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roosterr · 10 months

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white flag ✹ ch 1

note: tysm for all the support on the first part! it made me so happy to see that people were enjoying it!! also sorry if you're not british bc i'm british-ing the reader in this story lol.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 3.2k

no use of y/n reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: you decide to walk to work with ghost instead of driving yourself. what could possibly go wrong.

warnings: ghost is a bit mean again, reader is going through it, some angst, a lil bit of fluff at the end

ao3

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you didn't sleep well these days. your dreams are more often than not consumed with your newfound fear of fire – something you'd be taking to the grave, rather than give ghost something new to grill you about. the memories of waking up to your house filled with smoke haunted you, ever present in the back of your mind, even as you slept. it was all you could think about. distracting yourself with work had been effective so far, so that was how you'd continue until it either went away or became a bigger problem.

in the week since the fire, you'd yet to actually see ghost in the morning before you both went to work. it was like you were living with an actual ghost. you would never see him, but every now and then you'd hear a noise from upstairs and be reminded that he exists. honestly, it was kind of a relief – he obviously didn't want to see you any more often than necessary, and as much as his avoidance hurt you, you're not sure you could handle being berated before you've had your morning coffee.

he stayed out of the living room, for which you're thankful. you're overly aware of how unhappy he is having someone who is essentially a stranger occupying his home, and you're glad he's allowed you some modicum of privacy.

today, however, you'd woken up early by some grace of the gods and decided that, instead of going back to sleep for an extra forty-five minutes, you'd get an early start to the day.

that of course meant that you encountered your ever elusive lieutenant in the kitchen, as you sit at the incredibly small table drinking your mug of incredibly sweet coffee. you'd just finished off a bowl of cereal when he appeared in the corner of your vision, and you jump slightly when you notice him.

"...morning." you utter, somehow surprised to see him standing in the doorway as if this wasn't his house in the first place. unsurprisingly, ghost doesn't respond, he simply puts the kettle on and starts making himself a cup of tea, all without looking at you once. you can't help but sigh at how he blatantly ignores you, but it's not out of character for him, so you resign yourself to sipping your coffee in silence.

you watch as he shuffles around the kitchen, his large frame making the space look even more tiny, if that was even possible. somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if he sleeps in his balaclava, since it didn't look like he'd even washed his face since you saw him yesterday.

when he suddenly turns and meets your eyes, you freeze and quickly look down. of course he knew you were staring at him, why wouldn't he? he always seemed to be acutely aware of every mistake you make, much to your chagrin. heat rises to your cheeks and you subtly clear your throat from the embarrassment of being caught. you can't see what expression he's making, but you'd be willing to bet he was giving you that patented death glare.

"do you walk to base? every morning?" you ask, if only to break the painfully awkward silence between you. a moment passes of you looking at him expectantly as he finishes making his tea.

"yeah." his mumble is barely audible, and you have to strain to hear it despite sitting less than two metres away from him.

"but it's, like, a half hour walk," you muse, tilting your head at him. it made sense, you supposed, you already knew he didn't have a car, and it would explain why he always left so early.

"twenty-five if you're quick about it." he mutters, turning away from you to face the window. you see him lift his mask over his nose and bring his cup up to his lips. there's another beat of silence between you as you stare holes into the back of his head.

"do you, uh… want a lift?" you ask, hesitancy lacing your voice. he's still facing away from you as he downs the rest of his tea, setting the cup down in the sink.

"no."

"okay…" your voice trails off, quieter than before. it doesn't matter that you expected it, his blunt dismissiveness never fails to make your stomach sink. as you finish off your own drink, an idea lights up your eyes. you stand up, bringing your cup and bowl and placing them in the sink, before turning to ghost. "then i'll walk with you." you give him a warm smile, taking note of how he quickly pulls his mask back down as you look at him and the way his eyes widen the slightest amount at your words.

"no–" he begins, shaking his head, but you're already set on the idea.

"just let me grab my jacket," you give him another small smile, and without another word, you disappear into the living room – your very makeshift bedroom – to search for where you discarded your jacket when you got home the night before.

when you come back out to the entryway, hiking your jacket over your shoulders, the first thing you notice is ghost's boots are no longer by the door. you poke your head into the kitchen, and find the spot in front of the sink where he was standing distinctly empty.

the bastard left without you.

with a whispered string of curses, you pull on your own boots as quickly as you can manage, and race out the door after him. you get a few paces down the path before you remember you have to lock the door behind you, practically sprinting back to it and securing it at record speed. in less than a minute, you're running down the road after ghost's retreating form, swearing under your breath the whole way.

when you finally catch up to him, he doesn't even spare you a glance as you try and catch your breath beside him.

"damn you walk fast…" you huff, straightening your jacket and looking up at ghost. he gives you a look out of the corner of his eye, but still doesn't say anything. "well, you're not shaking me that easily, l.t."

"anyone ever told you you're a pain in the arse?" he grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets.

you mirror his movement, raising a brow at him. "yeah, you do – all the time actually."

his gaze darts to you for a split second, almost unnoticeable, and then he's back to looking straight ahead like you're not there. there's nothing you want more in that moment than to know what he's thinking, but you'll just have to make do with his blank expression.

"so, uh…" you clear your throat, drawing a blank on anything you could talk to him about. "so, what's your favourite colour?" you cringe as soon as the words pass your lips, but it's too late to stop yourself now. "you strike me as a forest green kinda guy."

"god, shut up sting." he sighs, glancing briefly at you with a frown you can see through the balaclava. you frown back, throwing your hands out in exasperation.

"so you really wanna just walk in silence all the way to work?" you ask, jogging slightly to catch up with him as he takes a corner you weren't expecting.

"didn't wanna walk with you in the first place." he says, his shoulders hunched with tension. "you're more than welcome to drive yourself."

"i'm just trying to be friendly."

"well… save your breath." he mutters. you think you hear a hint of sadness lacing his tone, but you can't be sure.

"then i won't bother on the way back, how about that?" you reply, hoping that your voice doesn't betray the disappointment you feel.

he doesn't say another word for the rest of the time it takes the two of you to walk to base. you're left essentially talking to yourself, while he gives you the silent treatment. it's disappointing, but not at all surprising – a feeling you've become familiar with around him.

you point out a woman walking her dog that you thought was cute, but he only hums and continues staring ahead. you comment on a fox in the road, but he pretends not to have heard you. any attempt you make to get him to engage again, he shoots you down every time. it's almost enough to make you give up, but you really do want him to like you, if only because you live together and not because of your admiration for him.

when you finally arrive at base, you don't bother trying to keep pace with him anymore. the commute, which in reality was only about thirty minutes, felt more like hours thanks to ghost's avoidance. you watch with a defeated expression as he disappears around the corner ahead of you and decide to go to the rec room, in the hopes that your more friendly teammates will be there.

"sting! there you are!" soap's voice from your left draws your attention as you walk through the door, and you give him and gaz a smile as you make your way over to where they're sitting. "was worried you got lost or somethin'."

"did you walk with ghost?" gaz asks. you nod, flopping down onto the sofa next to him with a quiet groan.

"yeah, but he basically just ignored me the whole way." you sigh, your disappointment evident in your voice. they both nod in understanding, having expected as much from your icy lieutenant.

"surprised he didn't shove you into a bush and leave you there." gaz chuckles, patting your shoulder as you rub a hand over your eyes.

"honestly? me too."

soap jumps up from his seat next to gaz and comes to sit on your other side. "how's it been, living with him?" he asks, his voice teasing. you groan again, and squeeze your eye shut.

"it's great," you grumble, resping your elbows on your knees and hiding your face on your hands, "now i get told i'm annoying at home and at work."

before either of them can respond, price's voice interrupts from the doorway "come on, you lot get a move on, we've got work to do." he commands, and with a quiet 'yes sir' the three of you get up and follow after him.

the rest of the day went by in a blur, in part thanks to the unfulfilling sleep you'd been having lately; the sofa-bed left a lot to be desired, paired with the adjustment period your body needed whenever you sleep somewhere new.

thankfully you didn't need to do anything too taxing today; paperwork, training, and due to an unfortunate bet, you were stuck doing inventory for the next month. it was your own fault, really, you should've known better than to make a bet with soap.

by the end of the day, you're practically dead on your feet and more than ready to get home and collapse into your horribly uncomfortable bed. you're on your way out when you remember, you don't have your car, because you walked here. so you have to walk back. with ghost.

as you drag your feet through the winding corridors, your eyes drift to the window to see that it's now raining – and quite heavily, at that. as luck would have it, you actually keep a spare umbrella on top of your locker for situations exactly like this. rolling your eyes to yourself, you turn around on your heel and make your way quickly back towards the locker room. the sun was already setting, and you still had to find ghost, preferably before it got too dark.

well, you didn't have to find him, but since you'd walked here together, you wanted to walk back with him too – no matter how grumpy he was. even if you walked in complete silence, you'd still enjoy the company.

you push the locker room door open with your shoulder, beelining for your locker along the back wall. you reach a hand up and feel around for your umbrella on top, cringing at the feeling of dust all over your hand. when you don't find it, you frown. you could've sworn you left it up there. you step up onto one of the benches nearby to get a better look, but it's still nowhere to be found.

someone stole your fucking umbrella.

you let out an irritated groan. did the higher powers have something against you? why has everything been going wrong for you lately? you have to take a second, standing on the bench in the empty locker room, to compose yourself before you burst into tears from the frustration of it all.

more than anything you just wanted to go home; but your home was gone, and now you live in a house with a man who probably couldn't care less whether you made it back or not, and to top it all off you had to walk back in the pouring rain with him with no umbrella.

now, as you make your way back to ghost's office, you're marching through the corridors with frustrated desperation; you needed to go to sleep and not wake up until you need to go to work again on monday. you're not even sure you could face going to the pub with the others this weekend, something you usually enjoy no matter how much you're aching.

you arrive outside his office, but the light is off and the door's locked when you try it. you get a sinking feeling in your chest as you think back to this morning. maybe he was just waiting by the exit?

as quickly as you can manage, you head to the front of the building, where you'd come in that morning, but when you round the corner, there's no one there. you sniffle, trying to bottle your frustration for when you're alone, and decide to try one last option before calling it a day.

you lean around the door into the rec room, spotting a group of a few privates you don't know the names of sitting around a table, playing some card game.

"have you guys seen lieutenant ghost?" you ask them, your exhaustion clearly showing on your face by the way they look between themselves before responding.

"uhm, yeah, i think i saw him leaving about an hour ago?" one of them answers.

"oh." you mutter, blinking dumbly as you process his words. "right, thanks."

the bastard left without you.

again.

it takes you a great deal of restraint not to scream.

the journey back in the dark, by yourself, is painful, to put it lightly. you get splashed by passing cars exactly twice, and you're practically soaked to the bone within the first ten minutes of walking.

the lights are on when you finally round the corner and have the house in your sights. you almost slip on the small patch of grass outside, but manage to save yourself that embarrassment and stay upright.

you wrench the door open, stepping inside and dripping on the entryway floor as you slam it behind you. you wipe your hand over your face, flicking the excess rain onto the floor as well before sharply tugging your boots off and dropping them next to ghost's.

you move to stand in the doorway to the kitchen, glowering at your lieutenant who stands in his usual spot by the window with a nice warm cup of tea in his hand.

well, good for him.

"dickhead." you hiss, taking note of how he seems to be perfectly content and, most importantly, dry. he sets his cup down on the counter next to him and turns his body to face you, expression consistently unreadable with the mask covering him.

"...figured you'd left already." he mutters, his eyes flickering to your soaking wet clothes and then back up to your face, not quite meeting your seething gaze.

"no you didn't." you spit, wiping your eyes sharply as more water drips into them. "you just didn't wanna deal with me. well, you got your peace and quiet, i hope you're happy."

"thought you had an umbrella?" his voice is quieter still, and you think you see his eyebrows pull upwards with what could've been concern, but you brush the thought off.

"i did, before somebody fucking nicked it."

"that's–"

you appear back in the kitchen doorway, throwing your hands out to your side with a wobbly frown. "you win, alright? i'll–" you can't help the way your voice cracks, "i'll stop trying to be friends with you. i'll leave you alone. you win."

and with that, you storm into the living room, slamming the door behind you before he can get another word in – before the dam breaks and you can no longer stop the tears from falling. your knees give out and you sink to the floor where you stand, leaning your back against the door and burying your tear-stained face in your hands.

you just want to go home, but this isn't home and you're afraid it never will be. it hurts, a lot, that no matter how hard you try, you never make any progress with him, and even though you said you'd give up trying, deep down you knew it was a lie. more than anything, you just wanted him to like you; it didn't even matter of he never cared about you the same way you cared for him, you were just so tired of being hated.

it takes you the better part of ten minutes to gain control of your breathing again, and another five to gather the strength to stand. you muster just enough energy to tug your soaked clothes off and change into your pyjamas before collapsing into the sofa-bed and burying yourself in the blankets.

you must've drifted to sleep at some point, because the sound of the door opening startles you awake. with a tired frown decorating your face, you sit up and turn around. to your utter surprise, you see ghost standing half in the doorway, illuminated from behind by the hall light, holding something out that you can't quite see in the darkness.

for a moment all you can do is sit in silence, staring and waiting for him to say something.

"...what's that?" you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"hot chocolate." he replies in a similar tone, taking a small step forward. you blink and open your mouth to say something, but no words come to mind. so instead you take the cup from him, and let it warm your hands as you take a sip.

"how'd you know i like hot chocolate?" he's about to leave when you ask, his body already poised to disappear. he turns his head back to look at you, never quite meeting your eyes.

"belarus, last year." he mutters, "you ordered it. in the caff."

you're not quite sure what to say, so you settle on a confused, "...thanks?"

"if you get a cold, it'll be your head, sergeant." he tells you, the slightest trace of something teasing in his voice, before stepping out of your sight.

"copy that." you mumble after him, a faint smile pulling at your lips as the door clicks shut again.

maybe he would warm up to you after all.

taglist: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @rafaelcallinybbay , @shuttlelauncher81 , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy

if your name is crossed out, i can't tag you for whatever reason, sorry!

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

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That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader

Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.

AO3 Word Count: 2426 Ch.1

The Knight is a weird one.

He is looking at you – studying you with his eyes, ever prying, even seeing. He never blinks and you think he doesn’t need it – a walking corpse wouldn’t care to keep his eyes wet, to let his head down and take a few deep breaths to relieve himself. Then, again, a real walking corpse wouldn’t need a maiden to claim and take, a warm body to bring relief to his manhood. You wouldn’t be so sure that he is a walking corpse, a resurrected warrior – the legends are often false, after all, and wild guesses of prostitutes are not to be trusted.

Not like you would know either way – the only path to reveal his not-death is to smell the rot from his skin and, well, it’s out of your reach. The sickness of a few years ago rendered you completely unable to smell anything – you aren’t sure if it’s a blessing in disguise now. Ghost – his name, you think, you heard, the whispers and gossip from the girls who worked alongside you – have been watching you sleep the whole night after he claimed you for the first time. You know because, well, you were watching him too, unable to fall asleep. Not with the gaze that made your blood freeze in your veins. Not with the knowledge that this man can just suck the life out of you, like he did with many of his enemies. You don’t know about this fact, of course – but you don’t want to come and try if the gossips are true. You feel sore, down there. It should be normal for a woman who works in a place like this – but you weren’t a prostitute. Never got interest from men who will pay a lot for a night with a beautiful woman, you were content with simply serving the patrons and the highest bidding girls. Turns out, the sex is…weird. Wet. Painful, but not quite. The Knight was generous in his offers, even as you tried to convince him you didn’t deserve any of it. That you were here just to serve tea, not to… “Lay still, luv. Do you not know what to do?” He pushed a pillow under your hips, making your back arch like a cat in heat. You were presented to him – involuntarily, with his large hands crowding your waist and putting you right where he wanted. Your legs spread and your womanhood glossy from arousal – you knew your fair share of what it comes when a man and a woman share the bed, but you never managed to get into it. To get a man to put something in you, that it. You felt foolish ever coming to the room he rented all for himself. For not running away the second you were put here like a lamb to the slaughter. “I’m not a c…courtesan, kind sir, this is all a…” He pushed his mouth on yours – his mask lifted just barely to let you see the light stubble and scars on his broad, chiseled jaw – before you even managed to finish. His tongue went all out, licking and sucking, making you whimper in the kiss that wasn’t your first, but surely took the crown of being the most memorable one. Surely, cursed knights had no idea about common courtesy. “Good. Wouldn’t hear jabs from Johnny then.” You don’t know who that was but, for some reason, you felt like a dog suddenly brushed against your hand. Perhaps, the lack of air from the steamy kisses made you delirious” But, it was before. Now, with his head propped on one of his hands as he was lying on his side, observing you quietly, like a predator in hiding. His other hand is caressing your shoulder, sometimes going further to play with your hair – surely, he didn’t care for the possibility of waking you up. Maybe, he knows you aren’t sleeping. Maybe, he got his fill and would let you go now. — You need to sleep. The road to my estate is a long one. You drop your act immediately, knowing it is pointless. Perhaps, you should have tried to be an actor instead of a brothel servant – would give you much more useful skills. — Your estate..? Maybe, he was so impressed with your tea-making skills, that he would invite you to be his maid. You may have lost your virtue, but it’s not like you’re interested in marriage anyway. You can live a quiet life, not dealing with anything too harsh, while receiving a nice salary working for the knight. Honorable job, stable job. Something that you should strive for. — You aren’t a courtesan. It sounded like a statement – and besides, you were telling him this before. There is no way he could have mistaken your common, grey clothing with rich gowns that expensive courtesans are wearing. Your manners are off too – the man would have to be blind, deaf and stupid to think that they would send you to him as a girl for entertainment, not servitude. — I’m not, sir.

— Do you have family?

— Do you? He laughs at your unexpected bravery. You close your eyes, expecting something – a kick in the face, perhaps, as many nobles love to do with servants who aren’t polite enough. Maybe, you wait for him to denounce you and finally leave you alone. Maybe, you wait for everything to just be a dream, a beautiful one with steamy scenes straight up from the romantic novels you sneaked out to read. But Ghost is as real as a bed you are sitting on. His hands are on your face, but not in a way you’d come to expect from a man of his position. He is caressing your skin, playing with hair that fell out on your cheeks – and you swear you can see his eyes crinkle with a smile when you struggle to maintain eye contact, your head suddenly feeling heavy and sleepy. Perhaps, the night activities did wear you off. Not enough to make you lower your guars though. — Yes, luv. You’re going to be a part of it. He sounds…sad. Broken, almost. You try to remember all of the rumors you heard about the undead knight, but the only thing you’re capable of thinking about is his resurrection – surely, it would mean he doesn’t have a living family anymore, right? For some bizarre, incredibly weird reason, you reach out for his hand. Not with your palm, too exhausted to actually lift it – but with your face, tilting your head to the side as you press your forehead against his hand in a cat-like manner. His fingers get lost in playing with your hair immediately, and you fight the desire to purr. What a weird sequence of events he brought upon you. He pats your head for a few minutes, allowing you two to sit in silence. You quite like it. — You can’t marry a commoner.

— This isn’t a position for your opinion, doll. — But the madam… — Your madam can push your debt up her snobby arse. I would be bloody glad to end this whole place in a fire. You laugh involuntarily. Surely, he means it – just one look at his eyes reveals a man deeply wounded by the fact, that not even the amount of money he has or the status he holds as the greatest knight of the kingdom will but him affection. Some things cannot be done even for money – and not a single woman in the brothel would lower herself to sleeping with a walking corpse, resurrected by the most evil power in the continent. It’s a good thing you can’t sense the stench of death – and to you, Ghost is just a man. A man with big hands, cold body, and little crinkles in his eyes when he looks at you, so weak and whimpering. A man with money and power, who can get you away from this place. Surely, changing one cage for the other won’t make much of a difference – but you can trade freedom for comfort, especially when the alternative neither brings your freedom nor comfort. There isn’t a single woman who would change her place with you. You find solace in that.

— You can’t just take me away. All of my life is here. — Bloody shitty life you got ‘ere. You will be better off with me.

— As your conqubine?

— As my wife.

Oh. You can’t exactly argue with this proposal. *** He rides you on his horse for the whole day – and it isn’t at all romantic as you thought it would be based on the books. No one has ever written just how smelly horses are – how scary of a creature riders are mounting, and how hard it is to sit on your ass for a whole day. For some reason, you were expecting a carriage – but a lone knight wouldn’t be traveling with an escort, you think. No matter how much of an influence he has over this country.

You were thinking about running away for a few times – when he was making stops to let the horse rest and would slip you on the ground, allowing your agonizing limbs to stretch out a bit. You could escape easily when he got distracted with something – but then you thought about forests, bandits, and the trajectory that your life has taken. You may not like being a pried possession of a dead man, but he by far isn’t the cruelest one out here. Many other patrons of the whore house are much, much worse.

He slips you on his lap when you finally get to a place where you can eat and sleep in peace – his mansion is as big as they come, you think, but the desire to explore is cut short by his hands on your hips. Reminding you of your place like you didn’t already get it the first time. You stir in your place, uncomfortable when he is pushing you down on his throbbing erection – how this could even ride a horse if the only thing on his mind was your soft body pressed against his, your helpless form clinging to him like he was the only protector here.

Ghost is supposed to be on the good side – not an Empire soldier, at the very least, he isn’t taking crying innocent trophies from the battlefield and throwing them in his harem. He doesn’t even have a bloody harem, all the women – and men alike – disgusted by the stench of death he cannot wash away no matter the hours he spends in the bath. But you, pretty maiden waiting for him at this brothel of yours, aren’t like others. Maybe it’s a blessing – maybe the gods finally answered all of his threats and sent him the prettiest angel they had.

No matter, he is still going to make sure to use you properly. Slowly, Ghost picks up food and feeds you – and if he can judge, you aren’t exactly enjoying the feeling of his fingers in your mouth. Probing, touching – you whimper when he pushes a piece of fruit past your lips. Poor thing, he thinks – you need to learn how to treat him with respect. With love, even more, as he wants for you to like him no matter how hard it could be for a dumb little you. — You shouldn’t feed me like this, sir. You’re so polite, so king – the first time a maiden was king to someone like him. The first time a girl isn’t screaming in his hold, trashing, and crying as she feels his hands roaming up her body. Gods, you’re perfect – he can’t wait to introduce you, finally shutting Soap for good. Finally getting something good for himself, after all the years of pure shit. Just wait – he can make an honest woman out of you. Give you estate, money, give you his status and the treatment of a royalty. If Price would feel generous, you’d be a duchess in no time. And, oh he knows, Price will be generous.

— Why not?

Just one look at your open mouth, glossy from drool, at your trembling lips, made him harder than before. He was denied mortal pleasures for so long, he forgot how soft women are – how pretty they look while sitting on his lap. No woman would approach him after the damn Emperor decided to resurrect him – but you don’t have a choice on the matter. But you don’t behave like you want to run away, at least. He wants to think that you will like it here – not because he truly cares about your opinion, but because you’d become sweeter. — It would be a waste. I can’t taste much of anything.

Ah. The lack of smell – he remembers. Poor girl, he thinks, not only did you spend your life serving the courtesans and patrons at the brothel, but you also did so without taking any pleasure in nice fragrances or tasty food. Such a miserable girl – tough luck that you ended up with him, where he physically cannot feel pity for you.

