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nyrandrea · 7 months

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Everything's Fine

As you try to deal with everything that has been thrown at you so early into your journey: forced leadership, mindflayer tadpoles and taking on everybody's personal problems, it all just gets a bit too much for you.

(Takes place during Act 1)

Word Count - 3.5k

Also available to read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

xxx

You felt your patience starting to wear incredibly thin when you realised Astarion had been staring at you for over five minutes now.

Not directly, he would never be so conspicuous—at least, not intentionally— but you kept catching those fleeting glances he was throwing your way; the corners of his red eyes crinkling every so often before returning to whatever book he was pretending to read. It wasn’t one of those charming, smouldering gazes he would sometimes give you after a night of feeding, asking if you were alright, knowing full-well that your answer was a resounding ‘I’m fine’, and that you would provide for him again soon.

No, what he was doing right now—very carefully—was scanning you, studying you, judging you. It was as if he was trying to leer right through to your very soul.

You almost had half a mind to stomp over to his tent and demand what his problem was, but there were other unfortunate issues to contend with.

Namely Shadowheart and Lae'zel.

“I already told you that the artefact is my responsibility,” Shadowheart said, her aloof demeanour and confident tone betrayed by the hand hovering over the hilt of her dagger. “This way it will protect us all, I thought we had already established that!”

“We have established nothing,” Lae’zel hissed back. “We only agreed not to slit each other’s throats in the night, though...,” she grimaced. “I still have no reason to trust that you will not try again.”

“At least there’s still some sense in that bullish head of yours.”

“Tsk!” Lae’zel spat at Shadowheart’s feet, much to the latter’s disgust as she recoiled back. “However, the matter still stands that the relic you hold onto belongs to my people. Therefore, it should be in my possession!”

The cleric sneered. “I would sooner slit my own throat.”

“Then go right ahead. Nobody will stop you.”

Rubbing at your temples to try and ease the incoming migraine that, for once, was not caused by the mindflayer parasite living rent-free in your head, you decided to step in-between the two women, not really caring about risking a gutting from their trigger-happy blades.

“C’mon, we’re not seriously having this fight again?” You huff incredulously, the question already sounding stupid as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course they were having this fight again. They had it yesterday, and the day before that, and they were probably going to have it tomorrow as well.

“We are, as it happens,” Shadowheart replied, her eyes flickering briefly to you before narrowing forward again. “Because this savage bitch won’t leave me alone!”

Lae’zel bared her teeth in a cruel grin. “Better to be that than a revrykal of Shar.”

At the mention of her Goddess’s name, Shadowheart practically lunged herself towards Lae’zel with an enraged scream, her dagger raised high with the intention of plunging it straight into the githyanki’s chest, who in turn raised her shield to protect herself. In that moment, you were nothing to them but a speck of dust in the wind.

It wasn’t until your hand shot up in a blind panic when Shadowheart realised what she was doing, forcing her to suddenly pull back to avoid injuring you, only a moment too late as her knife slashed the palm of your hand. Blood sprayed across the ground as your short but pained cry echoed throughout the camp.

“Oh Gods...” Shadowheart muttered as everyone was suddenly on their feet and crowded around the three of you in a matter of moments. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t... mean to...!”

“What? Attempt to kill our leader in cold blood?” Lae’zel muttered as she took your trembling hand to examine it, you only stared ahead as the shock took a moment to wear off. You didn’t even register her uncharacteristically gentle touch as she turned your palm up. “Only a flesh wound, you will live.”

“Still,” Astarion piped up from behind. “Perhaps it would be best to get that dressed up lest you attract any...*ahem* unsavoury visitors.”

“It would seem we already have,” Lae’zel replied, to which the vampire put a hand up to his chest in mock offence.

“Lae’zel, you depreciate me,” he pouted. “I’m hurt.”

Astarion’s sudden cold grasp on your wrist startled you as he decided to examine the cut himself in a much less gentle manner than Lae’zel. “Not that I would be able to get much from this anyway, even if I tried.”

You were slightly worried that he was pondering the idea the longer he stared at the wound; you could practically see him drooling. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he snapped out of his daze.

“Well, we should probably get this cleaned up anyhow,” he finally said. “To avoid infection and whatnot.”

“...You’re not gonna lick it clean, are you?” Karlach asked with a grimace.

“Of course not!” Astarion bit back, much more flustered this time. “I’m not some savage beast, you know.”

“That’s... debatable,” Gale piped in.

“Well! It’s lovely to know that you all think so little of me; the feeling is very much mutual,” Astarion said with a fake smile before taking you by the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’ll have to nurse this poor wounded soul, as well as my pride.”

He started guiding you away from the rest of the group, you only allowed him to because the whole situation had you in a bit of a daze, but not before Shadowheart tried to get in another “I’m... I’m sorry.”

“It’s... I’m fine,” you replied with whatever level of composure you could muster up with a smile in a small attempt to reassure her before allowing yourself to be led towards Astarion’s tent. Your words seemed to satisfy her as Shadowheart returned a sorrowful but grateful nod, though her expression turned sour when Karlach stepped between her and Lae’zel.

“Alright now, ladies, what do you two say we let out our pent-up aggression towards each other in a healthier and less murder-y way, huh?” The tiefling suggested before holding up her finger to not let the other two get a word in edgewise. “And before you ask, I will not be taking no for an answer.”

A small smile graced your lips at Karlach’s enthusiastic yet surprisingly pragmatic way of taking charge, and it seemed to be working as Shadowheart and—to your utter astonishment—Lae’zel agreed to whatever training regimen she had in store for them.

‘Perhaps Karlach should take over as leader...’

The idea was extinguished as soon as it had entered your mind, replaced with thoughts of the tiefling messing everything up, of her killing you in your sleep, that you shouldn’t trust her to lead your party. The only one who should have any authority over these subordinates is you. Only you are worthy.

The voice quieted down after a few moments, leaving you only with a pounding head—just another one of the many wonderful side-effects of the parasite.

You didn’t take any heed of whatever thoughts the tadpole forced upon you. You knew that Karlach would never hurt you, or any of the others for that matter—not by choice, anyway. However, those flashes of betrayal and blood were starting to wear you down a bit, especially with the lack of sleep; the very notion of it had been non-existent since you escaped the nautiloid and accepted the leadership that everyone had practically forced upon you.

You weren’t exactly a natural-born leader; hell, you barely managed to keep yourself alive never mind a whole group of people.

“That’s going to need stitches,” Astarion said as he observed your hand more closely now that the two of you were in the privacy of his tent. Heat flushed around your cheeks at how close the two of you were. Flashes of that night you had shared a bed—or well, the forest floor—came to mind, and you hated how flustered it made you. It was a one-night stand, a bit of fun to ease the stress of adventuring; clearly it meant nothing. At least... that was what you were made to feel.

What had been a night of passion for you, had been the same old dance for him.

“Take a seat there,” Astarion’s said, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a knife. “I should have a needle around here, somewhere.”

“You know how to sew?” You asked, settling down on a cushioned stool.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, and a sting of guilt surged in your chest. “How do you think I’ve kept these clothes looking so good for over two hundred years? Certainly not by magic.”

“Why not just buy new clothes?”

Your prodding seemed to hit a nerve as he paused for a moment.

“Why waste the coin?” He finally replied, sounding a little dejected.

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip as you tried to think of a way to quickly rectify your carelessness. “You do look great, by the way—y-your clothes, I mean,” embarrassment takes over as you trip over your own words. “The gold embroidery is um *cough * it’s nice.”

Astarion seems amused at your inability to grasp basic English as he chuckles, the sound deep and almost musical. “Why thank you, darling. I’m glad someone around here appreciates the finer details.”

The vampire kneels next to you and threads the needle before gesturing for you to hold out your hand. “It has been a while so... let’s just hope I’m not too rusty, hm?”

Those words don’t instil a great deal of confidence within you, but you won’t allow it to show, trusting in him to get the job done. If you ended up getting sepsis, well... Withers was always on stand-by.

“Now, hold still,” Astarion instructed. “This may sting a little.”

You nodded, only wincing a little when he made the first stitch, the pain became more bearable as you watched him focus with the kind of laser-like precision that only came with a practiced hand; it made you wonder how many times he had done this. His methodical movements almost lulled you into a sort of relaxed trance, had your mind have not been working overtime, you honestly might have fallen asleep: Gods know you could have done with a bit of shut eye.

Ever since the ship crashed, your problems just seemed to keep piling on top of each other: Lae’zel was hellbent on getting to that githyanki creche, and there was the matter of Karlach’s engine, Gale was close to blowing to kingdom-come if he didn’t get another magical item to consume soon, Astarion would probably need another feeding at some point, not to mention the dog, Scratch, and the owlbear cub who had started hanging around the camp. A dog was one thing but how much did owlbears need to eat?

It was fine, you reassured yourself. Everything would be fine.

“There we go,” Astarion said, relinquishing your hand back, freshly stitched and cleaned. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing, but it wasn’t anything a quick healing spell couldn’t fix.

“Not my best work but it will just have to do for now,” he huffs, as if he was annoyed with himself. “You’ll have to excuse the sloppy stitching, it’s... been a while.”

“It’s beautiful work,” you can’t help but admire the stitching; it was flawless. “Thank you, Astarion.”

His gaze remains on you for a moment, as if he were expecting some sort of quip or punchline, and his eyes widen slightly when he realises you’re being genuine.

“I... uh... you...?” He pauses and squints; still nothing. “You are... most certainly welcome.”

You raise an eyebrow; did he really think so lowly of you that he believed you simply weren’t capable of a simple 'thank you'? Or was it himself that he had no confidence in? Your thoughts turn to when you asked him about how he came about becoming a vampire. Astarion kept most of his history closed off from you but told you just enough to let you know that this ‘Cazador’ fellow had treated him poorly. Belittled him. Enslaved him.

You couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible it must have been; no wonder he didn’t trust anyone.

A part of you wanted to pry into his thoughts, to let him know that you were here for him should he ever want to talk, but a new figure entered the tent, startling you into closing your mouth.

“Hello!” Gale cheerily greeted with a smile, his eyes latching onto you immediately. “How are we feeling?”

“Oh, we’re feeling quite dandy, thank you,” Astarion interjected with a frown. “You didn’t think to knock before deciding just to barge in?”

“Well, given the materialistic structure of this very sound establishment, I think you’ll find it’s a little difficult to uh...” Gale trailed off, attempting to rap the tent flap to no avail. “...knock on.”

“Then why not just knock on the wooden beams with that...” The vampire waved lazily towards Gale’s staff. “Very large stick of yours.”

“Duly noted, but I think we’re getting a bit off track here,” the wizard said before turning to you. “I need a word.”

You were taken aback slightly by his bluntness, and you couldn’t help but notice the almost pained way he was wringing his hands and how his eyebrows subtly twitched. He looked incredibly... uncomfortable.

His hand hovered over his chest briefly, just above the mark that glowed whenever he consumed magic.

Shit. Was it that time already? But hadn’t you given him something only yesterday? Or had it been a few days now? With recent events, it was hard to keep track of the time anymore; day and night just meshed into one big messy blur.

Judging by your panicked look, Gale held up his hands in a placating manner. “Now, I know you’ve had a lot on your plate recently but this little uh... situation of mine is growing quite dire again so... if you could just relinquish whatever magical artefact you have, then all will be fine and dandy.”

“I... don’t have anything on me at the moment.”

Gale’s expression dropped. “Come now, you must have picked up something along the way, surely?”

You grimaced.

“In a dungeon? Along the road? What about that little goblin camp you rampaged through recently?”

His sudden passive-aggressiveness made you feel uneasy.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Astarion cut in, folding his arms. “But we were a bit preoccupied with fighting for our lives to be on the lookout for any magic boots for you to chew on.”

Gale chuckled dryly and drew the vampire a dirty look. “I don’t think you quite understand the gravity of what might very well happen if I don’t find something to contain the beast within me very soon- “

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, darling.”

“This isn’t a joking matter!”

“Ugh! Just shut up!” You snapped. “I do get it, Gale. Because you remind me Every. Damn. Day. About this big, scary, mystery catastrophe that might happen without actually explaining anything about it! A bit of context would go a long way!”

Gale’s hurt wince suddenly had your stomach churning in guilt; you shouldn’t be snapping at people; you were better than that.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologised. “As soon as we’re out on the road again, I’ll make it our priority to look for an artefact for you, alright? You have my word.”

Astarion scowled and Gale forced a smile; his lips too strained for it to be genuine. It seemed like you couldn’t please anyone today.

“That’s all I can ask for, and I promise... all will be revealed soon, otherwise the tadpoles will be the least of our worries.”

When Gale left, you plopped down to the ground and took ragged breaths to calm your nerves, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt as you nestled your injured hand in your lap. Had Gale only checked in on you so he could ask you for a magic item in return? Was he really that desperate? He must have been, seeing as you had completely forgotten about his predicament.

What kind of leader were you?

“You know, you can’t go making promises all willy-nilly like that,” Astarion said. “We have enough problems as it is without having to worry about...”

His chastising faded into white noise as you grasped your head, the sting of your fingers curling and tugging through unkempt hair was just enough to distract from the pounding that came from within your brain. The ability to focus was suddenly lost to you as your heart raced, and dark emotions swirled within your chest like a wild tornado; it was tempting to let them sweep you away, to ride the waves into the unknown. To be anywhere but here without anyone depending on you for so, so much.

“Hello?” Astarion drawled. “Are you even listening to- Darling...?”

He moved closer to you; his steps measured and deliberate as he lowered himself down next to you, still allowing you enough space while being close enough to reach out a hand to your trembling shoulder, his touch cold yet oddly comforting.

“Hey,” he spoke in a soothing, soft tone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with unwavering support. “I’m right here with you, you’re safe, just breathe along with me, alright?”

You nodded, albeit shakily, and tried to mirror his calm, measured breaths, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, attempting to regain control over your racing heart.

Astarion’s voice never wavered as your frantic gasps slowly started to synchronise with his calm breathing. “I know things are tough right now, but these feelings will soon pass. You’re stronger than you think, darling.”

He continued to gently rub your back, tracing comforting circles with his fingertips, a rhythm that matched the cadence of your breath. Your hands slowly unlatched from your hair as you felt Astarion’s reassuring presence and honeyed words grounding you.

“There we go, you’re regaining control,” he encouraged softly. “Now, I’m going to get you a glass of water, will you be alright for a moment?”

You nodded again, and with a quick squeeze of your shoulder, he left. As your panic attack started to ebb, your breathing evened and your heart slowed as you felt yourself returning to the present moment, the tension that had your body rigid starting to ease.

Astarion was back by your side within moments, gently pushing a glass into your hand and helping you lift it to your lips for a small sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m-”

“And don’t you dare say ‘I’m fine’,” he scowled. "Because we both know you’re clearly not.”

You racked your brain to try and find a way to explain that you were okay and that this was just a small moment of weakness, a blip in the road, that there was nothing to worry about and you had it all figured out.

But the words never came, instead you draw your knees up and hug them close to your chest as if to hide away from his piercing gaze.

Astarion lingers by your side for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“Would you like to stay in here for a while?”

Unable to find the energy to speak, you simply nod.

“Then come on, scooch over.”

As you shuffle slightly to the side, Astarion sits down next to you, draping an arm over your shoulder and allowing you to settle your head into his side and cling to his shirt in a way that a child might cling to their mother.

“...I’m sorry."

From the corner of your eye, you could see Astarion’s expression soften as he waved a nonchalant hand. “Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for, dear. If anything, I should be the one apologising, who knew being in my mere presence would be so breathtaking?”

You managed a small chuckle at that.

“But in all seriousness,” he continued. “I know a thing or two about putting on a façade and... well...,” he paused. “Just... know that if you ever want to talk, I’m all pointy ears.”

You hum in acknowledgement, though you can tell by his undertone that he’s being disingenuous, kindness wasn’t exactly his forte after all, but you appreciated the attempt all the same. But you were just content to sit in his arms for a while, and he seemed pleased enough with the silence. So, for now, you inhale the comforting aroma of bergamot, rosemary and brandy, letting yourself get lost in his comforting presence.

And exhale.

xxx

Hellooooo Baldur's Gate 3 has me in a chokehold and the brainrot is real. I'm only in Act 1 hence why this fic takes place so early in the game but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. Apologies for any inconsistencies :'3 Let me know what y'all think!

*Edit - since this has been pretty well received, I've opened up requests! Pop me an ask if you would like one :)

#astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #my writing #tw panic attack

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rad-batson · 11 months

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The Batkids and The Arts (Feral Edition)

They’re all musical theatre nerds. Every single one of them. Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, Tim, Duke, Damian. They go see Broadway shows together then don’t stop talking about it for like a week. It is the one bonding activity they will never pass up.

Jason and Steph once entered a ballroom dancing competition and won after some pompous rich kids insulted their moves during a gala. Since then, they’ve entered a competition every month or so just for fun. (And for the prize money :P)

Tim is an avid believer that Culinary Art is one of The Arts. (Can he cook? Absolutely not. It was Bernard that convinced him, but he stands by it.)

Duke talks through every single movie he watches. He always promises to be quiet at the beginning, but then he gets too excited and whispers commentary to the people around him. This habit has since bled into the entire family. They are no longer welcome at the local AMC.

Every single one of them is pretentious about something.

Dick is pretentious about any and all performance arts featured at the circus. Once, someone made a joke about going to “Clown School” and Dick screamed at them about how not even their pinky would have the privilege of being admitted into clown school.

Jason is pretentious about classic literature. They can no longer tell if his jokes and references to Shakespeare and Jane Austen are correct or if he’s just fucking with them.

Cass gets pretentious about martial arts being a performance art. She is also pretentious about ballet being a martial art. She could kill a man in fifth position without losing her balance, and that’s a fucking fact.

Stephanie is very good at acting pretentious about the arts. She absorbs everything she’s learned from the rest of the bat family’s interests then pretends to be pretentious about it to mock them while sneaking in just enough correct information so no one can call her out on it. (Her true interest is graphic design.)

Tim has no professional experience with photography, but he will be pretentious about it like he knows everything. (Bruce: Tim, why is there a filter on this evidence photo you took? Tim: I thought it looked nicer that way. Really makes the blood splatter pop.)

Duke isn’t exactly pretentious about writing, but he will lay down his life for the Oxford comma. (Bruce didn’t use it until Duke called the punctuation in his mission reports “insulting.” He now uses it.)

Damian is pretentious about studio art. If he ever hears his family or friends say, “I don’t get it,” at an art museum, he will make them look at it for five minutes as he explains in painstaking detail what’s so revolutionary about it.

The kids decided to take an improv class together once for their undercover work while Bruce and Alfred were out of town. It was so fun that they still play improv games when they’re bored.

Cass is secretly a metalhead.

Whenever one of the younger kids needs to write an English paper, they will just walk up to Jason, riddle off a dumb opinion about the book or poem they had to read, and record whatever Jason ends up lecturing them about. The most recent incident resulted in an award-winning paper about how the theory that William Shakespeare never wrote his own work is deeply rooted in classism.

Damian always has paint under his nails. It just never comes out.

Dick has personally taught everyone in the family how to do The Perfect Backflip. They all get a little ceremony once they’ve mastered it. There is cake.

Whenever Cass is standing around with nothing to do, she’ll practice her foot positions for ballet. The others always notice and follow her lead.

Jason: dramatically recites a poem in the living room Steph: starts beatboxing

Steph is always the first to find typos or continuity errors in a book, play, or movie. She doesn’t intend to; it’s just second nature to her. (She is now Duke’s official proofreader.)

Duke: So how’d you like the movie? Damian: I really loved the mise-en-scène, especially during the breakfast scene and that one shot near the end with the warehouse doors. Duke: *nods thoughtfully* Everyone Else Leaving the Theater: wtf is a meez on sen?

When Duke is finished writing something and wants to share it with his family, he’ll give it to Jason and Cass first.

Jason and Duke have frequent passionate arguments discussions about who is the best poet. Never bring up Dickinson, Poe, Shakespeare, Hughes, Plath, Wilde, Kipling, Sappho, or Angelou in their vicinity unless you want to start it up again.

Damian is surprisingly good at acting. Too good.

Dick knows your music taste before you do. He has a carefully curated playlist for every single family member, every possible combination of family members, and every possible mood at the ready.

They can and will correct anyone who mistakes Gothic architecture for Victorian or Gothic Revival and vice versa. (It’s really a Gotham thing.)

Tim: How dare you call The Grand Budapest Hotel the best prison break movie when it’s clearly The Shawshank Redemption! Jason: Well, as someone who’s BEEN TO PRISON, I think I should know! Dick: It’s clearly Chicken Run! You’re all just Chicken-ist. Duke: But what about Midnight Express?! That one’s so good! Steph: Has anyone mentioned Toy Story 3 yet? No? Damian, watching from the sidelines: I liked Escape from Alcatraz. Cass: Same.

There are several art pieces in the manor that have been positioned directly over top of bullet holes and other suspicious damages.

Damian and Duke made an animated short film once for the Gotham Film Festival. Dick and Cass were their models for the concept art. Tim did historical research. Jason helped Duke edit the storyboard, and Steph was the continuity supervisor. It was about a British super spy working for MI6 that saved the world in the late 70’s. It was titled Agent A.

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hoshigray · 9 months

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hii love ur works 🫶🏽

can I req brat reader giving toji the WORST attitude? 💗.

*sinister laugh* Why, yes, you can, noonie! When I saw this, the first scenario that came to mind was the reader being another assassin who likes to get on Toji's nerves. So, imma stick with that!! Had to take an all-nighter to finish this up, hehe~ (no fr tho, it's 8:35 in the morning here) Thank you for loving my stuff, and enjoy~~

A/n: posting this bc I'm staling on my Geto fic since my brain has so much it wants to add...sigh. In the meantime, while I'm working on this, I figured I could drop this as an apology for pulling the fic back (~_~;) My apologies, and I hope y'all like this one! Also tysm for 1.7k followers!! Y'all are too kind and sweet, happy to be writing for you~☆ Cw: hard dom! Toji x bratty fem! reader - you and Toji are assassins on a mission together - explicit content; minors DNI - implied age gap (the reader is at least in their 20s; Toji in his mid-30s or approaching 40s, up to you) - fingering (f! receiving) - cunnilingus - sexual acts in a public place - degradation (brat, crybaby, slut, whore) - Daddy kink - reader talking smack, but Toji teaches you a lesson - tiny praise - pussydrunk! Toji - pet names (baby, doll, princess) - ends with penetration, but mostly Toji eating you out - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - overstimulation - clitoral play (pinching, pushing, and sucking) - mentions of blood. Wc: 1.8k

You recently joined the hitmen field not too long ago. Still young and new to the workforce, it wasn't the first place you figured to enter for some quick cash. But with your astute skills and abilities, no other occupation best suited you. Besides, it wasn't long before people looked past your recent addition and saw what you were made of. Not only were you good at your job, but you were climbing the ranks, swifting past your inferior subordinates.

It's nothing new, though. You were always good at what you do, better than others at what you do. Doing everything perfectly and effortlessly, that was your style. And everybody knew that.

Everybody but a particular individual. A specific man who always overshadowed you. An older man who snatched your attention the first moment he looked your way, the scar on his lip rooted up with the twinge of his lips.

"Rookies lookin' real cute these days, huh, doll?" were his first words to you. And from that day on, you did what you could to get close to him. Even if that meant irritating him.

From taking his missions to acting as a complete thorn in his side, you do whatever it takes to get Toji's attention. Especially his silent pissed off expressions, which are your favorite to see. And don't let your handler tell you that you two would be on a mission together because the teasing would be endless for the poor, experienced hitman.

Just like today, when you two are deployed to kill an old geezer and his goons for a massive sum of money, Toji goes to one side of the old warehouse to thin out the number of bodyguards and heads straight to the target's den, leaving you to the rest. But imagine his surprise when he sees the old man already dead on the chair at his desk, a stiletto pierced right through his neck, evident of his demise as a stream of crimson staining his yellow dress shirt.

And Toji notices a note left on the weapon, the familiar handwriting in pink with a kiss mark already tells him who wrote it. "Gotta be quicker than that, Grandpa ~" is what he reads in your charming voice, and it vexes him knowing you beat him to the punch.

