowned. “You said we”

“What? Did you hear what I said?”

He nodded “You put Rogers in his place” He said impatiently. “Is it serious that Stark is going to put you in the field on a mission with psychosomatic weapons?”

You blinked surprised with his annoyance. And the way he put it made you falter. “I... haven't asked him yet, but…”

He sighed in relief. “I'll speak to him personally so he won't let you go.”

“Stephen!”

“Listen, I know you feel you can do this and that's what you want, but it's too dangerous and you need training. We barely know how to deal with these skills, imagine in a battle!”

Part of you was ecstatic that he had referred to the situation using "we", indicating that he felt responsible for you, but you strongly disagreed. “I need to help Tony”

“If you want to help him the best way to do it is in the safety of the Tower and not in the field where he will be worried about you and may make mistakes for not being focused on the mission.”

When he put it like that it seemed too obvious. You went silent.

He extended his hand across the table and you took it. “At some point you will become an important part of the Avengers. Your skills can be of extreme help to them, but right now you need to focus on learning to control them.”

I nodded “You're right, I'm being naive.”

He denied “No, you are thinking of defending him as you did when he argued with Rogers, but Stark knows how to take care of himself, I saw him fighting, he is very good.”

You nodded and then he smiled trying to change the subject.

“What happened earlier today, you were having difficulty concentrating, left your mind open and vulnerable for a long time.”

You blushed –“I'm sorry, I don't know how I did that.”

He smiles “You don't have to apologize. I'm glad it happened to me.”

You smiled at him a little sheepishly.

“But it could be very dangerous if in my place it was someone who wanted to harm you, so I suggest we work on that.”

“I don't know how to control it. I didn't do these things before.”

He looked interested “Tell me how this all started.” You thought for a moment trying to remember “They were thoughts. I dreamed sometimes, I could hear things that happened, but they were just suggestions, but it was enough for me to know it was real because I could feel it.” You shook your head “I don’t know how to explain”

"Is that how you made the decision to come here to find Stark?"

You nodded.

“And when did it start to change? To evolve.”

“When I got to NY, I...”

He waited watching you with those suggestive eyes.

“I didn't get the reception I thought I would. Everyone was worried when I arrived, some of them wanted me to come home. Only Tony, Pepper and Natasha stayed by my side, but I still felt like a fish out of water. I felt alone and Thor was all over the place with all that agonizing sadness.” You sighed.

"Keep going" he said.

“His sadness implied an absence...”

Stephen seemed uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

“I started thinking too much about Loki. If all this was real, these people, I wanted him to be there, for him to be real for me. But he was dead. Killed by Thanos or so we thought.”

Stephen understood “It was your first mind connection. With Loki.”

“I didn't realize what I was doing. It wasn’t intentional.”

Stephen's discomfort implied a jealousy that was strange and new to you. He barely mentioned Loki's name  “And so he answered. How?”

“ You felt your face blush “He came to me first in my dreams and one night he was in my room. It was the first time I saw him.”

Stephen sighed looking around, called the waiter and turned back to you. “Ready to order?”

You agreed and you ordered your food. You weren't really hungry.

“It's possible that your abilities were suppressed by the environment you lived in. Your parents house was hostile, I imagine, once you decided to leave it all behind and just ran away.”

You nodded, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation but knowing that at some point it would have to come out.

Stephen soon realized that you didn't want to talk about it and moved on “But once you moved away from the environment that oppressed you your abilities began to expand immeasurably because there was no longer a barrier blocking it’s development, on the contrary, you said that Thor it made you think of Loki, so he was a trigger.”

“But then it kept increasing” You said still confused and trying to understand everything he was explaining to you. “With Loki's presence the visions began and now this...”

Stephen sighed. “Well, the stimulation with Loki around have also increased” He said against his will “The presence of Loki, your sudden relationship with him... I believe that what we are seeing is only a fraction of your capabilities and that they will increase a lot more.”

“My sudden relationship with Loki.” You repeated slight offended.

He grimaced. "It wasn’t exactly a healthy thing."