— Hm. There is a downside to your affliction.

— Many people would consider the lack of smell itself a downside. — Not me. You’re perfect. No one has even told you you’re perfect. Not like this, at least. You see a jaded soldier sitting you on his lap, his hands are holding the fat of your hips and kneading it like dough, but his eyes are…warm. Not kind, not gentle, but with the level of obsession that you never thought you’d see in this day and age. You press your head against his chest in a pure instinct – not wanting to be too harsh on your new husband. Not even daring to act like a spoiled brat, even though you were never one to begin with.

He is a lonely man, you know. Angry and cynical, killed more people than you ever known for your whole life – but it all seems so distant, so unreal now. The killings and the wars and resurrections are something from the children’s books. From dark romance novels that you were reading, not from reality. Reality is that you’re sitting on the lap of a man who took you from working in the worst place you could have. Reality is, that you’re sitting on the lap of a very sad, tortured man who might need something nice. Who might give you something nice in return.

Hm.

You might like the sound of that.

#cod #cod x reader #yandere cod #ghost x reader #dark ghost #yandere ghost #ghost #simon ghost riley #yandere #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere male

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lostfracturess · 3 months

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【 ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇꜱ 】 ch. 05

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 11.4 k

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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The alarm rang.

The shrill sound pierced the morning silence.

It rang again.

And then a third time.

Each buzz felt like a hammer against your skull.

You groaned, turning over and burying your head under the covers. All you wanted was to sleep—to sleep and forget.

The alarm rang a fourth time.

Fuck.

With a sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed.

You felt sick.

By the time you hurried towards the auditorium, the sun was already high in the sky, casting harsh lights across the campus. You slipped through the doors. The lecture was already in full swing, the professor's voice echoing through the large room filled with students scribbling notes.

Finding your way to where Toge, Maki, and Yuta were seated, you quietly slid into the empty seat beside them. Maki glanced at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Why so late?" she whispered.

"Poor sleep," you muttered, keeping your gaze lowered to hide the dark circles under your eyes.

'Poor sleep' was an understatement.

'No sleep' was more fitting.

Yuta leaned in. "After the surgery, I thought you'd be on cloud nine! You're practically a campus celebrity now."

Maki nodded. "Seriously, it's insane. Dr. Handsome letting you take the lead in such a surgery? That's crazy."

Your stomach churned at Maki's casual reference to Satoru as 'Dr. Handsome.'

Because he was far from.

"Crazy," Toge repeated.

"It's really not that big, guys. Let's just focus on the lecture," you urged. Somehow, their congratulations felt hollow, knowing the full story was far from great as they painted it to be.

Your friends shot you surprised looks, taken aback by your restrained response.

But talking about the surgery—the surgery you had to lead because Satoru was fucking high on some shit was really the least thing you wanted to talk about. And you couldn't really talk about it either, could you? Not really.

Maki and Yuta exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from excitement to concern. They could sense something was off, but they didn't press further. Toge only gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

As the professor delved into—... whatever he was lecturing on—your mind couldn't help but drift back to the surgery, replaying every moment—the fear, the nausea, the burden Satoru had forced onto you. Your head throbbed with a dull, relentless pain.

The rest of the lecture seemed to drift by in a blur.

Your pen moved mechanically across the notebook. You barely registered the words on the page. As the professor finished and the students around you began to stir, Yuta leaned over. "Hey, if Gojo needs a kick in the ass, just say the word. We've got your back."

You mustered a small smile. "Thanks, Yuta."

Then your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out to see Geto's name flashing on the screen. You pondered for a moment if you should even answer the call. Taking a deep breath, you answered.

"Geto—"

"We need to talk about the surgery," Geto's voice was serious, almost grave. "The university director wants to see you in his office. It's urgent."

Panic fluttered in your chest. "Has something happened? Is it about Gojo?"

"It's better we discuss this in person. I'll be there too. Just come as soon as you can."

Ending the call, a heavy weight settled in your stomach.

Apologizing to Yuta, you quickly gathered your things. "I need to go."

Maki's eyes followed you. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm not sure. Something's come up."

Yuta and Toge exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring Maki's concern. "If you need anything, just let us know," Yuta said.

You nodded, offering a half-hearted smile. "Thanks, guys. I'll catch up with you later."

As you hurried out of the auditorium, your mind raced. What could they possibly want to discuss about the surgery? And why now? Was this about Satoru?

The walk to the director's office felt like an eternity, each step echoing your growing anxiety. The campus around you was bathed in sunlight, the sun burning on your skin. Students laughed and chatted around you. You wanted to shut them up.

Reaching the office, you took a moment to compose yourself before knocking. The door swung open, revealing Geto and Satoru seated in front of the director's expansive desk.

"Please, come in," director Yaga gestured for you to enter.

Director Yaga moved to sit behind his desk, his face unreadable. You took a deep breath and stepped inside. Satoru rose from his chair as you approached to offer you the seat.

Stupid Satoru, why he be so gentleman after all.

As you sat down, Satoru remained standing next to you. His hand rested on the back of your chair.

Director Yaga adjusted his glasses, his gaze sharp. "I've called this meeting to address concerns regarding the recent surgery," he stated. "It has come to my attention that you, rather than Dr. Gojo, performed the operation. I would like an explanation."

You felt a lump form in your throat, your mind racing to find the right words. Before you could answer, Satoru spoke.

"Director, I assure you, the decision to let her lead was entirely professional. Her capabilities made her the best choice for this surgery."

Director Yaga's gaze hardened as he turned to Gojo. "Dr. Gojo, may I ask you, are you out of your mind? There are protocols and hierarchies in place for a reason. Allowing a student to lead such a critical procedure is not only unconventional—it's downright mad. This could have serious consequences."

"Director, I understand your concern. However, I made this decision not only because of her exceptional skills, but also to promote her potential. It was a calculated risk, one I felt was necessary for her growth as a surgeon."

Wow. He lied very convincing.

Director Yaga seemed surprised for a second. "Promoting potential is one thing, being stupid is another, Dr. Gojo."

Gojo shifted slightly. It felt as if he moved a little more in front of you.

At this point, Geto, who had been silent, spoke up. "I was aware of Dr. Gojo's decision and supported it. The success of the surgery speaks for itself and reflects the high level of training our students receive here. I'm sure the press will acknowledge this as well."

"Why must you two always cause me headaches?" Director Yaga sighed, rubbing his temples wearily. "Nevertheless, the media coverage has been overwhelmingly positive. It seems the press is quite taken with the story of the 'unconventional surgeon duo' at our university."

"In light of this, there will be a press conference next week to celebrate the success and highlight the university's advances in medical research. I expect the three of you to attend. It's an excellent opportunity to showcase our institution's capabilities and your work," Yaga continued.

The idea of a press conference made you sick.

You did not want any of this. You did not want praise for something you did out of necessity. The thought of facing the media and answering questions about the surgery made you sick.

Geto's expression tightened. "And to gather more funds for the university, I assume?"

Director Yaga met Geto's gaze squarely. "You understand the game, Dr. Geto. Positive publicity translates to funding opportunities. And let's not forget, it's funding that enables us to pursue advanced research and provide top-tier education."

Director Yaga leaned a bit more over his desk. "Especially given the... unconventional methods you two seem to prefer. Remember, such reckless gambles come at a cost."

Geto exhaled deeply. "Understood, Director. We'll be there."

As the meeting concluded and you stood to leave, Director Yaga added, "This is a great moment for all of us. Let's make sure we present ourselves in the best way possible."

As soon as the door to Director Yaga's office closed behind you, you wanted noting more than to leave.

Looking at him hurt.

"We'll talk later, Geto," you said abruptly.

Geto nodded. "Take care."

You offered a quick, forced smile and hastily made your way down the corridor. Gojo made a move to follow. However, Geto reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder to halt him. "Let her go, Satoru," Geto said quietly. "She needs some time alone."

Gojo stopped. He watched helplessly as you disappeared around the corner.

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, you found yourself in the university's library, surrounded by books and notes, with Toge, Maki, and Yuta. Your friends had been tiptoeing around the subject since the morning, but their curiosity about the surgery was so obvious.

"So," Maki started cautiously, "what did Director Yaga want to talk about? Was it about the surgery?"

You felt a chill at her question. "Oh, it was just some standard follow-up stuff. Nothing important."

Yuta leaned in. "But you were great in that surgery. Everyone's talking about it. You should be proud of yourself."

You forced a smile. "I am, Yuta. More or less. I just don't like the spotlight."

Toge chimed in, "Pressure."

"Yeah, exactly," you agreed.

Maki observed you closely. "And how are things with Dr. Handsome? Everything okay there?"

You felt a lump form in your throat. "Everything's fine."

However, Maki didn't seem convinced. "You know you can talk to us, right? If something's bothering you—"

Yeah, you wished you could do that. But the reality was that you couldn't.

"It's complicated, Maki," you said softly.

Maki's frown deepened. "You know, whatever it is, don't let him get to you too much. He's just a man after all."

You knew Maki meant well, but it wasn't as simple as she made it out to be.

"Maki, it's just—"

"I get that something's going on, but remember, no matter how great a surgeon he is, or how charming he is, you are the real star of this surgery. Don't let anyone, not even Dr. Handsome, mess with that," Maki added.

You looked at her, your lips twitching upwards. "Thanks, Maki."

Exhausted, you let your forehead rest against the cool surface of the desk. "There's going to be a press conference about the surgery," you said, your voice muffled. "A celebration or something. And honestly, I'm already hating it."

Yuta perked up at this. "A press conference? That's huge! You're basically a celebrity now."

"I'd rather just focus on my studies and not be in the spotlight like this."

"Hey, think of it this way—it's a great chance to show off your talent. Plus, I heard the medical faculty is throwing a party afterward," Yuta said.

Maki nudged you playfully. "Come on, it might be fun. We'll wait for you at the afterparty when your conference thing is done."

You raised your head and rested your chin on your hand, considering their words. "Well, a party doesn't sound too bad, I guess."

Maki clapped her hands together. "That's more like it! We'll make sure you have a good time."

"Exactly!" Yuta said, grinning.

"Party!" Toge added.

A small smile crept onto your face as you looked at your friends. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. Besides, as the saying goes, a little party never killed nobody, right?

... right?

─── ·✧· ───

"Here, for your nerves," Geto said, handing you a glass of champagne.

"Thanks." You grabbed the glass and downed the bubbling liquid in one gulp. "This is quite a place."

You and Geto entered the conference venue.

The main foyer had soaring ceilings adorned with dazzling crystal chandeliers, casting a soft light on the marble floors below. The crowd, a blend of famous medical professionals, university staff and press people, mingled in groups, all engaged in animated discussions that filled the grand space with a lively hum.

"Remember, just stay calm and be yourself," Geto whispered as you both moved through the crowd. "You've earned your place here tonight." Then he handed you another glass of champagne, fetched from a passing waiter.

You nodded, trying to suppress the urge to flee.

The room was filled with faces, some familiar and others new. The conference area was impeccably arranged, with a stage set up at one end of the hall for speeches and presentations. Press cameras lined the sidelines. Tables adorned with floral arrangements were spread throughout the room.

"All this for a single surgery?" you asked Geto as you scanned the room.

Geto swirled the champagne in his glass. "It's more than just the surgery. The university needs money, that's why we're here."

"Looks like they're spending more than they'll earn."

Geto subtly gestured with his glass towards an elderly woman across form you. "See her? She's one of our main benefactors. Director Yaga would do anything to please her. So, we dress up, exchange pleasantries, sip champagne, and in return, she continues her generous support. That's the deal."

Your gaze followed his. "So it's all about keeping the money flowing. They're not really here for the research behind the surgery."

"Does that surprise you?"

You took a sip of your champagne. "No. It makes me sick."

Goto let out a huff. "By the way, you look stunning tonight," he remarked, his eyes tracing your form, but it didn't feel uncomfortable.

You were dressed in a sleek, black dress. Black heels. Elegant but nothing special. You didn't want to draw more attention to yourself than you already were.

Geto walked beside you, dressed in a meticulously tailored black suit that fit him perfectly. Beneath the suit, he wore a white dress shirt and a black silk tie. If you didn't know better, you could have been mistaken for a couple, given how matching your outfits were.

"You don't look to bad yourself."

He laughed. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment."

As you mingled with the guests, you could feel the curious glances and hushed tones of those around you. Word of your role in the successful surgery had obviously spread, and now you were the center of attention for the evening.

Geto stayed by your side the whole time, introducing you to important people and making sure your champagne glass was never empty. You weren't sure the latter was such a good idea. But it calmed your nerves.

You were deep in conversation with a group of medical professionals, discussing the surgery, when you suddenly felt the atmosphere changed. Your eyes swept over the crowd and there he was—Satoru Gojo had just walked in.

Every head in the room seemed to turn in his direction, yet his eyes seemed focused solely on one person. You weren't sure you knew how to breathe anymore as his gaze seemed to pierce through the crowd, settling directly on you. It was the first time you'd seen him since director Yaga's office.

He was dressed in a sharp black smoking jacket, his bow tie perfectly knotted. But his eyes looked tired. His lips parted ever so slightly.

One of the medical professionals from another University in your group—her name was something with Tsukomu, or Tsukumo? You didn't quite get it—waved him over. "Ah, there's the star of the evening," she exclaimed.

Satoru made his way through the crowd. As he reached your group, he positioned himself next to you as if it were the most natural thing in the world—as if he belonged there.

"Dr. Gojo, we were just discussing your remarkable surgery," Dr. Tsukumo said enthusiastically. "Your work is truly groundbreaking in our field."

"Thank you, Dr. Tsukumo. However, I must clarify that the true credit goes to this talented surgeon," he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You wanted to break his arm.

She laughed uncomfortable. "It's rather unusual for a student to lead such a complex surgery. Quite an unconventional approach, don't you think?"

"Unconventional, but successful," Satoru replied sharply. "Here at Tokyo University, we rather encourage innovation. Perhaps your institution wouldn't be so terrible at research if you were willing to take more risks?"

Silence.

God, what was he doing!?

Was he high again??

You looked up at him, his gaze fixed on Dr. Tsukumo. Even in heels, he was still at least a head taller than you. But he didn't seem to be high or something. He seemed clear.

Dr. Tsukumo's eyes narrowed slightly. "Well, Dr. Gojo, that's quite a statement. But you know, there's a fine line between taking risks and just being plain reckless."

His hand still resting on your shoulder, Satoru met her gaze squarely. "You're absolutely right. There is a fine line, and you'd be well advised not to cross it," he replied. "In this case, though, it was a calculated decision based on her proven skill, not recklessness. Sometimes embracing innovation and trusting our young talents is what drives progress, don't you think?"

Geto leaned in. "Satoru, that's enough," he murmured.

Satoru removed his hand from your shoulder and stepped back from the group. His eyes briefly met yours. "Excuse me," Satoru said curtly, before turning and making his way through the crowd.

Your eyes followed him until you could no longer see him.

As the evening wore on, one conversation blended into another.

Wow, you're so young? Already performing surgeries? How did you manage that? You must be a natural talent!

You heard it over and over—answered the same questions over and over. No one really seemed to care about the details of your work, the thought process behind it, or how the patient is doing now—or how one patient had to die for the surgery to be successful.

Recognizing your discomfort, Geto suggested, "Let's step outside for a bit. I could use a smoke."

Following him, you left the bustling conference hall and ventured out to the quieter grounds surrounding the building. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the warmth and buzz of the event inside. The building's exterior was illuminated with soft lights, casting a serene glow over the surroundings.

Geto pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag before exhaling slowly. "You're doing well in there," he said, glancing at you. "Don't fret too much about it. We're just here to keep the university happy."

"Is that all?" You retorted. "Putting on fake smiles for director Yaga's sake, so the university gets positive publicity, while no one mentions how much effort it took, or that one patient had to die before it became a success?" You sighed. "This all feels like a cruel joke to me."

"Welcome to the world of research," Geto said, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Why do you even stay in research then?"

Geto paused, the smoke swirling around him. "Why? I wonder that sometimes too."

You watched him for a moment, seeing the tension in his shoulders ease somewhat as he took another drag from his cigarette. Geto, catching your scrutinizing gaze, said, "Don't look at me like that. I'm not the addict you should be worried about."

You turned your gaze away.

After a few seconds of silence, Geto flicked his cigarette away and turned to you. "You want to leave?"

You took a deep breath. "I do," you said, but then shook your head. "But I promised to go to the after-party with my friends, so I'm staying until then."

"An after-party, huh?" He snuffed out the remaining embers of his cigarette.

Upon re-entering the conference hall, the lively chatter and clinking of glasses continued. A waiter passed by, and without much thought, you reached out to take another glass of champagne.

It was your seventh or eighth glass—you had lost count.

But alcohol was the only way you could get through another hour of talking about how brilliantly you did the surgery. Oh, how you hated it. Because you did not do it brilliantly, you did it because you had no other choice. That's a completely different thing.

As you chatted with Geto and a journalist, a waiter passed by with a tray of drinks. Your ninth glass. However, before your fingers could grasp it, a hand from behind swiftly intercepted the glass.

"How many drinks have you had already?"

Of course.

You turned around to find yourself gazing into Satoru's striking blue eyes. Geto, meanwhile, continued to skillfully handle the press. "It's none of your concern," you said to him.

"Don't be stupid. You should seriously stop drinking now, otherwise you will soon lose—"

"Lose what? Control?" you cut him off sharply. "Isn't that a bit hypocritical, coming from you?"

He ran a hand through his hair, the strands now slightly disheveled. "That's not what I'm saying," he replied, his voice softening. "I just... I don't want to see you making decisions you'll regret."

"Like revealing your precious secret?"

His jaw clenched. "Go ahead, if that's what you want. But what I'm concerned about right now is you, not me."

"Who are you trying to fool here, Satoru?"

The sound of a throat being cleared snapped you back to reality. Geto and the journalist had paused their conversation, their attention now squarely on the two of you.

You avoided Satoru's gaze. "Excuse me for a moment," you muttered, hastily excusing yourself towards the bathroom. The door had barely clicked shut when it swung open again, and Satoru slipped inside, locking it behind him.

You spun around. "Satoru, what do you think you're doing?"

"We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk, Satoru. Not now. Not ever!"

"Are you planning to avoid me forever?"

"Seems like a good plan to me!"

Satoru took a step closer. "I know I've put you in an difficult situation, but—"

"Difficult situation?" you said, your voice rising with every word. "Do you even realize how much pressure you've put me under? Fuck, Satoru I had to lead that surgery because you were fucking high! Satoru, you're an addict!"

Satoru looked pained. "I know, and I'm sorry for that. But I have it under control."

"Control?" you scoffed. "You call that control? Satoru, that was the most important day. The only day you were supposed to get your goddamn act together! And you say something about control? You even hear yourself? You can be high on any other fucking day, but not when we operate on a fucking teenager!"

He was silenced.

Your voice cracked as you continued, "Do you even realize how scared I was?"

His brows furrowed slightly as the words left your lips. The intensity in his blue eyes was unsettling, and there was a vulnerability in his gaze that you had never seen before. You weren't used to seeing him like this, and it left you feeling strangely vulnerable yourself.

Still, you pressed further.

"You made me do it. Because you have no control over it. So don't tell me anything about control or that I'm drinking too much when it's just my way of dealing with the damage you've done to me."

"I never meant to hurt you," Satoru said. "But I knew you could do it. I wouldn't have let you lead the surgery if I wasn't sure about that."

"That's not an excuse Satoru. It was wrong and you know it. You left me no choice. I don't know what sick game you're playing with me, but it has to stop."

"Game?" His voice rose. "You think this is a game for me?"

You flinched back slightly, the intensity in his tone catching you off guard.

He took a few steps closer. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"You consume me!" he blurted out, his voice raw. "I had it under control, I was stable until you came into my life! But now, you're all I can think about!"

"Don't make this about me," you countered sharply.

"That day, I was more nervous than I had ever been in my life," he continued, almost pleadingly, "because I knew that if this surgery failed, it would hurt you—it would kill you, and it would end the research once and for all. And I couldn't bear the thought of you crying again. Not because of me."

"You're just finding excuses."

"Oh, sweetheart, I wish it was. But it's the truth." He closed the gap between you. "God, I can't think clearly when I'm around you! I can't sleep without thinking about you! All there is is the need to be near you, and nothing ever compares to that."

This can't be real.

He could never feel this way about you.

Because someone who would feel that way would never do what he did.

"You're lying." You stepped back, your spine hitting the cold wall behind you. But he was quick to close the distance between you again.

"You're not believing me?" His eyebrow arched in question. In a swift motion, he pulled you close to him, one hand around your waist, the other gripping your jaw between his thumb and fingers. You gasped at the sudden force.

"You need proof?" he said, his words a mere prelude to the searing kiss that followed. Your eyelids fluttered closed as the immediate surge of heat and adrenaline coursed through your body.

He pressed you against the wall, his body molded against yours. You could clearly feel the intensity of his emotions, the raw need in his movements. His frustration, his desire, his confusion—all were laid bare in that kiss.

"You drive me fucking insane," he breathed against your lip. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entry, and you eagerly granted it. Without hesitation, his tongue boldly delved into your mouth. Your lips melded against his, causing you to moaned into his mouth.

His hand moved to your hair, grasping it, forcing your head back to deepen the kiss. His mouth covered yours, demanding more, you could barely catch your breath. You were hot all over. He tasted so good. He felt so good.

You were acutely aware of every point where your bodies touched, the pressure of his weight against you, the force of his grip in your hair. His touch was like fire on your skin, igniting a yearning you couldn't contain. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer still.

You hated him.

You tried to remember that, but all good reason left you as his lips moved over your cheeks, trailing down your jaw to your neck. You found yourself giving in to the sensations, arching your neck to give him better access. His grip on your hair tightened.

Fuck, you hated him.

He lied to you.

You hated him.

Right?

Your fingers clutched at his shirt, desperate for more contact. Satoru's hands slid down your sides to hike up the hem of your dress. In a swift motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the wall.

The friction of his body between your legs was maddening. You could clearly feel the hard outline of him. Your breathing grew ragged, your back arching further, grinding yourself against his hardness.

"Take them off," you muffled against his lips.

Satoru pulled back, leaving a trail of saliva that briefly connected your parted lips. "What?" he gasped, his half-lidded eyes searching yours.

"Your pants," you panted.

He smirked. Without warning, he spun you around and set you down on the marble counter of the sink. The coolness of the marble beneath you contrasted sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours.

His lips found yours again, fierce and possessive, as if staking his claim. His hands pushed your dress further up, exposing more of your skin to his touch. He didn't break the kiss as he began to undo his belt, the clinking sound of the buckle sending shivers down your spine.

His hand gripped your hips, his fingers slipping under the silk strap of your underwear. With a deft twist, he wound his fingers in the fabric and pulled them down. He gripped your hips and pulled you close to him.

"Might want to cover your mouth," he whispered against your lips.

Without another word, he positioned himself and pushed all the way inside. You bit down on your lip as you tried to stifle a scream from the sudden stretch, feeling every inch of him fill you up. The sensation was both painful and exhilarating, causing you to tighten around him.

You clung to his neck, your chest pressed firmly against his. "Fuck... Satoru."

"Shh." He placed a hand over your mouth. "Quiet, sweetheart."

He withdrew, teasingly brushing the tip against your entrance as if to savor the feeling of your dampness coating him. Then he slammed back into you again, causing you to accidentally bite down on his hand. He didn't flinch.

