#like ??? just release it i don't need you to sit down and walk me through it i'm a big girl 🤨

[bigification]

Step Daddy

"You really need to get over your stepdad man." My friend tells me, concerned.

"Look, I'll try this one last thing and if it doesn't work then I'll give it up." I respond. "Did you bring the sunglasses?"

"Yes, but just remember he's like 25 years older than you. He's probably not going to be into you, even after this." He says as he hands me a pair of old pilot shades.

I told him I could let it go, but I can't. I'm just putting all my eggs into this basket, the sunglasses. Apparently they're supposed to transform someone who wears them mentally and physically to match my type. He already is my type, but I guess I wouldn't mind him bulking up a bit and growing some hair. It would be sexy if he got more charming, but he's already charming as it is. I guess there's only one way to find out.

I wait on the living room couch watching tv. He always gets home from work at the same time, so I know he'll be here any minute. I sit and stare at my reflection in the glasses. Am I really ready to change this man's life so drastically. My friend said no one else would take notice of the change, so it'll be like nothing happened. As I'm thinking over it, I hear the roar of his engine from the driveway. I try to calm down, but I can feel my body vibrate from the nerves. The door flies open.

"Hey buddy, hows it goin?" He asks me with his hot southern accent.

"Not bad. By the way, I found these sunglasses lying around, and assumed they were yours." I try to play it cool as I lie to his face.

"Oh, thanks. But these aren't mine." He responds.

"Well you might as well keep em, they don't fit me anyway." I try to convince him to take them without seeming too pushy.

"Well alright, thanks kid." He swipes the glasses and throws them on.

That was easier than I thought. As soon as he put them on, he stopped moving. His jaw slacked as if there was not a thought running through his mind. It started slow, his button up started to look a little bit tighter. His once flat chest started to push against his shirt and the shape of a belly started to show. Then it started to speed up. His chest started to pulse, growing in size with each one. They grew until the button on his collar popped off, then another button popped, then another and another. His juicy pecs flopped down after being released from his shirt. His stomach was next. His midsection widened and his stomach grew into a respectable beer belly, straining against his shirt. It wasn't long before more buttons began to pop, until his shirt was completely open. His arms also looked like they doubled in size, filling out his sleeves with thick muscles.

Next his legs start to look like they're gonna burst out of his dress pants. I can hear the rips ripple through his pants as his thighs grow inside of them. His ass fills out all the space in his pants and proceeds to rip open his fly and snap his belt in half. I can tell his underwear is barely staying in one piece as a large bulge formed in between his legs.

Finally his face begins to change. His once skinny face fills out with fat, giving him a rounder look. I can see that hair is falling out of his hat until he is left completely bald under there. Though in return his clean shaven face grows a bushy beard. But the hair doesn't stop there. It continues down his chest and to his belly, and presumably the rest of his body. He finally regains control of his body. He sighs as he stretched out his arms and cracks his knuckles before looking right at me.

"Come here, son." He says in a deep buttery voice.

A shock travels through my spine as I think he might know what I've done to him.

"What'd I say boy!" He raises his voice.

I jump a bit before I walk closer to him. I realize how imposing he is up close. He must have gotten taller because he seems well over six feet tall now, and at least 250 pounds.

"Daddy had a stressful day, why don't you help him release some tension." He says as he pushes me to my knees.

I blush, this is everything I wanted from this, it just happened so much faster than I thought.

"Don't be shy, boy. This will be our little secret." He says as he pulls his underwear down.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #hairy #reality change #muscle tf #male transformation

[roxygen22]

following this beautiful sickness ask trend...female reader fainting due to stress & her having a small argument with/getting scolded by Timothée while he takes care of her?🩷👀

Can't

You could hear the rumble of Timothée voice, but you were unable to focus on his words. While he chattered on while looking at his laptop right beside you, it sounded like he was rooms away. It took all of your energy and mental faculties to focus on just trying to breathe. Black spots crowded your line of sight as you put a hand out onto the counter to stabilize yourself. The motion caught Timothée's attention.

"[Y/N]?" he asked in concern.

"I-," was all you could mutter before your knees buckled. Timothée jumped from the bar stool to catch you as you fainted. "Whoa, [Y/N]! [Y/N]!" He gently lowered you to the ground and laid you on your back. He shook your shoulders and patted your cheeks. "Come on, [Y/N]. Wake up!"

Your eyelids fluttered and he released a shuddered breath in relief. You looked around, momentarily confused.

"You passed out. Again." Timothée looked down at your face in disapproval. "When was the last time you ate anything? Drank any water?" He helped you slowly sit up and lean against the couch.

"I'm fine. Stop fussing," you said, embarrassed.

"Stop fus- Listen here. YOU aren't the one who has to watch YOU faint. It is scary as hell. Every time I am terrified that you aren't going to wake up. One of these days I'm not going to be here to catch you before you hit the ground. Now. Answer me." He furrowed his brow and locked eyes with you. "When was the last time you ate or drank anything?"

Your eyes fell. "I don't know."

"You have to stop overworking yourself. You have to take breaks and take care of yourself."

"I know, but the success of the project I've spent YEARS of my life on comes down to getting this one thing right. I can't stop."

"Dammit, [Y/N], it's not worth your health," he shouted. "You need to slow down. The world, this project, will not collapse if you take 15 minutes here and there to take care of yourself."

"I CAN'T, TIMOTHÉE," you snapped.

Timothée recoiled slightly at your reaction. "And I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore," he said quietly. He got up, grabbed his keys and wallet, and walked out.

You stared at the door with your mouth agape in disbelief for a solid two minutes before tears clouded your vision. You and he have had heated arguments before, but never once had he walked out. He's right, you thought to yourself. You won't be doing anyone any good if you end up hospitalized.

You shakily stood, pushing yourself up using the frame of the couch for support. You slowly walked to the refrigerator and refilled your water bottle. Nauseous and lacking energy needed to make a meal, you opted to snack on crackers instead. You traipsed back to the couch and all but collapsed with your kitchen haul in hand. You hadn't stopped and relaxed in so long, you really weren't sure what to do next. Before you could grab the TV remote, you heard keys unlocking the front door. Timothée stepped through.

"I couldn't leave knowing that I just left you on the floor." He shrugged, hands in his pockets, unable to make eye contact.

"I'm glad you did."

His head shot up as he gave you a questioning look, unsure if he heard you correctly.

"It was uncharacteristic enough to shock me to my senses. You were right. No job is worth my health, and certainly not worth losing you over. I'm sorry, Timothée."

"I don't want an apology. I want to see action. Shut down that laptop for the night. Relax. Be with me. Please."

"Deal," you smiled and patted the seat next to you on the couch.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List: @groovyqueer, @bluizh, @jindongdongie, @croatianprincess

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #Timothée chalamet x you #timothee x you #Timothée x you #Timothée x reader #timothee x reader #sickfic #hurt/comfort #slight angst #whump #timothée imagine #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee fanfic #reader insert

[tojirights]

Okay this is going to sound like really bad but I did read your rules and saw that dubcon/noncon could be allowed so

please begging for a dub/noncon (up to u which) crumbs where Alastor is tired of reader's stubbornness and thinks it's time to really let her know her place (al owns her soul) and okay thank u bye pwosjdjeidnsj *runs and hides under a rock in shame*

a/n: HAAA YESSS. no this is amazing 😍😍

tags: 18+ smut nsfw, NONCON‼️, alastor is a demon fr, forced penetration, dacryphilia, choking, slight throat fucking

"good morning, would you be a dear and run this to rosie for me?" alastor pops into your room unannounced, as usual. you're tired, he had you up all night on another shitty errand, and you just want to sleep a little longer. "alastor please, can't anyone else do it?" you sigh, irritation bubbling in your chest. he never lets you rest.

alastor raises an eyebrow. "no one else is available." his tone is harsh, and when you meet his eyes, they're darker than they were a moment before. "this is the part where you're supposed to submit, say 'yes sir' and get out of bed." he leans on his staff, glaring red eyes staring through you. "or did you forget?" your eyes widen when you realize what he's about to do. there's a flash of green, and you feel the clasp of that shitty metal collar around your neck.

your deal with alastor backfired, just as he intended it to, and he ended up not having to do a god damned thing in exchange for your soul.

with a sharp tug of his chain, you're forced to sit up. the pull around your neck makes you cough, and you glare back at him. but when you do, you're quickly filled with a certain level of primal fear. alastor was no joke when he was angry, eyes glowing red and those antlers growing from atop his head.

"you need to learn, my dear, that the word 'no' is not a part of your vocabulary anymore." alastor walks with slow, determined strides towards your bed before his knees hit your mattress. he tugs once more, pulling you up and onto your knees. "alastor don't..." your breath catches in your throat. his hand grips onto your jaw, squeezing you uncomfortably. tears prick in the corners of your eyes, and you let out a shaky sigh. "don't?" alastor repeats, laughing. "have you forgotten the fact that i own you?"

you reach for his wrist in an attempt to remove his hand but he's far stronger than you. "i-i'll go, i'm sorry." you hiccup, but alastor has already made up his mind. "mmh, i don't think so. i don't tolerate insubordination, darling." your heart hammers in your chest when alastor's fingers find his belt. "you’re going to learn one way or another." he growls, freeing his half-hard cock and tugging your restraint.

you clench your teeth, and try to look away but alastor's grasp is too tight. his thumb drags along the bottom of your lip before prying your jaw open. "listen and be my good girl, this won't be so bad." you shut your eyes, the only thing you can think to do to cope with alastor forcing the head of his cock between your lips. there's only a moment of hesitation, a sigh from the demon above you, before his cock is being slid further down your throat.

every groan from alastor earns another tear running down your cheek. his hands hold your face steady as he pumps his cock faster, fucking the back of your throat. "so pretty, darling. look at me." he grunts, pulling your eyes up to his. they're glassy with tears, and its almost enough to make alastor cum down your throat in that very instant.

his cock pulses and he's forced to pull out of your warm mouth in fear of releasing before getting to take your cunt too. he taps your cheek gently, watching you cough and recover your breath after having your airways restricted. "strip, then i want you ass up on the bed." your lip quivers, and your body refuses to move even after you tell it to. alastor sighs, shaking his head. "must i do everything?" his words are somehow gentle and harsh enough to pull a sob from your chest.

before you can stand, alastor reaches for the hem of your sleep shirt and tears it straight down the middle to expose your tits. on instinct, you try to cover yourself but alastor's shadow circles both your wrists and pins them to your side. "please alastor... i promise, i-i will do anything you ask. please just don't do this." you plead, but alastor just clicks his teeth with his tongue. "you should've thought about the consequences before this, my dear. i've found that making an example out of someone typically gives the best results."

he does release his shadows, freeing your wrists and watches carefully as you follow his previous instructions. you kick your shorts off with a muffled cry and turn to shove your face into the mattress. ass up, you prepare for whatever alastor has in mind. his fingers find your slit, delving into the wet heat between your thighs. the laugh he releases sends a chill down your spine. "wet as can be darling!" without giving you another moment to process, his cock is pushing thick and hard into your unprepared pussy.

your scream gets caught in your throat, heat coursing through your body in an overwhelming way. "n-no, too much alastor, please stop." you cry, muffled into the mattress as you try to scramble away from him but you feel alastor's shadow come back to pin your arms. you're trapped at this point, completely under alastor's control. there's no choice but to give in, your body going limp as alastor pumps his hips into you.

"good girl." he coos, raking his clawed hands down your back. angry red marks follow in its trail. "see how easy it is to just obey?" every inch of his cock pushes you to your limit. "such a good cunt..." he sighs, his hips stuttering before he pulls out and you feel each thick rope of cum hit your ass. you finally open your eyes, letting every emotion flow through them as alastor empties his balls all over you.

there's a moment of silence while alastor catches his breath. "now... will you be a dear and run this to rosie for me?" he reiterates, and your whole body tenses. is he not even giving you time to recover? to clean up? fuck...

"y-yes sir..."

#tw: noncon #tw noncon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor x reader imagines #hazbin smut #alastor x you smut

[yxngbxkkie]

showing your 🍒 during an argument (hyung line)

so, i've been seeing the trend on tik tok where significant others show their chest during an argument, and i thought of doing an ot8! i'm gonna work on the maknae line next, so look forward to that! i do hope you guys enjoy this 🩷

Bang Chan

You're sitting on the couch with your arms crossed. Chan paces in front of you, his hands combing through his dark hair. “I don't get why you just can't listen to me,” he says, halting his movements to look at you.

“Baby, I'm listening to you. I just don't see the problem,” You shrug your shoulders.

“Don't see the problem? Y/N, you're my fiancé. He tried desperately to get into your pants,” he explains with a huff of breath.

You smile softly and stand up from the couch, smoothing out your dress. “I'm not wearing pants,” you sarcastically point out, earning a glare from Chan.

“Can you be serious for two minutes?” He asks, rolling his eyes before heading into the kitchen area.

“Baby,” you call after him, releasing a quiet sigh. “Some guy wanted to fuck me and I told him that I wasn't interested. I wasn't finished telling him that I'm marrying you when you intervened.”

Chan rests his hands on the island counter, keeping his gaze on the floor. “He wouldn't have walked up to you in the first place if you wore something–” His words are cut off when he looks at you, eyes widening upon seeing you topless. “Uhm… if you…”

You giggle and shake your head, not expecting him to lose his train of thought instantly. “If I wore something less revealing?” You finish for him, tilting your head as Chan continues staring at your chest.

“Yes,” he mumbles, dragging his hand across the island as he walks over to you.

His hands find a place on your hips before one of them hesitantly reaches for your breast. You smile at him, bringing a hand to his hair. “Are you still mad?” You jokingly ask with a pout, arching your back to accentuate the breasts.

“Nope,” Chan whispers, dipping his head down to plant kisses on your chest. “You're mine. Only mine.”

You chuckle at his possessiveness, nodding your head along with him. “All yours, baby. I don't need or want anyone else,” you reassure him, cupping your hands on his face.

His eyes meet yours, smiles present on both of your lips. “I love you,” Chan mumbles, nuzzling his cheek against the palm of your hand.

You lean on your toes, capturing his plump lips in a quick kiss. “I love you too, Chan.”

Lee Know

“I don't know why you get like this every time we argue,” Minho mutters, pushing past you to head into the kitchen.

“What do you mean by that?” You ask him, furrowing your brows. You carefully take your shoes off and follow suit.

He pulls a coke from the fridge, quickly opening it up and taking a sip. “The attitude you get. You're all up in my face questioning me about some chick I don't give a shit about,” he explains to you, taking another drink.

“I'm sorry I'm upset about my boyfriend having to work with a girl who's trying to get in between us,” you point out, crossing your arms.

Minho gives you a deadpan look while setting down his drink. “And every time I tell you that, I feel nothing towards her. The shit she does or says doesn't affect my feelings for you.”

“God, I'm fucking tired arguing about this,” you mention, watching your boyfriend look into the fridge again.

He mumbles to himself, and you're not able to make out any words. You do what you do best to try and move away from this conversation. You hook your fingers under your shirt, lifting the fabric up to expose your breasts.

Minho turns back around, ready to say something when he notices. His jaw drops slightly, his cat-like eyes drifting down to your chest. “Shit,” he mumbles, tilting his head a bit as he admires you. “I– What have I done to deserve this?”

You chuckle and take a step closer to him. “I like to see you flustered,” you tell him, adjusting your shirt so you can bring a hand to his face.

He leans into your touch as his eyes shift from your face to your chest. “I'm sorry,” Minho apologizes, one of his hands gently stroking the mound of your breast.

“It's okay. I'm sorry too,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips.

Minho's free arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Maybe I can… make it up to you,” he mumbles into the kiss, pulling back for a quick second.

You giggle, moving his bangs away from his eyes. “Oh, yeah? And how are you going to do that?” You ask him with a light smirk.

His hands move away from your chest, resting against the back of your thighs for a moment before he lifts you into his arms. A squeal escapes your lips, wrapping both of your arms around his neck.

“I think you know,” Minho smirks, carrying you to your shared bedroom.

Seo Changbin

Changbin walks into your shared apartment, setting his gym bag down by the door. He stretches his arms over his head while walking further into the place.

“You know,” your voice startles him, looking towards the couch to see you sitting with a book. “It'd be nice to know where my boyfriend is.”

He rolls his eyes at your words, releasing a huff of breath. “You knew where I was going,” he mentions, dipping into the kitchen to grab a drink.

“Yeah, okay, but you were gone so much longer than normal,” you remind him, setting your book down. You kneel on the couch, watching him while leaning against the back of it.

“What's the big deal? Chan joined, and we went longer. Plus, we had dinner,” Changbin explains, shrugging his shoulders.

You lick your lips, getting a little annoyed at his attitude. “Okay, so, if I go out for longer than you're expecting, you won't be worried?” You ask him with a raised brow.

Changbin looks at you, pondering your question. You can see his dark eyes soften a bit, knowing he's always been a little protective of you.

“That's different,” he points out, taking a couple of gulps.

“How?!” You laugh, tilting your head. “Look, all I'm asking for is little updates if you're going to be longer than expected. That's what I do with you.”

Your eyes roam down Changbin's figure, resisting the urge to bite your lip. “You know I have crazy hours anyway, I don't know why you're so pressed today,” he mutters loud enough for you to hear, disappearing back into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes at him, knowing one trick that'll get him to listen to you. You hike the front of your shirt down, exposing your breasts he loves so much.

Changbin walks back into the living room, halting his steps as soon as he sees your bare chest. “I–” he cuts himself off. “What were we talking about?”

A giggle leaves your lips, and he stumbles over towards you. His fingers graze your skin as his eyes roam your chest. “You're going to tell me if you're late from now on, yes?” You ask him, combing your fingers through his curly hair.

He glides his lips along your skin, planting a few kisses. “Absolutely,” he mutters, his hands sliding around your waist.

“I love you, Binnie,” you tell him, hooking a finger beneath his jaw to lift his head. “I love you so much.”

His eyes meet yours, and you can see the love in them. “I love you, sweetheart,” Changbin mutters, quickly kissing your lips. “I'm sorry for being a little stubborn.”

“It's okay,” you remind him with a smile. You run your hands along his biceps, squeezing gently. “Why don't we go to our room, and you can show me what you did on your workout.”

Changbin smirks, and he flexes his arms for you. “Don't need to tell me twice,” he mentions, grabbing your hand before tugging you towards your shared bedroom.

Hwang Hyunjin

“Y/N, where's my paint brushes?” Hyunjin asks you from inside his studio.

You stand up from your spot on the couch, heading into the kitchen to grab said brushes. “I was cleaning up the apartment today and washed them for you,” you say while walking into his studio.

His eyes widen, and he quickly grabs the cup of brushes from you. “What?! You washed them?” He asks, checking the bristles.

“Yeah, I thought–” you frown, getting cut off by him.

“What'd you use? You have to wash them with a special soap,” Hyunjin mentions, grabbing the soap he uses on the shelf beside him.

“Oh, I didn't know that,” you mutter, feeling a little upset with yourself. “I'm sorry, honey. I'll buy some new brushes if they're ruined.”

Hyunjin huffs and walks around the room, gathering some paint so he can test the brushes. You stand in silence, fiddling with your fingers as you watch him carefully.

He pinches his nose after testing it on an empty canvas, and you feel bad for ruining them. “I'll make it up to you,” you tell him, taking a step forward. “I promise, I will. We can go today.”

His eyes glance towards you, noticing the guilty look in your eyes. “You don't need to, it's okay,” Hyunjin mentions, knowing the price of his brushes are expensive.

“Please,” you almost beg, reaching out to grab his wrist. “I know you're worried about the price of them, but it's for you.”

He smiles to himself, shaking his head at how generous you are. “I love you, angel. You really don't have to, though,” he tells you, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Hm, then how about,” you pause, tapping your lips a couple of times. A smirk replaces the smile you have, an idea popping into your head. You hook your fingers underneath your shirt, pulling the article of clothing off.

Hyunjin's eyes widened, and his lips parted in surprise. “Angel,” he trails off, reaching a hand out to you. “Shit, you're so pretty.”

Your cheeks flush at his compliment, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Hyune,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hey, hey, don't hide. Let me look at you,” he pulls your hands away before taking a step back. You lick your lips as you watch Hyunjin admire your body. “Can I paint you?”

Your heart flutters in your chest, nodding your head with no hesitation. “Why don't we…” you trail off, walking closer to him again. “Go get your brushes and some food, then come back here.”

Hyunjin nods his head, leaning forward to capture your lips in a kiss. “Sounds splendid, angel.”

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

#bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #lee know #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #seo changbin #seo changbin imagines #seo changbin x reader #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #bang chan fanfiction #lee know fanfiction #seo changbin fanfiction #hwang hyunjin fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids blurb

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Choke On The Sun

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You'd known John ever since the Academy, and even after losing touch, the love you had for one another was never gone. Like a snake, it had stayed hidden in unseen places. But it was always there.

WORDCOUNT: 13.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, intense gore, torture, detailed descriptions of torture i.e. electrocution, loss of a finger, gunshot wounds, knife wounds, discussion of torture, canon-typical violence, death, near-death experiences, guns, weapons, abductions, betrayals, intended for mature audiences, happy ending, etc.

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

You remember a story you’d been told when you were a rookie—fresh off the cut and eager-eyed with far fewer scars. A more of a glass-half-full type of outlook on life, unknowing of what you’d experience during your years with the SAS: what choices you would have to make.

It went something like this. 

There was a herd of deer that had jumped over the side of a bridge. On either end of that bridge, there were two trucks with their high beams on—not moving but sitting there; the deer got pressured. Spooked. One by one they just…hopped over and died on the rocks below—no noise above the breaking of bone and the clatter of antlers shattering to pieces. 

You have to wonder if it was the fault of the first one who had jumped over for leading the rest to a quick end, or the drivers of the cars just trying to get where they needed to go; ignorant of the way they’d been ogling to see the panic in wide, black eyes. Either way, a whole herd of ten met their fate and left their bodies to feed the larvae and the birds. 