“Why not?” You asked still not understanding.

“Oh sorry, I thought it was implied in my face of disgust the whole time…”

“It's as natural as any other relationship...”

“With Loki? The god of mischief? Literally  the father of lies…”

You could barely answer and he realized he had overreacted so he just stopped talking.

“It wasn't sudden. I've always been drawn to Loki.”

He agreed sighing “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have spoken like that.”

You agreed and went back to the subject that really mattered. “I'm afraid of these skills, Stephen.”

“You need to learn to have control over them” He said understanding that you were upset “With the right direction there is nothing to fear.”

“Will you teach me?”

He smiled proudly. The idea seemed to amuse him, but he denied it. “Wong would be a better teacher, he has experience and discipline.”

You hesitated a bit “I don't know if it's a good idea, Wong is... too serious.”

Stephen let out a small laugh. “Maybe this is what you need. You need to take this issue more seriously.”

You nodded “I don't understand why I have this... thing. No one in my family does these things. They are normal people. Boring people.”

“Magic, contrary to all the bullshit we see in pop culture, is not hereditary, it is an individual condition that develops in evolved minds.”

“I don't do magic, Stephen.”

“You’re sure?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh sure, I'll become the next Sorcerer Supreme.”

He smiled  “The Ancient One would have liked you. And she would be the best mentor you could ever dream of having. She taught me everything I know.”

You sighed knowing that it hurt him to think about his mentor. “I'm sorry you lost her. I’m sorry it was too soon.”

He nodded “She told me that she saw all the possibilities of my future. I wonder if she foresaw the things I did and everything that happened after.”

You held his hand “You and Tony saved the world. You are a hero, Doctor Strange.”

He smiled but seemed to disagree “Many people fought that day to save the world.”

“But it was you and Tony who made everything work.”

He agreed in disagree apparently.

You had dinner and got back in the car, Stephen pulled you in for a kiss before starting the engine and driving back to the Tower.

He stopped in front of the entrance and you stared at him confused.

“Won't you come in?”

He denied “I'd rather not risk bumping on Stark again.”

You pulled him to your lips, thrusting your tongue into his mouth in an extremely sexual kiss that demonstrated how much you wanted him.

He smiled cocky. “Wait for me upstairs.”

You smiled in agreement. You went up in the elevator, went straight to your apartment and found Tony waiting for you on the sofa.

He smiled. “I was worried, I needed to see you before bed.”

You closed the door and went to him sitting next to him “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just... with everything that happened I think I am traumatized. Knowing you're not in the tower made me anxious, that's all.”

“I'm fine, you don't have to worry about me all the time, Tony. I don’t want to be a burden.”

He scowled "You only have me to worry about you, I need to make this right. And don’t ever say that again. You are not a burden"

You smiled reassuringly. “Pepper was here this afternoon. She came to thank me for what I said to Rogers.”

He looked surprised. “Really?”

“She cares about you, I care about you and you care about me. I guess that means it's normal to worry about the people we love. We are family, Tony.”

He agreed. “Yeah, you’re right, but let's face it you scared me a few times, like the last few weeks.

You nodded “ I'm sorry.”

“That's okay. Let’s try to put a stone on it.”

You smiled and he hesitated looking curious “But then... going out to dinner with Doctor Strange... I have to admit that it surprised me.”

You smiled trying to sound as casual as possible “He wanted to talk about my skills. He wants Wong to help me to learn more about them. That’s all.”

Tony agreed “That's good. It’s a really good idea.  Will you?”

“I need too.” You agreed trying not to show how nervous you were. There would be no way to explain if Stephen opened a portal and entered there and considering that the Sanctum was not that far away and Stephen drove very fast, this could happen at any moment.

Tony sighed “I like to see you living in this apartment, doing your thing, having friends. I want you to feel well here, it's your home.”

“I know. I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you did for me.”

He got up. “ Just promise me you’ll stay around. You won’t leave. That’s all that matters.”

You smiled “I won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

He smiled then got up “I'll let you rest, now. Goodnight, darling.”