He sees you leaning on a pallet rack when he returns to the warehouse, and you smile when you turn to him. "Well, that was fast," you play coy, stretching when standing straight up. "Took care of those punks like five minutes ago, figured I'd wait on you."

"I got your note." He wastes no time. He's so hot when he does that.

"Oh? Did ya like it~?" Your hand swiftly grabs something that came dangerously close to your temple — your stiletto. It was thrown with the knowledge that you would catch it. So serious, huh.

"Ya know, for someone callin' me a 'grandpa,' you sure act like a damn kid leavin' y'r toys everywhere."

You chuckle at his complaint. "Awww, did I hurt your big boy feelings with my little words?" You see his green eyes watch your every move as you walk up close to him. "Sorry~, not my fault you were too slow to get the final kill."

Toji raises a brow. "How'd ya get to him before me?"

You shrug with a cheeky grin. "Assassins don't tell their secrets, especially when your old head couldn't get it."

It's his turn to chortle. "Oh yeah? Ya think y'r too fast for me?"

"I wouldn't say that, just that you're too slow for me," your hands go up defensively when he takes a step forward, and you try hard to not get turned on by his well-built physique displayed by the shirt that does a terrible job hiding his features. "As a matter of fact, I bet you're slow at other things."

He takes another step forward, and before you register his next move, he already has you pinned to the pallet rack you once leaned against. His smirk grows broader while your eyes widen at the sudden shifting. "Was that too slow fr' you, princess?"

No, absolutely not. That's what you would want to say to him, his tall figure engulfing you under his presence. But you didn't want to let off that easily, your hand finding the crotch of his pants. When verdant eyes shut to the feeling of your fingers brushing against his bulge, you take the chance to say more. "Oh, that was totally too slow for me, geezer. Such a shame; I thought you'd be a lot more fun. But guess I'll have to go on to the next person who could do a better job."

"Mmm, don't start somethin' y'r not ready for, brat." His gruff voice dials to a whisper, your ears replaying the tone, making the throbbing sensation between your legs prosper. You can feel his erection, even with his pants blocking the view. "Good luck findin' someone who'd shut that pretty mouth of y'rs better than I do."

You giggle after grabbing onto his erect cock, forcing the older man to hiss and his face coming down to your level. You whisper to his ear. "And what makes you think a dumb, old, brute-for-brains like you could satisfy me? I fail to see what you're capable of, grandpa." Those were the words you chose to entice the man under your spell.

But what you really failed to see was the predicament you've gotten yourself in.

Lying on a pallet with your back, your pretty bottoms and panties now discarded to the dirty floor, you scream out to the empty warehouse. Tears and drool escape from your face, and the quiver in your legs is evidence of your body going through the absolute most right now. "Haaahh! Ahhhh!! T-Tojiii, Toji, please!! I'm—Hoooohh!!" You grab tufts of raven hair that are stationed between your legs.

The older man holds your legs up with one hand, the other nestled between your slick-coated folds as his middle and forefinger push in and out of your cunt. His tongue licks furiously on your clitoris, your cries evident of the abuse on your tender bud and vulva.

Toji removes the wet muscle and moves his fingers go an instantaneous pace, the tips of his digits scraping your walls resulting in more tears falling off your face without fail. He snickers, "Look at you; all that screamin' and hollerin' like a damn whore have you forgetting simple rules." His thumb finds your clit, pushing down on it every time his fingers are propelled inside. "What did I tell you to call me, brat?"

The unforgiving rhythm of his hand on your bare vulva has you seeing stars and choking on your spit. "I-I'm sorry, Daddy!! I didn't mean to make you mad at me!"

"You sure 'bout that?" His condescending tone matched the devilish twinge of his scarred lips. The digits doing a 'come hither' motion that has your body jerking nowhere, your legs still restrained by his firm arm pushing them to your stomach. "My 'big boy feelings' were crushed with y'r little comments, so here I am gettin' the payback I need. Was acting all high and mighty until I got my mouth on ya."

"But I said—Mmmph!! I'm sorry!" You wail out, your face hot with embarrassment and excitement. "And I already came—Oh fuck...C-Came three times!!"

"You called me names four times, so I expect you to cum one more time, you fuckin' crybaby." He replies coldly, your tears and pleas on deaf ears. "Heh, if I knew havin' my fingers in you like this would have you behavin', I woulda done it earlier. Grippin' on my 'em like a damn slut."

His fingers go faster with no smooth transition as his mouth returns to your soft button, your screams erupting from the back of your exhausted throat. Even with your voice filling the scene, you can only listen to the raunchy noises of the commotion between your thighs. It's enough for you to wish your ears burn at such lewd sounds, and your head pounding worsens the state of your already mushy brain. This is what you wanted all this time — to have the man you've been infatuated with give you the attention to so dearly strived and poked for. However, the intensity of it all was nowhere near what you had expected.

"Nnnmm!! Daddyyy," the title slurred from your mouth feels hot to the tongue, but it's the only way to address him before your punishment intensifies. You peer down to see his black hair come up, fierce emerald eyes taking in your expressions. "It's coming, gonna cum again!!"

"Yeah? Wanna come on my fingers again?" He chortles when you rapidly nod at him, pathetically desperate for your release. "Fine, cum on Daddy's fingers like the slut you are." He moves his hands to the back of your thighs and has his tongue slowly glide up your soapy chasm, tasting your wetness until he reaches your clitoris and attacks the bud more. Circling around and sucking on your precious nub prompts your orgasm to climb up, and it hits you hard when his teeth and tongue grind on your clit.

With final moans of pleasure, you experience your finish with the harsh treatment of Toji's mouth, hands purchasing his hair for faux stability. Your legs tremble with curled toes, and your body jolts with the shocks. And Toji doesn't stop until he licks the slit clean of your essence, slurping up your sensitive folds until his thirst has quenched. All you can do is submit and let him have his way with you, sucking up your fluids from your cunt to the mess of your inner thighs.

"Mmmm, fucking Christ, Y/n," you hear his mumbled curse below. "Taste so fuckin' good, baby..."

Your body soon calms down from the climax, trying to steady your breathing with even breaths. And Toji finally finishes drinking your wetness, drawing his head up to reveal his lips wet with your come, licking it and his fingers. "Bet that wasn't slow fr' ya, huh."

You meekly nod your head. "And I bet nobody's gonna make you shut you up like that, huh?" You nod again.

The smirk on his face scares you, especially when he straightens up to show his erect dick still hard and ready to be free from the tented pants. And when his cock springs out, your sweaty body runs cold immediately.

"Good," he says while bringing you close to him, arranging his cock to your wet entrance. "But we ain't done here." Complaints and pleas aren't able to enter the air because you just watch the tip of his cock bully through the lips of your chasm and enter inside you with ease. He gradually pushes his entire length into you, getting full with every inch as his girth intrudes between your tight, smooth walls.

"Keep up wit' me, baby," his eyes hone in on you, gauging your reactions before he starts moving his hips relentlessly. "because I'm about to show you what I'm really capable of."

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nburkhardt · 6 months

Text

Saw a prompt and couldn’t let it go, so enjoy! 🥰 (no dialogue because I can’t figure that part out)

Steve has always craved touch even though he never got it.

His parents found out his unique ability at a young age when Steve touched his aunt and she immediately fell to the floor dead. Just from his skin touching hers. After that he wasn’t allowed any sort of touch, his parents warned anyone and everyone to avoid touching him. Near everyone in town knows, knows to avoid touch with him; stays away from him.

Steve manages, as much as someone can with deadly powers.

He figured out how to get his own comfort from plush toys and once he figured out when others touch his clothes first, nothing happens. He figures wearing sleeves and pants and gloves will always be his best options.

Still touch-starved though.

He has friends, but no one wants to get super close. Too afraid to accidentally touch. His parents leave often, also too afraid of his ability.

Eddie was told by his Uncle Wayne that he was special.

That when he was five, he was in a terrible car accident that should’ve killed him. It did kill his mom, but the emts and doctors were shocked that Eddie was fine. He was hurt, sure, but completely fine otherwise.

So, he grew to be little reckless. Lives on the edge and found out at sixteen that he can’t die. After several visits with specialists, it was officially confirmed.

He’s able to get hurt, pretty badly sometimes. But besides that, he can’t die. Which scares him just a bit but not enough to stop living life on the edge.

Steve leaves his hometown as soon as he can with only his things and a plan to get as far away as he can from all the people who are afraid of him.

He’s also afraid, so afraid that he’s not only touch-starved but also a little touch averse now. Doesn’t want anyone to die just by simply touching him. He might want touch, but will always be afraid.

They meet by chance, but mostly because of Eddie being a reckless idiot and his friends daring him to try running across very busy traffic. Which, as the daredevil he is, Eddie attempts to do it.

He’s only stopped by Steve freaking out at seeing it. For once, Steve acts before his brain catches up with him. Just throws his gloveless hand and grabs hold on Eddie’s arm to force him to stop moving.

Eddie jerks back and for a split second, feels a warmth before it fades. He’s taken back, annoyed at being stopped but also very confused. Most people that live here, know him. Know that he can get hurt but can’t die.

So this random person grabbing hold of his arm is new.

The touch registers in Steve’s head minutes later, as Eddie stares at him. He immediately lets go with wide eyes and panicking. But instead of the guy dropping dead, he’s still standing.

Eventually they’ll talk, they’ll learn each other’s abilities and someday in the future learn to love each other.

Sooo, I can’t figure out how to work out dialogue into this. Or really flesh out their abilities. But it’s a thing! If you want to take this and pick it apart, you’re definitely welcome to do so! (If you do tag me!)

Permanent tag list:

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @strangersteddierthings

#steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #stranger things #nburkhardt writes #Steve x eddie #steddie au #touch starved steve harrington #but ALSO #touch averse Steve Harrington #reckless Eddie Munson #Eddie’s totally a daredevil you can’t tell me otherwise #it’s sorta x-men related but also very much not

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delafiseaseses · 9 months

Text

Y'know what I think makes Jeannie May Crawford stand out so much amongst Fallout villains? Not just the fact she's associated with Boone and one of the horrors he's dealt with, but because she's different than most other Fallout villains, big or small.

[I'm not gonna be going into the cut Ghoul bigotry in Come Fly With Me even though it supports me point, as that is, well, cut and therefore not-canonical actions. Though it is in-line with her other behaviour.]

I know why Jeannie May feels different to me. She's an advocate of Normality. What do I mean by that? Well, it's simple. Her motive for her Big Evil Action is pretty clearly the fact that Carla didn't like Novac and was overall an annoyance to her status quo. The perfection of her town. Her "little desert oasis". Jeannie May is basically the leader of Novac. She owns the Dino-Dee Lite and by extension the entire town. To her badmouthing Novac is badmouthing her and that is a crime she cannot stand. No punishment is too great. Carla and her unborn child deserve to suffer, in her mind. She knows what the Legion do to women, but she didn't care.

But it doesn't just stop there. That's the thing. She doesn't just hate people disliking Novac. Jeannie May also resents the idea of people not being very social as Alice McBride says this "Oh, we keep to ourselves, for the most part. Try not to pry. I think Jeannie May gets bothered that we aren't more sociable, but it's just our way. Ain't that we don't appreciate what she's done, managing this town like she has, but I worry she feels that way anyhow." the McBrides were probably not at risk of the Carla-treatment, but who knows what Crawford would've done to them if she got too upset at their lack of sociability.

Oh, also, the reason she kept the document that got her killed? 500 caps. That's it. In the Bill of Sale it says "Payment of an additional five hundred bottle caps will be due pending successful maturation of the fetus, the claim to which shall be guaranteed by possession of this document." considering Jeannie May is a landlord to so many people that sum has to be nothing to her. The entire 1500 caps was nothing. But she was confident, arrogant. Nobody would discover her actions. Boone's suspicions wouldn't go anywhere (and he'd never suspect her). It was her town and she was safe in it. Everyone was unable to see past her act (except No-Bark if you believe that one thing he says is an indication he knows something is off about her).

Of course, when you're so confident that you'll never be caught, the thought never enters your mind anyone will find out. The only thing that enters your mind is... a .308 round.

#fallout #new vegas #fallout new vegas #jeannie may crawford #novac

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thecuriousquest · 5 months

Note

I3 Geto 🤗

Don’t Fuss

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @palesweetscherryblossom @murderofravens @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, SFW, kidnapping, chains (not sexual), kissing, face slapping, minor blood, condescending behavior

Prompt Request: “No one will ever find you here.”

Yandere Alphabet Prompt List

Master List

—————————————————————————

You wake up feeling groggy and stiff as though you had the most uncomfortable sleep of your life. You stretch out, opening your eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling. Immediately, your back shoots straight up. Jumping off of the bed, you look around.

The room you are in is rather plain. White walls, a desk, a bed, a dresser, and three doors.

Your feet begin to patter over to the closest door, but you immediately come to a halt once you hear a rattling noise below you. There’s a chain gripping your ankle, knocking against the sensitive knob. You try to gather your cursed energy, but you feel beyond disoriented. You can’t even summon as much as a pinky tip’s worth of cursed energy.

“Help! Someone! Anyone! Please, can you hear me?!” You call out.

There’s nothing but silence. Placing a hand over your beating heart, you settle for screaming. You wail at the top of your lungs, folding in half from the gut wrenching vocal torment, hoping that someone will come for you.

The door opens, and a man with black hair adorned in monk’s robes walks in. Oh no…

“Suguru,” it’s a breathless whisper brimming with fear.

As he walks towards you, your body can’t help but back up. Ending up stopping at a wall, you find that you have nowhere else to go with the cuff securing you to the floor.

Geto comes to a halt right in front of you. He tucks a lock of your H/C tresses behind your ear as he stands there so quietly.

“Suguru, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Well, that’s not a very nice greeting for your upper classmen.” His smile is just as always, plastered on with something dangerous hiding behind those slitted eyes.

“You stopped being my upper classmen when you murdered all those people and dropped out to start your own fucked up cult. What? Are you gonna kill me? Is that why you brought me here?”

“No, I missed you so much that I simply decided to bring you here with me. There’s no need to study to become a sorcerer anymore. You’re too weak, and I can protect you.”

“Weak? I was about to be prompted to first grade before you took me!” You push at his broad shoulders.

He doesn’t move an inch. Instead, his smile slightly wavers with annoyance before he grabs you by your wrists, pulling you towards him.

His lips are so close to your neck. You can feel his hot breath like a ghost.

“It’s a good thing I took you before that could happen. I wouldn’t want all of that power getting to your head. I could never have my princess thinking she could take on curses of such great caliber.”

Your eyes narrow at him as your lip curls in disgust. “Why can’t I use my cursed energy? What did you do to me?”

“I simply used a curse sedative on you. I can’t have you acting out.”

“Get off of me!” You stomp on his foot.

He backs away from you, trying not to let the pain show. Instead, he laughs through it. Once recovering from the jolt of hot throbbing in his toes, he tries to reach out for your upper arm.

Anxiety consumes you. Gasping, you doge his fingers and dance around his hand. You run as far as the chain will allow you, stopping five yards away from him.

“Fuck! Geto, let me out of here!”

He understands you must be stressed from the situation. He isn’t an idiot. However, you are his, and you must learn your place quickly.

Suguru steps near you, backhanding you across the face. Jolting with shock, you feel a heavy sting bloom across your cheek, burning your nose. You feel blood trickle from your nostril, and with the back of your hand, you wipe it away.

You look up at him, only for him to do the same to your other cheek. You can taste the metallic in your mouth as the scarlet drips over your lips.

You don’t have a second to recover before he’s grabbing you by the back of your neck and dragging you towards the bed.

“No, no! Suguru! Suguru, no, wait!”

He tosses you face first onto the mattress, not giving you anytime before he crawls on top of you, moving your hair to the side, leaving wet kisses on the back of your neck.

“You will understand where you belong shortly. You’ll learn your place. I’ll make sure of it.”

Once again, you begin wailing for help. Soul piercing pleas tear from your very frightened core. You have no cursed energy to use, and a special grade sorcerer has taken you for his own sick use.

“What’s with all the fussing? No one will ever find you all the way down here, so there’s no use in going horse if you think about it.”

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x resisting reader #yandere themes #triggering themes #triggering content #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere suguru geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto #suguru geto #jjk suguru #jjk suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen suguru

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five-rivers · 9 days

Text

archetypical changes

@echoghost1 @ghostfox_fuyu

It started out small. Small enough that, in retrospect, Danny was surprised he noticed at all. But he did. At least, he noticed enough to dismiss it as nothing important.

It was just hair, after all. Just hair, growing a bit too fast. He knew that people did have different rates of hair growth naturally. Like, beards especially could grow fast. That’s why five o’clock shadow was a thing.

Just hair.

He wound a curl around finger, where it peeked out from under his left ear. This fast… He could probably brush it off. Maybe it was an extension of his healing powers. He’d just need to cut it more often, so he didn’t go to the barber too often. Would that even be something people would notice?

He’d noticed. It was his body. His hair.

Would anyone else?

He ran a hand through it, sweeping it back, and went on with his life.

“Hey, Jazz,” he said, a week later. “Will you give me a haircut?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Jazz. She turned from her desk and looked him over. “It is getting long, but didn’t you just get a haircut?”

Danny shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Jazz walked over to him and looked up and down the hallway. “Is it a ghost thing?” she whispered.

“No idea,” Danny said.

Jazz sighed, as if it was his fault he was a freak of nature.

Well. It kind of was. Still. She didn't need to act like it.

“Come on, we'll do it in the bathroom. I'll get the broom, you find the scissors.”

They regrouped in the bathroom a few minutes later. Jazz had picked up a chair as well.

“Go ahead and sit down,” she said as she pulled a comb from a drawer. She ran the comb through his hair.

“I did brush my hair before,” said Danny, leaning back slightly and closing his eyes.

“Sure,” said Jazz. “Just checking. How do you want this?”

“However it was before. Just shorter than it is now.”

“Well… I’ll do my best. But you know I’ve not done this before, right?”

“Yeah, but I can’t ask Mom or Dad, and I’m broke, so. This is about it. Unless I want to ask Sam, and I’m not ready to go goth.”

“Going ghost is enough for you, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay,” said Jazz with a sigh. “Let’s do this.”

The scissors snipped cleanly through his hair, over and over, ticklish strands falling around his ears and shoulders. Jazz didn’t get fancy. She kept things relatively even and didn’t attempt fades or different lengths or anything like that. The result was somewhat strange, but it was workable. No one would think he had some kind of weird hair-growing… thing.

Yeah. He was totally killing this secret identity thing.

Jazz ran a hand through his hair, shaking loose a few more cut strands. “Your hair is really fluffy, you know that?”

“Thanks, Jazz,” said Danny.

“Thank me by helping clean up. Your hair got everywhere.”

“Guess that’s why barber shops use those weird little capes.”

“Yeah,�� said Jazz.

They cleaned up relatively quickly, and Danny spent the rest of the afternoon working on homework, secure in the knowledge that he had, once again, protected himself from discovery via stupid means, like supernaturally fast-growing hair. He didn’t have the time for it to distract him from what was really important. In this case, transformations of functions.

Math. What would he do without it?

Then, of course, he went to bed and fell asleep. No one disturbed him that night, ghost or human, which only happened about half the time, even if it felt like he was being woken up every night, sometimes.

He woke up and ran his hands through his hair. It felt longer than it had yesterday when he went to bed, but not by a huge amount. He might have to get Jazz to cut his hair once a week or more. Maybe he’d just have to learn how to do it himself. Ugh…

He went about his usual morning routine in his normal somnambulant state. Clothing, shoes, on to the bathroom…

His reflection blinked sleepily at him. Yeah, his hair was a bit longer, but only by a few millimeters. It wasn’t growing fast enough that anyone would notice over the course of a few days.

Dismissing the problem as one that wouldn’t truly become problematic for a few more days, he picked up his toothbrush and made a face at himself in the mirror.

Then he froze.

He leaned forward, over the sink, baring his teeth. He poked at his canines with one finger. Yep. Yep, that was real. That wasn’t a hallucination, even if it seemed like it should be.

His upper canines had grown long and sharp overnight. Their points descended until they almost touched his bottom gums. He opened his mouth and discovered that it wasn’t just his upper canines, but his lower canines, too.

His fingers roved over the rest of his teeth, searching for other changes. He couldn’t find any. That didn’t mean they weren’t there.

He pulled off his shirt, then his pants. He hadn’t noticed anything else while he was getting dressed, but he was so out of it in the mornings that his lack of noticing also didn’t mean anything.

His skin… still pasty white, still lightly freckled. His muscles seemed to move normally, but he wasn’t exactly an expert. However… He raised his hand to his side and slotted his fingers into the gaps between his ribs. It hadn’t been like this before, had it? He slid his fingers back and forth, thinking. It felt… oddly satisfying, but also very wrong. His hips also seemed slimmer, bonier.

He’d never had all that much fat, he took after his mother in that way, but he was pretty sure this was over and above that. Something strange was happening to him.

He put his shirt and pants back on and walked through the wall into Jazz’s room.

“Holy– Knock first,” said Jazz, throwing the first thing she could grab at him. Which was her pajama pants. Ew. “What’s wrong?”

“I have fangs now,” said Danny.

“What?”

Danny opened his mouth as wide as he could to show her.

“What are you doing, I don’t want to see your uvula, that’s– Oh.”

Danny let his mouth close with a click. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m–” Jazz looked lost. “I don’t know. You can probably hide, um, teeth for school. It’s not as if people are going to be looking in your mouth… Are there any other changes? Other than that and your hair?”

“Um,” said Danny. “I– Maybe?”

“If it’s important enough that you broke into my room–”

“I didn’t break anything.”

“--then you’d better tell me.”

Danny felt himself blushing. “It’s– I think that I’ve lost a lot of weight. Like, overnight. I can see my ribs now.”

Jazz hissed through her teeth. “That’s serious, Danny. That’s a serious health thing.”

“More than the fangs?”

“Way more than the fangs. I’ll call us out sick, and we can go visit your doctor friend. What was his name? Frostfight?”

“Frostbite,” corrected Danny. “You’re really going to help me skip school?”

“For a health thing?” asked Jazz. “Yeah. You basically are sick. Or, at least, there’s something strange going on with your body that we need to figure out sooner rather than later. Now get out of here so I can get dressed. Is it cold where Frostbite lives?”

“Freezing,” said Danny. “Wear long underwear and layers. Lots of layers.”

“Ugh. I might as well wear my hazmat.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said Danny. “We are going into the Ghost Zone.”

Jazz sighed. “Great, now, seriously, get out and get ready to go. I’ll get you when I’m ready.”

Danny fled back through the walls and dropped himself onto his bed. He waited, thoughts whirling. What could possibly be making his hair grow faster, his weight drop, and his teeth turn into fangs? Was this some kind of ghost disease? Ghost puberty? Some kind of weird curse?

Jazz knocked on his door not long after, and Danny leaped up, eager to get answers.

“I called us out,” she said, then did a double take. “Danny, your hair.”

He reached up and ran his hand over his head. “It’s longer,” he said.

“A lot longer,” said Jazz. “Visibly longer. I was only gone a few minutes. It’s getting faster. A lot faster.”

Danny forced a smile. “Well, good thing we were already going to see Frostbite.”

Jazz hesitated, then nodded. “I got Mom and Dad to run off to Elmerton. Told them there was a ghost sighting over there.”

“So they won’t notice us being gone. Smart.”

“I know I am,” said Jazz. She smirked down at Danny, then winked. “Come on, let’s go.”

Danny went ghost and floated next to her as she made her way down the stairs. “How are you on piloting the Specter Speeder?”

“I’m, well,” she made a face. “I haven’t gotten much of a chance. I’ve gotten up to level three on the simulator.”

“You should be fine to fly it, then,” said Danny. “It’s not like there’s a lot of stuff to run into– you’ll just go through it. And there’s no time to learn like the present.”

“Don’t use my words against me,” said Jazz, scowling slightly. Danny stuck his tongue out at her.

They went down into the lab, and started going through the flight checks for the Specter Speeder.