The story had been told over drinks at a pub, at the time you’d taken an interest in it with no more than a slow comment of ‘poor things’ before you’d brought your glass to your lips. You don't know why you’re thinking about it now. 

The timing could have been more opportune.

You send a bullet into the man’s kneecap, hearing the bone disintegrate and the flesh open like a flower. His scream follows, loud and hoarse—sobbing trapped behind a bitten tongue that drips blood down his chin. 

Hand snapping up, you grasp the lower half of his face with a grunt, head shoving itself forward until you lock onto fluttering eyes and get consumed by a whining sob.

“I asked you a question,” you lick your lips, tasting sweat as it slithers down your skin. Your voice is slow and even, grip tight. With a shove, you push back the man’s face, wrist limp with the Basilisk as you wipe at your nose with it, unblinking, when you get to your full height. 

The room wasn’t anything different from a million other black sites you’d been to. A single chair where your mark sits tied up, a desk that had been pushed to the wall, and a single door placed into the cracking foundations of a concrete wall. No windows. No vents. 

Hotter than hell, too, and that place was something you were acutely in tune with. 

“Anthony,” you say, waving your free hand as the scent of blood gets stronger, pools of it already on the hard floor. “I’m gonna call you Tony, alright?” 

Tony yells, wrenching his arms against the zip-ties and screaming until his voice is hoarse. 

“Damn you! I told you I don’t know anything!” He sobs. “My leg—I can’t feel my leg, oh, God it hurts.”

You frown, glancing at the door. 

“Stop lying to me,” you look back, eyes unblinking in the low light. “You still have one left—tell me where your buyer is and I let you keep the ability to walk upright with a cane.” 

“I don’t know his name—!”

“I don’t need a name, Tony,” you growl, irritated. “I need a location.”

“Copenhagen!” He wails, body spasming and hair dancing atop his head. “The warehouse is in Copenhagen, please, that’s all I know!”

You blink. 

“Denmark?” You mutter, brows furrowing. 

“Fuck!” Tony screams long, his skull tilting forward as he releases his guts to the floor through quick gasps. Backing up a step to stay out of the spray, you watch him silently; thinking. The flood of the man’s crimson fluids ripples. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Denmark,” grumbling to yourself once more, you shake your head and sigh aggressively. “Of course.” 

Without another glance, you turn and exit the room, pushing your Basilisk into its holster as the gear on your chest clinks lightly like the sound of rain hitting a metal roof. The door closes behind you, voice calling to one of the guards as he looks up quickly. His face is pale. Tony’s wails still echo out; water filling a bucket. 

“Get a medic,” is what you settle with—slipping past on a fleet foot and new intel to pass on to Laswell. She’ll be intrigued, no doubt. 

One step closer, your mind hisses to you. Just a little bit longer.

It’s too late to gain a conscious now.

Emmett Kinsman had been dodging you for years—dodging the Task Force—but with one of his suppliers giving away a location you’d been unable to pin, there was hope for a swift resolution to this mess. 

The radio on your chest sizzles to life.

“Hart, sit-rep. How’s it lookin’ on the black site.” Kate’s American accent leaks into the earpiece attached to you, the cord looping the back of your neck and inserted into the shell; a device of black metal and plastic. 

“I have a location for Kinsman. Copenhagen,” you ease out, moving a finger to the earpiece and pressing. Glancing at the rows and rows of doors in this endless hallway of dark smoke and obsidian mirrors—you’re eager to get your boots to the ground. Your other hand snatches at the rag swinging from your belt, taking it out and rubbing at your face with it until the stain of oil and flecks of blood smear like frosting on a cake. “Where are the boys? I need to be wheels-up to meet them ASAP.”

“Coming to you.”  

“They’re here?” Your face twists as the words settle in, confused. “Why? Thought they were tracking another lead in Romania.” 

Kate’s voice is smooth in your ear, moving like water as you turn a corner, stuffing your rag back into your belt. 

“Are you surprised?” The woman jokes in a monotone; you’d only taken it as such because you knew her dry state of humor. “Really, Hart, you know he can’t stop until you’re back at his side. I was going to tell you sooner, but you were…occupied.” 

Your feet pause for a moment at the beginning of her sentence, instinctual heat moving the length of your neck until you clench your jaw and continue onward at a slightly slower pace—eyes narrowed on the floor ahead of you. 

“It isn’t like that, Kate,” you mutter. A low hum echoes the line and you fight a scowl as a group of soldiers walk past. Itching at your forearm, you shake your head. “John just likes having everyone together on missions like these. If it had been different, I’m sure he would have told me to fly back to them regardless of the intel. We’re tight on time.” 

“I’ve known you both for more years than I can remember,” Laswell sighs. “Don’t try that with me, Captain.” You frown, clicking your tongue. “They’ll be arriving on the tarmac—get ready for a quick exit. We need Kinsman by month’s end.” 

“Copy,” you utter, removing your hand from the earpiece and glaring ahead of you. A still-air silence envelopes the hallway, the only sound of your boots to the concrete and the reverberation that booms after. 

It was so quiet here. 

John Price—Captain Price—and yourself had a… complicated history. You’d joined up together; gotten through SAS selection neck-and-neck until time and its grubby fingers had forced your lives in different directions. Like two vines of reaching ivy, it had only been three years ago that you’d seen the other again, though you’d heard stories as you’re sure he had about you. 

Hart: not the kind that beats but the kind that bleats, you had to explain to most—you weren’t unknown to the darker side of the job and the people that specialized in it. Your file was stretched with so much black ink that when you’d gotten the call on your phone, an unknown number, you’d recognized the gruff voice behind it and the first question you’d asked was how the hell he’d gotten clearance to track you down. 

“No hello, then, Hart?”

“Not one for pleasantries, John. Explain. Quickly.”

“Business as always.” He’s wasted no time, voice going to a low grumble over the line that day. “Laswell took in a favor. You’ve been busy, Love…Room for one more joint-Op?”

It hadn’t panned out to only ‘one more joint-Op’. 

After the mission was over, it had been raining on base. The sky had shed tears from clouds deeper than the gray shades of your gear, splattering packed dirt and concrete. Above your head, the thin overhang off of the armory door had spared you some of it, but when the wind had shifted your clothes absorbed specks of water like spots on a fawn. Your eyes had been looking out—expression open. 

When the man exited the building and came up beside you, you both didn’t speak for a long time. You had been aware of his form, devoid of vest and gear, while yours was still layered with it to the utmost degree. You’d expected to leave that night—a good old-fashioned Irish Goodbye with a C-17 already waiting for you to board. To carry you off to another hellish deed done with ravaging cruelty for the sake of people who would never even know you existed.

The storm had stopped you…or, maybe something else had.

“Good to see you again, Hart,” John had stated, still not looking over at you as his arms had crossed, feet situating themselves. “Been too long.”

You had stayed silent—watching. The drain across the street was flooded. Sticks and leaves stuck at the drain as a whirlpool formed; only dangerous to bugs and the bits of garbage blown in by the wind. 

Only after the wind shifts again did you speak.

“And what has John Price been up to in that time?” Your eyes had slid to stare, piercing in the low illumination of the armory’s outside light. 

A huff of a chuckle, the one you’d remembered in the days of selection—coated in mud from crawling through man-made trenches and a sharp smirk of a snap when the barbed wire had grazed his back. 

There were too many stories here. Too many. So many it became impossible to wonder what could have been and what couldn’t—all that existed were the little moments of fondness.

The two of you were nothing else but souls long past redemption; stuck on that knife’s edge and waiting for the hand to shake and send you through it. 

You are made of memories. 

“That’s a story told over bourbon,” John’s lips had flickered, and you’d blinked slowly, head tilting. “Not anything worth reliving, yeah?” 

“Everything is relivable, Captain. You just need to find a reason as to why.” 

The man had nodded his head your way, conceding with his blank eyes ahead to the rain. A rumble of distant thunder had flown out, making your ears twitch. You couldn’t stop watching him now that you had the chance—the brunette strands; the fatigues, and that accent. The muscle you don’t remember him having in that specific place all those years ago. The wrinkles on his forehead from age and stress are shown in yours as a mirror. 

Tall; formidable. 

There was a tension in the air that you chose not to dwell on—the same that had been brewing for as long as you’d known him. 

“I want you to join up with me,” the sudden comment had made your body tense, eyes snapping away. In your pockets, your fingers twitch with surprise. 

“Join?”

“Thought I’d catch you before you disappeared again, yeah?” A sheen of slight embarrassment is over your skin. John chuckles again. “Extend a formal offer—Laswell was the one who suggested it.”

“Well,” you’d huffed, licking your lips. “Now I’m surely not accepting.” 

“Let me fuckin’ finish, Love,” John’s lips were pulled in a slight smirk—beard shifting. A pause as the wind whips again, shaking the trees before he grunts. “One-Four-One. My Task Force. Been thinking I’d need someone like you, but I knew you’d never agree to it.”

“Oh?” Your brow raises. 

“Not bloody stupid.” He sighs. “Thought I’d ask anyway. Give you a proper goodbye if you weren’t so keen on handing it out.”

“I don’t like goodbyes,” you mutter, hearing John’s feet shift—his boots scraping. 

“I know.” It’s low and even—not a prod or a dig. An observation. 

A hand is moved out to you, hovering. 

There isn’t any need for words when you glance down at it, and then up at him; staring into those blue eyes that so perfectly illustrate the hues of a roaring river, hidden away in the confines of a verdant forest.

A slow smile pulls at your lips, and you see the corner of the man’s eyes soften.

“Knew I’d get one out of you again,” he mutters as you slip your hand into his, a firm and all-encompassing heat of flesh and care. 

“Don’t get used to it, John.” Shaking his hand, you smirk, legs shifting. 

“Never,” he chuffs, squeezing your limb. 

You don’t know why you stayed under that overhang with him that night. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to explain it as you had looked up and seen the C-17 fly off without you in its cargo hold, hands resting on your vest collar and blue eyes watching you, slightly narrowed. 

You never even verbally told him you were sticking around…it had happened like a stray cat under the porch of your childhood home; taken in and cared for. Just the same, John never mentioned it beyond paperwork. 

Shaking your head, you blink back to the black site, turning that last corner and making it to one of the exits. Pushing the metal-reinforced door open, you shift outside and move a hand to cover the glare of the setting sun from your eyes, grunting. 

Laswell’s voice peaks back in as you jog toward the far-off body of a whirling plane, three figures just managing to walk down the ramp. 

“Hart? It’s Laswell.”

“Copy,” you say, knees taking the brunt of the heavy items you carry in pouches and have strapped to your form. “What is it?” 

“The Task Force is a go for Denmark—when you get there, I need everyone searching; we can’t lose him again.”

“Affirm. I’m on it, Kate.” You breathe. “John and I’ll get him. It’s personal for us, you know that.”

“That I do. Make sure to keep your heads on with this, Hart. Out.”

You lick your lips, nodding even if she can’t see you. 

Slowing as you near the plane, friendly smiles spark up from the two Sergeants. Gaz comes over, grasping at your shoulder and speaking above the engine behind him. 

“Ma’am! Good to have you back.” Soap chuckles, tilting his head your way as you grasp Kyle’s forearm—squeezing in greeting with a twinkle in your eye.

“Surprised to see us?” The Scot calls. 

You scoff. “Laswell gave you up.”

“Damn,” Kyle moves back, fixing the cap atop his head and glancing back at his fellow Sergeant. Simon nods from behind the two to which you respond in like. “She bloody betrayed us.” 

“Not as much as Kinsman,” the mood sours; lips thinning as you speak firmly. “Where’s John?” 

“Right here,” the man in question comes down the ramp, blue eyes meet yours. A second of inspection passes, eyes from both parties flickering up and down forms for any mistreatment—any ailments. “Kate already told me. We’re leaving now that we have you.”

Bumping Simon’s fist with yours as you pass him, you ascend the ramp, Soap muttering under his breath about the flight time from behind. 

Standing beside John, you pause like a bird, eyes half narrowed. “You didn’t have to pick me up, you know? I could have gotten another plane.”

The man the same rank as you hums, making sure the men are all inside and taking one last look out to the black site, eyes missing nothing down to the concrete structure to the lights that will soon illuminate the pure nothingness of the fields of this area.

“Wait time would have put us back.” Tiny eyes blink, a hand coming up to rest on his collar as his face shifts to you. “You good?”

“Always,” you mutter without hesitation. “Nothing from Romania, then?”

He grumbles, clenching his jaw and taking in your words. “Negative.”

A silence settles in which you quirk your brow—a small flicker of a smirk makes him turn away and stalk back into the hull, grunting in annoyance. You follow on silent feet. 

“That’s it? It must have been horrible, then. Care to explain?” 

“Get in your seat, Captain.” 

You hold back a low chuckle, walking beside him until you both come to the back of the plane—easing back into the hard plastic, you huff as you clip in your seatbelt. 

It’s all relative silence until the large metal beast is in the air; everyone's bodies shifting as the floor evens out. John and you take long breaths and, feeling the occasional jostle of the plane, you occupy yourself by picking at the dried blood all over your hands as the flight begins—Tony’s blood. 

Blue eyes blink down at you, watching from the side.

“He know anything important?” You stifle a yawn on your lips, one hand coming up to cover the open-jawed expression of tiredness. 

Glancing, you shrug with a slow response of, “Only a location. Even then I don’t know if it’ll pan out like we want it to, John.”

Everyone had been hoping for more, but they also knew that you were the best at interrogations and information retrieval. If you had called it that the man only knew a city and nothing else, John wasn’t one to question you. He knew better. 

A large hand shifts to grasp your right bloody one, picking it up and bringing it to his lap. You let him do it without protest, shoulders loosening at the roughness of his calluses moving across yours until the familiar ritual begins to take part like a black mass. 

Fingers twitching, you hear a hum as John takes out a rag from his pocket, opening it with a flick of his wrist. Moments later, the water bottle on the seat next to him is taken and the droplets that are left are scattered like rain over the fabric until they absorb. 

“All dirty, Love,” he grumbles as your eyes soften, watching him trace the lines of your palm with the wet rag—dabbing away the beads of red. Watching, you listen as he continues. “We’ll figure it out, eh?”

Blue locks with you, holding your gaze until the permanent set of his brows slowly loosens. “We will,” he reaffirms firmly.

“...I should have shot him when I had the chance,” you whisper to John, words low and tone nothing more than a mouse’s murmur; a small pebble hitting the ground. “Don’t lie and say it wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re going to fucking ruin yourself with that, Hart.” He advises, his cleaning of blood coming to a slow halt. “You did what you thought was best,” John leans in closer, not blinking as you try to move your head away with a half-hidden scoff. A damp hand grabs lightly at your chin, shifting it back as you blink in mild shock into John’s face. He doesn’t falter. “It’s all any of us can do, yeah?” 

As if it were nothing, he lets you go and shifts his focus back to cleaning your hand. You watch for a long moment, oblivious to the elbows hitting sides from farther down the hull, quick glances tossed between Sergeants and a Lieutenant who quirks a brow under his mask, huffing a sound in his throat.

“If I had,” you force back the stutter in your voice. “More people would still be alive.”

“Maybe,” John tilts his head, the rag brushing the length of your fingers. “Maybe not. We don’t know that, do we? No use wasting our breath talking about it then. What matters, Hart, is how we fix this.”

You sigh, repressing a shiver as his thumb brushes scars and blemishes, moving like moss over stone. 

“And we don’t leave our bloody problems for the next poor bastard, do we?” You puff air from your nose, shaking your head at the smirked comment. You watch John’s beard move with it—taking in the crinkling of his eyes and the way his knee hits yours. 

“Wonderful pep-talk, Captain.” You lean your head back against the netted sides of the aircraft, letting your eyes flutter shut; oblivious to the way he watches you. “The service is lost on you—therapist is right up your alley.”

“Fuck’s sake,” John scoffs. “I’d sooner go back to the academy than that.” 

“The food was utter shite, wasn’t it?” You agree.

“No need to bring it up,” John comments lowly, amusement thick in his words. 

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you do know that the pressure around your limb stayed there for a long while—the rag moving over every sliver of skin until only the base was left behind; like a painter creating an ocean scene, shrouded in mist, every bit of red was gone. 

Your dreams are plagued by Emmett Kinsman. His sharp face; his sly eyes and his knack for being undetected.

He’d been a part of your and John’s class in the Royal Military Academy—when all was done, he’d graduated and begun to serve in the 22nd SAS Regiment just as the both of you had. There was never much interaction there, beyond shared drinks and a few good words, a single operation, but the bonds of brotherhood run deep. If given the chance over any deployment or service, John or yourself would have given your lives for him—for the boy you’d bled and persevered with to a point of utter loyalty akin to beasts; unrestrained by any threat of violence, sharp attitude, or past faults.

And in the end, he’d thrown that all away to get into bed with terrorists. 

Location: London, England

Time: 1718

Operation: ‘Purple Cloth’

Your eyes rest behind the glass of the bookstore, gazing out over the street from the second floor with a level of new-found skill and a surety in yourself. Fresh off the cut, you aren’t overly eager for this, but you’re assured in your abilities. 

There can be no failure.

Emmett is down below, sitting at a café and sipping tea as John is stationed at a building farther down the street; waiting. Another man, directly relaying information to Emmett, is at the café as well, sitting in the corner reading a newspaper and facing the individual you’re supposed to follow. Only the four of you for this, and you’re not overly familiar with half of them. John was your only shining grace. 

“Target’s getting the bill,” you shift your head into the collar of your shirt, muttering. “He’ll move soon.”

“He carrying?” John’s voice slithers in, a soft murmur. 

You stare, expression lax at the large body that shifts and stands with a tight shirt on, waving off the barista when she tells him to have a good day. “If I had to guess? Negative. Nothing big—no bulge at his spine. At the very opposite end, I’d say an X13 could be concealed and accessed via a slit in the pant’s pocket and in a holster at his thigh. They’re baggy enough for it, but the draw time’ll be longer. Drug runners are sloppy.”

John grunts, and you address Emmett. “How are we doing, Mate?” 

A smooth, suave, tone moves into your ear. “Not too bad, Sweet Thing. Else, I'd be better if you were sharing a drink with me before I disappear.”

“Only in your imagination, Kinsman,” John interrupts, unimpressed drawl taking your attention. “Keep on it.” 

“I swear I rank the same as you, Price. Where do you get off ordering me around like your dog?” The comment is so easily dismissed as a joke between comrades that there’s no hostility there.

“Since I was given oversight,” the amusement is easily taken in John’s voice. “I’m the one keeping your arse alive, eh?” 

The other addition to your team speaks up, a voice that in the future you’ve already long forgotten. He says to cut the chatter, and you have to agree. 

Emmett and the target are nearing an alley. 

“I’m heading down,” you utter, already turning and heading to the stairs, swiftly moving down them and exiting the building. 

“Copy,” John’s voice fizzles the line. “I’ll head them off.”

“Emmett,” you move to link up with the fourth member of the team as he joins at your side, both of you sharking a glance and a jerk of your heads. “Keep him away from civilians. We can’t deal with casualties in this populated of an area.”

“He won’t have a chance to shoot them,” the comment makes your brows furrow, the tone not a cocky gloat but rather...quiet. A moment of silence wafts out. “What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean, Kinsman?” You frown tightly, your gut swirling with something unidentifiable. The X12 in the back of your baggy sweatshirt is heavy—suddenly ten times more so. 

In the corner of your eye, you see John far across the way shift, leaning before on a trash can, now standing upright. You swear you lock eyes with him, both gifted in all sense when it comes to war. Perhaps it was ingrained into both of your DNA—a knowledge of all things deadly; of threats unseen. Some primal and horrible understanding spanning back to when man had first raised a fist to another. 

“Oi,” your voice pushes. “What does that mean?” Feet pivoting, you move closer to the alley where the light shade of hair disappears. 

The line is silent. 

Silent before a loud gunshot rings.

Birds scatter, and you instinctively duck down, hand snapping to your service weapon as your eyes go wide. Head snapping about, you dash to the alley opening above the screaming; pushing past fleeing people.

“Hart!” 

“He’s in the alley!” 

“Do not engage until I get there, do you hear me?!” You’re already at the entrance, X12 ahead of you, and the safety flicked off with a heavy finger. “Hart!”

The body of your mark is on the ground—a bullet in the back of his skull. 

“Fuck!” You shout, feet slapping the concrete as you zoom past. “Price—target’s down, Emmett shot him in the damn head, on his tail now.”

“Fucking hell.” The man is growling out at you, voice heated.

Your eyes snap this way and that, weapon at the ready as you take a sharp turn. At the very end of the opening, you see him. 

Kinsman slips his service weapon back into the base of his spine, pulling at his shirt to cover the grip as a mass of the crowd is just behind him. He rushes quickly on long legs. 

“Emmett!” Your voice makes him freeze. There’s a long pause before anything is spoken; you have your sights trained—a perfect line-up to the roundness of his skull. 

“I had hoped to be fast enough,” the man tells you, head tilting to the side, “but I should have known you’d move head-long into danger without backup.”

“Hart,” John’s voice nearly startles you from the line. “Sitrep, now!”

“Why would you do that, Emmett?”

“There’s more to this than being pawns, Hart,” Kinsman growls at you. “I play my game right, I always come on top. I needed to earn their trust; our target had a price on his head and no one else could get as close as me. Well,” he pauses, “us.”

“I’m taking you in,” you grit your teeth, hands tight on the gun. You don’t even want to think about what he means by ‘their’ or his ‘game’. It was always word puzzles with this man—one second you had the right piece, and the next the entire picture had changed like sand in the waves of a tide.

“Are you really that torn up about a drug runner?” A scoff makes you hold back a snarl, but your resolve is shaking. This was a man you had trusted—now fast can something that was forged with steel break?