You hugged him tight, stronger than the casual moment asked and he noticed and squeezed you in his arms too. “I Love you, Tony. Good night.”

You  stood there as he left and closed the door. You loved him so much that your chest hurt, You had never loved anyone the way you loved Tony.

You turned Your attention back to the moment and went to your room. You went to the closet and took off your clothes, leaving only your lingerie and you smiled when you heard the soft squeak of the portal opening in the bedroom. You went to him and leaned against the wall, he came to you, both hands on your face and he kissed you deeply and you hold him by the nape of his neck and he pulled you to his lap, your legs wrapped around his hips and he put you on your sideboard leaning against the wall

"I thought you weren't coming" You said into his lips.

He kissed you smiling on your lips “How could I not to come after that kiss?”

You tugged on his suit to get rid of it and he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. You caressed his bare chest, your lips moved down to his neck and shoulder and you bit down gently there.

He unfastened your bra and took it off and cupped your breast in his hand squeezing gently as his lips trailed down your neck.

"Tony was here a minute before you arrived." Your legs tightened around him, yearning for his touch.

He gently lowered your panties.

“I don't want to talk about Tony Stark right now” He said taking your panties off and then he kissed you again tasting your lips slowly.

“Do you think he would mind if he knew about us?” You asked on his lips.

He brought his hand to the middle of your legs and stroked there gently and then he thrust a finger inside you slowly moving it back and forth.

“ Right now, I really don't care” He said lowly forcing his finger and then put another one penetrating slowly.

You moaned squirming in his hand as he watched you melt away in pleasure. He smiled and kissed you and then picked you up and put you on the bed and spread your legs further with his hands. His lips trailed down your stomach to the inside of your thigh and dipped between your legs where he licked and sucked masterfully, his beard brushing your skin there and the feeling was so good,  you could barely contain yourself.

You moaned loudly holding his hair and he continued and your legs shook with the uncontrollable pleasure he gave you. You pulled Stephen back to your lips and he kissed you smiling while turning his fingers inside you to touch exactly the perfect spot he knew your loved.

“Stephen...”

He penetrated two fingers while stroking your clit with circular gestures of his thumb and you squirmed in his hand and he smiled smugly, completed satisfied of seeing you melting beneath him.

He got up taking off his pants and underwear and came back between your legs making way with his waist. His cock already totally hard, he caressed it for a second and your eyes didn't leave him. He put his fingers on you again feeling all your wetness and then put only the tip on your entrance, hesitating, analyzing, provocating you.

“Stephen…”

He forced himself to enter you with a single thrust and you moaned loudly squirming under him feeling all his huge cock inside you. He leaned back on the mattress and fucked you hard and fast understanding that was the way you liked it.

...

You woke up in the middle of the night and Stephen was sleeping beside you on your bed. You stood there watching him sleep. There was no reason to deny it, You were completely in love with him. He was perfect in everything. The man was a god of sex. He had made your cum three time only in that night.

You got up and dressed your hobby and left the room. You were heading towards the kitchen when you noticed something in the living room and screamed scared.

“It's okay, it's me.” He said leaving the meditation position in which he was. Floating.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked staring at his scary astral form. He looked like a ghost.

“Meditating... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You're sleeping... how do you do that?”

He smiled. “My body needs to sleep, my mind on the other hand needs to stay active, I like to enjoy the night.”

"That's weird" You said.

“I shouldn't do that here, you're right…”

“It's okay” You smiled looking at him.

“Give me a second, I'll be right back” He said disappearing and you went to the kitchen to drink water. You heard the door opening and he appeared with a sleepy face smiling “That's better.”

He walked over and kissed you softly on the lips.

As you had completely lost sleep you decided to put the kettle on to boil and make some tea.

"Your mind also needs to rest" You said, scolding him.

He agreed “I don't do this every night, well most nights.”

You sighed understanding that there was no point in arguing “You almost scared me to death.”

He sighed leaning in the counter and then changed the subject “You asked me before if Tony would mind if he knew we were together…” He sat on the counter watching you prepare the tea. “Would you like him to know?”