“I’ll fly ahead,” said Danny, clipping on a Fenton Fone. “Check for danger and all.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“Yeah, I feel fine,” said Danny. “Just… weird.” He licked his teeth. “Really weird.”

“Okay, go ahead. I’ll finish up here in just a couple of minutes.”

Danny flew through the portal and did a few laps of the portal. “Everything looks clear for you over here.”

“Okay,” said Jazz through the Fone. “Check your Fenton Fone. It’s skipping a lot of what you say.”

Danny grumbled but checked it. It seemed fine. He popped it back in. “I think we’ll just have to deal with it,” said Danny.

“Great,” said Jazz. “Stand clear.”

The Specter Speeder slowly slid through the portal. Once it was all the way through, Danny tapped his Fone again and waved at Jazz. “Follow me,” he said. “It’s a long way there.”

The Far Frozen was as cold as ever. Danny landed in the snow, his hair falling down to the curve of his jaw, and sighed at the pleasant sensation. Flying wasn’t difficult, per se. It wasn’t like walking or running, it didn’t really use muscles, but it was tiring, and the Far Frozen was far.

However… was he more tired than he normally would have been? Or was this another symptom?

“Great One!” greeted Frostbite, jarring Danny from his spiraling introspection. “What brings you here today?”

“Well,” said Danny, trying to get his thoughts together.

“Health things,” said Jazz, climbing out of the Speeder. “Oh, gosh, it really is cold out here.”

“I see,” said Frostbite, leaning closer to Danny. “You do not appear injured.”

“It’s more like… body… changes,” explained Danny awkwardly. He glanced sideways at the other yetis walking through the public space. “Can we go in?”

“Of course,” said Frostbite. He gestured Danny and Jazz onward and towards a well-lit cave. “Medical is this way, as you might remember.”

“I… guess I don’t, really,” said Danny, following Frostbite. “It’s sort of a blur.”

“Understandable. You were quite unwell.”

Danny could feel Jazz glaring at the back of his head. He decided to ignore that. Problem for later, if she remembered. The hair and teeth and weight loss were the problems now.

They reached the medical wing in short order, and Frostbite ushered him and Jazz into a smaller private room. There was a counter and an examination bench and a few cabinets. “So, what seems to be the problem?” he asked.

Danny, with Jazz’s ‘help,’ explained.

“Hm,” said Frostbite. “There are a few things that could cause that, but I need to make some measurements before I could say which one is happening here. Could you sit up here and take off your shirt?”

Danny flew up - it was a bit too high to just jump up - and pulled off his shirt. Frostbite produced a stethoscope, and asked Danny to cough and hum. He listened intently. Danny listened, too. Humming felt… odd, as if his chest were more hollow, as if the sound was brushing the very edge of his ghostly wail.

“And all this happened recently?” asked Frostbite, after a few minutes.

“Yeah. I noticed the hair thing about a week ago? Everything else seemed to just show up today.”

“I think I may know what is happening.”

“Is it a ghost puberty thing?” asked Danny, unsure if he should hope for that or not.

“I suppose it could be considered analogous to puberty,” said Frostbite, bemused, “although puberty isn't something that typically happens to ghosts. We don't age. It's more along the lines of adapting to a role after a period of malleability.”

Jazz let out a little sigh. “It's not something that will hurt Danny, then?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot say that for certain. There are a great deal of potential complications, which may be made greater by your half-human status, and the archetype you seem to be settling into…”

“What is it?” asked Danny.

“The role you have taken upon yourself is that of a tutelary, a protective spirit. You are developing a very thin, almost gaunt appearance, and your hair is growing rapidly. Fangs tend to be nonspecific, common to many types of ghost, the same with minor changes to your nails and skin tone. Your wail on the other hand…”

“I sort of felt it when I was humming, earlier,” volunteered Danny. “That hasn't happened before.”

“There is only one group I know of that matches all those traits,” said Frostbite gravely. “Here, in the Realms, they are called the Keeners, or the Mourners, or, on occasion, Those Who Mourn Before, for their predictive abilities. In the human world, I believe the more famous of them became known as banshees.”

“I thought banshees were all women,” said Danny, feeling a little blank.

“The famous ones are,” said Frostbite.

Danny wanted to know more about that, but shook his head and returned to the question at hand. “What's dangerous about that, though?” he certainly thought it sounded unpleasant and inconvenient to the whole ‘secret identity’ thing, but he could admit there was a difference between that and actively dangerous.

“A banshee’s wail is supposed to kill people, isn't it?” interjected Jazz.

“They do, on occasion,” said Frostbite. “Especially when they are younger and have less control.”

“I've had my wail under control for ages, though,” protested Danny, shooting a glare at Jazz. She gave him an apologetic shrug.

“When I asked you to hum, earlier, didn’t you feel something different? Something unusual?” asked Frostbite, kindly.

Danny shrugged. “Maybe.”

“This is a change,” said Frostbite. “One that affects more than your physical appearance. The powers associated with your archetype will change as well, including your wail, and those changes generally come with a loss of control, however temporary. The typical precaution in these cases is to, ah, use a gag, until a community of banshees willing to train the new one can be contacted.”

“I, um. I don’t suppose that’s something that I can do, like, overnight?”

“Not generally,” said Frostbite. “There’s some overlap between banshees and ice-cored ghosts, more than there is for fire-cored ghosts, but it isn’t a great enough number for us to have regular contact.”

“That’s… I can’t… Great. That’s. What am I supposed to do with that? I’ve got my whole town– The ghosts– I can’t just up and leave.”

“Danny, you can’t go back if your wail could just randomly go off and, you know, ki–”

“I know that,” interrupted Danny, dropping his head into his hands. He rubbed his face vigorously.

“You may not have that particular addition to your wail,” said Frostbite. “In fact, I would be rather surprised if you did. You are, like I said, primarily a tutelary. A protector. Banshees from such backgrounds more typically have predictive or clairvoyant abilities. They do not cause the deaths that follow their cry, they only are aware of them.”

“Well, I guess that’d just suck for me rather than everyone else.” He could already feel his mental health taking a hit. “But I’ll be good, I’ll stay here and do whatever precautions you want. Play the silent game, sit in the middle of nowhere in the Zone, the gag thing, whatever. You’d better come up with a good excuse for me, though. I think Mom and Dad’ll get suspicious if they don’t see me for days or whatever.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Jazz.

“Is there anything else I should know about?” asked Danny. “Like, am I going to spontaneously combust or grow a tail or what?”

Frostbite chuckled. “Probably not. But we should take some fittings for the sound-dampening gag…”

Danny sighed. “I really don’t want to wear a gag.”

“It will be temporary,” said Frostbite, “to prevent accidents before you can have proper training.”

Danny wrinkled his nose. “That sounds wrong.”

“How so?” asked Frostbite.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” He fell back to lay down on the examination table.

Frostbite patted his shoulder. “It will be fine, Great One,” he said. “Almost everyone goes through this eventually. And while you’re here, I can give you more details about what other kinds of changes you can expect going forward. I have simplified a good deal, after all.”

“Oh my gosh, it is just like puberty,” said Danny.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay without me?” asked Jazz.

“I’m more worried about you flying back.”

“We can give your sister an escort,” said Frostbite. “If Miss Jasmine is alright with that.”

Danny removed his hands from his face to stare Jazz into taking the escort.

“Alright,” said Jazz. “If it won’t put you out.” She walked over to Danny. “And if you are sure you don’t need me.”

“I’m sure. We can’t both be gone for who knows how long.”

She sighed and patted his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” said Danny. “I’m just going to complain about it the whole time.”

“As is your right. I know I wasn’t too happy when it started happening to me. I wasn’t always as handsome as I am now, you know.”Danny sat up. “Okay, now, I’ve got to hear that story.”

#danny phantom #phic phight

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reve-writes · 1 year

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—if i'm dead to you [1]; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 1,5k words. ʚ chapter two. | you betrayed him before, resulting in a failed mission and a preventable death. years later, you cross paths. ʚ angst. profanity; violence; non-canon lore; reader murdered someone; very loosely set in re4. ʚ a/n this will have a second part! i don't write for leon a lot so he may be ooc, sorry for that. i just wanted to write some lovers-to-enemies angst while being knee-deep in leon brainrot.

"I should kill you," he theeatens. You feel the hard muzzle of his pistol on the small of your back, almost feel the coldness of the metal against your skin despite the jacket you're clad in.

God, you missed him.

"Leon," you greet casually, even as you put your hands up in a surrendering manner. He presses the gun harder—a warning. One you're choosing to ignore. "Come on, puppy. We both know you're not going to shoot."

His voice is cold when he responds, venom lacing every syllable. "Do we?"

Your heart clenches, but then again you deserve every bit of anger he throws your way. His icy tone feels so much worse than any wound you've ever had in your line of work. Each words lodging deep inside you, like a bullet without an exit wound.

“Leon,” you try again. His name flows smoothly out of your lips as if you've been saying it your whole life. Even now, as he's threatening you, your body seems to remember him anyway—gravitate towards the pads of his fingers, the warmth of his torso. You thrum with the yearning to feel his skin on yours again as much as you don't deserve to. “We can talk like civilised people.”

“We're past civilised for a while now,” he retorts, but the pressure loosens. You take your chances and slowly spin on your heels to face him. A mistake on your part. Your heart swells at the sight of him. His blond hair, sweeping over his ears. The blue in his eyes, hardened from years of experience as an agent. The set of his jaw. Your hand twitches with the desire to touch him, feel his lips against yours once more.

What do you even say?

Apologising seems like a callous move. You didn't bother to apologise five years ago. It changes nothing even if you do apologise now, because you'll do it all over again. Instead of spinning more lies or desperately trying to bury the elephant in the room, you opt for the truth.

“I'm glad you're well, Leon.” You swallow, trying to clear the scratchiness of your voice from the lump forming in your throat.

His brows furrow. His gun is still aimed towards you, but his hand is trembling ever-so-slightly. “Don't do that.”

Your head tilts to the side. “Do what?”

“Try and act as if you're not the biggest fucking liar I've ever met,” he snarls. “Fuck this. Fuck you.”

It stings. Every word acts like lacerations on the fickle little thing beating inside your chest. Your hand shakes, but you flash him a tight-lipped smile instead.

“I suppose I deserve that.”

“And a whole lot more.”

A beat passes, and then two. It doesn't seem like he's going to serve you your retribution.

You're taking in his appearance and he looks at you, so many thoughts racing in his head. Too many to pick out just one. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the roiling anger in his veins—to keep the red at the edge of his vision instead of blinding him.

“What are you doing here?”

“You know I can't answer that.”

“The least you can do is answer my questions.” He grits his teeth. “Then again, whatever you say is most likely a lie.”

“I'll take my leave, then.” I'm glad I get to see you.

He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Goddammit, ___. Are you really not going to say anything?”

You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms. “We don't need to do this. I'll stay out of your way.”

“What about Tracy?”

The name brings up a clear picture. Pig-tailed brunette. Fifteen years old. Freckles dusting her cheeks. The gap between her front teeth when she smiled.

Tracy Miller.

That was the name printed on your mission file five years ago. Your mission partner was Leon Kennedy. Both of you were newbies in the field, recently recruited after what went down in Raccoon City. It was supposed to be an easy mission, anyway. You were starry-eyed, excited to spend a little more time with him, giddy for experience in this godforsaken field.

Your mission was simple. The fifteen-year-old prodigy created a strain of virus. You were supposed to bring her in for questioning. They were planning to confiscate the research.

Until you were approached by your current employer—a group of self-righteous assholes whom you've caught the attention of. You were presented with an offer, but it was never much of a choice. Kill Tracy, get rid of the possibility that the virus could ever soread. You would never say yes. Never in a million years would you have aimed your gun at a helpless child.

Until they mentioned him.

It didn't take much for you to throw your morals to the backburner when it came to Leon. He was their leverage. If you didn't work for them and dispose of Tracy, then he would die. Their words over the static of your phone are the start of this nightmare.

How sure are you that you can protect him from us?

The name Tracy brings up an image. A loud ringing in your ears. The thud of her body hitting the ground. The click of your gun as it fell to the floor, a bullet missing from its magazine, lodged in the girl's skull.

You steel yourself, echoing empty words you don't quite believe in. “I did what needed to be done.”

You walked away from him. Your shoes knocking against the docks of the lake. As soon as he's out of sight, your knees buckle and you fall. Blinking your eyes, you realise that you're crying.

You don't have time for this.

Not in the middle of an infected village where its residents can appear anytime, hurling an axe at your skull or brandishing a pitchfork, fully intending to kill. There's a mission to accomplish.

Dammit.

You're filled with contradictions. Even as you curse to yourself, standing in front of him like a deer caught in the headlights, there's a part of you that lights up when you bump into him again. It overshadows the rational part—the one that dreads another confrontation, risking the exchange of words as sharp as daggers into each other's hearts.

He immediately levels his handgun at your chest. You drop yours.

“Shit. I didn't know you were here, Leon.” This is one truth that you can offer to him.

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

You sigh, spotting a hostile in your periphery ready to lob a machete at you. “Duck.”

Even if you're the one who cried wolf, the one who once served a lie so grave on a platter without batting an eye, his body responds, immediately falling to a crouch before he can even think about it. It's how the two of you operate in Raccoon City and the countless missions that follow after that. Complete trust. That's why your betrayal feels like a thousand cuts to him.

You curse under your breath, side-stepping the machete. You swoop down for your dropped gun, shooting the infected resident three times before he falls to the ground. Your gunshot is loud, drawing everyone and their mothers out of their houses.

“Great,” Leon complains under his breath.

It's a dance you remember. The way your body so naturally presses up against him to cover each other's backs. The familiar little commands the two of you exchange as you take down enemy after enemy.

“She's just eating my bullets!” He quips, dropping an empty magazine out with one hand, the other already pulling out a new one out to reload. “Shit.”

You chuckle. Suddenly, you're back in Raccoon City again. Two naive twenty-something-year-olds keeping each other alive. Leon and his quirky comments. You and your light-hearted laughs.

The last shot rings and the two of you let out a relieved sigh.

“Great work,” he says before he can stop himself, falling into old habits.

You smile—that million dollar smile that does unhealthy things to his heart. Do it again. A voice in his head says. He frowns, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to shake off the stupor that remains after the fight.

Tracy Miller. He'll never forget the day he failed the young girl. The day you broke his trust. He swears he hates you. He wants you dead for what you did.

“You're not half bad yourself, Kennedy,” you answer.

He turns around, going to sow his rewards after all the shooting. “Stay out of my way. I won't hesitate the next time.”

The coldness returns to him. You tighten your jacket as if it can help shield you from the chill, but this is a small price you have to pay for his life. You prefer to have him absolutely loathe you than buried dead six feet underground.

You wince, walking away. “Take care, puppy.”

The nickname slips out of you and his step falters for a second. You notice—you notice every fucking thing he does bevause his presence alone heightens all your senses.

It gives you hope, a small one—one you don't deserve. Maybe. Just maybe. He'll forgive you someday.

[ ]

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #—ki writes 🍯

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rogersideup · 2 months

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｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini ♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter four

Pink Peonies

Series masterlist

Previous part: expendable next part: Rearview

Word count: 7,972

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions and descriptions of sexual acts, anxiety, and sever depression.

The week leading up to your final evaluation was nothing short of absolutely miserable.

Between losing Steve and Bucky, the only two people that made the compound a bearable place for you, fully processing your breakup with Harvey, and the stress that came along with such an important test made you feel like you were completely lost.

You showed up to work and private training like a good little agent regardless of how much internal pain you felt looking at Steve's face. You endured the two hours of uncomfortable silence with him after enduring working alongside Harvey for 5 hours, then went to the gym and worked out to make sure you stayed prepared and in tip top shape for evaluation.

But once your day was done and you were left to your own devices, it felt like you were shattering and crumbling between the walls of reality.

You could barely eat with the constant stomach ache you've had since Friday night, you could barely sleep through the sheer amount of racing thoughts in your head or the pain of your heart that felt physically broken, and in the morning you barely got yourself out of bed.

Showering and brushing you teeth felt like fighting a war, drinking water might as well have been an Olympic sport, your hair stayed up in a bun or a ponytail because doing anything more than brushing it wasn't in the cards for you.

The highlight of your day recently had been a phone call from Jane and Luca around 6:30pm, it was simple but still enough to keep you going. Your sister fed you just enough encouragement to get to your evaluation, and your nephew was just adorable enough to put a smile on your face even if it was short lived. They encouraged you to keep going, and promised they would be there for you on evaluation day.

It was a graduation of some sorts. Agents got to have close friends and family come watch and support them on the test day, and you we're looking forward to them finally getting to be in the compound with you.

However, all the happiness of Luca getting to live his dreams of seeing the Avengers compound was clouded with anxiety about Steve. You knew he would see his favorite superhero, and you knew there was absolutely nothing you could do to keep that from happening. But you were unwilling to not have your favorite little human not at such a monumental achievement in your life.

Luca watching you become an official, fully operable agent was important to him, almost more than it was to you. So you just hoped and prayed that Steve would react kindly to him, and your sister would react kindly towards Steve after knowing everything that happened between you two. For your sake and the five year old's, you needed everyone to just momentarily pretend like everything is alright.

The night before the big day had you in shambles. Your hands had been shaking with anxiety all day long, and as every minute passed and got closer to evaluation day, the anticipation killed you a little less slowly and a lot more aggressively.

You tried everything you could to calm your nerves. The animated movie illuminating your living room was going by unwatched, the comforting bowl of pho you got yourself was getting colder and less enjoyable with every individual noodle you convinced yourself you had to eat, and the quick shower you needed to take turned from a 10 minute task to a 45 minute one. You couldn't convince yourself to get in, then once the hot water rushed against your body with a comforting pressure, you couldn't convince yourself to get out.

Eventually the walls of your apartment felt like they were swallowing you whole, and no nook or cranny could provide you enough peace to calm your mind. So you threw on a big hoodie and grabbed a blanket before walking the halls until making it outside of the high tech building and onto the lawn.

You found a perfect spot tucked away by the building, it was clear enough out to see all of the stars twinkling in the night sky, and the moon was big and bright. So you laid out your blanket, and laid out on the underneath the night sky.

Rather than letting all of your thoughts and all of the new changes in your life scare you, you tried to slow them down and think through them logically. You thought about everything Steve said to you, what his feelings for you meant and how they affected what you thought you once knew about him and what they meant for you in the future.

You thought about how Harvey was probably going to fail his evaluation tomorrow, and how he would proceed after the fact. Would he give up working for Shield, or would he try again come next evaluation day?

You tried your hardest to avoid thinking about Bucky, because the situation with him was a new kind of pain. The platonic love you had for him was immeasurable, and day by day you found it harder to not forgive him. Because when it came down to it, you understood why he told Steve about your one time escapade. But for as long as Steve was upset, you knew it wasn't worth trying to mend your friendship with Bucky.

Rather than trying to run away from all of the hurt in your heart, the stars and the moon encouraged to you sit in those feelings for awhile. You got about 20 minutes into accepting them for what they were and working through them without pushing them away.

A few tears rolled down your cheeks, but you accepted those too. Instead of wiping them off your face, you just let them drip off the bottom of your jaw with the understanding that they would dry when they were ready.

Footsteps and booming laughter approaching from a distance made you sit up instead of laying flat on your back, not wanting to worry the people about to walk though the area. You tucked your knees to your chest and hugged your legs while continuing to watch an occasional lonesome cloud slowly pass by in the dark sky.

All of the grounding work you did to try and calm your mind and ease your broken heart was reversed as the laughter and footsteps came closer, and you started to recognize the people that the voices belong to. And sure enough, they came into eyesight faster than the universe allowed you to walk away.

Steve and Bucky turned the corner, and they were obviously very happy. Their laughter over what you assumed was an inside joke you were never included in didn't falter. Their happiness and humor felt insensitive at the moment, there was a split moment where you couldn't fathom that they were so jovial at time where you haven't genuinely smiled in almost a week.

You curled yourself up smaller and held your breath, hoping they wouldn't notice you or your slow falling tears. Though you were quiet, made yourself small, and sat in the dark on the grass furthest from the concrete path, they were trained to sense other people around them.

As if you had greeted them first they both stopped at the same time, their laughter fading just to give a friendly greeting to whoever was sitting out there. Only when they looked at you did you try to subtly wipe your tears and unblock your nose. With the hood of your jacket over your head, you could tell it took them a moment to recognize it was you.

You could see the very second your identity dawned on them, both of their shoulders fell and Bucky's face looked apologetic. Steve looked at his watch before looking at you.

As if you knew it was going to happen, your eyes met the grass before you let them look into his. You hadn't made eye contact with him since the initial argument, and you knew that killed him slowly and painfully.

They could both tell you were hurt, but especially Steve. Every single day he's seen you at work you looked just a little worse. It was as if you were slowly deteriorating from the person he once knew. Your big bright eyes where now dull and your eyelids were heavy, your pink cheeks were pale, your energy had sunken in.

"The sprinklers go off in two minutes." Steve told you.

Not expecting either of them to actually say anything to you, your brain couldn't process his words.

"What?" You questioned, looking up at Bucky in confusion, still refusing to look at Steve.

"The lawn gets watered every night at 10pm. It's 9:58." Bucky explained, his tone of voice was apologetic with a hint of empathy. "The sprinklers turn on in 2 minutes."

"Oh..." You understood, feeling disappointed that you had to move. "Thanks."

Expecting them to walk away, you stood up and grabbed your blanket off the grass. But when you turned around, they were both still standing there. Both still staring at you.

You moved onto the path, and they still stood there and stared. Not understanding their intentions, you cocked your head to the side and raised a challenging eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" You questioned, requesting them to stop blocking the path so you could get home and far away from them.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked.

"Just peachy" You responded simply, pushing past their two bodies to walk along the path.

They started walking behind you, all three of you needing to get to the same elevator. Your body and mind filled with dread, hoping and praying they weren't going to follow you in and get in the same elevator as you. But just in case they were, you tried your hardest to stop crying. You were far too stubborn to let them get a rise out of you.

"You don't seem very Peachy." Bucky said. You could hear the pout and genuine concern in his voice. "We still care about you, Bug. We're worried about you."

"Don't call me that." You sadly shook your head. "And maybe speak for yourself."

Steve sighed at your comment, and you missed the way he tossed his head back trying his hardest to remain composed. He felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. Of course he cared about you, of course he was worried, but he was also mad and didn't want his words to be misconstrued as him trying to make advances towards you.

Bucky backhandedly smacked Steve's chest, trying to get him to say something. You heard the impact, and tried not to smile at Bucky trying his hardest to make it better.

As suddenly Bucky found out that Steve had feelings for you, he started recognizing that you also had very deeply suppressed feelings for him too. The difference was that you pushed them down because your heart was so disconnected from your soul from the amount of torment you went through on a daily basis. Your confidence had never been lower, you genuinely believed you weren't worthy of love, and no part of your heart was open enough to let in or accept that anyone could ever care for you the same way you did for other people.

The compound wasn't good for you, and he knew they made it worse. He wanted to fix it, he wanted both of his best friends to be happy.

"I care about you too, 306." Steve mumbled, hoping it wouldn't back fire.

You just kept walking, trying to blink back the new rush of tears in your eyes and noting that the sprinklers did really turn on at 10 o'clock.

"Why are you out here so late? You have a big day tomorrow." Bucky noted. "I know you're upset and rightfully mad at us, but I'll be there cheering you on tomorrow. No matter what happens I'm always rooting for you."

"Are you sure that's not going to make things weird?" You sassed, but your comment wasn't directed towards him. It was meant for Steve, and he felt the bitterness in every word.

Once again, you heard Bucky's metal hand make harsh contact with Steve's chest. This time it was accommodated with a small 'oof' but he had nothing to say in response to that comment.

"You're going to do great." Bucky said.

You reached the door to the lobby and Steve rushed to the handle to open it, but you got to it before he did, pulling it open and walking through, letting each of the boys hold it open for themselves.

"Thanks." You accepted.

A thick and uncomfortable silence took over as they followed you to the elevator, waited for the doors to open, then the three of you got into the small confined space together.