“He was just some filthy nobody, Hart.” Emmett starts walking into the crowd ahead of him, and in your mind you know if you take that shot you run the risk of shooting an innocent civilian. “I’ll be more than a nobody. Or a grunt soldier. People are going to know me.” 

Bodies flee quickly—screams. Mothers, children, husbands.

Kinsman smirks, and as your finger tightens on the trigger, he’s already swallowed by the hoard. 

“I’ll be seeing you.”

John and you sit in the safehouse, for a moment, surrounded by quiet and the smell of hot tea. One week in Denmark, and you have no leads. The other three are away, sleeping in the rooms down the hallway. 

“You’re still thinking about him,” John speaks up, eyes on you. It’s blunt, but that was just how he was. 

You peek your eyes open slowly, your body slouching in the chair and feet outstretched under the table. Your boot lightly touches John’s own. A long sigh exits your nose, grumbling on your tired lips. 

“John,” you level, drawing the name out like the years of your life. A thin warning. 

The man clenches his jaw slightly, bringing up his cup and taking a slow slip. You see the flesh of his throat bob with the liquid as it goes down, the overhead light of the kitchen only a single bulb of warm glow. 

“Been chasing him for years, Hart,” he says when the item is back to the woodgrain. Voice a deep murmur—a scrape of vocal chords. “We both have.”

“He knows too much,” you reply. “I can’t let him get away again. Strategies, operators, everything.” Your eyes shift as your head raises, blinking away the sleep in your glinting orbs. “For years he’s been under our nose, getting away with who knows what—”

“Hart,” your rant is interrupted, and you stop with a snap of your teeth. Blue eyes lock a concerned sheen to them. “Breathe.” 

Your face moves away, arms loosely crossed over your chest tensing. 

John’s body shifts to you, leaning forward until his elbows are resting on his knees. He stares, brows a line on his flesh. You send a swift glance, lips pulling. 

“...Stop that,” your voice murmurs, echoing off the walls of the kitchen. John blinks, not speaking as you move in your seat. The man tilts his head, a slow something making his lips go back slightly. Gradually, your face goes hotter, blinking at him a few times; sucked in like a fox to a trap. “John, quit it.”

“M’not doing anything, Love.” 

“Bullshit,” you try and glare at the looseness of his expression, his smirk that makes your gut tighten. Goosebumps move up your arms. “You’re a horror.”

A low chuckle wafts out, John shrugging casually before he leans back. 

He takes up his cup again and takes down the last of the remnants. “Go to sleep,” hits your ears as your pounding heart takes a breather. It’s a grumble on the air—not as much an order as it is a suggestion. “It’s late.” 

You decide to sip at your own drink as well, eyes drooping at the steam that wafts around your face, nose twitching to the scents. 

“You?” John hums, looking you up and down; seeing the fatigue you carry. You’d been relentless for the week you’d all been here, holding the few strings of the lead you had to your chest—five-fingered grasping with a desperate prayer to all things unholy.  

“I’ll be here.” You tilt your head his way, eyes still half-closed in your seat. Your answer is easy, pushed out in a slow sentence. 

“Then so will I.”

John sighs under his breath. It’s a moment before an exasperated chuckle moves through your earbuds. You smile, eyes slipping closed fully. 

Yet, they startle back open as the cup is taken from your hands, your chair moved back firmly. 

“Up you get, then,” John grunts, and his arms snake around you. Blinking quickly, your jaw is slack as you get taken up into a tight carry; John’s chest firm and your nose brushing the side of his chin. 

Air getting sucked into your lungs, you stifle a hitch in your breath. 

It’s only after he starts walking forward, hiking you farther up into him, and his fingers gliding over your clothes, that you start to relax. His heat seeps like a warm fire.

Head sagging to the side, you grumble into his neck as you miss his eyes looking down at you, eyes soft in a way only you would have been able to see. “Can walk, y’know.”

He hums, head shifting back to the hallway as he carries you to the last door on the right, bumping into the wood with his shoulder and shifting to walk in sideways so you don’t let your legs on the frame. 

“Remember Preu? 05’?” John asks you, moving over to the bed and setting you down slowly, a tiny huff exiting his mouth. Your body sinks into the mattress, head to the pillow as your hand comes up to rub at your eyes. The man moves to grab the blanket at the end of the bed—knowing your trained habit of sleeping atop the comforter on operations; not tangled up in sheets just in case. He slips off your boots. “Carried you two miles.”

“I recall it,” you grunt, a tired flicker coming to your lips. “Bleeding out and all.”

“Well,” John hums, quirking a brow. “Wasn’t about to let my Hart die on me. Blood was the least of my worries.” 

Your pulse flutters at the title, even if it’s just your codename and not the beating muscular organ inside of your breast. 

My Heart.

But it’s never that simple. 

A hand moves up your cheek, a kiss pressed to your forehead. 

The both of you already know you love each other. It wasn’t a secret. You were smart; eyes sharper than a blade—you caught the way he watched you, saw the softness of his expression, and felt the drag of his hand. Just as he caught the way you stayed beside him, an ever-present pair of eyes watching his six. The content nature that only you showed him. 

With feet so eager to leave at any moment, it said much that you chose to exist near him simply because you wanted to. 

You loved each other. 

Boil it down, and you’d both known even back in the Academy that it would be the two of you at the end of all things. The rivers said your name. The valleys rustled with the breeze of your breath. You saw John in the bits of water that sloshed the rocks and in the earth beneath your palms. 

Over the years you’d been apart, the yearning hadn’t been any less sharp—any less potent. In every birdsong, the echoes of the other's voice flew and disappeared on wingbeats. In everything that existed, there was a fraction of what should be. 

What should be. 

“John,” your voice is a whisper, nothing more than a rustle of a cloth. He keeps his lips to your forehead, resting there for a moment against all sense and responsibility. John’s eyes droop down, lashes resting on the swell of his cheeks. “You know I love you.”

He takes a breath. Rain is in the air—the movement of a storm’s wind. A leaving C-17. 

It’s a low mutter into your flesh.

“I know.” 

You grasp at his wrist, pulling lightly. Without a noise, John slips in beside you, kicking off his boots with a single clop of the soles to the wood and the movement of your blanket. He grunts, pushing his nose into your scalp, arms going around your middle. Your head slots under his chin, lips to his Adam’s apple.

The house is silent beyond the murmur of the pipes—the buzz of awaiting electricity. 

So many memories. So many lost dreams. It was akin to two skeletons lying in a grave of their own making, forever holding the bones of the other. Duty and honor are etched into the fractures. 

But he still holds you, he still murmurs into your ear, “Sleep, Love.”

“And you?” You ask, mirroring the conversation in the kitchen.

John’s lips move along your flesh, moving into a soft smile as he glances down at you. His beard scrapes you delicately.

“I’ll be here.”

Then it is here you’ll stay, dreaming of deer and the way nothing could compare to how he held you in his arms.

—

“I have eyes on,” your head snaps up, blankly staring ahead as your fingers hover over the hanging beads of a wind chime. You stand outside of a restaurant in the heart of Copenhagen. 

Laswell had sent in more eyes for the Task Force to use—local soldiers that knew the layout of the city better and where would be a good place to look. For days you’d been moving through the streets; far-off storage units and hidden buildings providing fruitless harvests. Anthony had said a warehouse, but that was panning out as nothing as well.

False information? Possibly, but unlikely. The man had been genuine in his pain and pleading, and it only served to confuse you more.

You had Gaz with you and five others, taking over as the leader of this fireteam while John headed the other with Johnny and Ghost. They were on the opposite side of the city, and you can’t help but compare this to the moment Emmett had become an enemy. 

But divide and conquer was the only option in times like these.

Emmett had become someone, just as he said he would. The man was in charge of supplying arms to terrorist organizations all over the world, and with his knowledge of how the SAS operates as well as any number of special forces, he’d utterly disappeared off the radar.

A wraith of lies and murder.

He had locations all over the globe with his goods, shipped out for money and power. 

And now you have a positive ID.

“Where are you,” your voice is hard and stiff, the body already moving back from the chime and leaving its little bits and bobs swinging. 

“Café down the street,” feet nearly locking together, you continue down the street to where you know Gaz’s last position was. “He’s just…sitting there.” A pause. “You want to know what it’s called in English, Ma’am?”

“The café?” your brows furrow, jogging across the street. 

“‘The Warehouse.’” Growling under your breath, you shake your head and send a curse into the air after a pause.

“I think the man thought he was clever,” Kyle’s voice is smooth and teasing. 

“Should have shot his other leg,” you grunt. “You told Laswell? John?”

“Negative, I’ll get on it—”

“I’ll do it,” you interrupt. “Tell the others to group up at your position and spread out to create a choke point; we can’t let him get away.”

“Rog. Will do.” 

You patch into John’s frequency.

“We have him,” you instantly breathe out. “Down Holbergsgade—café called ‘The Warehouse’.”

It’s swiftly that an answer hits you. “Get him surrounded, we’re coming.” 

Your heart is moving rapidly, fast in your chest as you pass people and business quickly. You didn’t like this—didn’t like the similarities, the…nostalgic dread that builds. A café of all places? Sitting down? Waiting?

It was so ironic it made alarm bells go off.

“John,” you lick your lips, glancing at faces as they pass. “I think he knows we’re here.”

“Explain.”

“A café?” John’s low grunt lets you know he understands. “Just sitting there? He knows—he’s not dumb enough to throw away all of his secrecy just as we so happen to get here and begin looking for him.”

“How sure are you?” The man takes your words into account, and you hear his breath puffing as he runs to your location. 

“Ninety,” you breathe. 

“Then I’m callin’ it off.” Your eyes widen, feet skidding as you come to a stop. 

You have no clue as to how far John will go to keep you safe—even if it means potentially letting one of the SAS’s highest HVTs go. There wasn’t anything that could compare to the thought of you getting in harm's way. Not you. 

John had spent his whole life watching soldiers die in the worst ways possible; they haunted his dreams and he knew they’d follow him to his grave—men he’d led down paths that they never should have been on. 

Not you. 

Losing you would break what little was left of him, the remnants held on by tape and sheer stubbornness. One of the last old faces he could still look at anymore; could draw comfort from in the thin hours. To hold and to love. 

You both knew you wouldn’t stand for it.

“No,” your voice cuts across, monotone. “I’m not allowing that.”

“Bloody hell, Hart, listen to me—do not,” John growls, making your spine tingle, “go after him. If he knows we’re fuckin’ here, we need to pull back and close off the area.”

You’re walking forward, that same pressure of a gun at the back of your spine. It was almost poetic. 

A thought sparks. Years of knowledge and understanding lighting up. 

Emmett was a snake. 

A snake that liked to play games and prove points; greed stuck into his brain for reasons you can’t quite say for certain. Even if you did catch him, he would never tell the locations of his goods or the buyers.

But there was one way to find out. One way this might turn.

“There’s a tracker in my arm,” you speak, growing more sure of your actions with every fast movement of your body. The café is just up the street, and a head of blonde hair is a knife to your vision. “I asked Laswell to insert and monitor it years back when I had to infiltrate a cell before I joined up with you again. Cautionary procedure since I had to forgo my rig and gear.”

A sharp bark. He knew what you were insinuating. “Hart!” You were going to get yourself taken hostage.

“Get Kate to watch it, John.” You move off his frequency before he can comment again, half of a roaring refusal cut off. Speaking to Gaz with a restricted throat, you say, “Kyle?”

“Right here, Ma’am.”

“Good. Don’t engage—I’m moving in.”

A stiff breath is taken in. “W…what was that?”

You don’t reply, only saying, “Whatever happens, I order you and the others to stay back, yeah?”

Your hand pulls the earpiece out and shoves it into your pocket right as you slip into the chair directly across from Emmett Kinsman. 

“Emmett,” you say in greeting, moving up a few fingers to a barista with a low call of your order. The individual nods and moves off before you lock on green eyes; they nearly make you flinch. 

You can only imagine what Gaz is telling John right now. 

Kinsman blinks at you, but he isn’t surprised. You were right.

“Hart,” the man smiles. His voice is still the same, though he looks older. “Pleasure seeing you again. Enjoying the sights of the city?”

“Not particularly,” you stare at him.

He chuckles, tilting his head before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows and continues. 

“You always were serious. No fun.” You take the insult without any emotion, blinking at him slowly. What was his play?

“Why?”

“You already know why,” he shrugs, dressed in a nice suit. “I’ve made a name for myself—my name will be remembered for ages.” A twinkle in his eye. “SAS soldier turned weapon supplier; isn’t it exciting.”

“It’s a disgrace,” you lean forward, only stopping your voice from rising as a cup is placed down in front of you by the barista. 

Your face plasters a fake smile and you nod, moving it in front of you. Emmett watches with a smirk.

“I call it a change of heart.” He sighs, smirk simmering to a casual smile. “But I am glad to see you, you’ve been creating a big mess of things and I took it upon myself to have a meeting between us as old friends.”

“I’m not your friend,” you growl. “You’ve killed innocent people for no more than a fucking paycheck.”

“Well,” he snorts. “I don’t kill anyone. I’m the middle man—there’s a difference.”

Rage makes your eyes go to slits.

“And innocents, Sweet Thing?” Emmett leans in closer, face so smug and open you want to pull your weapon on him and worry about the consequences later. “What do I call what you do then?”

“A necessary evil,” you huff. “One I carry on my shoulders just like every other soldier does. One that was far better than supplying terrorists.”

Kinsman shrugs, moving back and picking up his drink, swirling it. “If you say so.” He hums. “You have to try the pastries here, you know. They’re very good.”

“I know you’re here because you expected us to find you, what I can’t figure out is why you broke your cover in the open instead of turning yourself in.” You look around at the faces in the outdoor seating, studying them trying to pinpoint if they’re civilians or in league with Kinsman. “Tell me before I decide to shoot you right here and now and end this regardless of hidden goods.”

“You already tried that, Hart,” Emmett laughs. “Pointing a gun at me didn’t work last time.”

“I’m not going to use a gun,” you ease out. “I’m going to take the butter knife on the table and slit your throat.”

“Uncivilized,” Emmet grumbles, frowning at the silver object near your hands. “It isn’t even sharp.”

“Good.” Green eyes narrow, unimpressed. He sighs, fingers moving in an outward gesture of exasperation. 

“If you must know before the main finale, I wanted to bring you here to say that I’m thoroughly impressed with your drive.” You try to stave off the shock in your stomach at the words coming out like a charmer’s flute. Raising a slow brow, you’re caught off guard. Emmett chuckles. “You nearly caught me at several instances throughout our game of cat and mouse. Many times I forget who the assigned roles were even given to; I’m telling you that I had fun.”

You stare, face tight. 

Emmett hums and his eyes go to slits. 

“But every game has to come to an end. I’m growing tired of it.”

The building across the street erupts into a great ball of fire.

—

John hears the explosion in the air, the shockwave that leaves his body halting to look into the sky in time to see black smoke.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Fuck!” 

He rushes into the panicked crowd, memories stuck in his head and a bone-deep fear he’d been feeling since you cut the connection in your earpiece. Gaz had been relaying to him what was going on action for action—a football game, only the difference was that your life was on the line. 

“Kate,” John shouts. “Get the authorities down here now! We have an explosion on Holbergsgade.”

“Explosion?” The woman’s voice is sharp and disbelieving. “What’s going on—”

“Hart’s in the bloody crossfire, there’s no time!” John’s face is tight, wind whipping past his ears as screams fly on the wind; crying. “The fool is trying to get herself taken fucking hostage for intel!”

Whatever else was said was lost to the wind—Gaz comes over the line, calling to him in a panic as Johnny and Simon join in. 

“The entire building just went up in—”

“Fucking Christ—”

“Price, what is this?”

“All of you get down here!” John sprints past people on the ground, ripping his gun out of the back of his waistband. There’s no arguing. 

When the Captain turns the last corner, carnage greets him. 

The building across from the café was reduced to nothing but rubble and a still-burning flame. Eyes wide, John only looks at it for a few moments, too preoccupied with you.

Where were you? 

His jaw clenches, eyes burning with rage. Such a perfect soldier yet such a flawed sense of teamwork, he had a feeling you’d try something like this—had left Gaz with you for that very reason. Fuck he should have been at your side. He should have known. 

A low grumble moves through his lips, head snapping all around. There are bodies on the ground. Blood pooling under thick building material—fabric in the breeze. 

“Hart!” John yells, running to the café and seeing the remnants of a fast fight. 

The Captain’s heart drops to his feet, face burning with hellfire so much that a sheen comes to his cheek. His hand moves out to touch the handle of a butter knife that had been slammed into the table now half-fallen over, eyes stuck on only one thing on the ground under it.

Through the wails and the call of sirens, the man stares at the two long fingers sitting in the dust.

Never in his life had he felt a fear like this.

—

“I wanted to be kind about this,” Emmett fiddles with the wrappings of his bandaged left hand, only three fingers remaining. “I was going to make it quick.”

You’re locked in a cell-like room, head to the side and blood leaking out of a cut face. Burns travel up your arm, the sticky puss leaking out only serving to make you shiver. You don’t know where you are—don’t know what happened after you severed Kinsman’s fingers with that knife.

But you know the pain isn’t something that you haven’t already gone through before. 

Your voice is hoarse but firm as it leaks out of you, vision spotty. You’d been thrown in here after a ride in the trunk of a car. The ground is concrete. 

“...Don’t make me laugh.”

Emmett growls, eyes wide with hatred. 

“Pathetic!” He barks eyes looking you over with disgust. “Look at what you did to my hand!”

His other hand connects with the bars of the cage, producing a metal ringing sound as you push yourself up with one arm, eyelids flinching in pain. Sitting up, your body falls back to the wall behind it, and you grunt when the air in your lungs is expelled. You lick at your dust-coated lips, your head ringing and your focus failing. Concussion. 

“Least of your worries,” you roll your jaw, a wave of pain making your body seize up and your hands tense with quivering shakes. Your mouth opens with sharp pants. Bile pools in the base of your throat. 

It’s nothing. 

John will come soon. The tracker. If Laswell can get it working again, you’d be out of here and you would have whatever this location turns out to be and the intel that it can offer you—computer databases would be a one-and-done game. You would get names, coordinates, and buyers. It could all be over. 

Your clothes are melted into your skin, and when you move, they peel away with the remnant of your epidermis. The flesh of your left thigh and arm had taken the worst of it—and the cut from flying debris over your left cheek hasn’t stopped bleeding. 

Blood drips from it, and a loud ache makes your head pound all the worse. 

You’ve gone through worse.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Emmett snarls, the crimson bandages thick over his hand. “But it isn’t a problem,” he says, moving his other hand to slick back his hair. “It isn’t a problem,” the man utters again. “You’re going to help me. Yes…I’ve made up my mind. I need you to understand why I do the things I do.” 

Your brows furrow, but above this burning in your head, it’s hard to understand what’s being said to you. Shadows move and Emmett orders one of his men to open the cell door.

You fight the black dots at the sides of your vision, leaking until you’ve accepted the reality of yourself going unconscious. As your body slouches to the side, hands ruthlessly grasp under your arms and drag you to your feet. 

“Everyone has a breaking point.”

—

“What do you mean,” John glares at Laswell, his arms crossed over his chest; hands tightly grasping at his biceps. “You can’t find her?”

“The tracker was old, John,” the woman tries to explain, furiously typing at her computer that rests on the table in front of her—her spine bent over as the rest of the One-Four-One stay in a limbo of anxious looks. “To get it working again, it would need something to restart it. I don’t know if you can see,” Kate’s eyes are hard as they lock with his, “but I can’t do anything if she’s not here first.”

“Well of course she’d not bloody here Laswell, fucking Kinsman has her!” He shouts, hands moving out in a display of aggression. 

“Captain,” Kate rises to the challenge, hand moving flat to the table and glaring with the heat of a thousand missiles. “Do not take that tone with me.” 

John snarls and jerks his head away, feet on the ground trading weight. 

The man was borderline feral—all snapping teeth and sharp glances. Gaz had seen him like this only a handful of times, MacTavish even fewer. Ghost, of course, knew, but even his brown eyes wouldn’t leave his Captain, absorbed in the way he was unable to stay still for even a moment. He was in full gear, too. Had put it on directly after returning to a local base. 

John was ready to go to war, down to the rifle that swung from a strap at his side, the ammunition stuffed to his chest—sidearm at his thigh. A rabid dog with intelligence and the knowledge of where teeth needed to be applied to a neck for a clean kill. Simon doubted he wanted it to be clean.

John was ready to rip people to pieces. 

“Give me something,” the Captain says in a low growl, beard shifting. “Give me what I need.”

Kate splays her hands. “All we have is surveillance of a car leaving the area—the smoke covers all chances of the drone we had flying picking up a clear picture. John,” Laswell eases, standing up, “there’s only so much we can do. We need to wait—”

“We can’t bloody wait,” Gaz speaks up, “What’ll he do to her in the meantime?”

“Garrick’s right, we need to be on the ground with this.” Johnny nods, mohawk bobbing. “That’s one of our own—we’re not sitting around with our thumbs up our arses, Laswell. Not with Hart.”

Simon blinks, humming. Laswell’s eyes shift to him, near pleading for one to be on her side with this and see sense. Ghost shrugs. “I’m with them. Hart’s one of our own; we’ll do what needs to be done.”

John’s chest swells with pride while his eyes get stuck on your file on the table, your printed picture, and your black ink—he’d never loved an image more, but nothing could beat the real thing. He needed you back. He’d gone through hell with you for his entire life; you’d suffered with him and only locked your hands together and held on tighter. 

That was love—that was duty.

John Price wasn’t against skewing his morals for the sake of your safety. You would always be his most important mission. The man didn’t want to think about what might happen if he found you too late.

“Give me the video of the vehicle,” he grunts, jaw tight and his eyes beady. His body slightly leans forward to Kate, love going lower. “Or I’m going out there myself.” 

Laswell frowns tightly at him. 

“I just sent it into forensics—they’re trying to get a match. Go out if you want, but I won’t be able to stop the firestorm that comes out of it.”