“I'm tired of secrets, Stephen” You said “I’m tired of doing things in secret thinking about what they would say if they knew, but as much as I don't want to care about what everyone has to say...

“You care for what Tony has to say.”

You nodded “He's not just anyone.”

Stephen thanked you when you handed him the cup of tea.

“I don't know what we're doing Stephen, I don't know where you want to go with this, but... you know I'm in love with you and I don't want to have to keep hiding.”

“There is no need to hide it” He looked at you seriously “When you left the Sanctum that day, Wong asked me if I was sure about what I was doing … about you”

“And what did you say”

He cupped your face and pulled you closer to him “That I'm in love with you, that all the things that happened brought us together and that I feel like you're the only person who understands what I'm going through since...”

“I know.”

He smiled “I understand that you have doubts about us, but I don't. Let them know.”

You smiled sipping your tea.

“Do you think Stark would mind?” He seemed concerned about your answer. He was beginning to understand that Tony had a huge influence on you.

“I think Tony wants to see me happy. He's already worried about me too much.

Stephen nodded and then chuckled “Romanoff hinted a while back that we'd have something, Stark wasn't too happy about the idea.”

“When did she say that?”

“When we were trying to rescue you from him.”

You nodded “It's impossible to fool Natasha, she realizes things even before we do. She knows I was going to have dinner with you yesterday.”

He agreed.

You put your empty cup in the counter “I need you to tell me what to do, I... I don't know how to handle any of this alone.”

He hugged you resting his head on your chest and you stroked his hair. You  held his head and kissed him sweetly on the lips. He smiled at you “You'll be fine and you don't have to do anything alone, never again.”

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[sabo-has-my-heart]

hello hello :3 ive been LOVINF ur scenarios soo much lately!! do u think u could write some for zoro/sanji/ace/law dating gn!reader who is aromantic but enjoys dating and doing romantic things (ie. going on dates, kissing, cuddling)? they could either be in a queerplatonic relationship and also aromantic, or in a traditionally romantic relationship but reader doesn't *always* feel romantically towards them/attraction fluctuates? maybe u could include crewmates being a little confused by the nature of their relationship, or navigating the boundaries of a non-traditional relationship? if not thats okay! ik aro relationships can b hard 2 understand for some ^^

Aw, thank you, I'm so glad you like them. I actually finished this a lot faster than I thought. So I don't know much about being aromantic, asexual, demi, pan, whatever sex-romantical (IRL, I'm actually the opposite, I want a romantic relationship but am not particularly touchy). That being said, I did look it up. There's still a lot I don't understand but I tried my best. That being said, please, please, please, please, please! Tell me what you think and give me feeback. I can't learn if you don't help me.

Warnings: GN!Reader, Aromantic!Reader, queer!Platonic relationships

Word Count: 1200

     He’d been your best friend for years, or well, maybe friends wasn’t quite the right term. You weren’t just friends but you weren’t dating either. You enjoyed the comfort of romantic things, enjoyed the warmth of cuddling, enjoyed the fun of dates, but you didn’t have ‘those feelings’ for him, or anyone really. That being said, just because you didn’t feel like that towards him, didn’t mean you didn’t sometimes enjoy the activities included in such a relationship. Was he in the same boat as you as an aromantic? No. But he understood your desire for it and was close enough to provide you with the peace and serenity of such things. Sometimes, sometimes, you wished you could feel that way towards others. It would make everything so much easier if you did. You’d be able to actually date, to tell him you loved him in that way, people wouldn’t be confused by your relationship. They understood when you said aromantic, what they didn’t quite understand was being aromantic while enjoying romantic things. Even still, they did their best to understand, or at least not give you hell for it, you were you, you liked what you liked, that was what mattered. So they let you do what made you comfortable. 