Your mind emptied of all thoughts as he drove deeper and harder into you, leaving only the sensation of his thickness filling you completely.

He picked up speed, pumping his hips into yours with increasing urgency. With each deep plunge into your core, you felt yourself being stretched impossibly wide—felt his cock hit bottom again and again.

Every move he made felt so good, too good—as if he knew your body better than you did yourself.

He shifted his stance, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. You leaned back against the cold marble countertop, letting go of everything else as he changed the angle of his hips, hitting spots that instantly made your legs tremble.

You cursed, the sound dying away under his palm. You cursed yourself for doing this and cursed him for making you feel so fucking good.

Your stomach tightened and you could feel an orgasm building dangerously fast. The sound of the mirror behind you shaking grew louder, echoing through the room. But all you could focus on was the man between your legs, driving into you with a ferocity that left you breathless.

"Turn around," he ordered, having already swung you around halfway. He placed a hand on your back and pushed you down onto the counter. Your heated skin touched the cold marble. You stared at your reflection, taking in your glazed eyes and swollen lips.

Satoru locked briefly eyes with you through the mirror. "Keep quiet, will you?"

You clamped your own hand over your mouth, not trusting yourself to keep quiet. His eyes burned into yours as he continued his thrusts. Slowly this time, driving his cock into you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. You moaned into your hand.

"Fuck," he gasps, his eyes closed and brows etched in pain. "You feel so good."

Satoru pulled out and pressed back into you again, your entire being quivered with pleasure. You clenched your hand tightly over your mouth, biting down on your palm to stifle the sounds wanting to escape. Every muscle tightened.

With each thrust, he did pause briefly at the tip of your entrance, teasing your senses with anticipation, before pushing further, burying himself deeper and deeper into your core, filling you completely. It was like he was savoring every second as if this was the first and only time he could fuck you.

Your head hung heavy, your hair cascading down your forehead. Every nerve ending in your body came alive as he hit all the right spots, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

He quickened his pace again, pounding into you with a frenzied urgency that left you gasping for air. With each hard thrust, his cock pulse inside you, driving himself harder and faster towards release. Your limbs went weak as you surrendered fully to the pleasure.

And then, suddenly, everything exploded into blinding white light, consuming you whole as you cried out, muffled against your palm. Your entire body convulsed in pleasure.

"You're so fucking tight," Satoru hissed as you clenched around him. He followed close behind, his body convulsing as he released inside you, filling you completely. He collapsed against you, panting and shivering as he tried to catch his breath.

You opened your eyes, meeting Satoru's gaze through the mirror. For several moments, neither of you spoke, just gazing into each other's eyes as you felt the slow drip of his cum running down your inner thigh.

You watched the slight rise and fall of his chest as he regained his composure, the muscles in his arms tensing and relaxing subtly. His ragged breath filled the room. It stopped only for a moment as he pressed a tender kiss to your back.

Then, he pulled out of you, causing a faint wince.

"Fuck—This is...," he started, but words seemed to fail him. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear his thoughts. He stepped back, pulled up his pants, and straightened his disheveled suit.

Yeah. Fuck.

In the sudden absence of adrenaline and desire, the reality of what had happened hit you hard.

What you had just done.

With whom you had done it.

Fuck, he was your professor. And even worse, an addict. What were you thinking?

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

"Did I hurt you?" Satoru's voice cut through your thoughts.

His question surprised you. As if physical hurt was the worst thing in the chaos of what had happened. Even though his firm grip on your hips would surely leave marks.

"I'm fine." You pushed off the marble counter, hastily pulling your dress down and fixing your tousled hair.

Fuck.

Your mind raced as you watched him.

He adjusted his bow tie, his breathing still labored. His muscles quivered subtly. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his skin, making his white hair cling slightly to his forehead. When his eyes met yours you saw a vulnerability in his gaze that made your heart ache.

You looked away.

Fuck.

"I need a drink," you said, more to yourself than to him. You needed space, time to think, to process. Without waiting for a response, you unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out, leaving Satoru behind. "What? Wait!"

The bright lights and lively chatter of the conference washed over you as you emerged. The noise and the crowd felt like a tidal wave, engulfing you as you navigated through the sea of elegantly dressed attendees.

Spotting a waiter carrying a tray of sparkling glasses, you reached out to take one. But before you could grasp a glass, you felt a firm grip on your wrist. You spun around to find Satoru right behind you, his expression grave.

"I think you've had enough to drink for tonight," he said in a low voice.

"I don't need you to monitor my alcohol intake, Satoru," you snapped, trying to free your wrist from his hold.

As he was about to argue further, your conversation was abruptly halted by the approach of an elegantly poised older woman. Satoru's grip loosened, and he turned towards her with a noticeable shift in demeanor.

"Mother," Satoru greeted her dryly.

Mother?

You stood there, momentarily baffled.

His mother was dressed in an elegant dark blue evening gown that clung to her slender figure, adorned with lace and sequins. Her white hair was immaculately coiffed and cascaded down her back in soft waves.

She had steel-gray eyes that looked like a faded shade of Satoru's striking blue eyes. But there was no warmth to them as her scrutinizing gaze traveled up and down your frame. Her left eyebrow raised slightly. It made your skin crawl.

"Satoru," she greeted him in a tone that matched his.

"I can't say I expected you to show up here," Satoru replied.

She surveyed him with a critical eye, her lips set in a thin line. "Why must you always greet me with such coldness, Satoru? I am here to celebrate your success, after all."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the reason."

Subtly, Satoru shifted closer to you, almost as if to shield you from her piercing scrutiny. Yet, her focus remained on you. "And who is this? The talented young surgeon I've heard rumors about, or simply another one of my son's fleeting amusements?"

You bristled slightly at her insinuation.

Satoru's jaw clenched visibly. "That's enough."

"Oh, Satoru, don't be shy," she waved a dismissive hand. "She's a pretty one."

„She's talented," Satoru said.

"Oh, even worse," she mused, taking a sip of her wine. "Let's see how long this lasts. But please, Satoru, try to keep the family's dignity."

Satoru's patience was visibly wearing thin. "Shut it, mother."

His mother laughed. "One last thing, darling," she said, turning back to you. Her hand extended towards you. "Your lipstick is slightly smeared. Next time, do try to be more subtle about your affair with my son."

Satoru's reaction was immediate. "Get your hands away from her," he warned sharply, swiftly intercepting his mother's hand before it could reach you.

"Mrs. Gojo, what a pleasant surprise to see you here."

You turned your head to the familiar voice and saw Geto approaching with a courteous smile. Satoru's mother turned to him. "Mr. Geto, always the charmer," she responded, her tone suddenly devoid of all coldness.

Geto flashed a bewitching smile. "I was hoping to have a word with you. Could I steal you away for a moment?"

With a curt nod, Satoru's mother agreed. "Of course. Satoru, we will talk later." She cast one last pointed glance in your direction before allowing Geto to guide her away.

As they walked off, Satoru exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You're not the only one with a complicated mother."

Somehow, Satoru's addiction was no longer that surprising.

You quickly touched up your lipstick. "She's a bitch."

Satoru gave a wry smile. "She is."

At that moment, your phone buzzed with a new message. You glanced at the screen.

[10:44 PM] Yuta: Hey, we're all at the afterparty. You coming?

Without saying anything, you turned to leave, but Satoru's grip on your wrist stopped you once more. "Where are you going?"

"I'm heading to the afterparty."

Satoru raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't much of a party person."

"Well, I might have changed that," you retorted, attempting to pull your wrist free.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Too bad you don't get to decide that."

"Don't be stupid. I'll bring you home."

"Stop it, Satoru! You have no right to care about me. I don't want you to care about me! Now let me go!"

You could see the hurt in his eyes at your words. But he released your wrist. "Please, don't do this to me," he murmured, almost pleading.

"Like you forced me to do that surgery?" Your words felt like blades in your throat.

Satoru fell silent.

Without another word, you turned and walked away. You didn't look back.

─── ·✧· ───

The pulsating beats of the club greeted you as you stepped inside. The rhythmic bass of the music pulsed through the floor, vibrating up through your feet. It was overwhelming, yet oddly calming.

Your friends were already there, somewhere amidst the sea of bodies lost in the music. Pushing through the crowd, you scanned the area for familiar faces. The club was packed. Laughter and conversations melded with the music. The sweet scent of alcohol filled the air.

Eventually, you spotted your friends huddled near the bar. As you approached, they waved you over. "There you are!" Maki shouted over the music. "We were starting to think you'd stood us up!"

You forced a smile. "Wouldn't miss this for the world," you replied, trying to sound more upbeat than you felt.

Yuta leaned in, his eyes curious. "How'd the conference go?"

"Nothing special happened. Let's just have fun tonight," you shrugged off his question. You didn't want to delve into the shitty evening you had, not here, not now, not ever.

Turning to the bar, you ordered a drink, something strong and quick. The bartender slid a glass towards you, and you downed it in one smooth motion. The liquid burned its way down your throat, momentarily stealing your breath.

Maki raised an eyebrow. "Wow, going hard tonight?"

"Just catching up," you said.

"So, what's the story? Did Dr. Handsome finally realize he's madly in love with you? Come on, there's gotta be some steamy OR drama you're hiding from us."

Her words slurred just a bit. She clearly had a few drinks already.

"You're just imagining things, Maki."

"Well, can you blame me?" Maki laughed. "Every time you two are in the same room, it's like watching a drama unfold. The tension, the glances—come on, spill it!"

Toge nodded in agreement.

You rolled your eyes. "Trust me, it's far from that."

Yuta jumped in. "Come on Maki, don't push her. We're here to have fun, remember?"

Maki punched Yuta's arm. "Oh, like you're not dying to know too!"

The group laughed, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be swept up in their infectious energy. You all moved to the dance floor, where the pulsing rhythm of the club's music enveloped you completely. The bass reverberated through your body.

Surrounded by the crowd, you found yourself moving to the beat. You clearly felt the effects of the alcohol, a pleasant buzz that dulled your worries. But here, in the midst of a sea of bodies, those worries felt distant, as if they belonged to another life.

It allowed you to lose yourself, to forget, if only for a while. The heat of the crowd, the scent of sweat and perfume, the sensation of being surrounded yet utterly alone in your thoughts—it was intoxicating.

Your friends were nearby, also lost in the moment. Maki's laughter rang out, clear and carefree, cutting through the music. Yuta performed a series of hilariously exaggerated dance moves.

At one point, he attempted a robot dance, his limbs moving in jerky, mechanical motions that made everyone burst out laughing. Toge even joined in and added his own twist to the robot dance.

You laughed. You laughed so hard like you haven't in a long time, the stress and worries of the day momentarily forgotten. And you were so grateful to them, even if they didn't know what was going on.

You ordered a round of shots for the group. Coming back to your friends group, you all gathered in a small circle, holding up the small glasses.

"To friendship and unforgettable nights!" Maki toasted.

The shots went down with a burning kick.

As the night continued in a whirlwind of music and laughter, you noticed a young man weaving his way through the crowd towards you.

He had a confident stride, a slight smile playing on his lips. In his hands, he carried two shots. You recognized him as a fellow medical student from the university, though his name escaped you in the moment.

"Hey there," he greeted, offering you one of the shots. "Thought you might need a refill."

You accepted the shot with a smile. "Thanks, stranger."

He chuckled. "Well, we're not exactly strangers. I've seen you around university. Your beauty is pretty hard to miss."

"You have a way with words, don't you?"

"Just speaking the truth," he replied smoothly, raising his glass for a toast. "To a good night."

Glasses clinked, and you both downed the shots, the liquid heat spreading a pleasant warmth through you.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, his charm and easygoing nature making it easy to talk. He asked about your interests outside of medicine, and you found yourself sharing bits and pieces about your life against the backdrop of the party's rhythmic music.

Every so often, your eyes drifted to your friends, ensuring they were still within sight. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, occasionally glancing over to check on you.

As the song changed, the young man extended his hand. "How about we take this conversation to the dance floor?"

You hesitated for a moment, a brief image of Satoru flashed through your mind, but you quickly dismissed it, drowning out any thoughts of him. "Sure, why not?" you said with a smile, as he dragged you away from your friends.

The music and the rhythm of the dance floor were momentarily exhilarating, but as you moved to the beat, an unsettling sensation began to take hold. The lights of the club began to blur, and the pulsing music seemed muffled, as if you were underwater.

A wave of nausea swept over you, and your surroundings began to feel surreal and disconnected.

He leaned in closer, placing a hand on your waist. "You want to go outside?"

You flinched slightly. His touch felt awful. You didn't want him to touch you.

Not him.

"No, I'm... I'm going to the bathroom real quick." Your voice sounded alarmingly faint and distant to yourself.

"Should I come with you?"

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to envelop your thoughts.

Somehow it became hard to push through the crowd. Your legs barely moved at your command. Everything felt muffled. As if the sounds and lights around you weren't really reaching you anymore.

Stumbling slightly, you made your way toward the exit instead to the bathroom, each step feeling heavier than the last. Once outside, the cool night air hit you, but it did little to ease your spinning head.

The world around you seemed to tilt and sway, the bright lights of the club's exterior sign blurring into streaks of color. You leaned against the building for support, trying to steady yourself.

This is not normal.

Something was very wrong.

Could it have been the drink?

Fuck.

Phone.

Where was your phone?

You needed to call someone.

You fumbled for your phone, wanting to call your friends who were still inside the club. Your fingers felt clumsy and uncoordinated as you tried to unlock the screen, the icons dancing before your eyes.

After several failed attempts, you finally managed to dial Maki's number. You pressed the phone to your ear, each ring echoing distantly, as if coming from far away. "Come on, Maki, please pick up," you whispered under your breath.

Maki didn't answer.

Yuta didn't answer either.

Neither did Toge.

The loud music in the club probably drowned out the sound of their phone.

Fuck.

Panic set in. You knew you couldn't go back into the club in your current state, not with the risk of running into that guy again who probably put something in your drink.

You scrolled through your contacts with trembling hands, your vision swimming. Then, without a second thought, you dialed a number. The phone barely had time to ring before he answered.

You let out a shaky breath, not sure what to say only his name escaped your lips in a whisper, "Satoru..."

That was all he needed to hear.

All he ever needed to hear.

"Where are you?" He said without missing a beat.

"I'm outside the club... I think someone drugged my drink," you stammered, struggling to keep your thoughts coherent. "Everything's spinning, I can't..."

"Stay right there. I'm coming," Satoru cut in. "Don't move, and tell me exactly where you are."

You gave him the best description you could manage of your location, your words slurring and overlapping as the world around you spun out of control. Satoru continued to talk to over the phone, telling you to hang on, that he was on his way, but his voice seemed to fade in and out.

Time seemed to lose its meaning.

The moments stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last. You were vaguely aware of voices and the sounds of the city around you, but they felt distant.

Then, abruptly, a familiar presence cut through the fog.

Without saying anything, Satoru's arms gently lifted you from the ground. He held you close, the warmth of his body a soothing presence as he carried you towards his car. The world seemed to spin and blur around you. Clinging to his neck, you managed a faint whisper, "Satoru..."

"It's okay, you're safe now," he assured you in a calm voice.

Reaching his car, Satoru settled you into the passenger seat of his car, securing the seatbelt around you. Sliding into the driver's seat, he started the engine. You felt his car begin to move. His hand rested on your thigh.

You twisted uncomfortably in the seat, fighting the nausea that threatened to overwhelm you.

"Hang on, we're almost there," Satoru said.

The drive felt surreal, the city lights passing by in a dreamlike blur. When the car finally came to a stop, you realized that you weren't at your apartment. "Where are we?"

"We're at my place," Satoru unbuckled his seatbelt. "You think I would leave you alone after you got drugged?"

"No, I'm fine," you protested weakly, though your body betrayed you with its unsteadiness. Satoru was already at your side, lifting you into his arms once again with gentle care. As he carried you from the car to his apartment, your head spun, and your protests faltered. "I'm fine, Satoru, I really..."

He glanced down at you. "Don't be stupid."

You wanted to argue more, but the dizziness made it hard to focus. Reluctantly, you allowed him to carry you inside. Maybe, even let yourself fall more into his embrace.

Once inside, Satoru carefully set you down on the couch in his living room. In the next second, he was kneeling in front of you and removed your heels. You flinched slightly at the touch of his hands on your ankles.

"You really don't have to do this—"

"Stop it, already. And let me take care of you," he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sighed and lay back on the couch, your body feeling strangely heavy.

"Wait a second," he then said and went into his kitchen. You rolled over to your side on the couch, still everything spun. You reached for a cushion and laid your head on it, legs curling up to your chest. You tried your best to not throw up on his expensive looking furniture.

Your eyes wandered around Satoru's apartment.

The open living area was spacious and airy, with large windows that let in the soft glow of the city lights. The walls were adorned with a piece of art, abstract in design, with bold strokes and vibrant colors that perhaps cost as much as your entire university tuition.

Your gaze drifted to a bookshelf lined with medical books and journals. On one shelf were several trophies lined up, each one gleaming under the soft lighting. As you focused on them, it became clear that they were from basketball matches.

Then Satoru returned with a glass of water. "I didn't realize you were that good at basketball," you said, trying to distract yourself from the nausea.

Satoru followed your gaze and a slight smile crossed his face. "Yeah, I was not that bad."

He sat down on the couch beside you, and handed you the water. "This should help," he said revealing a few pills in his other hands.

"What are these?" you asked as you pushed yourself up a bit.

"They help you get off whatever it is in your bloodline."

Hm.

He must know, right?

Was it wrong to think that you were glad to know someone who was an addict when you were being drugged yourself?

Anyway, you took the glass of water and swallowed the pills.

Satoru watched you for a moment, before standing up and walking over to the kitchen again. As he returned, he had donned a pair of gloves and was carrying a syringe.

"Wait, what's that for?" you asked, eyeing the syringe.

"Hold out your arm to me," Satoru ordered as he sat down beside you. "I want to take a blood sample and run some tests."

God, always the doctor.

Reluctantly, you extended your arm.

Satoru's touch was gentle as he skillfully found a vein and drew a small sample of blood. "There, all done," he said, applying a small bandage to the puncture site. "I'll get this to the lab first thing in the morning."

Satoru tore off the gloves. "How are you feeling?"

"The room's not spinning as much," you said. "Thank you."

He reached out, gently cupping your face with one hand, his thumb softly tracing your cheek. "Did you see who gave you the drink?"

"I don't remember his name... but he's from university. I've seen him around."

His expression hardened, his hand dropping away from your face. You watched as Satoru stood, the frustration evident in his movements. He began to loosen the bow tie of his suit he still wore.

"You're staying here tonight," he stated.

"I'm not sure if—"

"You're staying, no arguments," he cut in firmly.

You shut your mouth.

He took off his suit jacket and threw it over a chair. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he suggested, "You can borrow something to wear from my wardrobe," nodding towards a door across the room.

Yeah.

You wanted nothing more than to finally get rid of that dress.

It felt filthy.

Your whole body felt filthy.

You stood, but your weakened form betrayed you once more. Suddenly off-balance, you almost fell, but Satoru was there in an instant. He quickly wrapped his arm around you.

You found yourself unexpectedly close to him. His lips hovered just an inch from yours. "You need help?"

"I'm—" you started, but the words caught in your throat as his gaze locked onto yours. "I'm fine."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Your lips lingered there, barely touching.

Slowly, he loosened his hold on you. "Call me if you need anything."

With weak legs, you made your way to his bedroom. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting a serene glow across the room. The bedroom was spacious with a large, comfortable looking bed dominating the space.

The room smelled like him.

You approached his wardrobe, which was open and neatly organized. As you browsed through his clothes, you couldn't help but notice that everything, from his shirts to his trousers, seemed to be expensive, each piece perfectly tailored.

It sure had its benefits when you were one of the most famous neurosurgeons.

Feeling a bit out of place among such expensive pieces, you reached for a pair of sweatpants and a soft cotton shirt. They were obviously his, likely to be oversized on you, but you couldn't help but notice his familiar scent lingering on them.

You threw the cloths on his bed and tried to change out of your dress. Your hands fumbled with the zipper at the back of your dress. You twisted and turned, trying to reach it, but it was no use. The zipper remained stubbornly just out of reach.

You considered just ripping it off for a second.

But then you took a deep breath.

"Satoru?" you called out.

After a brief pause, you heard his footsteps approaching the bedroom. You hadn't bothered to close the door. He appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes held a hint of amusement as he observed your struggle.

"It's this zipper... I can't get it," you said, turning to show him the back of your dress.

Satoru moved closer. "You know, that's a pretty lame excuse to get me into the bedroom." You felt a shiver run down your spine as his breath lightly brushed against your neck. Gently, he gathered your hair and swept it over your shoulder, exposing the length of your back.

"Still, you're here," you whispered as he reached for the zipper and slowly pulled it down. Cold air hit your now exposed back.

"I'll always be there when you need me."

You inhaled sharply as you felt the dress loosen around you.

Satoru remained close to you. His warm hands reached up, brushing over your arms up to your shoulders. His fingers traced the thin straps of your dress, lingering just a moment too long, as if contemplating if he should slip them off your shoulders or not.

You didn't want him to slip them off.

Or not?

Or what was it you wanted?

In that moment, time seemed to pause. You both stood there, caught in a shared suspension, the room around you bathed in soft moonlight that filtered through the windows. The silence only broken by the sound of your heavy breathing.

"You should get some rest," he murmured. "We can talk tomorrow."

No you didn't want to talk about it.

You didn't want to admit it.

You took a deep breath.

"I'm fine," you countered in a whisper. "I don't need to rest."

His lips drew nearer, and he placed tender kisses along your shoulder, igniting a trail of warmth that seemed to awaken every nerve in your body. His hands found your hips, anchoring you firmly to him.

"You should. It's been a long nigh."

Your heartbeat quickened. "Don't try to tell me what I need."

Satoru sighed. His lips continued their exploration, moving up your neck with a softness that belied his restraint. "Don't make this so hard," he murmured. "I'm trying to do the right thing here."

"It didn't seem to bother you too much in the bathroom earlier."

You turned around to face him. Satoru's hands found their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer still until you were pressed tightly against him.

"I know," he said, his voice strained. "And I'm sorry for that, we shouldn't have—"

"Stop, Satoru," you interrupted. "I don't want your apologies."

He paused.

You swallowed hard. "I want you to make me forget this fucked up day."

"Not like this. You're drunk and also probably drugged," he said, but you could almost see his resolve wavering as he held you close, the contours of your bodies molding perfectly together.

You exhaled softly, your gaze fixed on his lip. "I don't care."

Because you really didn't.

You needed him right now.

Needed the feeling of his skin on yours.

You knew it was wrong—using him like this was wrong, but you didn't care. Perhaps it was the drugs in your bloodline or the alcohol but you didn't care. You wanted him, craved the escape he—and only he—could offer you.

Satoru was close, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. The struggle in his eyes made it clear that he was losing whatever battle the rational side of him was waging. So, you waited—waited for him to lose against his self control.

"I get it, you're hurt. But this won't give you what you need and I won't use you like that."

The irony wasn't lost on you. Weren't you the one who was about to use him?

"Maybe I want you to use me?"

"God, what are you saying?" He almost trembled under the strain it took him to hold back, as his hand reached up to grasp the nape of your neck. "You'll regret his tomorrow. You'll hate me for this," he breathed out, pained.