She closes her laptop and moves past him, sending one last comment into the stone man as he towers ever taller.

“She’s strong, John. If you’re smart, you’ll keep yourself out of the crossfire until we have a definitive hit.” 

Her voice echoes from behind him as his hands slowly move to clench into knuckle-whitening fists.

“If Kinsman gets a tip we’re still onto him—you’ll never see Hart again.”

—

Day Three:

Your days start blending. One moment you hear the snapping of your bones, and then the next you’re wasting away in this cell—ears ringing and eyes buggy. So much blood. Blood on the walls—blood on the chair they strap you into in the other room; even stuck in the groves of your flesh. 

You don’t think you can stop closing your eyes and seeing a deer at the bottom of a bridge drop-off. It’s stuck in your head like a virus; those car lights in the back of your mind just waiting for you. 

There’s no sense as to what they do to you—all its purpose is, is to prove a point to Emmett. A sort of broken retribution for your interference and his fingers. 

Vain man, really. You’d told him as much when he was watching you get your own finger torn off my pliers; spit it at him as the blood from your bitten tongue stayed his suit. You remember the feeling of the knuckle popping first, and then the burning heat of the flesh being twisted to the side. Two firm yanks and the flesh had sprung like elastic, fissuring, the tendon snapping. 

You think you blacked out after that, but you can’t be sure. All you remember doing is screaming. 

You woke up with your left pinkie finger completely gone, resting outside in the hallway to mock you from past the bars. Your eyes could see the bone sticking out of it, and all that was left on you was a badly cauterized stump. 

When Emmett had come to gloat, you started slurring out laughter. 

“I’m going to rip you apart.” Your broken body had jerked back and forth like a marionette doll, only succeeding in spreading more red over the floors as green eyes widened and went dumbfounded. 

It sounded like a choking fish.

All he’d done was left, quickly passing the pinkie left limp on the ground.

Day five:

You can’t move your body as they dump you back into the chair—the drain below you flooded over with crimson and bits of hair; vomit and torn-off fingernails. You’re unable to open your eyelids fully. 

A hand grasps at your face, yanking it up into the overhead light until a bucket of water is dumped directly over your head. Your body jerks, coughing and darting forward until you’re shoved to the back of the chair and the rope is tied around the front of your shoulders, the second at your wrists.

Trying to suck down air, you shiver with the strength of an earthquake. Whoever said that they would never be afraid while being tortured was a liar; whoever thinks that they would be able to push through it—a fraud. Emmett was right, everyone had a breaking point.

But you admitted yours would only come after your death.

Your legs are seized, bent up as you hiss as well as you’re able, teeth snapping. 

They’re dumped back down into a bucket of ice-cold water as droplets drip from your nose—wet skin for the moment only holding streaks of gore. Even with your scattered mind, you know what this means. 

Heart tight and eyes widening, you try to push back in the chair; try to fight the rope and the way your body won’t respond. 

A battery is rolled up beside you on a metal cart. Jumper cables. 

There’s a low chuckle at the way your face goes fearful. 

—

John shoves open the door to Laswell’s temporary office, already talking before it hits the far wall. 

“Do we have her?” His hands move beside him, brushing the grip of his sidearm. He hadn’t been out of his full gear for more than five minutes in days. Waiting day and night for any word; sleeping in it, eating in it. The forensics team had been stumped, unable to get more than a model out of the picture. 

But this might finally give him something to act on. 

Kate is moving, grabbing documents and her laptop, speeding past him and out of the door. 

“Kate!” John shouts, following after. “Hey,” he calls, grabbing at her arm to stop her. 

The woman only halts to say, quickly, “We have a hit. Follow me.”

John’s heart is rampaging, pulse wild under his skin as his gloved hands twitch. Finally. He can only smoke so many cigars—only think of so many scenarios until he feels he needs to vomit. You’d been gone for too long. Every moment had been like trying to walk with a cloth over his head; lost. 

He’d grown stiff. Stiffer than normal. Everyone had seen it.

“Where is it, then?” John asks as Laswell pushes open the door to the meeting room, the other three already inside.

“A property outside of Copenhagen—bought through a proxy on a fund that was linked to blood money in South America; it all went directly back to Kinsman. It was found only ten minutes ago.” A pause. Electricity in the air. “But that’s not how we found it.”

“How,” Simon asks, moving closer. 

John gives the woman his full undivided attention, hands moving to rest at his collar in a soothing gesture. 

“Her tracker came back on.” Eyes go wide, all sharing rapid glances as Kate opens her laptop and opens a man, turning the device for them to see. “Same location.”

Johnny blinks, his eyes narrowing. “And what does that mean?”

“That can’t have just done that by itself,” Gaz mutters, brown eyes sliding over to John who’s stiller than a wolf. The Sergeant pauses. 

His eyes are dead set on that screen. His thighs were so tense it was nearly like the Captain was about to sprint out of the room. Kyle’s face goes blank at that, never quite seeing the extent that your disappearance had on the man. His superior had bags under his eyes; far more pale than usual. His apparel was ruffled, too. Even in the more serious of situations, the Sergeant had never seen John so…out of it. He was always the one with the even head, even if he had a short fuse with certain things. Nothing was ever done without thought, he should say. 

But this is something else. 

“Torture,” Simon gives his two cents and John’s cheek twitches at the word. “Electrocution. They jump-started it and didn’t even know.” 

“Bloody Jesus,” John breathes. Everyone had already had a hunch, but no one had wanted to name it. 

It’s a low rumble that makes the rest of them freeze, though. It was so dead in tone that it even made Kyle’s spine lock up; Johnny’s eyes went a smidgen upward. Simon, although his face was covered, felt his lips twitch.

John looks at nothing but that dot on the computer screen.

“Am I green, Laswell?”

Kate looks at John. It’s like setting a hellhound loose. 

“You’re green, Captain.”

—

You’re tossed into the cell and your body rolls along the floor, bouncing and flinching until your back slams into the wall. Air is forced from your lungs, coming out in a loud grunt before you land on your stomach in a heap. Staying there, your nerves are fried. 

Every moment you think the twitching of your fingers will stop—the dance of your muscles responding to the aftereffects of electrocution, it only starts back up again. Your eyes blink rapidly; your clothes have the scent of smoke to them. 

Gasping for breath, you feel like you’re drowning and being set on fire all at once. 

Yet the question in your head was a simple one, one you’d been asking for days.

Where was John?

Emmett enters the cell, clicking his tongue as the metal hinges squeak. 

“I’m not surprised it’s taking this long,” he explains. “But I am surprised you’re still alive, admittingly.” 

A boot comes out and places itself atop your shoulder, pressing down slowly until its full weight is on top of you. Your mouth opens in a shuddering sound of a dying animal, blood dripping from your ears and nose. 

“I know you’ve taken torture before—even taken a part of it,” Kinsman sighs. “But, shit Hart, you really do scare me when I know you’re strong enough to get through th—”

Your body jolts up, grappling Emmet’s leg and twisting it to the side. Regardless of pain—of agony—there’s such primal rage inside of you that what little adrenaline you can bring forth is all that more addictive. 

The man collapses in a heap, gasping, but you’re already on top of him, wrestling your hand to his neck, missing finger and all. Blood moves, staining his precious suit and dripping from your mouth into his hairline. You bare down your weight on him, teeth clenched and eyes wild—one orb holding nothing but red from burst veins and the other full of a vicious gleam of ferality. 

Hands snap up to your wrists, mouth opening in flapping panic. 

But Emmett has grown weak; he’s out of practice. All of those years out of the SAS, giving up on the training of the body to match the mind. The idiot wasn’t even carrying a gun when he walked into the cell of a charging stag, its antlers dripping gore, sharper than any knife. 

When the flaps of his eyes fall there’s no gloating speech—there’s no snort of a tall and proper victor. All you do is take the front of his face, grasp it, and start sending his skull back into the concrete floors. 

Crack.

…Crack.

….Crack.

Only when the sound of his head breaking open meets your ringing ears, do you force your wheezing lungs to take a large breath. 

Emmet Kinsman died as he lived. 

A fucking piece of shit.

“Fuck you,” you spit on his corpse, saliva bloody; his jaw is loose as you release the man’s face, eyes bulging. Falling to the side, you groan in pain, your body curling into itself until you resemble a sleeping fawn. You’re shaking more and more with every second, coughing with the force of an earthquake until your shredded vocal chores force you to stop. 

But the brain is a funny thing. 

In times of danger, survival is the only thing that takes priority. It was why, in a long shove of your hand to the floor, with your bones creaking and your vomit meeting the ground, you’re able to stand. It isn’t enough to help you heal the snapped bone of your right leg, however, and in a steadily failing stupor, you drag it behind you. In this state, nothing else matters to you besides a simple command: get out.

Your shoulder slaps the metal of the cell as you stumble out of it, careening into the far wall and letting out a loud shout. 

Eyes fluttering, you connect your temple to the cool concrete, trying to breathe. 

It hurts too much, your mind says. God, I can’t feel my limbs. 

A long trail of blood follows you down the hallway as you slide along the wall, using it as a brace. 

You want to see John, you whisper inside of your head. You want to be held by him—be taken into his chest; cared for away from all of this fighting. 

A trip back to Herefordshire with him, to go deep into the country together; rest in the green grass where no one can find you for just a few good hours. It didn’t have to be forever, you would say. Just a few hours. A few hours of sky and earth wrapped in a time loop of just your own. 

You want to kiss him there. In the open, out in the wild. You want to stay by his side, your mind thinks as you stumble over the three dead bodies in the left corridor, bullet wounds in their heads. You want to be by his side forever, no more gaps in years, not more longing. It’s so close you can nearly reach out and grasp it—

Your name is yelled on a heavy breath, and hands capture your shoulders as you fall straight into them with no more strength.

Blue eyes lock with yours as you’re hurriedly settled to the ground, body limp and eyes trying to stay open. 

Blue eyes on a grassy hill.

“Hart, fucking hell.” Hands move your body, pressing and sliding—finding every opening and spreading blood like water. “Fucking hell! Hey!”

You’re yelled at, and the ripping of pouches and the familiar sound of bandages being wrapped come to the back of your brain. A hand shakes your head, locked under your chin as you take slow, broken, breaths. 

“Please, fuck sake, please,” it’s a desperate growl, so familiar and yet a world away. Your body is moved and manipulated as every leaking wound is packed with so much gauze it hangs out of you like you’re a mummy. The burns along your flesh are crust and infected, open skin peeling back. 

But the pain is lesser now. Easier to manage. 

There’s such a ruckus that it’s hard to focus on John—the man on the hill. In the grass and the wind. Brown hair moves in the breeze as white clouds roll past. On the air, there’s the scent of rain, and in the far distance, you can see a group of ten deer grazing, ears twitching.

Maybe you’ll ask them if they blame their leader, or the two trucks on the end of a bridge.

“Keep your eyes on me!” You blink into John’s tiny blues, that mist rolling back. You stare for a moment as he frantically screams into his radio; night vision rig on his head and all-black gear covering him from you. His face is pale, his eyes glossy. “Look at me, hey,” he blinks as he notices you watching, surging forward. “Hey, keep 'em open, yeah? You keep them fucking open, Love.” 

Your chest is heavy. 

“John,” you push out a flicker coming to your lips as your vision slightly unblurs itself to the sight of a flood of blood on the man’s body—an unimaginable amount.

“I’m ‘ere,” his accent grows deeper with emotion, one hand holding your cheek and the other at your shoulder, keeping you still to stop any additional damage. “I’ve got you, you understand me? I’m not letting you go, so don’t you think that I will.” 

It’s a double-edged sword.

A smile peels back your chapped lips, red running from the corner of your mouth. You glance at his stained gear again. The abyss swirls at the corners of your eyes.

“Is that your blood, or mine, John Price?” 

You hear him scream for a medic, and then it all goes numb.

—

You dream of deer on a hill, but every time you search for John, he isn’t there. You go past rivers—

“She’s dropping!”

“Get me the defibrillator!”

—past copses. Your voice goes high and low, but all the while you look, there’s nothing but a nagging feeling in the back of your head that you shouldn’t be here.

“Again!”

It’s a strange nagging, truly. Like falling asleep in the middle of the day and waking up in the night without any remembrance of what had happened prior. A displacement of the mind. 

“We’ve got a pulse, Doctor, do we stop and—”

“No, I need to finish off the internal bleeding or else she won’t make it another day. Get me the cauterizer, now.”

You blink and grip your chest, a sudden pain sharp in your heart as the grass moves about your ankles. Coughing, you bend over, your eyes fluttering rapidly. In the deepest part of your eardrum, you hear a murmur of a voice you can’t place.

“The man came back, again. He’s been out there for days. He just…sits there, waiting until someone tells him something. He can’t come in, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sure hearing his voice would help more than mine, but you’re in too much of an unstable condition for that. If you get another infection, you won’t…hm, I shouldn’t talk about that. Everyone in school said only to talk positively to patients when they’re like this. I…I’m sure he’ll be able to come in soon. I think everyone calls him John if that rings a bell?”

“John?” Your eyes flutter open, sharp light above you making you snap them back closed. No one answers. 

It’s a long moment before you find the strength to breathe in the oxygen from the mask over your face, taking a long and deep inhale before a slight cough makes your abdomen tight. You flinch at the pull of stitches, all coming from so many places, that it’s unwise to move too much. 

Gradually, you open back up your eyes, pushing past the sting. Inside of your throat, the skin is so dried out you can feel it cracking at every articulation of your words. 

“Where's…John?” When you shift your head to the side, no one’s there. No one’s even in the room, either.

Blinking through the haze, your lips twitch on your face, skin tight. With a slap of your weak hand, you grasp the oxygen mask and pull it down to your neck, grunting in mild annoyance at the medicated numbness of your form. 

Your leg is in a cast—and your left side is tightly bound by wrappings to hide away the burns where skin grafts most likely live. With a glance, you see the missing pinky and the bandages that cover the strange remnants. 

The facial wound will scar, you know, but right now it’s patched over and healing. That’s all you can ask for. 

Sighing long, you blink slowly at the ceiling, licking your lips. You need water.

Outside, the murmurs are missed to you as your unmarred hand reaches for the nightstand table, where a half-drunk bottle of water sits next to a tray of food. Even if your stomach rumbles, water takes precedence. Your throat was like the Sahara desert.

“Forget something, John?”

“Bloody fork. The bastard gave me the slip. Dropped mine, needed to go back and grab another.”

“Oh, that’s alright—you could have asked one of us to get one for you. We’d hate for you to miss any time for visiting hours.”

“It’s fine; gets me moving, eh?”

“Just grab us if you need anything else!”

A low grunt is accented by the opening of the door; immediately you tense and pause, neck fighting itself to shift forward once more.

Wide blues lock with your own, and it’s like every pain fades away. 

John’s jaw is slack hidden under the layers of his beard bristles, brows going atop his head in an instant. The sound of a dropping metal utensil echoes through the room. 

You both stare at one another for a long time, and the murmur of nurses accumulates to some peaking through the crack; their expressions also going to shock. A few scurry off, probably to get a doctor. 

“What?” Your hoarse voice asks, unnerved by this. 

At the sound of your voice, John flinches forward on his boots. The nurses get shut out with beaming faces as the barrier closes with a small click of metal.

Walking to the side of your bed, John clears his throat, eyes looking you up and down in two glances. A million things are hidden in them. After an opening and closing of his mouth, which you watch closely while squinting, he speaks.

“How are we feeling, then?” You breathe slowly and in tiny puffs. John looks at the oxygen mask as if telling you to put it back on, but you refuse for a moment. 

“Like shit,” you utter, voice cracking.

With a huff, John pushes away your reaching hand and gets the water himself, unscrewing it. Bringing it to your lips, you take it down as he speaks.

“Easy, Love.” 

When you’d had your fill and the ache settled, you brought a hand to your head and rubbed at your injured cheek before John sighed and grabbed at it, intertwining his fingers with yours and lowering the limb back to your chest.

You stare at him, and he stares at you. 

“I don’t know what to ask,” you confess. 

“You don’t have to ask anything,” John mutters, and his face is tight with worry. “You’ve been in a coma for three weeks, all you need to do is ease back into it.”

Your eyes snap back.

“Tell me if it hurts,” He speaks slowly, moving on one word at a time so the realization doesn’t dwell in your brain. “I can get someone to come in, yeah?”

Your hand in his burns, and John pulls at the chair by the nightstand until he’s able to sit down in it fully with a tiny grunt.

“No,” you say, “no, it’s…I’m fine.”

Better now that you’re here, but your body is tense. Three weeks?

“Just need to take it easy,” the man states, thumb running up and down your knuckles. “You’ll be better soon.”

A dry look is sent his way, and he hides a soft quirk on his lips. “You’ll be better, Love.”

You hum, head moving back more heavily into the pillow. 

“When do I get to go back?”

“When you’re healed,” he grunts. “Not a fuckin’ moment sooner.”

“We get anything on the other locations of the—”

“Hart,” you’re interrupted. Blue eyes stare at you heavily, digging past every shield you’d put up and every fear. What happened was still heavy in your mind; it pained you to imagine it, even the way John had found you—even if it was all glimpses. “Slow down. That’s not an order coming from a soldier, it’s a caution from an old friend.” John says, squeezing your flesh. His other hand comes to your shoulder, sitting there heavily. 

“Breathe,” he orders, face gruff. “We always figure it out.” 

You close your eyes and sigh, frowning. 

A low chuckle moves along the air a second later. 

“Never sit down, do you?” A flicker dances over your lips like a butterfly. “Impossible, you are.”

“You’re one to talk,” you huff, eyes shifting back to him. 

He’s smiling at you, and you can’t help but mirror it right back at the sight. Your facial injury pulls and tightens, but you would welcome an ache like that for as long as it stayed. A scar born of the stretch of lips is one well-earned. Only John could ever make it a reality.

The man stares at your lips, his wide build eager to stay over you in this state. He can’t stop himself from caressing your skin; to feel you alive and breathing. Talking.

“Scared me,” John admits under his breath. 

You blink, your smile fading slowly until it was like it was never there. Your body builds with guilt; also something only he could bring. “I’m sorry, John.” 

A small thinning of his lips is what you get, accented by a hum. 

“Hart,” he grunts. “I…”

John’s eyes closed for a moment before opening back up—spearing you with their gaze. Your tired eyes crinkle in confusion.

“What is it?” Over the tingle of your flesh from where he touches you, it isn’t hard to forget the world is around you when he’s here like this. You’re nearly trapped by his eyes, yet you welcome it eagerly. His voice moves out, accent and natural gravel, all. 

“I love you.” 

Your nose lets a chuff exit. Was that all?

“I love you, too, John—”

“No, Hart,” he pushes slightly harder, moving closer and licking his lips as he glances away. “No,” John looks you dead in the eye as you lay here battered and broken within an inch of your life—a risk that you took willingly as if it had meant nothing. The both of you weren’t new to this; you both knew that on any day you or he would do it over and over again until it resulted in death. That was the way of this game; this trial. 

You had both always been content with that, but when had it changed? 

Why was the thought of losing you more fear-invoking than anything else he’d ever encountered?

You watch him as his lips utter the words, lips close to yours and your eyes locked. 

“I love you.” 

Your voice is caught in your throat, stuck in the throws of a quick gasp. Not blinking, the man waits for you—waits for an answer to the earth-shattering confession. But it all came far easier than you would ever admit to anybody besides him. It was already known, after all. 

All that remained was the pesky words.

“I love you, too.” You beam, words low with intimacy. “I think I always have.”

John chuckles, a large smile pushing at his reddening cheeks. “Good,” he nods, clearing his throat. “Good,” he says again. “Well, I—”

You softly connect your lips with his, and you feel him pause, breathing you down for a moment as hearts beat at the same tempo. He sighs, one hand coming up to capture your cheek, holding it there for you as you sag into it and live in this everlasting moment. 

It’s there you had a revelation.

It was never Hart to him. John had never been calling you that. 

He’d always just been saying Heart.

You breathe out a laugh, when you separate, beaming in a happiness you thought was long gone from you—stolen in the dark nights and sold through even darker deeds. Neither of you was worthy of this, of the love that breeds in broken things. Yet, here it is regardless. Here, among blood and the blue eyes of a man you’d known since knowing anything became important. You had always known it was John. And finally, finally, finally.

“I would marry you in an instant, John Price,” you breathe when you separate, not weak enough to stop the words from exiting from the deepest part of your soul.

His crinkled eyes watch, reverently gazing at every blemish and mark; everything he could learn new again. John’s eyes are as soft as you ever imagined them to be, and he gives them over freely to you.

He kisses you again and leaves the taste of his heavy, happy, chuckle tingling across your lips.

“Seems I’d better get on that, then.”

A/N: This fic is strangely nostalgic for me even if I just wrote it - I remember the first ever fic I posted on here was a rescue fic, as well as a John Price fic; it's amazing to see how far I've come in regards to overall content/story building and how my understanding of the character has evolved. This might not be the best work I've posted on my blog, but I'm glad to say I'm proud of myself and how far I've come. It's so wonderful that I can have this feeling for such a big moment and still feel so drawn back to the past at the same time. Totally not tearing up at the thought rn.

Thank you all very much for your support.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting , @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #cod mw22 #call of duty x you #mw2 #mw2 2022 #cod john price #john price #captain john price #captain price #cod price #john price call of duty #john price cod #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod mw #cod x female reader #john price x female reader #x fem!reader #captain price x female reader #female reader #cod mw x reader #mw x reader

[norrisleclercf1]

Speaking of brat readerrrrr

Seb leaves to go get some things and gave her clear instructions not to do anything til he’s back but the second Charles his home she’s on his lap riding his thigh to get her release just for seb to come home and find her like that🫠🫣

Am I projecting? I’m projecting

A/N: Brat reader is back with Seb and Charles and she'd totally do this, and sweet Charles would be so clueless also, got a little out of hand in the end, have no shame

You whine, as Seb pushes you down into the couch staring at you, you who was currently only wearing an old ferrari t-shirt and nothing else, being a brat yet again. You just wanted one simple orgasm, but Sebastian was being a dick and refusing to help you out.