Zoro

     He liked sleeping with you, sprawled out in the warm sun on the grass, one arm around you, one behind his head as you snuggled up to him and dozed off in his arms. Honestly, your relationship worked quite well with him. He hadn’t found anyone he felt that way for and honestly didn’t care enough to look. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in finding someone, just that he was focused on other things at the moment. That being said, he still enjoyed the comfort of having a warm body next to his, it brought a sort of… peace and contentment that he didn’t otherwise get. A relationship with a crew member was always a bad idea in his mind, nor was he interested in them; he doubted any of them were particularly interested in him or simply want to cuddle with him for the sake of physical contact. Well, Luffy might, but Luffy was… interesting. You were different though, the two of you were close enough to share a bottle of sake on a moonlit night and enjoy the romantic things but without needing to be romantic. You did have an understanding that in the chance that he found someone he felt that way for, he could break it off if necessary, but until it was necessary, he was more than happy to fulfill your need for romantic actions without the romance.

Sanji

     At first, he’d been a little hesitant. A relationship that wasn’t romantic? He’d understood that you were aromantic, but he didn’t quite understand your desire for romantic touches without the actual romance. Didn’t understand wanting to cuddle or kiss or hug but not be together together. That being said, as your closest friend, he’d listened to you and was at least open to attempt it on the condition that if he was uncomfortable, you end things amicably. You’d agreed, he was your friend, you understood that he might not be comfortable with such things just as you weren’t comfortable with actual romance. Surprisingly, he found your agreement to be more comforting than previously thought. There was a warmth and tenderness in holding each other, a sort of softness and care in the kisses he placed on the top of your head. The two of you even enjoyed cooking together, just without all the lovey-dovey romance that came with a romantic relationship. Moreover, you seemed to curb some of his womanizing habits. He still fawned over women left and right, but not quite as much. While he might want a romantic relationship at some point, at the same time, he really enjoyed what he had with you.

Ace

     Ace was all over the romantic-sexual spectrum. Some days he was more interested in men than women or vice versa, some days he didn’t want a relationship with anybody, other days all he wanted was sex. The boy’s romantic and sexual preference was so all over the charts it was hard to keep up. But there was one constant. His desire for human affection, his desire to be held. He was touch starved and wanted somebody to love him, romantically or platonically, he just wanted to be held or to hold someone. Meaning that a queerplatonic relationship worked perfectly fine with him. He got to hold you, got to be held, but he didn’t have to worry about stumbling around and being romantic. He could go on a date with you, but have it be comfortable, not stumbling over his words as he tried not to mess things up. The two of you were still friends, maybe slightly more than friends, but first and foremost, friends. This also meant that he had somebody looking out for him. Somebody who would keep him from falling face first into his food, but he wouldn’t have to be embarrassed because ‘oh what will they think of me’. Someone who didn’t mind his dumbass shenanigans and not fret over him getting hurt. Hell, you joined in! And with his whole son of Roger thing, he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted a romantic relationship, a romantic relationship, whether or not he had those feelings, would just complicate things, just make things harder. No, he really liked what you two had.

Law

     The doctor had never been particularly affectionate, meaning that when you came to him with this, he was confused as hell. Why him? He wasn’t cuddly, he wasn’t loving or doting, so why him? That being said, after your first time holding him, cuddling up to him, nuzzling against his chest, he found himself desiring more. He didn’t care much for romance, he wasn’t interested in it, he didn’t have a need for it, and he didn’t have a place for it in his life. He was a pirate and a surgeon, he was fairly cold to a lot of people, he’d done things that some people might call horrible, and he had other things he wanted to accomplish. Romance with anyone outside his crew was a no go and dating among crew members in such a small crew was inadvisable. As a doctor, he also understood the need for physical human affection and interaction, understood the brain’s need to be loved, even if you weren’t romantically interested. This fulfilled both of your needs. He still wasn’t very affectionate outside of his room or office. He didn’t go around holding you or kissing you, wasn’t particularly close to you, but when it was just the two of you, he enjoyed the feelings of keeping you close, of resting his head on your chest. Being the doctor that he was, he’d listened to plenty of heartbeats, but there was something soothing about the drumming in his ear. The crew knew that the two of you had taken to sharing a bed, they didn’t quite understand, but you and Law were happy in your strange non-romantic relationship, so they didn’t question it. 

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