"Then let me regret it, Satoru." Your fingers reaching up to slowly unbutton his shirt. His mouth hovered over yours, his lips grazing yours in a torturous almost-kiss, yet still maintaining that maddening distance.

"I don't care," you breathed, continuing to slowly unbutton his shirt.

As the last button was undone, the fabric of Satoru's shirt parted, revealing the well-defined muscles of his chest. Your fingertips grazed his skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch. Satoru inhaled sharply.

"Listen, we can pretend what happened earlier in that bathroom was just a stupid mistake. I'm fine with that." His gaze dropped to your lips. "But we can't keep making the same 'mistake' and deny what's happening. If we cross that line again, it changes everything."

"I know. But I don't care. I can't...I need you."

With that, the last restraint he held shattered.

Satoru's lips finally found yours, igniting an immediate fire within you.

His mouth moved hungrily against yours, deep and consuming. He didn't give you a second to catch your breath, but you didn't care. You didn't need air when you had him.

You melted under his touch, surrendering completely. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss even further. The heat of the moment consumed you, and all you could think of was him, the way he tasted, the way he felt, the way he made your heart race.

The world around you faded away.

Slowly, deliberately, he began to undress you. "Tell me to stop," he said as his kisses trailed from your lips down to your neck. You closed your eyes, moaning softly at the way his touch made you feel alive.

You shook your head. "I want you."

"Please, tell me to stop," he said again, even as he slipped his shirt off from his shoulders, revealing a landscape of defined muscles across his shoulders, neck, and abdomen. His hands brushed over your body, taking in the curve of your hip bones and the smoothness of your skin.

In that moment, everything that had held you back—the fear, the hurt, the lies—crumbled into insignificance. There was only the undeniable truth of what you felt for each other, a connection that was as intense as it was complicated.

"I'm yours, Satoru," you whispered. "All yours. Do whatever you want to me."

He paused, locking eyes with you. "Is that what you want? What you need?"

Yes. A thousand times, yes.

Somehow this man in from of you had the power to let you forget every rational thought. And somehow you needed this right now—needed him to make you forget all the hurt, he partly is the reason for but still—you wanted nothing more than to be his in this very moment.

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump forming in your throat.

"Then I'll take care of you."

Without breaking contact, Satoru swept one arm beneath your ass while grasping your waist with the other. Your legs wrapped around him as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. He carried you to the bed, before laying you down.

Your back pressed firmly against the mattress as Satoru followed, covering you completely. He leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. His body molded perfectly to yours, as you traced your fingertips across the expanse of his exposed chest and toned abs.

Satoru pushed your thighs apart, spreading your legs wider. His finger wandered under the hem of your underwear, tracing torturous lines over your skin. You arched your back upward, silently begging for his touch.

He obliged, pushing your underwear aside and sliding one finger inside you. "Is that what you need?"

You moaned softly, as he delved further into your core. His movements were slow and deliberate, your breathing quickened, becoming shallow and rapid. "Yes...yes, please..." You arched your back, urging him further.

His other hand slid beneath you, cupping your hip bone firmly. The sensation of his finger moving within you sent shivers coursing through your veins, igniting an intense fire deep in your core. You clutched at his hair. "More, Satoru."

His response was immediate. He slipped another finger inside you, stretching you wider. The sensation was overwhelming, leaving you helpless in his grasp.

Before long, his mouth met yours once again, taking control of the kiss as his thumb brushed gently against your clit. With every stroke of his fingers and flick of his thumb, you felt yourself growing increasingly close to the edge.

"Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you, sweetheart," Satoru muttered against your lips as his fingers drove deep into you, burying themselves to the limit. Your grip on his hair tightened as you felt him hitting your core.

The sound of your breathless moans filled the room as Satoru's skilled hands worked their magic on your body, making you yearn for more. "You know what I want, Satoru...don't make me beg for it."

Satoru's lips trailed down your jawline and towards your neck. "Bit unfair, don't you think?" His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, sending shivers down your spine as his finger continued to thrust into you. "Wanting me to fuck you, but not letting me tease you a bit about it?"

As he made his way further down your body, you closed your eyes, surrendering yourself entirely to the feeling of him inside you. He trailed kisses all over your body until he reached your parted legs, planting featherlight kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He smiled up at you, his dark eyes sparkling with wicked intent. "But don't worry, you don't have to say anything, I know exactly what you need." He positioned himself firmly between your legs. His hot breath against your clit, making you quiver with anticipation.

He pulled his fingers out of you briefly to pull down your underwear. Then, without warning, he plunged his tongue into your core, sending you reeling with pleasure. Each stroke of his tongue sent electric sparks shooting straight to your core. Moaning loudly, you writhing beneath him, urging him onward.

He delved deeper, suckling hungrily at your clit, his tongue leveling deeper into you. "Oh God, yes...please don't stop," you panted, gripping his hair tightly as he was buried between your legs.

"God, you taste so good." He pulled back his tongue, licking over your clit and inserting his two fingers again, pumping them vigorously in and out of you. "Can you take on more for me?"

You gasped as he pushed yet another finger into you, stretching you impossibly wide. But you couldn't help but crave more—more of the intense sensations coursing through every inch of your being.

His lips closed around your clit once more. He sucked hungrily, flicking his tongue against you as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots in a way that left you gasping for breath. You tightened your grip on his hair. It must have hurt. But he didn't care.

With each passing second, your release drew nearer. He could feel it. He quickened his pace, pushing deeper and harder into you. "Come for me, sweetheart."

And then, without warning, it hit you. You cried out, your body shaking with the force of it all as he continued to suckle and thrust simultaneously, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure from your quivering frame.

"Stop, Satoru..." you panted as he continued to devour your oversensitive core with his mouth. Your legs trembled. It was too much—far too much. "Fuck, stop."

He pulled away from you and moved upwards. His lips brushed softly against yours, making you taste your own arousal. "Don't act like you can't take it," he murmured against your lips. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

Your breath hitched as his eyes suddenly darkened. "You wanted me to make you forget about your fucked up day, remember?"

He pulled back, kneeling before you as he zipped open his pants and pushed them down along with his boxers, exposing his cock—pre-cum already leaking from the tip.

He lowered himself onto you again, pressing his erection against you. "You should be really careful of what you're asking for," he whispered into your ear.

Your heart skipped a beat as his hand found your throat, his grip tight. Yet, you couldn't help but crave more, wanting to surrender completely to his will. "Satoru, just...do me already," you gasped as his pressure on your throat increased.

He smirked. He knew exactly how much power he had over you.

And he liked it.

"You're so damn hot when you beg for more," he whispered against your lips.

Without warning, he surged forward, burying himself deep inside you, savoring each inch as you gasped and arched your back. You bit down on your lower lip, stifling a scream as he filled you completely, every inch of his length stretching you wide.

"Don't hold back, I want to hear you scream my name," he said as he began to move. His movements were rough and unforgiving, pounding into you relentlessly. You cried out his name, writhing underneath him as he took you without mercy.

You clawed at his shoulders, pulling him closer, begging for more. But he was in control here, and he loved the way you responded so eagerly to his every move. He paused suddenly, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in.

Tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as his cock slid back in, filling you once more, sending shivers through your entire body. Then, he picked up pace, faster now, harder. Your walls tightened around him as he pounded deeper and deeper, making you feel alive in ways you never thought possible.

You clung to his shoulder blades, your fingers digging into his skin, leaving marks as he thrust into you. His eyes locked onto yours, watching as pleasure etched itself across your features. He leaned forward, bracing himself above you, and delivered another hard thrust, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips.

Suddenly, he pulled out, flipping you over onto your stomach. Before you even had time to process what was happening, he pressed you face-down into the bed, grabbed your arms and crossed them behind your back, pinning you firmly in place.

Your moans turned into cries as he hitched your hips higher, burying himself even deeper inside of you from this angle, his hardness stretching you wide. It wasn't gentle anymore, far from it. He was rough, almost cruel, pushing past boundaries until you weren't sure if you could bear it any longer.

And yet you couldn't get enough.

You closed your eyes, burying your head into the sheets. He slammed into you again and again, each time he hit bottom. Your body quivered beneath him, and you let out a series of whimpers and gasps as he pushed you closer to the edge.

He tightened his grip on your wrists, pulling you closer against him. His breathing grew ragged as he lost himself in the sensation.

You wanted nothing more of him than to lose himself.

As he buried himself deep within you once more, you felt yourself shattering. Every muscle in your body convulsed, your cries muffled by the sheets beneath you. You shuddered violently, writhing underneath his firm grip as your orgasm threatened to consume you whole.

His rhythm faltered slightly as he felt you clench around him before picking up the pace again, and soon after, he followed you over the edge. He came inside of you, filling you whole with a sharp hiss of pain.

Satoru released the grip on your wrist and collapsed over you, resting himself on his arms. He remained motionless for a moment, both of you catching your breath. You lifted your head off the sheets, swallowing hard as the sensation lingered.

He leaned down, his breath warm on your back. His tongue ran along the curve of your spine, savoring the salty taste of your skin. "Feeling better now, sweetheart?" he asked, as his cum dripped onto the sheets.

Turning your head, you caught his eye. His gaze held yours, a sly smile on his lips.

You didn't know what to say—what to think even.

There was just this man who drove you absolutely insane—your professor, your research partner, your mentor's best friend, and...

...an addict.

"You have to get clean."

─── ·✧· ───

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

x a/n: thank you for the wait dears, this chapter did turn out super long. also two smut scenes haha. i actually don't really enjoy writing these and it takes me forever but somehow i wrote two now... i blame it on ovulation. also i'm not too happy with the second smut scene but i edited it like three times already and can't seem to get it right, so i'm just posting it now. anyway thank you for reading, feel free to leave your thoughts! :)

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut

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bimboamyrose · 7 months

Text

Unfamiliar - Ch. 16: The Fool

Art: @mmm-asbestos ☆ First 2 chapters ☆ Prev. (Ch. 15) ☆ AO3

Ch. 16 - The Fool

“Did you have an errand in town or something?” Amy sensed his anxiety.

In minutes, the pair were miles away. They quickly found themselves in town, in the center of a populated shopping area. Some passerby who recognized Sonic began rubbernecking as they milled about.

He shifted his vision around apprehensively as he allowed Amy to step down from his arms.

“Do you think he’s tailing us? Don’t think it’s the best idea to bring him right back to your place, considering…”

“I don’t think Eggman has anything fast enough to keep up with you” she started. “Oh- well, not anymore. Besides, you’re hungry, remember?” Amy joked. They stood near a selection of restaurants and cafes.

“Oh- yeah!” Sonic exhaled. “We should give Tails a call, though-”

“Let’s not,” Amy blurted out. It wasn’t exactly how she’d planned it, but this was just the opportunity she needed to be alone with Sonic.

“Huh? Why?”

“I didn’t bring my communicator,” she tried to sound nonchalant.

“I’ll just run over there-”

Amy dashed past him to a glass storefront, gasping theatrically. “I’ve been wanting to check out this new cafe!”

“Well I was thinking to grab Tails and-”

“Let’s sit down inside!” Amy insisted, pushing her way through the front doors.

Not in an arguing mood, Sonic followed inside begrudgingly.

A hostess escorted them to a small table by a window. It overlooked a fountain in the square. It was past lunchtime, but a few other pairs lingered in neighboring tables; couples gazing dreamily at each other or sharing desserts. Sonic shifted his own eyes to the window. He fidgeted in his chair.

“So,” Amy sighed, “that was… interesting.”

“No kidding.” He didn’t turn to her.

“He… knows about Metal,” she continued.

Sonic spun back to face her gravely.

“Oh, come on, there’s no way he’s listening to us here. Relax!”

“Guess you’re right.” He turned bleakly back to the window. “What do we do?”

Amy was unsure herself. “Maybe… Going to this grand opening thing won’t be so bad?”

“Come on, Ames, that’s an obvious trap.” Sonic leaned an elbow onto the table and turned to her. “And what about your roommate? Eggman kinda owns him.”

“Metal will make the right choice,” she waved off his question.

He looked skeptical. “Why are you so confident about that?”

“‘Cause,” she trailed off, unclear of her own reasoning. “Well, he barely even remembers right now. I’m not worried about him.”

“Eggman wants him back.” Sonic returned with a concerned frown. “He can’t live with you forever.”

“I know,” Amy replied sheepishly. There hadn’t been much thought put into what exactly was going to happen to Metal, or when. Though she understood Metal couldn’t hang around much longer if she got involved with Sonic.

“What do you think he wants him for?”

“To… build?” Amy shrugged. “It seems like Eggman’s only priority right now.”

The pair each looked somberly to the window until they caught each other’s eyes in the reflections. Amy pouted, uncertain of what else to say about the situation. Sonic grinned at his friend gingerly and met her face to face.

“We always figure it out,” he said as confidently as he could manage. “We’re a great team, after all.”

The misgiving situation weighed on Sonic, his usual direct approach to problems ineffective in all the uncertainty. But he was nothing if not a pacesetter for his team. It didn’t do them any good for him to be gloomy.

“Yeah,” Amy smiled with a similar hesitance.

A waiter interrupted them with his introduction. The short minutes they spent ordering lavish sounding drinks and pastries calming Amy and Sonic. By the time the waiter retracted the menus, the two had relaxed in their chairs. They smiled more comfortably now, no less uncertain but confident they could tackle the situation as a team.

“If Metal’s really on our side, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to send the guy back his bot,” Sonic commented between bites of a croissant.

“If he wants to go back.” Amy took a sip from her tea, lifting her eyes to him over the rim, hesitant about what he’d think of the remark.

“Well if you want him on the team,” Sonic shrugged.

“I mean, it’s not about what I want…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sonic smiled at her knowingly. “Metal can do what he wants. I won’t give him a hard time- if he really isn’t up to something with Eggman.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll talk to him.” Amy was eager to get off the subject.

“So… what’d you think of the food?”

“Pretty good, I guess.” Sonic took a sip from a tall glass of some kind of local handcrafted soda the waiter had offered as an alternative to tea and coffee. It was the only drink that sounded mildly good to him. “Little fancy, though.”

“Mhm…”

She reached into her pocket for the all-important card she’d pulled that morning and told herself it was time to broach the subject. Her cheeks felt warm.

“I like it,” she continued, “It’s kinda- I don’t know- romantic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… I guess you could say that.” He took an uncomfortable look around the room, sucking up his drink impetuously.

Amy brought her cup back to her lips apprehensively. “It’s a cute place for a date. Maybe- maybe we can come back for one sometime?”

A fizzy gulp caused Sonic to cough and clear his throat. Amy blinked at him from behind her teacup, hiding her flushed face, panicking internally.

“I-” he started, pausing to clear his throat a second time. He looked away from her in embarrassment. “I mean, we’re not, uh, dating, though.” A flight response kicked in and he glanced toward the front door.

“But… We could be.” Her words were a demure squeak. “Don’t you think?”

“I’m gonna be heading back to Tails’, I think-”

“Sonic.” Amy set down the cup. She swallowed. “Can we try?”

Sonic steadied himself with a deep breath. It felt wrong to continue dodging the matter. He met her pleading face with a poignant seriousness he didn’t often display.

“Amy, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” he said plainly.

Expecting some hesitancy on his part, she pushed on. “Aw, but we’d be so good together! You even said we make such a great team!”

“We do, but-”

“And we’ve known each other for so long! Think of all that history! We’ve always been there for each other and stayed friends even when I was, well, a little obsessed- But you stuck around and that meant so much to me! And-”

“Stop.” Sonic clanked his glass on the table between them. “All this romantic stuff putting everything at stake- I can’t do it, Amy. Much less with you.”

The response left her taken aback, even more than she could have predicted. “So… it’s a problem because it’s me?”

“Sort-of- I-”

She sat upright, loudly clanking her teacup on the table. “And it’s not just because you don’t like me?” Amy’s eyes began to sting as tears threatened to well up.

Sensing an outburst, Sonic leaned away nervously. Being on the receiving end of Amy’s anger was never an enviable position to be in. “Uh…”

“Well? What’s so wrong with dating me? Are you still mad about how immature I was back when we met or something?”

“No! Listen, Amy, I don’t like you that way,” he searched for the right words, frantically and unsuccessfully. “And even if I did, I just don’t think I could ever be in that kind of relationship with you. You’re-”

“I’m what?” Angry tears escaped the moment she stood up abruptly. Her chair screeched against the floor loudly, attracting the attention of the diners around them. “I’m not good enough for you somehow?”

“Amy, that’s not fair,” he scolded. “You know that’s not what I was about to say!”

“What’s not fair is that you always reject me and never tell me why.” She threw her napkin against the table to free her hands, digging through her pocket aggressively. “But I get it now.”

“Amy, come on, please-” Sonic lowered his head in embarrassment as whispers circulated around them. He lowered his voice.

“Please what? Please stop being so loud and obnoxious? Stop being a pest? Stop,” a sob gave her pause, anger melting into heartbreak. “Stop being an annoying little rascal around you?”

The other patrons were staring daggers at them. Sonic melted further into his seat. “This is why I didn’t want to go out,” he muttered. “I was trying to avoid this-”

“Seriously? Ugh!” Amy scoffed, indignant and deeply frustrated. In that moment, that embarrassingly public moment, the only sensible explanation for his rejection were the parts she hated about herself. Her angry outbursts, the insufferable clinginess. Tears continued their path down her cheeks as she dug through her pockets again. Finding the bills she was after, Amy tossed a fistfull onto the table.

The back of her gloves became smudged with makeup as Amy fiercely wiped at her eyes and cheeks. At least she could manage not to sob her way out. At least she wouldn’t add pathetic to the list of her flaws. “I’m leaving!”

“Amy, wait!” Sonic shot up from his seat. “I didn’t mean that-”

“Don’t follow me!”she cried, asserting herself past the hostess and front door. She felt everyone’s eyes on her back, right until the door shut loudly behind her.

Once she was out of sight, all those eyes briefly turned back to Sonic. The other guests began muttering to each other or turning away with secondhand embarrassment.

More than the outburst itself, Sonic immediately felt self-conscious about his response to Amy’s distress, letting all those nosy strangers get in the way.

He sighed at the crumpled notes on the table, letting the public shame wash over him. Amid the wadded bills, he spotted a familiar symbol adorning the back of a creased card. Recognizing it as part of Amy’s deck, Sonic picked it from clutter.

Flipping it on its face, he grimaced at the irony.

“The fool, huh? Man…”

In the square, Amy stomped through walkways and around pedestrians. Her cloudy sights were set on the nearby bus stop. The last thing she wanted to do was sob on public transportation, but what choice did she have?

She planted her hunched form on the bus stop’s only bench. A man in a pressed suit stood nearby and ogled for a few moments, turning and stepping away only after being met by a snapping, fiery glare from the sad-looking girl.

“That’s what I thought,” she grumbled, bowing her head back down onto her palms.

For however much she tried, there was no holding back the floodgates. She sat breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. But her eyes spilled over with tears, leaking between her fingers and onto her lap. Her face was red hot. She didn’t even want to think about how she looked.

Just as she’d resolved to breathe through her woes until she got home, Amy caught a familiar whirring growing closer overhead.

Amy sat up, quickly wiping at her face with the back of her hand. Sitting on her hands to hide her dirty gloves, she spotted him.

“Metal,” she sniffled, “what are you doing in town?”

Metal floated toward the bench, touching down just next to her.

She spun away from him, trying desperately to tidy herself up. She was hardly excited to explain her current state.

Sensing something was off, Metal leaned in for a closer look at her.

“Um… a- a-choo!” Amy forced a sneeze. “Sorry, I have some allergies,” she lied. “All the pollen this time of year…”

That was strange to Metal, being that Amy always seemed to have her nose in some kind of spring bouquet. He was about to press further when she sneezed again.

“I don’t have any tissues with me,” Amy blubbered. “It’s sorta embarrassing…” That much was true.

Rather than question it, Metal scanned their surroundings for a solution. He spotted the man who’d been staring at Amy moments earlier once again gawking, this time at both of them. Metal hardly noticed the man’s gaze, however, more preoccupied with the neatly folded pocket square adorning the front of his jacket. He started toward the man.

Realizing the danger, the guy backed away, holding up his palms in surrender. He grinned awkwardly at the menacing robot approaching him to cut the tension.

It didn’t stop Metal. He pointed at the man’s chest, indicating the blazer’s front pocket. He then held up his palm in command.

The man looked around frantically for the possibility that he could be approaching someone else, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Not understanding Metal’s intentions, the man rustled through his pockets in a panic.

As Metal closed in on him, the man whipped out his wallet, shakily holding it out and turning his face away from the frightening sight.

Believing himself to be in the middle of a mugging, the man finally pleaded meekly, something about taking the wallet. Metal ignored him and his outstretched hand and instead reached forward towards the cowering man’s chest. The man shut his eyes.

Metal snatched the pocket square out of the man’s jacket pocket and promptly forgot about his existence as he rotated back around to Amy.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, holding the crisply folded handkerchief in front of her. She raised a brow, confused at the gesture.

She turned to him. “Where did you get that?”

As Amy took hold of the pocket square, she caught sight of the man cowering nearby. She gasped in realization.

“Is this his?!”

The man’s eyes snapped open, only just understanding what had occurred. He patted at his chest, realizing he’d been robbed of a mere square of fabric.

“Sir!”

Amy shot up, intending to return the stolen accessory, but the man quickly turned and ran off with a squeal as he noticed he was being approached once again.

“Sir! Oh, come on…”

Amy turned her attention back to her friend, shocked at what had just occurred.

“Metal! You can’t just take some random creep’s handkerchief!”

Metal stared at her blankly. He analyzed her flushed cheeks and watery eyes, ignoring her protests. Her gloves were stained front and back with makeup. Was she just crying?

Perturbed, Amy turned away, one again feigning a sneeze. She brought the handkerchief up to her face out of habit. “Well, I guess he’s not gonna be coming back, so…”

Unhappy with the circumstances, Amy wiped away her tears in resignation. The whole scene at least distracted her from her woes- and it was better than blubbering into her damp gloves. She folded the square away into her pocket and looked to Metal.

“Thanks for the tissue, but please promise you won’t go around snatching people’s things,” she managed calmly,

Metal continued to study her expression. He concluded that she was decidedly composed and he could’ve been mistaken about her emotional state. But now there were these supposed allergies to worry about-

“Metal? Hello?” Amy waved a hand in front of him, vexed by the lack of response. “Are you listening?”

He nodded instinctively. It wasn’t what he was focused on.

“Anyway,” Amy sighed. “Did you have an errand or something?”

Metal shook his head and gestured to her with an open palm, clad in his new gloves.

The gesture confused her for a moment, but quickly understood what he had to say. “Oh… did you come just to get me?”

He nodded.

Amy tilted her head with some uncertainty. “How did you know I was here…?”

There was no simple way to explain it to her. He didn’t understand it himself, in fact. Just a few minutes prior, he felt an urgent need to come to this precise spot to find her. It was as if he’d received a signal with a command. So, he rushed over, flying faster than he had for as long as he could recall. It felt almost out of his control, his body propelling him to meet her here. An unexplainable urge. A hunch, he’d heard such a feeling called.

Not knowing any other way to answer, he performed his characteristic shrug and reached closer toward her with his still outstretched hand.

Amy couldn’t help but giggle. His cryptic and limited responses were charming, in a way.

“Well, thanks for picking me up.” She took his hand. It beated taking the bus.