"I have told you to behave yourself and here you are acting like a whore. You even interrupted that important meeting because you don't know how to be a good girl." Sebastian sighs, with a slight squeeze of your throat, you arch up and whine spreading your legs.

"No, good girls get orgasms, bad girls stay here and don't touch themselves until I get back, do you understand?" You narrow your eyes, suddenly you remember something and go soft under his hold and sigh. "M sorry, I'll wait." You whisper, giving your best innocent look.

Sebastian smiles gently and lets go of your throat and kissing you sweetly. "Be a good girl, I'm going to run some errands, when i get back and you've been good maybe I'll let you sit on my face." You keen under that idea, but you were you, knowing damn well who'd be home soon. "Okay," You breath and Sebastian smiles, giving you a kiss on the forehead and leaving the apartment.

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

Hearing the keys jingle in the door, it's shoved open as Charles trudges through the door holding his bags. You sit on the couch, legs under you to hide your naked lower half from your tired and unsuspecting boyfriend.

"Hi, Charlie." You giggle, Charles looks over and smiles, his body shagging in relif at one of you being here to greet him. "Hello, my gorgeous girl," Charles walks over and leans down, kissing you so gently it felt like clouds on your lips. "Where's Sebastian?" Looking around the apartment, he notices the lack of the German.

"Went to run some errands, um Charles, I need help with something," You whisper, looking away but Charles grabs your chin and makes you look at him. "Baby, look at me, what'd wrong?" You smirk, knowing you were sinking your teeth into Charles.

Sweet, sweet, helpful and innocent Charles was about to join you in being in trouble with Sebastian. Of course, Charles would never believe you'd be a brat, you were just his good girl, and here you were manipulating that boy more than Ferrari.

"Help me?" You drop your legs slowly and spread them out, showing off how wet and puffy you were from how much you ached. "Awww love, did you get needy while Seb was gone?" Hook, line, and sinker. It was far too easy-to-get Charles to help you. "Yes, he's been gone so long and you're here and you know he'd be okay with you helping me. Please Charlie, I need you." Moving you flip each other where he's sitting on the couch and you're straddling his lap.

"Maybe we should wait for Seb," Charles hums, but you shake your head no. "Nooooo, you don't even have to fuck me, I'll ride your thigh, just please Charles, it hurts so much." You play at his emotions, making your eyes glossy, like you were about to cry. "Baby," He sighs, hands holding onto your waist and lowering you onto his thigh. "Fuck, but make it quick." Charles groans, feeling how wet you are, creating a damp spot on his sweats.

You gingerly move your hips back and forth, getting a good rhythm. Charles groans, holding your hips and helps you, but he moves around and wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. He can't help himself and raises your shirt and sucks in one of your tits. Whimpering you move faster, feeling that tug in your stomach as Charles nips and sucks on your tits drawing you closer.

"Mhm, fuckkkk," You whimper practically bouncing on Charles thigh, the two of you are so wrapped up in each other, you don't hear the door open or close. Sebastian hears the moans and sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. "Charlie, fuck m close," You cry the two of you so wrapped up in each other. "You can cum pretty girl," He groans, fuck Charles was so hard he might even come untouched.

Sebastian gently puts down his bags and walks up to you. Charles groans and looks up about to greet the older driver when Sebastian reachs up and wraps his hand around your throat and picks you off Charles. "Nooo," You cry, feeling that little bubble burst before you could cum. "Tsk tsk tsk, I gave you specific instructions, which were what?" He groans, trying to control himself, seeing the utter mess that is Charles.

He has such a blessed-out face, that Sebastian feels his shorts grow tight, seeing the messy hair, swollen lips and the slight dark spot where Charles's cock had made it wet. "Not to touch myself, and I didn't Sebby. Charles was touching me," You beg, but Sebastian sighs and lets you go. "Baby, you're about to learn the hard way." Sebastian steps forward and gathers a healthy amount of Charles's hair.

"You're going to sit there, no touching, me, Charlie, or yourself. And you're going to do that, as I fuck Charles. Do you understand?" Sebastian asks, Charles moaning as Seb pulls on his hair, throat back as Sebastian groans, Charles being his sweet baby. "Please, please Sebby, I'll be good." You beg, hating this punishment.

"Nope, you were bad, Charles was innocent in all this, so I'm going to reward him. On your knees baby boy." Charles moves quick getting on his knees while Sebastian moves pulling down his shorts and pulls out his cock. "You're going to learn the hard way on how to be good, maybe then you'll finally learn your lesson." Charles groans and reaches out but Seb moves pressing his tip against Charles mouth who opens it happily and sucks his boyfriend down. "Now, be a good girl and watch how to suck cock properly." Sebastian groans, as Charles takes him down with ease.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 scenario #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 smut #poly!f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc blurb #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel smut #sebastian vettel x reader x charles leclerc

[toji-girl]

I hate pregnancy but ur pregnant reader fics omgaaah have you written this yet? Reader&gojo Smooch smooch 👉👌 to induce labor 🤯

sgji please this has me giggling and I have not yet, with Satoru anyway until now! also, please note that this is not realistic in any way lmao about ten to fifteen percent of women's water breaks naturally, and usually, not like this nor does labor or anything like that happen so fast really! tis all for fanfic purposes!!

tags: 18+ only content - mdni + pregnant! fem reader + explicit smut + going into labor + parental freakout

You walked around the house with your hand under your belly feeling your daughter kick wildly, just as much as you wanted her out she wanted to stay inside warm and cozy no matter what you tried to do.

She was stubborn just like her father is.

It also seemed that she was giving you a sweet tooth to the point that anything new Satoru brought home you ended up snatching it from his spot when he wasn't looking only to see him pout like a child.

However, you were glad he was stubborn when it came to him helping you go into labor. He bought the best ball for you to bounce on, only making sure you went to the world's best doctors and he ordered a slew of spicy things in order to help move things along.

Even during a regular movie night, you had him twist and pinch your nipples, the stimulation was supposed to help to put you into labor until your husband suggested something else to move things along.

"'Toru!" You cried out brokenly, your fingers gripped the pillow that lay under your head while he lay behind you making sure your leg was hooked over his arm as he thrust into you slowly over and over again.

Everything felt much more sensitive with all the blood rushing to your cunt that leaked around him as you tried your best to push back against him wanting to feel him fully, he was scared that it'd hurt.

You turned your head to look at him with glassy eyes, red and pricked with tears as you pouted, your bottom lip quivering. "More! I need more!" You told him in half a whine and growl moaning his name.

Satoru obliged and lifted your leg up higher. "I don't want to hurt either of my babies, tell me if it's painful." He husked against your mouth when he leaned in for a soft kiss that made you melt for him.

His tongue slid and stroked against yours in an erotic dance as he fucked into you deeper until he bottomed out feeling your back bow as you arched into him more, your jaw going slack with pleasure.

His free hand roamed over your belly and then to your breasts pinching and twisting your nipples as he littered your shoulders with open-mouthed kisses that added to the cloud of bliss he put you on.

"Cum please for fucks sake make me cum!" You told him reaching down to circle your clit as you tried your best to buck up against him seeking more of what he could offer. Satoru chuckled at hearing you.

He hurried his pace going deeper with his strokes feeling your pussy squeeze him tight and wet he swore you were going to rip his dick right off. "You're squeezin' me so tight sweetheart, cum for me."

You could feel him throb and twitch before releasing thick ropes of cum that pushed you into your own orgasm making you squeal loud and long feeling a strong sensation flow through you as your muscles contracted as you threw your head back into Satoru's shoulder.

Satoru slowed his pace down fucking his cum deeper into you only to feel a rush of warmth gush between your legs causing him to pull out slowly and gently, his eyes wide and wild. "Was that your water that broke?" He asked sitting up as he looked between your legs.

When you rolled to your back he could see more of the clear fluid as you nodded gripping the blanket for a different reason, your contractions coming in strong and fast making you gasp and grunt.

"Looks like we're going to be meeting our baby girl soon." He muttered still staring down between your legs. All the information he took in from the internet couldn't prepare him for the real deal however as he felt the touch of a parent's first anxious moment.

#💌incoming #tw: pregnancy #idk how i feel about this one lmaoo #but if I kept trying to change it then this would've sat in my inbox forever kdjfb #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo x you

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,882

Warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, language, steamy kisses, pillow walls

A/N: Ah yes, trauma dumping before things get super spicy!!! Love the communication, it’s giving this could be a great relationship but it’s complicated. If you want to be included in the tag list, you MUST have your age in your bio PLEASE!!! Thank you!!

Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five

Your breathless words had the world crashing down around Satoru as he stared at your flushed face. His eyes widened as he released you, his own heart hammering in his chest. He had never lost control like that before! But there was this pull in his chest, one that screamed that he needed to protect you from the walking douchebag with black hair away from his; no, what the fuck? Not his girl, his client! 

“Holy fuck, I'm sorry! Shit, uhm, I shouldn't have done that.” Satoru grumbled, scrubbing his hands down his face. “I’m sorry.”

Your fingers trailed slowly over your lips. They were still tingling. “No, it's okay. I almost blew our cover.” Satoru slowly dragged his hands down his face, his eyes transfixed on you as you spoke. “That was all part of the act. If you didn't do that, it wouldn't have looked as convincing.”  Satoru visibly seemed to relax, shoulders slumping as he sighed.

“Thank fuck.” 

“It was just weird.” 

“I'm sorry?”A white eyebrow cocked up at your words. “Me kissing you was weird? Was it bad?” 

Your face flushed more, the heat spreading across your cheeks before setting over your chest. “Oh god, that came out wrong!” Your hands shot up in defense. “I-I didn't mean like that, Satoru! I just—I haven't kissed anyone in over a year and a half. So I guess I just—yeah, I’m rusty.”

“No,” you jerked your head up, “no, it was nice.” Stunning blue eyes softened, making you swallow hard. He thought it was nice. He is the hottest man on the planet, and ESCORT thought kissing you was nice.

What the fuck was this life?

Snapping out of the trance Satoru had you in; you cleared your throat. “I-I think I’m gonna take a s-shower!” You tossed the extra pillow to the futon on the floor. “Oh, and uhm, that kiss was nice for me too.” You turned, bolting for the bathroom before slamming the door. 

You slowly slid down it, sitting on the ground as you touched your lips. Satoru had such soft lips. It felt really good being kissed like you were wanted. No, no, it was an act! It's all an act. An act that had Satoru pacing the floor as he ran his hand through his hair.

It was only once he heard the shower running that he sat on the ground. What the fuck was that?! His pale skin was almost red as he tugged at white tufts of hair. He never got flustered with clients before! Maybe he was going insane. He must be because his mind keeps replaying the kiss repeatedly. 

The way you stiffened, how your hands gripped him so tight as he kissed you like he had never kissed a client before. Satoru slapped both his cheeks before shaking his head. That breathtaking kiss was nothing more than him doing his job. He was looking out for you as a client. Yeah, that was it. That asshole of a guy was the reason his heart was still racing as he thought of you and your lips.

By some miracle, both of you managed to pull your thoughts away from the kiss. You showered before switching with Satoru. He finally came out ten minutes later, grinning as he witnessed you placing the four extra pillows down the middle of the futon. You fluffed, pushed, and sat back to assess your constriction before repeating the process repeatedly until Satoru barked out a laugh from behind.

“Quit the impressive wall you’ve built.” Looking over your shoulder, you watched Satoru pull a tank top over his head. He slowly pulled it down over chiseled abs that had to have been crafted by a Renaissance artisan. Because there was no way those were real. “I’ve never had a client do that before.”

”Please don’t take it personally.” You whispered under your breath before fluffing another pillow. “It makes me feel a bit better; I haven’t shared a bed with anyone in a while.”

“Hey, no worries, whatever makes you feel comfortable, you keep doing it.”

God, why was he so nice? Sure, you paid him the big bucks to pretend to be your boyfriend. But that didn’t mean he had to be so understanding and kind regarding your antics. If anything, you would have assumed your pillow wall would have irritated anyone. You know for a fact that Toji would have hated it.

His kind, understanding patience had you transfixed on his movements as you both settled into bed. You were on your side, facing him as he stared at the ceiling, his hands resting behind his head. The silence wasn’t at all awkward. It was comforting in a way. You didn’t have to force yourselves to make dreadful small talk; you could enjoy the silence. 

The silence, however, had questions eating away at your insides. “Satoru?” Your voice mingled with chirping crickets and the warm spring breeze outside. You waited until his head turned in your direction before you continued. “Would it be okay if I asked you a question?” His face softened as he nodded his head.

”Of course.” 

“Why did you become an escort?”

Satoru chuckled, rolling onto his side so you both faced each other. “I think I’ve answered that question about a million times, so it’s easy.” His arm snaked around one of the pillows between you, hugging it to his chest. “I come from a pretty influential clan. It’s all about power, money, and success with them, and being an only child, they expected a lot from me.” His eyes rolled. “The old geezers kept going about when I would get married and have my own kids. And I didn't want anyone else feeling that way.” A cunning smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “So, I became an escort to help people.” He snickered, hugging the pillow tighter. “Plus, I get to annoy those controlling old farts. So it’s a win-win for me. But I still handle my family affairs; being an escort is like my second job.” His words were genuine, and they had you smiling.

”That’s actually really sweet.” You shifted, inching just a bit closer to him. “You seem like a genuinely nice guy, doing stuff like this for strangers.” You giggled nervously, shaking your head. “That speaks volumes; I know you’re a nice guy, but I don’t know a thing about you.”

”I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Honestly.”

“Really?”

“Really.” 

“Okay, so do you like sleeping with your clients? Or has sex lost its spark?” You watched him curiously.

He shrugged a shoulder, smirking. “Sex is still good when it's with a good partner. But I honestly don't sleep with a majority of my clients. One because, well, let's be honest, they can't afford it. I charge double the price of a single day for sex. So that's ¥240,000.” 

“For sex?!” 

“Yep! So people can't afford it, especially when I do family events like this. But I usually refuse; I don't particularly like sleeping with someone unless I know them. You know?” 

You hummed, and Satoru grinned, inching himself closer. Another one of your constructed pillows shifted out of the way. “I understand. I'm glad you have the right to refuse.” He nodded, blue eyes almost sparkling in the light of the moon flooding the room. “Have you ever been in love?” 

“Puppy love, nothing more than that.” Satoru pursed his lips in thought. “But I'm not opposed to falling in love someday.”

“God,” you groaned, rolling into your back, “look at me, asking you stupid questions like I’m in high school.”

Satoru sat up, laying on his elbow as he looked down at you with a pout. “No! No, I don't mind! I like talking to you.” He was leaning over you, smiling wide, white strands of hair falling in his face.

“I like talking to you too, Satoru.”

Satoru wanted to reach out and move Y/H/C strands out of your face. To see if your skin felt as soft as it looked, to feel your warmth. His hand moved, and just before it touched you, he dropped it, clenching it in the pillow

“Y/N, could I ask you something?” 

“Seeing as I asked you something, it's only fair.” You smiled, and it was so fucking cute Satoru wanted to bury his face in the pillow and kick his feet. Restraining his urge, he cleared his throat. 

“You mentioned your ex in passing. I'm assuming it was that asshole from earlier?” You frowned, nodding. “I don't like to pry or push my clients, but I keep thinking about what you said. What did you mean by ‘why didn't he?’ when I asked why he broke up with you.”

Sitting up, you sighed, eyes slowly shutting. Remembering that night was something you desperately tried to avoid. Satoru, however, had opened up to you, and he was helping you. Plus, he'd already caught a glimpse of Toji, so you might as well bite the bullet and tell him. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you exhaled slowly, bringing your knees to your chest, hugging them. “Toji Zen’in and I were high school sweethearts. He was my first for everything, so of course, I fell hard. We moved in together when we graduated high school into a small apartment in Kyoto. We got engaged at nineteen, and things went downhill.” Your grip tightened around yourself. “To make a painfully long story short, Toji developed a gambling habit, burning through his savings while I was in college.” The sheets shifted as Satoru sat up, turning to watch you with narrowed eyes.

“So, as a novice baker working at my parent's inn at twenty-one, I faced a dilemma. My fiancè was jobless, nonetheless, and behind on our rent.” The inside of your nose began to burn as tears threatened to escape. “I could leave him and focus on me and my career. I'd be losing my home and the supposed love of my life. Or I could use the money I saved up for pastry school to cover the rent we were behind on.” 

Sheets shifted, and a large hand gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into Satoru’s eyes. “You didn’t.” The tears streaming down your cheeks answered his question. “Y/N—” A sad, broken laugh sounded in your chest. 

“I did. Used everything I saved up to keep us in our apartment for four years.” Nausea churned in your stomach as you laughed a little louder. “After all of that, everything I did, he broke off our engagement. He said he didn't love me, that he couldn't see himself with me five years down the road.” More tears fell down your cheeks, landing on the sheets. “Toji said I was too focused on my career, my dreams, that I was eating too many sweets. That I wasn't as exciting as I used to be.” Satoru’s gaze darkened as you spoke, watching you wipe uselessly at your eyes. “That devastated me, so I packed up, moved to Tokyo, and got pastry training. I haven't been back since.” 

“That fuckin’ dick!” Satoru looked obviously upset over everything coming out of your mouth. “Seriously, you're beautiful, god I hate people like that!” No one should ever be treated the way you have been. To take care of a partner, give up on a dream for someone who you were supposed to marry, to have them pull shit like that. It made Satoru sick to his stomach. 

“Yeah, I'm still trying to get over it. In a way, I guess I'm happy it happened because I feel like I wouldn't have gotten as far in my career as I have. But the scars are still there, along with the trust issues. I can't bring myself to date anyone, let alone have sex.” 

Oh. Satoru perked up at you mentioning sex. You had told him you didn't need sex. The reasoning behind that was like an itch he couldn't scratch. You brought it up, so he might as well take the opportunity to ask while he had that.

“Why is that? The sex part, I mean, you deserve your needs to be taken care of as much as the next person.”

“That my friend is because he broke up with me right after we had sex. Imagine just having an orgasm, and your boyfriend gets off of you and tells you he wants to break up before listing everything wrong with you.”

“Fuckin’ shithead.” Satoru wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest and hugging you as tightly as possible. “I'm so sorry you went through that. He's an asshole for doing that to you.” Satoru’s hand gently stroked your head as your face rested in the crook of his neck. “I hope you recover soon because you deserve to feel loved and happy.” His hand paused as he snickered. “And have mind-blowing sex that makes you forget all about those bullshit excuses he gave you.” 

Gojo Satoru’s words and tone were so genuine you found yourself smiling into his neck. Your arms wrapped around him as you lay down. “I hope so, too. Thank you, Satoru.” 

“No, thank you for sharing that with me; it means a lot.” 

The two of you stayed like that, his hand stroking your hair while you rested on his chest. Your pillow wall lasted thirty minutes and was never constructed again that night or the following one because there was a comfort you and Satoru found in each other.

The two of you had so much fun during the day. Laughing and talking as you would hang around with your family and friends. You told stories and jokes and went to dinners with the wedding party together. He got along well with everyone, and your friends liked him and his looks. At the same time, your parents admired him for helping around the inn, delivering towels to guests, and cleaning up with you. They saw him as a perfect partner, just like you had paid him to do it.

But you were beginning to wonder if it was just his job or just him being Gojo Satoru. The amount of laughing and talking you did in front and behind closed doors didn't feel like he was doing another job. He seemed to be enjoying himself truly. The days seemed to fly by, and it was hard to believe it was Wednesday night. Satoru walked you to the bar your friends were at for the bachelorette party. If it was Wednesday, you only had four days left with him. 

“Are you planning on getting drunk, like super drunk?” Satoru asked, looking at you from over his sunglasses. “Because that's a sight I would pay money to see.”

“Nah, I'll have a few drinks, but I don't like getting hammered drunk.” You gently bumped your shoulder into his side. “You sure you don't want to join us? The girls said they’re okay if you join.”

“Eh, I don't like drinking. I'm a lightweight, and it never appealed to me. If Suguru were here, oh, he'd be down.” You beamed up at him as he mentioned his one and only best friend. “Seriously, he'd love this shit. Being surrounded by girls, drinking with them.” Satoru shoved his hands in his pockets. “Seriously though, he'd love you. You two would get along great. I’ll have to introduce you to him when we get back to Tokyo.” 

His words struck you like a hot iron. He was pulling out his phone and checking the time, oblivious to what he had just said. The man you were paying to be your boyfriend for a week wanted to introduce you to his friend? His best friend! 

It had your heart fluttering as butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Satoru hadn't even corrected himself as he peered down at you, returning the warm and happy smile you were positive was tugging at your lips. God, you hadn't been this happy in so long.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.” 

“Cool! We should set something up. Maybe we could get din—”

The door to the bar flew open, and your friends, all looking intoxicated, spotted you. “There she is! Hurry up, Y/N, you need to catch up!” the bride-to-be slurred as she reached for you. 

“Waaait!! Mina, let her say bye to Satoru!!” another bridesmaid said, smacking her arm. 

“Right! Right, sorry!”

You giggled, looking into Satoru’s cerulean eyes. “I'm being summoned. I should get going.” Gojo snorted, leaning down and kissing you on the lips. “I'll see you later.”

“Uhm, excuse me.” Mina had a disgusted look on her face. “What the fuck was that lame-ass kiss?” Your other friends nodded in agreement. “Satoru, what the fuck? Don't you like Y/N?” 

“Of course, I like my girlfriend Mina.” 

“Then kiss her like you mean it!!” 

You turned, giving Mina a look that could curdle dairy. “Mina, stop.” She flipped you off, her attention never leaving Satoru’s face.

“If I don't get to go to a strip club, I wanna see a steamy kiss!” The other girls whistled and cheered. “I want it steamy! I'm talking smutty romance-level shit!” 