The silence was so intense that they could hear your tiny sniffles, and you nearly bumped Steve with your elbow as you rushed to wipe away a tear.

They rode it up to your floor first since they lived 3 floors above you, and you felt immediately relief as it stopped on your floor and the doors slid open once more.

Steve's heart thumped so hard he could hear the rush of blood in his ears. He knew this was his last chance to say something before your big day, and he knew he would kick himself if he didn't.

"Good luck." Steve offered with an artificial tight lipped smile. "It'll be easy for you, promise."

As if he said nothing at all, you got off completely unaffected by his words.

"We love you!" Bucky shouted as the doors closed behind him.

You got back to your place and bolted the locks behind you, not even letting yourself begin to unpack that interaction before diving straight into your bed and willing yourself to sleep.

Unfortunately, the morning came way too fast. Your phone was flooding with notifications from your out of state friends and family wishing you well on your big day. And as you slid into your uniform, and did your hair and makeup, you started receiving texts that your support had arrived to the compound.

Making the walk down to the training room and getting checked in was the scariest part. Once everything was set in place and you were waiting for your evaluation to start, you stretched out your arms, legs, and back while looking out into the crowd of your colleagues friends and family.

Surprisingly, you were feeling pretty good. You spotted your Mom and Dad, Sister and Brother in law, Luca all sitting clumped together. Sitting with them was Bucky and Natasha, who also brought along Tony who sat with sunglasses on and a face so straight while he pretended like he wasn't there.

Then walked in Steve, him and Commander Bennett, and Agent Maria Hill were the three leaders who graded each agent on their final and most important test.

The grading system was simple. It was pass or fail, with a note explaining why.

You could hear Luca's little voice through the small crowd of people when Steve walked in wearing his suit. His tiny little voice projecting the announcement that "Oh my gosh CAPTAIN AMERICA IS HERE!" Was just too damn cute for anyone to ignore. It earned lots of laughs from everyone in the room, and it brought a big smile to Steve's face.

Of course he immediately knew who that voice belonged to, but that didn't stop him from finding him in the crowd and waving at him. He understood why you loved the kid so much, he was just about the cutest thing Steve had ever seen.

He noticed Luca looking at you after he waved at him, so he looked at you too. You had a big smile on your face just for five year old who was bouncing with excitement, but Steve could tell the difference between your genuine happiness and the fake smile smeared on your lips.

Eventually the evaluation started. Agents were tested 5 at a time, all running the same sort of obstacle course and shooting test. By the end of each evaluation, it seemed as though each agent was struggling to catch their breath while dripping sweat. A few of them even sprawled out on the floor the second they crossed the finish line.

But you? When you finished your evaluation Steve noticed you were barely panting. Not a hair on your head was out of place, your makeup was still perfect, he couldn't even spot a single bead of sweat along your hairline.

He knew it would be easy for you, he practically passed you before you were even properly evaluated, but the way you were almost unaffected by the rigorous testing and walked away from it without batting an eye was even impressive to him.

The worst thing Steve took away from this, was the understanding of how deeply down bad he was for you. Because even in the midst of the pain of hurting each others feelings, he was immensely proud of you, and never found you more attractive than in this moment.

Because even as you walked up to the three assessors to collect your results, you still refused to look him in the eye. Although his feelings for you were completely misunderstood, he respected the way you held your ground in order to protect yourself and what you believe in.

It was a big improvement from the way you let Harvey drag you along through miles of mud and utter bullshit.

When you looked down at your papers, a very humble, yet genuine smile took over this time, and Steve was happy to see it. You didn't even bother reading the notes that were written for you before walking away quickly to unite with your family.

Steve watched from afar as your parents embraced you both at the same time. Your mom left kisses on your cheeks, your dad the top of your head. With no hesitation, your sister who had your kind eyes and familiar beauty joined the hug, followed by your brother in law, then Luca who tried his hardest but just ended up with his arms embracing your legs.

He couldn't help but to smile as you bent down and picked up the 5 year old, he flopped upside down before you lifted him up and over your head to sit on your shoulders. His belly laugh bounced off the smooth walls as he reached down and grabbed your cheeks, tipping your head upwards to look at him.

"Can I meet Captain Rogers?" He asked.

In an instant, your authentic smile turned plastic. "Who?" You joked.

Steve stood a little straighter, then made awkward momentary eye contact with your dad. Steve died a little on the inside when he politely motioned asking him to come here, presumably to meet Luca, but a part of him wondered if he had heard the news of what happened between him and his daughter. Keeping a professional face, he did consider that he was about to get his ass kicked by the man who created you.

"Look, Luca, he's coming over now!" Your dad announced.

"Oh, what a joy!" Your sister smiled wide, squeezing your arms and shaking you around a bit.

Okay, Sister definitely knows.

One deep breath for you and Steve, and your brave faces were on.

"Congratulations, Agent." Steve spoke firmly as he approached. "You did great, far beyond expectations."

"Thank you, Captain." Just like that, you made eye contact with him for the first time in a week. It was a testament to deep love you had for your family, but especially for Luca. You'd be damned if you crushed his tiny superhero loving heart, so you did your best to pretend like everything was perfectly normal. Luckily, five year olds can't see lingering pain deep behind your eyes like Steve could. "This is Luca, he's very excited to meet you. He was wondering if you would take a picture with him."

"Hey buddy! I've heard so much about you!" Steve's smile widened at the boy who was in absolute shock, staring right back at him with wide sparkly eyes and a slack jaw. "I heard you're going to join the Avengers soon, is that true?"

"I'm only 5!" The boy giggled.

"What?! You look strong enough to be an Avenger!" Steve enthused, "let me see how strong you are, give me a high-five."

Steve stuck his arm up over your head, and your nephew smacked his hand as per request. After hearing their two hands meet in the middle, Steve pulled his away and shook it off "oh yeah, we definitely have a future superhero on our hands."

"My mommy and daddy said I have to be a teenager before I can be an agent like Auntie." Luca explained.

"They sound very smart." Steve chuckled at the boy who was wise beyond his years. "Is this them?"

Wonderful. Of course Steve would be the man to introduce himself to your family completely unprompted. You watched him shake hands with your dad, sister and her husband, meanwhile your mom went for a full blown hug. In that moment you wanted to shrivel up and let the floor swallow you whole, maybe rip your mom away and correct her mistakes for the improper greeting to such a highly decorated service man. But Steve took it like a champ, and you knew he loved it, which made you want to rip him away and tell him to stay away from your mom for the rest of eternity. You wanted him to stay away from you for the rest of eternity.

Looking around for Bucky and Nat, maybe even Tony, shit, even Harvey to try and get you out of your own personal hell was wildly unsuccessful. The room was far too busy and disorderly to plot an escape plan before your Dad was shoving Steve next to you and Luca with a camera in your face telling you to say cheeeeeeeeessseeeee.

Hopefully your smiling face didn't come across as vicious as it felt when that photo was inevitably plastered across social media for the entirety of the internet to see.

Eventually you managed to peel Luca and your Dad away from Steve and herd your family around the compound and up to your apartment. As you were leaving you could see Harvey with his head down, yet all of his browbeater friends were celebrating around him. It made you roll your eyes, but once again you moved on for the sake of your family.

As you approached the door with your key in hand and family behind you, there was a big, beautiful fresh flower arrangement in front of it with a card. Your mom made some comments about how beautiful it was as you picked it up and let them inside.

You had a feeling you already knew who it was from, so you left it on the kitchen counter and decided to read the card later as you vowed to spend much needed quality time with your family.

Although the beginning of the day was emotionally exhausting, the rest of the day felt like a big breath of fresh air. Spending time with your family in your own home made the compound feel so much warmer than it ever has. A good meal, lots of laughter, and so much play time with the little one had your parents exhausted and shuffling out of the compound around 7pm after more hugs and lots of kisses.

That left Luca and his dad that we're both fast asleep on the living room rug as the TV played a Disney movie, and Jane who was sitting across from you on the couch.

"I can feel you staring at me." You looked over at her with a questioning tone.

She had a loving smile on her face. "I'm proud of you. You've turned into such an incredible woman right in front of my eyes, and I'm just so grateful that I get to look up to my own little sister. How many people can say that?"

"Well, I still look up to you everyday." You denied her complement, but she was still looking at you as if there was more she had to say. "Cut to the chase."

"You've spent a lot of time crying on my couch, I need to talk about the boy." She stated.

"Which one?" You grumbled. "I hate that there's 3 options."

"Steve." She said sympathetically. "I get to call him that because he hurt my baby sister's feelings."

"At least you didn't hug him." You shrugged. "Kind've don't care about respecting titles anymore."

"I know how much he hurt you, and I know he jumped the gun and is treating you unfairly compared to Bucky. I even know that you feel like your whole friendship with him was just his attempt at trying to sleep with you, but Smalls..."

"Don't say it." You plugged your ears and sunk deeper into the couch cushions.

Jane reached out and ripped your hands away from your ears. "The way he looks at you is just so sweet. And the way he was so kind to all of us and Luca even though you two aren't on speaking terms says a lot about his character. He's head over heels for you."

"The way he looks at me?" You scoffed. "He looks at me like an asset because he wants me to join the Avengers. They all see me like a little worker ant that's going to pick up the weight of their jobs."

"No, that's not it." You sister denied. "You know the truth and you're pushing him away because he hurt you. You hurt him too, even if you didn't mean it. I can see it in his body language that he cares for you, he seemed nervous for you today, and he looked so happy when you did well. That's not someone who's just trying to sleep with you and run."

"Well even if that's the truth, it doesn't matter because he's never expressed any of that to me with his own mouth." You explained. "You know how he handled the situation was wrong, he had no right to come at me with an attitude like that. Him and Bucky had no right to put all the blame on me. If he's having big feelings, he can express them with his big boy words. I'm not going to play a stupid little game with him like we're teenagers."

"I understand, and you're right." Jane validated your emotions. "But he seems really sweet... and he's absolutely gorgeous so maybe you should just consider my point of view."

"Ugh, his gorgeousness starts going blind to your eyes after a few hours. You get used to it, that's not a reason to forgive him." You lied.

"Who are the flowers from?" She quipped, knowing you lied straight through your teeth.

"I don't know."

"Should we read the note?"

"Nope." You looked straight forward at the TV screen. "That's not a question I need answered right now."

"Smalls..."

"What?"

"His gorgeousness never gets old, does it?" She called out your lie.

“... no." You threw your head back in complaint.

Eventually the three of them left as well. The day was getting late and Luca was exhausted from so much excitement, but the second you were alone in your apartment again you felt the weight of the compound right back on your shoulders.

Anxiety bloomed deep in your stomach and crawled up to your heart as you dragged your feet over to the flower arrangement that was left untouched on your counter. Your fingers struggled to open the card, but you got there eventually.

Before you even got to the note, you noticed that the arrangement was made of your favorite flower, pink peonies.

The entirety of your relationship with Harvey, he only bought you flowers once and it was after an explosive argument. Steve and Bucky came over the next day, and without fail both of them barked out a laugh at the flowers he had chosen because they weren't even your favorite kind of flower.

You didn't necessarily remember even disclosing your favorite flowers to them, yet they always referenced the bouquet of sad looking yellow chrysanthemums from the grocery store. Of course you reminded them that the type of flower or where he got them from didn't matter to you, it was just the effort and the gesture. The boys were fast to shut that sentiment down, because really, the pretty pink peonies weren't that hard to obtain, so how he managed to mess that up too was beyond your chivalrous best friends.

It didn't take long before you opened up the card inside and recognized the handwriting on it. There was an obvious effort made as it was written neatly and the lines were nice and straight.

Congratulations, Agent!

We're all so proud of you and everything you've accomplished through hard work and dedication. We've been keeping an eye on you, and we know this journey has been difficult regardless of how easy you made it look. Watching you grow from a rookie to the highest ranking Agent Shield has ever seen has been a privilege to say the least. Although you're skillful in battle and combat, your kind heart and determination that never faltered through the journey is what will get you far. We see all the amazing qualities that make you not just a great fighter, but a great person. We could always use more people like you, and we're here whenever you're ready. From the bottom of our heart, we hope you consider a place on our team once more.

With warm regards and no pressure,

Steve + Bucky, The Avengers.

(Okay, maybe a little bit of pressure.)

You put the letter down, not allowing yourself to break down and over analyze the potential double meaning behind each of the words. The ache pounding at the back of your skull was already a nuisance, and trying to figure out why the boys were being so nice to you after treating you so poorly and denouncing your friendship was bound to make the dull ache sharper.

You dragged your feet all the way to bed before flopping in and wrapping yourself up into the tightest, fuzzy blanket cocoon.

Even with your accomplishment today, tomorrow was your first day as an official agent, and there was more work to be done.

Just like there would be the next day, and Monday, and Tuesday, and Wednesday, and Thursday....

Well, Monday through Thursday were pretty uneventful. You dug your head into the new work assignments you got now that you didn't have normal agent training, and you loved every second of it. It was worth all of your blood, sweat and tears to get there. Then you moved on to individual training with Steve that you painfully wished could be over soon.

All week you let him talk at you, and you never verbally responded. Just as much as you didn't want to be there, you could tell he didn't want to be there either. Today the two of you just sat as he showed and explained to you the different kinds of restraints you would be seeing out in the world on missions, then he would put them on himself and show you how to get out of them.

Deep regret was the only emotion you could use to describe the feeling of saying you would finish off your last few weeks with him working through your biggest fear. It seemed like a good idea two weeks ago when you still had full trust and confidence in him, but now he was flailing ropes, zip ties and handcuffs in your face while you sat completely silent, hoping your face wasn't giving away how unsettled you truly felt by this.

Maybe it would've been better if his voice wasn't so low or monotone, maybe if he actually had changed into gym clothes instead of sitting on the floor in his well put together office outfit you would feel less intimidated.

The only words that made you feel less uncomfortable today was that he wouldn't have you practicing any of this until tomorrow. But his words sat heavily on your mind and made your hands shake all throughout the rest of your day, they made you lose sleep that night, pulled your mind away from work the day of, and made the brain noise so loud that you had to listen to music in your headphones to keep your anxiety to a manageable level just to get yourself to even walk to training again.

Trying your absolute hardest not to think about what was about to happen, you looked down at your own two feet and counted each step as you made the walk, and let the melody of your favorite song distract you from reality.

Unfortunately your music wasn't loud enough to drown out the sounds of your name being called from behind you in the hallway empty besides you and one of three people you really didn't want to see.

So, you tried your hardest to ignore the tormenting happening behind you.

"I know you can hear me, stop being a bitch." Harvey's voice cut through the peaceful music.

"Stop walking I'm trying to talk to you."

"Baby, please. It'll only take a minute."

"I swear to fucking god!" This time he shouted and grabbed your arm, yanking it as hard as he could. An excruciating pain through your shoulder manifested as a yelp and your feet stoped in their place. Keeping hold of your wrist, Harvey used his other forearm to dig into your collarbones and shove you against the wall, using his body to cage you in. "Don't walk away when I'm trying to talk to you."

He ripped one of your AirPods out of your ears and stomped it with his foot. "What the fuck do you want?" You questioned, hoping and praying the pain in your shoulder that was radiating down your arm was nothing but a short term reaction to his assault on your body.

"You blocked my phone number, you ignore me when I try to talk to you in person. How am I ever supposed to get through to you?" He scolded, getting all up in your face as an intimidation tactic.

"You're not supposed to." You sassed. "That's the point. Will you let me go now? You're going to make me late."

"Did you pass evaluation?" He asked.

"I'll tell you if you let me go."

"Of course you did." He got even closer and his voice louder. The whole font of his body was pressing into yours, creating an uncomfortable vice between him and the wall. "You never would've passed had it not been for your scheduled time to jerk off Captain Rogers every day."

"Is that what you're telling yourself to feel better about your failed assessment?" You asked, exhausted of the narrative that your success only came at the mercy of the men around you.

"Why would you think I failed?"

"Because you're sloppy, you don't take your job or the training seriously, you've spent more of you energy worrying about me more than yourself, oh, and your uniform still has the rookie patch on it." You let your words flow out of you like venom. Frankly, you didn't care if it upset him, traveled through his blood and left a toxic taste in his mouth.

Your shoulder was killing you, you were tired and angry, and in the middle of an argument with two grown men over the fact that you quite literally did not jerk Steve off. So yeah, you weren't going to bat your eyelashes and smile at a man who had you pinned against a wall.

Harvey was speechless for a moment, so you continued. "So, I don't think you failed, I know you failed. And I didn't only pass because of Steve. He helped me, but I was doing well before him and I'll continue to do well after him."

You used all your force to shove Harvey off of you, in a moment of shock from your words and behavior, he stumbled back. Then, he was angry all over again.

He tried to throw a punch right at your jaw, but you blocked it, and kicked him right in the stomach. Not hard enough to intend to hurt him, but hard enough to knock him off of his feet and flat on the ground.

With a groan and some struggle, he tried to get up. So you left your foot flat on his stomach as a statement. It quickly got him to stay down.

"Don't you ever try to contact me again. Not through my phone, not to my face, never." You practically growled, still trying to make sure he couldn't tell that he had caused you pain.

Once you were positive that you got your point across, only then did you remove your foot from his body, pick up your broken AirPod to keep as evidence, then start walking away.

“Everyone knows what you and Sargent Barnes did." His voice sounded from behind you.

You stopped in your tracks, oxygen momentarily leaving your lungs. "What exactly did Sargent Barnes and I do?" You asked while keeping a stern face, hoping it was all the same rumors that float around about you and Steve.

"I don't even have to tell you, because you already know what you did." Harvey denied your peace of mind. "Now I know what everyone else knows to. I should've never trusted that you were just friends with both him and Captain Rogers, and that you're the biggest slut in this place."

This time you really did walk away, ignoring his last attempts at getting you to bite into his bait by calling you a whore from his spot in the hallway unable to peel himself off of the ground.

Once he couldn't see you anymore, tears flooded your eyes but you couldn't tell of it was from the physical or emotional pain, and your gripped your shoulder trying to rationalize that you didn't need to go to the medical bay.

The last thing you wanted to do now was see Steve, but you hoped he would go easy on you considering the circumstances.

Your faith in his ability to be a kind and empathetic person completely faltered as your pushed through the doors to the gym and he was already angry at you.

"You're late." He told you sternly, his face was set in a disappointment.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and squeezed your shoulder, hoping the added pressure would help sooth your pain.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be late. I was on time then Ha-" You started explaining, looking at him with fear and tears in your eyes.

"I don't need an excuse." Steve grumbled, cutting you off and very obviously in a foul mood.

He started walking towards you with a rope in his hand, and your heart dropped to your stomach. "Wait, please just- I was on my way here but Harv-"

"I don't care, it's fine." Steve cut you off again. "We're already behind on time, let's just start."

He got close enough to touch you, and you instinctively took a big step back, but it didn't even phase Steve. He grabbed your hand off your shoulder and put it behind your back. Bracing yourself for the pain of him inevitably grabbing your other arm, you frantically let the words "he hurt me" Spill out of your mouth like vomit.

But it didn't come out fast enough, and before you knew it, both of your arms were behind your back and the pain shooting through your arm combined with the devastating realization that Steve didn't care about you anymore made you feel like you were going to be sick.

You could feel the rope around your wrist becoming uncomfortably tight, each knot he tied added another knot to your stomach. "Zero percent."

"What?" He questioned.

Your tears spilled over the edge. "Zero percent trust in you right now. Please stop and just listen to me for one second."

"You're only saying that because you're scared of the restraints." Steve rationalized. "I showed you how to get out, you'll be fine."

"You don't understand" You cried, feeling more and more unsettled by the second, a deep panic settling in your stomach. "Please, I'm trying to tell you what just happened and you aren't listening to me"

He finished up the knot then turned around to face you again. "This is the first time you've tried to even have a conversation with me in two weeks, why should I hear you out when you won't even begin to let me speak to you?"

Steve sat you down on a chair, and started tying your feet. Everything in you told you to fight it, but you were feeling unexpectedly scared of him. You knew you could never match his strength to fight off his efforts and you could never outrun him.

Your friend Steve was nowhere to be found, in front of you was only a dark and stormy Captain America. A weapon of a man with no intention of switching on the safety.

By unintentionally denying his affection towards you two weeks ago, you loaded him up and now the barrel was was pointed directly at your chest. Now, there was no empathy for your fear, no husbandry to make you feel more comfortable in a situation you told him you never wanted to be in, and no regard to what you just went through.

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to tell you now because odds are you're going to hear about it eventually because-"

"Okay then I'll hear about it when it gets back to me. We really need to get this going" He told you. "Just calm down, and try to get out how I showed you yesterday."

"You're mad at me, and I get that, but I need my boss right now." You cried, yanking at the ropes on your wrists and ankles, none of them budging.

"I'm not your boss anymore, I haven't been since you passed evaluation." He told you, setting a timer on his phone for 54 minutes. "I only have an hour for training today because I was double booked. I'm going to leave you here to calm yourself down and figure out how to get out. I'll be right back there, either come get me when you're out, or I'll untie you at the end of the hour if you can't do it."

"Steve, don't walk away from me right now, I'm trying to tell you I need a medic." You said frantically, your panic attack hitting you harder by the second.

"Out on a mission we don't get to pick and choose when we get held hostage, consider this extra practice." He started to walk off.

You felt pathetic as your lungs stung with every panting breath, your hands shook as your fingers tried their hardest to untie the knot Steve made sure to pull extra tight, your stomach churned with uncontrollable fear, and your heart thumped so strongly and passionately that you could hear it in your ears despite the physical pain you felt in chest.

Whenever you had panic attacks, your skin broke out in a red splotchy tint, and the world seemed to spin around like a bad case of vertigo. It felt like the floor beneath you was crumbling and cracking with every moment passing, as the walls slowly closed in and the ceiling came down.

Black fuzzies and watery tears altered your vision as you pushed past the pain and tried to get your hands free. It only took about 15 minutes before the rope fell to the floor and the circulation rushed back to your hands. Untying your feet was a lot easier with two free hands, but still mildly difficult with Steve's knot tying skills and the sharp sting in your shoulder every time you exerted your arm.

You got out, you never doubted that you could. But that was never the point, and Steve would've known that had he ever just listened to you. That only fueled your panicked rage as you grabbed the ropes off the floor and stomped over to him, sitting in the very back corner of the gym watching you with a blank look on his face.

The thick ropes smacked the floor right next to his legs, exactly where you aimed as you snapped them out of your hands. "I have no interest in completing the rest of the hour you so graciously gifted me, and absolutely no interest in training with you ever again."

Steve was taken back by the fiery rage that was being directed at him. He knew he was being hard on you, but he was only being hard on you because he thought you could take it. "Woah, hold on. Let's just take a breather for a second."

"No, I don't need a fucking breather, you dipshit." You shouted at him, tears still flowing, hands still shaking. "I need to go see the doctor, that's what I need and that's what you're not understanding. I needed you to listen, I needed you to understand that I wasn't trying to get out of the lesson. I wasn't scared of your fucking ropes, I was scared of Harvey, and now I'm scared of you."

Steve immediately felt awful as your hand found your shoulder again, now that he was getting a better look he could tell it definitely wasn't in the right place. He gulped understanding that he let his pre-existing bad mood deepen the hole he dug your friendship into. "I'm sorry I didn't realize..."

"Now it's my turn to not care." You cried. "I didn't lose trust in you before, not even after you came into my apartment and yelled at me for what I did with Bucky, maybe a little after I found out our whole friendship was just because you wanted to get into my pants. But this stunt you just pulled? You've broken every ounce of trust I've ever given you and I don't think it'll ever be repaired."

"I- I didn't mean to." He said quietly, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have been so hard on you, I'm sorry, I was in a bad mood and I just... let it out on you and it wasn't fair."

"I don't deserve to be treated like this over one mistake, Steve. One. I'm sorry I accidentally hurt you, it was never my intention and I'll regret that till the day I die but I never deserved this." You cried. "Please just leave me alone now. I don't want formalities or pleasantries in passing, I don't want anymore flowers or congratulations, I don't want anything other than to just be left alone now. Because I can't do this anymore."

"Okay, I'm sorry." He surrendered, recognizing the agony you were truly in over this.