They took off in what was becoming a typical way for Amy and Metal to travel together. It was even more comfortable now that his pointy claws were under wraps. It felt like floating to Amy, who didn’t even have time to recall her sorrow; they arrived at her front door in no time.

“By the way, Metal, I wanna talk to you about today,” she said as he allowed her down. She reached for her front door, continuing. “I gotta call Tails, too. We should all chat about-”

The door eased open. Amy couldn’t believe her eyes.

There must not have been a mug, tumbler, or bowl that wasn’t filled with spring blooms. Lilies sprouted out of drinking glasses and a bushel of peonies practically spilled out of her biggest sauce pot. The bushiest of hyacinth stems poked out of the top of an empty wine bottle. Mason jars sat on every inch of her counter filled with daisies, daffodils, and primroses. Every counter, every chair- every conceivable surface of her home was littered with flowers. Unprecedented and breathtaking.

She stood at the door, speechless. Amy forgot all about the conversation she was about to propose, along with her rejection, the stressful mission, and her “allergies.”

Metal stood back, observing; apprehensive. She’d just had a reaction, and here was every type of flower he could find within a 100-mile radius diffusing pollen into her home. He reached out, intending to hold her back.

But it didn’t stop her. Amy practically sprinted toward the living space, rustling through every vessel, burying her face in as many bunches as she could get her hands on. She gasped and sputtered as she went.

Radiating joy, she looked back to Metal. “You got all these? For me?”

Metal nodded at her tensely from the doorway.

Amy erupted with laughter. “It’s amazing!”

Though muddled by it, her positive response put Metal at ease as he followed her inside.

“Thank you!” She twirled around, taking stock of all the bouquets. “Where did you find so many? Look at these peonies, and those hyacinths, and the daffodils, and- and-”

Her eyes landed on the small bunch of assorted wildflowers she’d received from Sonic that morning.

“-and…”

She trailed off, stroking a little blue cornflower from the motley assortment. They sat next to her one other proper vase, stuffed neatly with pink tulips.

Bittersweet tears flooded her eyes. A conflicted sob escaped her as they flowed down into her smile.

Amy’s emotions had overwhelmed her by the time Metal reached her across the room. He took a cautious step back when he realized her cheeks were already soaked.

For however conflicted she felt about the day’s events, Amy was overjoyed at the thoughtful gesture. There was nothing to do but throw her arms around Metal with all the affection she possessed.

Not anticipating tears, Metal hesitated for a moment. But she clutched and squeezed him with an intensity which he thought could practically crush him. He was as impressed with her strength as he was concerned for her.

Metal wrapped an arm around her slowly. Carefully, he reached a finger to her cheek, catching a tear as it spilled from her eye.

She sniffled, breathing deeply. “Oh, me? Don’t worry,” Amy turned her damp eyes up to him, still beaming. She laughed. “It’s just allergies!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Me in may: hehe I will have so much time to myself this summer i will be able to write sooo much

Me in june: (takes the hardest class I've ever done in my entire life)

Me in july: (builds an entire kitchen)

Me in aug: (gets married)

Me in sep: (picks up twice as many responsibilities at work because the assistant quit)

but hey I got married and we later went to LA to see Sonic Symphony! So it's been a good summer/autumn so far. Other than you know. working 6 days a week. eugh

#btw i love this art so much i think its my fav so far!!! i adore my wife so much its unreal #pls reblog!#amy rose #metal sonic #metamy #sth #sth fanfic #ch 16 #unfamiliar

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pengujoon · 7 months

Text

WEIGHT OF AN ABSENCE

cont. gojo x reader, angst, no comfort. husband!au, intentional lowercase.

a/n. i can’t handle ch 236. my brain came up with the worst possible outcome from this and here is the result. expect the worst.

in a quiet town, where the sun painted the sky in hues of gold and azure, you went about your day like any other. the world moved on, but your heart remained burdened by the weight of an absence that could never be filled.

as you strolled through the market, you found yourself at a florist's stall. your fingers grazed over vibrant blooms, carefully selecting a bouquet of white lilies and blue hydrangeas. the florist glanced at you, her keen eyes catching the glimmer of a ring on the your finger.

"oh, is this for your husband?" the florist asked, her voice soft with curiosity.

a faint smile played on your lips, but it didn't reach your eyes. "yes," you replied quietly, a hint of sadness lingering in your gaze.

you continued your shopping, picking up a pack of sweets that you knew he loved. the sun kissed your shoulders as you walked, your steps graceful in a beautiful blue sundress that seemed to echo the colour of the ocean.

with your purchases in hand, you called for a taxi, and it whisked you away to a tranquil graveyard nestled by the mountains, overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean.

as you stood before a simple gravestone, you whispered his name, "satoru."

setting the flowers and sweets down carefully, you knelt beside the grave, your fingertips tracing the letters carved into the stone, still fresh and vivid. the world seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in memories of laughter and shared moments.

but then, as if a dam had burst within you, tears began to fall. you broke down, your sobs a symphony of grief and longing.

you couldn't forget that fateful day, the memories of rushing to him, cradling his lifeless form, and weeping uncontrollably. it was as if time had blurred into a nightmare, leaving you with fragmented images and a heart heavy with sorrow.

the details of what had transpired remained shrouded in mystery, but the painful truth remained — you held your husband's lifeless body in your arms, while the world around you spiralled into disarray.

"he left too suddenly," you whispered between sobs, as if trying to convey your heartache to the one who could no longer hear you. the pain was still raw, the void he left behind an ache that wouldn't subside.

in that solitary moment, with the sound of the ocean waves in the distance, you poured your heart out to the gravestone, missing him more than words could ever express. the world moved on around you, but your love for him remained as constant as the tides, forever washing against the shores of your soul.

sorry... i feel really bad now so im writing a comfort fic brb.

here's the comfort fic as promised.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk fics #jjk ch 236 #penguwrites #jjk imagines #husband!au

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sy-on-boy · 2 months

Text

My 2 cents on the plot / thematic relevance of Ch 95

This is not about advancing Plot B or showing Anya's school life (which is still true but has been discussed), but rather the overall theme of education and war. There was an excellent post about how Eden is at the frontline of the cold war and it is subtly shown through the innocent lens of the first graders (I can't find it now, would link it if I could). And I think that perfectly applies to Ch 95.

Quick recap on some references about education/students/war throughout the series (that I remember at the moment):

Sylvia gravely condemning the Berlint University Student Terrorists during the Doggy Crisis arc (Ch 20) and saying "did you learn nothing about war at your university?"

Henderson talking about his experience as a history teacher (Ch 27.5, Short Mission 4) and quote: "Yes, well, I have always maintained that there is nothing to be learned from the memorization of time lines. From the grand efforts with which our forefathers crafted society to the foolish notions that sent them racing to war, to not study the human element at history's root is to not understand history at all"

Note that Damian's best subject has been established to be history, and his family (father) has been involved in war, at least Donovan was PM during most of the war (established by Melinda in Ch 91). Donovan is also a graduated Imperial Scholar (Ch 64).

The Red Circus group started out as a peaceful student demonstration "advocating for peace and quality" (Ch 72) and "speaking out to protect the weakest members of our society". And Billy Squire said, "We were a respectable movement that fought for our cause with respectable means. It was the state that turned violent against us. So I'm not taking criticism from a member of the establishment (referring to Henderson, an educator). I'm gonna see to it that they reap what they've sown." Billy's daughter Biddy was killed by the state at a protest.

Less of a point, but Becky is the daughter of the CEO of a major military manufacturer. Despite their very likely involvement in military conflicts because they sell arms, the Blackbell cohort has been depicted positively so far: Becky being a kind, wonderful friend to Anya, Becky's father doting on her, and Martha again being kind and dignified (and also being an ex-soldier and acquainted with Henderson).

Eden Academy is a major setting for SxF and the themes of politics, education, and war are embedded in it. The students involved in protests/groups are older (the university students, Billy's daughter), but the political implications remain even among the youngest of the students— the first graders.

Hence, Ch 95. When mere first graders are shown to fight to gain connections, which can be political as pointed out by Henderson: "In the world of politics, dances serve as major social events". But of course, they are kids, so they see it more playfully and innocently, especially Becky with her shipper lens on.

Of course, there is also the aspect of getting to know other people better out of interest (the boys asking Anya and Becky to dance because they were impressed after the bus hijacking). But as people have mentioned, nobody mentions this to Damian despite him being equally involved in saving the class (all three of them got a star). The girls aren't interested in Damian as a person, they're interested in him as an asset because of his family and their power.

And I can see the teachers trying to diffuse the tension and create camaraderie with their friendly competition. To me, this reads as the teachers fully realizing "the battlefield of political maneuvering", and they want to remind the kids to have fun, to show good sportsmanship, to unite the kids, to operate as a class and be friendly with one another, and overall make it more lighthearted. It's nice to see the classes work together and get excited / win as a unit, especially compared to the more "individual" bits of fighting for a dance partner later.

We get a bit of comparison between Bill and Damian, with Bill showing good sportsmanship while Damian scoffs at him. But Damian ends up becoming ultra competitive and telling his classmates to not screw it up.

Like the Dodgeball chapter, Damian is clumsily attempting to lead the class by doing good in his quiz, while getting stressed and yelling at his peers when they don't succeed like he did. So he's not really a good leader. Like how him being good at history does not necessarily mean he is good at being peaceful (Short Mission 4 ends with Henderson staring in exasperation at Damian + Anya bickering with each other). But obviously, he is merely a child, and he is naturally immature.

At first Loid is all for advancing Plan B and analysed Anya's suitors in a rational (reductionist?) way by ranking them in terms of gaining intelligence, but he remembers this is just a dance, Anya is a kid, and she should do whatever she wants. Loid (and the adults) are very aware of the political side of the gala, but ultimately they want the kids to have fun and not worry / worry less about politics.

Because they're kids! They'll grow up and learn more and be politically active later, but right now, they're just kids. Kids who don't know much about the world but are eager to make the world a better place.

In the end, we get a panel of Anya and Loid "teaming up" to win Damian's hand for Plan B / world peace. The Damian-Anya dynamic is cushioned with the silly crushy feelings, but underneath it, Operation Strix continues to be a core motivation.

I find it interesting that Endo chooses to focus on the first graders and their innocent view of the world / politics. It's embedded everywhere and especially in a prominent school like Eden, but the kids don't really realise it / realise the severity of it. Heirs and heiresses are educated at Eden and grow up to have incredible influence and the power to shape the world. Our protagonist's best friend comes from a family that manufactures arms. Henderson mentions the importance of learning history to avoid making the same mistakes (ie. war).

So Ch 95 is a cute prom chapter. But I think it also helps to show the themes underneath the fun, bubbly interactions.

#spy x family spoilers #spy x family #spy x family manga #sxf analysis #meta #idk #what do i tag #long post

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empresskylo · 4 months

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beneath the mask ✩ chapter 15 ⬅ch.14

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | nsfw. violence. smut. wc 5.6k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this chapter is very self-indulgent.,.. my bad. it also begins to stray from canon so uhh sorry if that bothers you.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“my sources tell me all the VIPs in las almas will be there tonight,” alejandro spoke, turning to face you, ghost, soap, and graves. he took in a breath. “some are invited, others are, umm…”

“volun-told…?” graves concluded.

“yes.”

“what’s the meet about?”

“us.” he looked a bit apprehensive as he spoke. “las almas is burning, and they want to know who lit the fire.”

“sin nombre will be there, yeah?” ghost asked.

alejandro turned and walked towards ghost. “no guarantees. But this is our best shot.”

“then we take it,” graves said as he made his way into the small circle you were all forming. “I’ve got enough shadows here to take over the whole damn country.”

something about graves unsettled you. it was like he spoke with hidden meanings in each of his words, making you feel unease. but you kept quiet and listened.

“i’d prefer if you didn’t,” alejandro rebutted.

“i’m just sayin’... one house shouldn’t be a problem.”

“we need sin nombre alive,” you added. everyone’s eyes shifted to you.

“well…” graves looked off into the distance as he contemplated. “then we need to meet him.”

“how?” soap questioned, his eyes intently watching graves.

“give ‘em what they want… intel. they wanna know who’s here. let's tell ‘em.”

alejandro scoffed under his breath. “in person–?”

“correcto.”

you rolled your eyes at graves and soap bumped your shoulder in silent reprimand, but you saw the corners of his lips curving.

“get one of us inside, find the boss… roll him up.” graves gestured his hands together as he kept alejandro’s haughty gaze.

there was a brief lull before soap spoke up. “i’ll do it.”

“you go in there, and they’ll kill you, hermano.”

“i’ll take my chances. we came here to stop a missile, let’s stop it. i’ll offer intel for a meet with sin nombre. and if he’s there, we pounce.”

“hell yeah—you’ve got balls, cabrón,” alejandro said with a sly smirk on his face. “you make it in, you’ll need eyes and ears.”

“i’ll go,” you chimed up.

their heads snapped to you.

“what? no, you—” soap began, but you cut him off.

“if one of you go and get caught, they’ll shoot. probably will call the whole fucking house to take you down. but if I go and get caught, i can talk my way out of it.”

soap shook his head. “yeah? how do you plan on doin’ that?”

you shifted on the balls of your feet. “i’m a woman. and it’s a bunch of men…”

alejandro let a breath out through his nose. “sure you wanna handle that?” you appreciated that he didn’t ask if you could handle it, but rather, if you were certain you wanted to.

you nodded.

“there’s other ways we can go about this,” johnny added.

“and this puts the least amount of people at risk,” you retorted. soap matched your gaze, assessing you.

ghost tensed beside you. “I’ll take overwatch.”

the rest of the conversation turned to a buzz in your ears. you weren’t sure why you offered to go. maybe because you were worried if one of them got caught, as powerful as these men were, they couldn’t take down an entire house full of killers.

but if you got caught… you just had to play it off like you were hired to be there. not that you wanted to have to do that, but it felt like you’d be putting their lives at risk if you just sat back and let them handle it when you were perfectly capable of doing your part.

you all departed from the roof and got geared up; ghost found you alone in one of the few rooms of the safehouse—an abandoned building you were temporarily camping in.

“tryna get yourself killed?”

you jumped slightly at his booming voice and glanced over your shoulder at him. you continued to adjust your outfit as you talked. “what was i supposed to do? sit back and let them be the only ones risking their life? what am i here for then if not to help?”

simon made a noise of dissatisfaction. “you’re a medic, not a spy.”

you spun on your heels to face him and some of the air in your lungs got lost when you saw his bare face. you swallowed, you weren’t sure you were ever going to get used to that—to seeing his face and how at ease he felt around you to strip the ghost facade. “i don’t want to just sit around and wait for someone to get hurt.”

“that’s your fuckin’ job,” he said irritated, his words quieter, but his voice deep and commanding.

“i can handle this,” you finally said, your eyes meeting his.

“i didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“then let me do this!”

he took an exasperated breath. “y’don’t need my permission.”

you sighed, your fingers intertwining anxiously. of course you didn’t need his permission, but you still wanted it. you didn’t want him mad at you.

simon could see the apprehension on your features. “keep your comms on the entire time,” he demanded. you nodded. “n’ the second things go wrong—or look like they might go wrong—you tell me, then get the hell outta there.”

“course.” you gave him a weak smile and he took a step into you. his hand found the back of your head and he pulled you close as he hunched over. you squealed. your lips parted and your hands instinctively grabbed his jacket. there were so many thoughts raging behind simon’s eyes, but he didn’t say a word. he contemplated a few, but he remained silent, his eyes dancing between yours, before closing the space between your two bodies and crashing his lips to yours.

the kiss was fast and full of irritation and indolence. he didn’t just feel the pull towards you because you frustrated him, but the sight of you resting on graves’ shoulders wouldn’t leave his thoughts. he knew it was immature, but that didn’t stop the nagging nature of it. he fisted your hair, roughly moving his mouth against yours, his free hand grabbing your hip.

and as quickly as it started, it ended. you gasped when he pulled away. his hands remained on you for another moment before he turned around and slid his mask back on, leaving you alone in the small confines of the room.

“shadows on station” you heard graves ring in your ear.

“copy. all set here.” ghost’s voice was a whisper as he spoke. you could tell from how he grunted his words that he was lying prone, looking down the barrel of his sniper.

“seein’ room to set down on the roof.”

“check. eyes on two, armed at the front door.”

“iaso, how you doin’?” graves asked you.

“i’m already inside,” you said in a hushed tone as you scaled the inside wall.

“goddamn, how’d you do that?”

“violently,” alejandro whispered.

“you went with her?” graves asked.

“she needed backup.”

alejandro motioned for you to slide down the adjacent hallway, his intention to split up.

“visual on soap,” ghost muttered in the comms.

it was starting, and you had to figure out where sin nombre was while soap tried to convince his captors he had valuable intel. no big deal.

“they see him?”

“they do now.”

“kids’ got sand.”

“i hope he makes it…”

“he will,” you finished.

you turned and watched as alejandro disappeared. he had slipped on one of the cartel’s masks, disguising himself as one of them. while he worked with soap, you were to find a way to el sin nombre.

the house was huge, so many rooms and hallways, and all of them filled with opulent decor and finery. you slid down one of the multitude of hallways and found an empty room lined with wine bottles. you sighed, your heart racing in your chest.

you were about to slip out of the room when you heard voices in spanish.

“shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“y’okay?” simon immediately chimed in your ear.

“fine.” you tucked yourself into the corner as two men appeared in the shadows outside the doorway. “trapped in the wine cellar,” you whispered to simon.

he went to respond but went silent when he could hear the voices coming through your side of the comms.

muffled spanish soon turned into a single english voice as one of the men entered the room. “what’re you doin’ here?” he asked, his voice sending chills down your spine.

shit, you’ve been in the house all of ten minutes and you were already running into trouble.

“i was sent to get another bottle,” you said, gesturing to the plethora of alcohol behind the two of you.

“by who?” he asked suspiciously, taking a step closer. you watched his hand grip the gun strapped to his side.

“el sin nombre.” you were taking a risk saying his name. what if he wasn’t even here in the building? you’d surely be outed.

his eyes traced your body and you forced yourself to relax—to act like you were meant to be here.

“sent me to fetch the wine,” you started, imitating him and stepping closer. you tried to keep your voice low and steady.

the man quirked a brow, clearly enjoying the way you stalked closer to him. “that so?”

he looked like he was convinced you were a prostitute and you weren’t sure if you were flattered or offended.

you fluttered your eyelashes and reached out, placing your hand on his chest. you weren’t dressed in a suit like alejandro. you sported tight black pants and a cropped black shirt that showed just enough to be useful in a situation like this without being inconvenient if you had to run.

“i’m a show of appreciation.” your hand glided down his chest and his lips tilted upwards.

“oh yeah?” his hand found your hip and he pulled you into him making you gasp.

“iaso,” simon hissed in your ear.

“n’ how do you plan on showin’ me that?” he asked a bit incredulously.

you steadied your breathing and reached a hand up to brush the side of this man's face. “well…” you paused.

“diego,” he informed you.

“well, diego. i’ll show you however you want me to.” your fingers skimmed his jaw, sliding your hand into the back of his head and into his hair. your voice was surprisingly steady for the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

he pushed you up against one of the wine racks, shaking the platform. “maybe on your knees?” he purred.

you gulped. you needed to get out of this.

“the bottles. use a fuckin’ wine bottle,” simon growled into your ear, clearly distressed.

you smiled sweetly at diego, your hands falling down his chest and to his belt. he grinned, watching your motions. one of your hands slid behind your back and gripped a bottleneck tightly in your fingers.

your other hand worked his belt as a distraction, successfully getting him to drop his guards and take in the sight of you before him. before you could fully unloop his belt buckle, you swung the wine bottle from behind your back and crashed it as hard as you could against the side of his head.

it shattered and the red liquid went everywhere, including all over your clothes.

diego’s eyes looked stunned for the brief moment they were locked on you before he fell to his knees and flopped to his side. he was knocked out.

“fuck. i can’t believe i did that,” you said in disbelief. a man almost twice your size lay unconscious on the floor before you, and it was all your doing. a little swell of pride swam through you before you steadied yourself and remembered you were here to do a job.

“he’s down,” you told simon.

simon cursed to himself in relief. “bloody hell,” he mumbled exasperated.

before you could reply, soap’s voice echoed in your ear. “el sinombre is in the penthouse. third floor.”

“elevator is a straight shot. we just need diego’s keycard.”

you crouched down and searched the unconscious man at your feet, digging through his suit pockets and seeing if he had anything of importance on him.

“where’s diego?” ghost asked.

“the offrenda. second floor.”

hearing alejandro’s words made something click inside you. you recalled the men approaching the wine room, muttering something about an ofrenda. when you pulled out a plastic card from the man’s pockets, you examined it and realized it was a keycard. it was diego’s keycard.

“i got it,” you said quietly into the comms, still a little shocked.

“got what?” soap asked.

“i have diego’s keycard.”

“no shit, iaso. how’d ya get that?”

“violently,” you muttered. you heard alejandro chuckle in response.

“you on the second floor then, hermana?”

“yeah.”

“meet us at the north side stairs. Las escaleras estaban vacías antes. no guards. you think you can find it?”

you nodded then realized they couldn't see you. “yes.”

you slid out of the room, walking as quietly as you could, trying to orientate yourself enough to find the north stairs. you turned down the luxurious halls and gawked at the ostentatious decor. with your eyes preoccupied you didn’t see the man come around the hallway corner.

“hey! what are you doing down here?”

you tried to keep your face from balking. “i… el sin nombre hired me.”

the man quirked a brow and approached you. your chest tightened in nerves. “relax,” you heard simon in your ear.

you felt like shit. you were distracting simon. he was supposed to be keeping an eye on soap, not listening in to what you were doing. you could practically see him now as he scanned the roof through his rifle, but his ears were focused on you. maybe it was a bad idea to have volunteered to act as eyes on the inside.

“then why are you down here?” the man asked again. as he got closer, you fully took in his size. he was quite a bit taller than you and you spotted a gun strapped to his hip.

you decided to stick with your other story. “i was just getting more wine.”

he scoffed. “you’re goin’ the wrong way then.”

you bit your lip. “oh, right. thanks.” you turned to leave and he reached out and grabbed your bicep.

“why don’t you come with me, cariño.”

you gulped. “remember your training,” simon spoke to you. you could clearly hear the tension in his words.

before you had a chance to properly panic, the man’s arms were being pulled off of you and you heard him choking. he fell to the floor behind you and in his place stood alejandro.

“you okay, hermana?”

“yeah…” you said exasperated. “thanks.”

“de nada. you got the keycard?”

you pulled it from your pocket and handed it to him.

you followed him to the stairs and met up with soap. the three of you made it to the penthouse door. soap nodded at you before crouching at the door and tilting his head to ease drop.

after several moments of alejandro and soap whispering back and forth, it was finally time.

“graves, sin nombre is posing as a female sicaria. we’re moving in. you set?”

“check.”

“ghost?”

“ready.”

“take her alive.”

alejadro kicked down the door, his gun at the ready, and both him and soap began shooting. you braced yourself against the wall, hiding from their line of sight. gunfire made you wince, hoping the two men were okay.