“Mina!” 

“What you both are hot as fuck! Consider it a wedding gift!!”

“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!!” 

Oh great, now your drunken friends were chanting, and bystanders were watching. With a grimace, you turned to the very amused Satoru, who stared down at the drunken girls before his gaze fixed on you.  He shrugged a shoulder as if saying, sure, why not? But he left the decision up to you.

While you were tempted not to make your poor pretend boyfriend a walking spectacle for a group of drunk women. The thought of having to listen to them bitch and moan about you being a party pooper was way worse. So you sighed before turning to face Satoru with a smile. 

“You heard them. If we do this, I can return the dish set we bought.” 

“You don't have to tell me twice.” 

Satoru grabbed you by the throat, pinning you against the wall of the bar. His lips slammed against yours in a heated kiss you'd only seen in movies. His tongue was licking your bottom lip, and you so willingly obliged, opening your mouth, allowing his tongue entrance. Satoru trailed the hand that was around your throat down your curves. His large hand gripped your hips as he growled. Fuck he tasted so good, like cola and vanilla candy. Your tongue moved against his, trying to taste more of him. 

While you tasted like strawberries and chocolate to him, it was like a symphony of tastes between your tongues. One that he didn't want to end, his knee pushed its way between your legs, pressing firmly over your clothes core, making you gasp into his mouth, eyes going wide as the intimate touch. Your moan only made Satoru kiss you harder, desperate to feel the vibrations from the desperate sounds escaping your mouth.

“Whoa! Okay! Okay!” Mina shouted, her wine spilling as she hurried forward. “I said kiss her! Not fuck her in public.” Your best friend playfully swatted at his arm.

When Satoru broke the kiss, a string of saliva connected your bottom lips as you both gasped for air. The sheer intensity of the kiss rendered you speechless as he allowed his eyes to trail over your face. Taking in the flush tint of your cheeks, the way your body trembled under his hand, and the subtle way your hips rocked forward against his thigh. It looked like the kiss had as much of an effect on you as it did on him.

He pressed a soft kiss against your slightly swollen lips. “You did ask for a smutty book kiss.” Satoru sighed as he pulled away. “I just delivered what you asked for.” Mina said something along the lines of ‘smutty kiss without the smut, please’ as she headed back into the bar. “Well, she might not have enjoyed it, but at least you seemed like you did.” His teasing tone slowly brought you back to reality.

”Y-Yeah, it was lovely.” You fanned yourself before heading to follow after your friends. “I’ll see you later tonight.” You breathed out, but just before you could make it inside the door, Satoru grabbed your wrist, pulling you in for a hug.

”Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you, okay?”

”Okay.”

His lips were against yours again before he released you. “Okay.” He repeated your word back to you before waving you off as he headed back in the direction of the inn.

His kiss, the tone of voice, and the mere conversation of introducing him to his best friend whirled around your mind as you guzzled down a shot of sake, which had to have been the fifth one in the last forty minutes. While the other bridal party members were laughing and talking, you stared at the table. The kiss and Satoru’s words replayed over and over again in your head, like old sitcom reruns. 

Was it normal for an escort to tell a client they wanted to introduce them to their friends? Was he just being friendly or taking pity on you? Then there was that kiss outside of the bar! He didn’t have to put his knee between your legs, but he did! Now your panties were wet, and the more you thought about the kiss, about him, the wetter they seemed to get.

Holy shit, what was wrong with you!? 

Just three days ago, you told the guy you didn’t have sex; you didn’t need it. But the more you got to know him, the more times he kissed you, the more your icy resolve began to melt. Gojo Satoru was lighting a fire within you. One that you were very cautious of because you didn’t want to be burned again.

You got up from the table, swaying as you headed for the bathroom. Was Satoru just being nice? Or did he feel the same way you did? There was some sort of connection between the two of you. One that you might want to explore if he wants to as well. Why else would he talk to you the way that he did?

Entering the bathroom, you sighed, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your fingers trailed over your still-swollen lip. Toji had never kissed you like that in the past. Staring in the mirror, you groaned. An image of Toji stood behind you, haunting you like he had done for the last year and a half. 

“Ugh, just get the fuck out of my head and let me heal already.” You scolded the image of him in the mirror, flipping it off.

”I’m in your head?”

Your heart stopped, and your hand dropped to your side. Toji’s image smirked as he tilted his head. You were getting ready to ask yourself how drunk you were when Toji moved. His hands landed on the sink, caging you in while the smell of cedarwood engulfed you like a cloud of smoke.

”Toji—!”

“Shut up, we need to talk.”

(TBC)

Taglist:

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira

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[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

'Fake' Feelings

Zuko x Reader

Summary- In a pinch, you have to pretend to be in a relationship with Zuko. Little do you know it was never pretend for Zuko.

A/N- HAPPY BIRTHDAY @thethreeeyed-raven!!!!! This isn't my typical fandom as y'all know. I wrote this as a birthday gift to my best best best online friend. SHE'S AWESOME. Go check her fics out <3<3! CONTAINS A SINGLE BAD WORD >:)

Word Count- 2,468

"Mai, I already told you. I can't be with you!" Zuko was getting frustrated. While he did love Mai at one point, that was a long time ago. Zuko was now the Fire Lord, their relationship seemed like ages ago.

"And why not Zuko? We've been through this a hundred times. You always come running back, you're so pathetic. May as well cut the middle part and we can act like nothing happened." She stepped closer, pressing herself on his arm. "Like we always do..."

Zuko had finally realized how Mai controlled him. When he was weaker he was naive, now he knew what he wanted. Someone who never put him down, someone who never called him 'Pathetic.'

You.

He immediately thought of you. How you were so strong, but never put others down to feel powerful. How you always spoke your mind, but only out of the kindness you hid deep down.

Your walls were built up so high, but he knew who you were. He knew how beautiful you were.

"I can't be with you because I'm dating someone else." The words left his mouth faster than he could think.

This stopped Mai in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you're not the only one I am allowed to go out with. We've been broken up for awhile now." Zuko was no longer on the defense, but the attack.

"You do know that I am the only one who could love you. Who could love a traitor, a banished prince. Who else, huh?" Her arms were crossed, a smirk on her face. She knew she outwitted him.

Releasing his bit lip, Zuko exclaims your name.

Her face dropped. She knew exactly who you were. She was furious.

"We'll see about that..." With that, she left the room.

You were on your way to visit Zuko, one of your closest friends, for a 'friend reunion' Sokka had planned. You were of course excited to see him after so long. Though, the ride on Appa was miserable. About a hundred "are we there yet"s and "I'm hungry"s from Sokka.

The five of you- Sokka, Toph, Katara, and Aang made it safely to The Fire Nation shortly.

Upon landing, a man in red robes greeted everyone.

"The Fire Lord sends his deepest regards, as he could not see to you himself. You are instructed to follow me to your rooms." He had a stoic expression, but you guessed he greeted people all the time.

Oh well, Zuko must be very busy as a Fire Lord. You were sad, but couldn't blame him.

What you didn't know was that Zuko was pacing his room, definitely not busy. In reality, he cleared his schedule as much as possible for the week you were all visiting.

How was he going to tell you? He was deeply embarrassed, not to mention Mai might try and pull something with you. He knew not to underestimate her.

The thought of her trying to hurt you was enough to rack up the nerve to confess. He just needed a moment alone with you.

A grand dinner was prepared for the Avatars arrival, the rest of you reaped the rewards of being his friends.

"This is SOO good!" Sokka exclaimed, "Zuko sure has a way with food....." He slammed a fist on the table, before quickly lifting more food to his mouth,

"Sokka, you know he has chefs who make the food, right? Please tell me you know that..." You deadpanned, looking at him.

"Uh... Yeah! Yeah, definitely...." He looked down, that was until a new voice appeared.

"Sokka, did you really think I cooked all this?" Zuko walked to the seat at the head of the table. You noticed you were sat to his right.

It was a Fire Nation tradition that the Lady of the house would sit to the right of the Lord... You brushed the thought off quickly, writing it all off as a coincidence.

"W-well I don't know! You've been working ALL DAY!" Sokka squawked.

The dinner went on smoothly, well as smoothly a dinner can go with this group. You could feel the servants and servers rolling their eyes at all the unprofessional comments, jokes, and laughter.

You didn't care, you were just happy Zuko was able to be himself.

Hours later, when everyone was worn out and had their stomachs filled, they started to head to bed.

You were one of the last to leave, having been helping tidy up as much as you could.

You thanked and farewelled the servers, trying your best to remember where your room was.

The Palace was much bigger than you remembered. The halls upon halls blurred together. You were soon lost.

Every direction you turned looked the same, you started to breathe heavy.

You could already see it, 'cause of death, starvation in the Fire Nation Palace.' Or maybe dehydration would take you quicker?

A man passed by, you were saved! Though, the closer you got the bigger his scowl grew.

"Excuse me, I think I'm lost. Can you help me?" You were nervous asking, it was so 'common' for someone to get lost in a palace. You were sure your cheeks were red.

His face was dark, his eyes covered by his demeanor. For some reason he seemed annoyed at you.

"Sir?"

A hand rested on your shoulder from behind. It started you, putting you into a 'fight mode.'

Turning around swiftly calmed your nerves as quickly as they came. It was Zuko.

"Can I help you?" Zuko was talking to the strange man, who was no longer so 'big and bad.'

"No Fire Lord Zuko, my apologies." He barred his head in a bow and left.

You had a small smile on your lips, "Thanks, he was starting to scare me." While you were positive you could have taken the man, you were tired and didn't really feel like fighting.

"Of course, I can show you to your room." He held his arm out, you took it.

The gesture was friendly, you told yourself. Nothing more.

You must have been lost for awhile, as it took a few minutes to get to your room. The small talk exchanged was nice, but something told you Zuko was hiding something.

At your door, he stopped. "Zuko, do you want to come in? You seem restless."

"Actually, I do have something to tell you..." The tone of his voice scared you.

"Oh, then please sit." He joined you on the edge of your end. The door shut behind you two.

You pushed a strand of hair back, nervously sitting. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not really sure how to tell you this... I really am ashamed to have to ask you for a really big favor..." You had seen him on edge a lot, he was quite the stressor. Nothing like this, though.

"Zuko, anything. What do you need me to do?" You questioned.

He looked down at his hands, "You can tell me. I'm in no position to judge you, you know that."

"I uh," He rubbed the back of his neck, "I told Mai that we were dating so she would stop trying to get with me." He spit out so fast you almost missed what he said.

"Oh."

Well that's not what you thought he would say...

"That's not the worst part." He lowered his face to his hands, "The ball in four days, well I told her you were going with me... She's got Ty Lee lining up suitor for her. Trying to make me mad. Also she uh, she's probably told everyone now..."

"Oh." You were at a loss for words.

"I... I don't know... I'm sorry. This is stupid, at the ball I'll tell everyone what happened. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen! It just slipped out an-"

"Zuko."

"Yes?"

"What if you don't have to tell everyone?"

You hadn't looked at him since he started talking. Honestly, a night with Zuko at a ball? It sounded like a dream. Zuko was handsome, kind, generous, and you'd had a crush on him for months. You knew he wouldn't ever really date you... So you might as well seize the opportunity, right? What could go wrong!

The two of you decided it would be wise to not tell anyone else it was fake, as Sokka, Toph, and Aang had big mouths. They'd slip up sooner or later. As for Katara, she wouldn't have kept that big of a secret from Aang.

So, for the next few days you and Zuko spent every second together. At first, it was coming up with plans for the ball. It turned into getting more physically comfortable with each other. That eventually escalated to spilling each other's deepest secrets, ya know... just in case...

Even in four days, you found yourself going from a crush to madly in love. You found out his quirks, what made him tick, his hidden likes and dislikes. Not a second was spent apart.

The afternoon before the ball you were stressed. It had been easy up until the ball. You just had to be yourself around Zuko, now you had to pretend in front of hundreds...

Katara helped you pick out a beautiful red and black dress. To match Zuko's of course.

A big scene was planned out between the two of you, Zuko would introduce you to everyone in an announcement and you'd walk don't the grand starts arm in arm with him.

It was fun to imagine and talk about, but now the 'what ifs' were running wild.

You somehow made your way to Zuko's room, knocking hesitantly. He begrudgingly opened, but became excited when he saw you.

"Zuko, I'm terrified." He quickly guided you into his room.

"What happened?"

"What if I fall? What if no one likes me? It's a lot of steps it-" He cut you off.

"Hey, it's okay... We can throw everything out the window. Just saw the words."

You swallowed thick. "No, no just... Just promise you'll be there? For me?"

Your name was a whisper on his lips, "Ill always be here for you... Just imagines its only us up there... Just normal day."

You nodded, more relaxed knowing he'd be by your side through I tall. It also gave you a wicked feeling of comfort to know he was still willing to do whatever you preferred. He would have ended the lie immediately if you asked, but you wanted to be there for him as well. To make sure Mai would leave him alone.

The Palace was bustling with people, waiters, food, activities, and entertainment. It all came to an abrupt stop when Lord Zuko appeared.

It was comical, trumpets blared and all head turned.

"Fire Lord Zuko, accompanied by-" Your name seemed unreal on his lips. To be announced with a Fire Lord? You felt you didn't deserve it.

You slowly walked into view of everyone, whispers erupting. To be 'accompanied by' was essentially dating for Lords and Ladys.

All eyes were on you as you took Zuko's arm, walking down the steps. You felt light, your grip tightening on Zukos.

"Almost there, I'm right here." His words were all the comfort you needed.

Music resumed and the party goers continued their fun.

That was expect for one person. Mai. She marched up to you, her questioning eyes on guard. Watching her march over sparked a fury in you, the fire started and didn't stop until you spoke.

"Hello Mai. How can I help you? Is your father well, since he lost his job as Governor and all..." You passively aggressively asked, a mock frown on your face.

"What would you know about Governor dad's and all? You grew up poor." Damn, she got you there.

"I guess the difference in poor and rich is personality. Cause you don't have one..." You shrugged your shoulders at her, biting back a laugh.

"At least Zuko loved me for who I am, not who I was pretending to be." She remarked, not really knowing why Zuko loved her or you.

"Damn Mai, you must know a lot about pretending. Seeing as you're a two faced bitch. Should I go and tell Ty Lee you called her an 'easy bed'." A gasp left her lips in shock, how did you know she said that? Well, you wouldn't tell her, but a gossiping Fire Sage spilled the beans.

Zuko, who had been temporarily called away to exchange pleasantries with a Navy Captain, had returned.

"Mai, I see you've met my girlfriend." He said, snaking a hand around your waist. Chills were sent up your spine.

She gave a scoff, "It'll never last. You're only in it because he's the Fire Lord." She pointed to you, then him, "And you, you just seemed to pick up the next girl you saw laying around. Talk about a downgrade. When you get tired of her, i'll be waiting." She walked away.

"What is her problem!" You exclaimed, face hot with anger.

"Jealousy, I think." He said.

You turned to face him completely. "What for, she doesn't even seem to like you anymore?"

"Maybe cause you're prettier than her?" He said, not realizing his own words.

Your cheeks were now flushed for a different reason. You swiped your lips with your tongue before speaking, "Thank you..."

Hours of dancing, partying, and eating went by. Everyone bought the act easily, you and Zuko were naturals at dating. The fun died down, and many were starting to go back home.

Zuko walked you back to your room, hand in hand.

"Thank you. I really cannot thank you enough, just ask. Whatever you want is yours." Zuko said, still grasping your hands at your bedroom door.

"I don't need anything. This was really fun actually, I know you were just pretending... but i've had the best time the past five days."

"Pretend?" His face screwed up, like he was in denial.

You blinked a few times, own lip curling. "Well, I mean... You made it pretty clear this was all just an act. I-I am not hurt." You were, but wouldn't let him know.

"Words cannot express how genuine these days have been... Oh gosh, I haven't felt this free since I was a child." He pressed on, serious.

"Y-you mean, none of this has been fake to you?"

"Well, I know you signed up for 'fake'." He looked over you, face uncertain.

With a step forward you spoke, "This hasn't been fake for me either..."

"Really?" He pressed his chest to your slightly, hand wavering around your waist. "Because I don't think I could live if you're lying right now."

"Will this answer your questions?" You leaned up, closing the gap and kissing him.

A/N- Thank you for reading, I haven't fully watched ATLA In a little bit sorry if Zuko is OOC!! When it's not midnight and I'm not super tired, I will edit any mistakes!

#avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar #avatar aang #Zuko x reader #prince zuko #zuko x y/n #zuko x reader #katara atla #mai atla #fire nation #azula

[cupid-styles]

omg hockey player harry spotting ballerina yn practicing late after hours and sees her land a jump wrong or almost pass out (forgot to eat enough + exhaustion maybe) and harry is all worried and helps her out, maybe drives her home and takes care of her

HEHEHEHEHEH I LOVE THIS

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: none! y/n gets a lil injury but just some good ol' hurt comfort

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. . .

From: Harry S👿

Do you need a ride home again?

Y/N knows it's a gross habit, but she can't help nibbling on her thumbnail as she reads over Harry's text again. And then again. And then a fourth, and maybe a fifth time.

She doesn't know where he gets off. He gave her a ride home once last week because she was too nervous to walk home in the inches of snow they were getting, and she happened to run into him as hockey practice was ending. Of course hockey-goalie-superstar-Harry has a car. Of course he does, and now he thinks that this is a regular thing that they do — her riding in his passenger's seat as he tinkers with the music, driving no faster than 10 miles per hour on the roads that weren't cleared yet.

Because today it's snowing again. Badly. And Y/N couldn't miss practice, not with the spring showcase (which is laughable, really, because it should be called the shitty mid-winter showcase, but she digresses) coming up quicker than she even realizes. She has a four minute solo piece she needs to perfect before the show happens in three weeks, so she trekked her sorry ass to campus, even if none of her peers showed up (including her instructor).

But she's tired, and she's been here for hours — since 7:30 am on the dot, and it's nearing 3 pm now — and she doesn't want any more of the snacks she prepared for herself and she just wants to go home, where she can soak in a warm bath, put an eye mask on, and dull the throbbing pain that's currently radiating through each and every leg muscle. She wants to lay in her cozy bed, read one of those stupid smut books Lea got her hooked on, and go to sleep for a very, very long time.

So, she takes Harry up on his offer.

Not because she wants to be stuck in the confides of his car with him, where she feels like she's being suffocated by his warm, musky fragrance. Ever since then, every time she passes by someone on campus wearing the same scent (she's not sure if it's a cologne or body wash or what), but she immediately does a double-take, feeling like a dog that's been trained to recognize the smell of its owner. It's ridiculous and stupid and she grumbles to herself about it.

To: Harry S👿

yes please. im in the auditorium today tho, not the dance studio

From: Harry S👿

Oh. That would explain why all the lights are off and no one's in there. I thought maybe you were doing some weird meditation or voodoo thing to kill me.

To: Harry S👿

like a sacrificial ceremony?

From: Harry S👿

Yeah. You WOULD know what that is.

Y/N snorts to herself before taking a swig from her water bottle. Sitting down, she takes a moment to stretch out the achy arches of her feet. She hinges at her hips and slowly creeps her arms outwards to give her lower back some healthy, much-needed relief. Her eyes flutter closed, enjoying the slight release, until she hears the doors squeak open. Quickly, she sits up to see Harry traipsing down the long aisle.

As usual, he's freshly showered and has changed from his hockey practice clothes. For some reason, she finds herself slightly disappointed that he's wearing a beanie and she can't see his hair.

"You ready to go?" he asks, tossing his duffel bag into one of the seats in the front row.

"No. Can I just run through this one more time?"

He nods, but pulls his phone from the front center pocket of his sweatshirt, "Yeah, but it's supposed to get worse soon and I don't want to be stranded here all night."

Y/N hides a shudder as she stands from her seat on the stage. Her pointe shoes are disgusting from the amount of wear they've been getting lately, and she mentally groans at the thought of having to switch out to another pair sometime soon.

"Um..." Y/N places her hands on her hips and faces Harry, who's now sitting in the front row. "You can't be here."

"Sorry?"

She huffs. "You can't watch me. Go outside."

"...Why?"

"Because it's not ready yet," she explains hurriedly. She tries to avoid the confused, slightly amused expression on his face, but she can't help it when her gaze settles on the dimple in his cheek. "So, like, leave. Please."

"Y/N. People watch out hockey practice all the time."

"Hockey is different. Ballet is meant to be perfect. And it's not perfect yet, so you need to go."

"It's practice for a reason. Didn't anyone ever teach you that?"

"No. That's not an option in ballet."

"What is this for, anyway?"

She sighs in frustration and tugs at the hem of her wrap skirt. She feels a bit uncomfortable being the sole focus of his attention, especially when she's up on the stage beneath the studio lights.

"The spring showcase is in three weeks and I have a solo, hence the whole perfection thing."

"Where's your... coach, then?"

"Not a coach, an instructor," Y/N corrects, "And she didn't want to come in today because of the snow. Haven't you ever practiced on your own before?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry nods. "You must be really good if you have a solo."

"Don't change the subject. The sooner you leave, the sooner we can get out of here."

"Just do it, Y/N. My body fuckin' aches from my own practice and I don't want to go back up those stairs. I'll look at my phone the whole time if it makes you feel better."

Again, she lets out a loud sigh but doesn't fight him on it. She walks the length of the stage to grab her phone and restart her music. Before she presses 'play', she stares at him with narrowed eyes.

"Eyes on the phone. Don't even think about looking up here."

He snorts before nodding his head, making a show of opening the Instagram app and dramatically scrolling through it. With a roll of her eyes, she plays the only song she's been listening to for the past few weeks, and gets in her place.

She'll admit, she knows she can get a bit obsessive about memorizing a dance. She aims for perfection each and every time, even if she knows it's unattainable to expect that from herself especially as she's learning it. But with every run she does, her confidence slowly grows — she's nailing the fouettés and en pointes she struggled with a week ago, and she feels herself melting into the music, allowing her body to move perfectly in time with the steps she's learned like her life depends on it.