"This was way worse than anything I ever did to you." Your voice cracked. "It's a good thing you aren't my boss anymore, because as far as you're concerned I don't even exist to you anymore."

He couldn't mutter anything close to a proper apology or even a goodbye as you stomped away from him for the very last time.

Next Part: Rearview

OOP… angsty. Sound off in my inbox! I want to hear all your juicy opinions!

Taglist: @saranghaey @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qualijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @dbnightingale24 @ynstark @sincerelytlh @klaralovescaptainamerica @alexakeyloveloki

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kissitbttr · 5 months

Text

can’t stop thinking about simon falling for harley quinn reader typa beat

it’s a slow burn for sure, definitely not love at first right because he hates her guts the first time price introduced her during debrief session. she's fucking deranged. has murdered countless of innocent people before and not to mention shoplifting?? like why would price think it'd be a good idea to have her as a temporary addition to tf141? this woman is a criminal. he hates how cheery and giddy she is, always waving her hand to greet the team, acting like she hadn’t done some very questionable things, dropping offhanded comments that makes him choke in his own spit, parading herself in short black and red outfits that barely covers her ass and chest EVEN during the mission. it annoys him to the fucking bone.

but then as time slowly goes by, he begins to warm up to her existence. he’s starting to care about her well-being, putting a mental note on what she likes and dislikes, stealing glances at her way to see if she’s comfortable ever so often. he notices how she carries a red lipstick wherever she goes. black if she’s not feeling herself. his lips often twitches into a small smile whenever she does something cute to him and always always making sure she's okay during every single mission. ‘you okay, love?’ or ‘tell me if something’s bothering you, yeah?’ is what he always says. sometimes when the team has to split up, he’d be the first one to say ‘she’s with me’ and it makes her heart warms.

he's amazed at how well she handles rifles, all while looking and acting pretty. (he finds her adorable overtime too but he'd die before admitting that to her). when he lent her his signature AAC Honey Badger, he was impressed by how smoothly she used it, but nothing beats the way she kills enemies with her pink oversized mallet.

‘i can kill them in five, boys ! just give me a sec’ is what she says in a cheerful tone with a giggle after price had notified that there’s too much guards for them to handle. before price could even protest, she already loaded up her gun and walk towards where the guards are. it was something ghost had never found so attractive before but the way she said it? the confidence? her strutting like she owns the shit? considered him rock hard at that point.

before she goes, she tells the boys to wait while she does her thing. but not before sending a wink to ghost’s direction. she has a spot for him, she makes sure he knows that.

the team watch her gracefully killing the enemies through the cameras. small splash of blood painted her face as she smiles up at the camera to give the boys a small wave. she then jumps to one of the guard and put them in a headlock, suffocating him with her thighs to crack his neck in one swift motion (oh he’d do anything to let her do that to him)

‘fucking hell… look at this lass go’ soap tsked, others agreed. especially simon. this is the first time he had found a woman looking incredibly sexy and sophisticated while blowing someone's head off. it’s almost impossible a woman like her actually exists.

so the moment he hears her being held captured by the enemies, his blood runs cold. ghost. goes fucking. BALLISTIC. like 100% feral, no one could stop this man from tearing down the whole fucking sky to save her. so he makes up a plan to save her with the team. from there, add this scene while we're on it. safe to say she was truly moved by it.

‘oh… you were actually going to save me?’ she asks giving him her puppy dog eyes,

he grumbled while nodding sheepishly, his grip around the rifle tighten. ‘yeah.. and it was a pretty damn good plan too’

‘i’m sorry... well, i can go back in again if you still want to do it..’ her voice coming out soft and tender,

he smiles softly underneath the mask. even with dried up blood decorating her nose and the corner of her lips, he still finds her beautiful,

mentally ill but beautiful.

‘no—no that’s okay. ‘m just glad you’re safe, sweetheart’

he finds being with her is easy. just as easy as breathing. his once cold heart now softened because of her. and it is reserved only for her

i’m a firm believer that ghost is into batshit crazy women he can’t fix

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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not-neverland06 · 4 months

Text

Alone and Forsaken

one-shot

Joel Miller x fem!reader

A/N: I got COVID and haven't had a coherent thought in five days, so if this doesn't make sense it's not my fault, it's the virus. (Thank you @benkeibear for the dividers)

Summary: You're aren't anything to Joel Miller. You're a comfort, habit, and necessity. But you've never been anything more. It gets to you and you do what you always do, you run. When you make the permanent move to Jackson you've got no choice but to face the truth of what you are to each other.

WC: 9.4K

Part two here

You glanced down at Ellie, sweat was beading on her forehead and she was shivering in her sleeping bag. You glanced towards Joel, he was staring down at his gun, he’d been cleaning it for the past ten minutes.

“We’re right near Jack-”

“No,” his voice was rough, a command rather than an interruption. You sighed and went back to crafting some arrows for Ellie. “We’ll find some medicine tomorrow.”

You gave a noncommittal hum, you could hear him sigh from across the fire. You’d managed to clean out an old office today, you were camping out on the roof. Joel had determined the fog provided enough cover to not have to worry about others seeing the smoke.

He placed his gun down and leaned his elbows on his knees, you could feel his stare boring into you but you refused to give in. He wasn’t the only one who could be a stubborn bastard. “Y/N-”

“You’re acting like an old fool.”

He scoffed, “I’m not that old.”

“Joel,” you finally glanced up. “Ellie needs medicine, we’re right near your brother’s we might as well see if he’s got anything.” He stared at you for a long moment, not saying anything, until his shoulders slumped and he shrugged. He went back to cleaning his gun and you could tell he had conceded.

You’d made it to Jackson a year ago after the Firefly incident at the hospital. But it had been too much for all three of you. Years of killing, fighting to keep yourself alive, all on your own, it was too jarring to be in such a quaint little place.

You couldn’t wake up every morning to a “Howdy, neighbor!” like nothing had changed. There were too many people and it was too forceful a transition from fighting for every last resource to suddenly having everything willingly handed to you.

Eventually, when it became too tiring to keep fighting, you were sure you would move back to Jackson. For now, each of you enjoyed the freedom of not having to fight for anyone but yourselves. It was an occasional pit stop for supplies and a dose of normalcy.

You’d been on the road for about six months now, it was time to cycle back onto the path towards Tommy.

Good timing too, about two days ago Ellie had a sore throat and now she’s pretty much deadweight behind you both. “We’ll head out at dawn.” Joel stood up, nothing more to say, and took first watch. You tucked your arrows away and laid down, hoping to get some sleep before you were on the move again.

“How much further?”

“Another few miles,” Joel glanced over his shoulder at you. “How’s she doing?”

“I’m doing fine,” Ellie interrupted. But it was hard to believe her when her voice was a barely audible croak and she was leaning against you for support.

Joel sighed and glanced towards his right, there was a creek and a sunny patch of grass. He started towards it, dropping his pack on a rock and coming to a stop. “We’ll stop here for a break.”

“I said I’m fin-”

She interrupted herself with a cough that was so jarring you winced. It sounded like her throat was being ripped apart. When she finally caught her breath she reluctantly followed you towards the creek next to Joel. “I’ll check out the area, we shouldn’t be out here long.”

Joel nodded, standing guard next to Ellie while she wheezed trying to catch her breath. You moved away from them, going to check the surrounding area. Just when you deemed too much time had passed and were about to turn around you could feel something cold pressing into the back of your head.

“Don’t move.”

You slowly dropped your rifle to the forest floor, raising your hands in surrender as the person behind you pulled back the hammer of their gun. “Okay, it’s okay, we can talk about this.” The gun pulled back abruptly and then they were in front of you.

“Y/N! Damn girl, almost killed you.” Tommy tucked his gun into his holster and pulled you into a brief hug. You sighed and picked your gun back up.

“The hell are you doing this far out?”

“Been seeing a lot of infected, had to start patrolling out further.” Tommy peered around you, looking for something. “Joel with you?”

You nodded, leading him back to Joel. There was a brief reunion, nothing much considering they’ve been seeing each other a lot more than they used to. Tommy took Ellie on his horse back to Jackson, said it would be faster that way.

You and Joel still had a few more miles left, walking in silence side by side.

The silence, as always, had you contemplating your something with Joel. Because you wouldn’t say you and Joel were in a relationship. You’d both loved and lost too much in your life to ever truly be open to something like that again.

But you granted each other a softness you didn’t offer anyone else. There was an unspoken connection between the two of you that never went acknowledged. You glanced over at him, nudging his arm with your elbow. “More excited about coffee or a shower?”

“More excited about you finally showering.”

You scoffed in faux offense and shoved him lightly. His eyes crinkled, the crow’s feet becoming more prominent as he smirked at you. “Jerk. I smell amazing,” that was a blatant lie. Neither of you smelled great. It’d been about a week since you’d had a chance to really freshen up. Still, it was always fun to mess with him a little bit.

When you finally made it to Jackson you moved quickly through the inspection station, showing the medics your bite-free body and then headed towards Ellie.

She was already knocked out, whatever flu medicine they’d managed to scrounge up had done its job quickly. Maria led you to a house at the far end of town, you watched as Joel entered the one across from you.

You showered, enjoying the foreign feeling of fresh, hot, water running over your skin. You used the clothes Maria provided you, but after an hour of just wandering around the house you were starting to feel restless.

You had sat on the couch, stared at the black screen of the TV, and gotten back up about three times. You huffed out an irritated breath and headed towards the door. You weren’t sure where you were going but the quiet was starting to feel suffocating.

The pristine, cozy house, was overwhelming you with memories of a past best left forgotten. You opened the door-

“Why!”

“Shit,” Joel grimaced, offering you an awkward pat on the shoulder instead of an apology. You rubbed your forehead, pain radiating from where he’d hit you. “I was trying to knock, didn’t think you’d open the door.”

You sighed, glancing up at him and shrugging. “I can’t stand being in here. House is too…”

“Big,” he finished. You nodded, stepping outside and joining him on the porch. You both started walking, heading towards his house, the one that actually had chairs on the patio. Luckily the houses you were staying in this time around were farther away from everyone else.

People walking with their families was a distant noise that was barely discernible.

Families

The thought made you want to scoff. Families in the apocalypse, fucking ridiculous. “It’s peaceful here.”

“For them,” you glanced at Joel and he seemed to share the same thought as you. You’d changed too much, spilled too much blood to ever let yourself be fully comfortable in a place like this.

“Do you think you could ever be happy here?”

You glanced across the street at the large looming house you had just been in. “Not in there, it’s too big for one person.” He nodded, his fingers drumming a soundless tune against his jeans while he sat with you.

“Went down and saw Ellie while you were cleaning up. She’s making friends.”

You looked at him in astonishment. Hard to believe she was bedridden and being pleasant. He laughed a little and shook his head. “Well, I suppose they were interrogating her more than anything.”

You smiled slightly, “That’s more like it.”

He was looking off at the town, viewing the few distant people you could see. “She’s been asking to come back a lot more. I think she likes movie nights.” You sighed, knowing where this was going. You supposed the change was inevitable, you had just really hoped that you could push it off a little while longer.

You just weren’t ready.

“House is too big for me, too. Maybe it needs two people.” He was already looking at you when you turned to face him. His face didn’t betray anything but a type of tiredness that was set deep in someone’s bones.

You could say no, go off on your own. You’d make it a little while longer but the loneliness would get to you and eventually you’d slip up. Be torn apart or turned.

Besides, you weren’t ready to leave them, leave him. Not yet.

“Yeah, maybe.”

One Year Later

“Morning.”

You groaned at the sound of Joel’s voice, rolling over and covering your head with a pillow. He laughed and you could feel it reverberate through your back where his chest was resting on you.

“Come on, darling. It’s noon, you have to take care of the sheep today.”

You weren’t exactly verbal when you’re woken up abruptly. So you just grumbled-most likely something incredibly rude-under your breath and curled up into a ball.

Joel chuckled again, his arms wrapped around your waist and rolled you over. He dragged you out of the warmth of the blankets and directly back into the sunlit room. “Joel,” you groaned. “Five more minutes.”

“Nope.” He stood up, you still slightly in his arms. He half carried and half dragged you out of bed. You held onto the blankets and kept your eyes closed as long as you could. But when your feet touched the cool wood you conceded that your day had started. Whether you wanted it to or not. “Ugh, you’re a real piece of work. You know that?”

Joel let out a surprised scoff as you walked past him into the bathroom. You could hear him muttering under his breath about who was really the piece of work in this home. But he didn’t say anything to you, just joined you at the sink to brush his teeth.

Sometimes the normalcy was nice. You’d wake up and most days Joel was there next to you. Or he was making you both breakfast, or occasionally a note left next to a plate of food telling you he was out on patrol.

You spent most of your time together, sharing the big old house while Ellie slept in the converted shed out back. But days like today, where he tried to joke with you while he brushed his teeth but his voice was too thick with sleep and you couldn’t understand his accent, they made you ache.

Your heart would pulse painfully and you’d have to look away from him. You shared the same bed, lived in the same house. But you didn’t mean anything to him. You were just an old friend there to keep him warm at night.

You’re pretty sure you’d both been traveling together for so long that it was habit and necessity that kept you together more than anything. You wished, yearned for more from him, but you knew he could never give it to you. You knew it was an impossible ask.

Which made staying with him start to feel more suffocating. You feel like another part of his routine. Something akin to brushing his teeth rather than genuinely wanting you around, a chore. And you couldn’t handle that feeling anymore.

You were drowning in the comfort of Jackson. But you were too much of a coward to ever fully leave him. Too hopeful to let go of that one fleeting feeling that maybe one day you could be more to him.

Joel smiled at you as you made your way downstairs. “I got your lunch, you should probably head out now. You’re already late.”

You took the bag from him, thanking him and left for the sheep. And that night when your shift was over you’d look over at Joel’s house. You’d see him strumming lightly on his guitar as he waited for you and you’d slip out of Jackson’s walls. Unwilling to face another night of heartache that made you feel so ridiculous.

2 Years Later

“Y/N in here? Jesse’s looking for her.”

Joel glanced up from his guitar, he had been tuning it when Ellie’s head popped over his porch rail. “No, haven’t seen her in a couple days.”

He’d known being in Jackson was too much for you. Sometimes when he was getting a drink at the bar he could feel his skin crawling with how many people were surrounding him. His instinct to always be on guard, always be alert, was not easily lost after so many years.

There was the siren’s call of peace here in this town, but he still had to patrol. Still had you, Ellie, and himself to look out for. He could never afford to let himself fully settle into the calm reprieve of Jackson. It would end up screwing him over only when he was outside the safety of the walls.

So he sat, always a curling, burning feeling in his stomach as he tried to untense his shoulders. Join his brother for a ‘family’ dinner. Plaster on as friendly a grimace as he could when his neighbors would wave in the morning.

You were not the same. You didn’t bother with pretending to be happy for Ellie’s comfort. You patrolled near constantly, outside the walls more than you were in. Which set him even more on edge. You’d be gone for days at a time before mysteriously appearing in his bed one morning.

You’d smile then, as genuine a smile you could manage. Every time he’d ask where you’d gone and you would tell him you needed some air. He never asked what you did on the outside, where the bruises came from or what you’d done to earn them.

You would eat breakfast, listen to him strum on his guitar and in a few more days disappear again. He thinks one of these days, now that Ellie’s grown, he might just disappear alongside you. Ellie sighed, “What’s Jesse want with her?” Joel asked.

“He was gonna have her patrol with him today,” she had a shit-eating grin on her face as she propped her head in her hand. “I think he’s got a crush on her.”

Joel barked out a laugh, imagining Jesse pining after someone as disinterested as you. He’s sure he just admires you like he admires Joel. He looks up to you, probably just presents differently. “I’d love to see him try something,” he said through laughter.

Ellie shook her head, walking up the stairs and sitting next to him. “I’m pretty sure he’s terrified of her.”

He shook his head, “Rough combo.” Poor kid probably didn’t realize you weren’t mean, you just had a real bad resting face. “Ya know, I gotta head out soon. I can see if I can find her.”

Ellie perked up, crossing her legs as she leaned back in the rocking chair. “Would you?”

“Sure,” Joel went to place his guitar down but Ellie stopped him.

“What’re you working on?”

“Oh,” he glanced at the instrument and shrugged. He wasn’t sure, really. He’d had to step back from patrolling as much as he used to. The cold was fucking with his back and knees. Made it harder for him to be as fast as he should be. You liked to tease him about it, call him an old man, but he caught you rubbing your shoulder every time it was about to rain.

But without the ability to go on rides or kill infected, he was beginning to feel restless again. An uncomfortable thrumming under his skin that screamed at him to move, do something. So he screwed around with the guitar, tried to sing something, but nothing came out.

He passed it over to Ellie, she immediately propped it on her lap, strumming something soft. “Nothing really, just needed something to do.” He sat with her a little while longer, giving her pointers as she went over some songs she’d been writing.

He groaned as he got off the old rocking chair, saying goodbye to Ellie and heading to the stables. He was sure you were nearby, somewhere in a three mile perimeter of town. You’d been gone about four days, usually you’d be coming back by now.

Tommy was waiting for him as he got his horse. “Partnering up today.”

“Alright,” Joel rode up to the barred gate of Jackson, waiting for the doors to open. “Ellie wanted me to look for Y/N while we’re out here.”

Tommy’s brows furrowed as he glanced at him. “She still gone?”

Joel hummed an affirmative, brushing the hair out of his eyes in irritation. You’d have to cut it again, it had gotten too damn long. He felt like one of the stupid teenage boys in town, always blowing his damn hair out of his face.

“Where’d ya wanna head first?”

“She likes lurking around that old ski resort. We’ll see if she’s there first. If not, I’m sure she’ll pop up soon.”

They rode in silence for a little while before Tommy sighed. Clearly growing bored with the lack of conversation. Joel let his brother suffer, watching in amusement as he shifted back and forth in his saddle and tried to think of what to say.

He finally broke, showing Tommy some mercy. “Jesus, boy, spit it out.”

“It’s just,” Tommy paused, slowing down his mare to match Joel’s slow pace. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“What?”

“Her being out her on her own all the time. I mean, if Maria left as often as Y/N does I’d be losing my mind.”

“Well,” Joel sighed, “I’m a lot tougher than you are.”

Tommy scoffed, glaring at him. “Whatever smartass, I wasn’t screwing around, I want to know.”

“Fine. Don’t know why you’re so damn interested.” Joel shrugged, thinking about it before finally answering. “Yeah, I guess it bothers me, a little. I mean, I’ve known her a long time. I know she can handle herself, I’m not really worried about her dying or nothing. I’m more worried about her just deciding she wants to be gone for good and leaving.”

Tommy was quiet for a bit, leaving Joel uncomfortable. The answer wasn’t very deep. It didn’t share a lot, but it left him feeling a particular shade of vulnerable that had him shifting around. He rolled his shoulders back, focusing on the feeling of snow nipping at his cheeks rather than his younger brother’s nosy stare.

“I woudln’t worry about that.”

“Yeah,” Joel’s voice was curt, snappier than usual. “Why’s that?”

“Well, I don’t fucking know why, but she likes you. Likes Ellie, she might not love Jackson, but she wouldn’t just leave you guys.”

“Since when the hell are you an expert?”

Tommy smirked, “Since I got married.” Joel rolled his eyes, his brother had gotten entirely too smug when he married Maria. Suddenly, being married, made him an expert in anything and everything. He certaintly didn’t know a damn thing about Joel’s love life.

Or lack thereof.

Because you’d never talked about what you were, if you even were anything. That’s probably why it set him on edge so much when you left. You weren’t his to love or keep-honestly he wasn’t sure he was capable of that type of love anymore.

You were friends. Allies more than anything, which was arguably more important in this world. There was nothing to tie you to him or encourage you to stay.

He wasn’t deluded enough to believe you’d stay for Ellie. She was pretty much an adult now, and you’d never been a parent before. You didn’t know what the pain of losing a child was, she wasn’t as important to you as she was to him.

He had no damn idea what had kept you here for so long. But he knew you were getting restless and he didn’t know how to help.

They made it to the ski lodge and immediately leapt off their horses. There were screams coming from inside, screams that sounded a lot like yours. Joel ran for the doors, finger already on the trigger when the doors blew open.

You looked up at him in surprise, “Joel! What’re you doing out here?” He drew back, stopping himself from slamming into you.

His eyes scanned your form, you were covered head to toe in gore. The bandanna pushing your hair back had been a light blue, but now it was completely dyed red. Your jacket was in shreds. But you were still smiling up at him, then Tommy.

“Jesus H Christ woman,” Tommy muttered behind him.

You looked down at yourself, “Oh, yeah.” You sighed and once again were staring at Joel. “Fucking clickers, weren’t here before.”

“Are you alright? Were you bit?”

You waved off Joel’s concern like he was being dramatic. Like you weren’t standing before him covered head to toe in guts. “I’m fine.”

“Dammit,” you jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. He was getting a little louder, voice a little deeper as his frustration grew. He hated when you were this flippant about basic safety. “I told you to stop coming out so much, that we’d been-”

“Seeing more hordes. I know, sorry Joel, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’ll,” you trailed off, your eyes darting around before reluctantly landing back on his. “I promise I’ll stop leaving.”

Joel glanced behind himself, but Tommy had wandered back over to the horses. He was the opposite of subtle as he whistled, clearly giving you as much privacy as he could. Joel turned back towards you and took a step closer.

“I’m not telling you to stop coming out here completely. I don’t want to take that from you.”

You shook your head, stepping closer as you shivered. Joel figured your jacket was in tatters and you were probably freezing your ass off. He took off one of his own coats and draped it over you. “I’m being reckless, risking infecting you and Ellie by coming out so much. Besides, it’s starting to get a little lonely.”

“Well,” Joel gave you a brief smile, “maybe one of these days you should wake me up when you slip away. I’ll come out here with you.”

You grinned, “Think you’d be able to keep up, old man?”

He scoffed, slinging an arm over your shoulder and leading you back to his horse. “Could you?”

You laughed, “With you? Probably not.” He was just about to join you up on Sunny when all three of you heard a strange noise coming up towards the lifts. You had cleared out the resort. So, what could it be?

You hopped off Sunny quickly, pulling out one of your guns and following Tommy and Joel as they went back through the clicker infested hellhole you’d just cleared. The noises got louder, it sounded a lot like feet pounding up the mountain.

You made it outside, near the resort's old supply sheds. You were checking out the area, double checking you didn’t miss any infected. You were about to turn back around when you heard a scream.

You ran towards the source of the noise, watching as a woman was crushed under a swarming body of infested. The only thing separating her from them was a flimsy metal gate. Tommy rushed forward before either you or Joel could stop him. Grabbing her and dragging her out from the bodies.

“Fuck!”

“Tommy!”

Both of you wanted to scream at him. That was such an unbelievably stupid thing to do. She’d had at least fifty infected on top of her, there’s no way she wasn’t bit. But beyond that she was a stranger, you had no idea if she was a piece of shit that would lead raiders right back to Jackson or not.

You didn’t have time to scold him, though, the swarm was screaming, racing towards you all. You ran back into the resort, heart racing as you slammed the doors to the lift closed behind you. “Tommy!” Joel called out, “Help me move this!”

They worked on wheeling a broke down lift towards an open window. You turned towards the hulking woman, “Got a gun?”

She nodded and you tossed her some ammo, “Good. Don’t fucking miss.” You raced throughout the station, trying to keep infected off Tommy and Joel while they moved the lift. But there was only so much you could do. Your rifle had jammed and you had used most of your supplies taking the clickers out earlier.

And these bastards were fast, they seemed faster than normal. Maybe the cold irritated them or something.

You screamed, taken off your feet as a runner threw itself at you. You rolled over, shoving your gun in its mouth and pulling the trigger. Brains splattered onto your face and before you could even roll it off of you there was another one leaping at you.

Before it could sink its teeth in your neck there was the warm feeling of blood trailing down your chest. Joel stood over you, machete buried in the infected’s back as he yanked you to your feet. He didn’t let you walk, grabbing you and practically sending you flying towards Tommy.

You scrambled up the lift and through the window, running towards the horses and mounting Sunny. You grabbed Tommy’s mare and rode the horses back to the open window. You watched the others spill out, keeping an eye out for any more infected and letting Joel hop up in front of you.

Tommy and the woman shared a horse as she screamed out instructions to head towards the old mansion at the top of the mountain. You were too busy keeping infected away from your group to fully realize where you were going until it was too late.

You were already through the gates of the mansion, infected being set on fire behind you when you grasped the situation at hand.

You’d just wandered into some stranger’s camp, nearly completely empty on ammo, battered and tired. You didn’t know who she was or who her people were. Joel and Tommy seemed to be realizing that too, each of them tensing up as they got off the horses.

“Thanks for the help back there. I’m Abby.”

Joel offered you a hand down, you hopped off Sunny and glanced around the garage. You were definitely fucking outnumbered and they had way more ammo than you.

You hid slightly behind Joel, taking in the amount of people and trying to gauge how many guns were in the garage. Your eye snagged on a lone shotgun on a workstation and the bullets surrounding it.

“I’m Tommy, this is my brother Joel…” Tommy’s voice trailed off before he could introduce you. Instantly everyone in the room had turned to stare at Joel, and every single one of them looked hostile. Like he’d punched each of them in the face at one point.

And honestly with the amount of people he’s screwed over you wouldn’t be surprised. Still, this was not promising.

Joel tensed up in front of you, nudging you slightly behind Sunny. You ducked behind her, hoping to go unnoticed by the rest of them and praying that Sunny didn’t buck out at you.

Abby sucked on her teeth. She stared at Joel for a long minute before nodding her head towards the door and heading up the stairs. “Joel,” you whispered.

He shook his head, subtly waving you back into place as he was forced to follow the others up the stairs. You watched them herd him and Tommy out, one of the men in the back checked his ammo was loaded and you felt your throat seize in panic.

Shit shitshitshitshitshit

Okay, this turned into a clusterfuck so insanely fast. You waited until every set of footsteps was a distant echo to move out from behind the horses. You were nearly out the door when you double backed for the shotgun.

You heard a shout from upstairs, your head whipping towards the open door. You raced up the stairs, “Tommy!” It was Joel shouting, panic lacing his voice.

You can never say what happened next exactly. You made it up the stairs, heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked and you’d never run that fast in your life.

The door to the room was open, all you could see was Abby with a gun in hand, pointing it towards Joel. Your finger was on the trigger before you could even aim properly. The shot missed, hitting the wall behind her, grazing her back slightly.

But it caused enough of a distraction, Joel wrenched the gun from her grasp, using the butt of it to knock her out. You shot at one of the men pinning Tommy down, it caught him in the side and he dropped to the ground. Crimson pooling out around him.

The room went quiet, each of them staring at their dead comrade. “You cunt,” the woman leapt at you, knife raised in the air. You didn’t notice her protruding stomach until you had pulled the trigger. Her legs flew out from under her, nearly completely blown off from the shotgun blast.

There was a primal sound of pain. One you’d heard many times in your life. It came from two directions, the pregnant woman bleeding out on the ground and the man who was now flying at you.

He knocked you to the ground. You wrestled for control of the shotgun, his hips pinning your pelvis painfully to the floor. You groaned out in pain and panic, shoving all your weight into the gun, bringing it up to catch him in the jaw. His head knocked to the side and you shoved him off of you.

Shots were firing all around you, different screams and insults flying past your head. You were tuning in and out, ears ringing as you wrapped your arms around the man’s neck. You pulled until it snapped. When you were done you swiped his pistol from his holster, stepping over the twitching woman below you.

There were only three people left when you walked back into the room, Tommy and Joel disposed of them quickly while you grabbed some rope and tied up Abby. She was still knocked out, a bad bruise forming on her head. You can imagine her day was going to get a lot worse when she woke up and saw the carnage around her.

It was a slaughter, each of her friend’s lay brutally destroyed at her feet.

But, it was their own damn fault. They shouldn’t have tried and fucked with you all.

“Are you okay?” It was your turn to fuss over Joel. He had clearly been their target. It had to have been someone you’d screwed over, Joel had screwed over. But the list was too long and you’d never seen this woman before.

Joel nodded, but there was blood soaking through his jacket. You ignored his protests, ripping the jacket off and inspecting the wound. It wasn’t anything too bad, a bullet must have just skimmed his bicep. You wrapped it up pretty quickly, then you let your head fall to his chest.

He chuckled slightly, his hand coming behind you to rest on your back. “You okay?”

“I was scared.”

Your voice was quiet, quiet enough that you almost hoped he had missed your small confession. “What?”

His hand had stilled before it moved up your back and lightly cupped your neck. He tilted your head back so you had to look at him, had to make eye contact. “I was scared.” You huffed out, nearly ashamed at presenting yourself like this to him.

You didn’t get scared, the entire time you’ve known him you’ve each been fighting for your lives. This wasn’t anything new. But something about this really got to you. It felt more final this time. “They were after you, Joel. Had a gun pointed to your head.”

“I always have a gun pointed at my head, darling. Comes with the territory.” You rolled your eyes and stepped away from him, ignoring the way his hand lingered on your cheek for a moment before it dropped to his side.

The door behind you all flew open and all three guns were pointed at the intruder. Ellie raised her hands and stumbled back in shock at the sight of the dead bodies around you all. “Holy shit. What the fuck happened?”

You sighed and lowered your gun, Tommy and Joel doing the same. “Ellie, head back to Dina,” you instructed. You were going to have to get some information from Abby, you were sure Joel didn’t want her to see the methods about to be used.

Ellie opened her mouth to argue but Joel cut her off. “Do as she says, Ellie. Head back to the others and say everything’s fine and that we’ll be back soon.”

She seemed like she wanted to stay, desperately. Instead she conceded and closed the door behind her as she left. You, Joel, and Tommy each shared a look before you got to work.

Abby was tied up in a chair, you’d wrapped her up more than you would have with anyone else, mainly because her biceps were the size of your head.

When she finally woke up, she immediately started screaming. You’d moved the bodies of her friends, propping them up in front of her so they were the first thing she saw when she woke up.

Tommy had left for Jackson, made sure no one would suspect why you and Joel were gone for so long. Now you were sitting on a table behind Abby while Joel started. “What are you doing here?”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

Joel sighed and tried again, “Does anyone else know you’re here?”

Same response. It happened a few more times, she was unphased by anything Joel did to her. Just telling him to fuck off more times than you could count. You got sick of it after a while.

You hadn’t had to torture anyone in a couple years, you were hoping to just get this over with as quickly as possible. You stood up and Joel let go of Abby’s chair, backing away from her.

“My partner,” you started, “prefers brute force to get the answers he wants. Me,” you stood in front of Abby and pulled out your hunting knife. “I’m a little more creative.”

You dug the knife into her skin, peeling back a layer or two of epidermis and ignoring the way she screamed. Twenty years ago, you might have felt guilty for this. Now, she’d tried to hurt Joel, she’d brought this on herself.

Five pulled nails and a lot of skin later she finally squealed. No one knew they were out here. They were stationed in Seattle and wouldn’t come looking. Joel had killed her father, the doctor from the hospital, and she wanted revenge.

You rolled your eyes, pointing out the hypocrisy of her actions. How many fathers had she killed on her way here to get to Joel. How many lives had she taken to protect someone she loved. When she tried to argue you slit her throat and dragged the bodies to be put in the pile of burned infested.

“Damn.” You sat behind Joel on Sunny, watching the bodies go up in flames. He turned her around, heading back towards Jackson. “What a way to start the day.”

The bed was empty when Joel woke up. He felt surprised, usually you gave him a few days before you left again. But before he could linger on the thought for too long the door to the bedroom was opening and you were walking in. Your back was to him, you were carrying something in your hands.

When you turned around you frowned when you saw him already waiting for you. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“What are you doing?”

You swatted him away when he stood and tried to help you carry the tray in the room. You put it on the nightstand and shoved him back in bed. He could have resisted, pushed against you, but he let himself fall as he chuckled at the determined look on your face.

You hummed and shrugged your shoulders, placing the tray in his lap. “Thought I’d bring you breakfast.” He glanced down, a plate with a stack of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Most importantly; coffee.

“Where the hell’d you get all this?” You didn’t answer, just had a mischievous little smirk on your face while you tidied up the room. Joel caught your wrist as you passed him, he tugged you into bed next to him, careful not to spill the tray. “Come on, help me out with all this. Can’t eat it all on my own.”

He could, and would do so eagerly. But it had been a while since he’d eaten breakfast without you rushing out the door. And for once, he was feeling domestic without the crushing weight of guilt turning the taste of your pancakes bitter in his mouth. He wanted to enjoy this, however long it lasted.

You didn’t bother arguing, picking off some of his food while you both sat in contented silence. Eventually you broke it, sitting at the end of the bed so you could face him while he sipped on his coffee.

Lord, he had missed the taste of caffeine.

“Where are you working today?”

“Promised Bob I’d help him out with shoeing the horses today. You?”

“Helping Maria with fixing up that new classroom in school.”

“You're not leaving? You've been hangin’ around here a lot.”

He knew instantly he shouldn’t have opened his mouth.

What once had been easy silence instantly turned tense. The warm sun that had filtered through the blinds was right in his eyes and causing a headache. The sheets were scratchy and that blank look on your face was oppressive.

Your easygoing smile, one he hadn’t seen in a long time, dropped from your face and you shifted uncomfortably on top of the comforter. “Yeah, guess you're right.”

“Didn’t mean it like-”

You stood up, patting his leg with an awkward stiltedness and moved to the closet. “I should head out, promised Maria we’d get it done by end of day.”

He knew what he said had been wrong, but he wasn’t completely sure what about it was so wrong. He watched you leave without another word and sighed to himself, getting out of bed and forcing himself from the comfort of the house.

He’d only had a moment, one singular moment, where he’d finally been able to relax for once. And he didn’t feel restless, or anxious, or guilty about it. He’d felt at ease, a feeling so foreign it was halfway through the day before he’d finally been able to identify it.

He was in the middle of cleaning Sunny’s hoof and he’d nearly gotten kicked in the face with his distraction.

But he didn’t have any sort of epiphany over what could have possibly upset you so much.

A normal person, not you apparently, would be completely unbothered by Joel’s question. Because that’s all it was. A question, a simple, understandable, inquiry about why someone as flighty as you had been in one place for so long.

Still it stung. He’d said with a tone like ‘Why the hell are you still in my house?’ And in a crazy, uber-paranoid-lady way, it was confirmation of what you were to him. You were a daily task, necessity, and required comfort, but you were not something permanent. And you’d deluded yourself into believing you were something more. Your own fault, not something to place on Joel’s shoulders.

Still, the bitter taste of rejection was a hard one to get off the tongue.

“God, I’m insane.”

“What was that?”

You glanced up at Maria, momentarily having forgotten you weren’t alone. “Um, nothing, sorry.” You let yourself get lost in the repetitive motion of painting the walls of the classroom. Using old stencils they’d found or created to do a row of ABC’s and numbers along the perimeter of the wall.

How is this what you turned into?

You’d gone from a deadbeat smuggler who’d kill without a second thought to someone painting an elementary classroom worrying about boys.

Well, men, you supposed. Seemed unfair to put Joel in the same category as someone like Jesse.

Even though you were sure that Jesse would never make you feel like a chore instead of a person.

Annnnnd… new low reached, considering Jesse as a viable option for dating. Damn, you needed a hobby or something.

Around noon Tommy stopped by, he had sandwiches from Seth and you didn’t want to think about the lengths he’d gone through to get them from the cantankerous old asshole.

“So,” there was a certain tone of voice Tommy would get when he was about to meddle in someone’s business. You stopped midchew to stare at him in suspicion while he smirked. Maria eyed her husband and simply sighed, resigned to let him interrogate you. “You and Joel.”

You huffed, swallowing the rest of your food and throwing the sandwich down on the plate next to you. “This was a bribe wasn’t it?”

He laughed, “Yep.”

It was interesting to you how different Joel and Tommy were. Joel’s accent was gruff, commanding, most times hard to understand. Especially when he was pissed off. Tommy had a lightness to him the both of you lacked. You assumed it came from Jackson, he’d been here a lot longer than either of you. And he’d also found Maria.

He also didn’t know how to butt out. A skill Joel, thankfully, understood. “Just curious about you two. You know, Joel’s seemed a lot happier in Jackson now that you’ve been around longer than a week.”

“Well, I think he’s getting a little sick of me.”

Tommy frowned, “Why’s that?”

You shrugged, taking another bite before answering. “I don’t know, just something he said this morning.”

“What’d he say?”

“Damn, Tommy, I can’t remember. It was how he said it, I guess.” You huffed and glared at him, “Look we’re not your new version of the bachelor, alright. Butt out.”

Maria opened her mouth, probably to scold you for being a bitch. Tommy held up a hand and shook his head. “Alright, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“That’s it?” You asked, watching as he finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Yep,” he leaned over to kiss Maria on the cheek and gave you a strong pat on the back. “That’s it. Message received, I’ll just butt out now.”

Both you and Maria watched him go, a suspicious look on both of your faces as he went. Tommy never gave up that easy, ever. “You know he’s up to something, right?”

You glanced over at Maria, sighing as you picked up your paintbrush again. “I know.”

The answer to what exactly he’d been planning came three days later.

Despite yourself and your feelings of rejection, you’d stayed in Jackson. You’d been paranoid since the run in with Abby and her people. It was dangerous for Joel to stay in one place, word would spread and old enemies would know where to find him.

That thought plagued you every time you glanced at the door out of Jackson. If something happened while you were gone and pouting over something petty, you’d never forgive yourself.

But you did put some distance between you and Joel. Staying in the guest room instead of his, not bringing him breakfast like some wife from the fifties. You’d put up boundaries where there weren’t any before, determined not to be used as some sort of daily comfort.

And if Joel had anything against these new unsaid rules, he didn’t react. Which kind of pissed you off more. Trust, if there was a therapist you would see one. You’re aware your train of thinking isn’t what most would consider healthy.

But there isn’t, so you just force yourself to push it down everyday and keep going. Like you always have. It wasn’t until you got here that rejections or emotions meant anything to you. This place was making you too damn soft.

Tommy dropped by one night and invited both you and Joel over to his for dinner and Joel had accepted before you could say no.

There wasn’t much you could bring over, you couldn’t cook and didn’t feel like burning down the kitchen trying. So you stole some flowers from the garden of the mean old lady that lived next to you while Joel kept watch.

Maria and Tommy’s house wasn’t too far from you and Joel, but god, walking next to him you’d think they lived a mile away.

“You know, foods gonna be gone by the time we get there.”

Joel huffed out a short laugh. “We got time. Feel like you’re always tryna rush off lately.” You didn’t have an answer for him, not one that wouldn’t reveal why you didn’t want to be alone with him. So you just shrugged.

You could feel him staring at you, eyes drilling holes in the back of your head, but you refused to say anything. “How’s the guest room?”

The question caught you off guard, you stumbled over your own feet for a second before turning around to face him. “Uh, fine. Bed’s smaller, I guess. But I don’t have a giant hogging the sheets,” you attempted to smile at him. But he didn’t seem to find anything funny about your response.

His brows were furrowed, lips set in a pissy sort of line. You finally caught on to the undertones of anger in his voice. The special sort of gruffness that only comes out when he’s pissed off.

“Why?”

He shrugged, “Just wondering.” And that was it. He brushed past where you’d stopped walking to face him. His shoulder clipping you as he did and was walking off to Tommy’s, leaving you behind.

You scoffed at the attitude. Not entirely sure what you’d done to deserve it and followed after him. The both of you finished the walk in angered silence, neither one of you aware why the other was so angry. You just were.

When Tommy opened the door the smile on his face quickly turned into a smirk. “There you two are. Trouble in paradise?”

You shoved the flowers into his chest and stormed past him. “For Maria.”

You heard Joel mutter the same thing you’d told Tommy a few days ago. “Butt out.”

Maria was in the kitchen, finishing off whatever meat she’d decided to cook for you all tonight. You’d gotten so used to the QZ’s strange square ration bars, sometimes you struggled actually identifying real food.

You helped her set the table, ignoring the stares of both men on your back and were about to sit down… When Tommy literally dove under you to force you to sit next to Joel.

You glared at him while you circled the table, throwing yourself down into the chair and sighing at the self-satisfied look on his face. “Your brother’s insufferable.”

Joel grumbled but didn’t say anything. So you were getting the silent treatment now. Really?

Fucking child.

“Alright, dinner is served.” Maria placed the roast on the table and took a seat beside Tommy, smiling at you all. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care how tense it was on your and Joel’s side.

“Thank you, Maria.”

You forced a smile, not one to let Joel be the only one with manners. “Yes, thank you, Maria.” She hummed, carving into the roast and taking a slice for herself and Tommy. You reached for the knife and fork but Joel beat you to it.

He cut off a portion and dropped it down on your plate, the mash potatoes spreading slightly at the impact. You sighed, muttering a belligerent thank you and took a bite.

Couldn’t help himself could he? Always the Texan gentleman.

It was infuriating.

For a few minutes there was only the sound of metal scraping porcelain. And you felt bad, honestly, Maria and Tommy invited you both over for a nice dinner and you were pouting like toddlers.

You weren’t even sure why you were upset with each other!

Obviously, you were still stinging from Joel’s use of your “relationship.” But you had no clue what had crawled up his ass and died. “Can you pass the bread?”

You looked up from your plate, staring at the side of Joel’s head. He continued to shovel food in his face. “Joel?” Nothing, not even a twitch.

You reached across from him, purposefully shoving your arm in front of him so he couldn’t eat the bite on his fork and grabbed the bread basket. “Ain’t got manners, now?” He growled at you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Says you,” you hissed back. This was devolving into childish anger so quickly. And you didn’t know why!

God, what was his problem?

“So,” Tommy started and you were startled out of your glaring match with Joel. “Y/N, you know Bob?”

You slowly turned away from Joel and nodded. “Yeah, the horse guy.”

“Yeah, he’s been asking about you.” Tommy took another bite of food and shrugged, “Told him you were free this Saturday.”

You ignored Joel’s fork clanking loudly against his plate and shook your head. “No I’m not. I’m patrolling with Joel.”

Tommy waved you off, “Nah, don’t worry about it. You need to get out more anyway. Socialize some.”

“Tommy,” Joel started. His voice was low, an unspoken warning lacing it. “You need to stop meddling.”

“What? You’ve got a problem with a little date, Joel?”

You glanced between the two, hidden in their stares was a secret language only the brothers were privy to. There was a tense silence before Joel was picking his fork back up and eating, refusing to make eye contact with anyone at the table.

“Not interested, Tommy. Thanks though.” It would feel wrong going on some blind date like you weren’t currently pining over the man you lived with. Besides, you were past the period of life where you wanted to ‘date.’ About one apocalypse past it.

“Too bad, you’re going.” You opened your mouth to argue but both Tommy and Maria were leveling you with glares that allowed no room for negotiation. Since when did Maria join him in these ridiculous schemes?

“We’re having our harvest festival this weekend,” Maria stated. “Bob will accompany you.”

The rest of dinner was spent with Tommy and Maria blabbering away while you and Joel fumed in your seats. You didn’t know his reason but you were pretty pissed off you were being forced into a date.

One, you were planning on skipping the stupid fucking harvest thing. It was a waste of resources and you didn’t understand why they clung to old traditions so desperately.

Two, you didn’t want to go on a date. The only man you wanted to be with was sitting next to you and currently taking his anger out on a piece of bread.

You let your mind fade into the background. Your eyes tracked the movements of Joel’s hands while he ate, no longer hearing Tommy and Maria. Until you blinked and dinner was over and Joel was waiting for you by the door.

You nearly jumped at how loudly Joel slammed the door closed. You toed your boots off, watching him throw his jacket on the kitchen chair and reach for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. He ignored you, heading up the stairs and into his office.

You took in a deep breath, trying to shake off the funk from the last couple of days. Slowly you made your way up the stairs, knocking on the doorframe to his office.

He was just sitting in his chair, staring at the guitar on his desk. There was a glass of amber liquor in his hand, but he wasn’t making any moves to drink more. “Wanna talk?”

“‘Bout what?” He placed the glass on the table and picked up the new strings for his guitar.

“I don’t know,” you walked in and sat down on the stool next to him. “You’ve seemed off since we left for Tommy’s.”

His finger drummed across the denim of his jeans. He stared through the window, the lights of Jackson casting a warm glow over his face.

If you tilted your head just right it softened him. The scars faded, the only wrinkles you could see were smile lines and you could see a shadow of the man he once was. The father, brother, contractor, someone long lost to the cruelties of time and the world outside these walls.

“A date,” he scoffed. “My brother never knows when to stop, does he?” You didn’t bother answering. You know he wasn’t talking to you, just thinking out loud.

You propped your elbow on his desk, resting your head while you waited for him to collect his thoughts. He let out a long sigh, his eyes on the guitar while he addressed you.

“You drive me insane, you know that?”

“I’m aware.”

He cracked, his lips lifting slightly at the corners. Barely a smile, but it was better than nothing. “I think I’ve got you figured out. Think I finally understand how this,” he gestures between the two of you, “works. Then you disappear, or bring me breakfast, or you suddenly leave and start sleeping in another bed and I’m lost all over again.”

You shifted in your seat, fiddling with your nails, trying to figure out what he meant. If either of you were confused, it was you. “What’re you talking ‘bout, Joel?”

He sighed and finally looked at you, “Talkin’ about us. I’m talking about how infuriating you are.”

Your brows furrowed, scoffing slightly at the tone of his voice. He was still angry, for no damn reason. You stood up, ready to leave, when his hand wrapped around your wrist. “Didn’t say I was done, sweetheart.”

You gasped when he tugged you down. You landed in his lap, his legs spreading to accommodate you. “Joel what’re you doing?”

“Something I’ve been putting off for too damn long.”

Fireworks don’t go off somewhere in the distance and the world doesn’t stop. But your heart races and your body tingles when you taste the whiskey on his lips. You become hyper aware of each individual strand when his hand comes up to bury itself in your hair.

And when your lips part to let him in you swear you’ve never felt like this before. Your body is working like you’re running from something, getting ready to fight something off, but it’s the first time in a while your mind is completely calm.

You shift, your legs wrapping around his waist as a blanket of calm drapes itself over you. It rushes through you like a raging river, shutting everything unnecessary down.

You don’t worry if you’re too out of practice, not having kissed anyone in a long while. You don’t think about if you're too stiff on his lap. You run your hands over his chest, squeezing the muscles of his arms and then letting them delve into his hair.

At a certain point, you’ll have to breathe. You’ll have to talk about what this means for the two of you. But for right now you’re content, at ease, happy to just live the rest of your days in this moment.

Kissing Joel Miller like there’s nothing outside these walls, no other purpose but to be with him.

part two

TAGLIST: @chrysanthemum-00 @marimarvelfan

#joel miller x reader #tlou x reader #Game!joel x reader #Joel miller #tlou #the last of us x reader #The last of us

190 notes · View notes

neesieiumz · 1 year

Text

venus ⸻⸻⸻ k.nanami

synopsis ⸻⸻ after five years of you being his lawyer, nanami shows you just how much he appreciates you

warnings ⸻⸻ smut. 18+ minors do not interact. lawyer!reader. mafia!nanami. black-coded reader. female reader. afab anatomy. praise kink. slight degradation kink. kento has a thing for your titties. starts off with him being arrested. slight open ending incase i feel like doing a part two. slight power imbalance (after all, he's fucking his lawyer.)

writer notes ⸻⸻ yes yes i know. *another one*. I'm in love with this man and you can't keep him away from me. will it surprise y'all that i started this a month ago and just finished it now? anyways, i hope you all enjoy it! see you in the next one.

wc ⸻ 4.5k

Who would have thought one’s life would be this way?

You remember the days, desk surrounded by coffee and energy drinks, books as thick as statues as you studied for your next exam in Legal Methods. Hair matted for days, not even knowing when your next shower is. Struggles while at Law school, to take the bar exam, every single decision has led you to this very moment in your life.

You stood amid the officer, staring at you as if their looks will put you six feet into the ground, “If that is all, you have absolutely nothing to hold my client. Release him immediately.”