“don’t let her escape!” you heard alejandro call.

you darted into the room and out onto the balcony where you heard their voices. several dead bodies lay in your wake as you entered the warm breeze of outside air. you spotted soap as he fumbled with a woman. he had her in cuffs, saying something to her with a scowl on his face.

as you got closer, the helicopter blowing your hair back, graves called for you all to board. “lets go.”

you came up to stand beside soap and alejandro. then felt hands on your waist from behind. you jumped and turned to find simon looking down at you. “where did you come from?”

soap and alejandro said something to one another, you had ocmpletely tuned them out, their voices carried by the whooshing of the helicopter blades.

“soon as I heard word you were in the penthouse, i made my way here.”

with simon in front of you, your heart finally settled. you were able to breathe again. and while previous times you wondered if you were cut out for this sort of thing, this time, you knew you were. you felt good. nervous and overwhelmed, but good.

“worried about me, were you?” you teased.

simon’s eyes narrowed in on you and your smirk instantly fell. he was worried about you .

and selfishly, he hated that he wasn’t there. you held your own back in the larder, but he hated how helpless he felt. and when that other bastard had his arms on you, it was alejandro who took him out. and while he was just grateful he got to you in time, it bothered him that it wasn’t simon ripping that man’s hands from your body.

his eyes flared as he assessed you. you traced his line of vision to the red that covered your exposed skin. “just wine.”

his body settled but he still seemed more tense than usual. he gestured his head towards the copter and waited for you to turn and go first. you studied him a moment longer before boarding.

it was late when the men got back from interrogating valeria. you were still in the safehouse, cleaning up.

simon was silent as he slid into the small room you were occupying—the same one from earlier—and you jumped when you finally realized he was lingering in the doorway.

“jesus. when did you get there?”

he reached up a hand and tore his mask away. “y’okay?” he asked you.

you gave him a weak smile and nodded. simon appraised you and you watched as he narrowed in on your neck before striding over to you. he gripped the back of your head and tilted it so he could see your exposed skin. you had red marks on your neck from earlier when the man had stopped you. it didn’t hurt but you knew that wouldn’t matter to him.

simon’s gaze left your neck and switched to your eyes. “i’m okay,” you told him.

before he could say more, soap called down the hall to the two of you. “goin’ out for drinks! lets fuckin’ go!”

he didn’t give either of you much of a choice. there was still so much you all had to get done, but after a day like today, a drink couldn’t hurt.

simon dropped his hand and followed behind you as you left the room. he must have slid his mask on in that time because when he strolled into the room, his hand in his jacket pockets, his face was covered again.

“goin’ like that, lt.?” soap teased.

“s’wrong with this?” he asked incredulously, though you suspected he knew his outfit was a bit… intimidating.

when you all finally got to the bar—after simon stripped his vest and other unnecessary gear, as well as forfeiting his hard-shell mask for his simple balaclava—the atmosphere was more welcoming than you thought it would be.

spanish music played on the speakers and the warm air rushed in through the open windows, hugging your body in a pleasant embrace.

alejandro went to the bar and ordered a round of drinks for everyone.

it didn’t take long for you to feel tipsy, laughing animatedly at something graves said while you clutched a beer. the lot of you seemed to be having fun for once. the laughter felt so natural on soap, it made your heart grow slightly. you were just happy everyone was okay and you made it out of there alive today.

ghost stood across on the other side of the table, his eyes tracing you the entire night. he watched as johnny swung an arm around you and mumbled drunken nonsense in your ear. he watched as you laughed loudly in response. he watched as graves joined in and sent a crude remark your way that made your cheeks flush ever so slightly—and simon knew it wasn’t from the alcohol. he watched as the men seemed to soak up your presence. you fit right in. he should be glad.

fucking hell, he hated this. this is why he couldn’t do relationships. he was no good at them. he didn’t know how to navigate them. he knew he had no right to be jealous just because you were having fun. but he’d be lying if he said watching you with other men didn’t send an angry pang through his chest.

his eyes narrowed, his jaw tensing under his mask, as he watched graves rest a hand on your shoulder. there was nothing simon could do; the two of you were not publicly a couple. he had to sit in irate silence as you seemed oblivious to graves’ advances. ever since his comments back in the humvee, he knew graves had his eyes on you. and he didn’t like it. he almost considered telling him to back off, but he would have been out of line.

in this moment, three beers in, he was starting to put caution to the wind. some carnal and primal force inside him was escaping and telling him to claim you. to mark you as his in front of everyone.

his hands twitched on the glass beer bottle. soap slapped simon on the back and said something to him but he didn’t hear it at all—it was white noise to him.

graves’ fingers slid under your chin and tilted your head to look up at him. your eyes widened in shock, a bit unsure of what to do. and that was simon’s final straw. he left his beer on the table, sick of having to lift his mask to drink it anyway, and took several long strides to you. you jumped when you felt his hand on your lower back.

graves looked up at simon and seemed irritated that he was ruining this moment for him. simon couldn’t believe it, graves was pissed at him for being a cockblock. and that pissed him off even further. he pried graves’ hand away from you, uncaring of what he might think. he had to control himself to not crush it in his palm.

he’d blame it on the booze, but simon was a big guy, in reality, three beers were barely giving him a buzz.

“the hell?” graves cursed.

you mouthed simon’s name and he grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd and outside of the bar. you stumbled after him, trying to catch up as he had you in tow.

“stop!” you finally called, stumbling over the cobblestone street.

he halted and turned to face you, dropping your hand. you caught your breath before speaking. “what’s gotten into—”

before you could even finish your sentence, simon had pushed you into a small alleyway beside the bar, his body pinning you to the brick wall. his mask was hiked up and his lips were on yours before you had time to think. you gasped but your body quickly reciprocated. his hands held your hips tightly before one slid up your side and onto the back of your neck. he pushed against you and your head got a bit dizzy. he was desperate in the way he was pawing at you.

“you’re mine,” he muttered between kisses.

heat coursed through you at his words, his voice low and gravely as he spoke. you could feel the anger radiating off of him. he was jealous .

you wanted to tell him he had nothing to be jealous of, you didn’t even like graves, let alone in a romantic way. but when he pulled away, you didn’t have time to speak when he interlaced your fingers and dragged you all the way back to the safehouse—which was conveniently only a few blocks from the las almas bar.

simon pulled you into the small safehouse and slammed you up against the door the second it closed, his lips attacking yours, his mask dropping to the floor. he kissed down your jaw and onto your neck. you struggled to hold on to him, your words getting caught in your throat.

“si-simon, what are—” you groaned when he nipped at your skin. all rationale abandoned you. the fire from simon’s hands along your curves made you forget why you were trying to stop him. why would you want this to end?

if anything, you wanted more.

his hands crept down your back and over the curve of your ass, dragging you against him. he stumbled with you, his lips never leaving your body, barely able to drag you into one of the small rooms before stripping you. he tugged at the hem of your shirt, wanting to pry it from your chest.

you stood back slightly so he had enough room to strip you of it. “what—what if someone comes back?” you said breathlessly.

his hand maneuvered into your hair, backing you up against the small cot in the room. you fell back and he crawled on top of you, parting your legs to give him space. “doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

he hooked the waistband of your pants and began to yank them down. he was impatient. desperate.

he removed his sweatshirt before blindly tangling his fingers with his belt, trying to shove his pants down. your eyes rounded in the dark, taking in the sight of him. he was raw; showing you just how much he could feel. he needed you. wanted you. wanted you all to himself.

he was back between your legs his fingers sliding into your underwear, feeling just how wet you had already become. he gave you a sly grin. “what if they hear?” you asked in a last attempt at your sanity.

simon clicked his tongue. “let ‘em.”

you swallowed hard when he slid a finger inside you. let them listen?! you’d never be able to face them again out of sheer embarrassment. and what happened to him agreeing to keep this thing between you two private for the time being?

his eyes darkened, running a hand up your side and groping your breast over your bra. “want ‘em to know you’re mine.”

you sucked in a breath of air, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. he pulled your bra down enough to expose your breast and gave it another squeeze before removing both his hands from you. you pouted at the loss. he gripped your thighs and hiked them up slightly so he could wedge himself more properly between your legs. he pushed your underwear to the side and lined his cock up with your entrance.

you were a bit taken aback at how fast he was doing everything. this was only going to be the second time you had sex with him. your hands held his biceps as he nudged his way into you, wasting no time. he groaned and you held your breath. “fuck,” he mouthed, both of you looking down to where your bodies connected.

he guided himself in painfully slow, the feeling so overwhelming you couldn’t help but whimper.

your noises seemed to spur him on more because he jolted his hips a bit. he pulled back and then edged in. he kept doing that until he was able to fill you to the hilt. then he began a steady rhythm. “god, you’re so fuckin’ tight, love.”

your hands fought between running through his short hair and scratching along his back. he picked up speed and your eyes fluttered shut. “oh my god,” you said softly.

simon shifted your legs so your knees were being pushed back towards the bed, your thighs up against him. you squealed at the position change. he was able to hit you far deeper like this. his fingers snaked to your chin and shook you ever so gently. “look at me,” he demanded. his hand slid to rest around your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw.

your eyes opened and were met with his, his nose almost touching yours. "you're mine. all fuckin' mine," he managed to get out through strained breaths. “you’re fuckin' my girl, ” he grunted, "you're my fuckin' girl." your lips parted and he met your hips with his own in a hard thrust. “my fuckin’ girl,” he said a bit more aggressively and feral. you nodded, unable to form coherent words. his eyes narrowed in on you. “you’re— thrust —my— thrust —fuckin’— thrust —girl.”

you couldn’t tell if he was repeating it because he wanted you to acknowledge it, to tell him you were in fact his. or because he was trying to convince himself.

“yes,” you mewled. “m’yours.”

“my fuckin’ girl,” he growled as he continued his hard thrusts. he didn’t like the men talking to you like you were single. available. like he wasn’t sitting right there. you were his whether they knew it or not. and a sick part of him hoped the men came back—at least graves—and were forced to hear the way you cried for him. he wanted them to know how good he was fucking you. he wanted them to know you were his. and his alone.

he pulled out of you and flipped you onto your stomach before you had time to protest. he pulled your hips up so your back arched and he slid back into you. your hands fisted the sheets of the simple bed, hoping you two wouldn’t break it. that would be difficult to explain to the others. though, you had a feeling simon would actually like that to happen.

his fingers dug into the fat along your waist and hips and you groaned every time he pulled you back into him.

you were embarrassed at how close you already were. you shouldn’t be so turned on from simon being so possessive. shouldn’t that be a red flag? but you didn’t care. all you knew was the way he was fucking you right now felt better than any other man had ever felt against you. and the way his deep voice uttered those words “my girl ,” had you swooning. you could listen to him call you that all day. you wanted him to claim you. you wanted him to know you were his.

he felt you clench around him and he moaned. “close, princess?” he asked you, his accent heavier than usual.

you nodded against the mattress and he chuckled. but his laugh quickly turned to a long groan and a few curses as you tightened against him. you were so fucking tight. and he was so fucking close.

“my girl wanna come?” he all but growled.

“y-yes!”

the sight of you was everything to him. seeing you pushed into the bed before him, your knuckles whitening from how tightly you were gripping the bedsheets, your back arched, your body safe. you were safe. he couldn’t protect you today, but you. were. safe .

so many feelings had brewed in his chest these past few days. this new and strong connection he felt with you. jealousy from even the smallest glance another man gave you. fear for your safety as you acted recklessly. anger that he wasn’t always the one there saving you.

you were going to be the absolute death of him.

“this cunt is all fuckin' mine. you hear me, pet? all. mine.”

you cried his name and that was enough to send him tipping over the edge. “shit,” he cursed.

you spasmed around him, your legs shaking, your hips pushing back to meet each of his thrusts.

simon released inside you, following your orgasm closely. “take it. take it all,” he said through strained lips. he continued to pump himself into you, his thrusts becoming more languid.

he finally slowed, both of you catching your breath and steadying your heart. he stilled inside you for a few brief moments, white liquid escaping around his cock, as he took in the sight before pulling out and collapsing on top of you, yanking you into his arms.

you rolled over so you could face him and his hand locked behind your lower back. he kept your gaze and you drew a hand up to softly trace the side of his scarred face. his eyes fluttered from your delicate touch. he forgot how gentle touch could be. not everything had to be rough and violent, as much as he enjoyed that. feeling your tiny fingers ghosting his skin felt better than any relief he got from killing men. far more.

“you don’t have to be jealous, you know.”

“m’not jealous,” he said, tucking your head under his chin so you couldn’t see his face.

“right,” you mumbled.

you laid with him wrapped around you for several minutes before you broke the silence. “we should get up before they come back.”

“mmm. why?” his words rumbled in his chest, his voice hoarse, clearly exhausted.

“you know why,” you said in faux annoyance.

“they’ll all be sloshed. gonna stumble in ‘n’ collapse wherever they can. no one will b’lookin’ for us.”

you were plastered to his side. if you tried to move at all, you’d fall off the cot that was clearly made for one person.

sensing you might protest, simon began stroking your hair, his other hand rubbing circles on your bare back. you sighed, feeling safe and loved. you didn’t want to get up as he touched you so gently and lovingly. so you snuggled up closer to him and his grip tightened.

“mine,” he muttered quietly before kissing the top of your head.

OKAY THE WHOLE "MY GIRL" SCENE CAME FROM A NSFW BADJHUR AUDIO LMAOOO. he says "my girl" in such a feral and simon-esque way that it literally sparked the whole idea for this chapter. this is it if you wanna hear it... it's very nsfw just fyi (24:05 is the timestamp where he says it 😇)

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qiupachups · 6 months

Text

miles.g / wiles

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 👾💭

contents: general hcs, mention of his father’s death, i call 42-miles ‘wiles’, me sorta bullying him

a/n: after a lot of procrastination and harassment gentle encouragement from @vhstown i’m finally posting my hcs. :3c (they’ve been sitting here since july)

Despite his tough guy exterior and criminal career, he's actually a massive nerd geek. Like: gundham, comics, posters all over his room.

Until you bring up those interests, he won't mention them. But once you start a conversation about them, he can tell you all the lore front to back or tell you where and when each collectible is from. Just listening to Wiles and nodding along will make his day.

Accepting help from others is not an option. Ever. He's an overly D.I.Y guy since his father's death and it's staying that way.

... unless you're very close to him. Wiles will begrudgingly accept your help and then be adamant on repaying you. No matter how trivial it was, he'll show his gratitude through service.

Wiles has great memory and knows all the lyrics to his favourite songs. Go through his playlist and pick something at random- he'll recite them flawlessly!

A good memory also helps with remembering those flashes of songs playing on your lock screen. Just a split second glance? He's adding it to his playlist, maybe listening to it as he works on his latest gear.

Would be a straight A student if he were there half the time. The only thing keeping his total grades down is attendance, where he’s often absent.

However, if he’s in a group project with you, Wiles will put more effort into it. Getting a ‘C’ or GPA point lower is fine if it means keeping Brooklyn safer. What’s not fine is him being the reason for your lower marks.

Unlike his counterpart from 1610, Wiles’ art is more realistic. He tries to capture the subjects’ essence quickly and minimally, so colours are an afterthought.

Accuracy was his pride in art until it came to you. He’d be so nervous in getting your smile right, scribbling failed attempts over and over again. Wiles even resorted to a pencil sketch.

Following the passing of Jefferson, Wiles has gotten much closer to Rio. That’s a no brainer; he was fourteen— a kid. And Jefferson never got to see his son in that overpriced Visions uniform.

Wiles makes an effort to speak more Spanish. He lets his mamí braid his hair even if it hurts like hell. Those stupid telenovelas aren’t that bad on the second watch.

Once upon a time, Wiles used to be a choir boy (keyword: used). He’d love singing hymns and doing nativities before he could read; all for his mamí and dad to see.

However, the christmas after Jefferson’s passing felt… empty. Wiles quickly lost his passion for choir and now just attends mass with Rio at most.

After years of experience being a choir boy, Wiles has the voice of an angel. Not that you’d know, of course— he intends to take that to the grave. But there’s also a deeper, darker secret… he can’t rap to save his life.

An extremely personal and harrowing Musically comment told him so. Following that attack, twelve year old Wiles abandoned his account with only a black profile picture left behind.

Like any other middle schooler, Wiles had a hype beast phase (he denies it). When Aaron got a Hype shirt for Wiles’ 12th birthday, words couldn’t describe how he almost knocked Aaron down with a hug.

The shirt’s first stain had Wiles distraught and furiously searching ‘remove paint on shirt hacks’ on Youtube. His heart would probably stop if he misplaced a gift from you.

Wiles isn’t the best cook, but he can definitely make himself a good meal. With Rio working night shifts and Uncle Aaron doing… jobs, he has to be self-sufficient.

A secret lil’ side project: he’s trying and failing to replicate Jefferson’s mac ‘n cheese. It wasn’t the best, but it was his. Something’s always off when Wiles makes it and he’s not quite sure what.

Sure, cooking isn’t that hard, but baking is like wizardry to Wiles. AP Chemistry and it’s endless calculations felt way easier than making pan de agua with his mamí.

But, mamí didn’t raise no quitter! On a particularly busy birthday, Wiles pulled together a modest little cake for Rio. She burst into tears seeing the shaky ‘!Feliz Cumple!’ written in too-sweet icing.

Calling Earth-42 a wreck is a massive understatement. Shit’s like Gotham, only very real and very deadly. Just breathing in that damn city air makes Wiles’ skin crawl.

Luckily, he’s got an outlet: boxing. A fun hobby he picked up from Uncle Aaron became his release. Wiles might never be in the ring, but Brooklyn’s more than enough.

a/n #2: what the fuck. this was supposed to be short and silly and fun. exsqueeze me how did this… erm. disjointed mess.

#miles g morales x reader #miles g x reader #prowler miles x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv headcanons #atsv miles #atsv x you #atsv fanfiction #chewy writes ♪

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 11 months

Text

The List (3)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Not Beta’d. Thank you for all the continuous interest expressed in this mini-series. Your comments influence my writing so I’m just as excited as all of you to see how this series ends. Tumblr only lets me tag 50 accounts at a time. If you are not listed blow, you will be tagged in the comments. If you would like to join the taglist for this series or would like to be removed let me know!

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3

Tony had been right; every news station had been reporting on the gala for weeks. When they weren’t discussing the night of the gala, they opted to report on Bucky. With her eyes and ears glued to the television and her phone, the days blurred together for Y/N. There was no word from Bucky. She was sure he would use his first call to contact her, but he didn’t. The only update she received was from the reporters who didn’t know Bucky the way she did. They didn’t know the way he would stare at her or bush his thumb over her lips before planting a gentle kiss on her lips. They didn’t know about the sweet nothings he would whisper in her ear as he held her at night. They didn’t know he protected Steve years before Steve worked for him or that Bucky took in Peter to give him a community after the death of his guardian, Aunt May. Instead, the media painted him as a monster, choosing to focus on his involvement with the mob. Loki, however, was never mentioned. He was quick to cover his tracks like a snake shedding its skin.

The number of people sent to assassinate Y/N and Bucky at the gala told her everything she needed to know. Her ex-fiancé knew that she knew it was him. With Bucky’s fate all over the news and Y/N not being one of the bodies recovered at the gala, Loki knew they were still alive. He called her several times over the past three weeks, but she never answered. He wasn’t the one that was supposed to call her. It was supposed to be Bucky. It was always supposed to be Bucky.

Twisting in the bedsheets Y/N ran her hand along the space beside her. The smooth silk that was usually welcomed felt wrong beneath her hand. She longed to reach out and touch Bucky like she had many times before. The soft glow of the tv cast the bedroom in a blue hue. The last time she felt this grief-stricken was when she had been going through her divorce from Bucky. Once again, the man was alive but just out of reach, this time, psychically. Yet, she was sprawled out on his bed like a widow refusing to leave her husband’s grave. He was alive but gone again and she was mourning. The only shade of blue she wanted was Bucky’s eyes staring back at her.

A muffled voice echoed down the hall. Most of Bucky’s men had frequented his house lately. Steve had moved everyone in during Bucky’s absence. Y/N didn’t know how Bucky would feel about that. He had always been a private person, but Steve had assured Y/N that it is what Bucky would do. After all, Bucky had told Y/N to find Steve. He was his right-hand man and Bucky had entrusted Steve to take care of business while he was in prison. That included taking care of Y/N and the rest of Bucky’s men all awaiting their names to become active on the hit list. The voice grew louder, and Y/N knew it was Steve. He was the only one who lingered by Bucky’s bedroom.

“Not good. She breaks down every time he calls.”

Was he talking about her? Y/N pushed herself up, wrapping the sheet around her nude chest. She could hear the dismissal of Steve’s end of the conversation loud and clear followed by a knock. Tightening her grip on the sheet, Y/N forced her focus onto the muted television, pretending to be reading the captions as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Come in,” she called out, her voice hoarse.

Steve trudged into the room, just as exhausted as he had every other day, he checked in on her. It was a stark contrast to the way Bucky always checked in on her. Bucky was resilient, never letting his work consume him wholly. Steve on the other hand, always gave everything he did 110%. Taking over Bucky’s position was no exception.

“You shouldn’t be watching all of this stuff,” Steve grunted, snatching up the remote and changing the channel.

Y/N didn’t have the energy to fight him. She was desperate for information on Bucky. She had shot him the last time she saw him, and all the news cared about was that a mob leader was captured at the site of the crime. Steve tossed the remote on the bed beside Y/N. She stared up at him, his eyes the wrong shade of blue.

“Steve, was that Bucky on the phone?” Y/N questioned; her voice laced with misery. Steve remained expressionless, not giving her any hints as to who was on the other end of the phone. She didn’t blame him for not saying anything. It was part of his job to keep information confidential. If someone told Steve a secret, he would guard it with his life. She just hoped he would keep her in the loop since she was a part of whatever this was now. Y/N’s lip trembled the longer Steve remained silent.

“Has Loki called again?” Steve crossed his arms.

He had been asking her about Loki every day since the gala. At first, she wanted to help so she cooperated, answering his questions but then they became repetitive. He was trying to give her something to do to feel useful. Steve didn’t need information from her. It was a distraction from one man in her life with another. She was spiraling like the loose thread of a sweater; with each question, she unraveled until she was bare.

No longer willing to entertain Steve’s questions, Y/N dropped her shoulders letting just how exhausted she truly was show. “Why hasn’t he called me?”

Steve ran a hand through his darkening hair. His once golden locks had begun to brown at the roots. With his busy schedule, he didn’t have time to shave his beard or cut his lengthening hair. It reminded her of when she first met Bucky. His dark hair was long, and his beard was slightly overgrown. Over time, he cut his hair for a cleaner, more respected look. He no longer needed his intimidating appearance to get ahead, his name alone was enough to scare his enemies. Y/N supposed it was Loki’s long hair and charming personality that had won her over. He reminded her of Bucky when they had first met. It was her longing to reconnect with Bucky that drove her into Loki’s arms. It also was the reason both of their names were on a hit list, and Bucky was sitting in a prison cell.

“Come on, get dressed.” Steve turned his back walking toward the door.

“Where are we going?” Y/N clutched the sheet tighter, scrambling after him.

The corner of his lips lifted in a half smile. “A little birdy told me you could use some practice.”

“You brought me to a warehouse?” Y/N frowned. She squinted, a hand coming up to shield her eyes from the sun. The swish of cars zipping across the bridge above them pierced her ears. The livelihood above a strikingly different atmosphere beneath the bridge. The water sloshed against the pebbles, seeping into her shoes. Her face twisted into a grimace as water expelled from her socks with each step.

Steve chuckled, untangling a heavy metal chain from the door handles. The chain landed in the pebbles with a heavy thud. “After you,” Steve held the door open ushering her inside.

Her eyes scrunched up as Steve flipped a switch, the light blinding her momentarily. She could feel a slight breeze as Steve moved around her, the door slamming shut behind her seconds later.

“And that, right there is exactly why we’re here.”

Y/N frowned, peeling her eyes open. The blonde’s back was turned to her as he fumbled with something on the table in front of him. Peeking around his shoulder a series of firearms were laid across the table.

“What?”

Steve sighed, turning his whole body to face her. His large cold left hand seized her right. His right shoved a gun into her hand before clasping her left over the gun as well. Y/N stood stock-still, dumbfounded by the gun in her hand. The last time she held a gun she killed a man. She also shot Bucky. “I-I don’t-”

Steve silenced her as his long legs carried him to the other side of the room to set up a paper shooting target. Clipping the paper along a wire Steve began, “You closed your eyes the last time you pulled the trigger.”

Y/N paled at the memory. She didn’t want to shoot anybody; she didn’t even want the gun in the first place.

Steve stalked up to her with a pair of earmuffs in hand. “That is why we’re here.” He slapped the earmuffs over her head, his hands securing them over her ears. He then repeated the process himself.

A million questions scrambled around Y/N’s brain but the only one she was able to voice was, “How?” Steve said nothing, just nudging her into position across from the target. Remembering the earmuffs, Y/N repeated her question louder this time.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes cast downward. “Bucky.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, flinging her hands in the air in disbelief. “You talked to him?!”

Steve ducked, his hands covering his head. A growl escaped him as he stood up, “Watch where you’re pointing that thing.”

Y/N waved the bulletless gun in his face, “It’s empty.”

He knew that. He had been the one to hand her the gun. He unloaded it. A frown crossed Steve’s face, “Rule number one, always treat a gun as if it’s loaded. Your negligence is the reason we’re here. You could’ve killed Bucky when you pulled that trigger.”

“But I didn’t,” Y/N pressed. “He wanted me to shoot him.”

Steve ignored the edge in her voice, picking up a loaded gun he fired three rounds in the exact spot Y/N had shot Bucky. His accuracy was so precise there was only one hole in the paper; the other two bullets followed the first one. Heaving Steve glared down at Y/N, “Bucky told me to take you here. When you can fire that gun without closing your eyes, I’ll take you to see him. Until then, you better start taking this seriously. Keeping your eyes open could mean the difference between life and death next time. You got lucky last time but I can assure you, luck runs out eventually. It always does.”

As promised, Steve had dropped her off to visit Bucky after a thorough explanation of what would happen. She had been searched leaving her feeling violated but that was the least of her worries when Bucky rounded the corner donned in an orange jumpsuit. Even in a prison jumpsuit, he managed to remain attractive. The orange flattered his chocolate locks that appeared to have been buzzed on the sides, his beard fuller. If it wasn’t for his bent left arm preventing the handcuffs from pulling his right arm out of the sling, she would have thought he was thriving in prison.

As Bucky approached Y/N abruptly stood to greet him. Silence permitted the space, separated by a piece of plexiglass as a guard removed his handcuffs. Tears pricked her eyes at the sight. She murdered a man. She should be behind bars with him.

Bucky’s steel blue eyes held Y/N’s gaze. It was intense. For weeks Y/N had only met with the man in her dreams. Which wasn’t many. Sleepless nights swallowed up any time she would have had with Bucky. Now that she was standing a foot away from him, unable to touch him she didn’t know what was worse.

The guard stepped away, his lingering hand shoving Bucky into the chair. Bucky hissed at the contact but other than that, he didn’t react. His focus remained solely on Y/N standing before him. They only had an hour and he intended to use every second of it.

Y/N’s eyes were wild. She wanted nothing more than to yell at the guard’s rough handling, but Bucky wasn’t causing a scene, so she bit her tongue. She wouldn’t make this any worse for him. Her eyes snapped back to Bucky as she finally sat across from him. Her eyes raked his body for any other injuries, but his jumpsuit made it impossible.

After her third scan, she caught Bucky’s lips moving. The silver cord already stretched across his chest; the phone rested in his left hand. “Pick up the phone, princess,” he mouthed, causing her cheeks to puff as she smiled. Bucky’s eyes crinkled in delight at the sight of her red-manicured nails wrapped around the glossy black phone.

After weeks of being in the dark, Y/N couldn’t help but ask Bucky the questions Steve refused to answer, “Are you okay? Did you tell them-”

“Y/N,” Bucky’s gruff voice interrupted. “Anything you say here can be recorded and used in court.” It was his polite way of telling her to shut up. It wasn’t her fault; he had kept this part of his business away from her. It was all new to her and the court would use it against him. They would use her against him. Noticing the dejected look on her face, Bucky's face softened. “Look, all I can tell you is that a lawyer who represents some big names has kindly taken my case. Don’t worry about me baby, he’s one of the best.”

Reading between the lines, Y/N had gathered that Stark had offered his lawyer. Tony usually got his way, and he didn’t settle for less, so a sense of relief flooded Y/N. Bucky leaned forward, his left elbow on the table.

“Good. I um- I brought you a suit for the trail. The guards took it. Said they would have it sent to you on the day of the trial.”

Bucky hummed, “What color is it?” He didn’t really care about the color of the suit. He would have worn anything she brought. It was the simplicity in their conversation he craved. A moment where he wasn’t giving orders or looking over his shoulder.

A dreamy look crossed her face, “Blue to bring out your eyes.” That and Steve had said blue was associated with innocence and honesty in the courtroom.

With a dramatic eye roll, Bucky joked, “It’s not a fashion show, Y/N, but tell me," he cleared his throat. “How was training with Steve today? Is he taking care of you?”

A storm cloud hovered above Y/N as she suddenly remembered their betrayal. “He was mean. You called Steve instead of me?”

“I had some affairs to get in order. I'm responsible for you. Steve kept me updated. I knew you were safe. If I would have called you, you would have distracted me.”

“Distracted you?” Y/N asked in disbelief.

Bucky shrugged his good shoulder, “It’s kind of lonely in here. I would’ve used all my time thinking with my other head.”

A fire raged behind Y/N’s eyes, her knuckles turning white against the phone. Is that all I am to you, Buck? A distraction? So, what if you knew that I was safe. What about me?! All of my information about you came from the news which is hardly fact.”

The brunette’s jaw clenched, “Of course not, Y/N.” Resting the phone on his shoulder, he ran his good hand down his face. “I talk business with Steve. You get the rest of me. Besides, you were the one who asked me to protect you, not the other way around.”

Y/N scoffed leaning back in her chair, legs crossed. “Yeah, and if I remember correctly, I saved you. I don’t want fragments of you Bucky and I don’t won’t be kept in the dark.”

Bucky ran his tongue along the front of his teeth staring her down. They had been caught in a haze the past few weeks. Their latest interaction left a bitter taste in his mouth, a reminder of their fights leading up to their divorce. If he was stupid, he’d make the same mistake twice, but Bucky was a predator, a hunter. He knew it was time to change tactics and give in.

Mirroring Y/N, Bucky settled back in his chair. “Okay, princess. You want in on all of the secrets, you want to meet the dark side of me, I’ll let you meet ‘em.”

Y/N blinked back in surprise. He was giving in. So easily? “What’s the catch?”

Bucky grinned like the devil. Y/N once again found herself ready to make a deal with the devil, a habit she had yet to break. “No catch, baby doll. You want me and my lifestyle, you want to be treated like a big girl, the whole nine, you'll get it. No more playing house. If you wanna be a big girl, then you have to make big girl sacrifices. You want to be a queen, then you gotta marry a king. Just remember, you asked for this.”

The color drained from Y/N’s face. “Bucky, you can’t be serious.”

“I am dead serious princess.” Bucky pressed his left hand against the plexiglass staring her down from beneath his eyebrows. “Marry me.”

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@vicmc624 @winterslove1917 @unaxv @hangmanscoming @globetrotter28 @athenabarnes @shara-ne @mal-adaptive-dreams @d3m0n8ch1ld @ppbhquinn @alysianc @firstcashheroathlete @malum-forev @missvelvetsstuff @animegirlgeeky @blue786sworld @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @alessandraavengers @ozwriterchick @nerdgirljen @emily-roberts @pandabearrrrrrr @venting402 @barewithme02 @introverbatim @buckybarnessimpp @mega-kittyglitter-1 @a-poor-gryffindork @samahenoyrhye @motivation-idontknowher @pics-and-fanfics @po55um @keeperofsecrets6411 @natasha-died-4-our-sins @marvel-marauder16 @sugamilkteaxkookiesxcream @mcu21lover19 @imgaybutimstraight @buckysbarne @playboystark @quethekillerqueen @barewithme02 @buuuuuuucky @reader-without-a-story @5lutty5arah @queerqueenlynn @kandis-mom @hisredheadedgoddess28 @elizacusi-blog @alysianc

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spacebaby1 · 3 months

Text

Ghost of you (Law Trafalgar x Reader. ft Cora-San) Part 3

It was a sunny afternoon and most of the crew members were on the deck except your captain. He was locked in his room working on something, you kicked on the door before hearing his voice asking you to enter.

'Captain, why aren't you outside? Everyone is out in the deck.' He looked behind you out of the door then went back to whatever he was writing, 'I'm busy, did you need anything?'

'Actually, yeah' you begin playing with your hand, 'I need a favor to ask for, Captain.' He raised a brow turning to you, 'a favor? What for?'

You nervously chuckled, 'uh, I want to go somewhere, an island.'

'An island? Is it where we need to be heading you mean? I ch-'

'No, it's for my research, the Minion island.' You saw his face change experience in matter of seconds before he took a deep breath and spoke, 'W-what for? I can help you if it's med-'

'No! It's uhm, well, it's personal research and I was wondering if you can let me go there for a few weeks?'

He stood up, 'alone?' You nodded. He sighed, 'I don't know, I don't want you to get in danger. Let me come with you, or we can stop by Mi-m- that island for as long as you want and we can leave when your research is over? Hum? That's okay with you?'

You smiled wide and jumped to hug him, 'Thank you thank you thank you Captain! I promise I will try to finish the work as fast as I can.' You let go of him and he watched you leave with a small smile on his face that dropped the moment he realised he's been smiling.

The crew didn't mind the few weeks break from the sailing however the cold is what they minded, and you were only excited to start your search for that devil fruit that will bring Cora-San back. You had figured out the speel that goes with the powers of the devil fruit to revive someone back from dead; it was a hard job but you wanted to do it for your captain.

You have arrived by nigh time, luckily finding a small Inn to crash for the night away from the cold. You were still reading a book when you noticed that Law left his room and was heading somewhere. You decided to follow your captain and where was he going in the middle of the night without him knowing you are following him and followed him till he reached a tree with a small headstone under the tree. He sat there for a long while then left as you hid behind one of the walls.

After he was gone you walked towards the headstone and read the name on it "Rosinante Donquixote (Cora-San)". It's been few days since you saw Cora-San and you couldn't stop thinking how much Law missed him, it was heartbreaking to you that he couldn't see him when you can even though you didn't even know him as much as Law does, a cold hand rested on your head, patting your hair, 'You'll catch cold out here.' You smiled at the voice, 'then give me your fur coat, it looks comfy.'

Cora-San chuckled at that taking the seat next to you, he wished he could share his coat with you so you won't catch cold, 'what do dead people do when we visit their graves? Do they see us? Or are they long gone and it's just a body resting there?'

Cora-San raised a brow, 'you've got a huge mind there, Crybaby. I per-are you crying?'

You were. 'No, I'm not' you whipped your tears with the back of your sleeves. And Cora-San ruffled your hair making you chuckle. 'Come on kiddo, let's go I don't want you to catch cold and worry my Law.' You nodded and followed after him, 'Your Law, that's so cute!' Cora-San laughed at your comment.

#one peice #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #angst #law trafalgar #trafalgar one piece #corazon and law #trafalgar law #one piece law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #corazon ghost #one piece corazon

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writersdrug · 8 months

Text

Masterlist

COD

Multi Chapter

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (NSFW)

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10, Ch. 11

Ghost x DogWalker!Reader: Training for Two (NSFW)

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4

CoD Headcanons

Comforting You During a Rough Academic Period (SFW) Comforting You on Your Period (slight NSFW)

König

Random Konig Headcannons (SFW) Random Konig Headcannons (NSFW) Konig x Reader: Fucking You to Sleep (NSFW) Konig x Reader: Take a Seat (NSFW) König x Reader: Nectar and Bane (NSFW) - Pt. 1, Pt. 2

Phillip Graves

Phillip Graves x Reader: "You're Being... Detained." (NSFW)

#writersdrug #masterlist

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starberry-cupcake · 19 days

Text

I have made up from last time that was about only one chapter, this time we have 5 in a row. We finished act one, fam!

previously, in harrowbean the ninth:

this happened

I want to also thank you for all your nice comments and replies, I read every single one, I promise ♥

ch. 7 to 11 summarized terribly, here we go:

it's time to cross the river

difficult task to perform

as someone who lives literally surrounded by rivers, in every direction, I can relate

my rivers don't carry ghouls though, as far as I know

I mean, there are ghost and cryptid legends, but not ghouls that stick to the windshield of a spaceship like bugs

like these ones do

so harrow and yandere twin aren't doing fantastic

yandere twin loses it in like the first 2 seconds

harrow sees the ghosts of all the ninth kids who died for her to be alive

there's water also, but that part sounds very relaxing, actually

getting covered by water but not needing to breath

I'd be there forever tbh

but we can't, because ghoulies

mercygirl is still doing sound effects like kronk

btw we're changing her name to mercygirl because it's what I've been calling her now

I have been told by a number of you that mercygirl is your camilla so I apologize for disrespecting your blorbina

I might do it again, if the situation arises, though

mercygirl is piloting the ship and emperor the fool is just chillin' until he realizes harrow is walking about and doing theorems, which they didn't think she'd be in a state to do, so they didn't tell her not to do it

these people half-assing plans, who would have thought

mercygirl calls the emperor john

emperor johnnyboy tries telling harrow to come back from her state because she's in too deep and it's becoming dangerous

mercygirl stars talking about the death of cassiopeia (another name that's easy to remember)

says cassiopeia had a ceramics collection, which makes her worthy of all my respect

harrow was thinking "five", idk what it's about

next thing we know, we're back to our gideonless retelling of gideon

in this version, teacher explains things

he says the house was inhabited previously by "ten normal human beings of the Resurrection, though half were blessed already with necromantic gifts"

I'm tired of MATH

he says they left blueprints, he tells them about the Sleeper, he tells them how not to awaken it, he tells them about the trap door, he tells them what's under the trap door, he asks them to work together...

you know what this is like

it's like reading gideon was entering a new game and skipping every tutorial they give you

and reading this is like clicking every NPC's info and reading all that they say

ANYWAY, here is where ortus 1...

wait, this is going to be confusing

I want to call ortus from the ninth "ortus 1" and the new guy "ortus 2"

because ninth ortus was the first to show up

but new ortus is actually older and also is ortus the first

we're gonna go with ortus and lyctor!ortus, for now

so, as I was saying, this is were ortus starts becoming much more insistent in these "flashbacks" about him not being the right choice

which, he's not wrong

we know he's not wrong

and harrow is saying stuff like "unless you can summon matthias nonius" (matthias nonius is becoming a recurrent thing, let's remember harrow compared gideon to him at one point)

and ortus goes "I don't understand why you chose me" to which harrow says "there was nobody else" and ortus exasperatedly says "you never did posses an imagination"

VERY IMPORTANT THING

a skeleton turns around when they're walking and says "is this how it happens?"

we'll come back to that shortly

REMEMBER IT

(I know you all remember it, you've read this already, just act like I'm dora the explorer and play along)

next chapter starts in not!dulcinea's funeral

I'm sad I used the oliver queen grave meme already, I can't use it again to express my feelings

I'm gonna use the steel magnolias scene where they laugh at the funeral instead

so, we are introduced to the famous augustine who's name I will remember

there's some conversation about first and second generations and about not!dulcinea being chosen, and Emperor Johnny Bravo says "we were all there to meet her, all sixteen of us"

MORE MATH

I guess she was the last one of these, but maybe we knew that already, I feel we knew that already

apparently, not!dulcinea was the most reluctant to slurp her cavalier, but that didn't stop any of them, not even her, so

Emperor Johnny Quest says "for god's sake" and harrow thinks "the god who became a man and yet still invoked himself, apparently"

when she's right, she's right

that's better commentary than I could make

I have to respect augustine a little bit because he asked "which one of the kiddies did her in?" and I thought that was hilarious

he is called the saint of patience, which makes my previous comment about them being named via sarcasm very correct

it's like captain planet or the power rangers but chosen as funnily as possible

they start summoning lyctor!ortus by saying that he's interested in "you-know-what", which is both suspicious and childish and the vibes of these lyctors are all over the place

augustine thinks something's wrong, which is an understatement at this point, but ok

lyctor!ortus comes in as if summoned by the gossip and harrow calls him "the next terrible part of your life" which is saying something

lyctor!ortus comes with news of the seventh beast or whatnot that's trailing them

harrow bleeds from her ears and smashes her head on the next available surface to pass out

the mood

who could blame her

this lyctor job is terrible

it's like the end of drop dead gorgeous and harrow is kristen dunst

I'm not explaining that, in case you haven't watched a classic

we are back to the "flashbacks" and we've got a special appearance from the fifth

*studio audience claps and cheers*

they say they prefer to look into books than going downstairs, which is something one would consider if one had known what the fuck was downstairs from the start

abigail also does sound effects like mercygirl, it's catching on

abigail finds a piece of a recipe note that mentions an M and a Nigella

still no G&P

we know nigella is the cav of cassiopeia, the ceramics collector

I remember nigella's name because of the cook, which makes it funnier that it's a recipe

M could be mercygirl

abigail also gives harrow a note

abigail says that she'd like to summon the ghost of a lyctor but she's not sure how that could work or where they go when they die

ortus, magnus and abigail, in this gideonless version, are a polycule

I am convinced of that

while they're talking, magnus says "is this really how it happens?"

REMEMBER I SAID WE'D BRING THAT BACK

IT'S BACK

abigail starts telling harrow that she's got the energy of a lot of dead kids in her and harrow storms out

harrow gets angry when ortus calmly agrees about things and she doesn't want to look into why

I WONDER WHY THAT IS

harrow looks at abby's note again and now there's text on it

it's a longer version of the note she found before

it's a rant

it mentions dead eggs, implantation, some guy being sent after the OP, said guy taking pity on OP

OP is mad about all of this and doesn't use punctuation

what ortus reads isn't what harrow reads, once again

NOW THIS BIT

"ortus, I need a cavalier with a backbone" "You always did and I am glad, I think, that I never became that cavalier"

the gideon points keep adding up

harrow then goes to sleep and is like this

final thing in act I, in chapter 11, is harrowbean stabbing not!dulcinea again, which

always make sure, it's like resident evil in here

just in case, let's stab her a bunch of times

so, are these "flashbacks" happening in real time whenever harrow isn't conscious?

is it her trying to remember what actually happened?

or is it her trying to hide it?

was there actually a longer period of time between the defeat of not!dulcinea and the emperor Jon Arbuckle coming to pick them up?

a period of time in which harrow learned things that made her write those letters?

and in which something happened regarding gideon?

is the note of the implantation also related?

why was gideon born in space?

of course I'm not asking you, please don't spoil anything, I'm just asking the void of desperation and chaos right now

we'll see if any of this gets answered soon or if I just get more questions

also, guess who wasn't mentioned

see you on the next one!! I'll try to get back to the awesome replies I've been getting soon ♥

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw

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callsign-magnolia · 1 year

Text

Undiagnosed // Ch. 1

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, Major Character death, asshole parents, Jake is a jerk to start.

Word Count: 6.0k

Masterlist

“I’m sorry, Admiral Blair. Commander Kazansky is dead.”

Commander Kazansky is dead.

Tears welled my eyes as I stood in the doorway, my father behind me. “What?” My dad stepped around me, pushing me back into the house. I walked into the living room, seeing my mother sitting in her chair, glasses on her nose and book in her hand. “Who in god’s name is at our door at nine o’clock at night?” She asked, not looking at up. “A-an officer-“ She huffed, slamming her book shut before she ripped her glasses off her face and looked at me. “Speak up. I can’t hear you when you mumble and stutter.” I nodded, taking a deep breath and trying again. “An officer is at the door. Admiral Kazansky is dead.” I said as I rested my hand on the back of the couch. She stared at me for a moment before scoffing and putting her glasses back on. “Held on long enough, didn’t he?” “Mother!” I scolded. She huffed, slamming her book on the side table, standing. “Hush!” I immediately went quiet as she approached me. “He has been sick for years now. Your father has been waiting in the wings for his moment! And this is his moment!” She yelled, pointing her finger in my face.

“And you will not ruin his image!” I nodded, not meeting her eyes as tears streaked my cheeks. “Admiral Kazansky passed in his sleep earlier.” My father said as he walked into the living room. “And you’re crying for him!” Mom said, smacking my arm, making me jump. “He was a good man, mama!” She rolled her eyes, going back to her chair. “A man you met only three times.” I bit my lip, taking in a shaky breath. “I will be going up to my room.” I said turning, only for my dad to stop me. “Dr. Nieman says you have an exam next week; I expect you to be studying.” I nodded as he squeezed my shoulder. “Yes sir.” I said before he let me go, walking past me and allowing me to go upstairs. Once in my room I shut the door, taking a deep breath before going over to my fish tank, pulling out some food to feed them. They rushed to the top as I dropped the food, making me giggle. “Greedy little guys, huh?” I asked, knowing they wouldn’t reply. “Georgie!” I scolded the guppy who pushed Simon out of the way. “Oh my god, I’m scolding my fish.” I sighed before sitting down at my desk, deciding I better crack open the law textbook before my father came in and yelled at me for not working hard enough.

A few days went by and finally it was the day of Iceman’s funeral. I rode with my parents to the funeral, sitting in the backseat quietly as we rode from the funeral home to the gravesite. Once we pulled up and got out, I looked around at the sea of black dress uniforms, straightening out my own black dress as I stepped out of the truck. “Now,” My mom said as she walked over. “Stand still and be quiet, I don’t want to hear and squalling from you.” I nodded as she took my dad’s arm. “Yes ma’am.” I fell in step behind them, walking slowly through the grass and between the graves before finally stopping. My parents would sit, while I stood behind them, my heels sinking into the soft ground. We watched as the casket was carried over, and the funeral started. I was fine until TAPS started; it always made me emotional at these things. But I stood there, stock still but I felt the tears coming, and with them, the fear of my mother.