And then... she croaks.

During the grand adage, she loses her balance, her flexibility falters, and before she realizes it's happening, she's on the floor with a thrumming ankle, pain shooting out from the joint. She gasps loudly and tears immediately begin to flood her line of vision. The song continues on, making her feel sad and pathetic, but especially when Harry appears in her sight, a worried expression on his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks. She quickly tries to sniffle the tears away and nods wordlessly. "No, you're not."

He grabs her phone and pauses the music and her chest somewhat relaxes. He's back over in a moment, gently helping her stretch out her leg without moving her ankle.

"Do you have an injury here? Do I need to call the school medic?"

"Do not call the medic," she mutters through clenched teeth, "Yes, I have an ankle injury. It gets worse with the weather."

"So you already know what I'm about to say then."

She nods but she doesn't want to hear it, because she doesn't want to be kicked while she's down. It's what everyone does — you shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard with an injury, you should know better, don't you care about your craft? She's heard it from her parents, instructors, random medical staff a thousand times over.

And somehow, maybe Harry knows, because he leaves it at that. And she's grateful when she's not on the receiving end of a lecture.

"What do you need?" he asks softly. It's the gentlest she's ever heard him speak, and it makes her swallow tightly. "Ice? Do you have sports wrap?"

"I'm fine. Can you just pack my shit up so we can go?"

Harry stares at her like she's grown a second head. "You can't walk on this right now."

She shrugs.

"We have crutches and all that in the locker room, but you'll bust your ass in the snow," he thinks aloud. She sniffles again, this time involuntarily. "You're gonna hate this."

She knows what he's implying, so she's already shaking her head.

"Y/N, it's the only way you're getting out of here safely."

"I would quite literally rather be trapped in this stupid auditorium all night."

He rolls his eyes. "You're being dramatic."

She shrugs. He treks on with his grand idea.

"I'm gonna go outside and bring my car around. And then, I'm gonna carry you out of here, and it's gonna be humiliating, but it'll be safe and we'll never speak about it again. Do you need me to bring you to urgent care or do you have supplies at home?"

Y/N knows he's right. He knows he's right, otherwise he wouldn't be so insistent on it. But the pain is continual, a pulsating, aching, throbbing that will 100% prevent her from walking, and she just. Wants. To Go. Home.

"I have shit at home," she finally mumbles, sitting up slightly to fix her mussed bun. "Crutches, wrap, pain relief balm."

"Okay, good." Harry's form deflates a bit, almost as if he's relieved she's decided to stop fighting him. "Let's get your things together and then I'll help you out to the front. You can wait there while I bring my car in front."

Admittedly, she's basically dead weight as he hurries around the stage, collecting her things. He stuffs them all in her bag and brings it over to her. Noticing a pair of sweats in her tote, he glances down at her expectedly.

"Do you want these?"

She sighs. It's a sad, defeated sound, and Harry really feels bad for her in the moment.

"We'll never talk about it again," he reminds her. She nods and she unwraps her skirt from her waist, folding it neatly beside her. Harry helps shimmy the sweatpants up her tight-clad legs, carefully minding her ankle and the leg warmers around them. It's a vulnerable position for both of them to be in — they've never been this close before, not with his large palms moving up her muscular legs, even if it's anything but sexual.

When they're ready to go, he instructs her to just stay seated, move her bum to the side of the stage, and he'll do the rest. She supposes she's impressed by his strength when he easily lifts her into his arms, her pink tote bag on one shoulder and his Adidas duffle bag on the other. She wants to roll her eyes when she feels his muscles flex beneath her as they silently exit the auditorium, but she knows he's going above and beyond for her right now. Instead, she shows her small bit of protest by simply crossing her arms over her chest. It makes him smile, but she doesn't notice it.

He gently lowers her to a bench inside and close to the door. He takes their things and wraps his puffer jacket just a bit closer to his form as he mumbles out to stay here, making quick work to head out to the parking lot. She wants to ask him where she could possibly go, but she guesses that if she could walk, she definitely would.

In the meantime, Y/N texts her group chat with her friends to let her know that fell on her ankle, but she's fine. It's embarrassing to admit that Harry of all people is taking care of her and making sure she gets home safely, and their responses make her blush.

do u think he could lift u over his head like in dirty dancing

abs?

are u guys gonna........

does he smell good?

Harry returns when she's typing out a reply to her friends, telling them to keep it in their pants. They go through the routine again and this time it's just a tinge less embarrassing now that they've done it once. As soon as he helps her into the car — which, she's grateful that he's already pumping the heat — she lets out a loud exhale, cutting it off as soon as he winds around the front and gets in the driver's seat.

"You feel okay?" he asks as he shifts gears into drive.

She nods, doing her best to swallow her pride. "Yeah. Thank you."

"Of course," he shrugs as if it's the easiest thing he's done all day. "Are you good to deal with this when you get home?"

"Mhm. Ice, wrap it, keep it elevated."

"Stay off of it and take some ibuprofen, too."

"I know."

"Good," he praises. The drive home is slow and quiet and Y/N keeps the side of her head pressed against the cool window. She wants to fall asleep, and she probably would if she didn't live so close by.

When his car slowly begins to come to a stop outside of her apartment, she feels it — an all-consuming need to blurt out her affection and gratitude to him, even if she's been attempting to suppress it for weeks.

"I would do this for you too." she spews out, her eyes widening in surprise. Harry's eyebrows furrow as he undoes his seatbelt, then hers.

"What?"

"I would do this for you too," she repeats, keeping her eyes set on the snow falling in front of them. "I mean, I wouldn't be able to carry you, but I would do this for you if you needed it. I would drive you home and make sure you were okay. I just want you to know that I'm thankful for this. And I know I'm grumpy with you a lot of the time, but I wouldn't sacrifice you or do some voodoo stuff. I... I like having you around. You're very nice."

She can't force herself to turn and look at him, but she can feel his gaze set on the side of her face. Even worse, from her peripheral vision, she can see the grin growing, like he's in the Grinch.

"Thank you for saying that," he says, and it sounds like he actually means it. "I'm glad you wouldn't sacrifice me, because I like being around you."

"Okay." Y/N nods curtly, as if they've just made some type of business proposition.

It makes Harry laugh. "Okay."

#bestie asks #writing #hockey h

[vanteguccir]

Her exception | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is shy and Chris loves to tease her for that.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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Y/N walked down the stairs towards her shared room with Chris in slow steps, her mouth forming a pout after she checked the fridge and saw that her sweet was gone.

The girl stopped for a few seconds in front of the white door before knocking lightly twice with her closed fist, turning the handle and opening it.

Her eyes traveled around the room, noticing that the lights were off, the turned on computer serving as the only source of lighting. The loud sound of the video game Chris was playing escaped his headphones, echoing off the walls.

The boy was sitting in his gaming chair with his arms resting on the computer table and his hands working on the keyboard and mouse quickly, his brow furrowed and his tongue between his teeth in concentration.

The girl approached slowly, touching her fingers on his covered shoulder lightly, alerting him to her presence.

Chris looked up, pausing the game and lowering his headphones instantly when he realized it was his girl. A smile appeared on his face as his blue eyes traveled over her silhouette momentarily before focusing on her face.

"Hi baby! Wow, who gave you permission to look that good, huh?" The brunette flirted, a smirk stretching across his cheeks as his tongue escaped between his lips, wetting them quickly.

Y/N felt her blood rush to her cheeks instantly, a reddish hue covering her face and neck. She looked down in shyness, playing with the hem of Chris's t-shirt over her body. The reason why she went to him already forgotten.

"Stop it." Her voice was quieter than she expected, but loud enough for Chris to hear. A laugh escaped his throat as he lifted his own hands, encircling his girlfriend's waist and pulling her closer.

He rested his chin on Y/N's stomach so that his eyes focused on hers, exhaling the scent of her perfume that surrounded her.

"I'm just teasing you, baby. Even though you look more beautiful than ever today." Chris spoke, a smile resting on his lips.

"You always say that." Y/N whispered, bringing her hands to her boyfriend's soft hair and stroking it lightly, feeling her insides melt like ice cream in the summer.

"Because you always look so beautiful." The boy said one as if it were obvious, rolling his eyes playfully. "What did you want, pretty girl?"

"Can you walk me to the bakery down the street? I went to eat my apple pie from there, but it's gone." The girl asked slowly, biting her lower lip as she felt her cheeks burn from asking for the favor.

"Don't do that, sweetheart." Chris's thumb touched the lip trapped by his girlfriend's teeth, releasing it slightly. "'Gonna hurt your pretty lips like that."

Y/N felt her heart speed up at her boyfriend's touch and gentle words, combing his hair to try and hide her shaking fingers.

"Sorry." Her voice was almost null as she lowered her head, her eyes meeting the blue ones she loved so much, receiving a smile in response.

"No need to apologize, my love." He caressed his girl's warm cheek with the thumb he had just used. "Let's go to the bakery and buy an apple pie for the prettiest girl in the world."

He knew how much she hated going to establishments where she would need to talk to a stranger, so he always accompanied her with great pleasure.

Chris got up from the chair slowly so as not to hurt or push his girlfriend's body with his movements. He straightened his hoodie with his hands, smoothing out the small wrinkles from his previous position, before picking up his wallet that was on his computer desk, putting it in the pocket of his pants.

The boy lightly placed his hand on his girlfriend's back, guiding her through the room and up the stairs, even though she didn't need the support.

The gesture made Y/N's heart skip a beat, her hands clenching into fists from the way she felt her fingers shaking and her arms getting goosebumps, she pressed her lips into a thin line to keep from biting them, not wanting to disobey her boyfriend.

Chris always made her feel so loved and safe, and despite her shyness with his kindness, she didn't stop him. He was her exception.

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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

#x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #fanfic #sturniolo triplets #fanfiction #sturniolo #love #chris sturniolo fanfiction #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris x reader #chris fanfic #chris au #chris #chrissy #fluff #shy reader #shyness #shy!reader #christopher Sturniolo x reader #request

[perfectly-imperfect82]

Sleepy medicine - Arsenal x reader

"I thought she was going to sleep?" Beth said looking over at Leah with a confused look

"She is supposed to be. I gave her NyQuil" Leah said matching Beth confusion as they saw you make your way further into the room with kyra

"Does she know you gave her that?" Viv asked giving Leah a look who rolled her eyes "no, she wouldn't have taken it if she knew"

"You drugged her?" Katie laughed with giant smile

"No, I just didn't tell her it would make her drowsy" Leah said defensively as Viv and Beth shook their head at Leah and Katie continued to laugh

“I know, I know” Leah said standing and making her way towards you, hoping you will finally listen and go to bed

"Your sick and should be resting" Leah staring at you sternly as you rolled your eyes "you gave me medicine, so I'll be fine" you said finishing with a yawn as Kyra nodded along with you

“We are going to play foos ball if you want to join” kyra said with a big smile

“I’m good” Leah said, sitting in the chair to watch, planing on how she was going to get you to your room once the game was over

Everything felt slow or funny as you continued to lose to kyra. Leah feeling slightly guilty at your confused expression as kyra cheered every time she scored

“I win!” Kyra cheered as you huffed with fake annoyance “rematch tomorrow” said Kyra walked away agreeing

Lia walked into the room and Leah instantly caught we her eyes and nodded towards you. Lia getting the message and heading over

"Lia" you with a smile as she pulled you in hug

"Why don't we go watch a movie?" Lia asked as she raised her eyes at Leah, knowing you were supposed to be resting

"Nope" you said looking up at lia before you walked away

“Where are you going?” Leah asked

“Don’t know yet” you said you continue to walk the halls

You stumbled a bit, only not tripping over yourself due to Leah catching you

"Seriously, we are going to watch a movie and your going to rest" Leah said sternly causing you to release your grip from her arm

"You gave me drowsy medicine didn't you?" You said glaring at her as you finally connected the dots on why you felt fuzzy

"Of course I did, you need to be sleeping so you can get better. Not wandering around like you are right now" Leah exclaimed

"I told you I didn't want the sleepy medicine!" You seethed as you glared her with your arms crossed

"I know and I gave it to you anyways" Leah stated frustratedly as she stared down at you

"Come on, let's get you to bed before get hurt" Lia said cutting them both off as she gently grabbed you hand and started to pull you to your room as you held your glare on Leah who ignored as she followed behind you too your room

“I'm not cuddling with you" you said as you pulled lia to lay next you, instantly cuddling into her side as Leah looked offended and went to say something. Only being stopped but the look Lia gave her before padding the spot next her.  Leah rolling her eyes as she laid down next to Lia and quickly put on a movie

"Kid, you know I didn't do it to hurt you or anything like that right?" Leah asked hesitantly, feeling guilty for giving you sleep medicine without telling you

"I know" you mumbled lifting your head from Lia side before rolling over Lia and squeezing yourself between Leah and her. Taking in both of there warm as you got comfortable and they moved to make room for you.

"Stop fighting it" Lia said gently

"Mhm not" you mumbled as Leah started to gently start tracing your facial features with her fingers, know it was a for sure way to get you to fall asleep

"Stoppp" you whined and you hit Leah hands away as Lia and Leah smiled fondly at you as you fought to keep you eyes open

Lia started to gently run her finger through your hair as they watched you take longer to open your eyes between blinks before they finally stayed closed. You having finally lost the battle to stay awake

"About damn time" Leah mumbled quietly, only receiving a warning look of stay quiet from Lia

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal x reader #woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader

[bookishdreamer28]

Giving Gojo the silent treatment

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

It all started because of a fight you had the previous day. He's been working so hard lately, that the only thing you wanted was to make his day, somehow better by making dinner, having some good time for yourselves, drink wine and many more.

___________________________________________

It was 9 p.m and you had already set the table, with Satoru's and yours fave dinner. You were all dolled up and waiting for your fave boy's arrival.

When you heard the lock on the door, you instantly stood up from the couch and when to greet him. You could already see his small frown on his face and you wanted nothing more but to make it go away right away.

"Satoru my love, welcome ba-"

"Yeah yeah nice to see you too." He stepped back from your hug and walked away. Just walked away.

You knew how hard it was to be a sorcerer, but it wasn't necessary for him to act his way. You tried to brush it off, but the sting was still there. It hurts that he avoided hugging you.

You followed him to your room and saw him getting in the bathroom, ready to take a shower. You sighed and decided to sit on the bed and wait for him.

Once he got out, he didn't say anything to you and went straight to your closet.

He could feel your eyes on him but he still didn't say a thing.

"Uhm, I have dinner ready love. I made our fave! Since I know how much you liked it last time, I thought about making it again and after dinner I have planned an amazing night for ourselves, since I know you've been working s-"

"I don't feel like eating right now. I thing I'm going to bed early after I drink some tea." He said in a monotone voice.

"Really? Oh...but baby I just wanted to make you feel better. I know things are not ok out there but in here I want you feel safe and good-"

"CAN'T YOU JUST STOP TALKING ALREADY? I told you. I'm not in the mood for ANYHTING but sleep." He turned to you looking pissed. You absolutely understood him but the way he spoke to you is definitely Not ok.

"Well you don't need to be such a jerk you know. I just wanted to take care of you and this is how you talk to me?"

"Whem you're being pushy, what do you expect me to do? I had the toughest week ever, I need sleep and I need you to leave me alone." He said raising his voice a bit.

You tried so hard not let tears fall down. It broke your heart knowing that you were basically a burden to him now.

You felt your hands trembling and took a deep breath. Once you closed your eyes, you felt them. Tears were rolling down your cheeks. But you didn't really care.

Satoru didn't notice your tears since he truned away from you, to make tea.

After you calmed a little, you changed to your pajamas and went to collect the food from the table.

You saw satoru watching tv while drinking his tea, and you felt anger rising up again. The fact that he was so chill with all this made you so mad. You had many tough weeks too. You went through so much bullshit too. And you had bad days too. But you never thought, not even once, take it out on Satoru.

You cleaned the table and put the food in the fridge for tomorrow. You felt so exhausted. You went in yours and Satoru's bed, to take a blanket and a pillow, since you pretty sure he doesn't want to sleep with you.

Satoru was washing his mug and he didn't saw you when you went to take your place on the couch. With not more words exchanged, Satoru left the kitchen and went straight to your bedroom.

And without noticing, you started sobbing.

....

The next morning, Satoru woke up and when he saw you weren't next to him, he panicked. He got up alarmed and went in the living room.

"Y/N!? Sweetheart where are y-" when his eyes fell on your curled up figure, he released a breath he felt he was holding for too long. He thought about yesterday and immigrated felt like he wanted the ground to open a wide hole, and swallow him in.

He approached silently and crouched down next to you. He raised his hand and took a small strand of your hair and placed it behind you ear. He kissed yoyr forehead and stayed there for a while. He felt your body stirr and lookedat you carefully. You slowly opened your eyes and when you saw Satoru hovering above you, you frowned.

"Y/N baby, why did you sleep here? Didn't you get cold? Are you feeling cold now? Cause I'm going to make you tea and some breakfast for you to eat baby." He whispered.

You sat a little, rubbing your eyes. And then stood up and left, leaving Satoru there. He watched you walking away till you disappeared in the bathroom. He rubbed hos forehead thinking how much he messed up and cursed himself.

.....

The next morning, Satoru was in the kitchen making breakfast. He was humming your fave song, while making eggs and puring some juice on your glass. The smell woke you up and when you reached the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks. You wanted to smile at the image, but you couldn't forget what happened yesterday. You opened the fridge and grabbed one bottle of water and went back to the couch, grabbing your book with you. He felt his hwart breaking because the onky thing he wanted was to feel your warm body pressed against his. He wanted your kisses. He wanted you, moee than anything else. He looked at you and turned his back to you again, not wanting you to see his tears.

....

"Hey baby, how about we watch this series you talked to me about last week? You said season 2 is out, so I thought about watching it together. I brought snacks, sodas, i have your fave blanket aaand hugs!" He said cheerfully. But when he saw you not paying him any attention, his smiled dropped. You were laughing at a video you were watching. Oh how much he missed this sound. And how much he wished was the one making you laugh like this.

.....

That night, you returned home from a coffee with Shoko and decided to take a shower. After that, you were ready to to watch your fave series on the couch and then go to sleep. Satoru saw you there, and he started walking to you. When you heard his footsteps, you rolled your eyes and pretended to be asleep.

He sat on the floor next to the couch and stared at you with those blue eyes.

"Baby, I-" he felt like his throat was close. He couldn't speak. His voice was hoarse from crying.

You turned your head away, because you couldn't take it seeing him that way. But the fact that he hurted you with his choice of words, was something that made you very upset.

"I'm so so so freaking sorry my love. I messed up so badly and I know saying sorry won't change the fact that I hurt you. But I want you to know that you mean the whole world to me." He voice was shaking his fingers reached to touch you. He needed to feel you so badly.

You looked at him and listened carefully to what he had to say.

Once he saw your eyes beautiful eyes looking at him, he felt so relieved. He missed you so much.

"Please baby, please forgive me. I know I'm in no place to even ask that after the way I spoke to you, but I can't take this anymore. Being this close to uu and not having you pains me. It pains me so damn much." He felt his eyes sting with tears.

You cold expression turned to a sad one, and you felt like hugging him so tight, but you were still unsure of what to do now.

Satoru's head dropped to the floor and he rubbed his eyes trying to not let anymore tears roll down.

"Oh Toru." You whispered. At the sound, Saotru looked at you, woth widen eyes.

"Baby, I- it pained me so much seeing you so upset and cold. Remember when we promised that we will be each other's anchors, and that we'll talk about anything that is bothering us? Well, you didn't do it. You just let your anger speak for you. And it was messed up."

You rested your right hand, on his softly.

"But I love you too. And this will never change. But please, mext time just talk to me ok? Of course there will be days that something will upset us and ruin our moods, but at the end day, all that matters is that we're each other's home." You rubbed his cheek softly, wiping his tears away.

"Can I please hug you?" He asked with a low voice.

"Of course baby." You moved first and he caught you in his arms fast. He felt alive again. And so did you. That was all you needed.

"Now, how about we watch my series and eat something to cheer us up hm?" You asked smiling, and leaned to leave a soft kiss on his lips. When you tried to pull away, he grabbed your face and kissed you more. And harder.

Well now you know that you won't be watching anything.

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Here's a new Gojo post caused missed writing something with him!!

Thank you for reading ♡♡

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[torialefay]

Hello love!! Hope you’re well 💜

Saw the prompts list and it got me thinking: number 20 with Chan with an insecure/jealous reader and him just making his babygirl look at how pretty she is 👀

"Mirror Image" 🪞

bangchan x reader (f); smut (MINORS DNI)

• "oh fuck baby, look at that," chan groaned in your ear, spreading your pussy lips apart.

• he had you sitting propped up, your back in his chest, as your legs were bent and spread open for him. he used one hand to wrap around your upper torso and squeeze your boob, with the other hand giving attention to your pussy.

• chan had been wanting this for so long. he always got so upset when he heard you talking badly about yourself. it felt like no matter what he said, no matter how beautiful he told you that you were, it never got through. he decided he had to SHOW you.

• which is why he had a huge floor-length mirror delivered today for him to set up next to the bed.

• he'd been patiently waiting for you to walk into the bedroom and see it so he could wrap his arms around you from behind and plant kisses to your neck.

• you'd originally giggled when he started, starting to turn a little pink from watching him in the mirror.

• once he noticed you looking, he detached his lips from your neck.

• "see how pretty you look when you feel good baby?"

• "oh hush," you blushed, pushing his head back down to your neck.

• he gladly began to suck as he backed both of you up until you hit the bed.

• that's how you ended up where you were now, legs spread wide open while your boyfriend held you tight.

• he ran his pointer and index finger slowly along the outside of your folds, already starting to get you needy. you could feel your wetness growing little by little.

• chan could feel it too and he fucking ravished in it. he loved the way he could work you up with the gentlest touch.