Blonde hair and brown eyes stare at you, as the officer in front of him glanced between the two of you. The man sighed, pulling his ring of keys. The detective standing not too far from you turned to glare at him, but he had already moved to take the cuffs of your client. Kento rose up, his figure towering above rest as he rolled down his sleeves, buttoning his cufflinks. Taking a deep breath, you moved out of the way, allowing Kento to leave first before following him. You walked towards the receptionist's desk, grabbing the release papers for him. He didn't say anything as he waited, leaning right near you as you filled out the papers. The smell of off-stale coffee and donuts soon permeated your senses as some stood right next to you.

“How does it feel to represent someone who has killed people,” you felt someone whisper in your ear.

You glanced to your left, the detective that was standing too far from you back in the interrogation room. She glared at you, hard as you finished signing the final line. Handing the papers to the detective herself, you gave her a smile, a cold one.

“You forget the word allegedly, and on the 1000-thread silk sheets with the money, he pays me,” you whisper back to her, before looking over at Kento.

With that single look, Kento stood up and followed right behind you. He pushed slightly in front of you, opening the door for you, allowing you to walk into the cold night. There stood a car, with a tall standing man right near the back entrances. Once Kento got close, he bowed before opening the door and gesturing towards it. You glanced towards Kento, who stood right behind you, taking your briefcase from your hands. A normal routine was what ran through your mind as you climbed into the low-rise small limo. You got comfortable as Kento took the seat in front of you. The man closed the door, before running around towards the front. The moment the door shut, you relaxed into your seat, sighing as you fell back into the comforting leather. You reached over, grabbing a rose champagne bottle, which was pineapple flavored along. Along with the drink, you grabbed a clean glass.

“Kento, you are probably my favorite client but please, never again get arrested like that again,” you grumbled, pouring out the drink, and filling it to the brim.

The car began to move at the same time he chuckled, the low rumble matching the roar of the car.

“Probably? You act as if it was my intention to get arrested like that,” he says, rubbing his fingers against his temples.

“But still Kento,” you said, “if you’re gonna make big moves, let me know. If I have to jump out of my hot jacuzzi bath because you got taken down to the big house, I would like it to be known.”

He grabbed a glass from his side of the car, holding it out towards you. Leaning forward, you poured out teh rose for him. As you pour, glancing towards his eyes, seeing them linger along your chest, before looking away.

“Thought you were more of a red person?” You asked, leaning back and taking another sip of your drink.

“In the mood for just about anything right now. I feel sloppy, tired even. I haven’t been on top of things, that’s probably how they even arrested me.”

Shuffling in your seat, you stared at the man, as he swirled the rosé within the glass. His hair was ruffled, his eyes heavy with bags, and his eyes strained with red. He took a sip of the alcohol, taking a long one before pulling it away from his lips. A bit of it dripped down his lips, his tongue flicking, licking up the rest of his lips as well. Taking a deep breath, you looked away, taking another sip of your drink as well.

“Well then, you’re lucky I’m very good at my job then,” you smirked, causing him to glance at you, “fuck up all you need to get your head back in the game Kento, I’ll make sure the law doesn't bother you.”

You glanced at the text once more.

Come by Venus in an hour. Dress up a bit. Leave the pantsuits at home.

You could almost scoff at that last sentence in his sentence. This wasn't the first time you were invited to Kento’s clubs, one of his many places of income. Venus was one of his new places, which opened up a year ago. There were many times your own friends had invited you out to the exclusive nightclub. They knew of your relationship with the owner and hoped you would be able to get them in. You had only gone there for meetings with him concerning the legalities of his endeavors, but the way he texted you, he wanted you to come over for something more informal. It's been over ten minutes, and he’s probably seen that you’ve read his text. Walking around your penthouse, you glanced around at everything, massaging your temples. Heart pounding, you look around your place one more time. Glancing back down at your phone, you let out a sigh, before typing out a response.

Fine. Don’t make me regret it. Kento

With that, you moved with purpose, going up the stairs to your room. With you already freshly showered, it wasn't a matter until you found something to wear. It was an impulsive decision, a red latex dress with a side split, showing off some cleavage. You pushed back your faux locs behind your ears and shoulders, showing off the amount of skin you were showing. Grabbing a red coat, draping it over your shoulders as well. You picked up a simple pearl layered necklace, with its matching earrings and bracelet, you are set. Grabbing your things and stuffing them within a red latex bag that matched the outfit, you head out. Before you left, you grabbed a pair of sunglasses, holding them right in your hands as you walked down the steps of your high-rise luxury place.

The club was packed, lines stretching down the way. The moment you pulled up, a person came and opened your door, immediately prompting you to turn off your car. One of the valet people helped you out of your car, their gloved hand matching your own. You handed the keys to another person who handed you a ticket. As soon as you took another step, a man dressed in an all-black suit appeared right beside you.

“Mr. Nanami is expecting you inside, ma’am,” he guided you towards the door with his hands.

Saying no words, you nodded, the man escorting you inside as well. The interior was glowing a deep red color, an irony considering your chosen outfit for tonight. Money was everywhere, within every step you took. Velvet couches surrounded poles, dancers for parties twisting and folding themselves along the poles. The air smelled rich, expensive alcohol being seen at every turn, carried by different bottle girls.

Taking a breath, you followed the club bouncer through the crowds, eyes not leaving all the different exotic dancers. He led towards the twisting stairs, cut off from the rest of the world by two other bouncers in matching uniforms to the one leading you and velvet rope. The man whispered to his coworkers, who glanced at you and at their tablets before nodding. The man to the right reached for the velvet robe hook, unhooking it and gesturing for you to go up the stairs. The man continued to lead you up the stairs. As you reached the top of the stairs, past the guards that were posted there as well, you found the area calmer, and more serene yet it was even more intoxicating than the ambiance on the lower floor.

You swayed through the crowd, eyes drifting to those all around you. As you passed by a couch, you caught eyes with a certain blue, peeking from tinted glasses. Beside him, his usual companion, two peas in a pod people would call them. Kento would call them acquaintances, while they would call him “his closest friends.” Before the man could lay eyes upon you, you looked away and continued on your journey to the man who invited you to this very place.

As you walked further and further into the crowd, the lights dimmed darker and darker, until you couldn't see barely two feet in front of you. There were not as many people around anymore, and it seemed they were standing around something. The bouncer sifted through the crowds, the people parting their way to let you two through. He soon approached a door, locked behind an ID scanner. The bouncer who led you here pulled his own out, pressing it against the small machine. The door unlocked, revealing a short hallway leading into some kind of private living room. Ahead was a couch, surrounded by a few people as well. And in the midst of them, was the man himself, Kento Nanami. He wore a white shirt, ruffled with its first few buttons unbuttoned. He was mostly alone on the couch, with two of his associates he often does business with. He was talking slowly amongst himself, taking sips from his crystal glass.

The bouncer soon stopped right in front of the couch, nodding to Kento before gesturing toward you. The moment his eyes landed upon you, he rose up from his lean position, eyes locking with you. The bouncer nodded one more time at his boss, before walking away, disappearing back into the real world. The blond man stared at you for a few more moments, before smirking right at you. The two people he was talking to also looked at you, but your focus was right on Kento. You took a couple of steps towards him, walking around the small table the men had amongst themselves. Kento closed his legs up, making even more room for you as you sat down right beside him.

Kento glanced at his two associates, who looked amongst themselves before getting up at the same time. At the same time, the people who were also doing business within the room got up, without a word filed out of the room. They gave a slight head nod towards Kento before waving off into the crowd, probably up to the lower floor to chat up some poor girls. It was just the two of you for a moment before a girl came up with a tray. She placed down a tall wine glass, along with a bottle of wine, rosé to be more specific. It was your favorite bottle too, one of the more expensive bottles. One that you usually get when you’ve had huge wins. The girl nodded toward Kento, before holding the tray close to her body and walking off. The moment she was gone, it was just the two of you, as if the people around you dissipated.

Kento grabbed the bottle of wine, twisting the top off of it with ease. You heard a pop, with slight steam flowing out of the bottle. He poured it out, filling it ⅔ of the way before placing the bottle down, taking the wine glass in his hands, and handing it over to you. You thanked him quietly, before taking a sip of the wine. As you sipped, Kento grabbed the bottle of whiskey on the table, refilling his own glass. Keeping your eyes on him as he finished poring, placing the bottle down, and taking another sip of his hard drink. You took another sip at the same time as he did, lowering your glass and looking over at him.

“Why am I here, Kento?”

The man sighed, leaning back into his side of the couch, “I just wanted to have a celebration with you, a more private one.”

You said nothing, continuing to look at him with a knowing look. The man smirked, letting out an almost silent chuckle.

“It’s been five years to the date since I officially asked you to be my lawyer.”

You blinked, sitting up a bit in your seat. Pulling out your phone from your purse, you glanced at the date under the time. May 14th. He was right, the anniversary of him officially asking to be your client. At the time, you were an overworked and underpaid lawyer at a big-time law firm. Your bosses were putting major cases on you, you did all the evidence finding and the hotshot lawyers above you would take your findings and use them in court. Using your hard work and they took all the glory for it. Kento saw how they took advantage, his previous lawyer being one of his bosses in fact. He offered you a deal, a way out. With that, you built your own law firm, with his support being the main backbone. Kento Nanami was your first client, and the reason you are as successful as you are now.

You looked over at him, giving him a soft smile, “why, yes it is. Can’t believe you remember that to date. I didn’t even remember”

He nodded, taking another sip of his drink, “I tend to remember things important to me. You were an overworked, unappreciated lawyer and I was someone who had fired their own lawyer.”

You rolled your eyes at that, “yeah “fired” and right after that, you had to face a jury on whether or not you torched the man to death, Kento.”

Scoffing, you took another sip of your drink, looking away from him.

“Yeah, but you can’t lie, you liked the rush.” You glanced over at him the moment he said those words.

You couldn’t deny that you thought to yourself as you smirked. Taking another sip of your wine, looking at Kento as he placed his glass down. The two of you looked at each other for a moment, unresisting in the way your eyes glanced over his huge form once more. You couldn't lie to yourself, Kento Nanami was a desperately handsome man.

“The rush is definitely a nice perk to the job but that check you paid me after was extra nice,” you winked at him, heart pounding away in your chest.

The more sweet wine you took, the more your inner inhibitions cracked. You could feel the blood rush through your veins, feeling hotter and constricted within this dark area. You knew there were people around you, but the room was so dark that you couldn’t even see anyone around the two of you. Finishing the glass, you held out your hand with it, expecting more which he fulfilled with ease. He lifted his own glass in his hand, before tipping it towards you, clinking them together.

“To a longer partnership,” he cheered, and you smiled a bit, cheering with him.

“A long partnership.”

The both of you took a long sip, sighing before placing your glasses down on the table before you. You looked around in the low-lit room, the golden spotlights glowing against the golden-themed room. Feeling slightly cold hands rest upon your chin, you found yourself behind turned to face right back at Kento. Glancing down at his fingers before looking back at the man, narrowing your eyes at him.

“What’s your game here, Kento?” Your voice lowered when you spoke his name.

He shook his head slightly, “no games here for me, just appreciating what’s in front of me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “In front of you, you say?”

“you ask me to come to your nightclub, an exclusive nightclub at that. You ‘say’ you just want to celebrate our partnership, but I’m not an idiot, Kento Nanami. You know this.”

As you spoke, you leaned closer, your large red coat falling off your body as you did, revealing the straps of your glossy red dress. His eyes dropped down to your cleavage, revealed by the low dive of the neckline. Easily, you maneuvered the rest of your coat off your body, the huge fabric falling onto the couch. Reaching up, you placed your thumb right on his lips, and the feeling of his soft lips electrified you.

“Well,” he said with a softness you’ve never heard from him, “what exactly do you want me to say?”

Right after he said that his hand came up around your bottom, stroking it against the smooth latex. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him but the smile was still present on your face. His hand soon moved down to your neck, slowly wiping away the little bit of sweat that was dripping down your neck. The tension that had always built between the two of you was reaching an all-time high as your own hands found their way to his collar, fumbling with the ruffled collar.

His large hands found their way around your hips, lifting you up with ease before placing you right on his lap. With no more words that could be said, you rested your hands against his chest before he captured your lips into a hot heavy kiss. The force stumbled you back for a moment but you kissed back immediately, gripping at his pure white shirt. You could feel his hands slide to your hips before scooping up around your bottom, grabbing at the rubber-like material on your body.

You could feel yourself grind against him, desperate for some kind of feeling. Hands gripping his shirt, they fumbled against the crisp fabric, trying their best to unbutton the dress shirt. His own hands come up to your zipper, quickly unzipping it, a cool air breeze against your open back. Frustrated, you took the top of his shirt, before ripping it, buttons flying all over the place. Feeling him smirk, hands shifting underneath your dress, grabbing at bare skin and the matching red lace panties you wore underneath the dress. His hands guided you, lifting and resting your hips against him. He commanded your every movement, your pussy dripping against him as he did so. Placing your hands on him, hands resting on top of muscular pecs. The sudden cool air you felt dissipated, heat rising between the two of you.

Letting go of the kiss, you braced your arms around him as his hands moved up from your ass. He grabbed at the rest of the dress, slowly peeling it off your body and revealing your breasts to him, no bra. The dress began to pool around your hips as he lifted you up into the air. Immediately, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you towards another room, one with a bed in it. Barely paying attention to what's around you, he basically dropped you onto the soft bed, before climbing right on top of you. With a quick motion, he removed the rest of the dress off you, leaving you in nothing but your thin lace panties. He tore off the scarps of a shirt before slowly unbuttoning his pants, and sitting right on top of you. Kento grabbed the back of your left leg, slowly pushing back as he sunk further and further down toward you.

Once he was close enough, he captured you into a heavy kiss, his free hand coming to your titty, giving it a quick squeeze. You gasped into the kiss as he did so, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer. He soon let go of the kiss, giving you a quick and light kiss all down your neck before dipping into the valley between your breasts. Once he reached one, he wrapped his lips around your nipple, eyes closing as he sucked away at it. His other hand rested on your other titty, massaging within his heavy hand. Back arching, clenching around nothing as you hissed in pleasure. He hummed against your warm skin, tongue swirling around the sensitive tit. Slowing down his massages, he wrapped his thick fingers around your free nipple, slowly pressing down and adding pressure.

Moaning, you couldn't help but say, “I always knew you had a thing for them.”

Inhaling sharply at the sudden pinch of pain that shot through you, you narrowed your eyes at Kento who smirked as much as he could against you before lifting his head up. His lips wet with drool, he immediately switched between the two, sucking away as well. You were soaked, pussy dripping away within your panties as he did this. Soon he let go before immediately moving down, resting his hands around your hips, and maneuvering his fingers underneath the lingerie. He pulled them off your body, throwing them onto the floor. His eyes stared right up at you as he lowered his head, before glazing down and focusing on what he was doing.

“Oh fuck—” your loud voice cut through, and your head was thrown back as you felt his lips wrap around your clit, sucking away harshly at it as well.

You could feel his fingers rubbing circles into your inner thighs licking and sucking away at your pussy. Feeling his thumb, parting your inner labia before placing his lips right back on your sopping cunt. Your body squirmed, yet his firm hold on your thigh could only get you so far. He was a madman, sinking two of his fingers within you as he continued to eat away at you. Kento brought you to depths you had yet to understand yet, and the highlight of the night wasn’t even here.

“So wet,” he mumbled against you, leaving wet kisses against you.

You cried, curling into him as he continuously devoured within you, sinking another finger into you “want more, please, please, fuckfuck, gimme more! Fuck!—!”

You screeched, back arching towards the sky as you came unexpectedly, clenched tightly around his now three fingers still moving deep within you. Your hands suddenly weaved themselves within his blond hair, pulling harshly as your arousal dripped all over him. Your sudden orgasm deterred nothing from him, Kento still lapping away at and within you as if you didn’t reach your peak of the night. Your body began trembling unconsciously, your clit feeling the effects of overstimulation.

“Oh wait, fuck fuck fuck too much! Oh my GOD!”

Still, he didn’t stop, his ministrations leading you to another, much shorter orgasm for the night. Breathing heavily as you felt him slowly remove himself from you. Arms stretched across your face as you caught your breath, peeking from behind as you caught a glance of him slowly removing his boxers. Once he tossed his boxers to the ground, he reached out towards you, screeching as he grabbed at your hips before pulling down towards him a bit. He wrapped your legs around his own waist again, lifting right up off the bed. Cursing, you immediately hold onto him across his neck, so you don’t fall. About to speak, before feeling sudden pressure right against your cunt. Slowly, he lowered you down, his thickness stretching you out in different ways.

“Kento, oh, oh my fucking god!”

His loud heavy grunts and groans resonated through the room, vibrating especially in your ear. Your grip on his was tight as he lifted you up and down his cock.

“Fuck— don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he groaned in your ear.

Gasping, you moved your face to look at him as he spoke to you.

“My pretty little lawyer, all fucked out, look at you,” his tone had a twinge of condescension.

“You’ve been so good to me these past five years,—fuck— “

His words had you clenching around, unable to say anything as his thrust got quicker and quicker, hitting deeper and deeper inside you. His lips soon began pressing harsh kisses on your neck, feeling his hot breath blow against your sensitive skin.

“Taking me so fucking well,” he mumbled again, his tongue lapping up the sweat dripping down.

“Kento,” you moaned, “oh my god, ohmygod ohmygod,” was all you could say as you convulsed within his hold, feeling his mushroom tip kiss up against your cervix.

“Hmm, you gonna come for me, you gonna come all over me?” His own thrusts were erratic, his short hair falling over his forehead.

Throwing your head back as your body let off a violent tremble, “yesyesyesYES!”

With that final shout, your orgasm came crashing down, spilling all over him. Your shaky movements didn’t stop Kento, his thrusts still as heavy as your cum dripping down your thighs. His actions consumed you all over again, before letting out a heavy groan, slamming into you for the final. Gasping, feeling the way he filled you up, his grip on your thighs having the possibility of leaving deep-dark bruises all over.

“Fuc…” gasping, your head dropping onto his shoulder.

You could feel him carrying you towards the bed, before slowly laying you across the comfortable sheets and blankets. Slowly regaining feeling within your limbs, you began to sit up as you felt the space beside you sink down. You pulled the blanket up to you, relishing in the soft feel as you saw a movement towards your right. Glancing over, you found a hand holding a glass with ice within it. Thanking him softly, you took the glass before taking a sip, the drink cooling your body down. It allowed you to move up, sitting up fully, bringing the comforter with you.

“Feeling better?” His voice was slightly hoarse as he asked you

You nodded your head, not saying anything as you finished the glass, placing it on the nightside table. You could feel the comforter move right under you before feeling warm arms wrapped around, squealing before feeling pull you down into the bed. You couldn't help but giggle, squirming a bit as you felt his warm breath brush up against the hairs of your neck.

“If only your men knew how much of a cuddle buddy you are,” you mumbled against him, feeling his arms wrapped around your waist and hips.

You placed your own hands underneath your head, right on top of his chest.

“Well then, looks like it's another secret for you to keep then.”

You laughed at that, before slowly closing your eyes, a heavy tired feeling falling over the two of you.

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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

Text

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): explicit language, suggestive themes, kissing, romantic tension

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: Part Six of Ink & Needle

You and Simon come face to face inside Dancing Faun.

Chapter Five // Chapter Seven

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

“Ready to go, Bravo?”

Simon shrugs on his coat and glances at the German Shepard. Bravo’s nails clack clack against the floor of the tattoo parlor as he takes a spot next to the door. He sits at attention, ears straight and alert as he clutches his leash in his maw.

They do this every Sunday and Bravo knows the routine.

Sighing, Simon walks up to Bravo and takes the leash. The dog surrenders it easily, but the moment Simon grabs hold, he recoils.

“Christ, Bravo. Need to get that under control, yeah?” Simon shakes the leather leash free of Bravo’s drool.

Bravo makes a pitiful little whine in answer. Simon reaches out to scratch the top of the dog’s head before going to one knee to secure the leash to Bravo’s collar. Getting down is the easy part. It’s the standing again that always aches.

Simon’s bad leg is acting up today. At least, more than usual. It has been months since Simon went to physical therapy, and he might need to start working it back into his schedule if this is going to be his new normal.

Wincing as he pushes off from the floor, Simon wraps the end of the leash around his fist. It’s habit, and more for the sanity of others than himself. Bravo is well-trained. Used to be a bomb dog for one of the many SAS divisions.

During his time on base, Simon would always take time to play fetch with the military dogs. Sometimes they were ones he worked with directly, while others just happened to be on base at the time with their units. Maybe it was Riley’s shadow that always prompted him to do it. He loved that dog, and a little piece of Simon went missing when he died.

Then Bravo came along, and their retirements just happened to fall around the same time.

Simon couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

It’s Sunday. And Sunday is Simon’s day to do whatever the hell he wants.

No work. No computer. No phone. No exercise.

Nothing but him, Bravo, and drinks at Dancing Faun.

Simon isn’t bothered there, and he’s thankful for that. When he first moved to the area, Simon kept ending up in pubs where people his age or a bit younger frequented. He was never left alone at those places. Someone would eventually approach him. Either it was some drunk wanker trying to fight him, or someone wanting him to take them home.

No one bothers Simon at Dancing Faun. Most of the people who come in are much older than Simon, and a good many of the men are veterans themselves. They understand Simon and his need for a bit of solitude. The owner of the pub, Ben, is also good at keeping strangers away.

Maybe it’s the balaclava that attracts them. Maybe it’s the mystery. People are attracted to danger, and while Simon left that life a few years ago, he’s never shaken his violent shadow. Retirement can’t erase the people he’s killed or the enemies he’s put away. That life is sticky. No matter how hard you scrub at it, a residue always remains.

But Dancing Faun is Simon’s one refuge from the whole world. He can drink, think about absolutely fucking nothing, and catch a football or rugby match. Afterwards, he goes home and searches through his contacts for someone willing to have it off for a bit.

It’s just physical. Only flesh. An attempt on his part to fill a vacant hole.

But today, Simon doesn’t need to call anyone, because you’re here. He knows that now without a solitary doubt. When you appeared in the doorway of his shop, Simon truly believed he hallucinated the whole thing.

But he imagined nothing.

You are real and whole and here. Somewhere.

Simon just needs to figure out how to make you come to him. He needs to make it happen.

Exiting through 141 Ink’s front door, Simon secures the deadbolts behind him. Bravo remains at Simon’s side, alert but happy, his tongue hanging out of his open mouth. At the very end of the street on the corner is Dancing Faun.

The outside of the pub is a deep, forest green with gold accents including the sign and lettering. The door is solid black with no window, just a silhouette of a faun holding a pipe. Simon pushes open the door and steps inside, Bravo right on his heels.

It’s still early, and no one is at this pub or any pub at this hour. But Ben always opens a little early just for Simon.

The inside is dimly lit, only a few of the lamps on the wall are actually on. The hanging ones above the bar are on but that’s it. The overcast morning light isn’t helping much. One of the televisions is already on displaying a repeat of a rugby match.

When the door shuts behind Simon, he hears a familiar voice call out to him.

“That you, Simon?”

“It’s me,” he replies, bending down to unlatch the leash from Bravo’s collar. When the latch is released, Bravo pads over to their usual spot at the bar, sitting patiently on the right side of the stool.

Ben appears from around the corner carrying a plate. He’s older than Simon but not by much. The guy has about ten years on him. When Simon takes a seat on his usual stool, Ben sets the plate down in front of Simon, grinning.

It’s a full English with double of everything. While the pub doesn’t consistently serve food, Ben’s wife always makes Simon breakfast every Sunday morning. It’s tradition at this point.

Next to the plate, Ben sets down Simon’s beer and a cup of breakfast tea.

“Saw you on the cover of that magazine. Congrats. It’s deserved.” Ben leans against the bar top as Simon reaches up and removes the balaclava, setting it aside.

Ben doesn’t even blink or flinch. Why would he? Simon isn’t ugly. The few scars on Simon’s face don’t detract from his features. He might hide behind the balaclava but it isn’t because Simon hates himself.

Far from it.

He has a persona to put on. He needs separation between himself and everyone else. The people who meet him and come get tattooed all expect “Ghost” and “Ghost” wears a mask. Ben doesn’t give a shit about “Ghost,” and so Simon goes without when it’s just the two of them.

“Thanks,” replies Simon, taking a sip of tea before deciding what part of his plate he wants to tackle first. “How’s business?”

“Steady. Rent’s going up. As are my bloody taxes.” Ben shakes his head and Simon slices through one of the roasted tomatoes. “Fucking Tories and Labour can’t fucking agree on one bloody fu—” Ben glances up and immediately stops talking. “Sorry.” He holds both hands up in a placating gesture. “No politics on Sunday.”

Simon smirks. “Can I have my tea first?”

Ben drops his hands and leans against the bar top again. “But—and hear me out—if you have friends in the government…” He waves one of his hands around absently to indicate his point.

“I was military. You know this.”

“I’m aware, Simon. I’m only saying—”

“Don’t,” chuckles Simon as he cuts up the sausage on his plate.

Ben waves him off. “I know. But it’s the same bloody thing in the end.”

Simon snorts and grabs his tea. “No politics on Sunday, Ben.”

Ben gives a mocking, half-hearted salute before changing the subject. “Christmas is coming up in a couple months. Heading to the Highlands again?”

Every Christmas, Johnny invites Simon out to the Scottish Highlands to stay with his family. They spend most of their time on the MacTavish farm. It’s quiet out there, and Simon enjoys it.

Simon doesn’t have anyone. His family is gone. In the ground. Johnny knows this which is why he started inviting Simon ever since they first started working together. Gaz has come out a few times, and even Price showed up once for a short hunting trip.

But this year? Simon isn’t sure. You’re here now, but he has no idea for how long. If you’ll be in England for the foreseeable future, would you go with him? Would Johnny be okay with that?

The toast sticks in Simon’s throat and he has to wash it down with the remaining tea.

“That’s the plan,” he replies because it’s the only semi-truthful answer he can give.

Ben nods and taps the top of the counter. There’s a clatter from the direction of the kitchen and Ben sighs, his eyebrows rising slightly in a goodbye as he heads in the direction of the noise.

After that, Ben leaves Simon alone. He cleans the bar and glassware, puttering around Simon as he readies the place. When Simon finishes, Ben takes the plate, and then promptly offers it to Bravo who licks it clean.

The balaclava is back in place once the first wave of customers begins to roll in.

A few come in at a time—all of them old men who know each other. Regulars. Retirees who come in every day. They either scatter about individually or cluster in small groups near a television. Several of them acknowledge Simon with a nod of the head. Two take up spots at the bar.

Simon finishes his second beer and moves on to a third, considering when he’s going to switch over to whiskey. He always does. The door of the pub opens again and Simon takes a long swig of the golden amber liquid in his glass.

“Amelia! Usual spot?” calls out Ben.

The door is not in Simon’s line of sight, but he knows Amelia. She’s one of three women who comes to the pub on Sunday. Ben always puts on American baseball for her. She’s chatty, and has—on occasion—talked Simon’s ear off. But she’s sweet, and he’s never minded the attention. Sometimes, she even brings vegetables from her garden, and Simon always appreciates the gesture when she does.

“You know it, Ben,” replies Amelia.

“Already have it on.” Simon notices Ben’s sudden shift. His shoulders sharpen, back straightening as he watches something. It’s not confusion. Not exactly. Surprise? “And you brought guests.”

Guests. As in, plural. As in, multiple.

“Just the two,” laughs Amelia. “And only one is drinking. This one will need some tea and perhaps something to eat?”

Curious, Simon shifts slightly in the stool, bringing his glass up to his mouth for a drink to hide that interest in who it is that Amelia brought with her.

The first thing he notices is a young woman cradling a pregnant belly. He knows that familiar face. Evelyn. She stopped by his shop yesterday and introduced herself. But that’s not the first time Simon has seen her. She’s your friend, the one you were with at Riot Room. Simon saw her face every time his gaze was on you, and then again when he tore apart Riot Room’s security system in search of you.

Simon still has the old grainy video. He’s watched it so many times with the hope that he’d pick up on something. A clue that might lead you to him again. Three years he’s watched that surveillance feed. Three years and he hasn’t let you go.

Evelyn’s cheeks are rosy from the cold and she grins widely at Ben. Simon escorted her across the street and to The Bird after they chatted for a few minutes. People drive fast on it, which is true, but he was also curious. He thought that if she was around, you would also be around.

When he saw you there in that café, reality started to sink in. But he didn’t say anything. He simply stared like a bloody idiot and then politely excused himself. Simon isn’t shy, but he wouldn’t necessarily call himself bold. It was more like a subtle realization that Simon isn’t crazy, that he didn’t imagine you in the doorway, that these three years have only been preparing him for your return.

Simon’s gaze slides past Evelyn and lands on the woman standing behind her. He freezes, his glass halfway to his mouth.

You see him. And Simon sees you.

You’re here. In this pub. With him.

And you cannot run this time. There is no possibility to bolt without causing a scene. You’ve come to him, and now all Simon needs to do is get you to talk to him. That’s all he really wants. He wants to hear your voice, to find some understanding, to know if this obsession is entirely one-sided.

Simon observes your eyes widening and the soft inhalation as your lips part in surprise. He knows those lips. He’s kissed those lips. Felt them against his skin. They are a brand and those parts of him that know the memory of your mouth heat with desire.

The muscles in his legs are poised for action. They tell him to get up. To go to you. To drag you into his arms and take you away from prying eyes. Because Simon wants answers as much as he wants to revel in your warmth and return to those memories.

He’s been feasting on that old encounter, dishing out little fragments at a time to staunch the hunger but never enough to keep it away. This is his chance. This is his opportunity. Right now. In this place.

Something will happen between the two of you. Simon knows this in his very marrow.

As if suddenly realizing who it is you’re staring at, you quickly glance away from Simon, gaze focused on the back of Evelyn’s head or a point beyond. Simon wants to draw your gaze back to him. He hates that he cannot take action.

Because he will. Simon will take action now that you’re completely in his sights. But he needs to be strategic about it.

Amelia grabs hold of Evelyn’s upper arm and begins guiding the two of you around the pub. The damn woman stops at every table. Speaks to every person. It’s like Amelia is dragging this out on purpose.

Simon does not look away once. You have all his attention, and perhaps you know this. You’re so…ridged, and Simon senses an uneasiness to the way you forcibly smile at every person you meet.

He is so absorbed in your presence that he doesn’t hear Ben calling to him.

“Simon.”

Simon hears his name in the distance. He ignores it, instead watching as you move on to another table.

“Simon.” This time Ben leans into Simon’s line of sight, snapping his fingers.

Simon blinks and then shifts his gaze in Ben’s direction. Ben frowns, and Simon immediately softens his features. He doesn’t need to look in a mirror to know he likely looks irritated.

Ben nods toward the glass. “Want another?”

Simon pushes the empty stein toward him in silent answer. Ben snags it and tucks it away somewhere, grabbing a clean one to fill. When he sets it down on the bar top and Simon reaches for it, Ben draws it out of his reach. “You’re acting funny.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Simon dryly, knowing exactly what Ben is referring to.

Ben snorts and then pushes the newly poured beer in Simon’s direction. Simon takes it and immediately takes a long drink. It doesn’t burn going down, but it’s not soothing either. Simon is on edge. He can feel it, like a venomous snake curled up in a pile of leaves.

Amelia turns and you follow, moving ever closer to him. She comes to a stop at the two men sitting near each other at the bar. Amelia is all smiles, as is Evelyn, but your smile has slipped into a neutral stare that only makes Simon sad. Like before, there is a weariness under your eyes that he longs to rub away.

Is it him? Does the very idea of the two of you coming together again bother you?

Simon immediately dismisses the idea. He noticed the tiredness when you were standing in the doorway of his shop. There is something else going on, something deeper, and Simon wants to know what it is. If he can, he will take it from you if that will ease the burden. That is, if you’ll allow him to.

The conversation between Amelia and the two men ends quickly. She guides you and Eveyln in Simon’s direction, and then you’re right there, in front of him, and Amelia is beaming like she’s just achieved some lofty goal.

“This is Simon,” she says casually, gesturing toward him, but Simon notices the underlying mischievousness to Amelia’s smile. “Runs the tattoo parlor just a few shops down. He’s the only young one we allow around here.”

Amelia’s grin is infectious, the kind that could make anyone smile. But Simon isn’t smiling. He’s too focused on you. He is so goddamn close. Simon could reach out and easily pull you right into his lap.

Amelia pats your shoulder. “I know the two of you know each other, but it’s been a while. How about you two catch up and Evie and I will go enjoy the game.”

Even though Amelia is speaking to you, she’s staring at Simon as she talks.

What are you up to, Amelia?

Her eyebrows rise slightly and Simon understands. She knows about you and Simon, at least to a certain capacity. Why else would she be abandoning you to him?

Evelyn’s grin is just as wide. Her gaze keeps darting between you and Simon with clear hope in the way she clutches her hands together in front of her chest.

“Amelia—” you interject, clearly frazzled.

“Sit,” insists Amelia, quickly ushering Evie away to her usual table in the far corner.

At first, you simply stand there, and Simon believes that you might turn your back on him and walk away. But you don’t. You don’t walk away from him nor do you break eye contact.

Slowly, you sink down on the stool next to him. Your gaze keeps darting across and over his face, like you can’t believe what you’re seeing. Are you trying to remember him? Are you relearning him the way he’s currently relearning you?

“What will it be?” asks Ben, his gaze expectant.

You slightly turn your head in Ben’s direction to address him but you’re too focused on Simon. It’s a victory. A win. Simon knows he’s won in some capacity by how intensely you’re focused in on him.

“I’ll take whatever he’s drinking.” Ben shrugs and grabs a glass, filling it up before sliding it over to you. “Thank you,” you murmur.

Simon notices Ben’s attention shift to him. It’s a silent ask to make sure Simon is fine. That he’s not being bothered. But you’re not a bother, and Simon gives the look no acknowledgment. No one is going to take you away from him.

Never.

Simon sits up straighter, shifting in his stool. He keeps one arm on the bar top, but the other rests against his leg, his hand poised on his knee. Your knee is touching his, and the very tips of his fingers brush against your jeans.

It’s an electric jolt when Simon makes contact. But it’s also his way of pushing a boundary. Will you accept his touch or move out of it?

There is a span of breath, and it is you that speaks first.

“Hello,” you say weakly, brow softening.

Your voice is a remedy, the embrace after a long absence. Simon revels in it, absorbs it into himself, devours the quality of those syllables until it repeats in a pounding rhythm within his brain.

He is happy. He is whole.

“Hello,” replies Simon, and the sultry purr in his voice is unstoppable.

There is no going back. There is no return to how things were. You are all that Simon needs. Forget the shop and all of his responsibilities. You are finally here, not just a dream or memory.

That old encounter is now new and fresh. It is yesterday as much as it is three years ago.

You blink, mouth forming into a smile that stretches toward your ears. It is genuine and soft, and you glance down at your hands in embarrassment, trying to hide from him.

But you’re not allowed to hide from him. Simon wants everything. He wants those delicate lines and your harshness. He wants this smile to be aimed at him, to know that it is he that makes you happy.

When you glance up again, your smile is a bit gentler, but it only makes Simon eager.

“You’re a tattoo artist?” you ask though you already know the answer.

“You sound surprised,” replies Simon.

“Well, yes. I—” You pause, and then try again. “When I met you at Riot Room you seemed…dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” he laughs.

“Yes.”

“And yet you left with me?”

You glance away quickly, and stare at your fingers where they rub at the condensation on your glass. “Dangerous doesn’t mean I didn’t feel safe.”

Dangerous doesn’t mean I didn’t feel safe.

Safe. You felt—feel? —safe with him.

“What is it that you think I did for a living?” asks Simon, amusement creeping into his tone.

“Wasn’t tattoo artist,” you reply softly, lifting the glass for a small sip.

Simon’s index finger moves of its own accord, tracing slow circles over your knee. It feels natural to touch you, and you don’t pull away from him.

“I was military.”

“Was?” you ask, one eyebrow arching in curiosity.

There is so much Simon can say after that. And so much he can’t. Simon considers every possible answer before telling you the truth. “Forced into retirement. Sustained a few permanent injuries in the field.”

You surprise Simon, not because you apologize for something out of your control but because you reach out and take his hand. Squeezing softly, you look him in the eye, and the gaze is so direct that it startles him.

“And I’m sure you were very good at what you did.”

“The best,” replies Simon instantly.

The smile that spreads across your face is beautiful. He wants to capture it, to press his mouth to yours and steal it for himself.

“How long are you here for?” asks Simon, changing the subject.

You shrug. “Not entirely sure. A while.”

“And how long is a while?” Simon needs to know. Will he only have you for a few days or will he have you for weeks? Months?

“I’m supposed to be picking up a visa at the US Embassy next week. It’s being expedited but I still came early. Someone is working very hard behind the scenes to make it happen.”

You don’t elaborate, and Simon isn’t sure if he should push the subject or not. Visas typically last up to six months depending on what kind it is, and that gives him hope.

“So, you’ll be around?” he asks with just the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Yes,” you answer. “I’ll be around.”

Relief floods Simon’s veins. There will be plenty of time with you. He will make the most of it.

“Are you staying with Amelia?” prompts Simon, his gaze quickly shifting to find the woman across the pub. She’s sipping on her beer, but it’s clear that her attention isn’t really on the television.

“I am. The two of you know each other.”

Simon’s gaze returns to your face. “I know everyone who comes in.”

“Self-proclaimed old man, then?” you tease.

Simon grins, chuckles. “That an issue?”

“No,” you laugh softly, and it’s then that Simon realizes you’re still holding onto his hand. Your palm is warm and comforting. It isn’t slack or limp. It is present, clutching his with gentleness.

“Have any availability in your schedule?” The question surprises Simon. “For a tattoo that is.”

Technically, he has zero room in his schedule for the next few months, and will likely be booked out even longer once he starts chipping away at all those goddamn emails in his inbox. But for you? He’ll make room. Fuck everyone else.

“Tell me when and what time and I’ll make it happen.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

You lick your lips and Simon follows the movement, wanting to lean into that. To taste and remember. But he holds back. There will be a time for him to do so, but not right this second. No matter how badly he wishes for it to be so.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call you,” you say with an awkward smile and shrug of your shoulders. “Ghost is what you told me at Riot Room but Amelia called you—”

“Simon,” he interjects. “To you, I’m Simon.”

“But Ghost—”

Simon’s hold on your hand tightens. “I know what I said. But Ghost is…a persona. He is separate, and I don’t want to be separate with you.”

“Simon,” you say slowly, rolling his name around on your tongue.

His name sounds so sweet in your mouth. He wants to know all the ways you can say it. How would you say his name when he finally kisses you again? Or when his mouth is on your body and between your legs? What will his name sound like when he’s buried deep inside you? How will his name sound then?

“I like the way you say my name,” he whispers, and the words leave him without second thought.

Your eyes widen. Your lips part. And Simon squeezes your hand again, shifting a little closer to you on the stool.

This place is too public. There are too many eyes on you. Simon needs to take you away. There are questions that still sit heavy in his mind. Things he wants to know.

His thumb runs over the back of your hand. “Will you come with me? Outside? Just for a bit?”

“Simon,” you murmur, and it takes everything in him not to groan with pleasure.

“Please,” and Simon is close to begging.

You glance over your shoulder at Amelia and Evelyn. They aren’t looking this way, and that seems to do it.

“Okay,” you agree, not even asking him where it is he plans on taking you.

Dangerous doesn’t mean I didn’t feel safe.

Simon slides out of his stool, standing, towering over you. Bravo perks up but Simon shakes his head at him. “Stay here, Bravo.” Bravo’s ears droop slightly but the dog puts his head back down.

You stand, too, never taking your eyes off of him. While your gaze is a rush, it’s your hand which still clutches his that makes Simon tingle all over. That is what he clings to, latches on to skin against skin.

He steps back and you step forward. You are following him, moving with him, and Simon’s blood is singing, thrumming with victory, rushing to a place it shouldn’t but is.

When the two of you turn the corner down the hall, Simon tries not to rush. He is eager but fuck—he needs to control himself. This could easily spiral out of his control if he doesn’t reel himself in. It doesn’t matter how much Simon wants you. If you’re not interested, he can’t push for it.

But you’re following him. You’re talking with him. You’re holding his goddamn hand.

He can’t be wrong about this.

The two of you approach the door to the private patio, and Simon almost snaps. There is a small alcove under the stairs. Simon has to control himself, to not push you up against the wall there in the dark, and kiss you until you become soft and compliant in his arms.

Instead, Simon inhales deeply, and pushes open the door to the patio.

It’s small, just a few tables with chairs and a couple of portable heaters. The patio itself is in the alleyway that cuts through the entire street, pushing up against a row of houses and a few businesses. There is a privacy fence that keeps out any potential onlookers. Simon only comes out here to smoke, and while he could go for a cigarette, he’d rather go for you.

Leading you to a bench pressed up against the wall of the building, Simon finds a spot right under one of the heaters. It’s cold out but it’s still fall. The coats are enough but he’s not risking shit. Either the heater will keep you warm or he will.

The two of you sink down onto the bench, and still, you do not let go of his hand. Simon refuses to be first. If you won’t let go, he won’t either.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes as if trying to calm your nerves. Simon cannot hold back what it is he wants to ask.

“Why did you run?”

Your eyes snap open, and you turn toward him. He sees the sorrow, and the battle behind your gaze. You’re finding the words, gathering your thoughts, and Simon silently hopes that you do not try to lie to him.

“At Riot Room?”

He shakes his head. “Not just there. Outside the shop, too.”

You blink. Look away. Glance back. The very bottoms of your eyelids are watery. Simon does not want to be the reason you cry, but you ran from him twice. Bolted. At Riot Room, he was hurt. Devasted. He didn’t understand.

Outside his tattoo parlor, that exit he can dismiss. It’s been three years and you were probably shocked. But that first escape haunts him lays across his skin like a ghost.

“I’m sorry I ran from you,” you whisper.

Simon shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.”

You glance down at your combined hands, but you’re not saying anything.

“Tell me,” murmurs Simon.

Slowly, Simon lifts his free hand, lightly takes your chin between thumb and forefinger. He guides your head up, moves your gaze back to his face. Once you’re looking at him again, Simon’s thumb travels the line of your jaw.

You lean into the touch. “I…was too close.”

“Too close?” pushes Simon.

“Yes. You felt…I wanted to stay. But I was scared.”

“Of me?”

“No!” you say quickly, your free hand gripping his upper arm, squeezing. “Never. It all felt like more. That it wasn’t just sex between us. That scared me.”

“And what if I wanted it to be more? What if I still want it to be more?” Simon leans in and you do not pull back or shrink away. You also lean forward, and Simon is so close to getting what he wants.

“It’s been three years,” you murmur. “You don’t mean that.”

“Have you not thought about me? Not once? Because I’ve thought of you. Every day.”

Simon let’s go of your hand, only to wrap his arms around your waist. You surrender to him, and Simon changes position on the bench, straddling it, pulling you into his lap. Your legs effortlessly go around him, and your hands cling to the neckline of his shirt.

“Have you thought of me? Tell me the truth,” growls Simon.

You’re so close. Lips just a breath away from touching his.

“Yes,” and when it leaves your throat, Simon hears the gentle break. “Many times. So many times.”

Simon hand travels up from your waist to grab the back of your neck. Your inhale is sweet. Wanton. He can’t have you completely, not at the moment, but he’ll take whatever it is you’re willing to give in this moment.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.

The words barely leave his mouth before you’re closing the distance. Simon answers you with a kiss of his own. There is no hesitant gap, no pause for breath, just you and him and your mouths meeting.

The kisses that follow are not mechanical or stagnant. They are generous and lovely and hungry. Your lips are soft, and Simon’s grip on the back of your neck only strengthens when your hips roll against him.

Your hand on his chest forms a fist, your fingers digging into the front of his shirt. Simon doesn’t care if you tug and pull, if you accidentally rip it. You can have whatever the fuck you want with the way you’re kissing him.

Simon groans low in his throat as his other hand makes passes over your thighs, hips, and lower back. He’s exploring your curves, relearning your body. Nothing has changed, and yet everything has.

His blood is boiling. It is screaming, telling him to take you home, to finish what he started in the green room within the basement at Riot Room. Simon will make you his. You will take every inch of him, beg him repeatedly for more until you lose your voice, and Simon will do it, will keep going until you’re a deliciously perfect puddle in his arms.

Your fist unclenches, trails downward, and stops just above his belt. You’re going to make him fucking feral if you keep touching him like this. Any lower and it’s over. There will be no asking about taking you home.

Simon will simply toss you over his shoulder and go straight there.

Sitting up a bit, you shift in his lap, and that one small movement rubs the one spot blood is rushing to.

Fuck.

He doesn’t want to break the kiss. Simon doesn’t want to pull away, but all of his control is slipping away, melting from him like ice in the sun.

When Simon breaks the kiss, you whimper, and Simon’s answer is to dig his fingers into your thighs, pressing up into you to show you exactly how he wants you.

“Come home with me,” he murmurs against your mouth.

Your lips are swollen and puffy. They’re perfect, and he nips at the bottom one before gently sucking it into his mouth.

“Right now?” you breathe.

Right now? No. The two of you can’t run off together right now. Simon has a fucking tab to pay, even if Ben could give a shit and tell Simon to pay him later. Plus, there is Amelia and Evelyn to think about.

Yes, they pushed you into Simon’s path, but you’re technically here with them. He won’t take you away. Simon is selfish when it comes to you, but he’s already waited three fucking years. What’s a few more hours until you’re back in his arms?

“Tonight.”

You’re shaking your head. Why are you shaking your head?

“I can’t,” you reply and now Simon is the one shaking his head.

“When?” he asks. “When can I see you again?”

Your gaze flicks up and Simon is lost for a moment, only thinking about how wonderful you feel in his lap. It takes him back to Riot Room when you first straddled him on that couch, kissing his lips, touching his body.

His mind wanders further, forming the image of you spread out, facing the mirror.

“Tomorrow? I can stop by in the morning.”

The morning. It’s not enough time with you. What Simon wants is for you to come over tonight. He wants to take you over every surface in his home like he planned on doing three years ago.

But he’ll take whatever you give him. If you can come by tomorrow morning, Simon will cherish it. He will be happy knowing that you want to see him at all.

And while he wishes all of this, there is a hesitant hopefulness in your gaze, like Simon will reject the offer. Are you just as nervous as he is? Are you wanting him as much as he wants you? Do you desire to be close to him in more ways than just your bodies meeting?

Because Simon wants all of you. Every bit.

“Tomorrow is perfect.”

Your smile is sweet. Wholesome. You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him, nearly knocking Simon onto his back.

“Sorry,” you laugh, beginning to pull away.

“No, you don’t. Come back here.” Simon grabs at you, pinning you against his chest, taking your mouth again, deepening the kiss until your lips part for him. His tongue traces the edge of your bottom lip, and yours darts out to meet him.

Simon is lost in you. Lost in your mouth, lips, and tongue. Lost in your touch. Lost in—

“Hate to interrupt!”

You pull back so fast you almost fall off the bench. Simon might not be in the military anymore, but his reflexes are still sharp. He catches you before you topple over.

Evelyn stands in the doorway, one hand over her eyes like she’s just walked in on something she shouldn’t be seeing.

“Amelia paid the tab. We’re leaving.”

“Shit,” you mutter, starting to unravel yourself from the bench.

Simon stands with you, his fingers slipping from yours as you head for the doorway. You glance back and smile, quickly looking between him and Evelyn before darting inside. Evelyn drops her hand and then crosses her arms over her belly, grinning wickedly.

“You’re welcome, Ghost.” She winks and disappears inside, the door shutting softly behind her.

Simon stands there in the autumn cold, his bare fingers lightly touching his lips in memory of you.

He laughs softly, drops his hand, and pulls the balaclava back into place.

Chapter Five // Chapter Seven

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