I inhaled deeply and shakily, fighting off the tears when suddenly my mother reached back, pinching my thigh. I jerked, which made her snap around and glare at me. It wasn’t until Captain Mitchell slammed his wings into the casket that the sobs started. I tried to hold back; my shoulders shook slightly as I held my breath. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, making me want to crawl out of my skin. Why are you crying? You’re not family. You hardly knew the man. The voice resembling my own echoed throughout my head. I attempted to stop, but I couldn’t. The voice was right though, I had no reason to be crying. Once it was done, my mother quickly stood, taking my arm and dragging me back towards the truck. “I told you to stay quiet.” “I tried, momma. Really.” “Well, you didn’t try hard enough!” My back slammed into the truck, on the side facing away from people. “Your father has an image to keep. We can’t have an uncontrollably emotional child messing that up.” I nodded, knowing she was right. “Now, you are going to clean your face, because you have black streaks from your mascara, and then you will redo it on the way to the Kazansky’s. Sarah is doing a celebration of life and we will be in attendance.” She said as she shoved a makeup wipe at me. “Yes, ma’am.” She huffed, straightening her dress. “Now get in the truck. You look like a train wreck, and we can’t have anyone seeing you.” I nodded, getting into the backseat as my mother went to join my dad as he spoke to some people.

~~~

“Woah, who is that?” Coyote asked, looking past me. I turned, spotting who he was referring to. A girl walked in with Admiral Blair and his wife; she must be their daughter I’ve heard about. She had a small smile on her face and kept her eyes on the ground, her hair swishing in the short ponytail as she walked a few steps behind her parents. “She’s sexy.” I raised my brow at Payback, he wasn’t usually one to refer to women in such a way. “I wouldn’t even try it with her.” Coop, a pilot from my old squadron said. “What? Is she snobby?” Payback asked as I continued to watch the girl. “No, man. She’s weird as fuck. She holds eye contact too much; she stares into your soul. She also talks a lot about random things, her stories have side stories, and those stories have side stories! She’s a total weirdo.” I looked back to her; she now had a glass in her hand as her parents spoke with Sarah.

“Hey, Hangman?” I turned to Coyote who was looking at me confused. “You gonna try it with her? I don’t think your girl would like that.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “No,” I scoffed. “Kelly wouldn’t appreciate it. But she’s also not my type.” Coop chuckled. “She’s crazy emotional too. Like a loose cannon.” I looked over at him, sipping the lemonade Sarah gave me. “How do you know all this?” I asked him and he scoffed. “Made the mistake of asking her on a date.” “And was there a second one?” Payback asked and Coop shook his head. “Hell no! We paid, got in our cars and I never texted her again.” I rolled my eyes. Coop has an unrealistic idea of women. He wants a model, someone ‘perfect’. Little does he realize he isn’t such a catch either. “I bet you fifty bucks you couldn’t have a normal conversation with her.” I scoffed at his offer. “What? Fifty not enough? I’ll make it a hundred then and you can see how weird she is yourself.” I shook my head. “You know what, I’ll accept that bet.” I said looking back over to her seeing she had made her way over to the drink table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a refill.” I said before walking over to her, a smirk on my face.

~~~

“Hi.” I jumped, startled out of my own little bubble by the voice behind me. I turned to find a blonde man, tall, muscular, with green eyes that glistened in the light and had tiny flecks of light brown around the pupil. “H-hi.” I said, realizing how close he was when I turned around. I took a step back, bumping the table and tripping over my feet. I swung my arm, and he caught it, straightening me out. “I am so sorry! I’m so clumsy!” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not at all.” I smiled, looking back into his eyes. “I’m sorry Lieutenant, I never got your name.” A look of realization crossed his face, and he held out his hand. “Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, ma’am.” I shook his hand. “You seemed off in your own little world over here.” He caught you, and now he thinks you’re weird before he even properly met you. “Yeah, I um… truth be told, I just got lost in thought.” I admitted. My mind had wandered to how Sarah and the rest of the family would cope without Admiral Kazansky, a thought I probably had no business thinking. “Happens to the best of us, right?” I nodded, looking down at my heels. “So how do you know the Kazansky’s?” He asked, bending down to meet my eyes, making my head snap up. “Oh, my dad is-was just under Admiral Kazansky. Now that he’s gone that makes my dad the new fleet commander.” His eyebrows shot up in realization. “Katie Scarlett!” I froze at my mom’s voice, straightening my back and diverting my eyes from Jacob. “I’m so sorry Lieutenant. Was she bothering you? She tends to run her mouth and talk. Why, she would talk till your ears fell off if you let her.” My neck burned red against my black scoop neck dress, tears gathering in my eyes.

“No ma’am. We were just having a pleasant conversation.” She looked at me, and I took a deep breath, willing the tears away. “Are you okay?” He asked and before I could even react my mother answered for me. “She’s fine. She just tends to be… overly emotional. If you’ll excuse us.” Mom said before gripping my arm and leading me away. “What are you doing?” I jerked my arm away once we were inside and out of sight. “I was having a nice conversation with a nice man!” She reached out, pinching me before placing her hands on her hips. “First off, don’t you ever cop an attitude with me again missy. Second, he is your father’s subordinate! What do you think it will look like if you’re flirting with him?” I furrowed my brows, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Oh my god, I was not flirting, mom! It was a normal conversation.” She scoffed. “Don’t talk back to me. Now, you will not speak to your father’s subordinates. These navy boys are not worth your time, or mine when you get your heart broken.” I rolled my eyes. “Dad seemed to be worth your time.” I popped off. Suddenly I heard a loud slap and my cheek stung. “He was worth my time, and you should be grateful because that’s why you are here.”

“Now,” She said as she composed herself and straightened her dress. “Clean yourself up, quit your crying and join me outside in five minutes.” She said as she pushed past me, making her way back outside. I turned, rushing into the bathroom as tears streaked my face once again. I cleaned myself up as best I could and let my hair down hoping it would hide the growing red mark on my cheek. I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face before going back outside. My father was standing with Lieutenant Seresin and a few others. I made my way over as my mom turned to greet me, a smile on her face. But in reality, that smile was a threat, saying if I screwed this up it wouldn’t be good. She looped her arm through mine as I stood next to her. “Oh, and this is our daughter, Katherine Scarlett Blair.” All eyes were on me, so I opted for a small smile. Something simple that couldn’t be mistaken for anything more than what it was. My father continued to ramble as I looked through the group. Immediately catching the blue eyes of Arnold Cooper, he smirked and waved as I turned my head away. I couldn’t stand him. He was so rude on our date, letting me go on then only to tell me how stupid the topic was and then went on to critique everything about me.

Your eyes are too far apart.

Your bottom lip is too big, it makes your smile look weird.

You’re too tall in those heels.

Your thighs are too big.

Anything he could find wrong, he pointed out. I left there crying and he never called or texted me again, which I was grateful for. I looked away, staring out at the ocean, ignoring the conversation. I wonder if I could just get a boat and take off. Quit law school, leave my parents behind and just go. Travel somewhere they would never think to find me. Like Nepal maybe? More specifically Kathmandu. It’s beautiful and I could do lots of hiking and exploring. “Katherine.” I turned, looking up at my mother who had a harsh look on her face. “I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?” I asked, turning back to the group. Lieutenant Seresin nodded. “Admiral Blair says you’re in Law school. Which one?” Of course, daddy would mention law school. “USD school of Law.” He smiled at me. “And how long do you have left before you graduate?” I opened my mouth to answer when my father cut me off. “She about to finish her first year. She’s on her way to being the best lawyer in California.” My parents didn’t have that much hope for me. They just wanted me to make good money. “Nice, how do you like it?” Another Lieutenant asked, he had a mustache that most people couldn’t pull off. “She loves it. It’s been her dream since she was a little girl.” My mom said as she ran her fingers through my ponytail.

“Is there a certain type of law you want to practice?” Lieutenant Seresin asked. Once again, I was answered for. “Either medical law or corporate law. She just can’t decide.” I nodded, just going along with it. Everyone looked between my parents and me, questioning look in their eyes. “Well I just wanted to wish you guys the best of luck on this mission of yours. I’ve read over the file and I have to say, it’s very dangerous, but you’re the best of the best for a reason.” They all smiled, shaking my dad’s hand before him and my mother walked away. I turned to follow but stopped at the sound of Coop’s voice. “Following mommy and daddy around like a lost puppy?” I kept walking, trying to ignore him. “Can’t even function on her own.” I turned around, glaring at him. “You’re the one that insulted me on that so called date, so why are you even bothering to talk to me? You’re the one that ran around telling everyone how weird I am anyway.” He chuckled, “Just wanted to get a rise out of you sweetheart.” I rolled my eyes, walking away. “Whiny bitch.” My fists clenched at my sides, and it took everything in me to keep walking, but I didn’t have to go far as my mother met me halfway. “What was that?” I furrowed my brows at her. “He just wanted a rise out of me.” I admitted and she huffed. “Get your emotions in check. Because if you ruin our image, there will be hell to pay.”

A few days later I was on base, heading to my father’s office. I apparently couldn’t be trusted home alone so I would sit in the rec room on base to study while I waited for my father to finish his work. “Hi, daddy.” He smiled at me as I walked into his office. “Hi, sweetie.” Good mood. Safe. I walked over kissing his cheek. “How did your exam go?” I bit my lip, nervous. “I feel like I did good on it. I only had to go back to a handful of questions.” He turned to me; an eyebrow raised. “Well good.” I exhaled lightly in relief, escaping his wrath for now. “Well, you know where the rec room is. I’ll come get you when I’m done.” I nodded, hiking my backpack higher on my shoulder and making my way to the rec room, dress swishing around my thighs. I kept my head down, knowing I would attract attention. It’s always better if I don’t meet their gazes. I made it to the rec room and thankfully, it was empty. I sighed, setting my stuff down and pulling out my laptop and textbooks. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose as I got to work, studying.

My phone kept buzzing and I tried to ignore it, but finally I picked it up, looking at the notification before scrolling through my Instagram feed. “Oh ho, look who we have here gentlemen.” I slammed my phone down at the voice, a reaction I’ve picked up from living with my parents. I looked up, seeing Coop walk in with a few other pilots behind him. I didn’t recognize any of them except Lieutenant Seresin, who brought up the back of the line. “And what are you studying, Kate?” I withheld my eyeroll at the nickname and ignored him, going back to jotting down notes from my textbook. “Oh, come on, honey. Don’t ignore me.” I saw him stand up out of my peripheral vision, but I never expected him to snatch my glasses right off my face. “Hey!” I yelled, standing so fast I knocked over my chair. “Arnold!” I yelled his first name, hoping it would catch his attention. “Oh, come on honey! You can’t reach even in those heels!” He teased, making me even more angry. "We're grown adults! Give me back my glasses!" I yelled, jumping to reach my glasses and praying I wasn't flashing the other pilots behind me as my dress shifted around my thighs. "You're cute when you're mad sweetheart." I whipped around to Lieutenant Seresin, and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under. "Sorry that I enjoy seeing and I can't do that without my fucking glasses!" I turned around, landing a punch to Coop's gut. "Give them back!" I yelled, snatching them as he hit the ground. "Katy Scarlett!" Fear filled me at the sound of my father's voice yelling my full name.

I froze, dropping my glasses as I saw his figure standing in the doorway. “What the hell are you doing?” He asked as Coop stood, holding his gut. “I-um-I-he-“ “Stop fucking stuttering and get your stuff and go home.” He commanded. I nodded as I grabbed my glasses, slipping them back on my face before rushing to gather my things. “NOW!” I was shaking so bad, I put what I could in my bag before gathering everything else in my arms, rushing out as tears slipped down my face. As I walked away, I could hear my father apologizing to everyone for my behavior. I made it outside, getting into my Lexus in hopes I could pull out before he met me outside, but no such luck. He came outside just as I shut my door. I rolled down my window, keeping my head down as he leaned into my car. “You go home, and you wait for me. We’re going to have a serious talk.” I nodded, mumbling a ‘yes sir’ before he stepped away. I rolled up my window, taking the long way home as I cried.

Once home my mother was waiting, I assume my dad called her. I took my stuff upstairs and sat in the dining room, waiting for my dad to get home. Once he did, he was yelling before he even came through the door. “What the hell were you thinking?! Acting that way in front of my men!” I flinched as the door slammed into the wall, hearing his feet stomp through the house. I opened my mouth to answer as he walked through the door, but stopped as he held his hand up. “I don’t fucking care! You assaulted a naval officer!” “YOU DID WHAT?!” I flinched again as my mother screamed in my ear. “He took my glasses.” I mumbled and my mother groaned. “Enough of this mumbling shit! Just speak up!” “He took my glasses! He snatched them right off my face!” I said loudly. “Well, if you would wear your contacts, that wouldn’t have happened!” I crossed my arms over my chest in frustration. “They give me a headache.” “Then take an aspirin!” I stood, turning to her. “I should be able to wear my glasses without someone taking them, and I shouldn’t have to wear contacts if they make my head hurt!” My father quickly stepped closer. My knees buckling out of fear and planting me back in the dining room chair as he bent down in my face.

“I don’t care what he did. Tomorrow, after class, you will come onto base, and you will give him a sincere apology.” My jaw dropped. “So, he gets to take my glasses, preventing me from studying and I have to apologize to him?” He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “You will, and you will do it with a smile.” I sighed. “God! Just stop the huffing and puffing! You did this to yourself! Now go upstairs and study. If you fail another test, you don’t get to come back here and cry about it. You’ll have nowhere to go.” My mother threatened, making a shiver run up my spine, knowing she was serious. I just nodded, standing and looking to my father. “Dismissed.” I bit my lip, rushing upstairs. I shut my bedroom door, tears streaming down my cheeks. I covered my mouth as I slid down the door, silencing my sobs. Why can’t I just control my emotions? I should’ve just let him keep my glasses and stayed in my chair. I took a shaky breath, wiping my cheeks clean. I stood, kicking off my heels and walking over to my fish tank. “Hey guys.” I watched as the colorful fish swam around, a few swimming up to my face as I rested my chin on the shelf the tank rested on. “You hungry?” I asked as I grabbed the container of fish food. They all rushed to the side of the tank I kept the food on, watching intensely as I sprinkled it into the tank. All five fish ate as if they were starving when in reality, I fed them this morning. I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, knowing they were my fathers, I dove for my bag. Quickly pulling out my textbooks and rushing into my desk chair just as the door opened. “I don’t want to see you out of this room till dinner. You understand me?” I nodded as I opened my book. “Yes, sir.”

The next day I was dreading everything, including waking up. But I did, getting myself ready in an olive-green dress that was knee length with a ruffled hem and nude heels. I struggled to focus in class, not sure how I would manage to survive the ridiculous apology. I couldn’t focus, taking half-assed notes as I thought of how humiliating this was going to be. I barely managed to walk out of the building and get into my car. I could just drive off, maybe somewhere upstate, or even into Mexico. But they would just report my car stolen and I’d be right back here, more miserable than ever. I don’t remember the drive to base, or showing the guard my ID. But soon I found myself walking into my dad’s office, keeping my head down as I stood in front of his desk. “About time. You got out of class twenty minutes ago.” I pulled on my thumbs, wanting to snap that it takes me twenty-five minutes to get here from school, but I just kept my mouth shut. “Set your bag down.” I set my bag in the chair as he stood from his own. “Follow me.” I followed him out of his office and down the hall, keeping my head down as my heels clicked on the tile. He led us outside to the hangar, my heels announcing our arrival. I managed to lift my head, looking at the ginormous jet across the way. “Captain Mitchell.” I looked up to see an older man turn from his team to look at us. “Commander Blair.” Everyone jumped up, standing at attention and saluting him as we walked closer. “As you were.” Movement caught my eye, and I glanced behind everyone to see Lieutenant Seresin and the other man with the mustache walking closer.

“Lieutenant Cooper. Step forward.” I pulled on my thumbs again, my knees growing weak from nerves. Coop stepped closer, keeping a poker face as he did as my dad asked. “Katy, I think you have something to say to Lieutenant Cooper.” I felt everyone’s eyes on me from behind Coop and I looked up to my dad who just quirked a brow as if to say, ‘Get on with it.’ I took a step forward, averting my eyes from everyone behind him down to my feet. “Coop, I just wanted to say-“ “Eyes on me when you’re talking to me sweetheart.” My head snapped up, glaring at him. “Wasn’t there something you had to say to me?” He was trying to get a rise out of me again, and I wasn’t going to fall for it this time. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was wrong of me to hit you.” I said through gritted teeth. Coop poked his bottom lip out, tilting his head at me. “I don’t think you mean it.” Tears of frustration gathered in my eyes as I fought back every emotion within me. I shook my head and took a big breath before I gave him the biggest smile I could muster. “The way I acted yesterday was wrong, and I never should’ve punched you. I really hope you can forgive me.” He grinned at me, relishing this moment. “Of course, I forgive you, sweetheart.” I nodded, folding my hands in front of me. “Good, now that that is out of the way. You can go back to training, and you need to go study.” My father’s hand slammed down on my shoulder, making me jump as he did so. “Yes, sir.”

With that I went back to my dad’s office, grabbing my bag and going into the rec room to study just like I did the day before. I sat there, staring at my textbooks but not reading them. What I wouldn’t give to go back and punch Coop in his smug ugly face. God, why did I ever think he was attractive? Thinking back on it he’s really not, and he has an ugly personality to match. God, I hate him, and I can’t stand my father for making me do that. Should I have hit him? No. But did he deserve it? Hell yes. “Do you need help?” I looked up, caught off guard by the quiet voice. A blonde man with stunning blue eyes and glasses stood before me. “Oh. No, I don’t. Don’t trouble yourself with me.” I said as I turned my head back down to my books. “I’m pretty good at law. I started in the Law education program at the naval academy before changing majors.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he gave me a small smile. “What does Amicus Curiae mean?” I bit my lip, realizing I didn’t know the answer. “On the bench?” It was more of a question than an answer. “That’s En banc. It’s Latin for ‘friend of the court’.” I nodded slowly. “I’d be more than happy to help you study.” I stared at my textbook for a minute, going over my options. I could study on my own and risk failing, which means my parents would kick me out of the house. But if he helped me, maybe I can pass and live in the house another day.

“Okay. You can help me.” He smiled at me, slipping in the chair next to me. “Your name is Katy, right?” I nodded, realizing he was there when I had to give that stupid apology. “I’m Bob.” He held out his hand for me to shake, clasping my fingers around his, I realized just how big his hands are. I was worried I would struggle to study with Bob, but he made it so easy. He taught me a few ways to remember phrases, and it’s like a whole new world opened up in front of me. “Hey! Baby on Board! What are you doing?” Our heads snapped up at the sound of Coop's voice. He seemed angry, and Lieutenant Seresin behind him didn’t look happy either. I watched as his eyes shifted from Bob to me and I immediately hung my head. “Don’t waste your time with her. Come on.” He waved him over and Bob looked to me before back to Coop. “I think I’m gonna stay here and help her study.” My head snapped up to him in surprise and he flashed me a small smile. “She’s not fucking worth it. Now, come on.” Bob opened his mouth to retort, but Lieutenant Seresin cut him off. “Don’t fucking argue, Floyd.” I closed my text book, putting it in my back. “I’ll just leave.”

“I see you’ve finally got some brains. You can finally tell when people don’t want you around.” Coop snapped and I just stood with my bag, ignoring his words. “I have to say, I can’t stand to look at her face. But God do I love watching her walk away.” I heard their laughter behind me. I just kept my head down, hiding my tears as I made my way down the hallway. Once I was a ways down the hallway, I stopped, pulling my glasses off and wiping my eyes clean. “Hey, you okay?” I turned, seeing a woman and the guy with the mustache walking up. I turned to them, leaning against the wall as I took a deep breath. “O-oh, yeah. I’m fine.” The girl smiled at me. “We just wanted to say, Coop was completely in the wrong.” She said and the guy behind her smiled. “Yeah, and it definitely wasn’t okay that Commander Blair made you apologize to him.” I offered them a small smile. “Thanks.” The girl held out her hand for me to shake. “Natasha, callsign Phoenix.” I shook the guys hand next. “Bradley, callsign Rooster.” I smiled, feeling a little better. Their smiles were infectious.

“I’m-“ “Katy Scarlett!” My fathers voice boomed down the hallway, making me stand rigid as I turned to face him. “You’re supposed to be studying.” I nodded, folding my hands in front of me. “Yes, sir. It was just getting noisy in the rec room, so I was coming to ask if I could go home and study there? I’ll probably focus better.” He stared at me for a moment before looking to Natasha and Bradley. “Was she bothering you?” My shoulders tensed as he laid a hand on them, turning me around to face them. I kept my eyes trained on my heels, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Not at all. I noticed her shoes in the hangar earlier and stopped her to ask them what brand they were. Valentino? Right?” Natasha asked as she leaned down to catch my eyes. I stared into hers, seeing something flash in them and I knew she was trying to keep me out of trouble. “Yes. They’re very comfortable.” My dad nodded, looking down at me. “Very well. Go home. I’ll be late so make sure you’re studying before dinner.” I nodded. “Yes, sir.” I said before turning and making my way out to my car. Once I was inside, I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I owe Natasha big time.” I mumbled to myself as I cranked my car.

I studied until dad came home, rushing downstairs to make sure I had the table set before he sat down. Once I did that he sat down, and mom placed his plate in front of him before we made our plates. “How was work, dear?” My mom asked, looking over at my dad. “Good. I have to be on base early in the morning. The team that Iceman put together ships out for their mission in the morning.” I listened intensely as they discussed his work. “They keep talking about how ‘someone may not make it back’. Cyclone isn’t worried about it, but Maverick is.” My mom scoffed. “Ugh. Maverick? He’s still flying? I figured he would’ve been discharged from the Navy, or more likely, dead.” My dad chuckled. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and he’ll go down on this mission.” My heart lurched into my throat at his words. How can someone have such disregard for human life? “Katy.” My head snapped up to catch my mother’s eye. “God, listen to me the first time I say your name. You need to eat more peas.” I took a deep breath. “I’m twenty-five mother. I eat every vegetable but peas.” She grabbed the spoon that sat in the bowl of peas and lifted it, slamming a huge scoop of them down on my plate. “Just fucking listen and eat them. I don’t need any remarks from you every time I say something.” I just did as she said, no energy to fight with her about it.

The texture and taste was gross, but I just have to pick my battles with her. When we were done, my parents went out onto the back deck for drinks, and I cleaned up the kitchen. I used to complain about it, but as I got older, I realized this was the only time I could guarantee they wouldn’t barge in and they would leave me alone. Once I was finished, I went back upstairs and into my room. I have spent most all of the day studying, so I opted to read a book from my shelf. I plucked Salem’s Lot from my shelf, plopping down on my bed to read it. I got 5 pages in when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart pounded in my chest, knowing they were my fathers, but they didn’t sound like angry footsteps. I sat up quickly when my door opened, my eyes widening behind my metal frames as my father stared at me. “What are you reading?” I gulped, looking down at the book in my hand. “Salem’s Lot?” It should’ve been a statement, but I was scared of the look in his eye. “You have another exam tomorrow.” I nodded, standing from my bed. “Yes, but I’ve been studying non-stop for the past week. I-I thought maybe reading something different for an hour would help me relax.” I was flipping the book from hand to hand, struggling to sit still in the tension filled room. “Just put it down and study. I’m tired of having to ride your ass about school. Just fucking study and pass your fucking tests before you force your mother and I to kick you out.” He huffed and I nodded. “Yes sir.” I put the book back before sitting down at my desk, turning on my laptop. With that he closed the door and I sighed, leaning back in my chair. While I waited for my computer to boot up, I stood, walking over to my fish tank to feed them. I watched as Splish and Splash, my twin goldfish shoved each other around trying to eat. “Guys. There’s plenty.” I dropped just a little more in the tank, giggling as the all rushed around. “Do you guys think I’d make a good lawyer?” I asked as Frankie, my angel fish turned to me, almost staring for a second before swimming off. “Yeah, I don’t think so either.” I sighed before sitting back down in my desk chair.

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