• he rubbed a finger of the other hand slowly back and forth across your nipple, giving you just enough stimulation to know it was there. and to make you want to BEG for more.

• as he moved around you with his hands, you started wiggling your hips, trying to get more pressure.

• you shut your eyes and rolled your head back onto chan's neck.

• FUCK, he just felt so good.

• you let out a soft moan, thrusting into him to get more contact.

• "ah ah," he said, taking both hands off of you suddenly.

• you you started to whimper at the loss of his touch and tried to grab onto a hand to place it back, but he stopped you.

• "baby," he said in a tone as if to shame you, while he had an eyebrow raised.

• you stopped trying to move him and instead just fixated on his face. his beautiful, almost threatening face.

• "you know why i bought this mirror, don't you?"

• you knitted your eyebrows together in confusion. 'where is he going with this?'

• he took your silence as his pass to move on. he shook his head with a smile.

• "i bought this mirror," he huffed out lowly, as he reached his hand around to grasp the bottom of your chin and jaw, "so you could realize how fucking beautiful you are." he clamped his hand down hard and turned your face quickly to look straight ahead at the reflective glass in front of you.

• in the reflection, you could see him smile into your ear.

• satisfied with your new position, he brought his hand back to move along your pussy.

• "don't you dare take your eyes off of that mirror."

• suddenly, his hand slid a few inches down your neck and anchored it tightly so that you were pinned underneath his chin.

• you watched in the mirror as he focused on rubbing your clit slowly. the way he bit his lip as he saw your leg slightly twitch made you want to give it all up.

• he made small circles around you until you started to get tingly. you couldn't help but writhe underneath him, wanting to get the extra stimulation you needed for your release.

• chan smiled at that, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

• "my beautiful needy girl. does it feel good?"

• "yes channie," you moaned as he slightly picked up the pace. you focused on his veiny hand in the mirror.

• "don't you look so pretty?"

• "mmm" was all you could get out, resorting to closing your eyes again at the euphoric feeling.

• within a split second, chan had your throat almost closed up, squeezing his hand around it harshly.

• your eyes popped open at the feeling, fixing them back on the mirror.

• "i said don't take your eyes off of the fucking mirror," he growled.

• "now baby, where were we?" he relaxed the pressure off of your neck and smiled into your ear, beginning to nip at your ear lobe.

• he continued his fingers on your clit, working in the way he knew you liked it most.

• "you didn't answer me," he whispered, in between licks and nips to your ear. "don't you look so pretty?" he grinned again.

• "yes," you breathed out, beginning to feel lightheaded from all of the delicious sensitivity.

• that must have appeased him, as he moved his hand a bit now so that he could insert a finger into you while still rubbing your clit with his thumb.

• you couldn't help but moan out as you watched the scene unfold before you. you were never one to think of yourself as the most beautiful person ever, but god, this was just so fucking hot.

• he began to pick up speed with his fingers, as he gaged the pleasure on your face.

• your breathing began to quicken, but you still needed to feel more of him.

• "more," you piped up in between breaths.

• "if you want more, it's gonna cost you," he took his eyes off the mirror to focus on your face and plant a kiss to your cheek. it was amazing the duality of this man- finger fucking you into oblivion while being so delicate with the way he watched and kissed you.

• "you're going to watch yourself in that mirror while i fuck the absolute shit out of you. the moment you stop saying how beautiful you are, i'm stopping too."

• he didn't wait for you to respond. swiftly, he held tightly to your neck once again, pulling up on it slightly as he lifted both you and himself onto your knees, both still facing the mirror.

• taking his hand off of your pussy, he grabbed his cock and teased your entrance the slightest bit from behind. he still had you pressed up against his chest as best he could, anchoring you at your neck.

• without warning, he fully pounded himself into you, not giving you any time to adjust. he quickly snaked his hand back around to find your clit and start rubbing it.

• "tell yourself how beautiful you are. now. you better not fucking stop until i'm done with you," he growled, begin to thrust into you.

• you were nervous. you didn't quite know what to do and you thought it would feel awkward, but you tried your best anyways. you held both hands onto chan's wrist positioned right next to your throat.

• another tight choke to your throat made you gasp, a tear welling up. he was threatening you.

• "i'm so beautiful," you choked out.

• hearing the words, he relaxed his hold a bit, but not entirely in case he needed to use it again.

• "i'm so beautiful," you repeated, watching him pick up the pace. it felt so good, you couldn't help but to arch yourself back into him further. feeling this new stretch he was giving you felt so warm, so full, so right.

• you watched as he made eye contact with you in the mirror, staring you down. your cue.

• "i'm so beautiful," you breathed out, with him now beginning to move his fingers faster than before.

• you knew you weren't going to last long. you were so sensitive in this position. chan was hitting you in just the right spot and was moving his fingers in just the right way. you knew you had to do whatever it was gonna take to keep him going.

• "i'm so beautiful," you got out, trying your hardest to continue watching yourself and not let your eyes roll back.

• chan's hips smacked against yours with so much force, you thought you were going to fall off the bed. his fingers in the front were the only thing keeping you feeling stabilized.

• he noticed this and clutched your throat even tighter, not letting you escape him as his thrusts threatened to catapult you.

• "say it!" he yelled, throwing himself into you as quickly as he could. "say it right fucking now!"

• you didn't know that you could get anything out. all of the oxygen had left your brain. looking at yourself, you could see your face turning pale as you struggled to keep your eyes open, body beginning to twitch at the thighs.

• you strained and tried your hardest. "i'm beautiful," you got out.

• satisfied, chan relaxed a tiny but of the tension on your throat as he let out a few wild growls. he was thrusting into you harder than you'd ever felt. beads of sweat were formed on his forehead as he pounded into you.

• you felt the familiar warm feeling that had been creeping up. it was almost unbearable. chan's hand was hitting your clit at the perfect depth.

• THIS. this was it. just keep going, keep going.

• "channieee," you choked out.

• you could see his eyes fill with animalistic lust at hearing you call his name.

• instinctively, he pressed his hand even harder into your clit, keeping the same movements that he knew you loved. and fuckkk, you were gonna cum.

• you began to grapple at your throat as chan put all of his strength into choking the fuck out of you, pounding away to his heart's content.

• "focus on that fucking mirror baby... watch the way you look. see how you take my dick so well? see how fucking pretty you are? such a good girl for me. see how you're shaking so good for me? how pretty you look when you feel good? if you look this pretty now, just image how pretty you're gonna look when you cum, huh?" your clit was throbbing at this point. every centimeter of movement was about to send you over the edge. you were fighting just to get a breath through the tension on your throat. you felt a couple of tears fall down.

• "is my pretty baby crying for me?" he teased. "it's alright to cry, but you're gonna cum for me now, yeah? look right into your eyes baby, right into your eyes," he watched as you adjusted your head position.

• "good girl," he praised. "now watch yourself and focus on how fucking good it feels to have my cock deep inside you. hitting you so good. and how good it feels when i've got my fingers hitting your little clit just right. and how tingly you feel down there for me. how fucking good you feel right now. how you can so easily just give it all to me right now. look at yourself baby. just fucking look at you. let yourself fell good baby. let yourself give it up," he coached you as you began to shake. you watched as you were shakily bouncing ruthlessly on chan's cock, his hand rubbing violently on your clit as you choked underneath him. you had tears staining your face now.

• you continued to watch as your body gave out, letting out a cry and beginning to convulse around him. if not for chan's hand around your neck, you would have fallen down to the floor in trembles.

• your head felt light and your body felt like it could fly. chan kept holding you down and playing with you until the little jolts of electric pleasure simply couldn't come out any more. he used every last ounce of energy you had.

• when he was sure you had given all that you had, he released his grip from your throat and your pussy, holding you close to him at his chest. he leaned down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

• he leaned in close to your ear and tell you what a good job you did.

• after catching your breath, you gave yourself a final gaze in the mirror. and for the first time in a long time, you felt beautiful.

#bangchan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #bangchan imagines #bangchan scenarios #bang chan #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you #christopher bang #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader

[woso-dreamzzz]

Copy

Alessia Russo x Child!Reader

Summary: You want to be like your sister

It was obvious to just about everybody that you were the happy little accident of the family. Your brothers and sister were so much older than you, with jobs of their own while you were just starting school.

No one liked to call you a mistake though it was certainly the word that went through everyone's mind when they saw you and Alessia standing next to each other.

It was the word that everyone in the England team was thinking of the moment Alessia showed up to camp with you by her side. You were settled easily on her hip as you aimlessly sucked your thumb, no matter how many times your sister pulled it from your mouth.

It wasn't exactly the plan that you would come with Lessi to camp but Mummy and Daddy had to go away and Luca and Gio were too busy to look after you so Lessi was the last choice.

Lessi's your absolute favourite. Mummy and Daddy say it's mean to have favourites but you don't really care. Gio and Luca can stick together because they're boys and you'll stay with Lessie because you're girls.

You want to be like Lessi when you're older and you want to do everything she does.

You didn't use to see Lessi a lot when she played for United but she plays for Arsenal now so you see her a bit more regularly. Lessi's your biggest idol and she doesn't smell bad like your brothers do so you like to be with her all the time.

"Alright," She says, smoothing down your hair," Do we want laces or velcro?"

You look at the two shoe options she's showing to you. You look between them, biting at your lip as you swing your feet back and forth.

"What're you wearin'?"

"Well, I've got laces."

"I want laces!"

Lessi laughs. "Of course you do." She slips the shoes onto your feet and double knots your laces because you're still a bit too little to do them by yourself. You're learning though because Lessi can tie her laces by herself so you're going to learn too.

Alessia's big and tall as she leads you by the hand down to the gym. You want to be big and tall like Lessi too someday and you lean easily into her side as you walk.

"Well, looks like the smallest member of the squad has arrived." Ella's the one speaking and you wave at her. Ella's Alessia's adult best friend so you need to be nice to her. You're Lessi's proper best friend though because she tells you that all the time but you still have to be nice to Ella because Lessi will get sad if you don't.

So, you smile and wave at Ella as Lessi sets you up at the machine she's about to use. It looks very big and complicated but Alessia knows what she's doing because she loads some weights onto it and starts pulling on a rope thing to lift it up and down.

You circle the machine suspiciously, looking at all angles as Lessi takes big, deep breaths as she pulls, releases and then pulls again.

You kind of want to try and you reach your hand up to grab onto it too.

Alessia smiles fondly at you but removes your hand. "Sorry, tesoro. You can't help me."

You frown at that. "Why?"

"Because I have to do this by myself."

"Why?"

"So I can get stronger."

"I can get stronger like you too!"

Alessia's still smiling at you. "You're only little, tesoro. Maybe when you're older."

You don't like that answer. If you wait too long then maybe Alessia won't like you anymore. You don't want her to not like you.

Your bottom lip wobbles and she sighs.

"Hey," She says," How about this? I left my bottle over there by Mary. It's pretty heavy and I need a strong girl to go and grab it for me."

You turn to look where she's pointing. It's one of those big bottles that holds a gallon or something and it's sitting on the floor by where Mary's working out.

"I'm a strong girl," You say and Lessi laughs.

"I know you are. Can you go and grab it for me?"

You nod. You make to run off to grab it before you backtrack so you can give Lessi a hug and a kiss.

You weave your way through the gym before scaring the socks off Mary when you suddenly just appear and start dragging Lessi's water bottle away with you.

"Jesus," She says, placing a hand on her chest," You need to stop popping up like that. You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry," You say, straining as you drag the bottle with you.

"Do you need some help?"

"No!" You say quickly, puffing out your chest," I'm a strong girl like Lessi. I can do it myself."

"Alright then," Mary says," Off you go then."

You kind of think this is like what Lessi's doing on the machine. She's pulling on something with weight and now you're pulling on something with weight.

So, technically, you are copying Lessi. You like that. You're too little to use the machine but you're not too little to copy the exercises Lessie does.

She's beaming as you come back, dragging the bottle the whole length of the gym towards her. She rewards you with a kiss on the head and half a chocolate bar.

You get tired pretty quickly when Lessi sends you off to do other things that mimics what she's doing on the machines. You wish you were big enough like Lessi to use them but you think doing these little errands makes up for it.

It gets you very tired though and suddenly you can't copy Lessi anymore. You wish you could but you're very tired out so you just kind of sit down with her as she finally goes through some stretches.

You crawl between her legs and rest you head against her shoulder.

Lessi's hands come up to adjust you so you're settled nicely in her lap as she chatters away to Maya and Ella. She's managed to keep stretching around you and you just let yourself sag against.

"I think someone needs a nap," Maya says pointedly and, even though you're exhausted, you still hear her perfectly.

"No," You grumble to Lessi," No nap."

"I think it would help," Lessi says.

You shake your head. "No. Are you nappin'?"

"No."

"Then I'm not nappin'."

Lessi laughs at that before getting to her feet.

You whine when she pulls away from you, stumbling to crowd into her space again.

"Hey," She says," It's alright. I'm just stretching my legs a little."

"Stretching too," You reply softly even though you're swaying a little bit because you're sleepy.

"Come on." Lessie leans down to pick you up and you go limp in her arms. "How about that nap now?"

You shake your head and take a firm grip of her shirt. "Nap if you nap."

"Well," She says," I guess we can nap together today."

#woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch15

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, torture, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, praise

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It was abnormally quiet. You had finally been released from the hospital and Miguel was escorting you to the car. It was almost creepy by how quiet the hospital was. Everyone kept silent as Miguel walked out the building.

Slowly entering the car, you rubbed your eyes and let out a soft cheer. Hospitals were never fun. You had enough time within them to hate them. Waiting for Miguel to sit, you scooted beside him and rested your head against his shoulder.

"Conejita (bunny), I'm going to give you a choice. I can drop you off at home to rest, or...you can come watch me torture Eddie. I won't force you to do anything you aren't comfortable with." He said softly.

You furrowed your brows as you felt your heart race. You had been in the hospital for three days and Miguel had told you what he had been doing each time. You knew that everyday you were injured, he made sure Eddie received dire punishment.

Part of you was nervous. You really did not want to see Eddie again. Not after everything he has done to you, but...Part of you wants to see Eddie get what he deserves. Would it be so bad to watch your abuser get abused?

"Um...I-I...I don't...k-know how I'll....react....b-but...but I want t-to s-say something...to him," You stuttered, shaking from your nervous. Miguel gently pulled you onto his lap,

"Shh, baby, you don't need to force yourself," Miguel whispered, kissing your nerves away, "You did so well for me already. You just need to watch until you don't want to anymore."

"Mhm," You held onto Miguel, melting under his touch and kisses, "M-Miguel...W-Will....it...be b-bad?" You muffled, moving your head back as he kissed and sucked against it.

"Yes. But I don't do this all the time. Only because he hurt you." Miguel hummed as he rubbed circles around your waist, "I don't want you to think differently of me...when you see the state of that bastard."

"I won't,"

You closed your eyes, enjoying his touches. No matter the outcome, you knew that Miguel could never harm you. No matter how scared you were, you felt safe in Miguel's embrace.

"You seem nervous, why don't I help you...destress?" Miguel chuckled lowly as he raised your skirt. You huffed your cheeks out, slowly giving in,

"O-Okay...B-But...be gentle...I'm still bruised..." You whispered. Miguel kissed your chest, grinding into you,

"Of course,"

----------

Holding onto Miguel as you entered a creepy warehouse, you felt your nerves return. Even after his little 'destress' session in the car. Hearing a scream, you immediately grabbed onto Miguel, hiding behind him as he led the way.

There were men everywhere. Each working on something or standing watch. Miguel asked you to close your eyes for a moment before he grabbed your hands and led you again. Something foul started to fill your nostrils.

You tried to breathe through your mouth, but you felt like puking. You were starting to get dizzy. Miguel must have noticed because he placed your head in his jacket. All you could smell was his cologne now and it eased you.

"We're here. It isn't a pleasant sight, baby." Miguel whispered.

Slowly raising your head, you glanced at two large metal doors. They slowly began to open. Once they were, you shuddered at the sight. There in the middle of the room was Eddie.

His face was unrecognizable and there was blood everywhere. His arms were tied to the ceiling and you swore you saw that his finger's were missing. His legs were broken and dangling as blood trickled down his body.

"Wake him up," Miguel demanded.

You yelped as Eddie screamed as cold water splashed against him. Just hearing his angry yell made you flinch. Acting on instinct, you hid behind Miguel and started to shake. You were terrified. Even as you saw Eddie tied up, you still held the fear of him attacking you.

"Fuck! You fucking asshole!" Eddie screamed. Miguel grinded his teeth as he felt you shake,

"Have you learned nothing?" Miguel asked, his arm snaking around your waist, "There's someone who wants to say something to you."

"Hahaha, what's that bitch going to say?! She's just a dumb little fuck doll." Eddie roared in laughter despite his pain. You felt tears form,

"I-I...I-I don't..." You whimpered but felt Miguel shake in anger, "I-I want him...t-to shut up," You begged. Miguel's lips twitched into a smirk,

"As you wish."

Miguel rubbed his thumbs over your eyes, signaling you to keep them close. He then placed some sort of headphones over your ears. They were soundproof so that you could hear nothing. Miguel hummed as he stole a quick kiss from you and proceeded to head to Eddie.

"She's really got you wrapped around her finger...or is she wrapped around your dick?" Eddie spat, forcing a laugh.

Miguel kept his glare towards Eddie as he kept his hand out. One of his men hurried and placed a knife in Miguel's hand. Ben was in the corner with a sewing kit, waiting for Miguel's order.

"Is shit talking how you ignore pain? We're going to have to take that away." Miguel whispered and slashed Eddie's clothes off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, "You won't be able to do that much longer. (Y/N) demands your silence."

"I don't know what you see in her. She was only good for a quick fuck and her parent's supermarket." Eddie hissed. Miguel scoffed as he pressed the knife against Eddie's shoulder, slicing down, "Fuck!"

"Even if I were to tell you, you wouldn't understand." He hissed, enjoying the blood drip before slicing another part of his body, "Each mark matches one of hers."

"Argh!! Fuck! Fuck! You're fucking insane! You fucking dick!" Eddie screamed. Miguel nearly laughed as he kept cutting Eddie,

"I'm insane?! (Y/N) should have never felt the need to cut herself! (Y/N) should have never been your stress relief! Each scar, each mark that you gave her...that she gave herself, I want you to have but double. I want you to feel her pain!"

Miguel couldn't help but smile as he listened to Eddie's screams. If only you were okay with hearing them. Miguel wanted you to feel the joy of enjoying his screams. Once Eddie was covered in marks, Miguel stepped back and threw the knife across the room.

With a snap of his fingers, Miguel went to wash his hands as Ben started to sew Eddie's lips shut. Once the deed was done, Miguel returned to you and took the headphones off. He kissed your head, watching you slowly flutter your eyes open,

"Now's your chance to say what you want to say."

"Mhm," You were hesitant, but slowly turned to face Eddie. You felt your stomach twist as you saw his lips sewn, "Y-You...You caused me n-nothing but pain!!! I-I hate y-you so much!!! I-I'm glad you're s-suffering now!!" You cried.

Miguel smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His intense glare towards Eddie, whom returned the same gesture. Miguel decided to have some more fun and kiss your neck and shoulder, smirking.

"Mhpm!" Eddie struggled. You inhaled sharply,

"F-FUCK YOU!!!"

This shocked both Eddie and Miguel. As much as Miguel wanted to laugh, he knew that this was a serious situation for you. Once calm, Miguel grabbed your hands and took you back to the car. You were a crying mess as you kept cussing Eddie out.

"You did good, baby," Miguel whispered. You sobbed, hugging onto Miguel once you got into the car, "Shh, it's okay. You did so good. Let me take you home to rest."

---------

You sniffed as you buried yourself in your plushes and stuffed animals. It was already late at night, but you were having trouble sleeping. You raised your head as Miguel entered the room with a mug in his hands.

"Here, some hot chocolate. This should help you sleep," He whispered, handing you the mug.

"T-Thank you," You whispered, slowly drinking the hot liquid.

"How do you feel?" Miguel asked for probably the tenth time today.

"...I-I want...I want to say ill...b-because even after all that...I-I'm still scared t-that...T-Telling him off...felt so good...S-Seeing him like that felt...good...but...sickening."

"I know. My secret life isn't for the faint of heart. I wanted to keep this side a secret from you, afraid that you'd leave me." Miguel sighed as he sat beside you.

"Miggy," You placed your mug aside and cuddled into his chest, "I-I trust you...so...so much...I don't care what you do...I love you, and I'm so happy...with you," You whispered.

Miguel hummed in response and pecked your lips before stroking your hair. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep. Miguel finally let out a exhale, relieved to hear those words from you. Today made him anxious about your feelings, but you did so well.

"Now, to see how tomorrow will go."

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Peter smiled brightly as he arrived in front of a gorgeous house outside the city. He fixed his suit and tie and approached the front door. The first thing he noticed was a small drawing at the bottom of the door. It gave him a light chuckle before ringing the door bell.

"Can I help you?" A man asked as he asked through the intercom. Peter cleared his throat,

"I'm here to escort you to the city for final negotiations with your supermarket." Peter hummed. The door opened, revealing an older couple.

"I thought we already finished negotiations. It was a one and done deal," The man huffed in anger. Peter kept his smile,

"Yes, but our boss always wants to make sure everyone is...happy." Peter lied. The older woman huffed a heavy sigh,

"A drive to city at this hour? You must be mad."

"Oh no, ma'am. Our boss has made a reservation in the finest hotel in the city for you two. He told me to make you as comfortable as possible."

"Well, in that case, I suppose we can go." The woman chirped, hurrying to prep a bag. The husband still scoffed,

"What a pain in the ass."

Peter's smile never faded as he watched the two fools fall into Miguel's trap. Approaching the car, Peter whipped his phone out to send a message to Miguel.

'(Y/N)'s parent's are taking the bait'

Miguel was nowhere near done with your revenge.

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next chapter

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#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader